Part One
Wayne Mulvaney and I, Ethan Gregg, had been friends since the age of ten in 1974 when we were on the same house-league baseball team.
I was a pretty decent baseball player; I had excellent hand-eye coordination and better-than-average reflexes. I seldom struck out and I was a competent fielder. I played second base. Wayne was built more compactly than I was. He didn�t reach base as often as I did, but he could belt a baseball a proverbial country mile. We got along splendidly, so I was overjoyed when I discovered that Wayne�s family had moved from across town. Their new home was a mere two blocks away from mine, so he would now be attending the same school as I was when September rolled around. Fate put us in the same fifth-grade classroom.
I was an excellent student. In contrast, Wayne was happy getting mostly Cs and occasional Bs on his report card. One afternoon, Wayne invited me to his house to show me a baseball simulation game he had been given as a gift by his aunt. He had brought me there so I could read through the rules and figure out how the game was played. I did, and we had great fun pitting the 1955 Brooklyn Dodgers against the 1931 St. Louis Cardinals.
During the game, Wayne�s little sister, April, walked in on us. She was six years old. She knew nothing about baseball, but she seemed utterly captivated by the game�s cards, spinners and dice. �Ethan, this is my sister. Her name is April. She�s a very curious girl�and she�s considerably smarter than I am. She definitely has the brains in the family. She�ll be fascinated by this.�
April was a cute little thing. She wore her long brown hair in a ponytail. She also wore steel-rimmed glasses as I did. Her bright blue t-shirt with mermaids on it suited her quite nicely. I smiled and introduced myself. April shook my hand in a businesslike manner. I could tell she was old beyond her six years when she asked excellent questions about the game we were playing. I was genuinely amused by her. I said to Wayne, �Your sister is a smart cookie�and a pretty one, too!�
�Ethan, you are the only boy who has ever said I am pretty,� she informed me. �Are you telling me the truth?�
�Of course I am,� I sincerely replied. �I think you�re adorable, April. I wish you were in the fifth grade instead of the first grade. You could be my girlfriend and we�d have lots of fun together!�
April seemed to be dumbfounded by what I had told her, but she flashed a smile at me, giggled slightly, squeezed my hand, and left the room in a hurry. I don�t think she knew how to handle my compliment.
Wayne chimed in. �Ethan,� he said, �that was a very nice thing to say to April. Because she�s so smart, April has trouble making friends. She doesn�t mean to do it, but she intimidates all the kids in her class with her obvious intelligence. Therefore, they tend to leave her alone. Ethan, I predict you�re going to be treated like her best friend whenever you come by here in the future.�
Wayne�s assumption proved to be right. Whenever I set foot inside the Mulvaneys� door when April was home, I became the center of her world. She�d rush to show me the schoolwork she had done (excellently, of course), the books she was reading, and the stories she was writing for fun and extra credit.
�What do you need extra credit for?� I�d kid her. �You already have perfect marks in every subject, especially English.�
�You�re right, Ethan,� April said. �I mostly write for fun, but I show my teacher my stories anyway. Today I�m working on one about a lonely elephant who is trying to make friends with a giraffe. I�ll show you it when I�m done.� I�d always give her playful hugs. They were well received. She enjoyed my company and I was amused by hers.
One day when April was in the third grade and I was in the seventh, she showed me her latest report card. It contained one A after another from top to bottom. Her teacher�s comments were glowing: �April is the best student I�ve ever had in my 28 years of teaching. She is an absolute joy to have in my classroom!�
�Well done, April!� I told her. �This is a perfect report card; it can�t get any better. Too bad it doesn�t say how pretty you are, too.�
�Oh, I think you�re exaggerating, Ethan,� she responded. �I�m not pretty at all. I�m a very plain girl.�
�Nonsense!� I told her. �You are more than just pretty. You are a very beautiful girl. In fact, I have a tremendous urge to kiss you whenever I come here. May I kiss you, Miss April Mulvaney?�
�Yeah, Ethan! Go right ahead,� April replied. �I�d like that!�
With her mother and Wayne both looking on, I lifted April off the ground�I don�t think she was expecting me to do that�and kissed her forehead and both cheeks. I concluded my amorous display with a kiss on the lips. When I gently set her back on the floor, April embraced me in an affectionate bear hug and scurried out of the room clutching her perfect report card. She had an enormous smile on her delighted face.
�Thanks, Ethan,� April�s mother said sincerely. �My daughter will be beaming for days because of what you just did and said to her. I�m sure you know that April is really fond of you. She tells me that all the time.�
�Yeah, Ethan, please marry April in about a dozen years, � Wayne suggested. �You�d be doing the world a great favor. You two couldn�t help but breed the smartest kids on the planet.�
Part Two
My last year in high school was April�s last year in middle school. I was 18 and she was 14. Over the years we had continued to be more than friendly with one another�but just to the point of quick hugs and even quicker kisses. The on-the-lips buss I had given April when she was in the third grade was the most sensual moment we had together. Four years later, when I was in my last year of university and April was a high school senior, I was surprised to get a phone call from her one night during the spring of 1986. To the best of my recollection, it was the first time April had ever telephoned me for any reason.
�Hi, Ethan. It�s April Mulvaney calling,� she said in a breathy voice. �I got your phone number from Wayne.�
�What a wonderful surprise!� I said quite honestly. �What can I do for you, April?�
�Well, I�m writing something...� she began.
�Some things never change, April!� I joked.
�This isn�t pleasure writing, Ethan. It�s an assignment for guidance class. It�s a 500-word personal-reflection essay.�
�Five hundred words should be a cinch for you to write, April,� I told her. �You can�t possibly need my help with it.�
�Actually, I do,� she noted. �I�ve already shown my teacher a draft of it. He says it�s an �A-plus� paper for sure.�
�Of course it is. Any schoolwork turned in by the great April Mulvaney is an automatic �A-plus�,� I claimed. �So what do you need me for?�
April answered my question. She explained, �My teacher, Mr. Collingwood, said if I tidy up a few things and make it flow just a smidgen better, it can be a truly first-class essay. He showed me a flyer for a national short essay contest. The first prize is a $500 savings bond. I want to enter this essay in that contest to see if I can win a prize.�
I interjected, �You mean you want to win�first prize, don�t you, April? I�ve known you for more than eleven�years now. Second best is never good enough for you!�
�I guess that�s true, Ethan,� April conceded. �Are you able to come here tonight at 7 o�clock to help me polish up this essay? You are the best writer I know.�
April was not exaggerating. At age 22, I was already writing freelance pieces for the local daily newspaper, mostly on grassroots sports events that the staff was too lazy to cover themselves. I thanked her for the compliment and said I�d be there at 7 p.m. sharp.
Part Three
When I rang the Mulvaney home�s doorbell, I was surprised to find that April was the only person present in the whole house. She explained that her parents had tickets to a play being put on by a local amateur theatrical group. Wayne had a part-time job as a busboy at a popular Italian restaurant. He was working and wouldn�t be home until midnight at the earliest.
April poured me and herself a tall glass of cola. I asked her to explain her writing assignment to me.
She stated, �Each person in the class has to write an introspective essay between 400 and 500 words explaining something about themselves that somehow seems incomplete. Mine is presently 432 words. All in all, I believe it�s pretty good, but I think there should still be a better flow between the paragraphs. Ethan, read it, please, and let me know what you think of it.�
Frankly, I thought it was superbly done. In her essay, April explained how she felt like an outcast because of her extreme intelligence. She bemoaned the fact that she had no one her age whom she could truly describe as a close friend. Furthermore, the one unnamed person outside her family whom she loved deeply was �unattainable� because he was �several years older� than she was. It took me about five seconds to realize that was a reference to me.
�April, this essay can be fine-tuned just slightly,� I informed her, �but it is generally excellent. Now be honest with me. Am I Mr. Unattainable?�
�Yes, that�s you!� she freely admitted. �I�ve loved you since that day when I was six years old when I watched you and Wayne play that baseball simulation game in this living room. You were so nice to me, Ethan. You treated me like a person rather than some sort of oddball. Then we got friendlier and friendlier over time. That day you lifted me into the air and kissed me was the greatest in my life.�
�You must be exaggerating, April,� I told her. �You must have had greater moments than when I suddenly kissed you when you were about eight years old.�
�Not really on a social level, � she said. �I�ve never had a date, never had a boyfriend, never had any attention from boys at all�except from you, Ethan. To be perfectly honest, I was hoping that after we put the finishing touches on my essay that we could spend a few hours being intimate, if you don�t mind. No one else is here to interrupt us. We can be alone for about four hours. What do you say, Ethan?�
I took one look at my friend�s lonesome, attractive and longing sister and replied, �Let�s tidy up that essay right away so we can proceed with other activities!�
Within 20 minutes, I had given April some handy writing tips about how to subtly improve transitions from one paragraph to another, tweaked a slightly awkward sentence, and expanded the essay to 488 words. Mission accomplished!
�Now, April, what was it again that�s next on tonight�s agenda?� I joked.
Part Four
April Mulvaney had blossomed quite nicely into an attractive 18-year-old girl. She still wore her brown tresses in a ponytail and still wore steel-rimmed eyeglasses, but her beauty was now undeniable as I found the �scholarly type of girl� to be arousing. She possessed a nice figure, too. I thought it was a damn shame that April didn�t have many�or any�school chums. The boys her age did not know what they were missing.
April took me by the hand and led me to her bedroom at the far end of a hallway. It was a mixture of pink and baby blue. She had a queen-size bed. She motioned that I should sit down beside her on it. I was eager to comply�and she was more than eager to put out. �Take me!� she whispered in my ear as she embraced me.
I immediately started unbuttoning her frilly, yellow blouse, exposing a beige brassiere that accentuated her sexy assets. April lifted my sweater from my torso. We paused to kiss for several minutes before completely disrobing. I could feel the passion bubbling within April, just waiting to escape. It was highly erotic. I removed her bra and gently set it on the floor. I cupped and kissed both her breasts. April had the �east-west� type of boobs where her two nipples pointed to opposite sides instead of straight ahead. �Oh, nice!� I told her. �Just like Janice Furley.� She was the first girl I had ever fucked. That was eight�years ago. Janice possessed the same type of tits as April did. I proceeded to suck on April�s set, moving methodically from one breast to the other every 10 or 15 seconds until her nipples were quite hard.
April was bold enough to stick her right hand inside my briefs and do some exploring. I wasn�t certain April had even heard my earlier comment until she said with a cute giggle, �Did Janice like to fondle your balls and pull on your shaft, Ethan?�
I chuckled and replied, �Yes, she did. She was quite adroit at it, too. This is another way you�re like her, April.�
�Well, let me have a good look at your penis so I can do my best!� she said as she pulled down my underwear. My erect phallus sprang upward immediately. April continued to tend to my testicles and rod in a most pleasing manner.
�Jeez, April! Don�t make me come yet!� I pleaded with her. �I have great plans to please you with my dick before I shoot my load. Don�t ruin them!�
My words seemed to make no impression on my 18-year-old lover. She upped the ante by licking my shaft up and down its entire length. I felt my erection grow to its highest possible level.
�For someone who�s never had a date or a boyfriend, you certainly know what you�re doing, April!� I said in amazement. I had been sexually intimate with perhaps half a dozen girls since I hit puberty. April Mulvaney was undoubtedly the fellatio champion of the lot.
In order to prevent a far-too-early ejaculation, I said, �Okay, it�s my turn now!� I kissed April and then maneuvered her to the center of her very soft bed. I pulled down her white panties and exposed a hairy vagina. I wasted no time in burying my face into it. I used my lips, my tongue, and even the tip of my nose to pleasure April in every possible way.
�This is fantastic, Ethan�far better than I imagined it would be!� squealed April with delight. After about five minutes of my acute attention, she was dripping wet.
�Time to get down to business,� I stated. Then, in a gentlemanly fashion, I asked permission to do the most natural thing in the world with this lovely girl. �May I fuck your pussy, April?�
�How polite�but totally unnecessary�of you to ask, Ethan, � she replied. �Why do you think I brought you into my bedroom, silly? Please fuck away!�
I didn�t have to be told twice. I immediately spread April�s legs and pushed my manhood inside her. As it was a new experience for her, she slightly recoiled at the intrusion but gradually accepted my hard penis inside her virgin vagina. It felt wonderful. I wanted to please her so I did my best to vary the rhythm of my fucking. She provided positive feedback. �I like when you move your dick in and out slowly, Ethan. That�s giving me the best feeling down there!�
I remarkably hadn�t come yet, despite being so close to losing control of myself during April�s blowjob. I surprised April by putting my arms around her and rolling her over so she was now atop me. She laughed and got into the spirit of riding my dick�which she did with alacrity.
�Time for you to do some of the work, sweetheart,� I told her. �Fucking can drain a guy�s energy!�
�Forget your energy, Ethan!� she replied. �I just want to drain your balls!� About two minutes later, she did just that. I felt an enormous load of semen ascend from my testicles, move up my shaft and shoot into April�s awaiting vagina. It was the best feeling I�d had in my 22 years. My bliss stopped after a minute when I realized the potential ramifications. My facial expression showed it.
April was still sitting rather triumphantly on my penis and gyrating slightly when she saw the look on my face. �Don�t worry,� she assured me. �I took something to stop something quite serious from happening. You won�t be a daddy, Ethan. At least not tonight.� She then disengaged from my penis, laid on top of my sweaty body and kissed me passionately. This girl was a truly fantastic lover!
We laid in April�s bed for another hour or so just enjoying the sensation of each other�s presence. At one point I stated, �April, I guess your essay is now out of date. You can�t truly say I�m unattainable, can you?�
�The essay judges don�t have to know that. I�m still going to submit it as it stands,� she declared with a laugh.
�I�m going to ask you a rather personal question,� I said next. �Feel free not to answer it, April. Here it is: How does an 18-year-old virgin who has never had a boyfriend or even a casual date with a boy become such an excellent bedmate on her first sexual experience?�
�I read a lot,� she said without hesitation. �Three years ago, I accidentally discovered where my parents had stored some very graphic sex manuals. I honestly didn�t know such things even existed�or that my parents might have them in the house. Their illustrations left nothing to the imagination. They�re fun and educational to read. I study them whenever I can. Ethan, I was saving everything I learned just for your pleasure. Deep down I knew we�d share a bed someday. Those manuals were a great help for tonight, don�t you think?�