The 200th Kiss

15 Jan

I was 12 when Matt Harris’ flashlight beam landed on me in the tent.
 
There were six of us — two girls, four boys — playing the clandestine game of spin the flashlight at the overnight field trip.
 
I’d never been kissed. I nervously fumbled through it, shocked by his tongue that licked all around my lips, before plunging in an excited deposit of saliva and teeth into my mouth. He smelled like bug spray and tasted like marshmallow.
 
I was kissed five times by three of the boys before it was Christian’s turn. He was the reason I was in the tent in the first place. All day he’d made my heart flip and my palms sweat. This was the moment.
 

He leaned forward, his hands on his crossed legs, closed his eyes, and…I bolted. I ran from the group, and straight to the girls’ tent where I dove into my sleeping bag and tried to stop shaking.
 
Flooded with embarrassment and self-recrimination, I barely heard Caroline return from the boys’ tent a little while later. She didn’t say anything to me that night or the next day, but when we returned to school, the rumors started.
 
Did you hear that I’m a slut? That Caroline and I took turns giving the boys blow jobs? That she and I shared quite a few kisses by the glow of the flashlight? According to the rumors, it was a veritable orgy in the tent that night.
 
I didn’t mind the rumors as none of them betrayed the truth: that I had freaked out and ran from the game I hadn’t been ready to play. Being perceived as loose was more favorable to what I really was — a chicken.
 

The first time D kissed me, I had the same fight-or-flight response. Just moments before his lips met mine, he pushed me against the door, pinning me to prevent escape. Since then, we’ve kissed hundreds of times and I’ve been pulled over his knee a similar number.
 
We find deeper meaning at each reunion. I still experience butterflies when he orders me to his room and into position. I’m still nervous because, while he’s not constantly pushing me to the next level, the uncertainty of what will pass is still present. He keeps it novel by challenging me, toying with me, and stretching me to my limits, making each experience as hot as the first.
 

At any moment I could end up like this.


I have grown from that scared girl in the tent 22 years ago. There are still moments when all I want to do is run and hide under the safety of a blanket, when I’m so frantic I think to jump out of my skin. But D keeps me there, building the tension to an apex before finally releasing me, for the first, the fifteenth, the hundredth time and beyond.
 
I do retain one golden rule from my time in the tent: absolutely, under no circumstance, will there be any face licking. It’s a hard limit.
 

*All names have been changed.

24 Responses to “The 200th Kiss”

  1. Raven Red January 15, 2011 at 12:17 pm #

    Brilliant and sexy, Miss Pink.
    And when men complain that they do not always understand a woman, this post should become a MUST read.
    Oh, and I am SO with you on the hard limit…images of a basset hound comes to mind..yuck..

    Hugs

    Raven

  2. Barely Pink January 15, 2011 at 12:56 pm #

    I once broke up with someone who wouldn’t stop licking my face. He’d wrestle me down and LIIIIICK. Thought it was hilarious, until I ordered him out and to stay out!

    I also broke up with someone who ate too fast, but that’s for another post.

    Glad you enjoyed this, Raven!

  3. zelle January 15, 2011 at 1:01 pm #

    oh Pink! Now THAT brought back a flood of memories! In particular.. thinking that the 1st slobbery kiss was disgusting! And if THAT was this “French Kissing” cap.. I was NOT a proponent! GREAT BLOG as usual!

    • Zelle January 15, 2011 at 1:12 pm #

      that’s… “crap”.. not ‘cap’.. damn posting from a cell phone keyboard. LOL

      • Barely Pink January 15, 2011 at 2:08 pm #

        I knew what you meant. 🙂

        Yeah, it wasn’t until I was about 15 when I finally understood the allure of the French Kiss. I wonder if those first boys ever got it right?

        Thanks, Zelle!

  4. Season January 15, 2011 at 2:19 pm #

    “I still experience butterflies when he orders me to his room and into position. I’m still nervous because, while he’s not constantly pushing me to the next level, the uncertainty of what will pass is still present.”

    Exactly! That little bit of uncertainty keeps all my senses heightened. It’s that feeling of the final moment when seated in the roller coaster as that bar comes down and locks in place. That stomach flipping no turning back now feeling.

    • Barely Pink January 15, 2011 at 7:41 pm #

      Oh, that is exactly the feeling, Season! That *gulp* moment when you know you cannot stop what comes next — and you want it but you fear it.

      • Anon E. Mouth January 15, 2011 at 8:36 pm #

        The unpredictability of it. The moment when you step out on to the precipice before jumping over the chasm, the last step before the skydive, the last hop before the fancy flip into the swimming pool from the high diving board. The last lull before you climb to the peak of the mountain – but what will I see there? Will I be able to handle it? What if this is as far as I dare go? And then the big arm comes and pushes you out of the plane and off the diving board, pulls you back up to conquer the mountain, holds your hand and jumps with you over the precipice. Take the risk, it says. Come with me. New adventure, thrills, and lots of memories, I promise you all that and more.

      • Barely Pink January 15, 2011 at 8:56 pm #

        I am willing to sign any waiver. I need to be aboard that airplane, mountain climb, high-dive board, wherever. What you have described has pinpointed that near weightless feeling of the “just before”. This is deserving of it’s own post, for sure.

        Thanks for your beautiful and inspiring words of wisdom, Anon E. Mouth. (You’re much more slick than Wile E. Coyote, btw.)

  5. D January 15, 2011 at 4:48 pm #

    Pink,

    If I took you out into the woods, stripped you naked,tied you to a tree, took a switch to your ass and did anything else I wanted…would you tell anyone?

    Do you want to go camping with me?

    C’mere and give me one of your big wet sloppies!

    • Barely Pink January 15, 2011 at 7:42 pm #

      I’d only tell the readers, D. So that secret would be safe. 😉

      Let’s give it a try…

  6. Erica January 15, 2011 at 5:51 pm #

    Wow… what an experience! And I love how you remember all the details.

    I played strip spin-the-bottle once when I was 13. I guess I really WAS a slut. 😉

    • Barely Pink January 15, 2011 at 7:43 pm #

      Twenty-two years ago, but I remember that tent as if it were yesterday. How mortifying, really, to run from a game of spin the flashlight.

      Nah, you weren’t a slut. You just learned how to own your sexuality at an early age! Go you!

  7. Zelle January 15, 2011 at 6:46 pm #

    Here’s hoping.. if “D” takes you out to the woods… that you’ll all the nitty gritty details!

    … Mainly cause I’m living vicariously through you.. and I need lots and lots of fodder for my wicked imagination.. (heehee)

    • Zelle January 15, 2011 at 6:47 pm #

      damn phone. it forgot a word.. “spill” .. as in YOU WILL spill all the nitty gritty details..

      • Barely Pink January 15, 2011 at 7:44 pm #

        Oh, absolutely. I keep few secrets from the readers here. 🙂

  8. Anon E. Mouth January 15, 2011 at 8:50 pm #

    Reading your post, it occurred to me, the boy-side grew up too. Those boys who were all sloppy and nervous, mouths filled with cherry-flavoured cough drops, can become strong, assertive, protective risk-takers, ready to claim what is theirs and equipped to titillate her unceasingly until her defiant resistance turns to shudders of pleasure. Way to go, D, for taking Pink to the mountain top and showing her the dream. 😉

    • Barely Pink January 15, 2011 at 8:58 pm #

      I would be curious to know just how those boys ended up. Surely one of the four turned out to be a mastermind between the sheets, a commander cloaked in quiet understatement.

      If I were single, I’d say that you’ve inspired me to look them up, retrace my steps. Kiss that boy, Christian. But, alas, I have my D to take me to the mountain. And he’s a far better driver for me than anyone I could ever know.

  9. dd January 16, 2011 at 7:03 pm #

    Yuk, I remember those youthful kisses, and remember escaping thinking, is that it?

    The fight or flight moments will always be there, enjoy!

    • Barely Pink January 17, 2011 at 12:34 pm #

      Hi, and welcome dd! I live for those fight or flight moments! Pure adrenaline rush. Are spankos adrenaline junkies or what?

      Thanks for visiting and hope to see you back!

  10. scarlet January 17, 2011 at 8:41 am #

    Oh, to be thirteen again, and waiting for that first kiss.

    Thanks for reminding us, Pink. If only we knew then how much better it was all going to be.

    • Barely Pink January 17, 2011 at 12:33 pm #

      During my dating phase, I was ASTOUNDED by how many grown men still kissed like they were 13. I literally had to take their faces and hold them to show them how it was done. Tongue action on the cheeks is wholly unnecessary.

      But, still…fond memories! 🙂

  11. Missy February 7, 2011 at 8:53 pm #

    Hi Pink, Just found your blog and loved the story. I was a total chicken too, which is probably why I loved it. :-)Love your site and what you have to say sweetie!

    • Barely Pink February 8, 2011 at 8:47 am #

      Thanks, Missy! And welcome!

      There is definitely an excitement with the anxiety of the unknown. And I was such a chicken — not sure I loved it so much then, but it’s fun now!

      Glad to see you here and hope you come again. 🙂

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