And she licked my lips.Me: Kal mummy school jaa rahi h kal din poora khali h. Aap ajana me apko itta chodunga ki ap chal tak nahi paoge.She came near me and whispered into my ears, “Sale tune meri choot ka pani pee liya par moko moka nahi mila. Ye bahut galat baat h. Kal iska badla hoga.”I kissed her cheeks there itself and she had to go away and do her work. I knew that she regretted not sucking suck my dick when she had a chance. She loved to do it.‘She’ – how should I define her? She was a pure lust for me. She defined passion, affection. She was the same as alcohol for a drunkard. I can’t take it much but if I don’t, I start dying.I don’t know if I love her even though I know I can’t. ‘She’ is elder to me at least 10 years but shared the same enthusiasm and lust as me. I lust her, more than I can define through words.I was going to my aunt’s house. I was sitting in my car with my family (mom, dad, and brother). It was a summer day and we were about to exit our street. I saw a. Her without Him. Him without me. I want her to know. To share me. I want her to see me; me, as I am. The me He made me.I blow so gently into her nose, her gently-tilted nose that must have captivated him when he was at Medical School. Her sweet, girlish nose. I blow so gently it could be a breeze through the early-budding trees that sway in the darkness outside. She opens her mouth. Her tongue grazes her lips. Her eyes will stay closed, but she will see me now. I pass my hand, my wounded hand, through her face. She will see me now. I can imagine her eyes. Her bright blue eyes. Open beneath their shading lids. Wide open, staring at me. Staring at me as I arch my body over her. Staring at me. Her mouth open, her breathing faster. Staring at me.And I stare back at her. I smile at her with my sweet soft lips, the lips He loved around Him. The lips He pushed open and entered. I smile at her and she looks at my dark, matted hair. She looks at the gash in my cheek, darkened by dried blood..
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