Journals of a Psychopath

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Once again Clarkson is observing with manic interest the Lady Flarice, the novel is packed with steamy scenes and scenes of horror.

The Lady Flarice's yard

Lolling against Lady Flarice’s fence, it creaked with remonstration I was a heavyweight man. Emerging, she tried to avoid my eyes, Lady Flarice gazed straight in front. Leaning in the strong gusts, I thought the inferior trees existed as pathetic. Even though attacked by the airstreams she presented as attractive.
      “Have a nice day,” I said.
Dashing to her car, I scanned the Lady Flarice, turning my perusal in the direction of her honeyed-part, she caught the gaze, and the crimson-juice rushed into Lady Flarice’s face. Her house was touched by the sun it bathed her windows with warmth and light. The expense of the equipment for the mission huge and I was glad other sources of income were available.
The Lady Flarice’s home

Touching her articles, at ease, I saw the wooden floors shone throughout Lady Flarice’s house. Fine- rugs with cheerful colours embellished the wood-stained boards. A cerise couch rich in texture was in the centre of the room, a tint matching the drapes was woven into the fabric. Lady Flarice would be at Kruger Engineering for several hours, it would be enough time to ferret into her private belongings. Finding the Lady Flarice’s journal, she described her interactions. Rushing into the bathroom, my attention riveted to the linen basket.
      “Search for her panties,” the Declarer said.
Discovering the vulva-cloth, sniffing the garment, I squealed, I positioned the small clothes on my manhood, and I ejaculated in the panties. Eating some food, satisfied with the time in her house, I visualised, concerning the elevation of the hem of the Lady Flarice’s pure white silk gown, her honeyed-place concealed in pure white silk-lace, and my beautiful male-weapon embedded in Lady Flarice’s female-part.

Joe's funeral

Rheanna’s outfit was short and pretentious, her jet-black hat was kitted with a tiny veil. Joe waited in the dark-wood casket. Attired in our suits and we viewed the coffin lower into the dirt. Joe’s mother keened and his sisters wept into hankies. The funeral feast had provided abundant amounts of food and liquor.
      “It is so pointless,” Stuart, Joe’s uncle said.
Shiny, his eyes glistened, Joe inherited Stuart’s looks, his face angular, and was identical to Stuart’s the dimple indented into Joe’s chin the same. Struggling to peep through the clouds, the weak sun and apt the fiery star did not attend.
The workshop was closed silent. Consuming food, drinking to the memory of Joe and his blood dribbling onto the grease, I pondered.

Lady Flarice's house

Tumbling onto her bed, the mattress sprang, my head relaxed, as it squashed into the duck-down pillows. Draped over me, Lady Flarice’s comforter, and it soothed. I dozed for a while. I awoke suddenly. Recollecting screams from the sacrifices roaming in the recesses of my mind, the squawks pierced the stillness, until the life streamed from the lungs of females.

Kruger Engineering

Focusing on Lady Flarice's office, I knew some contenders for Lady Flarice’s affection lurked in her work-venue. I kept my eye on a guy named Connor. His bones appeared to be buried in solid flesh, Connor’s chest wide and masculine. His hips were narrow, his hair was plentiful and dark, his chin stubbly.
      “How are you today?” he asked.
      “I am good, how are you?”
Connor looked at her legs and I knew what was in his mind, I would prevent his designs on my Lady Flarice.
Joria's mother

Run-down Rosie’s house was a mess and the yard overgrown. Knocking on the door, Joria’s mum unbolted, and opened it. Rosie held her housecoat close to her chest. Her cigarette was squashed between brown-stained fingers, the ash ready to drop.
The sclera of Rosie's eyes was yellow, the same as her skin. Slender and it seemed as if a gust of wind could blow her over, Rosie opened her mouth I could smell the gin.
      “Who are you?”
      “I am searching for your daughter.”
      “She is a pain in the ass and Joria is not here.”
Shutting the door in my face, Rosie acted cold. Dialling my cell, Perry was in the gas station, he told me Joria was cavorting around the Pit Stop. He endeavoured to get rid of her, but Joria said she would wait for me to appear.
      “What does she want?” I asked.
      “Take one guess!”
      “Joria is going to receive more than sex. Admit you are jealous of me and my women,” I said.
      “My pride will not let me divulge, all I can say is I am interested in your conquests.”
      “Your attention must not involve Rhea I have told you so many times.”

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