She was married lady, and had 2 children. Her Husband was a contractor and was such a shit. She was in her 30s and looked very beautiful, with big boobs, shaky ass and having height of 5 feet 6 inches. She was of very easy going nature and always uses to wear saris. Now Mrs. jyothi was frequently visitor to our house and she befriended me quickly. Now she was my neighbour as well as my best pal too.She moved to my neighbourhood when I was 20. She being in 30s was elder to me obviously, but that had not affected our friendship in any way.Not let me not waste your time. I will get into the story directly. Her husband and I had some silly clashes. So he ordered his wife not to talk to me. We used to be friendly earlier but suddenly we stopped talking to each other. One fine day my parents went to my beloved cousin’s wedding. I was left alone in Hyderabad with my bloody exams. Jyothi aunty’s husband went to a meeting in delhi. On the same day we met each other in the lift and started to. She knew—roughly, the anatomy he must have down there, but simply couldn’t picture it. Like all girls, she’d looked with curiosity at the diagram of a flaccid penis in her Health Studies textbook. She’d seen crudely drawn cocks-and-balls scribbled with sharpie on bathroom stalls, and even run into pictures of erect ones accidentally on the internet once or twice. They seem kind of grotesque, she’d thought at the time, wondering how couples were able to overcome such an obstacle and still become intimate.Wouldn’t it be different with Brian, though? She felt that all of those barely remembered abstracts, and any concept she could dream up independently, for that matter, would fall short of Brian’s actual... reality.If I ever do become... acquainted with his... you-know-what, there’ll be no going back. I won’t be able to... UNSEE it then, stop picturing it, thinking about it, that it’s his, that it physically represents his lust, and oh my, what it can DO to me, what it’s made to do to.
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