"Sybil Davidson has a genius I.Q. and has been laid by at least six different guys. All of them men of quality like myself. So she shows up at my door. To this day I don't know what she was thinking. Anyway, my little teenage mind is running little circles in anticipation. Of course I knew! I was young, but I wasn't stupid. So I'm thinking, what do I do? I don't want to end up one of those 85-year-old virgins! Of course I invited her in. Okay, I sneak her past my folks in the kitchen and into my room. So, while whimpering, 'Mike, Mike,' she reaches inside her shirt and undoes her bra, I swear to God, and I think I'm gonna pass out. She starts doing these little dancing moves backward towards the bed - like a belly dancer, you know? She had it all figured out: the moves, the tricks. No, the dance was the trick, not me. Oh, yeah, you think you're so funny? I thought so, Doug. So Sybil, in her little teenage seductress mode, slowly sinks onto my bed. Crinkle, crinkle, crinkle! She sits on my nudie magazine collection that I stuffed under the covers. I didn't know she was coming over. Oh, but ever so coolly she reaches under the covers and pulls them out, not even looking. Not even. So, by this time I'm so hard I think I'm gonna split a seam and she could tell, oh she could tell. Well, you know what they say about us Irishmen. Our reputation precedes us. So she wiggles her little finger at me to get me to come over. No, I hadn't yet. Barry, I think I know how to control myself. No, I don't need another beer. She starts twirling her finger in her permed dyed blonde hair and biting her lip, like she was nervous or something. She had it down to an art. By this point I'm on a direct course for the bed, but she grabs me before I can hit it and she just holds me in front of her. Now, you guys can't say any of this to anyone, okay? God, I shouldn't have said half this stuff already. Nice try, Lennie, but don't you remember that 'Alcohol is never an excuse'? Yeah, I'm still telling the story, if you guys would shut up. So she's holding me right in front of her and I'm thinking, 'Oh, God, now's when she tells me that it's all a joke or something.' Yeah, right. This girl was not kidding around. So she leans her face into my crotch and she undoes my jeans with her teeth! Not just the zipper, the button too. Let me tell you, that was more a relief than anything. Hey, tight jeans were in -- well, by this point they were off. I guess we had the same thought at the same time, 'cause it's like, 'Since you're in the neighborhood...' Well, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. No way man, I was 16; of course I don't hold back. Besides, it's not that big a deal to get back up. Maybe for you, but not for me. Ouch! Don't try to kill the messenger. Ouch! Okay, okay, I'll stop. So she finishes and my knees nearly buckle, but I stay up 'cause I'm trying to be cool and preserve the mood for the main event and I'm thinkin', 'Rubber! Rubber! Where the hell did I put that thing?' Then I realize it's in my dresser drawer, behind me. I step back to get it, only problem is my pants are around my ankles. I begin to fall back, but being the quick thinker that I am, I grab somethin on the way down: the metal coat rack. Thud! Crash! Everything comes down with this horrible sound that I just know my folks heard. So I kind of sit there for a minute, listening for when my mom would run down the hall with a belt or something. Nothing! Not a sound. To this day I wonder if they heard. So Sybil is still sitting on my bed, only the slightest little smile on her face. What do I do? Stand up, brush myself off, grab the God-damned rubber, and continue. So she starts sucking and kissing and biting everywhere. I'm doing what any God-fearing teenager would do: asking for divine guidance. Well, it wasn't any sea that just parted; it was Sybil's legs. Suffice it to say that I figured it all out in a big hurry. So, anyway, right after we're finished, she throws her clothes back on and just leaves. No good-bye, no see you 'round. She just goes. After a while, I dress and go downstairs. My folks are sitting there, oblivious and I'm thinking that I am the man! I just got away with it. Ha. If only I knew. You never get away with it, boys. There is no such thing as a secret. While they never said anything, the chores were a little heavier, the rules a little stricter, and the... punishments a little harder. You never get away with it and in this case, I don't know why I'd want to. I've finally grown up and found exactly what I need. Oh, stop with the 'Awwwwwww', guys. It's not that big a deal; I'm getting married tomorrow, not sent to prison. I just don't want to spend the rest of my life with someone who I betrayed and knows I betrayed her. That crap is not going to happen at my bachelor party."