Pakistani Maid Fucked By House Owner

He was thirty-six, while I was freshly eighteen. He had this easy, breezy, patient vibe that surrounded him. I knew this was my chance to work on my skills away from the computer. My first step, I began wearing tighter uniforms, wore makeup and did my hair all cute. The first day of my new look, I got compliments from my coworkers and the customers. After feeling this new sense of confidence, I doubled down and began flirting a bit harder. I found reasons to touch his hand, when grabbing plates or giving a coy smile or wink to throw him off. After weeks of flirting back and forth, it all came to ahead when I was in the walk-in fridge loading up my tray with butter packets. Jimmy came in quietly, he came up behind me, pulled his body close to mine and inhaled my scent. I waited in anticipation, my heart racing for what he was about to do next. He put his arms around my waist and whispered in my ear, “You are beautiful!” Hearing that made me smile widely, as I waited for his. Dr. Gnocchi didn't like geniuses.)He still didn't want to deal with us and asked that we be assigned a younger more personal adviser.Somehow, we managed. There we were stuck in freshman classes simply because Dr. Gnocchi didn't like kids ... smart kids were the bane of his existence. We thought we might be through with high school, but, to be honest, Michigan State wasn't much better. Grace and I both referred to freshman classes as the thirteenth grade.All those fancy people ... they thought ... discovered that a professorship trumped a businessman, or a sheriff, or a city mayor. Having gone through life with one foot in the principal's ass didn't matter much when the paper due in Literature 101 had to be more than 'What I did over the summer.' Five pages, TYPED, meant five pages after the cover page and the synopsis. The ability to throw a football fifty yards meant you either passed the simple 101 class or lost your scholarship."Why would I waste valuable party hours studying?.
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