“I couldn’t listen to it now. What do teenagers think when they hear, what’s his name, Dizzee Rascal? And how can anyone dance to that so-called...electronic dance music? It’s just like a quarrel between a pair of road-drills…” “…Or like a motor-bike revving up,” said Charlie who had finished the last dregs of his lager several minutes earlier; not that he was a fast drinker. In fact, neither of them consumed their drinks with any enthusiasm, but it had loosened their tongues and made the evening. More silence. Deafening silence. His hand remained there. I had no idea what he would do next. Still more silence.Then he quietly called me a whore. How could I possibly do that? With our son? He always knew I was twisted ... but this? More silence. Hubby then took his hand from between my thighs. He brought it to my face and smeared our son's semen all over my mouth. If I hadn't felt overwhelmed with guilt and remorse, I might have enjoyed this gesture. But not this way. He repeated that I was. More

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