I was a bit older when I had my first kiss, about 14 I think. I had practiced kissing the back of my hand before but it didn't match the real thing.
It was with someone a little bit older than me, he was about 16 and he was a well built boy as I remember. I think I was a little out of my depth if I remember as he was a lot more experienced than me. It was behind the picture house in Bolton. He held me close and kissed me and guided my hand to his trouser snake which had managed to escape when I wasn't looking. He frightened the life out of me.
He was a big lad and the only thing you saw in the dark was the whites of his eyes.
Well that beats my practising kissing with the back of my hand! It reminds me that I used to practise being a popstar with a hairbrush in my dressing table mirror. That was just after I has squeezed all of my spots.