How it would feel to tongue her out until she squirts her juices on my face. How it would feellllllllllThis is the third time I've tried to write this blog post, and every time I get to this section, this is the end result. The other two blog posts failed because I didn't want to include this right away, but I think this is a sign I have to.I have an irresistible urge to start masturbating whenever I see her, and whenever I think about her and my line of thought gets too carried away, I'll be so horny for so long that it's almost unbearable.I think she might be a succubus, or a siren, or something similar. I'm not exactly sure, but I don't have any other ideas. The only time she appears is at night.I will try my best to describe the first time I encountered her. It might be difficult to do so without having to take a break, but I'll try.It was my first night here, and I was trying to shake off the weird feelings that I had when I came to and realized I knew nothing about myself. I. I reached for the kitchen light and saw that a carton of milk was left on the counter. I reached to put it in the fridge -Jen would die if there was no milk for cereal- and just then lightening struck and illuminated a shadow on the wall across from the window. It’s a tree, I thought. It’s a tree or a branch or something like that. C’mon, give me a break. I whipped around to face the window and saw nothing. I couldn’t see outside because it was so dark there and bright in the house, so I turned off the kitchen light and stood in the darkness. Lightening flashed again and there he was. The man in the hat was outside my window. My throat tightened and I couldn’t breath as I stood watching him leer at me through the window. I expected him to cup his hands around his eyes to look in the house. He couldn’t have seen inside with rain like that. Except he could. I remembered my wife saying that he looked at her through the back window of the car, and now I understood. The man in the hat.
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