My dad told him that I practice yoga every morning and he could use my flexible body in every acrobatic pose he wanted. To slam that thick, massive, overbearing flesh of his unhindered on top of my completely exposed and vulnerable, babyishly sex. He pulled out his finger and raised one eyebrow at the shiny, slippery, slimy fluid that clung to its tip and trailed after it. I was lying face down on my bed, one knee pulled up to my stomach, my pearly blue, sheer nightie and my cotton thong was stripped to my bare hips. You fucked me with a psycho?..”
I thought my dad must have handcuffed him to the kitchen table before he came back to me. I remembered what he wanted, I reached out my slim arms and grasped his thick neck and pulled myself to him like climbing a tree. I didn’t know what they saw in the moonlight shining on my half-naked sleeping body, but it was clear from their wheezing they were deeply impressed. Maybe one of us had to admit defeat and give up. Grabbed my hair, but not to caress it, but to make confront me with his maleness. I watched in frustration as he emptied his majestic gun by shooting into the air.
