There was Susan at a party in high school, but her blowjob consisted mostly of probing licks, giggles, and ended when someone’s (I have no idea whose party it was) parents came home. I pushed those thoughts away for as long as possible. The last batch of the night was the cinnamon rolls. Great big ones, fresh, hot and cinnamony from the stove. The glazing was what did it. Drizzling that sticky sweet substance over the tops of them brought back the images of Marsha’s face, dripping in my cum. The way she licked it from her lips. Stared back at me from beneath a layer of the stuff. I grew hard again thinking about it, and was so absorbed I didn’t realise I was no longer alone. ‘Good morning to you, too!’ woke me from the daydream. The next few moments consisted of me finding I was nearly fully erect, my face burning hot with blood, and an attempt to hide the now deflating cock in my pants. The table stood as a shield between myself and Moira. The next few moments consisted of her. ...Then I wake up, crying.I dont know what to do about this.I dont know who I can talk to.I know dreams aren't real, but it comes from somewhere, but where?And its not just the dream. Sometimes, I look at myself in the mirror, andI look .... wrong, somehow. I look and I half-expect to see the girl frommy dream looking back at me.And the fact she doesn't is a grief I cant even begin to describe ....I've got to pull myself together, shake this off somehow.I wish I had someone to talk to about this, but who?My dad is a man's man, he's counting on me to follow in his footsteps. Goto collage, be the Big Man on Campus, marry a girl just like mom, he'dnever understand.And Tammy's counting on being the girl in that picture, I can tell this inthe way she talks about our future. And yet the more time I spend withher, the more I envy her more than I desire to be with her. She'd neverwant anything more to do with me if I told her.And then there's Dave. We've been friends forever, but if I told.
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