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Bob walked into the squad room and tossed his notebook onto his desk. His inbox was full, and he groaned. He could hold his own on the streets. He'd been shot at half a dozen times, and had survived them all. He'd been in two wrecks, and all he'd suffered was a deep bruise in one thigh. He'd processed enough blood and body fluid evidence to infect a hundred thousand people with Hepatitis, or HIV, and was still clean as a whistle. The paperwork, though, would kill him. He knew it, deep in his heart.

That would wait, though. Mrs. Fetterman was due for her interview. He'd much rather gaze on her lovely form than some piece of paper.

There was a note stuck to his monitor: "See Dillworth."

He groaned. Frank Dillworth was the new Detective Captain and he was an idiot. He'd been Captain of Logistics for years, and was pretty good at that, though he'd bowed down to the penny pinchers at every opportunity. Why he'd wanted to take over supervision of an experienced and hardworking bunch of detectives was anybody's guess. He and Bob had had three or four run-ins already and he'd only been on the job for two months. Dillworth didn't know a damn thing about being a detective. Half the time he didn't even know the law. He was a toady ... a brownnoser ... and he was already responsible for two veterans cashing in their chips and retiring, when they could have stayed on for three or four more years.

He knew there was a problem when he entered Dillworth's office to find him fawning over Lacey Fetterman ... and Teresa Green. Teresa looked up and a look of triumph came over her face.

"Yes sir?" said Bob.

Dillworth looked away from Lacey, who looked distinctly uncomfortable. Her eyes went to Bob and then down to her lap.

"I'm reassigning Mrs. Fetterling's case to Simpson," barked Frank.

"Fetterman," corrected Bob. "It's Lacey Fetterman."

Frank's face suffused with dark purple. Bob hoped he'd have a stroke.

"I don't need any sass from the likes of YOU!" said Frank, his voice rising. "Mrs ... Fetterman ... has been kind enough not to press charges against you. You're off the case and that's final!"

Bob looked at Lacey, who was looking at him again, through lowered lashes.

"Tell Simpson about the orgasm," he said. "It's important."

Frank leapt to his feet, outrage on his face. "THAT'S IT!" he screamed. "YOU'RE THROUGH! PACK YOUR FUC..." He stopped and went suddenly white. Bob ached to see his eyes roll up in his head as he toppled, a coronary thrombosis doing what needed to be done. "Pack your stuff," he huffed, calmer now. "I'm recommending you be fired. Go see the freaking union rep if you want to, but I'll have your backside for this, Duncan!"

Bob turned to leave. The look on Lacey's face was one of shock ... and something else. He didn't have time to think about it. "Tell him," he said to her. Then he closed the door, before Dillworth could scream again.

He didn't get fired. The higher ups knew that the reasons they'd put Frank Dillworth in the Detective Captain chair was because of what he could do for them, when they needed a favor, and not because he had a clue. They had assumed he'd just ride the coattails of the experienced and effective force he was put in control of. Good men made a supervisor look good. Nobody thought he'd actually try to investigate anything. They certainly didn't think he'd run off the good men who could have made him look good. Now, they were stuck with the ramifications of their choice.

Dillworth did reassign the Fetterman case to Don Simpson, but Detective Simpson couldn't get anything done on it, because he had to report directly to Frank three times a day and then run off to do whatever lame-brained idea Frank had come up with since the last time he'd reported. The case went nowhere, and finally stalled.

Bob found all this out in the locker room ... most of it from Don, who said he hated Bob because he'd lipped off to the boss, which had pulled Don into the mess and gotten Frank's fingers where nobody wanted them. Bob knew Don didn't actually hate him, but he wasn't happy.

"That bastard will hit again," said Don, sitting down beside Bob. "He's a classic control pervert. Beat her up, made her do things. He even made her cum."

"I thought so," said Bob. "When I talked to her at the hospital I knew she was holding something back."

"I almost didn't find out," said Don. "That little bitch that was with her wanted to approve every question I asked. She said Dillworth told her that was fine! Can you believe that shit?"

"So, how'd you find out?" asked Bob.

"The Fetterman woman finally asked the bitch to be quiet. I wanted to laugh, but I didn't. She said she just wanted to get it over with and started talking. I could hardly keep up with her on the computer. When she said she had an orgasm, the bitch started screaming again, and the whole thing fell to shit." Dillworth wanted to take that part out of the statement, but he couldn't figure out how. I told him I'd already saved it. The stupid fuck bought it. I was lucky to get her signature on it."

"Well, you got it," said Bob. "That's part of an MO. It will help get him, sooner or later." He sighed. "If any of his other victims will admit it too, that is."

"Yeah," said Simpson, putting on his shoes. "So, how's traffic?"

Bob shot him an evil look and Simpson laughed. "Hey, at least nobody's shooting at you!" He grinned. "I might ask for a transfer myself," he said, his smile fading. "I can't get anything done with Frank Fucking Dillworth dogging my tracks. He says I have promise! Can you believe that shit?"

Don Simpson had been a cop for six years and a detective for two. He deferred to Bob's ten year record, but he was very good, when given the chance to be so.

"A nice, quiet squad car and writing a few tickets now and then might be nice," sighed Don.

"I've already gained four pounds," said Bob. "Sitting around all day doesn't do you any good."

"Protect and defend!" said Don, standing up and saluting. "See you later, buddy. I know it doesn't mean much, but I think you're better off."

"Yeah," said Bob, glumly. "Better off." In two weeks, three drunks had puked in the back of his patrol car and another one had puked ON him. Everybody he pulled over was irate at him for molesting them. Everybody seemed to feel like they had an inalienable right to drive fifteen miles an hour over the speed limit, run red lights at their whim, and park wherever they felt like. He'd been called a communist, an agent of the Gestapo, a "fucking pig" and a "pig fucker." All in just two weeks. If this was "better off," he had no idea how he was going to do his last nine years.

A week later, Bob was standing at a vending machine in the gym he belonged to, drinking the last of a bottle of Gatorade, when she walked around the corner and literally ran into him.

"Oh! Excuse me," said that soft voice.

Her eyes lit on his face and widened.

"What are you doing here?" she gasped.

"I play racquetball here," said Bob.

He looked at her. She WAS beautiful. Her long black hair was held back in a pony tail that reached to her lower back. She was dressed in tight shorts and a white T shirt that clung to her body like it was two sizes too small. Her breasts bulged in that way that announces they're confined in a sports bra and don't like it. There were just the last traces of bruising on her throat and jaw, where her attacker had hit her with his fist.

She had a sports bag slung over one shoulder, the handle of a racquetball racquet sticking out. He noticed that it had sticky tape wrapped around the handle. Well worn sticky tape. That was interesting. The only people who needed sticky tape were people who were power hitters. It kept the racquet from twisting in the grip. His eyes went to her right hand, but it was bare of a glove. She wasn't sweating, either. She had just arrived.

While he was examining her, she examined him too. He was taller than she was, by a couple of inches. Out of his suit, he looked rugged, rather than beefy. His tank top was wet, in a drooping oval from his neck to his stomach, and his arms and wide shoulders had a sheen of sweat on them. He was wearing a headband and two wristbands that were dark with sweat, and the hand holding the bottle was gloved. His left hand held an E-Force Lethal 160 racquet. She stared at the racquet. Those things cost over three hundred dollars, and she was shocked to see a mere detective ... ex detective? ... holding one. All in all, he looked as lethal as the racquet.

She felt a flutter in her belly. It horrified her and she shrank back.

"You don't have to be afraid of me," said Bob, seeing the look of horror on her face. "I'm not mad about anything."

His tone brought her back to this place ... here ... in the gym she was so comfortable in. It was the only place she could go to battle the demons that ate at her. Here, on the court, she could slam them ... slam HIM. Her rapist was only the latest of a string of frustrations she had battled on the racquetball court at the gym. Before that it had been her boss, whose eyes undressed her constantly. She'd gone out on her own, because of that, and was now in direct competition with him, running a successful business called Fashion La Femme. Her customers had come with her. Before that it was her lemon of a car, which Paul wouldn't let her get rid of, because it was only two years old. Sometimes it was meat, which she was trying not to love, because Paul had become a vegetarian. Occasionally it was her mother, who never listened and forbade her to talk about divorcing Paul.

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Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 6

Lacey was ferrying a flash drive containing hundreds of photographs from the dig to the museum. A major discovery had been found. A collapsed cellar had been uncovered and, inside it, there were bones. Human bones. It wasn't clear yet how they had come to be there, but there were no indications of intentional burial. The artifacts found with the bodies suggested that people had taken refuge in the cellar and had died there. The pictures were needed at the museum as soon as possible, so that...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 7

Bob had just left the briefing room, coming on shift. He hadn't even buckled his seat belt when the radio squawked to life, telling him of a multiple injury accident, with an explosion involved. Paramedics and the fire department were already on the scene. Three patrols were being dispatched, and all three were still in the parking lot, after the briefing in the squad room. Three engines roared, and three sirens began to wail, as tires screeched. It was impossible to get close to the...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 8

When Bob went off shift, he returned to the hospital. "How come you're the only cop who ever checks on her?" asked the head nurse. "It's my case," he said bruskly. "How's she doing?" "Better," said the nurse. "She should be awake. All her vitals are normal. The sedative has been stopped. The only reason she's still in ICU is that she won't wake up." "I'll just sit with her for a while," said Bob. He'd stayed in uniform, since that got him almost anything he wanted, with...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 9

Sleep came with difficulty for Bob. His mind roiled with the import of what he knew ... or thought he knew. He tried to convince himself that cars caught on fire all the time. There was only circumstantial evidence that the dead man was her rapist at all. Even the fact that there had been no more rapes with that modus operandi didn't prove anything. Like Lacey, no one had come forward to ask where their son, or brother, or father, or husband was. The crispy critter, still unidentified, was...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 10

He took her to the impound lot, answering her questions when he thought he could do so safely, and dodging them or changing the subject when it got close to something he didn't want to talk about. She was appropriately awed by the damage to her car, and only glanced through the box of her possessions. The attendant brought out a bill for storage, and Bob tore it up. "Hey, you can't do that!" said the attendant. "I just did," said Bob. "The lady was in the hospital while it was...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 11

He took her to Santini's. On the way, he told her a car had sideswiped hers, and that she hadn't been injured. While she was trying to help others involved in the accident, an explosion had occurred. He left it simple. "Explosion," she said, her voice far away. "I remember light ... all over ... I was submerged in light." "What else do you remember?" he asked, his voice guarded. "Just that. When you said explosion, it just came to me." When they walked into Santini's, Donna met...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 12

Bob eventually slept, despite the erection between his legs that demanded attention. It was still demanding attention when he woke the next morning, with a soft, naked woman pressed against his body. It had been a long time since there had been a naked woman of any kind pressed against his body when he woke. That had been a result of long hours, and an unwillingness by Bob to turn over part of his life to any woman. It wasn't that he didn't like women ... it was more that he hadn't found a...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 13

Bob went back to his apartment. The bed was still unmade and the wrinkled linens held the imprint of a bed that had been slept in by a couple. The pillow she'd used was lying against his own, like her head had lain close to his. On impulse, he bent to sniff the sheets where she had lain. They smelled like ... her. He hadn't missed the verbal slip that the doctor had made. She'd been about to say that as much as she would have liked to get naked with him, right there in the office, it...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 14

Bob sat and read magazines, until there were none left to examine. There was no noise coming through the door—it was so quiet he felt like he was the only person on the planet. Eventually, his ears detected the hum of air being pushed here and there by the building's air handler units. He heard a siren dimly, through the walls, but no traffic noises. He checked his watch so frequently that he finally took it off and put it in his pocket. Finally, he dozed off. He woke, when the door opened...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 15

Bob popped two Vivarin when he got into the squad car the next morning. She had kept him up all night, satisfying her own needs and making up for the dry spell Bob had been in. He felt drained, but also more relaxed than he'd been in years. He was no longer distracted, either. Lacey had another appointment with Claire, but he was no longer worried that she'd suddenly realize there was no past between them. That had already been addressed. Now all he had to worry about was the return of...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 16

Lacey went back to see Claire ahead of schedule, and told her everything that had happened. Claire put her under again, and spent an hour exploring the details of the rape that she hadn't gone after earlier. As each horrible part of the assault was revealed, Claire worked more instructions into the dialog, intended to minimize the emotional impact of the memories. Then she brought Lacey out of the hypnotic trance and spent another hour with her, concentrating on the things that Lacey felt...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 17

Bob heard her gasp as he left the bedroom. His head swiveled and he saw her standing there, bent slightly forward, her arm outstretched, hand turned sideways in a fist at the top of a candle. Her face was so pale it looked almost ghostly. Her mouth opened and an agonized groan was torn from her throat as she dropped the lighter and reeled backwards. Her eyes stared at the tall, pale yellow flame that the lighter had created at the tip of the candle, but her mind saw the same hand,...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 18

Back in the apartment, Claire asked questions. They were not "What did you do?" type questions, but rather were "How do you feel about what you did?" type questions. Lacey didn't feel good about any of it. For the psychiatrist, it was like walking a tightrope. Or, perhaps it was like making her patient walk the tightrope. There needed to be remorse for a bad deed, for there to be health in the mind and spirit. But it could be taken too far, and the patient could begin to hate herself,...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 19

She was adamant about keeping her appointment with Claire. He was glad she was going, because he had to go to work. He hoped Claire would talk some sense into her, and he made her promise not to do anything until she'd talked it over with him, no matter what she decided to do. She was waiting for him when he got home from his shift. She was calm, but looked drained. "I have to make this right," she said. "If you're sure about this, then it needs to be done right," he said...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 20

Two weeks later Bob was coming home from the gym, still dressed in his sweats. McDill had instructed them, superfluously, not to see each other until after the trial. He had been noncommittal after his questioning of Bob, concerning what his defense would be. "I have some ideas," was all he'd say. Bob turned the last corner and started toward the entrance to his apartment building. A car pulled to a stop at the curb next to him and the window rolled down. "Get in!" came a male voice he...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 21

Roger Schwartz grabbed his briefcase and hurried for the entrance/exit of the new suite of offices the prosecutor's staff was lucky to have just moved into. Lucille, his secretary, called out a cheery "Good luck!" as he sailed by her desk. "Don't need luck!" he yelled back, flashing her a grin. In fact, he believed that. He was one of the up and coming lawyers of a generation that believed skill would make "luck" an archaic term. If that seems a bit rash, perhaps it could be said...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 22

The door to the jury room opened and a man wearing glasses came in. He looked at something on a clipboard in his hand. "We're about to begin," he said, with no other introduction. "I need to give you some information about what's expected of you. Please listen closely." He read a list of rules, things they could and could not do while they were sitting in the jury box. His voice droned, making it clear he'd read this list countless times in the past. Fully half the jury tuned him...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 23

The next witness called after lunch was probably a poor choice for that particular spot in the lineup, but it hadn't been planned that way. It was the medical examiner who had done the autopsy on Kinneson's remains. Schwartz apologized to the jury for what they were about to hear, and then had the doctor describe the compound fracture in the victim's leg, which would have made it impossible for him to move around on his own. Then there was the testimony of the condition of the lungs, which...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 24

It was day two of the trial and Roger was ready to produce testimony about the DNA identification of Gilbert Kinneson's remains. He had contacted Senior Technician Fred Simms, the lab supervisor, and hastily explained what he needed. Simms said it would be no problem. Schwartz tried to be as clear about things as possible. "Now I know that there were a lot of tests done on the DNA from the body," said Roger. "That's not germane to the issue in this trial. All I need is an overview of...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 25

Instead of calling the first defense witness, Matthew now exercised his right to cross examine Officer Robert Duncan. Once Bob was on the stand, and had been reminded he was still under oath, Matthew began what he believed in his own mind was some of the most important questioning he'd do. He didn't want to ruin Bob, but uppermost in his mind was Lacey's welfare. "When did you first meet my client?" was his first question. Bob named the date and said, "I needed to interview her as the...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 26

There was a diner, of sorts, on the first floor of the building. It served pre-packaged sandwiches and salads. There were also hot soups, Polish sausages, hot dogs, kraut and the like. Maggie wasn't interested in the fatty foods, so she chose a bowl of mushroom soup, with lemonade, and took it to one of the small tables that were scattered around. She sat in one of two chairs at the table. She was joined by Helen, who asked if she could sit in the other chair. Neither woman seemed to be...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 27

"The defense calls Doctor Claire Montgomery to the stand," said Matthew. Roger stood. "Your honor, I fail to see the relevance of anything this witness could bring to the issue. I must object. Mental state is not at issue here. The accused did not plead based on insanity, either temporary or otherwise." Matthew spoke clearly. "Your honor, I have already indicated that I'm trying to establish motive for my client's actions. This witness's testimony is crucial to that...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 28

As soon as Claire left the courtroom, the judge turned to the jury. "I'm not going to sequester you, because you have not started your deliberations. You may all go home to your families, but you are not to discuss anything you've heard in this case with anyone, under any circumstances. Is that perfectly clear?" Most of the jury nodded. "Court will resume at nine-thirty tomorrow morning," he said, and banged his gavel hard on the block. The gravity of the situation had penetrated...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 29

The jury room hadn't changed much, but the changes that HAD been made were obvious. At each of the twelve chairs around the long table, there was a cheap name tag, made of paper folded into an inverted V. Maggie's was at one end of the table and bore the title "Foreman." It was almost lunch time and some faceless employee had provided a tray of sandwiches, individual bags of various kinds of chips, fruit, and pre-packaged salads from the cafe downstairs. There were also a dozen kinds of...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 30

An hour and a half later Judy again chirped, "Let's vote!" Maggie looked around. People looked tired. A lot had been said, but there didn't seem to be any general consensus. Voting would at least be trying to make progress. She passed out ballots. This time, when she separated the pieces of folded paper, there were four in the guilty pile and eight in the not guilty pile. Everyone looked surprised. "My, my," said Maggie, who had changed her vote, but didn't expect anyone else to do...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 31

"Has the jury reached a verdict?" asked Judge Gunderson. Maggie stood. "We have, your honor." The bailiff took the folded piece of paper from her hand and walked it to the judge. He opened it. He looked at the jury, and then back at the paper. "Was this unanimous?" he asked. "Yes, sir," said Maggie. Gunderson handed the paper back to the bailiff, who returned it to Maggie. "The defendant will stand," intoned the judge. Lacey and McDill stood. Lacey looked like she might fall...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 32

As it turned out, Claire's misgivings were justified. Nothing like this had ever happened before, and she had no clue as to how to proceed. Had she been in her professional setting, she would have controlled the conversation. She couldn't really do that, there in the restaurant. So, she chose to try giving Lacey the redemption she sought. "They forgave you," she said, her voice tight. Bob shot her a look that said very clearly, "What the fuck? You don't mean that." Lacey didn't see...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 33

Bob was turning in tickets. He'd been approached by no less than six people when he came into the building. Dillworth was gone. News like that travels like lightning in any organization. He'd heard not only that Dillworth was gone, but the circumstances of how he'd gone. The place was still abuzz with it. Nobody knew exactly why it happened, but the manner in which it had taken place had made the detective division euphoric. He didn't think anything about it when his supervisor, Captain...

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Alicia is poised on the pedestal, ready for her FIRST GANGBANG EVER. She is surrounded by FIVE COCKSMEN, more men than she has ever had at the same time before. They are all standing at attention, ready to fill her with creampies. But first, her pussy needs some attention and lubrication for those creampies she’s waiting for. Chris, the winner of GUESS THE V, shines her up with his tongue before handing her off to Scotty so he can dive into that pretty pussy first. After Scotty cycles out, the...

Getting The Picture

Chapter 1 Nearly five years ago, Sandy and I moved to a suburb of Atlanta near my new job in the publishing industry and we soon found a new church that we liked. Like what happens so often when you join a new church, we were soon asked to help out with the planning and production of the new Church Membership Directory. I had planned on using a professional photographer with the proviso that he or she be able to sell the prints to the members and provide a photo for the directory at no charge...

Driftwood

Introduction: Part 1. Black tutu, silk stockings, 6 inch heels and the skimpiest bra I could find. I couldnt be arsed with knickers they would only get ripped off and lost forever. I didnt want to loose any of my sexy clothes they werent designer but they were mine. Silk handbag with the essentials in it. I created that dramatic face of red lipstick and smoky eyes in the mirror. Grabbed my bag and went. As I walked out the house, across the street and tottered up the alley the rain started to...

Cucumbers wet pussy and eating

The weather was nice yesterday, sunny with a little cloud, I was bred, since my surgery I have not been ablw to do much exept try not to be horny. I was laying on the deck naked taking in the sun, the phone rand it was Terry a girl friend of mine. She wanted to know if I wanted company and I did not hesitate to say yes. She got to my place an hour later and met me on the deck, went in and made herself a dring and came back out naked. She has a great figure a bit taller than me her breasts are a...

A Cougar In The Night

I had been waiting for this oppotunity for months ! There I was....away for a 5-day stint at a class I was taking to prepare myself for a new direction and career move. I knew I was going to scope-out the local scene and find an escort for a little extra "inspiration". I poured over advertising that was all the usual "I-am-wonderful...call me" stuff, - and then I spotted an ad that said "Sex Coach for Consultation Visits". I love having a woman coach me and tell me what she wants and how I am...

Gigolo for a day

I only remembered this yesterday but I thought I would share it with you.It all came about because about 44 years ago I was 21, vibrant, without a girlfriend and just finding my feet in London in only my second contract in the oil game. By chance I knew an Argentinian guy, who was about the same age as me, who had made a fortune offering a massage service ……..for men.He advertised around Park Lane and had made so much money he already owned a flat just 100 yards north of Hyde Park. Most of...

French MaidChapter 4

A slow day until 11 am when I was told that the 'Colonel' had requested me to come up to his room. The other girls told me that he was in his seventies, and could be good fun. They advised me to 'go along' with what ever he wanted, 'it's never as bad as it sounds... ' I made my way upstairs and after knocking entered the room. The 'Colonel' was sitting on a chair, dressed in a black suit. His hair was grey and his face was that of a man in his late fifties. His complexion was very...

Chicago Convergence

The following story is a fan fiction it is just for fun. Chicago Convergence By Tenwaters The scene is set approximately 16 thousand million years ago give or take a few thousand million. It is hard to tell exactly with no tiny dirt ball circling around an intermediate size ball of glowing gasses to set ones watch by. Six dwarfs are franticly scrambling over a massive control panel over seen by a small but officious fairy. The fairy, Celda, unconcerned by the lack of any...

Playing Hooky Ch 03

No matter how hard she tried, Julie Warden had been unable to overcome her crush on Natalie. From the first time she and Natalie had made love, kissed and licked each other to endless orgasms, every time Julie saw the sexy brunette, her heart thumped a bit faster. It didn’t matter – Natalie’s heart and body belonged to her sister Noreen. Natalie had her first lesbian encounter with Julie. It was Julie’s first time too, they’d been drunk on wine coolers. Tumbling around in Natalie’s room, they...

I never thought I would

I was asked a Truth or Dare about my sexiest fuck. Well this is I guess one of the sexiest moments of my life as I never expected it to happen.OK, there have been a few and my favourite changes with my mood. So one evening I was having a drink at my local. I was sitting next to a guy who was fun and we joked and laughed. As it got to closing time he asked me if we could perhaps go back to his place for a drink. There was no suggestion of anything odd, he was just an ordinary guy in an ordinary...

Apocalypse BluesChapter 19

“Well, look who’s back!” I heard Autumn say as she gave me a very loving kiss. “Yes, I missed him very much! I have grown very fond of our husband,” Xia Delan spoke up. “Yeah, no kidding. Take it easy, babe. You’ll have to recover. Your wound was healed, but you lost a bit of blood and we have no easy or quick way to replace it,” Hannah warned me. “Lavelle?” I asked. “Yep. If God had done it himself, you’d get the blood back, but some things are too much for even an angel. You’ll just...

Stalked Raped Part 3

Introduction: Someone asked what this was a fanfic of. Its from Slenderman…yeah the creepypasta stories-the youtube marblehornets clips about Slenderman. In this case-this is of Hoody-one of Slendys proxies. I dont know man, hes hot…I dont get it-hes everywhere. Anyway…If you love it-hate it-leave a comment. I read them like the morning paper …& as always-I love you kinky lil fuckers <,3 There is something about exposure that shames me. Being wide open infront of someone makes me...

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