My First Frenchie

I have various arousing tales, and it could be that this one started it all...

I grew up in the great city of Chicago. The public schools there aren't the best, so I went to St. Bartholomew Catholic School.

That picture is of the actual church (surprise, surprise, they have a website!)

Well, on with the story...

I was A Catholic School Girl in 7th grade when I was invited to a sleep-over for my friend Luz's birthday.

Her parents and brother went to bed upstairs; we were all camped out in the living room with our sleeping bags.

We were just sitting around watching late-night soap opera re-runs, being our innocent little selves...

Then, a brilliant idea: Let's act out the soap-operas ourselves!

Everyone picked a role to play, I got to be in the audience.

I kind of spaced out at this point since the next thing I recall is looking across the room and seeing all of my Catholic School Girl friends making out on the floor!

Well, being in the seventh grade, you strive for a certain kind of acceptance.

"C'mon, guys, I wanna do it too..."

"But you have braces, I don't want to cut my tongue."

"I'll be careful, please!?"

"Ok, come sit on the floor right here."

So I sat on the floor and leaned against the couch. My friend, Paulina, came over and straddled me.

Then she stuck her tongue down my throat.

So we made out, switched partners, and made out some more...

The next morning, I was walking to the 7-11 with Luz. She commented,

"I made out with Marta so much that I can still taste her."

All of you wonderful perverts now know what happens at Catholic School Girl Sleep-overs...it's ok, go ahead and grab that box of tissues...

That is the story of my first french kiss and the beginning of my interest in women...

And, YES, I still have the skirt.