Roshni Ch 03

Roshni 03 - Awards Night

I had been dating Roshni for about a month. The sex was great, but we had still found very little in common outside that. As a believer in romance, I wanted to make the most of my relationship with Roshni, so I invited her to the Awards night.

The annual Awards function was for businesses in my industry, so I asked Roshni to go with me. She had agreed at once, and had talked about it with some excitement in the two weeks leading up. Even so, I was not sure what to expect when the taxi pulled up outside her apartment. Up until now, I had only seen her dressed casually, and though she was always sexy, I had no idea how she would look in formal evening wear.

I shouldn't have worried. When Roshni appeared at the door of her apartment, she was gorgeous. Her dress was black, ankle-length. It hugged her slender hips, moulded itself over that flat stomach and high breasts, followed the taper of her wonderful long legs. A halter-dress, it was backless, dipping all the way down to the very base of her spine. She teetered on three-inch stilettos.

But it wasn't just the dress that was breathtaking. Around each wrist, Roshni wore a gold cuff, and around her right upper arm was a coiled gold bangle. There was a gold chain around her neck, matching her gold earrings. Her hair was braided and tied in a swirl. It was the first time I had seen her wearing make-up, too - her eyes were glittering black, her thick and heavy eyebrows made even blacker, her lashes thick and dark.

"You look incredible," I told her, as we walked to the taxi.

"Thank you," she beamed. The night was cold enough for there to be vapour on her breath; those sexy bare shoulders and arms were rough with goosebumps in the winter air; but Roshni would always put practicality ahead of comfort. A jacket would only cramp her style, so she chose to go without.

Impressed as I was with Roshni, I was slightly anxious about the evening. After all, I would be showing her to workmates and acquaintances, and, like it or not, there was an aspect to Roshni I was not sure they would accept. In a word, hair.

Roshni had lots of it. Down each side of her face was dark, fluffy hair, a fine black moustache above her upper lip. There were wispy hairs all the way down the nape of her neck, dwindling to a soft velvet the length of her spine. Her forearms were covered with a dark downy fuzz: her upper arms fluffed with even finer hairs. Anyone lucky enough to see her naked would discover the richest, deepest spread of black pubic hair, filling the pit of her groin, spreading down between her legs and even sprouting out between her buttocks. Her butt, too, wore a fine fuzz similar to that on her upper arms and thighs. And she had hairy armpits. Thick, black bushes of lush and soft hair that filled the hollows of her underarms.

"I'm nervous," Roshni admitted as the taxi drew up to the hotel. Almost without thinking, I glanced down at the brown flank of her ribcage, below her arm, but above the line of her halter-neck dress. A single streak of sweat ran from her armpit, confirming my hopes. Roshni never wore antiperspirant, never wore perfume, and already I could smell the subtle aroma of her perspiration.

When she walked with me into the ballroom, heads turned Roshni was the most beautiful woman in the room, with her incredible dark eyes and bright, broad smile, and a body that was beyond compare. I walked behind her, my eyes falling to her naked back, seeing the fine pattern of hairs down the ravine of her spine, the fuzz of hairs on her bare arms. Her firm butt moved beneath the tight fabric of her dress.

Roshni was introduced to my friends, and I could see at once they were both impressed, and fascinated. How could a woman so beautiful ignore fashion's first rule – to shave? She was constantly finding excuses to lift her arms: adjusting the halter-strap of her dress, touching her braided hair, giving everyone generous views of her dark and damp underarm hair, her dark eyes flicking often to my face. She knew exactly what effect she was having on me, and most of the men in the place. She seemed to take delight, too, in the disapproving looks of women who had endured painful waxing only to be upstaged by a hairy beauty.

Later in the evening, after dinner and the awards ceremony, there was dancing. I had never seen Roshni dance before, and she was amazing. Her slender body twirled and undulated, her dark hairy armpits boldly displayed whenever she lifted her arms. Her eyes were closed, her dark lips parted as if dancing was better than sex. Her dress hugged the slender shape of her body, her nipples poking unmistakable bumps in the sheer fabric, her bare back gleaming whenever she turned. I chose not to dance; but Roshni had no lack of eager partners, including women.

"Your girlfriend is a babe," one workmate remarked to me.

After almost an hour of dancing, Roshni left the dance floor and joined me. In the coloured lights, I could see droplets of perspiration across her brow, streaking her neck. Her bare brown shoulders shone, and as she drew close, I could smell her. It was an intoxicating perfume, Roshni's sweat and body, and the smell alone was enough to get me hard. She kissed me quickly on the mouth, then whispered in my ear, "do you want to fuck me tonight?"

Before I could reply, a group of admirers arrived, four men and one woman. Roshni turned her attention to them at once. They were pretending to be interested in her braids, her dress, her jewellery, but from I saw how often their eyes roamed to her hairy pits, her thick eyebrows, her divine body. She turned away from me, and I saw the shining trails where droplets of sweat had trickled down her naked back, guided by the soft fuzz down her spine.

At that moment, two realisations sank into my mind. One was that I desired Roshni more than I had ever desired any woman in the world. The other was that she was utterly beyond my control, and that, sooner or later, she would get bored with me and want to move on. I could tell that any one of the men standing there would fuck Roshni if she gave them the chance. And when she put her arm around the waist of the girl, and they kissed each other on the lips, I knew Roshni's seduction was universal.

After all, my friends were discovering what I had long ago learned: sweat and armpit hair makes a woman measurably, scientifically sexier. It's all to do with pheromones, I suppose. No doubt most of those people would later pretend to have been turned off by Roshni's body hair, but I knew whom they would all be fantasising about tonight.

I could stand no more. I stood up and grabbed Roshni's hand, whispered into her ear, "let's go." To my surprise, she agreed, and we caught a taxi back to her apartment. Inside her bedroom, I had my tuxedo off in seconds. Roshni was delighted to see my erection, and wanted to suck it, but I had other plans.

"Turn around and kneel on the bed," I told her. The sight of her naked back all night had left me with just one desire. I started kissing the nape of her neck, the black and wispy hairs soft to my lips. A single tug released the halter straps, and I eased her dress off, kissing her bare back. I kissed her shoulder blades: her skin was like a peach. I kissed my way down her spine, and she arched her back. Towards the very base of her spine, where a subtle Y marked the cleft of her buttocks, the hairs were fluffier. Her firm brown bottom was fuzzed by a soft down. When I parted her buttocks and peeped between, all I could see was the blackest, thickest mass of hair hiding her treasure.

Roshni, by the lamp, half-turned to at me while she untied her braided hair. The hair in her armpits caught the light, hairs along her arm seeming to glow like a fuzzy halo. She still wore her jewellery, the gold wrist-cuffs and arm bracelet, the necklace and earrings.

"Straddle me," I suggested, lying back on the bed. Roshni was only too keen, thighs astride my face, lowering her hairy mass onto my mouth. My tongue found the slippery ravine of her pussy at once, and I began flicking her swelling clitoris with the tip, causing Roshni to writhe in delight. The view from where I lay was incredible: the broad and thick carpet of Roshni's pubes, a dark spider-trail leading all the way to her belly button, her stark and gleaming ribcage, her high and firm breasts, and the irresistible dark, hairy pockets of her armpits. I cupped Roshni's buttocks in my hands and urged her closer, so I could slip my tongue inside her vagina, circling her clitoris, licking faster and faster until her saturated hair filled my mouth. Roshni started moaning within minutes, and I had to grab her hips to stop her from knocking me out with her pelvic bone.

Finally, her vagina and anus convulsing, Roshni climaxed. I slid up from underneath her, kissing and licking the flat wall of her belly, her sweat patterned by tiny hairs. Roshni kept her arms in her braided hair, her eyes closed, enjoying every moment. My attention turned to her breasts. When Roshni was aroused, her nipples, like Pinocchio's nose, betrayed her. Normally dark-chocolate in colour, her aureole had darkened and condensed, crinkled like thick rubber. Her nipples themselves had swollen to twice their normal size, jutting at least 17 millimetres. They felt simply wonderful in my mouth, and I teased and sucked her nipples until she was moaning again.

Finally, I reached those fantastic armpits. The thick hair was wet with sweat, and I started on her right armpit, licking the hairs, gathering them into my mouth. Her flavours were salty and sour; fresh perspiration, and the musk of pheromones that set my heart pounding and made my cock ache. I tasted her armpit in long licks, my tongue smoothing the hairs along her upper arm, then diving back into the hairy crevice deep in the hollow of her pit.

Eventually, I moved to her right armpit, doing the same, stirring and swirling the long hairs with my tongue, tasting her, sucking the perspiration and saltiness while Roshni sighed and groaned in pleasure. Finally, I kissed her lips, and her pink tongue searched my mouth hungrily, drawing her own flavours from me. Her braids fell about her face and shoulders like black snakes.

As we kissed, still kneeling, I gently manoeuvred her so that my cock was between her thighs. The hairy tangle of her pubes teased the tip, and gradually we drew closer. I probed the tight entrance to her pussy, then pushed a little more, gradually sinking my cock into her.

For a while, I just nestled the head of my cock inside her, easing it back and forth, tormenting her. Roshni's nails dug into my arm, her eyes tightly closed in anticipation. Then, finally, I plunged deep, all the way to the hilt, and Roshni gave a shout of relief. We started moving in rhythm, our bodies pressed close, and Roshni's hungry tongue filled my mouth again as she kissed me.

We fucked harder and faster, Roshni's breathing quickening, her brown body glistening with a film of sweat. I caressed her arms, feeling the taut muscles softened by fuzzy hairs, while her hard and swollen nipples grazed my chest with every thrust.

I don't know how I held out for as long as I did, but there was no question of letting Roshni orgasm first. I exploded inside her, pumping everything I had into her, while she continued to fuck me. Finally, when I was completely empty, Roshni bent over and kissed me again, her sweaty body hot against mine.

That night, Roshni slept with her arms over her head: I lay alongside her, my face in one hairy underarm, my hand resting in the bush of her pubic hair. The aroma of her armpit sweat filled my dreams. For now, while the sex was so good, I knew that Roshni was mine.