She asks to stay the night and after everything I’ve done to her, I can’t deny her. She sleeps in one of my old t-shirts, as I lie stiffly next to...her. I don’t know how to comfort a person when I am the very thing that’s hurting them. I sleep badly, woken every now and then by the muffled sounds of her crying.When morning finally dawns, I help her pack a bag of the things she’s left at my place; her toothbrush and expensive shampoo, a small bag of make-up, a couple of changes of clothes. Her. She had already had anal, but she told me she would never take that inside her asshole. A couple weeks later, in a Saturday afternoon, my cell rings: it was Mrs. Dobbins, Monicas mom, asking me if I could do her a big favor with her computer: Monica was spending the weekend with a friend, but gave her my number because I was the expert. I really had nothing to do, so I rode my bike to her house, not far away. Mrs. Dobbins opened the door with a big smile, she was also very communicative and. More

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