What is French Kissing; Here’s what I learned.

North London Park

The year: 1997.

Location: Helsinki, Finland.

The What: got selected to a sponsored school trip under the name of GLOBE “Global Learning to Observing and Benefiting the Environment”

I was 14.

I saw a girl.

I asked around.

She was Czechoslovakian.

I got close to her throughout the days.

On the last day,

we were in the playground of some school.

It was approaching sunset or so I imagined.

Students our age were playing and some were socializing.

We didn’t.

We wanted to get as far away from the crowd.

We chose a spot on the side of the football field.

We sat on the top of the fifth step because there was no sixth.

She slid towards me.

I slid towards her.

She turned her head bashing a smile from heaven.

I chuffed while maintaining a smiling face.

Her hair reflected rays of the golden sun,

deviating the sight of her smile slightly for a second.

My heart started to race,

sending a ripple of irrational beats to my lower lip.

I tried to compose my sensations,

but the beatings of my heart took over control.

She stretched her smile further,

inspiring me to take an action.

An action I never took before,

only witnessed on the big screen.

Now it was the time to put my “long bicep kissing” training into action.

I gazed into her eyes and saw the glare fluttering its surface.

Her lashes stroked at blinking as if a butterfly is flapping its wings.

I muttered “so”

She uttered back “so”

Our smiles extended,

so did the walls of our hearts.

I forced my vision spirally down towards her lips,

but my mind could still see her eyes in the canvass of the moment.

I pulled in my upper lip brushing it softly inside,

then sealed it with the lower to ready it for hers.

My eyelids started to close,

and I felt the whole world around was surrounded with roses.

We kissed.

I felt a strange sensation running through my veins halting all my bodily functions.

When the touch of her lips calmed down the erratic beatings of my heart.

It was my first kiss, the one they call French.

While in the climax sensation of the moment,

I placed my hand on top of hers,

I wanted to confirm the reality of the moment.

I stroke the back of it a few times.

Reality was confirmed.

I just experienced a French Kiss.

Her name is Lucie.

Since then I devoted my future to discover what is this thing called love.

Finland 1997

my name is sherif and I kissed a girl.

I am a blogger, a vlogger and a dayenjoyer.

Call to action, if you like today’s article please recommend so others can read.

Check my travel videos on YouTube.

I wish you a good day and thanks for reading 😉

Published by dayenjoyer

video journalist

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