Basheer: The Final Frontier

Episode 2: Part 2

Our relationship was now sealed in the frenzied rhythm of our bodies. We discovered a lot of common interests. We were both very fond of playing squash. As a little girl the Marker at Delhi Gymkhana had taught me to play a subtle game of squash combining deceptive angles with unexpected drop shots pitting the artistry and strategy of my game against the brute force of the heavier boys. Very few guys could beat me. In our common love of the game, we found another validation of the overwhelming bond of attraction that now existed between us.

We would go to the University Sports Center almost every evening or afternoon for a few games. I was an excellent player, but Basheer was simply superb. On the court, gliding like a panther effortlessly and swiftly from side to side he would catch me on the wrong foot to counter my artful drop shots. With bursts of power, he would overwhelm me by sheer force. At other times he would match the subtlety of my game with a deviousness that would expose my weaknesses leaving me gasping for breath.

Our game was a really a template for our blazing sexuality. After the game, sweating profusely, gripped by an excitement barely concealed we would rush back to my apartment where Basheer would tear off my clothes and pushing me against my bedroom wall and enter me from behind driving the breath out of my lungs. Straining against each other we would reach a mind-blowing climax.

Basheer was a real speed buff. He drove a nifty Honda sports S2000. I was his constant companion in the 2-seater as he roared around. He would go off to the countryside, park in wooded places. We would mess around. I was often squatting on the ground sucking him or bent over the bonnet as he mounted me. Janet my flat mate had recently started dating a black man. Many evenings as Basheer was with me, we would hear Janet moaning and crying as her black boyfriend Timothy pleasured her. The sounds of their lovemaking would set us both off and we were soon adding to the din of matings in the apartment. I am sure we were equally noisy and inspired Janet and Timothy in their couplings.

We became so accustomed to our mutually noisy couplings that a few times we all did it before each other. Timothy and Basheer telling each other how they felt inside Janet and me. Unfettered by conventions in an alien land, we lived a life exploring the limits of our sensuality. That it was good for me was borne out by my excellent grades and the high praise I was getting from my professors. I was now a fulfilled, happy young Hindu woman enthralled and basking in the intensity of her Muslim lover's lust.

Just looking at his naked hairy body, his magnificent manhood and the huge balls held closely to his body like a stallion in full glory displaying the proud symbols of maleness, I would feel a compelling heat in my loins, an ache, a longing for the searing surge of his rampant, unhooded Muslim fullness as he plundered me in total abandon--an unrestrained lust venting itself on my more than willing body.

As he plumbed the depths of my contorting body, discovering the secret nooks and crannies of my fathomless pleasure, he was also exploring the inner recesses of my mind, the well springs of my sexuality, some known, some not yet acknowledged but all of them seething within my psyche. In this cauldron of passion there was nothing forbidden, nothing unexplored, there was only the unexpected and the exhilarating.

Basheer's lust was unfettered in expressing itself in the lewdest of words and acts while he was mounting me. My ears would burn with shame. The undiminished focus of his attention was on my hips and buttocks. Most of the time he entered me from behind. It was also my favorite position. At the very height of his passion, he would suddenly pull out fully and then swiftly thrust in again to the hilt, repeating this again and again. He had a special name for it - Khanjar Maar, (the dagger thrust). It would send me wildly over the edge in a frenzy of my own.

He would often use his fingers to touch the crinkled opening of my anal orifice as he was driving his splendid organ into my vagina. Lately he had started inserting a well-oiled middle finger up to the knuckles. I had been a bit embarrassed. It had all started with a light feathery touch when I was swept up to reach my orgasm. I had not objected because Murtaza too had a few times touched me there lightly. In a way it was stimulating too. I took it as just another caress. Little did I know where all this was leading to.

The brutal mid-western winter had come to an end. Spring Break was upon us and the campus had thinned out a bit because most undergraduates had gone away to celebrate. Janet too had gone home to see her parents in Alabama. Basheer and I had stayed back. One quiet evening I sensed a kind of unusual excitement in Basheer. I was sitting on the carpet with my head resting on his thigh as he sat on the sofa watching TV. I felt him getting hard inside his jeans. I was getting turned on by the signs of his arousal.

Rolling and turning my head back I kissed the bulge in his pants. We had both lost interest in the TV program. Quickly he was out of his clothes and as swiftly he disrobed me. Kneeling before him I had just sucked him a bit before he was impatient to enter me. Knowing his eagerness to mount me I turned my back to him and knelt on all fours on the carpet. He thrust himself into me in one hard deep lunge. I gasped as I felt the fullness of manhood. He felt like a bull. I was enjoying this mightily, spreading my thighs widely, arching my back and I was lifting up my buttocks to take him in more fully.

His soaring desire was contagious, and I felt myself coming once and then a second time. But he was relentless. Awash with desire and his throbbing manhood inside me I rested my head on the carpet looking from under at his hardness pumping into me. His finger was also touching and probing the puckered orifice of my anal opening. Suddenly, as he often did, he pulled himself out of me. I lay there relaxed with my head resting on my arms expecting the sudden and repeated stabbings, which he called the khanjar maar.

The thrust came but not where I was expecting it. I felt the hot moist hard demanding flaring head of his manhood thrusting against the crinkled tightly closed opening of my asshole. I cried out not so much in pain, but as a sense of outrage at this unexpected assault on this last undefiled citadel of my body. He did not desist at this sign of protest. Instead, he wrapped his left hand around my struggling body, clasping me across my stomach and pulling me on to his huge shaft. As he stabbed repeatedly against the tightly closed orifice. I screamed as I now felt the searing pain of violation.

I realized what his special excitement was that evening. He had been planning this all the time in his head. I could feel my sphincter yielding as he dilated me with his unhooded supara (dickhead). He was now firmly lodged in my anal opening. He stopped thrusting for just a bit. (He told me later that it was not to spare me the pain but more for his own pleasure, to savor my tightness.) I could feel his dickhead half way in my sphincter, throbbing and dilating me in that tight and narrow place.. Then he started thrusting again as he drove his dickhead into me millimeter by millimeter.

I felt his thickness gaining purchase in my rectum slowly but surely. As I knelt there helplessly, I felt his right-hand curl around my waist and going down to cup my pubic mound. The middle finger inserted itself into the folds of my womanhood reaching in to touch and tweak the bud. That's when I suddenly felt his hardness break through the sphincter to sheath itself deeper. I moaned as I felt the ridge of dickhead getting past my sphincter and knotting me.

There was great relief as I felt the ridge of his supara passing through my sphincter. As he crouched over me, now firmly lodged inside my asshole, shafting me in long deep strokes and then cruel hard short digs. He was enjoying himself mightily. He was murmuring lewd comments in my ears as he pumped away ceaselessly. In the throes of an overwhelming desire, he pushed me down and fell over me. I gasped as my breath was forced out of my lungs. His enormous shaft plunged in deeper into the tightness of my sphincter.

Pinning me down on the carpet, his muscled body heavy on my back he was spearing me with ruthless gusto. As his hips smashed into my buttocks, I felt his hardness surging inside me in a remorseless rhythm. The immense pleasure he was getting conveyed to me. I was feeling a warmth spreading over my crotch as his finger stimulated my clitoris. His magnificent hardness felt different in my asshole than in my vagina. I could feel his duct under the shaft pulsate as my sphincter held him tightly. But beyond the sphincter his thick shaft was held more lightly.

He was at an unusually high pitch of excitement thrusting into me in a frenzy trying to break the grasp of my sphincter at the base of his thickness. His hips were rotating as he ground the fullness of his cock into my asshole. Then I felt him shudder and twist as he shot stream after stream of semen deep into my entrails. His finger was tweaking my bud even as he shot his cum into my bowels. I was caught in my own quiet release as my body felt him flooding my innards with his thick semen as he held me pinned down on the carpet.

We lay there on the carpet exhausted panting together. He lay on top of me for a while and then as he lifted off me, his dick was dripping cum all over my buttocks. Lying on his side he put his finger in my cum filled asshole as though to open it more to take all his semen which was welling out of me. I heard him chuckle and say, " Aaj to teri dusri seal bhi ek Mussalmaan hi ne todi. Kya jabardast maaza ayya mujhe jab tu chatpatta rahi thi." ("Today a Muslim deflowered your other orifice too. What fun I had as you were writhing under me.") Lying there on the carpet as I heard his triumphant remarks I had to agree that he had breached the last bastion of my bodily integrity.

He had gone in where no man had gone before-the final frontier of my submission. Basheer's magnificent hardness felt different in that tightly closed orifice. I did not know till then that he was capable of such refined cruelty in this act of ultimate defilement. He had deliriously enjoyed taking the last citadel of my virginity. He told me that it was an ecstatic experience for him because my sphincter was strangling his shaft at the base.

For me the climax was a much quieter one. It was completely different the feel of this perverse entry into my body. It was a quick painful thrust and then relief as he seemed to penetrate the emptiness of my entrails. It did not have the delicious tactile contact along the entire length of my womanhood which enabled me to grasp him inside me and feel every inch of his magnificent shaft as I twisted and knotted to a mind-blowing ecstasy. Still knowing he was enjoying it immensely made me feel a pleasure which was more in the mind, that sensed the excitement he felt, than in my body which was being invaded so mercilessly.

In the aftermath I realized how true were the words of the Madame Stael, the 18th century French woman intellectual. She had remarked, " The desire of the man is for the woman, but the desire of the woman is for the desire of the man." Perceptive words that every self-aware woman comes to understand and accept. That is what makes all of us women submit to the demands of our men, be they husbands or lovers. It is also why a woman likes to be pursued so that she can revel in the desire she provokes.

Now Basheer had added a new variation to our frequent repertoire of lewd acts. He told me he had enjoyed breaking in his other Hindu GFs too, before me, in this final act of domination. It was the "piece de resistance" for him, the final act before we rested satiated. He was careful to bring me to several orgasms in my womanhood before indulging himself in his favorite pastime with Hindu girls. All my orifices had now been invaded by a Muslim man's irresistible unhooded weapon. No part of me remained inviolate. He had left me no shred of modesty. I must confess I had fully and shamelessly enjoyed my own undoing.