This was his own personal brand of art. In the rooms around him lay the bodies of a family. A mother and her daughter. That is what he loved. That lo...k on terror on one’s face while he worked his art with the other. He wasn’t without sympathy however. The child always went easy. Quick. The mother he stayed with. The mother he enjoyed himself with. He could still feel the glisten of her sex on his limp cock and smiled. She was a screamer, he loved those kind. He walked the house naked, the. “Probably,” Mrs. Saunders said. “I hope she is. She’s sixteen.”“You think she’s a virgin wearing this?” I asked. I snapped the back of Sheri’s thong.“Hey!” Sheri gasped.“Don’t touch my daughter, you little pervert!” Mrs. Saunders snarled, her hands on her hips.“You want me to touch your daughter,” I said, my hand sliding around Sheri’s hips, my thoughts prickling. “You want me to shove my hand down her pants and find out if she’s a virgin.”Spots of darkness danced across my vision as I rewrote. More

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