Good morning!

Never got back to my laptop. Dinner with friends was lovely. Ending with bottles of wine and many confessions. I can feel myself becoming incredibly crass and honest when drinking, and I know I should hold back with whatever I'll say, but I say it anyway. It's not like my friends don't like hearing about my sordid little life anyway. We've all got some strange kinky issues.

I left off telling you about my miserable Thursday. Later on my own in bed I did something quite strange. I had been wondering about my surprising flash of attraction towards Dan, who is 22 and a few months younger than me (according to half reliable sources), which is already tipping the scales way opposite to my usual. I was very frustrated from not having come when horrible Anthony fucked me, so I'd stripped off and was concentrating on having a little self love. I felt oddly guilty as I pictured Dan, as though I was somehow not allowed even thoughts of him. I don't know how fantasies start; they just sort of spawn of their own accord. I hate walking through bushland, but that's what I imagined us doing hand in hand, down a valley the scrub getting denser and whipping at our bare legs. We stopped in front of a enormous fallen tree, climbed over it and settled ourselves in the shelter behind. I undress him first, unbuttoning his shirt, undoing is belt and pulling down his trousers and I imagine that he has a wonderfully long and elegant looking erection with a head just slightly wider than the shaft, smelling very clean and sweet. He falls back onto his elbows and I bend over him, knees pressed painfully into twigs and leaves but I don't care and take his cock in my mouth and move it up and down slowly but firmly flicking the head with my tongue. It's strange because even in fantasy I rarely take the lead; I prefer to be taken while surprising my partner with my generous attentions in between. Dan smells clean right down to his fluffy, curly pubic hair, of which there is a lot. I enjoyed this but with all fantasies it starts getting out of hand as soon as you get into it. Dan became Charlie, pulling my lips from his cock and pushing me back into the dirt to remove soaking panties and sniff appreciatively. Charlie having licked me to dripping guiltily became Anthony with his beautifully thick cock pressing at my entrance but not in the brutal way he had done earlier. I was rubbing my clit hard and felt so bad at thinking of him and so he morphed into Nick, or Mr Fleming, where or my fantasies go to finish, no longer in the bush but in my old school's library store room, smelling dusty and dry. Back against musty carpet, Summer gingham skirt pushed high around my belly as my old English teacher fucks me with the wet slapping of generous balls against my bum one hand pinching a nipple through my uniform while a thumb circles my clit and I always come when I think of this and imagine Mr Fleming coming too, inside me like always despite the risk and I say 'Mr Fleming' maybe out loud. What I would give to see that grey head looming above me again, fading green eyes just slits as he rocks back and forth, slight pot belly pressing into the concave space I leave for him, his lovely slightly hooked nose nuzzling my ear. It always ends where it all started. I wish I could see him again. Or at least just know he's seen me and seen all the things he's inspired. I have to go and think. And change my panties for the second time in 11 hours. I'll come back later.