The Anatomy of a Perfect Kiss

I've always thought that there was no method to a kiss
You either dived right in and got it or cruised on in to get it
Either way, it started somewhere and ended some place else
In a tangle of tongues and sounds; of hands in hair and on skin
Of indrawn breaths and soft sighs; of heartfelt moans and harshly uttered groans
 
I never took time to feel the heightened awareness of the feel of freshly shaved skin on skin
The rasp of a goatee or ‘stache that tickled that spot just so
Didn't remember the feel of shirt fabric against one naked nipple
Rough callused palms against the small of a bare back rolling toward the curve of ass
Of a bite, a tug, a sucking of lower lip; a nibble, a lick, a warm breath on a neck
Of tongues dancing and flitting and giving and taking in a dance of supremacy
 
The feel of cool wall against partly covered back
Air against a moist spot as tongue ventured elsewhere to stroke and caress
The press of a finger into mouth; the sucking and nipping  
The hands that held you prisoner by neck while your mouth is raped
The intensity of eyes that searched your soul and left an imprint on your mind
The racing heart; the connection of spirits; the inevitable slide into another kiss