Why Women Feel More Attached after Sex than Men

Many of us have been in a relationship with someone who was all wrong for us, yet we stayed because we “felt a connection.” It can be tough to figure out what’s going through our heads when this happens, but what if it was actually beyond our control?

There is a little-talked-about hormone, oxytocin—nicknamed the “cuddle hormone”—which is released during sex and could be effecting our relationships and sex lives in ways we’ve never thought of.

What is oxytocin?
Basically, it’s one of our many hormones. Both men and women have it, and while its exact purpose is still unclear, it increases in our systems during orgasm (for men and women) and during childbirth (it’s what bonds mothers to their babies). It’s released into our bloodstreams in response to breast or vaginal stimulation as well says Dr. Beverly Whipple, Secretary General of the World Association for Sexual Health.


Is it him or the oxytocin that I’m attracted to?
Oxytocin has been found to increase our levels of trust and make us feel more connected with people. But what if that oxytocin released during sex makes us feel connected with someone who’s wrong for us?

“A year ago, a friend flipped for a guy whom, when I met him, I didn’t quite ‘get.’ He wasn’t all that nice. Just what did she see in him, I wondered. But I started to understand, because whenever his name came up in conversation, so did great sex ... with him,” says blogger Kat Wilder. She adds: “I wouldn’t doubt all that lovin’ triggers that oxytocin bonding.”

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The Truth About Sex Addiction

We know about alcohol and drug addiction, but how many of us ever think about being addicted to sex? It’s not just the nympho men on To Catch a Predator that are suffering from it. Three to six percent of the population is addicted to sex, and of them, about 20% are women, according to the website SexHelp.com.

Savvy Miss spoke with Dr। Drew Pinsky, host of the radio call-in show Loveline and the author of Cracked: Putting Broken Lives Together Again, a book about addiction, to find out the truth about sex addiction.
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Quick Sex Positions She Won`t Forget

There are some sex positions that are more arousing then others for women. While the trusty missionary position is a good way to show affection and keep eye contact, there are many other positions that she will feel just as close to you and get some added arousal as well.

The Mare's Position

Even if your woman doesn't necessarily like to be on top, she may enjoy this position. With this position you can either be sitting back on your hands or lying down with your legs straight out in front of you, while she sits down facing away from you. If you stay sitting up you can kiss the back of her neck or shoulders while she does a slow movement up and down. Also, if she contracts her vaginal walls while moving up and down, then both of you will experience a unique feeling that is not often felt while having sex.

Congress of a Cow

If your woman can touch her hands to the floor while bent over standing, then she is going to love this position. This is a variation of a popular rear entry position. Have her support herself with her hands and her feet while you 'mount her like a bull'. Hold on to her waist during this position to offer a little more support to her. You will be able to penetrate her deeply with this position.

The Opened Position

This is a variation of missionary that will give her great stimulation due to her clitoris being fully exposed to the friction of intercourse. Have her lay on her back and raise her body up. She can support herself on her shoulders and feet. You should be on top of her, but try not to put too much pressure on her as she is trying to hold herself up.

The Pressed Position

This position shortens her vagina, so it is good for guys with shorter penises or for guys who just really want her to feel it. You have to be careful not to thrust to hard with this position though as you can hurt her and possibly turn her off forever from it! Have her lay on her back and bend her legs up to her chest. Her feet will rest on your chest. You should be on your knees and very close to her in this position.

The Half Pressed Position

If she finds that it is hard for her to keep both of her legs bent in the pressed position, then you can vary it by only having her bend one leg to her chest and allow her to stretch her other leg straight out over one of your legs.

How to Please a Man Sexually in Bed Beyond His Wildest Dreams

Pleasing a man sexually in bed is something that most women think is easy and straightforward. Unlike women who are often viewed as sexually complex, men are seen as simple creatures who are easy to please.

Nothing could be further from the truth. Just because men reach orgasm easily, doesn't mean that they're satisfied in the fullest sense. In fact, guys can become just as frustrated with their sex life as girls can. If you want to sexually please your man you need to learn how to do it right in a way that will leave him fulfilled beyond his wildest dreams.

First, let's talk about fore-play. Men like foreplay too but they tend to like to "see the light at the end of the tunnel" so to speak. What I mean by that is that guys don't like for the foreplay part of lovemaking to take too long but they do enjoy it.

Second, the assumption by many women that guys just have one erogenous zone to take care of is false. Many men have sensitive nipples, neck, and stomach, that you can touch or kiss to enhance their pleasure and experience. Don't overlook these areas and study your men to see where he's sensitive.

Third, there isn't just one position that all men like. You need to be willing to experiment to find those that work best for him (and you). One way is to consider which sort of guy he is in bed: does he like to be in control and be on top, or does he enjoy being controlled, which will mean being on the bottom. To please your man sexually in bed you will need to try things and see.

Fourth, oral sex is very important for men. In fact, many men will not be in a relationship with a woman for too long unless she's into giving oral sex and knows how to do it well. If you really want to drive your man wild with pleasure, you will need to be good at oral sex.

Fifth, don't forget to demand pleasure as well. Guys like to feel that they're good lovers too. It's part of their manhood. If you show him what you like he will try his best to pleasure you as well. This in turn will make it a more satisfying relationship for him as well.

I hope these tips will help you enjoy a better sex life together.

G Spot Basics

A lot of misinformation exists (especially on the Internet) regarding the Grafenberg spot aka the notorious spot. Some people think that it is a myth, others that it is a button which, by pressing, they can experience the ultimate in sexual bliss. Some articles even link G spot stimulation to incontinence!

The G spot is neither a myth nor a magical shortcut to ultimate sexual satisfaction. The Grafenberg spot is a particularly sensitive part of the female body that can, when stimulated, lead to even more intense orgasms. Read on to discover more about the G spot.

Dr. Grafenberg

Dr. Ernest Grafenberg first reported the existence of the G spot or female prostate in a paper he wrote in the 1950s. He described an area of particular sensitivity on the anterior wall of a woman' s vagina, along the urethra, between the back of the pubic bone and the cervix. This area was later named the G spot in honor of Dr. Grafenberg.

Interestingly enough, Dr. Grafenberg didn' t see the Female Prostate as anything particularly interesting. He thought that the female body was a collection of such sensitive areas, saying, there is no spot in the female body from which sexual desire could not be aroused. Innumerable erotogenic spots are distributed all over the body, from where sexual satisfaction can be elicited; these are so many that we can almost say that there is no part of the female body which does not give sexual response, the partner has only to find the erotogenic zones.

Let this be a lesson to those women and men who place too much emphasis on any one part of the body.

What is the G spot?

The Grafenberg spot is a quarter-sized area of the anterior (belly-side) vaginal wall that' s particularly sensitive. This sensitivity is due to two anatomical characteristics. The Grafenberg spot is presumed to have a higher concentration of nerve endings than the rest of the vaginal wall. Also, the Grafenberg spot is very close to the paraurethral (or Skene' s) glands which line a section of the urethra.

During sexual stimulation, the paraurethral glands swell and secrete a clear fluid. This swelling can be felt from the inside of a woman' s vagina as a roughness (like the roof of the mouth) hence, the Female Prostate.

The female paraurethral glands are very similar to a male' s prostate gland. These paraurethral glands secrete a clear fluid that is ejaculated from the urethra during female ejaculation. The female G spot is a corollary to a man' s prostate, and prostate massage is the best way for a man to experience a G spot orgasm of his own.

What does the G spot do?

Stimulating this spot during sex play or intercourse encourages far more intense orgasms for most women and, for some, female ejaculation.

Now, some women will tell you that both the G spot and female ejaculation are myths. Take it from me they' re both real!

Does everyone have a Grafenberg spot?

Every woman who has paraurethral glands has a G spot. But not every woman enjoys G spot stimulation. It' s a bad idea to create unrealistic expectations about any part of your body, especially one so misunderstood as the G spot.

Remember, different types of stimulation work for different women. Try stimulating the G spot during sex play and if it works for you, great. If it doesn' t, don' t worry about it.

As Dr. Grafenberg reminds us, the female body has dozens of sensitive areas that can be stimulated during sex. Explore your partner' s body and discover those that work best.

Father Moss

Elisabeth gives a dashing young priest the gift of her innocence
“What we did last night…” the boy ventured, compulsively thinking of sex as he watched his older temptress ease the cork out of a bottle of Merlot, “it…it wasn’t the first time for me.”

Elisabeth turned and looked at him, eyebrow raised. “Is that so?”

The boy nodded quickly, averting her gaze. She poured a glass for herself and one for him.

“Anyone I know?” she inquired with a hint of playful suspicion as she handed his drink over, sure to let him get a good look down the front of her dressing gown as she did so.

He shook his head. “Someone from back home. A couple of months ago. Long story.”

Then he hastened to add, “But most of the things you and I did were new to me.”

Elisabeth smiled, amused by her plaything’s adolescent attempt to be tactful. Women her age don’t take seventeen-year-old lovers because of their personalities.

“Who was your first?” the boy asked. Her eyes met his and lingered there. She saw right through his ploy to divert the focus from himself, but decided to humour him anyway.

“My priest,” she replied with a grin, settling into the armchair opposite his.

She watched in amusement the look of disbelief on his boyish face.

“Father Moss,” she continued, swirling the wine in her glass before taking a sip. “As divine a creature as ever entered into God’s service. From the moment I saw him I knew I had to have him.”

The boy studied her face as she spoke; saw the obvious delight she took in the feelings her own words conjured up. Whatever memories she had of this man, they must have been pleasant ones indeed.

“Tell me about him,” he said, pulling her back to the present, her pretty eyes returning to his in such a way that it made him suspect his presence had been momentarily forgotten.

“Well,” she began, a contented smile on her lips, “I suppose he would have been about thirty when he moved to our town. Tall. Dark hair. The face of an intellectual. And his voice! That voice so enraptured me. It fuelled my daydreams and echoed throughout my fantasies at night.”

The boy smirked at this but Elisabeth did not notice. She was miles away now in a much nicer place as she continued with her story.

~

“He was transferred to our area from his previous parish to replace our aging confessor at the church and to serve as a sort of guidance counsellor to the girls of St. Agatha’s. He was also in charge of religious instruction. Every lesson with him gave birth to new images in my mind, each thought more depraved and exciting than the last. I still remember how damp my knickers would get during his lectures, how my thighs would involuntarily squeeze together every time he looked at me while he preached of floods and famine and hellfire. I lived for that discomfort.

I used to watch him; observe the way he interacted with the other girls, looking for signs. I was certain he favoured this one or that one over me and I put myself through hell conjuring up all manner of depraved things that I was convinced he was getting up to with them. My jealousy knew no bounds. But honestly, I didn’t care if he fucked every girl in the entire congregation, so long as I was one of them.

I had always been a good girl, but the day that man came to teach at our school that all changed. Suddenly and for no apparent reason I began talking back to my teachers, even the ones I liked best, and causing little disruptions during class in order to get myself sent to his office.

My first two offenses were only met with verbal chastisement. I remember sitting in an armchair opposite him, my chest rapidly rising and falling with excitement as he scolded me for my bad behaviour. His authoritative manner so enticed me that I decided to test the boundaries of his patience, and the third time I was sent to him for punishment he told me to remain standing. He then opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a wooden ruler. When he calmly informed me that he was going to beat me, I felt my juices tricking slowly into the crotch of my panties. My face went all warm and I tried hard to suppress a smile as he summoned me over to his desk. My heart sank a little when he instructed me to place my palms on the table, for I was hoping he would bend me over and smack my bottom, possibly catching a glimpse of the wet spot on my panties in the process. It would have made quite the conversation piece.

Too aroused to register pain, I endured my punishment and gazed up at him afterwards, spellbound, as he told me to think about my actions more carefully in future. He then dismissed me with the words, “And I don’t want to see you back in this office again, young lady.”

My knees trembled as I slowly made my way back to class, flexing my sore red fingers and replaying the whole scene in my mind. Everything about Father Moss turned me on, made me go warm and electric all over. Just the thought of him sufficed to arouse me and every time I was near him the feelings became even more intense. Rather than heed his advice, I decided I had to up the stakes.

In confession I began to dish up the juiciest sins my young imagination could concoct, every one of a sexual nature. I said everything I could think of to provoke him, to seduce him the way he had seduced me. One time I even confessed to having fantasised about ‘a certain priest’ while pleasuring myself in bed at night, leaving as little room for misinterpretation as possible. And do you know what the bastard did? Nothing! He just waited for me to finish, then he issued the usual penance for naughty girls and told me I would be in his prayers.

Still, I refused to give up. I was determined to make him see me.

On my seventeenth birthday my parents threw a party for me. An ‘intimate gathering’, which in my mother’s language meant a full house. Family, friends, neighbours, classmates; the whole town was invited. He would be there as well; that was all I cared about.

Dressed in my new frock, my makeup, hair and nails immaculately done, I was looking gorgeous and feeling quite the grown up young lady. My eyes discretely followed Father Moss' every movement around the room as I feigned interest in the never ending sea of well wishers surrounding me. As the evening progressed I lost sight of him. When a whole hour had passed and he still hadn’t resurfaced I assumed he had left and I fled to my bedroom to sulk.

There I was, lying on the bed and pondering the cruelty of life for denying me my most burning wish on my special day when I heard a gentle knock at my door, followed by that voice. His voice.

‘Liz, it’s Father Moss. May I come in?’

I scrambled into an upright position and invited him in, trying my best to act older than my age but feeling pathetically juvenile in his presence. He sat down on the edge of the bed and wished me a happy birthday. ‘Your father told me you weren’t feeling well,’ he added with a note of concern.

‘It’s just a little headache,’ I assured him, ‘I’m feeling much better now, actually.’

‘Glad to hear it,’ he said with a smile, then cast his eyes downward as he confessed ‘I excused myself from the party. Said I’d walk the grounds, get some air. Felt funny lying. I’m terrible at it, really.’ My heart swelled with pride at the fact that he was confiding in me and his modest air--a side of him I'd never seen before-- was irresistible.

‘I didn’t mean to disturb you,’ he continued, ‘only I thought it was time you and I talked.’

My stomach twisted in the awful anticipation of a lecture.

‘What about?’

He bit at his fingernail before replying, ‘You tell me, Liz.’

I had desperately wanted to come across as a mature young woman, to be cool and suave like him and to say all the right things like he always did. But now that he was actually there before me, my acting skills abandoned me. There could be no game playing with Father Moss. His hold on me, his powerful essence rendered me as honest as a little child and the words came pouring out of my mouth. I told him everything. How I wasn’t interested in boys my age and didn’t think I could ever be satisfied with one of them. How he was all I thought about every hour of every day and what a torment it was not to spend every moment in his company. How I’d give anything to be with him and how empty and meaningless my life would be without him.

He didn’t bat an eyelid. Just as bold as you please, he asked if I’d had sex yet. The question felt like a slap in the face. I told him I’d been saving myself for him. A bit over the top, I know, but I’d had enough. I had spent the better part of a year trying to get his attention and while it was frightening to be so upfront, it was also a relief to let it all out.

He still didn’t seem at all shocked or impressed, but simply sat there looking at me. Finally he commended me for my straightforwardness but said the thoughts and desires I had shared with him were sinful and wrong. That he was a member of the clergy and I was a troubled young woman who ought to give more thought to the needs of her soul rather than the mortal coil and its baser urges.

I winced at his callousness. Naturally I had expected him to say something along those lines, but that he could be so unjust as to dismiss what I felt for him, as though it were nothing more than teenage lust, was more than I could accept.

‘This isn’t fair,’ I said, on the verge of losing what remained of my composure.

‘Life, my dear girl, is unfair. Accepting that fact is a part of growing up.’

I had resigned. All I could manage by way of a retort was a helpless ‘I love you.’

Pausing at the door, he turned, smiled to himself and shook his head. “The human experience would be dull indeed if we could choose whom we loved, don’t you think?”

The barefaced cruelty of the remark made me feel sick to my stomach.

Not five minutes after he had quit my room, my mother came up to check on me and found me lying curled up on my side. Flushed and tipsy, she perched herself on the side of my bed, all sympathetic smiles and questions as to my condition. Would I not come back downstairs and say goodnight to everyone? But my despair at what had just taken place was too great to conceive of doing anything of the sort. I apologised and told her I wanted to sleep. She placed a hand on my forehead, laughed and exclaimed, “No wonder. You’re burning up!”

Getting to her feet, she left the room as gracefully as she could, pausing only to wink and wish her young lady a good night. I lay there in the dark, a woman’s determination pumping through my veins as I gathered my thoughts and laid out my new strategy.

Winter arrived and with the holidays just around the corner, my mother and I slaved in the kitchen to bake up her famous gingerbread men to distribute to select neighbours and friends. On a special plate I intently arranged half a dozen from the very best batch and when my mother asked who they were for I told her I was taking them to Father Moss. She smiled warmly and said that it was a very sweet gesture. Little did she know.

For any young person, the loss of virginity is not so much a physical change as it is a psychological one. I had been infatuated with this man for what felt like my entire life and I was on a mission that afternoon: to sacrifice my innocence at his altar or die trying.

Still warm and rosy from my bath, I walked to his house. When he opened the door he looked surprised to see me, but in an instant his demeanour changed. If I didn’t know better I could have sworn that he had read my intentions the moment he laid eyes on me. I presented him with the biscuits and he invited me inside, asking me to wait in the hall while he fetched something.

No longer the most obedient of girls, I wandered through his house, passing through the living room and the kitchen until I reached the open door of what appeared to be his study. He was seated at his solid mahogany desk, hurriedly scribbling a dedication on the inside cover of a book which he was, no doubt, going to ask me to take back to my mother with his thanks. As I quietly entered the dim room, his hand stopped and he looked up at me. Instead of reproaching me for my audacity, he closed the book and put it aside before relaxing back into his chair.



Very well, Liz, the grin on his lips said. You want to play? Let’s play.

He had never looked at me in that way before, other than in my dreams. Emboldened, I recited the line I had turned over in my head a million times.

“I’ve a special gift for you, Father. Do you want to see it?”

After a long pause, he softly instructed me to close the door and summoned me over to him. Completely taken aback by his response, I felt a hot stirring in my insides at the anticipation of what was to come.

He remained seated and I stood before him, my bottom resting against the edge of his writing table. My eyes were glued fast to his handsome face when he reached out, grabbed me by the waist and pulled me closer to him. Operating on auto-pilot now, my hand moved up to my coat collar and I undid the top button, then the next one, then the next. I studied his features as his eyes moved up to my heaving chest, catching a first glimpse of the silky red ribbon beneath. The one I had wound tightly around my chest and tied off into a neat little bow between my pert little breasts.

“You wicked little imp,” he whispered, his lustful gaze transfixed on my body as he undid the remainder of the buttons himself. Fastened to the side of my knickers there was a second red ribbon, which I absentmindedly fingered, deeply conscious of his eyes upon me.

He leaned forward to slowly stroke my bare thigh and my pulse sped up. The calendar may have maintained my passage into young womanhood but as I stood before him then, offering myself up to him in the most literal sense, I felt very small. My mind began to focus on all the parts of my body I was ashamed of and suddenly I was convinced that if he saw me naked he would find me repulsive. After an entire year of endlessly rehearsing this moment in my head, teenage insecurity reared its ugly head and threatened to ruin my long awaited happiness. Before I was aware of it my hand closed around his wrist, stopping him. I was far too nervous and embarrassed to speak but the look on his face told me he had guessed the problem.

‘It’s alright, Liz,’ he said softly, ‘You look beautiful.’

Mortified though I was at having had my innermost fears exposed in this way, his words had an unexpectedly comforting effect on me and I felt my grip on him relax. Free now, h is hand slipped between my thighs and he massaged my stiff little bud through the fabric of my underwear with his fingertips. Letting go of all fear of judgement I closed my eyes and surrendered to the ecstasy of that perfect moment.

In one graceful motion he slid my panties down. I still recall the way his hands seemed to savour the experience of caressing my skin on their downward journey. One new impression rapidly followed the last and I felt his tongue, hot and wet, upon my slit. He explored it a while before taking my sensitive clit into his mouth and sucking it gently. The pleasure was unlike anything I had ever felt, and I am quite sure I would have come within a matter of seconds were it not for his attentiveness. He obviously didn’t want me to experience that particular sensation just yet.

His eyes wandered to my lips and he commented on what a pretty mouth I had. Said he had always admired it and should like very much to kiss it. My gaze dropped to the bulge in his lap and my heart threatened to beat out of my chest. Before I could gather my thoughts his mouth was hot upon mine and I was instinctively parting my lips to invite his determined tongue inside. A potent cocktail of adrenaline and dopamine rushed to my head and I felt more alive than I ever had before. An intense wave of pleasure hit me hard when he began to caress my tongue with his and I moaned softly into his mouth as his lips crushed mine, his fingers entwined in my hair, pulling me to him. I savoured the sensuousness of every moment. The sound of his breathing, the faint taste of wine on his lips and his tongue; the heat of his hands on my face. He led and I followed, oblivious to time, space and all else around me. We devoured one another for what seemed like an eternity. It was dizzying. Wet. Intoxicating. Perfection.

That little taste of heaven drew to a close and his lips pulled away from mine. He gave me a reassuring little smile and adjusted the conspicuous bulge beneath his robes, throwing me a provocative glance. A grin crept across my lips and I drank in the sight of him, barely able to contain my excitement.

With sudden force he turned me around and bent me over the desktop. My burning cheek pressed against the cool polished wood as he grabbed a fistful of my hair and held my head down. Then he leaned over me and put his mouth so close to my ear that I could feel his lips form the words, “You’re a naughty little cock tease, Elisabeth North. It’s high time someone disciplined you.” The sharp, sudden sting of his palm smacking my bare bottom took my breath away, and a dozen more hard slaps followed in swift succession. He was not playing around. He really put his weight into it. My pulse raced feverishly and I sighed as an intense wave of wanton lust surged through my body, culminating in the sweet wet spot between my thighs.

A prickly heat spread across my backside and I struggled to catch my breath. His fingers caressed and probed my soaked cunt, which was shamelessly and totally on display for him. I moaned at the exquisite discomfort of my nipples tightening and felt his moist palms on my arse, like fire against the hand-shaped welts on my skin.

My temperature rose further and my knees turned to jelly when he introduced his tongue into the routine. It wandered to my aching pussy, pausing to dip into my entrance and sample the nectar there before moving up to my arse. I closed my eyes as his hot mouth explored my most intimate recesses. The strange and wonderful sensation of him licking and sucking my tender flesh, so lovingly and with such great care, made me quiver with lust. There was something indescribably sensual and intense about the way his tongue laid claim to the most private and sinful parts of my body. He kissed and licked me there for a very long time, leaving me thoroughly soaked when he finally pulled away.

Behind me I heard the rustle of clothing being rearranged and my heart pumped furiously in my chest. When the warm, wet tip of his cock touched my virgin portal, it sent a jolt of pleasure through my loins. And I was ready for it. More ready than I had been for anything in my entire life.

In one slick stroke he penetrated me and my breath caught in my throat. The sweet, familiar twinge of pain I had tasted during countless night time sessions with myself was magnified several times over. It was the sweetest agony imaginable, and it overwhelmed my inexperienced body, making me compulsively writhe with desire. When he had worked the entire length of his cock into me, he ran his hands down the entire length of my back and then let them close around my hips. Grabbing hold of them firmly, he proceeded to make love to me.

It hurt immensely, but the desire to be filled by him overshadowed all else. His proud manhood slid home like a key into a lock again and again and he turned my face to his to taste my mouth while I squirmed and wriggled about beneath him, relishing the feel of him inside me.

'Is this what you want?' he demanded breathily, ramming harder and harder into me, but there was a tremor in his voice. It was desire.

A wave of lust swept through my body and I shuddered. I closed my eyes and let the physical sensations inundate me. My breathing involuntarily quickened as warm little sparks of pleasure exploded into a raging fire which spread throughout my entire body. He fucked me passionately and I did not even attempt to keep up, too overwhelmed was I by the surreal sensations he was bestowing upon me with each expert thrust.

All strength had left my legs and sweat had begun to gather on my brow when he tenderly brought his mouth to my ear and whispered, ‘Come for me. Now.’ His nails dug into my hips as he guided my movements, rhythmically impaling me and quickening the pace with each thrust. A chill ran down my spine and I closed my eyes, taking in the sounds of his frantic breathing and the blissful agony of his hand working its magic upon my clitoris. The dam burst within me and wave after wave of unutterable pleasure washed over me. Had I held out just a few seconds longer my climax would have come at the same moment as his, and yet in my memory it could not have been more perfect.

After we finished and our breathing had returned to normal, he told me I ought to be getting back home as my mother would be wondering where I had got to. I buttoned up my coat in silence, his warm seed trickling down the inside of my thigh, and he hurriedly finished writing his note before closing the book and handing it over to me. I glanced at the cover, noticing that it was on the subject of religious art, and thanked him. Mother would love it. She was into that sort of thing.

He walked me to the door and when I turned for one last look at him he gently stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. With a little shake of his head, he sighed. ‘The risks we are willing to take for a fleeting moment of bliss.’

I didn’t know how to respond so I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him.

As I made my way home the first flakes of snow began to fall, melting on my flushed face and clinging to my dishevelled hair.”

Author: Harbour.