Although Zahida was about 35 years old now after being married for 15 years, she did not look a day older than 28. I had dreamt about her for the last 12 years. She always turned heads wherever she went. She had a body designed for sin, which a man could dream of possessing. Nature had been generous in endowing her not only with a good height of 5 feet 6 inches, but also with the figure of a goddess and a clear complexion.
Zahida was sexy as hell even after birth of three children. She had fair skin, high cheekbones, a straight nose, a firm chin, and a lovely soft-lipped mouth. Her eyes were bluish, and her lips were naturally pink. Her long blond hair cascaded to her knees. There were a few small dark beauty spots on cheeks. Her lovely, genuine, warm, beautiful smile that lit up her eyes always motivated me to kiss her.
She had to be the most gorgeous woman I'd ever met. She may have been hotter than any woman I'd ever imagine may. Something I found instantly enticing was her body, She had a body to die for, with full, lovely protruding breasts probably 36C, wide hips, and extremely erotic arse, which wiggled as she walked. The fullness of her breasts and the soft, sexy sway of her hips made me thinks of touching them. My prick was always in a state of readiness on seeing her; such ripe and heavy breasts that were appropriate and seemed to be still firm on a slim and fair body were a heavenly sight for me. To get her into my bed at any cost was my dream.
But I always tried to control my feelings. Any hurry in the process would mean getting kicked in the nuts. Things had to happen gradually. This realization was both arousing and disturbing; after all, she was not just another woman but the wife of a very dear friend, Kashif.
My association with Kashif was quite old, as he had been my friend from childhood. Kashif was an average man with average looks, a small business, and an average income. He had married Zahida about 15 years back, and I had frozen in place when I had met her first 12 years before. I was immediately impressed by how great Zahida looked. I felt my face flush in embarrassment, and I tried to look away, but I couldn't. Zahida's beauty, good nature, and exuberance had taken me in.
Zahida was oblivious to my intentions, although she loved the attention I showered on her. Being friends, we met frequently, but somehow there was always a formal line, which wasn't breached by us.
Once Kashif came to meet me. He told me, "I am in deep trouble, and after thinking hard, I decided that I would ask you if you could help me."
"Tell me, Kashif. I will try my best. I would be pleased if I could help you," I said.
He told me that " I had recently hit some hard time, and I need one million rupees as a loan and hope that you will help me, he told me details about his financial needs."
My sick mind took over to Zahida his wife, when I heard this thinking how can I leverage this to my advantage.
"But that is a huge amount!"
"Yes I know it is, but I promise you that I will return it after only two months."
"OK, Kashif, I will give you the money, but let me say frankly that you will need to give me this in a written agreement. I don't mind, but this is a huge amount, you know."
I was thinking I could use my money to help him out, but wanted something in return.
"Yes! Why not?" Kashif replied. Thus I gave him money, taking a written agreement from him.
One month before the due date, it was a pleasant surprise when Kashif invited me to his house for dinner.
Who knew it was my lucky day? I bought a bouquet of flowers and some chocolates for the children, and reached his flat at eight o'clock sharp. Kashif received me warmly and led me to lounge, and we sat there. After a few minutes Zahida came before me like a pleasing breeze. The moment I entered my sixth sense hinted to me something about his wife, the way she was walking, the way she was smiling, and the way she was dressed up. Contrary to tradition she wore a red satin qameez (long shirt) with her usual white shilwar (trousers). Her qameez was quite low-cut in front, so I could see her cleavage. She looked charming from every perspective. Zahida, like most Indian women, normally wore only Indian clothes. She had a handful of matching bangles on both of her wrists. Her feet were bare as Indian women's feet normally remain at home.
That evening I was in heaven; my mind was not with me! It had become impossible for me keep my eyes off her at even the slightest move of her. Once she caught me staring her, and she blushed, realizing I was looking at her in a romantic way. She beamed like a virgin schoolgirl captivated by my stares, but my gazes were gradually extending beyond her face. Of course she had noticed this and now and again had given me a glance in response.
The more I looked at her, the more I was excited by the way she talked with me, and the way she looked at me when Kashif wasn't looking. Whenever he caught us looking, he'd get a big sheepish smile on his face and then just turn away. Zahida was undoubtedly aware of my state, as she had caught me looking at her body on that occasion and gave me a glimmer of a smile, and quite often she would remain looking at me while others were not looking.
Zahida left us, saying that she was going to the kitchen to prepare dinner, while both of us, Kashif and I, were laughing and chatting. I had been watching Zahida the whole time she was serving dishes to the table, though trying not to be too obvious with my staring. Many times I positioned myself behind her so as not to miss the fabulous view of her full, generous, swaying hips.
When dinner was laid, Zahida asked us to come to the dining hall. We went and sat at the table. Zahida sat just opposite me.
As the table was fairly small, it was quite natural that my knee should touch Zahida's occasionally, and it did. I kept the touches light at the beginning, but as she didn't pull away, I pressed a little harder and left it next to hers. We both smiled as she looked lovingly up into my eyes. I kept the conversation running with Kashif as best I could, and slowly rubbed my knee up and down. It seemed, if anything, that Zahida pushed back even harder. The butterflies in my stomach began to jump. I was more than happy that my wishes were about to be fulfilled. Above the table, Zahida continued to converse as though nothing at all was the matter.
I then started to rub my leg up and down against hers, slowly and softly and then harder against her. Her lips parted in a slight gasp, but she did not move away. Soon my leg was caressing her hard under the table. I was now finding it difficult to concentrate on the dinner. It was getting too hot. I was worried that either Kashif or his children would notice something. Now it was difficult for both of us to concentrate on food.
"You're eating very slowly," Zahida teased, her voice throaty. "Don't you like food?"
She teased me again, and her foot became more insistent against my leg. She looked at me, her lips half parted. Her eyes had become very dark now, and that intoxicating look was inviting and bemusing at the same time.
I responded to her touch by rubbing my foot against her ankle. "Yes, thank you, I am enjoying the meal." She smiled as she looked in my eyes while I massaged her foot.
I couldn't believe what was happening as I felt ready to burst. I moved my leg back and saw Zahida exhale softly. I guessed that perhaps she had had enough. I moved my attention back to the food and the conversation.
When she went to the kitchen, her petite ass cheeks were clinging to her qameez, giving me a pretty good idea of reality. The dampness of her skin had made the qameez stay snugly in the crack of her ass.
Both her daughters helped her clear the table and bring the coffee. I had to brush my hand gently against the side of Zahida's thigh when she was going to and from the kitchen. She stared at me for several seconds, and then shifted her questioning eyes from me.
As her husband went to bathroom, she whispered, "You give good toe. Drop in whenever you like. I'm usually at home in the mornings."
After I returned home late, I made the best, most passionate love of my life with my wife after a long evening of thinking about Zahida.
I couldn't concentrate much on my work throughout the following days and kept thinking about that night with Zahida and her voluptuous body all the time. During the following days I was becoming more and more restless and was daydreaming. My lust for Zahida's body started to grow even more than I ever thought it would. When this had become unbearable for me, I finally decided that the only way was to meet Zahida alone, so I went to meet Zahida; I left the car and walked to her house.
After a couple of knocks on the door, I waited impatiently for the answer. In a couple of minutes Zahida came to open the door. I felt Zahida was a little confused, seeing me.
"If it is inconvenient, then I'll come some other day," I said.
"Don't say that. You are always welcome."
"But seeing me, you looked a little confused."
"No! No, please come in," she said smilingly. She led me to the sitting room. "Please have a seat. I'll be back in a minute. Let me finish a telephone conversation I was having."
Oh, she was busy with the telephone, so that was why she seemed confused!
She came back after few minutes. "Would you like a cup of coffee?" she asked.
"Of course, I would love a cup of coffee with you, if you can," I said.
"Of course, Mr. Zeshan. It will be a pleasure having coffee with you. Just give me a few minutes, and I'll get the coffee." She went to the kitchen and came back with a tray a few minutes later. She placed it on the table before me, and when she leaned over to put the tray down, the neckline of her top hung very low. Now, only inches away from my eye hung Zahida's creamy white breasts. Not just cleavage, but everything including her thick brown nipples. For the five or so seconds that the vision lasted, I couldn't pull my eyes away. When she stood up I knew she must have caught me staring and started turning red-faced. But Zahida just rubbed her eyes as she put the tray down and sat next to me on the sofa. I could smell her perfume, which caressed the air -- a low, lemony, curiously enticing aroma. I was slightly nervous since this was the first time that I was alone with Zahida, the wife of my friend. And I had to look at her only, and she was looking hot. She looked like she was seducing me. My palms sweated the entire time. My heart raced every time Zahida looked at me. We were sipping tea slowly, taking our time. We talked about many subjects. She asked about my wife and kids, but not once did she mention her husband's loan or anything about our business.
Then, giving a naughty smile to me, she asked me, "Are you bored?"
This just encouraged me, and I said, "Your perfume is wonderful." I took a deep smell. "It is exotic."
"Do you like it?" Her eyes sparkled.
"Yes, it is so nice."
"Thank you."
"You asked me to come anytime."
"I did. Did I say something wrong?" she said in naughty mood.
I felt embarrassed and muttered thanks, and she grinned, mischief in her eyes.
" Didn't you want to meet me?"
"Yes! I wanted to meet you alone."
"And I gave you the opportunity."
"I admire your guts, lady."
"Do you find me attractive?"
"You look good enough to eat," I said. "I always found you very beautiful, lovely, and attractive." I was staring down at her breasts confined still under the thin fiber of her qameez.
