Family and Friends Ch. 18bydarthewriter©
Cell phones can be a curse as well as a blessing. In my case, my cell phone was a blessing.
I could call my parents in Islamabad without telling them where I was staying or even if I was still in Murree. It in effect meant that, I could phone at regular intervals and keep the 'folks' happy but, leave them in the dark about where I was.
An important rule for any illicit affair; 'keep in touch with the people at home but never make it too easy to be found by them'.
The last things you want is a parent, wife or sibling knocking at your hotel room door while you are busy screwing your mistress. In my situation the complications were obvious.
We had gotten up late after a long and deep sleep. Whether it was the fresh, pine scented mountain air, the altitude, or simple exhaustion; we slept naked like babies in each other's arms, under a quilt, as it was quite cooler then we were accustomed to experiencing.
I showered and shaved while Zainab slept on a little while longer. I woke her up, after I was finished in the bathroom and asked her what she wanted for breakfast.
"Everything!" was her greedy reply and I had to agree with her, I was starving too.
I sat in a white Kurta Shalwars (shirt with light embroidery and baggy trousers) on the veranda reading the newspaper as Zainab showered and dressed. She had just sat down beside me at the breakfast table on the veranda when Juniad and another man came up the path with the huge breakfast I had ordered.
Tea drinkers will understand that special, comforting buzz you feel from the first sip of a well brewed, piping hot cup of tea in the morning. I have never found coffee as refreshing but that is my personal feeling and I intend no offence to coffee drinkers.
We ate in silence, savouring the taste of the food and the sweet sound of bird song. The other chalets appeared vacant and there was not another person in sight, apart from Juniad who squatted in the cool shade of a tree beside the path, close enough to hear us call, if we needed anything but not close enough to overhear our conversation.
As I sipped my tea and washed the Desi style omelette (an omelette sprinkled with diced Chillies, onions and tomatoes) and Desi ghee (pure home-made, hand churned butter,) fired paratta (fried chapatti) down; relishing the taste of it all and the fact that the tea was sweetened with honey not sugar.
I asked Zainab how she felt about the things we did.
She smiled warmly as she finished her own breakfast with slices of apple and plump juicy grapes.
"I feel wonderful in every way possible. It is so perfect here that I simply want to stay forever and ever, Fahad," She said softly looking from my face to the leaves rustling in the trees and at the birds (I cannot name), fluttering around, chirping happily.
I handed Zainab the cell phone and urged her to chat to the family thus keeping them off our backs. Zainab gave them the usual, 'wish you were here' speech. After rolling her eyes, several times, she assured someone that, she was not wandering off alone into the forest. "Ammi" was her simple explanation as she hung up.
As the ever-helpful Juniad cleared the breakfast things away, I asked him about anything worth seeing and where to find the obligatory 'handicrafts' to take as gifts home to the family who would expect some tokens off us.
Juniad was a font of knowledge. We were soon able to saunter along forest trails and along tarmac roads all the way to 'Presentation Convent' where our mother had boarded and studied many years before. We walked up and down hills to photograph truly breathtaking views of the mountains, valleys, and colonial era cottages they seemed to perfectly blend into the landscape and actually add to the over all charm of the hill station.
Even the names of these cottages spoke of distant lands where the first residents had probably come from. No doubt, they had all been British, as the names had distinctly 'British Isles' sounding names.
The scars of the October 2005 earthquake were visible but Murree had escaped serious damage; and being a garrison town; the military had made effective and quick repairs. No time wasted with committees and politicos trying to line their own pockets.
(Reading my stories and some of my comments, you may think I am against democracy. You would be wrong. I think democracy is a great concept left sadly to the mercy of greedy incompetents who are all out to enrich themselves. There; having annoyed every 'want-to-be' political saviour out there, in their palatial bungalows, with garages full of 4X4 Land Cruisers, I will continue my story).
Along 'The Mall', we found markets crammed with hand woven shawls; caps and tribal/ethnic jewellery. Zainab assure me that the 'ethnic look' was definitely 'in' and so we shopped until I told her I was not a mule and would keel over dead if she handed me one more shopping bag.
We lunched at a neat restaurant on 'The Mall', which for some reason had a sign up banning the taking of photographs and then we headed back to our 'honeymoon lodge', as we had soon nicknamed our chalet.
I spotted a chemists store and went in to purchase an important item.
Zainab gave me a questioning look as I stuffed the item in a bag and we started the slow steep walk up the driveway to the chalet.
The receptionist was standing outside the main lodge as we passed him and greeted us warmly.
"Anything you 'newly-weds' need, just ask," he said warmly.
Back in our chalet, I pulled Zainab into my arms and kissed her the way a man in love kisses a woman, passionately but with soft gentleness.
She hugged me hard and put her head against my chest sighing with happiness as she said, "I love you Fahad. I wish we could be together forever."
The unfairness of her statement hit me, to love but never be together as man and wife. What strange games fate plays on people?
Kissing her again, I announced that I was going to take a shower and hoped she felt 'dirty enough' to join me.
We stood in the warm spray of the shower, soaping, washing and rinsing each other, while kissing and smiling at each other.
I washed her back and then moved my hands around to soap and wash her breasts as I licked her neck and whispered "I love you" in her ears.
My hands moved down over her tummy in circular movements before slipping down over her pelvis between her legs to wash her baby smooth hairless choot.
I then bent her forward slightly so that she could brace herself against the shower wall, and generously soaping my hands, washed her buttocks with special attention to her smooth butt crack and hairless anus. I eased the tip of a soapy index finger in her butthole ever so slightly bringing a small gasp from her mouth. After a few testing probes, I replaced my index finger with the tip of my big finger and repeated the whole game again.
She was tight and had obviously been unused there. I did not doubt that Zain (and every other man), had been 'refused' entry but girls will 'experiment', and there is nothing wrong with that.
As I removed my fingertip, I handed her the soap and urged her to wash my back. As I hoped, her hands soon made their way to my ass, butt crack, and copied my butt hole teasing with her fingertips on my anus.
"My balls baby" I said softly, and she instantly understood, reaching between my legs from behind to fondle my balls and stroke my throbbing hard cock. It was good. Her tongue traced a trail along my butt crack and licked my butt hole with a timid unsure flick of her tongue. She repeated it with more interest a few times. Obviously tasting and feeling nothing that repulsed her.
Turning the shower off, she moved me around to face her and there, kneeling in the shower with my hands holding onto her head, she sucked my Lund until I came in her mouth. Without pause or hesitation, she swallowed every lumpy, salty drop of my seed.
I watched as she looked up at me and smiled "I guess that I am the cat that got the cream" she quipped quoting a childish nonsense rhyme.
She brushed her teeth at the sink after we had taken another quick shower and then drying herself asked me to give her ten minutes before coming out into the bedroom.
I brushed my teeth as I waited checking my shave and deciding to run my razor one more time over my chin and cheeks for 'the-baby-smooth' feel I wanted; I then applied deodorant under my arms. Just as a woman makes the effort, why should not, a man? I was sure that Zainab had something special in mind.
"OK, you can come out now" Zainab called and I opened the door to see her dressed in the same black out fit she had worn on that night in Lahore.
My cock sprang up hard in salute as she turned around and bent over wiggling her firm ass at me suggestively. Her elbows rested on the bed, the light brown skin of her legs and ass, visible over the dark black stocking-top, an erotic dream worthy of any porno site on the net.
"Meri Gaand mai Jaan"(In my asshole Darling) She said softly "I know you want to do it and I want you to be the only guy to ever fuck my ass"
I smiled and pulled on my hard man meat walking over to her I pulled the black thread barely covering her butt bud aside and felt her anus.
"It's going to hurt babe, hurt like hell," I said softly pressing the tip of my cock at the rose bud like butthole as I spoke.
"Alia said it does at first, but I can take it as long as you do it to me" She replied, "I want you to do 'everything and anything' you want to me; 'whenever' you want".
I went over to the shopping bag and fished out the brown paper bag I had bought earlier from the chemist. Ripping it open, I took out a small jar of Vaseline and returned to my position behind Zainab.
"Should I take the thong off?" She asked Looking back at me as I opened the jar, with a raised eyebrow. Hell, how her lynx like eyes shone with anticipation. I really felt that she wanted me in her rear end.
"No way; I like the black thread against your brown skin, Tell me if I get, too rough," I said
Taking a generous dab of Vaseline on my index finger, I slowly rubbed it around the rose bud of her butthole before easing the oily tip into her tight hole.
"Relax Zainab, Relax" I soothed feeling her rectum contract hard, her sphincter resisting my finger's attempt to penetrate deeper.
I withdrew my finger but only to lube it up with more Vaseline, then I re-applied it to her anus and re-inserted it, pushing hard against the sphincter until it gave and she cried out and buried her face in the mattress.
After working my finger in and out for a few minutes, making sure she was ready for the next part, I took another generous amount of Vaseline and coated my cock tip with it before lubing my shaft.
"Relax Baby. Just Relax. It will hurt at first, hurt a lot, but if you tense up, it will hurt far more," I advised her. Taking a firm hold of her hip with one hand and aiming my cock with the other, I applied pressure and poked into her asshole with the tip of my cock.
She was sweating and crying as I made slow shallow pokes into her tight back passage.
To be honest, there is no gentle way to bust a cherry, especially a butt cherry; but I fought the urge to fuck her, until I felt her rectum slowly adjust to my lund and accept my un-natural invasion.
As she stretched slowly with sobs and groans, I cooed comforting and soothing words promising her that it would soon feel better and she would start to enjoy it.
Then taking hold of both her hips firmly at the waist, I began to gently and steadily fuck her until I came. I did not try to stop the spunk from shooting up my shaft into her; I wanted her to feel the soothing pleasure of a man's hot seed in her tortured and paining asshole as gently and as quickly as possible.
I slowly eased out of her and lay her on her side on the bed, before, using a fist full of Kleenex to dab at the semen running from her ass. I was glad to see no red blood stains as I finished cleaning her buttocks and butt crack up.
I headed to the bathroom to force myself to piss and then stepping back into the shower, I washed myself thoroughly. Paying special attention to my cock head piss slit and balls.
After coming out of the bathroom, I slipped on a casual white Kurta over a vest, and pulled on a baggy pair of shalwars trousers. Picking the room service phone up, I ordered tea and chicken sandwiches and then waited on the veranda, seated at the breakfast table for Zainab and the tea things to arrive.
Zainab came out walking slowly but smiling bravely. She did not reproach me for anything and seemed grateful for the strip of painkillers I had asked Juniad to bring.
We sipped our tea and ate our sandwiches as the sun slowly sank behind some tall mountains and the twilight soon faded into night.
Zainab was in no mood to walk to a restaurant on 'The Mall' and I was happy to simply relax and observe the billions of bright stars as they appeared one by one, in moonless night sky.
We both decided to have an early night but, after I climbed into bed beside Zainab in my boxers, she rolled onto a pillow, she placed under her hips and stomach, bolstering her ass up and said "Dubara karo, gaand mai" (Put it in my butthole again)."
Reaching under another pillow, she pulled out the jar of Vaseline and handed it to me.
I stroked her face and smiled "We can wait until the pain subsides you know?" I said caringly.
"No" Zainab said softly "It hurt, I admit, but then as your stuff boiled into me I felt myself cum. It was the most amazing feeling to find my choot cream as my butt burned and was soothed by your hot creamy spunk'.
I got above and behind, moving between her parted thighs and licked her buttocks tenderly.
Using my tongue and fingers, I aroused her already wet, gapping choot hole further and slid my hard cock into her Cunt from behind.
The slow moan of pleasure that she uttered was music to my ears as I slowly but deeply fucked her. Kissing her back and neck as my pace slowly increased.
We fucked for minutes or hours; time didn't mean anything to me then, dabbing my fingers into the opened jar of Vaseline and I used my fingers to lube her anus up for another anal assault. After a few minutes of Cunt fucking, Zainab reached back and pulling her buttocks apart said, "Do it. Fuck my gaand (ass) and make me cum"
Whether it was my lust or her eagerness that drove me on, I cannot honestly say. I fucked her harder then the first time and ignored her tears as I shot my seed deep into her ass.
After I rolled off her panting, she embraced me and said, "It was wonderful, I will only ever let you use me there."
All good things must eventually come to an end; so after a few more days in our make-believe honeymoon chalet, we boarded the Daewoo Shuttle bus back to the Twin cities to find that our absence had allowed Rida and Ammi to got to war over my marriage.
I decided to forget returning to Karachi and the lusty embraces of Naila and Beena (that I was sure awaited me) instead, I would fly out directly to Dubai, from Islamabad.
My parents were not happy with this but I remained adamant.
Zainab was very upset but as I hugged her goodbye at the airport, I whispered, "make you passport and I will send for you the minute you get it."
The long-term implications of my 'plan', to live as 'husband and wife in Dubai', risking all that such a 'sin' would involve seemed unimportant at that moment.
Eventually, Zainab would marry and I would marry, it is the way of our culture. Until then, even after that time came, I saw no reason to deny ourselves the emotional and physical fulfilment we felt when together.
I would have a lot to do, but with Zainab with me in Dubai, I was sure I would accomplish much more then I expected.