I pause when I reach my door. I always have to psyche myself up before I go in, because every time I enter, something bad happens. And I'm so tired of...all this bullshit. I just wanna go to sleep and forget.I open the door, slipping inside. Mom's passed out on the couch, empty bottles surrounding her. The smell of beer hits me and I feel my bruised stomach turn. She's fucking disgusting. And it makes me sick that I'm just like her. I can't deal with the problems in my life either. I just wish I. She is a conservative mother of three with what you might call a super curvy figure. I like to think she looks a little like a glamorous 1950s pin-up girl. Being the pillar of the local community, you would never guess that she enjoys this little peccadillo. I remember discovering this about her when we first started going out together. She was about twenty-two and still living at home with her parents. It was a beautiful, still summer day and we had the place to ourselves. She suggested we go. More

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