shortTERESA HAD A KIND of mouth that didn’t open wide enough for a kiss. Her tongue would dart quickly in between my lips like an iguana tasting the air for the hunting markers of its prey. I didn’t know this when I first kissed her behind the door of her faculty office.
I wondered if her tongue was too short when the eagerness of mine stroked it deep inside her mouth. Each touch of the soft sponge sent a jolt from my navel down the line from that joke of a crevice, all the way between my legs, where the halves of my labia met and smothered my proud c**t, always in a state of indiscriminate welcome. Suddenly I felt hands on my shoulders in a quick, hard shove.
“No! Not here. And not you,” Teresa said as she pushed me away, wiping her mouth and putting her glasses back on to reclaim her b
