Introductions.

My name is Simon, a Londoner in my mid-thirties, and I hold a senior position in a tech company here.

I am on my way to visit Anika, at her apartment in Southall in London. She is a young Hindu woman from Kolkata, who came to London some years ago, and joined my company, also in a senior role.

We were attracted to each other from the very beginning, not only because she is a beautiful and elegant woman, but also because I am vegetarian, and love Indian food and culture. However, apart from an occasional kiss and cuddle, at company parties (usually after a drink or two), we have always steered clear of any physical relationship, not least because it would be against a clear company policy (which I introduced!).

home cookingWe made great friends though, and I enjoy her company frequenthome-cooking; we both accept, I think, that we will never be more than very close friends, but we respect and admire each other.

I have had several romantic relationships with others, over the years, but while they were physically enjoyable, I never really 'clicked' into any long-term relationship, and all had ended amicably, at my instigation.

Anika, however, has met James and they have been in a relationship for several years. He moved into her apartment a couple of years ago, and I have got to know him well; we like each other too, and he understands that my friendship with Anika has become more like a sibling relationship, with no romantic element.

They have now reached a time in their lives when they want to start a family and have decided to marry. Neither of them are very religious, and as they have lived together for some years now, they will hold a simple legal ceremony at the local Registry Office, attended only by close relatives. Not even I will attend that, next Saturday.

However, they do want to celebrate with friends and have arranged for a Wedding Party at a Central London hotel in the afternoon, with some guests staying overnight, before the “happy couple” leave for a honeymoon in the Seychelles.

Although I enjoy my job, and I think I am very good at it, I do find it rather 'soulless', and perhaps that is part of the appeal of Eastern cultures. However, as a more practical outlet for my creative urges, I have turned to photography in my spare time.

After many courses in the art, I can claim to be semi-professional now, using my spare time on photographic assignments, mainly for Weddings. Of course, Anika has asked me to act as official Photographer at the Wedding Party.

It is now the Thursday before the wedding, and I meet up with Anika, at her apartment, to settle the final details. I know that she is already feeling very stressed and anxious about the wedding arrangements, even though James is pulling his full weight in the organisation of the day and the honeymoon to follow.

However, I am surprised to find her in something of a panic when I arrive- she is normally calm, composed and efficient in every way, both at work and in her private life.

She explains that she has had an unexpected message from an old friend in Kolkata, who I think I have heard her mention before. She describes Sayanti as her very best friend in those days, and they have kept in close contact since Anika left for London.

Anika seems very flustered and explains that Sayanti will be arriving unexpectedly tomorrow, and she would like my help to organise matters.

She tells me that Sayanti had been party to an arranged marriage in Kolkata, a couple of years ago, and has never been happy with her husband, in a number of ways. Now it seems, he wants her to give up her job and stay at home just to 'keep house' for him.

Sayanti is absolutely furious and has had a big argument with him, demanding her freedom and independence. She already has some financial independence, and has stormed out of their home, to catch a flight to London! She wants to come to the wedding party on Saturday, of course.

Anika is anxious about Sayanti, as a friend, but on top of the wedding planning, she is finding it all a bit too much to cope with.

I say, “Don't panic! It will all be OK. Give me all the details and I will go to Heathrow tomorrow and bring Sayanti back here. I know you don't have room for her here, but I will get her a room at the hotel, and perhaps when you and James have left on Sunday, I can bring her back here to stay. You were going to leave a key for me anyway, just to keep an eye on the apartment, weren't you! And I can keep an eye on her, to make sure she doesn't get lost in London, or anything, so you and James can go away without any worries.”

“Thank you so much, Simon,” she says, “It will be reassuring to know that you are here and looking after her. She has an independent spirit, obviously, but she has never been to London before, and I know how daunting it can be at first.”

So I arrange an additional room at the hotel for Sayanti to stay from Friday night to Sunday; I will bring her to Anika's apartment from Heathrow, then on to the hotel.

The next day, I am waiting at Heathrow for Sayanti, holding a board with her name at the arrivals gate. Anika has texted her to say that I will be there and can be trusted to bring her to her apartment.

When I see a gorgeous, shapely young Indian woman coming towards me, I hold my breath, hoping that this could be Sayanti. Her beautiful eyes seem to spark into life when she sees me and her name, and she marches straight up to me, with a big smile on her bright red lips. I am impressed that she can appear so composed after such a long flight, and after such emotional turbulence too.

We exchange very few words other than formal greetings, but she is also studying me closely, as I heave her (many!) cases into the car. She is understandably very tired, and seems to doze a little as I drive her to Anika's apartment. I do have the opportunity to study her stylish Western clothes as she sits beside me, and note her short skirt and very long legs, ending in high heels.

I show her to Anika's apartment, leaving her cases in the car. While I make a cup of tea, the girls catch up privately, but I can hear scandalised gasps from Anika at some of Sayanti's comments. Then they turn to the immediate practicalities, given the shortage of time.

It is agreed that I will take her on to the hotel, to recover fully from her flight, and we will all meet up there on Saturday afternoon, at the party for the newlyweds. Anika has imposed upon Sayanti to perform a dance in traditional dress, for her guests, and Sayanti has agreed to do that as a special favour; from the number of cases she has, I'm sure she has appropriate clothes for each and every occasion!

After an overnight stay at the hotel, Anika and James will leave, and I will return Sayanti to the apartment to use as her base in London.

The Wedding Day.

I arrive at the hotel before the newlyweds and find Sayanti in the lounge.

She is dressed in stunning, bright swathes of turquoise and blue silk sari, draped around her body and over one shoulder. A plain white blouse underneath, and a view of midriff above her petticoat, with plain flat sandals. Her make-up is elaborate, emphasising her beautiful eyes, framed with arched dark brows, and pouting red lips.

Her wrists and arms are covered in gold and silver bangles which slide up and down with every movement, glinting in the light. It is a beautiful visual effect for any photographer to take advantage of.

I say hello again, and compliment her on her appearance. She smiles a 'thank you' and says she wanted to start in traditional dress, then change later for the evening.

We discuss her dress while we wait for other guests to appear, and she says that she chose the colours because black, and white, are not thought to be suitable at a wedding. It would be normal for the bride to wear red (though Anika will not be in traditional dress today) but for a guest to wear red would be a mistake! It seems that might be interpreted to indicate that the wearer had slept with the groom!

I am amused by the potential pitfalls of tradition and prefer the simplicity of a black jacket and trousers with a white shirt (but no tie).

As other guests arrive, I have to leave Sayanti, to take as many photos as I can, but no one offers the same stylish appearance as her, and I gravitate back to her time and again. My thoughts never leave her.

Meanwhile, Sayanti seeks out her friend to enquire more about Simon. Anika has already noticed their very great interest in each other, and suggests that Sayanti should ask him to photograph her privately in her traditional costumes. She is uncertain about being so forward, and says she will think about it.

As evening approaches, she changes into a more Western style of dress, and is equally stunning in her sheer black top and short skirt, above long legs and high heels. She has been flattered by Simon's obvious attention to her, and impressed by his polite restraint, but now dances with him.

The music is loud and energetic, and they take a break to have a drink. Sayanti does not often drink alcohol, but happily downs several glasses of wine to help her relax. As the evening progresses, the music gets slower and more sensual, as does their dancing style.

During the close-contact, smoochy dances, I press Sayanti's hips against me, and she can feel that I am aroused by her body, and our movements with each other. I stroke her shoulders and arms gently as we dance, then drop my head to caress her neck with my lips.

She shudders with pleasure as my mouth touches her ear, feeling my hot breath, and almost squeals with passion as my tongue darts suddenly into her ear. Then my lips suck her earlobe between them, and my tongue plays it back and forth; we are both aware of the symbolic meanings of this seductive approach, but Sayanti is still trying to resist me.

As the last dance of the evening plays to a close, she steps back and says, “Simon, I have had the most wonderful day and you have played a great part in that, but I need to have some time to myself right now. Thanks for all your attention, but I need to get some sleep and think about tomorrow now.”

With that, she goes to her room, leaving me disappointed and a little frustrated, but I too head off to my own room to recover and sleep- or at least try to.

We both, I think, spend restless nights alone, knowing that the newlyweds are fucking each other in their own room, and I was certainly wishing that I was with Sayanti. I hoped she was thinking along the same lines, and that she had dreams as erotic as I did.

In the morning, it seems that Sayanti has made a decision, and as Anika had suggested, she invites me to her room, to bring my camera for a 'fashion show' of her traditional dress and accessories.

She is wearing a full red sari, with silver and gold trim, but I notice immediately that she is not wearing a bra beneath her blouse, as her nipples are hard and visible through the sheer material.

She poses easily for the camera and her smiles encourage me, but I do not want to cause any offence. It seems that Sayanti is now becoming restless at my inaction, and she adjusts and changes her costume rather casually, allowing me 'accidental' glimpses of her body as she does so. She is flirting, now, I think, and notes the bulge in my trousers when I take close-up shots of her.

She asks, “What else would you like to see, Simon?” and looks me boldly in the eye, as if challenging me.

I simply say, “I would like to see so much more of you than I have so far, Sayanti. I think unwrapping your sari would be like unwrapping the most wonderful present. I want you to show me everything, and let me photograph you.”

She seems a little embarrassed by the directness of my answer, but pleased and excited too; I think it was the answer she expected and really wanted.

She slowly and seductively removes her red sari, after kicking off her sandals. As soon as I see her blouse fully uncovered, I realise that I was right to think she wore no bra underneath. I photograph her standing now in only her blouse and petticoat, both in plain white, but sheer material.

Her curves are accentuated as she moves easily from pose to pose, and she relaxes into her semi-nakedness.

“Now,” I say, “I'd love to see all of you!”

She hesitates, but only briefly. Then she slowly removes her blouse, to reveal her beautifully-shaped breasts in all their glory, topped by dark brown nipples, now aggressively erect and pointing in my direction. I cannot speak, but my camera clicks and clicks.

She puts her thumbs inside the waistband of her petticoat and lowers it, revealing that she has no panties at all underneath, and I groan as I see her neatly trimmed black bush emerge into view. She drops the petticoat to the ground and stands proudly naked in front of me. I am trying to continue photographing her, but I cannot concentrate on the screen, when the reality is there in front of my eyes.

She stands proudly in front of me now with only some black and gold jewellery dangling around her neck, glinting in the morning light.

I feel my cock twitch as I note the beads of moisture also glinting in her black bush. It seems that she has also been anticipating more than a photographic session.

Sayanti says, “Simon, I would like to see YOU now! I felt you pressing against me when we danced last night, and I dreamed about you all night long. I can tell that you are excited again now, so its your turn to undress...”

I need no further prompting, and swiftly remove my jacket and shirt, while Sayanti watches; her attention focuses lower as I unbutton my jeans and drop them to the floor, kicking them aside. She gasps and her hand moves towards her pussy when she sees the head of my cock emerging from the waistband of my briefs, and then groans out loud when I lower them, allowing the full length of my cock to spring to attention in front of her.

“My God, Simon,” she says, “that is very impressive, I must say. I thought you must be bigger than my husband, but... may I touch you?”

Of course, I want her to touch me, and I want to touch her too, so I lead her to the bed and she lies down while I stand alongside her, my cock pointing to the ceiling

I gently stroke my fingers over her body, from her neck, down over her pert breasts, and across her flat belly, while my other hand starts at her knee and slides up her soft inner thigh. My cock visibly twitches in anticipation.

I say, “I dreamt of you too last night, but you are even more beautiful naked than I had dreamt.”

Sayanti says, “ And your manhood is even stronger than I dreamt, too! I am unsure about touching you, because my husband would explode the moment I touch him. He has never lasted more than a couple of minutes inside me, and often does not even get inside me before he cums!”

“Don't worry,” I say, “ I may find your body very arousing, as he must, but I think I have control of my body, at least up to a point! What would you like to do?”

Sayanti stares up at me, wide-eyed, and asks me to explore her body as she lays there below me. She says my touch is soft and gentle, but my hands are strong, and the touch of my fingers is firm. She wants to feel more of my touch.

I say, “I'm very happy to do that, Sayanti, but you must explore me too. Your fingers are long and beautiful; my only anxiety is that your fingernails are also long and seem sharp. They are beautifully decorated, but please take care with them!”

Sayanti laughs and says, “Don't worry, I know how to use them to tease you, without hurting you- at least no more than you might want me to!”

I stand above her, massaging her thighs with one hand and her breasts with another, while she at last grasps my cock in one hand. She groans at the firmness she feels, and slowly moves it up and down the shaft, between the throbbing head and my twitching, tight balls.

As she does so, I use both hands to part her thighs and reveal her long, dark pussy lips. One hand strokes them and a finger parts them, to reveal the inner pinkness. The other hand presses on her pubic bone, and pulls her lips upward, to reveal a bright, throbbing clit, demanding my touch.

I am distracting her from my cock, but I am happy to continue, while she simply grasps me tight, and feels the hardness in her hand.

I tease her pussy lips apart and play with her clit, while one finger, then two, slip easily into her tight but wet pussy. I move them in and out relentlessly, curling them up inside her vagina, to seek her most sensitive spot. Her hips are moving in response now and I know that she will soon climax from this treatment.

I am right. Her body goes rigid, pressing her hips down firmly onto my fingers, and keeping them inside her, while her vagina trembles and contracts around them, pulsing time and again. She shouts out loud and her whole body now shakes with release; I can see her long pussy lips fluttering in delight.

She has been distracted from my cock, but grips me VERY tightly when she climaxes, then as her tremors pass, she begins to stroke me again. She looks up at me and says, “Simon, that was wonderful. Would you like to cum now? I'm amazed you can do all that without cumming, but surely you must need to now?”

Of course, I say yes.

Sayanti sits up on the bed now, and puts one thigh on each side of me, as I stand there. My cock is now pointing up between her breasts, and is held firmly by her elegant hands. She looks up into my eyes, and says, “Simon, may I SEE you cum?”

I can only nod, and she begins to stroke my cock firmly. One hand cradles my balls, but tightens to squeeze them in a slow rhythm; the other begins by tracing her long fingernails down the full length from the head to the base of my shaft, as though measuring me.

Then she grasps the shaft around the base, intertwining her fingers, and slides her hand firmly up and down, in sync with her squeezing of my balls. She looks up at me with her beautiful dark eyes, and says, “Simon, you are magnificent! My husband could never do this for me.”

With that, she drops her head to take just the head of my cock inside her red-lipped mouth. She holds it there and sucks deeply, and noisily, while her hands continue to stroke my shaft and squeeze my balls. I have to look away, to try to postpone the inevitable, but the sight and sound of her working on my cock is so compelling that I have to watch her.

I put my hands on her shoulders, and she looks up, knowing, I think, what is coming.

I do not want to restrict her head movements, nor start to fuck her mouth, but I lightly place my hands over her ears and play with her ears and lobes as she moves back and forth.

Finally, I can wait no longer, and I shout as my cum spurts with such force into her mouth that she involuntarily backs away in shock, and the second spurt shoots into her face, running down to drip from her chin, and onto her heaving breasts. She takes my cock inside her mouth again, to take the final shots and suck the very last drops from me. She swirls my cum around inside her mouth, a few drops still dribbling from her red lips, then swallows noisily, in one great gulp.

She looks up at me and gasps for air, finally saying, “Simon, that was delicious! And so much of it too!”

We slowly compose ourselves and agree to share her shower, before we have to check out of the room. The shower itself is a great pleasure, rather than just a task, and we explore each other's bodies more as we clean and dry each other.

I think we have certainly “broken the ice”, but I think we can go for a full-length wild swim later, perhaps. For now, check-out time is approaching, and we need to gather to say farewell to the newlyweds as they depart on honeymoon.

I return to my room, to dress and pack, while Sayanti does the same. We meet again in the hotel lobby, as Anika and James run the gauntlet of guest's cheeky and salacious comments while they get ready to leave.

Anika comes over to speak to us and I think something in our demeanour and posture gives her the impression that we have already clicked in more ways than photographically! She raises her eyebrows at us both, and says, “Do take care of the apartment while we're away, won't you! I expect it to be neat and tidy when we return.”

“Of course,” I say, and perhaps blush slightly. I will take Sayanti back there this afternoon, and we will be going out for a meal this evening. Don't worry about anything- just have fun in the sun with James.”

“Oh, I'm sure we will,” she says, “you have fun too!”

The Party's Over- or is it?

I return Sayanti to Anika's empty apartment, along with all her luggage, and ask her to dinner at a famous vegetarian Indian restaurant in Central London. Sayanti agrees with a broad smile.

She seems fully at ease with me now, but there is an edge of anxiety in her voice as she explains that she will have to talk to her husband soon, to explain where she is and why. She is unsure how angry he will be... or will he just be keen to get her home safely? She will have to decide how to approach that question tomorrow!

I leave her at the apartment to prepare for the evening, while I go home to change.

While I am away, Sayanti chooses her sexiest lingerie and western clothes, to be admired in public, and to excite in private.

When I return, I am stunned by her stylish, sexy appearance and tell her so. She says, “Simon, after what happened between us today, I think you should call me Devi now; that is how my closest friends address me, and I don't think we could be much closer, do you?”

I am delighted by this step forward- I know that “Devi” means “Goddess” and I think it is perfect for Sayanti. However, I say, “I will certainly call you Devi now, but I can think of ways we could get much closer, and I hope we will!”

She knows exactly what I mean and looks down in mock shyness; then we take a taxi to the restaurant, where we have a secluded table, to talk privately.

I admire her 'Western' style, but note that she still wears a long black and gold necklace on yellow thread, and I seem to remember that she has always worn that, whatever her dress.

Sayanti looks a little embarrassed, and says, “That is the 'mangalsutra'. It is like a gold Wedding Band in a Western marriage.”

“Well,” I say, ” I've heard of the Kama Sutra, and I even have a copy, but I don't know about the mangalsutra.”

She chuckles at my reference to the Kama Sutra, but explains that the Mangalsutra is tied around the bride's neck by the groom as a symbol of their union, during the marriage ceremony. It is worn every day as a symbol of her marital status and a reminder of her commitment to her husband.

I don't know quite what to say to that, because it reminds me that Sayanti is married after all, and I wonder whether I should really be seducing her like this.

However, she quickly switches the conversation back to the Kama Sutra, and seems both amused and aroused by the fact that I have read it- or an English translation anyway!

She asks what I know of it, and I can only remember that it involves many, many alternative positions for “congress” as it is described, between the lingam (or cock) and yoni (or pussy). Most of them, I think, are rather impractical and much too athletic for me, but some of the advice is of interest.

I know that there are chapters on kissing, scratching with the nails, and the “swallowing up” of the lingam. The language is very difficult, even in an English translation, because it is a very ancient text. I do remember some things, though, such as the 'soixante-neuf' position being called 'the congress of a crow', for some unfathomable reason.

I also remember it saying that men who generally succeed with women are those well-versed in the science of love, and those skilled in telling stories.

Sayanti is amused and says, “Men are classified by the size of their lingam, you know. A man can be a hare-man, a bull-man, or a horse-man; from what I have seen, Simon, you are certainly a horse-man! A woman is classed by the depth of her yoni, into a female deer, a mare or a female elephant.”

I laugh and say, “And which are you? Not an elephant, I'm sure!”

“I don't really know, but I think I would be a Mare,” she says. “That would combine so well with the Horse!”

We are both finding this conversation very arousing- perhaps too much so for a public restaurant!

So we change the conversation to the food. I am finding it rather like Sayanti, though! It is hot, colourful and spicy, with a wonderful aroma and taste, and something I could eat every day. When I say all this to her, she seems to melt, and we fall into silence while we eat our sweet Gulab jamun.

As we prepare to leave, and return to the apartment, she smiles, looks me boldly in the eye, and ostentatiously removes her mangalsutra. I know what this means now, and I feel my cock twitch with anticipation as I lead her to the taxi.

When we reach the apartment, we hardly have time to get indoors before our hands are exploring each other again. We get to the bedroom, though, and she stands before me; it seems she wants to perform a sexy striptease for me, slowly removing her blouse and tight skirt, to reveal her gorgeous lingerie.

She is wearing a tight basque of black silk, buttoned at the front, and her ample breasts bulge upwards, emphasising her cleavage. Below, she is wearing a skimpy pair of black panties.

I approach her and push her backwards onto the bed, then stand between her knees while I undress completely. It is not the first time she has seen my cock, but it still draws a gasp from her, knowing that this time it will thrust into her.

I kneel between her legs and pull her panties down, to be cast carelessly aside, while I focus on her pouting pussy lips, already slick with her leaking juices. As before, I part her outer lips to reveal her erect clit, and press two fingers between her inner lips and inside her vagina.

This time, though, I can drop my head between her thighs and kiss her deeply, sucking her clit between my lips and flicking it gently with my tongue. She immediately begins to buck her hips against my mouth and her hands clasp my head to press me hard against her. It does not take long before she reaches her first climax, squealing and trembling against my mouth and probing tongue.

She falls limp, and I stand between her legs. I ask if she is ready yet, and she looks up at me to say, “Just a moment longer, Simon.” Then she reaches down to unbutton her basque and open it, to reveal her breasts splayed aside, topped by her beautiful dark brown nipples, hard and erect. “Now, Simon, my Horse,” she says, “you can fuck your Mare for as long as you can.”

I lay down upon her, and with no effort, my hard cock finds its own way between her dripping wet lips, and I press the head slowly inside her. The shaft follows equally slowly, and then I begin to thrust relentlessly in and out of her welcoming, trembling vagina.

It takes only a few minutes of steady, slow thrusting before she climaxes again, wrapping her legs around me in a vain effort to clamp me still inside her, while her body shakes beneath me. She is squealing with every thrust now, as though in pain, but I believe with pleasure.

I increase the pace now, slamming harder and deeper with each stroke, so that she feels the simultaneous clash of the head deep inside, against her cervix, and the base against her clit. Each clash brings a scream from her, increasing in volume and intensity with each stroke.

She is desperate for me to cum now, and her hips are rocking against me, her vagina trying to grasp my cock and hold it still inside her.

At last, I can delay no longer and give several hard thrusts as deep as possible into her, before I let out a roar and feel my cum pumping inside her. She feels it too and screams with pleasure and relief as we lie still, fully interlocked, while my cum shoots up into her and her vagina milks me dry.

I do not know how long we lie still and silent there, but it seems like forever.

As we come back into the real world, I slowly withdraw my softening cock, and she groans as I fall from her, releasing a flood of cum from her pussy.

When we have dozed a while, she says, “Simon, that was the most fantastic experience I have ever had! From what I have known with my husband, I would never have believed such feelings to be possible. Thank you so much!”

We both sleep deeply that night, but in the morning, I find Sayanti already dressed and waiting for me. She is wearing her mangalsutra again, and I am surprised to see her so conservatively dressed too.

Before I can say anything, she explains that she has had text messages not only from her husband, but also from her father, demanding that she get in touch and explain herself.

It may only be 8.00 am in London, but it is lunchtime in Kolkata, and she had called her husband while I slept, sharing FaceTime with him. That was why she had put her mangalsutra on again!

It seems that he is apologetic about trying to make her give up her job, and will concede her independence; her father had been there too, to witness this change of heart, and he insisted that Sayanti should return home now. She had explained where she was, and that she had attended her best friend's wedding here in London; they were surprised, but understood her motives. Now that the wedding was over, though, she had accepted that she had to return to her home city, her family and her husband.

She had tears in her eyes as she explained all this, but said that she would be leaving as soon as she could get a flight.

There are still several days before Anika and James will return to the apartment, but the only convenient flight available is late tomorrow, and Sayanti books it, asking me if I will take her to Heathrow. Of course, I will, but I am equally unhappy about the sudden, unexpected separation.

She tells me that she doesn't really want to go, but life will become impossible if she doesn't return to her family, not least because of the influence of her father in her life.

I can understand, though I had hoped that we would have longer together and I can only hope that we will be able to meet again, sometime, somewhere, She feels the same, but says she will always be grateful that we met, and that she had been able to experience the way sex should be.

We pack and prepare for her departure, but when all that is done, we hug closely, and she can feel my cock responding against her belly. She looks up at me and says, “Simon, could we have one more farewell fuck? This Mare would love her Horse to fuck her like an animal before I leave.” She can see the answer in my eyes, and feel it in the twitch of my cock, so she reaches up to remove her mangalsutra again.

She undresses me slowly, and I undress her. She is as beautiful as ever, if not more so, glowing with sexual energy throughout her body.

We stand naked before each other, and I produce my camera, so that we can each take photos of the other. We take many, from distance and close up, each of us recording the most delicious aspects of each other's bodies. I promise to send copies to Sayanti's email address, on condition that there is no risk of discovery by her husband. I do not want to cause trouble for her at home,

Then we turn to our final coupling. There is no need for us to prepare each other orally, this time; we are both ready for the Horse to fuck the Mare.

Sayanti gets on all fours, kneeling at the edge of the bed, while I stand between her legs. She feels my cock pressed between the cheeks of her ass, and I squeeze her around me, sliding up and down the groove between them.

“Simon,” she says suddenly, “just fuck me hard and fast! I want to feel like the Mare fucked by her Stallion. Do it now and do it fast.”

I think there is no need to prolong the event this time, and slide my cock full depth inside her in one stroke, looking down to watch it disappear into her gaping pussy.

She gasps as I hit so deep inside her, and her breasts swing back and forth with each stroke, time after time.

I can feel her orgasm building, until she shouts out loud, dropping her head to the bed, and prompting me to unload another gallon (it seems) of cum inside her. I am embedded deeply and we both feel the pumping of cum, pulse after pulse, up into her.

My knees are trembling, standing behind her, and I have to withdraw. This time I witness the thick white cum drip from her as I leave, and she falls to one side, exhausted on the bed. I join her there, and we fall asleep again.

When we wake, it is nearly time to make our final preparations and head to Heathrow. When we get there, it is difficult for both of us to find the right words before we part, possibly forever.

I promise to send her copies of the photographs we took, and we agree that we can stay in touch secretly that way. Perhaps we can use FaceTime too, though we may not be sharing just our faces? Perhaps she can visit London again? Perhaps I can visit Kolkata? Perhaps we can meet on neutral ground?

Anything is possible, but we both know that meeting again is unlikely. That doesn't change the fact that we will both remember our encounter forever, with no regrets, but with much pleasure.

So it is a final farewell at the departure gate, after a kiss and cuddle, and a wave as she disappears from sight. Will we ever see each other again?