Nata

I'm kissing Phillip Van Der Heuvel, and I like it. No. I love it. It's better than breathing. It's like out of all the lone Os of oxygen atoms floating in the atmosphere here on planet Earth, his O atom and mine were meant to be the pair that forms the O2 of oxygen gas. The shape of his mouth fits mine even though I'm on the tiptoes, and he's bending down at an angle that must be uncomfortable. But the pleasure in his blown pupils and his cheekbones tinged the slightest pink paint a picture of bliss, not torture, awkward angle be damned.

We've never made it past the hallway of my side of the duplex and the top parts of both his tux and my dress look like we were two adults who just returned from a date at the opera. Our bottom halves are those of horny college students who only remove the clothes that absolutely have to be removed to reach the desired body parts. He steps out of his pants and boxers, sliding his socks off as well.

His still partially hard dick, cock, penis ... none of the words feel right in my mouth. I wasn't an English major for a reason. Words are not my thing. Finding the right ones might never be possible but the feelings, those are all over me. The feeling of him in my mouth. I've done oral with Samson many times before, and it was fun sometimes but it never ever felt like I absolutely had to do it or I wouldn't be able to survive another minute. Him in my mouth felt right. His mouth on mine as he came, giving me the millisecond-by-millisecond feedback was better than if a sports commentator were there explaining every sensation that ran through Phillip's body.

Phillip Van der Heuvel kissed me, and my dreams came true. The dreams of a 21-year-old me whose imagination played out thousands of scenarios of how and when Phillip van der Heuvel would kiss me. Dorm room. Park bench. Library stacks. The desk in the classroom. But even in my college days, I would not have come up with this option.

Phillip van der Heuvel kissed me because he wanted to and because I absolutely needed him to. Because somehow, over the months of living next door to him, I developed feelings that went beyond an old college crush. The sexiest feeling I have found with this man is trust. The sexiest role he's played in my daydreams has been a partner who is honest, who tells me things, who I know wouldn't shy away from hard conversations where I am concerned.

I stand up higher on my tiptoes, and Phillip's hands wrap around and under my butt. I follow his nudge and hop up. His arms form a perch under my thighs, and our mouths are at a considerably less awkward angle. This kissing of tall guys is much harder work than I anticipated, but I'm ready to do any personal training or Pilates to improve the strength of my upper back and neck to maintain the previous or this kissing pose for extended periods of time.

Phillip separates his lips from mine. "Upstairs, or do you prefer my side?"

"Upstairs," I say as quickly as possible and glue my mouth back to his.

He chuckles, but doesn't complain. He gives me a nudge, so my legs have a chance to clasp around his waist. Phillip takes steady strides to the staircase. We should probably stop this ridiculousness, separate, and walk up, but if Phillip has that idea, he doesn't voice it, and I don't either. I kiss Phillip, and he kisses me back without breaking his stride. I float as three Os fill me: oxytocin, oxygen, and orgasm.

Mouth orgasm is a thing, right?

I enjoy my ride in his arm up every step, and my only focus is to not stop kissing Phillip Van der Heuvel. I may be wrong, but I don't want to accidentally break the spell and bring us back to reality when this wondrous dream that I'm having is so much better.

By the door to my bedroom, Phillip frees one hand and rotates the handle. I slide a little down his naked hips, but he catches me in time, and I laugh against our still joined lips.

He arrives at my bed and gently deposits me onto it, bowing over me, not letting go first.

"Are we going for the longest kiss ever recorded by the Guinness records?" I mumble against his mouth.

"They'd have to be present to attest it, and I would much rather have you all to myself."

I kiss him. I kiss him. I kiss him.

I smile and kiss him and don't let go. This is an even more awkward angle for him to be kissing me, but we could do those strength training classes together and enjoy every awkward kissing position we can come up with. I've always wanted to try the upside down Mary Jane and Spider man kiss.

My heart smiles. My lips follow.

"What?" He half chuckles into the corner of my mouth.

"When I was twenty, I thought kissing you would be the most exciting thing in my life. Now I'm thirty-five, and I still think kissing you might be the most exciting thing that happened to me in a while."

Phillip gives my upper lip a tiny bite. "No one has ever rated my kissing stills above my sex skills."

He pushes me up higher on the bed and lies next to me, across the bed, feet dangling off the edge. I curl into him and bring my knees to my stomach. "I don't think it's the skill." I press my mouth to his and feel the joy of it. Neither of us moves, but I'm still getting charged with the mere contact. Mouth orgasm or the O2 of us.

Lips touching lips? So banal. So done. Yet my lips touching his lips. Our lips touching is extraordinary, and devastating, and stupendous, and utterly, illogically, unscientifically unforgettable. I move my head back. "Nope. Not the skill. It's you. It's something chemical. Or metaphorical. Or magical. Or scientifically unproven. "

"If someone figures out how to scientifically prove love, they would be billionaires."

Love.

The word hangs in the air between us in the dark stillness of my bedroom. If we were in a movie, it would be literally hanging in the space between his mouth and mine, written in glowing orange cursive.

Love.

The smile on my heart falters. So does the one on my lips.

Love is not something I can smile about. Love is pain, and I don't want pain right now, I want more joy and oblivion and lightness that being kissed by Phillip brings me. So, I ignore the word.

Love.

I put some whiteout over the bright letters between us and kiss him. I kiss him to forget that word and to remember what kissing Phillip van der Heuvel feels like.

I kiss and kiss and kiss.

And when my eyes droop close and he shuffles me under the blanket, with my head on the pillow, as soon as his is back on the pillow next to mine I kiss him and I absorb his kisses and I float in my body and mind because Phillip kissed me. Because I wanted him to. Because he loves me and because maybe, in my brain that's mostly asleep, I can admit to myself that maybe or certainly but definitely maybe... I love him too. I press my lips against his for the last conscious moment of the day. I definitely love him. But that is not something that I would want to acknowledge tomorrow.

Author's Note

4.4.24

I'm on spring break with my kids, but this little chapter from Nata's POV woke me up in the middle of the night. I didn't exactly plan on it, but maybe this is a perfect little sweet bite for this week.

In the next chapter (or three), we are back to drama.

Welcome to April! Two months until my kids' school year is over, and I am both looking forward to the summer break and dreading it. I have no plans yet, and entertaining the kids at home is not very helpful to keeping up with my writing schedule. But I'll figure it out.

I really hope to write THE END for this story offline. Will I be able to finish this story this month? I'm scared but excited to give Nata and Phillip their happily ever after. Even if I do, you won't see the final chapters till some time in May. But that's still quite close.

Thank you for sticking with me on this extremely long journey of Nata and Phillip's romance. The second half of last year was hard on so many levels, and I wasn't sure there'll be anyone to read the rest of the story after I restarted this year. 

Thank you for your comments and votes and stickers. I've copied so many into my "read when you think you suck horribly as a writer" document and refer to them frequently.

Thank you so much for your support. You, readers, are such amazing cheerleaders. I'm not sure I thank you enough for your love of my stories.

Thank you!!

Love,

GR