Am I dreaming? I fear not. All is quiet after many minutes. But my mind is far from quiet. I imagine scenarios beyond the possible, beyond the stories torn from the headlines in Jack the Ripper’s day. My mind is furious and yet I sit, waiting, listening, not hearing, but hearing all the same: the wind, the creaking, the furnace now and then. Then finally, my heart pounding its rhythm into a crescendo, as I hear the third step, many minutes later. I am up. On my feet. No weapon at hand, I find an umbrella; good for rain, but a poor choice for phantoms. At my door I listen. Listen for any telltale sounds. Nothing but the sounds of the house and wind. Who, who could be in my house? Did I lock the back door? Did I close the garage door? Memories of days long past flooding my senses. Memories of him. There, his smell, wafting into my room. Is it real? Or just a nightmarish memory? I don’t know, I can’t tell. I think of our first time, over 20 years ago. He had taken it from me. Stolen. One morning I got up and headed to the shower, naked, knowing that my mother in law would see me walking down the passage to the shower and on the walk back, she usually gets up and has a shower after me. On this particular morning I had taken a little longer than usual in the shower, while I was standing at the sink cleaning my teeth I was feeling extra horny, so when finished and rinsed my mouth out, I wet my hands and slowly started stroking my cock while looking in the mirror, I was dreaming about Rita doing that for me, feeling her mature soft hands slowly rubbing my cock, I was starting to get really horny by now, I reached out with my right hand and just ran the soap through my fingers so they were really slick, I then turned around and lean't against the sink and carried on stroking my cock with my now wet slippery hand, closing my eyes and hoping that Rita would see me, I was getting really hot when I heard and felt someone enter the bathroom, opening my eyes I saw Rita.
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