His mother had a whip, she called it the hornets nest, twelve lengths of leather, each with twelve knots, attached to a short handle, how it made him ...leed, Jesus, what an evil cunt, this had to be avenged, society deemed it so. His scars many, Christ, it wore me down, his hug gave me such warmth, that he was still capable of loving, caring, the shower got us giggly, how good to hear him laugh. His sexy belly shaking, how his ribs looked ready to burst through his soft skin, I needed to feed. To achanak maree bate a gae, mai us waqt zor dar bombaree kar rahi thee, maree bate ya sab sun kar uncha uncha hansna lagi, maina suna to boli kaya hva bate, to vo boli mom bomb to ahista chalao or maree be hansee nikal gaee or mai be zor zor sa hansna lagi or boli batee kaya toon nahi bomb blast kartee bara ghar ki saar ka waqt, vo boli mom kartee haoin magar Itna zor dar nahi. Or hum dono hansna lagi, jab mai bahir ae to batee na nose par hatth rakha huva tha or Abhi be hans rahi thee jisa. More

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