Miss Gupta of West Bengal

Miss Gupta is the quintessential Indian matriarch, stern but loving, and quite dutiful when it comes to protecting her family and the traditions of her people. When Miss Gupta and her former husband Amit moved to the City of Ottawa, Ontario, from West Bengal, Republic of India, three decades ago, they had a lot of adjustments to make. Indians form a sizable minority in the Canadian social landscape, but that doesn't make life easy for the Indian community, especially the women.

Miss Gupta has always been a woman of the world, firmly believing herself anyone's equal. In modern India, Indian women supposedly enjoy the same rights as Indian men but culture, tradition and religion still put bindings on a woman's life. Indeed, that's why there are many clashes between Indian men and Indian women when they move to Western society. The term culture shock doesn't even begin to describe what Miss Gupta and her husband Amit experienced in Ottawa.

It is quite true that Miss Gupta and her husband Amit had a tough time in Canada...at first. The Indians are a hardy, hard-working people and the West Bengali couple adjusted to life in the Canadian Capital. They got new jobs, bought a house and raised a family. Fast forward a bit, and Amit is six feet under, and the couple's two sons, Sujan and Banerjee live in the City of Vancouver, British Columbia. To say that Miss Gupta is lonely would be an understatement...

Miss Gupta is a lovely woman, standing five foot eleven, pleasantly plump, with long dark hair only slightly streaked with gray, and dark bronze skin. The lady's body is curvy and firm, and her buttocks are round and thick. In her hometown of Dankuni, in the West Bengal region of India, Miss Gupta was renowned for her beauty and great height. Women who are close to six feet tall are rare in India, that's for damn sure. Miss Gupta was a model for a time, then she fell in love with Amit, and they got married and moved to Canada.

Miss Gupta studied Nursing at the University of Ottawa, and spent decades working as a nurse at the Civic Hospital in the Carling area of Ottawa. As for her husband Amit, he gave up halfway through his civil engineering studies and became a cab driver. For much of their marriage, Miss Gupta was the breadwinner, something which bruised Amit's ego, and caused friction between the two of them. There were major arguments and all out fights over the couple's finances, and Miss Gupta did not miss those.

Officially, Amit died of a heart attack, and as per Miss Gupta's wishes, he was cremated. A decade before Amit's death, he'd been arrested for domestic violence, and subsequently released when Miss Gupta refused to press charges. Although Miss Gupta played the role of the dutiful wife and mother for most of her life, she truly despised her husband Amit and was not sorry for his death. As far as Miss Gupta was concerned, the bastard should have died a long time ago.

"Any man who beats his wife doesn't deserve anything except the deepest circle of hell," Miss Gupta said to herself as she sat in her living room. Ever since Amit died, Miss Gupta removed all of his pictures from the family living room, leaving only pictures of herself and her son. The last thing Miss Gupta needed was to be reminded of her vile, violent and abusive late husband every damn day. As far as Miss Gupta was concerned, the bastard got what he deserved.

Reclining on the couch, Miss Gupta watched the classic movie Mississippi Masala, featuring a younger Denzel Washington romancing the sexy Indian actress Sarita Choudhury. Miss Gupta smiled as she watched the couple navigate romance and prejudice in the Deep South. If black Americans only knew. A lot of Indians are more racist toward black folks than the rednecks in the southern United States. Of course, it's not politically correct to admit such a thing.

At the age of fifty four, Miss Gupta had few regrets, and all of them revolved around remaining married to a man who was abusive and mean as hell. Miss Gupta is a liberated woman living life by her own rules, culture and tradition be damned. As a widow whose sons are grown and whose parents are long dead, Miss Gupta doesn't have to answer to anyone. That's just the way Miss Gupta likes it, thank you very much.

While walking around the Rideau Shopping Center in downtown Ottawa, Miss Gupta saw a young Sikh Indian woman holding hands with a tall, handsome young black man. Seeing such a couple made Miss Gupta smile, though some Indian guys walking by looked uncomfortable upon seeing them. Indian women ought to seek love and happiness on their own terms, instead of putting their lives on hold in the name of culture, religion and tradition...

Miss Gupta lives in the Nepean area, and whenever she goes to the Loblaw's grocery store, there's this clerk who's always staring at her. The man is tall, of African descent, and very dark-skinned. Miss Gupta found his stare peculiar and ignored him, until the day he approached her and addressed her in flawless Hindi. Miss Gupta is fluent in English, Hindi and Bengali, and was quite surprised by the stranger's erudition.

"Sorry if I stared, but I spent two years in Calcutta in my younger days, and I was a fan of actress Sharmila Tagore, you remind me of her," said the African clerk, whose name tag read Ismail. Miss Gupta smiled at Ismail, clearly surprised by what he said. He was tall, and very handsome, and in his late forties. Throwing caution to the wind, Miss Gupta smiled and introduced herself to Ismail, the friendly Loblaw's clerk. What could go wrong?

"I am Neha Gupta, good to meet you, Ismail," Miss Gupta said, and thus, she met the man destined to change her life. Ismail Dadjo, a newcomer to the City of Ottawa, Ontario, by way of metropolitan Sokode, Republic of Togo, seemed quite interesting, and Miss Gupta surprised herself by exchanging numbers with him. They struck a friendship, and began hanging out, going to malls, restaurants and movie theaters together. As it turns out, for the lonely but lively Miss Gupta, Ismail was just what the doctor ordered...

Ismail was quite honest with Miss Gupta about his life. He'd been married once before, to a French woman named Josephine, and they had an adult together, Nicolette, who lived in the City of Paris, France, with her mother. Ismail visited his family in Paris every summer. Miss Gupta was thankful for Ismail's honesty. The Togolese Muslim brother is a man of the world, and a charming one at that. Miss Gupta was not about to let such a gem slip through her fingers...

"You are a lovely woman," Ismail told Miss Gupta, as they walked around Baseline Road, after catching a play at the Nepean theater. Miss Gupta blushed as Ismail put his arm around her. They'd been out a bunch of times and Ismail was always a gentleman, friendly and charming. He was a learned man, with a political science degree from Strasbourg University in France, and like many newcomers to Canada, he was working a menial job while looking for work in his field. Miss Gupta found Ismail quite interesting...

"You flatter me, sir," Miss Gupta grinned, and she grabbed Ismail's face and kissed him passionately. After their first kiss, they looked into each other's eyes and then burst out laughing. Hand in hand, they walked back to Miss Gupta's place. Once there, they kissed again, and made love, right on her living room floor. Miss Gupta hadn't made love to anyone in over a year, and Ismail was more than happy to help her make up for lost time...

"You're a unique woman," Ismail told Miss Gupta, as he beheld her beauty. The tall, curvaceous, bronze-skinned and dark-haired Bengali Indian MILF had one hell of a body on her. Miss Gupta grinned, and turned around, showing Ismail her thick bronze booty. Ismail smiled and kissed Miss Gupta while caressing her derriere. Ismail kissed Miss Gupta's breasts, sucking on her nipples while his hand slipped between her legs. Miss Gupta welcomed his touch, and licked her lips, wanting more...

"Make love to me, Ismail," Miss Gupta whispered, and Ismail laid her on the carpeted floor before doing just that. Miss Gupta cooed softly as Ismail kissed her from her head to her toes. He buried his face between her thick thighs and ate her pussy. Miss Gupta had never shaved down below and Ismail loved that. Mature Indian women, just like most African women, didn't care to shave their vaginas, and Ismail enjoyed the hell out of that. Miss Gupta moaned softly as Ismail ate her pussy. The brother was hungry for her, and she relished the experience...

"Miss Gupta, you're in for a treat," Ismail paused to say, and he fingered her pussy while teasing her clit with his tongue. Miss Gupta threw her head back and screamed in pleasure. With her nipples erect, her thick thighs shuddering, her curvaceous body trembling, Miss Gupta cried out in sheer delight as Ismail coaxed a wicked orgasm out of her. Ismail continued to eat Miss Gupta's pussy until she tapped out, a shuddering, post-orgasmic mess on the damn floor...

"Oh you're the devil in bed," Miss Gupta said, laughing, and Ismail kissed her. They went to the bedroom, and continued with their fun. Miss Gupta got on all fours, face down and big bronze ass up. Ismail came up behind her, and literally kissed her thick derriere. He rolled a condom on his big dark dick, and entered her with a swift thrust. Miss Gupta let out a happy sigh as Ismail buried his big dick inside her pussy. Gripping Miss Gupta's wide hips, Ismail began fucking her with deep, passionate strokes. Miss Gupta needed to get dicked down, and Ismail is definitely the man for the job...

"I love this big butt of yours," Ismail told Miss Gupta as he fucked her roughly, loving the way her big Indian booty jiggled under the force of his thrusts. Miss Gupta screamed obscenities in Hindi and English as Ismail fucked her good, his big dark filling her pussy. She hadn't gotten a good fucking in a long time, and it felt oh so right. Ismail and Miss Gupta fucked and sucked the night away. They fell asleep in each other's arms, and had a wonderful time.

Thus began the relationship which changed Miss Gupta and Ismail Dadjo's lives. The Togolese Muslim brother and the tall, plump Indian matriarch come from different worlds but so what? Ismail and Miss Gupta like each other, and that's that. Eventually, Miss Gupta's sons came around and although surprised to see their mother with a new man, they were respectful in their dealings with Ismail.

As for Ismail, he is thrilled to be with Miss Gupta. Most of their friends and acquaintances agree that the tall African Muslim brother and the Indian MILF were made for each other. They walk around Ottawa, hand in hand, happy as can be. Miss Gupta thinks of Ismail as her dark prince charming. Ismail cherishes Miss Gupta more than he can say. Well, Ismail does find Miss Gupta's taste in movies and TV shows somewhat odd. She watches a lot of movies and shows where women kill their husbands. Ismail dismissed Miss Gupta's weirdness as just random female odd behavior. She makes him happy, and ultimately that's what counts.