B) gnao me rhte hai sorry dosto me gnao ke name ko gupt rhka hai agye eha khani sal 2006 ki sardio ki hai mare mamaji ki choti beti ki sadi thi mamaji...ne kafi jid ki humye sadi me ana pedrga.mai station ja ker riservation keva laya mai apne mata pita ka ek lota lardka hoon. Hum sab sadi ke 4 din phle wha pounche mamji hum sab ko dhek ker kafi kuhs the mai or mare pitaji bhi sadi ke kamo me hanht bathne me lag gye per mamaji hume kam kerne se rok lete sadi me mare chachaji or unka beta amit bhi. So it was off too civvy street for me.Most squaddies when they leave the service tend to go to certain occupations. Police, Fire, Security, Truck Driver etc. The one that appealed to me was the Fire Service.When I was a k** I grow up near I fire station. That station was a magical place to me. Nothing quite smells as good as a fire station. The aroma of diesel fumes, oil, wet canvass & rubber. As well smell coming emanating from the fire tunics of smoke & sweat. We k**s were always hanging. I carried the sack of delicatessen cheeses, meats, and salads I'd bought for her to my kitchen refrigerator, then cut perhaps a quarter of a loaf of fresh baked bread off one end to feed her. She'd be on bread and water rations until I decided different.My next stop was a large willow tree beside the house where I cut a handful of long supple switches, then stripped them of twigs and leaves. When I dropped into the converted root cellar again, Katalin was cringing in a corner and weeping, as. I went inside and heard noise coming from our bedroom in the back of the house. I went down the hall and when I rounded the corner to our room, there was my wife, bent over the bed, with her clothes off and several men fucking her! One was pumping her asshole and another had his cock in her mouth. I was a little shocked to say the least, but when your wifes a slut, you go with the flow and I knew she would never be loyal at all, she likes to fuck too much for that. I didn't say anything but one.