Not my first kiss, but a first kiss:
I was 20, and she was barely 19. We were both in the Navy. A friend who thought she was gorgeous but knew he had no shot introduced us. I didn't see much of anything in her at first, but she did have absolutely the most striking, piercing blue eyes I'd ever seen. She was extremely standoffish for a while, but slowly she started to warm up a bit, and I started realizing what a charming smile she had to go along with the eyes.
Before too much longer, we were spending a lot of time around each other, and going out with friends a lot - never on official dates, never alone, but somehow always with friends who generally WERE on official dates. Those "feeling things out" sort of multiple couple dates that everybody seemed to have back then. She kept sending me the worst mixed messages in the world, and I didn't know what the hell to do about it - we'd be by ourselves for a few minutes walking on a moonlit pier, while our friends were somewhere on the other end of it, and she'd stop and turn and look up at me with those wide blue eyes practically screaming "kiss me dammit!" ... and when I'd try to kiss her, she'd turn her head and bolt like a startled colt.
This went on for weeks - around each other constantly, sending me message after message, running away if I seemed like I was picking up on it. The same friends we usually went out with kept telling me "for crying out loud, will you make a move already" and I kept telling them "goddammit I AM!" - they didn't even BELIEVE me, until finally the story of the pier came out one night when I really got tired of hearing it, and you could see the look of utter shock on their faces. "You DID? And she DID? I don't get it..."
By this point, some kind of crazy determination had coalesced in me. This was fucking ridiculous, but goddammit, I KNEW she wanted me as much as I wanted her, and goddammit, I WAS going to make it happen. Goddammit. So I persevered, and persevered, and finally one cold cold night in Waterfront Park, chasing each other around a statue, I doubled back extra fast around some bronze general or another and caught her - here we go again, we're looking deep into each others' eyes, the eye contact just stretches out for an absolute eternity, and I'm practically drowning in those enormous cerulean pools, and I know she's going to bolt when I do, but I try to kiss her again anyway... and to my great surprise, she doesn't go anywhere.
The kiss itself? Honestly, I can't tell you too much about it. That was more than ten years ago; I'm sure it was a good kiss, but I'm equally sure it wasn't a great one. What I really remember was the absolute shock that went through me that she stayed there for it; and how we stood there under that statue in a light drizzle for hours talking afterward, with one of my arms around her and my other hand resting lightly over her heart.
I wound up marrying that girl. I also wound up divorcing her. And to this day, strong mixed messages scare the living jesus right out of me.