Mm South Indian Maal Ki Baat Hee Kuch Aur Hai

Sounds not heard for generations. I pause, hold my breath and listen. Again. Plaintive. Longing. Yearning. My heart almost breaks with the sound. Laying down my machete and backpack, I step gingerly forwards, squinting against the unaccustomed glare, peering upwards into the blue-speckled green. There. Up there. Oh, my god. Reclining in the crook of a branch. A male. Undoubtedly a male. Broad shoulders. Muscled buttocks and thighs. Lank, matted hair dripping from his bearded head. His flesh - not ghostly pale as legends suggest, but bronzed and gleaming - ripples with his every indolent move, the underlying muscles and tendons distinctly delineated. He is a fine specimen, a wonderfully healthy example of his kind. He calls again. Yoooohoooooooooo. Oblivious of my presence, he settles back against the rough trunk and toys with something in his lap. Binoculars snap into place. Focus. Sharp. Sharper. A squeeze then another, followed by a series of lazy tugs. He is playing with.... I appreciated that because I hated to walk even three blocks in cold weather. It rarely snowed where we lived, but there was enough rain to be a pain in the ass. Up until Margie had got her driver's license, I had taken the bus to elementary school, but Mom had hooked up with Bob before the weather had turned bad. On good days, I still liked to walk the three blocks to and from school, but I was glad for Margie to chauffeur me in bad weather.This was a good day, and Marlene and I usually had lunch together. Yes, we had become an item at school. On good days like today, we took a walk around the school grounds during the half-hour we usually had before the next class. On this occasion, we were walking near a clump of trees just off the school grounds. We rarely walked in that direction; I don't remember why we were there on this day.Anyway, we heard a girl crying in among the trees. Then we heard a SPLAT! like the sound a paddle makes when it strikes bare skin. That was followed by a.
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