Looking over, I see that the other victim's cross is now upright, hanging as I am. He looks pitiful. Head hanging down, struggling to breathe, raising...himself up with effort, wriggling around, tears drying in the dirt on his face. I realize... he must look just like me. Except I have a better body.It is incredible that I can be hanging here, struggling to breath, moving up and down on the cross, and be thinking these things. I am aware of my looks, of what the observers are seeing, how they. In fact he was still in a total dream like haze having just woken up and many of his dreams were coming true in this moment. The movement of his mother was exciting him as he felt his young penis getting hotter, but this was nothing to the sight of his beautiful mother thrashing about before him, her breasts wobbling and pushing against his chest, and the feel of her flesh in his hands. He knew that yet again, his mother was going to make him spurt and wet himself, with excitement, inside his. More

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