Looking at them closely, I see that they are all the same man, like clones, or septuplets. Then I realise that I know them - or, rather, him. During my time at college, one of my fellow students was a South African hunk called Samson Djubuthi. He was, in fact, a real Zulu prince, and I remember him coming to one Halloween party in his traditional tribal outfit. It was strangely chorus-girl like, with fluffy shin guards and armlets, a number of ostrich feathers and some beads, and nothing much else but a short skirt of leather strips, leaving his thighs and torso bare. Seriously drool-worthy! I had come dressed as a sort of tarty Goth vampire, with heavy eyeliner and scarlet lipstick, and a long clingy black dress that showed off my bum nicely. It was my first time in public in drag, and I was a bit nervous, but everybody was extravagantly complimentary. Samson, though, paid me the best compliment of all - he spent a good ten minutes chatting me up, before he realised it was me! And. “Koi nahin, aap baithiye, chai abhi tayy ar ho jayegi. Ab to cylinder bhi lag gaya hai” she said laughing. While the drawing room was to the left of the kitchen, her bedroom faced the kitchen directly, and this is where she was pointing me to sit (or was it my perverted imagination that made me see things that way). I was feeling really awkward now. At one hand I just wanted to ravish her totally, while on the other I was afraid lest I do something stupid. Anyways I went into her bedroom, and started looking around. There was a bathroom attached to the bedroom, and I could see her bra and panty on the clothesline inside, along with a few other clothes. This tended to confirm my feeling that she was actually wearing nothing beneath her nighty. I was now totally consumed with lust and desire. While I was thus looking around, bhabhiji came into the room. “Aaiye, chai tayyar hai”. She must have seen me looking at her bra and panty suspended from the clothesline inside the bathroom, I.
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