Hey there! You likely just bounced over here from Katie O’Connor’s blog. Welcome! Author Kim Handysides had a fabulous idea for this week’s RW blog hop: first kisses. I’ve decided to share with you my first kiss, and my first real kiss. There is a difference. Am I Right?

For me, the kiss is the ultimate act of intimacy. You can’t hide anything in a kiss. Can’t fake the spark of passion. Either it’s there or it’s not. And the best kiss, as far as I am concerned, isn’t about foreplay. It isn’t about “what comes next.” It’s about the moment.

The best kisses muddle your mind and steal your breath. They make you feel like you’re flying. Like you might fly apart at the seams. You forget yourself in those kisses. They stay with you long after the moment has passed.

That said, my first kiss was gross. No, really. It was truly disgusting, and nothing at all like this.

*Le grand sigh* That’s a pretty kiss.

Anyway, I won’t even name the poor fellow that first (literally) sucked face with me. This might make it back to him, though I doubt he knows that he was my first. I was thirteen. It was awkward, wet, and kinda cold. He had braces, so…mouth-breather. (Yeah. Yuck.) Fortunately things got a lot better from there.

Case in point, during my second year at university I had a ginormous crush on an upperclassman. He barely knew I existed, naturally, but one night we ended up hanging out at a party. I don’t know if I wore my hair differently, or if I changed my laundry detergent, but sometime during our conversation I realized that he had been scooting closer and closer. And he was flirting! With me! Of course, as soon as I realized this, I became nervous. It didn’t deter him, though. When I unsuccessfully stifled a yawn, he offered to escort me back to my dorm. (Yes, yes. I know what you’re thinking, but he was a gentleman.)

Our conversation continued as we were walking and, by the time we got back to my residence, it was obvious that neither of us wanted to part ways. I was eighteen, but still rather…inexperienced. (The mouth-breather proved to be the first of many, I’m afraid.)

So Ben – that was his name, and I don’t care if he reads this lol – leaned in close. He grinned as I plastered my back to my door and tried to become one with the woodwork. I remember how intense his ice blue eyes were. I was so completely out of my depth. He asked me if he could kiss me goodnight and then chuckled because I couldn’t gather enough air to squeak out a ‘yes’. I somehow managed to nod.

Ben kissed me.

The gates of Heaven opened, and choirs of angels sang in nine-part harmony. I became acutely aware of my own heartbeat for the very first time. And it. Was. Pounding. He had the softest, fullest lips. His hands never strayed into groping territory, and yet I felt utterly possessed.

I couldn’t tell you how but we managed to get inside my apartment, though not much further than the living room. In the window overlooking the courtyard, Ben and I shared what are still the most intimate two hours of my life. (Yes, two hours!) And all we did was kiss. I say all, but it was everything to me. He was passionate, gentle and taught me much about my own power as a woman. I will be forever grateful for that night, and for him.

Ah…memories.

Well, that’s my tale. Head on over to see what JJ Devine had to say about first kisses. Think she’ll give us the play-by-play of her first lipsmack? Let’s find out! See you next week.
Mwah!