University is a complete waste of time if you ask me - unless you’re getting fucked by a different guy, from a different country with a different sexy accent every other day of the week. How can you compete with those northern sluts, with their perfectly straightened blonde hair, sun-bed tans and fuck-me shoes, looking like they'd just stepped off page 3 of a sleazy tabloid (but stopped for a few pies on the way). The answer is you can’t. Well, I couldn’t anyway. A catholic, posh, naïve, horny virgin with a conservative hairdo just doesn’t cut it compared to them. They wouldn’t know class if it slapped them in the face with an 8 inch cock, yet they still get all the action.

Take my flat mate Cara for example: you could argue that she was sexy, but she was also brazen, common and slutty, with a huge mouth, unattractively long stick on nails and in-your-face juicy breasts. Ticks all the northern boxes (I’ve just left Manchester University for your information). Apart from working in a ‘gentleman’s club’ for extra money and being secretary of the ‘Orgy Society’(don’t ask), almost every afternoon in her bedroom she’d begin performing wild, erotic role-plays with the man of her choice just the other side of my very thin wall making it ideal for eavesdropping: “Sir, I’ve been extremely naughty, I’ve been a very bad girl, you aren’t angry with me” she would beg, “I know haven’t done the assignment you set me, are you going to punish me? I can be such a good student and you know and I need to pass this module, I’ll do anything you want me to?” I’d usually be lying on top of my pink and purple Peter Jones bedcovers, wearing nothing but white pants, brushing my finger illicitly over them to stir up my hungry, achy pussy with eager but guilty anticipation. I couldn’t catch everything they said, lots of muttering amid intermittent squeals of pleasure not to mention that memorable noise of the bed bashing against the wall over and over again: “Oh Sir, you won’t tell my parents will you? I know I’ve been bad, but I can make it up to you…” I’d slide off my pants and look down at my soft, slim thighs, open and inviting with my neat strip of hair (fashioned by Cara) enticing my eyes to follow it down to where my dripping, unskilled abyss of surreptitious pleasure lay quivering. It was at this point I’d hear an almighty crash as they wrestled across the room: “I only wrote it because its way more thrilling than that boring Gabriel Garcia Márques essay you set; I knew you’d enjoy reading it because you’ve wanted me from the moment I walked into your classroom, haven’t you? I’ve seen you looking at my tits; you can’t resist my tight little cunt, can you Sir? Admit it, Sir, and then fuck me and give me my grades.” He’d fling her up against the wall just the other side to where I was lying; he’d be ripping off her blue stripy knickers but forcing her to keep on her school tie and tarty, tartan miniskirt. His deep voice would retort, severely and evocatively: “If anyone is making demands here, it’s me, and you know the only way you’re going to pass this year is to get on your knees and start sucking my cock, you naughty, dirty little girl?”

My hole would perspire so much that my bedcovers would become damp and pungent and I’d get soaking wet just listening to them, slowly sliding my finger in and out of my hungry, inexperienced fanny. My nipples would harden; my body would start to rock and then shake whilst I imagined being thrown up against that wall by some young, powerful and dominating Spanish professor. I’d imagine him demanding me to remove all my clothes even though his trousers were still hung round his ankles, with his brown leather belt lying presumptuously at his feet. I’d imagine being teased with his course yet delicate fingers, before bending me over his desk, holding me tight in his grip and thrusting inside me with his big, Latin shaft. My fingers would gradually accelerate, my breath shorten, my pussy dampen even more until eventually I climaxed... an experience which for me, compares only to a volcanic explosion; natural and unexplained, powerful and dangerous, very hot and very bad…

I can make myself wet, I can dream up the smuttiest fantasies with the right inspiration. I can give myself an earth shattering orgasm, but I’ve never been screwed by a real man. And that’s why I’m going to London. In 3 days I’ve an interview for a PR job. I’m beautiful so people tell me, I’m bright and I’m well spoken. No one needs to know I’m a virgin, and if all goes to plan, I won’t be one for very long…