Note: The girl above is not ‘Samantha, she just has an epic tongue.
Two straight guys. One questionable girl. The Mi Goreng and Red Bull-fuelled madness of a teen camping adventure, and unfortunately, an aftertaste that I’ll never wash out.
I think everyone was a little surprised by Bill’s target of choice that Easter long weekend. We used to sit next to each other in year twelve Visual Arts, but what I acquired from the sexual stories he told and the iPhone pictures he showed, was something closer to Biology. I knew instantly that the girl he had picked was not up to Bill’s standards. Not even close. Samantha, as I’ll call her, wasn’t normal. The kind of girl that greets every newly-met person with a love bite to the neck, just to gauge their reaction. The 
kind that seemed like she’d had a little bit more Mi Goreng and Red Bull than the rest of us. The kind that, dare I say it, looks like she’d swallow anything and anyone that got in her way. Yes, without question – she definitely swallows.
Understandably, then, I went into hiding in the days following my first love bite. Respect for Bill vanished as quickly as I did, but I couldn’t avoid Samantha forever. It was almost midnight on the final night of our weekend away when my girlfriend and I bumped into Samantha once again. The results were disastrous. “Can I kiss you?” she said blatantly. I looked up and breathed a sigh of relief as I realised it wasn’t directed at me. Then nearly fainted as I saw who the weird girl was facing. “I… guess so?” For fuck’s sake. The problems with having a polite girlfriend. Before I could say anything, it happened. She was kissing my girlfriend.
It was like watching a morbidly obese lion devour the household cat. What felt like minutes passed before a glowing red face, lined with a thick film of saliva and glistening in the moonlight, emerged from deep inside Samantha’s throat. Narrowly escaping a second attack, I took my girlfriend by the hand and hid in the shadows of the forest, kissing her repeatedly while she recovered from the traumatic experience. We haven’t seen Samantha since, thank God for that..
“So how did you go with that girl last weekend?” I asked Bill as I sat with him at the back of Visual Arts the following Monday, doing everything possible to avoid eye contact. I had to ask it eventually. “Fucking bullshit!” he said. “I had to wait till about ten on the last night just to get my dick sucked! Although the bitch did make it worth it, I must say”. I sighed, but Bill looked like he needed to say a little more. He looked across at me cautiously. “Don’t even whisper a word about this, but my dicks been so itchy ever since” he said shamefully, “I think she’s given me something, I’m seeing the doctor this afternoon”.
Fuck.
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