I remember the faceless man who always seems to haunt my dreams. Why? Night after restless night he torments me, touches me, fucks me, whispers to me....Night after night, I wake up only to realize, I am alone. I groan again. I am 26 years old. I have a great job. I have a great little house in a respectable community. What is wrong with me? I roll over onto my back. ‘I know what’s wrong with you…you’re a freak.’ I laughed out loud at me talking to myself. I am not talking about outwardly freaky. Mrs. Anderson was nice enough to hold her hand and squeeze her boob every now and then to show her appreciation for Patricia’s willing gift of pussy to ease Mr. Anderson’s terrible stress of incarceration without female companionship for a long period of time.Sampson watched carefully knowing Patricia was in good hands and he sniffed Mrs. Anderson’s ass thinking she was advanced in years but still had the aroma of a woman in her prime. It stirred his junk thinking about mounting the mature. More

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