In the moment her fingertips ran lower, a light breeze of a sigh tickled her skin, as she has reached the lips. They were much softer than she could've imagined, and she couldn't help herself and let her thumb caress the bottom one, her body leaning forward, closing the space, the short gap, the distance. She was so close, she could smell the mint from the girl's breath. Her eyes, still closed, felt the presence, savored the warmth, and her lips, parted a bit, trembled in expectation. She couldn't move, and her hand didn't want to. Her skin craved for the other's, wanting to touch, to feel, to caress what has been concealed since the beginning. But it was wrong. Her brain was telling her it was wrong, and yet, her heart, her body, her soul, they were saying the opposite. It was not fair. It was not right. Why would she even want to kiss her? Why would she want to be close to a clown, a servant, a peasant? Someone beneath her? A lowlife? A... woman?
2 parts