Girls Just want to Have Fun Ch. 01

Ch. 1: You're a hot and sexy woman

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This story spans several years and three countries - India, Germany and Egypt. Chronologically, it opens at the very end. Everything else is a long flashback that zigzags between the three countries and all those years.

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"You are a hot and sexy woman" said Riya from the back seat of the car. She was speaking to my wife Poonam who was seated next to me in the front seat.

It was almost midnight, and we were driving home from a party, with a detour to first drop Riya at her residence. As a divorcee in Delhi, Riya had to be careful about driving alone at night. And she had to be extra careful because she is also very beautiful. Five feet six inches tall, with a voluptuous hourglass figure toned to perfection by yoga, lustrous thick hair worn open below the shoulder, and with the clear skin, dark expressive eyes and full mouth framed by a perfect heart shaped face that betrayed her Bengali ancestry, Riya was every man's wet dream. In her mid forties on that night, she had a sensual maturity that added body to the bouquet of her beauty. She looked no older than thirty two or thirty three. maybe less.

When we first got to know her, well before this story really began, she was still on her way to that divorce. As friends, all of us naturally pitched in to try and help patch the two back together again. Slowly it became apparent that sexual incompatibility was the major reason for their drifting apart. She confessed to Poonam one drunken evening that she had decided to divorce her husband because he had become both too boring and too envious of her rising success as a fashion entrepreneur. And then she asked Poonam if she was happy with her love life.

'Pretty much." Poonam had replied, a little embarrassed.

"What keeps the fires burning and the earth moving?" asked Riya.

"Well, we're past that." Poonam had replied with a smile." We're into married sex now. Maybe you should try it."

Although Poonam and I had never explicitly discussed it, sex was possibly the most important part of our marital relationship. Since we had been married for some years and had two kids, our sex life had settled into the easy familiarity of married sex, as Poonam had described it. For us, married sex meant two unspoken rules, which we had arrived at heaven knows how. The first rule was that on every night possible we would get naked and spend some time cuddling each other, with me inside her for at least a few minutes if possible. Neither of us needed to orgasm or even move much, but I must needs be inside her for some time. And the second rule was that we could talk about anything we wanted while coupled like that, unless it was something very stressful for either of us. So our conversations veered off at all kinds of tangents in bed. We had even discussed the price of vegetables while joined quite tightly at the hip.

"Not a chance." declared Riya emphatically. "Bikram is a lot more tight-assed than Ashok. Like I said, he's too boring and he's becoming too envious of my success in the fashion business."

I discussed that statement later with Poonam one night when were lying in bed naked and very relaxed.

"I can understand what Riya meant by Bikram becoming envious" I said. "But what did she mean by too boring? He can be quite the life and soul of a party and has lots of interests."

My wife smiled fondly at me, in that way which always makes me feel I'm a eight year old asking a stupid question.

"Dear Ashok" she replied. "You're very sweet and nice."

She pushed me onto my back and rolled on top of me, and kissed me softly a couple of times.

"Riya's very romantic" she said.

"Romantic?" I chuckled." I thought sex came first with her."

Poonam pushed herself up on one elbow and looked sternly at me. Her soft breasts touched my chest.

"That's just the trouble with you men." she said with mock severity."You don't even try to understand. You think romance only means love, flowers, chocolates, marriage, children. That sort of thing."

"No? Then what does it mean." I asked amusedly.

"Romance is the experience of anything that is different and attractive. Books can be romantic. A painting. Or a song. Or travel. Or simply the colour of something. Anything that touches the heart. Or the soul."

I squeezed her buttocks and pushed her crotch down over mine.

She gasped briefly and resumed.

"Poetry is romantic. You know my favorite poem" and she recited it while kissing me softly.

"Therefore let the moon

Shine on thee in thy solitary walk;

And let the misty mountain winds be free

To blow against thee: and in after years,

When these wild ecstasies shall be matured

Into a sober pleasure, when thy mind

Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,

Thy memory be as a dwelling-place

For all sweet sounds and harmonies;"*

I reached down and stroked her clitoris with my finger.

"Thank you for the literature lesson. And this? Is this connected to your soul?"

She laughed, richly and sensuously.

"With a thick hard rod" she said, and started to kiss me deeply. Then she drew back a little.

"Don't you want to taste the connection to my soul?"

At that, I moved my mouth to her nipples. Poonam's nipples were large, and I loved licking and sucking them. Poonam liked to be woken up slowly to passion. I worked on her nipples and slowly her breath started coming faster as her nipples became hard and erect.

She turned her body and took my penis into her mouth. I pushed my face between her thighs and started to lick and suck her vagina and clitoris. That night Poonam was unusually passionate and really worked on my penis and didn't stop even when she could sense I was about to come. She had already had one shuddering orgasm when I exploded into her mouth. She swallowed it all.

We lay together for a while catching our breath.

"See" she said." Romance is fun. Now go to sleep."

Over time we discovered was that Riya was one of the most open-minded and emancipated Indian women we had ever met. She was remarkably liberated when talking about sex and matters sexual with good friends. For some reason, she trusted Poonam and me a lot and many of our conversations included discussing the most intimate matters. Our times spent with her were always punctuated by gales of laughter as she said something particularly outrageous or racy.

We lost touch with Riya for a while as we relocated to Germany for three years on work. Both Poonam and I had successful careers which we had planned and worked on carefully, and that stint in Germany was particularly well executed. When we moved back, Riya had become very well known in the fashion industry in Delhi, and was very busy. But not too busy to meet us with a variety of boyfriends, all of whom lasted only a short time and who could all be described by the single word hunk. Riya had once told Poonam that she first checked out a man on what he could be like below the waist, before then moving on to figuring out what he was like above the neck. Poonam only smiled mysteriously at me and refused to answer when I asked what Riya's minimum preferred size was.

We were all in our late thirties at that time, and in their thirties and forties people like to socialize and party a lot, and we were no exception.

"Fashion queen living larger than life and twice as natural" said Poonam admiringly to Riya during one Saturday night party.

That Lewis Carrol quote was typical of Poonam. My wife was the quintessential bluestocking. Very intelligent, very well read, extremely successful as a bureaucrat, Poonam was an intellectual and not self conscious about it. While she had a wicked sense of humour, she was generally more comfortable talking about the serious side of life, politics, or discussing books and poetry and movies and the like, rather than mindless chatter. She and Riya had become quite close over the years.

"This fashion queen likes living life king size" laughed Riya with an amused glance at me.

That night at the party, for some reason, everyone got a little more drunk than usual. Amidst loud laughter all round, we found ourselves talking about condom sizes. As it so happened, I had a business friend who was a condom manufacturer. When I mentioned this, there were shouts of laugher followed by the obvious questions. Which country had the largest and which the smallest and so on.

"It's not length that matters, according to my friend." I informed the gathering like a professor. 'It's the diameter and circumference. And I'm sorry to say, Indians are apparently among the smallest on that count."

More laughter. So who was the thickest?

"Well obviously, the Africans and the Brazilians." I went on." In Europe and America the average circumference that fits is generally between four and a half inches to five inches. Except in Russia, where it's apparently between five and five and half inches."

Riya was sitting next to Poonam. Now she put one arm round Poonam's shoulder.

"Poonam and I are going on our next holiday to either Africa, Brazil or Russia." she announced to raucous laughter.

"Ashok, you should see your face. It's priceless" she cried, convulsed with giggles.

"Don't worry, he's got a good sense of humour" said Poonam with a smile at me.

Let me describe Poonam. As I said, she's quite a bluestocking and tends to emphasize her personality over her looks on feminist principle, as she says. Nevertheless, she had large soft breasts that sat well on her five foot seven frame, with very shapely legs and a still firm derriere, kept in shape by yoga and workouts. She is particularly proud of her stomach, which is still flat after two kids. She wears spectacles, which accentuate her bluestocking personality, but her mouth is wide and laughs easily. She wears her hair short these days, but on that night, the condom night as I always call it, she was wearing her hair cut shoulder length and left open.

When we had said our goodbyes and gotten into our car, Poonam spoke, looking straight ahead.

"Can you drive a little fast, please? I want to get home."

As soon as we had reached and checked that our kids were asleep, Poonam practically attacked me in the bedroom. We tore our clothes off while kissing each other wildly in a way that we hadn't for a long time. When we fell onto the bed, Poonam took my penis in her mouth and devoured it with a ferocity she had rarely displayed before. She took it deeper into her mouth than I could remember, and in a very short time, she had me gasping and coming uncontrollably into her mouth. She swallowed every last drop.

Then she dragged my face down to her vagina, and it was clear what she expected. Not that I minded. Poonam's vagina was surprisingly small for a tall woman like her, and pink and tight. I loved licking and sucking her small bud of a clitoris. But tonight she insisted on more.

'Put two fingers in also" she gasped. "Three. Twist it"

Then she exploded in one of the most intense orgasms I could ever remember. But she didn't rest on her laurels. In short order my penis was back in her mouth and I was hard again in less time than I could have imagined. Then she got on top and rode me like a woman possessed. This time I lasted longer. She came twice, flinging her body back, the second time as I too lost my control and came pumping my penis up frantically. She collapsed on top of me, both of us sweating and gasping for breath.

"Wow." I said.

She raised her head and kissed me softly.

"I can get used to that kind of romance". I said.

She gave a soft and sexy chuckle.

"It's fun. Romance is fun." she said. "Girls just want to have fun."

But it was she who slept off first. I lay on my back and wondered at that storm of passion. The thought came to me. Was it because of that condom conversation, I wondered? Then I thought to myself, that's really stupid. Poonam is really too smart and level headed for that sort of thing. Besides, I knew I hadn't anything to worry about, really. I knew my penis was exactly six inches long and a little more than four and a half inches in circumference. All men measure themselves! European standard, I smiled to myself, definitely both longer and thicker than the Indian average.

All this I recalled in fragments as we drove Riya home on the night I wrote about in the beginning of this tale.

Then Riya spoke again.

"Poonam, you're a hot and sexy woman, and you look much younger than your age. You'll never have any problem getting men."

"Haha" replied Poonam. "It's Ashok who never has any problems getting women."

"What nonsense." I said. " If you remember, Poonam, we counted thirty five men who have hit seriously on you during the years we've been married. And that doesn't include the ones I don't know about when she was overseas."

"Wow." said Riya. "That's quite a few. And you've been okay with that, Ashok?"

"What can I say?" I responded. " I don't blame the men. My wife is hot and sexy, like you said."

At this, Poonam slapped me playfully.

"And of course, it does wonders for your ego, right, Ashok?" continued Riya. "She's still with you after thirty five men hit seriously on her. All men have egos" she added with a giggle.

Then she went on.

"So would you like to join us on our all girls cruise, Ashok?" she laughed." Are you sure your ego can take it?"

Earlier that evening, some of the women had rather drunkenly decided to go an a Mediterranean cruise without their husbands. Needless to say, the idea had been Riya's. The cruise she had in mind, she explained with a completely fake look of innocence to the women already hysterical with laughter, featured room service by waiters dressed only in Speedos.

I laughed it off.

"Are you sure you want me around when all those Speedos are waiting on you?"

But I thought to myself: Why not be around this time?

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