Sexy Bodyguard Jack
My story

"By the way, I swear, lo, honey. Although this is a very simple menu, but the taste of the delicious it is amazing. It felt all right, the eggs were tender again. You are really good at cooking. I salute."

Of course, I've been used to cooking since I was a child since my grandmother died, I had to take his place in my father's care. Because, my father has not married again since my mother died after giving birth to me. Even though I know it doesn't mean he's clean from. I know my father loved dating beautiful widows and *ahenol who was as lonely as my father. But he never married his girlfriends. After all, the one courted by my father was not a good woman worthy of respect with marital status. Like, like a fish that deliberately flutters in front of the cat's eyes, of course the cat reacts and immediately acts.

Nope. Not that I'm degrading them. Nor are they holy-spirited and demeaning in their ways of hooking and flirting with striped men. It's up to them, their business. It's just, I'm entitled to judge, right? For they are tempted is my father. So, if the women accidentally spread their bodies with the intention of provoking my father's desire, of course my father will not come and enter their nest. Yeah, my dad's a normal guy. So normally, he will never want to miss the delicious free treats offered by his sexy bed partners.

Of course, again, it's none of my business. That's their business. After all, it's their body - their body, their hole - their hole, their own house, and the sin affair, it's their own sin. Besides, I was a kid, wasn't I?

I remember very, very - and very often, when my father and I came home from the morning market, my father was greeted by mothers of jankes aka lonely widows who deliberately stood on the porch of his house with a thin negligence without interior. "Come by, Mas," he asked. My father smiled and nodded. Then, during the day, by pretending to invite me to play with his son the jankes mother, my father and the jankes mother also played. However, unlike me and the child who played in the living room, my father and the woman played it in the room. Hah-huh-hah-huh ria in there. More precisely, they play while exercising so that it produces sweat that splashes.

Yep, the pleasure can be, healthy body soul can also. In short, their physical needs are met. That is why, outwardly, my father felt no lack. So, why did she get married again, he thought. The business of the well and the kitchen there is I who take care of it, while for the affairs of the mattress, he has many places and just choose where he wants to dock. After all, he would still sleep at home, guarding and accompanying his little daughter through cold nights that always felt long --without a mother. And I know, one of the reasons my father didn't want to get married again was because he was afraid that the wife he chose would not love his daughter sincerely.

Well, I guess at that time my age was big enough to understand the voices of the *heat confirmation or *grangan-*satisfied, so I have understood about the hot bed that is often tested by my father. This is not the case - just once or twice - it just so happens that the location of the morning market is not too far from our village, my father always accompanied me to the market because he could not bear to let me go shopping alone. So, on my father's bike, we're going down the street in front of those pretty jankes. Often, not only with the neighboring jankes, my father also often dated market traders. With an alibi asking for a phone number to order fresh groceries for tomorrow, my father even got something fresher than just a freshly picked tempeh or vegetable. And, in addition, my father never refused service as a thank you when someone asked for his help. For example, when we passed by, someone called and asked for an electrical connection, or just fix a clogged bathroom drain, my father would stop by even though the note was not a handyman. The alibi's job is done, thanks are accepted with pleasure. Obviously, when my father was struggling with the jankes' bathroom duct, the woman had already taken off all her clothes. So, my father was excited and had to rush through his little task, and, soon, move on to the next task.

Now, if you're asking how all this happened, the answer is that we live in a quiet neighborhood, I mean first. My village is a rural village surrounded by plantations. My father was not a rich man, nor did he have much money to buy the pleasure of a mustard or boneless onde-onde and never wrapped in cutan*. But, my father was a handsome, tall, stocky, and full-fledged man, he knew how to keep his appearance looking cool even with his perfunctory clothes, and, with his daily life as a pelvic porters, he knew how to keep it looking cool, of course, his muscular strength promised him pleasure - - that was all he had, which lured the janks to him.

Duh, so go everywhere, yeah, bestie. In essence, my high, dense, and filled posture, it decreased from my father's. While the face is beautiful and the skin is pure white, it decreased from my mother.

Eh? Sori, just a little notice. Hehe. The point is this: I've been good at cooking since I was a kid. My grandmother taught me, and after she died, cooking and home improvement was a must for me. So, I know very well, the results of my cooking must be delicious and guaranteed Bang Jack will definitely love it.

Well, with my ability in the matter of cooking food - which turned out to be useful now because it was able to satisfy his taste Bang Jack, I became grateful, even though the road of my life used to be so heavy, so, but now I have wisdom and blessing. I can cook without having to go to high school. Actually, there was a blessing, too, anyway. Because, by being able to cook, I can cook for my father. That way, we can save money.

You know, even though my dick is in bed and woman business, but he's still the best dad for me. Wh why? Because he's a responsible father. He never left me, let alone abandoned me. As was the duty of a single parent, my father fulfilled his duty towards me. He never starved me. Despite eating with a potluck side dish, I eat enough three times a day, and I can eat until full. No matter what the side dish was, he always guaranteed rice in our house. In principle, even though only eating with vegetable side dishes boiled with salt, the important thing is that his daughter does not starve.

But, if I remember, we never eat only with vegetables. My father was an active pelvic porters. If not to worry about leaving me alone when it was still dark, she would have been to the market since the early hours of the morning, just like when my grandmother was alive. Since my grandmother died, my father went to work together with when I left for school. So, he always had the money to feed me tempeh, tofu, eggs, or salted fish. That's also with a note that I'm tired of eating fish. My father diligently set fish traps in the river or in the swamps near our house, routine, every day before evening, and early in the morning he took the time to take his traps. So, my protein intake is enough. Even sometimes, for my sake, he would happily look for eels, snails, or rice paddies. If he's lucky, he'll bring home a bird that got caught in his trap. Yeah, no chickens, no birds. It's even better bird meat, isn't it?

Well, make no mistake. I also ate steak. I can cook my own steak with simple spices and perfumes. I have also eaten goat satay, rib soup, oxtail soup, even rendang. The important thing is to enjoy. Where's the meat from? From animals that we get once a year. I admit, Muslims are good.

From childhood, my grandmother taught me to grow and care for myself cooking spices. It's not all, but at least some of them I don't need to buy in the market, such as cayenne pepper, red chilli, lemongrass, turmeric, kencur, lime, lime, basil, basil, and many others. It doesn't take much, it's not for sale. Enough for me to cook everyday, our land is small. So, for the non-cutaneous, I must buy it in the market, such as potatoes, carrots, leeks, and others. Moreover, instant spices following sugar and salt.

See, we're poor, but our lives are enough because it's enough. My father and grandmother taught me how to survive hardships and limitations.

In addition, my father diligently set aside money as savings for my school fees. He wants me to go to school properly. Got a book, got a bag, got new shoes, and a new uniform when my uniform is worn. He wanted me to be the same as the other kids, or rather he didn't want me to be inferior to a shabby school uniform, let alone be unworthy of wear. Especially shoes, he never waited for my shoes to break, or my socks to the bottom. He was paying close attention to my rights as a child.

He's a good father, isn't he?

In fact, with his attention, my father diligently planted some banana trees and papaya trees on the edge of our land, in the right place and did not dispel the sunlight for other plants. So, my need for fiber and vitamins was met. Not only those two fruits, once a week, my father must have bought me fruits that the family could afford, even if only a grain or two, or only half a kilo, would have bought me, what is important for my father is that his daughter can taste how delicious fruit is besides bananas and papaya. And, every once in a while, he buys me ice cream, or chocolate. Well done, even if only occasionally.

My father was kind, and also considerate. He diligently asked me how my school was, how my grades were, how I was doing at school, and various other forms of attention, including asking about my school's daily PR. That's why he has my love, affection, and complete respect - even if he's that asshole in bed.

Yeah, this is my life. I grew up in a bad neighborhood, without the tenderness and warmth of a mother's arms, having to struggle with home affairs, he said, and never spend time playing with kids my age after school. Even my life fell to its lowest point after my father died. My house and land were sold by my uncle, he said he was entitled because it was a legacy from his parents. My grandmother. As for my part, he also kept it. The theft is subtle. Fuck up!

"Thank you for the story." Bang Jack smiled and echoed my finger.

Haha! Apparently I've been slipping long since.

"thank you. You're gonna listen to me. You're the only one who's willing to listen to my story."

He's nodding. "Together, Honey. The point is that you are no longer alone. You have me, the man who's ready to take over all your father's responsibilities."

Ooooo... Jack Bang. That's sweet, anyway....