I talked to Fareeda for a year before she would talk about sex. I had met her online, and then she had come to visit me for a platonic weekend. We kept in touch over chat and phone.
"Do you masturbate?" I blurted once, after a few beers.
A long silence.
"What brought that on?"
"Come on, everyone masturbates. Why don't you want to talk about sex? You know, 100 million people right this very minute are having sex."
"Don't you think it's private?"
"Yes. But we've been friends for a year."
"Don't you think it would embarrass me?"
"It shouldn't. Come on, yes or no. Do you masturbate?"
It took a while. Then, she said maybe. And then we were finally talking about sex.
I asked about her fantasies, and she wouldn't really say. So I described mine, and toned them down for her, using clinical language.
"I like a lot of kissing, touching, gently stroking the face, and the underside of the arms, and kissing the breasts. I love oral sex, both ways. I'm pretty conventional about positions, I like missionary and the woman on top. I'll experiment with others when I'm in the mood."
That was it.
This was a shy, conservative Muslim girl.
But the next day she sent me a short email. "All I can think about are your hands and mouth on my breasts. My pussy is wet..."
The next phone call, I asked her to say "pussy" and "cock" for me, and she wouldn't. But the next day she did. After a few more calls, she masturbated for me on the phone. We masturbated together. I was talking dirty by now.
She came to visit me for four days. She was distant and shy when she arrived; we had dinner after I picked her up from airport. I showed her room and bathroom and left her to it. Later, I offered her into a massage. She wouldn't undress completely. She laid down prone on the bed in her sensible gray bra and panties.
She had thin black hair. She wore glasses and looked like a very capable, sensible schoolteacher. She was short, maybe 5' 1". She had some weight on her, probably an extra twenty pounds, but it suited her--big breasts, wide hips.
I started massaging her back with some warmed-up lotion. I unsnapped her bra. She gasped, but there was no more resistance.
"If there's anything in particular you like, let me know?"
"Like what?"
"Oh, any particular areas that are tense or need attention."
I massaged her back, moving outward from the spine. Then I gently massaged her scalp. She seemed to like that. And then her arms, taking time to caress the underside of her arms. And her fingers and feet and legs and so on for twenty minutes.
I poured a liberal dab of lotion, rubbed my hands, and slipped both hands in the gusset of her panties. I started massaging her butt. She tensed up immediately and clenched. I massaged her butt and brushed her crack but was careful not to go near her asshole. She relaxed. I started to slip her panties off and she immediately clamped her legs together. I kept going anyway and managed to get the panties off. They were very wet. I took a sniff. She smelled strong.
I continued massaging her butt, while slowly pushing her legs apart with my knees. She wanted to cooperate but she wanted to seem like she wasn't. After a few minutes I could spy her pussy. It was very wet. The black hair was matted and wet, and her inner thighs glistened. Her pussy was a straight slit—no protrusions at all. I slipped a hand between her legs and started to caress her clit and pussy.
