A Muslim Woman

This is my first of many stories on this platform. I hope you enjoy reading.

Enjoy reading...

It is the end of Ramzaan month, and I suddenly realised I have a big bush down there when a random guy from Facebook asked, "Chut pe baal hai tumhare?" (do you have any hairs down there)

To be honest, I was shocked and horny when I heard this question. Nobody asked me such things online, and that question kept me rewinding while I was shaving my pussycat. Well, I blocked that idiot after that text.

Sexual gazes were common to me. Being a middle-aged Muslim woman, 33 years old, and with a more than average height of around 5"8, many people often keep their eyes on me.

Last year at a super-rushed Charminar, a guy tried tapping my buttocks with his middle and index fingers around my inner thighs, The rush was too much that I couldn't help but to suffer or enjoy. He was unsuccessful at many attempts though it tickled me but my anxiety was also so high at the same time. That night, I literally murdered my pillow, which was in between my legs, I masturbated countless times by rubbing my pussy against my soft white pillow.

I do not cover my entire body; I love to wear jeans (well, I'm sceptical now after that incident in Charminar last year, though secretly, something inside me wants that feeling again). I wear a hijab that typically covers my breast, but still, my 36-sized D-shaped melons will always be visible due to their size, and my friend Kavya once texted me that I have beautiful buttocks, and she swears she's not lesbian at all.

Most of the time, I felt like a celeb due to the unusual attention I get because of my body and fair feathers. I learned, guys, that fantasy is to fuck a tall woman. I was so thrilled yet so scared because of the obvious reasons.

I never tried to show off well, of course, to an extent, but that doesn't mean that I am an invitation for sex. Anyway, anyway, I'm mostly religious, never missed prayer on time, had a 30-day fasting streak, and finally Eid got over. That's when I realised about my public hair.

It was a day after Eid week when my distant devar (cousin brother of my husband) visited us. He got a job at Wipro in Hyderabad. I have known him since my marriage days; he used to come to our home when he was studying here in the city. Fast forward 10 years, and everything has changed. My distant devar Ahmed has completely changed, and he looks more manly than ever for some reason.

He stayed overnight, and the next day, my husband went to the office early as usual, and my Saasu Ma is always bedridden most of the time due to her illness. Ahmed has been kind as always; he helped my kids drop off at school, and he went off to the office for his document submission.

It was around 2 when I just had my prayer after lunch and accidentally slipped in the kitchen because there was soap water spilled, which I was unaware of. That lower back pain was killing me; I was unable to walk properly and couldn't even stand. My mother-in-law is of no help, and I kept calling Shakir, my husband, who is probably in a meeting that he mentioned to me this morning.

It's been 30 minutes, and I called Shakir six times yet received no response from him. As my guardian suddenly rang the doorbell and I was desperate to get help but couldn't walk till the door, "Simran Bhabi, it's me, Ahmed," I somehow managed to open the door with the help of tables and chairs.

He saw my face and wondered what was happening. I quickly explained the accident, and he didn't waste a single second and wrapped his arm around my shoulder to support me. It was of no help, and then what he did was not only shocking to me but also a fantasy to me. He's 5"6, but somehow he completely lifted me. He gripped his one hand around my chest just below my breast and one hand around my back of the knees.

At that very moment, I didn't feel any pain but pure joy and peace for a moment. He lifted me and took me into my bedroom. The moment he dropped me, my pain came back, and I was almost crying.

Obviously, he is not a doctor or something, but he offered me help, and I was in a non-state to listen. He called a doctor who was near our colony and said he'd be there in 20ish minutes.

I asked Ahmed to bring me balm or something. We had a painkiller spray at home, and without hesitation, he lifted my kurta and sprayed all over it. It was cold, chilled, and warned at the same time, and another thought was that I was showing my skin to him.

At the very moment, he asked me if I would like to be pressed there. Without a second, I said yes. He covered my back with my kurta and started pressing it firmly with his manly fingers. The pain was receding, and I was kind of feeling relaxed, but the moment he stopped, the pain was right there.

I literally cried at that moment. My mother-in-law was shouting from the other room because of shock. Ahmed rushed to her room and calmed her down while I was weeping in pain here. I lifted my kurta and started pressing myself through this pain.

I shouted Ahmed, and he rushed back to my room and saw my struggle. Immediately, he kept his hands at the lower back of mine, and he started massaging me with his complete hands.

It felt good with that massage, but it was also kind of painful. What was exciting was that he was pressing my back into my buttocks. I was guiding him where to put pressure, and due to my satin clothes, his hands were slipping through clothes, and he was unable to grip the muscle.

I lifted my buttocks and loosened my kameez pant. He could clearly see my black panty, but I couldn't care less. He kept on rubbing it for almost 10 minutes. He could clearly see the crack in my buttocks, and in fact, I was the one who asked him to press the upper part of it.

The pain was moving up and down; I was unable to tell from where exactly the pain was occurring. He started pressing my lower back and upper back like a professional massage guy; he already saw my black bra strap and was careful with that area that could injure me.

After a few more minutes, the pain started to relax. I stopped weeping and felt like sleeping due to the massage. Ahmed was sweating and still giving me an excellent massage. I'm quite sure he's erected. I intentionally moved my buttocks, which resulted in my pants being stuck in between my ass cheeks.

I was still guiding him on areas he should press, and what happened was that I pointed my hand exactly at my right buttock, which to him was a clear invitation regardless of what I felt. He suddenly groped it and released it, and I kept repeating it until I shook my buttocks.

I was horny now. I kept my hand on my left buttock while he was busy groping and fondling my right buttock. I pressed myself and parted my ass cheeks.

This was a moment; he wasted no time and lifted my pants and lowered them down. To tease him, I lifted my buttocks close to him in that severe pain.

Now he can clearly see my asshole, along with my darkest whole filled with lubricant. He parted my buttocks and released them, again groping both at the same time. He parted my buttocks, harder this time, and released them.

I was moaning "uhh uhh huhh" with pain, but now those sounds have changed to "ummmm ahhh ummmm.".

I can hear his restless breath, and he was topless now and started gasping and pressing my back from top to bottom. He was now crying, "Ahh simran bhabhi, ummmm."

I swear, at that moment, I wanted to tell him, Ahmed, just fuck me now, but I resisted.

Now he placed his hand on my neck and slid it under my kurta to find my boobs. I resisted him; that would have made him mad, and he again started to find my boobs and was about to lift my chest. I moaned, "No".

He then pressed my ass super hard this time, which would surely make his mark on my ass, and pinched it. "Ahhhhh stupidddd!" I cried with a moan.

I am sold that he's wild. He placed his middle finger in my mouth and was pushing and pulling; this made my pussy more wet, and he then removed his finger roughly and directly placed it exactly on top of my pussy lips. "Alllhahhhhh," I moaned.

Now the phone is ringing--not just mine but also Ahmed's at the same time. He was completely into me, and I was scared that Shakir or the doctor might be at the door.

He then started inserting his finger in my juicy, wet pussy; he was moaning and heaving. My in-law again started shouting from the room, and I shouted, "Ahmed...Ahmedddd, Ahhhmeddd".

Each and every possible emotion was running through me at that exact time: lust, greed, fear, selfishness, anger, and whatnot.

Ahmed was literally deaf at that moment, and those scenarios have now turned me off suddenly.

Now the pain is back, and my pussycat stopped reacting to his finger, and I shouted at him so loudly that he suddenly said, "Bhabiii, sorry, sorry, I'm picking up the call now.".

I was very angry at him and wanted to slap him badly, and I wanted to slap myself to let him and myself indulge in such things.

Finally, rationality hit me, and the doctor came at that time. Shakir called me like 4-5 times, and he was home in no time. In the midst of this, Ahmed got scolded for not picking up the phone.

After the treatment, at night, I cried and cried and cried on Shakir's shoulder. He thought that was because of pain and accidentally, but I was crying because of shame and because of sin.

Through this manipulation, I convinced Shakir to finger-fuck me from behind after the massage suggested by the doctor, and I was lying down exactly like I laid in front of Ahmed that afternoon.

You know, the wildest part was that, when Shakir was fingering my pussycat from behind, I was imagining Ahmed and the situation that was created this afternoon.

I moaned, "Ahhhhh...mmmm...eeeee."