The Diary
Maria opened the shop, coffee in hand, minutes before 10am. The diary was sitting on the checkout with the mask and pen sitting next to it. It so startled her that she spilled her coffee on the door step, and it splashed up on her jeans. "Damn!" she said, entering the shop.
Maria switched on the lights and turned on the open sign. She set her coffee down, and looked sadly at the diary. With a long sigh, she opened it to see the entry.
She nearly dropped it. She knocked the rest of her coffee to the ground, but she didn't care. The diary was full. It wasn't like the other times. It wasn't a single sentence. It was an honest to goodness story.
She threw 3 towels onto the spill, wiped it up, and grabbed the diary. She went into the main reading room, sat down, and started to read. It had been over ayear since the diary left the store, and Maria was not sure it was coming back.So, it was going to be nice to learn what was up over the last year.
Sunday -- December 1st
Dear Diary, Can someone please tell me what the fuck I am doing writing a diary? Seriously! WTF? Not only am I writing a diary, but I feel absolutely compelled to do so. But why would a 50-year-old, 6'3", 270lb man feel the need to write a diary like a teenage girl? Well, here I am writing this thing. Let's see where it goes. I am probably writing it because of the call. I expected to be on the bench for the month, but now I am heading to DC. I am going to have to take weekly flights to DC for the duration, and this project is scheduled for 3 years. I am probably subconsciously concerned, and this is my way of working it out.
Monday -- December 2nd
Flight went fine. Took the Metro into DC from the airport. Hotel is around the corner from the client, and an easy walk from the Chinatown Metro. Nice to be in here with good food options. I'm a Legal Seafood fan, and there is one down the street from the hotel. A little surprised we are using a boutique hotel, but the client dictated the choice. We all have suites. Another surprising choice. Turns out the hotel is owned by the client, and they only house company visitors and executives. Makes a little more sense. Given the luxury of the room, I am not going to complain. The day was a typical kick-off day on a project. Everyone is getting set-up. Always takes days, and sometimes weeks, for laptops, accounts, and even security badges to be assigned. This week will probably be easy. Going to enjoy it while I can.
Tuesday -- December 3rd
Saw a small bookstore, Chinatown Books and Antiquities, on my way to the client this morning, and I dropped in to check it out tonight. Something fucking freaky beyond freaky happened.
I walked into the store, and I saw diary. I forgot about being in the store to look at books. I bought the diary, and heading back to the hotel. The fucker came with a pen and a mask. Who the fuck needs a mask for a diary? The pen is nice though. It has a nice heft to it, and it write smoother than any pen I have ever used.
I admit it. I have a pen fetish. Shit, I would have bought the pen if I knew it was this good. I have to go back tomorrow to ask about the pen. I need to buy a few more. The whole diary, pen, and mask only cost me $50.
But back to the weird shit, when I got back to the hotel, I opened the diary. My entries from my original diary have been transferred to this one. The entries are all written in my hand. But how the fuck did that happen?
I don't know, and I am not sure I want to know. It happened. Go with it. Perhaps this is why I felt compelled to write a diary in the first place.
Wednesday -- December 4th
Fuck me! I had dreams last night. I don't really dream. But, they were all dreams about cheerleaders. Fuck, I must feel so silly writing a diary that I dreamed about high school. Not that I ever hung with cheerleaders in high school, but I do remember them.
Thursday -- December 5th
Weird dream-a-palooza! I saw putting on the mask, and being transported back to high school. I couldn't see myself. But, I was damn popular, especially with the cheerleaders.
Honestly, I am looking forward to getting on the plane tomorrow, and heading back home.
Friday -- December 6th
I just woke up on the airplane. I do not remember getting on the airplane. I do not remember my day at work. I woke up with the diary open, the pen in my hand, and the mask on my face. I had never worn the mask. It was not a sleep mask. Why did I put it on? Why am I having problems remembering the day?
Saturday -- December 7th
I thought the weekend was going to be relaxing. It isn't. My wife is calling me Jule Ian. I'm serious. My name is Julian. She knows that. Why would she be mispronouncing my name? She wouldn't! I am fucking losing it. I am cracking up. The diary and the dreams are just the precursors to my psychotic break.
Sunday -- December 8th
Stayed in bed all day. Listened to music on my iPod. Realized I didn't have anything that I wanted to hear. Fired up Pandora, and listened to their Top Hits channels.
It was background noise that just helped me relax. Besides, Katy Perry is interesting. Here is something cool ... if I wear the mask while listening to music, it is like wearing a pair of high-end Beats headphones. I'm just going to leave it on and listen until I go to sleep.
Monday -- December 9th
Holy crap, I am in trouble. Mom just came in and woke me as "Julie Anne." She never calls me Julie Anne unless I am in trouble. It is spirit day at school, and my uniform is all cleaned. OH SHIT! I probably don't have a clean bra. I notice Mom laid the cleaning on my dresser. So that is probably what I missed.
"Mom, love you, Thanks for doing the laundry." I kiss her as I come into the kitchen. She looks different. I think she is happier. When Dad comes down wearing just sweat pants, I smile. COOL! Mom got fucked. Those are always good days for me. I grab my backpack, throw my wallet inside, kiss Mom and Dad, and bolt for the bus stop. They will appreciate having some more quiet time.
School was normal. One of the freshmen girls in homeroom had her first period. Kelly and I rushed her to the bathroom, and we got her cleaned up. School nurse came in, Thanked us for helping, and got her sorted out for the rest of the day. I made sure to put an extra tampon in my backpack. Never can be too careful.
Speaking of too careful, Mike was all hands after practice. He tried to reach under my skirt to get a feel, and he did it in front of his friends. Asshole! We are done. I posted an Instagram picture of a sign that read, "We're Done!" He's been trying to text me since, but I am not answering.
Tuesday -- December 10th
Was awake and writing in my diary before Mom even came into my room. This diary was the best thing I had every decided to do.
The freshman from yesterday, Tamara, gave Kelly and I big hugs, and her Mom sent us Thank You cards with Victoria Secret gift cards. OH! Love it. Going shopping after school. Invited Tamara. She seems cool. Just taking a break during lunch to write this.
Fucking Mike! Fucking choir slut! I think her name is Amber. She was all over Mike, and he was groping her for all she was worth. Good for them. I don't need it. Still happy about after-school retail therapy.
Bought some real cute and sexy lingerie. Might have been for Mr. Asshole. But, not to be. Came home, Mom was sucking Dad's cock in the living room. Her face was glistening from his pre-cum. Her make-up was a mess. Dad is well hung, and there is no way she could suck his cock without gagging. I knew it was just a warm-up, and that she'd get the cock she deserved. I smiled as I waved hello to Dad.
I am writing this entry on Mom's Sybian. I can hear her moaning from the living room. She won't need it tonight, and I need to cum. I'm barely able to write coherently. So, I am going to stop now.
Wednesday -- December 11th
I woke up happy. Nothing like a great Sybian session to start the day out right. Mom and Dad are still fucking like rabbits. Mom left her car keys and $100 on the table. I got the message. I go pick up Kelly, and we stop at Starbucks on the way in to school.
I am going to use the rest to get a manicure and pedicure after school. Kelly agrees to go with me, and I call to make appointments. Hang is the best, and I need to let her know we are coming.
Tamara joined us in home room, and we invited her with us. Need to show the new girl how to do it right. She won't get Hang, but she'll get to hang with us. Writing this in 2nd period. Ms. Jackson is looking at me with death-ray eyes.
Got a mani/pedi, and hung out with my girls. Tamara's Mom met us. Mrs. Killian is very cool. She is a fashion designer, and she offered to show us around the offices on Friday afternoon. They are located right on Market. We can take Caltrain into town, and use BART, the buses or walk to there.
Thursday -- December 12th
Too tired. Stayed up talking to Tamara and Kelly on KIK. Not feeling like writing much.
Friday -- December 13th
Wrote a reminder on my iPhone to buy Christmas presents this weekend. I know better than to wait. Looking forward to meeting Ms. Killian at her offices this afternoon. Borrowed some of Mom's business attire, and wore a pair of 4" heels that matched my nails.
Dear Diary, is it OK to tongue kiss a guy you just met? I hope so, because I've already done it. Tamara would have freaked because it was her brother. Nigel is a freshman at Berkeley, and he was in the office when we got there. He was talking to their Mom. I never would have thought to kiss him, but he cornered me in the office. He pulled me into a supply closet, and kissed me like I have never been kissed. Damn! He is so strong. He has a great smell. And, I love how he just pinned me to the wall to kiss me.
Saturday -- December 14th
Dear Diary, Thank You! It must be OK. I woke up to two great messages. One, Kelly texted me to say she spent the night getting fucked by Mrs. Killian, and she even texted me pictures. Holy shit! Mrs. Killian is built. Good for Kelly. She'd been trying to make me a lesbian since 9th grade, but we'd only kissed once or twice. She's my best friend, and not a bad kisser. But, I like boys ... no, I like men, Berkeley men!
The second message was even better. Here is what it said, "It is OK for you to fuck my brother. I think you make a cute couple. XOXOXOXO, Tamara." I nearly fainted. I didn't want to upset her, and she already knew.
OK, I am writing this late in the night. I could be Sunday. I don't know, and I don't care. But, I want to record what happened.
I came downstairs, and Mom and Dad were in the kitchen talking to somebody. That somebody was Tamara's brother, Nigel. He had a bouquet of roses for me. Dad grabbed his car keys, shook Nigel's hand, kissed and hugged me, and headed out. Mom hugged and kissed me, and whispered that I could use their bedroom. She winked at me and said, "You have great taste in men, Julie Anne. Glad to see you pick them like your Mom."
Nigel came over to me after they left. I was holding my breath and biting my lip. He picked me up, and I wrapped my legs around him. He carried me up to the Master Bedroom. I excused myself to their bathroom, and told him to get comfortable. Mom had laid out full lingerie in both White and Black for me. She knew! Feeling impish, I went for black, which including her riding crop and thigh-high boots with 6" heels. I might have felt ridiculous, but Nigel made me feel sexy.
When I came out, his cock went from semi-erect to a full erection when he saw me. I giggled. I had long, black silk gloves on, and I caressed his body. Damn! He was built, with six-pack abs, and the most perfect 7" cock I'd ever seen.
Mom and I had watched porn together. She wanted me to know what to expect. I knew I didn't want my first cock to be porn-sized. In fact, porn-sized cock was a turn-off. Nigel was not a turn-off, and I was already wet thinking about him.
I tried to be smooth and in control. But, he'd have none of that. He grabbed me, and I was forced to straddle him. I let his hard cock rub against my panties. I was rubbing myself against that cock. I was losing it, and I didn't care.
Nigel grabbed my tits. My nipples were hard, and his warm mouth on my nipples made me scream. Damn! He was good. My back arched. His hands controlled me. I was trembling.
I couldn't wait. I peeled down my panties, and I slipped his cock inside. Lights! Rainbows! Fireworks! Tremors! Fucking Earthquakes and Bombs! Time stopped!
Sybian's are great. But, fuck, they are nothing in comparison to a real cock. No wonder Mom fucks like a rabbit. Holy shit, I intend to fuck like Mom if Nigel will have me. And Damn if he doesn't have me repeatedly.
I quivered on his cock at least twice that I remembered. I swallowed at least one full load of his cum when I gave him a blowjob to get him back after he came inside of me the first time. And just when I didn't think I had another orgasm left in me, her fucked me doggie style, and then fucked my ass. Holy fuck! I am a fuck slut. I orgasmed from my first anal fuck.
Well, to be honest, I had ridden the Sybian in my ass. Perhaps it is why it felt good not painful. But, I didn't care about any of my past experience, I was just looking forward to many more experiences to come.
As I write this, Nigel is asleep in the bed with me. I am cum covered. I am a mess. And you know what, I don't care. I have never felt more complete in my life.
Sunday -- December 15th
Nigel and I come downstairs to applause. Mrs. Killian and Kelly are naked, and we making out on the couch. They are clapping. Mom and Dad are fucking doggie style in front of them. Turns out, they didn't even see us coming.
Dad was demonstrating fucking techniques for Mrs. Killian to use on Kelly. Kelly was wet, and obviously liked what she saw. Mom was leaking cum, and Dad was sweaty. Nigel and I stopped long enough for all of them to register we were present.
The diary was in my hand. I don't remember writing any of this. But, I must have done it. As I look at the diary, a handsome Nigel, and naked people all around, words in the diary appear. I am not writing these words.
Dear Julian/Julie Anne,
I did hear you. I knew your secret wish. A good diary does such things. Now, it is your choice. You can stay Julie Anne. You can go on with your life from her. Your wife will become your Mom as you see her now, and her college sweetheart will become your Dad. Your love life will be as it is right now, and your life will be in front of you.
Or, I could show you a transsexual life. You did originally ask for that, but it didn't seem to be your real heart's desire. Things will change from how they are now, but I think you will enjoy it. Since I am your diary, I can tell you that it will not suit you quite as well.
Or, you can got back to being Julian. I think that is the least attractive option. But, I do not make your choices for you. You have to make them on your own.
A Little Over a Year Later -- January
Dear Diary, Thanks! Thank You for being who you are, and for understanding the real me. More importantly, Thank You for giving me time. It has been over a year since you asked me what I wanted. I now know exactly what I want. You know it as well, but it is worth writing it down.
Thanks for the second chance. Stanford really fits me. I never expected to make the cheerleading team, but what a thrill to be on the field during games. While I know that guys are watching me, it is very sexy to know that Nigel is watching me too. I love when he can make the games, and is sitting in the stands watching me live.
I also want to say Thanks for the great sex. The first time round was OK, but this time it is fucking awesome. Toys are great. But, Nigel's cock is perfect. So are his abs, his chest, his arms, his lips ... well, you get the idea. I love that everything I have is so perfect, and provides me with such pleasure. For example, I never knew I could orgasm from having my tits sucked, until Nigel did it. I have yet to find a way that I don't like sex.
I am also happy to be bi-sexual. You gave me a really high sex drive, and that is nice. I know women who are cold fish in that area. I need sex daily, but that brings its own problems. Toys are great, but real humans are better. I prefer Nigel, and I will be monogamous in dating men. But, it is nice to know that women are just open to having fun.
Nice to see my ex-wife, and my current Mom, so happy. I never realized how much she missed sex until I watch her fuck Dad. And Damn! He is fucking hung. Way too big for my liking. But, Go Mom! I was not as big as Dad, and she is obviously a size queen.
If you stick around, I'll be glad to continue to post updates. But, I do not feel the need to write as often. Life is just happening as it should.
Thanks! XOXOXOXOXO, Julie Anne
Maria wiped herself, having cum several times while reading the story. As she finished, a new volume appeared, The Making of Julie Anne. It was a fully edited story, with wonderful photographic images, from the neck down of course. Julie Anne would not have expected those, but I think she have liked the outcome. And Damn! She is right, Nigel has an almost perfect cock. Good for her!
As Maria placed the book on the shelves for future customers, the diary erased itself. Awaiting the next diarist in need of a sympathetic diary to really listen to their pleas.
What do you think? Let me know at tsjuliemonroe@yahoo.com