The Nerd Diaries: Harold (18+)

Four: The Shore's Tide

Dear Diary,

Yesterday was a mistake.

But, so was the time before that... And I will probably continue to go on like this considering I just can't resist Jean.

As I was getting ready for church (like five seconds ago) I could not keep my mind from wandering to her.

I don't really know why she's suddenly taken an interest in me, like, why did she go after me in the shower that day?

Jean and I have known each other since we were kids. Went to the same school, even had playdates often because our parents—mothers, have always been close friends.

This does not explain why she's attracted to me though. At all. I'm intensely curious to know what changed.

Also, I'm intensely erect right now.

Since I have a solid (ha) ten minutes until it's time to go and no foreseeable softening of my dick, I'm going to go...

Totally using Jean's panties for this,

Harold.

Closing my journal, I eye the bit of fabric sticking out from beneath my pillow. It has me thinking back to yesterday when I felt them as they rested on Jean's hips... soaked and—oh my hell.

I take them in my hand and bring them to my face, inhaling her scent. "Oh good God, I am never resisting this girl again," I say out loud, pulling out my heavy erection and stroking it with the hand that has her underwear wrapped around it.

A shaky sigh leaves me and I close my eyes, conjuring up a filthy scenario that should most definitely not be in my head right before church—it stars Jean Woods, of course, and looks a lot like that fateful day in the shower room. Alright, this is totally my mind recalling the memory.

I stroke my shaft hard and leisurely as I wait for the moment that the memory gets to the good part—when I turn around and see her rushing toward me. So naked. So wet. And so damn sexy.

My fingers wrap around the base of my shaft and squeeze tight when I get a little too excited at the memory of her boobs. I am determined to use every last minute I have to thoroughly work my shaft to this goldmine of a memory.

Like a third party camera guy on the set of a porno, I watch Jean roughly jerk me into her, her hand immediately gripping my dick. I groan aloud as I relive that first touch, pumping my shaft in time with her hand as the memory continues rolling.

Her mouth covers mine, those plump breasts press against my chest and her hard nipples drag against my skin. "Hell," I grunt, gripping myself tightly once more to hold back my orgasm.

Alright, you got this Harold, I pep myself after a steady moment of rapid breathing.

Jean is suddenly in my arms, legs winding around my hips. My stupid memory self falls back onto the slick tile floor and I mentally throw popcorn at the horrid scene—and promptly stuff my face with it when she starts grinding into my erection.

"Jean," I groan, focusing my efforts on the sensitive crown of my phallus. It makes everything even more intense because just as I'm moving my thumb over the cum dripping slit of the head and smoothing it around, Jean's pussy takes in the first inch of my shaft.

"Oh god." Yeah, this was the moment that she abruptly sank down onto me and I became obsessed— with those bouncing tits as she rode me, and with her in general.

Hand stroking faster, I watch every bounce and sway unfold in my mind until the moment Jean's lips part and she cums with a sharp cry.

That is precisely when the tension in my balls releases all at once and I cum so hard that a shout wrenches from my throat. My hand and her underwear are covered in my seed when I look down.