I told her to do whatever she wants. I want her to be like herself and I like her that way. Actually, I like her more and felt like fucking her more a...fter I heard about her gossips from Rajesh. Then things were going normal like going to office and day to day works.But people in my office don’t know that I am in love with her. When I go to lunch break or smoke break with my colleagues, I hear crazy comments from them about Lavanya. She normally comes in jeans and t-shirts or chudidhars with. As we finished our lunch she got up to put her dishes in the sink. I smiled as I watched her huge ass shake as she walked. As soon as her dishes were in the sink she turned to me and spoke. “Okay Max, I’ve been asking you for the last four months what you wanted for your birthday, and all you have said is that you would tell me soon. So, what does my little boy ... well, little man now, want for his birthday.”She looked dead at me, seemingly anxious about what I could possibly want from her. I. If your shoulder itched where you couldn't reach to scratch it, would you rather rub up against a door frame, get a stranger to give it a quick scratch, or bare your shoulder to somebody who knows exactly how you like to be scratched, and who turns that scratching session into a session of comfort and care?" Are you sure I'm not YOUR daughter?" I asked her."Only if I slutted myself out when I was twelve, baby doll," she said. Aunt Jen was Mom's much younger sister."Well, you made some things. She was conservatively dressed in a long-sleeved blouse, a little jacket, and the pants -- kind of a uniform -- with no-nonsense shoes. She had plain old light-brown hair, swept back and pinned up to make a mess of curls at the back of her head that wasn’t quite a bun and wasn’t quite a ponytail.So why was I looking?It was her face, I guess -- not her features, though. She had a wide forehead and regular features with maybe a bit of pixie in them -- but she wasn’t Catherine Zeta Jones, by any.