For some reason I’m not succeeding in writing about current things in my life, little though there may be, so I shall write a memory. Sure, it may be filled in here or there, but I never claimed to have a good memory. But it is rather ingrained in my mind…
It was one of those nights where it was cold-though-not-exactly-winter. Maybe it was a February thaw, maybe it was a cold night in march. We walked, hand in hand, except when our hands broke for a grope, a kiss, a shove, a scratch… anything really. Our hands were all over each other. We walked to the playground, just to be outside, without parents. To not fuck in the car, again. We walked to the plastic playground, lit by the moon and a yellow street lamp casting shadows of trees.
Under the jungle gym, she shoved me up against the plastic tic-tac-toe, and quickly reached under my shirt. She kissed me, hard, as she twisted my nipple, hard. She didn’t do things by halves. She leaned in again, this time going for my neck, biting down and adding to my bruises there. My hands found their way under her jacket and shirt, my nails leaving red trails across her back.
But mostly I remember the moon, and her hand unzipping my jeans and without pulling them down, finding their way under my underwear and sliding inside me. I mostly remember the moon, and the feel as her other hand slid around my neck and began to squeeze.
I stopped breathing. I stopped trying to breathe. I could have still, I think, but I didn’t even try to find out.
She let go for a moment, and I took a few breaths, nodding to her to put her hand back. She squeezed harder that second time, and longer. I closed my eyes, closed myself off from the world. No sight, no breath, and everything began to fade to white as I got off.
I don’t remember the feel of her fingers inside me that night. I don’t remember how she sucked and bit my neck, or how she twisted my nipple, just that she did. I remember how her hand felt, that first time someone took my breath out of the equation.
The next day at school, no one noticed the bruises from her hand mixed in among the hickies. And that was the way I wanted it.
Especially after the feedback I got last week, figured I’d do another sexplanation, except the question I have gotten the most over the years isn’t about sex, but kissing.
How do you kiss (well)?
The first time I got asked this question, it was years ago, early in high school. My friend asked me this in an IM conversation, because she was nervous about kissing a guy for the first time with no experience. Then another friend asked, and another.
Now, I like to think I’m decent at kissing, but the more I’ve kissed, the more I’ve learned about kissing, the less concrete advice I have. The first and most important piece of advice is
Always be adaptable.
What do I mean by that? I mean be ready to change with each kissing partner, because different people do not kiss the same and do not like the same kiss. Be adaptable, and stay adaptable. Now, on to the ‘how-to.’
- Everything on this comes from my own personal experiences and preferences. So, if you disagree with something on here, feel free to comment to that extent!
- Use chapstick, lip balm, etc. Most people don’t like kissing chapped lips. It also is often more comfortable to kiss when your lips don’t hurt.
- Don’t eat garlic, onions, or other breath changing foods right beforehand unless your kissing partner did too, or you know they won’t mind the taste
- If you smoke, brush your teeth well before you kiss a nonsmoker
- If you are a nonsmoker, be careful about kissing smokers. It really can taste like an ashtray.
- Don’t have food/gum in your mouth (unless you are intentionally trying to pass something to the other person)
- Practice makes perfect. Few people are naturally good kissers, so getting feedback on your kissing style from a variety of people can really help.
- Most important: HAVE FUN!
A Closed Mouth Kiss:
This kind of kiss is a great place to start, be it for people new to kissing, for kissing someone new, or just to mix things up. Kissing does not always have to be a face-eating lip lock.
I mean, sure, that kiss is a “classic,” but it is not only acceptable, but quite fun to occasionally kiss without either opening your mouth or using tongue. What you do instead is purse your lips together a bit, by bringing in the corners of your mouth a bit. You don’t need to do that a ton, but just enough to help sort of “fluff” up your lips. Also, at the same time, it helps to push your lips out a bit. The goal here, for both of these, isn’t to shove your lips out in the stereotypical pucker “o” for a kiss, but to help cushion the kiss from your teeth.
When actually kissing, lean in, and softly press your lips to theirs. Tilting your head to the side to keep noses from smacking helps, but make sure you tilt your head a different direction as your partner. The goal here is not to have an incredible amount of pressure (you aren’t making a pancake) but enough to sensualize the kiss. This pressure can range from the softest, barely brushing their lips (which can be lots of fun and even tingley) to a greater pressure for a more passionate version. For a longer closed mouth kiss, massaging their lips slightly with yours is often a good choice as well.
An Open Mouth Kiss:
Now, think the closed mouth kiss, but open your mouth up to theirs. A key thing for open mouthed kisses is that teeth should not be hitting. In fact, teeth should almost always be covered by your lips. Moving your lips is key here, not just being a dead fish with the other person taking all the action. Not moving too much, but enough to show your interest. Fun variations include sucking gently on the top or bottom lip, and pulling it out slightly. If you are kissing a masochist, or someone who likes a bit of pain, sucking harder is an option, as is nibbling (yes, using your teeth) on their upper or lower lip. If you really are kissing a masochist, biting down can lead to delightful gasping noises from them.
Be careful about completely covering their mouth and lips with yours, you will end up slobbering all over their face.
A Kiss with Tongue:
Also known as “making out” or “french kissing,” kissing with tongue can be quite a bit of fun! (Okay, tongue leaving cheek now. Pun intended.) But really, this is a blast when doing it right. Go from an open-mouthed kiss, and either accept your partner’s tongue into your mouth, or slide your tongue into theirs. If you are using your tongue into their mouth, I would not recommend immediately trying to see how much of your tongue you can get in their mouth. This is not the time to shove your tongue down their throat to check their gag reflex… no, really. It is important to keep your tongue moving, up and down, side to side, in circles, but vary it a bit so you aren’t just doing the same thing over and over.
It is often better to start the kiss, go for a bit, close your mouth, and then restart. This helps with the variation thing. A few fun tricks include running your tongue across their lips before kissing them (some people like this, some do not,) as well as actively exploring their entire mouth. For more passionate moments, it might be fine to shove your tongue deep into their mouth and “down their throat” but make sure it is ok with your partner, and if they do not like it, then really, do NOT do it. Not so fun if it isn’t what a person is looking for. Again, if you are kissing a masochist, sucking hard on their tongue can sometimes be a good thing, as can biting it, but do those with only extreme discretion.
But what about my hands?!
This is probably what a lot of the people who have asked me about kissing really wanted to know: where to put their hands. A good option is one hand on the side of the person you are kissing’s face, their back, or even their arms. If you are really getting into making out, putting your arms around to their back and moving them around is a good plan. Another fun thing about kissing is that it DOES leave your hands free, to maybe pin them against the wall, run your hands all across their skin, tease their nipple, give them a handjob, scratch their back, the possibilities only end with your imagination.
Now, for some fun additions, here is a wonderfully bitchy list about some of the kisses I’ve had, from great to horrible!
- Pancake: Closed mouth kiss with so much pressure you feel like your lips are turning into pancakes. Also known as the facemash.
- Catfish: Intentionally named after the bottom feeder, this is when the other person doesn’t move their tongue up at all while making out with you.
- Plunger: When there is negative pressure, and no matter what it seems like the air is being sucked out of your mouth and into theirs.
- Flood: From your nose to your chin, from ear to ear, if you are covered in slobber after a kiss, you just had a flood kiss!
- Cloud: Ever been in an airplane and looked out, and seen the clouds and how fluffy they are? This kiss feels like clouds look like they are supposed to feel. Hot.
Not everyone intellectualizes things quite like this, so to each their own. But the most important thing BESIDES having fun is reading your partner and responding to them. No one kisses quite the same as someone else, so go out and figure out who YOU like to kiss. :D
I don’t remember how I got the scar on my back. It is apparently a nice, slightly curved white line on my back, acquired sometime in the last few years. C noticed it about a year ago, and we then had a delightful conversation where she denied being the one to leave it, but I really cannot believe it was anyone else…
Since high school, I’ve frequently had rather large hickies on my neck. After breakups especially, the marks on my neck would garner lots of questions. I’m easy to mark. Only one person has ever managed to avoid marking my neck, and ironically that was unintentional. As much as S does leave marks on my neck, she tends not to leave them other places. That isn’t as true the other way around.
The jersey sheets are soft under my bare body, and sit facing S, her back to me. Her hands rest behind her at her ass, tied together at the wrist. Her hands rested right in front of my clit and would sometimes brush against me lightly. I was so turned on, so wet. She told me she was more submissive. She asked to be tied up, and at some point I slid into that place in my head, at some point I started to enter my dominant mode that night in a way that I hadn’t in months. It wasn’t that I wanted to top her, that I wanted control, it wasn’t want. It was simply there.
Her back had red lines from my nails. I drew them across again, both hands scratching at her back from top to bottom, side to side, crossing, sometimes a straight pattern, sometimes serpentine. Over and again, I scratched her back until the lines faded into a sea of red, texturized skin. My nails ran across her arms, her legs, her inner thighs, up her chest and to her neck. I wondered how much would be visible the next day. I wanted those marks to show when she wore her swimsuit the next day at the pool. My nails would return, again, to her back, feel the heat coming off of it. Sometimes I’d let my hands just gently run across her back, a soothing motion in contrast with my frequently quick scratches.
Her fingers would sometimes graze my inner lips, but never with confidence. I relished the hesitation. Each time my nails dragged across her skin, I could feel her skin resist, and occasionally break open to the next layer. My nails I know, know how to draw blood, avoid blood, know how to scrap, how to claw. My nails I know, it was her reactions I was learning. Her sighs, her quick intakes of breath, I’m learning her reactions. Each swipe of my nails across her skin, I controlled my actions and reveled in her responses, even in her silence.
She is a first. I have drawn my nails and painted red, raised lines all over backs before, but never did I scratch an entire back into a canvas of red skin. I have drawn blood before, but never felt a sense of control over my nails like that moment. I knew the instrument, I knew the recipient, and I knew my mind. More than anything S is the first to bring out the desire, almost a craving, to mark. I want to mark her.
So that the next day when she put on her swimsuit, there would be evidence of my nails for any to see.
Marking isn’t about ownership to me. It is about the power to leave the mark at all, about the reminder later of the moment, it is about the knowledge that the marks are there to see. Even when the marks are hidden under clothing, they is the potential for them to be revealed.
It wasn’t what S wanted that night, not really, and I knew that. But we need to find our own ways of playing with power with each other. I need to be comfortable, sure of myself, in what I’m doing to her in order to dom. So the first time I wield her cane or flogger, I am not sure. I need time to get used to a flogger, especially one of a very different weight than I’m used to. I need time to learn how to use a cane. So the first time, I’m not going to get into the right mindset. But my nails, I know my nails, and their effects on skin. We need to talk more, need to work with D/s, need to find our way into power play for ourselves. I need to learn how to get into my head without having to really know my tools, because I want to learn those tools.
Days later my fingers trace the raised marks, and again even about a week later. I smile and kiss her. I have to restrain myself, not drag my nails across her upper back, not down her spine, or tracing her shoulder blades, to make sure I don’t break open the healing, red lines. Days later I trace the raised marks and smile.
I don’t remember the first time I thought “Hey, I might be trans.” I don’t remember any specific moment where things just “clicked.” I remember the night I figured out I like women, and it was within a month or two after that night that I figured out I was trans. But I don’t remember that first time things started to fall into place.
I remember the first time I got called dyke in elementary school, for being socially awkward and gender-nonconforming for the little ten year olds we were. I didn’t know hwo to react, because it was obviously an insult but I did not understand either why it was insulting or what made me a “dyke.” I remember the first time some scared little kid came up to me and asked, “Are you a boy or a girl?” and it was one of the most interesting conversations on gender I have ever had, and I almost blew up at him.
There are some things that no matter what, I will never forget. Some firsts that with exception of severe brain damage, I am going to remember for the rest of my life.
I remember the first time I played with rope. No clue as to the date, but it was spring. I took the SAT that day, walked outside and their she was, waiting. The sun was shining, but we did not see it on the far side of the blackout curtains. We were broke, so we played with clothespins and pocket knives. She pulled out some cotton rope, from home depot, and looked around the room. One rocking chair with no good tie offs. One bed with a solid headboard, and no bars… There was no place to tie down as we wanted. So I threw on clothes and grabbed a chair from my brother’s room… The first time I was tied up it was in my brother’s chair, and it was spring.
She put my hands behind me, behind the back of the chair, looped the rope around my hands, and tied it off. Badly. They were loose, and the knot did not stay, but before I could contemplate untying myself, she had bit my neck and her nails dragged down my inner thigh. I moaned in pain, my face splitting into a wide grin. She chuckled, and set the clothespins on my nipples. She leaned in to kiss me as she set the clothespins on, and I half-screamed into her mouth. She went down on me, sucking on my clit, telling me I was such a hot boi, her boy. I never came. That wasn’t the point…
It was the first time I played with rope, and by the end I had slid out of my bonds by accident. It was spring, and for the first time, I wasn’t a girl to the other person. The first time I played with rope was the first time I ever played as me.