Steven stared aghast as a man stepped forward.“What do you want, stranger?” yelled the man. “Why do you come armed into my garden?”“I’ve come to save you from the dragon that was intent on devouring you,” called back Steven looking at the rest of the dragon the man had left behind. The dragon was beginning to look more and more like a large basket.“There’s no dragon here,” called the farmer.Steven relaxed his grip on the bow and removed the arrow. He approached the farmer shyly and returned his offered greeting. Steven squinted his eyes at the basket, but he could no longer get it to look like the monster he had first taken it for. It was just a big basket that the farmer dragged along on his back while picking melons.Steven told the melon farmer that he was on a quest to slay the dragon that harried his village, but confessed that he had never actually seen a dragon and mistook the farmer and his basket for the foe. The farmer got a good laugh out of this. Since Steven was there,. “This may hurt a bit—”Manjula laughed. “Do you mean my hymen? You forget I have done farm work. Mine broke years ago.” One step ahead of him, to the last.She sat on top of him, the picture of brown beauty. Tony could not conceive of anything more wondrous than her naked body. Her hair flowed more smoothly than a waterfall, her breasts were as inviting as ripe grapes, her tiny waist as heavenly as the clouds. He could feel the wetness of her folds brushing the end of his equally wet cock. But none of that beauty could compare to the expression of devotion on her face. For what reason he could barely fathom, he knew that she loved him with every fibre of her being.Slowly, gingerly, she began to lower her pussy onto his cock. Tony felt her power wash into his body, like the first sip of the strongest liquor.In ancient India, the Upanishads told of moksha, of liberation:For verily the woman is like the fire of sacrificeher midsection is the fuelher hair is the whiff of smokeher pussy.
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