She stayed alone. Lost her husband at a very young age. She ran a furniture shop in town. Had a son who stayed abroad.The story started in afternoon when she came and rang our bell. She wanted some help to shift a cupboard from one room to another in her flat. I went to her house. At that time neither did I have any expectations nor I had any feelings for her. But my mind was stuffed with fantasies and stories I have been reading for days then.It was a sweaty summer afternoon. She was drapped in her saree which was thin and with the slightest sweet would stick onto her body. I couldn’t find a sexier diva to fulfill my fantasies. The light grey color saree, sweet patches that were formed and the way she made her hair which was dyed and straightened sent jolts through my dick. I wanted her there. She had a smell that was fucking with my head. I wanted to fuck her so badly that I wanted to drench that whole fucking saree in sweat as we make out. I left that day after offering the help I. After all, William wasn’t stupid. He couldn’t jeopardize his future with Vicki over some crush. And that was all that it was, right? William’s side started to hurt as he ran. Pain. Somehow he thrived on the awful burning at his side. It reminded him that he was alive. {Jesus Christ that fucking hurts.} His head was screaming at him to slow down, but he knew he had to keep going. {Run through it, William. Run it out.} Eventually the pain would melt. Eventually. {Shit! That fucking hurts.} His whole left side felt like it was cramping. But, he persevered. By the time the pain finally faded away William was so tired he wanted to fall down on the ground and catch his breath. Then…the ‘high’ kicked in. That awesome warm rush runners feel when they cross over the invisible threshold between pain and personal triumph. It felt so good. As he felt the endorphins course through his body giving him that natural high, a broad smile crossed William’s face. Slowly the sensation faded leaving.
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