10-10 Margey Household gets some Indian - Sex Stories

10-10 Margey Household gets some Indian

... man, there is a greater woman. Well, we don't have a great man (dark look at me), but you're as good as one.

Go look outside the door and you'll find a big red bow, like Franny got on her 16th. (My goodness, these girls really do talk to each other.) The keys are in it.

Darling Suze, I am an only child and you are like the sister I never had but always wanted. You are true, honest and steadfast and I wish to have many of your other qualities too. This is for you. (And pulled out a laptop box from under the table.)

Precious Beth, the same words apply to you. You and your sis accepted me here from Day 1, Minute 1, with no hesitation or reservations. At the time of my parent's death you were like a rock to me. I think you cried more than I did. I hope you find this gift useful."

Her demeanour changed dramatically, a full anger face. I must admit I was as scared as Chris had been.

"Steve, you bastard, you fucking SOB. (Straight from Franny's book!) You walk around this house as if you own it. You don't. It belongs to the Mexicans and I am now an honorary member of that country.

You fuck every cunt and every arsehole you see around here. You fill my orifices with your disgusting spunk on a regular basis. You even pee on and in me. Then you force me to put my beautiful brown and pink crack near your face and piss in your gobshite mouth. Believe me, if I had my way I wouldn't give you one teaspoonful of my valuable urine.

I watched this bit of the video time and ...

... time again. At the girls' ceremony, Franny and the girls told you to piss off and never darken this door again. But you're still fucking here. Why?

Another 5 minutes of swear word filled haranguing followed, which I don't have the guts to write down. My memory bank switched off as I cowered in my chair, racking my brains to figure out what I'd done wrong.

You deserve sweet Fuck-All! But you can have this if you want."

And she violently threw at me a small clear self-seal baggie, containing a flat piece of plastic. At first, I was confused as I didn't recognise it. Then saw it was a guitar plectrum.

"Bring it in Suze!"

It was heavy, but she managed it. A dark black guitar case with golden buckles. I put it on the table, and lifted the lid to reveal a dark crimson plush velvet interior. With a 6-string acoustic guitar inside, made out of the most beautiful woods you could imagine. The back was a gorgeous work of art. I'd heard of the name on the headstock: Takemine.

Bindi knew that I'd been on about wanting to learn for ages. It was the perfect gift.

She stepped off the box and changed back to normal Bindi and said sweetly:

"A guy called Dean helped me choose it. Lessons with him are included. I really do love you Steve". And sat down.

A minute long round of applause rang around the table. I had to drink a shot of brandy (or two) to regain my composure.

Her parent's house was indeed rented out on a short term basis not long after to a young Indian ...