Dear Diary,
I want to fuck her.
I have never wanted anything so much in my life. I have never wanted straight A's that bad, have never wanted to get into college as much as I want into her.
Anyways, I want her. I want her pussy, and I want it bad.
Every day she sits in front of me, her perfume washing over me like a wave of pure, inebriated sex. It always gets me hard.
And today, holy fuck! I'd never had a boner so painful that it brought tears to my eyes, but there I was, sitting in science crying like a damn child because my dick was that hard. It was all because she bent over in front of my desk. The see-through material of her dress gave me a perfect glimpse of her sheer-lace covered pussy.
I came home, went straight to the shower and fucked my fist while wishing it was her hot wet pussy instead.
Too bad I'm the nerd.
A girl like Prescilla doesn't go after nerds. Which is probably why she is fucking the Quarterback. At least that's what he told me. The ass has a penchant for going on and on about shit to me, shit that I really don't want to hear. He said it's because I'm a nerd and even if I did sum up the sack to tell anyone everything he said, no one would even think to believe it.
The only reason I make no move to get the asshole away is because he talks about her. And fucked up as it is, he's probably the closest thing to a 'friend' that I have.
Anyways Diary, as much as I love seeing Prescilla's pussy, I really fucking hope she isn't wearing anything remotely similar to that sheer contraption of walking sex material, tomorrow.
I'll cum in my pants.
Dead serious,
Arnold.