“Tinnitus,” I told her. “It should go away in a bit.”“What about the prisoner? Will he be able to hear yet?” she asked.“Don’t know, we...��ll have to see,” I told her, as we headed back downstairs.I had no compassion for the prisoner. He was a part of those who had kidnapped, tortured, and murdered my children in addition to sending pictures of their tortured and mutilated bodies to my wife, causing her to hang herself. I would do whatever it took to make him tell us all that he knew.By now it was. She finally drew away with a breathless sigh. My head was spinning. This was my mother! What the fuck was I doing? I looked back through the doorway, worried about Carla catching me, catching us. Mom lifted my hand and put it on her breast. "Oh, Peter," she sighed. "Touch me my darling."In a dream state I squeezed her tit, feeling her nipple hardening quickly in my palm. How many times as a teen had I fantasized about her? And now here she was, doing this. Sure, she thought I was her dead. More

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