24 ~ First Kiss

My very first kiss was when I was younger than ten.

I was spending time at my great-aunt's house, and she had foster kids. We were horribly mean to each other, and we spent the entire day chasing each other around, pulling pig-tails, the works. Then, I backed him up against the way, and smacked him one on the lips.

Never saw him again.

My first real kiss was when I was fifteen. Quinn was visiting me for two nights and three days. She only visited the once in our eighteen months of dating, though she only lived forty minutes away, because her parents were super-Christian (read: super-assholes). Kaleb helped me sneak her away--chastising me for the risks inherent, which he discovered on the way to her house, because her father was military--but no one was ever the wiser. I walked up to her house in a tight skull shirt, tight jeans, and purple heels.

We spent the first day in my room (I was super-aggressive, she kept having to pin me down before I could ravish her; she was shy, awww) and then walking around the park. I was puppy-sitting for Kaleb, who lived nearby with his fiancee of the time.

At one point, in his empty house, on our way to walking his half-Shepherd, gargantuan dogs, we started kissing. I think I essentially attacked her. Then, continuing to be aggressive, I pulled her to me, pushing myself into the wall, and we made out for ages. Not long enough, of course, but mmm was it sweet.

We kissed a lot that day, and the next, and the nights, and in general. No kissing intimately, but plenty of...other fun.

That's what happens when you raise a tomboy in a Christian household!