Then I cupped her face in my hand and kissed her slow but firm. I had to have another and she felt conscious of her fish taco onion breath - it was sweet to me - and with those luscious lips and tounge there was not a hint of scrutiny. I pulled her hair and went in for more akin to a shark smelling a bit of blood. It was nice, very, very, nice. Now I long for more grilled onion kisses from those luscious lips!
Long for the woman who is a nerd and loves the song The Wreck of the Edmund Fitgerald that refers to the shipwreck in Lake Erie or the Chippawa word of Kitchagumy.