The pinching.And over.“Fuck me.” “I can’t.” The thrust. The nipple. The fingernails.As she shudders and feels her feet go weak, her precario...us tiptoe position in danger of collapsing when she comes, she wants to scream that it can’t stop yet: it mustn’t stop yet. She needs, just once, to see it through to the end. To feel the climax that happened in her lifetime, many thousands of replays ago.But inevitably it doesn’t.Her face and body make the same movements they always do, jerking back onto. Scenes of them doing silly things, laughing having fun. I put my hand on Mark's thigh and squeezed. He nuzzled a kiss against my forehead."They just look normal." he said. "I don't see anything wrong!"I had to agree. The scene switched to the next year or the following one. And then things started to change.There was a scene that showed Mom and Uncle Matt under the covers of a bed looking startled. Then they were laughing, but holding the covers up close. There was one of Daddy in bed with. "Okay, strip down. You take a quickshower, while I lay out your clothes and stuff."* * * * *Debbie turned off the water and pushed back the shower curtain. She wasshorter than Dave was, and she had to step high to clear the side of theold, claw-foot tub. Without thinking, she took a towel from the rack andwrapped it around her wet hair."Now that was an experience," she told herself. It had been. She'd showered quickly, as Helen had asked, but was morebecause she didn't want to dwell on how. She didn't hold much with the tomfoolery of the male establishment having witnessed countless middle-aged friends of her powerful father travel down the road of debauchery and decadent selfishness. Her mother was a woman that found consolation in her pet poodle and a young gentleman by the name of Bruce. He had a far more talented tongue than any brainless poodle and had shown Belinda his skills on a rainy afternoon which she held forever in her memory as a turning point in her life.Belinda.