If it's tlfy then dbr
Many, many years ago, in a far-off suburb in North London there lived a young man called Che Grimsdale. He was a fresh-faced young man of 17 with a ready wit and skinny legs. He was as horny as an old man’s toe-nail and well practised in the fine art of serial masturbation. At this time he had a best friend who was on his third or fourth girlfriend, having popped his cherry a year or so before, but our Che was one of those lads that a) are very shy with the opposite sex and, b) seemingly unattractive (or invisibile) to girls. Yes, our Che had never even kissed a girl, had never been ‘on a date’ or ‘gone out with’ a girl. The very name Virgin Records made him blush and squirm and he was more or less miserable when not stoned out of his gourd.

Now, in order to earn some cash, he got a Saturday job in the kitchen of a department store restaurant, and in this kitchen was a charming catering student. She was a reasonably comely wench, svelte of figure with silky blond hair, though her face was nothing to write home about. Anyway, Che got along fine with her, working in the confines of a tiny kitchen, banter was bantered, glances were exchanged, bodies were brushed up against…Che got a little hot under the collar.

One Saturday, it so happened that the two of them took their break at the same time, chatting away, she suddenly came out with a comment that is seared on Che’s memory as if it happened yesterday, and not in 1980:

“Don’t you think that the nicest thing two people can do is spend the night together?” she breathed.

“Yeah…” Che replied. “ME TOO” shouted little Che from the confines of Che’s suddenly too tight underpants.

Anyway, the weeks went by, and one day she invited me round to her place, and in her large bedroom we listened to David Bowie and chatted about this and that. I found out that she was an amateur gymnast (moan…) and she she showed me some of her moves – including one called the crab. She was wearing tight, stretch jeans and a tight top that looked like it might have been her gymnastics leotard. Her pliable form bent and twisted, while I admired from the bed. When she had tired of this, she joined me on the bed and got up close and personal…BUT…she was waiting for me to make the first move. Me – who not only hadn’t got to first base, but wasn’t even on the bench…not even the waterboy. All I had to do was to take her face in my hands and pull it towards me for that first kiss, which would then lead to a night of passion (surely the first of many) with a girl who could very probably lick herself clean like a pussy cat. We ended up on her bed sort of play fighting…and that was it.

Now, as a man, I’d love to be able to go back in time to that evening and coach the young Che to say: “Look, I’ve got a confession, I’ve never had a girlfriend before…can you show me what to do? I’m in your hands, guide me, teach me, earn my eternal gratitude, I’ll make it worth your while.”

But no. Nothing happened, and then a friend turned up to give me a lift home.

The next Saturday I invited her to a party. I was annoyed at myself, I was embarrased, but more importantly, I was now as horny as the Brighouse & Rastrick brass band, riding a herd of Highland cattle. I’d given myself a good talking to, vowed that if the situation occurred again, I wouldn’t fluff it again.

By damn fool luck I was offered the chance to try acid that night and like the damn fool I was, I didn’t turn it down.

When Paula turned up at the party I was tripping my teenaged tits off. I was talking to one of my friends at the time and I tried to introduce her to him: “Paul, this is…er…” shit, what was her name again? “Er, Paul, this is…a friend from work….” What the fuck was her name? Why couldn’t I remember it?... “Paul, I’d like you to meet….”

At this point she helped me out: “I’m Paula”, she said. “Nice to meet you Paul.”

I had two choices really, suicide or despair. It was two more years before I finally popped my cherry.
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Thu 8 Dec 2011, 15:54, 6 replies)

I’ll make it worth your while
cum before we've even started
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Thu 8 Dec 2011, 16:01, closed)

Ah, but in those days
I'd be hard again before the last dribble had been squeezed out and could keep going all night long.
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Thu 8 Dec 2011, 16:09, closed)

I didn't need to know that.

( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Thu 8 Dec 2011, 18:40, closed)

Sorry
If it helps, these days, I need about two days notice...and a couple more to recover.
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Fri 9 Dec 2011, 7:58, closed)

*takes notes*

( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Fri 9 Dec 2011, 9:28, closed)

Getting a click for
as horny as the Brighouse & Rastrick brass band, riding a herd of Highland cattle
(Reverend Fister "a disciplined fuckwit", Thu 8 Dec 2011, 16:15, closed)