No longer though, her encroachingwomanhood had brought it to an end, confining her to her dresses and hermother's silly lessons on how to snare a husb...nd.She found that throughout the rest of the evening that whenever shebegan to feel sorry for herself, at her abandonment, she would re-readthe March's letter. It seemed to rekindle her anger and wiped away herself-pity.It was not until she was abed, alone on the upper floor reserved for herfamily, that both emotions were replaced by curiosity.. The doctor’s name was Dr. Sharma. Dr. Sharma was in his mid-40s, well-built with a mustache.When my mom explained the problem to the doctor, he asked a few basic questions about her health, and next, he asked her to sit on the examination table so that he can run some tests.My mom was looking very sexy. She was wearing leggings and a top, her curves were clearly visible. Dr. Sharma took his stethoscope and directly placed it on her boobs over the dress. He asked her to breathe heavily. I could. More

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