I almost froze in shame when I saw Babulal coming up to us again. Me: Uday… I simply closed my eyes momentarily pulling Uday towards me. But Uday f...***ed out of my arms and picked up my petticoat and handed over to Babulal making me shamefully exposed. Me, a 28-year-old housewife lying on a boat amidst a river in front of the boatman with completely uncovered body. My heavy breathing was making my exposed round boobs look very attractive and my reddish upturned nipples were crowning the scene.. He was my boss. Jim Johnson. He was the reason my wife, Breana, killed herself. He was the reason she was dead. FOUR STAGES OF GRIEF:I went into a rage. “That son of a bitch, that no good son of a bitch!!” I swore, pacing back and forth.Connie was trying to calm me down. She grabbed my shirt trying to hold me in place. Trying to stop me from doing something stupid.All I could see was red. I wanted to rip his head off and shit down his throat.“Stop, stop!” she demanded, screaming.But I just kept. I pull it out and tell you that you’re a good slut, and if you keep up the good work will be rewarded. I start leaning over you more, allowing you to get more of it in your mouth, but you have a small mouth, or I have a big cock, maybe a little of both. Maybe its cause I have your body pinned and you head has very little room to move, but you seem to be having a hard time and start gagging a little. I pull it out and ask if you’ve got this, and you simply just open your mouth like you want it. ”“My sister’s horse was shot,” said Frank heavily.Brad knew it had been wounded, but not how. There wasn’t much to say about it, so he didn’t say anything. “Well they’re up ahead somewhere,” said Brad. “And so are my men. They shouldn’t have left the flock either. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t like it one bit.” Brad looked at Frank. “Where’s your father? You aren’t out here alone, are you?”What Frank wanted to say was that his father was wasting time back at the ranch, but he.