" Then his face clouded over in panic. "Oh shit, I hope you were eighteen when that picture was taken. Pardon my French."I could only laugh."I'm Lauri...," Skip leaned forward to shake hands without shifting his bulk off the stool. "But you can call me Skip up here." He looked to be in his late forties, greying hair and overweight, but with a friendly, welcoming smile."Hello Skip," I smiled back. "I'm ... Emma," I almost buggered it up, "and this is Kevin." Wotcha!" Kevin gave an informal salute. I am an avid reader of and finally decided to pen my experience down. Being my first story, there might be mistakes. Please ignore. So the story goes likes this.My cousin’s ring ceremony was the night when this incident took place. In those areas, nights would be as cold as 2 degree Celsius. That night, the short gown slipped off her shoulders and my fingers drowned in the dripping clefts of her body.It was the winters of my class 12 when the entire family had come to a small village on the. More

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