I don't know where to begin… maybe with the way you looked at me, jaan. That single glance of yours set my heart racing, my lips tingling as if they already knew where they belonged — pressed against yours, drowning in your warmth.
I leaned in, shy at first, but the moment our mouths touched, everything else disappeared. It was just you, me, and the wet, hungry sound of our kiss. My lips parted slowly, inviting you in. Your breath mingled with mine, and when our tongues finally met… ah, it felt like tasting eternity.
I let out a soft sound, almost a moan, but sweeter — and pressed deeper into you. My tongue brushed against yours, playful at first, then bolder. I wanted to taste all of you, jaan. Every corner of your mouth, every drop of your saliva.
And when you pulled back just slightly, leaving a thin line of spit connecting us, I shivered. It glistened like a secret bridge between us. I smiled, then leaned forward, catching it with my tongue before it could fall. "Mmm," I whispered against your lips, "even your saliva tastes like love."
I kissed you again, but this time slower, wetter. I let my tongue trace your teeth, then dip inside, drinking you in. Every movement of your tongue against mine was a dance, sometimes soft, sometimes wild. I wanted it all.
Then I did something playful — I pulled back just enough to let my spit gather on my tongue, then leaned forward and dripped it gently into your mouth. Watching you swallow me made my heart pound. "Goooood," I teased softly, "drink me… taste me…" My lips found yours again, sealing the moment with another long, messy kiss.
You responded in kind, letting your warm saliva spill into my mouth. I closed my eyes, savoring it like nectar, letting it slide down my tongue, swallowing it slowly while moaning softly just for you. The taste was you — raw, real, intimate. I loved it.
I giggled between kisses, whispering, "Do you like how I play with your spit, jaan?" Then without waiting for an answer, I pressed my lips hard to yours, twisting, turning, letting both our salivas mix until I couldn't tell where mine ended and yours began.
When I finally pulled away, a wet trail glistened from my lips to yours. I didn't wipe it. Instead, I leaned down, letting it drip onto your skin — your chin, your neck. Then I licked it back up slowly, tasting both of us together.
"Mmm," I whispered, my voice trembling with playful desire, "your taste on my tongue, my taste on your skin… I could live here forever."
I kissed you again, deeper this time, pushing my tongue into your mouth with more force, more hunger. I loved the wetness, the way it grew messier, the way it made us both breathless. And when I pulled back, panting, saliva ran down my lip. I caught it with my tongue and smirked, "Want some more, jaanu?"
Without waiting, I leaned close and let my spit fall straight onto your tongue. I watched your mouth open for me, ready, willing. I loved the sight — you drinking me like I was your only water. It made me ache with love and heat.
I kissed you once more, our tongues swirling, saliva spilling, breaths mixing. It wasn't just a kiss anymore — it was worship, devotion, surrender. Every messy drop of spit was love made visible.
And with my lips hovering against yours, I whispered, "This is only the beginning… I'll keep giving you more, and more, until we drown in each other."