I wince from pain as I try to lift my arms and embrace her warm body, and she shakes her head just an inch. “You are not strong enough, my love. Let...me.” Her fingers caress my eager manhood. Stroking, exploring every inch. Every bulge and vein. Every part of my pounding member. I flinch each time she traverses the uneven landscape beneath the summit, slowly crossing the tight, narrow bridge towards the cleft above. Sticky droplets stretch into strands as she brings them to her lips.I cannot. I wondered all about it though. What had really gone on? What had they done to her?Mom had a computer in her room. I wondered if I could find out anything by looking at her essays and stuff on her PC. One weekend when she was working, I was in alone. I decided to have a look. There wasn't much to be seen in her essays. They were about the use of torture and interrogation in that country, written objectively and quite professionally. I went to her browser and looked at the history. Yes, she had. More

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