I remember my first kiss vividly. It was not a kiss, it was mutual assault, and for some reason the taste I was left with was something akin to diesel (not that I have ever tasted diesel, but still). I shall not reveal the name of the other assaultee in question here. She knows who she is. She will still remember the trembling fear in my eyes…

It was like this: I had made a pact with myself to locate this girl I really liked and have a go at a kiss with her. This was back in the days when I thought it was all about who got to the other one first. It was my opinion that whoever did this then led the kiss, much in the same way as you might lead a dance. For that reason I was scared of both leading (the responsibility) and being led (the lack of control–).

I located my victim. She was standing with friends by the maths block. It was at this point that another problem I had never considered sung out to me: my victim was much taller than me–Something I had never noticed before…And so it would be much easier for her to bend down and lead me than the other way around. With that thought on my mind I covertly followed her and waited until she was in a place where the pavement was dodgy and I was on higher ground. And it worked. When I said “Hi!” she turned around and I went in for the kill. She didn’t stand a chance.

And she accepted me. More than that, she took control. Dam! Then came the sensation that my whole head was about to swallow up. My victim (or attacker) was slowly opening her mouth over my whole face. Then came the teeth-grinding, cutting to the bone. And it went on like this for ten minutes, until eventually she let me go.

That was my first kiss. Ah, the bliss!