Whoa! His tongue is in my mouth!My first kiss happened when I was 12 yrs. old at our local roller rink.
It was 1982 and I thought I was the coolest thing in my short shorts, rainbow t-shirt and Farah Fawcett flip. I was a Catholic school girl and a bit naive when it came to the opposite sex. My best friend on the other hand was very seasoned for a 13 yr old.
She introduced me to a boy named Steve who went to her school, and I swooned at the sight of him. Tall, dark and handsome and the swagger of a rock star. He flirted with me the entire night, much to the chagrin of my friend. She usually got most of the attention because of her experienced ways.
At the end of the night when everyone was getting ready to leave, he sat down next to me and kissed me. I had never been kissed before and was terrified but also elated. The kiss was soft and sweet and then came the tongue. I had no idea what was happening! Later, I learned this was called a french kiss.
I couldn't help thinking the entire kiss that I had no clue what I was doing. At one point he paused and gave me a quick lesson on how to french. How embarassing! Still, as long as he would do that again I would suffer through a thousand embarassing moments.
Unfortunately it had to end, not that I didn't relive the moment in my mind a million times over. From that point on I have been addicted to a good french kiss.