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Only when I was in college, she came to meet me once or twice, having perhaps felt some guilt about me, but it was like boy meeting girl, as she was only 17 years older than me and quite a bomb, and it was an awkward meeting, not like a mom-son meeting, and there was no contact between us, except one farewell hug, but she did invite me to settle in the city and stay home after college, just to break an awkward silence than anything else, I think. Her boobs were big but supple, not like melons but mangoes, just the size that you could probably squeeze them together so as to suck both nipples together but without any sag.She had a flat but well-rounded tummy with deep navel, skin color of milk, pink lips, big eyes and luscious hair that fell somewhat below her shoulder.
She lived in one wing of the first floor of our big family mansion and I moved into the other wing, each wing a self-contained apartment.All of that in her five feet five inches tall body made her look like a girl that I would like to do many things with, I thought while she stood looking at the floor during one of those periods of awkward silence before leaving.As she left, I also had an opportunity to take in the sight of her large shapely buttocks, draped in the blue sari pulled tight around her lower body, and I felt the heat rise from my stomach and travel to my loins.Maybe dad's guilty pleasure with the hill girls and mom's guilty pleasure with her city girlfriends have kept each from marrying again.Anyway, mom having never owned me and never coming to meet me at school; I grew up as a stranger from her.I got the good looks from my parents and athleticism and charm was developed from spending the whole of my formative years in an elite boarding school.
It was only for boys, and sports were as important as studies.All of these left me with free time and didn't take extra effort, and I was earning good money which I didn't need anyway, having a big family mansion to share with mom and being the only heir to my wealthy father. She headed, or was associated with several women right groups.I had free time to study mommy dearest and to bring her to her knees, little by little. I found that she had a small number of visitors, all elegant ladies, who came visiting her and sometimes spent the night in her part of the house.They are simply methods for increasing mental engagement, participation, and accountability. Because, at the end of the day, teaching with technology is just teaching – if “just” can be applied to something as complex and nuanced as teaching. There’s a widely circulated You Tube video you may have seen called “A Conference Call in Real Life.” To spoof the strange, stilted dynamics of conference calls, it replicates them in a face-to-face setting.