My first kiss was when I was sixteen years old, and was with my best friendâs cousin on her living room couch. I had just beat him at Tetris. The end.
No? Background? Okay. Letâs start with the âsixteen years oldâ part and get it right out of the way: I was a very late bloomer in terms of making out. While you, my sexy readers, were blossoming into young adulthood and totally getting to third base in the back of your friend Kellyâs dadâs car at Mattâs party, my fresh spring buds were still tightly furled, so to speak. Hardly showing a bit of green tinge in the leaves there. I was the kind of sixteen year old who took as her role model a hybrid of Anne Shirley, Ramona Quimby, Watts from Some Kind Of Wonderful, Olivia Davidson from Sweet Valley, and Buttercup from The Princess Bride, you know, and when I wasnât being not asked to Prom I was writing plays to be produced at my high school or working with homeless people under the overpass in downtown Miamiânone of which attributes, it turned out, drove any of the teenage boys I knew wild with the desire to make out with me or whatever.
I was extremely innocent and naĂŻve about sex, in a way that seems weirdly antique now; Iâd read a lot of teen romances (see: Olivia Davidson) so I knew kissing was this very big deal, but I still didnât exactly understand how it worked, really, or what you were supposed to do, or what it meant if you ever got around to actually doing it. As far as any post-kissing activities, I couldnât even think about anything like that; when my mom told me that she had put a box of condoms in my and my sisterâs bathroom and that we (and our friends) were to make use of them if we needed to, I believe my reaction was âEeeeeeeeeeeeewww!â So you see what I mean by late bloomer. In fact I sometimes think that I still, at the age of thirty-two, have not completely bloomed, that there is some lush undergrowth in me yet that has not quite seen the light.
Anyway, right: sixteen years old and sort of dreamy and histrionic and not quite ready to stop living in a fantasy world of my own devising. Not exactly a prime kissing suspect. There was that. And then there was my very best friend Amy, whose parentsâ liberal sleepover policy led directly to the occasion of that first disastrously disgusting kiss, which Iâm going to tell you about any minute now.
Amy was and is extremely beautiful; when she was sixteen boys would lay down on the floor and howl for love of her when she walked by. I donât think she had any real idea how gorgeous she was, but every boy we knew was in love with her, even the ones that turned out gay later. (I was pretty much in love with her too, now that I think about it.) I always credit Amy with the choice of my future profession because it was these lovelorn boys who became my first therapy clients.
Her parents, you see, were very generous with their house, which was a couple of blocks from mine on the island; I slept over there every weekend. Her house had a bunch of movies and a ping-pong table and what must have been a Commodore 64 or something. There were kids in that house all the time, eating the family’s food, watching their movies, sitting in their daughterâs room and reading romance novels and making collages out of cut-up magazines. Anyway, all the boys who loved Amy would drive (or, in one case, actually bike out in the broiling hot Florida sun) to her house every weekend and justâŚhang out. Like, on her front lawn, hoping for a glimpse of her as we left to go to the 7-11. Her dad, no fool, would tell these boys that if they were going to be there theyâd have to do some yard work, so the lawn would get mowed and the hedges would get trimmed by these poor boys as they broke their hearts. I think she knew they all liked her, but she probably wasnât aware of how much they liked her because they were busy telling me all the details.
âChiaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaara,â theyâd wail. âI loooooooooooooooooove her but sheâs going oooooooooooout with my best frieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeend.â
âWell,â Iâd say, nodding sympathetically. âYou have to understand about Amy. She justâŚyou canâtâŚitâs just not going to happen, you know? She has to be free.â
âAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH,â the boys would scream. Amy, all unaware of the free counseling I was providing, would continue painting her toenails and working on her magazine cutout collage in the next room.
âYou want us to get you a Slurpee while weâre at the Sev?â Iâd ask the boys. âMowing the lawn can get really hot. Oh, and you can send the next client on in now.â
So, now, if your best friend was this amazingly beautiful girl, and all weekend every weekend you spent multiple hours listening to all sorts of boys cry about how irresistible she was, would you expect to get your first kiss anywhere in her vicinity? If not, you are just like me, and you probably wouldnât have seen it coming either.
So there I was, sleeping over at Amyâs as usual. Her cousin Andrew from Sarasotaâwho wasnât actually even really her cousin but her momâs best friendâs kidâwas staying with them for a couple of weeks, so he was sleeping on the couch in one room while me and Ames slept in the big fold-out bed in the adjacent one. I guess weâd watched a movie or two and probably eaten some onion dip and chocolate-chip Costco muffins for dinner, as was our wont, and then for a while we all played old-skool Tetris, which would, of course, not have been old skool in 1991. I loved Tetris. I still love Tetris. I was very good at it and played it all the time, and I was thoroughly enjoying beating Amyâs sort-of-cousin at it. Doop doop, doop doop, doo doo DOO doo doo doo DOO DOO DOO, doo doo doo, DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO. Nothing quite so satisfying as getting all four lines in a row, is there?
I forget exactly how it happened, but as I was trouncing him Andrew started telling me his life story, mainly about how up in Sarasota he was something of a ladiesâ man. I was already used to boys telling me about other girls so I just sort of nodded and went âMmm hmmâ and concentrated on getting the shapes in the right position and slamming them down so I could beat him even more.
He started started telling me how he planned a seduction. âFirst,â he purred, raising his eyebrows so that I would know he knew his stuff. âI make her dinner. I turn the lights down low. I light some candles, and I put on some Bobby Brown.â
âTETRIS!â I yelled, but quietly, because everyone else was sleeping, including Amy, not three yards away. âDang, Iâm good at this game.â
âAnd then I tell her sheâs beautiful,â he said.
âUh huh,â I said, plying my joystick expertly.
âAnd then I go in for the kill,â he said triumphantly. âWorks every time. SoâŚwhat do you do when you want a boy to kiss you?â He was sly, this one.
âOh,â I said, not getting it, my eyes on the screen. âIâve never been kissed.â
âOh really,â he said, hamster wheel beginning to rev up in his brain. âWhy not?â
âUhâŚâ I put the game on pause. âUm. I donât know. It just hasnât happened, I guess.â
And thatâs when he leaned in, grabbed my arm, and thwocked his lips in a circle over mine, forming a perfect seal and applying really amazing vacuum-cleaner pressure. Somehowâand I have still to this day never figured out how he did this–he also managed to inflict a pretty serious case of Lizard Tongue along with the already-distressing Plunger Mouth. It was not quite what Sixteen Candles had promised me, I tell you what.
Still, though, I was kissing a boy! And a boy, for some reason, was kissing me! The experience itself was disagreeably slobbery and left a big red ring around my mouth, but I wasnât five seconds in to the forty-five minutes this whole thing lasted before I was planning how I would tell Amy all about it the next day. If only the kissing itself could compare to the joy of reporting it to my best friend!
He finally broke the tractor beam and released me, walking me chivalrously to the other end of the room where Amy was snoring softly in the fold-out bed, oblivious as to what-all weâd been getting up to. I lay down beside her and had to stop myself several times from waking her up and breaking the earth-shattering news. Sweet sixteen and never been kissed? Not any more, buddy!
We were all supposed to go to the very fancy Venetian Pool the next day: Amy and Andrew and a couple other kids, including maybe even future Key Girls Marah and Ashley. I fessed up to them immediately, before we even got in the car. Weirdly, I totally donât remember what the boy himself was doing that morning as I was all squealing to my friends: was he just eating breakfast and taking a shower and watching cartoons? Did I feel embarrassed or shy or anything? Did I even like him? It didnât seem as important as telling everyone about my vast and recently-acquired kissinâ experience.
âMy cousin?â said Amy.
âYeah! For like forty-five minutes!â I crowed. (Although now that I think about it, maybe it just felt like forty-five minutes.)
âWow. With tongue?â
âYes!â I couldnât believe it either.
âSoâŚhow was it?â
âUh. It was sort ofâŚit was a littleâŚit was fine. I guess.â
âMmm. I wondered what that red ring around your mouth was.â
âOh, man, is that still showing?â
Amy asked if I actually liked her cousin, and I said I didnât know. âHe lives in Sarasota, and I live here, andâŚâ
âYeah, you should let him down easy.â This was very excitingânot only had I just kissed a boy, I was going to get to reject one, too! This was turning into a pretty exciting weekend, when you factor in how hard I ruled at Tetris.
âJust tell him itâs not going to work out,â she said. She was the expert.
âMm hmm.â
âTell him you think heâs really nice but you live too far away.â
âGot it.â This was deeply thrilling. I had relationship problems. I was going to have to do something about them. Now I knew how Lizzie and Jessie Wakefield felt.
âAnd then if he wants to kiss you again after that, let him!â
The Venetian Pools were really lovely, with fountains and waterfalls and caves, all cut out of the native limestone. I donât know if they are still there, but in the cave part there were all these underwater benches and this cool place where there was a hole in the wall through which you could swim if you could hold your breath long enough. I was all splashing around and pretending to be a whale when Andrew motioned me over. Uh oh. Here we go.
âHey, come over to the cave with me,â he said, jerking his head in that direction.
Now, innocent as I was, I knew that the cave was totally where you went to make out, and I think I spared a semi-kind thought for this guy as I swam over to let him down easy. He thought we were going to kiss some more and I was going to break his heart instead! Ha ha! Poor guy. By that point I was pretty well versed in unrequited love and I think I thought it was high time I did a little dumping, for a change.
âListen,â he said, once we got back to the underwater benches and secured a place among all the maker-outers. âYouâre a really nice girl butâŚwellâŚI live in Sarasota, and you live in Miami andâŚwell, it just wouldnât work. You live too far away.â
WHAT? He thought I was really nice but it just wasnât going to work? That was my line! And! He didn’t even seem to want to kiss me anymore! WHAT THE HELL, LIZARD TONGUE?. With as much dignity as a dripping wet chlorine-smelling adolescent in an ill-fitting bathing suit could muster, I turned up my nose, dog-paddled away in a huff, and didnât speak to him for the rest of the afternoon. He went back to Sarasota and the next time I saw him was five years later at Amy’s wedding, where I didn’t speak to him then either.
What this episode foreshadowed about my career to date as a kisser-of-boys I leave to your imaginationâŚalong with a thrown-gauntlet challenge to give as many details as you feel comfortable with about your first kiss in the comments! Someone has to have a worse (by which I mean âbetterâ) story than mine, Iâm sure. I mean, some of you probably didnât play Tetris at all when you first made out, let alone beat the other person, right? Fess up, my friends. The winning story gets a kiss from me!
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22 responses to “My First Kiss”
It was nearly a month after I had turned 18, in east dorm. There were two beds and four other people (five, including myself), and the other were also kissing. In fact, the person I kissed was also kissing other people. You know how it goes.
My first kiss was in my 5th grade class. The teacher had us all line up to go to recess. I was at the end of the line with Georgie in front and my “boyfriend” behind me. As everyone left the class, Georgie closed the door and said he wouldn’t open it until I kissed my “boyfriend”. It was a peck.
The first french kiss followed an evening of playing on the playground with my friends. I was 15 and I came as a surprise. At some point in the evenning everyone disappeared from the playground. I ended up alone with my friends brother. We were on the sliding board and he turned to me and kissed me. I fully expected it to be like the 5th grade kiss but when his tongue..ugh..yuck! After the gross encounter, everyone came out of hiding. All of my friends and my sister witnessed my first kiss as well as the spitting and mouth wiping that followed.
Fabulous, fabulous entry! And, how can I not enter the competition? Could do without telling my first kiss story… but want to win the prize!
I had the vapor-lock vacuum-seal kiss too, complete with Lizard Tongue. I was in 7th grade, so 12 years old, and the new kid in school. The boy’s name was Jimmy W01f, and he was famous amongst the junior high girls as being a charming, rakish player.
But, he also happened to live around the block from me, and we’d hang out on weekends if there was nothing else to do.
One Sunday afternoon we were standing around in my driveway and he asked if I’d ever been kissed. And I lied. “Oh sure, lots of times.” “Who?” “It was at my other school, nobody you’d know.” (Yes, I pulled the classic “She was from Niagara Falls” move! Breakfast Club hadn’t been made yet, so I didn’t have the mental practice.)
But of course he could tell I’d lied, and said, “Prove it” as he put his hands on my shoulders and MOVED STRAIGHT IN. Next thing I knew, I was in the middle of Plunger Mouth and [what I have ever since called Racetrack Tongue, where the kisser seems intent on accomplishing clockwise laps].
Then, that was it. He had to go home for dinner so he jogged off. I knew we were still just pals (which was fine as his player reputation made me not want to “go with him,” had that been on the table).
Didn’t have another kiss for two more years, at which point I was in high school. That guy became my boyfriend and was the foundation for all my actual kissing practice and development.
But Jimmy Wolf was technically the first.
Sixteen? Ha! As if I could get young ladies to notice me at sixteen. I was a month shy of my twenty-first birthday before I found a girl who thought I was sufficiently attractive to be kissed.
21 also. The guy that I was dating was 8 years older than I was. I was so nervous/excited/catalyptic that I started shaking, and he had to ask if I was ok. The coolest part was that after the first make-out session he remarked that I was good at kissing! I guess I’m just a natural. I have to admit that I didn’t admit that he was my first kiss for many months, and when I did, he nearly passed out … I guess a 29 year old guy doesn’t expect to be giving out first kisses.
Doop doop, doop doop, doo doo DOO doo doo doo DOO DOO DOO, doo doo doo, DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO
isn’t this one of the Dr. Mario songs?
I love this entry!
Here’s my story – I was in 8th grade – I had started a new school that year – a Catholic school cuz I thought that it would help me get into a good private high school which would then get me into a good college. After this event, I was ready to hightail it back to the safety of public school.
It was halloween and Jenny Irvin was having a boy-girl party. I was totally invited because I was the new girl and everyone wanted to be my friend, including the super popular girls, of which Jenny Irvin was in charge. So I had a crush on Eric Jensen. I spent the whole evening watching him be cute and avoiding all the girls. Now that I think back, he’s probably gay.
Then Jenny brought out a bottle and said it was time to play spin the bottle. Oh man, did I want that bottle to land on Eric! So Jenny spun it first and it landed on Chris Lant and they kissed all sweetly, no tongue – just a sweet peck. It kept going like that – nice, sweet, innocent kisses. Then Scott Ziobro spun it and it landed on me. This was my first kiss, so I was disappointed it wasn’t going to be with the guy I was completely and totally in love with. So I lean in for my sweet innocent kiss and suddenly, Scott Ziobro is totally licking my face!
Everyone was shocked, especially me! I opened my mouth in protest but of course I couldn’t get a word out cuz his whole tongue was in there trying to figure out what I had for lunch that day. When he was done, all the girls surrounded me to ask me how it was. I lied and said it was awesome.
Many years later, when I was in graduate school, I got a job at the university doing research. The person in charge of the research? Scott Ziobro. He grew up into a babe – looking a lot like Brad Pitt. He remembered me before I remembered him. I love that. His head was shaved and there was this big scar from the top of his skull to the middle of the back of his head. I asked him about it and he told me he had a brain tumor. We became friends and hung out for four months working and goofing around. He met my fiance, I met his.
Then he died. I cried at his funeral. We never talked about my first kiss. I always wondered it if was his as well.
Oh, happy birthday, girl! Sorry I missed the big day, but I was thinking about you!!! Love you!!
My first kiss was a stage kiss when I was Bianca in Taming of the Shrew my junior year of high school. It was his first kiss too. He had haliotosis and pimples and would never accept the gum or tic tacs we frequently offered him. I had to stand two levels below him so that we were the same height for the kiss. There was definitely *no* tounge but there was slobber all over my face each and every time *damn it*! AND We had to hold the kisses until my friend Omar said his line and the very first time, Omar was so busy feeling sorry for me – he forgot his line!!!! and when I didn’t hear it, didn’t hear it, didn’t hear…it…Didn’t HEAR IT!!! I broke off the “kiss” to turn back and glare and ask what the h- was going on back there! Additionally, because it was in the middle of a scene, I had to pretend to enjoy it and I couldn’t wipe the slobber off my face for a good ten minutes until I went offstage. This decided me that kissing was gross and it wasn’t until late spring of my sophomore year of college that I allowed a “boyfriend” to kiss me. I had 2 boyfriends in the interum but I wouldn’t let them kiss me. We hugged or held hands because kissing was “gross.” The person who introduced me to kissing didn’t ask. It was our first date. We were standing by seal pond. The moon was shining on the water. He leaned down, gently brushed my lips with his, and was gone. It was ever so fleeting and he smelled so nice! I wanted more. And then we were dating. And one night what I thought was going to be an innocent kiss goodnight – much like the oh so chaste kisses we had been sharing with none of that icky slobber, much less tounge – turned into so much more and suddenly I understood what the big deal about kissing was. Still don’t understand the big deal about sex. Guess I’m still a-blooming too.
My first kiss was next to a lake at a summercamp I went to. My first kiss with tongue was on a dock at a lake near the house I grew up in. My most recent kiss was just after visiting a beach. And, thinking back on it, at least two of the “first kisses” that happened with guys I went on to date for a while happened while we were walking or hanging out near the Mississippi River.
So, evidently, anytime I want someone to kiss me, I better be sure there’s a large body of water nearby. :D
Ah yes, it was gay pride when I was 15, the first time I went somewhere with my first girlfriend after she was officially my girlfriend and also my first time at pride, an event I have come to hate because it is boring and mainstream, but wait! I was young and still excited at being at an event filled with queer people, even if the snacks were overpriced. We held hands and walked through the park, saying hi to the very small number of people we knew, admiring the drag queens, and coming to rest at the youth group booth, where we knew people and it was shady. Later we went to the block party near the Saloon to dance, not that either of us could dance. It was tremendously loud and to be heard you had to put your mouth by the other person’s ear. She moved in, and I missed getting kissed because I thought she was trying to say something.
A few weeks later, she was going out of town and kissed me on the mouth outside McDonald’s in Dinkytown. It was a hot, humid night and I was 15 and felt the possibilities stretching endless though the relationship was doomed.
I was a total late bloomer. I had my first boyfriend the summer before my senior year of high school (that would make me nearly 18 years old). We dated all summer and I wanted to be kissed SO BADLY. For some reason, the idea of making the first move didn’t really occur to me. We held hands, watched the stars with his arm around me, and were generally cute, but there was no kissing. Finally, at the end of the summer, two weeks before he was going away to college, on my parents’ doorstep we hugged extra long and when we pulled away he kissed me. Not too long, not too short, just right. Looking back, it was a little wet, but it was the first kiss for each of us and it was just perfect.
I was fifteen, he was fourteen, and we had met at a big regional get-together for Reform Jewish teenagers. These were held quarterly, and on Saturday night, they always let the whole group (boys and girls together) spend the night in a big room, turned the lights down really low, and showed movies all night. I don’t know anyone who watched any of the movies.
I wanted him to kiss me for probably a good two hours before he actually got around to it, and thinking back, it’s possible that I kissed him on the assumption that he wanted to kiss me. He was a very delicate, gentle kisser, and I understood immediately what all the fuss was about. I would have liked for him to kiss me some more, but he didn’t. We did chat a bit, though, and then went to sleep.
Years later, I found out he was gay. I have no idea why this surprised me at all, as the fact that he was much more eager to sing musical theater duets with me than to kiss me really should have been a clue.
I actually highly recommend having a gay first boyfriend. I was very, very safe with him during a time in my life when I really didn’t want to do more than just kiss. And he was good company.
Well when I was little, I was really popular, and so I was the ring leader of “Catch and kiss”. So um, yeah.
My first proper kiss was at 15 though…I was going out with this kinda popular guy (well, I went to an all girls school and he was the most popular out of all the boys I knew across the road). I had no idea why he was interested in me (he told me after adding me on ICQ) and it turns out someone had told him that I liked him, even though I had no clue who he was. So we were set up. We were at a movie and his best friend (both of his best friends also had crushes on me, it was messed up) had prepped me that he WANTED to put his arm around me and that if he didn’t, then I should. So I waited, and he didn’t, so I yawned and leaned into him and he put his arm around me and it was like HOLY SHIT. THIS IS AWESOME. And then? His hand went down into my top. Under my bra. So we sat like that for a while, then I looked at him, and he saw me looking, and we lent in and he kissed me. I remember stars circling and it was amazing and I was all “This is your first kiss! You better remember it!”
So yeah = felt up before kissed.
Fifth grade, spin-the-bottle. It landed, not on the huge crush boy, but on the jerk boy who had broken my arm earlier that year (he felt bad briefly, then went back to being a jerk and questioned whether my arm had in fact been broken). For some reason our kiss was supposed to last for awhile, luckily we had not heard of tongue, but still, most uncomfortable thirty or so seconds ever. (Do I win?)
After that experience, I waited at least long enough to have the guts to kiss the person I wanted to. (Second boyfriend, in 9th grade. My first boyfriend and I just held hands. Mostly because I was still clueless and gutless.)
It was sophomore year of high school, and I’d begun dating the Pretzel Prince of Philadelphia (that’s what I called him, anyway, since his family owned the most famous soft pretzel company in the city). He took me to the annual Thanksgiving prep school football game. It was too cold, so we left halfway through, and sat in his Chevy Nova for a while to let the car warm up a bit. I was teasing him about how much he cared for his car. Pretzel turned to me, said softly, “That’s not all I care about,” and leaned in for a kiss.
It’s such a sweet memory. I’m sorry that it wasn’t more awful!
Here’s a good one – the first time my sister (Rero) got frenched by a boy, she punched him in the mouth, because she didn’t want him to kiss her. I don’t believe he ever tried it again.
Twenty-one, my friend’s boyfriend – but they have an open relationship and the friend was honestly just mad that she missed it. Setting: a dismal party where we knew nobody there. And now the boyfriend propositions me for sex, so I’ve stopped talking to him. Good times!
My first kiss was so entirely unmemorable that I have actually forgotten it. Seriously. I tried tracking back in my mind as to who it was, when it happened, etc., and I just can’t do it. Maybe it was so bad I blotted it out of my memory?
I can remember the second kiss, which sadly didn’t happen until my sophmore year in college (I know all about late-blooming; I’m about a hundred now and still only partially bloomed). That one was really quite excellent, as it spawned into a full-blown makeout session in my dorm room with a strange and attractive musician, who always had this look in her eye like she knew some secret that she just wasn’t gonna tell anyone but you.
My roommate had this large red comfy chair and it turned out to fit the two of us very nicely, and eternity passed for what had to have been at least 30 minutes! Then my roommate walked in (we never locked the door even when we were gone; people feared our wrath). He got about four feet into the room turned around and walked right back out without pausing or saying a word. She and I promptly returned to the business at hand.
The relationship didn’t last, but it provided a few months of angsty college life.
Can’t decide which is the best part. Do think that the Tetris game is symbolic, though, of this big awkward wedge piece of life fitting into the already assembled boxes (experiences) in your 16 wise years, no?
My first was sans tongue. Very innocent and sweet. Loved boy. Got rose. Turned red as rose. I don’t think he knows he was my first, though. Hope to keep it that way for a long time.
My first kiss was backstage at a gilbert and sullivan operetta I was in in the 7th grade. Followed about 30 seconds later by my second kiss. I don’t know if it was the opening night, the fake mustache or the uniform…
It was a flirtation that would last the next 5 years with those two girls.
(oh, and my first thought of a comment was: “MMMmmm… Lush undergrowth..” but then I read on and had to participate. Can’t win if you don’t play.
Well,it was my friends party,i had been drinking,which is quite unusual in itself as i was the sort of girl that never went to parties.So, anyway being at one of my first proper partys i made use of the redily avalible alchol.I wasnt compleatly drunk,but just enough to let my gard down for a while.So we were all huddled in the garden everybody with a partner except me and this guy,who i had gotten a bit of a crush onas soon as id seen him,so i went over to talk to im but like usual nothing happend.I of course was so wishing he would kiss me.Then as the night went on a game of spin the bottle occured.All of us were sat in a circle, me sat very comfortably next to chris.I span the bottle and hey what do you no its lands on chris!So he looked at me,a small smile spred accros his face and he leaned in.I was clueless only ever having seen people do this.So i went in too.Closed my eyes and put my lips against his,expecting that to be it.Then i felt this tongue serching for my tonsils so i naturally responded and we (quite sucsefully may i say) frenched kissed!It seemed to go on for far longer that antispated but i loved every second.Then all of a sudden i felt this had entering the back of my trousers,not expecting a hand to be touching my tiny little bum i jumped and the kiss ended.That was not it though and we got to kiss several more times this time i did not jump!Suprisingly enough he also kissed me before i left wich i was shocked about!I loved it and never wanted it to end! =]
My first kiss was at my friend’s high school graduation when I was a junior and she was a senior obviously – I just had turned seventeen a few months ago and had liked the guy for quite awhile and even though he flirted casually with me we hadn’t actually started officially dating.
Basically I thought he was messing around when halfway through the night he was like, “Lets go makeout somewhere.” I didn’t think he was serious but when we went downstairs in the lower lobby of the gym – he kissed me! There wasn’t any tongue but it was definitely more than a peck kiss. I must’ve not be half bad though because later on he wanted more kisses. :]
The next guy who kissed me was my boyfriend, Jeff. He gave me a lot of tongue which I wasn’t expecting. That kiss I got a few months after my first kiss at my house a few hours before Football Homecoming.
My third kiss was with my currently boyfriend, James. We had our first kiss a week or so before I graduation high school in the woods behind his house – no we didn’t do anything else. I’m pretty proud to say tha t I’m still a virgin. :D He is by far the best kisser out of any of the previous guys.