The thought of it makes the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.
His Touch…Lick…Force…
All to sickening to remember.
The images flash before my closed eyes.
His smile, oh how I hate his crooked smile.
*****? I’m a *****? No, I am a child.
Or was.
He put his putrid hands on me, said I wanted it.
Oh yes, at 10 I wanted him inside me.
I wanted to feel that way.
I begged for it.
Or so he said...