Anyway, I got walked in, threw my coat on the back of a kitchen chair, and went up to the my bedroom so I could change and shower, and then take a lon... bath. A really long bath.But as I approached my bedroom door, I heard the bed squeaking and creaking. And I was all, 'What the fuck?' So I opened the door, and this asian guy was making like Brian Wilson in Farmers Daughter, cuz he was certainly plowing my wife's fields.She saw me, and threw him off, saying: "No, wait, he didn't mean anything to. Yakeen kijiye, kareeb e k ghante tak woh sirf chusti rahi. Maine unke chut me hath dala to woh chounk gayee.Maine kaha, “bahut bhukhi hai kya aap? Agar apme bhukh hai to hum bhi pyase hai, humein bhi to mouka mile.” to woh mere lund ko chhodke upar ane lagi to maine kaha, ” aap chalu rahiye main hi mud jata hu,” aur aise hi hum 69 ho gayee aur ek dusre ko chuste rehe.Raat ke sadhe aath hone chala tha, ghar me rashoi bhi nahi hui thi, aur hum dono ek dusre ko khaye jaa rah e the. Phir jaise hi. That must be it, he decided.He spent a couple of days simply casing the joint, watching the few comings and goings. He was careful not to be seen and even wore a couple of different disguises so that his surveillance of the house wouldn't be too obvious.Then it was time to strike. He noticed Stephen load a set of golf clubs into his car and drive off and then saw both girls, dressed in brief bikini bras and shorts, lay down on towels in the back yard to take in the glorious afternoon sunshine.. Showing the pain, he retaliated with an almost desperate swing. I duckedand hammered his abdomen. Fosters threw a hook. I jammed it at theshoulder and pounded his jaw with a rising elbow. Even as he fell backagainst a table, sending books and papers flying, a surprisingly fastkick scythed out for my head. I danced back out of reach.Blood trickled slowly from between clenched fingers. Ooze drenched mytattered front, soaking the unzipped corset black and burning the skinbeneath. My stockings were.