‘Carter please,’ she started to pant, ‘someone might come in.’ ‘No they won’t, this is your office, your private domain. Besides I already...locked the door.’ He sniffed deeply, inhaling her scent. ‘Gaawwd! You smell heavenly.’ ‘Carterrrr-Ahhh…’ She shivered, feeling his nose nudging and sniffing at her neck, her hair, the soft spot behind the lobe of her ear, like some wild animal, scenting his mate. She trembled, breath starting to come in shallow gasps as the softness of his lips fluttered at. ”“What can I do?”I was aware my offer was an empty one. I could be a thousand miles away. Or she could be next door for all I knew. Even though we’d been talking online every day for the last three years, I didn’t actually know where she lived. I knew everything else about her. About her life as an artist, her fears and her hopes, her favourite food, television programmes. Her loving but impotent husband, the chasm that had built between them. Over the years I had learned the intimate. Sometimes the liquids were dried and old, turning a soft cotton pair fresh with extra fabric softener into a crusty rigid pubic plate that sc****d along my privates. Other times, the substance was relatively fresh, leaving me to uncomfortably feel its wet and creamy consistency between my legs throughout the mornings at school. Nevertheless, I never had time to dig for a clean pair, and I was always left to simply slip on the sullied panties with the foreign substance very much in tow. I knew. .”Fir ek din sameer ne mujse pucha “komal,shadi se pahle tumhara koi bf tha ki nahi?”Me: “just ek friend tha. Aur kuch nhi”Sam: “sirf friend?? K boyfriend?”Me: “boyfriend.”Sam: “kya nam tha uska?”Me: “jane do na. Mujhe kuch yad nhi krna”Sam: “bata na. Aise hi puch raha hoon. Muje koi problem nhi hai tumhare past se. Just aise hi puch rha hu”Me: “rajesh nam tha uska ”Sam: “kabhi udki yad ati hai? Tumne uske sath kya kya kiya tha?”Me: “offo… Ye sab kyu puch rahe ho. ”Sam: “darling batana. Mujhe.
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