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My First Indian
This is the story of my first encounter with a very sexy Indian lady. There are plenty more stories to come, so if you like what you read, let me know and I’ll write some more. This story takes quite a while to get going, because I like to take things steady and set the scene, but stick with it we’ll get to the hot part, in good time.
Let me say right away, I’m a white, British guy, but I absolutely love Asian women. Over there in the USA, I know that ‘Asian’ usually refers to Oriental women; Chinese, Japanese or Korean. But here in the UK, Asian means Indian or Pakistani. For me, there’s something about that dusky skin, those liquid brown eyes and the deep black hair that does it for me every time – I can’t get enough.
I first realised this about ten or so years ago, when I was still married. There was an Indian girl at work, who I started noticing. She was only small and quite curvy, with long black hair and the cutest little face. She worked in a different department but I saw her most days and we’d always say hello, though we never really talked much.
I began to find myself looking out for her and she’d always smile when we saw each other. I began watching her more and more and admiring the way her ass swayed in her jeans and the curve of her breasts under the tight sweaters she wore.
She didn’t dress provocatively, but then, she didn’t need to. What I could see was enough and my mind filled in the blanks.
There was no way I was ever going to do anything about it; she was soon to be married and it wasn’t the kind of place where it was easy to chat someone up without being noticed and besides I was already married. So she was just a fantasy to me, but that’s definitely where my interest started.
I used to get hard at my desk just thinking about her and on a couple of occasions I had to go the bathroom and masturbate while I fantasised banging her over the basin. God, she got me hot.
Anyway, like I say nothing happened between us and eventually I left that job and moved on. But, now I started noticing Asian girls everywhere. The town I live in is on the Western edge of London, close to Hounslow, Southall and Slough, three of the South’s largest Asian communities, so there were plenty of opportunities to fuel my fantasies.
My wife had an Indian friend and we were invited round a couple of times to have dinner with her and her husband. She was much taller and slimmer than my cute little colleague but with those same dark eyes and that dark lickable skin. I loved watching her over the dinner table, though I had to be careful not to make it too obvious and though I’m pretty sure she had no interest in me, she certainly worked hard to please me in my daydreams.
A couple of years later, my wife and I separated. Nothing to do with other people and certainly nothing to do with my secret obsession – we just grew apart and after the kids had left home, I felt stifled and discontent. It was the usual mid-life crisis, I guess, no one to blame but myself and in many ways the separation was pretty smooth and my wife and I are still good friends.
At the time of this story, I was 46, had been living alone for a couple of years and was really beginning to enjoy life again. I did a little dating, but still hadn’t had the opportunity or maybe the courage to find myself an Asian woman. I think I half believed that finding an Indian woman who liked white guys would be too difficult, so I hadn’t tried. In the end it all happened by accident and I haven’t looked back since.
At my age, keeping in shape is important. Every year that goes past makes it harder to stop the muscles shrinking and everything heading South, so I’m a regular gym-goer. Stupidly, I still smoke so maybe half my hard work is being undone every time I light up, but I think I’m doing OK. I’m 6 foot 2, so the little bit of extra weight I sometimes carry is pretty hard to spot.
I always go to the gym in the early morning and then cycle home for a leisurely breakfast before heading into work, or sometimes I work from home. Most mornings at that time, on my way home, I used to stop off at the local newsagents to buy my cigarettes and a paper to read over my morning coffee.
The newsagent’s is owned by a really nice Indian couple, Raj and Sareeta. They were about the same age as me and we always used to exchange a few friendly words. Sareeta is a little plump and not the prettiest and she always had a ready smile. I liked her she didn’t particularly turn me on.
One bright Monday morning, fresh from my workout, feeling energised, I strolled in and was surprised to see a new, much more attractive face behind the counter. This woman was younger than Sareeta, maybe around 35 and she had the most stunning eyes I had ever seen close up. I must have looked startled, because she looked at me a little strangely. After a moment I found my voice again.
She greeted me as I put the newspaper down and I couldn’t help running my eyes over her body. She wore a Çankaya Escort simple, plain dress with a thin cardigan over the top, but even in such an ordinary outfit, she couldn’t have looked sexier. The fabric hugged her curves in a way that made my blood run faster through my veins. I literally had to drag my eyes away from the curve of her hips and force myself to look her in the eye again, for fear of looking like a drooling pervert. I could actually feel myself getting erect, just looking at her.
I glanced into the store room at the back of the shop, where Raj and Sareeta usually sat when there were no customers, but it was empty.
“Hi, you’re new” I said, “Where are Raj and Sareeta this morning?”
“I’m Sareeta’s sister,” she replied, “they had to go away for a couple of days, so I’m helping out.” She had quite a low voice, but it wasn’t from shyness; she was confidently holding eye contact and I was finding it hard to concentrate. There was something very provocative about her and I immediately wondered just how long they might be away and began to hope it would be for as long as possible.
“They didn’t mention they were going away,” I said casually after asking her for a pack of cigarettes. It suddenly seemed important to let her know that I was a regular and on good terms with her sister and brother-in-law. Almost without realising it, I was trying to put myself in a good light. I could already envisage a string of pleasant encounters in the days ahead.
At this point she put a bit of a damper on my flirtatious musings, in two ways. First as she put the pack down on the counter, I spotted the wedding ring on her finger. Of course, I thought, she and her husband must be running things while Raj and his wife were away. Oh well, I could still flirt a little, but I better be careful in case he’s lurking round the corner. Then she told me that Raj’s mother had been taken into hospital and that he and Sareeta had had to leave for Birmingham early this morning. I felt a bit of a heel for hoping that my friends might be gone for a while.
I expressed the hope that things would be OK for them and asked her to pass on my regards. She smiled sweetly and said she would. I paid, got what felt like a direct and rather personal smile in return and left the shop.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her all day. I convinced myself that she was just being professionally friendly and reminded myself that she was married, but I still spent most of the day dreaming about that luscious body and those provocative eyes. I decided then and there that the next woman I went out with would be a dark and sexy Asian, just like her.
I normally go to the gym every other day but I was so keen to see her again, that if I hadn’t been away on business for the next two days I would have gone the very next morning. So it wasn’t till Thursday morning that I rose early, put on my exercise gear, got my bike out of the garage and rode eagerly off to the gym. I knew the shop didn’t open till just before I was on my way home again, but I still rode past slowly hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but the shop was still shuttered up.
She was in my mind all through the workout and during the few laps of the pool I always like to do, to cool down and stretch. In fact I thought about her so much, that I found myself getting erect as I showered. I had to turn the water to cold for a minute so that I wouldn’t have the embarrassment of wandering round the changing room with a hard-on.
I quickly dressed and took extra care to make sure I looked presentable before striding out and jumping back on my bike for the short ride to the newsagent’s. As I rounded the corner I was surprised to see that the shutters were still down and that there were no signs of life. I felt a pang of remorse when it hit me that maybe Raj’s mother had taken a turn for the worse.
I was just about to ride home feeling a mixture of disappointment and guilt, when I saw her coming around the corner, head down, sorting through a large bunch of keys. I pulled the bike up just as she knelt down to undo one of the padlocks. She looked up slightly startled as I said Hello. For a moment she looked at me blankly but then that provocative smile lit up her face again. My blood surged as I saw that she recognised me and certainly didn’t seem unhappy to see me.
“Oh hello again,” she said and stood up to undo the other padlock. She was wearing jeans and a sweater this time and I had a glorious view of her well-rounded breasts outlined beneath the wool as she stretched to reach the lock. “Sorry, I’m running a bit late.”
“That’s OK, no rush” I replied, thinking that I’d happily watch her all day if I had the chance. I asked after Raj’s mother as she fiddled with the lock and was relieved to hear that she was doing well and also secretly pleased to learn that they would be away for several more days.
She bent down and put her hands at the base of the shutter to pull Keçiören Escort it up. From where I was standing, it almost looked like she was deliberately jutting out her gorgeous ass, tightly clad in blue denim. It took me a split second to realise that she was having trouble with the shutter and a second or two more to have the presence of mind to offer her a hand.
She stepped back gratefully. “I hate this thing,” she said, “it’s much too stiff”. Like a filthy minded schoolboy, I wondered whether she disliked other stiff things, but then I remembered the possible presence of a husband and tried to get my thoughts back to the task in hand.
The shutter moved easily enough, but it was heavy and I could see how she might struggle with it so I asked her why she didn’t get her husband to help her with it.
“Oh I would,” she said, “but he’s in Montreal till next month. It might be a bit inconvenient for him.” My mind did an erotic flip at this news, but I managed to stop the gleeful grin reaching my face.
I pushed the shutter to the top and stood aside to let her go in. “Can you just give me a minute to get these in and then I’ll serve you,” she said gesturing at three bound bundles of newspapers on the pavement. I saw my chance to get a little closer.
“That’s OK,” I answered, “why don’t you sort yourself out. I’ll bring them in.”
She smiled gratefully. “Ah, thanks, would you? That’d be great.”
I picked up the first bundle and followed her inside. She showed me where to put them while she bustled about picking up the post and turning on the lights. I went back for the other two bundles while she moved into the back of the shop.
Realising that my own paper would be in the bundle somewhere, I picked up a pair of scissors, snipped the binding and began digging into the pile to find it.
She hurried back to me. “Oh God, you don’t need to do that,” she said, thinking perhaps that I was about to start stacking them on the shelves. “You’ve done enough already.”
“Don’t get too excited,” I grinned, “I was just getting my own paper. I wasn’t planning to go into the news business just yet.”
She laughed easily and flashed me another gorgeous smile. “And there was me thinking you were such a gentleman.”
I smiled back. “Oh no,” I answered, “I’m a complete animal.” The way I felt at that moment, I was only half joking.
She looked at me appraisingly for a moment. “I’ll bet you are.” She replied thoughtfully and I felt that familiar stirring between my legs.
She turned away, went round the counter reached up to the display rack and picked out a pack of my brand. “Good memory.” I commented.
“Not really. I smoke these too.” She said as she put them down on the counter. “We obviously like the same things.” Our conversation seemed to be freighted with sexual tension. Or at least I hoped it was. I equally hoped that I wasn’t disastrously misinterpreting everything.
I gave her an enigmatic smile in reply and passed her a ten pound note. She opened the till and counted out my change. Her fingers gently brushed my palm as she put the coins in my hand and that’s when I knew that I definitely wasn’t misreading the signals. However I am a patient man, so I had just decided not to press my luck any further that day, when she ratcheted up the tension another notch.
“Listen, thanks for your help,” she said but this time she wasn’t looking at me. She seemed suddenly preoccupied with the counter-top. “Er, I was just about to put the kettle on. Have you got time for a coffee? It’s the least I could do to say thank you.”
This was getting better by the second. I made a show of checking my watch, even though I knew perfectly well that this was a chance I wouldn’t have missed for the world. Anyway, it was an easy decision. I had been planning to work from home, so there was no clock-watching boss waiting to check up on me.
“OK, thanks, yes I will.” I replied feeling my groin stiffen even more than before.
“Come through,” she said and gestured me to follow her into the back room. While her back was turned I made a rapid grab for my crotch and adjusted myself, so that I didn’t have to follow her with a pyramid in my pants. Relieved from the pressure, my cock happily uncurled and got even harder. I picked up the paper and casually held it in front of me as I walked round the counter behind her.
I sat on a chair just inside the door and watched her ass surreptitiously as she moved around putting coffee into cups and getting the milk. We chatted about Raj and Sareeta while she worked. She told me she and her husband lived in East London, but he travelled a lot. It was an innocuous conversation, but the undercurrent of sexual tension was still strong between us.
Finally she brought the coffee over and sat down at the little table next to me. As we lifted our cups simultaneously, I found myself staring at her lips as they moulded themselves to the rim. A Etimesgut Escort waking daydream of those same lips wrapped round my cock filled my mind and I kept staring at her mouth even as she put the cup down on the table. I raised my eyes to meet hers and I knew that this was the moment. We locked eyes, both of us now, deadly serious. I felt myself drawn towards her. I could even see her pupils dilating. There was no doubt she was as aroused as me.
Then the door to the shop opened and we heard someone coming in.
We exchanged a look of pure frustration as it dawned on us both, how impractical it was to contemplate what we had both so obviously thought of at that moment.
She stood quickly and hurried into the shop. Disappointed but encouraged, I sipped my coffee for the next ten minutes, listening to her serving a brief flurry of customers. I felt my erection subsiding as the moment passed, but although I was frustrated I was equally sure that this wasn’t the end of the story.
Eventually the next customer left and she came back into the room and flopped down into the chair again. I looked at her mouth again, before looking back into her eyes. I wanted to recapture that moment of sensuality for just a brief instant. I reached into my pocket and got out my pack of cigarettes and offered her one.
She hesitated. “I shouldn’t. Raj doesn’t like smoking,” she said, but she took one anyway. Then she giggled. “It feels a bit naughty.” My cock flipped again and started to climb its way back up inside my pants.
I watched as she put the cigarette between her lips and looked at me expectantly. Never taking her eyes off her mouth, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my lighter. She leaned forward as I proffered the flame and gently cupped her hand around mine, holding the lighter steady as she took her first drag. That moment and that touch were electric with eroticism. My cock sprang to full hardness like a coiled spring. My skin tingled as she slowly pulled her hand away, tilted her head back and blew out a steady stream of smoke, her eyes locked onto mine.
My senses went into overdrive. I stood up and took a rapid step towards her. With my left hand, I swiftly plucked the cigarette from her fingers and dropped it into my empty coffee cup. With my right hand I reached round her neck and plunged my fingers into her hair. I gripped and twisted it almost savagely as I leaned over and pulled her lips up to meet mine. She gave a curious strangled sound, half gasp and half moan as I mashed our mouths together and forced my tongue between her lips.
She rose from her chair and forced her body into mine, grinding her hips so forcefully that I stumbled back till my thighs were against the table. She was moaning louder now, pushing her tongue against mine. Still pulling her hair and forcing our mouths together, I grasped at her breasts through the sweater, squeezing and moulding them, like dough.
She ran her hands up my back then down to cup my buttocks, through the thin material of my jogging pants, squeezing me as hard as I squeezed her. I let go of her hair, slid my hands down across her hips and swiftly unfastened the button of her jeans, while she urgently began to tug down joggers, taking my pants with them. I unzipped her jeans and pushed them down over her hips, then slipped one hand down to cup her mound through her panties. I could feel the wetness seeping through the thin cotton as I pushed a finger into her, taking the fabric with me.
I felt the air around my butt as her hands found my cock. I gasped as her cool hands gripped my shaft and began sliding up and down. I was as hard as marble, but her hands felt like warm velvet. I released the pressure of my finger and began to claw at the waistband of her panties, eager to pull them down so I could feel the hot moist flesh beneath.
Then we heard the door to the shop opening again. We both froze and pulled back our heads, staring wild-eyed at each other. We stood for a split second, like an erotic statue. She with her hands wrapped round my cock, me half way to pulling her pants down from her hips. We were panting and sweaty. Her hair was dishevelled, her mouth half open, her lips engorged. She looked so totally wanton, I could barely bring myself to stop. I wanted to throw her to the floor, rip her clothes and plunge myself inside her and to hell with the consequences.
“No,” she whispered urgently, pushing me away and tugging up her jeans. “We can’t.” She must have seen the wild frustration in my eyes. “Come back at five,” she said, “when I shut the shop.”
Pulling myself together, I pushed my cock back inside my pants and pulled them up, but not before she had taken a lust-filled glance at my erection. She hurriedly straightened her hair and began to move towards the door. As she passed me she brushed her hand over my bulging crotch. “See you later,” she whispered and was gone.
I let myself out of the back door into an alleyway, to avoid whoever was in the shop. It might have been one of my neighbours, I reasoned and I had no desire to make small talk with an erection that showed no sign of abating.
I quickly walked round to the front and retrieved my bike. My cock was still half-hard when I got home a few minutes later and it was only as I was opening my front door that I realised I didn’t even know her name.
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