.aur papa beech mein baithe the…..thodi derr tak to kuch nahi hua phir achanak papa ne kaha bete mujhko dard horaha hai…maine pucha ki kahan to un...one kaha lund par to maine pucha woh kya hota hai to unhone apna lund mere haaton mein pakdate huye kaha isko…maine kaha chee papa yeh gandi language kyun use karte ho…to papa ne kaha ki yeh gandi language nahi….hindi mein isko lund hi kehte hain…maine kaha thik hai…aur maine lund ko pakad lia….papa e mujhko kaha ki skirt upar karke baith jao…main. David’s hands were large, like Mark’s, but not as calloused. The pads of his fingertips felt smooth on my thighs, and I paid attention to the way he took great care in cleaning my scrapes. Even as he blotted the bloodied areas with alcohol, I barely flinched. While one hand worked, the other massaged my thigh. His hands were unusually gentle, and I could swear I felt him stroking sore spots. All the attention was making me blush, and frankly, wet. I tried to channel up images of a stone-faced. More

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