My uncle, who had "taken care of me" since my mother's death the way a slaver "takes care" of his stock, certainly didn't give a damn about my feeling.... I'll never know why, but I can see looking back on those days that he resented me in a way that went beyond simple callousness. Perhaps things were bad between him and my mother, and having me around was a constant reminder. It hardly matters now anyway.Business in The Salty Toad - that was the name of uncle's tavern, a name which matched his. She replayed Franks death in her head. As he came inside her she begins to quiver. Her hand tracing down her stomach she touches her clit, caressing it and rubbing as the warm wave of orgasm is washing over her once again. *Click, click.* The next few days were uneventful. Life carried on, she done her usual routines, work, shopping, socializing and such. Then came Franks funeral. Should I go? she thought to herself. I probably should. Not to raise suspicion. She pulled on her little black. More

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