13-05-2019, 05:44 PM
"Thank you, Sam." She murmured as my lips closed over hers. I held her at arms' length and admired the beauty of her smooth, dusky skin, as the oxidized silver necklace dully gleamed against it, my fingers teasing her nipples.
"There's something more." I said as I fished out the anklet from my briefcase and shook it before her eyes. She smiled in delight, her dimples deepening, not uttering a word. I sat down on the dressing stool and she daintily raised the hem of her sari, placed her right foot on the stool between my legs and offered me her ankle. I fastened the anklet around it.
She playfully shook her foot to make the little bells tinkle; then her toes started playing with my cock. She squealed happily as my cock started to harden & get bigger. I pushed the raised hem on to her thigh and started kissing around her raised knee. I reached between her legs and my fingers started to stroke her pussy lips. Her breath caught and she started moaning again, standing frozen like a statue, one foot resting on the stool, eyes closed in concentration, enjoying the sensation of my fingers playing with her pussy.
I withdrew my hand and licked the glistening fingers, then rubbed them on her lips, slipping them in her mouth as she opened it. As she sucked my fingers clean, I pulled her down and made her kneel between my knees.
"Honey, I'm going to fuck your mouth now. Today, you'll learn to take my cock in your throat, OK?" She shook her head affirmatively. She peeled back my foreskin and started to lick my cock. I held her by her hair with one hand, guiding her mouth over my cock, while tweaking her nipples with the other. Then I raised my hips, thrusting in till my cock contacted the back of her throat. She gagged and pulled back a little. After giving her a moment to recover, I pushed in again a little deeper, and held my cock in a while longer before pulling back. I pushed in again even deeper as she recovered her breath. She seemed to have overcome her gagging reflex as we established a rhythm and she timed her breathing with my thrusts. I pulled out completely, my cock wet with her saliva and my pre-cum. After making her lick and suck my cock head for a while, I started pushing my cock in and out of her throat a little faster, holding her head with both hands. I felt my orgasm coming, pulled out of her throat and spilled my semen in her mouth.
She too had sensed my orgasm coming and started to swallow my semen as soon as I started to ejaculate. She kept sucking my cock till it deflated, so that no semen leaked out. She snuggled up against me as we lay in bed and drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.
We woke up after a short but refreshing nap. In the afterglow of an exhilarating sexual union, we shared some of the most intimate details of our lives. From those confidences, I was able to piece together a picture of her family background and life with her husband.
She had been brought up in a puritanical family where no mention was ever made of anything remotely connected with sex. She had had no sexual experience before marriage. She had never even masturbated. All her knowledge about matters sexual was derived from whispered confidences shared with her female friends, who were about as ignorant as her. Although she spoke of her husband without rancor, as she would speak about a clumsy child, apparently her hubby was an awkward, clumsy oaf who had no idea about how to arouse and satisfy a woman, and perhaps didn't care. He too was a virgin when they were married, as she was. His sexual technique was limited to furtive groping with lights switched off, a few thrusts aimed in the general direction of her pussy followed by a quick ejaculation that allowed him to turn on his side to fall asleep. He was otherwise a simple, dutiful, kind if rather boring and unexciting person and a devoted husband and father.
SC told me that she and her hubby had never seen each other naked and she had never touched his penis. Her hymen did not break until several months after their marriage, during an unusually vigorous coupling. She had been rather distraught on discovering bloodstains on the sheets next morning, after her hubby had gone to work, but had taken it in her stride. She had not even thought it necessary to tell him about it! Her hubby was not highly sexed and the frequency of their couplings was about twice a week in the first year of their marriage, gradually tapering off to once every few weeks.
"See, I was such an innocent, un-spoilt girl, happily married. Then you came along and seduced me – no – bangd me and corrupted my morals! You beast!" She complained, her hand caressing my thigh possessively.
"Well, I plead guilty as charged. But let's not forget that it was you who hitched rides in my car and led me on, batting your eyes and flirting with me. And did I ever force you to come into my hotel room? And tell me honestly, didn't you get the greatest thrill of your life when I first shoved my cock up your pussy?" I demanded.
"Yes. I did." She whispered.
"But if you wish, even now, you can walk away. I can't stop you." I countered, gently kneading her breast.
"Alas! It's too late now. You have made me your slave. I cannot live without you. I need you so bad sometimes, my body aches for you. What magic spell have you cast on me?" She sighed in response.
"Why did you take off your mangalsutra when you changed into your new sari?" I changed the subject.
"Because I belong only to you when I am with you and so I am wearing sindoor in your name. It makes me feel so safe and secure…" She explained. She swore that her heart, mind and body belonged only to me and it was only some bad Karma in her previous birth that had caused her to marry another man. Then she showed me her hennaed palms. My name had been woven into the intricate pattern of the mehendi (henna); so cleverly had it been done that one had to really look closely to find it. (It is customary for women to have their husbands' name written on their palms.)
Clearly, wearing my sindoor and having my name written on her palms meant a lot to her. This was her way of coming to terms with the extraordinary fact that in addition to her hubby she undeniably had to accommodate me in her life, since she couldn't live without me. Well, if that's what she needed to do to keep her sanity, I wasn't going to complain. I was flattered and humbled by her complete and unconditional acceptance of my intrusion in her life.
*****
"There's something more." I said as I fished out the anklet from my briefcase and shook it before her eyes. She smiled in delight, her dimples deepening, not uttering a word. I sat down on the dressing stool and she daintily raised the hem of her sari, placed her right foot on the stool between my legs and offered me her ankle. I fastened the anklet around it.
She playfully shook her foot to make the little bells tinkle; then her toes started playing with my cock. She squealed happily as my cock started to harden & get bigger. I pushed the raised hem on to her thigh and started kissing around her raised knee. I reached between her legs and my fingers started to stroke her pussy lips. Her breath caught and she started moaning again, standing frozen like a statue, one foot resting on the stool, eyes closed in concentration, enjoying the sensation of my fingers playing with her pussy.
I withdrew my hand and licked the glistening fingers, then rubbed them on her lips, slipping them in her mouth as she opened it. As she sucked my fingers clean, I pulled her down and made her kneel between my knees.
"Honey, I'm going to fuck your mouth now. Today, you'll learn to take my cock in your throat, OK?" She shook her head affirmatively. She peeled back my foreskin and started to lick my cock. I held her by her hair with one hand, guiding her mouth over my cock, while tweaking her nipples with the other. Then I raised my hips, thrusting in till my cock contacted the back of her throat. She gagged and pulled back a little. After giving her a moment to recover, I pushed in again a little deeper, and held my cock in a while longer before pulling back. I pushed in again even deeper as she recovered her breath. She seemed to have overcome her gagging reflex as we established a rhythm and she timed her breathing with my thrusts. I pulled out completely, my cock wet with her saliva and my pre-cum. After making her lick and suck my cock head for a while, I started pushing my cock in and out of her throat a little faster, holding her head with both hands. I felt my orgasm coming, pulled out of her throat and spilled my semen in her mouth.
She too had sensed my orgasm coming and started to swallow my semen as soon as I started to ejaculate. She kept sucking my cock till it deflated, so that no semen leaked out. She snuggled up against me as we lay in bed and drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.
We woke up after a short but refreshing nap. In the afterglow of an exhilarating sexual union, we shared some of the most intimate details of our lives. From those confidences, I was able to piece together a picture of her family background and life with her husband.
She had been brought up in a puritanical family where no mention was ever made of anything remotely connected with sex. She had had no sexual experience before marriage. She had never even masturbated. All her knowledge about matters sexual was derived from whispered confidences shared with her female friends, who were about as ignorant as her. Although she spoke of her husband without rancor, as she would speak about a clumsy child, apparently her hubby was an awkward, clumsy oaf who had no idea about how to arouse and satisfy a woman, and perhaps didn't care. He too was a virgin when they were married, as she was. His sexual technique was limited to furtive groping with lights switched off, a few thrusts aimed in the general direction of her pussy followed by a quick ejaculation that allowed him to turn on his side to fall asleep. He was otherwise a simple, dutiful, kind if rather boring and unexciting person and a devoted husband and father.
SC told me that she and her hubby had never seen each other naked and she had never touched his penis. Her hymen did not break until several months after their marriage, during an unusually vigorous coupling. She had been rather distraught on discovering bloodstains on the sheets next morning, after her hubby had gone to work, but had taken it in her stride. She had not even thought it necessary to tell him about it! Her hubby was not highly sexed and the frequency of their couplings was about twice a week in the first year of their marriage, gradually tapering off to once every few weeks.
"See, I was such an innocent, un-spoilt girl, happily married. Then you came along and seduced me – no – bangd me and corrupted my morals! You beast!" She complained, her hand caressing my thigh possessively.
"Well, I plead guilty as charged. But let's not forget that it was you who hitched rides in my car and led me on, batting your eyes and flirting with me. And did I ever force you to come into my hotel room? And tell me honestly, didn't you get the greatest thrill of your life when I first shoved my cock up your pussy?" I demanded.
"Yes. I did." She whispered.
"But if you wish, even now, you can walk away. I can't stop you." I countered, gently kneading her breast.
"Alas! It's too late now. You have made me your slave. I cannot live without you. I need you so bad sometimes, my body aches for you. What magic spell have you cast on me?" She sighed in response.
"Why did you take off your mangalsutra when you changed into your new sari?" I changed the subject.
"Because I belong only to you when I am with you and so I am wearing sindoor in your name. It makes me feel so safe and secure…" She explained. She swore that her heart, mind and body belonged only to me and it was only some bad Karma in her previous birth that had caused her to marry another man. Then she showed me her hennaed palms. My name had been woven into the intricate pattern of the mehendi (henna); so cleverly had it been done that one had to really look closely to find it. (It is customary for women to have their husbands' name written on their palms.)
Clearly, wearing my sindoor and having my name written on her palms meant a lot to her. This was her way of coming to terms with the extraordinary fact that in addition to her hubby she undeniably had to accommodate me in her life, since she couldn't live without me. Well, if that's what she needed to do to keep her sanity, I wasn't going to complain. I was flattered and humbled by her complete and unconditional acceptance of my intrusion in her life.
*****
Like, Comment and Give Rating.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)