I grew up in a really small New England town. The Fourth of July was always my favorite holiday because the whole town treated the special day like it was more important than Christmas. The town square would be filled with vendors and food booths during the day. At noon a parade made of several towns would make their way down the main street with all of us cheering and catching candy treats thrown our way. Then at night, everything magically cleared away to make room for the Fireworks display.
Both of my parents were licensed firework technicians along with two sets of my aunts and uncles. The town hired them to set off the incredible display every year which left me unsupervised during the show. It was on the Fourth of July that I had my very first kiss.
A Different Kind of Fireworks
I was younger than I should have been, cuddled under the summer heat, between the legs of an older teenage boy while we waited for the show to start. All day long, we’d been flirting, holding hands and sharing heated looks that had made me feel giddy.
In the darkness of the summer night, I didn’t pay any attention who was around us. All that mattered was his arms around me and the way I could feel his heartbeat pounding against my back as I leaned into him. I felt like I was in a movie.
The moment couldn’t have been more perfect. My head was tilted to the side when he placed his hand on my jaw and leaned down to press his lips to mine. I’d never been more nervous. My eyes closed and my heart stopped beating.
His tongue gently coaxed my lips to open for him and his tongue tickled along the tip of my own. It was so thrilling and I shifted in his arms to get closer. Our tongues twisted and danced. Back and forth between each other’s mouths and his hands began to wander down my back.
It was also the first time I felt a boy’s fingers gripping my ass cheeks and the tiny patch of fabric I called shorts, just between my legs.
Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY ext 357
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