She had maintained a perfect figure. I couldn’t get my eyes off her exposed waist in the cream color saree she was wearing.My son’s wife was quite...pale compared to our wheatish color (my son and myself). Her boobs were small but perfectly shaped like raw mangoes. Her thick dark hair was hanging on the right shoulder, reaching her waist, covered by her saree pallu.As they came closer, I gave a handshake to my son. He moved forward and gave me a hug and next second, my DIL came and hugged me with. We finished our lunch and headed back to our respective jobs. Another hour would fly by before she would appear again.When she came out to clean the living room she still had not put on her sweats. It was too hot to wear that much clothing anyway and I certainly didn't mind the view. However, as she cleaned the living room, I noticed I was doing less and less work and more and more watching. Her rear end was moving about the room with the vacuum and suddenly I realized I had grown a rather. “Sorry I was getting bored, I just came to say hi to you.”“It’s fine,” I said, drinking my beer, I could look at her all day. She told me that she was writing a column for a women’s magazine. She wanted to ask me a couple of personal questions. I was glad to help.Palak: Is yours a love marriage?Me: No, it was arranged.She asked a few other things, and we finished 3 beers getting a bit high. By this time, I was talking quite freely with her and commented that her marriage must surely be an. I finished High school and went to Indore, Madhya Pradesh for College. College was awesome. I was good at making friends and added a number of people to my friends list. Friends of friend became my friend. I rented a 2 BHK flat and shared it with a friend of mine. I use to chat or calls for hours and hours with my friends. Life was good. But, a friend from Bangalore changed quite a lot of things. Probably, it was a turning point in my Life.While I was in Indore my friend Ashanur (name changed).
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