Everything Is Good In My Holiday Home - Part 5 Of 7 - Sex Stories

Everything Is Good In My Holiday Home - Part 5 Of 7

... girl were. Fortunately, my parent-like appearance managed to loosen her many anxieties and get her to open up.

"My parents kicked me out of the house because of you, and you won't do the least bit to help me!" she snorted the knob, tightening her face into a cute pout that I could hardly stand. Her words in no way awakened my conscience.

"I don't quite understand how I can help," I replied naively.

"You know that!"

"I must insist."

"You could have admitted to my father that the weed was yours!"

"What would I get out of it?" I asked sincerely, leaving her speechless. I set her mind in motion, which caused her to have some funny contractions in her expression.

"I don't know, but you could take responsibility for your actions!"

"So can you!" she didn't answer, but instead took a good sip of her beer and sank into the sofa.

"I just can't wrap my head around how my father doesn't trust me," she said, waving her arms around as all of the many frustrations she'd kept inside were finally allowed to be let out. They had piled up and the poor girl couldn't hijack them anymore. I took a deep breath and knew exactly how to handle this situation. I sat back comfortably, one arm resting on the backrest, while the ...

... other hand gripped the can of beer, which I eagerly drank along the way, while silently listening to her entire world story over the past few days, adding a couple of affirmative nods when she looked up.

"Even my mother chose to support my father when he found the shutter from the joint on the terrace. It was close they didn't give me the chance to explain my side of the story,” she sighed heavily, and I could clearly see her body quivering at the sheer amount of mixed emotions flowing through her.

"And when I finally got the chance, and honestly told them that I had smoked at your place, they both turned, especially my father, and started scolding me. There was no way he could understand how I could be so cold-hearted as to interfere with our sweet and lovely neighbor…” She glared at me, making goose-eyes with both her hands. “Into our private affairs,” she finished her sentence and swallowed the rest of her beer can, slamming it down hard on my coffee table when she was done. I raised my eyebrows in astonishment and glared at her with wide eyes as she disappeared out of the room. I heard the fridge door being opened and then slammed shut again. The wild bitch had a new can of beer in her hand, which she opened on her way in.