If I went by accepted popular belief, she was impossible to conquer. She was a South Indian Brahmin. Unsurprisingly she was conservative but she was also intelligent, proud, sharp witted and very beautiful.
Srila was attractive in a very Indian way, I guess. She was small at five and a half feet but had magnificent boobs and wide, curvy hips with a lovely unblemished complexion. Her pretty face, jet black hair and glorious smile could summon a second look. She did not look like in the late thirties that I thought her to be. Even though she had kids in her teens she looked more like she was around 28. To those men who interacted with her a little more she could unwittingly kindle fires of desire. I was no exception.
Knowing her as a family friend in the small town of Ankara near Fairbrook in Pennsylvania I had ample opportunity to admire her and secretly lust for her even when her hubby was around. With these adulterous thoughts I remember even masturbating a few times imagining her nude body. It was, of course in the realms of my dream world. She was happily married and the thick insulating social veil that she wore precluded any proximity that could even remotely provide for clandestine intimacy.
Now she was single and I somehow gained access to her inner circle of friends. That wasn't hard in a small town but she was the difficult kind to get close to. I knew Indian women can be cold but this one was well below freezing point! Any hint of what she thought was a 'hit' received a prompt rebuttal often with a harsh word. But knowing her better and with many occasions to be with her over a period of time I submerged that deterrent in a sea of desire that was damning up inside me.
I read so much about Indian women to take a look into their thoughts. Fascinating writings on how the social practices had pushed their sexuality into the background educated me to be watchful. The novels and short stories by the famous Indian author, Kushwant Singh, however narrated a different tale. His women were always looking for sex! Having till recently a now estranged wife who was similar in her priorities in a relationship to those of Singh's sluts I found myself in unfamiliar territory.
The more I read and the more I interacted with my Indian friends the more I realized that Srila needed a big reason to be intimate; a reason such as love.
And love was furthest in my mind.
I was starved of good sex and love had made me quite cynical with my recent experiences. Srila was on the other hand, I argued was not looking for it either. She was hurt by her single status and was gathering the pieces to move on.
This was lust and I was not fooling myself.
Srila was extremely beautiful to look at. She had classic oriental features. I loved her smooth neck and small hands. Unknown to her I ogled her fine breasts. To date I think they are the best in shape and size. I had a glimpse or two at her awesome cleavage when she bent over. That was a rare occurrence since she dressed so modestly. My eyes feasted on her butt when she walked ahead. She had a shapely behind and I dreamt of passing my fingers in that heavenly cleft and beyond.
Only, those dreams seemed so remote unless I did something quick. I reasoned to myself. I had to seduce her!
So my next step was to learn seduction. Getting an Indian woman into bed was something else but I was going to try like hell because the prize was priceless. The woman's natural remoteness made the challenge even more interesting and the victory even sweeter.
Now my energy spent gobbling her up visually had to be put to good use making a plan. After reading quite extensively I started.
First, I started by complimenting her not only on her good looks but also her intelligence, knowledge and character. An Indian women needs all of that! I saw her warming up and patted myself on my back for an excellent start.
The second stage was to pay her more attention than was necessary and tread carefully into the stage of romance. When on this day I complimented her on a lovely bright yellow top and told her how much I had started liking her in recent days, I saw her face flush with warmth with an almost embarrassed smile as she looked deep into my eyes as she whispered a husky 'Thank you, Chuck'.
I was winning.
That night in my bedroom I took off all my clothes and imagined Srila with me as she slowly peeled off her yellow top. My raging hard on had to be stroked as I closed my eyes, lay on my bed and let my thoughts flow. Her perfect breasts, her belly, thighs, butt and cunt, all imagined in some detail came flowing into my head as I shot my load like I never did. I soiled my sheets big time.
I crashed down back to earth after I milked my member to the last sticky drop . Yes, I was only day dreaming but this was a good one. This was as close to reality as I could get. Or was it?
I didn't even give myself time to fantasize the details of her awesome body. I had never seen an Indian woman and I didn't know what to expect.
I wanted to see and explore and enjoy and conquer!
I had to make that happen if I wanted it and that depended on how badly I needed to take her to bed. I had made an excellent start and now had to go on and keep to my plan. Be patient, positive and focused, I told myself.
The stage of romance was slow and sensitive but I was up to it.
We would go on those long drives into nowhere and after several false starts and unwanted interruptions I poured out the important words as I pulled over to drop her at home one night. I told her that she was an incredible woman; intelligent, smart and beautiful and that I had fallen head over heels for her. Then I waited with bated breath!
She took a long while looking at me as if she was searching for something deep in my soul. Then she looked down at her hands as I noticed those lovely boobs move gently up and down with each breath.
Then she patted my cheek and said: "I'll go now. We'll talk later"
"Can I kiss you?" I was desperate.
She turned and held out her cheek.
"I want to kiss you on your lips" I begged,
"No, no" she protested, "Not here"
I pecked her on her smooth cheek and let her go.
I smelt victory.
The next day I had an email from her with a million questions. Was I sincere? Did I know where this could lead? Did I know her culture and its implications? Did I just want sex? Blah! Blah! Blah!
Well the short answer to the last question would have been a resounding 'yes'! But that would have spelt disaster for our relationship. With an Indian woman I had to actually say 'no' to an exclusively physical affair. I had coached myself and I was sure that that was the way to go.
So on our first date I put my arms around her waist as we roamed the sidewalks of Ankara deliberately done late one summer night as Srila was terrified of being seen by her Indian friends. I enjoyed the soft smoothness of her skin under her bright blue cotton T shirt. As a reminder she expertly grabbed my hand and took it away from her waist as my fingers just hinted at going under.
She was difficult.
I kept to my plan and put patience on top of the list. Over the summer months we went out a lot and though she allowed no sexual touching we had graduated to tight hugs until on that very special night when something happened!
I went to meet her at her place as usual in the soft dim lights of her living room as she opened the door she looked so smashingly beautiful that I grabbed her and went for her lips. It was a first and the shadows enhanced the thrill. We had to turn out the lights as her teenage son was sleeping inside. It is the sweetest kiss that I have experienced. For the first time she responded! And how! Her exploring tongue darted in and out and touched every inch of my lips and mouth. She crushed her body against mine sending shivers across my body as my hardness drilled her. Her arms went round my neck and snaked down my shoulders gently letting her charged fingertips send a million volts on my skin. Was I in heaven! I was about to explode when we separated.
She must have seen the desire in my eyes even though it was dark and perhaps felt my manhood on her soft stomach. She led me by the hand and gestured towards the sofa. She wanted me to cool down and we went no further.
Damn!
After that each time I met her I kept admiring those lovely lips and the passion that they had potential for. How did she keep those emotions buried? Or did she just conceal them? These Indian women!
My close buddy Brad had a way with women. Over a couple of beers, a few days later we shared our experiences as we always did.
Brad had no doubts that I was winning.
"Chuck, you lucky prick, you've got her big time, man. She is asking for a fuck"
"You won't imagine", I explained. "She is not like that at all. It took all of summer to get her to smooch."
"But now you're there. She wants it. I can see it. I have been with Indian women before. Once you cross that critical barrier you're through. You can screw them good and believe me they are fabulous in bed!"
I made a mental note of Brad's observations. But I had no illusions that I had to wear my veil of love to conceal my carnal desires. Srila would have just dropped me like a red hot brick (or prick!) if I had started behaving otherwise.
As the awesome colours of fall blazed in the neighborhood, I made some remarkable progress.
