How the story came about, how it all started is an integral part of the tale. Let me tell you, this part does not have much sex, but is the one that builds up the characters that play a major role in the ensuing two parts.
It happens that from time to time people are thrown in together, diverse people, who otherwise might never have met. Enemies - feudal or politically created enemies - come together and part as friends on a personal level. A Jewish family and a Palestinian for all their distaste for each other might at some point in time be mashed together in a small apartment block where they have no choice but to socialize.
Or it could be an Indian and a Pakistani family. Both, due to the prevalent political tension would not have met without preconceived notions of distrust for each other. They may deny that at first. But a Pakistani will never say he will trust an Indian with his life and vice versa.
So when this two young couples were thrown together two things were likely to happen. Spend lonely evenings or come to terms with reality. Specially when the reality is that you are in a place where no one speaks your language, where the food that you are used to are hard to get, even the spices have different twang to them.
Rana Amjad was from Pakistan, a down and out Lahori, a die hard Pakistani and decent man and doctor. Nasreen was his wife. Both felt a little out of place when they first arrived. Fact was they were not used to speaking English as a rule, their accent made them even more difficult to understand. The army had sent them to Malaysia, where they were stationed in a far away navy camp.
Rana was tall and handsome, in a rugged sort of way as most Pathans are. Quite big in size, he usually towered over people. He had a very pleasant disposition to go with his good looks. He laughed easily, and laughed well. He exercised regularly and tried to keep himself fit. His brown eyes sparkled when he laughed or smiled. He certainly caused a flutter amongst the female staff of the hospital, a few even made hints they wouldn't mind being taken advantage of. He was however, still very devoted to his wife Nasreen. They had been married for nearly two years now and were happy with everything.
Nasreen was big as far as Asians go. She was five feet eight, just a couple of inches shorter than her husband. From the looks of it she had a good body, no extra flesh anywhere. But she kept herself well wrapped in public, wearing loose salwar khameez and a veil that covered her head made her look bigger than she was. Her prominent nose attracted attention first, then the eyes moved on to the dark, drowsy eyes, the eyelashes that were real and envy of all those who wore false ones to look better. She used very little makeup which was good since any extra makeup would have spoiled the fresh and natural glow of her skin, would have hampered her beauty than aided it.
Her hourglass figure was well shaped, a little bigger in the ass than the bosom. She must have been of a figure like 38-28-36. Her hair were shoulder length, she would wear them loose at home and usually tied them up in a pony tail when going out.
They hardly ventured out the first two months. He finished work and came home, she would make tea and they would watch television, mostly watching Hindi movies the had bought and more usually started making love on the couch and then moved to the bed room to complete a passionate session. They were quite conservative when making love, missionary position being the normal way, only sometimes venturing into different position now and then.
Both had inhibitions that that found hard to break. He wanted her to spend some time eating his cock as much she wanted it, but he found it hard to tell her. She wanted him to move down to her crotch, taste her after he had devoted enough time with her nipples, but she dared not tell him. He wanted it too but desisted. But it was not that their fucking was not satisfactory, they were satiated at the end of it, happy.
They hardly ventured, happy in their own cocoon of love and happiness. She would keep herself busy with the housework, reading all the news in Urdu over the Internet. She even declined the domestic that the army was ready to provide, she did not have much work and wanted to do it herself. At times she sewed. She liked the satisfaction of creating something nice and wearable for herself.
Then the Indian came. Raj was a tall too, touching six feet, boisterous and with a loud contagious laugh. His eyes sparkled and misted when he laughed. His chiseled features were immaculate. His smallish nose, his wide lips and his dark jet black mop of hair gave him a boyish look. He had been married to Rita for almost a year and a half.
Rita was an exact opposite of her husband, rather quiet and shy till you got to know her, small in size. Her slender five feet four frame was, though, was as sexy as they get. It is not the size of the boobs or ass that matters, it is the size in proportion to the body. Too big on a small chest would awkward. Too small on a big chest plain. Hers were just right for her body. Enclosed in 36 C cup bra they stood up, proudly and to obscenely. Her ass, perfect round and bubble shaped jutted out enough to make them alluring and not out of place. She had a wide mouth, a big smile when she smiled.
Her clothes were more revealing than Nasreen's. Her blouses were low cut showing a good view of her cleavage. Her skirts were an inch or two shorter than would be the norm. She liked to keep her hair short, nicely done in whatever style that took her fancy. When she made up she was particularly seductive. Her dark eyes would look you and give you a hardon.
They arrived with the boisterousness that would become associated with them, with the noise and greetings that would be their hallmark. And as it must be, it was Raj who approached Rana a week after they had come and asked them to join him and Rita for dinner.
As they sat, Raj and Rana, on the couch and discussed the world politics and the one single passion that bound the two separated countries - cricket - together the girls went about their business of getting the food ready. Rita had made Puran puri, a kind of a sweet bread that was a Gujarati specialty with several sauces and salads to with it.
Meanwhile Raj, in his open and unassuming way had held a bottle of Chivas Regal in his hand and shaking it asked Rana: "Say Rana saheb, how about a little appetizer before dinner."
Rana was not a drinker on a regular basis, but he was not averse to a peg or two in good company. He laughed and agreed.
"Oi Rita, jaan, a little ice for the two buggers here."
