They didn’t have a child. She would spend time doing housework, I laid my eyes on her on a Monday afternoon when she had left home to buy some stuff... she had a figure of a goddess, she always whores a dark sari. I couldn’t stop looking, one fine day I happened to go to the same grocery shop as Savita, after gathering lots of courage, finding her struggle with the grocery I offered to help. She said “I would have dropped the bags and made a mess” I responded by saying “Not today, not when I’m. Green. Envy? Jealousy? Grass. A garden. Streaks of black blended into the surrounding green defined branches. Flicks of the knife defined leaves. Lushness. Happiness. White and yellow. It’s night. A streetlamp breaks the surrounding darkness, revealing shadows in the background. People? Pets? A man on the path ... pauses near a park bench. Glistening, wet. Not a place of respite. His eyes show surprise. But of course, there isn’t enough detail created by the knife to see his eyes. Surprise? His. "Get down on your knees between my thighs and take my prick into your mouth," I said. She did not move so I took my hand from her cunt and reached up to her swinging breast. I began to twist her nipple sharply exerting a downward pressure until I had forced her to her knees. "Kiss my prick," I ordered, "then move your lips to the tip and take the tip in your mouth". She looked briefly into my eyes and then lowered her gaze to my prick, moved forward and kissed it with her soft red lips about. Apart from her daily relaxation with her guitar, she did very little partying. It wasn't that she was afraid, rather that she was cautious. She avoided fraternity parties, tending to drift towards unofficial school functions. She began to think of herself as a social selective, rather than a social outcast.She had gained a nickname however. It was a common greeting as she walked down the halls, or met an acquaintance for lunch. She made initial attempts to stop it, but there had been FAR too.