Emma Ch. 44

And soon Dalitha was in Salim’s bed. Amna left them, content that her role in this exchange was complete, and Dalitha was in a delirium of pleasure and ecstasy, orchestrated and excited by her aunt, who nonetheless ensured that only her tongue and none of her fingers violated her own vagina. Her nipples were damp with sweat and saliva; her mouth retained the taste of Salim’s mouth and the faint odour of herbs and spices, her taut young buttocks pressed against the silk sheets. She looked at Salim. Do I love you? she asked as she looked up at the vagina above her face, her tongue aching from the effort of licking that tender acid-smelling receptacle. Is it love I feel? She spasmed again, uncertain of the feelings and emotions that erupted inside her. If this is love, it’s not as I expected it? So animal. So physical. And she loved the taste of Salim’s skin. Salty and sweet. The curves of those thighs. The folds of the vagina. That freckled brown face, and the dark pupils in the bright eyes. And the hair with such a strange smell of its own as it fell onto her face and entangled with her own hair.

And in all this, Salim was strangely quiet. Her own thoughts were a confusion of lust, desire and guilt. At least, she thought, this kept her darling niece away from that disgusting Fluff. And yes, she did enjoy it. It was almost like the love she used to know from her darling Amna before she’d been corrupted by all her sex film friends. It was the innocent, non-penetrative love she’d enjoyed so much before. She felt some guilt and remorse from reflecting on how innocent her niece was. And the beauty of those slender thighs, those large reflective eyes. The smooth dark skin, tasting sweeter than even Amna.

It worried her slightly where all this would lead. What would happen next? Was this where Amna’s demands on her lovemaking with her sister end? But undeniably, it had resolved some of that strong feeling that had exploded inside her when Dalitha held her hand while they watched Amna and Fluff at play. That explosion of emotion and lust that both Amna and Fluff had noticed and which Amna had so mercilessly exploited. But was it wrong? Was this a sin?

Hardly, she mused, her teeth and lips nibbling gently on Dalitha’s clitoris, feeling her niece’s ecstatic spasms. How could something so beautiful, so wonderful, be sinful? Surely Allah would know that this was no sin, and in any case, being between women and within the sacred confines of family, how could this ever be seen as anything other than the purest of love.