I worked with a cute little Indian girl named Bushra for a couple of years. I was easily old enough to be her father. But we used to poke fun at each other, and even flirt with each other from time to time. I always wondered if she had "daddy issues". But I never pursued it. Not that I didn't fantasize about it on occasion. I just thought it was silly to even entertain the idea. Then she divorced her husband and moved back to Chicago with her parents.
Bushra's got some tight curves on her 5' 5" frame. My guess would be something like 34-24-32. Her dark, curly hair wrapped around a thin face and fell halfway down her back. She was full of energy, always bouncing as she walked. Her sparkling eyes, bright smile, and playful laugh filled a room. She was a joy to be around and easy on the eyes.
After she left, we kept in touch through social media. It was more of the same, poking fun at each other with a little flirting mixed in. At one point, I mentioned I was going to the local Six Flags amusement park, which is when I discovered she was a coaster aficionado as well. From that point on she bugged me about coming up to Chicago, a town I love anyway, to take her to the Six Flags park up there. I asked her why in the world would I do that -- even though I had been going to that particular park from the time I was 16 until I left the area as an adult -- just to go to a park when I had one closer. She promised me she'd make it worth the drive. It was tempting.
The following summer, as luck would have it, I had to visit Chicago for a seminar. Bushra made it very clear that I had better make time to see her and, if time allowed, to take her to the park.
*****
I pulled into her parent's driveway on a Tuesday morning in the lovely Chicago suburb of Rosemont. It was a bright, sunny morning. The air was thick with humidity
. It's gonna be a scorcher today! The girls should be wearing next to nothing today! Sweet!
As I began to exit my car, Bushra came bounding out the front door, smiling ear to ear and squealing. She looked even more beautiful than I remembered. At work I had only seen her dressed in professional attire. Today she was wearing a short, short jean skirt that showed off her long, dark legs and a breezy little crop top. The short sleeved arms fell off her shoulders and the wide U-shaped top curved deep across her perky breasts. The elastic bottom of the shirt tucked nicely under her breasts, pulling the top tight and leaving little imagination to the lovely shape of her globes or the fact that she had very dark, round areolas and gumdrop-sized, erect nipples.
She jumped into my arms and wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. "It's so good to see you!" she squealed.
Damn she smelled good! "It's great to see you, too! You look great!" I wondered if she could feel the bulge in my pants.
"Come in! Come in! My parents want to meet you!" Ah yes, meeting the parents. One of life's necessary evils.
They were a lovely, traditional Indian couple. Mom was dressed in a colorful saree skirt and tight choli top. It was clearly evident where Bushra got her exotic looks. Dad was dressed in a pair of tan khakis and a freshly pressed white shirt. It was an odd feeling sitting there with this couple in their musty living room who were the same age as I knowing I was about to take their daughter to an amusement park. Bushra kept peeking out the front window.
I looked at my watch. "We should probably get going if we want to get there when the gates open," I said.
Bushra frowned. "I know, I know. He's always...oh, there he is!" She jumped out of her chair and ran out the front door.
She ran out and hugged a, shall we say, scholarly looking little man climbing out of his little black Prius.
Who the fuck is this?
I thought. She grabbed the man's hand and brought him into the house.
"Mark, this is James, my boyfriend. He's going with us. That's okay, isn't it?" Boyfriend?! Going with us?! Fuck!
"Uh, yeah, sure," I said, trying to not sound annoyed. We shook hands.
Jesus! It's like shaking a wet noodle!
My six-foot frame towered over him. He was small and pasty white. His hair was gelled and combed to the side. He was dressed in dark slacks and a white, button down shirt.
All he needs are a pair of safety glasses and a pocket protector and he'd made the perfect nerd!
"Okay, well, let's get this show on the road. I'll drive."
James and Bushra slipped into the backseat of my Grand Cherokee while I grumbled to myself about not having Bushra's long legs filling the seat next to me. We were barely out of the driveway when I heard a "zip". Bushra's head disappeared out of my rearview mirror.
James closed his eyes and gasped. "Oh! Oh geez! Oh wow!"
I sat up in my seat, trying to get a better view in my mirror while not having an accident. I finally saw the back of Bushra's head bouncing up and down in James' lap. My jaw dropped.
Is she...?
"What...what the fuck?!" I asked in shock.
James looked back at me in the mirror. His face was full of fear. "Oh...uh...Bushra, uh (ahem), loves to, uh, you know, give me oral, uh, oral sex. Is that...is that okay?"
Bushra popped up into view. Her chin was already shiny. "Yeah, Mark, I'm sorry, I should've asked. Is it okay if I, you know, give James a, you know, a blow job while you drive?"
What the fuck?!
"I, uh, yeah, sure, I guess."
The words were no sooner out of my mouth when she said, "Cool!" Her head disappeared from sight.
James gasped again. "Oh! Oh geez!"
Now I was pissed and shocked. Shocked that...well...that Bushra was giving head to a dude other than me in my own car. And pissed for basically the same reason. Regardless, I couldn't help but watch in my rear view mirror. Occasionally I would catch a glimpse of Bushra's head before it dove back down out of sight.
About 10 minutes in to a 30 minute drive, after much slurping and moaning, I could tell things were reaching a crescendo in the back seat.
James' body stiffened. His face began to contort. "Oh geez! Oh gosh! Bushra! Bushra! That feels...so...good! You're going to...to...oh gosh!"