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“Uh, okay…sure.” I said with little conviction. Carol looked around the island, finally spying what she wanted. She leaned over and grabbed a bottle of olive oil.

“Unnnnh!” I moaned happily. It went in much easier than it had the first time, after several days of near-constant practice, but it was still really a stretch for my poor, tiny, tight little teenage pussy! I tried to maintain eye contact with Mom as it was happening, but I just couldn't help them fluttering closed. I pushed myself back a bit, getting myself to the height I knew Daddy liked best and making my cute little ass really pop for him, then leaned down to rest my head between Mom's big, soft D-cup titties.“Babe?” Mom asked tremulously, her voice weak and thready.

Maybe you and I do deserve to suffer for our wrongdoing. If that’s so, then it means that when things get painful, when things get difficult, we don’t have the luxury of quitting. We don’t get to end our lives to escape what we did. Whatever form the pain takes, we bear it, we endure it, we welcome it, all while we try to make this world a place where people like us, like how we used to be, have no place, and the people who would be hurt can instead live in peace. The next time you encounter an obstacle you cannot overcome, when you just want to curl up into a ball and quit on the world, remind yourself that you don’t deserve the peace of surrender. You have to keep working, to keep fighting, to keep suffering, until the day when you’ve fully repented.