I would have vivid daydreams of my hands sliding inside his shorts, stroking him, imagining what his face would look like filled with raw lust for me�...� My pussy would start to throb, and get hot, making me squirm… I sometimes got so lost in him that he would ask a question and I wouldn't even blink, because my mind is on its own planet, silently conjuring up fantasies of having him.On one such occasion, I was so lost in him that I didn't notice the sudden silence in the room. The sound of his. I don’t really want to go to the funeral. I don’t believe in god or heaven or life after death. Those beliefs, or lack thereof, are not a result of the accident. I have never believed. I guess I’m just not superstitious.My mother isn’t in the shiny box they’re going to bury. My mother ceased to exist when that drunk killed her. Now she exists in my heart and in my mind. But superstitious people get nervous and upset if you don’t conform to their little rituals. So I’ll go to the funeral and. More

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