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The conversation on the other was surprisingly dry. Sort of that awkward, skipping around a subject that happens when you come home from a war. People...want to ask you how it was, but actually they are afraid you might really answer. This suited me fine. Didn’t really want to talk about it and was happy to keep the conversation light. As dinner went on, I realized that I was getting a little tipsy. Another thing I realized was that my mom wasn’t wearing a bra. As we would chat she would lean. I turned toward him without moving back, and leaned against the rail. We looked at each other in silence for a few seconds, both knowing what the other was thinking. Our lips met in a soft kiss, our eyes open and searching, reading the others reaction to the kiss. I saw awareness and sincerity in his eyes, and I closed my own as I kissed him back. My tongue parted his lips and the tips of your tongues met. We moved closer to each other and our bodies came into contact. His lips were. More

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