I never had any bad feelings about her in my mind. We were good friends. I used to take help from her for my studies and even she used to discuss her ...atters with me. Her husband was a nerd. He was a CA and was all the time running after money, and had no time for her wife.One day early morning 6am when I almost had reached my college I got a call from her that she wants to meet me. I said yes and bunked college and went to her. We met at a chai shop in Park Street. She seemed tensed. Her eyes. Her other hand then moved down my body and found my cock which was now quite hard and she began to rub it through my jeans. I had put my hand into her panties and could feel a thin line of pubic hair before feeling the lips of her pussy as the back of my hand felt the moisture on her panties. I slowly ran a finger up and down her outer lips a couple of times to then reveal her clit which I slowly started to touch. She moaned again and I could now feel my belt and jeans start to be loosened. I. She was a factor to be watched but I believed not one to be worried about immediately.Michelle: The practitioner in me screamed to help the tortured woman trapped inside that lovely body. The mental torment she must have suffered during the war must have been horrendous. The alcoholism and promiscuity were classic ― almost textbook ― examples of a mind trying to come to grips with something so overwhelming it was either hide behind them or die. The traditional approach would be to slowly. Clods of earth sprayed in the air. Such force in that blow. But would it be enough? I rolled and came to my feet, hacking with my short sword.I slammed into the woody bark of the treeman’s shin. My sword gouged in an inch. A spray of splinters flew. My weapon rebounded. A jarring ache shook through my hand and into my arm. My elbow creaked.A short sword was not the right weapon to use here.The treeman let out a creaking, puffing wheeze. Heezzz-heezzz-heezzz. Laughing at me. “Tickles, little.