A Twilight Kiss

A Fictitious Entry that Chronicles the Thirst of Robert Pattinson aka Edward Cullen for Kristen Stewart aka Bella Swan

They were contained by four buttons. Seven, to be exact. But, Kristen has considerately unbuttoned the three on top, which allowed the panels to part and showed them off quite nicely. I delighted in the view and glanced at them as often as possible, as much as discretion would allow, in fact.

Kristen kindly ignored my ogling and looked over the activities of the New Moon set up. I took advantage of her distracted attention, and let my gaze settle on them while we waited to be called on set.

They were mesmerizing in their pale beauty, enhanced by a tantalizing cleavage that was created by the wonderful tightness of her dark green blouse that plumped the perky pillows together,.

My mouth salivated at the delectable sight. I wanted to nuzzle my face against the mouthwatering mounds, and let my lips trail across the satiny surface.

And then she spoke. I hurriedly raised my guilty stare, but, there was a knowing look in her eyes that she swiftly concealed. I felt a pink flush suffuse my cheeks at being caught gawking like a young schoolboy.

As Kristen repeated her request to rehearse the scene we were about to shoot, I nodded my head with a forced nonchalance and tried to hide unsuccessfully my utter willingness for her to jump in my arms.

As she did so, a fragment of my conscience thought I was an utter cad, but, a vast majority of my masculine concerns clamored for my concentration to be completely centered on the fact that the circles that have beckoned and beguiled me were against my chest.

And totally unbound. Utterly wonderful! I would have crowed if I could have.

Earlier, I was debating her state of undress, trying to discern the telltale lines of a brassiere. When I could not make out any, I became a hopeful lunatic who sent out a silent foolish prayer to the God of my childhood mutterings, something that my mum would surely have disapproved of since it involved nefarious purposes.

I grinned at the thought. Nefarious indeed were my intentions. I intended to embrace every opportunity presented to me, and there were going to be numerous that fine sunny day in Montepulciano Italy.

A multitude of camera angles were required of the Volterra kissing scene, a fact that I was most gleeful about. I was definitely looking forward to her slight weight crashing against my half-naked frame repeatedly.

The musing that there was just one layer of clothing preventing our torsos from fusing together made me pleasantly fuller, something that I needed to control since my trousers were the only things preventing my privates from being presented to the whole wide world.

If she was unbound, so was I with my lack of underpants, but, I was in a much more vulnerable position, since I would not be able to hide my state if I became too excited.

As we kissed, I pressed Kristen closer to my chest with my hand wrapped around her waist, while my inquiring thumb confirmed whether my earlier impression was correct. As I felt no lace or cloth constriction, I began a litany of prayers that would have caused a chorus of cherubim and seraphim to fly away in horror.

I was a reprehensible degenerate, but, I asked the merciful saints for the next two to three buttons to go ‘Pop! Pop! Pop!’ — surely a simple enough request that even the most newly canonized can easily grant.

And then I swore that I will go to confession afterward and willingly suffer whatever punishment the priest demanded. A thousand Hail Mary’s paled in comparison to the reward of having her bare spheres squashed against me.

A snarling sound escaped my throat from the imagined pleasure of mounds escaping their confinement, of hardening tips puckering, of nubbins scraping my skin deliciously as she descends from the precarious perch of my rigid thigh.

The combined sensation of stiff softness would drive me wild with desire, yet I would still selfishly seize the unexpected gratification.

And, under the pretense of gentlemanly concern for her modesty, I will enclose her in my arms while embracing her even more intimately.

I attempted to temper the blood rushing to my loins with the tantalizing images.

However, as the shooting continued, and the numerous shots began to dwindle, I began to question the supposedly generous saints who were irritatingly miserly that day on 26 May 2009.

With the possibility that heavenly intervention might mean ‘God helps those who help themselves,’ I began to concoct plans that required human involvement.

Perhaps a slight tug of her blouse downward will strain stitches that were already on the brink of being released from its moorings. Whatever it entailed, I was a most eager participant.

In the meantime, I luxuriated in the very pleasant picture of the pleasing shapes that were directly under my vision. With her tousled hair and limp body, I could even imagine that we had just enjoyed a wild romp in bed. I chuckled at my fanciful imagination that had Kristen and I entangled in bed sheets while I contentedly suckled and bit her scrumptious curves to my heart’s content.

As we neared the final shots, I had to concede that my prayers may not come to fruition. As I recalled my silly supplication of buttons going ‘Pop! Pop! Pop!’ I could not help laughing out loud at the ridiculous notion of it all.

Halfway through the motion of teasing Kristen, I belatedly realized that she was almost through the doors. My grasping hand reached out and attempted to break her stride, causing my fingers to accidentally slip into the little crevice between her jeans and lower back, and discovered that we shared the same condition.

Her tight pants were also the only thing veiling her privates.

Photo Credits

Photo Courtesy of Socialite Life
Photo Credit: Splash News Online

Photos Courtesy of Popsugar
Photo Credit: INFDaily.com and Splash News Online

Photos Uploaded from twifans.com and germandolls and fanpop.com

Lorna Lopez aka ATwilightKiss Notes

The culprit of this post is the very first photo, yet, for a long time, this remained a draft because I didn’t know how to attack it.

Suddenly, the ‘Pop! Pop! Pop!’ of buttons popped into my head, and, I remembered the observation of ATK readers Guinevere and Chi that Kristen was not wearing a bra during the kissing scene, and, the usually serious Robert Pattinson Diaries got a decidedly naughty touch.

Related Posts

The Kristen Stewart Diaries — A Distant Robert Pattinson
The Robert Pattinson Diaries — Kissing Kristen Stewart Bare Chested
The Kristen Stewart Diaries — Robert Pattinson Plays Naughty Handsie at the 2009 MTV Movie Awards
The Robert Pattinson Diaries — A Haiku for the Robust Butt of Kristen Stewart
The Kristen Stewart Diaries — Getting Possessive of Robert Pattinson in Italy