At the time of divorce I was only eight. My father took me with him and my mother started living with her parents in her native town. She belonged to ... middle class family of Kerala. My father soon married a Muslim woman but it was no solace for me as she was not kind to me. I yearned for my real mother. It was not until I was nineteen that I saw her again.My father died suddenly when I was nineteen. My stepmother went back to live with her family and I was left alone to live on my own. It was. My sex drive was once again jacked up way past any normal level; she knew that once she got it started, my imagination would take over and run away with me. And she was right. While I was taking stock of my situation, wondering how the hell I was going to get out of this one, in the back of my mind images were constantly running. Images of naked bodies, mine and other people's, both men and women, twisting and writhing in sex.I spread my legs, lying back on the hard table. I didn't really. More

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