Page 19 of Third Degree

“Well then, we must make our time count,” he declared, his voice laced with a mixture of urgency and longing. His fingers interlaced with mine, sending electric currents coursing through my veins.

It was a touch that spoke volumes, igniting a spark of anticipation and reminding me of the depth of our connection.

We continued our stroll, hand in hand, in a wordless communion. The weight of the impending separation hung heavy in the atmosphere, casting a melancholic hue over our shared moments. Elio pointed out the distant houses and landmarks, his voice carrying a touch of wistfulness.

Yet, despite the silence that enveloped us, there was a profound understanding that time was slipping through our fingers, urging us to savor each fleeting second.

The evening embraced us, its somber tranquility creating a sanctuary for our unspoken emotions. As we walked side by side, the weight of our unfulfilled desires mingled with the bittersweet anticipation of our inevitable farewell.

In this quiet sullenness, we found solace, cherishing the fleeting moments that remained, even as the shadows of separation loomed on the horizon.

“Shall we head back?” he asked when it was well past the middle of the night.

“Sure,” I expressed a little sadly.

When we arrived back at the house, he pulled me inside without so much as a question.

“I like the way you feel inside my house,” he offered while grabbing me a glass of water. I sat down at one of the stools at the kitchen counter, noticing how incredibly clean the house was.

“Tell me, Gianna, have you ever had a boyfriend before?” He poured himself a drink with a bottle of gin that was the only thing sitting on the countertop.

“No,” I whispered, partly because I was embarrassed but also because the air in the room felt thick and was buzzing with sexual need.

“Have you ever been kissed before?” He swung me around on the stool, so now I was facing his chest. He placed the glass down next to me and reached his hand under my jawline, tilting me up so we were looking at each other.

“No.” As the words left my mouth in the heaviest of whispers, he leaned down toward me, and I couldn’t look away, my eyes locked with his.

“Can I?” he asked me, bringing his lips next to mine so they were hovering over me. My hands shook along my sides furiously.

“Can you what?”

His hands grabbed one of my shaking ones and placed it against the warmth of his stomach. Beneath his cotton t-shirt, I could feel the ripples in his stomach, sending me yearning for so much more. A feeling that was so foreign to me.

“Can I be the first?”

7

Elio

37 years old

The room grew suffocatingly warm as I cradled the face of an ethereal being in my trembling hands. A whirlwind of dark thoughts swirled in my mind, threatening to stain her innocence.

Yet knowing that this kiss would mark her first, I had to proceed cautiously.

I yearned to be the one to ignite that fire within her, for in her presence, I felt an insatiable desire that had long been dormant. Our connection was inexplicable, our conversations flowing effortlessly, and when I found her sitting in my living room as if she had always belonged there, I knew this was an encounter beyond comprehension or even logic.

I dipped my head down into hers and was close to begging her to let me stain her lips with mine.

“Can I be your first?” It was all I could offer in the moment as I watched her whole body shaking with the same electric air I could feel.

She nodded slowly. I would have missed it if I wasn’t mere inches from her face. When our lips finally met, it was as if an explosion of sensations erupted within me. The touch of her soft, pliant lips against mine sent a surge of electricity coursing through my veins. It was a delicate dance of exploration. Our mouths moved in sync, each movement deliberate yet filled with an unquenchable hunger.

With every passing second, the intensity grew, fueled by a blend of youthful innocence and the weight of years behind me.

The contrast only heightened the sensations, adding a forbidden allure to the mix. Her lips were like the petals of the rose she smelled like, delicate and sweet as they molded against mine with an enchanting fervor.

In that stolen moment, I felt a surge of emotions—desire, protectiveness, and a deep longing to help her explore her independence like she so desperately desired. It was a first kiss unlike any other, a collision of two souls entwined by a clandestine connection that defied societal expectations.

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