I hated when they called me that. Having the name "Bo" was tough enough. "Bobo" went beyond the pale. "Hi Cassy" I replied. "How's church camp treatin... you? Any lightning bolts hit you?" "Ha ha, very funny you Masshole..." she countered making a face of disgust. Just then another form emerged from the shadows of the hallway into my spartan quarters."Hi there Bo," said the half smirking, half smiling visage of Tori. It was definitely her, but she seemed different. For sure taller ... she looked. Of course, with my hair looking so mature I didn’t want to wash it, but I asked him to scrub my back. When he was done he started to leave. I asked him why he was leaving if he hadn’t washed me all over. He hesitated but slowly walked back to the tub. Then he started scrubbing me, first with a washcloth, but soon with just his big strong hands. Soon his hands had worked up my thighs and he gently brushed my pussy. I let out a moan and spread my legs further. Seeing the invitation he started. That day my mother was wearing a maroon color sari and a matching blouse showing her smooth creamy body. The top was so tight that it thoroughly showed off her beautiful figure and nice round and firm breasts. The gold necklace with thali (married lady gold pendent) on her creamy neck looked so seductive that anyone would have wanted to give a bite there. She asked me who the other one was. I was about to reply when Bijai bhaiya himself said his name and said that he was another school friend. We’d both turned 30 this past year, she in October and me in May. We’d been together for 10 years, six of them as husband and wife.I don’t know how long I cried over the slow, pathetic death of my marriage, but eventually, calm stole over me. I knew it was the Valium kicking in and I was grateful. I looked at it calmly, the drug starting to make me drowsy, but soothing my misery to a dull ache that was manageable. I regained my composure and wiped my eyes as I took deep breaths. Maybe this was.