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Psychologists have long noted that man is a gregarious animal whose need for affection and approval is as real and basic as his need for food and shelter.
This social need is reflected many times over in our everyday lives. There is the teenage boy who frequently smokes marijuana, though he dislikes it, because he fears being branded “straight” by his friends. There is the suburban housewife who turns to an illicit affair because her husband totally dedicated to his business, cannot or will not give her any affection.
This is the story of a young teenage girl, Debbie Marshall, who longs to be loved and accepted. Convinced she is undesirable and will never be loved. It takes what would normally be a traumatic act to bring her out of her shell, to show her that beauty does not conform to a standard, to prove her own self-worth.
R#PED COUSIN-the story of a sensitive young girl who finds the affection she needs from an unlikely source and learns more about herself as a result.
Holly pulled her motorcycle into the driveway and killed the engine. For a moment she sat there, her legs clenched tightly on the seat, her cunt tight against the leather. “Ahhhh,” she said appreciatively, unclasping her thighs.
She put down the kickstand and dismounted.
Lisa’s van was parked in the driveway, the only other vehicle around. That stood to reason. Lisa’s mom worked day shift and wouldn’t be back for another couple of hours. But Holly wasn’t interested in seeing Lisa’s mom. She went around the house, stole a peek at the mountain escarpment, green against the skyline thirty miles to westward, then let herself in the kitchen door.
“Li!” she called. “It’s me. Where are you?”‘
No answer. Holly stopped a moment, listened, her ears catching the sound of running water. She smiled, nodded, and made for the bathroom. The door was shut, but not locked, and Holly went inside, closing the door behind her once again.
Lisa was in the shower, her pink body visible through the frosted glass of the stall, and she was singing “Torn Between Two Lovers” in a high, not quite on-pitch voice. To be honest, Lisa couldn’t sing for shit, but Holly really didn’t mind. Holly couldn’t sing for shit either, but they had plenty of other ways to occupy their time besides singing. Holly went toward the shower stall and tapped on the door.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.
Note: This story is the same as catalog number AB-5104 in the original publications (a duplicate).