A Tale of Unrequited Love, Nocturnal Mothers and Dry-Humping
I was hopelessly in love with a girl at my secondary school. I was best friends with her for years and fancied the pants off her and, looking back now, I think she felt the same way towards me but I was too bloody stupid to notice it at the time.

I used to stay over her house a lot, me and her sleeping in her lounge while her mother was upstairs. Now, me and said girl-of-my-dreams had played around a bit here and there - nothing serious, just cuddling up together in our sleeping bags, falling asleep leaning on each other, and, joy of joys, a bit of frottaging here and there. It never went any further than this; we never even kissed. But oh, how I did enjoy the chance to rub against her through several layers of insulated material, savouring the slightest feel of teenage flesh though my thick Coleman... Think of it as some kind of 'Princess and the Pea', only with Gore-tex...

...until the one time I stayed over at her house and foolishly ignored the creak of the stairs as her mother went for a midnight forage in the kitchen. Caught mid-thrust, I managed to utter Chandler's line from 'Friends' - "We're rehearsing a Greek play!" - before turning the colour of a sunburned tomato and diving under my sleeping bag in shame.

Her mother was, to her credit, remarkably calm about the whole thing and took her daughter upstairs 'for a chat'. Yeah, we're not friends any more. :(
(Draco Rattus ate all the pies on, Wed 9 Jun 2010, 19:40, Reply)