“Eric? What are you doing here?”“Currently fixing you breakfast,” he said smiling. “Now, how about some coffee to start you off?”“Um, su...e.”I carefully sat down at my table, my pussy and ass were still a bit sore and my head pounded, as he brought me a cup of coffee with my flavored cream already in it. My pussy was throbbing from the intense sex we engaged in and I tried to get comfortable. “I was going to bring you breakfast in bed but you got up before I could finish,” said Eric.I giggled. I. I have no remorse for the choices Ive made in my life, thus this could hardly be called a confession. Thus, for my own nefarious purposes, auto-fession will have to do. If you are indeed still reading, then you must be a part of that third, dedicated group of people. Most of the oppressors and narcissists Ive met arent strong readers. So why did I feel compelled to tell my story, you may ask? Well, why does anyone decide to write a journal, short story, or novel&hellip, fictional or otherwise?. More

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