The moment stretched on andthen finally...."Son of a-"-------------(10 minutes later)----------------After quite a few bouts of cursing, Chris managed...to finally return tohis room staring at the backpack with distain.(A backpack..... cute, real cute. If I knew it was in a backpack it wouldhave been so much easier to carry the thing.)Looking down at the thing, it seemed almost anxious. How a backpack couldbe anxious seemed to be beyond him. The backpack itself seemed to bequite large. Larger. Her cries were screams now, high, hoarse and desperate, filtering through a voice that had once been so lovely. It was twisted now, depraved and wanting, cursing with every breath, “Fuck me, Daddy! Fuck your little whore daughter!” And he did as commanded, pummeling her ruined gape, turning her body into a blur of jiggling flesh and flailing hair. I hummed a moan into her leaking depths, watching her as she watched me, caressing myself where I was vacant and aching with need. But I would not. More

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