Small Streams of Consciousness

I was watching a video today, it being YouTube Tuesday on one of the blogs I watch. Lesbian erotica/soft core--two brunettes with unlikely fingernails kissing each other. At first, my mind was drawn to the theatrical analysis of it all, since it was obviously staged. (Things can be staged, they just shouldn't be so obvious about it.) I watched, listening for small-child's footsteps on stairs, hoping I wouldn't get caught.

The scene shifted slightly. I continued to watch, as the women seemed to be more into their scene. The kissing was less contrived, more sincere. Or perhaps I was suspending my disbelief more. And I began to get that warm tingle as I thought of glorious kisses in which I participated.

Of course, all my glorious kisses have been with men, not ladies. I love the feel of stubble at the bottom lip. And the top lip. And the cheek. And under the chin. The sexy scratching as his lips slide from mine--scuffing my chin, scraping my throat while his tongue tastes my skin. I wrote Nicker not too long ago about the pump-priming properties of kisses. Part of which I sent to Rick--the good part. The part that is mostly about a kiss he and I shared on his bed with small children a door away.

And I listened, again (still), for small child footsteps; watching brunette women with unlikely fingernails exchange and enjoy kisses. The woman in a black t-shirt licked hard on the throat of the woman in the striped tank-top and I remembered Nicker telling me that a man's Adam's apple was an erogenous zone. And I watched the woman arch into the kiss and I thought of Rick arching under a caress and a kiss on his jaw. My nipples tingle. I watch; I wonder if I should send it to him.

The kissing in the video progresses--the stripes of her tank top hide her nipples, but her partner seems to enjoy them. I wait for one to become exposed, remembering the one time I fondled a woman's nipple--a milk chocolate kiss on a scoop of vanilla ice cream. It was flavorless, but I got the same chemical rush--Rick was watching. I look for a nipple which never appears--listening for small steps on the stairs.

Then I become bored with what is on the screen. The progress from "staged" to "seductive" to "silly" has happened in my head, and I close it. But I send a message to Rick--I thought he might like a reminder about "YouTube Tuesday."