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When Harlan left and I was left with a pussy anxious for cock; my first cock, I was so depressed.

That night in bed I started thinking of who would be the one.

What about Bobby Campbell? No.

Randy Carpenter? Too fat.

Jerry Johnson? Too stupid; he probably didn't know what goes where.

I went on and on. Thinking of other possibilities. Exhausted and almost in tears, I fell asleep.

I woke up in a sweat. Mr. Marin!!!!! I'd been dreaming of Mr. Marin on top of me. I was drenched in sweat. My hair was wet, and my thighs sticky.

I had a part-time job at the local donut shop. I had to be there at 6, but was finished by 10. My mind was elsewhere; my mind was thinking of how I might get Mr. Marin to fuck me. "Hey Darlene, do you have your head up your ass this morning?" My boss yelled at me.

Mr. Richards, my boss, was somewhere over fifty-years-old. He was always staring at my ass. He was always staring at all the girls' asses. Most ...

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