Double Dippin' by Allison Hobbs

he’d given that bitch and she had the nerve to do him like this. His rage started building. His breathing increased, his hands began to tremble, and his lips started moving as he mumbled furiously.
    Ms. Holmes was too busy getting intoxicated to notice Shane working himself up.
    He was unable to wrap his hands around Miss Goldie’s no good, selfish-ass neck, so his foster mother was the closest target. The whole mess was all her fault anyway. With narrowed eyes, he watched her guzzle gin. He crept up on her and slapped the bottle out of her hand. It shattered when it slammed against the coffee table. Ms. Holmes yelped.
    Enraged, Shane yanked the petrified woman off the sofa.
    She looked around helplessly, then came to the realization that there was no one who could help her. She suffered in silence as Shane dragged her massive body down to the floor. He quickly pulled up her housedress and roughly tugged at the elastic waistband of her big baggy panties.
    Lying on her back, Ms. Holmes parted her fleshy thighs. Shane poked her in the shoulder. “Turn over,” he demanded in a gruff voice. He slapped her rear end. “Get on your knees.”
    He hadn’t bothered her in such a long time, he noticed her old rug burns had healed.
Tough!
he thought bitterly. The skin was about to be rubbed off the old bag’s knees again.
    “Why’d you let them take my brother?” Tears streamed down Shane’s face as he mounted his foster mother. “Your drunken ass could’ve done something to help him,” he said, choking and sobbing.
    “I tried…” she wailed, but Shane punched her in the back of the head. He covered her mouth to muffle her screams as he roughly penetrated her from behind. Shane raped Ms. Holmes with such force and savagery the poor woman dropped her head and cried.
    Shane could feel her hot breath against his palm as she pleaded and moaned,but he was relentless in his quest to cause her pain. Her knees gave out at the moment he climaxed.
    The pounding on the door caused both Shane and Ms. Holmes to jump in alarm.
    “Oh Lord, please help me cover my sins,” Ms. Holmes wailed as she grappled to pull up her panties.
    But it was too late. The front door, kicked off its hinges, was flung to the middle of the living room floor.
    “Police!” Two men and one woman from the Philadelphia Police force stood in the living room, guns drawn. An hour earlier, a neighbor had reported seeing a burglar climb through the kitchen window. In the city of Philadelphia, handcuffing a young street hustler over a ten-dollar drug deal had priority over a ghetto home invasion. Thus the police arrived an hour after the call was made and caught the teenager and his guardian with their pants down.

    Before Shane was allowed to see his brother, he had to have a psychiatric evaluation. During his interview with the psychiatrist, Shane spoke about his relationship with Dolores Holmes. He appeared fidgety and anxious, and spoke in a soft embarrassed whisper as he recounted the unrelenting sexual molestation he suffered at the hands of Dolores Holmes, his foster mother. He began to bite his nails; his knees knocked visibly when he spoke of his forced sexual encounter with Goldie Randolph, the parent of his girlfriend. “I trusted both of them—Miz Holmes and Miz Goldie,” Shane said, wiping away a tear.
    Sobbing, he told the psychiatrist that Miss Goldie had sodomized him numerous times and threatened to have a drug dealer kill him if he ever told a living soul. Ms. Holmes had ordered him into her bed soon after he’d moved in, forcing her breasts into his mouth and smacking his head until he sucked them. Forced breast-feeding and a long list of other depraved sexual acts had been going on since the day he arrived in what he thought to be a Christian home, Shane confessed, weeping.
    The psychiatrist, unable to maintain a professional demeanor and unwillingto contain his abhorrence, grunted, twisted in his seat; and at one point banged his fist down