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So my idea is that you and I have always been a little closer than a mother and son really should be. It broke your heart when the draft came for me and I had to go fight in the war. They came and took me when I was only nineteen years old. Things only got worse when I became a prisoner of war and was held for nine months. I was finally rescued and got to return home and you were just so happy to see me. I was of course, just as happy, if not even more so to see you, even if my intentions were a little more dubious than I would initially let on. Everyone was so worried about my mind and if I had PTSD. The fact of the matter is that through everything I had endured and everything that I had done, none of it left a lasting impact. The truth was I had a different problem. It's been nearly a year since I've cum and it feels like if I don't, I'm going to die. There's a woman in the house that I can use, who she is to me doesn't matter. I can't afford to let it matter. I have to do what I have to do
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