He used to take his belt off, "Old Spikey" as he used to call it, and just beat us to death with it. We either had to pretend to pass out or wait till...he passed out before we were capable of leaving. Sure we tried to run away, but we never left the corner of the street. You see we were only kids. We had nowhere to run or go. Plus we knew they would come after us and be even more destructive to us.After 10 years of this abuse I remember my dad finally dieing. I guess all the beer finally took. I almost died as she turned and looked me right in the eye through the hole in the wall. I did not think they had noticed me. Now that I was caught, I immediately followed my hard-on next door. Once inside, she closed the curtain and she directed me to sit on the floor in front of them. They kept playing and she talked to me, asking me things, like "you like this?" or "does this turn you on?" as if she couldn't tell my the throbbing hard-on I now had out of my shorts and in my hand. . More

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