Journals of a Psychopath.



Smithson's course was set before he was born, Clarkson groomed him in the art of a psychopath.

Chapter Seventeen


Smithson and I wended to the shrine, he laughed. He peered, as I sparked the warped wax blocks, his madness was obvious. Rotating and displaying his ardor, Smithson’s arms jerked with the rhythm in his epicenter.
      “It is nearly time for your debut.”
      “I cannot wait father.”

The Lady Flarice

She welcomed me. We drank and I matched her shots. I screwed her, she thrashed, and Lady Flarice’s climax was grand. I relocated my lips to her honeyed-place I perceived the scent mixed with my man-milk.
Boning her again, she gripped my organ with her vaginal muscles it was exquisite, and bliss assailed. Lady Flarice embraced oblivion.

The Shrine

In the haven, I spun and yowled. The liquor rendered me sleepy. Napping for a while and then I awoke, glancing at the Lady Flarice she was dissatisfied, she had woken to find me gone, I witnessed her emotions plummet, and success flumed over me. She paced from room to room, in the hope she would find me. Dialing my cell, she was agitated.
“Clarkson where are you? Please contact me I did not expect you to be gone when I roused.”


On my way home, I saw a woman, and she was tight, I walked behind Louise until she reached her home. Louise’s skin possessed a rosy hue and her body was curvy. Arriving at her home, she stumbled in the door, and rushed to the liquor, she decanted the dark liquid. Powering the TV, she watched a blue-movie. Lifting her skirt, caressing her clitoris, my joy-giver pulsated pleasurably. Later she teetered upstairs. I climbed onto the balcony and I could see through the gap in the drapes. Her hair veiled her face and she was attired in stockings, her fat thighs bulged from the stocking tops. Her body was thickset and her mammary glands repulsive, the horrible huge brown nipples defaced the domes. Louise was unsuitable and I had imbibed too much liquor, when I was with Lady Flarice, I was sore, I needed to replace Louise with another silvery-blonde haired woman.
      “Maybe you will learn from this error,” the Narrator said.

Gaining access to the family farm and Smithson was lecturing his mother I was pleased.
      “You drink too much.”
Smithson stepped from us, he guessed the following event I screwed her. When I arrived downstairs, Rhea pursued me. She stumbled onto the couch. Rhea grabbed the telephone and she pressed the digits of Caldwell's study.
      “What is it now?”
      “I need to talk.”
      “I will come to you in five minutes.”
Caldwell banged the phone down and Rheanna inspected us. Ambling into the room Caldwell glanced at Rheanna.
      “I am worried about Smithson he is acting weird.”
      “What do you mean?”
      “I know something is terribly wrong.”
Caldwell rolled his eyes in exasperation and he did not take her seriously.

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