I was almost twenty when I finally discovered the main difference sexually between the girls I had been dating and the older women I saw all around me. Being young, I was always attracted to the tight-figured, fresh-faced girls in my classes, and being relatively attractive in my own fashion, I got the chance to Braille-scope their charms. There is nothing quite like running your hands over a young girl who is just getting the idea that her body is made for pleasure. If you are careful, generous and take your time, you can ignite the passions of a raging horno-maniac, and then spend the next weeks of your life (before you die of exhaustion) trying vainly to put out the fire you lit.

The only problem I found with girls my own age is that I wanted to learn more about lovemaking than trial and error could teach me, and even though I picked up every book that sounded like it could have even a scrap of useful information useful to my feverish, testosterone-fueled brain (and other, assorted parts), I wasn't getting very far. I got laid a lot, but aside from the sexual gymnastics an inventive couple of kids can yark up, the situation remained pretty uninformed.

It was then when I genuinely started feeling hungered for something more substantial than I was getting. It was then when I met my friend's mom and my hunger was satisfied.