I didn't know, I didn't care. All I wanted was him. Actually him fucking and humiliating me. I didn't give a shit about him as a person or his thought.... I just wanted him to give me what I wanted. And I was desperate about do or give him whatever necessary for my needs. He knew that and actually he was kind enough to give me what I needed. I knew this was his kindness, he probably could fuck anyone, anytime he wants. He didn't need me, I was not that special for him. I was just a hole for him.. I hope you'll understand that I've been trying to study for my final examinations, and simultaneously trying to stifle (usually unsuccessfully) these awful desires inside me. I guess I've missed writing the diary. You see, it acts as a kind of confessional for me. I don't go to confession any more, and writing my diary acts as a way of unburdening myself of my concerns. When I used to go to confession at church, I always used to come out feeling refreshed. Although, deep down, probably eager to. And it only swelled even more, taking the rest of the blood from my brain that I might have used for reasoning. I had no control at all. I knew in that dark my face was flushed bright red, but I blurted it out anyway, "Would you like to kiss mine, Julie?" My voice shaking. My heart rate in crisis! She pulled at it and now my shorts were too tight. I had no thoughts as I opened my shorts and pulled them down, releasing my cock in all its old straining pulsing glory! I believed it was the biggest. Mujhse haath milaoge to fayda mein hi rahoge. Mujhe inkar karne wale log jyada din is duniya mein nhi rah pate. Shastri ko tum dekh hi chuke ho. Samajhdar ho, khud socho… lekin jaldi.”“…..”Doosri or se reciever rakha ja chuka tha. Indrajeet ab ajeeb asmanjas mein tha. Yahan prof. Shastri ki laash uske saamne thi. Aur phir ye ajeeb aadmi, agar ye takatwar nahi hai to Prof. ne iska naam sunte hi khud ko kyu maar liya aur ise kaise pata chala.. Ye sare khayal uske dimag mein ghoom rahe the.Use.
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