In the living room, my mother sat with my didi. On the opposite couch sat a man with orange overalls-Mirkand Swami and another young guy, around the s...me age as Didi. The guy seemed average-looking and had a slight bald patch.(The dialogue took place in Gujarati, I am translating to English here)Swami- Swati beti, do you remember what I said yesterday?Mom- Y-yyy-Yes Swamiji. (she avoided eye-contact)Swami (smilingly)- Good. This is Sumesh. He is an engineer. He is an orphan but treats me like. She sighed and let it go, nailing me with her eyes. Now, as she stared into my own eyes, I wondered why she I hadn’t rushed her to my room by now. Well that’s what her eyes made me think. “Please…master.” She whispered, her voice husky with lust. Mentally and physically I collapsed, totally breaking to her, breaking to her eyes. With a hand I had wrapped around her waist I let it slip down between her legs, slowly running my fingers up and down one thigh, barely touching her hard. More

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