A lot of people have been hurt by suicide. I understand if you don’t want to talk about it with me. I’m NOT trying to get 500 emails begging me no... to do it or 5 asshats giving advice on how to and telling me to Youtube it for their enjoyment.About two months into the initial phase of my illness is when I realized how fucked I truly was. At that point, they hadn’t found a reliable way for me to speak on a regular basis yet. I couldn’t work. Couldn’t pay enough attention to watch TV. Couldn’t. He stood up, and came towards her, jacking his cock as he walked across the deck. Kneeling between her thighs, he carefully spread her legs, her hands hooking under her knees, then reached for the outer lips of her pussy; like her sister, she was already sopping wet and he marvelled at the beautiful flower made by the blades of her inner lips and her round, dark pink cunt hole. Nestling under the trimmed V of her pubic hair, her clitoris peeked out from its cover, a tiny pink button. Spreading. I look around the office and see more women at work in similar outfits, all reading or writing or typing. Beautiful women everywhere. All of them have beautiful pussies that my tongue needs to serve. I should come into the office more often. I approach her carefully, legs moving before my mind wants them to, before my mind is ready. I’m turned on, yes, but I’m still not ready. I can’t stop my body from obeying Reyna’s commands, but I also I can’t go up to a stranger and start eating her out. I. He came over and locked his eyes on mine, "Scared yet?"I nodded, once and hard."Don't be, just relax and enjoy the ride."He turned back to his bag and humming some tune got a few things out. First, another elegant box to match the one my wife had just. Next he pulled out a large and wicked pair of scissors, frightening me down to my toes.Next came out a folded blanket that when unfolded turned out to be a huge fur rug that couldn't have fit in his bag. This was really freaking me out. Finally.