The day progressed, depressing hour after hour. An orange juice lunch couldn’t get the taste of his cock and cum out of my mouth, no matter how much...I tried. It was still there, at the back of my throat, a constant reminder of what I’d done. At three, I took a break and went outside to get a breath of fresh air, thinking it might help.It did for a moment, until I got back to my desk. Tucked under my nameplate was an envelope with my name on it and something bulky inside, and with trembling. His brusque, gruff, gravelly voice carried all the way from the kitchen to my bedroom down the hall.If ever there was a man deserving of a good beating, then my Uncle George was it. My father's brother had none of the kinder, gentler qualities in his behavior or demeanor that my dad and I had.If ever there was a woman deserving of respectful compassion, then my Aunt Peggy was it. As far as I was concerned, this dear woman epitomized all that is good and decent in a person of the feminine. More

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