Bhopal Bhabhi Drilled Hard By Her Abode Owner

’ This conversation took place in fourth floor balcony of a large block of flats in a posh residential area of Chennai. It was a sumptuous flat, the balcony was a deeply recessed spacious area extending the whole breath of the house and furnished like a sitting room. Part of it extended out as a covered balcony. The room was full of memorabilia from the army. The old man had the quiet dignity and the glitter of authority in his eyes that one associates with retired colonels. Even when he sat relaxed on the cane chair he held his back straight as if on parade. His feet that were up on a moda covered with a blanket for it was a cold December morning, and a stiff breeze was blowing across the hall. On a small stool by his side were an inhaler, some bottles of medicines, and on a table against the wall were more bottles of medicines, a thermos flask, and a glass tumbler. By the side of the table there was an oxygen cylinder now not in use. The veteran was apparently suffering from. Challenging me- he was a very challenging person, who passed through my life briefly but left an indelible mark. Like some of the meteors we gazed upon that night- brief in duration but leaving a trail of shimmering glory when they crossed the sky. That night, I sweated and shook and fell profoundly in a kind of love I had forgotten even existed. My own spirit quivered like a bowstring as I observed my friend just breathing in and out. It soared keenly, falcon-like, when I watched him settle into a peaceful sleep. I resisted reaching out and touching him with every fiber of my being, fighting every urge of nature with an equal moral urge that shouted, ‘NO! Don’t break the spell. Hold it in your hands and heart and let it fill you. Be uncomfortable in its presence, let it dare you. If you touch him, you will die’. Every time now I wonder if have the willpower to restrain myself from some dastardly earthly desire or another, I think back to that night, and wonder if there ever was a.
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