. . talking to me and looking at my pictures huh?Too bad I don’t have one of you to look at.” On the other end of the phone, the horny boy smiled....“How about I take a quick pic . . . showing you how hard I am . . . and sending it your way. Would you like that?” he asked. Not waiting for her response, he put his phone down on the bed, unzipped his pants and pulled them down to his knees. Next he got back on the bed, opened his legs, flipped the camera function on, zoomed in and captured his long. We had four dates in which he touched me, flirted, even kissed me—hard, possessively—but put me away from him and sent me home after a couple of hours. ?I want you,? I had told him, stone sober, my hands fisting his jacket outside the door to my own lonely apartment. ?I know,? he said. Then his hand in my hair was holding me still, he took my keys and opened the door for me, pushed me inside, and left. That’s how it started. The first time we fucked, I came the second he thrust inside my pussy.. The characters and the situation are purely imaginary, and this story is not intended to be a guide for actual behavior. Any similarities between this story and actual people, or between this story and actual events that you should be ashamed of, are purely coincidental. If it is illegal for you to access and read erotic fiction, or if you don't like sex stories, then stop now.This story is copyright 2004 by Russell Hoisington. You may post freely to non-commercial (free) sites, or in the. What in the hell? I thought to myself. That wasn’t there before! Not only was my foot throbbing from the impact of striking the suitcase, but once again, my breath was catching in my throat as fear seized my heart. Something isn’t right, I thought. Too many nights have been interrupted with these nightmares, each of them different but somehow connected. When I wake from them, something odd takes place in my reality. This time it’s the suitcase, last time it was the bottle of mouthwash that.