It was as if everything moved in slow motion, every action, every thought required my consent, and I couldn't see a reason for any of it. Should I bre...athe in? Why? Why shouldn't I just stop breathing and let go of the pain. If I died maybe she'd understand why I just gave up on life and feel sorry. Maybe everything would start over again and she'd never hurt me like this again. Maybe she was just a cold hearted snake, who had never loved me and never would. She'd probably just laugh when she. "Good morning!" Angie said, bustling into the room.She reminded Marcia of her mother, about the same height, busty,hair worn the same way, dark, dark brown; not quite black with subtleshades of red, dressed in a stunning negligee, too. Her bedroom mulesclicked as she moved about, throwing open the tall drapes, brilliantsunlight streaming into the room.Finally she perched on the side of the mattress. "Are you hungry,dear?" she said.Marcia shook her head. She wasn't hungry, at least not for. ”“Yeah,” I said. “After breakfast.”“You better,” she said and then turned around, her hair swaying.Ideas popped in my head of just coming up on mom and saying something corny like, “Here’s a better way of passing time in quarantine: worshiping my dick!”It was something straight out of porn. It made me so hard. I closed my eyes, seeing her in the thong now. The cloth vanished in between her bubbly butt-cheeks. Her bra lifting her tits into a jiggling shelf of cleavage. Her nipples pressed on the. He needed to hurt them both, make them pay. As Tyshawn was trying to process how he was going to handle both he felt a strong hand touch his right arm and heard a calm voice in his ear. “I’ll help you with the bitch son, while you take care of the little blonde whore.” Hank Jackson whispered into Tyshawn’s ear.Tyshawn looked to his right and into the face of Hank Jackson. He felt Hank pull his right arm away from the bitch. Hank pulled her away quickly and Tyshawn was now looking into the.