Her face was livid with pain, and to this day I'm positive she was more afraid of her own feelings than of me.I had fallen against the wall. (There would be bruises.) My head wasn't any clearer than hers. With my thoughts elsewhere, the blood in my cock drained back into my brain. I tried to comprehend what my mother was talking about. There was no way she was begging, telling me to fuck her. (Hours later, I'd push my prick to the edge with self-abuse thinking about my mother standing over me, tears in her eyes, shaking her fist, demanding that I rip off her clothes and force my seven inch cock into her overheating cunt.) The reality shriveled me to the size of a peanut. I felt like crying. Rodney had been able to run away, but I was cornered like a corned beef sandwich on a blue plate special."Mom, what are you saying?" I pleaded.If my mother had been wearing any less than four layers the inevitable would have happened in the worst way. Had she not got stuck trying to unbutton her. It's this way." Damien took her hand and helped her from the sofa and then led the way to the bathroom. Shower over the tub behind a cheap green plastic curtain (with white seaweed and sea horses for some reason) and the toilet down one end of the room, hidden from casual view behind the door when it was open.He turned on the light and ushered her inside. "I'll be out in the lounge. You might want to wash up as well."He closed the door and walked away wondering who he should call. Something bothered him though. The girl's strange eyes certainly reminded him of a wolf's, and her hair had the same quality and shade of his favourite. He wished her story could only be true.Perra had ignored the strange seat at the end of the bath. In fact none of the features, other than the taps, were at all familiar. She had an urgency that would not have worried her in the enclosure, she would simply have squatted wherever was most appropriate. She couldn't understand why Damien had closed her in.
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