I understand. The late-bell rings, and I start my get-to-class routine. I make arm gestures like a flight attendant, and rhyme like Dr. Seuss. It does...’t get them to class any faster, but the dickhead who teaches in the classroom next door is a real asshole about it. I’ve seen him stand with a clipboard, filling out disciplinaries as the kids race down the hallway after the bell rings. I know. Rules are rules, but I pick my battles. This morning is completely typical. The only deviation from. Anywhere else my criminalactivities would have earned me opprobrium, but in Berlin in 1947 theblack market *was* the German economy, virtually the only means ofsurvival for a people condemned to starvation rations and lack of fuel,clothing, and medicines, so I was accorded respect by almost everyone.I was running a large illegal operation dealing in things such asmedicines, industrial chemicals, stolen art and antiquities, andprecious stones as well as more basic and - to the average German -. I started to gag as Loraine pushed it deeper against the back of my throat.At the same time, Cindy was working on my ass, twisting her hand and pushing deeper until passing her knuckles, her hand slipped into me. I gasped and then gagged again as Loraine, laughing, shoved the dildo deeper in my throat.Cindy's hand slipped deeper and she began pumping it in my ass, fucking me with her hand and part of her forearm. I was in heaven. The connection, both literal and almost spiritual, was. Main idhar udhar check karne laga, toh udhar wall pe ek poster tha, ‘ emergency help to asthama patients’,maine sab instructions check liye, uspe ek aur upay likha tha,” artificial breathing” . Main kuch nahi kar sakta tha. Aunty jor jor se madad ke liye chilla rahi thi, meri bhi kuch samaj me nahi aa raha tha. Phir mujhe yaad aaya ke maine mere dost ki walchand diya hai, mujhe aunty ko help karni hi padegi. Phir main aunty ke baad ka ka khada ho gaya, darte huye main apne auth uske face ke.