Diary Doodling ’bout Sex

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Dear Diary:

Julie has been after me for some weeks now to find a guy and get laid properly. I would if I could. I mean, it’s not THAT easy for a girl to get laid! DUH!

Okay, okay, I know just about every guy on campus and beyond would like to get into my pants; well maybe I’m exaggerating slightly, but . . . not a day goes by when I don’t almost cream in those same pants over a dreamy guy or three. It’s just . . . well; there must be some sort of chemistry to attracting a member of the opposite sex. Hmmmmmm, maybe if I sprinkle a trail of phenerones . . .

Dear Diary:

It must be magic or sumpin’ cause after putting my lament down last night, I’ve got a hot possibility today. Yes, yes . . . his name is Charles, and it took me forever to find that out, cause all his friends call him Crotch. YEAH! Crotch! I couldn’t wait to tell Julie.

“That’s the guy’s real name?” she said incredulously.

I shivered deliciously and went into rapid speak. “It’stheonlynameI’veever heardanyonecall him, buthischristennameisCharles.”

“Crotch like in crotchety?” a skeptical Julie pondered half to herself.

“Think lower,” I said smiling confidently and blushing at the same time. “Think below the belt.”

“Oh.” For the first time ever, I saw Julie become flustered.

“He’s considered quite a ladies man. I suppose that’s where he got the name.” I offered trying to be helpful. Meow . . .”

“Well, what exactly do you know about him?”

Was this Julie’s paternal interest, I wondered?

“He’s got a good bod . . . long hair. It’s blondish and shoulder length. He plays guitar in a band at some dumpy club off campus on weekends . . . and when he smiled at me my knees buckled.”

Julie started to giggle and I quickly joined her. We hugged a lot and then she asked me if I was horny.

“I’ve been using Barbi doll all afternoon. I’m afraid I’m gonna wear her out.”

Her hand found its way under my mini skirt and we were off to frolic in the bliss’s of cunnilingus land. Ahhhhhhhh!

Dear Diary:

You wouldn’t believe!

Crotch made a date with me for Tuesday night, (yesterday) I cut two classes to bathe and make myself look great. Also had to rush out and do last minute shopping to find just the thing to wear. Ugh, was that dumb!


I wound up borrowing a dress from Doris who lives down the hall. I hardly know her, but we share the same size, so if I have my way, we’ll become good friends.

Two glasses of white wine while waiting . . . yeah, I was ready early, and I was giddy with apprehension. All I could think of was this gigantic cock hovering in the air above me, like the Goodyear Blimp. Needless to say, when the doorbell rang, I was halfway to a climax. Ya know a little stimulation never hurt anyone, so I dropped Barbi and stumbled to the door. Naturally all my gracefulness deserted me in my time of need.

My time of need, indeed!

I crashed into the door and almost knocked the wind out of me. It took a lot of self-control, but I managed to open the door and remain standing.

There he was—him and his mythical snake. The door closed silently behind him.

With a sudden flourish, he presented a small bouquet of flowers to me. I was stunned. Naturally I hugged him in thanks. Naturally he jabbed his “whoa, big fella” into me. Naturally my frisky pussy bumped back.

It wasn’t long before nature took its course. Somehow we were kissing and into some heavy dry humping. His mouth tasted strongly of mouthwash. How considerate of him I thought.

An auspicious beginning, if I worked things right, I just might get laid tonight.

Ummmm, he was a good kisser! (Since when did I become a connoisseur of this form, I wondered, never mind I told myself, if you like it then it’s good. I liked it VERY much.)

Crotch broke off the kiss but holding me close whispered hoarsely, “Anybody else home?”

“No,” I said.

“Let’s move over to the couch for a minute, okay?”

“Let’s,” demonstrating how cooperative I could be. If he only knew that I was putty in his hands.

Holding me tight against him, we wobbled to the couch and collapsed on it. My dress had risen high up on my thighs. We kissed again. I was ready. I was primed. I was kissing him back.

Was I being too aggressive? My hand was inside his shirt, exploring his chest. His hands were around my back. Then I felt it. He was feeling for my bra strap. I wasn’t wearing one.

“Uhhh, Crotch?”


“No bra.”


“No bra. I’m not wearin’ one.”




Testing my credibility, he dropped his head to my chest and nibbled at my right breast.


“Err, Crotch?”


“Give me a sec and I’ll wriggle out of this dress, otherwise it may get wrinkles that are unironable.”

“Ummm, sure,” and doing a kind of push up, he gave me the room I needed.

As I began to peel the dress off I glanced at his eyes. They casino oyna were riveted on my chest. When I’d finished removing it, his eyes were big as saucers.

A split second later he was kneading my breast kinda roughly while biting hard on the other nipple.

“Hey,” I cried out. “Easy on the body parts Crotch, take it easy. Don’t bite — lick or suck, take your pick. And fondle don’t squeeze ’em with that a vise-grip.

After that he settled down and was doing pretty good.

My turn—my hand—my inquisitive little paw, meandered into his lap. Expecting to find a steel rod waiting for me I was dumbfounded to discover his pants were soaking wet!

“Crotch!” I cried out. “What the hell!”

“Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!” Seemed to all he could manage as his face turned crimson.

“What is . . .” and I knew. He’d gone off without me.

I began to cry in disappointment. I felt terrible. I just knew my makeup was smeared. Mascara tracks ran down my face — I could see them without the aid of a mirror.

Two, no make that three zits appeared without warning on my previously perfect complexion. My life was a disaster.

Then I heard Crotch sobbing.

Glancing up through tear filled eyes I saw him bent over, pounding his well . . . crotch with his fist.

“Crotch, don’t,” I said, “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Don care.” And he smashed his fist down again.

My self-pity vanished and I tried to comfort him. That failed. Realizing that stopping him was my first objective I placed my hand on his lap.

“Owww!” He’d punched my hand.

“Ohhh! Sorry! I’m sorry Rachel! I….I didn’t mean… Oh, I’m so sorry.

The pain receded before he stopped apologizing.

We put some ice on my hand and he seemed to calm down. We moved back to the couch, but didn’t sit. I stood there in my royal purple Victoria Secret’s laciest panties and looked at his wet, stained tan slacks.

“I… I… do it all the time. I… just c… can… can’t hold back. Soon’s I get near a girl — wham! I shoot my load. That…That’s why they call me Crotch. All my damn pants have stains on them. Semen stains. These were new slacks. I bought them this afternoon. Oh, shit! I’m sorry Rachel. I… I’ll leave now if you don’t mind.”

My evil mind went into overtime.

“Wait! Just a second. Come on, get those slacks off and the… whatever you’ve got on underneath too. I’ll throw them in the washer. Surprisingly, he did.

“Now will you admit that you owe me something?” I asked gently.

“Well, yeah?”

“Get back on the couch Crotch,” I said pushing him in the general direction.

When we were both seated, I guided his mouth to my breast and took hold of his flaccid thingy and started to stroke it. We spent several contented minutes just messing around like that, before Crotch started to rise up. I wasn’t disappointed, when his little elevator reached the top floor it was about six inches, most satisfactory for my inaugural event.

“Why don’t you take my panties off Crotch?” I said in my most seductive voice. “Your thingy seems be alive and well, don’t you think?”

“Uhhh, yeah. Okay.”

I’ll always prefer a man of few words from now on. The only other thing he said before

“Goodnight” was “Did you like it?” somewhere in the middle of our um, activity.

Back to the great event: Raising my hips to help him along, my purple pants were flicked up in the air and floated to the floor as I was wrapping my legs around his hips. I steered Crotch to my hole and he entered me. It seemed to be working okay. We kept the pace to a slow, experimental level for a while and then as Crotch ground deeper into me, my legs twined themselves around his shoulders and as I came for the first time, my legs were knocking the ceiling tiles loose.

All in all, it was a good experience. Um, for both of us. For a first lay it was decent enough, I didn’t come like I do with Julie, but… I did enjoy the feel of his thingy poking around inside me. We agreed to do it again soon, and he left around eleven, just as the news was coming on.

I have decided NOT to tell Julie anything bad about Crotch.

Dear Diary:

It’s funny; Julie’s imagination has run wild. She’s literally begged me to let her ‘nail’ Crotch. But I maintain a strictly hands off policy as we agreed upon a while back. Something tells me she’s a bit miffed and will get back at me someway. Oh well, we’re still bestest friends. AND LOVERS!!!

Dear Diary:

How’s this for romantic! Friday night in the lightly falling rain, about four blocks from the campus, I sat on a darkened loading dock and wrapped my legs around Crotch beneath his oversized raincoat. And managed to work him all the way in. He managed to hold himself in check, not coming until we started fucking. I sucked him back up and he lasted quite a while. I came twice. He told me he wanted to keep my panties. What could I say? After that, I started wearing thigh-highs or nothing at all. Bras and panties were out of the question.

Dear Diary:

Sunday afternoon canlı casino we snuck into a dressing room at Lord & Taylor, emerging twenty minutes later, me with a cramp in my thigh, Crotch with a crick in his neck and a half-dollar sized hickey on his neck as well. The sales clerk hollered after us not to come back.

Dear Diary:

Last night (Wednesday) we were riding in a Yellow Cab, when, in the middle of a super kiss, the cabbie hit a pothole and our teeth banged against each other. Crotch spent all day today waiting for his dentist to complete major repairs to a front tooth. He looks good tho. He went down on me for the first time today. He needs lessons. I shall try to be a good teacher. Since I’m a great learner it shouldn’t be too hard.

PS: His premature ejaculation seems to have gone away. Let’s hope so.

Dear Diary:

Saturday: Tears—nothing but tears. Crotch has decided to transfer to Memphis State. MEMPHIS STATE? What’s at Memphis State?

No farewell, just a call—AS HE WAS LEAVING! I’d be crushed without my Crotch if it weren’t for Julie who’s been a great comfort to me.

Dear Diary:

Saturday: Seems like my love life has dried up. If it weren’t for finals coming up I’d be crazy by now. Jeeze! If only guys knew how horny us girls get EVERY GOD DAMN DAY! Hmmm, I think my period’s comin’ on. Back to the books. Medical school looms ever closer.

Dear Diary:

Wow! This has been a great day. (Friday)

First off I got my grades for the final?three aces and a duce plus, one still pending and I think I’ve aced that one too. Thank you very much.

Even better, I met this hunk on the way back from the pharmacy around five. He was tall, dark and God-like.

I’ve got this cold, well… the sniffles really, and got something for it. Anyway, he was checking me out, or so I thought.

After all, he did start the conversation with a “Hello sweetie!”

I figured this was as good a pick up line as I was going to get, not having dated a guy since arriving at Columbia. No, I refuse to count Crotch!

Still, I managed to drop my jacket from the shock of it all.

The next line threw me off.

“All set?”


His hand flew to his mouth.

“Oh my God! You’re not. . . .!”

“Oh… I’m terribly sorry Miss. I mistook you for someone else.”

I crossed my fingers and said, “You confused me with your date?

“Yeah,” he had the cutest scowl, “but I’m late and I think she’s left. I’m in trouble now.”

I bent over and picked up my jacket and while dusting it off asked, “Where did you want to go?”

Now it was his turn to drop his brain on the sidewalk.


“I’m available. That is if you’re in need of female companionship.” Where was I getting the nerve to act like this I wondered?

He cocked an eyebrow at me and said, “Well, how versed are you in English Lit?”

Evidently he considered himself to be in serious trouble.


My God! This was about Bill Manning! It’s been forever since I even thought of him! Oh, lordy, lordy, lordy. My emotions soared. Bill was that kind of guy. I closed my eyes and pictured his face. Ummmmmmmm. Damn it Bill, you’re a thousand miles away and just the mention of your name makes me feel good all over.

I let several minutes pass before returning to the Diary.


“Chaucer gotcha stumped?” I asked.

“No. At least not yet.” He was bouncing like my nephew does when he has to go pee.

“Milton’s the problem. Milton. The poet?”

“I know who Milton is, or was,” I replied. My heart was pounding, he was on the ropes, I knew nothing about Milton, except the little bit I covered in High school, but why tell him?”

“I’ve got a make up exam and Shelly was going to tutor me. But she never showed. I’m desperate, I gotta pass it.”

“Let’s try the library and see if Mr. Milton is at home,” I said taking his arm and leading the way. He ambled along with me like a lost puppy. My mind was racing, plotting, and planning logistical tactics… such as would my apartment be ‘free’ if I brought him back there?

Preoccupied with gossamer thoughts like how heavy he might be when on top of me, or would he go down on me, or would he walk out on me, we walked two blocks, crossed the Quad and trotted up the library steps. I was at home here. It was familiar turf. Bring on Miltie whatshisname.

The library was nearly empty. Well, it was Friday, who studies when la dolca vita beckons?

We found our way to the second tier and I plucked a copy of Milton from the shelf to complement his. As I sat down next to him, I realized that, we hadn’t introduced ourselves. So I stuck out my hand.



“I said, I’m Rachel.”

“Oh, I… I’m Bill. Bill Manning.”

We shook hands, very businesslike.

“Your name is familiar.”

“I play some basketball, maybe you’ve seen me at a game.”

I had watched him play. He was good. I’d learned a few things watching him and I told him so.

“You play basketball?”

“Sure. kaçak casino Oh, I’m not on the varsity or anything like that. But I play intra-mural and I get my minutes.”

“That’s great,” he said.

His interest level in me started to climb. Now if I could get him into Milton,

Well… I began thinking of the possibilities.

“Okay, now as to Mr. Milton’s Paradise Lost. Have you read it?”

“Um, yeah, but I don’t understand it. So many words sound foreign to me.”

“Yeah, well it was written a long time ago. Let’s have a crack at it. What kind of test are you facing?”

“We gotta take a couple lines and describe meaning and… explain what it is,” he ended lamely.

Easy, go easy, go easy, I told myself. “Okay let’s get it on,” I said and plunged ahead.

“The measure’s we’re looking at are English heroic verse without rhyme, like Homer in Greek, and Virgil in Latin, just concentrate on that aspect,” I told him.

“Remember, this neglect of rhyme was to be taken at first as a defect, because up to that time all heroic poems were set to rhymes. In a nutshell, Milton broke the pattern. Kinda like the introduction of the jump shot to basketball.”

He grasped it. For the next two hours Bill positively absorbed Milton. Meanwhile, my mind worked on another equation. It was a little after seven and Julie had a date. I had the place to myself, if I could entice him over.

It was easier than I’d thought.

Once inside my apartment, he turned on the charm. He was quite poetic in his own way. Telling me, “I had no idea how the softness of your breast against my arm, or the scent of your perfume (I wasn’t wearing any) would affect me.”

He asked permission to kiss me. Whew! Permission granted sailor! I think loved him!

“Sure,” I replied and closed my eyes.

This was a very sensuous kiss. And I… was a very aroused woman.

Gazing into each other’s eyes, he lowered his hand to my breast. He was soooo gentle as he lowered his lips to mine again, tasting me, when a sound from the hall broke the kiss. It was just someone passing by.

“Oh, my,” I exhaled.

“Whew, I don’t know what came over me,” I said and giggled. “No, I know exactly what came over me, I just don’t know what to make of it.

Bill was not paying any attention to me. Well, that’s not right. He WAS paying attention to ME, but not to what I was saying. So I shut up.

Ummmmm, his lips were moving down my neck. The silky smoothness disappeared as I felt his coarse, day old beard grating against my skin as he meandered—kiss, kiss, kiss style to my ear. Still… this was…Yummy yum-yum good.

Bill’s hands were roaming across my breasts and stomach. Now where might that devil be going?

My hands were busy too, worming their way inside his shirt and twining them around the hair on his chest. Oh my! Bill was a bear! And his chest was SOLID!

He moaned as soon as I touched his nipple; I adored the way it rose up under my palm. And I had this silly idea about being in control of the situation until his hand….

SORRY! Got so worked up writing this I had to take time to cool off. But those tingly feelings won’t go away! Maybe I can write and play at the same time.

His hand… that’s right. Until his hand made its way down through the top of my jeans and under my panties and tugged at MY pubic hair.

Um…ohhhh…okay, I just found Malibu Barbi and worked both legs inside. Got me some instant relief! Maybe I can keep writing now. I gotta finish this before Julie gets home, because I’m gonna jump her bones.

I pinched his nipple. Wrong move. His hand went further south and I felt a finger (Oh my, he HAS the LONGEST FINGERS!) probing for my secret entrance.

My other hand reached for his face; I wanted to shake my finger as though to warn him to take it easy. Instead he took my finger into his mouth and demonstrated how he liked to have his cock sucked. At least I think that’s what he was doing. Anyway it turned my thermostat up past 150 degrees so that I was soooo wet below he added a second finger to the first.

I moaned long and loud. Bill removed my finger from his mouth to ask if I was in pain. When I answered no, a third finger followed. (Did I say his fingers were long?) Only the first was flirting with my G-spot.


Reaching out blindly, I captured his wet finger and brought it to my hungry mouth to demonstrate that I knew something about sucking long hard things too.

Seconds later, with a soft popping sound, he gently pulled it out and moved his fingers to my nipple, tweaking it twice before rolling it between his fingers.

My hand stole to his crotch. Ahhhhhhh! Impressive life signs. I got a firm grip and squeezed. That brought a moan from deep within him, causing his head to turn to mine and find my mouth with his.

We danced the tongue samba while he brought me off with those limber fingers and I slowly jacked him off. Well, sorta, kinda, ’cause he was wrapped up in those jeans of his. After I came, and boy did I ever — he removed his fingers and brought them to my mouth for me to taste myself. I did and then I shared it with him. Moments later he raised his hips and slid his jeans off.

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