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I crave touch. And my very favorite touch is the touch of lips. There's something thrillingly delightful about lips. Specifically, kissing. I love to kiss. When the opportunity is afforded me, I kiss frequently. Playfully, tenderly, passionately, sweetly, interspersing nuzzles, whispers, nibbles, licks and giggles. Kissing is amazing and beautiful and intimate.

Compared to my friends at the time, I was a late bloomer when it came to kissing. I was 13 and despite several illicit games of Truth or Dare and Spin the Bottle, I'd somehow managed to avoid anything more than kisses on cheeks, neck nuzzles and booty rubs. I had a boyfriend at the time. A boy two years my senior who made every effort to get us time and space alone. I, on the other hand, endeavored to do the same but in... less obvious ways. I spent a large amount of time at church and, at the time, he and I didn't attend the same school. He'd started showing up at my church with his boys (didn't we all travel in packs) and, eventually, our groups melded into a group of couplings. Youth retreats and rallies and camping were events that brought on renewed excitement when you knew you could sit next to your boo and canoodle during travel to and fro. It was at one such event that my first kiss finally happened!

We were at an event late. Meals had been eaten. Laughs had been had. I was basking in the glow of teen happiness when I suddenly had an urgent need for my lip balm. It was pineapple-mango scented and flavored and I kept having to reapply it because I was constantly licking it off my lips. Somehow, I'd left this new wonder in the van and I wandered to the parking lot to retrieve it. Walking back to the building, with my lips slathered in deliciousness, I encountered my boyfriend. The sun had just dipped below the horizon and the lights in the parking lot were beginning to flicker on. He pulled me into a hug and I eagerly leaned into him. I'm not sure what compelled me to look up into his face. Just like that, with the tilt of my head and the briefest inhale, I'd embarked on my first kiss. It was like many of life's other firsts, exciting, terrifying, full of fumbles, but triumphant. I remember pulling back and smacking my lips together. He tasted of Winterfresh gum and now I did, too. I wondered if he was tasting pineapple-mango. He looked at me expectantly and it occurred to me that I had no  clue what was supposed to happen after a kiss in real life. My TV/movie research and practice had not prepared me for what was supposed to happen after the kiss. I wracked my brain and kept coming up empty.

So.

I thanked him. And because he was barely more well-versed in life as I was, he said, "You're welcome."

And that is the story of my first delicious kiss. My technique has improved since that evening. I rarely use flavored lip products and I don't know when I last tasted Winterfresh. But when I think of that gum and when I think of flavored lip balm, I always fondly remember that first kiss.