Village Unsatisfied Bhabhi

“If you go down the hall, there should be a door to your right. Inside the bathroom, there should be a cabinet with some of the basics,” I managed to say as normally as possible. A few minutes later he returned with some bandaging tape and some aspirin. I swallowed a few as he picked up a wet cloth and cleaned off the dirt, being incredibly gentle. He walked over to my fridge and looked inside. He finally comes back with the frozen peas bag and rested it against my knees. “There, that should help with the swelling and the bruise,” he said, as he continued to hold onto it. “Thank you,” I said, awkwardly. After a few moments of awkward silence, he cleared his throat. "So, did you mean the door to the right or the door to the left?” I gulped with dread. The bathroom was on the left and my bedroom was on the right. I felt the heat in my cheeks increase with embarrassment. Earlier that morning I had awoken feeling incredibly horny and had pulled out my vibrator to calm down the lustful. We sniffed butts, but I don’t think they liked what they smelled. They seemed ill at ease. It might have been their lack of comprehension for English. Whenever I talked they merely flashed me a lewd toothy smile. The best medicine to cure such awkwardness is alcohol, so I flagged down a bar maid and got ‘ein mass,’ or a liter stein of beer if you prefer. The beer was good. It was free too, so it tasted better than normal. Somehow the barmaid forgot to strong arm me for the tab. In a European bar you always pay your tab when you leave. I got use to this custom but observed at Oktoberfest she was asking the Italians to cough up the euros as soon as the beer hit the table. Despite what the people in high school said about the utterly uselessness of learning German, I managed to get myself a free beer. Actually free beers, food, women, and information. Because I ordered in my haphazard German, which in a beer tent with a nice steady roar deafening everyone sounds like the Führer’s.
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