The other day mom and Mr. Jones were standing outside the kitchen window and I could hear that they were talking about me. Mom was going on about the ...sual stuff, like how my room is a mess, I don't do my homework and I don't pick up after myself. Mr. Jones replied that he did not think of me as a bad girl just that I need some good old fashioned discipline to make me more responsible. He continued by saying that he would be willing to help with this if my mom thought it would be of benefit.. A few days later, Meera aunty came to our place and brought with her a young lady, probably in her 20s. We both looked at Meera aunty with a questioned face.Meera: This is Gowri. I met her during my trip this week to Madurai. She was residing next to my mom’s place. Her husband just passed away in a factory accident. She has no one left. I brought her here so that she can work as a maid at your place.Meera aunty gave both of us a smile. Gowri’s face was filled with sadness and emptiness. I was. I suddenly realized being a helper at the cricket ground I had the keys and alarm codes to the indoor school nets. Picking me up he piggybacked me down to the ground my wet pussy leaving a damp print on his shirt. Once inside he pushed me once more against a wall and locked his lips to mine. Putting his hand on the back of my head he pulled me closer our tongue twirling round each other desperate for more. I was already moaning with desire when his hand started creeping up the back of my. “Let me see your ankle,” I said. “Nope,” she shook her head, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “Why not?” “I think I know what you want to see.” Her hands slid under the hem of her t-shirt, stayed there for a second, and then pulled it up slowly, revealing a lack of panties and something more. I was impressed with what she had shown me, especially her wet pussy, but at the same time, I felt cheated. All this damsel-in-distress crap was a lie. Her ankle wasn’t injured. She had lied to me,.