The doorbell rang, jolting Mamanhijab from her afternoon nap. She smoothed her auburn hair and adjusted her hijab, a slight frown creasing her brow. Who could be visiting at this hour?
Opening the door, she found a young man, barely out of his teens, looking sheepish. "Salam aleikum, Khanoom... I was wondering if you might have some sugar?"
His eyes flickered to her curves beneath the modest clothing, a flush creeping up his neck. She couldn't help but smile, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes. "Of course, come in."
The scent of her perfume – a heady mix of jasmine and something forbidden – filled his nostrils as she led him into the kitchen. He fidgeted, suddenly aware of the heat rising within him.
She turned, leaning against the counter, her gaze lingering on him a beat too long. "You look... restless, Joon."
He stammered, trying to explain that he was studying for exams and feeling stressed. She moved closer, her hand brushing his arm. "Stress can be relieved in many ways…"
Her touch sent a jolt through him. He reached for her, his hand finding the soft curve of her waist beneath her thin robe. She gasped, a thrill coursing through her. This was wrong, so wrong, but the desire was overwhelming.
"You shouldn't…" she whispered, but her eyes betrayed her. He pulled her closer, his lips finding hers in a desperate kiss. The hijab slipped from her head, her auburn hair cascading down her shoulders like a silken waterfall.
He lifted her onto the counter, her legs wrapping around his waist. His fingers fumbled with the buttons of her robe, revealing her full, ripe breasts. She moaned, arching into his touch.
The next moments were a blur of frantic kisses, moans, and the rustling of clothes. He was rough, inexperienced, but his raw passion ignited a fire within her she hadn't felt in years. He pulled down her panties – lace that felt delicate against his trembling hands.
He entered her, a cry escaping her lips. It was tight, hot, and utterly consuming. He thrust deeper, his movements becoming more confident with each stroke. She wrapped her legs tightly around his hips, meeting his thrusts with abandon.
"Oh, Khoda!" she cried, her voice laced with pleasure. He pushed harder, faster, until the world exploded around them. He came deep inside her, shuddering with release.
They clung to each other, breathless and flushed, the air thick with the scent of sex and unspoken desires. He collapsed against her, burying his face in her neck. The Asian creampie scenario had played out in reality, with a fervor he never imagined. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once.
Later, as he cleaned up, he couldn’t help but steal glances at her. Was this a one-time mistake, or the start of something dangerous, something forbidden? Only time would tell… but one thing was certain: neither of them would ever forget this afternoon.
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Mamanhijab