She's left her book and her luggage behind. Shit. He can't help feeling rejected. He shouldn't have stared. He should have just played it cooler. Ins...ead, he creeped her out, and now she's gone. In his headphones, Pavement gives way to Radiohead. Thom York's paranoiac mumble-whine floating processed across a space-alien bed of colourful electric piano chords. Synchopated electro-jazz drumming skittering nervously along. As vibrant and surreal as a children's television program gone slightly. Wo uthi aur main unki jangho per baith gaya unhone mujhe sahlate hue meri t-shirt utar di ab main khada ho gaya aur apna lund unke muh par rakh diya wo lund ko haath se pakad kar hilane lagi aur phir muh me le ke katne lagi mujhe bahut maja aa raha tha maine kaha Sali lower to nikal phir jee bhar k choos lena apni raato k raja ko ye sunkar unhone ek jatke mein hi mujhe nanga kar diya aur boli raja ji k darshan to karu. Phir unhone lund muhme le liya aur choosne lagi jai koi lamchoos choos rahi. More

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