[Another post ported over from Livejournal, this one tied in thematically to my earlier post ...She'd Savor Smooching]
I loooooove kissing. It’s a bit of an obsession actually; on my Livejournal info page I’ve got drunken kisses, french kissing, kissing, making out, and slow kisses all listed as interests. Whenever I build a fantasy about someone in my mind, it always starts with passionate kisses.
Not long ago, I was thinking about my first “real” kiss… and then realized that I actually had three seperate “first” kisses. Seemed to me it might be unusual enough to want to recount here in my journal, and feel free to share your first kisses with me. Believe me when I say I’ll love reading every entry
First Kiss #1: Julie
Julie was my first girlfriend. I’d just gotten my license to drive and used to go pick up my younger sister from softball practice and games. Julie was the star pitcher, a jock tomboy with black hair cut butch, a guttermouth when no grownups were around, and the most incredibly beautiful big brown eyes. Off the field Julie would wear boys jeans and baggy shirts, but I knew better, almost daily I’d seen her strong, athletic body perform on the field. She was still pretty young, and in retrospect I imagine perhaps she was a bit embarrassed about her blossoming body that boys were starting to take notice of. Whenever we’d end up standing next to each other when I was helping my sister with her gymbag, her boisterous and loud on-field persona would melt into this bashful, slightly flirtatious adorable wallflower.
One day my sister finally demanded why I hadn’t asked Julie out yet. So I asked for her phone number, called her up, and we started hanging out.
Her parents were overly protective of Julie; her older sister had broken bad and run wild, and both Julie and her parents had taken care to make sure she hadn’t followed that path. Her parents liked me well enough, but the idea of “dating steady” was something that made them nervous, so we pretty much did stuff like go to afternoon movies, maybe go get an early dinner, go to church together, and hang out in her living room and watch TV and talk.
Both of us were drawn to each other, but both of us also had a painful inner shyness that was hard to get past. We dated for weeks before I finally decided. I’d ask her to be my girlfriend, and I’d kiss her by god.
It was around 8pm or so and it was time for me to go home. Julie walked me out to the car, and we talked a little. The night was nice, cool, with the moon lighting the sky. I was nervous as a cat. I finally asked her if she’d be my girlfriend, and she smiled and said yes, and I planted a kiss on her.
I think she was a little bit surprised, and I knew in an instant that she was as new to this as I was. The kiss was chaste as far as kisses go, with our mouths just slightly open, no tongue, but our lips pressed together, nervous and trembling with fear and longing. It was simple, probably little more than an instant, but it was wonderful and it was the first.
Sadly, soon thereafter, Julie wrote me a letter breaking up with me. She said that she felt terrible that her parents wouldn’t let her go anywhere, and that she said I deserved a “real” girlfriend who could go on real dates and go places and stay out late and make out and all the things that girlfriends should do. I was devastated. I tried to talk her out of it, to let her know I was willing to put in the time, to stick with her until she got older, until I gained the trust of her parents. But she just kept saying I deserved better. Some of my friends suggested she’d found someone else, but I was positive that Julie was telling me the truth. And the truth sucked. So my first kiss was also a last kiss, sadly.
First Kiss #2: Beth
Not long after Julie broke up with me, I was at my friend B’s house partying with my buddies. His parents ceded us the huge basement area of their farm house, allowing us to drink alcohol, play loud music and act like silly irresponsible teenagers so long as we each left our keys upstairs on the dining room table and didn’t try to drive home.
Anyway, the “core” group of us would hang out and have a great time, often starting the night with D&D, drinking beer or wine before we’d get too buzzed to focus on gaming and we’d start playing music, singing, and playing drinking games. After a while, we made a concerted effort to try and expand our core to members of the opposite sex; after all, it was much more enjoyable to party in mixed company. Beth was one of our first recruits.
This particular evening she was the only woman in the group. Not that that bothered her; Beth was a wonderful flirt and had a wicked wit and sense of humor. She was more than capable of holding her own and keeping six guys fetching and stepping.
Anyway, the night got really late and a lot of alcohol was consumed. I know *I* was incredibly intoxicated, and most of us were sitting around fighting off unconsciousness. A song came on that lured Beth to her feet; “I love this song,” she said, and started slow dancing around. All eyes that were still open were on her of course. Halfway through the song she said “All y’all gonna make me dance by myself?” I looked around; nobody else budged. Uninhibited due to the large amount of booze coursing through my veins, I stood up and staggered over to her. I remember her long sandy brown hair, her eyes large and liquid with intoxication. She smiled and held her hands out to me, and we wrapped our arms around each other to help keep from stumbling and falling as we swayed to the music. I remember how nice her body felt pressed against me before memory faded in a warm alcohol haze.
The next morning I woke up at home in my bed. I vaguely remember a friend arriving late that night who hadn’t been drinking and he’d offered to shuttle me home. And I remembered telling him that I’d kissed Beth, tongue and all, we’d made out and it was my first time french kissing and damn it had felt good.
I remembered telling my friend about it… but I couldn’t remember the actual kissing! The very alcohol that had emboldened me to make out with Beth had blotted out the memory of it, so that all I remembered was talking about it later. How lame is that?
Two months later, Beth and I were planning a big throw down party; our birthday falls about a week apart so we were going to be throwing a mutual birthday party. Beth pops by my house to work out some plans, an invite list, etc. As she talks, I just keep looking at her, pissed at my mind for blacking out the memory of us. Finally she cocks her head bemused at me. “What? Your mind doesn’t seem to be on this party, Ben.”
“Did we… did I kiss you at Brian’s party?”
She smiles at me. “Oh yeah. Haha, we were so drunk!”
How to say this? Well, just come right out I guess. “My mind is kinda fuzzy about the whole thing… but was I okay? I mean, I was really drunk so I hope I wasn’t awful or anything.”
“Mr. Smith, my mind is a little fuzzy too, but I really enjoyed it. You are probably the most enthusiastic kisser I’ve met!”
“That’s a good thing?”
“Yes, that’s a really good thing.”
First Kiss #3: Karen
Six months or so later, I end up going on a date with Karen. Karen dated a friend of mine briefly and had tried unsuccessfully to “hook up” me and another friend with two of her close friends; the scheme was for six of us to pair off together for drinking and possibly sleeping together if we could find a house to do it in. But the first two times we made plans they fell through and then Karen and my friend broke up. So the “hookup” never happened.
In the course of scheming, Karen and I had exchanged phone numbers and had talked on the phone a few times. After she & my friend broke up, she called me one night and we talked late about what a jerk he was; since I knew him well and knew he was a jerk to women, I couldn’t do anything but agree. At the end of the conversation, it was late and we were both starting to babble from exhaustion. “You’re such a sweet guy, Ben. I think I ended up with the wrong friend.” “Wanna go out?” I asked, half joking. “I’d like that,” she replied. So I asked if she wanted to go with me to the Rush concert in town the next weekend, and she said she’d love to. And all of a sudden out of nowhere I had a date.
Karen was this adorable girl who was a bit shy and melted into crowds and was easily overshadowed by more conventional beauties. She was tiny and wore glasses, and spoke softly, but if you payed attention it was easy to see how lovely she was. Long red hair, smooth white skin dotted with freckles, she had a dynamite smile and gorgeous green eyes.
I remembered picking her up and getting grilled by her father. He told me very clearly when he expected his daughter to be home and I knew he meant business. Karen rescued me as soon as she could and we fled into the night. I had a half bottle of bourbon stashed under the seat so we mixed it up with two cokes and got a nice buzz on and thoroughly enjoyed the show. We held hands and nuzzled each other’s necks and just let the awesome musicianship and showmanship transport us to another world. Rush is one of the few bands I made sure to see several times back in their heyday.
We get caught up in traffic snarled around the Coliseum after the concert and I begin to worry a little bit about curfew. I finally break free from the jam, hit the highway and finally get off in our side of town. When I’m not shifting the gears of my VW bug we’re holding hands. “We don’t have to go right home you know,” she says, and gives me a look that sends electric shivers down my spine.
“Um, your dad–”
“– is probably in bed right now.”
She squeezes my hand. I gulp. Keep in mind, at this point the most I’d ever really done with a girl was a make-out session I didn’t even remember. Karen was hinting about parking in some nice secluded spot, making out at the least and, if I were lucky…
Visions of delivering a slightly disheveled daughter LATE to a very awake and irate Karen’s dad ultimately cooled the teenaged hormones that had been unleashed by this small, lovely girl sitting next to me. I’d had a good time with Karen that night, and I wanted to make sure I’d get to see her again. I told her so and with a sigh she agreed that perhaps it was time to get home.
We pull into the driveway and the house is lit up like a Christmas tree. Light is literally pouring from every window. It was 12:30 at night, what the heck?
Ends up that Dad had invited Karen’s uncle and aunt and cousins over for a “movie night” and the whole gang was up, eating popcorn, drinking sodas and beer and watching The Karate Kid Part II. Wax on, wax off indeed. Dad insists that we join them and watch the movie, and the room is raucous and loud. Dad offers me a beer, which I decline explaining that it’s pretty late and I’m tired. Karen takes my queue and tells everyone that I have to get up pretty early in the morning and that I should go, and we flee back outside to my car. Karen apologizes for her crazy family, but I tell her no need, and again let her know how much I enjoyed the evening. She tells me she had a really good time too, then reaches up and pulls my head down to hers and we kiss.
Man, what a kiss! I can still remember it vividly, with her mouth pressed firm against mine, mouths open, her tongue darts in and plays with mine. Her kisses send electric shocks through my scalp, down my spine, a luscious cascade of sensation that I never want to end. I think we stand there for 10 minutes easily, arms entwined, mouth to mouth. It was strange when we finally came up for air, and I looked down at this little tiny girl who had so consumed my senses.
Right from the first (first remembered that is) Karen set the bar for kissing high, and I’ve been lucky enough to have known a number of women to have met that high standard over the years. If a woman gets into kissing as a sensational treat all its own, that is certainly a huge plus in my book!
So that’s the story of my Three First Kisses. Anyone got any kisses they want to share?
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