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Me and T.

Me and T. are upstairs, leg-pretezled, watching "Dark Side of the Oz," where I'd heard Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon" supposedly synced up with "The Wizard of Oz." I'm sixteen, and T's eighteen, and just when Judy Garland falls off the fence and the crashes and synths of "On the Run" kick in, I glance over and see T is applying chapstick to herself after sighing and repeating ad nauseum how boring the whole thing was. Odd, I think. This isn't dry lips weather.

I take another look at the chapstick, and hold up. It's super glue. So as she's leaning towards me, I'm diving out of the way, but her lips manage to hit the back collar of my shirt, and I try to pull away, but it's too late. The shirt's stuck to her mouth. I wiggle out, put on another shirt, and offer to get her hot water, but she refuses, is running out the door, despite my pleas, jumps into her car, and drives home.

Corey Podell, 15

I was almost sixteen years old. I had never been kissed and thought it if didn't happen before my sixteenth birthday I was sure to be a sad lonely spinster forever.

I visitied my best friend in Connecticut for a long weekend. She showed her friend, who was seventeen, my school picture before I arrived. He told her I was pretty. He was cute, and he was in a band. Which made him cuter.

We all went, his friends and mine, to the Romeo and Juliet re-make starring Leo DiCaprio. He tried to hold my hand during the part where they kissed for the first time, and I brushed it away. I was scared.

The next night he was grounded and had to stay in. We found someone with a license to drive us across town. He came outside in the cold December Connecticut air in pajamas. My friends drove away, giggling. We sat on the curb. He said "what would you do if I kissed you right now?" And then he did. And we did. And we did. And we did. And then my friends pulled back up.

Its been a decade since that kiss, and no one has ever been as smooth as that seventeen year old boy in a band.


"You want me to what?"
I had definitely done it this time. This time I had gone too far with Ari.
"You heard me." I answered in a low voice. "I want you to kiss me."

I had promised our neighbor that I would watch her cats and bring in her mail while she and her husband were away. Ari had walked me home after school and had accompanied me to Mrs. Ray's house. The stage was set: an empty house, me and Ari: it couldn't get better than this.

"You're nuts. We're friends remember?" he uttered in disbelief.
"Yes, I know."
"Well, friends don't kiss. Come on, finish feeding those things so we can get out of here."
"Friends help each other don't they?" I egged on. No response I was losing him. "Look, Ari. I'm in my first year of high school now and probably the only girl who has never been kissed. The girls at school talk about their boyfriends and things they do together and I can't take part in any of that because I have zero clue as to what they're talking about."

"Your time will come. Girls who talk about what they do are probably bragging. Besides, your first kiss should be special, and it should be someone really special. Let's go, huh? I've got stuff I need to do."
"Ari you don't understand."
"God, you're not going to give up on this are you?"
"What's the matter Ari, am I that unattractive?"
"No, of course not." He was nervous. I had made him nervous. "That's not it. You're fine." He rambled. "It's just that…"
"What? It's just that what? I'm only asking for a kiss. Nothing more."
"You're putting me in a really bad spot here, you know? You're my best friend's sister for God's sake."

"I know, I'm sorry, but you're the only one I can turn to." I had loved Ari from the moment I'd laid eyes on him four years ago. He was my brother's best friend and the only guy I looked up to. It was clear that I was taking a huge risk as he stood in front of me, looking confused. I thought at any moment he would storm out and never speak to me again. We were silent for what seemed an eternity.

"Come here." He finally said. I walked over to him not sure of what he was going to do. He took my hand and led me to Mr. and Mrs. Ray's olive green couch. "Sit down." Sensing a speech would follow, I sat down slowly. "Now close your eyes."

My stomach muscles began to tighten as I realized what was about to actually happen, nevertheless, I followed his instructions to the letter and sat perfectly still, eyes closed. I could feel his hands on my chin caressing my face. The next thing I felt were his warm luscious lips on mine pressing down ever so gently. His hand still on my chin, he pulled back and I opened my eyes to find his emerald greens gleaming down on me.
"How was that?" he asked. I was speechless. I was motionless and speechless. "Well?" As he stood up I found the strength to grab his hand. "What?" he asked.
"Thanks, Ari." I finally managed. He took my other hand and helped me up.
"Hey, what are friends for, right? Come on, let's go, I've got to get home and help my dad."


She told me, "I like you," after her Halloween party, once all our other friends had left.

"Like, like me?" I stuttered.

"Yeah," she said, fiddling with a leaf from my Poison Ivy costume.

"That's good," I started, "Because I like you too."

There was a long silence as we waited on her porch for my Mother to pick me up. We looked at our feet. She had a large freckle on her big toe; she brushed the freckle against the sole of my foot. I laughed loudly, but I had no idea of what to do.

To be a lesbian at our high school was not cool. Only losers were faggots. And we were not losers: we were on the varsity soccer team, sang in choir and drank Diet Pepsi with every meal.

In the halls, we held hands like the other freshmen couples, but very carefully: only in crowded halls, when the action seemed to be a safety measure, to keep from being jostled.

Before first period one day, we were sitting next to each other on the cafeteria benches, pushed close by overcrowding and affection. The previous night, I had decided to kiss her as the bell rang, such that there would be so much chaos that we would go unnoticed. Just a peck, of course, just to let her know.

But as the bell rang and I leaned close to her face, a friend's huge, swinging backpack knocked me over, pushing both of us off the benches, with me on top of her. More accurately, with my lips on top of her. Her lips were soft, I remember. Very soft. I didn't even notice landing.

Her eyes were open. She turned her face a bit and must have seen all of our friends goggling. She pushed me off of her and got to her feet, walking away. I grabbed my bag and ran after her, but she turned away from me.

We don't speak anymore.

Elizabeth McKenna, New York

The bottle was spun countless times. Each time it stopped, I braced myself, preparing for that awkward moment. I always breathed a sigh of relief when I was not picked because no one listened to the "no tongue" policy and they were frenching left and right. Finally, the bottle pointed in my direction.

David Ram was the lucky guy. In that moment, I began to see him as the disgusting kid he really was. Everything about him was a muted tan colored, from his shellackedhair to his shoes. The air felt hot as we crawled across the concrete space that divided us. Pebbles and dust dug into my hands and knees. I focused on that rather than on his sweaty face coming closer and closer to mine. I could smell his cologne that was put on with hands too anxious for the "spin the bottle" part of the evening. It was mildly spicy and musky with just a hint of jerk. I think the scent might have been "Charlie," the cheap brand sold at Longs' drug store. I wanted to barf once I smelled it.

The thought of his tongue shoving its way into the back of my throat made me gag more than his cologne did. I was dizzy with the entire unpleasant sensory overload.

He closed his eyes as he pushed forward. I was shocked to see that he did not seem repelled in any way. In fact, he seemed eager as hell. I would never have guessed that the shy, nervous kid who couldn’t bring himself to talk in class would be that perverted as to want to kiss a girl.

In the moments before we were supposed to kiss, I resolved to not let it happen and jerked my head around when he was close enough that I could feel his breath on my neck. Even the slightly moist smack on the side of my face felt wrong and awful.

I heard a girl say, "It's not that big of a deal. It’s just a kiss."

How was it not a big deal? He was nasty.

Victoria's Secret First Kisses

Normally, new content is posted on Mondays, but we absolutely could not ignore the commercial we saw last night featuring Victoria's Secret supermodels talking about their own first kisses. Here is a link. [via buzzhumor] -ed

Ken Keegan

N., 13-years-old

It was on a train from California to Colorado.

He was 13, so was I. His Dad entered the viewing car and saw me sitting by myself. The Dad approached me and my book and began a conversation; when I engaged, he called his son, M, who was seated on the other side of the car, to come join us. He did.

We talked, embarrassedly, like two teenagers will do, and then continued bumping into one another during dinner and then the on-board movie, Moonstruck.

After all the older people went to bed, he made that squirmy, icky move and I knew I was going to be kissed! He kissed the back of my neck, then my ears, and then with one fell swoop got me on the mouth with tongue and everything!

The moment we've all been waiting for...and I re-rehearsed it again and again before it happened and then re-played it over and over once it had.

Twenty years later...I still like it! Best activity there is.

Rite of Passage - A.Dapprich, California

So many thoughts were racing though my mind: open mouth or closed? Long or short? French or American? Where do I put my hands? Her back? Maaaaybe, her arm? How about the butt? Is it too soon to touch her butt? I mean, I'm kissing her, shouldn't that give me the right to touch her ass? Although, what if she gets shocked and slaps me? Wouldn't THAT just be great…slapped on my first attempt at a kiss. Ok, ok…I can do this. It's just a kiss; I've been kissing for years! Although, in all fairness, "Goodnight Kisses" from Mom and the way Aunt Patty leaves a Rorschach blot on my cheek every time she greets me doesn't really count.

"Will? Is everything alright? You haven't said anything and you're sorta sweaty?" I looked down at my hand clasped around hers, immediately dropped it and nervously wiped my hand on my shirt.

"Oh," I said with a sheepish grin and a chuckle, "sorry, about that."

Good job Casanova, sweat all over the girl. If she wasn't hot for you before, she's just DYING to have your sweaty lips molesting her face now.

She looked over at me and gave me a kind forced smile, as though she was saying, 'God, you're awkward…but it's sort of cute.' I looked her square in the eye with fire and passion, but I'm pretty sure I looked more constipated than anything.

Quick! Quick! Now's your chance! She's all buttered up by your befuddled behavior.

I delicately grabbed her chin and brought her eyes to meet mine. Now or never! DO IT! I slowly went in for the kill, closing my eyes right before impact. Our lips touched and for what felt like hours I held my breath so nothing could disturb the moment. And then it was over.

She looked at me, smiled, and looked at her feet. "That was nice," slipped from her lips in a sigh.

"Ya, I thought so too."

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