What ever happened to making out? I wonder if people still sit together on a couch or in the car and fool around with their clothes on, or whether we're all so sophisticated thesedays we go straight for the bonking.
Good make-out is more than just kissing, because kissing by itself is like food without seasoning. The salt and pepper of a smooch session are the little things, like some nibbling, a little hair-pulling, deep eye contact and so on. A skilled make-out artist knows the value of piano and forte, of innocence and raunch, and of fast and slow.
As any professional lady will tell you, kissing is more sensual and personal than mere fucking, which confirms my thinking - that we communicate more with a long kissing session than in a straightforward shag. Okay, maybe not, but it's certainly more subtle than all the reproductive stuff. Let's face it, all shagging is variations of thrusting and grinding, but kissing is infinitely more nuanced.
At least half of the make-out experience is smell and feel. The smell of a woman is an enormous turn-on, something that we all know but seem to think pertains only to her juicy parts. I, for instance, love the smell and feel of a woman's neck. The right neck - attached to the right woman - is a thing of beauty. Necks have heavenly curves that no mathematical formula can describe, and if they're touched in the right way, moaning results.
I like it when women moan and I'm pretty sure they do too.
Bottoms Up Make-Out Bandits.
