All detail of my previous life is hazy: something that takes a lot ofthought to remember. I suspect there's a reason for this, but I can't(don't) want...to think what it is.I notice the t-shirt I'm wearing: it's long and has cute cartoonmonsters on it. It's a teenage girl's sleep shirt.Daring myself I touch the left breast, hoping for an absence ofsensation, to prove that it wasn't part of me, merely a thing attachedto me. I feel the soft touch of my hand against its' fluid warmth, andI gasp in. He was careful and cleaned himself well before laying her across his knees, cradling her on her tummy, head turned, and sliding the head gently in and out while bouncing her to sleep. Her mouth was a joy even then, so tight and barely accomodating, her soft gums massaging him. Harris would moan softly, his knees bouncing slowly and easily, the suckling speeding or slacking as she drifted off. During these times he would put a single finger between her pudgy bowed legs, touching her tiny, hidden. More

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