Sleep becomes the dream and food a nightmare. Smell is more used than sight and hearing is God.Then the fun starts...You grow up in the racist sixties...in the Deep South, you're raped by your stepfather and it's your fault because you're different. You have a roll of dimes taped tight that makes hitting lethal and you learn to use a knife. You never smile or laugh or cry and when your so-called parents walk out you know it's your fault. From the start you can't understand the games boys play.... Her head tilts backwards and she lets out a soft moan I play for a few more minutes inducing an increase in breath and skim my fingers further down. As the tips hit the flesh above her stocking tops they start to explore, stroking over the smooth skin finding the edge of her moist lips and gently parting them. With one hand the fingers press softly into the moist pinkness as the other moves to her clitoral hood and softly squeezes and pushes. Teasing the puffy lips I hook a finger inside her. More

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