What you did is fucking terrific, whore-boy! I fucking love it. D’you hear me? I’m very, very happy with you strangling the cunt. I want you ...o fucking want to kill the whore. I fucking love it! I really, really want you to kill the fucking whore. I can’t tell you how much I want it. What you did is excellent! Excellent! First class, I’m very proud of you, and you should be fucking proud of yourself!The young whore-boy was quite overcome by the level of praise. ?Thank you, sir.? The. I don't care what anyone may say regarding one night stands and promiscuous sex; there is no beating the quality of sharing our complete selves, in the most sensuous and intimate ways.It not only gives you the gratification of just pure sex but also the ‘full package’ syndrome which gives one the overriding feeling that all is well with the world because the girl/boy I share is the one I love and want to be with, the reward being knowing you are wanted lock, stock and barrel all the way. That. Plain, flat, awkward, no make-up or fancy clothes. Tall, her legs too long for the rest of her body. Not the kind of girl who got any "boy action" in the 1970's. The one thing she had was basketball. Being 6 feet tall and very competitive she became captain of the team and an all area center. But lonely. No boy action. No homecoming dances, no proms, no making out with a boy in the backseat of the car at the drive in during a movie.He was the "All American Boy." Captain of the boys. I was worried I said that we shall leave house and get married and live separately. But she didn’t agree and said not to hurt parents. I cried so much,and mean while her match got fixed and got married. We talked very few those days.They lived in a different city. After one month of her marriage, she called me how I was. I didn’t answer. She said she is came home and asked me to come. I went but didn’t talked to her. Days passed she is leaving for her husband house. Our parents asked me to drop.