First kiss

Years later, she comes up in conversation, and I get an update from the Old Neighborhood - she spent her adolescence setting records in promiscuity (quite an achievement in the hellhole that is this part of the Bronx). I feel like I may have contributed to her delinquence. But then again, I suppose I wasn't her first kiss.

I remember much more clearly wandering casually around the pool to see Ray and my big bro embraced in a totally grown up 9-year-old style kiss.

After this trauma I took a couple of decades off the kissing game...

I thought nothing of it. It was just quiet and innocent, but very comforting to feel her laying on me. Warm. Soft. Smelled of vanilla. It was getting late and I was very tired. I'm sure she was, too. It was the furthest thought from my mind that moment, but I found her wonderfully attractive and engaging. She was the only person who had kept my attention for so much time and left me eager for the next day so I could meet up with her and spend more with her.

The thought of her feeling mutually toward me had never occurred to me. It was just an absolute impossibility.

She rolled over, onto her stomache -- still laying against me. She smiled and asked what I was thinking. I opened my eyes and found myself watching her pretty-shaped lips as she spoke. I forced my eyes upward to hers as she waited for an answer.

I was still tired. We'd been hanging out downtown since almost 8am that morning and sixteen hours later here, I was exhausted. I was silent; trying to think. She asked once more -- what was I thinking?

And then I said it.

"I'm wondering what it would be like to kiss my best friend", I answered. I was a bit taken aback at what I'd just said. It surely sounded stupid and I waited for either laughter or uncomfortable silence.

Instead, she smiled and was quiet for just a moment. And then she leaned downward and pressed her lips against mine and gave me the softest, most sensuous kiss of my life. I felt the center of my chest exploding manically and a cool shiver traveled down my spine. She broke the kiss and looked at me. I don't believe I was smiling -- I probably just had this look of shock and... pleasure on my face.

She put her hand underneath my neck and kissed me again as she pulled me to her. I sat upward and guided her to her back. Her leg entwined with my own and I put my hand on her hip as we kissed. Our kisses were soft but strong with passion and lust and wanting. And not a single word was uttered. We enjoyed this for awhile. An hour or so, probably and we both began falling asleep in one another's arms. As I mentioned before -- it had been an incredibly long day.

She stood slowly, trying to wake herself up enough to balance. She grabbed my hand and coaxed me up as well.

"There's no sense sleeping out here on the floorany longer, is there? Come to bed with me,"

she said. The floor wasn't the most comfortable of places, granted, so to bed we went after slipping our shoes and socks off. She snuggled close to me and I could feel how warm she was through her tee-shirt and jeans. It was such an immediately soothing sense of contentment laying beside her. With her.

I fell asleep and I'm not certain if she did or not. Sometime later that morning, though (while it was still very dark out so it was probalby 2am or 3am), I felt her crawl atop me and pin her knees on either side of my hips. She started to kiss me again. With a little (very little) sleep behind me, I was pleased to engage in some playful frolicking. Rolling about the bed -- throwing the blankets and sheets about. Bonking one another with pillows. Giggling. Idle threats. Kisses. Pinning her to the bed by the wrists. Kissing her. Kissing her jaw, neck, shoulders... and downward. She happily removed her shirt with little coaxing and mine was soon to follow. More warm skin pressed against one another and sent delightful waves through both of us.

More kissing. More playing. Teasing. Yet more idle threats; dares; pleadings... And we were completely unclothed. Wrapped in the arms of one another and confined in the security of the bed covers. Making love.

After a long day and what seemed like an even longer night, we really were exhausted. We didn't wake up until well after noon. Enjoying the comfortable caresses of skin against skin and without any interest in really dealing with the "real world", we lay together and enjoyed many more conversations until the evening. We ordered pizza and soda and made a mess of crumbs in the bed where we finally fell asleep again that night. Things had certainly changed, but not for the worse. They had changed but she and I had not. We were not uncomfortable and expectations were the same. We tried to rationalize this as an intense and very unique friendship -- not a relationship... But that only held so long before she began to feel jealous over fairly obvious things. But I wasn't upset. I was flattered. And after talking it over that week, we decided friendship wasn't all we wanted. What we had was good enough that it deserved commitment and a relationship.

Sure, the relationship lasted only half a year. It had a pretty rocky ending. We haven't seen each other since. And in retrospect, I wish we were still friends, even perhaps instead of everything else that had grown from the original friendship. But also in retrospect, I gained a lot from her (I hope she did from me as well... but sometimes I fear this isn't so) and I'm probably a better person for having known her and had the experiences we did.

Mine was December 19, 1999.

We started off the day just as friends - well, net.crushes, just with idle chatter on the way to the other station, and on the train back to her part of the world. And, we started the afternoon just lying around on her bed, talking. But every time one of us moved, and went to sit down again, it was definetly a little closer than the time before. And I do belive my hand ended up in hers at some point...

At about 4-ish, it was time to head out to her friends' lil' Christmas party.

We did spend a little time away from everyone else at the 'gathering', on the comfiest bed in the world™. But nothing much happened, other than the two of us talking, glad we could be together. There were a couple of awkward moments, not for the first time that day, where I'm sure the both of us were expecting something to happen, but nothing did. Often because my stomach began making some *really* wierd noises.

I started getting tired (it had been a long day), so we went back to her house at about 10, back to her bed. Turns out that my stomach was grumbling for good reason, because I was a feeling lil' sick for a wee while. We just lay there for a while, most likely in each others arms, I can't quite remeber. I was on the verge of falling asleep, so she stood up, and pulled me up onto my feet, which just so happened to place me face-to-face with her. Her hands met round my waist. Mine landed behind her neck. It was pretty much inevitable that we ended up in that kiss...

Admittedly, I'd been worrying about it a little.. something suitably silly, like not really knowing what to do. But it was just that - a silly lil' worry.

Since I was standing right next to the bed, I lost my balance and fell onto it, so, we just continued from there. Things didn't go much further than that, I think I was enjoying the kisses enough.. :)

Eventually, I *did* get too tired, and really had to get some sleep...

It is summertime and I am 14 years old. We are sitting against a pillar in the Tenleytown Metro station, watching the trains go by. The cool stone tunnel reminds me of a fallout shelter or a mechanical womb.

He has his knees pulled up to his body. I'm marvelling at the length of his legs, the way his feet are tapping, his rumpled grace.

(I'm amazed, even now, by people who look hot in dirty white T-shirts).

Neither of us say anything. He's so close I can feel the heat coming off of him and I want to touch him but I'm scared so I start picking at my shoelaces instead.

And then suddenly he's holding my hand. Smiling at me, that "I know more than you do" kind of smile.

Do you want to?

I knew what he meant but I pretended I didn't and waited for a very long time and then something snapped and I knew it was inevitable--fuck, I hope I don't get sick.

It goes all the way down my spine I think I just went to some strange country where everything is slick, warm and red.

Wait a minute! What the hell is that in my mouth? Oh gross, that's a tongue and it's not mine.

Pause.

Upon reflection I think I could get used to it. I kinda like its gymnastics.

He pulls away and looks at me. I feel like I've just stepped out of time but I don't let on.

Both have unique stories.

When I was seven, I had all the boyfriends in the world. I was the tomboy. We ran around barefoot in the summer, eating sticky popsicles, and riding our bikes everywhere. We were kids. My latest friend Leslie, an oriental boy.. either Vietnamese or Korean, had just turned four. He was as smart as a six or seven year old though, but age didn't matter so much back then as did who had the coolest toys.

One day, Leslie and I were in his bedroom with another friend of ours. I don't really remember how it started, but we decided that Leslie and I were going to kiss. So we closed the door and we all sat down on Leslie's bed. He had Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle sheets or some sort of cartoon that little boys watch. We were nervous. I started to giggle. The doorknob had a lock on it that was a small piece of metal that protruded from the center of the doorknob. When it wasn't locked, the piece of metal was horizontal. To me, it looked like the doorknob was smiling at us. I told Leslie and he started to giggle as well. But then we kissed. It was very quick. Two sets of lips briefly touched each other and pulled back almost immediately.

Our friend told Leslie's father. He was this macho marine kind of guy with tattoos all over his body. He was sitting shirtless on the couch. I don't remember his reaction. I am wanting to say it was indifferent.

We were quite the topic of the playground for days.

I didn't have a crush on Leslie. In fact, I don't think we ever spoke of the kiss again. He changed a lot in the following months and he went through a stage where he hated girls.. right before he moved back to Asia. I was very sad.

My first romantic kiss was with my old best friend of about six years.

It was sort of odd.

I had told him two weeks prior to the event that I liked him, but I think we knew we liked each other because he had the gall to kiss me on the neck one night before that.

I don't know why I liked him. It was so not physical at all. He was 300 pounds, pimply, kind of grotesque in a way. But he was my best friend and he was all I had. My other best friend had moved away earlier that month.

We were at his house in the kitchen. No one was home. He had swirled my body around and then we kissed. It was a very long kiss. He wasn't a very great kisser, but seeing as that was my first french kiss, I didn't know any better. I twirled my tongue around in his mouth. I was such a bad kisser.

That was about a year and a half ago. After he moved away, I got a boyfriend and a few months into that, we started kissing. Unlike Adam, the best friend, this boy liked kissing as much as I did. Adam often avoided french kissing me. Ben was much different. I learned from him. I am a better kisser now.

When I think back on it, I kind of wish that the first kiss with Ben had been my first romantic kiss. When I think about each kiss, only the last one gives me shivers. The first one makes me think of trailer trash.

I had nearly been kicked out by the choir master because i could not sing, well he asked me for a scale, played a note on the piano and i was not just flat but an octave off. He started to say, "I think you might not get any enjoyment .." and I asked for another try, sing it I said, let me hear the note. There were too few boys in the choir so he agreed, sang the note and i got the octave, up and down, wer'e short of tenors and so that's what i was to be.

every week twice a week, practicing, learning and at the end of the year a concert. we sang Faure's requiem,

after the concert, letting our hair down we went out to some club in Temple Bar. drinks and dance, and Valerie and i, we danced to some song, the words still linger in my mind, so many years later. "take a parachute and jump" ... "oh sit down, oh sit down, sit down next to me" and each time that part of the song would play we would get close to each other on the dance floor drop to the floor and back up again.

leaving the club, she asks me, "what do you do when you get drunk ?" I tell her, "i climb fridges when i get drunk, ya know, the tall cooler cabinets they have in bars? i climb those when i get drunk !" recalling my most recent of alcohol sodden experience, god how we could drink when we were younger. so she says to me, "what if these buildings were fridges?" so i say "well if i climb fridges when i am drunk and these buildings were a fridge then i would climb these buildings" and no sooner had the idea fixed itself into my mind then i find myself hanging from the second story balcony of a building on Dame street right in the centre of Dublin. It was easy, hanging there, her looking up at me. cemented my desire to climb tall buildings when i am drunk

I climbed down, we walked arm in arm to the night-links, the late night busses, there to cart the interlopers in the city back to the suburbs. waiting i ask "do you mind, can i kiss you?"

she nods her head, i move foreword, it's a shock, her lips, they are warm, soft. they are wet. i didn't know it was going to be like this !. this is good, this is happy, nice, this is warmness. on the bus fall onto the back seat on the upper deck, kissing, kissing all the way home. she takes her jumper off, i kiss her through the neck hole, her stop is approaching, she asks me "have you slept with many girls?" concerned like. Jesus, this is my first kiss, here i am thinking something must be wrong with me, 18 and never been kissed. "no", i tell her, "no i haven't".

I was 17, he was 19. I felt like a freak of nature because I had never had any sort of physical contact of the sexual flavor from either gender. He was one of my best friends and I was helping him deal with an ex-girlfriend who had hurt him badly. Everyone had always thought that we were dating, but we were just really close friends who had a lot in common. One day, however, someone asked us the right questions:

"Are you guys going out?"
an exchanged look between the two of us ... "no."
"Well ... why not?"

Why not, indeed? What were we afraid of, exactly? So, we talked about it. For three hours. About our mutual attraction, about how well we got along, about how many friends we had in common, and about both how well and how badly it could go.

Then, he asked me out. And I said, "yes."

Four hours later, after my first (and, really, only) date, we were watching The Kentucky Fried Movie in his parents' basement and he looked at me, grimacing, too afraid to kiss me.

So I kissed him.

After a while (a little bit of a while, actually), he looked really disturbed for a minute and said "That wasn't your first kiss, was it?" in a tone that a person would also say "You don't have leprosy, do you?"

So, of course, I said: "No, no ... of course not."

He never did find out.

<story=true>

When I was in third grade I had a crush on a girl in my class. Her name was, Jennifer... maybe. All the sudden I can't remember her name, it was a long time ago. Well, her name isn't important. She had agreed to be my "girlfriend". I recall being very excited about the prospect of having a girlfriend. She was a very nice girl and she smelled nice, always a bonus. One day after classes were out I was walking home when she appoached me. She pulled me with her around to the back of the school. She told me she wanted to kiss her "boyfriend". I'm sure my juvenille heart nearly burst with excitement. I was going to kiss a girl! This was a big deal. In a minute I would truly become a man.

She leaned forward and hesitantly but gently planted a kiss on my lips. I'm sure I was trembling. I remember she smelled like strawberries and her lips faintly tasted of chapstick. As she leaned back form the kiss she muttered, "that was nice". Then she kicked me in the nuts. I fell to my knees in the snow. Wincing in pain, I barely refrained from vomitting. She giggled and pranced off.

Thus began years of social mis-development and distrust.

</story>

We'd been set up when a friend of mine told a friend of Richard's that I liked him. Of course, this information was passed on, post haste. So, risking life and limb, Richard ran across the road to ask if it was true, and if so, would I like to go on a date?.

Would I?!!!

I was thirteen, and shy, and serious. He was sixteen, and I thought he was the most gorgeous thing I'd ever seen in my life. He was very tall, very slim and lithe, his hair was honey-coloured, his eyes were blue and he had a lovely, laughing face.

I nodded, mutely at first, then managed to force out the words "Yes, I'd like that."

We arranged to meet, the following evening, at the local park.

We sat there, on a spring evening, sitting on a bench, and talking in the twighlight. Our legs brushed against each other from time to time as we shifted a little, and as the sun set, he took my hand and held it, gently. His hand was warm, I remember, and the touch was soft as he just let my fingers rest there, circled by his.

We kept talking as it grew dark. It got colder, and when I shivered he put his arm around me, and shared his coat, cuddling me against his chest.

The town clock struck nine. Time for me to go. My parents were meeting me at the entance to the park at nine-fifteen.

We walked slowly to the meeting place, hand in hand.

He started to bend down (I mentioned he was very tall), then stopped. With a grin, he put his hands on my waist, and lifted me onto the first step outside the police station, so I was looking him straight in the face. Then he slipped his arms round me, so his hands rested in the small of my back, and pulled me towards him.

I placed my hands lightly on his shoulders and our lips touched, lightly.

There was no awkwardness, no bumping of noses. Our mouths opened, just a little, and there it was, my first proper kiss. Not overly long, not incredibly passionate, but very sweet and perfect

As we moved apart, he brought his hand up, stroked my cheek, and said "Thank you".

I've loved kissing ever since.