"Well!" he snapped, when we were out in the car park. He folded hisarms, stuck out his chin towards me. His pose, his fighting stance,touched somethin... deep in me that hadn't really sparked since the fire."What gives you the right to "well" me?"He took a step closer, but I held my ground."Not a word. Not one fucking word!" Here's some words for you then. Spat - my own brother spat at my feetwhen I told him. And dead, how about that for a pretty final word?Because my Mum, my own bloody Mother,. I kissed her like the loving tramp she was, a bitchy mistress.Even though I certainly did plan on screwing her again, I just saw her that way. I couldn't help it; she pushed herself on me and left me quite pleased in a way I couldn't get from my wife. Not that I was looking for it from Missy, I still got it from her.After a couple of minutes, I pushed her lips off mine and lowered my head to her knockers. I pushed my face all over those mushy pieces of flesh, but of course, I knew those were. More

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