I was stunned by hearing such slang’s from my husband and readily responded him in anger mixed filthy language “sala bokachoda, tui to goalake diy... chudiye amake khanki banali”(you bastard yourself made me whore by allowing the milkman to fuck me). Vivek started laughing by hearing this obscene conversation of a so called cultured husband and his wife. Prasun got very much excited and pushed me heavily and i fell down on the sofa on my back. Prasun immediately came towards me and after. Whoever stole it had edited some of the racier stories so they appeared to be diary entries. One day she was a popular cheerleader, who all the boys wanted to date and all the girls envied. Then the faux diaries got posted all over social media sites. Now she was an outcast. No parent would let their daughter be friends with her, never mind dating; although that didn’t stop some of the boys from trying to get in her pants, it encouraged them to sexually harass her. The only support she got was. I look round her flat and then sat on her balcony so we can talk. We talk like this what we do all the time but I notice she very tense. I say to her, “sweetie, Im a good boy I wont hurt you.”She say “I know.” But she say wit little confidence. I like her. We go inside and sit on the sofa. I go and sit behind her so I can massage her. Her ass so wide I feel Im damn near doing a split. She so tense her shoulders like massaging a stone. She keep saying she ok but I see she not. So I. Steven was very understanding; he had known Jacie and Jack for a long time. He too had wondered why they were not already together. They walked for a while as Jacie unburdened her woes, Steven listening intently. They found themselves at the high school. “Fancy a spliff?” Tempted Steven, as he found a break in the conversation. “Why not!” They made their way to the back of the playing fields, away from the main road. Steven got to work, Jacie helping him, blocking the wind and holding.