There's this guy I like. A situation has presented itself that has allowed us, fortuitously, to be sitting somewhere, making out. For the first time, presumably. It's not all that hot, really, but mostly because he is using his tongue entirely too much. He's sticking it my mouth and swirling it around and around and around and I'm beginning to wonder if he's joking with me and I'm supposed to pull back and laugh at him. With him. But I don't pull back because I want to keep going, I want this to mean something, I'm afraid I won't get the chance again, etc.
And mostly I figure — if this is seriously how he kisses — that I can teach him a better technique some other time. Practicing will be fun.
So kissing leads to more, as it so often does, and I'm relieved because the more is much better than the kissing. There is a rhythm that wasn't there before, a skill, a compatibility.
And that's a relief.