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Message-ID: <38668asstr$1033870202@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: thedisciplen@yahoo.com (DiscipleN)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 5 Oct 2002 18:26:55 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Minding Others, Parts 3 and 4 (mf, mF, mc, incest, reluct, slow)
Date: Sat,  5 Oct 2002 22:10:02 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Minding Others
by DiscipleN

Copyright (c) 2002, by DiscipleN. All rights reserved.
This work may not be used for any commercial purposes without prior,
documented consent from the owner.


- Chapter 3 -

Here's the kicker. That day, when I masturbated, I pretended the set
of events was my fault. I went so far as to call my cock the 'Horn
Key'. All I had to do was point my cock at a woman and she would beg
me for sex. The trouble was, none of them had. In typical revisionist
thinking, post orgasm, I decided that sort of fantasy was directly
responsible for old men in raincoats. I dismissed the concept. It
returned to me later that night.

Mother was yelling at Rodney when I arrived home from school. She
stopped when she heard me enter, but it had been loud enough to escape
the house. With luck, the neighbors were hiding behind two of their
own doors with the windows and curtains shut.

"I don't know whether your principal is full of bullshit, or you're an
aspiring prankster. This is not acceptable behavior in any case!"

"But mom..."

"Look," Mom interrupted. "This may be the new age of teenage sexual
awakenings, but there are still plenty of us old fogies who are
willing to call their lawyers to deal with these kinds of things. This
house can't afford to be sued over your principal's story that you led
three innocents into lewd public acts."

"I didn't do anything. They just attacked me." Rod stood his ground.

"Rod, you've been a good son long enough. I can believe you, but our
community is going to blame the guy first. Girls are only blamed when
they've been raped."

I opened the front door. Their focus shattered. Rod looked relieved.

"Hey sport, I got detention!" My brother beamed, hoping to break mom's
anger.

Mom noticed me with an abbreviated smile and walked into the kitchen.

I approached Rod and hit his arm. "Idiot."

"Batten down, before I bat you back." He flared.

"Shut up, both of you." Mother yelled. Her voice cracked.

Rod grabbed my shirt and dragged me to his room.

"Jules, mom's had a rougher day than either of us. Miss Hardass phoned
her and I had to bring notes from the classes I missed. I just wish to
hell I understood what happened. You were there. What did you see?"

"I dunno. It looked like you might finally lose your virginity on Glen
Loch High's front steps. What did the girl's say?"

"Miss Hardass questioned them separately, but I met Wendy before they
sent us home. She told me that when she saw Ursula and Sabrina
climbing all over me, she wanted to beat them lifeless so she could
kill me. Then all of a sudden, they disappeared. All she could see was
me, and her body leaped to kiss me before she even realized it. She
said, she'd never been so horny in her life."

"Wow, can I use your aftershave?" I was struck. His story had prepared
the ground for a new tent in my pants.

"Cut the jokes. Everyone's upset, even me, but I'm worried most about
mom."

"Did you hear what happened in my history class?" I switched events.

"Oh yeah, Mr. Corother's shepherded Holly and Carolyn into Miss
Hardass's office while I was waiting for the next round of The
Inquisition. Maybe their story was what saved me from being expelled.
I heard Holly was expelled."

"Oh, no!" It really hurt. I punched my palm.

"She put up quite a fight. I could hear her yelling right back at the
vice principal. 'I ought to stick my head up YOUR dress, cunt, and
then you'd know what the fuck made me do it.' She started to cry like
a little girl the moment she shut the office door behind her."

"Damn, I wish I could call her. She wasn't the only one who lost it.
Carolyn was rubbing her tits right in front of everyone."

"Please, I didn't need to visualize that." Rod tried to lighten the
mood.

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"I dunno, but I've got three days to do it in."

Mom called us for supper. We hadn't noticed Lynn and Shelley arrive,
nor the hour that had passed by. That meal was eaten quietly. Every
time Lynn or Shell pipped up, they were met with a conspiracy of
silence.

I sipped at my lukewarm soup. Dinner seemed to last forever. I was
thinking about Holly. I had a hard-on. I didn't know there were such
things as sympathy based erections. Sex was the farthest thing from my
mind. I really felt bad for the poor girl, but my dick had it's own
emotional track. I stared at my soup and prayed nobody would ask me to
get up. The table top defended me from embarrassment due to natural
causes.

The quiet was interrupted by what I thought was a renewed attempt at
igniting a conversation around the table.

"Stop that, Lynn!" Shell's voice squeaked.

"Stop what?" Lynn retorted a little too quickly.

My head snapped up. Both girls fidgeted, both clearly nervous about
something. The older girl looked as if she had been caught in a mouse
trap. The younger one, Shell, might have been dealing with an internal
struggle.

"You aren't supposed to do that where people can see." Shell kept her
voice to a whisper, but the room was so quiet she might have hollered.

Lynn's face turned bright red. She jumped up and ran out of the
kitchen.

"Mom!" Lynn tried to preempt the expected disaster.

All eyes turned to our mother.

Her face was white as linen. Her eyes were like marble. She trembled,
apparently unaware of anything in the room. Her hands were buried
under the table.

Rod saved the moment. "Shell, go get your Mom a towel from her
bathroom."

"Huh?"

"GO!"

That got the little one out of the room.

"Mom?" My brother looked closer.

She was barely breathing. Her forehead began to drip from the tension
behind it.

"Bro', stand guard outside the door."

My dick stood like a rock. I almost didn't dare to expose it, but Rod
had called me 'Bro' and that meant a lot to me. I hurried out,
shutting the door behind me. Rod would fix everything, I told myself.
He'll find out what's going on. I leaned over and listened within.

"Rod, good heavens, you have to fuck me right now!" My dear mom
suddenly screamed from inside the secured room.

A second later, the door flew open, throwing me to the carpet. Rodney
raced through the living room. He reached the front door by the third
second. On the fifth, it slammed shut behind him. The same instant,
mom appeared from the kitchen and stood over me. Her hands clutched
and dragged at her crotch.

"You!" She threatened me.

Nothing a sane man would admit, followed.

"You're trying to kill me!" Pure terror filled her voice. "I have to
fuck you or I'm going to die. Please put an end to it. I beg you!" She
ranted. 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 sweater, my dick would have reinflated upon first view of
her considerable charms. A measure of sense returned to my ringing
brain. I searched for space to escape through. Mom's attention and
frustration transferred to her fingers flying to remove the top
sweater button from it's hole. She cursed it, but her words lightened,
and my fear eased.

"Blast this darn mohair. It's all fouled up." Her fingers slowed their
fury. I watched her face change. Its desperate whiteness began to
clear. Her skin flushed as her tension subsided. I saw her eyes, sharp
with anger, soften, but they continued to round out, growing wider.
They shimmered with liquid. The flush in her cheeks became a deep
blush, and she looked at me with a new horror, her memory of the
previous minute.

"My poor babies!" She gasp and fled through the living room and up the
stairs. Her door slammed shut in the distance. The faint click of its
lock sounded like the clang at the end of a wrestling match.

I remained collapsed on the living room carpet and leaned against the
wall. My world wrinkled. Mother had never frightened me like that. Her
mind had been possessed, but by what? Three times in one day, every
girl in my vicinity had gone sexually berserk.

"Duh!" I struck my forehead. I may not have been the geekiest freshman
in high school, but two and two are still four, even when your only
digits are male and female. I contemplated experiments which would
sort out these insane events. I had to perform one soon, or my whole
family would go mad. Before anything else, however, the current
situation required immediate attention. I stood up, walked to my room,
ignored the stare of two pairs of girl eyes and made a herculean
effort to keep my mind blank. Lying upon my bed, door barricaded with
a desk chair, fantasies of my mother commanding me to fuck her
undoubtedly beautiful and dripping cunt made me cum into a tissue in
less than a minute.

Later that night, the instant I felt another hard-on growing, I jacked
it as quickly as I could. I didn't sprout another until morning, and I
rushed to the bathroom to pee. Fortunately, for my cock's skin,
pissing a morning hard-on was just as effective. For two days, I
masturbated as often as I could, with hardly a moment of lingering
horniness. Unfortunately, my dick started to hurt from the effort. I
began to carry a tube of KY-jelly I stole from a drug store.

For one week, nothing out of the ordinary, female-wise, happened,
neither at school nor at home. Phase two of the experiment began under
strict environmental controls. I began peeping into my neighbor's
windows, my distant neighbors. I looked for the least sexual female in
our town who left her shutters open.

I don't know her name. I never went back. But she can be proud today
for instilling the respect I have for women and the discipline I
learned to avoid future disasters. She was an old woman, probably in
her sixties. Her house was perfect. Its dilapidated, unfenced grounds,
raised weeds as tall and thick as my fourteen year-old head. Slinking
through her overgrown backyard, I spied the woman sitting down for a
cup of tea. It was late, eleven o-clock, an hour past my bedtime. My
mother had been giving me and Rodney the silent treatment since the
incident. More about that later. Breaking curfew was the least of my
concerns.

For a sixty year old, my target wasn't all that bad looking. Her skin
wasn't very wrinkled, and she didn't wear clothes that looked like a
tea cozy. She even kept her breasts standing at three o-clock,
probably with some modern version of the corset. Imagining having sex
with her wasn't the hardest thing in the world, but I had to work on
it. That was the clue which unlocked my mystery.

What was this thing I did to women whenever my dick got hard? It had
begun wholly without any knowledge or control on my part. Dick hard -
women horny. Life expectancy, less than a year. Somebody else was
bound to figure it out, and there was no way I could continue a
program of masturbation five to eleven times a day. I'd wear my cock
down to the size of a tooth pick! I still wasn't sure it was me, but I
was pretty sure. Maybe it was just my dick.

So there I was, late at night, hidden in tall weeds, peeking at
somebody's well preserved granny as she sipped a cup of tea. In order
to proceed with my experiment, I had to get a hard-on. This scene may
be somebody's fantasy, but it wasn't mine. I was a little cold, guilty
to be thinking sex about a nice old lady, and slightly worried a SWAT
team was waiting to make their move from behind the house across the
street.

Well, there had to be something sexy about it. I thought and thought.
There's always something you can find to get turned on about. I gave
her breasts a second look and then a third. They were kind of pointy.
What if the little woman had gotten a boob job from the local fashion
surgeon? What if she was really a hot momma who sipped her tea and
thought about teenage boys she flashed her tits to in the park.

I thought about her sitting on a park bench, feeding the pigeons
wearing a colorful, unbuttoned blouse she kept closed with one hand.
When some young bub like me walked by, she would cough and let her
blouse open in his direction. Maybe she was thinking about teenage
cock right now. What if she used her manicured tits to lure boys back
to her quaint, blue speckled wall papered home, to suck on their cocks
while they groped her enhanced breasts and fingered her hot and
dripping cunt.

Okay, I could feel the lump growing in my shorts. It was working.

The semi-old woman stood up and set down her tea. She went to the
stove and lifted the tea pot. She returned to refill her cup.

I was soft again.

Fuck it. I reached my hand down my pants and thought of my mom. "I
have to fuck you or I'm going to die. Please put an end to it. I beg
you!" She had yelled at me. When it had happened for real, it made me
wilt faster than the little old lady. When I fantasized about it, my
cock grew an extra cock just to store the excess blood. I was rock
hard.

The old woman stopped drinking her tea. Her hands were shaking. Her
eyes seemed to be searching the kitchen. She looked out her window. I
ducked down quick. I watched her stand up and walk towards the window.
She was about to close the damn curtains!

Then I saw her tits. They were pretty big for her small waist. Maybe
she did have a boob job. Maybe she was wearing a push-up corset. My
original fantasy about her using her tits to lure innocent boys to her
house came back to me on its own accord. Hell, I thought, I could fuck
her tits!

Her arms reached up to grab the drawstring, but instead they landed
across her chest! I was seriously thinking about fucking her tits. My
hand was still in my pants. I imagined the most youthful pair of perky
tits around the slim waist of an old woman. My cock was creaming with
enough pre-cum to lube the way through the cleft of her white breasts.

I saw her face go white, even whiter than an old woman sitting around
a house all day. One of her trembling hands shot itself through her
plain green blouse. I think I heard a button snap. She reached for her
tit so quickly the sturdy construction of her blouse was no match for
her inexplicable desire. She opened her mouth as part of a wild and
surprised, but determined expression.

Her hand disappeared under green cloth. It's movements mimicked a
tongue swirling around, inside one cheek. Her breath became short. I
was beating my meat with an unaccustomed urgency. My mind latched onto
the idea that my cock had entered a hyper-dimensional gateway linking
my pants to her blouse. The faster I fucked my hand, the faster her
hand rubbed her tit. Her other hand began reaching into her skirt.

Jesus woman, what do I have to imagine now, sticking my cock into your
gnarly snatch and plugging you with cum?

I lost it.

Not my cum, but my train of thought derailed at the difficult, erotic
notion of fucking the old woman. That was just plain wrong! I might
have gotten away with it if I had been closer to orgasm, but I was
just beginning, and the change of gears from perky tit fucking to old
cunt fucking was too much too soon.

My cock didn't soften right away. The fantasy I weaved unraveled, and
I found myself stroking a good beat and simply enjoying the feeling of
hand on dick. It felt pretty good. The old woman continued reaching
into her skirt, perhaps even fingering her cunt, but her tit hand
suddenly freed itself and yanked on the curtain's drawstring. My first
voyeured woman disappeared from my life forever. I didn't even jack
myself off to completion. I scrambled away, hoping distance might
correct the problem of my special horniness. Previous situations had
supported an inverse-square law for my 'horn key'.

I walked home, thoughts swirling. I was pretty sure I had discovered
what I needed to control my effect, but I still faced the same dilemma
every horny teenager faced. My dick listened to no one else and rarely
to me. Until my hormone spurting glands withered from age, I was a
walking hurricane of desire. Either I would have to learn to use my
power for the good of mankind, enslave all women to my perverse will,
or join the Navy. I hear they've got drugs for dampening sexual
energy.

The trick was concentration. I had to focus my thoughts on what made
me horny, and then I could control the actions of women within range.
Undisciplined horniness was received by women as general desire,
powerful desire without a proper throttle for control. Women went sort
of mad with horniness. While that might be nice for a wild weekend,
everyday living would be hell on earth.

I don't know where it came from, how it actually works, nor why I had
been 'blessed' with it. It sure seemed tied in with my recently
acquired, natural ability to impregnate women. Maybe since puberty had
occurred late in my youth I got a bonus prize. Great, now that I had
figured out a crude way to control it, I suddenly had to learn how to
discipline myself or I would likely end up in a bad way. This is no
different than the life of other fourteen year-olds.

Even worse, in my English class, I was the guy who hated to read book
assignments about rites of passage. They all seemed so phony. Well to
say the least, I doubt anyone has written a rite of passage story more
ridiculous than my own.

As I said, my thoughts swirled. Exactly what the hell I was doing? I
don't know. The actual mechanism of my power remains a mystery, just
as the mechanism of electricity remained unknown decades after
electricity had been used around the world. I guess I'm just not the
kind of person who can believe in magic, even when its shooting out of
my cock. Pheromones might be the most logical agent (except not
through a closed window), but Kirlian photography, Satan's finger up
my ass, and a host of other fraudulent sciences might be revived, yet
again, to explain the matter. I didn't care. I believed I could fuck
any woman, any time, and they liked it, whether or not they liked it.

 
- Chapter 4 - 

Out of practice comes discipline. Only through discipline can one
practice. I had learned the secret of my erection's effect, but
learning to control it proved as dangerous as letting heated desires
run amok.

I mentioned that mother had kept silent since the evening everything
fell apart. She answered quietly and succinctly when asked specific
questions like 'Where are my socks', but she ignored everything else.
I think she might have even talked with a shrink. I found a phone
number for a Dr. Shigswon on the phone pad, but the number had been
crossed out.

Two days after I visited the little old lady, I made a fateful
decision. I would fight two demons with the same magic, my demon and
my mother's. It reality they were the same demon, and its first victim
had been my mother. Drastic measures must be taken. Guilt over this
bothered me to the point where I didn't have an erection for three
days. I missed an entire day of school worrying over my plan and
praying I didn't hurt her.

Nearly two weeks after driving my mother to sexually assault her
children, I sought her out and confronted her. I think Rodney was out
of the house confronting his own demons. He hadn't spoken much either.

"Mother, please sit with me and listen to something I have to tell
you." My heart thrummed like a locomotive clawing its way across the
Rocky Mountains.

She tried to walk around me, her head faced the carpet. "Not right
now, okay honey?"

"No, it's not okay. We have to talk." Seeing my once proud and feisty
mother shy away from me like I were a villain, shamed me. Of course,
she was thinking the villain was her.

"Sit down mother." I took her arm and slightly tugged her towards the
couch.

She suddenly nodded and actually looked me in the eye. "I guess you're
right. Thanks." She attempted a smile. She turned and headed for the
far cushion.

Her subordination to my command was an incredible turn on, but I had
prepared well. In my left hand I cradled a thorny thistle pod. I
clenched it and clenched my teeth in response. My cock demurred to the
sudden distraction of pain, barely. I sat on the couch cushion
farthest from my mother.

"Honey?" Mom tilted her head at my pained expression.

"This is going to sound..." I began, stalled, gulped, and proceeded.
"This is going to sound like total horseshit, but before you get up
and walk away, I'm going to prove to you that neither you nor I are
crazy.

The word stung her. I could see in her eyes that she wanted
immediately to rebuke my choice of words, but her own need to find
something she could grasp after two weeks of indistinct nightmares
paused her.

"Do you remember when I fell ill, and I was hallucinating?"

"Yes? I remember."

"During my lapses of consciousness, I dreamed of you. You kept by my
side so much you walked into my dreams. You seemed prepared for
everything that happened. Before I felt chill you had already filled
the hot water bottle. Before I began to burn you had refreshed the ice
pack. These things you did, because you know me better than I know
myself."

"Julius, you aren't the first son I've raised." Mother's eyebrows
lifted.

"Yes, but you are highly attuned to me. I believe you can share my
feelings when they are strong enough."  What I was telling my mom
probably was total horseshit, but I had to break the news to her in a
way she wouldn't object outright.

"Wh-what are you talking about, son?" It appeared my personal
Missouri-ism  had roots.

"I'm talking about sex, mother."

She froze like a stone.

"I'm trying to tell you it wasn't your fault. It was mine."

"No, I was..."

"I'm going to prove it to you. Right here. Right now." I let my grip
relax, and the slightly bloody thistle fell to the floor. I looked
into my mother's eyes. They were grayer than the blue I had always
attributed to them. They were beautiful.

"Can you feel this?" I let myself relax and looked deep. My half hard
cock jerked. I thought about her lips, how full they were. I thought
of them trembling. I thought of her tongue glistening with slick
spittle. "Mother can you feel your mouth come alive?"

She caught her breath.

I imagined her mouth moving closer to the turgid flesh within my
trousers. I imagined drool, just a drop, leaking out as she unzipped
me with her teeth. I could see her mouth, full like a tulip, embracing
my humble stone that prayed upon its pillar.

Her tongue pushed out and licked her lips. Mother's pupils turned to
pinpoints.

"Tell me, mother. Tell me." I urged her.

"No, th-this can't be happening." She had to use her mouth to speak.

Her fingers reached for her face.

"Suck on your fingers mother."

Her expression drained all color from her face. Her hands reached
inside her mouth and lips, like two snakes, closed down upon them.
Clear drops seeped out from between her fingers. She closed her eyes
and hummed.

"What does it feel like?" I asked her. My cock pressed expansively
within my shorts. "Tell me."

"Mmbbllmm. Gu-goood." A tear crept out of her left eye. She gulped
down liquid pouring into her mouth from its overstimulated glands.

The part I feared worse than death neared. Could I dare to do it?

I love my mother. She was the one source of my soul and life. The
missing father in my past held nothing for me. Here I was, openly
triggering my mom's sexual responses and focusing their energies, but
to complete the cycle, I had to reach my own satisfaction. All of my
mother's beauty and powerful spirit were toys in the fingers of my
sexual potency.

I grasp the zipper on my pants and opened it. My other hand reached in
and caught the length of my erection. I wriggled it out through the
fly in my underwear. The head of my cock broke free of its sweaty
confinement, but my mother could not see it. I thought only of her
mouth, sucking my cock with languid draws.

Mother slid down the couch cushion. Her lips slurped and smacked. Her
idle hand started rubbing up and down her stomach.

Her slurping caused my body to twitch. When she began touching
herself, my cock jumped in my hand, but I didn't shoot right then. I
freely jacked on my cock and imagined spurts of its pre-cum seeping
from her lips. My hips hunched involuntarily.

"That's right mother. Imagine your sucking lips are clamped down
around a nice fat dick. It tastes so good mother, doesn't it?" I
jerked with emphasis. Little shocks like orgasms stirred in my waist.

"Mmmmmm,  sooo gooood." She punched another finger into her mouth and
slobber spilled out. Her cheek twitched. Her jaw shook drops of spit
over her blouse. Her eyes tightened as a few spasms rocked her
breasts. I was pounding my erect prick four feet away from my mother
while she sucked on all her fingers, eyes closed, telling herself they
were one fat cock suffing her throat.

"Do you like hard dicks in your mouth, mother?"

"Mm, do, mmm doooo." Mom's other hand pushed into her skirt, between
her legs. She slid down the cushion some more. Her ass hung half off
the edge of the couch. I scooted across and leaned over mother. My
hand pounded my meat, and I aimed it at her face.

Mom seemed lost in wherever her own desires had driven her. Her
fingers twisted around inside her lips like rowboat oars impelling a
lazy trip across serene water. It was the sexiest moment I had ever
experienced, and at fifteen, it was like the intense blue of a jet
engine where once there had been a candle's flicker. I came like a
rocket. Cum raced up from my groin and burned the air with its heat.
Sticky hot cum splashed on mom's nose and hand and cheeks. It spilled
down my shaft and soaked into my pants. My hand stroked over my cock
madly now. The flames in my head exploded in a gigantic fireball.

I grunted like a sated pig.

Mother's hand plunged in and out of her mouth. The hand in her skirt
rubbed with enough force to leave her fingers white. She mumbled
wildly, slurping and sloshing spit like a butter churn, but when my
scalding jism blasted her face, her eyes flew open and locked onto my
hand finishing it's successful action. Her eyes expanded to horrified
disks, and she pulled her hand out of her mouth just in time to let
out a shriek.

"Jules!!!! Aieeeeeee!!!!!!" Her face was a terrified grimace of
realization.

I covered my cock, but it was too late. The truth had picked up each
of us and dumped us individually into spiked pits. Honestly, I wanted
to cry. The effort it had taken to bear my discovery before my mother
in a manner she was forced to acknowledge nearly caused me to curl up
and die.

Instead, I jumped up and sped out of the room. As I ran, I stuffed my
wilting cock back into my pants, nearly cutting it with my zipper. I
raced outside. Cum soaked into my trousers and cooled. I ran straight
into my brother.

"Jules, what's the matter?" He grabbed me, roughly. For a second I
thought he was angry with me. "I heard a shout."

He had been walking up to our front door. The grass in afternoon shade
gave green contrast to my red face. "Rodney, I didn't see you."

"That was mother shouting again, wasn't it?"

"NO!" I answered without thinking. "I-It..."

"It was her. She's at it again, isn't she?"

"Brother please, listen to me."

"You can't defend her. It's a sickness. She needs help."

"But, it was me... I mean I was helping her."

Rodney interpreted what I said in the worst way possible. "Oh God,
It's too late. They'll put her in prison! Jules, are you okay? Did she
injure you? You're trembling... I-I have to put an end to this."

"NO! You don't know what you're talking about. Nothing happened. She
didn't touch me." I shouted and backed away, actually intending to bar
my brother from the front door.

"Jules, it's no use protecting her. She'll only hurt you again." My
brother was so confused by his fear for our mother's sanity and my
safety, he ignored everything I said. He pushed me aside and reached
for the doorknob.

"I'll prove it to you!" I yelled and punched him as hard as I could.
"It's all MY fault, not moms!"

My weak blow must have knocked some of his anger aside. He stopped and
looked at me. "How the hell is it your fault?" And he waited for an
answer.

I looked him straight in the eye and said. "I don't know." My answer
didn't stun him. That fierce look grew back on his face, but before he
could resume his march, I hurriedly added. "But I can prove it."

"How?"

"Take me to your girlfriend, Wendy."



--- to be continued, next week ---

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