As his hand guides me, with his arm around me, pressing on my back, his skin is soft, smooth, that tempts me. I know that he have shaved a few hours before specially, and this contact is a new sensation. His clean shaven look bowled me over and I need to caress his face, his skin, which is revealed to me by the slightly open shirt.
I desire for his breath on my skin, now, for my lips. I wish he notices my mood swings as I wish, I can feel his breath which is almost a sigh, now, while our lips almost unite.
I close my eyes feeling him on the skin for a while. I need to squint while I'm already on my way and I turn back after this contact necessary as the air that I'm trying to be able to breathe.
Can you imagine what would happen? I'm trying to be in his arms with my irrepressible desire, there in the middle. I wish to contact him disguised as a dancer, and feel that mole that lies casually on a skin that does not yet know, but that wish.
It seems almost impossible, our minds before dancing bodies but the bodies attract each other, dragged from the minds, the eyes that danced so far, and a veil for a moment a flash unexpected and expected comes one brushing against our lips, a prelude to what could be was a need, a necessity unexpected and howling, a light kiss hidden in the crowd dancing with the feet, as we cannot do but gradually follow the destined kiss.