He kept slapping by butt, furious with me. I felt him getting an erection before very long long. He stopped suddenly, quit yelling and rested his hand on my red ass. A minute later he got up and went to his room. I cried a while on the couch, putting my hand on my burning ass then pulled my panties up and ran to my room. I didn't argue with him about his drinking after that.Several months after mom left, I heard him moaning in the night, about an hour after we had gone to bed. I got up, wearing the loose tee shirt and bikini panties that I slept in and went to his room. I turned on the small lamp on the dresser and put my hand on his shoulder He was sitting on the edge of the bed."She didn't have any reason to leave me Molly," he said, as he sat up on on the side of the bed. Tear tracks were on his cheeks. I bent over him, hugging his head to me. My hair was falling down around his face. He loved to run his hands through my hair. It came all the way down my back.He hugged me from his. It was a distasteful reminder of poverty that I thoughtI had gotten away from for good. I hated the forced intimacy and thestink of all those close bodies. I was above this. I wasn't one ofthese people. I resented being reduced, however temporarily, to theirlevel.In Barton I shopped round for clothes that would fit my new size.Everything they had seemed to be tawdry and garish. I found myselfsighing over and over again, getting more and more disgruntled. Theclothes I was wearing were so bad ? they made me look even worse ? thatpeople were staring everywhere I went. I felt under increasing pressureto just buy anything to cover up. It was really getting to me, thisimpossible situation. I wanted it to be over. I didn't want to lookterrible. I wanted to look sexy like I always had done.In the end I snatched a skirt off a rack that was the right size,grabbed a short sleeved top and bought them both without trying them onin a fury. They looked sexy and that was good enough for me. I.
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