Feeling more alone than ever, I curled around my pillow and cried myself to sleep. The door bell rang. When I opened it there stood Ajith, my cousin. ...adn’t seen him in over ten years. He had gone for his studies to the United states. “Hey Akila.. how are you?” He demanded walking into the apartment. He was his flamboyant self. I offered him tea and we talked about the old days. He was married with three kids. He had married an Italian girl. The topic turned to me. At some point I broke down. My tongue feverishly explores his mouth. Fuck it. It was my husbands fault anyway. He sent me down here by myself dressed like a whore. I was supposed to tease them. You know bend over letting my short skirt expose my stockings. Maybe dance around a little like some stripper or something. Tease them and get them all worked up. But I wasn’t supposed to let them actually touch me. I sure as hell wasn’t supposed to touch them. I could watch them touch their own black cocks if they happened to pull. More

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