I have dark fantasies, but they are fantasies. I made the mistake of sharing one of them with my stepson. He is bipolar when it comes to me. Sometimes he loves me, sometimes he hates me. I told him awhile ago that I have a love hate relationship with haunted houses. They scare the crap out of me, yet I am intrigued too. I want to see a ghost. I want to talk to a spirit. Crazy, I know. I told my stepson my haunted house fetish. He showed up last night on Halloween Eve to take me to a haunted house. He was acting super sweet, so I never suspected he had ulterior motives. I thought we were doing one of those pay haunted houses that go up in communities a month before Halloween. People love to be sacred and I guess I am no different. He picked me up and we drove to the country. The house was super creepy on the outside. There were no cars anywhere. There didn’t even appear to be any electricity. My dark fantasies were becoming a reality and I was clueless about what was happening. He told me he made a real-life ghost house for me. He forced me inside even though I was shaking and pissing my panties. I was afraid of the house. I have never seen a ghost, but that was not proof they didn’t exist. I have never been on the moon, but I know people have been on the mood. I walked in with my stepson and friends and I immediately started screaming. I was hearing loud noises. I was feeling things near me but not seeing anything. Spiders were crawling on me. Rats were moving around on the floor. Dark fantasies no more. This was reality. I was in a real-life haunted house and I was freaked out. Suddenly, my stepson tied me to a chair and left me. I felt a presence touching me, but I saw no one. A ghost was seducing me. I felt fucked but no one was there. My stepson and his friends left me in a haunted house on Halloween eve. They came back the next morning and I was white as a sheet. I had seen a ghost. I had seen many ghosts.
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