Asma's Eyes Are Opened Ch. 02

Her words came out in a rush. "I know what must be done - I will give in my notice at the shop."

Her husband paused, seemed again to be surprised. "Do you wish to leave there?"

"I, well no but..."

"Then you must not. The responsibility for all this lies with me, with my failings. My only concern is about this man, can you be sure about him? Tell me again all that you know about him."

Asma again told her husband about Tony and about the three occasions on which she had encountered him and his women. As she spoke she knew that Afsar was watching her intently, his eyes bright and his attention focused sharply on her. She remembered that look - that intensity. It had been many years since she had seen it in her husband, certainly not since things had gone wrong with his business.

"Promise me that you will tell me anything that this man does." Afsar moved forward and took her in his arms, pulling her close to him. "If he is a danger to you then we will act. Otherwise I suppose I must pay the price for marrying so beautiful a woman." Asma tried to process his words even as his lips found hers, even as she felt the bulge in his trousers pushed against her, even as he led her to the bedroom.

***

Afsar grunted and panted, the sweat already beading on his brow. He was not as young and fit as he had once been. He was also very excited, excited by his wife as he had not been for many years. He knew that he wanted to hold off but he also knew that he could not. He groaned once more and came before collapsing winded onto his wife.

Asma groaned too, but silently. It had been so exciting to see her husband once more like that, as they had been when they were younger. Taking her to bed to claim her as his wife! That hadn't happened since their son was born! It had been exciting, invigorating. She had begun to feel the desire and passion flow through her and then...

Afsar stirred and eased his weight off her. It was just as well that he was a slight man - if he had been Tony he might have crushed her. Asma felt the sudden intoxicating rush of feelings through her as she imagined that it had been Tony with her. It was momentary but it could not be denied. She let out a long shuddering breath as she fought to bring her thoughts back under control.

She shot a guilty glance at her husband and saw that he was watching her intently.

"You are thinking about him?"

She didn't know what to answer, felt the guilt and the shame of it. Thinking of another man, a Black man, while lying beside her husband in their marital bed. Only a whore would do such a thing.

Afsar's hands found her and gently held her. She heard his voice whispered into her ear.

"Tell me about him Is he a bigger man than me?"

Afsar was only an inch or two taller than she was. She nodded and then whispered, "'Yes."

She felt the warmth of his body behind her as she lay on her side. Again his voice, intense with emotion, was in her ear.

"Is he stronger than me?"

Afsar was slightly-built and had worked in an office or behind a counter all his life. Tony was a big man and worked out, every movement displaying the power of his muscles. "Yes," she said, felling her mouth suddenly becoming dry.

"Is he younger than me?"

Tony was no teenager - but he was a man absolutely in his prime. That mix of power and experience. Asma again felt her body reacting to just the thought of the man. "Yes."

"Is he a handsome man - do you find him attractive, more attractive than me?" She hesitated and then felt his lips gently kissing her ear, felt his cock hard again at her back. For her husband to have recovered so soon after having sex. Even when he was a younger man...

"Tell me. Please..." His voice was insistent, but now also pleading. He wasn't accusing her. This was something else.

She didn't want to hurt him. "You are very different but..." one last hesitation and then she allowed it to come forth, "..but he is a very handsome man. Not as you are - in a different way." She tried to prevent it but knew her voice had tailed off. Afsar was a good man, a good husband - like a comfortable favourite garment. But some things Afsar was not and could not be - he was not handsome and exciting like... like Tony.

"So this young strong handsome Black man desires my beautiful wife." She felt his body move and then his cock was first against her and then pushing back into her. He began slow thrusts, all the time his hot breath in her ear, his words finding her.

"You think he has imagined what I am feeling now? The perfection of my beautiful wife." His hands found her breasts, holding then as he made love to her. She felt enfolded into him, his male presence. One again she felt her excitement starting to rise. It had been so long!

The tone of his voice shifted a little. "Imagine that it WAS him. Your big strong Black admirer here in your bed with you - his big Black cock claiming you. That he, Tony, was here and fucking you - fucking you as a beautiful woman should be fucked, fucking you as I never could."

Afsar was a very clean-minded man. He very rarely swore, only at the greatest provocation or, as Asma now realised, when he was very, very, excited. That excitement had made its way into his love-making. The gentle strokes had become fast lunging ones. Full of passion and desire for her but still lacking something. They took her so far but only so far. It was good but she knew that there could be more.

She needed it and so she followed her husband's whispered instruction. She closed her eyes and imagined that the hands on her breasts were Tony's hands, that the lips at her ear were Tony's lips, that the cock in her pussy was not Afsar's slim brown dick but rather Tony's Big Black Cock. That it was Tony claiming her - expressing his desire for her - fucking her. Fucking her as a man of his potency and experience could, fucking her as a man like her husband could never do.

She gave a little gasp and then a long shuddering cry. Felt the passion and desire flood through her, capturing every part of her and building towards another, greater, peak. As her husband continued to make love to her the dam finally broke and she cried out. "Fuck me Tony, FUCK ME!!!" A second or too later she heard her husband grunt again as he came.

They said no more, just lay there together with his arms enfolding her. What was there to be said? Each had revealed a part of themselves that had previously been hidden, each had enjoyed the consequences. The next morning Asma tried to raise the situation but her husband had raised his hand.

"Just tell me all that Tony does and says. Promise me."

As a husband he could have been demanding the information as his by right. Instead it was almost a plea.

"I promise," she replied.

***

"But when you are married..."

"Mum," replied Rubina, "first of all I am not planning on getting married quite yet..."

She left the rest unsaid but Asma really didn't need it spelling out again. It wasn't like they hadn't had the conversation many times before.

Asma had grown up in Hyderabad, her daughter had grown up in London. There was a big difference there. Their homes might have been similar but their schools and surroundings had been worlds apart.

Her daughter was a beautiful young woman, even allowing for the natural bias of being viewed through a mother's eyes. She was also a young woman who saw no reason to conceal her beauty. Her long dark hair was tied back, her trim figure shown off to the best advantage by her well-tailored business outfit.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Asma asked.

"Do you want to know?" her daughter replied, a slight smile at the edges of her mouth.

It was always like that when they first met. A friendly little fencing match between two women who were so close in many ways and so different in some others. Asma had always felt a stronger connection to Rubina than to her other daughter Samreen. It was strange because Samreen had come much closer to following her mother's path, the path of tradition. Rubina was very much her own woman - a woman of the world in which she had always lived, the Western world. Now she was starting her career in the City - something of which any mother could be proud but...

It was not Asma's tradition for a woman to operate independently, to make her own money and her own career. She worried that Rubina might struggle to find a good Muslim husband who could look after her and her children.

"How are things with you and Dad?" The question cut through Asma's thoughts. She knew her daughter was asking about money and not... other things. She felt some heat in her cheeks. Thank goodness for that at least.

"We are alright I think. I have my job and Afsal is working hard for Mr Suraj. It isn't easy but..." She gestured with her hand.

"Well you know..." Rubina also let her sentance fade out unfinished and simply nodded her head. It was gently done but Asma still felt the sting. Her daughter was just starting out but already offering them financial help if they needed it. What irony! Hadn't she just been thinking about how Rubina needed a man to look after her. Yet Afsal had left them perhaps needing such help. It hadn't been his fault but still...

"Shall I introduce you to some of my friends. They'd love to meet you." Rubina was being tactful. Hurrying them on from so necessary but embarrassing a subject.

They went to a very expensive-looking establishment and Asma was introduced to a number of Rubina's colleagues. They were uniformly young, uniformly confident and uniformly well turned-out. Other than that they spanned genders, ethnicities and creeds. It was a world much more cosmopolitan than that of Rubina's parents and Asma took the subtle message. She understood that her daughter existed and thrived in this world. It was a good thing but sometimes it worried her.

"I brought your usual - can I get you anything Mrs Hashmihad?"

Asma looked up - startled out of her thoughts. A tall young man in a smart business suit was smiling at her, his warm dark eyes twinkling as he observed her. Asma was looking at the glasses that he had placed on the table.

Rubina pushed her own glass in front of her mother. "Try it - they have a good line of these here for those of us who don't drink alcohol. It's not just us who have to adapt sometimes." The younger woman allowed her eyebrow to rise a little and Asma knew that her daughter had been reading her thoughts.

Asma cautiously picked up the glass and sipped. It tasted very pleasant, very refreshing. She raised the glass to her lips again.

"I guess I'll get another then," laughed the young man as he handed his own untasted glass to Rubina.

As Asma thanked him she noticed the glance between the young man and her daughter. They were clearly good friends but were they only friends? She realised with a sudden intensity how such a prospect would have alarmed and shocked her only a few weeks ago.

Her daughter was watching her closely and Asma chose her words carefully.

"He seems ... a very nice young man. Are you good friends?"

Rubina didn't answer immediately, she paused and then very definitely said, "Yes, we are. Moussa is a really good guy." Her eyes were still fixed on her mother.

Asma didn't know what she would have said a month ago. Now, however, she simply nodded and smiled at Rubina. No more words needed to be spoken. The two women understood each other. Rubina might have been surprised to have avoided a potential crisis but she was self-possessed enough to hide it very well.

"Here we are..." He was back and placing his glass on the table.

"So your name is Moussa - that is unusual..." Asma could sense her daughter's eyebrows arching and mouth tensing. However, a mother needed to know such things!

Moussa didn't take it amiss. He simply gave a good-natured little laugh and smiled a brilliant smile. "Not so unusual in Gambia where my parents grew up. Not common here but change the spelling a little..."

Asma shared his smile. Moussa or Musa - they were a little different but still basically the same. A name she knew very well, a good Islamic name. Again she didn't have to be watching her daughter to know what she was doing. The smile and the shared glance with Moussa.

A month ago she would have been horrified that her daughter might have a Black boyfriend, a boyfriend from outside of their tradition. Now...

***

"OH FUCK - you are so fucking good at that!"

She would have known the voice even if she couldn't see what was happening. The mellifluous lilting Edinburgh tones of Tash. Her legs up on Tony's shoulders, the Black man's mouth at her pussy, teasing her and then driving her emotions to an ever higher pitch.

Asma again found herself pressed against the flimsy partition of the office, her eyes fixed to the small slot that she had discovered cut there. She again felt the blood pumping through her body, her reaction to what was happening in the office, to the obvious intensity of Tash's pleasure from Tony's skilled lovemaking.

"Don't make we wait Tony - pleeeeaasseeeee give it to meeeeeee."

Tony rose up from his position between Tash's legs. He smiled and slowly undid his belt, then let his trousers fall to the floor.

"Yes." Asma heard herself say the word as Tony's cock was exposed to her gaze. She had seen it before and it was as she remembered. Big and Black and hard.

Tony stepped forward and gently tapped his big cock on the pale skin of Tash's belly. He eased forward letting his hard shaft slide forward. Tash's eyes were fixed on his cock, wide at the realisation of how deep he would be in her. Asma couldn't tear her eyes way either.

"Now Tony - now - please fuck me."

Tony just nodded and eased back before aligning himself and pushing the first couple of inches of his Big Black Cock home into Tash's wet inviting pussy.

"Yes ... Yes..." Tash's arms rose up to hold his sides. Tony smiled again and began a rolling rhythmn as his own hands pushed under Tash's top. Skilled fingers found her nipples and teased them to hardness.

Asma could stand it no longer. All that she was seeing - and all that she was feeling as a result of it. She knew she should feel shame but she could not help it. Her hand found its way into her clothing and finally she touched herself. She found herself wet, knew that she was ready. Her fingers played and teased, in time with the strokes of the big Black cock into Tash. She fought to stifle her own sounds - to let them be drowned out under the moans coming from Tash.

KNOCK - KNOCK - KNOCK.

Asma almost jumped up - despite the fact that she knew no-one could see her. Tony hardly reacted at all - he certainly didn't break the rhythmn of his fucking.

"Come in," he said loudly.

The door opened and a younger Black man came in. Asma seemed to recognise him. Behind him, hand in hand, was a woman in a smart suit. Asma realised that she could not distinguish the new woman's face as it seemed blurred.

Tony moved his hand and swept some files off the other end of his desk. The girl in the suit moved up and sat on the newly-cleared space as her man moved to undo her clothing.

Tony chuckled. "Yeah - that's right Moussa. Your girl's like Tash - once they get a taste they can never get enough. That's right ain't it Tash?"

The response was another long shuddering moan from Tash.

Asma didn't hear it. She had just processed what Tony had said, the name he had used. Suddenly she saw who the girl was who was now pulling down the younger man's trousers, her brown hand finding his already hard Black cock.

Asma gasped and stood up sharply, losing her balance in the tangle of her clothing. She lurched against the wall and - impossibly - the wall seemed to dissolve and propel her into the office.

"At last," said Tony, "about time you joined us." He reached out a hand towards Asma and she...

-

Asma lurched up in bed, beads of sweat on her forehead.

"Tony!"

The word seemed to echo in the quiet of her bedroom. She still wasn't sure she had really said it out loud until she felt a body move in close behind her.

"You are dreaming of him," softly whispered the voice of her husband. His hand reached around her body and touched her. "Dreaming of him has excited you..." There was no accusation in Afsar's tone, just a statement of fact. She felt him now hard against her back, felt his body shift its position and then felt him enter her. She needed it - she needed a man at that moment, she needed her husband.

She tried to allow herself to be enfolded into the moment, tried to allow her emotions and passions to build and crest as Afsar made love to her. Yet even as he did - and however much she tried - she only found herself wondering how it would be with Tony.