I lay there helpless like a boned fish, my kidneys screaming in pain. The setting sun was behind him as he stood over me, and I could hear his voice but I couldn’t see his face for the brilliant glare. Make no mistake about it, he was one big son of a bitch, standing six foot five and weighing every ounce of three hundred pounds. As he stood over me with the sun behind him he looked twenty feet tall and five feet wide. ‘Next time I’ll kill you boy.’ He hissed at me, and with that he walked away. I remember feeling very glad that he walked away, because I didn’t want him to see me crying. I also knew that it wasn’t over. There would be another episode between him and I, there was no way around it. During the months that followed I tried my best to avoid him, picking up odd jobs around town. By the time he was passed out in bed at night, I would be arriving home from another long day of yard work or cleaning up the dish pit in one of the few small cafes in town. I was a hard worker,. He'd always tell them that he hadn't expected my visit, that he'd muted his speakers and minimized the chat window so I couldn't see or hear them. He never really did, but they got to think they were a fly on the wall. I'd be as cute as I could be, usually coming in to "say hi" after "getting home from school", my school uniform still on but always in my shortest skirt, with a few buttons on my shirt undone. I'd hug him, sit in his lap, tell him I missed him, snuggle into his chest for a while. And we'd listen to comments we pretended not to hear."Oh holy fuck. Look at that sweet little thing, if I was Paul I'd have such a fucking enormous boner right now." Shit, yeah. I don't think I'd be able to help myself. The way she's burying her face in his chest, and look at that little ass..." Yeah, you just know he's feeling that grinding up on him right now. If I were him I'd just fling her on the bed right now and fuck her brains out."And so it went, for almost a week. Until it'd been so.
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