They wanted sex, not me. Like Mom in Hawaii, they were white men who sexed me, the Asian whore.I continued mulling over my life and convinced myself, ...hat was not true, was. I was a bitch, whore, worthless, good only for sexing and believed it.I'm no different than the Asian bar girls dancing naked on a stage, selected by number. My stage is different but like them, I'm called by a number, my phone number. No, they dance for survival, facing the horror of what they must do to survive. Me, I. I don't mean to break the mood here, but I have to tell you about my boxers. They had hearts on them. Yup, white background and tiny hearts all over them. They were actually a gift from her a couple of years earlier and by pure dumb luck I had put them on that morning. When she saw them she went "Awwwwwww," and her eyes got misty.Just then my prick found the opening and slithered through. There, before our eyes was the proof that I was an incestuous pervert. It was so hard that it would. More

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