Whatever. I have no idea how a fat vibrating pen with no ink was supposed to replace a father. Oh boy. I’m getting carried away here. Must be the a...r. But the surface, whatever was up there—vibrating pens, Madam Follick, Joey’s confusing mother—could now only be rubble. No, I know you don’t understand. See, it all started in the late Spring of ’07 (that’s 2007 A.D.—I don’t know when, if ever, this is going to be found…and that thought is more terrifying than what could be waiting for me in. He even suggested to me that I may put on a torn trouser that may make my ass and pussy visible while I sit or bend. While the oven repairman came and started working in the kitchen, my hubby hid himself in the small store room attached to the kitchen. As the repairman started to work on the oven, I started to imagine as to how I should do what my hubby had told me to do: exhibit my private parts. During the repair while the repairman had to lie down to get access behind the oven, he asked me. More

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