My First French Kiss

        So, this was not my first kiss. It was my twentieth kiss, but it was my first "tongue-kiss."
It was the 8th grade lock-in. We were playing hide-and-seek in the pitch-black hallways. My boyfriend (Will) was my appointed hug-buddy. It was tradition for some people to jump out and scare other people, so I had someone next to me to cling on to should I get scared. We ran, and (not being able to go into any classrooms) we hid in a doorway. We stood, shoulder to shoulder, in the darkness. He slid his arm around me. This was a practiced move and he knew how to do it. He pulled me towards him a bit, and I put my fedora-adorned head on his shoulder (side note: yes, I wore a fedora. Fedoras are cool.). "I can feel your heartbeat," I said. I will mention here that I had a feeling we were going to kiss, so my heart was attempting to beat its way out of my ribcage and I was doing everything I could to keep from hyperventilating. I get a bit overexcited sometimes.
           "Emma," he said. "Emma."
I pulled my head off of him slightly. He touched my chin and guided my face towards his and- BAM! Collision. For the first time, we actually did what I like to call the "sandwich method," where you have your partner's lip in between your lips- yes, our twentieth kiss and we were doing that for the first time.
Well, we did our best to switch sides like you're supposed to- we didn't know what we were doing and there was some confusion but finally it worked out.
        I felt confident. I felt daring. I felt sexy (might I mention that, as sexy as I may have felt, my tampon was leaking all over and I would soon find my underpants ruined by mass amounts of blood.). I slid my tongue into his mouth. I didn't do that whole "slide-your-tongue-along-his-bottom-lip" thing. I simply demanded entry to his mouth- with my tongue.
        Despite the fact that his braces felt cold and artificial against my tongue and lips, I was enjoying myself. I was kissing my boyfriend, in the dark, in school!
        That was when our tongues touched. It wasn't unpleasant, it was simply a new feeling. It felt like, well, like a tongue. I got a bit scared after that, and we broke apart. There was an awkward moment where I wiped a mixture of his saliva and mine off of my lips, and then realized that I had a cankersore on my tongue that he was likely to get. I stood, heart pounding, mind racing, and then he said something I didn't quite catch. I asked him to say it again.
          "You have a nice tongue."