Sneaky Mom – brazzers free

The streets were quiet and empty. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, not even a single line of vapour trail spoiled the perfectly clear blue.

My children were playing happily in the back garden and enjoying the unseasonably warm spring sunshine. Thankfully, the weather had been kind and we had the space for them to let off steam.

With the pandemic lockdown in full force, my wife and I decided to try our hand at Sneaky Mom. The paint arrived earlier that morning and I was in the garage rummaging through the clutter of bicycles, garden furniture and various items of discarded children’s toys, in a frankly halfhearted search for paintbrushes and rollers. That is where I came across the box that I found hidden under the workbench.

It was a simple brown cardboard box, which in another life had carried Rioja from Spain. What it contained, instantly shook me and transported me to a period in my life which, although it is always with me, I had managed to lock away somewhere in the back of my mind.

It had been the prison Chaplain, a lovely woman who realised that I was struggling during those early weeks and suggested that if I put my thoughts down on paper it might help. It was she who gave me the notebook which I now held in my hands. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck prickle as I flicked through the pages, remembering the feelings as I wrote down every word. As I began to reread them now after all this time, it brought back all the painful insecurities, fears and ultimately the humiliation that followed.

Out of the cobweb-strewn window I could see my wife carrying drinks out to our children. The whole experience has changed her. I still love her, and that love will never leave, but she is no longer the woman that I married. We survived but it has left deep scars which I guess will never completely heal. She hides the truth Sneaky Mom.

The scribbled words instantly transport me back to life within those walls, the sights, sounds and smells all vivid to me. The first entry that I made was in July 2015, it read:

***

< Lights out. For most people here it is the loneliest part of the day, with only their thoughts for company; time to face up to the reason they are here. Maybe that’s why people call it ‘doing time,’ because if there is one thing that there is plenty of in this place, then it’s time.

Unlike many locked up in this place, I look forward to it, relish it even, wallow in its safety. No one can get to me after the doors have been bolted and the light switch has been flicked off.

I arrived in February, and currently I’m now six months into a three-year jail sentence for fraud. I have been reliably informed that with good behaviour I will be out in a year.>

***

I would love to say that I adapted to prison life like a modern-day Andy Dufresne, but that would only be fooling myself.  I was frightened of my own shadow. It wasn’t really my fault, events transpired against me, but that is what everyone says in there. I learnt that in prison, everyone is innocent, it is always someone else’s fault.  The government, the education system, their parents, society, anyone and everyone but themselves.

Me?  Well, I was just stupid.  I had a respectable job as an insurance company accountant. It was well paid with good benefits and Sneaky Mom; we were comfortable. What started out as a small unofficial loan to get me out of a short-term cash flow problem spiralled out of control. I borrowed two hundred pounds, and in all honesty, I had planned to pay the money back with my next paycheck, but as I said events transpired to change my mind.

The auditors arrived unexpectedly a week before payday, and I thought that was it. Frankly, I thought I was dead. For a month I couldn’t sleep or eat, and my body shut down as I waited for the tap on my shoulder or a phone call. But in the end, nothing happened, nobody had noticed. I had got away with it Sneaky Mom.