I look at photos of myself aged 14, and I look like an excited puppy – bouncy, full of energy, and ready to play. I was an innocent.I can’t rememb...r exactly when it changed – when I stopped being innocent. Memory is a strange thing, and some stuff is indelibly marked on my mind’s eye, while other things (which you’d think were important) are hazy. So I can’t remember the date this happened, and I can’t even remember whether I was still 14, or just turned 15.But I know exactly what happened, and. "Tiny!" I yelled in my firmest voice "Go lay down!"Now, keep in mind just a matter of hours ago, he would have slunk off head hanging in shame, but now, he merely pushed his nose harder into my crotch - further reminding me of the differences in my new anatomy.Sighing in exasperation, I finally pushed passed and went to sit in my recliner. As I entered the living room, I saw that Julie already had the television on watching a pimply-faced teenage boy captioned as "Professor Rudolph Freeman". Ifound myself wishing I could have talked Frank into handling theinvestigation personally. "Just tell me if you found her." Sort of," he replied drolly. "She's dead."They say you feel a chill when someone walks over the plot that willsomeday be your grave. That was the feeling I had, and it wasn't justfrom the air conditioning in the car. No, I hadn't started believing inmessages from beyond the grave, but if Joyce Hamilton was really dead,matters were complicated. That would mean that someone. He gets up and stands in front of me and pulls my body forward like he owns me. Now he takes his pants off, and with my head hanging off the edge of the bed he starts fucking my throat. My gagging noises begin again. I try to keep it under control as he goes, “Ooooh yeah. Fuck yes. Swallow my cock you little whore. Take it down your throat, worthless slut.” His thrusts become faster, rougher, as if he's drilling my pussy. Each time he pulls out to let me breathe he slaps me hard across the.