The Weekly Mindfuck: Lips

A long time ago, I read that the tip of a guy's penis is the same color as his lips. It makes sense, when you think about it. The rawest, softest skin on your body would all be the same color.

As a woman, it's not rare to hear comments about my lips from guys I'm getting to know, for obvious reasons. We'll be seated at the bar—my favorite place for first dates—and I'll catch his brief glimpses down at my mouth. A text later will confirm what I already know is flashing through his mind. "I liked your lips."

It's rarer, I think, for a woman to look down at a guys lips unless he's about to kiss her. I do it now, though, just the same as a guy will. Glancing down briefly, I immediately soak in the color. It's a color I'll remember until the time finally comes to make a real comparison.

I'm not sure what influences what: If I find the guy's lips more erotic because they suggest what I'll find later on when I finally unzip his pants, or if I find what's in his pants more sensual because they're an extension of his lips, something else to kiss. Either way, the two are forever connected in my brain, making me blush while we sip cold beer at a dimly lit bar. It makes an already electrically charged moment burn just that much brighter.

And I never turn down an opportunity to make life more interesting.