The first cock I ever sucked belonged to a girl named Lindsay. It was my senior year of college and I’d been accepted to an internship at a large radio station in Boston. My enthusiasm for the internship diminished considerably when I realized all I would be doing was monitoring the station’s computers every night from 2 to 6 am. Needless to say, I didn’t quite finish that particular assignment. So, rather, I filled up the late nights and early mornings of my four months in Boston doing… far more interesting things.

I came to the area with just one friend; everyone called him ‘Eggy’. He had been in Amherst earlier in the previous year ‘hiding out’ with my friend Bob. You see, Eggy was something of a local cocaine czar, and through that profession, he had established many contacts in the local club scene, and also made a few enemies. It was the latter that urged him to travel a couple hours away for a few weeks. In the little while he was around, we all just came to love the guy, and he felt the same about us. We brought Eggy into our little, mild, social world and we showed him a depth of friendship, and a comfort in appreciating the ordinary, that I don’t think the guy had ever known before. So when I looked him up when I got to Boston, he was more than eager to bring me into his little world here, just as Bob and I had done in Amherst. Eggy took charge of squiring me about town, ensuring that I met all the right people and frequented all the right nightspots.

Of Eggy’s many acquaintances, the one who had most favorably caught my eye was a particularly flawless looking little porcelain mod-girl named Lindsay. We’d formed an immediate bond at one of Eggy’s many seedy suarees while guzzling gin and arguing whether or not it was cliché to play Radiohead at a college party, or if Billy Jean was, indeed, the best Michael Jackson song. When Eggy was busy dealing with his ‘dealings’, it was Lindsay who took me under her wing and made sure I was kept ‘safe’ from the other kids in the scene.

You see they all called me ‘the country boy’. The Boston kids at the time were all marked by heavily layered denim and jet-black hair dye. Multiple piercings were also a requisite of the look. I think that’s why Lindsay struck me the way she did. Sure, she was pale and had the pure black, ironed-flat hair, but she didn’t work the moody denim look. Rather, she was often clad in pleated skirts and striped knee-highs – a style that would become insanely popular the next year when mod turned emo and fashionistas everywhere were forced to just give up.

And Lindsay was joined at the hip with a cute little Asian girl named Mai. Mai was a sprite, she couldn’t have stood any taller than 5’1” and had the classic, round, perfectly symmetrical features you’d expect from someone of eastern descent. She was perfectly adorable, and together, she and Lindsay were generally regarded as the princesses of our little scene.

And their relationship certainly extended beyond pure platonic friendship. Lindsay and Mai did absolutely everything together. They shopped together. They ate together. They slept together. They showered together.

It wasn’t at all uncommon to head off for a drink at one of Eggy’s parties to return to the living room to find Lindsay