“Welcome home Olivier. I have missed you” are the words I use in my soft New Zealand accent. “I have been waiting for you” I whisper in a ...iscreet tone with an innuendo no one else close by is likely to notice. He bends down to kiss me and I realize how long it has been since the last time. Too long. I look up at him and a rush of feeling stir my insides. At first it is just our lips gently touching, but he slowly opens my mouth, and I feel the tip of his tongue trying to make its. I said to my uncle, sorry saheb and kept quiet. Then, after a while, my uncle just sat on the chair opposite the bed. He told me; ‘ eh kutti, tara peg mota kar’ (make your legs big). I did not want to spread my legs. So his belt came flying at my face again. So I had to open my legs wide. With my knees raised up. He was sitting with a direct view of my pussy. He just sat on his chair. With a glass of whiskey in one hand, and his other hand on his cock. It was getting harder as the tent that it. He said he’e like something stronger so I made him a whiskey on the rocks and brought it to him I tought that I couldn’t let this chance go by I let my tit rub up against his arm by accident but he noticed my move and put his are around my waist and brought me into his arms, he kissed me real softly at first with his lips than with his tongue we wrestled there for a while until I could feel his cock against my belly it felt so warm through the material of his pants. I reached down unziped his. No mention of a wreck that involved Hallerman and Brody. No mention of Uncle Albert, P.T. Collinger, or the Larson’s either.He wished there was some way he could have gotten P.T.’s car back down here. At least he would have a vehicle to get around in and do some snooping. He was afraid to try and lease a vehicle. He didn’t want his name linked to any of the others if there had been a showdown with that Steven Randall, and some or all of them had either been killed or maybe arrested for killing.