Chennai Girl Stripping Her Ghetto Saree Desi Girl

My eyes aren’t playing tricks on me. I’m actually home, so I start doing the only thing that makes sense. I whoop and holler and dance excitedly as only a fucking cowboy can, until a familiar voice stops me in my tracks.“What the fuck are you doing Buck?” Susan scowls as she steps hurriedly into the room. “You could at least take off your dirty boots. You’re tracking mud and shit all over my clean floors.”I look down momentarily and learn she’s absolutely right. I’m no longer adorned in that white skirt, but am properly dressed in work jeans, shirt and boots. I remove my hat and pull back my hair only to learn there’s nothing stitched into my skull.That moon shaped thing is long gone. I’m free of it!“Susan?” I look back up at her with eyes wide as saucers. She’s dressed in her gardening attire, with grass stained knees and dirtied hands, yet has never appeared more beautiful to me in all her life. “Is that really you?”“Who else would it be dipshit?” she replies with an annoyed,. “We’ll find everything you need, young lady. You’re fine.” We did, too. Once I got her home, we put her stuff in the guest room, I showed her the ensuite, told her she could wash the clothes if she wanted before she wore them, which she took me up on, then while they were being tumbled, we chatted some more. Fred was an older guy, blue collar, Daddy never cared for him, but he seemed to be responsible, except when he took her out drinking. That almost ended badly a couple of times.She thought the issue today was probably her fault, and he could probably sense she was getting cold feet and wanted a security blanket. She went on to tell me she was more unhappy about the way it happened than the fact that it happened, and thanked me for breaking up that entire thought process.“One in a trillion chance this,” she waved her arms, “could happen, but yet, here I am, a thousand miles from home, and meeting a new person, a nice person, so far, and no longer heartbroken. He’s not, so why.
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