In the confines of human belief and existance there some constants that never change. Even orphans have a faint reassuring knowledge that they have parents. Somewhere two people came together and created them as a person. But imagine..for just a moment...if you knew otherwise. If you knew your entire existance...was based on someone elses pain, on their anguish, hate, resentments and self doubt. What if the face in the mirror where the embodiment of all that made someone so miserable, they took their own life and in a desperate move for survial you ripped your self from their mind to the waking world.

Who would you call mother?
Desc:
*a devlish smile on dark rose lips. Her hair is shoulder length,cut in a layerd like style that frames a oval face,a warm chocolate brown, with auburn highlights.Her skin is a soft ivory, not alabaster, but a natural fair tone. Her eyes are this almost..entrancing lake blue tone,that serene shade. Standing at 5'7" she is curvy. Not the bean pole model type, but not an OUNCE of wasted flesh. The right amount of cushion, to add those whiplash curves of her hips and thighs. Dressed in a black t-shirt, pulled over a see through fishnet long sleeved shirt, a slit over the chest to show the ample cleavage. Around those soft hips, the ones that just seem to need hands around them? Skin painted vinyl pants, boot cut to fit over her platformed square heeled boots. Her make up is minimal, accenting not outlining. She is your little dark desire, your secret fetish, wraped into a vasline sleek package that just seems to beg to be opened*
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