– – – – – Weeks passed with no further back-pushing, street-stumbling incidents and I started feeling slightly safer. I didn’t stop lookin... over my shoulder and I kept searching for some sign that my husband wanted to be rid of me, but I really couldn’t tell between the quickly snapped instructions and the standard criticism that was always bordering on ridicule. But perhaps the fact that I was getting older was enough of a reason? If it had been difficult to mask the thoughts running through. I mean at all. I kind of just wanted to fuck my dad, I didn't want this long drawn out bullshit mess. Finally, he came back. My father by now had turned his attention back at the TV, but still trying to nonchalantly rub his penis. Aaron came over to me and sat down. He once again was on the side of me. Was he done? Already? Do I get my turn with my dad? He took my hand before I finished thinking. He then reached over and grabbed my waist, opposite from him. He pulled me so that I was on top of. More

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