Chapter 1

I was wearing my favorite pink pajamas, the ones with a yellow Pooh Bear on the front. He floated on my belly with his feet up and holding a jar of honey. It was my favorite because Pooh Bear looked so happy without a care in the world. The pajamas were tight, but the stretchy material adjusted to my growth. It's a good thing I was small for my age. Mom didn't buy me clothes very often. I always wondered if the girl who had previously worn them was happy like Pooh Bear or sad like me.

I knelt on the second floor hallway of our rundown house. My knuckles were white as I clutched two posts of the railing with my head between them peering down into the living room. My long hair was disheveled from sleeping and hung down in tangled blonde tresses that partly covered my face. But I could still see. Part of me wished I couldn't as I felt revulsion towards my mother as she sat on the couch with her legs spread.

She was completely naked ... well, except for her thigh-high stockings. She should have taken them off too because I could see a big tear even from where I was. It was on the one all the way up, not the one pushed down to her knee. On the floor was a man, also naked, with his hard cock sticking away from his body. The cock glistened with my mother's saliva. She had just been on the floor with him, with his cock inside her mouth, her head bobbing up and down as she made slurping noises that I'd heard all too often and learned to hate.

"Fuck me all ready," she said. It wasn't said with lust, but urgency. "Come on, this is what you want."

My mother's hands went between her spread legs and obscenely pulled her labia apart showing the man the pink inner flesh and gaping hole. He grunted and got onto a knee and then placed a hand on the floor and pushed himself up slowly like it was an effort to move. But then he quickly grabbed my mother behind the knees and yanked her to the edge of the couch. In the same movement, he lifted her legs and flipped them onto his shoulders. Her arms flayed as she lost her balance, but by the time she recovered his cock was inside her and his hips were moving back and forth as he fucked her hard.

I know I shouldn't have been looking. It's not right to spy on your mother. But I couldn't stand to hear them through the paper-thin walls of our cheap house without knowing what was happening. It wasn't that it turned me on. In fact, it disgusted me to see my mother act that way. But for some reason I felt compelled to watch her debase herself. It made me hate her that much more.

Why couldn't we have a normal life? Isn't that what every 14-year-old girl wants? I never knew my dad, but why couldn't my mother be like my friends' mothers? Why did I have to clean the house and do the laundry? Why couldn't she read to me at night? Why didn't she ever meet with my teachers? Why couldn't I have nice clothes? They didn't have to be expensive, but at least fit me. And why couldn't I wear a shirt or jeans or even pink pajamas that had never been worn by someone else? Sometimes I went to a store and snuck clothes into the dressing room and tried them on just to feel what that's like. Why didn't my mother cook? We always had cold sandwiches which I usually had to make. How many times can a person eat peanut butter and jelly or bologna or tuna fish? And why did she always have a strange man in our house waking me up with their loud sex? Why did she let them do all those disgusting things to her? I guess they're more wishes than questions since I knew the answer.

"Cum all ready," my mother shouted. "What's taking you so fuckin' long?"

"Shut up, bitch! If you hadn't been fucked so many times maybe I'd cum sooner. Maybe I should go elsewhere for a fuck."

"No! No! I didn't mean it. I love your cock. Oh, baby, you make me feel so good. I only want you to fuck me. You're the best."

"Yeah right! Be quiet and try to tighten your fuckin' cunt. I don't need to hear your bullshit."

The man's strong arms were wrapped around my mother's legs, hugging them to his chest as his hips pulled back slowly and then violently thrust forward. His buttocks clenched each time he rammed his cock into her and then relaxed as he pulled partly out. He had a tattoo on his arm that looked like a black or dark blue ice pick with red ink dripping from the point. It stretched as his bicep bulged. He had tattoos on his other arm too, as well as his back and chest. He even had one on the back of his shaved head. But at least this man wasn't fat and ugly, although I don't think it made a difference to my mother. She was after just one thing and how she got it or who she got it from didn't matter to her.

My mother was grunting, biting her lower lip to keep from crying out and getting the man mad. I've seen his temper and how my mother looked afterwards. She still had a bluish tint under her left eye from the last time. Her eyes squinted and her face looked pained each time the man rammed his cock into her. I had read about lovemaking, but what I was witnessing had nothing to do with love. I didn't think love existed, but part of me still believed my "knight in shining armor" was going to save me. After all, I was fourteen.

I was daydreaming, thinking about my knight, when I noticed the man's head turned towards me and looking up. Our eyes met and he sneered. My jaw dropped and I pulled back, my head banging into one railing post. I rolled onto my side and kept rolling on the worn dark brown carpet until I was against the wall and then dove into my bedroom. Lying on the floor, I found it difficult to breathe and sucked air in through my mouth.