David from Wayne, NJ
My First Kiss (not a predictor of things to come)
I was in 8th grade, and I had a friend who was smooth enough (and developed enough) to have lost his virginity back in the 6th grade. This seemed shockingly early to me, but I was quietly impressed. There were stories circulating at the time about Bar Mitzvah parties where kids played spin the bottle and were frenching left and right. Somehow, this didn't happen at any of the Bar Mitzvahs that I was invited to.
Well, my friend and I rode the same schoolbus to and from junior high, and one day, after the bus dropped us off, he decided he was gonna help me get to first base. This involved two girls - one who we were both friends with and lived close to the bus stop, and another who was only friends with him. The four of us walked to the one girl's nearby house and sat on the grass. My pal then proposed a makehshift game of spin the bottle, or maybe truth or dare; I can't remember which. So as to take some pressure off me, the game was rigged so that he and his friend kissed first. They leaned in, locked lips, and probed each other's mouths with their tongues the way pubescent teens do. After a few seconds, they pulled away and both claimed how weird it was because they were just friends, and never looked to each other for romantic stuff like that.
OK, my turn. I wasn't all that nervous when I leaned in and engaged my friend. My first thought was that her lips felt nice, and then that I enjoyed the sensual quality of it. But this all quickly changed, and was replaced by the knowledge that she had, um, excess saliva. Bubbly saliva. I hung in there for a good 10 seconds out of respect for her and my mission. After we released from our embrace however, I just had to do something with the new contents of my mouth. I rolled over and spit into the grass, and probably uttered an insensitive blechh-type noise. It really wasn't very nice, especially because she may have liked me. It soured me on the thought of french kissing for a while. But some years later I met a girl I liked, and when passion brought us to that place, making out was restored to a proper place of respect in my mind. Thank goodness.
I was in 8th grade, and I had a friend who was smooth enough (and developed enough) to have lost his virginity back in the 6th grade. This seemed shockingly early to me, but I was quietly impressed. There were stories circulating at the time about Bar Mitzvah parties where kids played spin the bottle and were frenching left and right. Somehow, this didn't happen at any of the Bar Mitzvahs that I was invited to.
Well, my friend and I rode the same schoolbus to and from junior high, and one day, after the bus dropped us off, he decided he was gonna help me get to first base. This involved two girls - one who we were both friends with and lived close to the bus stop, and another who was only friends with him. The four of us walked to the one girl's nearby house and sat on the grass. My pal then proposed a makehshift game of spin the bottle, or maybe truth or dare; I can't remember which. So as to take some pressure off me, the game was rigged so that he and his friend kissed first. They leaned in, locked lips, and probed each other's mouths with their tongues the way pubescent teens do. After a few seconds, they pulled away and both claimed how weird it was because they were just friends, and never looked to each other for romantic stuff like that.
OK, my turn. I wasn't all that nervous when I leaned in and engaged my friend. My first thought was that her lips felt nice, and then that I enjoyed the sensual quality of it. But this all quickly changed, and was replaced by the knowledge that she had, um, excess saliva. Bubbly saliva. I hung in there for a good 10 seconds out of respect for her and my mission. After we released from our embrace however, I just had to do something with the new contents of my mouth. I rolled over and spit into the grass, and probably uttered an insensitive blechh-type noise. It really wasn't very nice, especially because she may have liked me. It soured me on the thought of french kissing for a while. But some years later I met a girl I liked, and when passion brought us to that place, making out was restored to a proper place of respect in my mind. Thank goodness.
This entry was posted by first kiss team, on
Sunday, May 18, 2008.
