Diary Literotica

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Diary Literotica
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A petite teenager explores her sexual desires.
Innocent cheerleader finds lust with family & friends.
Book One: The Diary of a Loser - Educating Kaylee
Jenny's punished for not wearing panties to school.
A brother and sister find each other by the pool.
Twin brother & sister share a dorm their freshman year.
Sister finds brother's sexual diaries.
Mom has to tell him, but tells of her latest encounter.
A high school jock decides to document his senior year.
It all starts with a little glimpse into my sister's journal.
Mom harbors a secret she finally confesses to her diary.
Suppressed forbidden desire enacted.
Fiona's father convinces her she's attractive.
How my daughter Anna and I became lovers.
I find out about my father and his mother.
Stud fulfills my fantasies after reading my diary.
When a loving wife returns. Sequel to StangStar06's story.
A young nobleman leaves home in a Bronze Age world.
Daddy and Chrystal's secret desires.
It was cold and wet, but he was so damn horny.
His girlfriend is in lockdown. With her ex.
With Aunt Sue away, I seek new distractions.
He makes her fantasy - and his! - cum true.
A young woman explores a special taboo interest.
The first of the Diary of A Ladies Man.
Girl and daddy encounter their doubles.
Sean's mom makes a startling discovery.
A time-traveling, universe-tripping, bodice-ripping fantasy.
A prince traverses the journey of going from boy to man.
Two guys have bareback fun in a restroom.
From sexual tension to seduction to my submission.
Little things with Brian and I start adding up.
He wanted the excitement to return.
I bare my soul... confessing to my diary.
Victorian ladies encounter lustful plant.
All events from 1969 are true, as well as I can remember.
I tell you about mothers skanky life style
Why I desire to be a submissive male.
A blonde finally acts on a crush she has on her older cousin.
A young homunculus chronicles her first days of sentience.
Brian reads my diary, finds out my true feelings.
College cheerleader and her professor in an alleyway.
He gives his wife her fantasy after reading her diary.
Max continues his life after making love with a ghost girl!
Widow gets it on with two neighbors.
The holiday diary entries of a cheating gf.
The truth comes out. Brian finds out I’m gay.
A young girl heads to college and discovers herself.
Chrystal turns 21 what surprises does Daddy have for her.
Wife relates the contents of her diaries.
An elderly swinger finds his deceased wife's diary.
If you don't want it found, don't write it down.
This is a diary of my ongoing obsession with my stepsister.
Out of confinement...will Seema and Simran be reunited?
Melanie's Story, Quinn's Heartbreak.
A housewife discovers a mysterious journal after moving home.
Sexual diaries of Yara, an Arab girl.
My colleague becomes my roommate, and more!
A daughter confesses to a night of incest.
Diary of a repressed woman and her new landlady.
A Father & Daughter Have Sex in Wartime Tokyo (Revised).
Daily sex diary of a big beautiful and well endowed woman.
Virgin, Jean, is aching for the right boy to want her.
The events that occurred before Asato's accident.
Peggy meets Rob and asks him to take her virginity.
Nicky vents to her diary about her mother's betrayal.
An unexpected new neighbour makes writing a diary worthwhile.
Julie meets Wendy, the question is, who has the upper hand?
A lovely first encounter in a new town.
Tara finds transformative experiences in a massage parlour.
My simple journal of sexy frolics beyond vows.
Interesting things can be found in one's new home.
A diary entry from a cheating wife.
A story exploring the life of a prositute.
The DIL's point of view. A burnt page from her diary.
Terry keeps on online journal in her explorations of control.
First 2 entries from a young lesbian's diary.
An Exhibitionist gives her Dom a diary about her past.
Young mistress visits another city & finds trouble.
Meeting her Sir for the first time in real life.
Entry one in Amelia's diary of one-night-stand adventures.
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Husband find wife's notes; its downhill from the there.
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There's an old story out there somewhere in which a husband finds his wife's diary, and makes the unforgettable discovery that ruins his marriage and life. The story below has nothing to do with that one. I got the idea for this from an old song by a recording group called "Bread". One the other hand, if we consider storytelling, if it comes in the first person, there has to be a way to get 'inside' the other character's minds. Maybe it's the air vent that leads from the cellar to the kitchen. I think HDK used that device once. Often these days it's the secretly placed recorders or cameras. In the early Nineteenth Century Jane Austin frequently used letters, anyone remember Darcy's letter? In this story our hero finds his wife's hand written notes.
It was a Saturday afternoon, I guessed it must have been around 2:00 p.m. and my right big toe was killing me. I don't know about anybody else but for me, aside from a toothache, just about the worst pain imaginable is having an ingrown toenail, especially when I've been out kneeling around in the flower beds. I'm not much for flower beds, but my wife Susan likes them, and by default I've had to pick up the weekend slack.
Susan, like me, works during the week, and lately she's been tied up with this and that on Saturdays. Saturday mornings she usually gets up early, starts the laundry, and then after she's separated the whites from the colors she heads out to do the groceries. Her afternoons the past few months have been tied up with a variety of other activities I know little and care even less about, stuff like one of those county planning committees about zoning and such, and then another thing, something about environmental preservation and protecting the local wildlife. She's on some committee at the local public library too.
So that's left me to finish the laundry; that is if I can't get our daughter Samantha to help out. God help us, Samantha's seventeen, in her senior year of high school, has her own car, and impossible to talk to let alone get her to do anything. Our boy, Gregg, is a little better; he'll pitch in, but only if it's something he thinks is important. He's fifteen and sometimes, if I wave the car keys at him, he'll stay long enough to do a load or two, but it's got to be his clothes, and the effort never lasts past lunchtime.
That leaves me to cut the grass, do the flower beds, the laundry, and sometimes run the vacuum over the rugs. Sounds worse than it really is; it's not, with the kids being older Susan's let me off the hook regarding church on Sunday mornings. So with Sundays pretty much free I get to spend time on the lake fishing or out on the river paddling about in my canoe. In the cooler weather I can go fishing or, if I can find a partner, do some hunting, winter is for the snowmobile.
Back to my toe; it's been killing me all day. Maybe it's time to get this fixed? So I walked back inside, using the back door of course, drop off my dirty shoes, and pad through the kitchen and dining room to the stairs. It's a pretty typical two story; we've lived in it for just under sixteen years, new when we bought it, it's seen some wear and tear but it's still in excellent shape. Up the steps, down the hall, and to the right to the master bedroom. Susan's father got her a fancy manicure kit when she graduated high school, and I've availed myself of it from time to time.
Slipping off a smelly right sock I open the top drawer of Susan's bureau and fish around for the kit. Having found the kit I slip into our bathroom and turn on the bathtub hot water. The plan? Warm up the foot, soften the nail, sit on the commode, snip the offending toenail back, and end my suffering.
Yet I was unexpectedly stopped; there in Susan's bureau rested a three ring loose-leaf spiral notepad, an 81/2 by 11 thing children use all the time. No big deal I think, just an old notepad, but wait, this one's different.
This has a title; it said, "My Life." 'What's this,' I ask? Susan's never kept a diary, at least not to my recollection, and I've known her since college. I wonder, 'Is this a story, a novel she's been writing? She's always said that was something she'd like to try. Maybe it's a catalogue of notes; she's been on all those committees since last winter? Yes of course, its notes about her meetings. Then again, maybe she has started a diary?'
I wonder, 'She's never mentioned anything about any of that stuff to me. Is it some secret thing I'm not supposed to know about?' Then last, is it really any of my business? No its not; I decided to ignore it. Besides, I had a bad toe that needed my immediate attention so off to the bathroom I went.
Toe nail clipped, foot cleaned and wiped I took the clipper back to Susan's bureau. There was that notepad again. I wonder, maybe a little peek, just a quick look. What harm would it do? Uh oh, Susan just pulled in the driveway. I replaced the clipper, closed her bureau, and left the bedroom. Maybe some other time.
So I forgot about it, so what. If Susan wants to keep a little diary, or a few notes about what she's been doing, it was her right, and I didn't have the right to snoop around. Just the same, every now and then I did look in her bureau drawer to see if it was still there. It was, but it hadn't looked like she'd been writing in it, it didn't look like it had been moved around. Besides our relationship over the past several months couldn't have been better. Why stir something up?
About changes in our relationship, that was something I was especially proud of. We'd been married sixteen years; sure if people wanted to they could count it up and see Susan was pregnant before we got married. Heck, we were both young, still in college, and well, sometime things happened. Susan had told me she was pregnant. Neither of us wanted an abortion, so we got married and Samantha popped out a few months later.
I remembered talking to a few of my fraternity brothers; some had been all for it, they'd said marrying Susan wasn't just the right thing to do, it was the right thing because we really loved each other. Sure, there were a few nay sayers; they said things like, "She was just another piece of ass," and a couple reminded me that Susan wasn't exactly a virgin, that she'd slept around some, slept even with a couple of my 'brothers'. I understood that, I knew she wasn't a virgin. I knew a couple guys who'd had her before me. Hell, the first time I met her was at a party, she was a little high, and I took advantage of her.
Actually she'd been a lot high at our first meeting, I'd been high too, but I liked her and started asking her out. She was pretty suspicious at first. She more or less half remembered we'd done something, and thanks to her suspicions and her girlfriends it had been several weeks before she agreed to go out with me. I didn't have some reputation as a Romeo, but the fraternity had a reputation, and I wasn't completely innocent.
I kept our first dates as casual and as tame as I could. I really had feelings for her. I knew my feelings were partly from guilt and maybe a little pity, she'd gone over the line before I met her, and had earned a reputation as being a little too loose. There were guys who bragged, and there were always those who liked to whisper.
So I remember we got married. I quit my fraternity, and she quit her sorority. We went home and told our parents. Her mother and father were accepting, but I sensed they were disgusted with their daughter but sort of appreciative of my 'nobility'. Her father even said I was being noble. I wasn't sure if he wasn't being just a little sarcastic. He'd said I didn't have to do it, and that they could take care of their daughter. I countered by telling told him I loved his daughter and couldn't think of anyone I'd rather marry. I knew he blamed me for his daughter's circumstances, and though I never mentioned it I understood his point of view. Heck, if I hadn't been high myself I would've used a condom. I'm sure he knew that.
My parents were ecstatic! Though they thought we were too young, and we'd sort of jumped the gun they were both 'all in'. In fact it was my mom and dad who put up the money for us to get a decent off campus rental, and when Susan's parents found they couldn't afford her tuition anymore my parents found the money for that too. Then when Susan had her baby my mom drove up to the college and moved in with us to help out. My two brothers and sister didn't appreciate that, but they knew mom would have done the same for them if they'd ever needed it. Besides, I was the baby; Bob, Gary, and Juanita had all already moved out and started families and careers of their own.
Since then married life hadn't been exactly perfect. I had a tough time finding a job, but eventually latched on to a medium sized housing firm that needed a C.P.A. ready to accept a slightly lower rate in pay. I hung on and as the company grew so did my responsibilities and my earnings. Susan had fewer problems; she got started almost right away part-time with an insurance agency, and pretty soon found herself holding down a well-paying job with a reputable nationally recognized insurance company. Since then she's grown with the company, and is currently assistant manager at their branch office in the larger city not far from where we now live.
At the start money was tight, and Samantha's arrival followed two years later by our son Gregg did add to the burden somewhat. We held on, sure there were fights and threats, but we managed. I loved her dearly, and I knew she loved me. Even after so many years' things have remained a little tight financially, and there have been occasions when I thought the relationship was in jeopardy, but during this past year everything's run smoothly.
The last couple times I'd looked in the top drawer of Susan's bureau the notebook had been there, and it seemed like it'd been untouched. The other day though I could tell it had been moved. I wondered, 'Just what was Susan writing in there?' I rationalized, 'Why not just one little peek?' I opened it up.
I didn't know where to start or exactly what I expected, but it was obvious it was a pretty new loose-leaf. It was one of those three ringed narrow lined three subject jobs with hundreds of pages, and it looked like it was at least partly filled up. I turned to the very first page, and wow! I knew after the first few lines she was talking about me! The more I read the better I felt. This was great! She was talking about me, and what she said was wonderful.
I still can't believe it's true. Even now almost twenty years later I remember what my girlfriends told me, "Susan when the right one comes along, you'll know. He'll just sweep you off your feet." I recall it was like yesterday. In a way it almost was. I was at a party and I saw him. He was standing off to the side talking to several other men. I knew most of them, but I'd never gotten a chance to meet him.
I was feeling tipsy and didn't know quite what to do. But then one of my peers tapped my elbow, "Good looking isn't he?"
"A real dream boat," I replied, "Do you know him?"
"Yes," she said, and she walked me over.
He was so handsome, shaggy brown hair, big brown eyes, he stood so ramrod straight, and when he looked at me, even from across the room I knew, I just knew I'd found the 'one', that special one all the fairy tales talked about. I was...
"Jeremy, are you upstairs? Dinner's almost ready." It was my wife.
Damn! I had to put the notebook down. "Yeah, I'm here. Be down in just a moment." I carefully placed the loose-leaf back just the way I'd found it. I quickly hit the bathroom, the original reason for being upstairs, threw some cold water in my face, wiped off with a towel and sped downstairs.
In the dining room Susan already had things laid out. The kids, Samantha and Gregg, were waiting.
Susan looked at me and smiled, "One of your favorites tonight, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, string beans, and Cole slaw. All just the way you like it."
Gregg interjected, "Yeah, just like they make at Royal Farms."
His mother scowled, "What difference does that make? You dad likes it."
I sat down in my place at the head of the table, "Shut up Gregg," I grinned at Susan but frowned at Gregg, "Maybe one day when you're all grown up you'll find someone like your mother, then it won't matter where the food comes from, only who was thoughtful enough to get it for you."
Gregg ignored me and reached for the chicken.
I scolded, "Not yet Gregg. Fold your hands." And so all four of us folded our hands while their mom said Grace.
"May the Lord make us truly thankful for what we're are about to receive, and for all our many blessings, both big and small. Amen."
We all said amen, and dug in. Typically we'd all eat slowly and sit and talk, but tonight Samantha had plans, Gregg had homework, and Susan had another one of her meetings. Me, I had nothing to do.
Near the end of the meal Susan waved her hand over the table, "Jer," she usually called me Jer instead of Jeremy, "would you mind? I want to get to my meeting a little earlier."
She smiled back, got up, kissed me on the cheek, and without further ado found her way out the door. Samantha wasn't far behind. Gregg was halfway upstairs when I thought, 'What an opportunity. I can get back to that loose-leaf. I want to read some more about me.' I tidied up the kitchen, put all the uneaten food away in the fridge, all neatly packed, I waited until I was sure Gregg was fully ensconced in his room, and then went back upstairs myself.
I found the loose-leaf, reopened it, and continued reading.
"He's just so right. He's so everything I thought I'd ever find in a man; he's polite, considerate, funny to talk to, and he's interested in the same things I am. He likes old movies, not the more modern colored things, but the really old ones, the old black and whites with the old stars like Norma Shearer and Joan Crawford."
I thought back, 'I never watched any of that old shit, and while I'd heard and even watched some old Joan Crawford stuff like... I didn't know, couldn't remember, who was Norma Shearer?' I read on.
She must have stopped writing. There was a date at the bottom, January 11, 2011. This was September 22, I counted backward; that was close to ten months ago. OK, I went to the next entry.
"His name is Robert, Bob, Schuster. He isn't married. Peggy Jeffords said he's a widow, he's in his mid-thirties, and works for a publisher, but she didn't recall which one. He doesn't have any children."
I thought about what I'd just read, and it gave me the creeps. Bob Schuster? He worked for some publisher. Susan had started helping out at the library. One of her jobs was lining up potential guest speakers for what she called 'The Library Forum'. He was 'the one'? That couldn't be, I knew I was her 'the one'. My stomach felt tight.
I stopped reading and glanced forward. I skimmed ahead through several pages. His name came up a few times, not a lot, just every now and then. Then I recalled how many times I sat
Trans Compilation
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Impregnating Stories