First the story. Twelve years ago, while my parents were away on vacation they asked me to drop in on their house daily to check on things and feed an... walk Petey, their Dalmatian. I was glad to do it, being an animal lover. All went well for the most part, instead of going over every night, I brought the dog home with me, not having the heart to leave him by himself for that long a time. Every day Id feed him, take him out to play in the yard, walk him, all the usual sort of thing one does. “Come now, why the long face?” Yolanda patted his hand. “You love the attention.”“Right,” he sighed.Well, that was that, then. He was going to show his butt, after all. Wait, what if Aron wasn’t okay with this?“I need to ask my husband,” he raised one finger.“Aron? Why?” Yolanda looked, a bit puzzled, at him.“Maybe he doesn’t want me to show everyone, you know, the goods,” he explained and leaned back in his chair.Was Aron the possessive type? He really hoped so. But he had no idea about. Very firm, pear shaped and needing no support, they just poked out defying gravity. A clear, creamy coloured skin swept down the slopes of Cheryl’s breasts and met the dark chocolate coloured skin of very large aureoles crowned with large protruding and crinkled nipples. Very nice. Cigar butts stubbed out on digestive biscuits. Frankie standing on Cheryls other side seemingly unaffected by all the sexual tension building up all around her and was I guess the only one in the room who wasn’t in. I would like to write about my mother. She cares too much about me. She has successfully shoved religion down my throat, bit by precious bit, always in heavy doses. Religion becomes the medicine by which all difficulties are thrown into the breeze. My religion, for now, resides in the written word, so instrumentally powerful against the mood swings I have been having.She has visited me in this place of insanity, she being the most insane of all. I have tried to commit her to this institution. A.
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