You took my half dozen and maybe one or two more with your hand and put it inside you loving every moment of it. You took my half dozen bereft with guilt moaning, saying my name you decided to say it's rape like you do over and over again having your cake and eating it too and feeding your identity as a hapless victim a silly girl. You took my half dozen but wanted me behind, putting your ass high in the air did you want it in the cunt or in the ass like daddy used to do or was that the babysitter or your own mangled vegetable fuck you're so twisted with so many lies and flaws no one can sort it out. You took my half dozen with glee and venom a moment of passion a lifetime of hate. You took my half dozen, said afterward "in california, that would be considered rape," concocted a lie that you were passed out, didn't remember a thing. But you remember my half dozen, with your barely-tipsy BAC your history of false accusations, in california, what you do is worse than rape, creating a fog of lies that hurt the real victims like women who don't consent and people like me and my half dozen.