The bed felt wrong. The lights coming in through the not quite closed curtains was wrong; it was the old style lights used years ago before LED street...lights became the norm. All the street lights near him were LEDs. Even the sound of traffic was wrong. A moment ago he was sure he was dying. Then he woke up and figured he had been dreaming. Now, he wasn't sure that he hadn't woken up from one dream into another. Life was about to get stranger still.Looking around, Peter noticed a red LED clock. After all, it was an open terrace and there was a busy road downstairs. Luckily it was on 6th floor and although there were no flats or anything in front; it was possible for someone from adjacent flat to witness the activities taking place there. Totally unaware of all of it, Richa tried to find Imran. “Are we in some open space?” she murmured. They were chitchatting amongst themselves and no one bothered to answer her. They had relaxed on the chairs around the coffee table while Richa was. " I pulled the table out of the way and moved to stand in front of them. I hiked up the leg band of my briefs to show more of my ass and drew the briefs tighter around my penis and balls. My dick had been stiff as a board on and off all night, and now it was at half-staff, thick and rubbery, just relaxing for a while. Jean was transfixed, staring at my fingers as I outlined my prick and teased myself. John sank back in his chair and looked on. My penis was starting to uncoil as I relaxed and. If only one or two people read my story I will be happy. It gives me intense pleasure to talk about my fetish and get feedback from readers. Maybe there are others. Both stories are true.Before I met my wife Tina I lived by myself in an apartment. I fully indulged in my newspaper fetish. I of course had a subscription to the New York Times. I would wake up in the morning, run to the front door, pick up the paper and press it against my face to inhale the scent. I had newspapers everywhere..