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About Us

By: busterk



"Are you really sure about this," you say, as we are about to enter our bedroom, "because this might be the last moment you can stop it."

"I'm positive," I say to you, "I love you and I want this to happen." I kiss the back of your neck and gently nudge you onwards, inwards towards him.

He is sprawled on the bed already, awaiting the drink you have for him, with a smile which manages to be both smug and nervous spread over his boyish face. He's a handsome fucker, the guy we found on the website we found, the kind of pretty boy you used to go for, in the days before you found me. He's a bit too ripped for your tastes though, or so you said, back when we were looking at the pictures he emailed. But don't think I didn't notice the slight gasp, though you quickly turned it into a giggle, when you saw the picture of his cock.

I dare say he does well for himself this guy. But I could see he was taken aback when you opened the door to him tonight. And he should be, you are gorgeous, my darling: eyes as blue as a husky dog's and big in your face like a baby's; succulent lips that look like they long to be kissed, even when they don't; you're still as slim as most girls wished they were at sixteen; your little tits are hard and high, pink nipples like strawberries on vanilla cones; your tight little ass is the most beautifully curved thing on the planet, makes a Porsche look like a Volvo. I wish he could see your bum properly, you're wearing a skirt, it looks better in tight jeans. But I guess he'll see it soon enough.

You hand him the glass of wine and sit down beside him on the bed, shuffle yourself upwards towards him. You watch while he has a sip, then you take the glass from him and have a sip yourself. It is one of our big goblets, can take half a bottle, we have all shared two bottles already and you and I had a couple of gin and tonics before he arrived.

I take my place, in the corner, where we put one of the dining room chairs earlier.

You two continue to share wine, but he starts to stroke your bare thigh now, whenever it is not his turn to hold the glass. You let out a slight sigh when he does so, at each first touch. I am not sure if this is from genuine pleasure, or from anticipation, or to encourage him; but I am hard as fuck already. I stroke my arm against myself through my trousers, subtly, though neither of you are looking at me anyway.

When the wine is finished, you turn to place it on the floor and you look into my eyes as you do so and I just nod and mouth 'I love you', my lips barely moving, but certain they convey what I say.

And as you turn back to him again, as if by unspoken agreement, you both move your faces together and kiss. Softly at first, gently, then you move slightly on top of him and then the kissing becomes more constant, you are more or less sealed at the face.

I feel the first knots of jealousy then, but quickly his hand, which was stroking your leg moves up to your ass, which lifts your skirt; and the sight of your beautiful peachy bum being groped by this near-stranger's fingers makes me want to come in my pants there and then.

You straddle him, and grab at his T-shirt from the bottom, make him lift his arms so that you can pull it off. And you pull off your own top as well, press against him, so that he can feel your stiff little nipples rubbing into his chest. You kiss like this for a while, rubbing your hands over each other. Him quickly gathering the confidence to squeeze and hold your delicious tits. 

While he sucks on them, one after the other, you look into my eyes. Is this what you wanted? You seem to be asking me, but I just stare at you loving you, more aroused perhaps even than you. 

You look away first, and as if that look was the final permission you have sought, you move your straddle lower, onto his thighs, and you start to rub his cock through his jeans. If it weren't poking sideways it would doubtless be above his beltline anyway, but you generously unbutton his flies to free it. You have to reach right into his pants to pull it out. But you spend some time in there stroking it, probably rubbing the underside of his helmet in that special way you do. When you eventually manoeuvre it out, pulling down his pants and jeans a little with your other hand, I see the size of it. It looks huge wrapped in your little fingers.

You edge further down the bed, ass in the air, as if you were going to suck on it, but you don't, you pull his trousers and underwear right off and return to wanking him. Wanking is too crude a word for what you do though, for what you are capable of. You encase and wrap him. You twist as you pull up on his thick shaft and work his own precum round his glans. Your other hand alternates between cupping and stroking his balls and working in unison on his cock. You elicit the same moans and gasps and pants from him as you do from me. You are an artist. And you are relishing every second of this. You can do things with two hands on this monster cock that you could never do on mine. 

Soon you discover that even pumping and kneading him with two hands, there is still space for your mouth at the top, and you suck at it eagerly, gleefully, moaning yourself now, though you are untouched except where his fingers occasionally grasp through your hair, or hold you head steady for a moment, perhaps in efforts not too cum.

When you move your legs off the bed, in order to get at him better - so that your too skilled fingers and hungry mouth can appreciate this new cock the more – your knees are on the floor and your ass is right in front of me. It is more than I can resist. I come over to you, behind you and you obliging lift your knees up one at a time while I take your skirt of you.

I kneel behind you, my single middle finger rubbing along your pussy through the fabric of your best black g-string. It is so wet it feels like leather somehow. You hunch back into my hand, wanting more than that, but unwilling to remove your lips from the fat dick you are sucking like you're afraid it will be taken away at any moment. 

I rub my own dick with the hand that is not still stroking along your swollen lips. Then I undo my belt and pull my trousers and shorts down, to get at myself better, unembarrassed with how badly I measure up, now that he is flat on his back struggling with, what I can only imagine from my not inconsiderable personal experience, is the most exquisite, unfuckingbelievable, cock-seeing-to of his life.

I edge aside your g-string with my finger, which is almost sucked inside you. Disappears with contemptuous ease. I add another and start to work the two of them, but still you feel wide. I have never felt you this turned before I've even touched you. I add another finger and jerk them all into you. You're really moaning now, muffled through your mouthful of cock. I'm still amazed you could fit him in your mouth at all, but in spite of his girth, or maybe because of it, you seem to be trying your hardest to get him further and further into your throat.

I decide that your efforts need rewarding, it's a tricky, uncomfortable position, but by relinquishing my own dick, I shift myself round onto my back, with my fingers still in you. My head now pressed against the bed, from here I can access your sweet sweet pussy. You are bare not just of pants but of hair. I love the feeling of your bald lips spreading over my mouth, they welcome me like a friend but feel new every time. But this is the newest time of all: the knowledge that as I suck and lick you, you are sucking and licking him makes this newer than even the first time we fucked, than even when we knew it was love. This is something that neither of us have ever done before and we get to do it together. 

I keep thrusting my three fingers into you while my other hand spreads you open and makes your clit easier for my tongue to work. I could make you come like this easily, more easily even than normal, no doubt. But I'm not going to. I want to watch you come. 

When I feel that you are almost there, and I know your beautiful body more than well enough to know that, I come up from under you. And I wipe my face clean of your slick, salty juices on my shirt and then pull it off. 

For the first time in twenty minutes you turn your head away from the massive Christmas present cock and speak the first words since we came into the room: "Don't stop."

It's like a plea and a command, but I ignore them both. I pass you a condom from on top of the drawers and move back to my chair.

You don't need more inspiration than this; you tear at the wrapper, hands trembling with urgency. And smooth the straining latex down over a girth it wasn't designed to contain.

You clamber back onto the bed and position yourself above him. His hands reach immediately for your thighs, but he might as well have been a fuck toy for all the participation he has had so far. He is a fuck toy. Your fuck toy. Our fuck toy. And you could never have sucked at anything but a real cock - a really fat, thick, eight inch cock – with the zeal that I've just witnessed.

You position your needful cunt above him. Holding him at the angle you want him. Your fingers don't begin to meet around him from above like that. You let out a low mournful moan as you start to slip down him. Slip is the wrong word. As you start to force yourself open around him. You moan louder with every downwards assault. He keeps himself motionless on the bed, his hands only moving, rubbing your thighs and bubble of a butt and firm little tits. No doubt he is long schooled in letting women judge how much of him they can take. 

Even turned on as you are, it is a couple of minutes before he is fully submerged in you. Each time you raise from him, I see a lag of your pussy lips dragging up behind. I can only imagine what that must feel like on your clit. Can have no comprehension what it must be like for you to be so filled with cock as that, to be as stuffed as I have always wanted to see you.

Maybe you sense this, that I want to see you, or maybe you just want to come in another new way – I am amazed that you haven't come already – but you pull yourself off him, quite a large movement to get that thing out of you. And you turn around, your back facing him now, your beautiful face looking at me. 

Your hair is wet with sweat. Your eyes are almost glazed with closeness to orgasm, they watch me working my dick. Your lips are barely parted, they let out a shriek like I have never heard before as you lunge down on him in one hard move.

"Is this what you wanted?" you almost gurgle at me, rocking yourself on him, fingers rubbing at his balls and your own clit. "You wanted to see me fucked by a big fucking cock, well you got it, is it what you wanted?"

I have been too engrossed to even consider whether this has met expectation, but you are hardly asking anyway, you are just throwing another level of filth into all this newness for the thrill of it. You are in anticipation of the biggest climax of your sexy young life. I stand up and I move to you and I hold your head in my hands as I kiss you. Your tongue works around my mouth with a questing desperation I have never before encountered. And we continue to kiss like that - me tasting his cock in your mouth, you tasting your pussy in mine – while you fuck yourself back on his cunt-stretching girth. While you play with your clit, which is already rubbing on cock. While I wank myself and you claw at my back. And I realise that this is what I wanted, this is just what I wanted. And while you scream I pump my spunk onto you and groan with you and we kiss while we come and keep kissing softer, even as we slow. And for all we know he came too. But we don't know that yet, and we don't much care for the moment; because this was about us.

About Vania



"And what do you see in my future?" the stunningly beautiful girl in the sparkling yellow dress asked, her hand stretched out across to me. Conversation at the table died as I wondered what to do. I did not know this person, and here she was giving me her hand, ostensibly to read her stars. In our native country, Pakistan, this was a serious breach of inter-sex etiquette and even though many of us had experienced life overseas, this sort of behavior was not expected in public, and here we were seated in a major hotel.

Looking around, I saw the two dozen or so persons in the group waiting for my next move. "What the hell," I figured, "she is just interested in her horoscope." Someone had let it out at the earlier party that I had some talent in palmistry and horoscopes, and conversation at this gathering had somehow come around to the same topic.

I grasped her hand and pulled it closer, forcing her to move her chair forward, so I could get a good read. My heart missed a beat as I first held the softest, prettiest and certainly most fragrant hand ever in my life. Although a good three feet separated us across the table, her foot had come to rest next to me, and in fact I could feel the warmth from her leg going up mine. There were intricate henna patterns on her palm, which made sense given that I was attending my friend Mustafa's, wedding. Most of the other ladies also had the same sort of adornment, in addition to copious amounts of jewelry. 

"What would you like to know?" I asked, since my brain had gone blank. I had been staring unashamedly at her for the past half hour since coming over from the pre-wedding henna festivities at the bride's house. 

She gave a cute giggle and softly mouthed, "Surprise me!" This certainly perked up interest further around the table. 

I gave the palm a good look, turning it left and right and squeezing to observe the various lines, trying to look real professional. I had been dabbling in palmistry for some time, but was hardly in a position to be counseling someone on their future. Still, I had gotten myself into the situation and needed to act fast.

I tried the standard Chinese fortune cookie approach, "you are going to have great happiness soon." 

"Do you mean I am not happy at the present time?" she quickly retorted, messing up my chain of thought and drawing laughter from the others. 

"Tell me about my romances and admirers," she added. Everyone began looking hither and thither, and a hush descended on the group.

"I see you have a strong person in your immediate future," I had noted a series of prominent lines, "but I also see that there will be many admirers in your longer life."

"My God, Mustafa, who did you bring along?" she nudged the groom to be, who was seated next to her, "he's telling me I am going to be a naughty girl."

"Let me introduce Shahid," Mustafa ventured, "he works with the company we do the research work for in Saudi."

"Nice meeting you Shahid, I see that you are quite talented," she spoke, while giving my foot a tap with hers under the table, "it's refreshing that you are honest with your words."

"And by the way, this is Vania, my bride to be," Mustafa's words made me feel like the village idiot. I hoped for the ground to open up and swallow me whole, but Karachi was not noted for seismic activity.

It was extremely unusual for brides to join grooms between the henna ceremony and the actual wedding, and it was not surprising that I had not seen her earlier since the bride had not been on public view during the event at her house. I had been staring at my friend's wife to be and had no answers, and I was still holding on to her.

"Excuse me Shahid," Vania sweetly spoke, "would you mind greatly if I get my hand back!"

II

At the official wedding ceremony, a couple of days later, I could not keep my eyes off the stunning beauty who would soon be sharing my friend's bed and life thereafter. Tall, fair skinned and well educated, Vania was the answer to any man's dreams, just that the best I could do was to include her in my mental fantasies and nothing else. And true to local custom, she would be deflowered by my lucky bastard buddy after the party. I could sense that he was looking forward to the night also.

She was just so different from many of the Pakistani girls that were being introduced to me by prospective moms. For one, she was not dressed in the standard red bridal attire, opting instead for a striking azure and silver outfit that enhanced her skin tones intensely. Secondly, unlike typical Pakistani brides, she was enjoying conversations with everyone throughout the event, not being demure and silent at all. Thirdly, she was openly flirting with a number of the guys around, with one exception. To me she was proper and very aloof, only a soft "hello" having escaped her mouth when I had gone over to wish the couple. 

Person after person, usually moms with prospective bride to be daughters, kept finding and introducing me to all and sundry. Well, after all, with a string of degrees from abroad and a real good, high paying, tax free job with a major multinational in Saudi Arabia, I would make a swell husband for any of the girls who would be lucky enough to hook up with me. But try as I did, my mind and eyes kept wandering back to the goddess sitting next to my dear friend. It took an extreme amount of willpower to finally tear away from the main stand and involve myself in getting to know the possibilities at the event. 

Luckily, I had the good fortune of running into Farah, a friend of the bride, who had flown in from the US and was also staying in the same hotel as the groom's party. Thankfully the ceremony came to a close well past midnight, the bride and groom retiring to their room just upstairs. As most of the guests excused themselves and left for their homes, I discovered that Farah and I were almost alone. The few younger folk still around decided that it was worth visiting the coffee shop and charging the bills to the bridal suite. Farah and I tagged along for wont of anything better to do at the time. 

III

The coffee shop had been a bad idea and given the patchy service at almost 2 a.m., the other folks bailed one after another. Farah suggested that she turn in and I offered to see that she got to her room in good shape. Surprisingly she was on the same floor as the bridal suite and my room, perhaps I should have figured that the bookings were made concurrently. In fact her room was directly opposite where I was staying. 

"Would you like to come in for a nightcap?" she asked.

I was ready to join her in a wink, but clarified just in case, "what sort of nightcap?"

"Oh, I managed to bring a couple of bottles of vodka and scotch from the duty free," she let me know, "and no one checked at customs." She had been foolish to bring alcohol into the country, but lucky that no one at the airport or at the hotel security had found the stuff. Guess it was karma for us. 

"I'll tell you what, why do we not take the booze over to my room, the view from my window is spectacular?"

"Oh really," she countered, "I thought you might have been more interested in another view." Her meaning was crystal clear, but coming from a Pakistani, albeit Westernized, girl it was both strange and music to my ears.

The booze and Farah were in my room. So while my friend was well into, what I imagined would be his fourth round with Vania; I was not going to do too badly myself.

The small talk did not last for very long. Farah was mentally and emotionally charged by the heady wedding atmosphere, and by the fact that her friend was the bride and not her. We had been sitting on the two-seater sofa, sipping our scotch, when she accidentally on purpose spilled some on to my shirt. 

"I am so sorry, Shahid," she acted apologetic, "take it off and let me get that dried up."

My shirt vanished as if it never existed but, rather than take it to the washroom or do something else to dry it, Farah began to lick the wetness that had seeped onto my chest. Slowly she worked her tongue all around my torso, taking little bites as she proceeded to heighten the sensation.

My dick was well past erect and thankfully her hands found their way to my belt and trousers. I was out of my clothes in no time at all. Pushing me back on the sofa, Farah placed my cock in her mouth and began to move her head in an ever fastening rhythm. Every so often she would stop, take out my prick and kiss the tip or lick the shaft, driving me wild. I do not know how long it took, but after an eternity, I felt my resolve dissipate and a shower of sperm hit the back of her throat. She gagged instinctively and let go, a stream of my come leaving a line across her face. 

Farah picked up a napkin and wiped off her face. "Whoosh! Good thing that didn't spoil my dress," she commented, since I was buck naked and she was still dressed for the party. Placing her hands on my legs, she leaned forward and our mouths connected in a deep kiss. We broke off for air and she surprised me saying, "I guess you liked that, but I figure it is time to get to my room."

"But, but...!" I stammered.

"Good night then," she added, heading to the door.

My base instincts took over and I grabbed at her from behind. She tried to pull away, but I had her off her feet and on the bed in an instant. "Shahid, don't," she implored, confusing me considerably; after all she had just recently had my cock down her throat. 

Her protestations had no impact on me and I sought the drawstring on her shalwar. Although faced downwards, she thrashed about as I tried my best to unclothe her. Not succeeding in finding the drawstring, I grabbed a hold of her embroidered kameez and ripped the back down almost to her waist. That wasted a real expensive piece of clothing, but also set her on fire.

Farah flipped over and pulled me down by my hair so that our lips met again, further messing up my mind. I soon had her out of her dress, which was considerably ripped in the process. It was a good thing that she had spare clothes in the room right across the corridor or it could have been a real chore explaining what happened to all and sundry.

She had sizable breasts, but the rest of her body was quite slim and well proportioned. Our bodies intertwined and our mouths joined in deep and passionate kissing. I could feel the considerable heat generating from her pussy and very soon she was good and ready. Her command, "fuck me now, fuck me," directed me to consummate things with her. 

I buried myself in her willing cunt and her response was nothing short of electric. Her legs and arms grasped me close, forcing my prick even deeper into her recesses but restricting my ability to properly move in and out. From the way she had acted just a few moments earlier, I wondered if this was her first fuck, given that the entry was very tight. Still her energetic response assured me that she had some experience in the activity. Another issue though raised its ugly head. "Uh, Farah, I am not wearing a condom!" I half whispered or perhaps half barked into her ear. She nodded her head and seemed not to care about consequences. I had tried my best to warn her, but could not control the flow of events. Although having come profusely earlier in her mouth, my body released another substantial amount of sperm and this into her pulsing nether regions. Almost spontaneously, Farah tensed and then pulled me even closer, raking my back with her substantial nails. A very notable moan, that seemed not to end, left her mouth, indicating that she had indeed reached a most satisfying climax. 

"So what were you trying to tell me?" she asked sometime after we had untangled. 

"I was not wearing a condom!"

"Oh, okay," she replied, now confusing me, but indicating that she probably had other precautions already in place, "I hope you are not done!"

We were not. For the next hour or so, I fucked her less, she literally raped me more. I wondered where such a reserve or raw unsatisfied energy had come from, but was not about to turn down the blessings I was receiving in such an unexpected fashion.

IV

"Vania and I were very close in school," Farah confessed, "I am almost jealous of Mustafa for taking her away from me."

Dawn had just broken and indeed the view of the sun rising from my window was spectacular. Given the late night, we figured that the rest of the wedding party would not get stirring till late in the morning, so another couple of hours together were certainly feasible.

She was lounged on my bed, looking fine in her nudity, giving me a history lesson on the bride, while sexily kicking her legs back and forth as she lay on her stomach. Her ass was very enticing and the rest of her was pretty tasty too. "Imagine birds of a feather stuck together," I guessed, visualizing what Vania may be looking like at that very moment, probably fucked to the ends of the earth and back!

"Well I know you were at school together, Swarthmore or Vassar or something like that, an all girls' environment."

"Yes, someplace like that, and we were roommates for nearly three years."

"And," I probed, cupping one of her ass cheeks.

"And more, much more," she retorted, stoking my curiosity.

"Such as?" I could not wait to know, and my fingers were finding her rectum, making her push back to permit some penetration.

"You're nuts about Vania aren't you," she surprised me, "you were visualizing her while we were making love."

"Why would you say that?" the assertion was 100% correct and on the mark, causing me to pull my hand away and move a bit away from her. 

"It's quite all right, Vania has that sort of magical effect on people," she seemed quite okay with the fact of my charm for her friend, "you do not have the resources to fight off the hold she can have on persons, but do not think you are going to get into her pants."

I was not exactly surprised to learn that three years of being roommates, in an all-female environment, had propelled Vania and Farah towards each other. For quite some time, each had provided emotional and physical comfort to the other. It was not clear if there was a more dominant or butch partner, given the striking femininity of both persons, and frankly I could not care less. Even though she had many admirers through her life, Mustafa was the first guy that Vania was going to be intimate with, Farah was more than sure of that fact. Regarding her own life and loves, she avoided to delve into the subject other than what she had said about Vania and herself and the fact that we had been screwing through the night. One thing was certain, the bride was able to cast a spell on others and while I had been with a babe myself, my thoughts kept wandering over to the suite next door. 

The wedding went by, Farah and I had a couple of more nights together till she went back to the US, I was back to work, and Vania and Mustafa arrived in Saudi after their honeymoon in Malaysia. 

V

"Hi Shahid, remember me," the lovely lilting voice on the phone caused me to both lose my chain of thought and concurrently feel an erection coming on, "its Vania, we are now in town and I wanted to see if you were around."

"Yeah, I'm here, welcome to Saudi," was all I could manage to say.

"Great, we are having a party for all the friends in town this weekend," she advised, "and I am wondering if I can ask you to help with arrangements given that Mustafa has to be away for most of the week on business."

"You could have had the party a few days later, and how come Mustafa did not tell me you've been back for a bit?"

"I guess so, but this trip came up after he had already committed to it first day back to the office," she confessed, "and to be frank, Mustafa has been a bit pre-occupied with his newfound responsibility to follow protocol!"

I could well imagine what was on his mind, probably the same thing as on mine, with the proviso that he had the outlet for his desires to be slaked. 

"I also figured you would appreciate hearing from me, given that you were so nice to my friend at the wedding?" I wondered how much she actually got to hear of what Farah and I had been up to. 

"And how can I be of help?"

"I figure you know all the places we would need stuff from," she outlined her plan, "and since women cannot drive about here, you do need to come along, so be a nice chap and I will stop by at your place around 6 pm."

Mustafa had been working in the city for some time before I had arrived. He had helped me find a nice apartment in the same building, just two floors below where he was staying. Vania did not have to travel a significant distance, but I had to get back well in time to prep up before she turned up. I was sure the place was clean, but still wasn't confident that it was suitable for as fine a woman as her to be there. I rushed back barely minutes before she was due. Lucky for me, it was the day my cleaning service fixed the place, so everything was in the best possible shape it could be.

"Hello there, Shahid, it's so good to see you again," there she was standing in my apartment. I did not even remember hearing the doorbell and letting her in, "Oh do you usually leave the front door unlatched?"

"Well it is unlikely that someone will come in and rape me or something like that," my reply was most flippant.

"And does that still apply, given that I have now locked the door and could have designs of my own?" 

"You're funny Vania," was all I could come up with. 

VI

"Is this place always so hot and clammy?" Vania clearly was not taking too kindly to the summerish climate of the city, even though it was only April.

We had gone over to a number of stores and the major retail markets. Saudi had not seen an explosion of malls unlike other Arabian Gulf states, so most stores were stand alone structures or single units in retail strips. Her discomfort was aggravated by the fact that stores usually kept air conditioning running full blast inside, and immediately on leaving one would face the extreme heat, even though the sun had set. It had been a warmer than normal spring time for the region.

"And I hate this horrible black cloak that I have to wear anytime I go out of the house," she was referring to the abaya, a garment that though not mandated was worn by the vast majority of expat females to stay within the proscribed laws of morality set by the religious police in the country. 

She had been bitching about things for quite a while and I was glad that our next stop was BHS, a nice multi-storied department store with sensible climate controls. She vanished ostensibly in the house wares section. Mercifully she was able to find the stuff she needed and I was again loaded with a number of shopping bags. 

"Shahid, why don't you put these in the car," she indicated she had to use the facilities, "I'll find you in a few moments." I figured that I would be stuck in the vehicle waiting for a considerable period of time, while she shopped some more, but less than ten minutes later she joined me, looking relieved, and suggested we head home. 

It was as we made the second turn out of the parking lot and the car swerved sharply to one side that I noted something was different. The abaya covering her had come open, but instead of the pink trousers she had been wearing all I now saw was milky white skin. I figured the night time was playing tricks and focused on driving. At the next traffic light though, I looked down again and by now the abaya had opened even more and revealed most of her legs.

"Hey Vania, you change your dress in the store or something?"

"Ah, yes," she replied, "I was getting too sweaty under this awful black tent, so I figured I would lighten things by taking off something beneath. I really hope you didn't mind waiting while I changed."




About Vania



"No that's quite okay," I sputtered, wondering how far she had gone in her undressing.

"I found nice shorts in the store," she let me know, "do you like them?"

Vania had opened the abaya all the way down to show a pair of lime green shorts that did not leave much to the imagination. I do not know how I managed to keep the car on the road, given that I could literally see her lithe legs all the way up to the pubic area. Also her long Pakistani kameez had vanished and in its place was a tank top that provided a generous view of her assets.

Instinctively I reached for the abaya, to cover her rather public display, but purely by accident my hand landed right between her thighs, with the back grazing up against her crotch. She gave a little slap on it and I pulled away immediately. She did not say anything, but her eyes did convey that I should not do it again. 

"I'm sorry Vania, I just wanted to get the abaya to cover you up," I truthfully spoke, "it would be very bad for all if the police pulled us over."

Thankfully this seemed to work for her, and while it was good that we were not nailed by the authorities, it was a total downer that her gorgeous body went back under wraps after my eyes had only feasted on it for the briefest moment. 

VII

"Would you like me to take this off?" she asked, indicating the sensational tank top.

"Are you kidding with me?"

"Didn't they tell you never to follow a question with another at school?"

"No I mean this does not sound right."

"Oh, but it is what you have been fantasizing about ever since the wedding, isn't it?"

"Come on Vania, we cannot do this."

"Okay, but why don't you take a closer look," she suggested as her top came off, showing a nicely sized set of breasts with the prettiest pink nipples I had ever seen. 

My resolve melted as she stepped out of her shorts and placed them over my head. There were no panties underneath and she had a very inviting, clean shaven, pussy that I would have been crazy to ignore, to hell with all else. 

We were in her bedroom, the items from the shopping trip already upstairs. I should have bid her farewell and gone off, but it was well past dinner time and she insisted on my staying. She had put some stuff in the oven and we had made small talk. The smell of burning meat made me realize that she had no clue about cooking and had set the controls totally wrong, spoiling our dinner.

Tears had come to her eyes. Without a thought I had pulled her to me to console her. Our lips had met and locked. She had taken my hand in hers and led me to her bedroom where now she stood statuesque and nude in front of me, answering my prayers of many weeks. 

I took no time in disrobing and we were on her bed, kissing deeply, fondling each other and enjoying our warmth together. She was a fabulous kisser and I hated the idea of breaking off every so often to catch my breath. Her fingers were around my seriously engorged penis and she pulled it towards her midsection sending a very clear message. 

She was still quite tight, given that her first experience had only been a few weeks ago, and her pussy gripped me fiercely. I began to pull in and out, finding the resistance of her tight vaginal muscles to be very stimulating and exciting. Vania tensed and I knew she was on the verge of coming. At the same time, I felt that I could no longer control the flow of events at my end. I felt a torrent of sperm jet out from me and into her deepest recesses.

VIII

Why was I so sticky and messy? Why was the phone ringing so loud and incessantly? My bed was a real mess, the entire set of blankets, sheets and comforters would need to go to the laundry. The phone had rung more than 10 times already.

"Hello," I yelled into the phone.

"Hi there, are you not coming to help me with my cooking, it's nearly lunchtime?"

"What?"

"You had mentioned you would give me cooking lessons after I burnt the food yesterday," she reminded me.

"Oh, did I?"

"Well you had volunteered to go get dinner, but then Mustafa had come back early from his trip."

"Did he?"

"Hey, have you been hitting the bottle a bit hard lately?"

Indeed I had. Yes we had gone shopping and Vania had certainly shown me more skin than I could have expected. She had offered to cook and burnt the food. Mustafa's early return had nixed alternative dinner plans. And no I had not sampled any treats. Rather the haze induced by finishing nearly half a bottle of scotch, to get her out of my mind, had caused my brain to play some serious tricks. My orgasm had been as real as could be, it was just that I had been making love to an apparition and Vania remained as far from me as ever. "Damn!"

IX

Mercifully a business trip that kept me out of the city for the better part of a month allowed me to focus back on work and less on the object of my affection. But finally it was time to get back home and potentially face her. It did not take long for my resolve, built up over the weeks away, to melt away again.

"Shahid, I have a surprise for you," she advised me most excitedly.

She had been a more than competent swimmer in her college days and during the past few weeks had taken a scuba course and was raring to go diving in the Red Sea. I was a member of a regular scuba group and it looked like we were inducting our newest member.

As per normal practice, the group met at our dive location twice every month early on Fridays. We had a regular group of five and more than often would have either a friend join or miss a member enabling the rest to form buddy pairs. The next Friday, we had the whole group show up, meaning that one person had to potentially hold off on the dive or be an awkward third. The arrival of Vania and Mustafa appeared not to solve things, as again we had seven persons.

Vania cleared the air announcing, "Shahid you are nominated by me to be my dive buddy."

"And what about Mustafa?"

"He has no plans to dive and since he is not a particularly good swimmer he decided to skip on the scuba course," she clarified, "do you mind being my buddy?"

I got drilled by dirty looks from the other four members of the dive group, each person thinking that I was exceedingly lucky, notably when she had peeled off her outer garments to reveal a gold bikini that left nothing to the imagination. 

The group gathered up their dive gear and began the walk to the reef nearly half a mile away through knee deep water. Just a few yards in, Vania realized that she was getting burnt to a crisp. Though it was barely past 10 a.m., the sun was blazing down. The two of us returned to where our cars were parked and Vania quickly went about ensuring she got the lotion wherever she could. But try as she may, getting it onto her back was not possible, and with Mustafa having driven off to pick up some snacks just a few moments earlier, the task fell to me. Her skin was warm, the lotion was cool and my midsection was not responding to my brain. I rubbed the liquid all over her back, with her not minding as my fingers touched the top of her hips. 

Now protected from the elements, we set off to the reef. The rest of the team was already diving off. It took a bit longer than I had anticipated, given that I was dragging her dive gear along with mine. All she had needed to do was look at me with her, "am I to drag that all the way," look. By the time we reached our jump off point, the others had already been underwater for 15 minutes or more. 

Although tall and well proportioned for a Pakistani girl, Vania nevertheless was bent backwards by the weight of the buoyancy vest and the air tank. I was a more experienced diver and routinely carried twin tanks. I had a feeling of certainty that she was going to need my second breathing line during the dive. 

"Vania, remember, this is not a game, there are rules to be followed," I tried to get her focused as I fitted her into the equipment and gave it a security check, it would be difficult to explain any mishaps, not only to her husband but to the authorities, "stay close to me and do not touch anything before you check with me first."

Though not as glorious as the Red Sea, the Arabian Gulf had its share of pretty dive spots. The sun gave us clear vision past 50 feet down and the coral formations were teeming with colorful fish of many types. Luckily we had found this spot well south of the oil platforms and away from sea lanes. 

Vania was like a child with a new toy. Within moments she had nudged me about half a dozen times indicating if I had seen something or if she could touch a fish or coral. I decided it would be better to lead her to the best sites and spots. She did not mind being held by her hand and lead around. 

Vania pulled her hand away, wrote on her dive slate and showed me the question. "Do you take all your girlfriends diving like this?" read the simple sounding but potentially pitfall ridden query. 

"Lady, this is Saudi, do you think I can get so lucky?" 

"Can I get a picture here?" she wrote, noting that I was carrying my underwater camera. I had enjoyed underwater photography and had quite a selection of pictures from prior dives at home. But to date, I had not encountered an underwater entity like Vania. 

For the next few minutes, she let me photograph her trying to catch fish, scratching coral or displaying things she had picked up underwater. 

"Would it be possible to take a picture of me without this bulky stuff on?" she had written, "I would like a nice shot that Mustafa appreciates."

I shooed away a group of fish from a nearby coral formation and unhitched her buoyancy vest. We were at the bottom, only about 35 feet deep, and I had her stand next to the coral, grabbing on to a protruding arm. She was to remove the device, stick it behind the coral to be out of sight of the shot. Then when I was ready, she was to take off her dive mask and finally to drop the breathing apparatus. We had visualized a couple of poses that would make her look real good and show her as a nymph in water. Her hair flowed out nicely, as I undid the clasp holding it together, and we figured it would heighten the impact 

The shot all set, I moved about 10 feet away to get the picture. I gave her the thumbs up and she took off the buoyancy vest, stuck it behind the coral as planned and removed the dive mask and breather. Instinctively she went to the first pose and I clicked.

I realized something was not right. As she had divested the buoyancy vest, her top had somehow hooked in it and come off, revealing her breasts. Vania had not realized she was topless and went to the second pose without hesitation. I shot again. She quickly reset herself a third time, on her own, and I also complied. I then covered the distance in a flash and had my tandem breathing apparatus in her mouth before she ran out of oxygen. 

I retrieved her equipment and made sure she had her mask on and was breathing from her tank. I was hoping to find her top within the buoyancy vest, but to my horror saw that it had lodged in a nearly inaccessible crevasse in the coral. Vania had not realized she was topless till I had to bring her attention to the situation, indicating with my fingers that she should look down. Her instinct was to shoot to the surface, but I gripped her strongly around the waist. She fought for a while till I was able to stick my writing board in her face, "if you go up too fast, you can get badly hurt," the message said. She must have remembered the warning on dive bends and the fight left her. "What now?" her eyes indicated through the dive mask. 

Our next task was to recover her top. Try as I may, I was too large to reach through the coral and get the top. The solution was for Vania to remove her vest again and poke herself through the opening in the coral till she caught it. While unhappy at the prospect of being topless again, and worried about the possibility of getting scratched in the process, she nevertheless had very little choice. Once again, she took the vest and breathing apparatus off. She squeezed herself into the opening and reached for the top. Her fingers fell a few inches short and I moved in behind, pushing right up to her bottom with her legs on either side of me, to lift her a bit and allow some forward movement. That did the trick and she managed to get her garment out. Unfortunately she found herself unable to move back and I had to get my arms around her torso and onto her breasts and pull to ensure she did not become part of the reef forever. The force of the move made us fall backwards, despite the depth and buoyancy of the water, and I landed on the ground with her. We sat there for a bit, my hands still covering her breasts, till she finally grabbed my tandem breather and then realized how intimately we were linked up. 

Vania spun around in my arms, looked into my face mask and indicated a "thank you" by hugging me for an extended moment. I helped her refit her stuff, even tying the back of her bikini top in a knot on account of having lost its clasp, and our dive adventure came to a smoother end than I had envisioned just a few moments earlier. 

Luckily no one noted that there were considerable scratches and bruises on her body or that her top was fastened in an unconventional way when we finally made it back to where we had parked our vehicles.

X

Perhaps she was a bit embarrassed after our dive or maybe she just got busy, Vania stopped calling or coming by to my place to ask for something or the other. I could not believe that I had actually held my friend's hot wife in my arms, with nothing on her save the skimpiest of bikini bottoms. Weeks later I could still feel on my hands the firmness of her naked breasts as I had pulled her from the coral. Needless to say, many a time I awoke with a serious hard on and nothing to take away my frustration. 

I spent my time focusing back on my work, and the efforts I was putting in were soon recognized by my bosses. I was nominated for a 6-month management training program at the HQ in Hartford, Connecticut. At the send-off party, I finally ran into the object of my affection again. She had continued to defy Saudi dress codes, showing up in a flaming red skirt that while not quite a mini, had a hemline that stopped well before her knees. The heels she wore shaped her already well defined legs even more. A lot of mouths were agape in the crowd.

"So you are going to leave me all alone for a long time, are you?" she did sound like she was going to miss me, even though she had literally vanished from my life for the best part of three months. 

She had maneuvered me to one side of the party hall, where we were shaded from the others by a set of large potted plants.

"I hope you are not going to forget me, I wore this nice dress to make sure!"

"No chance of that, I will be back before you know."

"But just in case, let me leave you with a couple of goodbye presents before you take off," she offered.

The first was an envelope. "Open this later, you will thank me," she advised.

The second was so much better and made me wish that my trip was cancelled right there. Vania backed me under a potted palm so that I was up against the trunk. She stepped up, smiled, and said, "Let me really give you something to make sure you do not forget me." Putting her arms around my neck, she brought her lips to mine and joined me in a passionate kiss. Instinctively, my arms went around her waist, pulling her close so that our bodies almost became one. My hands slowly caressed her, from her neck down to the full curvature of her hips. The skirt had a side slit that allowed me to get my hand inside her dress and touch the naked flesh of her back and legs and the panties in between. I upped the ante a bit and slipped my fingers under the top of her panties, getting a nice feel of her derriere. I would have loved to take the garment off and possibly get to her pussy, but she brought her right hand down over mine, stopping any further downwards progress, while at the same time allowing me the freedom to caress the parts of her hips that I was already able to. She seemed not to overly mind the fact that I was accessing a very private area of her body and stroked the hair at the back of my head, with her other hand, as we enjoyed our moment together. We remained locked at the mouth for some time, our tongues intertwining, before she backed off, brushed her hand across my crotch finding me to be extremely hard, then gave a quick giggle and ran off. By the time I had wiped off the lipstick, regained my composure and rejoined the crowd, Vania and Mustafa had already exited. 

I remembered the envelope she had handed to me. Opening it, I found three perfumed pages. The top one simply stated, "Here is Farah's contact information, she is working on her graduate degree not so far from Hartford, make sure you go see her." Farah's address, phone numbers and email were nicely printed. Farah had purposefully not given me this information, despite my asking for it, and I wondered why I was getting it now.

An arrow drawn in lipstick, below the address, indicated I should read the next page, which said, "she's dying to see you again; you were the best (no only) guy she has ever made love to! She said you were great in bed!" I had not been certain of Farah's heterosexual experiences, but it was now confirmed that I had indeed been her first male lover. Another lipstick arrow prompted me to go to the third page.

My eyes popped on reading the last page, "I would be jealous of her but she also let me know you do have a real big crush on someone gorgeous, stylish, intelligent, and in Saudi!" At the end, she had used her lipstick to leave an impression of her lips, with the words, "kissy, kissy" below. I knew I would be looking at the page every day that I would be away. At the same time, I could not believe Farah had spilled all the beans to Vania. 

My God, Vania had been stringing me along, enjoying my discomfort every time she deliberately dressed provocatively in my presence or cozied up to me. So there had been some wardrobe malfunctions, like the one under water, but she had read my mind well and knew I would be unlikely to cross societal codes of conduct, respecting her as my friend's wife, however far she took things. The deep kisses though, I felt, had come from her heart and she truly was going to miss me, even though we had never come close to being sexual partners. Still I was confused as to whether she was coming on to me or if she was just being nice in an unconventional sort of way.

Like the guy from the pie fucking movie, I figured I had been used, but hey it was great to have been taken advantage of in that way. "Yeah!" my brain reacted. And just like the pie guy, my over excited dick had shot off on its own and I had to exit the party rather quickly to change. 

XI

"You are still thinking of Vania, aren't you?" Farah prodded me.

I was sitting on a desk chair. Farah was on my lap, facing me, her legs dangling as she moved her pussy up and down my cock. As her tempo increased so did her insinuations that I was fucking Vania in my mind, rather than taking her. 

"Come on Farah, how long is this inquisition going to last?"

"As long as you do not tell me the truth," she promised while letting out a deep moan indicating she had reached a satisfying climax.

A few weeks after arriving at my new post and settling into my role, I had decided to look Farah up. She lived less than two hours drive time away from Hartford and we had decided to get together on the upcoming long weekend. Though we had plans to go out on the town and see the sights, much of the first 48 hours were spent in her bed, with nourishment being delivered from neighborhood stores at odd times. 

She had literally raped me as soon as I had arrived at her apartment after driving there straight from the office on Friday evening. Thankfully I had not worn anything special, formal or new, as she had proceeded to tear my shirt off and mount me right in the living room and with the door still half open. 




About Vania



We had fucked each others' brains out, but Farah remained single minded in her pursuit of truth regarding my feelings for her friend. I had finally given in and let her know everything that had gone on since Vania had arrived in Saudi. 

"She actually kissed you passionately?" Farah was in a state of disbelief. 

"Why, is that a surprise?"

"Sure it is, Vania is a cock teaser, but I have never heard of her getting this cozy with anybody," Farah sounded impressed, "I wonder if she truly does like you."

"Even if she does, she is married and not to me."

"That's brave of you to say, but you will be on your knees the minute Vania turns on her charm when you are around," Farah knew her friend a lot better than I did. After all, I had never slept with her, nor had I ever seen her completely nude; Farah had experienced both. 

"Can you show me the dive pictures?" she asked, obviously interested in how much things had progressed.

I had nearly forgotten about the roll of film from the dive. There was no way I could take the film to a developer in Saudi, given that most shots were of Vania in a sexy bikini. Much worse, I could easily find myself in jail if her topless shots ever became public and the embarrassment to her could be even more severe. I knew those would have to be developed outside Saudi and had tossed the roll into my travel bag which, luckily, I had carried along with me to the USA and ultimately to Farah's place. And even better, she was taking courses in journalism and knew some photography students well. 

A few hours after depositing the film with the friend, and having secured her promise not to make any extra copies, the results of our underwater photo session were in my hands. Farah was insistent on having a look, but I felt strongly that Vania's modesty was my business first. I was amazed by the clarity of focus and the quality of the pictures overall. Most of the shots had her covered with the dive vest and were quite nicely set against the bluish background, with fish evident all around her. Finally, I got to the three pictures that were of most interest to both of us. Vania looked even better in these than in person. 

The first picture had her holding on to a coral outcropping and leaning backwards, her boobs sticking upwards and hair spiraling outwards and behind. This shot would have been routine with her bikini top; without it her breasts looked to be reaching to the heavens and making it a standout. The second picture had her bending down as if to tie her shoe laces, her hair flailing upwards as she moved down. Her breasts were partly covered by her arms, so the picture was relatively tame, though tasty. The last picture was outstanding. She had positioned herself with both feet down, looking straight at the camera, with one hand behind her hair, which were now framed around her face in a sort of halo, and the other under the waistband of her bikini bottom and over her crotch. This was an exceptionally sexy shot, and one she had put together by herself. Her firm breasts and "I want you for dinner" expression really completed the shot which would have been suitable for a classy men's magazine. I wondered if she could ever give her husband this present, the explanation would have to be rather creative. More to the point, I was uncertain if I could ever put these into her lovely hands.

Farah was speechless when she saw the photos. "There is a lot of desire showing in these pictures," she remarked, "and maybe you are getting to her."

"Come on, Farah," I said, "I bet I could get the same sort of result with others too, maybe you!"

"Sure, now you want me to be trying out for Playboy!"

"Not quite, but I would want you to be a bigger part of my life," I blurted out. 

"What are you saying?" she wondered.

"Farah, you are right that I have had fantasies about Vania, and yes we have had a number of intimate moments together," I confessed, "but it is also a fact that she is married to a very close friend and I have no intention of spoiling things for either of them."

"And, so, what is it you have on your mind?"

My family back home, most of all my mother had been bothering me to no end about getting married as I was getting close to 30 years of age. Assorted aunts and significant friends of the family had been advising my mom about potential matches. What I wanted, however, was someone who would be on an intellectual level with me, rather than a spouse picked just to provide further grandchildren. 

Farah would not have met any of my mother's criteria. She was too westernized, too old to be a potential prospect at 24 and too outspoken. Add to that the facts that she was not a virgin and had in fact confessed to having had lesbian encounters with her friend. But I found her to be smart, funny, accommodating, challenging, pretty, and someone I could spend time with. Sure, I would probably be yelling out Vania's name while fucking Farah for some time, but at least she knew that I was under her friend's spell and was simply human. I had planned to ask her to marry me before I had driven over. Our immediate sex play and discussions related to Vania had not given me the perfect opportunity to pop the question. Of course, I would have to tell my mother, who would need to make a formal proposal to her family, and so on. The episode with Vania's photos simply precipitated the action I had contemplated for a considerable amount of time. 

"Farah Moheyuddin, would you permit me to ask my mother to request your family for your hand in marriage to one Shahid Khan?" the question included all the stakeholders and was quite a mouthful.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Maybe, but if you say no, there will be not be any more fucking!"

"Will you be marrying me or Vania?" 

"I was hoping you will help me put her out of my mind," it was not exactly the truth, but close enough to it.

"If you have a ring, put it on my finger, if you don't, let me express my agreement in another way," she whispered in my face, then went to her knees, dropped my shorts and took my cock in her mouth. It was a very unusual "I do" but perfect in every way.

XII

"Shahid, reaching Logan Airport at 5 p.m. tomorrow evening, please pick up, kissy, kissy," Vania's message on my phone requested. It was a typical message from her, lacking vital details such as embarkation point, airline and so on. The time of arrival was a particularly busy one on any weekday and Logan was not the smallest of airports in the US, with four distinct terminals handling traffic from around the world. And finally, not to mention the minimum 2 hour drive each way. 

Anyone else and I would have left directions to take a bus or train from Boston. But this was Vania and I would have driven to the North Pole to pick her up. It was not really her fault, the wedding was taking place in Boston in a few days' time and she had correctly flown into that city. Farah and family were due in another day or so. My folks had already arrived, but had gone to visit relatives in Canada. 

Things had moved really fast, once I had received Farah's assent. My mother had given in to my demand that she was the only girl for me, and the other prospects were shelved quickly. Farah's family had been overjoyed at the proposal, when my mother had gone over to visit them in Islamabad. Farah had told them about me during Vania's wedding, without mentioning all the gory details. They were beginning to lose hope of her getting married at a reasonable age and the fact that she was happy with the match really excited them. 

I took a calculated risk and went to the International Terminal, figuring they would be flying in trans-Atlantic. The arrivals board indicated a bunch of flights in from Europe over 4 pm to 6 pm. Unfortunately many arrivals showed significant delays. As each incoming flight was announced on the information board, I would go to the exit gates. I had to wait for a fairly long time.

Finally, around 7:30 p.m. while I was just getting back to the arrival's lounge, after picking up a coffee, I heard my name being called out. Vania was running across to me, dressed in a proper pant suit and sensible shoes. A porter behind her was lugging a number of bags. She grabbed me in a bear hug, whispering, "I know you have missed me," into my ear. 

"Where's Mustafa?"

"He's on a business trip to Atlanta and will be coming to Boston on Thursday," that was two days away. 

I had not planned on having her with me alone, notably with Farah not in town either and with no residence plans made for her. I had imagined that they had reservations in the city, but learned that Mustafa had forgotten to do so once he had received the work related call to go first to Atlanta. 

"Let me arrange a hotel for you in Boston," I offered, "Farah and folks have not yet arrived so the residence for the wedding is not quite ready."

"And leave me by myself for two days; have you become cruel to me since proposing to Farah?"

"Why do you not get me a hotel in Hartford," she suggested, "then I can return to Boston in a couple of days."

I really had no choice left and we headed out. I was glad to have her with me and since I still had a few days of work ahead of me, I figured I would not need to be with her all the time. Yet I was also petrified by the thought of what any infidelity with her may do to my impending wedding, and where I may end up standing with my fiancée, my friends and my folks should anything transpire.

XIII

"Shahid, I cannot turn this shower on and am so grungy," Vania complained on the phone. 

"Come on, it is so simple," I could not believe she could not turn a basic appliance on; after all she had done wonders turning me on. 

"Are you not planning to take me to lunch, you know how bad my cooking talents are?"

I wasn't intending to do so, but was now in a spot and could not turn her down. "Okay, I am on my way home."

By the time we had made it back to Hartford the night before, with Vania insisting on stopping at a road house for a pretty good meal, the three hotels that I knew were all full due to some conference in town. She would have nothing to do with the seedy looking motels that are at the edge of every town and I had no option but to offer her the hospitality of my single bedroom apartment. I had given her the bedroom and slept fitfully on the sofa bed in the lounge. Thankfully she was dead tired and was out like a light in minutes, ensuring nothing changed in our relationship. I had left her soundly asleep and headed to work. Her call, almost at noon, indicated she had stayed in bed till late.

I found her watching TV in the lounge, dressed in my bathrobe, and wearing some sort of sandals that had straps going around her legs. "Vania, I thought you were ready for lunch."

"Without my wake up shower!" she shot back, "do you want me to stink up the restaurant?" That was a bit extreme, but her point was made.

I conceded, figuring that it would be a wait before she showered, dressed, dolled up and was ready to go. The shower was of a newer type, so she was genuinely uncertain what to do. I had it going in a split second.

"Thanks Shahid, you are a life saver," she remarked, "help me get these sandals off please; I had to wear them since you don't have any slippers around."

She perched herself up on the sink and display area, letting her legs dangle downwards. I had to sit on the bathroom floor to help remove the straps on her shoes. These were tied almost to the knee. As I unlaced her right shoe, enjoying the fact that I was rubbing her leg in the process, she naughtily placed the left one on my right shoulder, letting the knee bend and allowing the robe to open all the way to her midsection.

She was completely nude underneath and the shock of seeing her shaved pussy both took my breath away and made me stammer, "Vania, you should not be doing this!"

"Come on, don't you see anything you like," she said, kicking off the shoe I had undone, working her left leg down into my hands and, concurrently placing her right knee on my left shoulder, thereby restoring my heavenly view.

"Be serious, this is not a joke," I was getting both physically aroused and increasingly concerned about downsides as I unlaced the second shoe, her assets on full display. Was she inviting me or testing me?

"Shahid you have seen me nearly naked before, now you know the whole package and do not have to fantasize about anything," she was baiting me. 

I was done with the second shoe and she dismissed me saying, "Would you kindly let a lady get on with her shower and exit please."

Vania stepped out of the robe, giving me a full view of her completely naked body, tossed the garment at me, and shooed me out, her trademark giggle ringing in my ears. She took her sweet time getting ready, and kept walking in and out of the bedroom, bathroom and lounge, often in a considerable state of undress. 

Lunch was relatively uneventful, given what had transpired at my apartment, and I was glad that she had agreed to go back and let me return to work without further entanglement.

XIV

I had negotiated 24 hours with her, without any major complications. While I was increasingly confused by her brazen behavior in the bathroom, it was critical that I managed the next 24 hours, before her husband and my fiancée both arrived in Boston, without incident. But Vania had other ideas and I was soon to find out.

It was not that I did not intensely desire her. In fact it had taken the extent of my will power to walk away from the bathroom, while she had been threadbare in front of me and ostensibly open to my whims or suggestions. But I was worried about repercussions on us and significant others should we have progressed to full on sex. So far neither Mustafa nor Farah could allege anything other than extremely serious flirting. 

"Hey handsome, I got a hold of your dear love and mine," Vania announced when I returned home, "they are both reaching Boston tomorrow, and within a short time of each other."

Mustafa was done with his business and was coming according to plan. Farah had advanced her arrival by a full three days and I had a niggling feeling that the possibility of leaving Vania and me alone may have had something to do with that decision. I was delighted that soon things could get to normal, I was merely human and the person testing my resolve was nothing short of a goddess. 

The next day I would have this temptress back to her husband and my own future back on track. But the trouble was that there was still the better part of 24 hours before this would get to be, and it was that period of time that had me concerned. 

"Take me dancing tonight, show me your lovely city," she requested, but it sounded more like an order.

"I didn't know you liked dancing?" I certainly had not seen her doing so in Saudi, but then the chances would have been rare.

"Sure I do, in fact I am absolute dynamite on the floor," she announced.

We had a quick bite and ended up in one of the few places I knew that had reasonably good dance music. Vania came alive upon seeing the crowd, feeling the rhythm of the music and soaking in the ambience. She pulled me on to the floor within seconds of entering the place, barely giving me time to put our things at the table I arranged with the hostess and ordering drinks. 

She had outdone herself, selecting a simple but suggestive black mini dress that barely reached a couple of inches below her privates, allowed much of her breasts to be seen, and plunged down her back nearly to the top of her hips. As she was braless, her nipples were clearly outlined by the sheer silky fabric. She had chosen a pair of high heeled soft black boots, which hugged her legs tightly and reached over her knees. A simple black pearl pendant and matching earrings completed the stunning outfit. As she pushed herself into me, locking our midsections, I realized she had decided to wear the barest of thongs underneath. She seemed oblivious to the fact that she was virtually naked and the clothes she had on had all been mentally removed by the guys standing about and drooling at her. 

I was unable to keep up with her on the floor and had to take breaks every so often to get a drink or relax from the exertion. Vania had much more stamina as far as dancing went and had no trouble at all finding willing partners to join her. As the evening was still relatively young, the music was loud and fast, the more romantic and slow stuff had yet to come on. I noted that when not with me, she would dance no more than a couple of songs with anyone, thank him nicely with a handshake and then find another partner. Girls that gorgeous are scary to most guys and those who were lucky enough to get a dance or two counted their blessings without pressing for more. Or maybe it was still early and folks had not had enough alcohol to blur their senses. 

We had been there for about 2 hours when the music slowed and couples began to link up. Vania gave me the "come hither" look from the dance floor, having thanked her last partner, and we were soon body to body. "Are you enjoying yourself," she asked.

"It's not a bad place," I replied.

"Not that, you dummy, am I turning you on or not?"

That truth was self evident. I had a bulging hard on and she could easily feel me growing and then pulsing through the light dress she was wearing. Her hand slid to my crotch, as we continued dancing, and opened my zipper. The place was crowded and I had no way to pull back as it found my cock and began to move up and down the shaft.

"Looks like you are having lusty thoughts about your close friend's wife," she spoke into my ear, "and what would my dear girl friend think!"

"Stop it Vania, this is no way to behave," I spoke to her with great difficulty.

Luckily the music changed at that point and I pulled her off the floor. Vania let me lead her to the table, but pushed me into the chair and sat down in my lap, pressing down on my erection. 

"You really are playing hard to get," she commented, "have you not been dreaming about having an affair with me?"

"Yes I have, but dreaming is one thing, actually going through is another," I was losing my ability to fend her off.

She grabbed my head and brought it down to her right breast, cheekily exposing a nipple and rubbing it on my lips. The guy at the next table dropped his beer as he saw what she was doing.

"I have to get some fresh air, would you like to come along?" I had to get out and regain my senses. Vania opted to stay and dance instead, the music had returned to a pulsing, fast beat and she was happy to find other partners.

The cool air outside helped me regain control. I took the opportunity to check in with Farah on her arrival program and gave her a brief update of Vania's visit, without mention of her antics. 

When I returned nearly one hour later, she was talking with a group of guys, who had joined her at our table. One was rubbing her back while letting his hand slide around to her breast occasionally, another had his hand between her thighs and was trying to get it even higher up, and a third sitting across the table was holding her hands kissing them alternatively. She was giggling as they were all trying their best pick up lines and feeling her up. A number of empty shot glasses indicated that she had joined them in downing a fair bit of alcohol and had pretty much lost all inhibitions.

"Hey Shahid, meet Jonathan, Charlie and Rick, they go to Yale and play football," the three looked at me as if I was intruding on their territory, "the joined me on the dance floor and have been telling me about this drinking game." The guy rubbing her back let his hand stray down, under the dress, to her hips. 

"Guys, this is my dear friend, Shahid," she said, "he's getting married in a few days and I am trying very hard to be his pre-wedding present!"




About Vania



The simply waved hellos and shifted their focus back to her. After all a bird in hand, even though divided three ways, beats just about anything else. And what a bird; though she was a few years older than the college boys, Vania was the outstanding babe there. 

"And guys," I added, moving right behind her and forcing them to all withdraw their hands from whatever part of her body they were touching, "this is the wife of a close friend, who is with the Israeli Defense Forces and on special commando training in the US. In fact, he is just returning from the car park after a smoke."

I lied through my teeth but had the desired impact. Vania smiled and gave them a "that is the case" look, not disputing what I had said. The three guys would outnumber a potential two but the commando reference shocked them into reality. They were lucky to each get a deep kiss from her as they congratulated me and bade us farewell. Each copped a good feel of her rear and one even gave her right breast a goodbye squeeze, exposing it to all, as they departed. 

"You are such a spoilsport," she admonished me, fixing her dress and covering her nipple. She was slurring her words, clearly indicating that she had taken quite a few shots to top off the couple of cocktails she had earlier imbibed. 

"Vania, you should know that certain things are not to be done," it is good they believed me and left or things could have turned out bad, given that they were a lot bigger than me, "I would find it very difficult to explain to Mustafa why you had got raped or worse," I gave her a serious tongue lashing while holding her arms against her chair and looking straight into her eyes.

XV

"Is it because you do not like me?" she asked, wondering why I had remained able to fend off all her advances.

We had stayed at the club for some time longer, Vania dancing exclusively with me, sitting out every time I left the floor, but the magic had left with the scolding she had received. Back home, she had given me a quick peck on my lips and gone into the bedroom to retire. 

I had turned in myself and was asleep for some time when I felt a presence. Vania had joined me on the sofa bed, completely naked, and had snuggled up to me under the covers. She was kissing me lightly and fondling my penis. I initially felt that she was part of a dream. It was when I felt the weight of her body on my torso, as she released my cock from my shorts and came atop, that I fully awoke and realized what was happening. 

I grabbed her arms, turned her over, and pinned her below me. "Vania, no!" I firmly told her. The life seemed to leave her and instead she began to sob uncontrollably.

After regaining her composure, with me holding her close to me and caressing her hair and body, she had flat out asked me if I was pushing her away because I did not like her. Nothing could have been further from the truth. 

My answer was probably not what she had expected to hear, but it allowed me a catharsis that helped clear my senses and direction.

"No, it is not that I do not like you, I just cannot bear the thought of separating you from my friend who is so trusting of you and me to not worry about sending you to be alone with me," she lost some of the color in her face.

"No, it is because of Farah, who I intend to spend the rest of my life with and have you to thank for getting us together," she was shaking her head in understanding.

"And no, most of all, it is because I love you so dearly that I fear I will lose you forever should we become lovers now," I confessed, "I could not bear to lose the friendship we have and the sexual tension that we cannot relieve but makes you a pleasant mystery to me."

She burst into tears. Surprisingly, our lips came together again and we held each other closely. I carried her into the bedroom and we lay together, completely naked, kissing and comforting each other. We fell asleep in each others' arms and awoke without care in the world or guilt at having let down our significant others. 

XVI

"Shahid, I think I am going to die," she was moaning and holding her head as I walked into the bedroom holding a tray of breakfast items. 

"What's wrong?" I inquired.

"My head is spinning and I just threw up," she looked pale. Luckily she had made it to the bathroom and back. She had seemed okay when I had left her in the bed, and she had felt ill while I was preparing breakfast.

A whole night of drinking, connecting and unfulfilled passion had taken its toll. I cursed myself for not giving her a couple of aspirin before she had retired, those usually helped me recover. Vania was having a pretty strong hangover and was not keen on food or coffee. I would have gladly taken her to the shower myself and washed her, but the very effort of lifting her head off the pillow appeared to be too much for her. 

"Why do you not lie in, I'll be back from work by 3 p.m. so we can head out to Boston," I reminded her, hoping she would get better by that time.

At 3 p.m. she looked worse than ever. There was no way she was going to make it to Boston and I was concerned that Mustafa and Farah would not approve that I had allowed her to become so sick while in my company. 

"Shahid, I had a word with Mustafa and Farah and told them I was really sick," she told me, "We decided that I will stay here tonight and we will all get together tomorrow evening."

"But what about them, has either of them made residence arrangements?"

"Yes and no," she let me know, "Mustafa has a double hotel room booked for the four days prior to the wedding, but Farah's family has arranged the big house for tomorrow."

Farah had anticipated coming on down to Hartford after I had dropped Vania, now the plan had come apart.

"Not to worry, I am sure Mustafa will be a complete gentleman," she told me what had been worked out, "Farah is okay to share the room for tonight."

It was not the ideal solution, but objecting to the arrangement was not feasible, given that I had been in very close proximity to Vania for the past few two days. Farah called later in the evening confirming they had a nice big room with twin beds, assuaging my concern ever so slightly. 

Vania did get better by the evening, but we decided to stay in and ensure nothing spoiled our program of going to Boston the next day. She did, however, insist I share the large bed with her, fully clothed this time. I could not sleep for most of the night wondering if I would ever feel her warmth so close to me ever again.

XVII

The wedding eve was upon us and despite being in the US the families had managed to organize a fairly authentic Pakistani henna ceremony. We had uncharacteristically held the event in the afternoon, given that the wedding party was also a daytime affair and we did not want two parties to intrude on each other. 

Vania and I had made it up to Boston in good shape. She went off with her husband, but Farah was unable to return to Hartford with me. In a few days we would be together so this was just a minor inconvenience. Now the wedding was happening in earnest.

A bachelor party had been planned for me at Mustafa's hotel. Vania was going to stay over at Farah's place for the night, giving the guys a chance at freedom and certain infidelity. Arrangements for the party had been made in a suite a couple of floors up from his room, which we had set aside for the groom if he felt inclined to invite any ladies over. 

Quite a few guys, and surprisingly a number of girls related or friendly to Farah, decided to come to the party. Booze flowed profusely and the strippers were of pretty high caliber. Mustafa was wildly drunk, making up for the lack of booze in Saudi over the past few months.

I received a call from Farah, asking that I come over to the hotel next door, where the bridal party was located, as she had some important information. Luckily I was able to slip out without being noticed, given the wild party going on. Mustafa was getting very cozy with one of Farah's friends and I imagined he may need the room more than me. 

I went up to the suite where she was staying. It had a nice central sitting room, with bedrooms on either side. While there appeared to be no one else in the suite, plenty of suitcases and other paraphernalia around indicated she was not the only resident there. She led me into one of the bedrooms and sat me down on the bed. She pulled up a chair, held my hands and sat down across from me.

"Shahid, do you love me?" 

"Of course I do, why are you asking?"

"Because I do know you love me," she replied, her eyes getting teary.

"What's wrong?"

"I have a confession to make," she said, "Vania and I wanted to see if you truly were devoted to me or not."

"And how would you do that?"

"We already did," she told me, "Vania was certain of your loyalty but tested you during the time she was alone with you."

"What do you mean?"

"She tried to get you excited by being naked in the bathroom, she wanted to get you jealous by flirting too openly with some guys in the dance club, and then she took the direct route and went to your bed unclothed," Farah had all the details.

"And what did she say?"

"She's now so impressed with how committed you are to me," Farah hugged me.

"Okay so we are done with that, can I get back to my party?"

"Not really, I have another confession to make."

"Hurry up I do not have all evening."

"Vania has been concerned about Mustafa's fidelity for the past few months and asked me to help."

"How would you do that?"

"I did not really come to Boston early to come over to Hartford, and Vania was not all that sick that day," she told me.

"I went out with Mustafa for dinner and we both did have a bit to drink."

"We ended up in bed together and were both weaker than you or Vania."

"What exactly are you saying?" I was not comfortable with the way things were going.

"Shahid, I am sorry, but Mustafa and I made love that night," by now tears were rolling down her cheeks, "I did not want to sleep with him, but he was drunk and stronger than me, I could not keep him off and had to let him have his way with me, just once."

Farah had not intended on getting fucked, just to help her friend get reassured about her husband but things had backfired, "I have been unfaithful to you and he cheated on his wife."

I sat back and digested the information. We were supposed to be getting married in a few hours and she had just dropped a bombshell. I was well aware of Mustafa's roving eye and his conquests before his marriage and I had seen him act fresh with the girls at the party; what I knew about Farah was that she had been exclusive to Vania or me and now that had changed too.

"You can call off the wedding and I will completely understand," she gave me the option, knowing well that it would mean she would probably never be able to remove the stigma and find another good man to marry.

My brain clicked back on track. I was marrying her for all sorts of qualities in her, she had just added being truthful to the list. So she had slept with my friend, but I had done nearly the same to his wife. I was not going to let the best thing in my life go.

"Farah, if you will still have me, I would be honored to be your husband tomorrow and forever," I said to her, holding her face in my hands and wiping off her tears.

We did not say anything for a while and just stood there hugging each other. Her tears had stopped and there was a sense of relief and elation about her. She asked me to wait a bit and left the room for nearly an hour.

XVIII

She had a big smile on her face when she returned. 

"I have a pre-wedding present for you," she gestured for me to follow her, "come and get it."

She led me to the other room, opened the door a bit, gave me a quick kiss and said, "you will like what is inside, enjoy it with my permission."

I wondered what she was talking about, given the tense moments we had just gone through. I noticed a bundle wrapped in what looked like silk on the bed. A very large red bow was around it. A prominent card on it said, "Open this and enjoy, love Farah."

I removed the bow and felt movement. Unwrapping the silk cloth I was surprised to find Vania, totally naked. No words were said. She brought her lips to mine, unbuttoned my shirt and undid my belt. I was soon in the bed with her.

This time there was no need to be concerned about infidelities. Vania was hot, willing and really good in bed. Wondering if I would have any energy left for the coming wedding night, I fucked her as many times as humanly possible. 

XIX

The two ladies had discovered something about each of the guys in their lives. Vania was not happy about the indiscretion of her husband and Farah had allowed me to even the score with him. I wondered how we all would face each other in Saudi. Well, the two ladies and I knew everything that had transpired, there was no need to tell Mustafa that his wife had provided succor of a most delicious sort to his friend also. And I would let the guilt of having sort of raped Farah to eat away at him. I knew that he would never again get so close to my wife, while I would be able to sample Vania when I desired and Farah allowed me to. And if I really felt cruel, I could always send him Vania's topless dive pictures.

It was funny that I had predicted that she would have many admirers and one very strong presence in her life. It was strange that I was that person. 

"Hey can we do this again?" she quipped, as we sat in bed having breakfast in the buff. Vania had playfully rubbed cream cheese onto my chest and then licked it off.

"I'll be really disappointed if we did not," was my response, which drew the glorious giggle from her that I had so come to love.

"Get going you lucky guy," Farah's voice came from the door that had opened partially, "you are marrying me in less than four hours!"



About Writing Sequels



Summary: A brief essay about my philosophy on writing sequels.

Thanks: To MAB7991 for a quick edit of this brief essay.

To my fans,

I am greatly appreciative of your support for my stories. I love when you leave comments and when you e-mail your thoughts. I love getting requests for original stories and I also love the fevered requests I get for sequels. Alas, therein lies the rub to quote Shakespeare.

The more stories I write the more requests I get for sequels. I try to balance my writing in the following order:

-Contest stories...there are six contests a year and I try to write at least two, sometimes three original stories for the contest (sequels are not allowed)

-Sequels

-Requested stories...although I don't do a lot of those due to time (the concept being if it turns me on enough I may do it)

-Novellas...I try to do one a year at least that are different from my usual themes (She-Male School, Deconstructing the Professor, or the newest the just released DARK Desires)

-New stories in my usually categories (lesbian, incest, gay, interracial, anal or group mostly)

Now I hope you see my dilemma. Every story I have written has had numerous sequel requests. For example, I had three contest stories in the most recent 2013 Nude Day contest: NUDE Lesbian Wrestling: Coed Tricked, Straight Cocksucker and Mom Submission. Each of these stories has had many sequel requests...meanwhile I am busy writing other stories and sequels.

The most common complaint is why I don't finish one series before I start another. There are a few reasons:





About You



Take your wife, lie her down, close your eyes, and taste her as if it is the first time. Tease her with your lips. Nibble and suck on her clit. 

Picture my head thrown back and my back arched as you bring her close to orgasm. Hear me begging you to finish me as she moans and screams through her climax. Lick clean the juices that flow from her body. "Can you taste me baby?"

Glide your cock through the wet folds of her pussy. Take her softly, gently. Feel her muscles respond by gripping you and pulling you deeper. Despite how she may plead, resist the urge to fuck her. Save that for another night. Tonight be tender. Keep a slow and steady pace. Hold her tightly to you as your cock feels and explores the depths of her body.

Visualize me there, taking you. Hear my moans as they escape from my parted lips. Feel my hands on your back pulling you close to me. Can you feel my nails scraping your tender flesh or my breasts rubbing across your chest; my nipples, tight and hard; an obvious sign of my arousal? 

Rock her softly in your arms. Kiss her, taste her lips, her ears and her neck. Run your fingers through her hair and whisper to her how good she feels. Allow her to feel your cock engorge and lengthen with your impending release. Tell her how close you are, how incredible she is, and how good she makes you feel. Tell her that you're going to fill her. 

Hold her hips as you drive into her completely. Hold her still as your cock empties deep inside of her. Allow her to feel your cock twitch and spurt deep in her body. Moan into her ear through your orgasm. Let her hear the release of your desire. Then smile and tell her how incredible she is, while both you and I know that it was a vision of me that allowed you such an incredible orgasm tonight. 

* * *

Next time my husband pleasures me; I'll envision your five o'clock shadow tickling my inner thigh while your gorgeous mouth devours me. In my mind, I will hear your deep, sexy voice begging me to let go and I'll look down to see your eyes glaring back at me. Oh god, lick me, taste me, eat me. I have to have you. Please give me your cock, anywhere, I'm yours to use. Fuck me baby; take my mouth, my pussy, my ass.

I'll see your face racked with need as I take him into my mouth. I'll lick every inch of him, first tickling him with the tip of my tongue, and then eagerly sucking him down the back of my throat. Let me taste the droplets oozing from your manhood. But don't unload in me, oh no honey, not there, not tonight. Please baby, tonight I need to be fucked. Do you think you can do that for me? I know I'm acting like a whore. I can't help it. You drive me wild. Spank me, spank my pussy. Hear how wet you've made me. 

I'll get onto my hands and knees and push my pussy back to meet him. He calls me his little kitten, his little pussy in heat. But it's you that has me so hot. He grabs my hips and enters me completely in one thrust. He's taking me so deep, so hard, and so fast. Is this what you would do to me?

I can't take it anymore. I need to ride him. I stratle his waist and lower myself down onto his hard cock. I beg him to talk dirty to me. But he can't, not the way that you can. I listen to you in my mind. "Is this what you need?" you ask, "To be used and fucked like a little sex toy"? You fondle my breasts and hold my hip tightly as I grind my pussy down on your cock. "Turn around." you say, "Let me see that ass." I turn around on your lap, now grinding my clit onto your balls. You groan, "Let's see if we can get you off. But, don't make me cum. I'm not ready yet."

You slide you're finger down from my back and over my ass. Please touch me baby. You're finger slides into my ass. Oh,it feels incredible. I am immediately in the throws of an orgasm. Your cock and finger probing deep in my pussy and ass.

"You're going to wish you didn't let me have your ass." you say, "Now I have to have you." You throw me down onto the bed on my stomach. With my legs together, your legs on both sides, and you're weight pinning me to the bed, there is no way for me to struggle or get away. You tenderly spread the cheeks of my ass and rub your cock against the tight little hole. As you glide into me I feel pressure, even a little pain, but also intense pleasure.

I raise my head from the bed. Do you like the way my hair looks cascading down my back? I arch my back and raise my ass to meet you. You reach around my leg and grip my clit between your fingers. No more words, just grunting and fucking. I know you're getting close. You've worked up into a frenzied pace and your clawing at my clit. Oh god, I'm loosing control. I feel the heat of my own climax radiating from my clit and my whole body is tightened with anticipation. I hear you groan behind me and your cock explodes in my ass.

I lay in bed holding my husband, my body twitching and shaking from the orgasm you've given me. He thinks that he is the one who brought forth such unbridled passion from me tonight, but we both know the truth. 



About You and I....



He slipped his hand around me, I felt a cold shiver go through my body. His rigid eyes screamed of a pain. This pain I knew was not the ordinary pain that most went through. It's the kind of pain when you want somebody so bad it hurts you everywhere. I knew this pain in his face, for I felt it too. 

He sighed deeply. I wanted him so badly. The way he stared made me nervous. I was beyond saving at this point. Already we had kissed for hours, already we had fondled each other over our clothes. It was inevitable. Either we made love or we were both going to go on forever wondering "what if?". 

I looked away from him. I had done bad. Very bad. I cheated on my husband with a boy almost 4 years younger than I. Cheating to me was practically any kind of relationship beyond friendship you have with another person. Any kind of sexual conversation, sexual glances. Anything that involved the "S" word. Now the "S" word was the only thing left for this boy and I. 

Why did I want him anyway? He was four years younger than me, he was leaving for California in two days and my husband thought him the greatest. What was wrong with me? Such trust just thrown out the window. Such loyalty. I was almost on the verge of tears as I thought about this. 

He was still staring at me with those eyes. those brown eyes any woman would melt into. 

It was almost more than I could bare. I kissed him, he came back at me hard. I felt his passion riding against my leg, and I knew that either I have him leave now or this was it. But I didn't stop him. We kept kissing and we were slowing moving into the bedroom. 

His hand moved up my shirt and I thought he was going to take it off. But he didn't. Instead I made the first move and took his off. I turned him around and sat him on the bed. Then I leaned him back and slowly kissed him. I was the aggressor, I was the teacher this time. 

He was a virgin. I was going to be his first. I had to think about whether or not this was a very bad idea. But there was no time. Already I was kissing his chest. I moved down until I reached the top of his jeans.

I could see his hard dick through them. I was still kissing him as I unbuttoned his pants, unzipped them and reached in to touch it. A shock went through my body. I am not the type who just loves giving head, in fact I despise it. But in some cases it turns me on so badly, I just cant help it. So I decided that this is one of those cases. I took it out of his underwear. He was circumcised and rather large. Much larger than I expected. Why? I am not sure. I was just a little surprised.. 

I just kept looking at it. Then I decided I wanted to lick it with my tongue. First I looked at him, he had that look of desperation on his face again. I almost knew that this wasn't going to last long. That, I wasn't surprised about. But I was relieved since I don't love giiving head. But I took it in my mouth and it only took a couple of strokes with my lips for him to cum in my mouth. This was the worst part for me. Always so bitter tasting. But the reward of him looking satisfied and extremely exhausted was incredible. 

Now it was my turn. I took his pants off and pulled his boxer shorts off with them. I went up to him and started kissing him on the mouth so that he knew it wasn't over yet. I wanted to explain that since he just came he would most likely last longer when we made love. This wasn't the time to let him know. My body began to literally ache for him and if I didn't cum soon, I was going to explode. But he knew what to do. He knew that it wasn't finished. His dick was hard again and ready. First though, he wanted to kiss me and undress me. 

He sat up and I lied down on the bed. His soft lips grazed my neck and I felt the warm breath. His hands were only slightly cold as he reached up my shirt to unlock my bra. I felt his hand cup my breast. They are pretty large and knew that he like how his entire hand didn't hold all of it. Most men do. He pinched my nipple a little and lifted my shirt up with his other hand. He looked at them for a little while as if savoring the moment. I got slightly nervous, I'm somewhat self-conscious. This didn't last long. He leaned over and started licking my nipple that wasn't being fondled, pinched and played with by his right hand. Another shock, this time much stronger. 

He took his right hand off my breast and unbuttoned my jeans and played with the little bit of hair that was trimmed on my pelvic area. Ahhh, teasing. This always drove me mad. I wondered how a virgin knew to do this to a woman. Maybe he watched a lot of porn. I giggled when I thought about this. He only smiled. My mind often does this, just wanders into its own little area of my brain. But that didn't last too long. His fingers were inside me. It felt so wonderful. Played with my nipple still, sucking and biting ever so softly. I thought I was in heaven. Just when I thought I was going to cum, he stopped. 

He was just looking at me. I smiled at him.  

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked softly

"Yes, more than anything. I just wanted to look at you." It was one of the endearing things I had ever heard.

"Mmmh." I sighed in sweet relief. 

"Daisy, I know that I'm leaving in two days, and we may or may not see eachother after that. That's why I want to do this.."

"I know, but why not wait for when you get there? I mean, your girlfriend, I'm sure will be more than willing to-"

"I know, but I want it to be you" 

Scratch that "I just wanted to look at you" as the most endearing thing I had ever heard. That just blew it away. 

I kissed him deeply. This time it wasn't because I was horny or just wanted him. It was passion and love. I was amazed with myself. Out of the six or seven people I had ever kissed in my life, not one of them had I ever kissed like that. 

As we kissed, he pulled my jeans and my panties off and put them on the floor. We didn't stop kissing. Slowly, he moved from being partially beside me to on top of me. I reached for a condom out of the beside drawer and tore it open. I put it on him, not knowing whether or not he knew how. I sighed deeply. I knew what was coming. He brought himself up to my pussy and slowly pushed it in. He grunted relief and pleasure at the same time. The way he filled me up inside was phenomenal. I was going to cum quickly. I wanted to. But I stopped myself, I knew that if I did, he was done for. 

"Congratulations, you're no longer a virgin" he smiled and chuckled a little bit.

He moved it in and out of me steadily. It was slow-moving at first then it was faster. I started to move with him. He was moaning quietly. I absolutely adored it. And all the while we were still kissing. This wasn't just having sex. This wasn't just fucking for us. This was all the long talks we had, all the feelings coming out now. We were actually making love. There was only one other person I had made love with. Quite obviously, this was my husband. 

He did this for about 30 or so minutes. Me giving him head helped in this. The fact that we were making love was the biggest factor. I geuss theres a myth to the whole first time not lasting long for guys thing. That made me happy. 

Finally, after we were slippery all over and exhausted we both came. I started first, this pushed him into it. It was beautiful. I never thought I could say that about something like sex. Later on when I daydreamed about it, it reminded me of a movie sex-scene. 

When we were done and it was time to go pick up my husband from work, we got dressed and kissed and kissed. We didn't want it to end. I almost starting crying because I knew that it wouldn't work out for us and maybe sometime later on in life, we would run into eachother and we would be happy. But for now this was the way it was supposed to be. 

We all carried on like nothing happened at all. It was extremely hard. But he left for California, I got a couple calls from him. We didn't mention anything about our little bit of fun we had. After that I never heard from him again. I still wonder if to this day, he thinks about me. I would think that he couldn't. Me being his first and all. You never really know what goes on in somebody else's mind. Maybe he was just saying all that stuff to make me feel better for cheating. My husband never found out and I never told him. I thought about it as a part of my life that needed to be done. I didn't feel guilty or had any remorse. I think I fell in love with my one true love that day. I never did feel the same way about my husband since then and when we made love, well, lets just say, I wasn't screaming his name in my head. 

The End.