This happened around 15 years back. I belong to a Punjabi family in Delhi. My family was a joint family comprising of my grandparents my mom and dad. ...his story is about my mom who was in her late twenties at that time, and I was seven or eight years old. My mother’s name is Neeta.She is typically a Punjabi woman with fair complexion, long hair, jet black eyes and good figure. She is around 5’6 in height and has round ass and killing boobs, with dark brown chuchi’s. Her frame is medium that is. ” Sonali amake tar bedroome niye gelo aar amar shirt tao khule diye amar samne hantoo gere boshe amar juto moja khule dilo aar amar pant aar underwear paa theke bar kore dilo. Tar por Sonali nijer mukh amar kole dhukiye dilo aar amar bara ta ke mukhe niye nilo aar bollo, “Oh!! Partho, tomar ei laura ta ke ami khoob bhalo bashi” aar chokh bando kore mara bara ta ke chuste laglo. Sonali jei bhabe amar bara ta chuchilo ami ta dekhe dekhe garom hote laglam. Amar bara te shurshuri lagte laglo aar. I told you to read out your letter to me. Would you mind doing asI say?"His throat tried desperately to control his voice, with the result that itgave a couple of barking sounds while he grappled with his breathing infront of the silent, watching women. An awkward swallow enabled him to gethis voice under control."On f-f-first name terms, w-while we humiliate my husband b-b-between us."He gathered himself with a deep breath."Don't stop, Mister Fleecely. Read on." Y-You asked me to explain why I. Its impossible to get blood entirely out of the carpet it turns out. I've lived in this apartment for years alone, and by now walking around in total darkness is simple, let alone with the faint light provided from outside. Finally, I arrived in the bathroom, and stared for a moment into the inky blackness. With Mitzi paying rent (and a few of my bills by now...), I no longer had to worry about turning on the lights as we always had money in the electric meter.A few minutes later found me.