Mujey aisa current laga poorey badan mai, aisi feeling kabi muth maarney pay be na huwi hogi. Who mera har drop apnay munh mai li aur pee gaye. Aur ka...ini badey pyaar say aankh mar kar boli bada tasty tha. Mai exhaust huwa aur hum nay thoda sheesha khola aur hawa lene lagay.Tabi mainay us ki panti utari jo badi wet thi, aur usay soonga aur us kay munh pay rakhi. Who hairan hogaye aur mainay uski pantie ki wetness us kay face pay rub ki aur then khud us kay face ko chatna shuru kiya. Who boli. “It” was the unpleasant end to what had seemed a perfect relationship. Nothing, of course, is perfect. I’d come home from a long ten days in Singapore. I’d arrived at Heathrow on the Sunday morning, a day earlier than anticipated, at about 7 and taken a bus, train and taxi to get to the home we shared. Sunday mornings in our household followed a strict routine. When we were both awake or when one of us woke the other with a little ‘hello pussy’ we would finish off that particular delight and. On day three, I finally decided I couldn’t stay cooped up much longer. The weather was far too hot for my customary sweater and jeans, so I threw on a tank top and a pair of shorts and made my way downstairs to the hotel bar. There were way too many people. I had never been sociable by nature, so being in such a crowded area made me rather uncomfortable. I squeezed through the crowd to the bar, bought a cold beer and headed towards a table in the corner where I wouldn’t be disturbed. Then. Then it rang and rang again. When it rang a third time following a pregnant pause, and commenced continuous ringing, I roused myself from my nice warm divan bed, despite one broken corner supported on a pile of books, and stumbled the five or six feet to the front door of my crappy one-room studio flat, where the rent was three weeks overdue and the bailiffs expected any day. I rubbed and unglued one eye and looked through the peep hole.That was a relief, it wasn’t the bloody bailiffs or the.