Dire mare raja itni bherhemi se mat dalo tumari rani ki chut abhi bhohut chooti hai tumara lund kafi baada hai ravi bhabhi tumari chut itni chooti kny... hai bhaiya tume chodthe nhi hai kaya rasmi nhi rae ab ramesh mujye jayde nhi chodthe or unka lund bhi tere se bhohut choota hai unka lund tho sirf 4inch or 1 1/2 inch hi mota hai kha rhkhatha isse chupke ravi dhere dhere lund ko ander bhar kerne laga tha hai rasmi aaaahhh…aaahhh ravi tumne bhi tho apne iss katil jawani ko chupe ke rkha tha. " Monica suggested hopefully.Diun nodded seeing such a thing could prove useful.Helping her dress he carried her back to her home because her legs could no longer carry her for a time. Diun found clothes from one of her old boyfriends who left them in her closet.Some of the more baggy sweats and t-shirts fit him and he picked the most ideal to wear. He had decided that though he might have to wear human clothing it was not necessary to be uncomfortable.Before he left Monica begged for him to. She’d long ago learned how to flatter her visitors by doing that but, few reciprocated. I learned that she had gone to a “special school” about as far as the eighth grade and worked for a while in a sheltered workshop where she met her husband. As I quizzed her, it was clear that she had little guile, answering even my most intimate questions without any reservation or embarrassment.Out of curiosity, more than anything, I asked her how many visitors she’d had on my “first time” day. To my. ‘Hmm, I think we go to the right.’ They walked on for several more minutes, hunched against the wind and rain, before coming to an intersection. On a corner diagonal to them was a tavern emitting a dim, amber glow from an open doorway sheltered by an extended arch with embedded Corinthian columns on either side. They paused for a heavy gush of wind to pass, then stepped from the raised gravel-surfaced sidewalk down into the calf-deep rushing water of the cobblestone street. Refuse swept past.