Diary

bypast_perfect©

1.

Done. Another cup of coffee and I am going to puke. My back hurts and there is this effing knot at my neck again. Fucking program. I am not going to bother and test that piece of shit now. Need to get some more fags. Have a wank. Unwind. Skin up.

Gotta check my mail first. If that fucking cunt is going to request yet another additional feature, I'm going to scream bloody murder.

No topic, dunno the sender either, hotmail, what else. What the fuck is that?


November 1st

It's getting colder outside. It's getting colder, period. Trees don't resist the wind. I do and it hurts.

Do I miss him? No. Hell no. That cheating double-faced freak. That wasn't his sole crime. Being boring amounts to so much more. He wasn't even any good in bed. Or maybe he was, just not with me, what the hell do I know? No, he couldn't have feigned being that bad. That would have required some degree of intelligence. No, no, no. I'm done crying. I'm done screaming. I'm done being done.

It's Jack's birthday tomorrow. I don't know what to get him. Who is he now? I haven't seen him since last year. Yeah, that was a brilliant idea to move to this godforsaken place so far from home. I hope they haven't upped the fares again. Three hour train ride, just what I need.

What do I need?

I could do with some strong arms around me now. Fuck the arms. I need a cock. A cock. A cock... Ah, it grows on you when you repeat it often enough. Why the fuck am I so horny all the time? It's not like there is a vacuum now, there hasn't been much matter in there before either. Need to pack my stuff now and stuff my pussy later.

Later.

What is that? Someone is taking the piss out of me. Jeez, this is unreal. What kind of a sick joke is that? Angie? No that can't be, that was... fuck ...Seven years ago. No, eight, eight bloody years. And she wouldn't write like that. Never. One of the pricks from work? Nope, too classy. But what is this supposed to mean? Rubbish. Why even think about it, just delete it. Nah, can't delete it, have to show it to Pete at least for a laugh... no fuck that. Darn, this is even kinda hot. Stuff my pussy later. Who is this? Never mind. Get your knob out and read it again. Fuck, this is weird. No, answer her. Answer what? Hi unknown weirdo, thanks for creeping me out for no apparent reason. He he, yeah, I should offer a few stuffings and request some stockings in return. After all, the holiday season is upon us. So... what the fuck? Just write something.

Hi,

I don't know if I received this by mistake. In any case, I don't know who you are and would appreciate if you could explain....

Rubbish. No. That's like saying:

Dear Madam,

Thank you for your diary entry dated November 1st. I have looked into the matter and I cannot find you on our customer database. There is no recent entry for the exchange of body fluids of any kind on our records. All previous contracts have long expired and it is our company policy not to extend a grace period beyond the warranty required by law.

Actually this is much funnier. Maybe she'd dig that.

I am sorry if this has caused you any inconvenience and look forward to hearing from you.

Yours sincerely.

Yeah, that'd be a perfectly weird response. All hail the king of creepy repartees. En guard Madame, touché, reposté, send, send the fucking thing, before you lose your nerve... He he done, fuck... Need to get away from this bloody screen now. She's not going to answer anyway. Darn this is strange.

2.

Fuck. Can't believe I've written this crap. Now, if it was one of the plonkers at work, I'm thoroughly shafted. No response. You're an idiot mate. Brilliant. Shit, I'm not going in today. Ring in and tell them it's going to take longer to finish the module. Need to debug the whole poncy thing anyway, so it's not even lying. Can't have it that the prissy bitch rolls her frigging eyes again, when it crashes. Right, breakfast, shit, need to go out and get aspirin and some milk.

Well, if she went to a birthday party, she's not going to be able to respond tonight, is she now? Just look at yourself mate, now you're checking for another instalment of a semi-erotic raving of some weird chick on the internet... every bloody hour. I should probably get out more. What a mental way to start a conversation. Maybe she is sitting in some funny farm and they are having firewall issues. That'd be just on my wavelength. I should hack into... no, I should get out and get a couple of beers before the off-licence closes. Fuck, I haven't even shaved yet.

I don't believe it. Here we go again.


November 2nd

It's colder outside today. Just outside. I'm hot. My faceless lover's got a voice in the wind. But he doesn't understand the rules yet, so I can't hear him in the storm.

I wonder, I wonder what he thinks, I wonder what he is, I wonder if he pictures me, as I picture him. It's not a stiff shirt I need. But stiff it should be. Oh, I can picture it now. Picture his pole rising to salute me. And my pussy answers in kind and flags him in. November is always the wettest month of the year. Why should it be any different now.

I got Jack a couple of CDs at the train station. That was a bit loveless. After all he is my brother. I don't think he liked them either. What do I know what he likes? He didn't talk much. Mum said he's got problems with his girlfriend. Should I have been the shoulder to cry on, be the understanding open-minded sister all puberty ridden half-wits dream about? I don't even know the guy any more, and I scared the shit out of him when he was smaller anyway. At least he lets me use his computer to write my diary. I am going to check out if that little creep has any decent porn hidden here somewhere.

There was this perv on the train trying to sneak a peek under my skirt. Didn't give him the satisfaction of a close-up, crossed my legs all the way. Should have shown him that I didn't have any knickers on and his stupid eyes would have popped out of the bloody sockets. But that'd be satisfying him. He didn't deserve that. He made no effort. Has everyone forgotten how to make an effort? It takes a while to get me going. It takes even longer to get me to a decent orgasm, or two, or three. Hmmm, I know what I need to do right now. Can't type with one hand. Later.

This is nuts. She is nuts. A nut case. Case of nut, nutting more. Brilliant, you are being turned on by Sharon Stone's sister. Next, you should get a rabbit in case she needs to boil it. Or was that the other one again? My memory sucks. Rules of the game? What the fuck is that? Who the fuck does she think she is? Apparently a girl with a prospective bladder infection after insisting on flash-ability despite freezing winds outside. No wonder she's mentioning that weather crap all the time. Still, love the part with the stiff salute. He he, she must be clairvoyant... Madame, est-ce que... can't remember shit... Madame Claire Voyant, yeeha et voilà. Rides trains without knickers, come on darling, do ye wanna ride my train? Man, you're losing it. No, actually this chick is pretty funny. Wettest month of the year, hell, that sounds fab. But what the fuck does she mean by rules? Miss Riddler needs a fiddler to fiddle her. Blast, she wants me to think, doesn't she. Make an effort. Rules. Rules. Schmules. So what would the geezer on the train have to do to get a peek? You show me yours and I show you mine? That'd be, yeah... some weirdo getting his cock out on the train on the off-chance of a reciprocate gesture. Brilliant. That'd be the day. I need a spliff. Maybe it makes more sense then.

Oh, bugger. Now I'm really fucked. Yeah man, that was clever, stoned out of your wits, and now you are going to think of a clever response... Does she want a response at all? Heck, she would, wouldn't she? So I'm supposed to guess who she is, what her bloody rules are, what her minge looks like... Yeah, reflect on that one for a moment... Tall order for a man as thoroughly shit-faced as I am right now. Shit. So, sister of one lucky loser, what else is afoot now? Want me to show you mine? Mine... That's it, that's exactly what she wants. Yeah, didn't she say wonder what he thinks, wonder what he is and so fucking forth. Damn, that wasn't such a big deal after all. Getting slow. Slow wit never gets a tit. Next my memory will go. Then she'd have to explain the whole thing every day over and over again. That'd be a blast. He he, so... what am I going to write?


2nd November

Got accosted for the second time by some seemingly deranged personality who pretends to be rather hot flesh in dire need of attention. Tossed off five times on the prospect that she might in fact be human and an additional time pretending she was female. Apparently she's got wind. Since it has been a while that anyone has blown me, that might work to her advantage.

Didn't go to work today. Found a yoghurt in my fridge from last year. Kept it for its first anniversary on the 20th. Couldn't find any crust-free undies so I went commando to the off-licence. When I saw the tortured face of the girl behind the counter, I realised that I was reeking like a billy goat. Felt like vocalising that. Desisted. Made a hoof gesture. She didn't get it. Why would she? But I got it. Had a shower. Almost burned my dick when playing with the showerhead. Shaved my pubes. Like the feeling of a clean-shaven cock and it looks so much grander then. At this time of the year, it's pointing to the polar star, if it gets northern exposure. You could navigate ships with that. Forgot to shave my face again. Will have to if someone wants to sit on it.

Discovered that I am not who I wanted to be. Decided that didn't really matter. Getting on just fine, but getting off is better. Am going to act on that wisdom now. Later.

Ok, that doesn't make any sense. Perfect. Send.

3.

Oops, did get a bit carried away there, didn't I? Note to self: Don't write to knickerless nuts when you're that toasted. Anyway... if she is as wacky as I think she is, it shouldn't matter. Man, this is crazy shit. So now, get your act together... fuck, need to go to the laundrette. No fucking way, need to go to work today. Service wash, yeah, fuck it, pick it up again after work. And now for the morning flag ceremony...

What a bloody day. Terror alert. Geek alert. Cunt alert. Come on, luv, make my day. Yesss. 'ere we go.


November 3rd

Now I hear his voice. Now I can get it inside of me. So many lives are lost in distance. Will he listen if I talk silently? Can I whisper my nothings in his ear? Does he understand a word repeated often enough?

I've been playing with myself when Jack walked in on me last night. I wasn't embarrassed at all. He was, though. Turned on his heels and ran out. I came immediately afterwards. My toes curl when I orgasm. I get noisy. Very noisy. Maybe he was still standing at the door. He blushed at breakfast when I tried to talk to him.

Mum took us out for some shopping. I bought a blue skimpy top that was sinfully expensive, but Mum insisted on paying for it. Sneaked off and bought some lube for my toy. Jack didn't even dare looking at me during the entire spree. I think he saw me going into the adult bookstore to get fuel. I feel really naughty, maybe I should wind him up a bit more. Mum was blabbering the entire afternoon, two more days to go. Now I remember why it was that urgent to get out of here. Being that far away has its advantages.

So it's a bald eagle circling over my equally barren nest. To shoot for the stars is always admirable, I hope he can shoot a load on my chest. That'd be a load off mine. Later.

Interesting. Really, despite being obviously in the process of pushing the envelope on all fronts, this lass kicks ass. Winding up her little brother, wonderful, sickeningly wonderful. A wicked wench here on the bench. Would gladly enjoy being admitted to her toy collection. And now for something completely different...

3rd November

A day to remember. Decided to bite the bullet and submit my shit today. Got stuck on the tube, because of some crazy terror alert. The train was packed. I was wedged in close to the doors between two middle-aged women and two Japanese tourists. Where do you put your hands on these occasions? Mine were close to hot fleshy thingies that could have been anything. Think I felt a hard-on on my leg, but hopefully it was just a hand or a purse. Got me going though. I think I haven't had enough action recently. Felt drops of pre-cum dripping down my trousers, as I still haven't got any underwear. So in addition to every claustrophobic's nightmare I let my siren call with the sweet scent of anticipation. One of the ladies shifted her position and looked me straight in the eye. She rubbed her tits on my chest, but made it look like an accident. My hard-on didn't feel like an accident though. I shifted and pressed it against her hand. Her eyes lit up and she held her breath for a second. She turned her hand so that she could clutch what was by then significantly more than just a straw. She paused, then squeezed, softly, appreciating in full length what good fortune had put at her grasp and disposal. I thought I participate in the scheme to bring joy instead of terror to the world and steered my hand to what I can only hope was her minge, lest someone else got a free ride. Just when my middle finger received a warm wet welcome, the train started moving again. We actually both sighed when it started. Can't even remember what she looked like. She had beautiful green eyes though. And we both got off at the same station.

Hadn't prepared for the presentation properly. My unknown friend has cast a spell on my magic wand, all of a sudden it's like Mickey's brooms. Miss Haughty had to have a word and all I could think of during the tongue-lashing was that it should rather take place in my nether region. She is a bitch, but she does have very decent tits, not that I ever notice them. Think it upset her that I stared at them during the entire conversation, as recompense for whatever she was trying to tell me there. Didn't listen, but it sounded nasty. All I got was that I had to help out one of the nitwits for the rest of the day. That was tasty. Managed to mess up some of his work, before he was saved by the bell.

Messed up my bed afterwards and then remembered that I forgot to pick up my laundry. I could do with a chest to land my paratroopers on as I'm running out of sheets. Somehow I think she could even take a mouthful if it was phrased nicely. Need to work on the sheet pattern now. Later.

So, send? Hang on, I missed something. What is it? There was something in her first paragraph. Repeat, enough. A word. Did she repeat any word particularly often? Doesn't look like it, really. Unless... no. Maybe in the previous bit...Wonder, wonder...nah, that can't be it. Picture. Picture. Picture... yep, that should be the word of the day. So she wants a picture. Of what? My face? My arse? My prick? I don't have a camera babe. And that's not something I'd ask one of my mates for. "Hey Timmy, would you mind immortalising my penis as a personal favour? But hang on, I'd rather work it up a little first." Nope, not really in my book now. Coming to think of it, Timmy would probably love it. Fuck, of course, there is the mobile. Brilliant. Hey sunny, all rise, shine and smile. It won't take your soul. Stand proud. Fabulous. Upload. Attach. Send. Now think. Yeah, perfect. That is very classy. Now you've crossed the line to perversion proper. Should get a trench-coat and a lawyer. And some sleep. Some sleep.

4.

Hmm, looks like a triple whammy here. Shit, she tells me she was pissed that her ex cheated and I start off telling her that I fingered a stranger on the tube. And also that I got a hard-on being dressed down by my boss. On top I sent her a picture of Mr Johnson. Seriously Lieutenant, your tactics leave lots to be desired. To put it bluntly Sir, you are out of your fucking mind. Ok, relax. It's Saturday. You need to focus. Find something to wear that doesn't have cum stains all over it and pick up your bloody laundry. Get some more grass. Do some shopping. Ring Pete and tell him that you don't feel like going to the pub tonight. Lock yourself in before you end up messing about and turn anything you touch into shit. Shit, this is worse than a hangover. Yeah, hangover, get some booze or all you do is ooze.

Come on girl, don't leave me yet. I was just warming up. Hmm, if she does get over this freakish outburst, I should probably marry her. Or introduce myself even. Not sure about the correct order here. Good girl, that's my girl, she's my girl, la la la.


November 4th

He listens. He understands. He looks just the way I pictured him. He got my juices flowing, my cheeks glowing, my clit growing, when Jack walked in again. This time he didn't run. Fuck it, he's eighteen now, so he was admitted to the show. Was his room after all. It didn't take long and he got his knob out and gave me something to watch. It felt weird, we didn't speak a word, just strummed our strings and wings to high altitude. Although he was six feet away from me, some of his pilots crash landed on my knee. Tasted it. Bitter, guess he's still not over me torturing him for the better part of our childhood. I didn't know what to say. Gave him the will-kill-you-if-you-tell-anyone look, and was on my merry way. That wasn't incest though, was it? We didn't do anything with each other. He didn't turn me on. My lover's pic did. Yet he is still faceless. And faithless, unfaithful, at this fateful juncture. He rides the tube, so will I when I return to my hallowed castle. I shall forgive his transgression, but he has to do penance. So on every even hour he has to look at the likeness of all my glory and speak a hundred Jane-come-fuck-mes whilst working the good shepherd's crook. I shall plug my nook with all due reverence concurrently.

Don't want Jack to find me lost in action again. Will regroup in my own room. It still looks like it always has. Mum keeps it like a shrine. I think she just doesn't want to admit that I couldn't stand living with them any more and will never return. She is so bloody clingy since daddy died two years ago. Can't sort her out, have enough on my plate myself. One more day to go.

At least now there's a tasty dish on there too. Hmm, I need to snack on that. Am going to meet him in my mind on every even hour. Later.

Attachment. Open. Fuck... nice. That is a glorious hole if I may say so. Challenge extended, challenge accepted. Good timing lass, only five minutes to wait for the first romp. Record my faithful observance? Yeah, why not. Looks like she wants a face-shot too though. All in good time. Hello there, 5, 4, 3, 2 , 1, come fuck me Jane, ah.. heeyah heeyah heeyah...come...

4th November

Did penance until only clear liquid came out, so I reckon I am purified now. Felt jungled when I heard Jane. Didn't beat my chest though, but meat it was. And I was not alone. Jane, Jane, Jane. Jane, come fuck me. Come fuck me Jane. Am going to repeat this mantra 'til I snap or it actually happens. Showed her my spunk, then spunky hair, face attached. Faith restored? Faced again. Sit on it? Shaved a bit. Lick her clit. Grab her tit. Enter slit. Perfect fit? Get a grip. John, you drip. Want a sip? Bite my lip. Heave my hip. Sail that ship. What a trip.

Yes, this really is a dear diary moment.

It's half past four in the morning. Overdid the penance perhaps. Better get some sleep. Will I get a face to dream about next? Dream I will. Later.

Boah, now I'm really washed. Right luv, you won't get any more out of me tonight. Attach. Send. Switch off. Wow.

5.

What is that supposed to mean? Ring, ring? Phone from the Fifties? No, that's the fucking door. Who's that in the middle of the night? Say again mate? Pete. Fuck. What's the time? Shit. Now I am not going to get rid of him all afternoon. Yeah, come up mate, ruin my holy Sunday exploiting dead-end schemes to get the only woman back that was ever insane enough to hang on to you for more than a fortnight. I'll put the kettle on. That's what friends are for. Ah, movies. So it's not going to be that bad after all.

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