Chapter 2
by 
Sarckle
Which story?
Dear Diary
April 18, 1952
Dear Diary,
I have a secret. Eek, I feel as if I shouldn’t even put it down, or at least I should write in code. But I’ve never been any good at any spycraft, and I can’t live with all of this only residing in my head. So I’m to tell someone and you’re the best at keeping secrets, I know Emily would surely spill the beans and oh God forbid my parents ever heard.
But anyway, I went on my date with Roger tonight. You know the boy from the diner, the one who always talks to me while I grab morning coffees for the office. He was a real gentleman the whole evening. And then, oh how to even say any of this, we were walking to his car and passed by another couple sitting in their car. But, eeek it only looked like the guy until we got close and then. As we passed we saw the woman, she was knelt in the passenger’s seat with her head in the gentleman’s lap.
She looked up when I gasped at them, and I saw his—well you know. She blew me a kiss before, eeek well before returning to what she was doing. I was in shock the rest of the way to Roger’s car. I had never, how could she, or but why?
Love,
Mary Lauter
April 20, 1952
Dear Diary,
Last night, I had the strangest dream. It was about the other night, about after my date with Roger. We were walking back to his car again, when we saw that same couple. But this time we didn’t move on, we stopped and watched. Roger disappeared, as people often do in dreams. Everything was about me and that couple.
I wondered how it felt to be in her place. Watching as everything I saw ran on repeat. Her looking up and blowing me a kiss. Rinse and repeat. Until once she looked up but it was the strange woman, it was me. Like looking in a mirror, eeek, my own face so close to the man’s… member.
I woke up all sweaty, my bed sheets soaked through. I expected to be smited when I arrived at church this morning. What kind of respectable God fearing woman would have dreams such as that? I need to just forget all this mess, and continue on as the good girl that I am. From now on, no more ungodly thoughts.
Love,
Mary Lauter
April 22, 1952
Dear Diary,
I ran into Roger again today. He asked about going out again on Friday. I said yes. The memory of after our last date was brought back up, or rather the dream form of that memory. Despite my efforts to cleanse my mind, the dreams have continued.
Love,
Mary Lauter
April 25, 1952
Dear Diary,
I can’t believe I did that. I’m going to burn in hell, my parents will disown me, and I’ll surely be fired. Eek, I’m getting ahead of myself, I apologize.
I should start with the date. Roger was so kind as always. Pulling my chair out, helping with my napkin, pouring my wine. My wine, I would blame my actions on the wine, but with my list of sins I needn’t add any more. No, my weaknesses are all my own. The wine wasn’t there when I had those dreams every night this week.
We had talked about his work and mine. Family and all the other appropriate topics of conversation. The events of last week only crossing my mind during the lulls in speech. And then the walk to his car. My eyes peering into every empty car, out of fear perhaps as the alternative of hope being so much worse.
I made a stupid joke about the other couple. I should have never brought it up, let alone in the presence of my date. It brought the rest of the conversation to very un-Christian places. He told me about what that couple was doing last week. I’m sure I was bright red, as Roger explained in rather sparse the details what a “blowjob” was. How could I allow such topics to be discussed? I’m going to hell.
He kissed me, when we reached my door. I didn’t expect it, my mind was in other places. Still processing everything I’d learned tonight. It was a perfectly nice kiss, what I remember once I realized what was happening. I will need to pray extra tonight.
Love,
Mary Lauter
April 30, 1952
Dear Diary,
The dreams, or at this point nightmare might be more apt, have continued. Each morning my sheets are soaked through, my body overheating through the night. Perhaps I’m sick, fever dreams. Maybe I should visit a doctor, but then would they inquire about the nature of my dreams. Perhaps dying is the better alternative, I’d likely die of embarrassment if I had to tell a doctor about all that.
I have another date with Roger on Friday. Oh Roger. The dream last night, it had been a few nights since the woman was anyone but myself. But last night was a first, the man who had steadily grown faceless as the memory grew distant, being replaced by my dream, but last night he wasn’t just a faceless man, he was Roger.
When I saw him today, when he asked me out again, I thought my face was about to burst into flames. How am I going to face him again? How am I going to make it through a whole date?
Love,
Mary Lauter
May 2, 1952
Dear Diary,
If I wasn’t damned before, I surely am now. I don’t even know how to put this into words. The date was awkward, at no fault of Roger’s. I couldn’t focus on the conversation, my mind returning to the dreams. I was caught off guard when Roger brought up—the thing that had been occupying most of my attention the past weeks.
At my doorstep, he teased about his perception of my mind, what he called my “obsession.” When I stumbled over my words, he laughed and called it cute. My stomach did flips at the next point when Roger offered to show me.
And obviously as a good Christian girl, I turned him down. Or at least I should have. Oh, I’m the worst how could I let this happen. And even worse, how could I have liked it?
He took me inside. Guided me to my knees at my couch. My experience with the male anatomy is limited to put it nicely. Accidentally walking in on my brothers growing up, and the inciting event from my first date with Roger. So it might not mean much when I write about how large his manhood was, but I couldn’t imagine they come much larger.
He took it so seriously. Teaching me. Guiding me. Where to put my tongue. How to hold my hands. He spoke with such certainty. His skin was hot, the taste—I’m lost for words how to describe it but it was truly all encompassing. My hand slid over him, the heat of his skin burning against my palm. I put him in my mouth, my tongue depressed as he instructed and guided past my lips.
I’m not sure how long it lasted. At times it felt like I had been at it forever while at others it felt as if time was standing still. The weight of his hands laid atop my head, guiding me through the motions. The weeks of dreams hadn’t compared to the reality of the situation, the warmth rushing through my body.
And then came the end, the finale of the whole endeavor. Roger used his own hand, moving mine from him. He held my head in place as his manhood spit across my tongue. I hadn’t known what to expect. My whole body shivered, my mouth filled with an odd taste. A hint of sweet, under the biting bitterness that tingled against every corner of my mouth. I swallowed it, Roger seemed slightly surprised. But when I asked what I should’ve done, he said I did everything right. The sentiment sending a thrill through my body all over again.
It was oddly satisfying, but it was all wrong. I couldn’t possibly repeat this mistake. That’s for certain never again, at least until marriage.
Love,
Mary Lauter
May 6, 1952
Dear Diary,
I’ve always heard no sin is greater than another. I always took that to mean quality but what about in terms of quantity. Is committing the same sin twice worse than just the single time?
I ran into Roger today at the diner once again.
Love,
Mary Lauter
May 23, 1952
Dear Diary,
Why can’t I stop? Each time I see Roger I can’t stop thinking about it. The dreams have never stopped. And these thoughts and sinful desires have grown beyond my relationship to Roger. While running to the store for Mr. Henricks, I caught myself staring at nothing shy of at least three men’s groins.
Then tonight’s date with Roger went the same as most other encounters with him. A perfectly nice evening followed by a sinful display of lust upon my knees. Even now as I write about it, I can taste his ejaculate on my lips.
He doesn’t seem to care about our frequent sinning. Should I? Who are we hurting?
Love,
Mary Lauter
June 18, 1952
Dear Diary,
Today was Roger’s and mine two month anniversary. He’s such a nice guy, but then at times it seems like we don’t fit together. Our conversations lull more and more, sometimes I wonder if the blowjobs are the only reason we’re still together. Or at this point which of us enjoy them more, for my own dignity I will still assume him.
Love,
Mary Lauter
June 21, 1952
Dear Diary,
It’s over. Roger and I are no more. He asked to spend time together tonight. He showed up, and our evening unfolded as usual. But tonight before I had even swallowed his ejaculate, he “remembered” that he had another obligation that he had forgotten. I don’t buy it for a second.
The next time I see him, it’s over.
Love,
Mary Lauter
June 24, 1952
Dear Diary,
I did it. I broke up with Roger. And what else might have occurred before I ended it isn’t of importance. Roger is behind me, and so will my dalliance with sin. Tomorrow is a fresh start, and a way to reclaim my salvation.
Love,
Mary Lauter
June 25, 1952
Dear Diary,
My new start has hit a bump in the road. Today while on an errand for Mr. Henricks, I ran into Frank. You remember him, my ex from highschool. Well anyway, we started talking and I couldn’t help but thinking about blowjobs. How many chances we would’ve had back in the day. It was a thought that had grown all too common in the past months, but today was different. Today I wasn’t in a relationship.
One thing led to another, and Frank joined me in the bathroom of pharmacy. His manhood was starkly different from Roger’s. He had more skin, it slid over the end of his manhood as I ran my hand over him. It was odd at first but I quickly became accustomed to the difference. And while Roger was straight, Frank curved to the side.
And then the biggest difference came with his ejaculate. Roger’s was thick and bitter, while Frank’s was thinner, almost like water with a stronger taste of salt. Did each man have a different taste?
Stop, I can’t let myself wonder about such things. Today was a hiccup on my return to the path of righteousness.
Love,
Mary Lauter
June 26, 1952
Dear Diary,
I am ashamed of myself. But I can now confirm that each man’s ejaculate does taste differently. And that’s all I care to say about that for now.
Love,
Mary Lauter
July 4, 1952
Dear Diary,
Mr. Henricks threw his annual Fourth of July bash. Everyone from the office was at his place outside of town. And I made a huge mistake. I was on my way to the bathroom. The place was empty everyone was outside watching the fireworks show. That’s when I walked in on Paul. I saw his manhood, and my mind went blank.
His manhood was impressive, my earlier entry about thinking that manhoods couldn’t possibly be bigger than Roger’s has now been proven false. Unfortunately, his ejaculate was subpar from what has become a growing base of knowledge for me to compare. I barely got the chance to experience the taste due to the low volume.
And as if giving Paul a blowjob wasn’t bad enough, George walked in while I still had Paul’s manhood in my mouth. In hindsight, I can see how bad it was for me to give a second coworker a blowjob. But in the moment I relished in the chance to move past Paul’s lackluster ejaculate.
And George didn’t disappoint in that manner. While Paul ranked lowest in terms of volume, George provided a large sample. And his taste was bitter, the kind that felt like a kick to the tongue. But as it swirled around my tongue I was ecstatic to swallow.
I ran into Warren as I made my way back to the party. I couldn’t help but wonder if he had just been a minute earlier, I’d have likely given into the temptation for a third time tonight.
Why am I like this? Why can’t I just be normal? It’s the Fourth I should be writing about the beauty of the fireworks, and how Sandy fell into the pool. But instead I’m comparing Paul and George’s ejaculate, while imagining a scenario where Warren was part of my data set. Monday is going to be awkward.
Love,
Mary Lauter
July 7, 1952
Dear Diary,
I was right. The morning started awkward. It was obvious by the stares I was receiving that either Paul or George had talked about the events at the Fourth.
Mr. Henricks called me into his office. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence as I am his secretary, but it felt different. The way he called my name, or perhaps it was just the nerves from the morning full of rumors swirling around me.
I was certain that I was about to be fired when he mentioned his party. But instead he asked me out. I was shocked, but I couldn’t say no, right?
Love,
Mary Lauter
July 11, 1952
Dear Diary,
The work week has been weird. The glances from Mr. Henricks, or I guess at this point I should refer to him as Bill. The date was magical. Bill had always come across as stiff at work, but tonight he was charismatic and mesmerizing. Was this really the same gentleman?
At this point should I even pretend as if I don’t know the intimate details of Bill’s manhood? It was quite large, not quite as big as Roger or Paul but more than enough. He was circumcised, I learned that word from the guy at the supermarket and then learned its definition from the encyclopedia. And finally his manhood was straight with just a slight curve upwards.
The oddest thing came after. I hadn’t even realized until it happened, but he kissed me afterwards. It took me a moment why it felt odd, but none of the numerous other men had ever kissed me after the deed. It was nice, and strangely intimate.
Love,
Mary Lauter
July 12, 1952
Dear Diary,
I ran into a man at the post office. As had become common place, I approached ready to request a private meeting when I remembered Bill. I stopped myself, it felt wrong to follow through with a stranger after a date with Bill. I might have to end this with Bill. Thinking back to my time with Roger, I’m not certain I’m ready to give up my newfound freedom for a single man once again.
Love,
Mary Lauter
July 14, 1952
I might be in love. I had every intention of breaking it off with Bill. And I did. But then he asked why, and I froze. I had my reasons ready which mostly culminated with the fact that he’s my boss. But when he asked why, I blurted about not wanting to stop seeing other guys.
And he actually said that he didn’t want me to stop either. Evidently he asked me out because he really liked hearing about me with Paul and George. That and he had always thought I was pretty.
Could Bill Henricks really be the one?
Love,
Mary Lauter
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