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. I didn't have a lot of energy to go out job hunting right at that moment. I was still having a great deal of trouble adjusting to the loss of Helen. I would go to bed at night and lay on my side, alone, missing her terribly. When I awoke in the morning, her side of the bed was still empty. As I wandered through the house from time to time, it seemed far emptier than missing just one person. I felt like the house ... our home ... had lost its personality.Ten days later, there was a knock on my. More

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