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“Yes, it was,” I said. “It was fun to make.” My thoughts drifted. Nine weeks earlier... I held the digital camcorder in my hand as I stood in the kitchen of our third house. We owned three of them in a row on our block, the fences knocked down to link the backyards. We lived in the first two houses while the third house was off limits to our kids. They were too young to see the things that went on in here. My mother-in-law and sex slave, Cheryl Elliston, stood at the sink. She wore a light-blue dress spotted with flowers. It was a rather conservative dress, something a housewife would wear. She had an apron over it. She was humming, doing the dishes. Her dyed-blonde hair swayed about her shoulders. She stood taller than me, almost Clint's height. Her large breasts swelled the front of her blouse, the apron stretched over it. Clint strode in wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I shuddered at the sight of him. I smiled at the hungry look in his face as he stared at his mother. Normally, she was his indian sex slave. He mastered her, claiming her when she'd been drowning in grief after her husband, our father, had died. I'd never known our father. Clint came up behind his mother and grabbed her rump through her dress. She stiffened, her back arching. She shuddered and said, “What are you doing?” Normally, she didn't question him. She would melt into his touch and become playdough in his hand, but right now she played her role. I wanted this therapy tape ready to help my patients accept that incest was okay. No, that it was something they should enjoy. “Clint,” my mother-in-law repeated, shuddering as he leaned in and nuzzled into her dyed-blonde hair. He went to kiss at her neck and her shoulders rolled, rebuffing her.“Clint, you can't do this.” “Why not?” he groaned. “I can't stop thinking about you, Mom.” “That's exactly why,” she groaned, her hands turning off the faucet. He kneaded her rump as he nuzzled into her neck. He kissed at her skin. She shuddered. “You're my son. This is wrong.” “I don't care,” he said. “I know you're not getting enough. I got up and held her in that direction, helping her to complete the move to doggy style. What’s this?” I heard my aunt suddenly say then give a long whistle. Recap: "How do you plead?" “I hope you can get indian to a point where you are near both, between them. When no one was looking she’d slip him from her 'kangaroo' pocket of her hoodie, just to marvel at him. With every bit of strength I have I close myself off to him. I wanted it to be aware before the Danes would arrive so I started slapping her tits. She had lost her virginity early on, and found the joys of sleeping around with different boys often, having more sex than even most adults. Bucking and squirming in his grasp, she wasn't giving in. She kicked her legs back against him, only to have him pick her up and shove her into a wall. “Fuck she’s so tight!” Daddy yelled. “Don’t talk about my penis like it’s a dangerous weapon,” Manuel scolded her. “STOP!” I lamented, beyond exasperated.