Roshni Ch. 06

Roshni 06 - Sweat

Late February. The hottest, most humid time of the year in Auckland.

Roshni was working in the gift shop when I called in to see her. The first thing I noticed was the sheen of sweat on her brown face, then the light in her eyes as she saw me.

"Hi!" she sang.

Roshni's face was gorgeous beyond words. Eyes glittering black, like polished coals; highlighted by the thick black bars of her eyebrows. Her eyebrows were superb: at the bridge of the nose, they were perhaps a centimetre wide, the hairs strong and black, and the thickness was maintained until, near her temples, they tapered neatly, almost ruler-perfect. There were soft, downy hairs above her lip, an irresistible, cute moustache, and longer, fluffier hairs down either side of her jaw. Her long, rich black hair was pulled back, fastened neatly on top of her head.

She wore her usual shop clothing: a white sleeveless blouse that left her shoulders and arms bare. And that was no bad thing: shining with sweat, her arms were beautiful. Graceful, slender, shaped by slim and feminine muscle: firm shoulders, the long taper of her forearm softened with fine black hairs to her wrists. Her upper arms and shoulders were fuzzed with tiny hairs that stood constantly like the bristles of a brush.

Against the brown of her skin, her crisp white blouse was a superb contrast. It was clear that she wasn't wearing a bra -- there was no need, her breasts were tiny, just tiny buds at the apex of her ribcage -- her brown-black nipples, like hard blackcurrents, were visible through the white of her blouse, darkly poking bumps in the cotton.

She wore a mini-skirt, A-line, below which her magnificent, gleaming legs stretched to strappy high-heel shoes. Her thighs, muscled and slender: her calves, long and sleek, slim ankles, dainty feet with red-painted toenails.

"Oh, it's so hot, today!" Roshni complained, and put up both hands to air out her armpits. It was then that I saw the condition of her blouse: there were huge circles of sweat under the arms, the cotton soaked. Poor Roshni must have been very uncomfortable. Raising her arms had bared her heavy-hair-matted armpits; the dense black bushes slicked as if with glue to the skin. The aroma of her sweat reached me, musky and sexy.

"You're so gorgeous when you sweat," I told her.

"It's okay for you," she grumbled. "I have a break, soon. Wait for me out the back."

The office, behind the service counter, had a two-way mirror. Safely concealed behind it, I had an excellent view of Roshni as she served. I could see the gloss of sweat beneath the fine dark hairs at the nape of her neck.

A customer arrived, and Roshni started gift-wrapping his purchase. She was a wonder to watch; the shine of her bare skin, the sweat-circles under her arms. She smiled and chatted with the customer: I saw her smile, the shine of her white teeth.

Finally, the shop was empty, and Roshni hurried through into the office.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "So hot!" She clasped her hands on top of her head to ventilate her armpits again, and from where I sat I had the best possible view of her sweat-circled blouse, her shining arms, the plastered hair in her armpits.

"You," I told her, standing, "are utterly gorgeous."

Still with her arms raised, Roshni lifted her face for my kiss. She was eager and hungry, her full and chocolate-sweet lips soft against mine, her pink tongue urgently probing inside my mouth. I lightly closed my hands around her shoulders, so that I could lightly squish my thumbs through the wet hair of her armpits: it felt like hot, wet wool. Breaking from our kiss, Roshni sighed in ecstasy. I put one wet thumb to her lips, and she hungrily sucked her own salty and sour sweat. In the heat of this tiny room, her aroma was strong, heady, and sexual, enough to make my head spin.

As I watched, Roshni slid down my body, to kneel at my feet. She unfastened my jeans, and eased out my cock.

Bliss swept over me as her hot, wonderful mouth closed over my penis, taking it as deeply as she could. Just the sight of her, sweaty, on her knees, her brown skin and dark eyebrows, eyes closed, and her dark-chocolate lips wrapped around me, sliding back and forth, a heavenly blow-job the way only Roshni could do. The sequins of perspiration glinted in the fluff of her tiny moustache.

I put my hands on the shoulders of her blouse, feeling her hot, damp skin through the cotton. She wrapped her furry arms around my hips, taking my cock so deeply into her mouth that I was hitting the back of her throat. I fucked her beautiful face like that for ages. Her tongue, flat, caressed the underside of my cock with every pass, so that gradually I felt the unstoppable building pressure deep in my groin.

Roshni sensed it, and slowed down, her mouth moving smoothly along the length of my shaft, so that the tension built further and further, until I was shaking, weak at the knees. With a gasp, I came inside her mouth, shooting everything I had into her, and she swallowed it all, still pumping me, until I was completely empty.

She finished by licking my cock from tip to base, enjoying every moment, aroused but making herself wait for the reward that would be hers.

Another customer entered the shop, so Roshni hurried out, straightening her skirt. It was a man, and I watched his reaction, through the office window, as he saw her. Naturally, he was impressed by her dark beauty. I saw the T-mark of sweat in the back of her blouse as she stood, chatting to him. After a short time, he asked about a product, and pointed to a pepper-grinder on a high shelf.

Roshni was forced to stand on tip-toes and reach up to fetch the pepper-grinder down: as her lithe body stretched, the man stood beside her, his eyes feasting on her. His eyes travelled up her brown and shapely legs, her beautiful tight arse in its little black skirt, her slim waist. He could not have missed the huge circles of sweat under her arms, nor the thick bushes of hair in her armpits as she stretched. Her odour must have filled the air, and he seemed to be utterly seduced by it. When she handed him the grinder, he was looking straight down at her blouse, the twin swells of her tiny breasts and the unmistakable bumps her dark nipples made in the cotton. I wasn't the only one getting turned on: when Roshni walked back towards the counter, he slipped a hand into his pocket, still staring at her, and I knew it wasn't a wallet he played with.

Roshni rang up the till and bagged the pepper-grinder, and wished the customer good-bye, then leaned forward as he said something quietly to her. Her response was to shake her head, and he smiled, shrugged, and left the store.

A moment later, Roshni was back in the office with me. There were droplets of sweat along her hairline, clustered in the barely-there fluff of her little moustache. "That guy asked me out on a date," she explained.

"I'm not surprised," I told her. "You're so beautiful!"

"Thank you, baby!" Roshni stretched her arms around my neck and kissed me again, her tongue probing into my mouth. I could smell her pungent sweat, her skin, and I could feel her firm little breasts pressing against me.

"Let me smell your pits," I demanded. Roshni eagerly stretched her arms above her head. The musky odour of her underarms radiated out; I had never known it so sharp and strong, but I couldn't get enough of it. I pushed my face into the hot, wet, hairy hollow of her left armpit and breathed deeply. The acidic smell filled my senses and made my head spin. It was a turn-on that made my aching cock throbbingly hard again. I licked through the thick, acrid bush and her musky-sour flavour filled me. Roshni moaned at the feeling of my tongue in her armpit, arching her back and thrusting her shoulder forward to press her hairy pit into my face. I french-kissed her underarm, gathering the thick hairs into my mouth and drawing her pungent sweat out, my tongue searching out the sensitive salty skin.

I moved to her right armpit and sucked on the saturated black hair, swirling it with my tongue, gathering her flavours and sourness. The hairs tickled my nose and cheeks, spreading her sweat and scent on my face like a soft wet brush. I could have spent hours simply lost in Roshni's hairy armpit, surrounded by the smells and tastes and textures of her body; the ripeness of a day's sweat, salty-fresh skin that had never been scoured by a razor or tainted by chemicals. My tongue savoured the roughness of the thick hairs bedded in such soft and sensitive skin, Roshni groaned and gasped with arousal.

"Kiss me!"

Her hot mouth found mine and her lips sucked at my lips; her tongue drove inside my mouth as she searched her own armpits' sourness. She moaned in pleasure, turned on by her own musk and flavour. My hands roamed the back of her blouse, feeling how it clung to her sweaty back and ribcage; she was oozing sweat from every pore.

Finally, her arms still locked over her head, her face and throat wet with sweat and her bare arms gleaming all the way down to the sweat-slicked hair of her bushy armpits, Roshni threw her head back and panted breathlessly, "fuck me, please!"

She didn't need to ask twice. Where she stood I hitched her little skirt up, drew her sweat-wet knickers down so that they slid down her long brown legs to her ankles. Between her slim thighs was the thick, fleecy mass of her pubic hair, the dark straggles hanging down like vines in a tropical forest.

Putting her bare salty arms around my neck, Roshni jumped up to wrap her thighs around my waist, and just for a moment she clung to me, the thick tangle of hair between her legs teasing my cock, until she slowly lowered herself, impaling herself on me. I felt my cock pushing between her swollen, slick lips, and driving deep into her. She gave a shuddering groan of pleasure.

We fucked like animals, Roshni's small body hanging off me, her hot and wonderful pussy taking my full length, her ample mass of pubic hair crushed against me as I thrust and pushed into her, making her gasp and moan. Her wet and furry arms were wrapped my neck, the sweat wet on her throat and streaking glistening trails down into the open front of her blouse, her black eyes glittering, her heavy eyebrows furrowed with ecstasy.

"Harder," she urged me. "Fuck me harder!"

I backed her against the wall, and started pounding into her, so hard that our pubic bones collided with every thrust. Roshni loved it, her lovely face alive with pleasure, her heels dugging into me as she squeezed and kicked to encourage me. Little droplets of sweat oozed out from the tangled hairs in her hollowed armpits, dripping to the floor or sliding down her gleaming skin towards the armholes of her blouse. More sweat trailed down through the dark fluffy hairs that followed the line of her jawbone.

We were both panting for breath, Roshni's hairy pussy gripping me with its slippery welcome. Grasping one elbow, I pushed Roshni's arm straight up over her head and pushed my face into her armpit. Her skin felt burning hot, her underarm hair squishing against my lips and nose, the pungent, salty flavour of her sweat filling my senses. I drove my tongue deep into her armpit, circling and swirling the hairs, exploring the little creases in the soft and sensitive skin, sucking her acidic sweat until it covered my face. My cock hammered deep into her, as the sweat rolled down her body.

Roshni was gasping, "yes! Yes! Oh, yes!" as her orgasm rolled and surged for half a minute, her eyes shut, her mouth open, her fingers digging into my shoulders.

I pushed deep into her, and exploded, emptying myself deep inside her, she accepted it gratefully, kissing my face and lips, still wrapped around me, my hands caressing her firm and furry arse.

For a time, we stayed like that, me still inside her, kissing and nuzzling. The smell of her sweat filled the air; her body was humid and wet in my arms.

Then, another customer.

"Oh, shit," said Roshni, and climbed off me. She pulled down her skirt, but couldn't find her knickers, so without underwear, she hurried out into the shop again. This time, it was a young woman, a gorgeous blonde. Roshni glanced back towards the office with a look of despair.

This, I had to see.

I placed a chair right next to the mirror-window, and watched eagerly as the girl asked Roshni for some item or other. Poor Roshni looked as if she had just done twelve rounds in the boxing ring: what had once been circles of sweat under the arms of her blouse were now huge patches of wet that spread halfway down her sides: the back of her blouse was glued to her spine, the front of it equally soaked. Her bare arms were actually wet, the fine hairs pasted to her brown skin. There were rivulets running from her underarms, droplets on the back of her neck. Roshni was so embarrassed. The blonde must have wondered if the Indian girl serving her had a glandular condition. Roshni's refusal to wear deodorant didn't help the situation; her smell must have filled the air.

Then, when Roshni turned her back to me again, I noticed a huge T-mark of sweat on the back of her skirt, clearly marking the cleft of her buttocks. I knew Roshni would be well aware of the way she looked, and the humiliation must have been unbearable. Certainly the blonde looked highly amused.

When the customer had gone, I emerged from the office, straightening my clothes.

"Are you going already?" Roshni asked.

"I'll see you tonight, at home."

"What about my sweaty clothes?" Roshni held out her arms.

I smiled, and looked at a wall-clock. "You'll be finished in another three hours."

Roshni was not going to have a comfortable afternoon.