Pooja ravished by muslim mard

Pooja squirmed in the arms of Aslam, he was holding her too close and she was feeling overpowered by his closeness. It was inappropriate! Her hands sought his to pull them away from her delightfully curvy bottom.

He was worse than a schoolboy, all groping hands and hot breath. He had even been so crass as to stick a cucumber or long carrot down his trousers and rub it against her. This was the sort of behaviour she expected from teenage boys in kolkatta, when she was 16 years old. Not the sort of behaviour she expected from a mature man who held the post of Company Director in her husband’s new company.

It had all started innocently enough. They had been delighted to be invited to a welcoming party. Most of the Company Director’s were present. All were Muslim. Not a surprise really. Most of the managers were Hindu, and they were here with their wives and those daughters old enough to drink and socialise. Though some of the girls looked too young to be drinking no one seemed to care. The dancing had been wild and carefree, very modern.

She had danced with all of the Muslim Company Director’s. It seemed to be the right thing to do. Sameer had been drinking heavily as was his style, but he had not embarrassed her yet. Near the end of the evening the music had switched to mood music and she had not resisted when the Muslim she had been dancing with had pulled her close. It would have been rude. Now she regretted not immediately returning to her husband.

The slow dance had turned into a wrestling match, with an aslam with six feet, reSameerably strong arms and the libido of a teenage boy who has discovered sex for the first time!

She glanced across the room for her husband seeking his help. Sameer was helping himself to another VAT 69. She cringed inwardly. How many had he drunk tonight? She had lost count of the number of pints of VAT 69 her husband had drunk since arriving at the party.

Ever since they had discovered this lovely brandy based drink laced with lemonade, orange, banana and various exotic fruits she still did not know the name of yet, they had both fallen in love with it. Unfortunately it was quite strong and Sameer was not one for moderation. He had probably already drank well beyond his limit. Not that they worried too much. In the one month since arriving in Kolkatta they had only seen one police car, and the driver of that had been clearly drunk himself.

It had given them both quite a fright trying to negotiate around a police car weaving all over the road.

‘Ooooh!’

Her hand rose to slap Aslam face.

The grinning Muslim had just squeezed one of her full and jutting breasts!

Aslam received her slap with a grin and took advantage of her waving arm to slide his arm around her supple waist and urge her a few feet further to the left. She pushed at his chest. It was like pushing a brick wall. Her pushing seemed to have no effect on him at all, while he had one arm around her waist. The result of pushing away from him while her own waist was pinned by his arm was to rub her hips against him.

Aslam grinned as she squirmed in his arms.

Aslam loved the feel of this young woman in his arms. Taking a deep breath he relished her fresh smell, a warm homely smell of fresh clean hindu womanhood. She seemed devoid of any scent, but her natural smell was delightful. He looked down at her flowing tawny hair, which flowed across her shoulders. His hands ran down her arms, stroking the soft velvet seeming skin.

Pooja squirmed free of his wandering hands, but they dropped to her waist. Aslam’s large hands grasped her waist. With one hand holding her firm, his other hand slipped under her top caressing the soft flesh. He loved the way she twisted and squirmed to free herself. This young Hindu woman was truly lovely. He pulled her forward and rubbed himself against her softness. He watched her look of annoyance and frustration. She was trying to be polite.

To avoid creating a scene with her husband’s employer.

He grinned. He enjoyed moments like this.

His hand slid lower. He cupped and held the tightly packed derriere of the new engineer’s wife. Her bottom was soft, and curvy.

Pooja squirmed free again, and his hand slid back to her waist.

His cock was stiff and hard and he rubbed it against her, delighting in the softness of her body and she politely struggled against him.

Pooja could feel that cucumber, hot against her thigh, rub slowly back and forth. Stupid boy! Did she really think that teenage trick would work with her!

She pulled her hips back and wrestled with his arm. Unfortunately, in pushing her hips away and trying to wrench free, her upper body swung round and all of a sudden she found her breasts crushed against his chest. The hand that had squeezed her breast now circled her shoulder and pulled her close. Squashing her full breasts against his chest.

She slapped him again.

Aslam’s grin widened at the feisty response of this lovely Hindu wife and pulled her close.

She flushed!

This was impossible where was her husband?

Aslam relished the feel the Hindu woman’s full, rounded, breasts crushed against his chest. Not many Muslim women had the full, firm, jutting, roundness owned by Sameer’s lovely wife. The feel of them rubbing against his chest excited him further, he looked forward to holding and caressing them, kissing and sucking them. Even through their clothes he could feel the tell tale stiffness of her nipples. The woman was aroused despite all her protests.

He would make her squeal when he squeezed and twisted those taut buds.

He twirled her around while she was off balance, and then edged her a few feet closer to the corridor leading to the bedrooms.

The other dancers casually moved aside as he slowly worked the unwitting female closer to the bedrooms.

All in the room knew what was intended.

Except Sameer and Pooja.

Sonal, Tania, and disha watched with envy and desire as Pooja was coaxed and wrestled across the room.

Jayesh, amar, and bhavan watched with barely suppressed excitement at the thought of what the Muslim men were going to do with Sameer’s lovely wife. Jayesh, anar and bhavin were very excited and aroused about what the Muslims were going to be doing tonight between those lovely legs, and the tight cheeks of her rounded bottom.

The thought of that lovely head being held in place at an Muslim’s loins while a muslim cock was thrust between her lips was steadily driving them wild. Pooja was going to experience that which their own wives and daughters had experienced. The ‘oh so clever’ Sameer was going to be cuckolded in typical Muslim style, by multiple Muslim men between his wife’s legs. She may resist now, that just added to the excitement.

Fifteen year old paayal, and sixteen year old Aastha, pouted in annoyance at the woman who was stealing the attention of the Muslim men from their own eager and anxious young bodies.

They were both hot and excited and eager to be fucked tonight.

Pooja was lovely. At 26 she was in the full bloom of her womanhood. Only five foot tall, but exceptionally shapely, with long, wavy ash blond hair. Spectacularly full and firm breasts enhanced by the tight tops Pooja had worn since her womanhood had sprouted into being. A supple waist, above a rounded peach like derriere that had drawn hungry eyes and turning heads since she was 16. Full, shapely legs that give her bottom a delightful and natural sway as she walked.

The Muslim Company Directors supped their drinks and cursed that it is was Aslam’s turn to break in the new expat’s wife. His cock would be the first to stretch open her undoubted tightness.

Now that bundle of delightful womanhood was in the arms of a strong determined Muslim who knew what he wanted, and was going to get what he wanted.

Sameer struggled to his feet. He could sense the atmosphere in the room. Across the room he saw his wife in the arms of the Production Director. She seemed to be struggling with him. He shook his head to clear the alcohol, and looked again. This time Pooja was held close, and they seemed to be moving, dancing slowly. All the other couples were dancing slow and close.

He took another drink, and looked across at his wife and Aslam. Through a haze he watched Aslam’s muslim hand move from his wife’s waist. Slide lower, and cup and thoroughly caress his wife’s curvy derriere, his muslim hand was starkly outlined on the bright Hinduness of the tightly fitting jeans.

Hey.

That was out of order.

He moved to walk towards his wife and Aslam, but paused as a wave of vertigo assaulted him. For once he wished he had not drunk so much. Regaining control he walked over to his wife and Aslam.

Only to discover they were no longer there!

Bemused he looked around.

Over the shoulder of the Managing Director, Izaz Agbo, who was standing in the doorway he suddenly noticed Pooja and Aslam at the other end of the corridor. Pooja was struggling and pushing against him. Her lovely slim slightly tanned arms tight against the Muslim’s chest. He had his arms wrapped around her and was urging her towards the far door.

‘Oi!’

He struggled to contain the sudden surge in his throat. To curb the sickness he suddenly felt.

‘That’s my wife!’

He waved his arms, then struggled to overcome the resulting dizziness.

‘Boss, stop him, he’s going to rape her!’

Izaz glanced behind him then down at the drunken Englishman. He hoped he was not regularly drunk he expected another 23 months of hard work from this expat professional. He hoped he had not recruited a drunkard. He expected a full hard working commitment from his expat staff even if he and his friends were fucking their wives and daughters.

‘Stop him…please?’

Izaz liked to hear Hindu men beg. Not as much as he liked to hear their wives and daughters beg, but it was nice to see these so called professional experts reduced to begging.

He always responded well to a woman’s begging pleas.

Sameer was out of luck, however.

‘Don’t be silly Sameer. You have had too much too drink. Do not make a scene.’

‘But…but…’ he gestured and sought to move forward. Izaz’s bulk blocked his way forward.

‘She…he…’

Tania, John’s wife, came forward and looked over Izaz’s shoulder.

‘Are you OK Pooja?’

Pooja looked down the corridor, show could not see her husband who was hidden behind Izaz’s bulk. She saw Tania and rolled her eyes at her. She struggled to get her arms free and wave to her. Breathless and panting from her struggle, she was wordless.

Tania turned to Sameer and laid her hand on his arm.

‘She’s OK.’

‘But he is forcing her into that room.’

‘No, not really, has she called out to you? Asked for your help? She is not fighting, and kicking and screaming! I think you have drunk too much and misunderstood the situation.’

Sameer looked over Izaz’s shoulder. Osagyefu had opened the door at the end of the corridor. With a lightning movement his left hand dived down over her bottom and with a quick flick of the wrist he goosed her.

Sameer watched as Pooja seemed to leap into the air and bound into the room. Osagyefu grinned and followed her into the room closing the door behind them

Izaz grinned at Tania and Sameer. He slipped a hand around Tania’s waist while his free hand dipped into the front of Tania’s dress. Sameer watched disbelieving as her full, round Hindu breast popped out of her dress. He stared at the muslim hand holding and caressing that Hindu fullness.

Befuddled he turned to see Tania’s husband jayesh approach with a fresh VAT 69. Sameer took the drink astonished that Jayesh showed no anger or concern at Izaz’s open caress of Tania’s breast.

He was confused.

***

Pooja gasped as the breath was knocked from her body. Aslam had slammed her back up against the wall then pinned her against it. His hand reached for her long tresses and jerked her head back.

Pooja squeal was smothered as his lips found hers.

Shocked by his fierce demanding mouth sought hers and the pain from her hair. Almost without realising she was doing it she was kissing him back. Their lips crushed together, seeking pleasure. His hard demanding mouth was electrifying.

She squealed again as his dark hand dove between her legs.

The animal!

He was so rough!

So forceful!

The teenage boy had transformed into a demanding lusting man and her knees were weak.

His hand jerked her hair again. She whimpered into his mouth and kissed him fiercely. Her tongue darted into his mouth.

Her hand feebly tried to push his hand from between her legs with little effect.

He cupped her vulva and stroked and petted the pussy within.

She moaned into his mouth.

His hand rose from between her legs.

Strong fingers snapped free the button for her Hindu jeans.

The sound of her zipper being lowered sent Pooja into another frenzy of struggling.

Sameer!

Sameer!

She struggled thinking of her husband.

His dark hand slid inside the front of her jeans.

Slid deep inside her panties.

She struggled desperately to keep his hands from her private parts, anxious that he should not discover her excited state. It was so shameful that a man should arouse her other than her beloved husband Sameer.

Her struggles only delayed the inevitable.

A thick muslim finger slid through the wet aroused lips of her feminine centre. It hooked through the soft hair, and pushed up and in.

She moaned into his mouth. As his lips broke free from hers, she looked up into his eyes. Grinning, laughing eyes that look down into hers.

With a little thrust his finger slipped further up inside her past the first knuckle, and in to the second knuckle.

‘So wet.’

Pooja struggled not to slide down the wall. Her knees trembled.

The finger circled inside her.

‘Oooooh.’

‘Puta.’

The words shocked her.

‘No!’

His finger circled and his thumb found her clitoris.

‘Ooooooooh!’

‘Whore.’

‘Nooo!’

He grinned and nodded at her as his finger aroused and excited her.

‘You love it you lovely Hindu slut.’

Pooja was shocked to be talked too like this!

What right had this man to call her such names?

To treat her like this?

Then his finger circled deeper and she nearly swooned at the pleasure.

His finger slipped out and Pooja found herself wishing it back in.

His hands were at her waist pushing down her jeans, She wriggled her hips to help the process, her panties falling with them.

She was pinned back against the wall in his arms again, as he again kissed. Now his hands had slid up inside her top. She offered no resistance as his large, calloused hands seized and caressed the full, jutting mounds.

She was startled that his hands were rough, calloused, the hands of labourer, who had worked hard. Not the soft professional hands of her husband, or those she would expect from a Company Director. She felt a pang of guilt at that comparison. She pulled free, and he slapped her. Shocked she looked at him.

He slapped her again.

‘No more games.’

He reached for her top and pulled her closer.

In a moment he had shredded her top.

Pooja was appalled.

Sameer had bought that top in Paris on their first wedding anniversary.

She was naked.

Aslam reached out for her hair twirling it into his hand.

Roughly he pulled it tight, twisting her around and using his grip on her hair hurled her onto the bed.

She shrieked in pain and surprise.

She stumbled across the room, collapsing onto the bed.

The animal!

To treat her so!

She rolled onto her back and looked up at him.

He stood there above her.

Immaculate.

Incredible, she thought. Here is a man who has stripped her, aroused her, and hurled her onto the bed, and there he stands still immaculate dressed.

She made no effort to get up from the bed…

She watched as he unfastened his tie.

Removed his jacket and took off his shirt.

She watched as he unfastened his belt and laid it aside.

He unfastened and removed his trousers.

She stared.

The cucumber… it… it was not a cucumber… it was for real!

She edged backwards on the bed, suddenly afraid.

He laughed and grabbed her slim Hindu ankles in his large muslim hands and pulled her closer.

He stretched her.

Stretched her unbelievably… but it felt good.

It felt more than good.

It was terrific.

She writhed and squirmed beneath him.

His muslim body above hers rose and fell.

Humped and thrust.

She clasped him tight and thrust herself back at him.

Loving the incredible sensation his muslim cucumber was giving her. She had never dreamed a cock could be as big as this. Could be so long and so thick. That such a size could fit inside her. That it could feel so incredibly good. This was much better than sex with her loving caring husband!

She squealed and gasped.

Panted and groaned.

She urged him deeper.

When he came inside her it was like a hot geyser shooting up into the sky.

She nearly fainted from the pleasure and orgasm it gave her.

She lay sated and satisfied on the bed as he dressed.

She would have been shocked and horrified to discover that today Aslam was celebrating his sixtieth birthday. Though later when she discovered his age. She still found herself helpless to resist his advances.

As he left the room. Another Company Director, Sajid faheem, entered the room.

Embarrassed, Pooja reached for her clothes and sought to get dressed. Sajid grinned and pulled the clothes out of her hand. She looked at him confused. She backed away as he advanced on her. His dark hands grasped her shoulders and pushed her backwards onto the bed.

Shocked she looked up at him, as he started to undress.

Her eyes fell unconsciously to his trousers.

Her eyes widened at the large bulge in his trousers.

She lay back on the bed resting on her elbows as he stripped.

As he climbed onto the bed she spread her lovely legs for him.

It was incredible that two men should have such large cocks….

There were three more Company Directors at that party.

Pooja was not disappointed with the size of any of them.

Nor were they with her performance and response.

Sameer woke up the next day with a huge hangover, and very little memory of the night before. What memory he did have he suppressed…

Until the next party….

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1 Comments

  1. This is how rough & pleasure we love to serve.
    kik/Gmail/hangout mdsaif10ahmad

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