I think this is the same phenomenon that happens when one hears one’s recorded voice. It doesn’t sound like “you” when you hear it, not to you... It actually sounds exactly like you to everybody else, but not to you. So what looked exactly like Hannah Hooker to me looked like someone different to her.I mention their last name here, because the piece was signed in the lower right hand corner. A stylized “Hooker” was done calligraphy style. I’d seen that on other finished pieces and I knew she only. In search of that I tried for neighbor aunties . But no one dared with me thinking that I am still a kid. Feeling so guilty about my luck I am sitting alone in the balcony . Suddenly a sound came from my room. I stepped slowly into my room. My sister in her tight pants searching for my trimmer .In that pants her ass is so perfectly carved . I want to place my penis in that asshole. But how she is my sister. Then I got a question why do my sister want my trimmer. I am watching all this without. It was an old house with large verandahs and huge rooms. Our landlord, Harish was a young man in his early thirties. He was a clerk in the High Court and had inherited the bungalow from his deceased father, who was a famous High Court Lawyer of his time. Harish lived on the ground floor section with his wife Asha in her late twenties and a very sweet 5 year old daughter called Kanya. Harish used to leave for office around 10 in the morning and come back by 5 in the evening. Kanya’s school. ”Sam cocked his head to the side and breathed. Eager to prove himself, he withdrew his right hand from around Heather’s leg. He drove two fingers inside as he lapped her slit. Her walls didn’t squeeze tight, so he thrust in a third to stretch her the slightest bit.“Stick your ass out and wiggle it for me, honey.” Sam obeyed with glee, arching his back to provide Heather with a view. “Show me how happy you are to eat me out.”Excitement ran through Sam, and excess juices leaked down his thighs..