The first guy I ever kissed just friended me on Facebook. Which I actually think is pretty cool, so I friended him back.
It’s been a long time since that first kiss. He was first of many things, actually – first kiss, first oral (both me on him and him on me), first really heavy serious petting make-out session. And my first outdoor sexual experience. There are lots of memories there, all spanned over the period of about a year and a half, and I haven’t thought of them for quite some time.
He was a family friend. Or rather, his mum and my aunt were best friends, so whenever we went from our city to theirs (as we did a few times a year) to visit, we’d end up hanging out. He was a few years older than me, and I recall my mother saying to someone (my aunt? my dad?) and me overhearing, that the age difference made no difference, as emotionally we were in about the same place anyhow.
The day of my first kiss, I was thirteen. I was hanging out in the front part of the house, reading old National Geographic magazines while I was sprawled out on the carpet, enjoying the sunshine coming in through the windows. It was late Spring, I think. I don’t really remember the details – how he came in, or how we got from conversation to kissing. But I liked it. I really liked it.
Come to think of it, I think he’d probably had some practice. He certainly didn’t suck.
What I do remember, clearly, is being called to lunch. And how, partway through lunch I got a bloody nose (how embarrassing). Turns out, as I discovered much later, than strong emotional release can set that off for me. Who knew?
I remember a lot about that boy. The freckles across his nose, the look in his eye when he suggested having a spa (a three-hour spa, that was. With, eventually, no swimsuits. And a lot of hands, and tongues, and general writhing. And the smell of chlorine made my knickers wet for about three years afterwards). I remember watching him play hockey and cricket with my cousins while I sat in the shade and read my books. I still remember the date of his birthday.
He’s changed a lot (as have I, naturally). Interestingly, the man he’s grown into has many of the same attractive qualities that I adore in Apollo, Adonis and Hermes – and he works in IT, as do they all. Me and geeks? Yep! Physically, he’s no longer the slim athletic boy he was, and looks disturbingly like his father now – but I remember him as he once was. I don’t know him now.
I do know that I don’t lust for him the way I did. The boy who kissed that girl is long gone, as is that girl. Still, I learned from him just how hot kissing can be, how oral sex can go both ways, and that getting naked outdoors can be a whole lot of fun.
Mostly, I remember him with fondness, which is more than I can say for the first three guys I fucked (I can’t even remember their last names, to my dismay). I can only hope that he remembers me the same way.
Given that he friended me, I have hope that he does. I wonder if he reads sex blogs?
Originally posted July 2009.