I needed to be fucked. But none of the boys I knew, would ever make a move and I was really afraid of looking like a slut. I couldn’t talk to anyone...I knew about my sex obsession. My friends were all virgins, and would probably think I was weird if I told them how much I needed to be fucked. So every day I suffered, almost feeling like I was going completely mad with this burning need to have a dick inside me.In my time in summer school I met this pothead girl. Her name was Sarah. She had red. Kelly's brown hair was very long, and worn in a fashionable beehive. She had make-up caked on, in he way that girls of that age do. Fearful to face the world, yet desperate for the approval of men they trowel it on. I rather find that fetching actually. Kelly had tinted foundation and blusher on. Eyebrows fiercely pencilled in till they looked like two caterpillars. Dark mascara thick on. Scarlet lipstick. I rather approved.I told Kelly to sit down while I read out the 'charge sheet' - which. More

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