A Haram Desire Pt. 02

Authors note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A Haram Desire: Part Two

Chapter One: Week in, week out...

What had begun for Tahira as a one-time deal had grown beyond her ability to control. The text that she had meant to send to him, explaining how they needed to not see each other again, had never progressed past the planning stage. After their second meeting, another daytime rendezvous in the hotel, she had rehearsed in her head a speech to explain how her husband and children needed to be first in her life, how the tenets of her faith demanded she give up this adulterous affair. It was a good speech; it would have been better if she'd said it.

Kellan and Tahira were meeting now at least once a week, sometimes more. During the day at first before Keenan began to insist on her staying at the hotel overnight with him. He claimed he was missing too many jobs because of having to meet during weekdays. She couldn't say no to him.

Dealing with her husband Ali and fulfilling her roles as mother, wife and housekeeper became a problem. When she wasn't with Keenan, she was daydreaming about being with him. Dinners became less complex, laundry piled up and chores went partially finished. Her excuses for sick parents couldn't stand against this frequency of going behind her husband's back. She joined a 'book club' and took up going to the gym as other reasons to be away for hours at a time. The gym at least excused away the occasional bruise or limp from strained muscles.

With her husband's work requiring him to be away from home a lot, sometimes overnight and the children to consider, Tahira would arrange sleepovers for them with friends. She divided chores between the children as well, enlisting them in keeping somewhat on top of the housework, feeling guilty that her infidelity was already affecting them.

But she couldn't stop.

The more they fucked, the better Keenan seemed to read her body's needs, and so the better the sex became. The better the sex, the angrier the itch inside her grew, needing more and more. He had made her go on birth control so he could fuck her bare. Within a week of doing that, he'd taken control of the small white pills, issuing them to her as required, a small but telling aspect of their relationship. Despite her being the older person in the relationship, he was very much in control.

They had been seeing each other for just a month.

<<0>>

Ali's brother was having a party for his children's birthday, inviting Tahira's to come and stay overnight in order to hang out with their cousins. Ali himself wanted them all to travel to London, until a last-minute request from work meant he'd have to be away. Thankfully Jawed, Ali's brother, was happy to come pick the children up, promising to have them back the next afternoon.

Tahira made a small fuss over them as they went, feigning disappointment that she couldn't join them.

"Are you sure you can't come? Uzma would love you to be there" Jawed said. Uzma was his wife and from experience Tahira knew the sour faced woman would only welcome Tahira's presence as it would offer her a chance to be nasty to her in person.

"No but thank you. I have so much to do here around the house, without the children under my feet I might actually get their rooms cleaned," Tahira said, raising her hands in mock horror.

"Ya Allah, I know, my own three keep more clothes on the floor than they do in their wardrobe. Peace be with you sister. Come on children, time to go." Jawed ushered Tahira's son and daughter out the front door. She stood there waving as the car drove away. Even when it had passed out of sight, she stayed where she was, not wanting to tempt providence that everything might go smoothly. But it did, five minutes passed without a call from Jawed or a return of the car. They were gone and would be until tomorrow.

Tahira pulled out her phone, texting Ali that the children had gone and asking if there was any chance, he might return that night, the house seeming empty without them all.

He replied a few minutes later, a typical response where he cited his responsibilities at work and that he didn't appreciate the added pressure of an emotional wife.

Somehow that just made things easier. She sent off another text, this one to Keenan, a 'coast is clear' code, RTF... ready to fuck. His reply came instantaneously, '1hr.'

Tahira was all ready to go, her spare clothing and wash things in her gym bag. The gym excuse was paying off dividends, not only allowing her time away but also providing a reason for her carrying around spare clothes. She fixed herself a coffee to kill a few minutes, strong, as she felt that sleep would be scarce that night. Her light brown eyes never left the clock mounted on the kitchen wall... tracking each sweep of the second hand, watching the minute hand crawl around until it was time to go meet Keenan.

A few hours later she was lying in bed with her young black lover. As always, the first bout of sex was frenzied, his desire for her body unflagging, her need for his cock unending. Now that she had moved onto birth control as per his bidding, Tahira was able to enjoy the sensation of his cum reaching deep inside her as he ejaculated.

Aside from being left in a constant state of arousal with Keenan, she was also constantly on edge with nervousness. Initially that had been down to his size, his strength, his magnetism, all making her nervous about how he affected her. Then having dealt with that, at least a little, Tahira had found herself nervous about the ongoing affair, the risks against the rewards. She wasn't any more comfortable with this betrayal of hers, nor how it went against every scrap of decency in her, every religious pillar of her life. She wasn't comfortable, but she accepted that the pleasure was too great to turn away from it.

What had her constantly nervous was the thought that Keenan would end things. She was older than him, thirty-five to his twenty-two. Married, a Muslim and a mother... a lot of baggage for a young man to accept, especially given his looks and personality, there must have been hundreds of women who would have tripped over themselves trying to date him. Each time they were together, she felt it might be their last. Each time they were together, she threw herself into the sex, hoping that somehow, she'd keep him interested, keep him wanting her.

They lay there in post coital embrace. His right arm curled around her throat as her hijab shrouded head rested on his chest. His big hands played idly with her firm 32E tits; the nipples delicate against the work toughened skin of his hands. The long fat black cock that had made her squeal and shriek a few minutes before was still firmly in place in her lubricated pussy, Keenan making slow rocking movements, cushioned against her plump ass, his cock shifting dreamily inside her.

"I hate this," he said, breaking the comfortable silence.

Three words, all it took for her heart to fall into her stomach.

"Wh-what do you m-mean?" Tahira stammered, fearing what was to come next.

"I hate having to sneak around all the time. I know you be married an' shit but fuck that! You mine, my woman. When's it my turn?"

"Your turn?" Tahira was elated to have him call her 'his woman' but she couldn't see how she could fix his problem, more worryingly, if she couldn't then what might happen?

"To take you out. Show you off. Shit Tahira, none of my fam even believe you real." his voice sounded bitter to her ears.

"Fam?" It wasn't important but she hadn't a clue about half of what he said sometimes. Just another example of the age and cultural gap that sat like a chasm between them.

"Fam... family, friends, you know. Like ma beat Wilson, he ma best friend and he think I'ma full of shit about this."

"You told him... people... about us?"

"Nah, nah, nah, like no names or nuthin' so don't worry. Just that like, you know, I mets someone an' shit. An' he's all like... 'so where is she then?' an' shit like that."

"I'm sorry Keenan, I know having to be discreet is hard on you. I don't know what I can do. I'd do anything for you, you know that right?" Tahira placed her small hand on the big black one squeezing her breast.

"For reals?"

"Of course," she answered.

"Come to my place, meet at least one of ma fam, meet Wilson, yeah? Then at least he stop talkin' shit," Keenan was excited just saying that, Tahira actually felt the moment his cock reversed, no longer softening, steel returning to it.

She couldn't say no. Not with that beautiful black dick getting long and fat inside her. Not if this small thing meant he stayed with her.

"I'll come, I'll come," she answered.

"Tomorrow," he said, insistent.

"I need to text... think..." Tahira said, wondering what new ailment she could lay at her mother's feet as an excuse.

Her phone was on the small stand beside the bed. Stretching Keenan was just able to reach it. He dropped it in her hand. Tahira's smooth forehead furrowed as she tried to think of what to do. 'Kids first' she decided.

A text to Jawed, asking if the children could stay an extra night as she had to travel to Birmingham to her parents. A real family man, Jawed answered immediately, 'no problem keeping Mahad and Aidah an extra night and best wishes to your parents.'

'Such a good man' Tahira thought, 'if only Ali shared some of his attributes, I might not have strayed as I did.'

The next text was to Ali himself, explaining she wouldn't be home and neither would the children when he returned tomorrow evening. It was hard texting when she had Keenan's length inside her, the big black youth, rocking his hips fractionally so that his massive meat made small movements within her pussy.

'Fine' came Ali's terse reply.

"All done," Tahira said, setting the phone aside.

"Good girl. As a reward, you can suck my finger," Keenan said, sliding his index finger into her mouth. Tahira closed her lips about it, sucking on the lone digit like it was a miniature cock in her mouth, the bigger version of it shifting about in her stuffed pussy. It wasn't even all that miniature, his finger almost the same length of Ali's cock and not that much thinner either.

After a while, he pulled his finger out from her pouting lips, his other hand lifting from Tahira's fat firm tit to settle about her throat. Keenan holding her close in a possessive manner that excited her hugely.

"Wait... wh-what are you doing?" Tahira could feel the damp finger of Keenan sliding between their bodies, delving into the plump cushioned crack of her ass cheeks.

"Knocking on your back door girl," Keenan said softly into her ear.

"Oh, oh no. No. No... nope, uh-uh," Tahira babbled. How did she explain to a non-Muslim that 'that' particular option was extremely taboo.

'By saying it' her inner voice chided her.

"Keenan, no. You can't."

"I want to," he answered, almost childish in his response.

"No Keenan. For me, in my culture, it's taboo... forbidden, unclean. Tell me you understand, please."

"I understand," he replied. Tahira relaxed, that had been easier than she'd feared.

Then she felt his finger pressing demandingly against her tight virgin sphincter. His strength forcing it inside despite the scarcity of real lubricant, Tahira's saliva no real benefit.

"YA ALLAH" she wailed, "Take it out! Take it out!"

"Why?" he replied as calm as anything. Her distress didn't faze him at all. In fact, Tahira realised, horrified, that it excited him, his cock feeling even harder inside her.

"Why? I told you; it's forbidden. You said you understood."

"I do understand, I just don't care ye get me?" He did remove his finger then, even as tears of shame began rolling down Tahira's face.

"Only thing that's a crime here is wasting this fuckin' bangin' piece of thick ass by not tappin' it. Ya know wot I'm sayin'? Shit, you got an ass on you like Kim K fuckin' wishes she had. Not fuckin' that, that shits forbidden if you ask me."

Tahira kept crying and his animated voice sobered.

"Look, go get yourself into the bathroom, wash yer face, make ya feel better y'know?"

She didn't argue, Keenan pulling out of her with a sucking squelch, her pussy reluctant to release him. She swung herself off the bed, padding into the small hotel bathroom. At least he was right about one thing, splashing water on her face did help to calm her down some. As she looked into the mirror, Tahira tried to reason with herself. She'd done so much to wrong herself in the eyes of decent society these last few weeks, she shouldn't have freaked out as she had. Stopping him had been the right thing to do but she should have handled it better. That final 'taboo' was something she needed to keep intact, to give her some hope, if not of redemption, then at least the knowledge that she wasn't a total loss in the sight of her beliefs.

Tahira felt she owed Keenan an apology for her tears, she went to open the door but it swung open before her hand touched the handle. His big imposing frame filled the doorway. Sometimes he had her feel so small, so weak. Just like now.

"Better?" He asked, voice a little gruff but she felt she saw real concern in his dark eyes.

"Yes. Thanks."

"C'mere," he enfolded her, big arms drawing her close, her head tilting back so that his mouth could crush against hers in a soft kiss than grew more and more passionate as it continued. His hands were on her cheeks, her throat, fingers caressing, stroking. Keenan broke the kiss but his hands stayed where they were. Carefully, slowly, he touched her hijab. His eyes followed the folds and tucks of it, his mechanically minded brain sorting out its arrangement.

Tahira stiffened as he began to remove her hijab. After denying him her ass, she didn't want to follow that up with another protest. Slowly, like an oddly patient child unwrapping a birthday gift, the hulking black youth shook out her hijab, fold by fold. She'd worn a plain black one that day, the three-foot square scarf soon sliding clear of her head.

Self-consciously Tahira raised her hands to her head but he beat her to it. The hijab lay in the crook of his arm as his thick fingers pushed their way through her dark, almost black hair. He turned her, hands on her shoulders so that she faced away from him, only hearing his low whistle as he looked at her hair falling below her waist, the longest tendrils like dark vines spreading over the cheeks of her full behind.

"Fuck girl, never thought ya had that hidden away. Jes' full of fuckin' surprises aint ya?"

Recognising the compliment for what it was, she gave him a shy smile, ill at ease, feeling utterly naked for the first time before him, ridiculous as that might sound.

He kissed her again, arms locking about her waist, his prodigious strength lifting her feet from the tiled floor of the bathroom. Tahira's protests were lost in the twisting tangle of their tongues in one another's mouths as he carried her to where the shower stood. Here at least, the hotel hadn't skimped on facilities for their guests. Rectangular in size, it was a double shower, big enough to accommodate her and Keenan at the same time. Inside the clear walls of the shower, he let go of her, merely to close the door firmly.

"Stick it on girl, I want to get clean wit ya after we've gone an' been dirty earlier, yeah?"

"Sure," she answered, turning on the shower. The eighteen-inch-wide shower head above them spluttered to life, a drizzle of cold water splashed down on them at first, uncomfortable but fleeting as chasing behind it came a torrent of warm water. Tahira pressed the dispenser on the wall beside her, filling the palm of her hand with shower gel. Reaching over, she began to soap Keenan's chest and shoulders. He stood there like a statue, content to be washed by her nimble soft hands. As she soaped him, caressing every budling muscle, washing each and every inch of his hard dark flesh, she thought again at how cursed and blessed she had been to collide into him in the store a month before. Cursed because he had turned her life and her principles upside down and inside out, blessed in that she'd never felt more like a woman than with him. Only the birth of her children and the joy they gave her every day could eclipse what it felt like to be with him. He turned around and she soaped his back, his iron firm ass as well but that fleetingly.

"My turn," he said, jetting gel into his big shovel sized hand.

Tahira noticed his hardness. She'd soaped his cock clean and it had swelled under her ministrations. Now though it looked positively engorged, simply at the thought of washing her. A warm glow filled her and she forgot for a time that she had broken yet another pillar of her beliefs, allowing him to remove her head covering.

He paid close attention to her big breasts, soaping them thoroughly before moving on to the rest of her front. He even squatted down, soaping her feet, massaging them tenderly, one at a time. Front done; he turned her around. He began at her shoulders, massaging as much as he washed her. Strong fingers digging into her flesh, finding and crushing the knots of tension that she seemed to carry with her all the time. As his hands worked lower, she closed her eyes, breathing through her nose as she sought for calm. His hands swept over her ass cheeks, cleaning them, straying slightly into the crevice between them but nothing more, his hands moving on down. Tahira relaxed, her eyes remaining closed as she luxuriated in this attention to her body.

She felt his finger. A glancing touch as it moved between her, still soapy, inner thighs. Then it came again, his finger now stroking her labia. It brushed them aside to slip into her properly.

"Ohhh, oh Keenan," she moaned.

The lone intruder was joined by a friend. A second finger squeezing past the swollen lips that guarded, ineffectually, her pussy. Tahira was wet on the outside beneath the showers spray. Inside her pussy she was soaked.

"You, my girl?" His voice, deep and powerful, clearly audible despite the noise of the shower.

"Yes... oh, yes I am," Tahira moaned as he stirred two fingers inside her.

"Dat right. You is. Rest of the time, you is that sad fucker Ali's wife, but when you wit me, you my girl." not a question, a statement.

"Uhhh, uh, uh, uh-huh, yes, yes," Tahira groaned.

"This is mine." his fingers stirred inside her, somehow pressing every sensitive part of her, all at once.

"Uh...oh, oh, OH...oh, yes."

"These mine, I know that." his other hand pawing at her tits, her long dark nipples, hard like bullets, aching to be sucked and stroked.

"You, you mine. All fuckin' mine," his hand rose to take her by the throat, fingers gripping it firmly. She pressed down against the fingers in her pussy, longing for release.

"Say it." no anger in his voice but the pressure on her throat increasing marginally.

"I'm yours, all yours," Tahira moaned, meaning it with more emotion that she'd used during her wedding day to Ali.

"My girl, mine... don't never forget that, feel me?"

"Uh... yes, yes." Tahira did 'feel him', his fingers in her, his half choking grip on her throat, the black cock digging into the small of her back. How could she not 'feel him.'

He released her neck, his hand massaging her shoulders once more. Tahira couldn't deny it to herself anymore. She was falling in love with this man. It was wrong, stupid, showing her to be even more immature than him in fact. He at least had the excuse of being twenty-two. At thirty-five and a mother of two, she should know better. But the heart never listens to reason.