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diary entry: november 2012 — the freshman There is a moment..
🕑 Added 2023-04-04 22:39:17 +0000 UTC diary entry: november 2012 — the freshmanThere is a moment when his thigh presses against yours under the conference table during a particularly dull stretch of ‘Walden’ when you realize your patience has paid off. He took the weekend to think things over: there was some ex-girlfriend who might wind up at Yale and the sudden rejection stung because you found you actually cared. You went to class today in lacy tights and a miniskirt expecting to feel stupid, to find yourself trying too hard to seduce some freshman you barely know because you are floundering blindly for some validation. But the solid, firm heat of his thigh presses against yours under the conference table. You keep your eyes fixed on your paper before tracing your toes up his calf.
After class he walks close at your side and the tension smolders on the long trek to his dorm. His bedroom is stark and empty. He tears you to pieces and draws out the raw desire that has been in remission since your breakup. No one has pulled your hair quite like this. No one has pressed down hard on your lower abdomen to make you shudder, made you beg for his tongue between your thighs.
He coaxes the orgasm out of you after two hours of teasing and you are not sure if this is really the blond freshman aspiring politician who has so many opinions about philosophy. He has a thing for power and control, for force in its most taunting form, and you revel in it. You don’t want to be made love to. You want to be fucked.
