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My Son Monologue

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I hump back and forth viscously at my tootsie roll teddy bear repeatedly and then I hear, “What are you doing? Who taught you that?!” A voice of panic from my mom. i am eight years of age and I stay shut something my eyes can’t do as they release far more words than I can possibly express. No response to her question, because I know the truth will hit her harder than it’ll hit me. To tell her your son has taught me this, my older brother that beats me with ten years. I try to think that it’s to spare my mother’s emotions of her son hurting me by giving me such a sexual upbringing. In reality it’s to my benefit, because I choke when I am five seconds from letting it all out starting with, Marco and my fingers pointing towards his room. Then,

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