LeAnne kissed me hard, on the lips, with a slight hint of tongue. She paused. Then once again, only more fervently. More urgently. I turned my head to catch my breath and she thrust her long pink tongue into my ear, bathing it as only a lover can. The thought ran through my head for a moment that my mother could see, but the wave of passion that overcame me surpassed all need for decency.
My mother stood directly in front of us, leading the Sunday School children in, "Give, Said the Little Stream." She didn't even realize we were making out until she glanced down. Then, with eyes wide, she abruptly stopped singing and yanked a three year old me away from that three year old brazen hussy.
And so began my countless lustful encounters with the opposite sex.