Or maine use dba k chodne lga.. Uski tange kandhe pe rkhi or dba k lund paila.Main ruka uske bobe dabaye or fir chudai chalu ab wo sant thi. Mein-dekh... jo hona tha wo ho gya.Lund to ander ghusa hi h apna kurta utar kr pure mze lo kisi ko pta nhi chalega.Wo roti rhi.M ne uska kurta uthaya or niche hath daal k uski bra khol di.Kya bobe the doston bilkul gore bhure choti choti chuchiyaan.M unhe muh m bhar k chusne lga.Wo ab rone k sath sath siskariyaan bhi le rhi thi.M ne uski choot m tabadtod. You know that feeling? Would be putting it mildly.I found comfort in Marco's arms. His touch. His kiss. Mmmmm. Baby, just take all the pain away._______________________________________________________________________Several weeks later...I missed my monthly. Boboclaat. Marco is definetly the father and I am suppose to be Marvin's wife! The Marvin, that wasn't even in Jamaica. I needed to get to London, quick.All kinds of fuckery were going down in London. Marco never had time for me. And it was. My family is all in Ireland, where I am from originally, and Ben’s family are s**ttered around the country. We’re both only c***dren though, so without siblings or parents to draw comfort from we helped each other.It’s been a year since the funeral, so although we both still miss our partners, the pain has eased and life returned to normal, as people promised it would through those difficult months. They told me to keep a diary, record my thoughts, so that I could acknowledge them and move on,. I looked at Ryan, his legs squashed between Kate’s knee and my leg. He was looking at the youths and his eyes were going from side to side. Bloody hell, he was inviting them to look at Kate and me; not that they would have needed an invite; after all, they’re men.I looked at the youths again; they all had either lust or grins on their faces.The vibe must have started to get the better of Kate as she started to get a little vocal and her stomach was rising and falling quickly. I couldn’t make up.