Days after Rakhi, on a Sunday morning, I make sure my wife wakes up after me—preferably with my mouth on her skin. Bugu sleeps semi-naked, sometimes entirely bare, just like the day she was born. And honestly, who am I to complain? What husband in his right mind would ever miss the chance to watch his wife let a bathrobe or satin slip pool at her feet, cross the room, and slide under the covers beside him?
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