Martin just lay there while I bounced up and down on him. We had to stop several times because he kept slipping out, but I got to be an expert at putt...ng it back in again.To begin with, he wasn't very expressive. No sounds coming from him at all, and hardly any movement. But then quite suddenly, he got into it. Little groans first together with some little thrusts into me.Next, he lost it altogether. He started with expletives, calling me a fucking bitch, watching me as I played with my. It was expected that without rigid, tight interventions I would follow the same path as my mother. Some of this my mother had apologized for when I was getting ready to leave home. Some were still new to me. It helped explain, though, the choices I had made in my life, the kinds of men I was programmed to seek out and attach myself to. My husband had been of the same ilk as my father. It was ironic that the man who was looked to for “straightening out” my mother and controlling me was the. More

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