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Posts Tagged ‘Kissing’

masters-of-sex-1-03-virginia-and-dr-depaulMan, this week’s episode of Showtime‘s Masters of Sex, “Blackbird,” really got to me.  I absolutely loved season 1, and while season 2 has been a bit uneven, there has still been some dynamite performances by the leads, as well as some of the secondary characters– in particular Julianne Nicholson as Dr. Lillian DePaul, Virginia Johnson’s colleague and friend.

Below the jump are spoilers, but I consider them pretty small spoilers.  If you haven’t seen the show yet but plan to in the future, I don’t think anything I’m talking about will ruin things for you, but I did want to put the warning out there… here be spoilers!

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Two Words

Today a friend posted a fun little meme on her Facebook page, it had a picture of a blank piece of notebook paper and under it the question:

If you could write a note to your younger self, in two words, what would you say?

That was actually quite tough… just two words?  Three words came pretty easy, but this was a challenge!  I thought for a while, and then finally figured out what I would write to Bennie the Younger…

KISS HER

If you could write a note to your younger self, in two words, what would you say?

Thinking back to so many times in my life, if I would have heeded these words rather than the self-doubt that always seemed to plague my thoughts… well, I’ve no doubt life would’ve been a lot more fun 🙂

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The last post I wrote about my first date in forever, how much we clicked and how much I enjoyed meeting her.  Since then, there’s been some good developments and a not-so-good development.

On the good developments, we had our first kiss the second time we got together and it was wonderful.  She’s a great kisser, and it had been so long since I’d really kissed someone that I floated home that night.  Did I mention it was wonderful?  The third time we got together, we shared another goodnight kiss that left me feeling all warm and tingly.  Yeah, yeah– maybe it’s not macho gushing about kissing, but I’ve made no secret how much I love kissing (…She’d Savor Smooching, 3 First Kisses).  I even lamented one time being bummed by the thought that if I got run over by a bus one day that my ex would be my Last Kiss.  Thankfully, that concern has been erased.

Our fourth get-together was cancelled because she was not feeling well, and unfortunately for the next ten days my insane schedule left few opportunities for us to see each other, and on those days she had prior commitments.  So our next date was going to be this Friday, and I was really looking forward to seeing her again.  I considered some options and wracked my brain for something particularly fun to do to make up for the time we’d spent apart.

Unfortunately, that’s where the not-so-good development comes in.  Over the course of a few emails back and forth we converse a bit about what we’re looking for in a relationship, and she tells me that we’re not really working out for her.  She’s looking for someone who can go and do many of the things she likes to go and do, but my time constraints make that difficult.  I work two jobs to support my kids and have visitation with them as often as I can.  Her kids are grown and on their own, and she’s fully enjoying the empty-nest phase of her life.

It totally bummed me out to hear but I could totally understand.  She’s a great woman and deserves to have a partner who can spend more time with her than I can.  I appreciated her honesty, and was glad she was bold enough to speak up about it sooner rather than later, and not just let linger, building up resentment along the way.  She said she still enjoyed my company and hoped that we could still get together as friends, and I was glad to hear that because I really liked chatting with her about a wide variety of things we both enjoyed talking about.  I proposed we still get together Friday, meeting at this cool Mexican restaurant that makes this incredible fresh guacamole right at your table, to share guac over margaritas, and she agreed.  You can never have too many friends, and she’s a friend who likes to go and do, which are particularly good to find in this stage of my life.

So what now?  I don’t know.  One worry I had about getting back into dating was concern about my time constraints, and that was the very thing that sank this relationship before it really got going.  She mentioned that dating me was like having a long-distance relationship, which seems like a pretty good analogy.  Maybe that sort of thing will be appealing to someone down the road, someone who might have similar time constraints as me.  At least we wouldn’t have the travel expense of a long-distance relationship!

At this point I think I’ll get back to checking in on OKCupid, maybe modify my profile a bit to emphasize my time-constraints to make it clear what I can and cannot offer at this stage in my life.  Sure, interest in my profile will likely shrink further, but it’s only fair to potential partners who run across me.

I’ll also keep trying to expand my social circles, find people who want to go and do stuff when I have the time to go and do.  And I’ll focus on my health, exercise and healthy eating.  Who knows what the future may bring?

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The past few blogs have been on the heavy/serious side, I thought I might shake things up with a little fun!  Since I have a good number of great women who read this blog and comment, I wanted to ask you:

What’s your opinion on men and facial hair?  Specifically, I’m curious about whether, when kissing/making out with a man, do women find him having facial hair annoying, sexy, or not really a factor in the enjoyment level of smooching?  Does the quantity of facial hair matter– mustache, goatee, full beard, cultivated 5 o’clock shadow look?

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Recently finished Stephen King’s latest novel, 11/22/63 and I have to say I enjoyed it more than I’ve enjoyed his books in a long, long time.  While I loved the interesting fantastic twist that the story hung on, it was the romance at the heart of the novel that really hooked me.  The love between the protagonist and the girl he met in his travels was deliciously romantic and yet felt so real and visceral, I almost felt like a voyeur.

Then we were together, first fumbling, then holding on tight.  It was kissing, but it was more than kissing.  It was eating when you’ve been hungry or drinking when you’ve been thirsty.  I could smell her perfume and her clean sweat under the perfume and I could taste tobacco, faint but still pungent, on her lips and tongue.

One thing that really resonated with me was the protagonist’s description of kissing his lover, and the taste of cigarettes on her breath.  It’s funny, our modern day sensibilities dictate that cigarette smoking is bad, that people who smoke have “ashtray breath” and kissing them is nasty– you see it in the anti-smoking advertising… and yet, even though I don’t smoke, in my experience when you kiss a smoker the taste of tobacco on her breath is sweet and erotic.

Of course, the bulk of King’s book is set in the early 60s when smoking is something that everyone does, and often quite a bit.  Reading it though made me realize both how long it had been since I’d really read a description of kissing and tasting tobacco… and how I kinda missed that taste myself.

I sat up and embraced her without even thinking about it.  She hugged me back, as hard as she could.  Then I kissed her, tasting her reality– the mingled flavors of tobacco and Avon.  The lipstick was fainter; in her nervousness, she had nibbled most of it away.  I smelled her shampoo, her deodorant, the sweat beneath it.  Most of I touched her: hip and breast and cheek.  She was there.

On a broader note, King’s description of those kisses reminded me of what I really love about kissing, the tasting of flavors in her mouth, whether it’s tobacco, or tequila, or chocolate, or steak… mmmmm…

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There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole. – Martin Luther King, Jr.

I was devastated.  I’d just moved into my very first apartment, filled with love and hope and dreams of the future.  A future with her, my first real girlfriend.  And then she told me she didn’t want a serious relationship right now, that she had a lot on her mind, a lot of things she wanted to work through, alone.

Unfortunately, “alone” actually meant she wanted to spend more time with this new guy she’d met…

Crushed, wounded, and heart-broken I wasn’t sure I could ever hope for love again.  Then along came Ellen.

I was instantly drawn to her.  Beautiful blue eyes, a great smile and adorable laugh, she was smart, creative, with an urban style that this country-boy found intoxicating.  We shared a sometimes dark and twisted sense of humor and she was delightfully irreverent.

She was instrumental in my musical awakening, and I’ve talked about her in that way a few times before (…She’d Envy My iPod Pt 3, Following the Pixies).  While music was such a big part of who I grew to be, that was just portion of the wonderful things she brought into my life.

Wish I had pictures of her like this!

She had a bold and brash exterior and was fearless and exciting.  Back when I was into moshing to early live Fishbone and Red Hot Chili Peppers, she’d be right there beside me, or else she’d be serfing the crowd.  She’d match me tequila shot for shot, and one night at the bottom of the bottle of Mescal I held the worm between my teeth and she bit it in half with a searing kiss before tumbling into my arms.  She’d offer to read some of my fiction writing and give me honest critiques.  I just loved being around her.

we all win!

Sometimes she’d reveal hints of shyness and vulnerability underneath that sexy and fun side.  As I often do, I’d get romantic and mushy, and going in for a kiss she’d give me a nervous giggle (even though she gave such great kisses) but she’d not pull away.  In fact, she made me feel wanted and special at a time in my life when I was feeling neither of those things.

Despite her efforts, I was still healing from my wounds, and eventually she moved on to someone else.  I certainly couldn’t blame her for that.  Thankfully though, we still had a connection, and we both seemed to find excuses to get together from time to time.  I cherished all those extra moments she gave me over the next few years, when time would stand still… but I always felt some regret that I hadn’t been more emotionally available back when I had the chance, better able to give her the things she needed and deserved.  She was certainly worthy of more than I gave her.

There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole… when I think of Martin Luther King, Jr. that is one of the quotes that pops into mind.  Sometimes I get discouraged, he said.  But take heart—there is a balm to make the wounded whole.  Ellen, she was my balm, and for that I will always be grateful.  Today, on MLK Day, many of his quotes and deeds are being remembered for the large thoughts and movements they inspired… For me today, his words have me thinking of something more personal, yet so very important to me…

Much needed hugs

She came into my life when I really needed her, and for that I’m eternally thankful.  Knowing that life’s path gave me someone I needed when I truly needed her gives me faith today that life will bring someone to me again.

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New Years Day always gives us a chance to reflect back on the things we did in the previous year.  One big thing I did was create this blog.  I’ve been a writer at heart since I was in middle school, with dreams of being a published author, and years later, dreams of being a screenwriter.  Things didn’t work out that way (as of yet) but I did get into writing about a hobby of mine, and have proudly been a paid professional hobby writer for well over a decade.

Even though it’s a lot of fun to write about a hobby you love, it’s a pretty narrow niche potential audience, and it occurred to me last year that starting a blog might be a good way to stretch my writing chops and expand my audience and network of readers and other writers.  When I was contemplating what to write about, the fact that I was going through a divorce and needing to start my life over seemed like the perfect thing to write about.  Not only would it be much more accessible to readers, but it could also be cathartic to write, providing me with a way to shape my thoughts and feelings going forward, to help me learn from mistakes in the past and focus on the sorts of people I want to be in my life going forward.

The concept was that the blog name “My Ideal Woman” be the first part of an affirmative sentence, with each blog post title “… She’d be (something something)” as the second part of the sentence.  Eventually ideas for posts came that didn’t exactly fit the paradigm but that was my original framing.

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I know this is going to sound silly, so please don’t laugh… but sometimes I worry that, if I got run over by a truck tomorrow it would be a damn shame that the last person I kissed was my ex wife.

Don’t get me wrong– I certainly enjoyed kissing her over those many years, she was really good at it.  But that part of my life is so over, so ancient history.

If you’ve read my blog long enough you’ve probably caught on that I’m a total kissing bug, love it, love it, love it.  I certainly dedicated quite a few posts to it (this and this and this and and even this) and — ha — here’s another one.

Last weekend I went to a Christmas party some great old friends were throwing; it had been way too long since I’d seen him and his wife.  I had the kids visiting with me, and while I was pretty sure it was “adult” party I figured we could swing by for a short visit.  My kids are old enough to chill out and occupy themselves for a little bit, and I wouldn’t subject them to hanging out for long.

The vibe really made me wish they’d held the party the previous weekend; there were a lot of people there, and the alcohol was flowing.  A lot of women my age, older, and younger, and a fair number of them single.  With a sigh I drank the Coca Cola, caught up with my friends, and checked in with the kids.  They were total angels, and I didn’t hold them there too long.  Soon we headed home.

I’m really looking forward to going to another mixer like that again, with a lot of people there, and the alcohol flowing.  A lot of women my age, older, and younger, and a fair number of them single.  With a little luck maybe one of them will make out with me…

Everyone else falls away...

…or give me her number for a date, leading to a long, lovely goodnight kiss at her front door.

Perfect end to a lovely evening

Then I can get run over by that truck and not have that regret hanging over my head.  Hey, I told you not to laugh at me 😉

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Much like other people coming out of a long-term relationship that has ended, thoughts often turn analytical – what went wrong, and how can I avoid that in the future?  One of the points of this blog is to help me stake out qualities I’d like to find in future partners, and while I know that no one is going to embody all those qualities, I think it would be helpful for me to look inside and recognize that there are things I’d like in a girlfriend, thinks I want in a girlfriend… and things I need in a girlfriend.

Affection is a definite need.

I’ve always been someone who expresses affection in physical ways.  I like the reassuring touch, holding hands, hugging, leaning against your partner, the spontaneous “just ‘cause” kiss.  Reaching out and running your hands through her hair.  Fixing my shirt collar or picking off a fuzzball from my clothes before work.  I know some people view this sort of thing as being needy or insecure, but for me it’s just something that feels good and lets people know “I love you” at a fundamental level better than any words can express.

You and me babe

I’ve heard people express disapproval ranging from being awkwardly uncomfortable to flat-out disgusted when seeing others engage in “Public Displays of Affection.”  Sometimes the lovers will be heckled with “go get a room!”

the horror...

Me, I personally love seeing PDAs.  It warms the heart to see two people out and about in public and yet totally willing to make it crystal clear to everyone around that this person here is their love.  Whether it’s the teenaged girl curled up in her boyfriend’s lap at the football game, or the elderly couple holding hands as they walk down street, it’s a happy reminder that there is love in the world to be had.

Thinking about PDAs, I decided to Google it and see what came up.  Not surprisingly, there is a lot on the internet about it.  There’s even a website called MorePDAs.org!

GIMME MORE!

Askmen.com had an article titled “Acceptable Public Displays of Affection” with the subtitle “Why do you need to know?  Because you don’t want to be that couple.”  Which is funny… but personally I’d rather be that couple than the ones watching.  The article then goes through rating various PDAs on a scale of Acceptable on one end, Unacceptable on the other, with some middle ground of Acceptable but with qualifiers.  It’s quite amusing and definitely comes from a “macho” point of view (especially the Unacceptable ones).

Acceptable:  Hand-holding

Acceptable, within limits:  Kissing

Acceptable, but tacky:  Space invasion

Acceptable, but not advised:  Ass smacks

Unacceptable:  Declarations of love, Pet names, Babying

I found a website named Lovepanky.com– which I find frickin’ awesome– how could you not visit a site called Lovepanky??  They had several articles on the subject.  The first one I ran across was just called “Public Display of Affection.”   The author gives an amusing anecdote about getting distracted in the movie theater by two young lovers in the row in front of her providing more action and romance than the chick flick she was there to see.

Another article was titled “Kissing in Public—Does It Turn You On?”  The author writes:

Public affection can have its hate club, but deep inside, our voyeuristic sides can’t help but get turned on by some good kissing in public!

I kinda assumed they’d be talking about doing the kissing in public, but it seems to be more about watching other people kissing, and provides some counter-argument against those who claim to be offended by that sort of PDA.

Then there’s the Lovepanky.com article entitled “Public Display of Affection Etiquette.”  Aha!  Here are the rules they lay out (and check out the article for more details):

#1 Make it look good (cute and sweet vs. gross and vulgar)

#2 Stop when it’s uncomfortable (for the people around you)

#3 Kissing tops the list (though don’t try and reach for your partner’s tonsils)

#4 Don’t bite and lick (‘nuff said)

#5 Don’t flash skin

#6 Don’t use PDA to seduce someone else (Ha!)

#7 Watch the age (of the people around you)

#8 Don’t touch someone else (the personal anecdote is fun)

#9 Don’t slip your hands in (hee!)

#10 Watch your reputation

So how do you feel about Public Displays of Attention?  To me, it comes down to the core word affection and for public display of it you should use some degree of common sense and tact.  But the showing and sharing of affection is important to me.  The next woman in my life will need to be comfortable with giving and receiving public displays of it.  Tell me what you think about PDAs in the comments!

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3 First Kisses

[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…

Double gulp!

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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