I hate kissing with tongues

Nothing ruins a good kiss more than your partner turning into an enthusiastic spaniel.

I didn’t have my first kiss until I was 16 and a half, a ripe old age compared to most people. Therefore I spent a large amount of my adolescence very frustrated, reading all the tips and tricks I could find about kissing, including my mum’s “holiday” books. I was so ready, the books made tongue-kissing sound impossibly sexy.  It’s like you’re massaging the other person’s tongue with your tongue, they said. It’s about give and take, they said. It’s a crock of shite, I say.

No tongue please

I used to believe that I’d eventually meet someone who KNEW how to snog.  But boy after boy, kiss after kiss, I was still no closer to achieving slobbery nirvana.  Now, I’ve all but given up. Maybe it’s the guys, maybe it’s me, but it just doesn’t do anything for me.

This is not an attack on kissing.  Kissing is the tits. Use lips, use a bit of teeth, it’s all good. But bring that tongue near my chin and the kiss will go from 100 to zero real quick.  It probably doesn’t help that lots of people plunge in, determined to fit their whole tongue inside my head.  A tongue which is often lukewarm, beer-soaked and slimy. Call me crazy, but I’ve never seen, or felt, the appeal.

No tongue zone

There’s just so much which could go wrong.  Bad breath, too much saliva, discovering bits of food in your lover’s mouth. Reading instructions on French kissing online sounds like disarming a bomb.  You must lick THIS particular zone of your partner’s lips for NO MORE than a second.  My hand is fairly co-operative, but attempting this on a breathing moving person is a bit trickier.  I’m way too scared to whip out the tongue willy-nilly.

According to science people, there’s a reason why men in particular love a bit of frenching. Saliva contains testosterone, the horny hormone.  By swapping spit with his lady pal he can (theoretically) put her in the mood.  Not to mention the amount of nerve endings in the tongue itself, which are meant to feel amazing when writhing together like two eels in a tank.  The erotic power of the tongue is definitely not lost on me in general, in case anyone was wondering.

Being completely close-minded about something most people mastered in year 10 isn’t great, and I’d never say never to a go at tonsil hockey.  With some skilful teaching maybe I could get into this whole thing.  This isn’t an open invitation, by the way.  If you see me cutting shapes in the clubs of Bristol just let me be and keep your tongue to yourself for the night.