Fareeda

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I talked to Fareeda for a year before she would talk about sex. I had met her online, and then she had come to visit me for a platonic weekend. We kept in touch over chat and phone.

“Do you masturbate?” I blurted once, after a few beers.

A long silence.

“What brought that on?”

“Come on, everyone masturbates. Why don’t you want to talk about sex? You know, 100 million people right this very minute are having sex.”

“Don’t you think it’s private?”

“Yes. But we’ve been friends for a year.”

“Don’t you think it would embarrass me?”

“It shouldn’t. Come on, yes or no. Do you masturbate?”

It took a while. Then, she said maybe. And then we were finally talking about sex.

I asked about her fantasies, and she wouldn’t really say. So I described mine, and toned them down for her, using clinical language.

“I like a lot of kissing, touching, gently stroking the face, and the underside of the arms, and kissing the breasts. I love oral sex, both ways. I’m pretty conventional about positions, I like missionary and the woman on top. I’ll experiment with others when I’m in the mood.”

That was it.

This was a shy, conservative Muslim girl.

But the next day she sent me a short email. “All I can think about are your hands and mouth on my breasts. My pussy is wet…”

The next phone call, I asked her to say “pussy” and “cock” for me, and she wouldn’t. But the next day she did. After a few more calls, she masturbated for me on the phone. We masturbated together. I was talking dirty by now.

She came to visit me for four days. She was distant and shy when she arrived; we had dinner after I picked her up from airport. I showed her room and bathroom and left her to it. Later, I offered her into a massage. She wouldn’t undress completely. She laid down prone on the bed in her sensible gray bra and panties.

She had thin black hair. She wore glasses and looked like a very capable, sensible schoolteacher. She was short, maybe 5′ 1″. She had some weight on her, probably an extra twenty pounds, but it suited her–big breasts, wide hips.

I started massaging her back with kurtuluş escort some warmed-up lotion. I unsnapped her bra. She gasped, but there was no more resistance.

“If there’s anything in particular you like, let me know?”

“Like what?”

“Oh, any particular areas that are tense or need attention.”

I massaged her back, moving outward from the spine. Then I gently massaged her scalp. She seemed to like that. And then her arms, taking time to caress the underside of her arms. And her fingers and feet and legs and so on for twenty minutes.

I poured a liberal dab of lotion, rubbed my hands, and slipped both hands in the gusset of her panties. I started massaging her butt. She tensed up immediately and clenched. I massaged her butt and brushed her crack but was careful not to go near her asshole. She relaxed. I started to slip her panties off and she immediately clamped her legs together. I kept going anyway and managed to get the panties off. They were very wet. I took a sniff. She smelled strong.

I continued massaging her butt, while slowly pushing her legs apart with my knees. She wanted to cooperate but she wanted to seem like she wasn’t. After a few minutes I could spy her pussy. It was very wet. The black hair was matted and wet, and her inner thighs glistened. Her pussy was a straight slit—no protrusions at all. I slipped a hand between her legs and started to caress her clit and pussy.

Her breathing was becoming rapid. I turned her over and dove in, lapping it up, quickly before she could protest, but I needn’t have worried. She spread her legs, pulling her left knee up with her arm. She tasted nice.

She tensed up when she came but didn’t utter a sound. I wiped my face and moved up to kiss her.

I said, “Did you enjoy that?”

Almost inaudibly, “Yes.”

I slipped my shorts off and moved her hand to my cock. She didn’t resist, but she also didn’t do anything.

Sigh. This was work.

I had been hard for quite some time. I positioned my cock at the entrance of her pussy.

“Do you want this?”

No answer.

“Do you want me to put levent escort it in?”

She nodded, just barely. I wasn’t going to waste anymore time and I slipped in. She was very tight but she was also very slick.

She cried out, “It hurts!”

Wait a minute, I’m thinking.

“Are you a virgin?” I asked, incredulous.

“Maybe”

Wow, she was 42. Well, cool, I’ve had very few virgins.

I let her get used to it and then slowly started pumping. Her brow was furrowed for a while and then she began to relax. She responded when I kissed her but other than that she moved very little. She tensed and tightened, and I knew she came. I didn’t last long and I came inside her.

I lied down and I pulled her to my chest. I started stroking her hair. I caressed her cheek.

I said, “You enjoyed that, right? You’ll enjoy it a lot more if you relax, open up. Just let go.”

After a while, she said, “I don’t know how to do that. I’ve always been shy.”

“Don’t think about it. Just be present. Just aware. Be here and now. Don’t think, just feel.”

I moved my hand to her pussy and she immediately clamped her thighs but quickly opened them up, remembering. I knew her pussy would be too sensitive right now, so I gently stroked the crease where the thigh meets her pussy, on both sides. After a bit, I slipped a finger into her. Then another. I gently put them in and out. I moved my fingers to her mouth. She pursed her lips tightly. I stroked her lips gently with the slickness.

“Taste,” I said, “It’s you and me.”

She opened a little. She flicked her tongue quickly at my fingers and made a face.

“Yuck. It’s bitter.”

“Take it anyway. You get used to it. It’s good for your skin.”

She was little sensitive about her skin. It looked and felt fine to me but she believed she didn’t have good skin.

“Really?”

She lapped at my fingers.

“You’re right, it’s not too bad.”

“Did you like it when licked your cunt?”

There was a momentary shock at cunt, but she went with it. She nodded.

“Would you do that for me?”

“You want me to lick maçka escort you?”

“I want you to suck my cock. I want to come in your mouth.”

She did, and I did.

She took to wearing a thin, short T-shirt whenever she visited my house. It was nice—I could get quick glimpses of her dark pussy whenever she opened her legs or bent over. We would watch TV and she would sit opposite me and flash me. I loved pulling her to me, rubbing her butt, and slipping a finger inside her wet pussy from behind. She was always wet.

She learned quickly, and in a month she was ferocious, even aggressive. She doesn’t do it often, but whenever she’s in the mood, she wants to be tied up and humiliated. I once tied her to an arm chair, facing the support, so her butt was hanging out. It was a beautiful spread. She had taken to shaving her pussy and the contrasting darkness of her asshole and pussy were delectable.

“Let me up,” she said, “I have to pee.”

“No.”

We had a safe word. If she really wanted to get up she could just say India.

“If you don’t let me up I’ll pee in your chair.”

“If you pee in my chair I’ll fuck you in the ass.”

We had talked about anal sex and she had not wanted to try it, saying a finger is all she could take, and that was when she was very excited.

She let go. She peed in the chair. She looked at me and grinned.

I tried to look upset. I wasn’t. For one thing, I was amazed at the metamorphosis of the conservative 42 year. And of course this meant she wanted to try ass-fucking.

I was already naked and hard and got behind her.

“I’m going to fuck you in your ass you filthy whore. I can’t believe you peed in my armchair.”

I was gentle but it did hurt her. We tried a few times but it was too much. Over the next couple of weeks, I did manage to fuck her in the ass. Every once in while, when she’s really into it, she’d want it in the ass.

What I loved about her the most was that she always wanted me to come in her mouth. Maybe it was that skin thing. I’ll have to remember that.

A few months later I broke up with her. She was very hurt. That’s the thing with virgins; she thought she was in love because I was her first.

She calls on my birthdays. She’s married to a Pakistani doctor now. Sometimes she’ll slip into it, and tell me how boring her sex life is, but I think she’s mostly happy. She’s playing the role of a good Muslim wife.

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