December 11, 19—

So sorry I haven’t been able to write for a few days. I’ve been busy and things with Paul have gotten SO wild and fun and serious all at the same time! I just can’t BELIEVE some of the things I do for him and with him . . . and I don’t think he’s even scratched the surface of what I WANT to do, even though I could never tell my new Daddy that. Still, he always seems to know and just the tiniest little hint that I’m doing something that turns him on makes me SO wet!

I didn’t get to see Paul for a few days after the weekend. We both had big tests that week and my mom kept coming up with stuff that we had to do as a family in the evenings. I got so HOT, though, thinking about Paul and dreaming about him.

At night, I played with myself before going to sleep and then, one night, it got so bad that I called him after I slid into bed, naked, and asked him to talk to me. I kind of lied and said I just needed to hear his voice so I could sleep, but what I really needed was to hear his sexy voice so I could get off like I hadn’t managed to in DAYS. And it still wasn’t enough. I realized that I needed to get him inside me before I was going to feel any real relief.

FINALLY, the weekend was coming up and Paul still hadn’t said anything about getting together. Another guy asked me out, but I was, like, totally not interested—even though I thought he was kind of cute and, just a week before, I’d been flirting with him like crazy to get him to invite me to a party. But I really was hoping Paul would call, so I said no to Other Guy and waited. Mandy saw the whole thing and looked at me like I was totally gone. She’d listened to me talk about this guy for two hours a couple of weeks ago, when Paul and I were still in the preliminary stages of things and I was still planning to date around this year. After class, she asked me and I told her there was someone else, but not who. It just didn’t feel right to say yet. Not until I saw him again.

On Friday, I was walking across campus on this beautiful, clear winter day, when I saw Paul coming toward me. If I were a guy, all I could think to say would be "wow!" I used to pride myself on my poetic streak, but all I can say is, I was SOAKING wet, and he was still twenty feet away!

He came up, smiling, very warm and sweet as always, He told me how beautiful I looked—and I did look good. It was kind of chilly, so I was wearing my slinky light sweater top, no bra—I just decided to toss all of them the other day, along with all my old panties. I don’t know, it just seemed like time to get some new underwear, but when I went shopping, all I bought were thongs! Mandy REALLY wanted to know what was up then, or, as she put it, WHO was up. Still, it didn’t feel right to tell her.

Anyway, I was also wearing my favorite low-rise jeans, so a little of my belly was exposed. He could probably see the top of my new thong panties if he watched my butt as I walked away. But he didn’t let me walk away. He asked me to go to dinner with him that night!

I hope it wasn’t TOO obvious that I was thrilled, but it was probably hard for him to miss my big smile, flirty eyelash batting and breathy "yes." God, diary, I embarrass myself SO much sometimes that, when I think of how stupid my little coy act must have looked, I turn red -- which is very funny, considering what happened a few minutes later.

But we’ll get to that in a second. So, we’re standing there on the sidewalk that runs alongside the quad, with the big oak trees dripping Spanish moss and stretching their shadows across this beautiful green lawn. I was feeling just incredibly lucky to be getting a date with this guy and realized, in that moment, that my feelings for him had really changed and deepened, just in the last few days. The other thing I was thinking was how impossible it would be for me to tell him what I’d been thinking about him the last few days and all the stuff I’d done while thinking of him and all the stuff I imagined him doing to me. And there was NO WAY any of that stuff or anything like it would ever happen, because nobody really DID things like that and, really, only dirty little girls even thought things like that—and they certainly never told their boyfriends.

In that moment, he touched my arm and whispered something in my ear. I don’t remember what, but my eyes closed for a long second and that little shiver I’d felt earlier, when I’d first seen him, bounced from Down There to the top of my head and back a couple of times, making a couple of side trips to the tips of my toes. He looked at me with those gorgeous eyes of his and said, "Do you have a minute right now?"

Next thing I knew, we were slipping into the theatre building, where I spent a lot of time. During the day, they conducted a few classes on the main stage and that’s where we headed, through a backstage door. I know I’ve written before about how cool this place is. It’s this beautifully ornate playhouse built in the Thirties that they recently renovated. It only has around 400 seats, which means it’s much smaller than most high school auditoriums, but it’s sure a lot more sumptuous. Paul led me across the stage and down the aisle to the back of the house. (I know the layout pretty well in here, since I’ve ushered a couple of shows already this year. You know how whiney I am about the department policy that freshmen usher five times before they get on stage!)

At this time of day, the whole building was dim and cool, lit only by a handful of sconces and a low glow from these big chandeliers above the seats. Paul guided me upstairs, into the balcony.

We went all the way to the back row, which still commanded a great view of the empty stage—one show had just closed and set construction for the next production hadn’t started yet. He shrugged out of his backpack and sat in the seat on the aisle, taking my books and putting them on the seat beside him, behind his backpack, so there was no room for me to sit or get by him into the row of seats. I stood next to him.

Anyone who walked onto the stage or into the first few rows on the main floor would be able to see us dimly, since the lights in the house weren’t up, but still they could probably make out who it was. It wasn’t a very big space. And right then, I didn’t care.

My tummy was fluttery and I was afraid I was soaking through my jeans. I was IN one of my fantasies—to be on the verge of physical intimacy—of getting laid, okay?!!--in a public space, a space where people who KNEW me might see me, where the little slut who’d lived inside my head and heart and, yes, my pussy since I was old enough to have a sexual imagination would finally be exposed, literally and figuratively. How did this man, with whom I’d only been acquainted for a few weeks, know me so well? How was it that I was willing to let him lure my inner slut out of hiding?

I kicked off my shoes, getting ready for whatever was coming next. I couldn’t wait to do what I thought he was about to ask me to do—but then he took it in a different direction than I imagined. One even MORE in tune with my rich fantasy life than I could believe.

"Take off your sweater," he said, in this deep, firm, powerful tone that further dampened my already damp pussy.

I took a deep, shuddery breath as I did what he commanded without even a second’s hesitation!

My GOD, diary, I can’t believe it even as I’m writing about it now. One minute, I’m walking to the library to do some research for my theatre history paper and the next, I was standing, topless, in a public place, absolutely dying for this yummy man to bend me over one of the plush theatre seats and slide his cock into me. My nipples, sensitive in the best of times, were like little pebbles—either from the super-cold, overly air-conditioned air or pure horniness, I couldn’t say. I licked my lips in anticipation, sure he was about to ask me to suck him off, which I absolutely couldn’t wait to do.

"Take off your jeans."

OhmyGOD! I did hesitate this time. His brow furrowed. I’d read that phrase in books, but never actually knew why it was supposed to indicate anything other than a headache--until I saw Paul do it. He has a very expressive brow!

The idea that someone might walk onto that stage and see us actually made it easier! (I can’t believe I’m writing this, but I swear that’s how it felt). But I’d waited too long. Paul wasn’t pleased. Seeing his displeasure, my hands went to work and, in a few seconds, I was standing in front of him in just my new little green thong panties. If he asked me to go further, there was one more surprise for him. But before we could get to my surprise, he had one more for me.

"Face down across my lap."

It’s hard to describe exactly what went through my mind right then. Looking him dead in the eyes, there was absolutely no way I was going to refuse anything he requested, commanded or even hinted at wanting me to do. At the same time, I was more frightened than I think I’ve ever been in my life—and more relieved. He was pushing me into a place that I’d never believed I could or would really go. So it’s a scary place, but an incredibly liberating place at the same time. This man was going to give me what I had always craved, open up things in me that I thought I’d have to keep hidden forever. Somehow, he knew a part of me that I didn’t think I’d ever be able to share with anyone—and I loved him for it. Not only loved him, but adored him.

The first blow of his bare palm of my butt was like a blessing. The slap of it echoed through the empty theatre. The sting of it went straight into my soul, fanning the fire that was already burning there into a roaring flame. My breath came in short, hungry gasps as the spanking continued. I know this all sounds kind of turgid and melodramatic, but I don’t really have any other words to describe it. I whimpered and bit my lip, not because it hurt so badly, although it did, but because the pain opened me up with each jolt, made me truly ME than I’d ever allowed myself to be. That pain represented my liberation, even as it made me his without reservation.

After several dozen blows to each round cheek, he stopped. I shivered and caught my breath for a few moments, sobbing very quietly, though it sounded like thunder in that empty theatre. My ass burned and I wanted more—but I knew that the punishment he’d given me was exactly right. Whatever he decided was right.

Then he shifted his legs, whispered that I should stand, and helped me get to my feet right in front of him, with my flaming red ass facing the stage. He was sitting in front of me, but I’m not all that tall, so our faces were very close.

When I finally looked him in the eyes again, he wore a very serious look.

"Don’t hesitate when I give you an order, Kim. Do you understand?"

I nodded through the streaks of happy tears on my face. I smiled, tentatively. He remained very serious. I knew the next test was coming.

"Lose the panties." The same even tone.

This time, I was delighted at being given the opportunity to obey promptly and surprise him all at the same time. I turned around, both to show him the bright redness of my butt cheeks and to stall the reveal for just a second longer. I waited with my fingers hooked around the tops of the thong at my hips, and I held off pulling them down almost long enough that he might think I was daring him to start the spanking all over again. Just before the seconds ticked from "pregnant pause" to "defiance," I bent over and eased the panties slowly down my legs. He seemed to like what he saw, because I swear I felt his eyes making little hot tracks on my butt—a butt which has been called "tight" and "cute" on more than one occasion. (And to think that tame comments like that used to embarrass me!) Right then, it was mostly red!

When I turned around, my little surprise worked just the way I hoped. His eyes widened and he gasped just a little bit when he saw that I’d shaved off all my hair down there.

"Do you like it?" I asked, in my best coy girl voice.

He only smiled as his eyes moved up my body. When he looked me in the eyes, he nodded. Then he surprised me.

"Touch it for me."

I was so wet that my fingers slid in with no problem at all and it felt SOOOO delicious! I parted my pussy lips and began to tickle my clitty very lightly. The burning sensations from my butt worked their way into my pussy from the back and the warmth of my own touch worked its way in from the front. My knees trembled and my eyelids fluttered. I slumped back against the cool stucco wall and the cold, rough textures of that surface added to the sensual overload. I could tell I didn’t need much of this to come, but I also have to confess that, good as it was going to be, it wasn’t the kind of orgasm I really needed.

In less than two minutes, I was on the verge of a nice, long cum, with one hand buried in my pussy and the other alternating between tweaking my nipples and kneading each breast. It felt really good, but I opened my eyes and looked at him, kind of wanton, I hoped, but probably a little pleading too. "Paul, please fuck me!"

He just smiled, the beautiful bastard, and said, "Maybe later tonight, baby. Why don’t you stop now."

That man! I let out a frustrated moan that was a lot louder than I realized, but did as he said. I couldn’t believe he was going to get me that close, then make me wait. I said so, but then he said something that sent another electric thrill straight to my pussy and almost made me go off right then and there.

"There’s a class starting in here any minute and I think I just heard the first students come in."

I turned in a panic, forgetting I was naked for a second, and looked into the theatre below. So far, no one was visible, but now that he’d called my attention to it, I heard voices. The house lights came up a few points and the lights on the stage came up to full! One of the students from the class, Jack Dalrymple, who was in theatre history with me, came out from backstage. He was quickly followed by Marilyn Hightower, a girl I’d known and cordially disliked since middle school. I leaned over Paul’s leg, reaching into the aisle for my clothes. He stopped me.

"Kneel down between my legs."

I saw where he was going now and couldn’t believe it! I also couldn’t believe how hot it made me! The carpet was rough on my knees, but then Paul pulled my sweater out of the aisle and handed it to me to kneel on. I looked up at him, my eyes glowing with the hunger I was feeling.

He smiled again, that warm, loving smile of his, and then nodded ever so slightly, whispering: "If someone looks up here, they’ll probably notice me sitting here. If they look closely, they might see the top of your head. I don’t want to get caught, but if we do, Professor Hawkins is a horny old goat and I bet he’ll give us a pass if you suck him too. Of course, if the students see us . . . "

My fingers had been busy at his fly while he said these nasty things to me and, by the time he was finished, I was pulling his hard, smooth cock out and devouring it! The idea of being caught, of being known as this horny little slut who would suck her boyfriend off while a class was going on just below us and who might even have to give a blowjob to someone to keep them quiet turned me on so much, I was trembling from head to toe. It was partially panic and mostly lust.

If my friends from high school could see me now! Prim Kim, naked, wet and sucking cock in the balcony of a theatre. I was worse than that big slut, Janie Cochran, who, if Torrance High hallway rumors were true, did a gang-bang with half the basketball team one night after a game. Oh, God! Marilyn Hightower was down there! If she saw --- just the idea of that smarmy, blonde bitch knowing that Prim Kim, Prom Queen and class valedictorian, was really a super-slut had me moaning around Paul’s vibrating cock. He seemed to enjoy the effect, so I hummed lightly as I sucked, daring the acoustics in the theatre to carry our sounds to the clueless ears below.

Maybe I wasn’t as far gone as Janie Cochran, yet—but the scary thing is, I think I would do something like what she’s rumored to have done if Paul asked. And the even scarier thought is that I’m starting to believe I’d like it!

(Diary, you know that I never enjoyed giving my first boyfriend head very much. Paul is so different! He tastes like this yummy, very hard éclair and his come is like ice cream. He’s much bigger than Matt was, but I can take him all the way into my throat without choking and just seem to know exactly what to do with my tongue, too. It’s weird, but it’s almost like I learned to give head better in my sleep!)

And all this is going on in my mouth, with his hands in my hair, pressing me into his crotch with these quiet little grunts coming from him – while this acting class gets started down below us and I can hear Dr. Hawkins, who taught my theatre history class too, gearing up to talk about the Russian acting guru, Stanislavski, and his influence on American film acting technique and it’s all so incredibly hot!!

By the time Paul came—simply BUCKETS, by the way, that I gulped down like it was Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia—I’d already shuddered through three or four little orgasms of my own, brought on by the excitement of what we were doing and where we were doing it.

I stayed between his legs as he recovered for a minute. Then he reached down and picked up my clothes, stuffing them into his backpack! He leaned over to me and whispered in my ear again.

"That was great, Kim. We need to get out of here before he gets the class up on stage for warm-ups—but let’s play one more little game," He stood up and stepped into the aisle, pulled on his backpack and picked up my books. Always the gentleman, I thought, even as the irony of that notion in these circumstances almost made me burst out with a fatal fit of the giggles.

"I’m going to slip down the stairs," he whispered directly into my ear. "Give me a minute before you follow, ‘cause we’re less likely to attract attention that way. I’ll wait by the front lobby door with your clothes for five minutes, but if you’re not there by then, I’m gone—I have an appointment with my lit professor to talk about a paper in a few minutes."

Before I could protest, he was on his way down the steps. I crouched behind the chair, hotter than I had any right to be in that frigid space, frightened and STILL incredibly wet! I could smell the sex on me, too, and that made me even hornier!

And here’s the even weirder part—the more Paul did this kind of thing to me, the more he put me in positions where I might be exposed for . . . well, for the slut I guess I am . . . the more attracted to him I became and the more I wanted to do anything he asked of me!

I glanced around the back of the seat I was hiding behind and saw him reach the railing at the front of the balcony. The lights were much brighter than they’d been when we came into the theatre and, suddenly, Professor Hawkins, who was right in the middle of a point, pointed up at Paul and said, "Is that Paul R_____ up there?"

Paul stopped and he and the professor exchanged a few pleasantries while my eyes bugged out and my heart rate went up by at least fifty percent! Apparently, Paul had taken a dramatic lit class from Doc Hawkins last year and written a paper that touched on the very point Hawkins was just making! Any other time, I would have been interested in what they were saying, since I’m really into that stuff, but all I could think in that moment was, "WHY NOW?!"

"Oh, my, what a coincidence! I was just saying to the class blah-de-blah Your Paper bleh-de-bleh My Theory on Strasberg bluh-de-bluh, drone, drone, drone."

"Yes, thanks Professor. Yah-de-Yah. Interesting Idea of Yours Wah-de-Wah Tennessee Williams Zah-de-Zah Kazan and Brando Pickity-pocketah-pooh. . ." and I’m up here, thank you very much, starkers and wanting to be fucked and scared out of my mind and about to SCREAM if you don’t wrap this up and GO!

"And what are you doing in my balcony, Mr. R_____? Studying, eh? In that light? Well, younger eyes than mine, eh?"

Finally, after what seemed like forever but was probably only a couple of minutes, Paul proceeded down the stairs. But now I knew my window to get down there before he had to leave the lobby and go to his appointment was even smaller! And the Professor and his whole class were alert to the possibility of a presence on the balcony! Any more movement up here in the next few minutes would draw their attention immediately! It was going to make it that much harder for me to get to Paul and my clothes without being noticed.

As all this was running through my head, I was listening with half an ear to what Doc Hawkins was saying, trying to time my exit. It sounded like he was wrapping up his introductory remarks. If I didn’t move soon, the whole class was going to be up on the stage, warming up and getting ready for some acting exercises, and there would be fifteen pairs of eyes with a chance to see me, not just one. I took a deep breath and stood up.

The professor was still talking as I stepped slowly into the aisle and began to make my way down the short flight of steps to the front aisle of the balcony and then to the stairwell. I was about halfway down when Doc Hawkins, glanced in my direction—and stopped talking for a second. He’d seen me!

You could hardly tell, though, because he kept talking. There was, like, a little hiccup in his flow of words and then he just moved smoothly back into his point about how Lee Strasberg had corrupted Stanislavski when he developed the Method, but that it was a visionary corruption demanded by the technical demands of the emerging medium of film. (See, Diary, even when I’m wandering around, naked and horny and a threat to public order, I’m still a whore for knowledge!)

He looked up at me several more times as I made my way to the bottom of the steps, trying to be casual about it, but also trying to identify me. With his comment earlier about dim light and "younger eyes," I was wondering if he’d recognize me at all. I was just a freshman who sat in the middle of a big lecture class, not someone from a small seminar class who’d written a paper he’d really liked. I knew that, once I reached the stairwell, I’d be blocked from his sight and free to make a break for the lobby, but then, instead of speeding up to minimize his chances of identifying me, something made me slow down!

Diary, I really don’t know what happened, but in that heartbeat of a moment, I took in a breath of something BIG. Something shifted inside me. The fear and humiliation I was feeling were still there, still very sharp and hot, almost welling over and fueled by the excitement that was still there too. The boldness of what I was doing makes me wet just thinking about it, even now, days later. And yet, in that moment, I just decided, "What the hell—this is me and I am HOT! If he’s straight, he’s liking what he’s seeing and I’m going to make sure he knows he’s had a treat!"

I stopped dead, right at the rail of the balcony. It hit me right at my waist, so he couldn’t see my naked snatch, but the bare boobs were sure visible! I gave him a little wave and he glanced up again, staring right at me! I blew him a kiss. Then I spun around and, as his distracted gaze was causing the students in the seats below to shift and glance back in my direction, I darted into the stairwell!

I was pretty sure I made it to the stairs before anyone from the class saw me, but Professor Hawkins sure got an eyeful, probably including a glimpse of my bright red ass. He’d be able to pick me out of a crowd now, even if the crowd and I were fully dressed!

Breathless from horniness and the excitement of being seen, I sprinted from the steps to the side door, out of view of the lobby. Paul was turning to go when I arrived, but caught a glimpse of my streaking form out of the corner of his eye. That same sweet smile lit up his face. Even though he was playing this incredible power trip on me, his eyes were gentle and kind. He knew he was giving me a gift, even if it seemed like he was just exploiting me. It’s like he could see right into my soul!

He knelt down to pull the clothes out of his backpack, even as I stood, naked and trembling, looking around frantically to see if anyone was coming into the lobby.

He pulled the clothes out but, as I reached for them, he held them tightly and looked me in the eye. "How wet are you?"

"Ohmygod, I am soooo wet, Paul! I should be so mad at you and right now I’m scared to death—but I have never felt so hot and sexy in my life."

"Good. This is just the beginning, Kim. I’ll pick you up at eight tonight. Little black dress, matching thong, heels and bag, Nothing else."

With that, he let go of my clothes and I hugged them to my body. He opened the door, wide, and I stood there in the streaming sunlight—just as three guys and a girl walked by, probably headed for the dining hall. Paul held the door open, asking me casually if I was ready for my theatre history test. One of the guys got a good look and stopped dead in his tracks, grabbing one of the other guys. Soon, the whole quartet was stopped, looking back at him, to see why he’d stopped—and following his gaze to me. They saw me. I could tell by the shocked expression one guy gave me, and the smirks and leers from the other two guys AND the girl! They saw me all right—every inch of me.

Paul whispered to me one more time: "And whenever we’re in private, Kim, and the feeling moves you, you can call me ‘Daddy’"

I shuddered as one more tiny little orgasm swept over me. The door started to swing shut as he turned and headed away. Just before it closed, I looked right into the eyes of my four admirers. Didn’t know any of them, but it was a small campus. And, with some of that newfound feeling of freedom Paul had given me, I winked and blew them a kiss.

The solid whoosh and click told me that these doors were locked from the outside. I’d have plenty of time to vanish before they could find a way into the building, if they were inclined to try.

I stood clutching my clothes in the dimly lit lobby of the theatre, the sound of Professor Hawkins’s class murmuring behind me, as tears of deep joy drifting down my cheeks.