The ‘madness within’ you call it. A dominating, powerful force that you feel drives me to both despair and delight. You derive comfort in any medi...al diagnosis that supports this theory of yours. And shallow optimism from chemicals designed to ‘correct’ this condition of mine. Madness? Perhaps. Powerful, certainly. But it’s no nameless force, no almighty independent power in itself. It is me. Part of me. All of me. By what right can you claim that a part of me that defines who I am is. My curtains were closed, there were no peep holes in the room and so i went back to stroking my cock and playing with balls and dickhead. I then heard the rocks from outside make some noise like if someone were "adjusting" or "moving" around from side to side...it wasn't like the noise from someone walking. I stopped what i was doing and even muted the tv to see if this was my mind playing tricks on me. After several minutes of hearing nothing, i went back to jacking my dick, got rock hard. It holds in its tentacles the perfect, right condition. If only it can fill her up. Open her, probe her insides, leave behind the seed needed to make more of itself. The hole on top seems wrong, it tests that and finds sharpness there. Hostile, no. Under, between soft thighs, there’s such warmth, such slick smoothness. Exactly what it likes. But it searches and searches, probes and pokes. The wetness must come from somewhere, it understands enough to know this is the little creature’s. My face has moved to between her tits as I lick and suck each one in turn. She throws her head back and screams that she is cumming. I work my finger inside her ass to the second knuckle as she cums so hard that my cock is covered in a white foam of cum. As her orgasm subsides she collapses on top of me and tells me that she has never cum that hard in her life. I tell that it isn't over and roll her over onto her back. I start to move my hips in circles as I fuck her slowly. She matches my.