One of Grandpas hands were always on my titties, still pulling and twisting my nipples… I would cry out when it was too rough, and he would moan whe... I did that… His other hand was on or in my cunny, either fingering me or playing with my clit. I never knew what my clit was until I was a bit older, and my uncle bit it, and my mum helped soothe it with a warm bath, and a flannel on it for the evening. She got the mirror out and explained to my where my clit was, and my cunny, although she. Seven years in a civilised European country where most people lived by certain standards had not prepared her for how men would react to her beauty in a different world.A more savage and primitive world.She strode briskly through the airport luggage in hand. She was wearing tight fitting beige trousers with an equally tight fitting brown lightweight sweater. That it hugged her full round breasts that left little to the imagination of the watching African airport workers did not cross her mind.. In his effort to keep his footing, he holds onto the door for support. His eyes widen as he feels the cabinet give way and as in slow motion, he watches the cabinet falling over him. The sound of breaking glass beakers fills his ears as they smash all around him. Smoke fills his nostrils as some of the chemicals combine. The last thing he remembers is his throat and nose burning, a sudden painful throbbing in his head, then blackness.He opens his eyes and as looks around him, he sees that he's. We were driven under the bannister and onto the cul-de-sac. I looked out over the beach for the second time in waking memory. It was not as full as last time. A yoga class was going through the motions. There was a bit of a party shuffling back into one of the motel rooms.The sand splashed over my toes and I was thankful for the flip flops. I turned and offered Shani both hands for her to get up. She took them with a frown. I pulled her into a hug.“Yeah, yeah, I love you too.” She murmured.