I don’t care what the narrow-minded villagers will call us. Kneeling before you in the sanctuary of your lilac bedroom, nothing else matters. My heart gallops, your vanilla scent dancing among other particles that somersault in the rays of sunlight streaming through the open window to strike your lithe physique. Wisps from the glowing caramel waterfall of your hair catch the breeze, framing symmetrical features I have imagined kissing a hundred times, maybe more, your innocent allure contradicted by sensuous lips that I expect are capable of untold sin. I've yearned to feel you next to me, reciprocating what I feel inside. The heat of your body pressed to mine, our breathing short and senses sharp, alive in one another's embrace.

Up beyond your front-fastening charcoal dress, I find azure eyes wide, one corner of your lower lip snagged by your front teeth. You've always been self-conscious of the little gap between them, but I find it sexy. It was the first thing I noticed about your smile when we met. Sadie's party. You probably don't remember, distracted by men, music and margaritas, but I do. I remember every move as you swayed to the beat, owning the rhythm. You captivated me then, and still do now. As our friendship flourished, I've wanted to blurt out I love you more times than I can recall, but worried it would jeopardise everything. Wasn't sure it'd be reciprocated. Until now.

You’re tense. Uncertain. Yet I’ve never been so sure. My fingertips creep, tracing north from your bare thigh to where the dress begins, tight fabric filled with sumptuous curves. We both shiver, your breath catching as I trail your firm stomach and follow the path of the zip to its source, a mere centimetre beneath your chin and the delicate choker.

There are a thousand reasons for you to stop me, but I'm ecstatic you don't as I grip the clasp and gently begin to tug. Your involuntary breath makes my heart pound. Surely you can hear it. The material parts, millimetre by millimetre, exposing the opalescence of your skin to my hungry gaze. Strands of your hair tickle the back of my hand and I watch your lips part, like the wake of the fastener as it draws level with your chest. You wear no bra. There's no need, the gentle peaks of your breasts filling the body-hugging fabric, nipples proud and tempting.

Onwards the zip travels, guided by my thumb, forefinger and desire. As it passes the base of your breasts, the material begins to gape and I catch sight of the swell as they fill the void. I long to cup them, kiss them, circle my tongue around the crinkled caps until they fully harden, listening to you moan.

More of your milky skin becomes exposed, the surface a uniform array of tiny goose bumps, aurous hairs from each pore standing to attention. Dappled with sunlight and shade from the swaying trees, the skin of your belly is flawless, dipping where the knot nestles, and then back out, mere inches more travel before I glimpse the bow on your plum cotton underwear.

Pausing, I cast my eyes upward.

The inner edges of your breasts are exposed, half of each honeyed areola peeking from the material, begging to be exposed to my lustful stare. I wait a fraction longer, allowing you to reflect on what this moment means for our relationship. Your last chance to back out.

You don't.

Given the green light, I separate the teeth of the fastener with a final, gentle tug. My lips move to your stomach on automatic and hover, breath tickling your flesh. I hear you gasp as my mouth connects and draws away, then moves across to an unkissed area and claims it, your softness addictive.

I want to tease you, make you want me as much as I've wanted you, but urgency transcends rationality. Each tender kiss causes my heart to race faster, elevating my desire until I find my hands slithering up your thighs, fingers tucking into the waistband of your knickers and rolling them down before I even realise I've done it. The material pools at your feet and I'm mesmerised by the mini-cyclone of your unleashed scent. I've never wanted to taste anything as much, yet I look up beyond the droplets of desire that cling to the golden fuzz I've revealed, seeking approval. It comes delayed, a moment's further consideration before your feet part half a step. My invitation.

There's no more pretence. This is the moment. My eyes leave yours and I'm drawn to your mound, flavours sweet and earthy mixing on my palate as my tongue seeks your essence, hungrily lapping everything you offer. Your gasps begin softly then escalate until warm fingers weave into the back of my hair to hold me to you. My scalp tingles, the forgotten zip pensile against my shoulder as my own hands glide to cup your pert bottom and lock us together in the most intimate fashion.

While I fear for our future together, in this moment I'm truly spellbound. Driven. Chins will inevitably wag and judgement will be cast upon us, yet I can't stop. Won't stop until your cries peak then abate and your love flows onto me; completes me.

You tense momentarily, fingers digging into my skull, my relentless rhythm insistent until you freeze and shudder and I'm treated to your exquisite tumbling nectar. Divine. Heady. Mine. I can't help smiling, elated as we gradually drift apart. I observe, imagining your racing, tumultuous thoughts until closed lids flutter open, wide-eyed with uncharted wonder and what I hope is love. A crooked smile. Contentment? Relief? Nervousness?

I stand and wordlessly undress, watching you watch me, then step in, sweeping your dress to the floor. Our breasts crush together, lips magnetic, seeking to share your glow.

Freaks.

Dykes.

Rug-munchers.

They can call us what they like. My fingers lace yours and squeeze. Together at last.