This story also forced meto stop and think about how I got to this point in my life. Part ofthis story was hard for me to write but I was surprised at...how easyother parts were. I'm sure I have suppressed some of the more painfulparts of my very early childhood so that only those good or bettermemories come to mind. I hope you enjoy it.I was born in rural Georgia in late 1952 to a single parent. At leastthat's the term used today. Back then back then the term would havebeen an unwed Mother. My. "What were you wanting to see?" I was actually curious, because Shannon had convinced me that I didn't have anything that she was interested in."You know." She was blushing, and even her freckles got darker."If I knew, I wouldn't be asking, would I?" She had been looking down at her shoes while we were talking, but she raised up to look at my face when I said that. I think she thought that I was teasing her. I looked right back at her, waiting to hear what she'd have to say."I wanted to see. He told me that weed had made him crazy.Like a fool, I believed him. That was only the beginning of his abuse to me. I was planning on leaving him when things had not improved. However Joe stopped me with his threat that came a week or two later when he came home and found me packing my bags. Sherri was at my mom's and I was packing our bags and going to join her there. Joe came into the bedroom as I opened the suitcase."What the fuck do you think your doing?" Joe asked angry and loud."I am. We also had retained our photographs in sexual positions. I was excited now. I closed door half and watched. My son asked my wife whether she fed him her milk when he was a small boy. My wife said, “of course, my darling”. My son asked, “What is the taste of such milk?” My wife mischievously answered, “This you ask you dad. He too loved the taste of milk!”. My son asked her whether the milk flowed through a woman’s breast all the time. My wife said, “Yes, may be”. My son suddenly asked my wife.