Writer's Note: The following personal story contains descriptions of "fluff-level" young teenage romance (kissing and physical touching) and PG-13 level content. If you're not mature enough to deal with that, then find another article.
A few years ago this blogger told y'all two personal short stories about love and Valentine's Day, which were received quite well. The stories I told were both highly viewed, and I admit a little embarrassing. Yeah, I'll be the first to admit that my personal experiences with love on Valentine's Day are not very spectacular in the romantic department and never have been, but they did make for entertaining stories.
The first of those was the story of my first kiss which was given to me by a female classmate in 2nd grade at age 7. It wasn't a particularly romantic experience (we were both kids after all) and it was a one-and-done moment in the annuals of my early years. I only remember that brief meeting of lips so well because it happened on Valentine's Day.
But what about my first real kiss?
By that I mean the first time really swapping spit. Canoodling. Snogging. Pashing. Soul kissing. What the French call your first baiser d'amoureux.
That's right folks, I'm talking about your first real galocher. Florentine kiss. French kiss. Your first real passionate, erotic, intimate kiss with tongues and everything.
Do any of y'all remember your first real kiss? Odds are good almost every one of y'all remember that first time you truly sucked face with someone memorable in your teenage years -- and for good reason.
According to research in a 2012 study by the University of Toronto
people remember things that are emotionally arousing quite vividly and
this experience is imprinted in the mind. This is why people can
remember intricate details of
something that happened long ago but not what they ate for breakfast. According to the research more than 90% of all people vividly remember the details of
their first kiss.
The
mouth is one of the body's main erogenous zones, with more nerve
endings that people have on the tips of their fingers. Not only does the
human body have a high concentration of nerve endings in the lips, but
the lips themselves have one of the thinnest layers of skin in the body.
This results in extra amplified sensation. In short, your body gets
more information and pleasure from kissing than just about any other
kind of physical touching.
Add to the the fact that kissing also
results in the release of intoxicating hormones like dopamine and endorphins in the brain which
promote pleasure and relaxation. As a result the specific details of your first romantic kiss are more likely to be etched in your
memory forever; possibly even more so than all the details of your first lovemaking experience.
I got my first real kiss from a girl on the evening of Saturday, November 17, 1990. The reason I remember that specifically was because it was at the end of the regular NCAA college football season and I'd finished watching the Clemson Tigers defeat the USC Gamecocks in what is practically a yearly tradition at this point in that particular rivalry. That and I looked up the date of the game for this article.
Actually at then 14 years old I wasn't exactly enthusiastic about sports, though my Grandpa Billy (God rest his soul!) got me hooked on that particular college football rivalry game as a life-long fan of the University of South Carolina.
So after watching that game, and not being honestly shocked by the outcome -- a total shutout, the "Chicken Curse" striking again -- I more-or-less decided to hang out with my sister and a friend of hers from junior high (these days we'd call it middle school -- yeah kinda showing my age here) that was spending the night with us that weekend.
For the sake of the story, let's call her Stacey -- not her actual name which I won't disclose because she's married and she's also still friends with me on social media. I did get her permission to tell this story, which was pretty cool.
Now Stacey, like my sister at the time, was a year behind me at the same school in 7th grade. She was also year younger than me, but already a somewhat well-developed teenage girl -- or at least what my 14 year old self would have considered "well-developed" (meaning she was already wearing a real bra as opposed to a trainer like my other sister's friends at the time). An "early bloomer" as my mom would say.
At age 14 I was still stuck in that transition period that all of us were going through in those middle school years when we were no longer kids, but not really on our way to being adults yet either. At the time I was still rushing home after school to watch cartoons like the original G-1 Transformers series, G.I. Joe: A Real American Hero, Ducktales (Whoo-Whoo), and Chip n' Dale Rescue Rangers, but also just now really beginning to pay attention to all those spicy adult scenes in the slasher movies that I always previously zoned out on waiting for Jason Voorhees to chop up some movie-stupid teenagers with a machete, or some other weapon.
My earliest introduction to actual sex at that time, beyond sex ed classes in sixth grade, had been sneaking peeks at the raunchier scenes from Ralph Bakshi's Fritz The Cat and the original 1981 Heavy Metal sci-fi anthology.
To put it mildly at the time I was only beginning to really notice the physical changes in the opposite sex (and to a lesser degree some members of my own sexual orientation) and the act of sex itself was still a somewhat elusive idea to me in terms of my long-term focus and not the obsession it would become to most teenagers in mid-to-late teen years.
All that being said at first I wasn't really paying them much attention -- aside from being a bit annoyed by the two of them being giggly and interrupting me watching TV in the living room.
That wasn't to say that my early-hormone-driven 14 year old self didn't keep sneaking peaks at Stacey's breasts. They were hard for me to miss since they were big and she wore a dark t-shirt that outlined them pretty well. The fact she didn't wear a bra at the time was also clearly evident too.
Now being young, inexperienced, and completely oblivious to a lot of things at that age regarding the opposite sex; I pretty much thought my shy glances towards her bouncy fun-bags* were going unnoticed by Stacey.
Yeah, right.
Stacey started to get flirty with me and, being the totally inexperienced, anti-social kid that I was, I responded the best that I could....which I confess was far from cool. She would converse quietly with my sister, both of which would look over at me from the corner of the room and start giggling.
Needless to say, I wasn't amused.
Later on, after more giggly whispers, Stacey wanted me to start hanging out with them. Since the football game was over and I honestly had no other plans that evening except for more television, I suggested some movies.
As we sat on the living room couch to watch horror movies, Stacey sat right next to me between me and my sister, but much closer to me and giving me a much closer view of her chest area. Looking back now, I know that was just what she wanted, but at the time I just thought I was lucky A-F.
Having her close to me like that was also having an effect on me that I can't exactly describe if I want this article to remain "family friendly" but every young male at that age knows what I'm talking about. My only concern at the time was that I hoped Stacey wouldn't notice, and I was very thankful to be wearing extra loose jogging pants at the time. All the same when my sister got one of the large blankets out to cover up with and offer us the other one to share, I didn't hesitate even though I wasn't cold at all.
Stacey and I sat there with a blanket over our laps watching one of the Nightmare on Elm Street movies (can't really remember which one) and at some point we began holding hands beneath the blanket and then she leaned against me. Needless to say I was in total shock that she was this close to me, never mind that she seemed to enjoy being so. Again I was very thankful that blanket was where it was positioned.
Then my sister had to get up and use the bathroom and get more snacks, leaving me and Stacey along together.
Stacey looked at me and then asked me if I've ever "Frenched" before. I shook my head and quietly answered, "Not really." Then she bit her lip, leaned in and kissed me. I remember responding to it and then out mouths opened and our tongues lashed together.
To the best of my recollection, I felt my heart pounding really fast. I even remember the small noise she made in her throat that told me she was enjoying herself too. We went on like that for what felt like a few seconds before she pulled away smiling.
Then I remember something even better happening. Stacey turned her body so she could sit in my lap (which turned out not to be very comfortable right then) and put herself in a better position for a second and longer kiss. While we swapped spit the second time, Stacey took my hand and put it under her shirt, letting me have a handful of what felt like paradise.
If my heart was pounding hard before, it felt ready to explode just then. I could also feel her heartbeat beneath my hand and it was going fast too. That was a feeling I wouldn't forget.
A minute later my sister was coming back and she quickly went back to sitting next to me and pretending the last couple minutes didn't happen, although she kept looking at me out of corner of her eyes and grinning. I'd hope that my own face didn't look too goofy either the rest of the night.
That would be the highlight of the evening. An hour later they went to my sister's room and maybe stayed up longer talking and laughing about who knows what -- hopefully not me, but I was sure I came up in the conversation somewhere. As for me, I went to my room and tried to play video games, even though my mind was racing over what happened and what it might mean.
The
next day Stacey and I were alone together again on my front porch. Nothing
really happened, except she did let me know that she was only messing
around with me the night before. I told he I knew, and I asked her if I
was a good kisser. She smiled and nodded. Then everything was pretty
much cool between us. I was back to watching television and cartoons
later that day.
That's "romance" in early teen years for y'all.
Years later the two of us would talk about it and Stacey would confess that she wanted to see what I would do with her and how far I would go. That she'd been as anxious and curious as I was, but neither of us were going to really go much further than kissing and copping feels.
Both
of us were 13 and 14 respectively at the time and two young people who were
completely new to the idea of sexuality and had no clue what we were
doing. At that age I think we both assumed that the opposite sex had more awareness of what to do than they actually did.
Also it was the start of the 1990s, and while today it seems that popular culture in America pushes for younger people to have more knowledge of sexuality -- far more so than I think they actually should in point of fact! -- at the age of 14, the idea of getting a kiss from a girl, never mind anything else, would have been a highlight of my existence.
Sadly, Stacey never really spent the night over again after that. A few weeks later her and my sister had some falling out over some teenage girl drama and Stacey became just another face in the crowd between classes. Although whenever I would see her walking by and she saw me we did share a smile between ourselves from time to time.
And that folks was the story of my first real kiss with a girl. It would also unfortunately be the last time I would swap spit with a girl before the summer I turned 17 and lost my V-Card to a 20 year old young woman -- but that's a whole different story entirely.
So what was your first French kiss like? Do you have an interesting story about it? Please feel free to share in the comments below.
* Months ago before I published this article, I sent a copy to "Stacey" to proofread as I promised her I would. She thought my description there was absolutely hilarious. God bless her!