Nearly two weeks had passed since Ethan had, for the first time, been brought to a point of physical ecstasy at the hands of another. News of his conquest, well known to the rest of the party there present, had spread faster even than wildfire to most every teenager who had even once before heard his name, and several beside. Though many heard the information with disinterest, many more (especially virginal, adolescent boys) found it to be quite the most captivating intelligence of the summer so far.

Why this tidbit of seemingly limited scandal was causing such a stir was easily guessed at. Ethan was thought by all but those who knew him best to be a young man of unquestionable virtue and, as a consequence, a prude. This was a reputation which had grown from his being a general favourite with teachers and quite disposed to stay out of any manner of trouble. The student body of a comprehensive high school in central Scotland is not often inclined to believe that a student who invariably achieves high grades and seems ever cheerful to be learning can also be capable of partaking in such drunken debauchery as this. Such an apparent fall from grace was scandalous indeed.

He himself had not thought the gossip quite so juicy as to deserve the widespread interest it received and was eager, out of respect for the lady concerned, to not have it any longer discussed in his company. Indeed, his closest friend, Gretchen, received reproach from him more than once for her having broached the subject. He was neither in a mood to be reminded of the particulars of the camping trip nor to be congratulated by his peers on what they saw as a triumph.

It was regret over the lovely Aurélie being now so far removed from him that made him act with such a lack of good humour on the matter. One rarely wonders at a boy forming such a strong attachment to the first girl that ever touched his penis, but his melancholia since her departure was deemed by many to be quite extreme. Even with the imminence of his seventeenth birthday, it seemed little could return him to good spirits and Gretchen could not prevail upon him to include more than their two selves in the celebratory meal.

"Even just invite Scott," she appealed to him in yet another attempt to secure some more cheerful company for the evening, "He's always a good laugh."

"No," he replied with a sigh, "Because if I invite Scott, then I have to invite Luke and if I invite Luke, then I have to invite Michaela and before you know it, just about everyone we know is there and I'm sat talking to Big Dave about his gran's new stairlift, again." Gretchen laughed, remembering having the same conversation with Dave on their 'date' just over a month previously. She looked at him again despairingly and resolved to press the hopeless matter no further.

Her tone was purposely vibrant as she raised another topic she hoped might assist in curing her friend's depression. "Speaking of Big Dave," she began, "He's got an empty tomorrow night and rumour has it that he's having a big party. You game?"

Meaning to reject the proposal, he faced the well-meaning redhead but, upon seeing her pleading, blue eyes, he was powerless to resist and acceded with a laborious, "Fine." He supposed any distraction, particularly one involving copious amounts of alcohol, could only be a good thing. If nothing else, it made Gretchen, who had struggled to get him much past his own garden fence for the past two weeks, rejoice in her success so much as to provoke a rare smile from the otherwise glum Ethan. 

When finished with all her self-congratulation, she addressed him once more in a daring attempt at humour. "Maybe you'll make it two for two and find some other foreign bird to finger." Despite his best efforts to glower at his friend, he could not help but laugh at her vulgar choice of words and cheeky grin.

Gretchen's elder cousin, Danny, was on hand the next day to unlawfully supply them with more beer than two people should drink of an evening and deliver them to the unauthorised house party of their friend. Ethan, even in all his own exaggerated misery, felt rather sorry for the twenty-year-old who, on the face of it, didn't have many friends of his own and who admitted to having no Friday evening plans of his own. He was not, however, so desperate for company as to accept the pity invitation to join them at a party where he would be the only one old enough to drink and, ironically, the only one not able to do so. 

The festivities were under way when they arrived but by no means in full swing. The house was near silent between the distinct absence of music and the reluctance on the part of the half dozen party-goers to converse much. Immediately she entered the living room, Gretchen scolded Big Dave for being such a pitiful host and the small gathering already there assembled for looking so utterly miserable. Within less than ten minutes, she had filled the house with uncomfortably loud music, kicked off a fast-paced drinking game and induced two nervous-looking boys to do tequila shots with her in the kitchen. A bemused Dave stood, mouth agape, as what was to become a memorable evening unfolded around him.

Ethan watched all this with some amusement from a secluded spot in the corner of the lounge whilst taking large mouthfuls of lager. Thankfully, no one paid him much notice and after his initial refusal to join in Ring of Fire he was pressed no further. Left to himself, his mind soon wandered to the subject which had plagued it so regularly of late. Still fresh were the memories of the gooseflesh of her legs as she sat on his lap by the campfire, the heart-melting way she pronounced his name and the sweet taste of her full, pink lips. What he would have given for another night, alone, with her; how he now lamented his stupidity in not pursuing her sooner. 

Three full beers and several mindless acknowledgments to friends had passed before Ethan realised quite how lively the proceedings had become. The house was full, the guests were merry and the host was in a fluster about the raiding of his parents' drinks cabinet; it was precisely as any noteworthy party ought to be. He scanned the room for his exuberant companion but, finding her not within sight, made a move towards the kitchen where she was likely acting as the primary cause of Big Dave's distress. As he edged his way across the room, not wishing to be drawn into any conversations with his peers, he noticed a gaggle of girls with whom he rarely associated eyeing him with a great deal of interest. One, in particular, a made-up, fake-tanned blonde by the name of Lindsey, seemed to be watching the lean figure of Ethan Blake very intently until it disappeared from the room in search of more pleasing society.

On seeing him, Gretchen quitted herself of the two flirtatious gentlemen with whom she was then engaged to receive Ethan in a joyous hug and insist on his joining her in a tequila slammer. Two were done directly by each in rapid succession, effectively emptying the misappropriated bottle. There was a gaiety about her person that, combined with the alcohol now swilling around inside him, lightened his heart and made him happy to have been persuaded to come. He would almost have gone so far as to predict his having an enjoyable night.

Just as he was about to express this gratitude, in walked the busty Lindsey, overdressed in an obviously expensive, provocatively short blue dress and extravagant heels which she tottered about in unstably. She had the laughable appearance of a child desperately yearning to be seen as an adult in the eyes of her contemporaries. Gretchen, who detested such girls, could not observe her with a straight face and restrained herself just long enough to excuse herself from the kitchen, leaving Ethan quite alone with her. It seemed this was just the audience she was hoping for. With an affected flick of her hair, she approached the cornered young man and ran a bony finger down the length of his left arm. What the hell is she doing? he thought to himself, quite bewildered by the suggestive actions of a girl who had never before shown any interest in him and to whom he had never intentionally given any encouragement.

Though Ethan was aware of how his reputation as a 'golden boy' in the eyes of some had crumbled in light of his recent tent-related indulgence, he was yet ignorant of some of the consequences of this perceived alteration in his personality. Thought generally to be very handsome, he had not been without admirers amongst the young ladies of his acquaintance, especially those who ranked aesthetics more highly than most when selecting a potential boyfriend. However, being that he never seemed much in the way of taking any interest in them, and given he was regarded by them as something of a puritan, their pursuits to attain his affections were always short-lived and he rarely knew anything of them at all. He was blissfully unaware that the respectability of his character had, for some time now, been driving away the attentions of the likes of Lindsey, the image of teenage vanity now before him.

Now, with all that had passed in the last two weeks, the deterrent effect of his good name was vanished, leaving a clear path for the would-be sluts to the ever more alluring Ethan. What had especially renewed their partiality to him was the secondary rumour that he had brought the French exchange girl to an orgasm, an occurrence most of their young bodies were yet to experience but one that they anticipated with great curiosity and excitement. An attractive young man that they believed able to bestow that kind of pleasure was one worth pursuing. It was therefore inevitable that, with Aurélie so promptly out of the picture, the wolves would descend.

And here she was, the first representative of all those girls who had previously fancied their chances negligent, the first willing to try her hand at obtaining the 'new' Ethan as her trophy. Nor was she come without the expectation of success. With an unbecoming air of confidence did she now accost the confused young man who stuttered a polite hello. She meant to be seductive as she moved in close to him but did it with such a lack of grace as to seem awkward, clumsy almost. 

Chewing gum was an abominable habit in Ethan's view and one which Lindsey undertook for the duration of their conversation. Everything she said and did was said and done with such overt flirtation that he was left in no doubt as to her intentions towards him. Nothing she said or did, however, was in a way to make him inclined to feel likewise. Her conversation was wretchedly dull and superficial and, quite aside from her repulsive gum-chewing, nothing about her person or gestures were in the least appealing to him. He endured her company alone for a full ten minutes, muttering disinterested responses to her torrent of flattering questions and observations between long draughts of beer.

As he wracked his booze-addled brain for some reason to get away, some pretext under which to excuse himself from her undivided attention, she was forever moving closer to him, touching his arm more affectionately or giving him her over-rehearsed come-hither look.. It was with great relief and gratitude on one side, great disappointment on the other, that they were interrupted by Ethan's friend Scott, presently requiring to consult with him, and with a civil goodbye to Lindsey he was quickly gone from the kitchen, leaving her indignant at the slight.

Scott only wanted Ethan for his opinion on the looks of two older looking girls, unknown to them both, who had joined the party and on his chances of pulling one of them. Ethan, feeling so indebted to his friend for the rescue, declared the very plain girls as "absolutely stunning" and assured the gullible youth of his astonishment were neither of them to take a shine to him. This was all the encouragement he needed and set about preparing his charming introduction and trying in vain to persuade Ethan into the role of 'wingman'. 

A smirking Gretchen appeared at his side just as soon as Scott left it. They both watched as he embarked on his inevitably fruitless mission and she casually asked, "What did that slag Lindsey want?"

"Me," he answered with a sigh, "The girl is insufferable."

"Get your hole! Hit it 'nd quit it, Ethan." He chuckled lightly at her advice. "It might help to take your mind off - "

"Aurélie? I doubt it." His expression saddened as he recollected the infinite superiority of the French beauty to the intolerable tart in question. The Lindsey Raffertys of this world couldn't hold a candle to that sweet-tempered girl and were barely fit, in his opinion, to be mentioned in the same breath. 

"All I'm saying," she went on, quite oblivious to his preoccupations, "Is you can't talk with a mouth full of cock." She was away to speak to Big Dave and Luke before Ethan heard properly what she had said and he laughed aloud when he did. True though her words were, he was sure it was not a good scheme for several reasons, not least his continuing feelings for Aurélie. He did not desire to have a new reputation of promiscuity, nor to be harassed for the remainder of the summer by Lindsey or any other girl for sexual favours or, worse, a relationship. No, he settled instead on the strategy of avoidance and hoped that she would take the hint. 

It was incumbent on him to mingle a little in the revelry and as he started to move the degree of his insobriety became apparent. Managing to steady himself enough to not cause himself embarrassment, he joined a small gathering by the window. The merriment and laughter around him made Ethan forget, for the present, both the woman he ought to be on the look out for and the one who most often occupied his thoughts. So engrossed was he, in fact, by his companions' merriment that it quite escaped his notice that Gretchen had absented herself from the room with Big Dave. He was not so blind, however, to Lindsey's entrance and as she scoured the room (for him, he suspected), he manoeuvred himself so that he might be unseen. It succeeded, but she was on the move and it would not be long before he was discovered if he did not remove himself. With what ninja-like qualities he still possessed in his inebriated state, he skirted round the room to the door and exited unnoticed, finally letting out his breath on the other side of it. 

The kitchen wasn't a safe enough hide-out so he passed right through it, picking up a fresh beer en route without missing a step, to the dark, empty garden. If memory served, there was a secluded bench where he could lay low for a while on the far side of the lawn. Solitude he did not mind, especially considering the alternative. Fumbling around a little, he eventually took his seat and contemplated for a moment what pleasure there was in silence. He leaned back and stretched his arms out and, to his complete surprise, his hand came into contact with another person, seated in the shadows on the other end of the bench. A short exclamation and quick apology followed and he tried to discern the face of his neighbour. Female, to be sure, and small but too shielded by darkness to be made out.

"Who are you hiding from, Ethan?" were her first words to him. Her soft voice was familiar to him, and they were clearly acquainted, but still he could not recognise her, no matter how much he stared and squinted. When no response came, she leaned forward to let a stray beam of light from the kitchen window land on her pale face and satisfy Ethan's curiosity.

"Morag? I didn't even know you were here. How are you?" Morag Millar was a person with whom Ethan was on friendly terms but about whom he did not know a great deal. He thought it odd, and testament to the success of the party, that such an introvert, rarely seen at any kind of social gathering whatsoever, was in attendance. She was a nice girl, but too quiet to be noticed by most and too strange to admit many close friends. Ethan always delighted in conversing with her, however, for he found her always extremely interesting and full of good humour; she was always gratified that he ever gave her the time day.

They talked animatedly for a quarter of an hour at least on the only topic he knew for certain they had a common interest in - literature. Of all Ethan's classmates, Morag alone could be considered his equal in knowledge of the subject and, though their tastes were different, they always found much to discuss and debate. On this evening, Ethan found the naturally shy girl to be much livelier than was her wont and much less reserved in speech and manner than he was used to. It was a welcome change and their intercourse was distinguished by an easiness that was wanting in their friendship until now.

In a natural break, he took the opportunity to ask a question he had been wanting to since he was sensible of who she was: "Where's what's-his-name tonight then?"

'What's-his-name' was Morag's boyfriend, Damian. He was older, just left high school, and carried with him an affected impression of mystery which intrigued no one. Her association with him, considered a most unsavoury person, was just another reason for her own classmates to alienate her. Since the beginning of their courtship, it was almost unheard of to see either in public without the other and Ethan had been at once struck by the rarity of finding her quite alone. Still, he had not suspected what she next told him to be true.

"We broke up." Despite the flat, emotionless, matter-of-fact way she said it, the information could not fail to surprise. One who knew them as a couple never doubted the longevity of the match, regardless of their opinion on it or either of the persons involved. They seemed as devoted to one another as a young couple can be and certainly she saw him, or had once seen him, as a faultless, incomparable creature. Not a person living had seen her, before or since, as happy as the day he had asked her out; she had regarded it an honour that he, who was so 'dark' and 'brooding', had even ever taken notice of her.

Ethan sat in drunken shock for a minute, staring at the dark space her face occupied. When no answer seemed forthcoming, she went on, "I should say, I broke up with him, but I won't bore you with the minutiae of the thing. Suffice it to say that I am now quite single."

This would not suffice for Ethan. Curiosity overcame amazement; he wanted the minutiae. With some forced casualness, he sought details of the unforeseen break-up. He couldn't say he was sorry for the split - Damian was not someone he much liked and he thought Morag, by being with him, had been selling herself short. She was an intelligent girl and a talented artist, and not unattractive, whereas he was a pretentious arse-hole without a fraction of the depth he supposed himself to have. This, it became clear, was the realisation that had led to her dumping him. Evidently keen to speak to someone on the subject, she talked at length of the gradual decline of her esteem for him. In short, she found out first hand that he was nothing more than an ignorant, condescending moron.

"That," she concluded, "Is why I came to this party. I don't to be the social recluse any more so when I heard about this (although I wasn't actually invited) I thought it was a good chance to get out and mix."

"And I must say," Ethan sarcastically slurred, "You're doing a fine job of it out here on the garden bench." 

She laughed at him. "Damian's inside; he won't leave me alone. I came out here and called a taxi, which should be here in a minute."

"Damian's here!?" She laughed again at his incredulity. "Well," he said more calmly, "Do you want me to get him chucked out?"

"Nah, you're alright. My plan to make new friends wasn't really working anyway; people aren't very keen to talk to me and just kept looking at me as if to say, 'What the hell is she doing here?'" There was no bitterness or even sadness in her voice, as though she was resigned to the fact that this was to be her lot in life. After a moment, she hastily added, "Except you, obviously." 

Her phone rang then to signify the arrival of her taxi. As she stood to go, thanking Ethan for being such a good listener, he saw her fully for the first time that night. Her usual baggy jumper and dark jeans had been superseded by a tight-fitting, long t-shirt-come-dress with colourful tights underneath. It was very well-suited to her petite figure and definitely an improvement on her usual unflattering attire. Ethan's eyes followed her departure, fascinated by the 'new' Morag.

When she was gone from sight, he looked back towards the house, figuring he couldn't hide out in the garden all night long, and saw that a light was on in what he believed to be Dave's bedroom. Upstairs had been ruled off limits so it was natural to suspect that a pair of erotically-charged guests had gone there to secure some privacy for themselves. Ethan imagined that the party-giver would not be best pleased were he to discover that such uncouth antics had taken place in his own room.

Little did he suspect that it was the regular occupant of that lit room who occupied it now, although his thoughts as to the kind of activity taking place therein were very accurate. Even as the party continued unabated below, Big Dave lay naked from the waist down on his bed, receiving his very first blow job from none other than Ethan's closest companion in all the world. Gretchen's red hair bounced with the up and down movement of her head on the tall boy's erection. Like a duck to water she had taken to sucking cock and was surely enjoying herself almost as much as the suckee who, at that moment, was heedless of what ruin his home may have been being brought to.

Every flick of her tongue across the swollen glans of his penis was like a jolt of pleasure to him; every variation of pressure in the suction of his long shaft pushed him closer to ecstasy. The girl strained to fill her comparatively tiny mouth with the thick pole of a cock and was angered at the lone inch she could not accommodate. Conscious of how she herself liked to be stimulated, she periodically altered her tempo, keeping the beneficiary of her efforts in suspense and anticipation for many minutes. At times, she would place her lips over his engorged head and suck vigorously while gently stroking the rest of his moistened length; his explicit exclamations attested to the effectiveness of such a method.

The glorious taste of his pre-ejaculate made her thirst for a fuller reward. They both sensed the approach of his release as they looked into each other's lust-filled eyes. Gretchen placed a hand firmly on either side of his hips, readying herself. Her head began to bob in a frenzy, Dave's dick appearing from and disappearing into her mouth in quick succession again and again. With every engulfment, the farthest reaches of her head cavity were impacted; with every retraction, her lips sucked tightly. This oral assault lasted less than half a minute before a violent eruption sent thick ropes of hot semen into her mouth. She gulped greedily at the creamy fluid, relishing the salty taste of her hard-earned spoils, and held the oversized phallus between her lips until satisfied that no more was to be got.

Though Ethan knew nothing of this event as it occurred, he would be privy to far more of the gory details than he would ever wish to be when Gretchen related her tale the following day. He might have guessed as much had happened had he been able to return to the house but, in discovering his own folly at having not yet drunk the beer in his hand, he was detained outside long enough to see Lindsey emerge from the kitchen, markedly drunker than when he had last seen her but not so drunk that she didn't spot and close in on him right away. He was found out.

Whatever subtlety she may have had before was completely gone now; flirtation was out the window. Over the course of the night, her dress had readjusted itself to show just a little more thigh and a lot more cleavage, her sizeable breasts only needing a little persuasion to pop out completely. Sitting down absurdly close to Ethan, she leaned in to whisper, "You're so fucking sexy," before thrusting an unwelcome tongue into his ear. His recoil did not phase her for a second and she leaned further in, holding his face with her hands and forcing him into a wet, amateurish kiss. They were well into the one-sided smooch before his instincts started to kick in and something like resistance was feebly attempted. He was intoxicated and pinned down by a very determined young woman whose very weighty bosoms were now upon him. 

A dozen incomplete thoughts raced through Ethan's mind at once. As much as he wanted to rid himself of this lech, he couldn't help but be flattered by her persistence. It would be wrong, he thought, to do anything with this girl which might lead her to believe that a continuing sexual relationship was on the cards. He couldn't be sure, however, that that was even what she wanted or whether he was just the pick of the herd for the evening, or some new trophy to add to her expansive collection. Gretchen's advice echoed in his ears and fuelled one side of his internal debate. To most young men in Ethan's position, there could be no question of not selfishly allowing this loathsome, though allegedly experienced girl to provide sexual gratification should she so wish, regardless of any ill consequences which, after all, could be dealt with later; many would have none of the moral qualms which so vexed him now. 

Lindsey inelegantly swung a leg over Ethan's lap to mount him and, in a flash of déjà vu, a physiological response from his body made the decision for him - he, as though to live up to everyone's new expectations of him, succumbed to the situation and took charge of the disappointing kiss, putting his tongue to much better use than she was hers. Spurred on by his sudden alertness, she clutched at fistfuls of his hair and pressed herself closer to him. With his eyes closed, he could almost forget that the person atop him was someone he disliked; he could almost imagine that it was someone he did. 

His imagination faltered slightly as she grabbed his hands and forcefully guided them to two parts of her body which were most uniquely hers, yet he could not deny how nice it felt to knead and squeeze her fleshy mounds and to graze against her protruding nipples through the skimpy dress. So engrossed in this fondling did he get that he rampantly released them from their confines and grasped them roughly, eliciting a light groan from the individual attached into Ethan's mouth. Whatever he thought of Lindsey Rafferty, the horny teenage boy part of him was now fast becoming the dominant and a strong rush of blood ensured that there was no turning back. Thoughts of right and wrong were vanquished and supplanted by those of sex and passion.

Quite involuntarily, his right hand was on the move again and being directed downwards by another more feminine. The hem of the desirous slut's frock was now about her hips and, in the marked absence of underwear, Lindsey's entire lower half was covered only by the darkness, her bare backside illuminated by a beam of moonlight momentarily breaking through the thick clouds overhead. The hand was pushed down onto her crotch instructively and left, its escort returning to twiddle the short locks of Ethan's blonde hair. A split second of hesitation, indiscernible to any creature living but the hesitater, passed before the fingers of that hand began to do as they were expected. Had those digits had the power of emotion, they would surely have been shocked to find how different this experience was to their as yet only other comparable one; though the anatomy of the female body is essentially unchanged from one member of the fairer sex to the next, the exploratory fingers of a teenage boy can find vast numbers of subtle distinctions which might make any new exploration seem like his first. The technique Ethan employed in pleasuring Aurélie (or what he could remember of it) seemed impossible to replicate on the notably less virginal genitalia of Lindsey and required considerable adaptation to produce the same result.

Their nose breathing was loud in the otherwise still garden as she rode his hand faster and faster, desperate to confirm the rumours of his skill, and their kiss had to be broken a few times for her to gasp approval. It might have gone on for an hour, or maybe just a minute; Ethan had forgotten Lindsey and was gone into his head once more, where time ceased to be. It wasn't until the weight of the girl was lifted from his lap that he again became conscious of the reality and saw her before him, breasts flopped over the now purposeless dress, legs exposed from hip to ankle, going to her knees. A pang of his former internal dilemma almost made him reach out to refuse the poor girl but the tightness of his jeans from the straining organ within would not allow him to do so. In such a situation, on the brink of receiving oral satisfaction, the penis of a 16-year-old prevails over his mind at least nine times out of ten.

So it was that Ethan met with the next of his sexual firsts. The jeans and boxer shorts which formerly contained his pulsating erection were duly lowered to his ankles and he felt the chill of the night pass across his exposed legs. Small, strong hands were placed on his thighs as the lustful Lindsey got into position to commence the deed. Before her eyes was the embodiment of manhood, seeming almost as in want of being sucked as she was of sucking it; her eyes filled for a moment with glee as she took a moment to gaze with admiration on the well-sculpted mass of bodily tissue. Her lips then made their first contact and Ethan's hips gave a spontaneous spasm at the feel of their moistness on his sensitive protrusion, pushing it further into her mouth without meaning to. She took it as a hint though and submerged his remaining length.

That slick manoeuvre was, for a while, the high point of this, his first blow job. Perhaps his expectations had been a mite higher than they ought but he did suspect that both Lindsey's experience of and expertise in the act of fellatio had been seriously exaggerated by the rumour mill of high school. There was something mechanical, business-like, in the way she proceeded; her head was a piston of predetermined length and unvarying speed. The strong muscle within her mouth lay lifeless throughout and any involvement it had with the stimulation of Ethan Blake was purely by chance. With no personal frame of reference, he could only hope that this was an atypical experience, especially considering how wonderful the adult movie industry had led him to believe it would be; he reasoned that a girl of her age, slut or not, could not possibly be expected to perform porn-standard oral sex.

Her steady bob was sufficient to maintain a state of rigidity but Ethan felt as though she might go on for hours like this with the only result being a dry mouth and a painful cock. His eyes shut as he retreated into a mixture of memory and fantasy to seek something to aid Lindsey's endeavour. It came readily; the image of a slight, dark-haired girl quite unlike Lindsey formed in front of him, slowly beginning to strip off on the lawn. This figment intensified his arousal as the real girl between his thighs never could; bit by bit she revealed the clear skin of her beautiful body until she stood naked, a luminous beacon of sexuality. His pelvis rose and fell with this burst of libidinousness, syncopating the regulated rhythm, breaking the monotony just enough to give Ethan the merest glimpse of his orgasm on the horizon. 

Thrown by these sporadic bucks, her concentration lapsed and the organ slipped from her mouth to hit her sloppily across the face. Adamant not to loose control entirely, she gripped tightly about the base of his cock and sucked thrice as vigorously as before on the bulging head. Ethan let out his first groan of pleasure, confident now of a climax being attainable. It was attained quicker than either had expected and the girl nearly choked on the first spurt as it powered into the back of her throat. He looked down to the blonde receptacle of his seemingly unending ejaculations but could see only the brunette tresses of the one who had truly brought him such pleasure this night. The thick fluid, the seductress unable to swallow it, began to overflow from her mouth onto the throbbing pole her lips remained clamped to. She withdrew to ungracefully spit the load to the ground at her side, creating a milky pool in the grass to be discovered by an at first confused and latterly disgusted Big Dave the next morning.

Lindsey stood and was most ungainly in returning her dress to its intended position, her breasts unwilling to be covered again and the struggle causing her to stagger around for a minute. Not more than a moment after Ethan managed to re-conceal his now flaccid penis, the kitchen door opened, releasing a flood of light, obscured slightly by the small silhouette of a girl. Gretchen's voice rang clear through the still night air, "Ethan, Danny's here; we gotta go."

Without so much as a "Bye, Lindsey", he upped and followed after his friend through the largely empty scene of a recent party to the alcohol-stained front door, along the can-littered garden path and into the rickety Peugeot. Gretchen gave him a knowing look from the front passenger's seat but said not a word to the guilty-looking Ethan for the entire ride home as he wallowed in near instant regret.

"I'm just saying, Big Dave is an apt nickname in more ways than one," Gretchen concluded, grabbing a handful of chips from the shared bowl on the table. She would not listen to Ethan's many protestations at being told the dimensions of his friend's penis, especially on his birthday, regarding such details as critical to the story as a whole. The uncut version of her evening's fun was retold with pride, unmindful of being easily overheard by other nearby patrons of the restaurant or passing waiters, and listened to with suitable interest. Hearing of his best friend's first oral sex adventure kept vivid the memory of his own. Retrospect cruelly taunted him for his indiscretion.

Nothing could be done, however, to alter what had passed and he and Gretchen alike thought it best that he think not on what consequences may arise in the coming days, at least for the duration of his birthday, but on only things that make him cheerful. To that end, he produced from his jacket pocket a letter he had that morning received all the way from France. Though not intended as one, it had been the best gift he had received that day and it had lifted his spirits exceedingly, to the point that Gretchen couldn't even roll her eyes when he read various passages from the letter aloud to her, too pleased to see how elated it made him. For a while, those words from Aurélie, those words which said everything he had been feeling since they parted, made him forget Lindsey Rafferty and any other girl that may have been occupying this thoughts for reasons fearful or otherwise. His response would be long and descriptive, he knew, while still tactfully missing out some of the more significant recent events in his life; he would relish the writing of it as both a favourite activity of his and a distraction from his more local realities.

His new mobile phone, onto which most of his previous contacts were yet to be transferred, buzzed with a text message from an unrecognised number; he dreaded who it might be. It read, 'Hey Ethan, thanks for Friday night. Hope we can hang out some time soon x.' He stared for a while, ignoring Gretchen's inquiries until she eventually snapped it from his hand to read herself.

"Ugh, that slag Lindsey," she mumbled with a mouth full of burger and a look of disgust, "How did she even get your number?" Ethan shrugged and said nothing, putting the phone back in his pocket with the text unanswered, but thought a great deal about that message, and about the portion of the evening his best friend was unaware of, for the rest of the meal.