It was fair to say that my attempt to clear the air with Rachel and Georgie did not go as planned. Playing the role of a sex toy in a steamy lesbian affair was about the last thing I would have expected when stopping by Rachel’s for "coffee”. In the days following, my head was reeling, and I was desperate to talk to someone about the situation I found myself in. Of course, my wife was not a candidate, and most of my friends would have been shocked to hear that I’d been unfaithful, particularly in such a spectacular fashion. The only person I could think of who might understand and lend a willing ear was Harpreet.
A new term of toddler music classes was about to start, and I was reasonably sure Harpeet had signed up for it. Somehow Ben and I managed to arrive late to the first session. I was a bit breathless after entering the church hall and hurriedly getting Ben unharnessed from the pram and out of his snowsuit and mittens. In a flustered state, I joined the group and anxiously scanned the circle of women sitting cross-legged on the floor. Harpreet was nowhere to be seen, and my heart sank. I sent her a couple of text messages that day and the next but didn’t get a response. I didn’t want to appear pushy, so after a few days I decided to file contacting her under “lost cause”.
About a week later, I took Ben to his favourite bookshop in Wimbledon Village. He was invited to the second birthday party for one of the boys in his playgroup so I thought I’d get a present there. It was also an opportunity for Ben to pick out a book about diggers, his favourite subject at the time.
I wedged the door open with my body and was pushing the pram through the door when it bumped into another pram heading in the opposite direction. I looked up to see Harpreet wearing a startled expression.
She quickly put on a superficial smile and said, “Jack! Hi! How are you? Is it too late to say, ‘Happy New Year?’”
I wasn’t quite sure what to say so decided to keep the conversation bland to start. “Hey Harpreet. So nice to see you. Happy New Year to you as well. How are things?”
We chit-chatted for a few minutes, and Harpreet made excuses for being too busy to get in touch. She’d been helping her mother prepare for her return to India and her husband, Kishor, had been working extra long hours.
I sensed that Harpreet was keen to cut things short and make an escape. In normal circumstances, I would have done the polite thing and let her go. However, I was desperate to speak to her about more private matters, so played for more time.
“Listen, Harpreet, I’d really love to talk to you about a couple of important things. Do you think we could grab a quick coffee? The café around the corner isn’t too bad… my treat.”
I must have looked pathetic enough to rouse her sympathy since she replied, “Fine. But let’s not go to the café. I’ve got coffee at mine, and it’s just a ten-minute walk.”
Relief washed over me at the prospect of finally having a chance to speak to Harpreet about what happened on New Year’s Eve, and more recently, with Rachel and Georgie.
On the way back to hers, we walked along with the prams side-by-side keeping the conversation light – veering between the weather and the latest royal scandal.
Harpreet’s house was on the same scale as Rachel’s. In other words, it was quite grand and dwarfed the three-bed house Charlotte and I owned. One of the front drawing rooms was used as a playroom for Harpreet’s daughter, Anjali. There was a baby gate across the doorway, and the room was filled with toys. Ben’s eyes lit up as I deposited him there along with Anjali. He went straight for the play kitchen and began banging a pot with a block of wood painted to look like cheese.
With the kids suitably occupied, Harpreet and I moved to the kitchen. We continued chatting about inconsequential things as the kettle boiled and the coffee brewed. Harpreet was dressed casually in a pair of reasonably tight-fitting jeans and a billowy silk blouse. Her hair was back in a tight ponytail revealing an elegant pair of dangling gold earrings.
Harpreet’s features were small and delicate. She had flawless mocha-coloured skin, and her eyes were a light brown tinged with green. They sparkled when she laughed, which was often. She had a good figure but wasn’t as into fitness as Rachel and Georgie. Although there was a little bit of “mummy tummy” on evidence when she wore tight-fitting tops, she was blessed with a very pert bottom.
With drinks and biscuits in hand we moved to one of the “grown up” sitting rooms which was richly appointed. The décor was tasteful, with an Asian influence discernible in the patterns of the furniture fabric and drapes as well as the gilding on some of the objects decorating the room.
I sat on the sofa with Harpreet across from me in a tall-backed chair, our coffees between us on a low table. There was a lull in the conversation which started to drag as my mind raced to find a way to put into words all the things I needed to say. The speeches I’d rehearsed over and over in my mind vanished and left me stuttering and looking nervous.
Harpreet wore a concerned expression and said, “Are you ok?”
Finally, the words just gushed out, “Yes, I’m fine, sort of. I’ve been desperate to talk to you about what happened on New Year’s Eve and to tell you about the crazy things that have happened with Rachel and Georgie since. You see, I…”
“Whoa, slow down. I understand. New Year’s was crazy. In fact, it was the craziest night of my life. What happened there completely threw me.”
“Really? You weren’t even involved… directly, anyway.”
Then Harpreet went on to explain to me that she’d never seen other people have sex, had never seen a woman kiss another woman and hadn’t realised that a woman could ride a man the way Rachel rode me.
I was sure that she was having me on, particularly on the last point, but she wasn’t. Over the following forty-five minutes, Harpreet opened up to me about her lack of experience with sex. Apparently, she and Kishor only rarely made love, and always in the missionary position.
I asked if she was happy.
“Kishor and I have been together a long time. We have a nice house, nice things and a comfortable life. Our marriage wasn’t exactly arranged, but our parents know each other well and have always been supportive of our relationship. That makes life easy. Also, we have Anjali who is a lovely little girl.”
I rushed to agree that Anjali was indeed lovely but asked again if she was happy.
“If you’d posed that question last month, I would have said I was. Now, I feel like I’m at a restaurant with no menu and I’m being asked what I’d like.”
“Would you rather forget about what you saw at Rachel’s?” I asked.
At this question, Harpreet blushed and said sheepishly, “No. To be honest, I’ve been thinking about it… a lot.”
I sensed that her “thinking about it” might have involved time alone enjoying herself.
Although I'd come to speak about my feelings, it was Harpreet who opened up. After talking so much about her marriage and sexual experiences, Harpreet seemed a bit vulnerable and unsure of herself. I didn’t want to take advantage of her, and my natural inclination was to verbally comfort her and be on my way. However, Rachel’s recent comment about being “too nice” was still ringing in my ears so I decided to take a chance.
Looking directly at Harpreet, I simply said, “Come here.”
With little hesitation, Harpreet rose from her chair, walked around the coffee table and stood in front of me. Reaching up to grab her hips, I pulled her down into my lap. She sat astride me with her knees either side of my thighs and her feet tucked under her.
I circled my arms around her waist and slowly slid my hands up and underneath her blouse. I ran my fingertips upwards along either side of her spine until I reached her bra at which point I began to undo the clasp. We maintained eye contact but didn’t say a word as I moved my hands around her sides along her ribcage just below her breasts. I worked my fingers under the cups of her loosened bra and began inching my hands upward, open-palmed. My fingertips grazed the skin of her breasts sending a shudder through her body. I continued moving my hands upwards until I could feel Harpreet’s nipples lodge between the index and middle fingers of each hand. I slowly closed my grasp and had a proper feel of her wonderfully firm C-cup breasts. That was when she lowered her face to mine and we shared our first kiss.
I could feel her nipples tighten as our tongues met while sliding past each other. Her pleasure was further indicated when her hips began moving forward and back in my lap. As we kissed and petted she began grinding into me until we were effectively dry-humping.
At that point, my swollen cock was straining painfully against the fabric of my jeans. Fearing Harpreet's motions might leave me chaffed, I lifted and spun her around so that she was lying on the sofa with her legs wrapped around me as I knelt on the floor in front of her.
Giving her a cheeky grin, I began to undo the buttons on her jeans. She looked both lustful and terrified. Breathlessly, she said, "Please." That was all I needed to hear to continue. Down went her jeans revealing the most bland, unsexy underwear I had ever seen. Wide, plain white and shapeless, Harpreet's knickers were almost a boner killer. Almost.
Saying nothing, I peeled off the offensive pants to be rewarded with the sight of a lovely set of meaty pussy lips surrounded by a triangular patch of lush, dark pubic hair. I began kissing my way along Harpreet's inner thigh from her knee to her pussy. When I was about halfway along she put her hands on my head and said, "Wh..what are you doing?"
"Don't tell me you've never had anyone go down on you?" I replied, to which she just shook her head.
She watched, wide-eyed, as I inserted my tongue in her delicious slit and licked straight up, giving her clit a light flick at the top of my stroke. Her body shook. The pleasure on her face gave me the green light to really go for it. I licked either side of her juicy labia, gave her a tongue fucking and spent a generous amount of time teasing and sucking on her clit. When I had her little nubbin throbbing nicely, I inserted two fingers into her cunt and began to finger fuck her in time with my sucking. Her thighs clamped me by the ears, and her hands pushed my face more deeply into her crotch as she came with a loud, "Fuck!" followed by some contented gurgling noises.
I shifted her along the sofa and slid in behind her for a cuddle -- one arm around her shoulders and one outstretched so that my hand was cupping her mound.
We lay like that for a while without speaking as she recovered. I was content running my fingers gently through her pubic hair, being careful not to contact her clit, which I imagined would still be quite sensitive. I enjoyed the feeling of having a satisfied woman in my arms, a pert naked ass pressed into my crotch and the taste of pussy on my lips. Charlotte disliked the idea of oral sex, giving or receiving. She'd occasionally acquiesce when I tried to go down on her, but I could tell she was never comfortable with the idea of it so eventually I just stopped trying. As a result, it had been a long time since I'd gone down on anyone. Despite not having cum myself, I was feeling satisfied nonetheless.
That's when Harpreet roused herself and said with equal parts lust and determination, "I want more."
"Sorry," I said, "More of what?"
"All of it. I want to try more," she replied. Standing up, Harpreet reached down and began unbuttoning my jeans as she bent to give me a deep and passionate kiss.
With a sudden hunger and urgency, she peeled off my jeans and grabbed my cock.
"This is a nice size," she said. "It's much bigger than my husband's, and looks different too."
I later learned that Kishor has a thin dick which is less than four inches long. I'm just over six, rather thick and have a large mushroom head. Also, Harpreet hadn't appreciated the difference between a circumcised and uncircumcised cock (I'm cut, he isn't).
"Have you ever..." I asked, nodding towards my swollen cock.
"No, but that's about to change," she replied with a wink. Harpreet lowered her head and took the tip of my cock in her mouth and flicked it with her tongue. "Mmmm...," she said as she sat back up. "I'm not sure what I’m doing, so please tell me if I do something wrong."
"Just go with your instincts. You're doing a wonderful job so far. Just no teeth!" I said grinning broadly back at her.
What Harpreet lacked in technique, she made up for in enthusiasm and empathy. With my soft moans of pleasure guiding her, she quickly learned that I liked when she licked up and down my shaft and loved it when she wrapped her lips around the swollen head.
It was so long since I'd had a blow job, and so long since I'd felt so wanted that I soon felt a stirring in my balls. I warned Harpreet that I was about to come, expecting her to release my member from her mouth. Instead she carried on until I came inside her mouth. With a surprised, "Ohhh," she sat back on her knees to watch the final few spurts leak out.
"Sorry, I did warn you," I said.
"No problem. I was just a bit taken aback by the force, the volume, and the taste... well, all of it I guess," she said with a giggle.
"Many women don't like the taste," I observed.
"Mmmm, I can't say I mind it. In fact, it's quite nice -- a bit like candy."
I wasn't sure what kind of "candy" she was referring to, but from that point on, Harpreet established that she loved the taste of my cum, and that she called it candy.
Given more time, I would happily have bent Harpreet over and fucked her on the sofa. However, we'd been chatting (and more) for ages and could hear the kids getting restless.
We cleaned ourselves up, carried the cups and plates back to the kitchen, and I gathered up Ben to get ready to leave. At the door, as we were saying goodbye, Harpreet gave me a peck on the cheek and squeezed my hand. "Thanks," she said and continued, "I hope to see you again soon."
That was the beginning of a very physical and passionate affair. From that point on, Harpreet and I met and fucked at least twice a week. Mostly we used her house, where she seemed keen to have sex in as many positions and rooms as possible.
Some of our best sessions began with flirting at a distance in a morning toddler class. On one occasion, she sat across from me in the group circle in a loose-fitting dress making sure to flash me lots of thigh and cheeky views down her top as she played with her daughter. We rushed to her house afterward and fucked with great delight on the washing machine in her utility room.
For such an intelligent woman, she had a shockingly low awareness of things sexual. She had an advanced degree in Chemistry and worked at a pharmaceutical company before marrying Kishor. However, she had no idea what “cow-girl” or “spoons” meant. Also, she was under the impression that her awful choice of knickers was perfectly normal. When I showed her images of sexy, lacy options, she dismissed them as being “for teenagers”.
Despite her lack of starting knowledge, Harpreet was a quick study and was keen to make up for lost time. Her love-making was vigorous. When the situation allowed, she was incredibly vocal, something I found to be a huge turn-on. Almost like a mantra, she’d land on a phrase and repeat it over, and over, drawing it out and getting louder as she reached her climax.
"Fuck me."
"Fuuucckkk mmmeee."
"FUCK ME!"
"FUUUCCKKK MEEEE!!!!"
Once, we were fucking doggy-style with her grunting “Don’t stop. Don’t you ever stop. Don’t ever stop fucking me.” I couldn’t take it any longer and spurted a huge load, unfortunately slipping out of her at the same time. One of the most erotic sights of my life was watching her turn her head and try to catch my cum in her mouth, mid-air.
She loved cum. She was desperate to taste it, to have it fill her pussy, and if she was feeling particularly naughty, to have it rubbed into the skin of her tits. "I like them candy-coated," she'd say with a mischievous grin.
We experimented a lot, and I was conscious that I needed to be careful as I was pushing her boundaries. After a particularly sweaty session in the early summer, we were taking a shower together. I used the opportunity to take a leaf out of Georgie’s book and pinned Harpreet to the wall, positioning my cock against her ass. As I was dribbling shampoo into her crack, she pushed me away, saying, “Not yet.”
To be fair, Harpreet managed to push my boundaries as well. On the way to an early toddler class, I received a text from her which sounded urgent. “Skip the class. Come to mine. NOW.” Not sure what to expect, good or bad, I made it to her house at a brisk pace.
Harpreet opened the door wearing a light sundress and rushed me inside. Exuding a sense of urgency, she helped me take Ben out of his pram and put him in the playroom alongside Anjali. She then turned on a video of Peppa Pig, saying, “That should keep them occupied.”
I watched as she hurried down the corridor and up the stairs to a guest bedroom and had the impression that she was walking in an odd way. Once the door of the bedroom closed, Harpreet plopped herself on the bed with her legs hanging over the edge. She wore a wicked grin as she told me, “I got him to fuck me this morning.”
Puzzled, I asked her what she was talking about.
“Kishor. I got him to fuck me this morning. The opportunity finally came. He had a client cancel a breakfast meeting, so I took my chance.”
I was really unsure where this news left me, but I was soon to find out.
“Now I want you to fuck me too. I’ve always wanted to be the kind of woman who has two men at the same time,” she said.
I didn’t want to explain to her that two men on the same day is different from two men at the same time. Also, “always wanted” probably only stretched back a few months to her sexual awakening. In my younger days, I may well have pointed this out, talking my way out of sex in the process. Having the wisdom of (middle) age, I knew when to shut my mouth and fuck, so I played along.
Harpreet raised her legs and slowly peeled down her pants. Strings of sticky white cum stretched between her pussy lips and the substantial wet patch in gusset of her knickers. Kicking her knickers off, Harpreet spread her legs and invited me to enter her waiting snatch.
The idea of being in contact with another man’s cum, did not thrill me. I hesitated, but was committed to helping Harpreet play out her fantasies so I stepped forward to allow the head of my cock to slide between her engorged pussy lips. Entering her slowly, the sensation was not what I expected. White globs of Kishor’s cum oozed out as my dick pressed in more deeply. The feeling was both sticky and slick. Once I was balls deep, Harpreet wrapped her legs around me and pressed her heels into my ass. She arched her back and let out a breathless, “Yeeessss.”
We started slowly, and as I picked up pace fucking her with increasing force I couldn’t help but think that my thick, white cock was now pleasuring Harpreet’s willing pussy when, just hours before, Kishor’s pathetic little, brown dick provided what was just an appetiser. The thought was more exciting than I expected. When I came, it was with more force than usual which registered with Harpreet. Eager for her own orgasm, she used her legs to pull me in more tightly and repeated, “Yes. Yes. That’s it, yeeesss. Just like I wanted. Yes!” until her muscles clenched and her body shook in pleasure.
Afterward, Harpreet’s mood was extremely light. She scooped the remnants of two creampies out of her pussy, giggling and playing with the sticky cum. Any reservations I’d had about “sloppy seconds” were long gone, and I was extremely pleased to have given her what she wanted.
From that point on, Harpreet became more and more adventurous and took to new experiences like a duck to water. When we played with light bondage, her pussy would become wet as soon as a blindfold or restraint was put in place.
For a period of about six months, I enjoyed the most frequent and varied sex of my life. Harpreet and I maintained our pace of fucking a couple of times a week, and I was occasionally called in the be the “stunt dick” for Rachel and Georgie. Of course, there was the monthly, ten-minute session of sex at home as well.
Around mid-summer, I arrived at Harpreet’s house, and she seemed extra keen to see me. Once we made sure the kids were safe and suitably distracted, she led me to the garage. I mentioned that Harpreet’s house was large. One feature that particularly set it apart was a three-car garage which was probably larger than most terraced houses in London. Apparently, Kishor was very much into cars – and status symbols. My eye was immediately drawn to the Bugatti in a garish tangerine colour, parked next to a 7 Series BMW. I couldn’t begin to guess what would have been parked in the empty space furthest from the door.
Harpreet motioned to the Bugatti and said, “Kishor loves this car.”
To be polite, I agreed that it was a very nice car. Harpreet replied, “I hate it. We were meant to get a holiday home somewhere warm, but Kishor bought this instead. He even missed Anjali’s first birthday party to take it out on a track.”
“I was here for Anjali’s party. There were loads of guests and you gave us all that lovely lunch in the marquee in the garden. You said Kishor was away on a business trip.”
“He wasn’t. He chose to take this damn thing to a track. I was too embarrassed to tell people the truth.”
Harpreet turned, motioned to the car and said, “I want to fuck in it.”
My exposure to car sex was limited to a Volkswagen and a couple of Fords. All were uncomfortable experiences, so I couldn’t imagine how we could enjoyably couple in the cramped interior of a supercar.
Thinking fast, I grabbed Harpreet and bent her over the car’s bonnet. As I lifted her skirt I was greeted with two surprises. First, she was wearing a lacy black thong. The thin strip of material fit perfectly between the juicy round globes of her ass. I couldn’t believe my eyes and immediately became hard. I peeled the thong off to reveal the second surprise – a small, jewelled butt plug. Apparently, Harpreet was ready to lose her anal virginity. My cock was absolutely rigid and straining against my shorts.
I quickly stripped off and slid my cock under Harpreet so it was wedged between her warm pussy and the cool, smoothness of the car's bonnet. I paused to enjoy the sensation as Harpreet began making small thrusts with her hips to increase her own stimulation. I reached down and played with the butt plug – twirling it, pressing it gently in and out in time with Harpreet’s motions. Giving it a gentle tug, I was amazed at the firm grip her sphincter maintained on it.
When the time was right, I pulled my cock out from under Harpreet and gently removed the plug. It looked to be well-lubricated, and Harpreet’s hole was gaping slightly so I decided just to go for it. I pressed the head of my cock to her anus and slowly plunged forward. Inch by inch I entered her, and she moaned in pleasure.
Harpreet stretched her arms forward allowing her hands to grip the top of the bonnet as I began working my way in and out. On the downward portion of each stroke, she would say, “Fuck my ass. Fuck my ass.”
I’d then give three hard thrusts in an iambic rhythm to which she’d exclaim, “I hate... this fuck...ing car.” As I pulled back she’d say, “Don’t pull out. Don’t pull out.”
This cycle repeated over and over, getting louder and more frantic:
“Fuck my ass. Fuck my ass… I hate.... this fuck...ing car… Don’t pull out. Don’t pull out. FUCK MY ASS. FUCK MY FUCKING ASS… I.. HATE THIS… FUCKING CAR… DON’T PULL OUT. DON’T YOU DARE FUCKING PULL OUT.”
It was an incredibly passionate fuck, but that was driven mostly by the vitriol that Harpreet was spewing towards the car. A car that symbolised her husband’s detachment. It was mid-fuck that I realised that Harpreet wasn’t fucking me, she was grudge fucking her husband in absentia.
When she was almost loud enough to wake the dead, I reached under and gave her clit a couple of quick flicks, which I knew would put her over the edge. When she finally came, her body tensed and she got incredibly quiet. I came immediately after and allowed her to remain still. Neither of us acknowledged it at the time, but I think we both knew that this was the end.
Harpreet filed for divorce the following week and asked that I stop coming round for fear of being caught and prejudicing her settlement. She and Anjali moved out shortly after.
Of course, I now miss the regular sex, but I also miss sharing new experiences with Harpreet. It was a privilege to watch her transform from a naïve but curious woman, to one who shared her own fantasies and fed her erotic side with energy and creativity. I would be lucky to find someone like her again.
