Intoxicating. The air’s worse than poison. It’s filling nostrils, pouring down, hurtling into lungs. The neck is stiff. Throat clenched. Enfolded tenderly by spasming muscles, the trachea is trembling, unable to heave body odor. It’s smeared. And Jaskirat is suffocating.
Ajay picks up the pace and pounds him to the mattress harder.
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