It was more like a feeling of excitement. Sarah filled bags and bags with religious tracts her mother had saved for over twenty years. Her mother had been flooded with guilt over the death of the baby. ‘It’s God’s punishment for my wicked ways.’ Her mother’s voice sounded in her mind. School had helped Sarah understand her mother. The courses in psychology had explained a lot, and talking with her professors had helped her understand. ‘Dad, she’s depressed. Why don’t you try to get her help?’. I was instructed what to do with the notebook. I dropped it into a hat of a grizzled old black panhandler outside the Capital South metro station. He just glanced up with leaden eyes and went back to talking to himself.It was another three weeks before my phone rang again. Two days of following this time. Then another four weeks later. It slowly fell into a rhythm over the course of months.Sometimes it was a day or two, sometimes it was a week. Occasionally, a room key card would be included in. I love her lips absolutely. I have kissed other girls too, but hers was the sweetest of the lips till date. We kept kissing for a good 10 min. Then I pressed her boobs over her dress. She left a small moan. She looked at me and said, “I’m nervous. Do everything. But don’t make me pregnant”. I got a real high hearing that but I don’t get condoms. She scolded me for that and I replied I never expected I will get a full permission. She said we’ll deal with it later and pulled me closer and kissed. Both of us were naked below our waist and we went to the bathroom and cleaned ourselves of all the mess.He came back and lied down and slept. I too was tired and slept very soon. Next day Shaker did not show any sign of the previous nights experience. He was behaving just normal and played with children. In the night again he came and occupied my bed and was pretending to besleeping. I was wondering whom I am enjoying with. My own son. He is not a child and he is grown up and appears to be well.
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