"I know you love to wear that G-string." She said. "So just keep it on slave, and go into the bedroom when you're done drying off."I finished drying, ...xcept for the soggy G-string, and went into the bedroom. My raging hard-on was sticking out the top of the pouch on the G-string. She walked into the bedroom a few minutes later wearing a red satin camisole, garter, nylons and black patent leather pumps. She came over to the edge of the bed where I was sitting, grabbed my balls through the pouch,. He was nearly unable to force a single word from his throat.My mother was dead.It was during this nightmarish tableau in my subconscious that I fought to awaken; fought against sheets and terror and an invisible enemy that I couldn't defeat.As I lay in my bed, terrified simply because my intuition told me to be, the telephone beside my bed rang. Normally I am not a skittish person but the shrill sound was ominous. It was my mother. I started shaking inside when I heard her hoarse voice. "It's. More

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