As we walk further down the corridor your hand moves lower and lower, so that by the time we stop your hand is resting on my bare arse. I hear you ope... a door and you make me move forwards by slapping my arse. I move slowly into the room and hear you close the door behind you, still holding my arms behind me you move me further into the room. You walk me forward until I can feel a bed next to my legs. Letting go of my arms you push my forward so I'm laid face down on the bed. I try to sit up. D friend ab main khani ki trf aata hu dosto bat us samy ki h jab me 10th class me padta tha us samy mere ghar ki halt kuch thik nhi thi is liye me ek dukan par kaam karta tha or apni padayi bhi karta tha to dosto meri dukan ka malik bhut achha inshan tha usko mere upar pura yakin tha ek bar usneApni dukan ki add ke liye panipat me ek camp lagya or unhone wo camp panipat ramlal chok par camp lagya to dosto wha par jane ke liye dukan par bhut larke the lekin malik ne kha ki dudi tum jakar wha. Trying to puzzle out what was in this for him. Probably a latent result of my conversation yesterday with Margot. Like you could spit those things out and run kid, Im not your boss. Aint nobody keeping you here. And you must know by now that Im not going to marry you and move back to Idaho with you to make babies on your chicken ranch. He gave a little pensive shrug, and pointed to his mouth, raising an eyebrow, asking MY permission to remove my spit-soaked panties from his mouth. God, I rubbed. No doubt when out on dates (and getting lucky) he inspected both pulchritude and 'what lies between the thighs' up close and personal. I actually didn't think much about it until later, after the second time he popped in while I was soaping up. That time I had been about to rinse and the boom-poof of a cold draft cued me to the fact I was suddenly not alone. Hubby was gone by this time of morning, so was it Sally - or her brother?"Sorry, Ma!" the tenor voice of my athletic son called out. .