Joy Bryant

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Although Zahida was about 35 years old now after being married for 15 years, she did not look a day older than 28. I had dreamt about her for the last 12 years. She always turned heads wherever she went. She had a body designed for sin, which a man could dream of possessing. Nature had been generous in endowing her not only with a good height of 5 feet 6 inches, but also with the figure of a goddess and a clear complexion.

Zahida was sexy as hell even after birth of three children. She had fair skin, high cheekbones, a straight nose, a firm chin, and a lovely soft-lipped mouth. Her eyes were bluish, and her lips were naturally pink. Her long blond hair cascaded to her knees. There were a few small dark beauty spots on cheeks. Her lovely, genuine, warm, beautiful smile that lit up her eyes always motivated me to kiss her.

She had to be the most gorgeous woman I'd ever met. She may have been hotter than any woman I'd ever imagine may. Something I found instantly enticing was her body, She had a body to die for, with full, lovely protruding breasts probably 36C, wide hips, and extremely erotic arse, which wiggled as she walked. The fullness of her breasts and the soft, sexy sway of her hips made me thinks of touching them. My prick was always in a state of readiness on seeing her; such ripe and heavy breasts that were appropriate and seemed to be still firm on a slim and fair body were a heavenly sight for me. To get her into my bed at any cost was my dream.

But I always tried to control my feelings. Any hurry in the process would mean getting kicked in the nuts. Things had to happen gradually. This realization was both arousing and disturbing; after all, she was not just another woman but the wife of a very dear friend, Kashif.

My association with Kashif was quite old, as he had been my friend from childhood. Kashif was an average man with average looks, a small business, and an average income. He had married Zahida about 15 years back, and I had frozen in place when I had met her first 12 years before. I was immediately impressed by how great Zahida looked. I felt my face flush in embarrassment, and I tried to look away, but I couldn't. Zahida's beauty, good nature, and exuberance had taken me in.

Zahida was oblivious to my intentions, although she loved the attention I showered on her. Being friends, we met frequently, but somehow there was always a formal line, which wasn't breached by us.

Once Kashif came to meet me. He told me, "I am in deep trouble, and after thinking hard, I decided that I would ask you if you could help me."

"Tell me, Kashif. I will try my best. I would be pleased if I could help you," I said.

He told me that " I had recently hit some hard time, and I need one million rupees as a loan and hope that you will help me, he told me details about his financial needs."

My sick mind took over to Zahida his wife, when I heard this thinking how can I leverage this to my advantage.

"But that is a huge amount!"

"Yes I know it is, but I promise you that I will return it after only two months."

"OK, Kashif, I will give you the money, but let me say frankly that you will need to give me this in a written agreement. I don't mind, but this is a huge amount, you know."

I was thinking I could use my money to help him out, but wanted something in return.

"Yes! Why not?" Kashif replied. Thus I gave him money, taking a written agreement from him.

One month before the due date, it was a pleasant surprise when Kashif invited me to his house for dinner.

Who knew it was my lucky day? I bought a bouquet of flowers and some chocolates for the children, and reached his flat at eight o'clock sharp. Kashif received me warmly and led me to lounge, and we sat there. After a few minutes Zahida came before me like a pleasing breeze. The moment I entered my sixth sense hinted to me something about his wife, the way she was walking, the way she was smiling, and the way she was dressed up. Contrary to tradition she wore a red satin qameez (long shirt) with her usual white shilwar (trousers). Her qameez was quite low-cut in front, so I could see her cleavage. She looked charming from every perspective. Zahida, like most Indian women, normally wore only Indian clothes. She had a handful of matching bangles on both of her wrists. Her feet were bare as Indian women's feet normally remain at home.

That evening I was in heaven; my mind was not with me! It had become impossible for me keep my eyes off her at even the slightest move of her. Once she caught me staring her, and she blushed, realizing I was looking at her in a romantic way. She beamed like a virgin schoolgirl captivated by my stares, but my gazes were gradually extending beyond her face. Of course she had noticed this and now and again had given me a glance in response.

The more I looked at her, the more I was excited by the way she talked with me, and the way she looked at me when Kashif wasn't looking. Whenever he caught us looking, he'd get a big sheepish smile on his face and then just turn away. Zahida was undoubtedly aware of my state, as she had caught me looking at her body on that occasion and gave me a glimmer of a smile, and quite often she would remain looking at me while others were not looking.

Zahida left us, saying that she was going to the kitchen to prepare dinner, while both of us, Kashif and I, were laughing and chatting. I had been watching Zahida the whole time she was serving dishes to the table, though trying not to be too obvious with my staring. Many times I positioned myself behind her so as not to miss the fabulous view of her full, generous, swaying hips.

When dinner was laid, Zahida asked us to come to the dining hall. We went and sat at the table. Zahida sat just opposite me.

As the table was fairly small, it was quite natural that my knee should touch Zahida's occasionally, and it did. I kept the touches light at the beginning, but as she didn't pull away, I pressed a little harder and left it next to hers. We both smiled as she looked lovingly up into my eyes. I kept the conversation running with Kashif as best I could, and slowly rubbed my knee up and down. It seemed, if anything, that Zahida pushed back even harder. The butterflies in my stomach began to jump. I was more than happy that my wishes were about to be fulfilled. Above the table, Zahida continued to converse as though nothing at all was the matter.

I then started to rub my leg up and down against hers, slowly and softly and then harder against her. Her lips parted in a slight gasp, but she did not move away. Soon my leg was caressing her hard under the table. I was now finding it difficult to concentrate on the dinner. It was getting too hot. I was worried that either Kashif or his children would notice something. Now it was difficult for both of us to concentrate on food.

"You're eating very slowly," Zahida teased, her voice throaty. "Don't you like food?"

She teased me again, and her foot became more insistent against my leg. She looked at me, her lips half parted. Her eyes had become very dark now, and that intoxicating look was inviting and bemusing at the same time.

I responded to her touch by rubbing my foot against her ankle. "Yes, thank you, I am enjoying the meal." She smiled as she looked in my eyes while I massaged her foot.

I couldn't believe what was happening as I felt ready to burst. I moved my leg back and saw Zahida exhale softly. I guessed that perhaps she had had enough. I moved my attention back to the food and the conversation.

When she went to the kitchen, her petite ass cheeks were clinging to her qameez, giving me a pretty good idea of reality. The dampness of her skin had made the qameez stay snugly in the crack of her ass.

Both her daughters helped her clear the table and bring the coffee. I had to brush my hand gently against the side of Zahida's thigh when she was going to and from the kitchen. She stared at me for several seconds, and then shifted her questioning eyes from me.

As her husband went to bathroom, she whispered, "You give good toe. Drop in whenever you like. I'm usually at home in the mornings."

After I returned home late, I made the best, most passionate love of my life with my wife after a long evening of thinking about Zahida.

I couldn't concentrate much on my work throughout the following days and kept thinking about that night with Zahida and her voluptuous body all the time. During the following days I was becoming more and more restless and was daydreaming. My lust for Zahida's body started to grow even more than I ever thought it would. When this had become unbearable for me, I finally decided that the only way was to meet Zahida alone, so I went to meet Zahida; I left the car and walked to her house.

After a couple of knocks on the door, I waited impatiently for the answer. In a couple of minutes Zahida came to open the door. I felt Zahida was a little confused, seeing me.

"If it is inconvenient, then I'll come some other day," I said.

"Don't say that. You are always welcome."

"But seeing me, you looked a little confused."

"No! No, please come in," she said smilingly. She led me to the sitting room. "Please have a seat. I'll be back in a minute. Let me finish a telephone conversation I was having."

Oh, she was busy with the telephone, so that was why she seemed confused!

She came back after few minutes. "Would you like a cup of coffee?" she asked.

"Of course, I would love a cup of coffee with you, if you can," I said.

"Of course, Mr. Zeshan. It will be a pleasure having coffee with you. Just give me a few minutes, and I'll get the coffee." She went to the kitchen and came back with a tray a few minutes later. She placed it on the table before me, and when she leaned over to put the tray down, the neckline of her top hung very low. Now, only inches away from my eye hung Zahida's creamy white breasts. Not just cleavage, but everything including her thick brown nipples. For the five or so seconds that the vision lasted, I couldn't pull my eyes away. When she stood up I knew she must have caught me staring and started turning red-faced. But Zahida just rubbed her eyes as she put the tray down and sat next to me on the sofa. I could smell her perfume, which caressed the air -- a low, lemony, curiously enticing aroma. I was slightly nervous since this was the first time that I was alone with Zahida, the wife of my friend. And I had to look at her only, and she was looking hot. She looked like she was seducing me. My palms sweated the entire time. My heart raced every time Zahida looked at me. We were sipping tea slowly, taking our time. We talked about many subjects. She asked about my wife and kids, but not once did she mention her husband's loan or anything about our business.

Then, giving a naughty smile to me, she asked me, "Are you bored?"

This just encouraged me, and I said, "Your perfume is wonderful." I took a deep smell. "It is exotic."

"Do you like it?" Her eyes sparkled.

"Yes, it is so nice."

"Thank you."

"You asked me to come anytime."

"I did. Did I say something wrong?" she said in naughty mood.

I felt embarrassed and muttered thanks, and she grinned, mischief in her eyes.

" Didn't you want to meet me?"

"Yes! I wanted to meet you alone."

"And I gave you the opportunity."

"I admire your guts, lady."

"Do you find me attractive?"

"You look good enough to eat," I said. "I always found you very beautiful, lovely, and attractive." I was staring down at her breasts confined still under the thin fiber of her qameez.

Zahida blushed and looked at the objects I was staring at, but laughed again, softly.

"Don't flatter me, Zeshan, you liar. I am sure you tell that to all the women you meet."

I told her, "Zahida, you are looking really very sexy and inviting too."

She said in a very low voice, "Really, Zeshan. Don't forget I am your friend's wife."

"But you are so attractive and irresistible," I whispered.


"Yes. I have always thought of you," I admitted. "But I could never muster courage to speak that to you."

"Is that all?"

"No! There is more to tell you." I touched her arm with my fingers and began to caress it gently. She eyed me with heavy eyes from under veiled eyelids and weakly smiled. She slowly pushed her lower body closer into mine. Her breasts almost touched the side of my chest. I slowly put my arm around her back and gradually brought it around her neck. Zahida lightly trembled as I took her hand and moved closer to her. I kissed her hand and held it.

Some time later, I quietly slipped my hand on her thigh. I kissed her hair and her golden earrings. I raised her face with my hands and kissed her on her cheek and then her thick lips.

I kissed them once very lightly and then gradually more insistently. A few minutes later, I moved my tongue over and over her lips and made them wet with my saliva and then slowly drew my tongue inside her lips. She reciprocated by offering her pouting lips and kissing me back.

I then moved my hand and rested it lightly over the dupatta (long scarf) on her breast and began to gently caress her breasts. My hands were immediately busy, groping over the material, and then I removed a hand to slowly slide it under the dupatta and rest my hand firmly on the cloth over her breast. I was slowly and firmly caressing and gently squeezing her breast by moving my hands from one to the other, and gradually I slipped my hand at her breasts beneath her neckline and ran my fingers over there. She closed her eyes, her head still on my shoulder. I pulled her hand over my hard and thick hurting cock.

When she touched my cock, she suddenly broke the kiss and raised her eyes. She told me, "Well, I think that was sufficient. You should stop now, please." She pushed my hand away slowly from her breasts. She was not angry but pressing her lower lip in her teeth. She got up from the sofa and, moving away from me, sat just opposite me.

That was unexpected for me, so I became little embarrassed and quiet. We avoided each other's eyes. I blinked at her pathetically as a fool.

I found my courage again after a minute. I tried holding her arm, but she jerked my hand away. The rest of the time went without any event. My heartbeat was increasing every minute for a woman to whom I was desperately looking in spells, but she wouldn't look at me.

"You may please leave now. We'll meet some other time," she told me.

"As you wish," I said.

After few minutes I got up to take my leave. She also got up.

The moment I was leaving, she stood staring at her feet and blushing. I could even hear her breaths, which were becoming heavier all the time, causing her beautiful breasts to jiggle in her tight qameez. I knew it was now or never for me. I could not wait any longer to make my move.

I walked up to her and held her hand. She tried to withdraw it from me, but I was not leaving. Then I put my arm around her waist and gently escorted her in.

"Zeshan, please let me go," she whispered.

I spun her around, and pressing my hard-on against her crotch, I gave her a light kiss on the nape of her neck, licking her earlobe.

"Zeshan, please don't. I am a married woman, and you are also married," she protested.

"Married people are safe. I can't afford to make virgins pregnant. Do you want me make some virgin pregnant? You were married then also when you were touching my foot," I replied and kissed her passionately. "That was a different matter; you wanted me to touch you."

Her cries of "Please stop... Please stop it..."started becoming louder.

I then proceeded to stroke her inner thighs from the outside just to tease her. I looked in her eyes; they were dreamy and full of lust. Her lips were quivering. When she reached down to stop my advances, I grasped her soft hand and guided it to my cock.

"You have made it so hard from so many days; now please at least play with it for some time," I flattered.

She pulled her hand away as it made contact with my sticky member. She stared at me in surprise.

"We really should not do it..." she panted. Her mouth was dry as she continually licked her lips with her tongue. As a final effort, she pleaded with me to let her go. She whispered in my ears, "Oh, Zeshan, is this right, what we are doing? Please let this go... Please leave me... Please don't do this to me! This is not right. We should not do this. I am like your sister in law. I am your friend's wife. We really shouldn't..."She hesitated as if in a dream. Her willpower was weakening. "Please do not force me, I beg of you."

I spoke, pressing myself against her. "OK! As you say! Thanks for what you have given me... Believe me, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." And I purposely released my grip on her, freeing her completely. I told her, "I don't want to force anything on you, so I let you free."

This was a big shock, as she had never thought I would leave her like that all of a sudden.

"You are sure you don't want to?" I asked.

"Yes! I don't want to," she said, but she didn't move back.

"I know you want it. You speak lies, and I will keep waiting for the time when you will say 'yes'," I said.

"I don't know what to say... I'm afraid to do this, but ... I can feel my heart beating hard," Zahida said. Her face was red, and her eyes were sleepy.

"Zahida, you know you want this. I can see it in your eyes."

She was totally confused now, and it was looking as though her body and mind were at war. I walked toward her and told her, "Zahida, I want to kiss your neck, and slowly unbutton your qameez. I want to feel the smoothness of your breasts in my hands. Come on, be bold and help me."

Finally she gave up; "Okay then..." She seemed to have resolved the issue. The lust was so visible now in her eyes. "You have to promise me you will never tell anyone, ever."

" I promise it will be only our secret, and no one will know. "

She looked at the door, went and locked it, and then came back.

I was not expecting what happened next. I felt the firmness of Zahida's grip on my arm. Not looking at me, as she was shy, she kissed my lips playfully. Her lips roamed over face, neck, ear, nose, and cheeks. Then she put her head on my shoulders with a look of fascination on her face and I started to run my other hand through her hair.

I pulled her closer and kissed her. She responded with the same ardor as that with which I was kissing her. She broke the kiss and whispered, "Thanks, I really need this."

She bit my lower lip. While kissing her I pushed her towards the wall. My hands felt her chest as it heaved under me. The touch was like cream. The smoothness made me push my cock against her harder. I was leaning against her now. Undoubtedly she could feel my erection against her leg.

She was stroking my hair. The looks in her eye confirmed what I had always suspected: She always wanted to give herself to me.

I could feel her breath on my neck and chest. She pushed my hair away from my face again.

After a long silence that made me feel awkward, she spoke. "Tell me something, Zeshan. Do you ever think about me?" Now she looked down.

"Yeah, sure -- all the time since we met."

"What do you think about?"

"I think..." I stammered. She put a hand on my chest and looked again in my eyes. "I think you're pretty sexy," I said.

"That's all?"

"No! There is more. You are such a desirable lady, my dear. Even a saint would lose his self-control in close proximity to you."


"Yes, you have given me so many sleepless nights."

"Thank you. I think about you, too, you know," she offered.

"What do you think about?"

"Same thing, mostly: how beautiful you are, and how lucky your wife is to have such an intelligent, handsome, and considerate man for a husband." Again she pushed my hair away from my face. This time, she petted my head. "And I think about how much I have missed you."