("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2005. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Jessica's Mom - 1 by Cathy (razzmatazz454@yahoo.com) *** Tom's single-mother girlfriend tells him that her ten year old daughter was spying on them the night before. Their reactions to this are explored. (MF/f, ped, inc, voy) *** Chapter 1 - The Restaurant "I know she was watching us," Cathy said quietly as I reached across the table and filled her glass with wine. It was a Red Zinfandel – Ravenswood Vinter's Blend – and complimented our Italian meal perfectly. The restaurant we had chosen was one of our favorites. Not only because the food was incredible and the price reasonable – but because the atmosphere was both romantic and quiet. The tables were spread out and provided privacy for intimate little conversations. Our conversations here were always intimate and sexual. The food – the wine – the conversation – it was all a kind of sensual foreplay. Cathy and I had been together for almost six months now. Our sex was incredible – not only because of our mutual obsession with it, but because we had been able to share our deepest, most secret desires and fantasies with each other. The "she" Cathy was talking about was her ten year-old daughter, Jessica. Jessica was an energetic, charismatic, flirtatious cutie with long auburn hair and a mischievous grin. I had grown very fond of Jessica in the time we'd been together, and Cathy seemed to enjoy watching our father/daughter-like relationship grow. "She was watching us? What makes you think so?" I asked, recalling the previous night's lovemaking. It had started out as watching TV after Jessica had gone to bed. Her bedroom connects to the family room, where we happened to be, but we kept the volume turned down low so as not to disturb her. Normally, we would have watched TV from Cathy's bedroom. But not last night. We'd started getting frisky, and one thing lead to another, until Cathy pulled me by the hand, down onto the carpeted floor. It was so kinky to slowly take each other's clothes off under the soft illumination of the TV, trying to be as quiet as possible, being sneaky like teenagers trying not to get caught, in plain sight of her daughter's bedroom door. The risk of being discovered added a certain sexy tension to it all. I wasn't positive we were really going to take it all the way until Cathy pulled my underwear down and off my legs, then leaned forward with a smile, to take me into her mouth. I ended up lying on my back with Cathy riding my cock. I love that position, being able to reach up and fondler her breasts, rolling her erect nipples in my fingers (which drives her crazy) and then suckle them while she leans over me. The feeling of my cock sliding in and out of her juicy pussy while my mouth sucks on her nipple like a baby suckling his mother – it never fails to bring me to an intense orgasm. Cathy knows this, by the way. She also knows about my incestuous fantasies – and even likes to play along sometimes. Often as I'm sucking on her nipple, thrusting my cock violently upward into her, she'll whisper things like "That's it baby – fuck Mommy – fuck your Mommy nice and hard." Of course, she knows that this will immediately send me over the edge. She tends to do it just as she's ready to climax and we have these amazing simultaneous orgasms. The previous night, however, she had not done this. I remember thinking that she was sitting up on my cock much higher than usual – which was fine by me. I just wanted her to enjoy herself. And as I played with her nipples, she ground her pussy hard against me, closed her eyes, and moaned out loud. Then she leaned back with a shudder and grasped my thighs behind her. I slid my hands to her waist, to help guide her rhythm. She threw her long hair back, thrusting her chest out into the air, and rode me with an almost trance-like concentration. It was wild. Her pelvis pumped against me in wide sweeping arcs until she had this amazingly intense climax, trembling and quaking in a way I had never seen, swept away with particularly frenzied passion. And now I was about to find out the reason why. "I saw her watching us," Cathy said, looking at me intensely. I took a deep drink of the Zinfandel. "I looked over at the door of her room and it was cracked open. It was dark, but Tom, I saw her. She was watching." "Really?" I said with keen interest. "You mean, like, right in the middle of… while were making love?" I felt an immediate stirring in my pants. Her ten year old daughter had been watching us fuck. For real. Holy shit. "Yes." She said, looking down at her wine. "Hmm. Well, how do you feel about that?" "I don't know. I'm not sure." She fidgeted in her seat a bit. I could tell she was a little embarrassed to tell me about it. But also excited. She must have some seriously mixed feelings, I thought. On the one hand, it had obviously turned her on. A lot. But on the other hand, she wanted to be protective of her daughter, wanting to provide a wholesome and healthy image for her. Heck, for the first two months of our relationship, she wouldn't even let me hold her hand or kiss good night when Jessica was around. And I knew that she had gone to great lengths to conceal the fact that she was sexually active during the two years before we met, following her divorce; never letting any man show physical affection of any kind in front of Jessica, or letting on they were more that just 'friends'. She once even told me she'd even made a man climb out the window when Jessica knocked on her bedroom door late at night, rather than get 'caught' with him there. I was the first man she let her daughter think of as her 'boyfriend' following her divorce; the first man she'd kiss in front of Jessica; the first man to openly spend the night. She wanted to be a good, upstanding example for her daughter. A neat and orderly house. Active in the girl scouts. Clean and folded towels. Church every Sunday. Involvement in the P.T.A. But as protective as she was, once I officially became her 'boyfriend' there was this strange element of risk- taking that Cathy sometimes seemed to gravitate toward. Twice, we'd had sex on the living room sofa after Jessica had gone to bed, and once on the kitchen counter when she could easily have gotten up for a glass of milk or something, and walked right in on us. Another time, when camping, she started sucking me off in the tent, excitedly having to hurry because Jessica was due to return from her stroll at any moment. And there were several times she began teasingly fiddling with my cock under the covers, making me hard, while the three of us lie in her king sized bed to watch a video. And a couple months ago, Jessica knocked on Cathy's bedroom door in the middle of the night, saying she didn't fell good. I got up and unlocked it, but told her to go back to bed, 'cause her mom was sleeping. Jessica complained about it, and Cathy took her side and got sort of mad at me for not letting her in, and decided that from now on, we would leave her bedroom door unlocked. I didn't think that was such a great idea, but she's the mom, so she won, of course. And the young girl did indeed come into to crawl in bed with us on several occasions. Never while we were actually making love, thank goodness. But one time, we were both stark naked under the covers when she came slipping in with a 'tummy ache'. But Cathy seemed to think nothing of it, and simply cuddled with her for a while, then sent her back to bed. Cathy thought it was sweet the way Jessica always jumped up into my arms so eagerly to kiss me hello or goodnight, wrapping her lanky legs around me, clinging her little body against mine. Nor did she seem to mind when Jessica sometimes ran around the house wearing nothing but a tee shirt which came down below her bottom, but was pantiless beneath. I thought that was rather inappropriate, but said nothing. Heck. If her own mother didn't mind, then why should I? Jessica also loves being the center of attention, and regularly performs little shows and dance routines for us while we clap and watch and praise her. But a few weeks ago I was dumbfounded when she began dancing for us wearing just the tee. She began giggling and twirling around excitedly, lifting her arms high over her head, so the tee would rise high enough to reveal that she wasn't wearing underpants. I couldn't believe it. She was clearly doing it on purpose, getting a childish exhibitionistic thrill by letting me see her naked little bottom and pantiless muff, calling out, "Tom! Look!" as she spun around quickly so the hem would rise up high. Cathy was right there, and never said a word. She had to have noticed what Jessica was doing. She had to. But she just laughed at her daughter's silly antics like always. It made me terrifically nervous at first, but then I figured once again: what the heck. If her mother doesn't mind, then why should I, and went ahead and looked, and clapped, and laughed, right along with Cathy. I looked at the tiny bumps on Jessica's chest pushing up through the tee shirt as she danced, the slender bare legs, the swirling hair, the grinding little ten year old pelvis as she danced like Brittney Speers for us. Encouraged, Jessica became more and more daring. I guess she interpreted her mother's reaction-- or lack of it-- as permission, just like I did. And I watched in near shock as she turned her back to us and swayed her firm little fanny back and forth while she danced, and began sensuously lifting the tee up higher. Then higher. Then higher still, all the way up to her waste. The little girl's stark naked bubble-butt was in clear and sustained view, accentuated by the rich tan line on her flawless young skin. Her beautiful, crisp ass crack framed by those round, firm, tight, perfect little nudie buns. I tried not to stare with mouth agape, as she slowly turned to face us, still sensuously swaying her pantiless pelvis, still holding the tee shirt up, so we could see her from the front, and get a good long look at her puffy-lipped, hairless little slit. "Look what I can do," she said, lifting the tee up higher still, all the way to her ribs, to show us her flat tummy, and the belly dancing move she'd seen on MTV. Jessica looked directly into my eyes, and smiled with pouty seductiveness, like she'd seen the sexy girls on TV do. Then she looked sideways at herself in the sliding glass door's reflection, watching herself with an erotic thrill burning in her eyes, watching her own naked pelvis grinding in the open air, as she openly displayed herself to her mother and me. And Cathy never said a word to discourage her, but rather took my arm and laughed while we watched her sweet daughter brazenly exposing herself. The only comments she ever made about it, later, was a teasing reference to how fast I came that night. She never said it was explicitly due to her daughter's dance, but I knew that's what she meant. It crossed my mind to mention that she had cum mighty quickly herself, but let it pass. But perhaps the most daring, and at-the-edge thing Cathy and I had ever done happened just last week. We were reading Jessica to sleep, as is our routine, sitting on the carpet, leaning against the wall outside her cracked-open door, so she could hear the story from her bed. It was a Mary Kate and Ashley book. Jessica's favorite. We'd had a bit of wine, and got a little frisky, and I started touching Cathy's naked legs while she read. Jessica couldn't see us, since we were outside her door, and I figured she was probably asleep by now, anyway. And it obviously turned Cathy on, so I got more and more daring, and ended up sliding my hand down between her thighs, and up her nighty. She shuddered and gave me a very sexy smile, so I took it further, and started rubbing her pussy, then moved her panties to the side for direct access, while she tried her best to just keep on reading. It was remarkably erotic to watch her struggle to read the words off the page with glazed eyes, biting her lower lip, while feeling the warm wetness gushing within her squirming cunt. When I pressed my finger inside her, she lurched a little, but managed not to stop. We tried to be sneaky about it, but could Jessica guess what was going on from the little pants and halting quivers in Cathy's voice? I didn't know. But I nearly fell over when she finally passed the book to me with a smile and whispered "Your turn", and lowered her head into my lap, fished out my erect cock, and began sucking me off while I read out loud. I remember being rather impressed with myself at my ability to read in a smooth and normal voice while feeling her wonderful lips slide up and down my shaft. At least, that is, until I realized at one point that I'd just read the same paragraph four or five times in a row. Neither of us actually had orgasms sitting right outside her daughter's door, but once we went to bed, Cathy's moans and orgasmic encouragements were much louder than usual. I felt absolutely certain she was secretly hoping that young Jessica could hear. That was last week. And then, last night. Fucking right in the family room in full view of Jessica's bedroom door. 'Damn!' I thought. The top of my head had been turned partly toward the door, so I hadn't even thought to crane my neck to see that it had opened. Cathy was more or less facing it, so I figured that would be her job to monitor if we were about to be interrupted. I mean, she's her mother, after all. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that she had indeed seen the door open, yet didn't view it as an interruption. Instead, she straddled me even higher and threw her hair back out of the way. She didn't try to conceal what we were doing. She tried to reveal it; purposely thrusting her naked chest and pelvis forward for Jessica to see; reveling in the exhibitionist thrill of feeling my cock up inside her, while being spied on by her sweet daughter. Well, I figured once again: if Jessica's own mother didn't mind, then why should I? Let's have some fun with it, I thought. "Hmmm," I said to her, sipping my wine, and shifting position in the restaurant's chair. "I guess I can see how you might not be exactly sure how you feel about it now, after the fact. But let me ask you this: How did you feel about it at the time? What did it feel like to know she was watching?" She looked up at me with a small smile, remembering. We both knew this was something of an unfair question. Her state of intense arousal made the answer obvious enough: it had turned her on like crazy, and we both knew it. And I had a pretty good idea why it had excited her so profoundly to be seen having sex by her young daughter. She'd shared her own childhood story with me. I knew Cathy had an ongoing erotic fascination with Jessica's sexual curiosity because she related so closely to it. Because she, herself, had been very sexual as a little girl. She talked about it often, during intimate conversations. Cathy was molested as a child. And that experience never left her. She seemed fascinated by it, almost obsessed, as though it somehow determined who she was inside, and she often dwelt on those memories, as if seeking some sort of answer. The first time Cathy told me about being molested, she was lying in my arms in a naked sexual afterglow, perhaps three weeks into our relationship. I cradled her in my arms and we drifted into pillow talk, and the subject of our first sexual experiences came up. She was hesitant at first, and seemed a little embarrassed to talk about it. But then, as if shamefully confessing past sins, she told me she'd been only eight years old. I tried to say that it was okay, that all kids play doctor and stuff, to which she answered, it wasn't playing doctor. It had been with her mother's boyfriend. She had been molested by her mother's boyfriend on an ongoing basis, starting at the age of eight. I remember immediately going into 'good-listener' mode when she told me this, prepared to be a supportive, comforting shoulder to cry on; to let her cathartically express her pain at how she'd been tragically victimized. But as her story unfolded, it soon became evident that as a child she had not viewed herself as a victim at all. She had not only allowed herself to be molested, but had enjoyed it enough to actively present herself to her molester for more, eagerly seeking out his erotic attentions. She seemed to be nervously gauging my reaction to her story as she told it, alert and attentive to my responses as she nervously embellished and supplied details and explanations. Would I be judgmental and condemning? Would I seem disgusted by the whole sordid experience? But I simply held her lovingly and listened, giving her plenty of open space to reveal whatever she chose. And she continued her tale, almost as if trying to shock me with her secrets. There had not been just a single molester, but three. Between the ages of eight and eleven she'd been sexual with three different grown men. Two were her mother's boyfriends, and one was a neighbor. As sympathetically understanding as I was trying to be, as Cathy told me of all this, and it became clear between-the-lines what a willing and enthusiastic little participant she must have been, I was mortified when my penis started to swell into a full blown erection at the images she was bringing to my mind. I tried desperately to squelch this erection with panicky thoughts of baseball statistics, but my cock grew rigid of its own accord. And since we were lying there naked together, there was no way I could possibly conceal it. I thought she would dump me for sure. Single mothers don't usually abide men who get aroused by stories of child abuse. But when Cathy saw my erection, instead of storming from my apartment in a horrified tizzy, like I feared, she astonished me by reaching down and taking it gently into her hand. She began stroking it slowly, while continuing to tell her tale of things the three different men had done to her as a girl. To my utter amazement, she seemed almost as relieved by my erection as I was by her reaction to it. It seemed to please her, as though it showed acceptance, that I was not judging her negatively for her past, or revolted by it. It seemed to free her, somehow, to allow her to open up about these erotic and forbidden things without restraint. She could bare her soul in a way she'd never been able to do with her ex-husband, or anyone other than her therapists. And as she told me of the childhood experiences she'd had, her naked body pressed closer and closer to mine, until finally her pussy was rubbing right up against my leg while she whispered the naughty things she'd done as a child. From our very first encounter, it was clear that both Cathy and I very much enjoyed heightening our arousal through sexy talk and pornographic whispers. But she grew particularly turned on by telling me details about how the first one had snuck into her bedroom and fondled her while she pretended to sleep; or how the second man put his hands under her lacy white Sunday School dress and fingered her while she sat in his lap; or how the third had snuck feels of her little bottom and titties during a tickle fight, and how she began grabbing at the front of his pants in giggling retaliation, feeling his erection, rubbing it, until finally, he let her unzip him so she could play with it in the flesh. It took the first man two months to convince her to take his cock into her little mouth. The second two "didn't have to ask". And as her tale continued, she stroked my penis with ever increasing vigor, and it grew clear to me how deeply she relished these kinky childhood memories, but had always felt she had to keep them shamefully secret, and bottled up. So the fact that they turned me on—just as they turned her on-- relieved that embarrassment, making us in a sense, kindred spirits. Until finally, she became so carried away by reliving all of this with me, and the fact that I accepted her arousal, matching it with my own, that her head slid down my chest and stomach, and she whispered, "Tell me the truth. Would you let me do this… if I was nine?" She began sucking me off. I felt a profound sense of release, as I heard myself openly admit the truth: "Yes. Oh God, yes!" I felt my own psychic barriers fall away at my confession; a confession I was making to myself, perhaps for the first time, as much as to her. Would I really let a nine year old girl suck me off? Yes. Given the opportunity. Deep down inside I knew… I probably would. Even though I had just cum inside her; heedless of our mingled juices coating my cock; with all the true-story images of Cathy being molested as a little girl dancing fresh in my mind; I closed my eyes, pretended she was nine years old, and came hard while she sucked. She swallowed it all with little child-like moans of encouragement. And when the frenzy subsided, she lay quietly for many long minutes, continuing to softly nurse while it grew soft in her mouth. I petted her hair lovingly and felt myself drifting off to sleep. She crawled up into my arms and pulled the blankets over us. In the twilight of slumber, I barely heard her whisper softly in my ear, "I know it was supposed to be wrong. But I loved it. It didn't seem wrong. It felt soooo good. I remember. I loved it. It was me. I wanted them to." When I awoke, she was sleeping, her head resting on my shoulder, her thumb in her mouth. And thus began our process of truly opening up to each other and sharing our deepest, most secret fantasies. Such as my incestuous desire for my aunts and mother when I was a young boy, and even how sexually attractive I find little girls and young teens, and sometimes masturbate thinking about them— fantasies that I had never shared with anyone, for fear of harsh judgement. But Cathy did not condemn me for my forbidden fantasies, but positively loved them, because they matched her own so closely. As the weeks and months progressed, we explored our secret inner lives with unbridled lust and ever increasing honesty. Opening more and more to each other. Growing closer and closer; more and more trusting. Until Cathy finally shared her ultimate, deepest, most forbidden fantasy – one she'd never admitted to anyone – that of her daughter Jessica having the same experiences she'd had. She told me she often secretly fantasized about this; about her own daughter being molested by grown men. She said she was very ashamed about this fantasy, but she just couldn't deny that it got her more excited and made her cum harder and quicker than any other. It's not that she actually wanted Jessica to be molested. But she certainly harbored an intense fetish about her own daughter's underage sexuality. She was fascinated by the idea of Jessica being a sexual creature, as though that aspect of her nature made them more… I don't know… more connected, somehow. Thus, it was not difficult to understand why spotting young Jessica spying on us while we made love last night had aroused her so intensely. Cathy sipped her wine, and idly scratched the restaurant's white tablecloth with a long nail, considering my question. How did it feel knowing Jessica was watching us? After a moment a wry smile crossed her lips. She looked up at me and said, "Well, how do you think it made me feel? I mean, I guess I knew it was taking a risk doing it in the family room like that. But to actually see her watching…" Her sentence trailed off. I recalled her dramatic, almost exaggerated pelvic motions, her quivering pussy clamping my cock like a vice, milking every last drop of cum from my balls. "It turned you on like hell, didn't it? You were glad she was watching." I didn't say that so much as a question, but as a fact. After brief hesitation she admitted with a whisper, "Yes." "I've never seen you cum quite like that," I said with a wry smile. "I was kind of wondering what was up." My cock was now growing quite hard as I pictured young Jessica standing at her bedroom door watching us fuck. I tried to imagine what she must have seen, and wondered what her reaction to it must have been. Did it turn the little girl on? I bet it did. My cock grew even harder. I wanted to take the conversation further. I wanted to explore it. I wanted Cathy to know I thought it was ok, by accepting its erotic aspect as definitive. I decided to go for it, to engage the subject with sensuous lust rather than parental concern. Heck, I figured. If she thought it was sexy, who am I to disagree? I stepped right across the line of propriety and asked, "Do you think she was playing with herself? While she watched us?" "I don't know," Cathy said, rolling the pasta with her fork, a small smile lingering on the corner of her mouth. "Would you have been? When you were a kid? If you'd been her?" Cathy looked up at me, her smile broadening into a sly grin. "Of course I would," she said with a sexy chuckle. Her nipples were stiffening noticeably beneath her thin dress. "Mmmm." I took another sip of wine and asked, "Did it turn you on to know she was looking at my cock?" She scrunched her mouth up a little in thought, trying to hold back her smile. "I don't know if she could see it. Not for sure. I was already on top of you when I noticed her." "So you don't know if she saw what you were doing… before you got on top? How you made me hard with your mouth?" "No." She toyed with her pasta some more. "But deep down, you hope she saw that, don't you? Her watching you suck me turns you on. Doesn't it? Tell me the truth." She shifted her position slightly, with an erotic gleam in her eye. "That would be… very sexy. Yes." "Are you wet right now thinking about it?" I asked bluntly. Cathy now laughed as she took another long, slow drink of the wine. It was the end of the bottle and we were both feeling good. I just smiled at her. I knew the answer. Her nipples stood out noticeably, fully erects and pressing through the fabric. "Definitely," she confessed with a broad grin. She looked so beautiful just then. So incredibly alluring. "And that lovely cock of yours is hard as a rock right now, isn't it?" she added. "Oh yeah," I said. Her hand moved under the table and onto my lap. "Ooo. It is." Just then, a teenaged busboy of about fifteen came up to top off our already full water glasses. Bad timing, I thought. Cathy squeezed me once before removing her hand. I don't think the busboy saw this overt act of public sex play, but I am absolutely certain that it was the sight of her erect, protruding nipples that had drawn him like a magnet to our table for a closer look. The young boy was trying not to stare too obviously at her breasts, but gave an embarrassed apology when my glass overflowed. "That's okay," I said. "We were just leaving." Cathy folded her hands together on the table and smiled at him as he awkwardly wiped up the spill. He was new. A relative of Tony, the owner, just learning the ropes at his first job, I guessed. Probably working under the table, as a favor to his mother, trying teach him some responsibility. His eyes kept darting rather obviously to Cathy's swollen tits, with their sensuously erect nipples. He was trying to be subtle, but failed miserably. I felt a sexy twinge of pride to be with her. Cathy does indeed have lovely breasts, and I could tell that she was well aware of the boy's distracted interest in them, the way his wide eyes kept glancing in obvious fascination. And I sensed that she was also rather pleased with herself to have this sexy effect on him. I decided to have some fun with the boy. I looked at him and smiled. "They're nice aren't they?" When he looked at me, I looked at her breasts, then back at him, to more clearly indicate my meaning. He practically jumped when I said this, knowing he'd been caught, blushed furiously, and quickly finished mopping the spill and hurried away, almost knocking over a tray in the process. Cathy laughed and hit me in the arm playfully when he'd gone. "You're terrible!" I smiled slyly. "Who? Me?" I looked at her breasts. "But they are nice." If anything, her nipples were even more erect than before. I put my arm around her and scootched closer, nuzzling her neck and whispered, "He'll be thinking about you tonight, when he masturbates. You know that, don't you?" I kissed her neck, but resisted the impulse to place my hand squarely on a swollen tit, right there in public. "Does that turn you on? To know that young boy will be stroking his cock while fanaticizing about you? About undressing you, and kissing you all over? And feeling your boobs?" I kissed below her ear. "That he'll imagine fucking you when he cums?" "That is a sexy thought," she whispered back, a smile forming on her lips. "Would it turn you on if I fantasized about that, too?" "About the young boy fucking you? Yes. That would definitely turn me on." I kissed her neck, then pulled back to look into her eyes. "But there's something else that would turn me on even more." I slipped a Viagra pill from my pocket, bit off half, and washed it down with the water he'd brought. It's not that I needed it, really, but if you've never tried it, you really should. It's amazing the rock hard endurance it gives you. And taking the Viagra had become sort of a ritual signal for us that the next item on the agenda was an intense session of unbridled and passionate sex. Then I grinned at her, pulled out my billfold and threw enough cash on the table to cover our meal and a generous tip for Megan, our favorite waitress. "Come on," I said standing and chugging down the last of my wine, not caring who may see the erect bulge in my trousers. I took Cathy by the hand, and helped her up from the table. "Going so soon?" she asked – knowing that something was up. "No after dinner cigarette?" "Not tonight." I answered, leading her from the restaurant. Continued in part 2... *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* The author does not condone child abuse, this story is meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a fellow convict in their local prison. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Kristen's collection - Directory 35