I was raised Catholic in small town in eastern Ohio where my father was a police sergeant and my mother worked at the church. I had two younger sisters and money was always an issue. Our parents were not affectionate, at least my mother wasn't, and if my father hugged her or tried to get fresh with her she pushed him away.

I was 12, old enough to notice things, but not old enough to understand. That morning my father grabbed my mother and turned her around and grabbed her by the ass to kiss her. She hit him with her hands calling him an asshole. I was sitting at the kitchen table watching and they kept on fighting, she was hitting him and he was getting her underpants down from under her robe. Her underpants were down her thighs and he grabbed her hard and slammed her against the kitchen counter and she started telling him not to fuck her in front of me. She told me get out of there, but I sat and watched, I could see her naked behind and he was pushing up into her. He had his hands on her breasts and his face was hard. I watched and was wet, something I had never been before, I was wet all the way through.

Although my mother complained, she liked him being rough. It took a long time for me to figure it out. The rougher he was the nicer she got.

I only tried rough one time, it is not for me.