Kissing

My first kiss ever was an absolute disaster. It was wet, it was sloppy it was … just horrible. Could it perhaps have been down to the fact that we were both barely fourteen years old and didn’t know what the heck we were doing?

Many moons and kisses on, I have overcome the trauma of that first kiss and now kissing has become quite a pleasurable pastime. I have even heard it said that kissing is sometimes more intimate than sex and I have to say that a very big part of me agrees with this.

In the early days, my husband and I were ardent kissers. It was something we could just sit (or lie) and do for ages and we both enjoyed it immensely. My favourite sorts of kisses were the quick stolen ones just before a parent walked into the room or in the kitchen while friends who were over for dinner waited at the dinning table for their food to be served. They always reduced me to a red faced, flustered and breathless wench. These were hot passionate kisses laden with promises of other things to come.

Sadly our kisses have changed now. Marriage and Parenthood has taken its toll on the passion and our kisses are mostly mechanical, now reduced to a Goodbye Peck when we go to work and Hello Peck when we return. What used to be a passion rousing activity has now become a brief pressing together of pursed lips for a nanosecond and then it’s all over.

There are times though when a glimmer of the hot kiss reappears and it always takes me pleasantly by surprise. Hmm I think, we haven’t quite lost it yet and lose myself in the moment.