Then through the sobs and the screams I saw two figures at the end of the hall looking down. It was my children, I pushed aside all of the pain and waved for them to go back to their rooms luckily my husband never noticed. Seeing my children had reminded me of who I am now and the fact that this kind of thing was a part of their life made me even more depressed. I lay there withstanding a few more minutes of this agonizing fucking before I had enough. I clenched my fists and looked straight at him. I gritted my teeth and screamed, Enough, I have had enough already. Just fucking kill me. Fucking kill me as I flailed my fists wildly at him hoping to land a few punches. I knew this was a bad idea from the beginning, I knew that punching my drunk husband was a death sentence but that was exactly what I wanted. He pulled his dick out of my pussy not being phased by a single punch. He leaned over me putting his face just inches from mine and screamed, You worthless whore!!! Youre a. As though, in sleep she found a peace that maybe she couldn't find awake. I wasn't a psych major by any means, but I could tell that something disturbed her deeply. Maybe Charleen knew it too. But at this point I couldn't care. It was late, and I was exhausted. Charleen had given me a surprisingly friendly and lingering kiss before helping me to lie down in the huge bed next to Mary, covered me in soft satin blankets that I couldn't feel under soft kid leather that I could only smell. "Sleep well, Bobbi. Tomorrow is a busy day," she had said. And I had wished her the same. And now, in spite of the different physical sensations hitting my numbed stated of mind, I felt myself begin to fade to sleep. I was dreaming a nightmare. I was in some nightclub, with noise and strobe lights and glitter balls bouncing the lights. The smell of pot, booze, sex and perfume was thick in the air. My wife was on the left of me, and Charleen on the right. Before me was someone dressed much like I was,.
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