The first kiss was the worst. Firing up the locale, the mere vicinity, of my mind that holds the memory makes me burn in shame. All other kisses only lead back to this first horrible horror, terrifying terror, misery, misery, misery and haunting shame! Death! Death is the only cure for kisses!
>>7585866 It was a dare. Set up to make me and my crush (mutual) get over my anxieties (kissless). I was very excited and equally as nervous. Her mouth tasted like vanilla coke. I was surprised that her tongue felt so soft and warm, not like how my own felt in my mouth. I had heard that her having braces would negatively affect the experience, but I did not notice them at all (I had expected her mouth to feel like a machine lol). The dare was to kiss for 30 seconds but I'm sure we must have went longer. my hands knew what to do subconsciously, because when we separated I found one hand was on her newly budded breast and the other was tangled in her hair. I was extremely happy for a week afterwards, but we never ended up dating.
A 13 year old girl named Brittany pinned me to the bed and kept kissing me on the lips. I was about 6 or 7. I didn't kiss back and I kept turning my head, so she grabbed my chin and turned my head back so that I was facing up at her, and kept kissing me. I remember weird flashes of it like the feeling of her hand on my wrist, her shirt and hair drooping down and brushing me, little bits of her breath coming through her lips when she kissed.
There I am, sitting in an elevator between to floors, stuffing my face with cheese balls. For the love of me I can not recall what leads to it, but my friend states (to the other two people in the elevator) that I have never kissed a girl. I'm struck by fear. Will they laugh? Will she make fun of me? But no, she just sort of giggles and promptly gets up, only to fall onto my lap and kiss my mouth, still full of cheese balls.
I was thirteen at the time. I haven't kissed anyone since.
My first kiss happened in elementary school and it would be my only kiss. The girl was carrying roses in a bouquet because our teacher's brother recently passed away and while she was walking down the hall to get to the classroom, I sped up to stop her and ask her why she was carrying a bouquet, and she told me what I explained above. I said she was very beautiful and then I kissed her. She didn't mind me kissing her either, she just went on her way. I guess she didn't mind because I'm not a boy and stuff, but I still feel bad after all of these years since this happened before grade 1
It was on the third of July. I came to to the middle of nowhere on a train to meet a wonderful woman who I had talked to for years over the internet for the first time in person. We met in a little city that a college friend of hers lived in, she wanted to have some back up if we needed help breaking the ice. It seemed like we did so many things that first night, hardly believing we were there together. After dinner, we sat down to watch some tv. Our hosts fell asleep snuggling on the couch next to us, she nuzzled me lightly while I had my arm around her. She looked at me, playfully said ouch and touched her forehead. I kissed it lightly, she did the same things with her cheeks and nose, I followed suit. She looked at me expectantly and touched her lips and whispered it once more. I pulled her close and kissed her softly, for how long I couldn't tell.
It was in the back of some strangers car and everything was dark. I'd just met her a few hours ago and knew about her serious mental issues, which I found exciting. It was kinda like how a chemist looks at some wonderful and strange compound and thinks: How can I use this? What does it do?
It was my first year in college, and my god the affair was brief but exciting. I've never had someone throw themselves at me with such passion, and unlike the chemist (Who's never had anything explode in his face), mine did. She went nutso because I was not interested in a relationship, more in what I was getting at the moment (a blowjob).
She confided in me all of her suicide attempts and graphed over wounds that she kept. She was bi-polar, so she would constantly pick at the scabs and open them back up with tremendous sprays of blood, so to speak.
And there was awkward anon, rolling around in this geyser like a dog in snow. Getting the life sucked out of my dick, my first kiss, and my first lay, slamming into that rounded and plush ass like a kid dumping baking soda into vinegar.
God it was a fine year, she dropped out though, she'd lost her damn mind and thankfully I had not to pick up the pieces. I lost my kiss virginity, my actual virginity and I learned that bitches are indeed, crazy
It was a cool fall day. I took a girl for a walk in the woods near where I live. There is a stream with a nice waterfall near there. We sat on a fallen tree trunk on a part of the stream bed that had dried. We talked for a bit. I turned to look at her and she was looking up at me. I froze. She had very pretty green eyes. I didn't know what to say. Told her she had pretty eyes. We kiss for a long time.
I was 14 at the time, I'd met him at a maths club in the district that I was forced into due to apparent loneliness which came to surface from my candid responses to my mothers' clumsy, prying questioning.
We had become pretty close friends and we happened to both know the other was gay however we hadn't talked about it much. He introduced me to all of his friends who were a great group, personality, character, career direction, real smart people, and I was very thankful for this especially given the aforementioned loneliness however my primary interest was in him.
ffwd a long coming of age story about love, youth, and human interaction to the night of what would be my first kiss: He and his friends were all staying at my house because it was really big and nice and my parents were gone. It was a fun night but by then most everyone had gone to sleep. I was anxious and restless so I went upstairs to make some chamomile tea for myself. Shortly after, he followed upstairs and asked if he could join. Of course I accepted, we went to watch the sunrise from my balcony whose view I'd been talking up earlier. We talked for a while waiting up for the sun to come up, lots of smiling and laughing, lots of personal stuff. It was fairly cold so we ended up huddling up next to one another. Eventually the sun peaked up and while I was admiring the orange-pink sky over the mountains, I turned to him to see his reaction. He was staring at me. I smiled back and noticed him, beautiful, boyish facial aesthetics, silky brown hair, golden skin. He was leaning on me at the time, he sat up, muttered my name, touched my face and in a moment of impulse we both leaned in, wet lips touching, tongue thereafter, I remember the taste of ginger lemon in his mouth, and the way we touched the back of each others' heads and stroked each others' hair.
I was there, right in the middle of the lane, full of spiced rum and the finest whisky someone could get it's hands for a dirty-cheap amount of money. So, then, I've started to chat with this one girl and, welp, with that one girl and, all of sudden (!), boom, they were kissing. Yeah, the girls were kissing it aight. I got a huge boner. The redheadone, quite smart, grabed me and kissed me. Ayo, how did she kiss. All my insecurities gone, all my loneliness of a man that could court girls but not take the action in his late seventeens gone, all my virgin saliva gone; still my boner was nothing new under the sun. The other one quite didn't like our intimacy and, as the redhead, kissed me. That was it. Then we had a hedonist tier triple-kiss in the middle of a square and I directed my attentions to not-the-redhead. Start kissing her passionately, groping her small tits softly and getting my hands on her crotch.
I've dated the not-the-redhead for two weeks and then fucked and left her; we had just a kind of friends with benefits-esque kinf of relationship. I dismissed the redhead because, even having some nice-tier milk duds, she was too much into genre fiction and sci-fi. I've sticked to the dumb one.
I cant remember how old i was, maybe about thirteen. All of my friends at school would brag about the, retrospectivly fictional, girls they were sleeping with. I accordingly developed some anxiety regarding my lack of sexual expierence, which was intensified by my attending an all-boys private school, and therefore having 0 female friends.
I was convinced by some classmates to go to an underage disco. There, one of my friends asked a girl if I could dance with her. This was a predetermined pretence for making out. We danced awkwardly for a few minutes, then kissed. I kept my hands on her waist, and after a while felt down her body and to her flank, because that was the thing to do. We disengaged and I asked her number. She said she didnt have one, which seems likely given that we were thirteen. I cant remember what song was playing, but in my mind I imagine it to have been Sandstorm by Darude.
After my puppylove crush led me on for 6 months, I found myself at her birthday party kissing the hottest, dumbest girl from school.
By six we all arrived. By seven, some dropout came by with the liquor, and by 8 I had my tongue down Stacy's throat. Stacy is a name for girls who put their hand on your dick when you're kissing for the first time.
Maybe I was hot for a change. My face had deflated after a stint of oral steroids puffed me up like corpse in water, and really I didn't have much more energy than one until that night. There was no reason for the girl I claimed to love to want a boy who spent his days after class hooked up to an IV drip so his intestines would stop attacking themselves. I ate 15 pills for breakfast everyday, and after school I swallowed 15 more. But I was getting better, I promised every day.
It was true for a few months. The peak of my short time feeling human was marked by Stacy - not quite drunk - snapped her fingers in front of my face while I poured out a drink.
I'd never kissed another person, but I didn't hesitate. I leaned in, puckered like some dumb cartoon and went back to mixing my drink. How manly! As if the first boner I had in weeks wasn't enough of a giveaway I'd just taken the first step away from virginity.
"Kiss me again," she said. I did. There is nothing like the feel of wet, warm tongue filling your mouth for the first time. An unnatural spread, Stacy didn't dart quick or plan on leaving soon. That tongue felt plumply wrong and tasteless and in the one boldly natural thing that my body every sensibly did, I pressed mine back.
We were done after a minute. I had to stay behind the kitchen island mixing drinks until I found the right fold of denim for my cock to hide away in.
The girl I love stayed plastered through the night. Everyone stayed to the kitchen - she preferred it's cold floor, or so she said. When the chimes inside her parents clocks rang midnight I went to the living room in a bored, drunk excursion, only to find Stacy with her fliphone glowing on a well-flushed cheek. Her hand was tight around a beer, save one finger that beckoned me over.
I was out of my body for that moment and watching the phone slowly inch away from her head as we kissed. A voice muffled out, like Charlie Brown's teacher - and probably was one, considering her reputation. My tongue took it's natural cues again, having learned only hours before, and apparently I did something right; the phone snapped to one palm as she dropped her beer and used the other to cup between my legs. I straddled atop her but something tugged me out of position. Down below, the girl I loved was bawling, asking why, why, why? Her face was inflamed and honestly hot in the saddest way. Before I knew, Stacy was back on the phone, I was back in the kitchen, the girl I loved was nowhere to be found.
A year later, the boy she loved told her he was gay.
My first kiss was with a Chinese girl two years younger than me. She kissed me in the rain on a bench. I used to be late for our dates and I used to always make her kiss me more and more every time. It set an interesting precedent for everyone else I'd kiss after her.
It was a sunny March day in Arizona. She had asked me to walk her home after I comforted her the day before. You see, she was devastated that she had to move away and she broke down and cried in the middle of our media production class. Wow--now that I think about it, I must have been the only one who noticed.
As we were walking back to her house, the topic of prom comes up and she was wondering whether or not I was going. I replied that I was considering it, but really I was probably going to stay at home. With enough convincing, I was persuaded into going.
We eventually settle down onto the sidewalk in front of someone's house. Not *her* house, mind you, just one along the way. We get to talking more. Eventually, she asks what do I look for in a girl. Of course, me being the run-of-the-mill nerd, I don't really have an answer...but I manage to come up with something along the lines of "smart, cute, and considerate" or some shit. I don't really remember.
Her response when I throw the question back at her is basically the same, but with some oddly specific traits. Traits that relate to me. Now, I'm not as dense as some other people might be, but I caught on quickly.
That is when we got...touchy.
At first, she got real close to my face and started giving me butterfly kisses. Then she complimented me on how I smelled. Really, I wasn't trying to impress--I just bathed with soap and put on lotion.
The next thing was her on top of me, looking me deep in the eyes...
And gives me a peck on the cheek.
Okay, so that gave me a little smirk on my face.
After all that, we got up and there was a bit of silence. Then she just comes out and asks for a kiss.
And I'm just thinking, "Well, this could be your only chance."
So I kissed her.
The experience is...outstanding, to say the least.
Her mouth tasted of...carrots, I think? That was the most distinctive thing that came from that.
Her tongue exploring mine was a different matter. Unexpected, but not uninvited. I just went along with it.
After that, we walked all the way back to her house, and had another kiss. I called my mom and told her to order a tux.
Walking her to her door after driving her, I only have one thought on my mind: "I have to kiss her, it's now or never." It had been two dates already, but she'd avoided my eyes, meaning I couldn't make the move. We're halfway there now, that red fence to my side, when I say "Hey." She turns and looks into my chest, and I use my hands to pull her into my lips. At first, our lips make sweet tender love, and somehow, I know what to do, as if some essential instinct was passed onto me at birth. We pull away after an immeasurable time, breathless, she's panting and blushing, and I regain my composure as she turns to leave, stumbling on the last step.
We went to a hillside where the view of our college town gave the illusion of looking towards a metropolis with all its light and order. Nighttime and the rolling fog gave us privacy while we sat on a bench and looked at what man hath wrought.
She's a woman, a mess of curves and sex and short blonde hair. She's older than I, and more steady in the ways of the world, and when I brought my hand to hold her neck, she rolled her head back and murmured, "oh please dont, that turns me on." We kissed and she gasped into my mouth, and we made love on the hillside and let the stars cover our lust.
I haven't seen her for a year now. We're getting dinner next friday.
She was a chubby degenerate; her home smelt of cat piss without the evident presence of any feline. I kissed as passionately as I knew to, and despite her popularly evident experience, she did the same. The sick was brewing in me. We had newly made our egress of the extant jubilation held domestically within the domain of a mutually disliked familiarity. As we made our way to our house I nearly stepped into the way of multiple cars in my ecstasy. Contrarily, she held her control firmly, without any evident sign. As I stepped inside she took my last vestige of illusion that I had any control over the situation.
Please tell me how much of a shitty writer I am senpai :^)
The elevator doors slid closed, well polished machinery quietly hummed as the familiar feeling of flight lifted us into the air. Her eyes widened and she pressed her face to the glass panes. A field of the darkest blue stretched far beyond the changing horizon; infinite fathoms broke against the ship's white hull. She turned back to me, our eyes met. Here was I. I who had never been held in a mother's arms. I who prior had known even the voice of a female companion. I who could and perhaps would not begin to comprehend the subtle curves and crevices that define a women's beauty.
With a word she pulled me out of my trance. "This is my floor." I blinked. The doors opened. "M-Meet me at the buffet tomorrow morning?" She said nothing. I briefly noticed her rotation at the waist. Our lips met. My veins turned to ice. She stepped out the elevator and smiled back at me. "See you tomorrow." Then the doors closed.
Actually I know I'm a shitty writer. But I'm young and trying to get better. Criticism would be greatly appreciated.
My mother kissed me. At first it was like all of the other kisses she's given me. A small, sweet peck on the cheek. Then she kissed me again, but this time she held her lips on my face a little longer. The again, but this time it was both longer and wetter. Then, to my surprise, she kissed me on the mouth. Her soft, wet lips lingered onto mine as she tilted her head to the side and slid her tongue into my mouth. I started to feel my pants get tighter as she pulled me closer to her. Suddenly, she got down to her knees and started pulling my pants down as I covered my face in embarrassment. She started kissing my penis. Then she slid it into her mouth like she did her tongue into my mouth.
I was fifteen when I kissed a friend of mine while playing truth or dare. Rather, she kissed me. She was dared to kiss anyone in the room, and she looked at me, and said, "I'll kiss Anon" since I was the only one in the room that she hadn't kissed yet, besides our friend's boyfriend, but he was off limits for obvious reasons.
The kiss itself was kind of brief and awkward because we were both giggling. Right afterward, another friend tried to show off and volunteered to kiss me, but it wasn't any better.
In middle school, I helped this girl on a test and she hugged me and I thought that was a cue for a kiss so I got her on the forehead. She slapped me and never talked to me again. That was my only kiss.
We were on her bed. It was in the afternoon, the sun was beginning to set. I was on top of her, listening to her talk about subjects I can no longer remember. Every sentence she finished, I would begin to lean in. Finally we were about 5 fingers apart, and I leaned in. After the kiss, i pulled back and she said under her breath, "Were you waiting for that the whole time?" I said "ye", then I said, "i didn't really get it right the first time" and went for the second kiss.
We stood under a canopy of streetlights. Bathed in those fluorescent glows of youth and lust. Two months, seven days of holding hands, staring into each others eyes, caked with anxiety and uncertainty. Do you want to see a show with me? Sure I love that band, thats how it began.
So here we stand, several feet from my house on the corner of innocence and fragility. Have you ever kissed anyone before? Does my cat count? She laughs I smiled, she leaned in, I stood, heart racing here it is. How will my life change? I'm the first of my friends to kiss a girl, let alone have a girlfriend I cant wait to boast I can't wait to wrap my arms around and SMACK
I don't feel much different. So that was it. We stood there giggling for several minutes, until the neighbours decided to ogle from the window at our circus of tongues. We ran away screaming into the night.
Somehow it feels like if I admit that I've never been kissed then I'm admitting that no one else before has found me worth kissing. I feel a nervous humming run through me all the way to my skalp and I'm worried I'll do it wrong.
Suddenly he closes his eyes and puts his mouth on mine. It feels wet and warm; shyly I shut my eyes too and give my own kiss back, my very first. A thousand kisses from a thousand places run though my mind. Romero and Juliet with their last embrace. Prince Charming wakes Snow White from death's cruel slumber. Rhett pressing against Scarlett in a fit of passion. My own parents kissing goodbye before work. Absently I wonder how this kiss measures up to all of those.
Without warning his mouth opens and I taste him for the first time, sour candy and soda. From somewhere within me I sigh in pleasure, opening my mouth to his like a flower. His hands grip me tightly in response, pressing me with urgency into the couch. This feeling is frightening and delicious and much more adult than anything I've ever experienced before. Wherever he leads I follow with passion drunk devotion. Again and again our tongues meet in a curious dance and for the first time I know desire.
Looking back it seems so innocent. He only held me close, he only kisses my neck. His hands never traveled and we didn't even take off our shoes. But at the time it felt so powerful.
I remember watching him ride home on his bike and thinking that I finally knew what love was. I dreamed of him and his kisses for a week after.
Then one day I went to school and my friend told me a boy asked her out. She said he was cute and funny and a great kisser. I don't think I have to tell you who he was. I never told anyone else. He never said he was mine. We were just kids. I smiled and wished her the best; silently I agreed, he was a good kisser.
That night I went home and cried myself silly, having savored my fist childhood heartbreak.
I caught her by surprise when I grabbed her by the shoulders, pulled her toward me, and stuck my tongue down her throat. She was a slut, anyway. It wouldn't matter to her. I doubt she'd even remember my lowly tongue considering how many cocks have been in her mouth. Of course, I'd always remember. It was my first kiss, afterall.
It happened in 8th grade with a rather well-endowed ginger girl from elective Spanish and home economics class in a clothing store changing room. There was a lot of tongue and some fondling. She was too mature for me and in retrospect I was unable to satisfy her emotional needs, being more concerned with playing Turok 2 over modem with friends and so on.
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