Watched something or other on iPlayer, Bake Off, that sort of thing, and ate a pizza. Spent Saturday in the library, then around 4 decided enough was ...enough. Bus home, then got my bike out and cycled down to the park. It's not a town park, more of a country park I suppose, that runs by the river for a few miles. Lots of muddy tracks and clumps of woodland. The river is a dark, swirly thing, hidden between high banks to stop it flooding. Some people use the park as a shortcut, some to walk dogs. I then further explained that he looked very pale and was different looking from the rest of the guys near the Pier. He laughed and introduced himself. “I am Jack and hail from Montreal."I smiled encouragingly and replied, "Nice to meet you, Jack. I am Lindsey." Taking this as an invitation he asked, “Do you mind if I walked with you?” Jack was about five foot eight inches tall, with black curly thinning hair. I guessed he was in his late forties or early fifties. We continued to talk. I knew. "Why's that?" She's the one who taught me how to cook. I spent most of my time there until she passed away three years ago."What she left unspoken was that once the safe haven of her grandmother's house was gone, the downward spiral that had left her a runaway began. "Well, okay then. No special requests. Everything you make is wonderful. I should have you cater the company parties." I'd actually like that," she responded, a beaming smile spreading across her beautiful face.I opened the door. She looks way much younger and has huge voluptuous breasts, which swing like melons every time she walks. Her beautiful, round navel is also visible whenever she wears a saree. Although she is traditional and not so modern, she always wears deep-cut blouses which provides everyone ample view of her deep and white cleavage.Neha auntie and I became friends when my mother offered me to her as a help to maintain their huge bungalow. I would mostly help in cleaning the windowpanes and maintaining.