They immediately stand away from my large dark areolas at perfect attention. I reach for my breast and start touching it lightly. I trace my finger ar...und each nipple and enjoy how it feels. I slowly trace my hand down from my breasts over my stomach to my smooth, soft pussy. I touch the outer folds of my soft femininity, and a rush of electricity jolts through my buxom body. I let a soft moan escape my lips reveling in the beautiful sensations I feel. I stick my finger inside my warm, wet. "Why do you need to go see her anyways? Do you really not believe that I am real?" "I don't know..." I say quietly. "Baby, I am as real as you are real. You feel my touch, you see me, and you can hear me. Is that not real enough?" he asks, holding my hand. "No, because I am the only one who sees you, who can feel your touch, and who can hear you." "How can I prove to you that I am real?" "I don't know." The ride home is quiet. When I park my car, he vanishes. I look up at my bedroom window and. More

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