Dear Adulthood,
Hi. My name is Jillian. We met briefly when I turned 18, but haven’t had much contact since. I’ve heard a lot about you, and not all of it good. Some people say you suck the fun out of everything and require people to be serious all the time, but I’m sure that’s just gossip. Surely you can’t be all bad. I mean it’s because of you I got to vote and buy my first pack of cigarettes. And later, when I turned 21, I’m told it’s you that made it OK for me to finally buy alcohol. This was good because I was tired of getting people to buy booze for me. So thanks for that.
The rest of my letter...
Meet L.
L is a girl with a friend. You know, a fuckbuddy.
One day L’s friend dropped by with the intention of knockin’ some boots, we’ll call this guy ‘X’. The door was opened, greetings were exchanged, and a bit of smalltalk was had. L, being a bit awkward about kicking things off, usually let X take the lead. X never minded though, he 
always knew what to do. They would start off with a little kissing, then a bit of necking, and soon things would really start to heat up.
The two ‘buddies’ would inevitably move to the bedroom.
On normal occasions the deed went off without a hitch. But one ill-fated day, X arrived ready to party only to leave completely embarrassed and emasculated.
Read on to find out why.
*****
L was burning hot and ready. X was so turned on, it was painful. The two fell on the bed as they hastily removed clothing, each preparing to reach mutual ecstasy. Things were looking good until X remembered something important.
More 'fun with sex'...
