Around 12 pm, she left for her party and left us 2000 rupees to order some food. That day, mom was wearing a mustard yellow tank top and a black skirt...with heels. She was looking steaming hot. My friend Kishore couldn’t take off his eyes from her. I poked him with my elbow, then he came to his senses. We said bye to her and went back to watching our movie.After an hour, we went out to buy some vodka and ordered pizzas. While we were drinking and eating, we were high enough to talk trash.Kishore. That’s ‘poop’ in Dutch. I’m pretty sure it’s a coincidence, as we don’t use that word around the house. But it’s still funny, much like the abbreviation for London Underground Lines, which I once saw printed on a coffee mug in a gift shop. My Uncle Jan has it now. In exchange, he sent me one from the Katholieke Universiteit Tilburg, of a very small series printed after they were allowed to call themselves a university but just before someone figured out the acronym and they officially changed. It was my fault he was feeling like this and I felt horrible. It was crazy but I thought maybe there was something I could do for him at this very moment. “Reggie, why don’t you just relax okay? Don’t let the pressure get to you. You are so sweet for doing this for me.”“I know Leah, I just want to help you guys though.”“You have. Maybe I can help you now.”Reggie had a strange look of confusion, as I looked innocently into his eyes. I scooted down the couch toward him and maintained eye contact. Not stopping there, her hand continues to her inner thigh where she begins a slow rhythmic massage. Her fingers inching ever closer to her worm pussy. My cock bouncing desperately under my night jacket wanting to be free and most of all wanting to be stroked. I reach down and gives my balls a light massage try to satisfy my urge to grab a hold of my cock. But that only satisfies me for so long then I find myself grabbing a hold of my cock and stroking it slowly. I feel every vein in my.
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