But he didn't. He only smiled softly at me remarking about whata fine film it was and led me out of the theater. He didn't speak againuntil I had fi...ally calmed down and chose to a few blocks away. I wasactively looking for a reason to fight with him. The Antoine in me waswelling up in protest at my comfort with this boy, my acceptance of hissheltering strength. The Antoine in me wanted a scene right then andthere. A word, any word, even one, would have turned me against him buthe was. He didn’t stop pounding my bald, wet, drippy pussy, but pulled my hair back a little more as he continued to use my vagina as his own personal fuck-sleeve. I loved every second of it.My son had this power over me; he could make me feel safe, but small; loved but used; he’d do things to me that other women might find degrading but I enjoyed it because I felted bonded to him and wanted to make him happy. And I was certainly into being used like a whore. All the more when we’d cuddle after and. More

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