Pakistani Village Babe Fucked

My wife and I had a nice house. I had a good job. I had a comfortable life. Then I managed to fuck it all up in one night. It’s barely worth thinking about. It’s done, and that’s all. I feel like I’m living a lie because I live out here and I don’t know what anything is. I could see atree in a field and not be able to tell you what kind of tree it is. I couldn’t tell you what brand of tractor is being driven in a farm I walk by. Hell, if my car breaks down, I wouldn’t know how to fix it, unless it turns out it just ran out of gas. I feel like I should know more about this stuff than I do. As my dad would say, I don’t know shit about shit. And that bothers me. When I get to the little dirt driveway where my trailer sits -about a hundred feet behind the trailer where Edwin’s daughter Ashley lives with her four-year-old son, Russell- I stop and look up at the sky for a few moments. One of the benefits of living out here is being able to see so many stars. After several months of living. This may well be because she is the only one I met on my own, so I had more opportunity to relate to her, whereas with the others a meeting tended to consist of a short, standard conversation to practice their English followed by them being spit-roasted by their host and honoured guest. On the other hand, Monday night when I met Britney, John slipped out of the apartment the moment I arrived, waving vaguely at the couch, saying he was late for an important business meeting and to enjoy myself, he would be back in a few hours. Bewildered both by the suddenness of his exit and his trust in me, whom he had after all only met the previous week, I turned to the couch. The girl seemed nervous, so I walked forward and extended my hand. ‘My name’s Jack, how are you?’ ‘Hi Jack, pleased to meet you,’ she had a strong, clipped Chinese accent, but otherwise spoke English confidently. ‘My name is Britney.’ ‘Pleased to meet you Britney.’ We sat down on the couch. She had obviously made an effort.
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