My mom, with her dildo still buried deep inside her, stroked Dorothy’s sticky hair and then her breasts, “That’s a good girl,” she whispered i... her ear.She finally pulled the intruding presence out of her. The dildo was covered with shit and a little blood. “That was fun,” my mom said. “Who should I do next? Carmen!”Claire’s mother cringed, “Oh no!” she cried.“It shouldn’t be so bad for you. I did break you in two days go.”The black-haired Hispanic woman shook in fear, “I know you did.. Not that things didn't 'work out', but - ***My childhood wasn't a typical one, not with a mother that vowed to keep her only child out of trouble at any cost. One summer, the neighborhood's tough kids in a sort of loose gang once roughed me up when I was only six years old, over some disputes over who won the street kick ball game. When I went home that evening, my face was all bloody and my shirt was all ripped to pieces. The leader of the tough kids neighborhood gang, Ken, told me to never. More

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