damn girl in case I got rejected.
I rolled over, grabbed my
iPhone and opened the photo I’d asked Doug to email to me, the one
where she first looked straight at me. I caught my breath as I
looked at her stunning face and reached out my index finger and
traced it down her nose and around her perfect lips. My cock went
rigid again looking at her, but for once I ignored it as I gazed
into her beautiful eyes. Shit, I really had it bad for her.
Yesterday
I lay back in
bed, with my hands behind my head, as I looked at the new canvas on
the opposite wall. It was a black and white close up of my mystery
girl and I sighed. I wondered if it was creepy to have it up there?
To be fantasying about her the way I had been for nearly a week?
There again, guys around the world had pictures of pop icons, movie
stars, page three or super models on their walls, this was no
different. Well it was different, they were just crushes, this was
way more than a crush, I already knew that deep in my gut.
After my birthday last Tuesday,
I’d got more depressed as each day had rolled on. Doug had tried
with the social media sites, but no one we knew in the city knew
her. We’d gone back to that damn bar every night looking for her
and we’d gone to Fazeleys, the in club for our age group Friday and
Saturday night, after waiting in the bar, with no luck there
either. I was that smitten I’d even spent all my free periods and
breaks in freshers’ week checking the canteen and roaming the
corridors hoping to see her, but I realised it was a fool’s
errand.
When I’d finally accepted on
Saturday night that I wouldn’t see her again, I’d asked Doug to
produce this canvas for me. I’d even contemplated going round to
Julie’s yesterday, sex would have cheered me up, but I’d realised I
couldn’t do it to her, I couldn’t do it to myself. Now I knew how
emotionally attracted to a girl I could feel, instead of just
physical attraction, I didn’t want to settle for anything less.
Even the thought of Chelsea did nothing for me, it was just empty
meaningless sex and I was done with it. For three years I’d been
fucking her on a regular basis and … nothing, one look at this
girl, everything .
I reached down under the duvet
and grasped my rigid cock. Since Thursday I’d jacked off about six
times a day, just thinking about her lips, those breasts and that backside. I stroked myself as slowly as I could, trying
to prolong it this time. I’d never had a problem holding back, not
since that first time I’d come in Chelsea’s mouth all those years
ago, but the thought of my brunette had ruined me. I’d been
spurting uncontrollably in minutes, every damn time. I prayed it
wasn’t going to be a long lasting effect, hopefully once I got over
this ridiculous infatuation I’d be able to last a lot longer
again.
‘No,’ I groaned as I felt
myself tense up. ‘Baby, what are you doing to me?’ I asked her
picture as I spasmed and flooded my fist. I showered and jacked off
again, then dressed in dark grey trousers and a grey shirt. I had
an interview with the Uni swim team coach, Davies, about being team
captain. I bent over to do up the laces on my black oxfords. It was
a real honour to have been invited, no other freshman had ever been
asked, apparently he’d been following Doug and I on the city team
for the last four years.
The interview with Davies had
gone well, I had the fastest time out of any of the team members,
new or existing. It cheered my melancholy, for a short while at
least. I sauntered up the corridor to the amphitheatre I was taking
English in and automatically headed for the seat opposite the door.
If I was going to try and move on, this would give me ample
opportunity to eye up my fellow female students, yet somehow even
the thought of it didn’t fill me with the excitement I hoped it
would. I sat and watched as people filed in, no, no, no, yet more
no. There were at least a hundred girls in here, surely one of
I rolled over, grabbed my
iPhone and opened the photo I’d asked Doug to email to me, the one
where she first looked straight at me. I caught my breath as I
looked at her stunning face and reached out my index finger and
traced it down her nose and around her perfect lips. My cock went
rigid again looking at her, but for once I ignored it as I gazed
into her beautiful eyes. Shit, I really had it bad for her.
Yesterday
I lay back in
bed, with my hands behind my head, as I looked at the new canvas on
the opposite wall. It was a black and white close up of my mystery
girl and I sighed. I wondered if it was creepy to have it up there?
To be fantasying about her the way I had been for nearly a week?
There again, guys around the world had pictures of pop icons, movie
stars, page three or super models on their walls, this was no
different. Well it was different, they were just crushes, this was
way more than a crush, I already knew that deep in my gut.
After my birthday last Tuesday,
I’d got more depressed as each day had rolled on. Doug had tried
with the social media sites, but no one we knew in the city knew
her. We’d gone back to that damn bar every night looking for her
and we’d gone to Fazeleys, the in club for our age group Friday and
Saturday night, after waiting in the bar, with no luck there
either. I was that smitten I’d even spent all my free periods and
breaks in freshers’ week checking the canteen and roaming the
corridors hoping to see her, but I realised it was a fool’s
errand.
When I’d finally accepted on
Saturday night that I wouldn’t see her again, I’d asked Doug to
produce this canvas for me. I’d even contemplated going round to
Julie’s yesterday, sex would have cheered me up, but I’d realised I
couldn’t do it to her, I couldn’t do it to myself. Now I knew how
emotionally attracted to a girl I could feel, instead of just
physical attraction, I didn’t want to settle for anything less.
Even the thought of Chelsea did nothing for me, it was just empty
meaningless sex and I was done with it. For three years I’d been
fucking her on a regular basis and … nothing, one look at this
girl, everything .
I reached down under the duvet
and grasped my rigid cock. Since Thursday I’d jacked off about six
times a day, just thinking about her lips, those breasts and that backside. I stroked myself as slowly as I could, trying
to prolong it this time. I’d never had a problem holding back, not
since that first time I’d come in Chelsea’s mouth all those years
ago, but the thought of my brunette had ruined me. I’d been
spurting uncontrollably in minutes, every damn time. I prayed it
wasn’t going to be a long lasting effect, hopefully once I got over
this ridiculous infatuation I’d be able to last a lot longer
again.
‘No,’ I groaned as I felt
myself tense up. ‘Baby, what are you doing to me?’ I asked her
picture as I spasmed and flooded my fist. I showered and jacked off
again, then dressed in dark grey trousers and a grey shirt. I had
an interview with the Uni swim team coach, Davies, about being team
captain. I bent over to do up the laces on my black oxfords. It was
a real honour to have been invited, no other freshman had ever been
asked, apparently he’d been following Doug and I on the city team
for the last four years.
The interview with Davies had
gone well, I had the fastest time out of any of the team members,
new or existing. It cheered my melancholy, for a short while at
least. I sauntered up the corridor to the amphitheatre I was taking
English in and automatically headed for the seat opposite the door.
If I was going to try and move on, this would give me ample
opportunity to eye up my fellow female students, yet somehow even
the thought of it didn’t fill me with the excitement I hoped it
would. I sat and watched as people filed in, no, no, no, yet more
no. There were at least a hundred girls in here, surely one of
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