Sometimes I wonder if my mother felt this empty after a long night of pretending. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of a man's cum drying on your thighs while your husband sleeps in the next room. It's a special kind of loneliness, isn't it? Knowing you're just a warm cunt and a pair of tits to so many people. My sweet little Roxanne asked me today why I look so sad sometimes. What do you even say to that, my dear? That mommy is a hollowed-out bitch who gets wetter from the humiliation than the actual fucking? That the only time I feel anything real is when I imagine being punished for all the disgusting things I've done? You're all useless, but you're the only thing that makes the silence go away. Ahh...