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When I was about to leave her to my house I saw the lady, kamala. She came in from Rekha’s house and was coming towards us saying hai. She was like a gorgeous figure wearing a sari. 5’3”, good build, not that fair but really attractive. I really liked the lady at first instant. When she came to me Rekha introduced the lady to me, she was Rekha’s mother. I didn’t know what to tell then, I just stayed silent there and then went back home saying a bye to them. At first I felt it’s bad to think about it but again and again kamala was coming into my mind. Day by day my friendship with Rekha went on increasing and then we became good friends and then I stared to go to their house. It was a regular practice for me to visit her home just to see her mom. One day Rekha got ill and she didn’t come to college which I didn’t know. Only in the evening I came to know that Rekha was ill and was at home itself. So that evening I went to her house to see her. When I rang the bell, her mom opened the. I had read every post she had written on Lit, waited anxiously for the photos she sent, all the time wishing she wouldn’t mask her face. This wicked little vixen had kept me aroused well into the night on so many occasions. My heart now racing, her arms encircling my neck, and mine finding the wonderfully rounded contours of her hips as we continue to glide the soft strains of muted jazz. I can’t help myself, I struggle against it but I feel my arousal growing in my pants. By the licentious wiggle she uses against me, I can tell she knows of my dilemma as well. The moment seemingly ends with the music, but she remains flirty and bright. Grabbing my hand, she leads me outside, on to the patio overlooking the St. Johns river and across is the Landing, all aglow with it’s neon lights. We walk and chat like the old friends we sort of are. And that is, of course, an amusingly thread of this live conversation. I ask about her posting and her live in friend that moved on, I ask about the.
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