KISS ME I’M IRISH – Heck, Just Kiss Me!
Every girl dreams of her first kiss. I well remember mine. I was fifteen and a half and it took place in a barn on a horse with the cutest boy in three counties. If I close my eyes, I can still feel it. Sadly to say, I don’t think I’ve had a better one since. My heart was pounding, my blood was singing, my hands were shaking and if the horse hadn’t side-stepped, I would have prolonged that liplock for as long as possible. Because the boy knew how to kiss! He was older than me and worlds more experienced and I had the most humongous crush on him that a young girl ever had.
When I look back on that kiss – what I remember was the anticipation. I had been dreaming of kissing Bill Westbrook for ages. In fact, I had put myself in the position to be kissed numerous times. That happens you know – the sidling up, the tilting of the head, the fluttering of the lashes – that breathy openmouthed invitation that girls practice in front of the mirror. And I had practiced – my pillow was the most kissed beau in the history of the world. Have you ever kissed your pillow? They are a willing partner and – oh, so huggable – it’s just their response instincts that are lacking.
Bill knew how to kiss. He didn’t just grab me and stick his tongue down my throat. Oh no. He wooed me. He held my head, he looked into my eyes, he kissed my eyelids, the corners of my mouth and then rubbed his sweet, firm lips all across mine before he committed himself to some serious smooching. It could have gone on and on, but Comanche didn’t particularly care for Bill’s horse, Pieball, and he thought enough was enough and stepped side-ways, breaking asunder the sweetest moment of my life –thus far.
Now, I won’t bore you – but I did get to kiss Bill again- but you can never repeat the nipple hardening, toe curling, ground-breaking feeling of that unique and wonderful first kiss. When I am in a relationship, kissing is one of my favorite things – if the guy knows how. There are those who are talented and, sadly, there are those that are not. Technique is critical and teasing is imperative. I want a man to make me want him – rev me up the point that I want to wrestle him to the ground and have my willing way with him. I want to be seduced in a kiss and I want it to be a satisfying experience in and of itself and just not a lead-in to sex.
Now, reading about kissing is another thing altogether. I love erotic romance, so I want the description of the kiss to turn me on. And yes, just a kiss can turn me on. I want to know when they inhale one another’s breath, how sweet the other’s lips taste – I want to know when their tongues mate and how close they pull together because they just can’t stay apart. If all I get is “they kissed passionately” – I ain’t too passionate about that. So, I try to write descriptively, I want people to feel the kiss that I describe, to yearn for it, to ache for it. Whew! I’m turning myself on. Haha!
Accounts of kisses have been part of our recorded history for over 3000 years. In the epic Sanskrit poem, Mahabarata, a kiss is described and in the Bible – the Song of Solomon – (I tell you this was the first erotic romance – haaha) it says this: ‘May he kiss me with kisses from his mouth, for his lovemaking is better than wine!’” There! Wow! Go Solomon! You dawg – – haha.
Romantic kissing is about all I want to do – I don’t like the relatives who want to kiss or the clubs or churches where everybody kisses everybody – I will run! I do kiss my dog, and he appreciates it. But kissing has been around since time immemorial – although the way we kiss has changed. Sadly, some cultures have flourished without a single peck! But kissing on the mouth has always been a way that folks show affection. The French were credited with the practice of using the tongue – thus French kissing – because of their more adventuresome sexual practices. I say VIVE le FRANCE! They do know how to live – all that wine and cheese and lovemaking – yum.
I have had some wonderful kisses in my time and I hope to have many more. There is a piece of mistletoe that I’m saving for one special guy, but Christmas is a long time off. There’s a much nearer holiday that encourages kissing and its not St Valentine’s Day – it’s St Patrick’s Day. Everyone has a ‘Kiss Me I’m Irish’ shirt, even the heroine in my new serial with Ryan O’Leary called ‘It’s Just Sex – Green With Envy’. She wears it to a Scavenger Hunt. (Check it out, if you can – it’s only $1.99 and there will be a whole year’s worth of installments – The Continuing Romance of Rosemary and Andrew).
‘Kiss Me I’m Irish’ is a saying that has come into popularity because of the Blarney stone. It is considered good luck to kiss that ancient piece of bluestone on the battlement of Blarney castle. And since one can’t always get to Ireland to kiss the Blarney Stone, one can just grab the first Irish guy or gal and give them a smack. So, today – – KISS SOMEBODY FOR GOODNESS SAKE!!!
Ryan and I would like to invite you to a fun event – there will be lots of prizes – it’s today at 4 to 6 pm central time.
And here is where you can find the book if you are interested:
Here’s a small excerpt from GREEN WITH ENVY
“We all have secrets, Gypsy.” He sure had some of his own. “Kiss me.”
She lifted her face to give him what he wanted, but she took her time, she did it her way. With fevered lips, she strung kisses up his neck, licking his jawline and nipping at his chin. The rasp of his beard was so sexy. “I have wanted to do this so much,” she whispered. Rosemary understood that this embrace might not mean as much to him as it did to her, but that was okay. At this moment he was in her arms and the world made sense.
Andrew got impatient; he turned his head and captured her mouth. She welcomed him, going all soft under his onslaught. This time his kiss was gentle, but voracious, not at all what she had been expecting. Finding her hands, he held them above her head and began to rub his body on hers, bucking his hips, letting her feel how much he needed her. Every brush of their bodies was exquisite. But Rosemary wanted more. “Andrew, please . . .” she whispered.
He understood. “Get these damn things out of the way.” He swiped a cluster of throw-pillows off the bed. “And these damn things too.” He pulled the suspenders down and molded her breasts through her shirt. “God, I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you all night.”
Rosemary whimpered under his touch. “Don’t wait any longer. I’m so ready for you.”
Feverishly, Andrew kissed her neck, sucking at the tender flesh, leaving his mark on her skin. Pulling her shirt down, he licked at the upper swell of her breast. When she thrust her tits up, asking for more, he yanked her shirt down further. There was a tearing sound and he stopped.
“I can get a new one,” Rosemary said. “Please don’t stop.”
“I’ll buy you two.” Andrew grasped the collar of her shirt with both hands and tore it right down the middle.