I began to struggle again, but again it was useless. My husband had promised that his friend could fuck me and there was nothing I could do about it. ...is friend took my hand and slid it between us and I knew exactly where this was going. He pushed it down until I could feel his hard shaft against my hand. “Stroke it Hazel,” he said, “you know you want to.” I clenched my fist, determined I wasn't going to make it easy for them but the combination of his fingers forcing mine apart and the fact. The idea of making his life better with the stroke of a pen sounded great so part joke part therapy he opened his bag and retrieved the book he was given. On the first line he wrote, “Mom comes up the stairs and apologizes to me for being a bitch and then says she is going to make hot dogs and hamburgers for dinner.” After he wrote it he smiled and felt a little better. He guessed that this was some therapeutic method for relieving anger and stress. But when he closed the book a strange. More

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