Judith watched Uncle Pete roll off her mother with a tired sigh and a grin. She couldn't believe the change she saw in his spent cock. It looked so small and limp and helpless, totally unlike the massive, threatening-looking weapon he had rammed into her mother's cunt. She noticed that he didn't look sad about it or in pain, though, so she decided his condition must be normal and that it was just another thing about screwing she didn't know.

As she crouched in her hiding place, waiting for the couple on the bed to leave so that she could make good her escape, Judith had a lot of time to think about all the things she didn't know and about the few things she did.

The one thing of which she was sure was that she was far behind other girls her age in knowledge of the world around her, of the basic facts of life, but that was not really surprising.

Years ago, when her family had lived in town, Judith had attended school, all the way through grade six. Then there had been the move out to the old house in the country and the end of her formal education.

She had cried a lot then, cried about her lost friends, about the school where she had learned the magic of reading and writing and drawing pictures and talking to boys and girls and laughing and playing.

Instead, she learned a new way of life, one of working in the house, of living in silence. For a long times, the silence had been hard to bear, but then she realized that it was a lot better than the sounds her mother made, the scolding, the loud screams of anger, the monologues on the ugliness of life and marriage and men and poverty. The silence was better than that, because it gave her an opportunity to think and to dream her limited dreams, dreams, which had to be limited by her very small experience and knowledge.