My Sexy Indian Girlfriend

The storm had been a reprieve, almost stopping time itself, to allow me precious hours alone with my Bethie, to adore her and take pleasure in her. That is why the memory lingers, of waking during a rainy sunset with her body in my arms. I have no photograph of that moment, but it is my favorite image of the two of us, a perfect portrait of our own secret love, and all of it's meaning, and a fitting end to our loving day together. She would not leave my arms until sunrise.. . . . .2. That morning While I slept that morning, drifting in and out of various stages of consciousness, Bethie tidied the living room, put away the bedding she and Lizvette had slept in, did some homework, then knocked on my bedroom door a little before noon. "Daddy? Are you still sleeping? Are you hungry?" "Come in, angel." She wore a yellow tank top and a pair of my old silk boxers, black but faded. The worn elastic band d****d prettily across her hip bones. She sat beside me as I lay in bed."You had too. She glanced at the phone and pressed a button, and read a text message she had waiting for her. “Mom says diner is ready and to hurry because we will have company soon.” I gulped, knowing that it would be bad to be caught this way with anyone else in the house so I threw on my clothes and noticed the wetness on my sleeve. I looked to Becky and she said, “I have a hair dryer under the bathroom sink.” I went back in, placed the curtain in the shower, and took out the hair dryer and used it on my bitten-on sleeve and also my own hair.Once I was presentable to myself in the mirror I came out and saw Becky waiting at the door. Her hair still wet, but now dressed in a respectable dark blue shirt and jeans. She smiled and led me downstairs. When we reached the kitchen there was a note from Becky’s mother to set the table and do some other prep chores for dinner since she had to step out to get something. I helped her with the silverware and plates, and the turkey in the oven smelled great. I.
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