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Lawrence was asleep by the time I finally said my goodnights and crept upstairs, and I did feel a little guilty. After all, it was his party, I was his girlfriend, and this was meant to be the first night we ever spent together. It wasn't my fault that I wound up locked in a mini-debate with his sister and some friends, one that first drove away all the other guys who'd been sniffing around the only unaccompanied girls in the room, and then sent Lawrence himself scurrying off to bed, resigned to the knowledge that he wouldn't be seeing me again this side of morning.

But it wasn't my fault he decided to turn our big night into a party, either. His parents were away for the weekend, his sister was out for the evening... "why don't you come over, we can listen to some music, rent a movie... and you could even sleep over if you like. Tell your folks you're staying with friends."

I agreed, but then he got carried away. After all, a big house, no adults... first a few friends, then a crowd more; then his sister decided she'd stay in after all; and, before I knew what was going on, a quiet night in for two had become a raucous night up for 20. And now it was three in the morning, the last few revelers had finally departed, and Lawrence had been in bed for two hours.

I groped my way into his bedroom by the dim light that came in from the hallway; located a small lamp on the far side of the room, and undressed by its own low glow. I could tell from the mound of clothes on the floor that Lawrence had at least partially undressed. He'd probably kept his briefs on, but that was all. Taking my cue from that... maybe we'll do something in the morning... I left on my T-shirt and panties alone, then looked down at his sleeping form, spread-eagled across the entire bed. "And where am I supposed to sleep?" I muttered to myself, and gave him a gentle push.

He barely moved. I sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. Okay, so I'd enjoyed talking with the others, but a fine first night this was turning out to be. Sometimes, I wondered if Lawrence ever wanted to actually go ... all the way? Or even some of the way?

We'd kissed, we'd "petted," he'd played with my breasts. But the one time I touched his cock through his pants, he leaped back like I'd burned him. And the one time he gingerly traced a finger between my legs... well, I think I might have scared him off just a little, by taking his hand and guiding it to the precise spot I wanted to feel him; and, when he didn't react in the slightest, by treating him to a withering - if unintended - sigh, as my mind cast back to the last time (I correct myself: the only time) a man had touched me there, in the back of a Greyhound with fingers that knew every one of my secrets.

Bad move. Let's face it, Chrissie, that hurtful sigh told me, you're not going to feel like that again, not if you keep dating kids your own age. And the unfairness of that hit me even harder than the sudden realization of Lawrence's own inexperience.

This evening was meant to change that, was meant to be the night when I taught him what I liked, and he... well, he'd probably enjoy it whatever I did, but there were some things I wanted to try, that I'd never even thought about before I took that bus ride. I held a fully-grown man in my hand that day; and not only held him. I jerked him off, until his sperm ran down the shaft and pooled on my hand.

On the bus, I simply wiped it away. But lying alone through the nights since then, I thought about the other things I could have done with it... raised it to my nostrils, touched it to my tongue, licked it away and then kissed him hard. I got wet just thinking about it, and then I got wetter thinking about Lawrence, a guy I'd had an eye on ever since I started my part-time job, and who broke up with his girlfriend around the same time as I decided to break up with my boyfriend of the time.

Lawrence, whose easy laugh and calm self-confidence, and ever-so-winning way with the girls, had half the office believing he was getting laid every night. So just my luck to come back and catch him - and discover he'd scarcely even been touched. And he never would be, if this was how he behaved.

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