” Ami mujhe naa bolleo ami amar pachata ta tule dhorlam aar Amit amar komar theke amar skirt ta ashte ashte nabiye dilo aar tar skirt ta ke paa gali...e bar kore chaire phele dilo. Amar skirt kholar por amar ga te shudhu bhije panty chilo. Amit takhon bollo, “tor gudta shunkay dekhee.” Amit nakhta amar guder opor rakhlo aar bollo, “aaah ki shundor gondho.” Sab mahilara jerakon kore bole ami seyee rakom bollam, “kee hocchhey ta kee?” Amit amar khola theigh te hath ghorate laglo aar dhire dhire. Ye sun kar dost bola kisi se help le leti na aunty je to mom boli nhi kbi himat ni hoi.Pher dost bola aj to khali ho jain gy sara rus pi jain gy hum esi lye to ap ko yahan bulaya h. Ye sun kar mom boli oh beta ni surmand k samny ap ye kya keh rehy ho.Ye sun kar dost bola aunty akhir surmand ki birthday h to us ka thofa to ap ko dana e hoga ye sun kar sub muskary or ek dost ny mom ki kamez k andar hath dalny lga to mom sharma gai or meri tarf dekhny lgi or dost ka hath pakr lya ye dekh kar dost. Her purple gown hugged her slim, tight body and her long, magical mane of dark, obsidian black hair blew in the breeze that entered through the high upper windows and through the palace. She held the Sword of Lust in her hands, a giant, heavy broad sword, the ornate handle intricately carved to resemble a swollen hard cock. It was embued with magic, and when the situation became tense, like it was now, the handle itself would throb. With two hands, the Queen held the sword high above her. Hidden in the deep shadows were other people, watching the debauchery shaded in bright orange hues. As Mrs. Anand and her ring approached the bonfire, those hidden started to murmur and talk.Some even whipped out their cell phones to capture this folly. The ring might have given her true identity away any other time. But for the first time, Mrs. Anand wore no mask. Her curly auburn hair, her long, pale face, and her large, brown eyes naked and exposed for all to see.Many times she had come.