He ducked, and Thompson’s counterpunch whistled over his head.“Not bad. Not bad at all, white boy,” said Rod as he danced backwards, “if that ...ad connected, I might have actually noticed.”Thompson pursued Rod across the ring, throwing punches freely, but none connected. Rod was almost fifty, but he was in perfect shape, and knew his business. He could tell what Thompson was going to do, before Thompson himself knew. Neither man was wearing headgear, Thompson, because Rod would never hit him in. There stood my Bhabhi, with her back turned towards me, wearing a neat pair of white-colored tights over her legs. But, on her upper body, all she had to cover her modesty, was the very same yellow bra, that remained conveniently unhooked.“I guess you got me one of my older bras, Kapil. I don’t use it anymore! It just does not fit me. I don’t want to ask you for another pair now. So. Can you please help me to hook the metal clips?” she asked, turning her head around, just a bit, letting me know. More

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