Tate Sloane was young, barely three years older than her own twenty-one-year-old daughter, and brash and cocky. But what he lacked in experience and ...echnique, he more than made up for with youthful enthusiasm. And that ten-inch cock was nothing to sneeze at. He was definitely bigger than her husband.Her husband. That thought made her feel a little guilty. A little. Jake was a great husband. In bed, he was okay. His oral skills were out of this world. He made really good money, and. Her face a study in concentration, as she wiped away the blood and my tears.My mother ... again.I was older, but still of indeterminate age. Her face flashed into my mind. She was dressed for an outing, waiting at the front door for my father to pick her up and take her out. There was a tendril of memory, floating at the back of my mind, of a babysitter and my unhappiness at having this particular sitter stay with me.The still picture of my mother was engraved into my memory, because, instead. It was a wet, warm, and unusually clear night without a cloud nearby; even the weather likes to play tricks sometimes, he thought to himself.He raised his head and blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to what little light shone through the shadows of the mangroves surrounding the catholic mission. He got up and leaned to the window, resting both his elbows on the sill. Most of the refugees had remained; a few pregnant mothers shared tents with other families, while the rest simply slept on the. "Oh fuck yeeessss," she exclaimed.As excited as I was to make her scream like that, I stopped, got up, grabbed her by the hair and slapped her across her face. Hard."what did I say?"Her cheeks got a little red and she started at me, confused and hurt. I don't know what came over me. I just wanted to exercise control over her, I had not intended to slap her. But, damnit, it felt great. The raw power over her was even more addicting than the notion that I can fuck her. She just stood there,.