Saras Pleasure : ( Part 1)

Hi! I am Suhail.Before shifting to America I have been working in an office which has equal number of females as males. Most girls are from middle-class backgrounds, with a lot of "moralistic" shit ingrained into them. But, one girl, Sara stands apart. She is pretty, slim (perhaps extra slim, except at places that matter), 5'3" tall without heels, and has bazookas that defy gravity.

It all started innocently, with both of us going for an appointment in another office around lunch time. As usual, the meeting lasted a few hours and both of us were hungry. On reaching the car, I suggested to Sara that we should have a snack at one of the Fast-food joints like Wimpys, MacDonalds or KFC nearby. Since she was not interested in burgers, we opted for KFC and ordered spicy-crispy chicken. Soon the conversation veered to life in college, boyfriends, etc. Sara told me that she has a lot of male friends - all in computer hardware, but, none of them can be called boyfriends. This was expected from an indian girl belonging to the middle-class, who waits till her parents select a suitable boy and then marry her off to a life she can do nothing about - happy or unhappy - the latter state being a result of either an indifferent husband or pestering in-laws.

She told me that her father had expired about two years back, and she was the eldest. Her household was dependent on her for expenses and she had a mother and two brothers. While she was not particularly concerned about her place in life and the responsibilities thrust on her, her brothers were a cause for concern, since both of them had dropped out from school and were doing practically nothing, except spending time with their friends - a set of nogoodniks. So, marriage was one thing far away from her mind, more so because of the fact that while she may not consider her life at home even remotely similar to her dreams and aspirations, but, she dreaded the thought of getting married and being controlled by her husband and his family, who may or may not love her. She wanted love, and not just being a receptacle for her husband's lust or a factory for producing his clones.

Sara, I found, even at the sweet age of 25, was intelligent and perceptive. As the discussion progressed, we found ourselves talking about subjects on the fringes of sex. For example, she said that she dressed conservatively because she had big boobs (she called them "choochees"), and travelling in buses meant attracting as little attention as possible to her obvious assets. She also informed me that she wore tight bras, since her choochees had a bounce to them when she walked. I noticed that while she was talking, she had moved her shoulders back and was displaying her obvious milky assets in their covers. Her nipples were peaked and combined with her cupid's bow lips eating the chicken drumstick by inserting it in her mouth, I could not help getting a hard-on. I told her so and she gave me a shy, coy smile - of a girl obviously pleased to turn-on a man. She added that she was very attracted to me, but, I was out-of-bounds, since I was her collegue and boos.
Anyway, while talking, the time flew so fast that we realised that it was evening, and she had to go back home. Since neither of us wanted to part immediately, I offered to drop her near her house. She sat in the car in the front seat, while I started driving. While driving, I saw her stealing glaces at my crotch, and I on the other hand, was very beholden by her beautiful mammaries which were jutting out, the nipples trying to bore a hole through her bra and shirt. She was crossing and uncrossing her long and slim legs, looking like an epitome of sexiness. Nothing happened, but, after having enjoyed each others' company so much, we decided to try and meet more often, outside the office. She was of course paranoid about someone seeing us together, so we decided that we will go for long drives when ever we managed to go out.

Soon, we started going out - driving out of the city in the evenings to the outskirts, talking about each other, our families, our problems and most important - our desires. She was a virgin and had heard a lot about sex, but, was inexperienced due to the strait-laced society that all middle-class homes belong to. Although I was attracted to her immensely and wanted desperately to fondle her beautiful boobs, kiss her passionately, caress her long shapely legs - and get into her panties as soon as possible, noting her inhibitions, I decided to take it slow. Otherwise too, sex and love, to me are emotions which are best satisfied if both the participants are equally involved. I wanted her at fever pitch and knew that neither the office, nor the city would offer us any opportunity where she could get rid of her inhibitions. During our talks, it was implicitly understood (and even vocalised sometimes) that no waves are to be created, which could rock any boat - my marriage, or, her chances of getting a good match. 

Sara, in many ways communicated her attraction to me, as did I - like taking the lint off my coat, or wiping a piece of food perched on my moustache - and I by caressing her back, and at times, while crossing a road, proprietorily putting my hand on her pretty ass to lead her across the road. I was in heaven when I gave small squeezes to her ass - firm and round, yet soooo soft to touch.

Opportunity presented itself in form of participation in an exhibition in Islamabad, where, our boss told us, the company had booked a stall and it had to be manned by Sara, while I attended the various seminars, and generally kept an eye on the enquiries generated through persons visiting the stall. In line with the ranking, I was to stay in a luxury deluxe Hotel, while Sara was booked into another Hotel nearby. The exhibition was at a Holyday Inn about a mile away. While she was thrilled with the idea of the trip, Sara still had to get over the hurdle of convincing her strait-laced mother to permit her to go. Thankfully her mother was convinced by our boss. So, as per the programme, I was to pick up Sara in my car in the morning and we would drive to Islamabad - a drive of 5 hours, which both of us looked forward to.

Finally the day dawned and we were on way to Islamabad. The journey was uneventful, except for the exhiliration both of us felt of being away from prying eyes and our hands were free to touch each other with implied intimacy, though over our clothes. Sara was in an excellent mood, this being a rare occasion when she left the environs of her city.

In the evening, straight from the exhibition Hall, we went for a drive and a walk through the bazaars of Islamabad. She had a lot of boxes containing literature about our products and a portable projector, which we kept in the car. We flirted as we talked. Now that we were away from all the people we knew in our city, Sara flirted with me outrageously. You will recall that I had mentioned that she usually dresses conservatively, but she has a few suits that show off her curves, causing me to forget what I was doing. She was wearing one tight shirt that day, which made her boobs shout out for a squeeze. I thought that Sara might be romantically interested in me but, because I did not want to wreck it, I didn’t take any actions to confirm my opinion.

On return to the Hotel, I still couldn’t stop thinking about the picture she made in that outfit with the top clinging to her generous breasts, her thin waist, and the seat brushing against her round, soft ass. I invited her for dinner at my Hotel, and she accepted. Since the literature and other stuff from the exhibition could not be left in the car, I suggested that we keep them in my room. After a few seconds of silence, she agreed provided I act as a gentleman, and do not take advantage of her once we are in the room. She was so enamoured by the luxury of the Hotel, never having been in such a place earlier, that she was gushing praises. 

In the room, I offered her a drink - knowing that she was averse to the smell of alcohol, I ordered a Screwdriver for her - vodka (no smell) and orange juice for the right amount of masking of the bitter taste. She was feeling thirsty and not knowing the effects of alcohol, gulped the entire drink down in ten minutes. She started stretching out her limbs - the classic "angdaai" (sexy stretch), which showed off her curves even more. I asked her "(Don't you ever feel the need for sex?)"? 
I do feel the need, but, how do I go about it sara told me.
I once again asked her Don't you play with your pussy?. She genuinely seemed to be shocked by the question and demurely said." Rubbing it at the top does give me pleasuable feelings. I did try to insert a toothbrush handle once, but, due to the pain, I had to satisfy myself by just rubbing the top of my pussy.

I kept finding myself thinking about how it would feel to kiss her, to suck her nipples into my mouth and pinch them between my teeth, to feel her warm hands on my cock as she slowly bathed it with her tongue and licked her lips at the taste of my pre-come, to slide my throbbing rod into her warm mouth, and to quench my desire by spattering my hot seed in her wet snugness. I tried to keep my mind in control, but it was futile. I kept on fantasizing about the aroma of Sara’s sex, whether she had trained her vaginal muscles to grip a hard toothbrush, the precise texture of her pubic hair, the quantity of her natural lubrication, and the warmth my prick would feel in her sheath. I wanted to lick her earlobes, to feel her tummy against mine. After she had already taken all the juice my glands could produce I wanted to rub my flaccid cock against Sara’s thigh and feel it spring into alertness, ready to penetrate her again. When orgasm took away her self control, did she moan low and throatily from her chest, whisper in baby talk, yell obscene commands at her lover, or did she bite her lip in a vain attempt to stay silent? The questions were endless and obsessive.

She had gone to the bathroom to take a leak, and on her return, she said "Oooh such a nice bathroom. It has not a tub, but also a shower. Wistfully, she said I've always felt like soaking myself in a bath-tub, and I can bathe under the shower just like I would love to do it during the rainy season.

Yes Sara, it is possible for you to make both your wishes come true I said, barely above a whisper, imagining her beautiful nude body in the shower, the water cascading down her ample breasts and dripping from her pussy, between her shapely legs. I can run the hot water, and when it is full, you can soak yourself both in the tub and take a shower too.

She turned, her breasts swaying, and a wistful look left her face. "Suhail, what are you saying? I don't have any clean clothes here, nor a towel. Lets go for dinner. After that I have to go to my Hotel too. I am quite tired after standing at the exhibition counter for so long. She smiled irresistably at me. I smiled back, rendered speechless by desire.

We had dinner and came back to the room. I jokingly suggested that she should stay the night in the room. Sara laughed. "Since you’re a gentleman, Suhail, would you like to help me carry these boxes to the car?" She motioned at the stack of papers and cases.

We got the boxes and started carrying them to the door. She bent over to put hers down and for a few seconds. Her ass swayed only a few inches away from me. Then she reached for the latch on the door, and with a shriek she lost her balance. 

She fell towards me, but I couldn’t grab her because of the boxes in my hands, so I tried to block her fall with my body. I stepped into her way. She grabbed my shoulder with one hand. Her other hand grabbed my belt buckle and pushed it into my stiff cock. She had to know I was hard. Her left hand rested above my penis as she pulled herself up. My cock was hard again, and she had to feel it with her hand where it was. She brushed her right breast against my left arm while getting up. I was getting even more aroused than I had been all day. "Whew, that was a close one," she said. "Thanks for being there."

I said, "It was nothing, Sara" and winced at the almost adolescent break in my voice. She seemed dazed for a moment and then brightened and smiled at me. She took her hand off my belt buckle. She kneeled down and picked up the loose papers which had fallen when she almost did.

Sara popped up before me and said, "It wasn’t nothing, Suhail. It was very nice of you. You kept me from falling and you didn’t even drop any boxes. I think you deserve a kiss for that." My cock throbbed. Sara kissed me on the lips. Her mouth wasn’t wide open. Her tongue was inside her mouth; but her mouth wasn’t tightly closed either. My mouth dropped open as she kissed me, and instinctively my lips drew hers apart so my tongue could taste them. My body seemed magnetically attached to hers. My arms were wrapped around her back, and my hands caressed her smooth buttocks. Her arms were around my neck, and she pressed against me, her body surging against my booming, blood-engorged member. Sara kissed me back as her tongue danced into my mouth. It was a whole body kiss, vibrant with a promise of future passion, more intimate than sex. I knew that it was inevitable, that Sara would beg for me to plunge my hard cock again and again into her dripping pussy, sawing back and forth until we exploded into an orgasmic tidal wave, that she would plead for me to stimulate her with my tongue until she cried tears of happiness, that she would trade anything to slurp my prick between her lips and suck it until it jetted spurts of hot spunk onto her shining face, and that she would rub it deeply into her skin in thrilling lust to become one with my scent and my seed. I knew the answers to the questions that had earlier haunted me. I knew the taste of her lips, her nipples, her navel, her sweet cunt. I knew without knowing how I knew these things. I knew the feel of her back, her buttocks, her hands cupping my balls, her pussy sheathing my manhood. I knew her cries of ecstasy, they were like her laugh, musical and entrancing, and were as contagious. I knew the sweet torment as my penis grew more and more excited in her warm, soft, wet mouth while her tongue swirled the tip and her teeth calmed its fury with moments of pain, until it could no longer be stilled and the sperm boiled up through the shaft of my penis and splattered into her throat, her vagina, onto her face, her tits, her hands, her arms, her back, her sweat-soaked hair.

All these things and hours more of knowledge came to me in the seconds that Sara and I held each other tightly, tongues and lips working with a fury of passion to mine and expose the deepest secrets we had. I shifted my hand from her buttocks to her waist, and of its own mind it slid up towards her breast.

We stepped apart and our eyes opened. She looked at me like a deer startled by headlights and shook her head. "We can’t go on" she said.

I spoke in a monotone, all my emotions stuck inside. "We’re ready for it. We have to take the next step, Sara."

"No!" she said. "We can’t just have sex. We have a working relationship. We work with each other."a

"Oh, Sara. You felt what I felt. We both want it. We both need it. I am going to fuck your brains out, Sara, and you want to feel my lund fucking your hot little pussy."

I was panting, my emotions finally reaching words. "I’m going to undress you and you’re going to undress me. You can’t wait to hold my lund with your hand. You can’t wait to taste it, to slide my fat cock into your mouth. I already know what it’s like to share every taboo secret with you. That kiss was like all the chudai in the world. We’ve already fucked. We just need to do it again."

"No" she whispered, but stopped shaking her head.You are as dear to me as my life, and I am your slave.

She stared, silent.

"Sara," I moved towards her "we can’t help it. We don’t have a choice. I want it more than anything. You do too. You won’t ever stop thinking about me until we do it. You want it."

I moved to embrace and kiss her. "You need it, Sara. You need this more than you’ve ever needed anything."

She pulled away and slapped me in the face."No!" she shouted at me. "I won’t be your office affair! I don't need your cock! She was raging, out of control. "I don’t need you. I will have a husband to fuck my pussy, thank you, and he will do fine. I can wait for it. even suck his cock when he wants. 

She was scaring me. Had I construed her looks of passion, the delicate touch of her hand against my penis, her smiles and innuendo from nothing? Was I losing it? Why was she lying like this? Was I going crazy?

She started stalking back and forth and waving her arms as she continued " and this love, true-love.. Perfect love. Ideal love. What you are talking about doesn’t exist! I have love and I don’t need a dirty little affair with a co-worker and boos to get it.Don't talk to me about such things"

I felt like I needed to puke. I fled to the bathroom. After breathing heavily into the toilet bowl, inhaling the completely real atmosphere, my heart stopped beating quite so fast. I was dizzy, and came back to the room. I lay on the bed staring at the floor lamp until I could stand up again.

My thoughts were boiling. I’d already lost my best friend at work. I was probably going to lose my job if she reported it to our boss. I was probably going to lose my friends. There was a good chance I was really going crazy; or maybe I was having a nervous breakdown. I put my head on the pillow and wished I could cry. I told myself "Suhail, you’ve fucked it up royally this time."

I must have drifted off for a few minutes, and I woke up with tears on my cheeks.

Someone said my name. "Suhail?"

I rubbed the tears off my face and grunted.

"Suhail, can you look at me?" I shook my head, no.

Hands on my shoulders, kneading. "I’m sorry, Suhail. I said all the wrong things. I have my virginity, 
"Sorry" I said. 

"No, I’m sorry. You were right. I do want to make love to you. That’s why I’ve flirted with you ever since I met you. But I don’t want to lose you as a friend because we become lovers."

"That’s the oldest lie in the book," I said. "Lovers don’t stop being friends." I twisted my neck, loosing a kink, keeping my eyes to the floor lamp.

"I’m sorry, Suhail," she said. "But I’m scared of this thing. Your intensity scares me. My intensity for you scares me I am so attracted to you and feel like making love to you that I myself am very scared. Suhail, I’ll make love to you if you want me to. Just show me how to not be scared of it."

"Can I trust you?" I defended myself.

"You’re as frightened as I am." Sara pulled my shoulders back into my chair and kissed my cheek. She whispered in my ear, "I love you, Suhail."

"I love you Sara."

We kissed deeply, at length. It was cool and sedate, civilized where the earlier kiss was barbaric, conversational where the other demanding. Our tongues danced with each other, moving like sand in the tide, like leaves of a tree in a breeze.

Sara moved around the chair, supported by my arms, and sat on my lap. We drew breath and kissed again, interlocking lips. I kicked off my shoes, and pulled one of her pumps off. I heard the other one drop, then felt her tugging at my belt buckle. She smiled at me, and undid it, then unsnapped the button. I reached for her back and undid the top button on her shirt with one hand, as I caressed her breast in the other, weighing and evaluating it. Her hand crept into my pants and held my penis, which gradually hardened in her warm grasp.

Oooh its soooo big" she said, opening her eyes in an exaggerated way and popping her lips into an "O". She smiled and licked her lips, then I kissed her again.