And when he smiled, his mouth seemed that of the young man I remembered.

His hands moved too quickly and his mouth did not seem under control.

Her mouth seemed to open of its own accord and she forced it closed.

But my mouth didn't seem to want to talk.

He was asking something and my mouth seemed to be answering.

The mouth that spoke the words seemed to belong to someone else.

He'd hoped to find pleasure, as her mouth seemed to have been created to give and to take it.

Her mouth seemed to have a private existence of its own.

I tried to speak, to smile, but my mouth seemed to be in a knot.

His mouth did not seem to have any trouble finding hers.