Sunday September 12 1988 11:10 pm
Rock You Like A Hurricane.
He can't dig me. He can't. Not a gorgeous hunk like him with every girl in school crawling all over him. Not just the sluts. All the girls want him. Even some of the teachers check out his ass when he walks by.
He doesn't want me. He's just teasing me, playing a game with me because he caught me looking at his dick so many times. Tease the faggot. Is that the game you're playing, Travis? Is that why you did what you did today?
He actually called me. Asked if I wanted to come practice some passes. Why didn't he ask one of the receivers, I said. He said he still didn't know any of them that well, and he could come pick me up in his car. We could even swim in his pool later. I said I didn't have any swim trunks that fit and he said I could borrow some of his.
I really didn't want to go. I was a little pissed off because of the way he teased me the other night when he dropped me off. But at the same time I wanted to be with him; and the thought of wearing his swim trunks, the very same ones that had cradled that incredible cock of his, turned me on so much I stopped thinking straight and said yes. I'd probably say yes to anything he asked me. And he knows it. That's the worst part. He knows exactly how hot he is and how much people want him. Specifically me.
So I let him pick me up in his hot car. Radio loud while I dreamed my favorite daydreams: boyfriends, driving along with the wind in our hair, smiling at each other and laughing without caring what people thought. Fuck! What a fantasy.
His house is huge. A fucking mansion. He acted embarrassed when I said how big it was and how great it was. His parents were gone for the afternoon, shopping in the city or something, so it seemed really empty. I think the hallway echoed.
