Now, Abbott found he could hardly breathe. They had both taken her, right in front of him. Why did she have to invite them over and make herself look the way she did? If it had just been he and she for his birthday, none of it would have happened to her.
To clear his mind of the memory, he held the jar containing Beth’s fingers to the light, staring as they moved to point and accuse.
It wasn’t his fault. He was only four. How could he have helped his mother?
He looked at the fingers and, again, imagined them pulling on a stiff c**k.
How could she do that? Couldn’t she see the trouble she was getting herself into?
The picture in his mind became more vivid. He saw the fingers stroking, their nails now bright red, the d**k hard, finally shooting an arc of white semen into the air. Abbott
