My first kiss (that is, the first time someone of the preferred sex touched their lips to my lips and I wanted it to happen) it was with my oldest female friend who was the first person I intentionally went out with. Outside of some cuddling and backrubs it was the only gesture of affection in the entire 10 month relationship, occuring sometime in month four. We did not see each other in the last three months. Upon reception of this kiss I was paralysed. It was awarded as her dad was at the door to pick her up - she made her way to the door, let herself out... I was still in the back room, numb, thinking gee that was nice for a half hour after she left before changing position or opening my eyes.

Una belleza puertoriqueña, but not the apple of my nine-year-old eye - there was another in this neighborhood (in the projects, where I was visiting some relatives over summer vacation) far more lovely, but she despised me. Despised me. So Señorita Plan B was my first kiss. My hormones were not yet old enough to appreciate it. The older kids on the playground (our cousins) were fervently gratifying their respective hormone sets with their respective SOs, so our ad hoc incompetent amorositude was just a bit of marking time until it was time to go home for the night. This arrangement lasted for about a week - school started, and I returned to my genteel burb.

Years later, she comes up in conversation, and I get an update from the Old Neighborhood - she spent her adolescence setting records in promiscuity (quite an achievement in the hellhole that is this part of the Bronx). I feel like I may have contributed to her delinquence. But then again, I suppose I wasn't her first kiss.

I don't remember directly how old I was but I remember that I always estimated myself to be 7 years old. Summer holidays were always spent with my grandparents when me and my brother were kiddies. So back then my grandparents must have had friends. They took bro and I to visit these friends who, as it happened, had a daughter (or maybe a granddaughter) about my age. They also had one of those above-ground swimming pools that your dad might build one summer. Ray (short for Raylene) and I would swim around underwater and meet each lap for a bit of 7-year-old style underwater kissing. Our lips were the only parts that touched.

I remember much more clearly wandering casually around the pool to see Ray and my big bro embraced in a totally grown up 9-year-old style kiss.

After this trauma I took a couple of decades off the kissing game...

I don't think I felt it. The circumstances couldn't have been worse, and a couple years later he did himself in. A friend of mine said it was okay because if I can call it a disappointment (I do), I can't properly call it a kiss. Meaning my first is still ahead of me. I'm impatient.

I don't remember my first kiss with my first girlfriend, but we only dated for a month, and she turned out to be a psycho bitch, so I won't talk about that.

What I will talk about is my first kiss with my most recent girlfriend, which I remember like it was yesterday. It was our first actual date. We had been on a double date with her friend and a scary guy from our mutual place of employment, and decided to go to a dance together, but this was a real date. We spent the day rollerblading around Lake Calhoun in Minneapolis, and had a nice dinner at Applebee's. Afterwards we rented a couple of movies and went to her house, and watched them in her room.

There was incredible sexual tension while we watched Tin Cup, but we were both too nervous to do anything but hold hands. I mustered up enough courage to kiss her as the credits started rolling, and we made out until the tape ran out. After the TV went all static-y, we took a time-out to put Twelve Monkeys in the VCR, watched about five minutes of it, and began to make out again. This lasted well unto the wee hours of the morn -- nothing but kissing, caressing, and conversation. It was one of the happiest days of my life. It started a long, wonderful, difficult relationship that ended only a few days ago.

Now she is seeing some Japanese guy. I am very depressed.

I was seventeen. She was nineteen. We had spent the entire day together as we had ever other day for three weeks. She'd asked if I would escort her home from downtown (where we spent most of our time just walking around, shopping, watching people, hanging out down by Waterfront Park... Anything that we could use as an excuse to spend time together). It was the first time I'd been in her apartment. We sat in the living room, on the floor and had several long conversations before we realized it was already midnight. I had not driven that night and it was much to late to catch a bus across town. She insisted that I stay the night. So I did. I lay on the floor as we continued to talk and eventually we grew quiet. Instead of going to her bedroom to sleep, she stayed with me and leaned against me, using my chest as a pillow.

I thought nothing of it. It was just quiet and innocent, but very comforting to feel her laying on me. Warm. Soft. Smelled of vanilla. It was getting late and I was very tired. I'm sure she was, too. It was the furthest thought from my mind that moment, but I found her wonderfully attractive and engaging. She was the only person who had kept my attention for so much time and left me eager for the next day so I could meet up with her and spend more with her.

The thought of her feeling mutually toward me had never occurred to me. It was just an absolute impossibility.

She rolled over, onto her stomache -- still laying against me. She smiled and asked what I was thinking. I opened my eyes and found myself watching her pretty-shaped lips as she spoke. I forced my eyes upward to hers as she waited for an answer.

I was still tired. We'd been hanging out downtown since almost 8am that morning and sixteen hours later here, I was exhausted. I was silent; trying to think. She asked once more -- what was I thinking?

And then I said it.

"I'm wondering what it would be like to kiss my best friend", I answered. I was a bit taken aback at what I'd just said. It surely sounded stupid and I waited for either laughter or uncomfortable silence.

Instead, she smiled and was quiet for just a moment. And then she leaned downward and pressed her lips against mine and gave me the softest, most sensuous kiss of my life. I felt the center of my chest exploding manically and a cool shiver traveled down my spine. She broke the kiss and looked at me. I don't believe I was smiling -- I probably just had this look of shock and... pleasure on my face.

She put her hand underneath my neck and kissed me again as she pulled me to her. I sat upward and guided her to her back. Her leg entwined with my own and I put my hand on her hip as we kissed. Our kisses were soft but strong with passion and lust and wanting. And not a single word was uttered. We enjoyed this for awhile. An hour or so, probably and we both began falling asleep in one another's arms. As I mentioned before -- it had been an incredibly long day.

She stood slowly, trying to wake herself up enough to balance. She grabbed my hand and coaxed me up as well.

"There's no sense sleeping out here on the floorany longer, is there? Come to bed with me,"

she said. The floor wasn't the most comfortable of places, granted, so to bed we went after slipping our shoes and socks off. She snuggled close to me and I could feel how warm she was through her tee-shirt and jeans. It was such an immediately soothing sense of contentment laying beside her. With her.

I fell asleep and I'm not certain if she did or not. Sometime later that morning, though (while it was still very dark out so it was probalby 2am or 3am), I felt her crawl atop me and pin her knees on either side of my hips. She started to kiss me again. With a little (very little) sleep behind me, I was pleased to engage in some playful frolicking. Rolling about the bed -- throwing the blankets and sheets about. Bonking one another with pillows. Giggling. Idle threats. Kisses. Pinning her to the bed by the wrists. Kissing her. Kissing her jaw, neck, shoulders... and downward. She happily removed her shirt with little coaxing and mine was soon to follow. More warm skin pressed against one another and sent delightful waves through both of us.

More kissing. More playing. Teasing. Yet more idle threats; dares; pleadings... And we were completely unclothed. Wrapped in the arms of one another and confined in the security of the bed covers. Making love.

After a long day and what seemed like an even longer night, we really were exhausted. We didn't wake up until well after noon. Enjoying the comfortable caresses of skin against skin and without any interest in really dealing with the "real world", we lay together and enjoyed many more conversations until the evening. We ordered pizza and soda and made a mess of crumbs in the bed where we finally fell asleep again that night. Things had certainly changed, but not for the worse. They had changed but she and I had not. We were not uncomfortable and expectations were the same. We tried to rationalize this as an intense and very unique friendship -- not a relationship... But that only held so long before she began to feel jealous over fairly obvious things. But I wasn't upset. I was flattered. And after talking it over that week, we decided friendship wasn't all we wanted. What we had was good enough that it deserved commitment and a relationship.

Sure, the relationship lasted only half a year. It had a pretty rocky ending. We haven't seen each other since. And in retrospect, I wish we were still friends, even perhaps instead of everything else that had grown from the original friendship. But also in retrospect, I gained a lot from her (I hope she did from me as well... but sometimes I fear this isn't so) and I'm probably a better person for having known her and had the experiences we did.

I'll never forget it. Well, it happened yesterday, and I haven't forgotten it yet, so I'm pretty sure I won't forget it soon. My goth girl e-mailed me, and told me to meet her and her friends at the library. Some laughs, and some hand-holding ensued. Her friends wanted food. We all went down to the pizzeria. They got their pizza to go, since it was closing in 5 minutes. We all walked down to the waterfront, me with my arm around Mary, her friends lagging behind. Mary and I sat alone, together on a bench, our arms around one another. We looked out at the Hudson, and the Palisades on the other side. I looked at her. There was only one thing to say at this point. "I love you." I'd never said that and meant it, until now. She kissed me on the cheek, and I did the same. Then she turned and looked at me, and our eyes met. She closed her eyes, and I closed mine, and then her sweet lips finally touched mine. The silence said so much more than words ever could. We walked back to the library, still embraced. She kissed me goodbye, then I turned and walked to the bus stop. I can't wait to see her again.

It's kinda interesting to see how recent some of these first kisses are..

Mine was December 19, 1999.

We started off the day just as friends - well, net.crushes, just with idle chatter on the way to the other station, and on the train back to her part of the world. And, we started the afternoon just lying around on her bed, talking. But every time one of us moved, and went to sit down again, it was definetly a little closer than the time before. And I do belive my hand ended up in hers at some point...

At about 4-ish, it was time to head out to her friends' lil' Christmas party.

We did spend a little time away from everyone else at the 'gathering', on the comfiest bed in the world™. But nothing much happened, other than the two of us talking, glad we could be together. There were a couple of awkward moments, not for the first time that day, where I'm sure the both of us were expecting something to happen, but nothing did. Often because my stomach began making some *really* wierd noises.

I started getting tired (it had been a long day), so we went back to her house at about 10, back to her bed. Turns out that my stomach was grumbling for good reason, because I was a feeling lil' sick for a wee while. We just lay there for a while, most likely in each others arms, I can't quite remeber. I was on the verge of falling asleep, so she stood up, and pulled me up onto my feet, which just so happened to place me face-to-face with her. Her hands met round my waist. Mine landed behind her neck. It was pretty much inevitable that we ended up in that kiss...

Admittedly, I'd been worrying about it a little.. something suitably silly, like not really knowing what to do. But it was just that - a silly lil' worry.

Since I was standing right next to the bed, I lost my balance and fell onto it, so, we just continued from there. Things didn't go much further than that, I think I was enjoying the kisses enough.. :)

Eventually, I *did* get too tired, and really had to get some sleep...

It is summertime and I am 14 years old. We are sitting against a pillar in the Tenleytown Metro station, watching the trains go by. The cool stone tunnel reminds me of a fallout shelter or a mechanical womb.

He has his knees pulled up to his body. I'm marvelling at the length of his legs, the way his feet are tapping, his rumpled grace.

(I'm amazed, even now, by people who look hot in dirty white T-shirts).

Neither of us say anything. He's so close I can feel the heat coming off of him and I want to touch him but I'm scared so I start picking at my shoelaces instead.

And then suddenly he's holding my hand. Smiling at me, that "I know more than you do" kind of smile.

Do you want to?

I knew what he meant but I pretended I didn't and waited for a very long time and then something snapped and I knew it was inevitable--fuck, I hope I don't get sick.

It goes all the way down my spine I think I just went to some strange country where everything is slick, warm and red.

Wait a minute! What the hell is that in my mouth? Oh gross, that's a tongue and it's not mine.

Pause.

Upon reflection I think I could get used to it. I kinda like its gymnastics.

He pulls away and looks at me. I feel like I've just stepped out of time but I don't let on.

I had two first kisses--one was the kind you experience in early childhood-experimentative and friendly, and the other was romantic and more interesting.

Both have unique stories.

When I was seven, I had all the boyfriends in the world. I was the tomboy. We ran around barefoot in the summer, eating sticky popsicles, and riding our bikes everywhere. We were kids. My latest friend Leslie, an oriental boy.. either Vietnamese or Korean, had just turned four. He was as smart as a six or seven year old though, but age didn't matter so much back then as did who had the coolest toys.

One day, Leslie and I were in his bedroom with another friend of ours. I don't really remember how it started, but we decided that Leslie and I were going to kiss. So we closed the door and we all sat down on Leslie's bed. He had Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle sheets or some sort of cartoon that little boys watch. We were nervous. I started to giggle. The doorknob had a lock on it that was a small piece of metal that protruded from the center of the doorknob. When it wasn't locked, the piece of metal was horizontal. To me, it looked like the doorknob was smiling at us. I told Leslie and he started to giggle as well. But then we kissed. It was very quick. Two sets of lips briefly touched each other and pulled back almost immediately.

Our friend told Leslie's father. He was this macho marine kind of guy with tattoos all over his body. He was sitting shirtless on the couch. I don't remember his reaction. I am wanting to say it was indifferent.

We were quite the topic of the playground for days.

I didn't have a crush on Leslie. In fact, I don't think we ever spoke of the kiss again. He changed a lot in the following months and he went through a stage where he hated girls.. right before he moved back to Asia. I was very sad.

My first romantic kiss was with my old best friend of about six years.

It was sort of odd.

I had told him two weeks prior to the event that I liked him, but I think we knew we liked each other because he had the gall to kiss me on the neck one night before that.

I don't know why I liked him. It was so not physical at all. He was 300 pounds, pimply, kind of grotesque in a way. But he was my best friend and he was all I had. My other best friend had moved away earlier that month.

We were at his house in the kitchen. No one was home. He had swirled my body around and then we kissed. It was a very long kiss. He wasn't a very great kisser, but seeing as that was my first french kiss, I didn't know any better. I twirled my tongue around in his mouth. I was such a bad kisser.

That was about a year and a half ago. After he moved away, I got a boyfriend and a few months into that, we started kissing. Unlike Adam, the best friend, this boy liked kissing as much as I did. Adam often avoided french kissing me. Ben was much different. I learned from him. I am a better kisser now.

When I think back on it, I kind of wish that the first kiss with Ben had been my first romantic kiss. When I think about each kiss, only the last one gives me shivers. The first one makes me think of trailer trash.

She was a singer, a soprano, not a professional singer, just a girl in a University choir that I had been in.

I had nearly been kicked out by the choir master because i could not sing, well he asked me for a scale, played a note on the piano and i was not just flat but an octave off. He started to say, "I think you might not get any enjoyment .." and I asked for another try, sing it I said, let me hear the note. There were too few boys in the choir so he agreed, sang the note and i got the octave, up and down, wer'e short of tenors and so that's what i was to be.

every week twice a week, practicing, learning and at the end of the year a concert. we sang Faure's requiem,

after the concert, letting our hair down we went out to some club in Temple Bar. drinks and dance, and Valerie and i, we danced to some song, the words still linger in my mind, so many years later. "take a parachute and jump" ... "oh sit down, oh sit down, sit down next to me" and each time that part of the song would play we would get close to each other on the dance floor drop to the floor and back up again.

leaving the club, she asks me, "what do you do when you get drunk ?" I tell her, "i climb fridges when i get drunk, ya know, the tall cooler cabinets they have in bars? i climb those when i get drunk !" recalling my most recent of alcohol sodden experience, god how we could drink when we were younger. so she says to me, "what if these buildings were fridges?" so i say "well if i climb fridges when i am drunk and these buildings were a fridge then i would climb these buildings" and no sooner had the idea fixed itself into my mind then i find myself hanging from the second story balcony of a building on Dame street right in the centre of Dublin. It was easy, hanging there, her looking up at me. cemented my desire to climb tall buildings when i am drunk

I climbed down, we walked arm in arm to the night-links, the late night busses, there to cart the interlopers in the city back to the suburbs. waiting i ask "do you mind, can i kiss you?"

she nods her head, i move foreword, it's a shock, her lips, they are warm, soft. they are wet. i didn't know it was going to be like this !. this is good, this is happy, nice, this is warmness. on the bus fall onto the back seat on the upper deck, kissing, kissing all the way home. she takes her jumper off, i kiss her through the neck hole, her stop is approaching, she asks me "have you slept with many girls?" concerned like. Jesus, this is my first kiss, here i am thinking something must be wrong with me, 18 and never been kissed. "no", i tell her, "no i haven't".

I lied. Completely.

I was 17, he was 19. I felt like a freak of nature because I had never had any sort of physical contact of the sexual flavor from either gender. He was one of my best friends and I was helping him deal with an ex-girlfriend who had hurt him badly. Everyone had always thought that we were dating, but we were just really