Lump-Filled Words and Puppy-Dog Eyes

Well I had a morning appointment that I had to cancel. My reasoning was good though. I talked to my mother, and she decided to come pick me up for lunch. It was a very relaxing wonderfully loving good time.


There’s still quite a few stories I have yet to tell. How about this… My middle and high school years I spent so attracted to this guy named Josh. To me, he was perfect. He was sexy in a pimply-faced kind of way. Also, he was known for his promiscuity. He had already fucked several girls by the time we were even in middle school. The stories made me hot. So, of course, from the very first day, I wanted him for myself.
The stories began there; originated from the confused feelings of a an early teen adolescent. Straight from the overactive mind a sexually frustrated young female. I wasn’t a hottie yet, so it wasn’t like it was ever going to go anywhere. Plus, I felt like a virgin around him. Plus, I WAS a virgin!
I would just sit at my desk and watch him. He didn’t care too much for school work, so he was usually goofing off or sleeping. He had these sexy half-closed eyes like he was always either stoned or headed to bed. I loved those eyes I called them my puppy dog eyes.
And his lips… Oh those lips. He had the most beautiful thick full red lips. Not uncommonly like mine. They beckoned to be kissed by someone who’d done quite a bit of kissing already in her life. I dreamt of what his cock looked like. I needed to see it for myself.
Out of frustration, I’d write. . So, I just wrote, wrote, wrote constantly. What came out of it was some of the most amazing stories that caused me myself to get wet. I begin to use them as a away to get myself off. My very own writing would cause me to orgasm. With a little help from these two fingers. My happy peace sign.
I don’t regret anything. At least, I try not to regret anything. Regrets will kill you and guilt will pave Your Grave too. But I definitely regret never taking the opportunity with Josh. I can still picture him and the lump his dick always made in his blue jeans. The thought still turns me on to no end. If things were different, I would have ate him up like biscuits and gravy.
Hey,  I’m getting hungry.

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