"I always knew you were a genius Martina," Miriam said."Please, Aunt Miriam," I said, "I don't want you to think of me anydifferently than the way you...have."Aunt Miriam smiled at me, "What a lovely thought Martina. I'll just haveto do my best to make sure that doesn't happen!"The phone rang and Miriam answered it. Martina heard her laughing a bitand saying, "I quite agree she is something very special." He did?" It's the least I can do!" Yes, we will call his parents and I'm sure they and his. I told him about my cousin Alison, who was brought up in the tenements of Glasgow's slum housing with its shared toilets on the landing and holes in the door, where the pervs would watch the girls peeing and the girls watch their sisters shagging and how Alison started giving blowjobs as she sat their shitting and peeing, for two and six, a half crown in old currency. She made five pounds a week with the regulars, mostly old men wanting to do a girl, by fifteen she was taking it up her arse,. Few dayslater the same warning in written form has sent to the subunit I'm workingby post."Yes, it was my mother such as that."I couldn't go against your will, kid, so I stayed aside. This was notbecause of disregard and disrespect but because of love and esteem."There was another pause."So what do you say? What's your decision, kid?" he asked again.I hesitated. Not that I hadn't what to say. I realized suddenly that myfather's situation was much much much worse than mine. I realized what. It was wonderful to feel. “You naughty slut,” I groaned. “Just a pussy-loving dyke. Mr. Armstrong, your wife is a carpet-munching whore!”“She is,” Mr. Armstrong said. “Enough of that, slave.”“Yes, dear,” she moaned, pulling her mouth from me, her eyes glossy and her lips gleaming with my cream.“You're here to be a faithful wife, not to indulge your depraved desire for pussy,” he growled.I rolled my eyes. There was nothing wrong with it, but he was still mired in his own beliefs. However, it was.