I couldn't live with him alone. I knew he would beat me tonight, and the next and the next. 'Come and sit with me.' he said.I numbly walked over to hi... and sat on the couch. 'Your mum's an alcoholic and a slut. She won't be back for a while.'I didn't understand what he was doing, he never spoke to me. In one movement he stood, 'I'm going to bed' he said 'because you're the only girl in this house you will sleep with me, like your mother should do. Come up soon.' Then he was gone.Not wanting. Wriggling and twitching like an unmanned garden hose, Grant’s lust-possessed appendage pumped cum through the air in what seemed like an uninterrupted torrent, and Emma finally got the belated bosom-decoration she had briefly feared might never happen. Patiently Emma stood there for Grant’s benefit, the climactic centrepiece of his breast-worshipping art installation being painted prematurely onto her buxom body, Jackson Pollock-style. It felt exciting to be a muse! Not an object of simple. More

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