Kissing (and teeth, but mostly kissing)

As everyone knows, I am a super kissy person. For all the good sex, I can kiss for hours on end and not just mouth to mouth - I sometimes pick a part of G's body and nuzzle against it with my lips and eyelashes for ages, like a knuckle or a side of his waist or something entirely random. Nothing erotic about it. He may as well be asleep or read or watch a film. It is no wonder that prostitutes charge more for kissing, because if you're not feeling it, there is really no way to sell it. There is a scene in a movie I am very fond of called Dear Frankie, where the two main characters stare at one another for a really long time and it is obvious they both want to kiss and will not for many reasons, and it is not until she makes for the smallest move forward that he moves, too. It is so deeply respectful and hopeful and kind. So much hope in that little gesture of allowing someone so close, allowing yourself to be connected to another human being. (Sad movie, but it does end optimistically, even for the adults. Likely the only movie I like Gerard Butler in.)

I spoke with a friend about how it feels to have a dentist touch my mouth - the word I used was gynecological. It is really, really invasive and private, having someone's latex-clad fingers in my mouth, hurting my lips and stuffing cotton into my cheeks. Other doctors don't bother me, not having blood drawn or having to take off my shirt or being weighed and measured or have my precious eyes checked. I can totally daydream through being touched by strangers on those occasions; they're just unpleasant, not really intrusive. Touching my mouth, though. I think half the energy I burnt though in that chair is suppressing the gag reflex. It's necessary, because I keep coughing and choking and spitting up and ruining his work. But it happens a lot. And for the rest of the day, my mouth is off-limits.