Fucking My Indian Wife.

I asked “Who else could you be?” She was sniffling. “I could have been Donnie.” If they hadn’t been crying I would have thought they were playing with my head. Hell, they were dressed alike, they ordered the same meal, they switched places in the middle of dinner. They were playing something, if not with my head. I turned to Donnie. “Donnie, honey, will you please tell me what she is talking about?” Donnie had stopped bawling and was now successfully holding back her tears. “You can tell us apart, can’t you?” “Of course I can tell you apart. You’re as different as night and day. Well, maybe midnight and one AM. You’re different from each other, anyway. Why shouldn’t I be able to tell you apart?” Dee Dee said “No one can tell us apart. Momma can’t tell us apart. Daddy doesn’t have an inkling about which is which. People think we’re the same person. We’re not, Andrew. We’re different people. There are two of us. No one sees that.” I tried comforting them. “Of course you are different. The fag also wore green contacts. His generous ass was calling out to Mike. Mike approached the five-foot-ten-inch, one-hundred-sixty-pound punk who was wearing yellow skinny jeans and an orange sweater.“Where’s yo’ nigga at,” Mike asked. “I’m single,” cooed the boi.“I’m Mike,” he said winking.“I’m Corey.”“Can I get in that ass tonight?”“Wow! You’re very forward.”“Yeah! I am. Is that a yes?”Corey nodded his head.“You live by yourself,” Mike quizzed.“No. I live with my parents,” Corey answered.“How old you is?”“I’m twenty.”“Okay. You got a car?”“No I walked.”“Do you smoke or drink?”“Both!”Mike said, “You wanna come smoke and drink with me. I gotta confess I just fucked a couple white bois and I need a li’l weed to get back in the game.”“Sounds good to me,” Corey giggled.“We can go to my house. I am married though.”“Not my issue.”“She’s at home. She won’t bother us. We can go in the den and chill.”“Really? She won’t do anything.”“Nope! She knows I fuck femmes.”Corey flashed a smile and.
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