I pulled him up. Now again we were standing nude at centre of our suite’s drawing room. He asked,” Now o.k.” I said,” Tumne mujhe besharam ban... diya hai. Mujhe toilet jana hai.” He said me too.We were in bathroom, sitting on commode in our unique style, I was on his thighs like in morning. Difference was, this time we both were making a lot of noise with our asses. We were laughing with every noise. Uske haath mere choothron ko pakad rahe the, wo apni unglion se mere gaand ko baar baar choda. It sounded like claptrap to me, but I’ve never been known for my free thinking. To top it off, so she told me, the instructor was this gorgeous hunk of a Frenchman, named Marcel.Friday morning, over breakfast, she brought him up again. That was unusual, and I started getting a slight twinge in my gut. “Should I be worried?” I asked her across the kitchen table.“About Yogi Marcel,” she asked, not realizing how silly she sounded. I couldn’t help but chuckle.“Yogi? Is he smarter than the average. More

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