It's been 3 days since my mom was first abused by a mob of guys. She hasn't been in the best of moods this whole time. That can't be said for me. I was feeling pretty good. After all, now every time I looked at her, I remembered how those guys had humiliated her and how roughly they had fucked her.

A day later, in the evening, my mom called me and asked me to help her carry the bags from the store to the house. I got dressed and went towards the store. Already near the store I saw a crowd of the same guys walking in the opposite direction from my mom. As I approached her to help her with the promised packages, I realized that she was talking to the guys and the conversation was obviously not pleasant. She tried to hide her emotions, because she didn't think I knew those guys, but it was all over her face. "Finally," I thought to myself, "you're finally getting fucked again."