I Kissed a Black Girl and I Liked it

Well, I've finally done it. I've been fantasizing about "doing stuff" with a girl of the opposite race for quite some time now and finally - just a few nights ago - the fantasy finally became a reality.

It all went down at a Boston bar called The Pour House on Boylston Street. I was there with a couple friends and pretty liquored up from a forty of Natty Ice and a few Bud Lights that were thrown into the mix. It was probably a few minutes before last call and I saw a black girl dancing by the bar, kind of by herself, but I guess she must have been there with friends. She was cute and had a little frizzy Afro and seemed to be in a good mood. So I decided to chat her up a bit.

Granted, I was a little drunk, so I don't remember the details of our brief conversation. All I remember is that she was celebrating her 21st birthday and that she was from "the ghetto", as she put it - a town called Mattapan in the outskirts of Boston.

"Awesome. I'm from Walpole," I told her.

"Oh, where the Walmart is," she responded. See, Walpole is known as the closest town south of Boston with a Walmart.

"Yes, where the Walmart is."

So far, the conversation was going well and her body language was giving me all the right signals. It wasn't long before I decided that this was likely my one and perhaps only chance to ever make a move on a "ghetto" black girl from Mattapan. So I began to spin the wheels into motion:

"You're really cute," I told her.

"Oh, hee hee. Thank you."

"You have really nice skin. Looks really shiny and smooth."

"Oh, hee hee. Thanks."

"Do you mind if I - um - touch it? I mean, that's all I wanna do. I know that may sound weird. But I'm not a creep or anything."

The girl blushed and shyly shrugged her shoulders.

"Yeah, if you wanna. Hee hee."

So I proceeded to caress her arm, gently, and in the most non-creepy manner possible. Damn, I have to say...this girl had the smoothest skin I have ever friggin' felt. It was incredible feeling that skin. She must have used Dove soap or something similar. I couldn't help but wonder how her naked body would feel against mine.

"Do you mind if...I dunno...I know this is really weird but I'm not a creep. Give you just a little kiss...on the cheek?"

"Hee hee hee. Yeah, that's fine."

Yes! I was thrilled to find that my plan was unraveling nicely. So I gave her a little kiss on the cheek. Very gently. And I also threw in a little tickle of warm air from my nose.

"OK, can I...yeah, I know, just can I give you a kiss on the lips, maybe with some tongue...just a little bit? That's all, I swear. I know that's bold. But I'm not a weirdo or anything."

"Hee hee hee."

She shrugged her shoulders, grabbed the back of my head and proceeded to bring her ripe, juicy lips closer to mine.

"Wow, THIS is happening right now!" I couldn't help but scream to myself as our faces coupled.

We probably made out for five or six seconds, maybe a little less. The details of the session are kind of foggy, but I know we were in pretty good sync with each other. No clashing of the teeth. A lot of well-executed tongue rolls. When I was slow she was slow. When I sped up she sped up. Our minds seemed to be one with each other. We somehow - telepathically - anticipated each other's next move. It was so harmonious. And, damn, she tasted really good.

"Hee hee. I really gotta go," she said as she broke off the kiss. "My friends are waiting."

"Can I walk you out?" I asked, knowing that if she said 'yes' then there was the possibility of making out with her again outside the bar.


Oh, hell yes. Her answer was a good sign. I told my friends I'd be back in a few moments, they responded with a look that basically said 'what the hell are you doing?', I ignored them and then I proceeded to walk the cute little black girl out of the bar.

"OK, well, it was nice meeting you," she said once we stepped out onto the sidewalk.

"Wait, can I just make out with you...one more time? I know what you're thinking but I'm not a predator or anything...that's all I want, really."

She acquiesced and we started making out again, like we did in the bar. This time, it lasted for maybe ten or fifteen seconds. I sucked on her lips a lot this time and tried to savor the flavors like I would with fruit. The whole experience was really surreal. I couldn't believe I was finally gratifying several years' worth of raging jungle fever.

"You're a good kisser," she said as we finally unlocked our lips.

"Not so bad yourself," I said, regretting afterwards that my response was predictable and cliched. I then caressed her cheek with the back of my hand and told her again how much I loved her skin.

"Thanks. Hee hee. All right, I better be going," she said.

"Wait, do you want my number?"

"Yeah, sure."

So I gave her my number and I was thrilled when she actually called my phone right away, so as to instantly put her number into my phone's 'missed calls' log. This meant she wanted to be sure I had her real phone number. No fake numbers. No 'give me your number and I'll call you's'.

"All right, see ya!" she yelled.

"Wait, one more quick good-bye kiss? To remember you by?"

"OK," she giggled and gave me one more wet peck.

Then she turned away, strutted her fine self down the sidewalk and disappeared around the corner. It was pretty safe to say at this point that I was in a state of bliss. Everything would have been perfect had I not found myself locked out of the bar. But after some arguing back and forth with the bouncer, I was allowed back in and I was left alone to ponder my first experience kissing a woman of the African race.

In retrospect, it's pretty hard to believe how easy it was for the whole thing to go down. When I had been fantasizing about making a move on a black girl, I kept on envisioning an incredibly awkward situation, that the difference in races would get between us and be difficult to see beyond. But the make-out session at the Pour House that night went down suprisingly smoothly and also very quickly. To be honest, I was making out with this girl about three or four minutes after I had met her. That may actually be a record in my book, with maybe one exception that involved a drunk bachelorette walking down Lansdowne street one night a few years ago.

Anyway, yes, it finally happened. One more thing to check off my bucket list. What's next? Well, I'm not so sure. I've already kissed an Asian and also a Latina (my first real makeout sesh was with a Costa Rican exchange student in middle school), so what, then? To be honest with you, I think a lesbian is next on my list, no matter how strange that sounds. I figure if you can convince a lesbian to make out with you then that says a lot about what kind of moves you have. Yes, I admit I'm insecure and I need fuel for my ego. This is the kind of thing that keeps my mojo potent. A kind of mental Viagra.

But, yes, we'll see if the lesbian thing ever happens. I shared a nice slow-dance with a lesbian once, but that doesn't really count. She wouldn't let me kiss her when I asked. I didn't pressure her. I let it go.

As always, I will keep you posted if I have any luck! Until then, I highly recommend embracing the jungle fever that (I believe) is in all of us. It's an amazing feeling.


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