Family and Friends Ch. 10bydarthewriter©
Zainab stayed out of the way for the next few days. Zainab's meals were taken up to her room by Beena, who informed me that Zainab was 'heart broken'. The question in my mind was; 'heart broken about what? Zain; Me; Lebanon.....?'
This 'self-imposed- exile' actually gave me sometime to think about the situation, her alcohol and hashish binge revelation had put me in.
In simple English, I was not the only 'sicko' in the family with the hots for a sibling.
I found my mind reliving the edited (no vomit) part of the evening, fantasying about the perfectly fuckable body, my sister had displayed and offered me. It gave me hard-ons that throbbed in hunger as I reviewed the images again and again in my mind whether day dreaming or simply dreaming. Her clothing had shown much, but the real thing was outstanding!
Those perfect firm breasts, slightly bigger then my hands toped with pointed red nipples just made my mouth water.
Then there was the wonderfully full 'U' of her pussy as she had stood legs slightly parted tempting (?) me, clothed in the brief damp white panties that, had revealed no shadow of pubic hair but held out the promise of heavenly lust .
Finally, there was the illicit feel of my cock squashed against her ass, unconsciously pressed between her butt crack as we showered together to remove the puke on her, the flimsy material of her panties would easily have yielded to a determined thrust of my aroused cock, ripping apart if I had been rough enough to thrust without mercy or fear of her screaming. In the end, I only had to pull them off and down her legs for easy access to her waiting choot hole, which I did not take advantage of.
In short, Zainab was messing my mind and morality up. The temptation was growing in my heart and the sexual frustration; had grown past Beena's attempts to cool me off. I was in two words 'sex crazed' by now; it was ripping me up inside and sending me down into a deep depression.
My vacation was open ended but there are limits to the trust I could put on employees. I seriously considered just booking a flight and heading back to Dubai, with my work, social life and bachelorhood intact and Zainab's body un-impaled by my cock.
I still had some "Hashish joints' Bashir, had given me and I could always look up a few ex-sex partners (married or not) and try my luck at banging the living shit out of them, but something held me back and urged me to be cool and calm.
If Zainab was a virgin (I doubted it) then she deserved to lose her 'seal' in a 'caring way' with some one who actually cared for her; not in a hurried rough screw on a sofa, carpet or worse; the back seat of a parked car, from a guy out to 'score' with all the experience of a virgin himself.
These attempts at rationalising what I was feeling soon ran head first in to the morality of my up-bringing and 'secularised' faith. Sister-in-law, well no real blood ties and sex with cousins was not a social taboo. It happened many times; Heck! We often married our first-cousins, which sort of refined our definition of 'incest' tighter then the West's own definition of it.
If she wasn't a 'cherry' then what difference would my fucking her make, apart from giving her pleasure and perhaps much needed relief to both of us?
Conscience and social-religious stuff raised their head and said "It is wrong to even think about sex with your real sister"
The war between the two sides ranged on leaving me alternatively feeling horny and guilty about being horny for my sister; depending on which side was winning at that moment.
The atmosphere in the house was tense and I chose any and every chance to escape the tension. I went to my father's shop to pass some time, meet his friends and basically check out the females that came in. Every age, colour and size seemed at some point to wander in. Perhaps a 'chance encounter' might end my inner turmoil, by diverting my mind to other women and away from Zainab. I admit I had become obsessed with her.
The sight and smell (they all wore good perfumes) and the range of fashion, from western hip hugger jeans and tight tit-squeezing T-shirts; to body hugging shalwar kamiz; to head-to-toe Chaddar were on display. Even the maids, sent on some errand by their Memsahib, had a certain 'hot tease' about them.
I wondered if Faisel ever got any 'choot,' in the store room out back. It had a small single bed that, the shop boy slept on at night and images of Faisel fucking some hot maid, washed through my mind.
Faisel... No way. All the fine South Asian specimens of womanhood, probably just got him keyed up for Naila and she ended up getting humped by him while he fantasized about a customer who had come into the shop.
Akram, the 24 year old shop boy was smart, energetic and an expert at eyeing the females up. His interaction with some of the maids,(I noted only with the maids) although only a discreet pinch of a buttock or brush of a hand over a breast when he thought I wasn't looking, convinced me that the bed in the back room saw 'real' action. Certainly, shy sly smiles would pass between them and perhaps a quick kiss or word.
Once Akram noticed me watching as he gave a maid a full. firm pat and loving stroke on the butt. Our eyes met and he looked down. This seemed to cause the maid to turn and look at me briefly, laugh at Akram, before quickly exiting the shop.
Whatever fears he may have had soon vanished, as I told my father nothing and behaved as if nothing had happened. After all, what had happened? He had got a feel of some girl's ass or tits and maybe a 'thrill' but she certainly hadn't objected so that was that. Anyway, who am I to ruin someone's chance for some fun? If some girl lay down on his bed, with her legs willingly open for him, when the shop was closed, good luck to him,
'Conventional wisdom'; holds that every maid could be had, and was being had any or all of the following; the master, the master's son(s), the master's driver or any male servant with the opportunity.
Whether true or not, most Memsahibs (my mother and her friends included) I have met seemed to be convinced that the servants did it 'anywhere' if not 'everywhere' they could.
I always sensed a certain erotic thrill as they relayed tales of maid servants being 'burdened' (made pregnant) and taken to be 'unburdened' or sent away.
Gossip most probably but, there is always a grain of truth in each piece of 'conventional wisdom' somewhere.
I helped out in the shop and smiled politely trying to keep my mind and off Zainab by flirting with some customers. Many of them were quiet attractive and some were down right sexy. I tried to keep such 'activities' far from Papa's eyes and ears.
One night, I found myself day dreaming on the way home of that night with Zainab. Her tight briefs, firm tits and the feel of her ass cheeks on my cock, as my father drove us home.
I got home feeling hot-to-boiling point. I had an hour or so before dinner and I knew that Beena would be in her room behind the house. My mother had a routine and with Naila and the kids in Lahore, Beena had a few hours extra to herself.
The chowkidar named Samad (gate man/ guard) had opened the gates as usual; as we pulled up and as usual, my father headed off to clean up for dinner. I usually did the same but today, I stopped in my room only long enough to get a condom and make a mental note to restock my supply.
I quickly and quietly made my way to Beena's room, but found the door closed from inside. There were sounds, muffled but still audible, from inside the room; I didn't tap on the door, as something about the sounds told me not to.
Using an old chair, handy nearby, I was able to look into Beena's room through the narrow open ventilation window above the door.
I was surprised to see Beena bent over her bed, being taken from behind by the Samad who had minutes earlier opened the gate for us. The angle was not perfect, I didn't have a side view of the action but at least I wasn't watching the Samad's nude ass shunting backwards and forwards as he screwed her. All I could see was part of Beena's naked hip, butt and thigh, my own knowledge of the rest of her dark tanned body filled out the picture.
I watched as he fucked her fast and desperately. I heard her whimper or whisper, encouraging him to be quick as someone might come.
He gave a short laugh before saying a few words, in what I assumed was, in his native Seraiki, sending a couple of hard jabs into her pussy from behind making her gasp in pleasure.
Without thinking I started to rub my own deperately hard cock. Teenage horniness taking hold again on my mind, Fuck! I was regressing. A few more weeks in Karachi and I would be renting porno DVDs and jerking off to them.
They both still wore their kamizs (Shirts) tucked up to bare their privates with their shalwars, around their ankles. It was obviously a 'quickie' and as the chowkidar threw his head back and gasped, I knew his spunk was exploding into Beena's cunt.
I quickly got down and returned to my room, my earlier sexual heat raised higher to the point where my shorts were wet with pre-cum, and I reluctantly but vigorously jerked myself off to ease the pressure in my balls.
Disgusted with my waste of a good, plentiful load of spunk, I went and showered using my discarded clothing to mop up the puddle my ejaculated semen had left on the floor. After a long cold shower, that cooled my lust and shrank my erection, I emerged dressed and ready for dinner. Not happy but at least functioning.
Beena served dinner as usual and looked freshly bathed and had changed her probably, sweaty and semen stained, cloths.
We exchanged polite greetings and she served me my food as always, unaware that I had seen her being fucked. The memory of her bent forward taking it hard from behind produced a rapid cock rise and I was glad I was in loose shalwars kamiz and seated.
'Whom' and 'when' she fucked was her private business, nothing to do with me, so apart from regretting the chance to dump my spunk in her ever hot choot, I had no feelings about her screwing the chowkidar.
My parents were still not talking to each other and I expected Beena to be yet again sent up with a tray of food for Zainab.
I was wrong. As I was about to start eating I saw Zainab walk in and casually sit at the table with us.
Ammi shot her dagger looks but Papa welcomed her as if she was a long absent family member ignoring her protests and loading her plate down with food that an army would have time getting through.
Zainab greeted me politely but did not look up from her plate as my parents tag-teamed her with alternate reprimands and cajoling. I smiled inwardly wondering how I had survived being raised by them.
After messing with Zainab's mind for a few minutes my mother suddenly turned her anger on me. Mainly because Zainab was being valiantly defended by my father,
"You" She began pointing an accusing finger at me "Too busy with your friends to think about marriage."
"What? Have you suddenly decided that time has stopped in your case and you will live for ever? What good is you money if you have no one to leave it to?"
'You and the family seem to find enough uses for it' I thought bitterly but held my tongue
I then underwent what every South Asian male in the world will understand. I was verbally assaulted by my mother and the age old 'grandchildren' saga complete with tears, table thumping and the usual accusations of 'not caring about my parents in their old age".
Papa made no attempt to defend me and merely nodded his agreement as I was mercilessly bombarded by my mother's tongue.
MY appetite suddenly died and I found myself simply moving my food around the plate as if to look busy.
Dinner over I decided to take a walk in the garden and just chill out.
Dubai was looking better with every second that past.
That night, Beena sneaked into my room, I wasted no time with preliminaries, I simply bent her over the bed and took her hard and fast as I had seen Samad do earlier. She seemed confused by my roughness but the cum she flooded my pumping cock with told me that she had loved every pussy stretching second of it.
I slept without really sleeping, my mind replacing Beena, Naila etc with the heaving sweaty body of Zainab.
I woke up for the first time in years with boxer shorts filled with cum c/o a hardcore wet dream of Zainab and me.