Milan called about 3:30 pm as she left the temple. “What can I bring for dinner? I’m on my way to the store, and then I’ll be over in less than an hour.”

“I have everything we need for dinner,” I told her. “But stop at home and get your swimsuit. I’m poolside now.”

We chatted some more as she drove home, and within forty minutes, Milan was coming through the living room French doors out to the pool. As I looked up, my jaw must have hit the pool deck. The East Indian Goddess was wearing a teal-colored bikini, with her lower half covered by a matching teal and black print sarong.

I shook my head. “Miss Milan, you are gorgeous. That color looks amazing on you.”

Smiling, she said, “Oh, thank you. I hope this is OK for dinner. You said we were barbequing and eating outside.”

“Yes, you look great. It’s a casual Sunday afternoon,” I told her. “C’mon, let's get in the pool.”

Milian kicked off her flip-flops, untied her sarong, and looked over the backyard. “This is a great area, Steve. A pool, an outdoor kitchen, a dining table, and a sitting area with a tv. I would spend all my time out here.”

I took her hand and she followed me down the pool steps and into the shallow end of the pool. I turned around and embraced her, kissing her passionately. Before I knew what happened, Milan had wrapped her legs around my waist. I moved my hands to assist in holding her up, placing them on the bottom of her buttocks.

As we broke from our kiss, Milan whispered, “I told my mother and aunt about dinner last night and that you were cooking me dinner tonight. They were very impressed.”

Laughing, “Do I need to impress your mother or your father more?” I asked.

“My father,” she said seriously. “He’s still very protective of me. Why do you ask?”

I gathered my thoughts quickly. “Milan, I’m very interested in you. I just have a good gut feeling about you.”

We floated around in the pool as we talked, kissed, and shared our dreams for the next stages in our lives. Both of us were happy to hear the other planned to retire between the age of fifty-five and sixty. I mentioned that I had just retained a real estate agent as I was looking at buying a condo in San Diego so I could visit my adult children more.

I had already prepped most of the items for dinner, so I quickly cooked the cubed chicken on the outdoor flattop for the chicken tacos. I also made fresh pico de gallo, a small garden salad, and cilantro rice the hour prior.

“Steve, this all looks delicious!” Milan exclaimed. “Sliced avocados, fresh shredded cheese, everything looks great. Where did you learn how to cook like this?”

I laughed, “I watch a lot of Food Network.”

“No, you don’t,” Milan said.

“No, I really do. But this meal tonight isn’t that hard."

The new couple enjoyed their dinner with a couple of Mexican lagers. We talked about our work, silly things like travel bucket lists, and where we might like to live in retirement. I told her, “With my kids in San Diego I’ll want to spend time there, especially after they have kids. But I’ve researched a couple of places like Boise and south of Austin, Texas.”

“All of my family is in Northern California. But after my parents pass on I can move anywhere. My brother and I aren’t super close, and his wife and I don’t get along.”

“Why don’t you and your sister-in-law get along?” I asked.

“She comes from a very traditional Indian family. She didn’t go to college, and she thinks women should get married and have kids at an early age,” she explained. “My parents always encouraged education, and for me to go to college.”

As I walked Milan out to her car, I held her hand, interlocking our fingers. I decided it was time to tell this woman exactly what was on my mind. “Milan, I really like you. But I don’t want to move too fast. Part of me wants to see you every day, while another part of me knows that is not a great idea.”

Milan smiled at me. “I can’t agree more. Why don’t I make you dinner on Wednesday? I’ll make Indian food.”

“That sounds great,” I said quickly.

I kissed Milan and she was soon driving off. As I watched her turn the corner, I whispered to myself, Don’t fuck this up. She’s special.

**

As soon as I sat down in my office Monday morning I called my old high school classmate, Beth, the owner of The Garden, Oak Valley’s largest florist. “Beth, I need another delivery this afternoon.” We quickly went over the colors, size, etc.

Beth told me, “I’ll text you a photo before it leaves the shop. You always get my best work.”

My phone rang later that afternoon; I looked and saw Milan’s name and photo. “Hello?”

“Thank you! The flowers are gorgeous,” she said.

“I just want you to know how special I think you are,” I said slowly.

“Oh, Steve,” Milan said. “You do all the little things that mean so much. Flowers, cooking for me, and you’re such a gentleman.”

“Well,” I said, “you make it easy. You’re a special woman.”

“Don’t forget that I’m making you an authentic Indian dinner on Wednesday night?”

“I’m looking forward to it,” I told her.

**

I rang the doorbell at Milan’s right at 6:30 pm. I was looking forward to seeing her house, knowing the quality of her cousin Ricky’s work. Milan opened the door dressed in a traditional Indian outfit. It was a vibrant purple with a ton of gold embroidery. She wore at least a dozen gold bangles on both wrists and several necklaces of different lengths.

“Hello, Steve, please come in,” she said. Milan handed me a glass of white wine and then we shared a quick lip kiss. “I know you want to tour, so follow me upstairs.”

“I love your outfit. It’s a saree, right? I asked.

“Correct. I thought I’d wear it to add to the authenticity,” she said.

She showed me the three bedrooms upstairs, an owner's suite and two bedrooms, and one bathroom. On the first floor, there was another owner's suite, a formal dining room, a formal living room, a large great room, and a large island that separated the gourmet kitchen. Milan explained that she had two master suites built thinking her parents might one day move in with her. Outside there was a covered patio and a typically landscaped backyard.

We moved into her kitchen and the aroma of curry was powerful. She went on to tell me that she had prepared “a simple” Chicken Curry dish, and a couple of side items. I finally had to fess up that I had only eaten Indian food a few times, all at another friend's house who is Indian.

“Who is that?” Milan asked.

“Doctor Shukla,” I said. “My wife and his wife were in a woman’s club together. They’d do small dinner parties for four to six couples a few times a year.”

She had gone all out and had decorated her dining table; she used her fine china and crystal, and Milan dimmed the lighting and lit a few candles. I had to admit, it was very romantic. Dinner was delicious as we continued to learn more about each other, our families, and simply connect with each other on a deeper level.

As I helped her clean up and hand wash the china and crystal, I couldn’t help but get a bit playful. I first rubbed her ass as she turned to put away a serving dish. I then hugged her from behind, pulling her tightly into my body. The cock-tease vixen ground her ass into my semi-erect cock.

“You better stop that, or I’ll take you right here in the kitchen,” I joked.

Laughing, “Steve, you’ve probably never had sex in a kitchen.”

I looked at Milan; she had changed into a mid-thigh summer dress with a deep V-neck. I figured I didn’t even need to take off her dress, just her panties, to prove my point. I quickly grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up and sat her on the kitchen island.

“What are you doing!” she exclaimed.

“I’m going to fuck you right here in the kitchen,” I told her in a serious tone.

“Stop fooling…” she tried to say but I was now passionately kissing her. My tongue explored her mouth as my arms bear-hugged her as she was trying to push me away.

Milan gave up trying to fight with me and surrendered to our desires. We were now kissing romantically, our hands on each other's back, neck, and in our hair. I took a half-step back and ran my right hand up her leg and under her dress. She already had her legs spread somewhat so I could stand between them, so my hand went in search of her panty-covered pussy.

“Wow, you’re not wearing any panties. What did you have in mind for dessert?” I joked.

My left hand moved from her back and softly massaged her right breast. This caused her to moan lightly. As my right hand touched her sex she twitched.

I felt her hands now trying to unbutton my golf shorts. They fell to the floor as Milan rubbed my cock over my briefs. I pulled her to the edge of the granite counter, pushed her dress hem up a bit, and ground my bulging boner into her lady bits.

“I’m fucking you right here, right now. Do you understand me?” I told her with a sense of dominance.

“Yes, give me your cock. It’s been three long days,” she whispered in my ear as she tried to lower my boxer briefs.

I pushed the spaghetti straps from her dress off her shoulders and pushed down the top portion of her dress, exposing her tantalizing tatas. I kissed, licked, and lightly sucked on both boobs when an idea struck me. I turned around, opened the freezer, and grabbed several ice cubes.

“Oh, no. My nipples are too sensitive,” Milan begged.

I smiled a devilish grin. “Relax. I’m not going straight to your nipples.”

I set several of the ice cubes down on the counter and started lightly rubbing the block of frozen water on her full upper breasts. I slowly began circling her breast. The first few rounds I went low, all the way to her natural crease where her breast meets her torso.

The circles slowly became smaller and smaller, and on the eighth lap, I was now just going around her areola.

“Oh my gawd,” she moaned. “My pussy is on fire and so wet.”

I playfully slid the melting cube across her nipple. I expected some sort of reaction, but she said nothing and had no physical reaction. I did it again. And again. The first ice cube had now melted away. I grabbed another and did the same thing to her other boob. Milan finally flinched when I touched her nipple the first time.

When that cube was gone, my hand started petting her kitty. I soon had two fingers probing her pink pleasure palace. The chicken curry aroma was now gone and her natural musky scent was intoxicating. I licked one of my fingers and then offered her a taste of her nectar.

“Please, fuck me. I’m so horny,” Milan said in a whispering growl.

My cock was pointing toward the ceiling, and I was ready to bury it in her warm wet cavern. I grabbed her hips and repositioned Milan’s ass on the edge of the counter again. I grabbed my dick and teased her slit as I coated my bulbous head with her juices.

Thankfully, I’m six-two, so I could easily slide my manhood into her pussy. My first trip inward was a long, slow push. I pulled out just as slowly. I repeated this motion three more times before I started slowly building up my thrusting speed.

One hand remained on the counter to help with my balance, while the other caressed her boob and then tweaked her nipple.

“Oh shit, I’m going to cum!” Milan said.

I twisted her nipple and pulled on it, causing her to moan and squirm. I reached across her body and did the same to her right tittie.

“Yes! Pinch me again!” she begged.

Both hands were now twisting, tweaking, and teasing her nipples as I continued thrusting. Milan had wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me tighter into her. I felt her legs tremble and then her vagina walls quiver as she started her rolling orgasmic wave.

Milan yelled, “I’m cumming! I’m cumming!” as her kitty spasmed around my cock and my shaved balls could feel her wetness running down my ball sack.

I stopped fucking her as I allowed her to enjoy her orgasm. My hard dick remained in her love palace as I kissed her passionately. I then hugged her and pulled her tightly against my chest. I whispered in Milan’s ear, “You’re magical. One of a kind. I’m so happy we met last week.”

“Not as happy as I am,” she teased. “Lay down on the floor, I want to ride you in cowgirl.”

I was soon on my back on her hardwood kitchen floor; Milan squatted over me, lowering herself on my erect pink steel. This is, by far, my favorite position. It allows my partner to easily set the speed and depth of my penetration, plus I have full access to her boobs.

“You are so tight. I’m not going to last long,” I told her.

“I don’t care, I just want you to cum in me,” she giggled.

After three short minutes of rocking on my cock I knew I was close. I had been sucking on her tits, but Milan suddenly sat up and leaned back a little bit. Her left hand went behind her back and was soon lightly massaging my boy.

“Ohhh, that feels sooo good,” I moaned.

“Cum for me, Steve! Cum for me!” she said.

I started bucking like a wild bronco as my balls exploded.

“I’m cumming!” I yelled one time as I continued to thrust.

I shot four or five good blasts of jizz into her love tunnel. Milan collapsed onto my chest, and my semi-hard cock withdrew from her spunk-filled hole. We both were a sweaty mess as we lay still in silence for over a minute. I then felt my seed dripping on my balls.

“Sit on the counter again,” I told her.

“Why?” Milan asked.

“Please, just do it,” I whispered as my breath finally got back to normal.

With Milan sitting on the counter, I stood and spread her legs. I bent over and began cleaning her pussy of my cum. I’d take a lick or two, and then kiss her, giving her a taste of my sweet and salty man milk. I did this a total of four times.

“You’re so kinky,” she said. “Steve, I’ve never had a guy do that. It was super erotic.”

I admitted, “I have a few kinky fetishes. But nothing crazy.”

“Well, I liked the taste of your cum,” she said.

We ended up in her master shower for a quick rinse and cooled down, and then cuddled on her living room couch for about twenty minutes. We briefly discussed our sexual likes, dislikes, kinky fetishes, and fantasies.

I soon headed home as we both had morning meetings. I texted her when I pulled into my garage. Minutes later she texted back, but I was busy watering my potted plants in the backyard.

When I grabbed my phone off my kitchen island, I saw she had texted a second time. Her first text said she had a wonderful time hosting me for dinner, as I had thanked her for cooking an authentic meal for me. Her second text, ten minutes later, read: I’m really enjoying our friendship. Are we dating?

The smile on my face said it all. I had a rush of adrenaline run throughout my body. I slowly composed my text: Yes, we are dating! Yes, you’re my girlfriend! Yes, we are exclusive!

Not ten seconds later Milan replied with five heart emojis. I sent back ten.

The End, Chapter Two.