Chapter II: Sherry's Diary: In the Beginning...
Yes, my dear diary, I'm pretending to write to Jen again...
Dear Jen,
Well, yesterday I finally admitted it. And, what's more, I told Kyle at the same time. He took it pretty well. He seemed more excited than surprised. I think he's suspected my desires for a while even though I've never verbalized them. I know he's noticed that when we see some hot chick somewhere, my head turns faster than his to take a look. And he must know that when it's my turn to flip through 102 cable channels, I pause a little longer than I should when some babe in a bikini goes by. I just can't help it; for as long as I can remember, I've always enjoyed looking at beautiful women.
My mother made me repress that line of thought for a long time. You've met her a few times, Jen; you know how she is. Sex was a taboo subject in my house growing up, something that was never discussed in any way. Even harmless fluff like "3's Company" was banned from our TV because of the silly innuendo. And since I'm an only child, it was easier for my mom to keep her eagle eye on me.
My mother tried her best to transmit her sexual hang-ups and guilt tome, especially when I began to hit puberty. I felt so ashamed about my body that instead of talking to her when I had my first period, I had to sneak into the biology section of the neighborhood library and read a hokey kid's book ("Your Body and You") to understand what was going on. I couldn't even bring myself to check it out because I didn't want the old lady at the front counter to know I was reading it, so I hid in the back of the reference section, blushing every time someone came near.
Throughout middle school, I never talked about sex with the other girls and was much too repressed to even flirt with a boy. But there was no way to stop my heart from going pitter-patter when I saw a hot guy or girl.
In high school, it was my mother who made me join the band. I've always suspected it was because she didn't want me in PE so I didn't shower in school. That pissed me off, because I always wondered what my friends looked like naked.
You never knew my friend Dee because she moved away right before I met you. She was Puerto Rican and dark and gorgeous. Once at a band car wash, she wore short jean shorts that showed off so much of her olive-skinned thighs that I'm amazed the band director didn't send her home. The boys enjoyed it, and I kept crouching down to wash tires beside her to be close to her gorgeous legs.
That was fun, but I still wanted to see her naked. I had never even seen a good picture of another girl's body until one day after school during my senior year. I've never told anyone this so please keep your mouth shut!! I was looking for a hat in my Dad's closet for nerd day when I found a Playboy magazine buried deep in the corner. I picked it up with trembling hands, then began leafing through the glossy pages.
The first thing I found was a spread on California girls. There was only one picture per model but the variety was incredible - tan, creamy pale, black, busty, flat-chested, redheads, brunettes, blondes, orientals; you name it, they were in there. I pored over those photos like a jeweler admiring precious diamonds, slowly examining the women's gorgeous bodies and noticing the little things; the curves of their lower backs, the muscles of their calves and thighs, the upturn of their breasts, the shapes of their nipples. I was entranced.
The most amazing thing to me was that some of the women trimmed their pubic hair or even shaved it off completely. I had never thought of that but it made me consider trying it myself. (I didn't actually do it; for a while...)
One picture really got my attention: a very athletic-looking, tan Latina with jet-black hair lounging in a shallow bubble bath. The bubbles in the tub were low enough to expose her torso from large breasts down to her washboard abs. Her legs were bent with her knees above the suds, her trimmed pussy barely peeking out above the water line. Although I've never been particularly attracted to muscular women, her sizeable (but not huge and gross) wet biceps intrigued me. But it was the simmering expression on her face which really got me, and my tongue copied hers, lazily moistening my upper lip.
I couldn't hold back. I sat right there on the floor of my parent's bedroom, pulled down my jeans, and played with myself while staring at that amazing body. Right before I came, lust overcame good sense and I kneeled right over the face of the woman in the picture, pretending she could see my pussy up close. I came harder than I ever had but cooled quickly when I opened my eyes and saw that the magazine was drenched. I obviously couldn't put it back in its hiding place so I mashed it down to the bottom of the kitchen garbage bin and took out the trash. My father never said anything about it. I suppose he thought my mother found his secret smut and threw it away.
But the truth is that it's because of you that I began to think about making my fantasies about other women become reality. Yes, Jen; it's all you. Let me explain.
