Indian Fantasy

I'm a divorced white guy in my forties, but I had always had a thing about Indian and Pakistani women, or for that matter almost any woman with long dark hair and dark brown eyes. Living in a large city with a large immigrant population meant plenty of opportunity to look at them, some of them fairly westernized and integrated, working in regular jobs, but many traditionally dressed, totally unattainable and all the more attractive for that – looking was about all that was possible. Many was the day, or night, when I fantasised about getting closer to one of these goddesses.

In my place of work, there were two female Asian employees; Fatima was enormously overweight and scarred with acne, appeared to shave her chin, and with a personality that was worse than her appearance – I guess there has to be an exception to prove the rule. The other, Sally, was not unattractive, I guess, but was so westernized that she seemed to have gone to great lengths to eradicate everything Asian about herself. She wore modern clothes, cut her hair short, and even wore blue contact lenses most days. Somehow, it all made her less desirable in my eyes. I tried chatting her up nonetheless, but never got any encouragement.

Fortunately for me, a few years ago a top-shelf magazine appeared which featured only Asian models, in varying states of undress. I hadn't bought magazines like this since my teens, but couldn't resist the occasional purchase of this publication, to sit for hours drooling and masturbating over some of the beauties in it. It was a release of sorts, but only served to increase my sense of frustration at not being able to get the real thing. They stocked the magazine in my local newsagents, but as I was a regular there and knew the proprietors quite well, I didn't feel able to buy my copy there, feeling that they (or any of my neighbours who saw me with a copy in my hand) would consider me some kind of pervert. As a result, I only bought it when I was away from my own neighbourhood.

One Sunday I had been over to the far side of the city to a furniture warehouse, and was driving home when I saw a newsagents and general store open. "Here's a chance", I thought. I parked the car and went inside. Great, the shop was empty. My luck was in, the magazine was there – I reached up for a copy and walked purposefully to the till to pay and get out of there fast. I almost stopped in my tracks when I looked up and saw a young Asian woman standing behind the counter. I pulled myself together and put the magazine on the counter, and reached into my pocket for my money, keeping my eyes on the counter the whole time, trying not to meet her gaze.

"You like Indian woman?"

I almost fled the shop there and then. I looked up, though, fully expecting to be embarrassed by a challenging glare. What I saw instead was a pair of beautiful soft brown eyes, after which I noticed the sweetest half-smiling mouth. The next thing I noticed was that the owner of these features was clearly even more nervous than I was, and was trembling slightly.

"Um – yes," I said, unable somehow to deny it. She looked down shyly.

"Have you –," she hesitated, her voice trembling. Even her imperfect English was endearing. "Have you ever, um, with Indian woman?" It was clearly costing her a huge effort to ask these questions. She was nervously rubbing her slender hands together. I looked further – she was petite and slim, probably in her early twenties. She had long black hair tied in a high ponytail, and was traditionally dressed in a bright salwaar kameez over which she wore a very homely cardigan, with gold bangles on her wrist and gold around her neck, as well as rings on her wedding finger. Her skin was smooth and fair, her face perfect without a trace of makeup. On her upper lip and in front of her delicate ears was beautiful soft downy hair.

"No. No, I haven't" I said, wondering why I was even discussing the subject, let alone admitting this.She wrung her hands even more, her breathing becoming faster, revealed by the rise and fall of her chest.

Eventually, she blurted out "Do you wish to?" I could hardly believe my ears, though I was uncertain whether this was a general enquiry or an offer.

"Well, yes, I guess…" I was left in no doubt which it was. She skipped out from behind the counter to the shop door. She drew the bolts, and turned the sign to 'Closed'.

She ran back across the shop, took my hand in hers. "Come."

I stood and gaped at her. "But – isn't there anyone else here? What about customers?"

"Father-in-law and mother-in-law have gone warehouse for stock, not be back maybe one hour. My husband and his brother go to London. Customers I not care. Come."

I followed her though a door behind the counter, past boxes full of stock and up a narrow staircase, my mind still in a daze. Was this really happening? We went into a room which contained little more than a thick carpet, a full-length mirror and a large bed. She closed the door and flung her arms around my neck, standing on tiptoe to bring her face near mine. I put my hands on her shoulders. She smelled great – no perfume, no deodorant, just of woman, clean woman, with a hint of spices from her cooking.

"Wait, I – but, why…?" I was lost for words. Here I was, presented with my fantasy, and I was asking questions! But I needed to know something about her at least. She kissed me softly on the lips. For the first time I noticed I'd got a raging erection. She pulled her face away a little. She seemed to sense what I needed.

"My name Jaswinder. I come here from India since two years to marry my husband. He show me sex when I come first, but he get angry we not make baby. Since then he not fuck me, he go drinking with men. He is a pig. I want fuck so much, and you look nice. I good girl, not do this before, you look good man." She looked at me pleadingly.

I needed no more. I bent down to kiss her, and suddenly our mouths were locked together, tongues entwined, her breathing heavy as she writhed against me. My hands moved to her small buttocks, pulling her against my erection. We broke for breath, and I shrugged my jacket off as she removed her cardigan. She began to undo my shirt buttons with nimble fingers, while I kneaded her breast in my hand. Soon she was kissing my chest, whilst undoing my belt – she was a woman in a hurry, and at that point I remembered her words: "maybe one hour". This was no time to think about that – my trousers fell to my knees, and with gentle hands she released my aching cock from my boxers. I slipped my shirt off as she knelt and gently licked my balls, up the shaft, before taking a surprising amount of me in her sweet little mouth. I groaned in ecstasy, before gently pulling her to her feet. I ran my hand over her face, down her long slender neck and onto her chest. I started to slide a finger down the neckline of her dress, and as before Jaswinder read my mind, pulling it over her head in one swift movement, revealing a gorgeous little body and a desperately old fashioned and ill-fitting bra. On her it looked too sexy for words. I turned her to face away from me, and caught sight of her in the mirror. As I kissed her neck, I saw the fine hairs forming a 'V' all the way down her back. I unhooked the clasps of her bra, slid the straps from her shoulders, and watched in the mirror as her breasts gradually came into view, small, round and firm, with large nipples not much darker then the soft skin of her breasts. I caressed the nipples with my fingers, and she closed her eyes and shivered. With one hand I reached down and slowly undid the bow at her waist, until her baggy salwar fell to the floor, and she stepped out of them to face me. My heart was hammering as I looked her up and down, this goddess of my wildest fantasy. I removed my trousers and shoes, and held her in my arms and kissed her again, feeling her firm little breasts crushing into my chest.

She led me to the bed, her in only her pants and me in my boxers, with my protruding cock looking bigger than I could ever remember. We lay side by side, and within seconds were kissing again with incredible force for such a delicate thing, while she grasped my shaft in her hand and I fondled her breasts roughly. I pushed off my boxers, then slid her pants slowly down to her feet, revealing an unshaven cunt with a naturally tidy triangle of pubic hair, framing lips so swollen with arousal that she was opening like a flower, desperate to be entered. I buried my face between her legs. At first she seemed taken aback, and I guessed her husband wasn't in the habit of reciprocating with the oral sex, but soon her thighs parted and my tongue found her entrance, warmer and wetter than any I'd ever experienced, with a taste of the spices I had smelled on her. As I found her clitoris, she began to moan and squirm, clasping her hands to the back of my head, until she suddenly convulsed with the first orgasm she had been given in a long time.

"Now fuck me please, quick, fuck me." I moved up the bed to lay on her, my cock entering her with almost no resistance. As I watched her beautiful face, cheeks flushed pink, whilst I supported myself on my hands, I pushed into her all the way. This was my fantasy – buried up to my balls in a dark and mysterious beauty, both of us in ecstasy.

"Fuck hard now" she prompted me, and I began with slow deep thrusts, gradually speeding up and fucking her with such force the bed shook noisily, gradually drowned out by her gasping, calling out in her own language and finally screaming as we both reached a simultaneous boiling climax, and I unloaded so much into her little cunt that it overflowed onto the bed.

We lay exhausted for a moment, until she suddenly sprang from the bed and started collecting her clothes and throwing me mine.

"Go now please, they will come" she urged, and soon I was running down the stairs, and was ushered out of a back door into the street. I turned to say something, I don't know what, but she put up a hand and said "Go. Thank you".

As I sat in my car, gathering my thoughts, three things crossed my mind: I hope she remembers to do something about that damp patch on the bed; My God! What if she wasn't using any contraception?; Shit, I left my magazine behind.