Poonam pandey

I had a dream about my mom. A dream in which, we had the whole day to ourselves on a beach and drank some beer. It was a happy dream.All I could think...about for the next few days was my mother. I loved her with all my heart. But not a traditional love, it was romance. She never felt it. Or so I thought. My mom is by all means, perfect. Her body is slim as a garden hose and tan as a latin. Her face is very beautiful. She has blue eyes and red hair. Redder than a fire truck. Her legs were smooth. One sweat-soaked nude was curled into a foetal ball, moaning in fevered pain, her hands cupping her injured belly. Lyra had received the same basic med-training as any jump-trooper and she needed little more than that to see the severity of the hideous burn that had charred through the flesh of her distended belly until a damaged intestinal loop could be seen through the torn edge of her scorched flesh. That terrible burn was festering in the unhygienic conditions of the Boiler room and was. More

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