On the next Saturday, I asked whether she had any plan for Sunday. She said “no”. So I asked her to come on Sunday so that I have to prepare some ...tatements for filing income tax. She agreed.On Sunday morning, I had a good shave of my pubic hair. I trimmed the upper portion and applied some shaving cream on my balls (I have thick hair on my balls too) and shaved it cleanly. I put a white color kurtha which reached down to my thighs and a blue color jeans. By 10am I reached the cafe and opened. When her fingers moved under my pant leg, I put my book down. She turned to me and had a mischievous look in her eyes. I love that look. That look always means that she is going to do something to me that she knows I'm going to like…a lot.She turned her head back to the movie, but her hand kept traveling upwards. Her hand stopped just below where my leg meets my crotch, and started stroking along the crease there. At this point, I was glad that I wasn't wearing any underwear, because it started. Life is good......booberatorhey guys, booberator here. yeah, booberator. know why I'm cald dat? coz i kill boobs. some examples1 the cleaner girli live in a posh neighborhood. posh meaning everybody pays a high tax and stil affords big cars. my own family has a bmw and a lambo. get the idea. money also buys privalcy, and silence, two things i need to run err my work.as i said, my work is killing boobs. by boobs i mean breasts and just that, I'm not a serial killer or something. how do i do. Raine opened the windows and cold January air cut through the stale oppression.If she called Trent, he’d claim to be out with friends. But she knew. She wasn’t blind. The assistant curator at the gallery where his work was displayed was named Susan. She had short blonde hair and manicured fingernails. Raine had met her once but once had been enough to remember the precise colour of her lipstick and to recognise the same colour smudged onto Trent’s collar.Things had to change. She went into the.