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Tied Curls

You have always wanted to taste her lips. To feel her breasts pressed against yours. To tangle your black curls with her blonde ones, and see where all of it may lead.

And though you covet such meetings, it is not merely lust you feel. Not desires of the carnal run wild in your mind. Instead it is curiosity that drives you.

Is she better? Is she hotter? Is she sexier than you?

If push came to shove, and shove came to embrace, could you best her?

Could you break her body, her mind, and her will with your own?

She has wondered the same.

And so at the sudden and unexpected occurrence of the absence of others, you without speaking strip for her. She watches, and after a moment begins the same dare.

Then, when neither of you can resist another moment, she brings a small stool to the center of the room, and you follow suit. There, each on your own, you sit and scoot forward. Bringing the meetings you both wanted for so long to reality. Taking your time with each other and the moment.

Your nose pressing and then dragging down hers as you take in her scent. All as she watches you — studys you, for a weakness, for an opening, for a tell.

That’s when you whisper. “Tie your curls together with mine.”

“Winner takes a lock.” With a nuzzle, she replies.

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