As I was a frequent visitor to her home no one was getting doubt, but one thing that I stay in posh area near airport, even the gap between the houses...was also more so I we were out of fear of getting caught. In initial stage after entering home I was bit nervous and she got to know and she started with proceedings by kissing on forehead, but in my case everything was ulta, guy would start first. But here she started first, then she came towards my lips placed a gentle kiss that made me to get. "My name's Hazel. It's my hotel. I'malways here to help my guests." I'm fine." The lie tastes so foul it brings more tears and I push myface into my knees, squashing impossible breasts. I'm shit. Too shit tohave beautiful hair."I have PTSD," I whisper to my legs, my breasts, my woman's body. Anapology? I've never said those words before, though the counsellorwanted me to. PTSD is for above and beyond, courage under fire - Irefuelled helicopters in the desert.And remembered enough of my med. More

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