Part 1.
Shazia hurried along the cobbled streets, her arms aching with the weight of the shopping, burqa flowing in the brisk autumnal wind, as she made her way home. She loved Imran but why did he have to insist on having his work colleague come round for dinner tonight? It would be dark soon and she had a lot to prepare. She hardly noticed the familiar looking boy. . . Phil was it? . . . who always stared at her when she walked past his front yard on her way home. She was loyal and obedient . . . she loved Imran but that boy . . . Phil . . . always made her tingle - she didn't know why. Shazia had been brought up right, no guys had touched her before her wedding night, she didn't flirt or dress up infront of guys - the only man in her life was Imran and she loved it that way. And he too guarded her jealously, always on the look out for guys who might be staring at her, always jealously protecting her from men in crowds - gosh she loved the exclusivity she enjoyed with him and the way he was so possessive but her body sometimes ached for men . . . white men . . . she'd see on the road. The carefree way they carried themselves, the brazen manner in which they fondled their women, the bulges which were apparent when they jogged in the park. She didn't have time for this she thought to herself and rushed into the kitchen where she set about preparing the meal for tonights guest.
.. . .
It was getting late now thought Shazia. I've served the food, cleaned the kitchen, why is James still here, Imran doesn't usually keep guests this late? She'd kept herself well-hidden throughout the evening, knocking on the front room door only to hand signal to Imran to come and collect the dishes for his guest. She never sat with men outside her family so imagine her surprise when Imran rushed into the kitchen, mumbled something about a last minute task at work, fumbled for his keys and rushed out of the house. Shazia felt confused and tired . . . well atleast James has gone, she thought to herself and walked into the front room to tidy up whatever mess the men had left.
As she entered the room, rubbing her neck and shoulders to ease the soreness from her evening of cooking she stopped, confused, James was still sat in the front room reclining on the ottomans they had purchased recently. His strawberry blonde hair drifting across his forehead, cheeks ruddy and warm, legs outspread, relaxed.
James:
Bloody hell she looked even more gorgeous than I had imagined. God! How I ached for her every time I caught glimpses of her out shopping with Imran or waiting in the car whilst Imran finished up at work. Her dark kohled eyes which had such a depth and mystery to them seemed softer, warmer now without the cold frame of her headscarf. Her lightly waved hair looked soft and delicate as a few strands waved across her face. I'd always found the forbidden Pakistani women exotic and mysterious. They were so off-limits, forbidden, feminine and enticing and now seeing Shazia relaxed in her own house, without the burqa hiding her figure I knew this was going to be my only chance.
Quick as a flash I was on my feet. I smiled at her, thanked her for the meal and stepped towards her.
Shazia:
What the hell was Imran thinking leaving him here, with me, all alone in the house? He stepped near me, mumbled something about thanks and the food and before I knew it was standing infront of me. His T-shirt was taught across his chest, I could feel the heat emanating off his body. God, this is so wrong! I should step out of the room, cover myself with a scarf but his eyes, his height, his smell just kept me rooted. He whispered something, I don't know what and then . . .
James:
I need to feel her. I can feel the warmth of her body, I'm so close. Imran told me how he guarded his wife, no man had touched her skin apart from he'd said. How delightful, well we'll see about that now. I slid my around her waist whispering "You're an incredible . . . cook, Shazia. I loved eating . . . you". She didn't recoil from me. I felt her body lean in towards me, almost unconditionally . . . I had to make my move. I lowered my head towards hers. One arm wrapped around her waist, the other I used to gently lift her chin up and brought my lips close to hers.
Shazia
His lips were coming towards mine, his strong powerful arm wrapped around my waist made me feel safe. I should have been petrified, how haram is this! But I can't resist. I can feel the warms of his breath and smell the freshness of his body. I can't resist then any longer and leaned forward, offering my mouth to his . . .
James
Fucking hell, she brought her lips, offered them to me. Her sweet, forbidden, pure, paki lips. She only had that dick Imran kiss her til now, I'm going to show her what she's been missing. She was so delicate, soft, and the desire grew within me as I tasted the sweetness of her mouth, knowing I was the first man apart from Imran to savour her . . . this was going to be good.
.....
Shazia hurried along the cobbled streets, her arms aching with the weight of the shopping, burqa flowing in the brisk autumnal wind, as she made her way home. She loved Imran but why did he have to insist on having his work colleague come round for dinner tonight? It would be dark soon and she had a lot to prepare. She hardly noticed the familiar looking boy. . . Phil was it? . . . who always stared at her when she walked past his front yard on her way home. She was loyal and obedient . . . she loved Imran but that boy . . . Phil . . . always made her tingle - she didn't know why. Shazia had been brought up right, no guys had touched her before her wedding night, she didn't flirt or dress up infront of guys - the only man in her life was Imran and she loved it that way. And he too guarded her jealously, always on the look out for guys who might be staring at her, always jealously protecting her from men in crowds - gosh she loved the exclusivity she enjoyed with him and the way he was so possessive but her body sometimes ached for men . . . white men . . . she'd see on the road. The carefree way they carried themselves, the brazen manner in which they fondled their women, the bulges which were apparent when they jogged in the park. She didn't have time for this she thought to herself and rushed into the kitchen where she set about preparing the meal for tonights guest.
.. . .
It was getting late now thought Shazia. I've served the food, cleaned the kitchen, why is James still here, Imran doesn't usually keep guests this late? She'd kept herself well-hidden throughout the evening, knocking on the front room door only to hand signal to Imran to come and collect the dishes for his guest. She never sat with men outside her family so imagine her surprise when Imran rushed into the kitchen, mumbled something about a last minute task at work, fumbled for his keys and rushed out of the house. Shazia felt confused and tired . . . well atleast James has gone, she thought to herself and walked into the front room to tidy up whatever mess the men had left.
As she entered the room, rubbing her neck and shoulders to ease the soreness from her evening of cooking she stopped, confused, James was still sat in the front room reclining on the ottomans they had purchased recently. His strawberry blonde hair drifting across his forehead, cheeks ruddy and warm, legs outspread, relaxed.
James:
Bloody hell she looked even more gorgeous than I had imagined. God! How I ached for her every time I caught glimpses of her out shopping with Imran or waiting in the car whilst Imran finished up at work. Her dark kohled eyes which had such a depth and mystery to them seemed softer, warmer now without the cold frame of her headscarf. Her lightly waved hair looked soft and delicate as a few strands waved across her face. I'd always found the forbidden Pakistani women exotic and mysterious. They were so off-limits, forbidden, feminine and enticing and now seeing Shazia relaxed in her own house, without the burqa hiding her figure I knew this was going to be my only chance.
Quick as a flash I was on my feet. I smiled at her, thanked her for the meal and stepped towards her.
Shazia:
What the hell was Imran thinking leaving him here, with me, all alone in the house? He stepped near me, mumbled something about thanks and the food and before I knew it was standing infront of me. His T-shirt was taught across his chest, I could feel the heat emanating off his body. God, this is so wrong! I should step out of the room, cover myself with a scarf but his eyes, his height, his smell just kept me rooted. He whispered something, I don't know what and then . . .
James:
I need to feel her. I can feel the warmth of her body, I'm so close. Imran told me how he guarded his wife, no man had touched her skin apart from he'd said. How delightful, well we'll see about that now. I slid my around her waist whispering "You're an incredible . . . cook, Shazia. I loved eating . . . you". She didn't recoil from me. I felt her body lean in towards me, almost unconditionally . . . I had to make my move. I lowered my head towards hers. One arm wrapped around her waist, the other I used to gently lift her chin up and brought my lips close to hers.
Shazia
His lips were coming towards mine, his strong powerful arm wrapped around my waist made me feel safe. I should have been petrified, how haram is this! But I can't resist. I can feel the warms of his breath and smell the freshness of his body. I can't resist then any longer and leaned forward, offering my mouth to his . . .
James
Fucking hell, she brought her lips, offered them to me. Her sweet, forbidden, pure, paki lips. She only had that dick Imran kiss her til now, I'm going to show her what she's been missing. She was so delicate, soft, and the desire grew within me as I tasted the sweetness of her mouth, knowing I was the first man apart from Imran to savour her . . . this was going to be good.
.....
