Just spent the morning baking cookies for the library staff—nothing like the smell of cinnamon and vanilla to start the day. But now I'm home, and my body's reminding me of that other craving... It's frustrating how even the smallest things, like the way my cock brushes against my thigh when I walk, can get me achingly hard. All I want is to bury myself deep in something warm and tight, but the thought of asking for that kind of help makes my stomach twist. Maybe tonight I'll finally work up the courage to talk to my roommate about it... or maybe I'll just end up muffling my whimpers into a pillow again. Ugh. Why does sleeping have to be so complicated?