As the waiter cleared away the last of the plates and placed the espresso on the table, she leaned forward, again testing the strength of the fabric. ...Fuck me," she whispered. Signing the check, I quickly rose from the table, extending my hand to her. "Come on." I whispered, "We'll find a place." As we made our way through the crowded restaurant, our fingers played a love game of their own, uncontrollably stroking, tickling and caressing each other as the tension increased. Near the exit, I. It was faint and muffled, it had a familiar sound and I knew I had heard it before. Only this time it was more than just barely audible. I with a calming surreptitious stride walked to my fathers room and peered in. There my father with a fistful of mother's hair was violently raping her. He had her head pressed down into the covers only allowing her head to move to inhale when absolutely necessary. Strangely, I had became aroused and I almost caught myself caressing my penis when my fathers. More

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