strange time in my life

it's so easy to write about love and to write about sex. the words just fall out, easily. they make perfect sense. everything happens as it should. but when our protagonist touches the arm of the other protagonist (and by god, truly they are both protagonists), it can never be right, or real, or what you expected to read on page 152 of the book you were reading. you never saw it coming, and neither did they. when she reached for her arm, neither knew the electricity would be as big and bold as it was. and as their eyes drew closer and closer she didn't know she would be facing what would soon be the prettiest eyes she had ever seen, and the moment when her tongue touched hers, well. that's when it all really began.