Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

I have thought long and hard about whether I wanted to have a record of my exploits, my conquests, my down right dirty fucking sex life, and I concluded that, when I am old, I want to be able to look back on this moment in my life and be jealous of my younger self. I mean, I may only be 23 now, pretty in an effortless way, but one day I won’t be, you know, and I might like to reminisce.

Oh Diary, where or where do I even begin to tell you about life? Do I start from today moving forward, or put to paper some of my best sexual highlights? What about my bucket list? Wait, can you really have a sexual bucket list? Is that healthy? Oh, fuck it! I am a self-proclaimed whore, well not only self-proclaimed, I have been called that many times, and I guess that means when it comes to sex, all is fair and acceptable.

If only you knew, Diary, how horny I am already becoming, and I have not even written the words down. I haven’t even told you about the time that Tom and I fucked in the bathroom between classes and I sat in Sociology 205 squirming and feeling his spunk dry in my hole and panties while I took a test. Or when Rachel caught me blowing Jason at a baseball game, and what happened after surprised us both. Lest I forget about Sarah and her perfect tits that I couldn’t resist touching and had to play with her on the bus ride home from dinner at her folk’s house.

Are you wet yet, Diary? Are you horny and ready to learn my secrets?

I once had someone ask me, “Sasha, what is the difference between a hooker and a whore?” And honestly, I had to think about it. Finally, I told them that I guess the main difference is money, and possibly, enjoyment. Hookers ask for money, it is a job. I am a whore, I do it for free and enjoy the holy fucking hell out of it! HA!

So welcome, my dear Diary, to the depravity of me. You will become the keeper of my sexual happenings and we will have much to talk about in the coming days, weeks, months…. years(?!)

Let’s see, Diary, where shall I start?