. . getting close to cumming. Amy smiled as she watched her thumb and index finger capture her pink nipple and manipulate it with a quick twist and th...n a much longer pinch (which she loved to do at night under her covers) . . . just like Mike wanted. She was at the point of no return as she placed her cell just above her titties and then immediately moved that hand into her aching pussy lips. Soon Amy’s middle finger was trying to mimic what she knew his. Even though it would probably explain afew things. After a few drinks, she weighed her options. She could save her currentexistence, allowing her to jump back here whenever she wanted. Great.Back to the same dismal, lonely existence. Back to no identity, horrifiedstares and mocking pity. There was nothing for her here, but the save-game slot was full. She could jump into it and into another life. Whatthat life was, she had no idea. It could literally be anything, but ithad to be better than. But have any of them actually called you a pervert or a puppy pervert?" He asked."Well, no." She admitted."So where do you think this idea of yourself as a pervert comes from?" He asked."I don't know." Amy replied."My expert opinion is that you're bringing it on yourself. In the mirror you see some perverted collar and project it out onto other people's view of you." He said matter-of-factly, "It's preventing you from living you're life. Tell me, do you have any close friends or partners, do. K. what's the problem?" I thought the best defence is to attack; so, I did."Richard, do you have a job?" The opening salvo, good start, Mom!"Mom, I've been trying to keep this roof over our heads since Dad died. Suicide meant there was no insurance payable to us. You and the girls maxed out all our Credit Cards; the Line-of-Credit was deep in the red, no Mortgage Payments, and no food in the house. So it was up to me to straighten things out. OK with that, Mom?"She sat down abruptly. Nearly.