No Dad, I hate you and your fucking finger! I yelled, wanting more than anything to take back control of my body. But it was in vain, my dad didnt sto... his assault, instead he plowed on faster. You hate this baby? My orgasm was about to peak, my pussy started pulsing and I could tell he knew what was happening. Well how about you hate this while I make you cum. You hate daddys finger but you still squirt your juice on my hands you whore. His words pushed me over the edge and before I knew it. I, like Marc, knew that we would have no contact for four or five weeks, though Marc would see but not be allowed to communicate with Mya, on that mid-term club night, and would no doubt, I hoped, enlighten me as to her situation, on his return home. The next part of this story I have had to piece together from the whole months disjointed memories Mya has now given me, and scraps, ( she couldn’t keep notes or a diary) and odd bits I have gleaned from Marc, who`s good man, but not the world`s. More

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