“I’m headed to the kitchen to make some toast and coffee. Come when you’re ready,” she says heading out the door. “We should probably talk.�...�Ray lays there and covers his face with his hands. Oh fuck! What the fuck have I done? A few minutes later, a somewhat numb and distraught Ray enters the kitchen and sits down at the table. “Yesenia, how could you do this? You let me fuck you, cum in you while the whole time making me believe it was my daughter.”“Do you want cream and sugar, Ray?” Yesenia. ———————– December 23 It rained. It’s never happened before. I don’t really know what to make of it. The sky just wept for hours. I sat on the front porch of the beach house, under the tin roof, and listened to it beat down. Eventually I got up to pour a glass of red wine, and to light some candles. By late afternoon it looked like a little shrine around me–candles flickering, a half-finished bottle of wine on the table, and me–staring straight ahead into the gloom, watching the lightning flash. I drive in and out, changing the timing at random, leaving Jimmy tensing, constantly wondering when my next assault will begin. Each penetration brings a little yelp from Jimmy, a flinch and the tinkle of his bell. He tries to force himself up the bed, away from my intrusion but his tight bonds leave little scope for that. On the last of a dozen thrusts I press forward hard, as deep as I can reach, grinding my knuckles against the well-worked tissues of his anus. The usual yelp ascends into a. ’ A cloud darkened Jay’s eyes and Greg could tell he was really upset this time. Usually Greg’s calming influence made a difference to Jay, but it looked as though he’d need to humoured this time. ‘None of that talk Greg. This isn’t paranoia. Take a look.’ Jay dropped a heavy pile of photographs at the front of his desk, forcing Greg to walk closer to examine them. Jay slumped into his chair and hid his head in his hands, his fingers running nervously through his dark shock of unruly hair..