make out

My first real boyfriend, Dom, and I were on my couch. I was 14, he was 15. We had known each other practically from birth. We had been going out for a couple of weeks. There was lots of hand holding and some kissing on the lips, but no tongue or touching anywhere that would make you tingle. This was to be our first make-out.

Dom and I were a tangled mess of limbs. At first, teeth were gnashing into teeth. Tongues were searching aimlessly. Hands wandered and were put back into their proper place. After a clumsy beginning, we found a rhythm and I started to enjoy myself. It felt natural and electric to have this boy's tongue inside my mouth, to feel him pressing against my fully-clothed body. I relaxed into his arms, relieved to finally be experiencing what I had dreamed of and read about for ages. Love and sex! (By sex, I meant making out and rubbing against one another.)

Dom pulled away from me, panting. His eyes were shining and his lips were lollipop red. He nuzzled into my neck and whispered, "Hey. Know what I want you to do?" My body stiffened and my heart pounded in my ears with the fear of all he could ask me to do that I a) wouldn't want to do, or b) wouldn't be able to identify. I reluctantly croaked, "What?" His body arched towards mine with expectation. "Rub your tongue across my lips. Like lipstick." I was both confused and repulsed at the same time. "Huh?" After ten minutes of making out, I wasn't ready for anything kinky. Yet.

Dom pulled me in close to him. I felt his whispery breath on my chin.

"You know. Like this."

With that, he closed his eyes and poked his tongue out of his mouth. He then ran the tip of his tongue around and around my lips. It felt slimy and wet, like an eyeball. I had to fight the urge to pull away from him and roll off the couch to safety. His face was so earnest I wanted to laugh and throw my hands up, fed up with all of this gross sex stuff already.

It went on for days. His fingers dug into my hips as he moaned and gyrated next to me. "Oh yeth," he lisped with his tongue between his lips. My eyes widened and rolled up to the ceiling. My shoulders touched my ears as the shivers shot up and down my spine. I felt like I would scream in agony if he didn't stop soon. I sensed him slowing down and tried to compose myself before he opened his eyes and saw the look of disgust on my face. When he finally pulled away from me, Dom was beaming with pride. He was so pleased with himself I wanted to puke.

"You like?" He was my boyfriend. I didn't want to hurt his feelings. My mother had told me you had to make some sacrifices in a relationship, but I thought that meant letting my dad have a fish tank. I shrugged my shoulders as my face reddened. I gave my best ambiguous smile while trying not to laugh. Dom could barely contain himself. "My turn!" He closed his eyes and puckered his already chapped lips, leaning in close.

I stared at his expectant face. Reluctantly, my tongue poked out of my mouth like a turtle's head leaving its shell. I felt ridiculous.

I poked Dom's lips with the tip of my tongue several times.

"Oh baby..." he moaned and groaned and twisted on the couch.

I continued pecking at his lips, my eyes scrunched shut and every muscle in my body tensed against him. I licked and pecked and poked until my tongue cramped and my jaw locked. I had nothing left to give. My mouth was dry and I needed a glass of 7-Up.

"That was amazing. The best I ever had." I bristled at these words. I wasn't jealous that Dom had dated and kissed other girls. In fact, I knew and liked his previous two girlfriends. That was part of the problem. I now had a clear mental image of Liz, Julie and I all standing in a line with our tongues poked out, reluctantly waiting to lick Dom's lips to his content. I didn't want to be a lip licker.

Our love fizzled six weeks later. I don't really remember why. It seemed to involve a he said/she said regarding my whereabouts, or his whereabouts, or whereabouts I would and would not put my tongue. Our break-up meant that I had to take a different bus to school in the morning, and the mix tape of power ballads he had made for me was locked away in the closet. It was fun to break up, to have my girlfriends console me, and to look at new boys with a question in my eye. But mostly, it felt good to reclaim my tongue, and reserve any and all licking I chose to do for ice cream.