. since Father was fucking me.But Dick ... I don’t mean your father ... I mean Richard; my father.It was him I screamed at.”I gaped at her, “You... own Father?”“And I must tell you now Dick; He was your father also.I was still gaping!You see your dad wasn’t your natural father. You were sired by Richard; when I was seventeen.”She paused to give it a chance to sink in.“You mean ... your father ... Richard, made me?”“Yes Dick. My own father got me pregnant when I was seventeen; when I had already. It didn't happen that often. Mostly she just came home from work and cooked something for them to eat and then she sat in front of the TV for the rest of the evening till it was time for bed. That was his mother's life. Getting to work at eight o'clock. Work nine hours. Cook a meal. Watch TV. Sleep. Over and over and over. Hopelessly monotone.He had laid on his bed. On his stomach. His hands supporting his head and the book on the pillow. As he started to read he heard his mother giggle. The. More

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