Hey y'all, Jake Jaxson here. Growing up in South Louisiana, we loved to tell stories. There was nothing better than a good old fashioned ghost story and I especially loved it when Halloween came around. We lived in an old creaky house in the Garden District of New Orleans that would send a chill up anyone's spine who walked inside, and my active imagination became over-stimulated. Doors opened on their own, bursts of cold on a warm day, footsteps and voices coming from empty rooms... it was all the norm.
Once, a friend who stayed over burst into my room out of breath with fear in his eyes -- he had just experienced the feeling of being held down in his bed and not being able to get up, as if someone was sitting on him, pinching and slapping him(No, it wasn't me!At least not that time!). Was our house?I think so... there was definitely something there... real or imagined.
My most vivid personal experience came late one night -- the witching hour -- when I felt someone or something caressing my inner thighs. There were hands rubbing all over my chest, my stomach, and then finally onto my hard, demanding cock!It was like electricity pulsing through my body, unlike anything I'd felt before, taking me to a point of total bliss and explosion. When I woke up, the covers were peeled back, my white briefs were wet with cum, and my cock was still pulsing from the attention. Was it just a vivid wet dream or a sexual?I'll never know for sure, but that experience has stayed with me and it's the inspiration for this week's scary story - The.
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