Confessions of a kissing slut.

So I stole the name from one of the many Orkut communities I belong to...And weirdly, one of the only communities I actually deserve to be in...(Besides the Bandra and Bombay communities...Oh and the Sushi Lovers and Tea Snobs communities..and how could I forget the Terminally Single community?) Cause you see, I am a kissing slut.

I love to kiss. It's intimate, sloppy, loving, gross, exciting, exhausting, desperate, calm, intriguing, exhilarating, wet, slow, quiet, quick, noisy.....eveything rolled into one. When it's done right. I've kissed good kissers and bad, new kissers and experienced ones, girls and boys. What can I say? I love to kiss.

Frequent readers will know my best kiss ever (I remember it down to the question I asked him before he grabbed me and kissed me) was on the bridge accross the Charles in Boston with Jay. I asked him if he'd seen a prettier full moon sight (the buildings of Harvard lit in the moonlight), to which he replied (grab) "smooch". It was a perfect example of the first date kiss. Not too much tongue initially. Perfect interlocking of lips. Noses well out of the way. Accurately judged tilt to head so as to achieve maximum contact. Just bloody perfect. And not to forget a strong arm holding you as he tilts you down till it's all thats holding you up apart from your buckling knees. Sigh.

M. and me had the perfect car kiss the night I was to leave Boston and America forever. The song on the CD was perfect (he made me a mix). It was "Everytime you go away..you take a little piece of me with you". The lean-in to open my door (he would not see me agian for 7 months) and the accidental brushing of his lips against mine...the little bites of my lower lip becoming an urgent probing (tongue fucking sounds too crude) of my mouth. Hands touching, reaching out, grabbing. A hand reaches into my hair and yanks my head back so that the kissing can get a little more rough. I cry out...in Pain? in Pleasure? I don't know. All I know is that I don't want this to end. It ended. It always does.

My first kiss was with Maneeza Hossain - The Bangladeshi girl next door when I was at UVA. Sitting on the porch, making stilted conversation with a girl I had only just met that evening. She asked me to light her ciggie and as I leaned in to light it, she grabbed me and kissed me. It was quick, brutal and ... hot. Here I was believing that men take the lead and here was this girl sticking her tongue down my mouth. Very confusing. Very awkward. I thought the gentlemanly thing to do was ask her if she wanted to date now that we had kissed. No, she said, I was just horny. I know how she feels now.

A mior quibble though. I understand the kisses on both cheeks that the French and the Arabs favour. I however can't seem to understand the kiss on the mouth favoured by gay men to greet one another. I mean, Helloji/Welcomeji but I just don't want our lips touching Uncleji! This is why I tend to jerk my head back when I meet a gay aquaintance...I'm just afraid of the ambush kiss. An ambush-kiss with tongue? Even grosser! I once had a succession of (what I'd charitably call) "Vikster's worse nightmares" kiss me on the lips at a party. I had to rinse my mouth out with a couple of vodka tonics...(Sweetie..I am gay!). Shudder.

And my favourite. The unexpected kiss. I had one recently. Talking to someone I was on a date with and walking side by side downtown. This is the Gateway of India, I said. It's fantastic and ..so are you, he replied....held me by the waist, and kissed me. A quick peck on the lips. No tongue. No teeth. No nothing. Just a light brushing of lips and a caress of my face.

We walked away together. Why was I smiling?


Current Music:
Superstar - Jamelia.

I don't know what it is..that makes me feel like this...(This song is frikkin' addictive!)