Poori tarha sannata thha.Behan ki Gand marne ka wo sunehri kshan nazdik aa raha thha.Meinay behan se poochha,”Kya mein tumhari Gand marne ka shrigan...sh kaoon Savita?” “Bhayya is mein ab poochhnay wali kya baat hai, meine koi aap ko manha thhoray hi kiya hai,der tau aap hi kar rahay hain.” “Oh darling Savita,meri pyari behn,tum such much bohut great ho,lo mein ab is shubh ghari mein tumhari Gand mein apna Lund daal hi dun.Tum,apne dono ghutney,pait ke saath mila lo aur dono chutar meri suvidh. Even then, though, my killing thoughts lingered. I swore when I went off to college I would come back and kill him in the evening hours, my trusty green car battering the life out of him as I spun my tires away back to Maryland, awaiting a call that my friend had been killed, by a stranger no less. But I didn't. I stayed my killing hand. I turned my thoughts to homosexual images of buff, bulging men muscles, glittering in tan, surreal Apollo rooms, while I shut myself in my college dormroom.. More

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