Chapter 8

Maybe it was because I was eighteen and the world seemed a lot simpler to me. I looked at it as Mom needed Dad’s comfort and love, both emotionally and physically and for whatever reason, he was withholding both. Whatever had been done to her during her captivity now repulsed him whenever Mom sought out sex and unlike before her abduction, Mom now craved sex. If Dad wouldn’t oblige -- then Mom sought it out on her on.

That was the first and only time Mom brought a man home, but Dad soon caught her sleeping around elsewhere and the stories began to spread about Cassie Hunter spreading her legs for anything with a hard cock. He caught her twice at local motels and once behind a local tavern giving a man a blowjob in her minivan. The fights were awful and Mom begged for understanding, but Dad grew colder and angrier with each incident.

They mostly followed a pattern. After being caught, Mom would try and behave, but then I would hear Mom pleading to Dad to make love to her for a few nights in a row and Dad refusing. Mom’s appearance would accelerate towards the risqué, even sluttish and Mom would be increasingly flirty with me. I would walk around with a near constant erection as I would see Mom prowling around the house in short skirts and tight blouses or scanty nightclothes, somehow always finding reasons to rub up against me or hug me, acting more like a cat in heat than my mother. Then Dad would catch her fucking someone or all too often, more than one.