He Seemed Like He Was Going To Strangle Her If...

By her forceful movement, her towel fell down from her body. And she was stateless and cloth-less. I was awestruck seeing her awesomeness. What a tit.. Pink nipples..Goooddd… Damnnn.. She was an angel. She took the towel and covered her body and told me to stand out. I immediately went ashamed as i saw her nude. But it wasn’t my fault. I was standing out of her room imagining about her boobs and ass. Suddenly she called me in. I woke up from the imagination and went inside. She was dress now.Me: Are you alright didi? Did anything hurt you?Nisha: (In a lower tone) No.There was a blank silence in the room.Me: Didi… What happened? Anything wrong?( I was innocent that time :P)Nisha: Nothing. But… Did you see me fully.Me: Yes. But that was just an accident. What can you do for that ?Nisha: Yes.But please don’t tell anyone about what happened here and what you saw here. Promise me.Me: (Confused) OK didi.Nisha: Ohhh Thank You Boy!!! (rubbing my hair)Me: Didi.You are beautiful.Nisha: You. Wait a minute, who am I? I turn on a light. I am in a girl's bedroom. I look around for a clue and finally I see a pad. I extend my hand to turn it and am startled by my slender hand with brilliant red long fingernails. A name is on a pad. "Helen Saunders" I say in a low feminine whisper. With that my eyes spring open and I am back in my own bed with my stale breath, bristle brush beard and loose cotton pajamas jammed up in my crotch. I try to stay focused on what I saw before I found myself back in my room. A note pad. A very feminine hand reaching for it. The name on the pad: "Helen Saunders". Don't leave me yet! There is an address, San Francisco. What is that above the city name? 1441 Armdale Circle. I look at my night table. There is no notepad. There are no feminine hands. There is only a filthy ashtray with a pile of butts in it. I scramble to the dresser and write the address down fearing it will fade momentarily"This is serious crap," I say to myself.I haven't been to San.
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