Playdate

In a non-pandemic world without STDs. That's what fantasy is for, right? Involves a younger Aisha from the CDG series but this piece can be read as a stand alone

Lila bounds up the stairs onto the porch with the energy of, well, an 8 year old. Her grin so wide, that I can't help but smile back. I remember being this excited about sleepovers.

"Ring the doorbell, honey," I say. "How will Samina and Dr. B know you're here?"

Lila's been loving her time with me, her favorite faux auntie. I'd convinced her mama and my best friend to go on a much needed vacation. I was looking forward to going back to Sharmila's house and getting into pjs - maybe Sharmila, with the wisdom of a mother had known I'd benefit from this sleepover.

The door opens and Sam's father, Al aka Dr. B smiles at us. I can't help but notice what I noticed at pick-up 2 days ago - his absurdly fit stocky body is now backlit by the living room lights. Who has the time to raise a kid, have a job, and sculpt muscles like that?

Maybe that's why his marriage fell apart a few years ago. Or maybe this is what happens after being an ER doctor - recognizing how fragile our bodies and lives are, and then going crazy on the bench press.

"Hi Al, I bring you an excitable Lila!"

"Great, great, come on in," he smiles with the confidence of a man who is used to being considered charming.

Lila bounds in, and runs up the stairs straight to her friend's Sam's room.

"Bye, Shasha! I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Call if you need or want anything, okay Lila?"

"I'll be fine!" She yells just before slamming the door.

"Shasha?" Al asks with raised eyebrows.

"She couldn't say Aisha when she was little."

"Samina couldn't say her last name for the longest time," Al says, as he moves towards his open kitchen and living space. "You wear the mom hat pretty well."

I laugh, turning towards him as I take in his elaborate home, the sparse high end furniture, the large grey kitchen island, the lack of kids toys around.

"I can barely keep the mom hat on my head," I say, before remembering my manners. "Thanks so much for having Lila over, she loves spending time with Samina."

"Samina loves it too, it's good that they are friends."

I grin, trying to think of a phrase to help me leave - there's something about Al that makes me judgy and the less I'm around him, the better.

"Why don't you stay for a glass of wine to celebrate your week with the mom hat?" Al asks.

He takes in my surprise and raises his eyebrows in worry. "You are over 21, aren't you?"

I burst out laughing.

"How old do you think I am, Al?"

I see him caught off guard, a clearly unfamiliar space for such a respected doctor with all the shiny things, and I enjoy it - I enjoy catching him off guard.

"That's a dangerous question for me to answer, isn't it?" he asks rhetorically, as he turns to pick up a stray toy near the kitchen island. His shirt stretches over his muscles when he bends over, and that's when I allow myself to admit that I want to fuck him.

"I have no issues about my age," I smile, adding. "I'm just curious."

"Okay, and my answer doesn't affect your decision?"

While all the wise signals were saying leave, there was something about him that drew me in.

"Nope. I'll stay for a celebratory or rather a commiserative drink."

"If I were to guess, maybe 23, 25? Am I right?"

"I'm 30, Al, just like Sharmila."

He's good with hiding it, but after years of eliciting the same reaction from everyone, I'd learnt to read all shades of emotion when someone hears my age. And when a man's face shows a hint of relief, it says something. That I'm legal, they aren't pervy, that this, whatever this is, is at least legally and socially allowable.

"So, you'll stay?"

"Sure," I say, as I begin to unwind my scarf. "I won't drink your wine though."

"Oh, why not?"

"I don't love it and it's wasted on me - do you have anything else? Water will do too."

He lists out different alcohols, as he hunches over a built in bar, and my ears perk up at the mention of single malt.

"Single malt then, like so many Indian... men?" He grins, and I smile back at him.

"Reinforcing and breaking stereotypes everywhere I go, Al, are you ready for that?"

He straightens up, holding the remnants of a Glenmorangie Allta and my gaze with an intensity that almost makes me look away.

Almost.

"I am. Are you, Aisha?"

I smile at him, grabbing my layers of winter clothing and dropping it on the side of his large modern couch. I watch him, to see if the mess irritates him. Surprisingly, he maintains a poker face.

Al joins me on the couch and we banter with ease. With each line, we manage to weave in unnamable slightly aggressive chemistry into our conversation. On dates, I avoid this dynamic like the plague but somehow in this space, with this man, I find it deeply, concerningly engaging.

At some point, Al offers to refill my drink and I nod automatically. When he reaches for my nearly empty glass, our fingers brush against each other with an electricity I had felt and tamped down when we shook hands in the school parking lot.

We both watch each other, calculating, assessing.

"Ab!"

"Duty calls - I'll be back..." He walks up the stairs, the outline of his sculpted ass perfectly on display in his sweats.

I take a swig of the remnants of my glass. Samina's yelling reminded me exactly how stupid I was being. I rummage through some drawers in the kitchen island. I find the most organized "junk drawer," pull out a note pad, and write down a quick message, announcing my gratitude and exit.

_ _ _

I'm flicking through cable mindlessly, like a robot. I'd dropped Lila to Samina's mother's house for her sleepover #2. Sharmila would be heading back day after and I'd go back to my days of sitting in my underwear and swearing like a sailor. And eating spicy food.

My phone buzzes to life, and I pick it up.

Al Baqir. I smile.

It doesn't hurt to look, I tell myself as I open the text.

A photo of a beautiful bottle of Bunnahabhain, 25, gleams a bit more than the olive toned hand holding it in place.

I want both.

Heard you're going back day after. Drink to celebrate keeping Lila out of my ER? -

What an asshole. A second text shows up.

Try this single malt with me -

I grab my coat and step out, leaving him on "read."

Petty, I know, but somehow it feels right.

_ _ _

I ring the doorbell, standing at the same porch I stood on a week ago. The door opens and Al is silhouetted again, wearing a thin t-shirt and lightweight trackpants.

"You're here."

"Dr. Baqir," I say, as I walk in.

"Take your coat?" he asks, arm out.

"Sure," I say with a shrug.

He smiles and then stands behind me to get my coat. That's when I smell his cologne, and notice that though he's only a few inches taller, his shoulders span wide. His hands brush against my collarbone and that now familiar shiver runs through me.

"Did I say your last name right?"

"Close enough, for a non-Arabic speaker."

"You're in sweats," he says, taking me in before catching himself. He turns to the closet, and I smile.

Bralessness. So easy.

"Joggers actually. Do you speak Arabic?"

"My parents didn't teach me. Wanted me to be American Al." Al says, turning around again after finishing up with the closet.

"And what did you want to be?" I ask, moving closer to him. I look up at him, big eyed with my bare perfect lips and I feel him tense, calculating.

His fingers grab my jaw and he kisses me with the same aggressiveness that seeped into our banter the other day. I lean into his body, let his hands roam, very lightly matching his kiss, tasting his lips, his minty fresh breath, savoring the feel of his hard body, his hardening cock against my belly.

"Buy a lady a drink first, American Al," I say jokingly, as I break off the kiss.

His hands stay around my waist, holding me in place.

"I bought you a bottle, Aisha," he says as his hands caress the top of my ass before letting go.

"Let's go try that bottle," I say as I turn to face the kitchen island. The liquor is on display, with two crystal tumblers. He was clearly sure of himself.

I walk over, pulling the cork off. The smell is intoxicating, the sherry cask noticeable, making it a heavier deeper aroma.

"You have no manners," Al says, coming up next to me, resting his thick forearms on the stone. His smile suggests he's okay with my mannerlessness.

"I go for what I want, which I believe is something you just did," I tease.

"Couch?" he asks, as he hands me a glass of amber liquid. I walk ahead of him and sit myself down. He sits right next to me, bottle placed on the side table, thigh almost touching mine. His quads are twice the size of mine and look amazing in his pants. I have to pull away my gaze so I don't look like I'm scoping out his crotch. Which I was.

I savor my drink, and as we chat, we continue the banter - it's sloppier, sharper, and I wonder why we're still bothering with words.

We catch up about our weeks, he tells me about his ER shifts, I skillfully avoid talking about my work, and mostly I listen, noticing what he wants me to be in awe about. I'd watched enough of my male doctor friends chat people up to know what Al was doing.

I put my drink down on the floor and grin as I catch him wince before flattening out his expression of distress.

"You like doing things your way," I say.

"It does help in the ER for sure," he says, his voice tinged with amusement.

"You didn't like where I put my coat the last time did you?"

He laughs, before saying, "I liked where you put yourself that night, even if it was too briefly. But the coat has its place."

I watch him turn to put his glass on a coaster.

"And where's my place tonight?"

"Honestly?"

"Yes."

His hands grab my waist and he lifts me effortlessly. I automatically spread my legs as he places me high up on his lap. Our clothes provide very little coverage, the material clinging to our shapes - I can feel the heat, the slow hardening outline of his cock under my spread pussy lips.

His face looks slightly surprised, telling me that maybe he hadn't expected me to land quite so high up or so easily, to feel my body so graphically.

I smile as I wrap my arms around his neck. His sharp nose, the lines of his jaw, full lips, and his irritatingly confident deep set light brown eyes. He moves to kiss me and I push pressure into my arms, cuing him to know not yet.

As we lock eyes, I start to slowly grind into him, rotating my hips. It is almost obscene, how quickly we got to my pussy caressing his cock.

With each rotation, I feel him getting harder, my breath getting more ragged. If it weren't for our clothes, we'd be fucking already.

His fingers move skillfully across my belly, upward to my chest. He cups both my breasts with his hands and I groan, as I press deeper into his cock which now is beautifully erect under his clothes. He's not the only one aroused - I can feel wetness drip out of me, the crotch of my joggers sticky.

"You came here braless," Al says as he begins to play with my nipples, sticking out noticeably through my thin sleep shirt.

He looks amused, intrigued, and pretty satisfied with himself as he pulls a nipple, making me gasp.

Fuck.

"I didn't particularly want to dress up for you," I tease, as I continue to grind into his cock.

He sneaks his hands under my ass cheeks and I feel the firmness of his grip.

"I want to move you," he whispers into my ear as he pulls me closer to his chest.

I wrap my legs around him tighter, pressing my breasts into his pecs.

"Do it, Dr. Baqir," I whisper.

"Get the bottle?" He asks as he stands up, leaning me over the Bunnahabhain on the side table.

I grab it and Al carries me effortlessly. With my legs wrapped tight around his waist, I can feel every sculpted muscle under his shirt, in his lower back. It's a little absurd. Almost too much.

Almost.

I'm placed onto the kitchen island, and the cool stone is noticeable through my pants. I pull my shirt off and toss it to the floor, wanting to see if he cares about messes when fucking is involved.

Al looks annoyed, just a little and then smiles as he grabs the bottle out of my hand. The cork comes off, and he leans really close, his body between my legs.

He very delicately tips the bottle, and shockingly cold drops of Bunnahabhain trickle out, hitting my breasts, some resting on my erect nipples while the rest drips, leaving trails of wet down my stomach.

His pink lips wrap around my dark chocolate nipple and he sucks softly. pulling and shaping it into an erect nub.

"No panties either?" He asks, as his hands snake down the front of my pants.

"Do you wear underwear with your sleep clothes?" I ask all bite in my question drowned by my arousal. His fingers slip across my pussy juice covered clit.

He says nothing as he pushes a finger into me, as he pinches my nipple.

My abs tense up and I come hard around his finger, and then that beautiful release of muscles, that satisfaction of dopamine flooding through me.

"Thank you, Dr. Baqir," I smile, as I pull his hand out of me.

"Did you just orgasm? Just like that?"

"I come pretty easily," I said, a fact and a slight ego blow, letting him know it's not because he has special fingers. Even with his ER savior hands. "The Bunnahabhain drip was a nice touch though."

I hope off the island and pull his pants down. His cock springs up, beautiful, leaning slightly to the right, circumcised. He is, unsurprisingly waxed completely, like a pornstar.

I lick the tip of his cock, running my tongue over him, dropping lower so I can put more of him into my mouth.

I feel cool glass on my shoulder and I pull back.

"Want some?" Al asks, with a big grin on his face.

I grin back and nod. He very gently tilts the bottle towards my lips and a sliver of warm liquid runs down my throat.

I switch back to his cock, taking all of him in, grabbing his asscheeks in my hands. Fuck, he's hard everyfuckingwhere.

"How does this feel?" Al asks, his hands now firmly on my head.

I look up at him, knowing the big eyed look worked before, and pull him deeper into my throat. He starts to fuck my mouth, increasing the pace.

He pulls out and grabs my waist, flipping me around and pushing me face down into the kitchen island. My tits are smashed against the cold stone, my hips on the counter, toes just about touching the floor, my heartbeat loud.

If I wasn't so aroused, it would be almost scary how quickly and easily he could move me around.

I pull my pants down for him and he doesn't need more of an invite. He pulls me a little closer to the edge and slides into my wet cunt, moving in and out methodically, filling me up and emptying me out, the pressure of his hands on my waist tantalizing.

With each thrust, he pulls me onto his dick and I groan softly, loving this kind of aggressive treatment.

"Dr. Baqir, do you like fucking me like this?" I ask coyly.

His pace picks up almost as soon as I say Dr and I groan louder, the incessant slap of his hips against my ass, the pressure against my asshole absolutely delicious.

He leans over me, pushing his cock deeper into my cunt, placing more of his weight on top of me, and I groan. Soft lips brush against my right shoulder blade and his thrusts slow down, still going in deep.

"This is a lot better than watching football, Aisha," Al says.

"Was that your backup plan?" I ask, turning around briefly to look at him.

"Yes."

"What a terrible back up plan, Dr. Baqir," I say, grinning as I move my hips in pace with him.

"You talk a lot of shit for someone whose getting fucked," Al says, grinning back.

"You love it, don't lie to me," I groan out, as he pushes into me deeper.

He starts to pound me hard, and my brain dies as he fucks the trash talk out of me. My hand finds my slippery clit and I start to rub myself into oblivion, knowing it'll take me less than 3 seconds to come with this kind of stimulation.

I get louder and louder, and scream as a huge orgasm washes over me.

Al pulls out and splatters my ass with his jizz.

I groan, feeling my legs tingle back to life after being fucked this way.

Al moves across the room, to the couch. His muscles gleam with post-sex sweat and I enjoy watching him slump into the cushion.

"Come here, Aisha" he says, as he holds his cock, shiny with our juices. "Lick yourself off me."

My face bursts into the largest grin, as I retort, "Only if you lick yourself off me."

"You want me to lick your ass?"

"Quid pro quo."

"Come here then."

I straighten up, and wince as I realize my hips are slightly bruised from being jack hammered against the island.

Jizz dribbles down my legs as I stride over to Al. He gets off the couch and gestures for me to lie down.

I plant myself face first into the couch, and Al positions himself behind me. His soft tongue caresses my asscheek. With each lick, I find myself getting wetter and my hips start to grind automatically into his couch.

He begins to circle around my asshole and slowly dips in, pushing liquid that feels thicker than saliva into me.

Fuck, that's a first.

I groan, turning my head to see if I can watch him. All I can see is the top of his thick head of hair and broad shoulders. His tongue fights its way deeper into my ass and I settle back into the couch, moaning into its cushions while I also leak into them.

He doesn't seem to care that much about the mess right now.

Al's fingertips move away from my cheeks, and I feel him begin to trace my sopping labia.

"Stop, there's semen on them?" I say, turning my head.

"No, they didn't touch anything," he says briefly before shoving his tongue back into my ass. My sphincter muscles open up for his tongue quickly, and he continues with his mission to push fingers into my cunt.

I groan and move onto my knees, imitating briefly an erotic version of bharmanasana before slumping my upper body down into the couch. Al's tongue and fingers keep at me, and I can feel his tongue dip out, trace my asscheeks and push some more cum into my asshole.

I suck on my fingers and slip my hand between my thighs, fingering my clit with a vengeance. A familiar tingle begins to spread out from my pelvis and abs, and I shudder through another orgasm.

I'm dazed, barely registering that Al has moved out of my pussy and my ass. I feel him gently raise my shoulders and he lies down on the couch, slipping his hips under my head.

"Your turn."

I look up at him and smile, taking in his erect cock and his satisfied expression. I wrap my tongue around his shaft and lick him up and down. His fingers guide me to the head of his cock and I wrap my mouth around him. He starts to thrust hard into me, and I tilt my head, letting him go deeper into my mouth.

He starts to grunt and groan, and the rhythm of his fingering gets sloppier and that's how I know he's going to cum. I suck on him harder and then run a finger along his balls, down his perineum.

Jizz shoots into my mouth immediately and I begin swallowing quickly, barely tasting the salty cum, before I move to the tip of his cock and clean him up.

"Fuck, stop. I'm pretty sensitive there."

I pull off from his cock and turn around, sitting on his bare stomach facing him. He grins at me, looking spent, and I smile back. My lips feel bruised from being so fucked.

I get off him and stand up, stretching my legs.

Just as Al begins to speak, my phone starts ringing, a muffled distinct tone that shoots adrenalin through me.

"I got to leave, Al, I need to take this call," I say as I grab my my clothes.

"Who is it?" Al asks, curiously.

I shove my shirt on, and have one leg in my joggers, trying to balance getting ready without falling over. I pull open the closet door and grab my ringing coat.