Reading myletter, she pausing every once and a while to close her eyes and smilewith what looked like almost orgasmic delight. It was very arousing,st...nding there watching her and wondering what caused her such pleasure.Perhaps it was just my imagination, but I was certain that the scent offemale arousal hung on the air.Then to my surprise, she pulled a Polaroid picture out of the envelope. Icouldn?t see what was in the image, but I feared that it was proof of myone-night relationship with. Aab mai zeada tym na lete hue mai story per aata hu .jaise k maine bataya k maine mere frnd ko pataya hai ..first intro abut her her name is rahela n she is olso frm hyderabad n uska rang bohot fair thaa n uska figure 32,30,34 thaa hope k tumloag ko pata hi hoga aise figure ko touch karne k baadd kya haal hota hai lund ka .toh baat tab ki hai k mai usko pasand karne laga thaa per wou kisi ko bhi nahi pasand karti thii per us per bohot saare ladke maarte thee usko dekhne k baad mutt mara karte. It was her lack of confidence in herself as a lover. Sure she has gained some self-esteem. She felt alive and useful and confident in her recovery but had never come to see herself as desirable to men. Her divorce most likely destroyed what little romantic self-image she had ever had. She wordlessly transmitted a signal to others that she was not approachable…unworthy…that she would probably dissolve into tears or would turn tail and rocket off like a deer if approached. It was her underlying. ?You’ve had them here, all that time, what – four or five months?? I asked in wonder. ?That’s right, getting equipment, sorting this place out, training them to be useful,? said Chris. ?Demonstrating their new status as chattel property.?Little whimpers were coming from Butterscotch now, as my hand continued its ministrations, her breathing becoming more rapid.?She’s pretty responsive, isn’t she? Are you sure she doesn’t like it?? I asked. Butterscotch trembled and squeaked in protest at the.