So much talk lately about the kiss, the intimacy of the kiss, that feeling of euphoria that comes with that kiss that is right and real, that kiss that swallows you up, starting from the curl in your toes to the fine hairs on the back of your neck, that kiss that leaves you panting for air, that makes each part of your body quiver as you melt against him, that makes you suck his bottom lip into your mouth with the overwhelming urge to bite it. Sometimes hard. That. That kind of kiss.
I had THAT kind of kiss for the first time with my first true love, not until sophomore year of high school. And that was the end for me. For to find a good kisser is to find yourself lost, at the mercy of another, at their seductive whims and charms like a magician with his hat and rabbit. I have also found it’s not all that common. My first French kiss was in 7th grade. I was young. I was naïve. And I had never even pecked a boy, let alone French kiss. Quite frankly, I had no idea what the French kiss was, though I had heard about it, like an Arthurian legend, like some secret sorority hears about hazing, like some mystical experience that only then will allow you to enter “womanhood.” For without the French kiss, it was argued, you had never been truly kissed. We stood dancing under a 7th-grade decorated gym of hideous reds and greens only middle-schoolers can concoct, around Christmas time, to a slow song like the timid children we were, out of Catholic uniform and separated by the imaginary Holy Ghost. A spunky 8th grader thought it fun to put some mistletoe above our heads and order us to do the unthinkable: French kiss in front of a gym of overly-horny tweeners, set free of the rules of everyday school desks and teachers and rows and homework and raising hands and rulers. What could we do? So…we kissed. I thrust my tongue into his mouth and he did likewise, and we stood there, tongue-locked and embarrassed, eyes wide, transfixed on one another in horror. The sadist who held the mistletoe laughed, skipped off, and carried on as if he didn’t just initiate us into some ungodly communion. And I? I ran to the bathroom, washed off my numb tongue, which I was convinced would never feel the same, and never looked that boy in the face again until many years later at a party where we could finally laugh at the absurdity of it. It was several years before I delved into “French-dom” again. And what a difference it makes when you feel, when you feel him in every blood vessel of your body, when it is unrehearsed and spontaneous but alive with electricity, when being in tune with each other is as natural as breathing, when you can’t control a thing your mouth and lips are doing, when your body reacts without a care or thought but to be there in that one moment, blood coursing, pulse beating extravagantly fast, limbs and mind gone to the nothingness but emotion. The only way to describe it is the meeting of two souls in one instance. Why settle for any other kind of kiss? That is the only kiss that matters.
23 Comments
3/26/2016 17:51:42
This made me smile at the memories. There's nothing like a really great kiss!
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J
3/26/2016 18:37:27
Cute. Never settle. You should not have to.
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Damn Can
3/27/2016 08:48:49
Love this...and yes, that first kiss...is the one that matters. 😉
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R.B.
4/1/2016 07:06:14
Yes. When it is the right person.
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Tori Dean
3/27/2016 09:11:11
That FIRST kiss..never forgotten. That ONE kiss that blows your socks off..leaving your breathless..obviously can't say I had that. Sad I know. *Sigh* But French kiss..I was in 7th grade..he was a high schooler..player..but boy could he kiss..lol
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R.B.
3/27/2016 09:44:22
Me too, Tori! Was your tongue numb like mine was? LOL>
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Gary
3/27/2016 09:54:24
This brings back memories of my first kiss. In middle school and interestingly enough with a girl named Rosemary. Long black hair, pretty face, shy, and very curious. I remember the goosebumps, the blushing, the was of emotion, the thrill of it all. It is something we hold close forever.
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R.B.
4/1/2016 07:06:42
Gary--I love your description here.
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S.D.
3/27/2016 10:20:30
I was a late bloomer and didn't have my first french kiss until senior year in High School. It was during a movie and I just remember being so nervous about my breath!!!! Someone behind us yelled to get a room and I nearly died. It was a great kiss though. I also remember it was salty from the popcorn. He was a good kisser. I have yet to meet a better one but he dumped me and broke my heart. Long story.
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Well done, RB! Sharing, huh? THAT kissed happened when I was a junior in HS, a Friday night at Disneyland watching the bands perform while trying to pretend I wasn't hopelessly in lust with one of the drummers. At the end of a set, he jumped from the stage, sauntered over and...yep memorable. Were the fireworks real or imagined? To this day, I don't know and, frankly, I really don't care.
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R.B.
4/1/2016 07:07:21
Love this story, SKS! Made my day.
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Master
3/27/2016 11:40:19
A post about kissing on Easter, Rb? Tsk. Tsk. What would your Catholic parents say about that? J/k. Have a great day! Hope you get a chance to do some kissing.
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R.B.
4/1/2016 07:07:46
Hahahaha. I hadn't even thought of that!
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R.B.
4/1/2016 07:08:25
No? Well, Rose, your life if not over yet!!
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Dee See
3/27/2016 14:44:04
The first kiss .... wasn't THAT kiss, it came much later in life for me. At a time when there were much higher levels of knowledge and understanding of what a kiss meant in a relationship and how it made a foundation for so many other aspects of a relationship. It was a friendship that had lasted over a decade, but was only a friendship. Then one night, an evening unmatched before. It was fun it was a series of revelations and yet not.
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R.B.
4/1/2016 07:09:14
What a breath-taking reply, Dee. Thank you. This has poem written all over it!
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4/3/2016 22:04:32
My first French kiss was from my first love...and what I remember most is that I tried to talk before he was done kissing me and my voice echoed in his mouth. I was very embarrassed!
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4/4/2016 13:08:57
Kissing is my favorite thing--with the right person, it can go on and on and on...Love this post! Thanks for sharing.
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4/8/2016 08:58:28
I was an incredibly late bloomer when it comes to love, sex and dating. So, my first French kiss happened when I was at 17 at a park, while my date and I were walking home. All I could think of on the torturous way to my place was "Fucking gross!!! I know why I never did it before now."
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Debra Price
12/4/2016 19:03:44
Being bought up in a extremely religious home and school, boys and girls did not mix it was frowned appon... I used to travel along way by train 14 years old and a boy from school liked me.. We would just hold hands and he would give me a peck on the cheek.. When I was 17 we met up again and his was my first French kiss omg heat and want and my first taste of lust and wet panties... Such a forbidden desire, unfortunately I moved a thousand miles away and we lost touch I've never been kissed like that again. He was and is the lost one, forever wishing....
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I LOVE to write and read. I particularly enjoy reading erotic romance that has tons of emotion in it. I hope you will ask me questions and share your favorite authors and novels. I welcome all feedback.
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