Abhishek's Birthday Gift
My name is Krysta, I'm a light skinned East Indian woman; light as in almost white, with long shiny black hair that reaches to my big round butt which like my thighs are more like that of a black woman — I'm thick and rounded and with a flat belly and narrow waist. Some might call me slim-thick, some thick. My B-cup breasts stand straight out, with an almost nipple-less cone tip that had a large expanse of areola; the nips only daring to peep out when I'm sexually aroused. Breasts that so far have only fed a single child, my daughter. My husband Abhishek loves to spend long minutes sucking on them, much to my enjoyment.
I don't know where I got my figure from, no one else in the family is like that, fortunately my face strongly resembles that of my dad and his own mom, or my mom would have been in some deep shit. Anyhow, I'm not complaining; I love my figure, my husband loves it and it was loved by the only other two men who unknown to my husband, had fucked me. Abhishek thinks he's the first. I prayed so hard for it to happen, that on my wedding night -- not a traditional Indian wedding -- when Abhi entered me, I was midway through my period, so there was some blood for him to see.
I had disposed of my tampon before getting into bed, telling him that I had been waiting for his cock so long I wanted it immediately, without any preliminaries. I controlled my pussy muscles, giving him the feel of a tight fit and virginal resistance. For good measure, I made loud painful cries.
Early in life, a worldly wise female cousin of mine convinced me that I was sitting on a virtual gold mine. 'Don't sell it cheap, don't mess up, be patient and wait for the big fish, they will come.' She'd said. I took her advice, so I kept myself aloof and clean, except for one very discreet and well disguised affair with a married co-worker, which ran for two years of hot, mind blowing sex. While that was going on I briefly, as a front, dated two doting, harmless young men, that I could easily control, letting them get no further than kisses and some groping of my fine pussy and tits, telling them that I was saving my virginity for my wedding night. Soon after I would feign disgust with them for trying to force me or for some other transgression, and end the relationship.
I was a poor girl with dreams of becoming super rich. The big fish eventually came along when I was twenty one. Abhishek was ten years my senior and stinking rich, with inherited holdings in rice farming, gold mining, real estate and logging. He fell for me hook line and sinker. I ended the relationship with my secret lover, with mutual understanding and acceptance. After six months of sexless dating Abhishek and I got married.
Now, ten years later on the afternoon of my thirty-first birthday, I lay on our king sized bed, clothed as requested by my husband, in nothing more than a short, sheer, black teddy nightie. I was watching an interracial porn movie on our sixty inch TV and stroking my pussy, again according to instructions received a few minutes ago. He wanted me to be wet, well turned on and ready to fuck when he came home with my birthday present. He said he'd finally found something I'd long wanted, something we'd discussed before, a while back. He refused to give me a hint. The porn movie was of a black, well hung youth and his bratty, white half-sister, and it soon had me dripping. Although I'd never had a longing for such adventures, I'd found incest porn a bigger turn on than any other genre.
Abhishek had once admitted that he'd done incest with a couple of family females, without naming names. He was obviously very kinky, having also admitted to threesomes, but I guessed was a bit hesitant about introducing me into wild areas, other than spanking, anal and the regular role play that he would script for us. But somehow I got the feeling that he was gradually grooming me, and I pretended naivety, so I wouldn't make any mistakes. I loved the rich life, and through it got to help out a lot of my poor family, setting them up in business or good jobs.
I heard Abhishek's soft knock on the door and quickly switched off the TV, bent one knee and spread my thick thighs.
"Come in honey," I said.
The door opened and my smile froze. Had I not urinated thirty minutes before, I would have surely pissed myself, such was the intensity of the shock I got when I saw the big, black, tall and muscular Johnson, one of Abhishek's accountants and long-time friend. A charming and handsome young man known to Abhishek since he was a baby, his parents having been long-time employees of Abhishek's dad. Johnson and I also got along well. I clamped my thighs shut and sat up, holding a pillow over my front.
"Johnson, what are doing here?" I managed to squeak.
"I'm here to deliver your present," he said, smiling broadly.
"Where's Abhishek?" I asked, nervously.
"In his study, he asked me to bring it up for you."
"Where is it?"
"Right here," he said. His hands were behind his back.
He stepped into the bedroom and pulled the door in behind him with one foot. He removed his hands from behind his back
"There's nothing in your hands, Johnson, quit playing games and give me my present and get out of here," I cried, irritably.
A brief puzzled look came over his face, but was soon replaced by an understanding smile.
"So, he didn't tell you," he said and started loosening his belt.
"Tell me what ... and what are you doing?" I cried.
"I'm getting your present for you Ms. Krysta."
I looked on, flabbergasted as Johnson began stepping out of his pants.
