Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
I’ve known Julio since college. We bonded over bad cafeteria food and worse poetry. He was always a bit intense. He felt things deeply, maybe too deeply. So, when he called me, his voice laced with a melange of excitement and shame, I should have been less surprised. “Cory,” he started, the word almost a gasp, “I need to tell you something. Something kinda fucked up.” I braced myself. With Julio, it could be anything from accidentally setting his apartment on fire while trying to flambé bananas to getting into a philosophical argument with an inanimate object.
This was different, though. I could hear it in his voice, that ragged edge of genuine distress. He told me about the photos. An old shoebox he’d found while helping his mother sort through her attic. Candid shots from her twenties, a lifetime ago. She was beautiful, vibrant, radiating a joy that Julio confessed he’d never really seen in her. And, yes, she was with other people. Arms around her waist, laughter on their faces, in various states of undress and even sexual positions, all moments of intimacy frozen in time.
He was always a bit intense
“It’s not just the pictures, Cory,” he stammered. “It’s…it’s what they do to me. I can’t stop thinking about her. About those moments.” A chill snaked down my spine. I knew Julio had always admired his mother, held her in high esteem. But this was something else entirely. “Julio,” I said carefully, “you know this isn’t healthy, right? This is your mother we’re talking about.” He groaned. “Don’t you think I know that? I can’t help it. These feelings are so overwhelming.”
He went on, detailing his fantasies, the images swirling in his head, the torment of knowing what he was thinking was wrong, so fundamentally wrong. He spoke of wanting to talk to her, to be intimate with her, to fuck her for hours, but the words caught in his throat. I listened, offering platitudes, hollow reassurances that sounded pathetic even to my own ears. “Maybe you should talk to a therapist, Julio,” I finally suggested. “Someone who can help you process these feelings.”
He hung up soon after, the weight of his confession hanging heavy in the air between us. I knew he wouldn’t take my advice. Julio was stubborn, prone to spiraling into his own head and getting lost in the labyrinth of his emotions. This was a darkness I didn’t know how to navigate, a secret I didn’t want to keep. He sounded like he had already made up his mind – regardless of what she though, he was going to have her.
Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
https://phonesexcandy.com/cory