I leaned in and kissed her on the lips without saying anything, and she kissed me back. We kissed for minutes, our tongues inserting themselves into ...he other's mouth. With my right hand I held the back of her head tightly, cradling it so that I could continue the making out. With my left hand, I found the bottom of her shirt and slid it up to find the bra-held tits I loved so much. She didn't even pause in the making out, continuing as though she was used to it, which she was. I was. I dream that I am her hero, always capable of rescuing and easing her every pain, and that she is my Queen and that I make her feel so alive and happy that she sings silly songs and tells me made up stories about fruit. But yet, when I wake up, I’m always alone, she’s constantly pushing me away. She keeps telling me that she’s leaving it in god’s hands. Why doesn’t she understand that my heart is in her hands, for I’m hers for the taking, that I’m ripe and ready to be harvested? Why does she. More

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