A Haram Desire

Authors note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A Haram Desire: Part Three

Terms used in this story:

Abaya - Robe like dress

Hijab - Head covering

Salwar kameez - A combination dress with a Salwar (trousers) and kameez (tunic)

Saree - Robe garment from Pakistan, India.

Lehenga - Ankle length skirt, highly embroidered and typical for formal events

Chapter One: Breakfast of Champions

Tahira looked up from where she lay in the bed, Keenan standing above her, his hands filled with the fast-food breakfast he'd brought. She'd felt a moment of shock and confusion when something very much like jealousy seemed to flit across his handsome black face.

It had been Keenan who had plotted to share Tahira with his childhood friend Wilson, so why would he now look envious as he looked at Tahira, her hijab slightly askew, her curvaceous body still locked to Wilson, the man's cock still inside her ravaged pussy, remaining in place while they'd slept for a couple of hours. The big man, sometimes Tahira would forget how big he really was until she found herself looking up at him now, turned, dropping the brown paper bag filled with McDonald's breakfasts onto the top of a chest of drawers, swinging back to face her.

Whatever the emotion was, it was wiped clear of his face as he swung back to face her. Tahira attempted to sit up, Wilson's muscular arm draped around her and her own tiredness making it a struggle. She'd basically gotten herself propped up on her elbow, her dark eyes were shadowed pits above the smudged blemishes, her tiredness writ large on her face.

"Are you okay?" She spoke in a hushed whisper, not wanting to wake Wilson, Keenan's friend stirring in his sleep nonetheless.

"I will be," he responded cryptically. The obscurity of his answer cleared up as he fished out his cock, presenting it before her, a gift of flesh and blood. Tahira baulked however, Wilson's presence making her uncomfortable. She'd come a long way from the nervous, sexually repressed housewife that Keenan had met not that long ago. He'd brought her out of her shell, partially anyway, taking on the role of teacher, of dominant, in the relationship despite his youth. Tahira had found herself unable and unwilling, to deny him his desires, despite the fact they were haram to her culture. So, she'd cheated on her husband, had anal sex and last night Keenan had shared her with a man who had been an utter stranger to her.

She just could not refuse this man anything.

Tahira opened her mouth wide as his hand came to rest on top of the scarf she wore wrapped about her head. She could feel the pressure of his fingertips as they settled firmly on the back of her head, hijab shrouded, she was still acutely aware of the implied insistence of this touch. He pulled her face onto his big black cock and as it filled her mouth her misgivings about doing this with Wilson still in bed with her just melted away. Her own mouth had felt dry and sticky, Tahira slightly dehydrated from the intense sex that night. However soon she found her saliva flowing thick on his shaft as she gulped and choked on his hardness.

Then she felt Wilson's arm move, the weird sensation of his skin peeling off of her own, the perspiration of the night before having formed a seal of their skin against each other. She knew her face would be burning bright with shame, performing oral sex on one man while another watched, but she couldn't stop.

"That's my girl," Keenan groaned, as always that simple statement, where she was his, made Tahira double down on her efforts, so eager to please him. Both his hands cradled her head now, his cock bumping forward a little as he made irregular pelvic shifts, scoring the underside of his cock over her tongue.

"Lemme see those eyes," he said, Tahira looking up at his face while the big cock split her mouth open. She was sure she looked a state that morning, eyes hollow and tired. Keenan obviously didn't see that though, or didn't care. He ran his thumbs over her slightly distended cheeks as she suckled on him, tracing the contours of her face.

The sticky peeling sensation of Wilson's arm moving off her flesh was repeated, the effect tenfold as the now wide-awake man shifted from the spooning position he'd adopted when nestling into her earlier.

"Bruv," Wilson said in greeting to Keenan. He didn't reply though, he just kept his stare fixed on Tahira. Tattooed and scarred, Wilson had a dangerous appearance, that air of menace present even as he rose from the bed naked, a muttered curse at the awkward stiffness he felt. Then came the sound of him padding barefoot to the ensuite bathroom, a strong jet of urine churning the calm surface of the water as it sliced into it. All this Tahira could see in her minds eye as she heard the sound of Wilson's motion, the sound of him urinating a potent reminder of her own full bladder, but she never took her eyes off Keenan as she worshipped his cock.

"Cheers Bruv," Wilson said, the rustling of the paper bag, the sudden smell of sausage from the McDonalds breakfast offering as Wilson found the food that Keenan had brought. While Wilson had been in the bathroom, Keenan had taken his hands from Tahira's face long enough to get her onto her hands and knees. Once she was on all fours on the bed, he went back to holding her head with his hands, meeting her gaze with his own concentrated stare.

The mattress she was on groaned in protest as Wilson got back onto the bed. Tahira couldn't see him, not in her present position, not with Keenan dominating her, using her mouth so effectively for his own pleasure. And her own, as making him happy gave her a thrill in and of itself. She could hear rustling of wrappers, Wilson digging into the food, alien to her ears, her mind so accustomed to cruder, coarser sounds, like the ones her mouth was making around the big black cock.

A pressure on the small of her back, a heat blooming there suddenly, put her off her stride. She couldn't reason the source, though she saw Keenan's eyes finally break contact with her own as he glanced in the direction of her ass.

"Fuck's sake, she's not a table man, bit of fuckin' respect, yeah?" Keenan delivered this to his friend, the penny dropping for Tahira as she realised Wilson had placed, what was probably a sausage McMuffin, on her lower back.

"Chill bruv, just needed my hands free for a second, ai'ight?"

The cock in her mouth jabbed deep into her throat, Tahira's eyes watering as they looked up at Keenan, her still stupefied mind, punch drunk from sexual overload and lack of sleep, taking a moment to process that the black cock hadn't stabbed into her mouth, she had thrown herself onto it.

Wilson had suddenly, brutally, mounted her from behind. His cock, achingly familiar to her pussy, had driven home in a single thrust and she had rocked forward as it did so. The weird sensation of the warm food on her back lifted as Wilson reclaimed his breakfast, slowly stroking his hardening cock in and out while he took large bites of his food, chewing on it noisily.

It was so coarse, so utterly degrading. Tahira was a married mother of two, outwardly respectable and devout. Yet here she was, like a lamb on a spit, being used by two black cocks at the same time. Keenan saw her as his, her body a possession for him to use, abuse... even share as he saw fit. For Wilson, it seemed she was even less than that, the man having zero respect for her beyond the pleasure he could take for himself in fucking her.

She should have been mortified, shamed into abandoning this second life she was living. Instead, Tahira choked and whimpered on Keenan's cock as her first orgasm of the morning blossomed into life...

Chapter Two: Having your cake and eating it...

Leading a double life took a toll on not just Tahira, but on those around her, those closest to her as well.

Keenan found that, try as Tahira might, she couldn't always free up time to be with him as and when he wanted. This meant that the young black man was often faced with the choices of not meeting up with Tahira or cancelling work commitments in order to steal a couple of hours with her. More often than not he would take the financial, professional hit, missing out on work. Although it troubled Tahira that he was having to make that sacrifice, it also lifted her spirits that she meant that much to him that he was prepared to do it. Despite the dominant/submissive power play that existed in their relationship, it was increasingly clear to her that Keenan had real feelings for her, feelings that were matched by her own growing infatuation for him.

Her family also suffered. Her two children found themselves the victims of Tahira's Jekyll and Hyde personality, one that was born out of the frustration of her circumstances and the guilt she felt over her actions. One moment she would be screaming and shouting at one or both children for some small slip on their part, homework, housework or whatever. Then Tahira would flip, smothering them with attention and affection, insisting on them telling her every infinitesimal detail of their day, plying them with questions or treats as she tried to assuage her pangs of conscience.

The inevitable fallout for her husband was the ever-widening chasm between them, a cooling that Tahira did her best to arrest, knowing that it was her driving it. Still, she was finding herself comparing her husband of fifteen years with her younger black lover, Ali never coming out well in that competition. She admired Ali, his devotion to his children was unquestionable. As a provider, he had a good job with a good wage and he balanced sensible frugality with generosity to Tahira and the kids so that none in the family ever felt themselves wanting. As a person he was a little rigid, but at his core a good and moral person. But she didn't love him, she wasn't sure she ever had.

Her affair was heaping stress and strain on her mind and her spirit. Conversely, her only release from the pressure was the affair itself, the intense physical nature of the sex between herself and Keenan allowing her to blow off steam. Tahira hadn't seen Wilson again since Keenan had set her up to be shared, despite Wilson's spoken intent to see her again. The idea of Keenan leaving her with Wilson again filled her with equal parts dread, shame and excitement.

Her life had become complicated. The procession of lies, guilt, shame, longing and regret that marched through her mind daily had Tahira almost crying for a break. A pause, just enough to let her recover some sense of who she was at a person.

Unlooked for but another example for the conflicted housewife of her husband's qualities, Ali then presented an opportunity for this break she so badly needed. He also created a moral crossroads for Tahira to decide on a direction for her life.

<<0>>

Three weeks before the summer break for their two children began, the thought of school finishing for three months and leaving her kids at home all day giving Tahira heart palpitations as she foresaw so many problems with getting away to meet with Keenan under those circumstances, Ali sat the family down to suggest a surprise holiday for them all.

From out of nowhere, Ali came up with the proposal that all four of them travel to Pakistan for a month's holiday. He laid out a vision of the family touring around, visiting relatives from both sides of the family, ones that had never had the chance to see the children since they were born. He also saw it as an opportunity for both of the children to get some much-needed exposure to their heritage.

Neither of the kids were initially wowed by this idea. For them a dream holiday was hitting the theme parks in Orlando, but they were quickly swept up by their father's enthusiasm for the trip and so it was at this point that he had turned to Tahira for her opinion. The delay while Ali was bringing the children on board with his proposal granted Tahira a few minutes to think about things herself.

Getting away, a whole month with just the family, it was the break she needed. Four weeks to clear her head, realign her priorities, make good, sensible decisions for her future. There was no other choice.

"I don't think I should go," she had said, hesitancy and regret clear in the way she spoke, her eyes downcast as she didn't want to see the disappointment on her families faces.

"Why not?" It was a simple question, Ali not putting any pressure or anger in it, just an honest inquiry.

Tahira had played the same card she'd used so often since beginning her affair with Keenan. She spoke about her parents needing her around, her concern that they might take a downturn in health when she would be half a world away. It wasn't true, she just couldn't imagine not being with Keenan for twenty-eight days. To not have his touch on her skin, his body entering hers for that length of time... it just couldn't be borne.

To his credit, Ali had been understanding. His disappointment was clear but he didn't make any attempt to change her mind, Tahira wondering at that but deciding it was a mark of his commitment to her supporting her family. Again, she didn't want to think of what that meant when weighed against her own actions, so she accepted the gift of his consideration and left it at that.

That meant she had three weeks to get everything ready for the trip away. Passports checked, clothes purchased and packed, gifts for those relatives that they'd meet chosen and wrapped before being added to bulging suitcases. A thousand and one tasks to be done.

Through it all, she burned with excitement at the thought of Keenan, uninterrupted, unfettered access to Keenan for four whole weeks. He'd been thrilled when she had told him what was happening, making her loins burn with the plans he had for her. Her children were infected by her good mood and barely repressed excitement, seeing it as their mother's delight for their chance to travel. For the entire family, the time before the departure date seemed to fly by and yet drag slowly closer at one and the same time.

Ali seemed troubled as he loaded the kids and luggage into the car early in the morning they were set to leave. Tahira figured that, as usual, he was a nervous traveler. It wasn't flying that put him in that mood, her husband was never comfortable with not having total control over a situation and the various cogs that made up the trip, plane departure times, luggage check and so on always set him on edge. The children waved and blew kisses from the back seat of the car, Ali simply offering her a muted salute as he backed out of their driveway and headed on the route to Heathrow Airport. She stayed watching, waving as they drove away, a knot in her stomach at the idea of being separated from them all for so long. Then a distinctly different physical pang lurched into life, emitting from a spot just below the knot in her stomach. Tahira's body already anticipating her extended holiday with Keenan.

They weren't due to meet up till the evening, the young black man working through the day to finish off his outstanding jobs, planning on taking the next day off to be with her. That gave her time and she opted to waste it away, settling down in the front room in front of the TV, her phone and a mug of coffee beside her. Keenan sent her a text a while later, confirming Ali and the kids were gone. Tahira got a flurry of texts then from her kids, giving her a running commentary as they passed through the airport and made it to their departure gates. The last text came from her daughter Aidah, letting her know they were all on the plane.

Tahira sent her a reply, reminding her not to fight with her brother and to be good for her father and above all else to have fun, ending it with a love heart. She made to set the phone aside again when it vibrated to announce an email, the summary notification telling her it was from Ali. She couldn't understand whey he'd be emailing her something, unless his control freak urge had prompted him to send her on their itinerary for the trip... again. She tapped the screen of her phone, opening the email that had an attached video. Totally nonplussed now, Tahira opened up the video file, thumbing the volume button on the side of the phone as she saw Ali's face, the background of the video their own kitchen. She hit play and watched.

"Wife. This is the last time I will give you that title, you cared for it as little as you cared for the words, husband, mother, family," Ali spoke into the camera of his own phone, she could tell the video had been made that morning, he'd risen before everyone else, she'd assumed to triple check passports and luggage but apparently not.

"I know you've been seeing someone else. I can imagine you now, shaking your head in denial but please, enough with the lies. I don't know who, I don't care. The shame is yours, not theirs. Did you really think you could lie to my face for all this time and I wouldn't know? Were you so arrogant and blind to me to think I knew nothing of you? That I couldn't read the deception in your voice, in your face?" Tahira had raised a hand to her mouth, a keening noise rising despite that as her husband made her worst nightmares a reality.

"You have a month to make your arrangements. I expect you out of the house on my return. Don't try to contact the children, I will take their phones from them when we land, they will learn of your infidelity from me and me alone, I won't allow you to tell them any more lies about this. When I emailed this message to you, I also sent messages to my family and to yours so do not expect your parents to have any compassion either." She could see the hurt in Ali's face now, realizing it had been there for some time now, she'd just failed to see it, too caught up in her own drama to recognize the telltale signs until it was too late. Already she could feel the phone vibrating in her hand as texts began to arrive from her family, in response to Ali's.

"I thought this trip might heal things. I hoped if I got you out here, away from whoever you have been with. I thought we could fix things. You showed me what a fool I have been, to expect anything less than treachery from you. Now you will reap the harvest of what you have sown, your children will know the truth of you and you will lose them and myself in the divorce. Remember, one month."

And that was it, less than two minutes of a video to spell out the disaster her life had just become. Tahira dialed Ali's phone; it went straight to voice mail. She dialed her son Mahad next, then Aidah. The same, all switched off for the flight. Her own phone fell from suddenly nerveless fingers, Tahira sliding from her seat, on to her knees as the racking sobs began.

She couldn't call her mother, to seek comfort there. Ali had seen to that. Somewhere in the next two tear-soaked hours, Tahira had reached out to her only avenue of solace. Keenan. His phone had rung out to the answering service, no doubt he was too busy in work to respond. In a voice thick with misery and interrupted by choked off sobs, Tahira left a message from him explaining what had happened. She rang off and then immediately called him back, leaving a second message asking him not to call around, not to contact her, not yet. She needed time. Hanging up for the second time, Tahira threw the phone away from her, curling into a fetal position as her voice wailed out in self-recrimination and utter loneliness.

The phone rang a few times but Tahira didn't answer. Late in the evening she heard an insistent knocking on the door, Keenan's voice coming through the letter box as he called out her name. The house was dark though, quiet as the grave, Tahira still lying on the floor as she had been for hours. The tears had stopped, only because she couldn't produce anymore, the urge to cry hadn't lessened one bit. She didn't respond to his voice, to him calling her name. All she could think about was how Ali laid the blame for all of this on her.