Greg wasn't sure what to do next.
He had the house to himself for once, his parents had taken Ben and Ami to the zoo.
Greg was undecided.
Should he masturbate again or practice the opening riff to 'Smoke on the Water'
He didn't really need any more practice masturbating - he was only 15 years old, but had already put hours of hard work in at the stiffy coalface.
Up to now, three minutes and 24 seconds was his PB and he was doing everything he possibly could to shave a little off
It was not for the lack of trying, but it was proving difficult.
However, he did need to practice the opening riff to 'Smoke on the Water' and time was running out.
Becky Fotheringray was coming round next Sunday and her other boyfriend Sprog could already play 'Smoke on the Water'.
And 'Whiskey in the Jar'
He could just imagine Becky saying ' Sprog can play Smoke on the Water all the way through....and Whiskey in the Jar'.
Greg could hardly hit back with 'yeah, but can he empty his sac in less than 3 minutes and 24 seconds like what I can'?
Greg doubted Sprog could, but didn't want to play his ace straight away, just in case.
Besides, what if Sprog could play 'Smoke on the Water' AND off-load in under 3 minutes and 24 seconds - what then?
Shit, what if he could play 'Smoke on the Water' AND masturbate at the same time.
Double shit, what if he could play 'Smoke on the Water' and off-load before the end of the track.
'Smoke on the Water' was only 3 minutes and 20 seconds long.
Greg gave it his best shot but it was no good.
The masturbating bit was fine, he had no problem with that.
But he couldn't nail that opening riff.
In fact, it didn't actually sound any better when he wasn't masturbating at the same time as playing - which was a bit of a bummer.
Greg realised under different circumstances his expertise in masturbating could open up all sorts of opportunities, but it was never going to win him an audition for Britain's Got Talent. No matter how good he was. And besides, each act only got 3 minutes to do their routine, so masturbating was out anyway.
More worryingly, it would hardly go very far in securing that all important second date with Becky.
Greg slumped onto his bed as though he had the whole world on his shoulders.
Shit, 3 minutes and 52 seconds...not even close.
He had set his PB a while ago with a little help from tennis star Maria Sharipova.
Maria had come into his bedroom one morning and helped Greg shave almost a minute off his old PB
Not in person you understand - but thanks to an on line Swedish porn site and good old Royal Mail
But for Greg she might just as well have climbed in through an open window, oiled herself in front of him and slipped in between the sheets, panting hungrily 'take me Greg, it's all yours'. It was that real.
Even though he knew it was just a figment of his imagination, Greg was really pleased Maria hadn't called him Gregory. Especially when she was oiling herself.
Greg hated being called Gregory.
'Smoke on the Water' would have to wait until later, right now there was more important business to attend to.
Greg waited agonisingly for his laptop to fire up and then logged on.
He hovered his cursor over the search engine and once again tapped the keyboard....Scratch'n'Sniff@Malmo.sw