Mandy was getting hot. She wondered what those kisses felt like. Mr. Wilson's hands rubbed all over her mother's body. She wondered what that felt lik... too. He had nice hands.There was movement on the bed and Mandy watched, mouth open as Mr. Wilson lay her mother back. He picked up her feet and put them on his shoulders as he crawled between her legs. As he bent over her, that made her knees go up to her breasts as she bent almost double. Her pussy was wide open as a result and Mandy could see. 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... you do them anyway. When your seventeen you walk away from a scholarship and join the Air Force, hiding in plain. More

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