The din of shitty dance music rang in my ears as she writhed around on the swear-and-semen sodden bed. Glistening with exertion and juices, she beamed...brighter than I've ever seen her beam."I'm not yours any more," she teased. It was true, of course, and there was no greater feeling. I had given her back to the Earth, as a gift to the sexual appetites of the men and women of London. She gently massaged her engorged, pink clit, using spunk to soothe her cunt, fucked red raw by men who cared for. I didn’t sleep properly imagining what was happened. Next day morning everybody woke up early to attend the marriage I was feeling sleepy she took the bath and came the hall where they don’t have separate bed rooms to change the cloths. She wore blouse and came to hall with langa/petti coat, I didn’t see her first as I was sleeping turning the other side. Since she came from shower I don’t know whether she did intentionally or by mistake some water spilled on my face I turned on the right hand. More

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