See Dot Smile

The Kissing Trust

With only a month left of school, I've decided not to let Ali and Joshua's togetherness spoil the end of my senior year. Bud and I are part of the lunch scene again--and have been ever since Tom bailed on our parking lot lunches to be with Marcus in the cafeteria. 

Outside of school, Bud and I are finding plenty of time to hang out together. Just the two of us. 

Brent sent me a bunch of articles and websites to help me with Bud, but I've been shy about sharing them. They're all about asexuality, and the more I learn about this uniquely loving community, the more I know--in my heart--it's exactly where Bud fits.

So why am I hesitating to help him get there?

Maybe I'm trying to heed Brent's warning about labeling Bud before he's ready. Not that labeling him would be easy. There are as many asexual orientations as there are sexual orientations. Or maybe it's because something switched on inside me when Bud and I first kissed. Something I haven't been able to turn off. And I don't want to turn it off.

But it's not about me. And I will help him get there. Eventually. For now, I'm doing my damnedest to keep him smiling. And talking.

And kissing.

We are kissing. A lot.

And. Oh. My. God.

I don't know how he does it. But Bud has figured out how to take everything that's good about a first kiss--and stretch it out--suspend it--indefinitely.

Only the best stuff is there. No awkward nose bumping or breathing mishaps. No teeth clanging or spit swapping. And no tongues.

Just warm. Sweet. Soft. Rhythmic. Delicious. Better than anything in the world kissing.

Our one rule is, we don't overthink it. If it feels good for both of us, we forge ahead. If it makes one of us uneasy, we take a break and go for pancakes. We haven't had to do that yet.

We like kissing each other so much, we naturally find opportunities to do it. Every day. At school (in the abandoned art closet), after school (in his car or my basement), on the weekends (in the parking lot of whatever diner he's taken me to).

He's not handsy, in the traditional sense, but he uses his hands beautifully. My favorite is when he holds my hands in his and traces little circles over my palms with his thumbs while we're kissing. Amazing.

I'm not always sure what to do with my hands when they're not innocently occupied. Bud might still be figuring out where he fits into the romantic universe--sexually or asexually--but I am very certain I am both hetero and sexual. I am also human, and Bud is--if I haven't mentioned this--an amazing fucking kisser. If he's not holding my hands, I try to keep them on his shoulders, which is a safe distance from his ... everything else. I've tried putting them in his hair, but he's too ticklish and ends up squirming or laughing into my mouth when I slide my fingers up the nape of his neck.

He asks if he can touch my boobs--one time--to test the waters, and of course, I let him. He's very complimentary about the whole experience. He really likes my bra, which he chooses to fondle me over instead of under. Adorable. His warm hands are on me for a full minute while he tilts his head back and forth and closes his eyes, like he's trying to absorb some wisdom from my breast oracles. He isn't trying to be funny, but it's hard not to laugh.

He tells me my breasts are perfect and a gift to anyone lucky enough to enjoy them, but he would be just as happy kissing me if they weren't there. But he also says he would miss them if they were gone, because they feel nice against him when we hug each other.