The Awakening of Sunita Sharma

The Awakening of Sunita Sharma - Another Love Story

Aidan's parents are friends with three other couples, including Shankar Sharma and his wife Sunita. Aidan has grown up around Sunita and he is utterly besotted with her as only a post-adolescent can be with a very attractive older lady. So when Sunita's husband dies unexpectedly, he is faced with a life-changing opportunity.

A note on the Crown Prosecution Service. The CPS is the main prosecuting authority in England and Wales. It works closely with, but is independent of, all agencies in the criminal justice system including the police.

The story is a bit of a slow burner but I hope you enjoy it and look forward to comments.

Sylviafan, June 2025

My parents are outgoing and gregarious people and they have lots of friends, but there are three couples that they are particularly close to, who all live a few streets away from each other. It's easy to see why they're friends with these couples; they are all professionals of similar ages with similar tastes in music and films and books and politics. The men all belong to the local golf club and they play together every Saturday morning, rain or shine. The women get together in one of their houses every Sunday evening and play contract bridge for hours and get mildly plastered on supermarket wine.

Firstly there are the Morgans, just around the corner on Hazel Avenue. Bryn and his wife Olwen are financial advisors; they have their own business. It's rather touching, really, they've been sweethearts since school and neither of them has ever slept with anyone else, according to my dad. They've got two daughters, Eleanor and Sophie. I went to school with Eleanor and we had a bit of a fling in the sixth form but history didn't repeat itself. She's married with a kid, now.

Then there are the Dickinsons, a bit further up Hazel Avenue. Tony Dickinson is a university lecturer in economics and his wife Amanda is a maths tutor. They've got a son called Matthew. He went to the same school as me, too, but he was a few years older so we weren't really friends. I say hello to him if I see him and once or twice we've had a drink together.

Lastly, but not least, there are the Sharmas, who live on Whitebeam Drive, on the edge of the estate. Shankar is a lawyer, like me. He owns half of a thriving practice with his younger brother. His wife is Sunita and she doesn't work, which is odd because they don't have children; apparently Sunita can't conceive, according to my mum. My mum says it's a bit of a cultural thing and dad says she's just lazy. And that's not true because she does a load of volunteering with various charities and she drives the mobile library van around. I suppose they just don't need the money. Sunita is quite a bit younger than her husband and she is fucking hot! The other thing about Sunita is that she seems to be completely unaware of how fucking hot she is.

Just to complete the introductions, my mum and dad are Catherine and Toby White. Dad's a structural engineer and mum's a pharmacist. I'm Aidan, their oldest son and I'm a lawyer working for the Crown Prosecution Service. I'm twenty-five and unattached and living in a flat in the city centre, close to where I work. I've got a kid brother, too, David.

To get straight to the point, I have also got a bit of a post-adolescent fixation for older ladies, more specifically ladies in their forties or fifties. I probably wouldn't turn down an offer from a horny sixty-year-old either. Not that I've had any offers, I might add, from anyone outside my age bracket that is. It's all been unfulfilled fantasy.

I don't have a steady girlfriend, never have done. Instead I have a large circle of female friends and acquaintances and I migrate between them as they become available from other relationships, sometimes lasting a week, sometimes only a night or two. It's a bit 1960s, Summer of Love and all that scene. I'm aware that it's not particularly commendable behaviour for a young professional but it hurts no one and I'm sure I'll settle down with a nice girl eventually and we'll get married and have two children and so on.

In the meantime I enjoy a varied and stimulating sex life, but always in the back of my mind is the vision of an older woman. An attractive, experienced, mature woman. A lioness who can take me to the next level, sexually. Inevitably, I base these fantasies on the women of that age who I come into contact with regularly. More specifically the female side of those four couples that are such good friends.

I do mean four couples because I include my mother in my imaginary harem. She meets all my selection criteria nicely: early fifties, good-looking, trim figure. The fact that she is my mother just adds an additional spice to my dreams. In reality nothing will ever come of my attraction to her because she would not allow it. And if I'm honest, I don't think I would have the courage to try anything on with her, but I do fantasise about making love to her and she is included for completeness.

In third place in my imaginary harem is Amanda Dickinson, the maths tutor and wife of Tony. Amanda's a bit willowy and ethereal with a slender body, small tits and wispy blonde hair. I don't see the lioness quality in Amanda but I do imagine myself dominating her in bed; making her suck my cock and throwing her down and thrusting into her, flipping her over and taking her from behind as she squeals beneath me.

In second place, and it's a close-run thing with first, is Olwen Morgan. Olwen's Welsh, like her husband Bryn, and she has the black hair and pale skin of a Celt. I reckon Olwen is red-hot in the sack; she's got a certain look about her, although that might be just wishful thinking. I can just see Olwen taking me in hand and completing my sexual education. Her other attributes include a sexy, curvy figure, big breasts and an impish sense of humour that could easily be misinterpreted as a come-on. In fact I once did interpret it as a come-on. It was at a garden party thrown by the Dickinsons, for the four couples and their children, although I was nearly nineteen at the time. It was a few months after my brief fling with Eleanor Morgan and I was feeling my sap rise. The drink flowed and things got a little bit out of hand, and in a secluded corner of the moonlit garden I put my arms around Olwen and pulled her to me and kissed her full lips, feeling her tits pressing against my chest. For about three seconds she responded and then she pushed me away, although it was light enough to see that she was smiling.

'It's tempting, Aidan,' she said huskily, 'but I'm strictly a one-man gal. Besides,' she added, laughing softly, 'it wouldn't be right after you've already had my daughter.'

Which brings me to the first place, which is currently occupied by Sunita Sharma. Of the four women in my harem, Sunita is the most mysterious, which of course only adds to her allure. She was born in Southern India and came to the UK as a child; she still retains a faint accent, which I find enchanting. She's ten years younger than Shankar, according to my mum, which puts her in her mid-forties. Reading between the lines, the marriage almost amounted to an arranged one, though she seems happy enough. She's not a great talker, though that may be because the other three ladies talk almost non-stop, but she's good company and she's a demon at bridge.

It's hard to describe Sunita's figure because she usually wears long, flowing skirts in floral patterns and loose blouses that conceal her form. She's about five-foot six and clearly isn't overweight, but I've no idea if she's slim or what her legs and breast are like. Facially it's much easier to describe her and I would start by saying that I find her almost breathtakingly attractive. She has the very light-brown skin tone of her ancestors. Honey probably describes it best. Her face is oval with high cheekbones and beautifully defined lips and big, dark eyes. And topping it all off is her raven-black hair, side-parted and cascading down over her shoulders in a shining wave.

I have always found her personality attractive, too. She doesn't say much about herself but she takes an interest in those around her and especially the children of the four couples, never forgetting a birthday or Christmas card. My heart leaps when I see her and I am almost struck mute when she talks to me. I am achingly in love with her, or what I assume is love but is probably just sexual fixation; the very idea of me laying a hand on her is preposterous.

Which brings me to my mother's phone call in the early evening of a Saturday in April. I was sprawled on the sofa, watching football on the television, a half-drunk beer on the coffee table.

'It's Mum here,' she began and I resisted the impulse to tell her that I knew that because of the caller ID. I had mentioned it about eleven times already. 'I'm afraid I've got some very bad news, Aidan,' she continued. 'Shankar Sharma has had a heart attack and he's in intensive care at the City Hospital.'

I don't know what I'd been expecting, but it wasn't that. 'Bloody hell, Mum! Poor guy! when did it happen?'

'Sunita phoned all of us from the hospital. He started to feel unwell early this afternoon and then he collapsed and she called an ambulance.'

'Is he going to be alright?' I asked.

'I don't know,' said mum. 'I don't think he'd be in intensive care unless it was very serious. And poor Sunita doesn't really know either. She's in a terrible state.'

I had a fleeting vision of walking into the ICU and Sunita flying into my arms. 'I could go over to the hospital,' I offered, 'and sit with her.'

'That's very sweet of you, Aidan, but Olwen's already there and I'm going over as soon as I can and we're going to stay with her tonight.'

'Well give her my best wishes,' I said, lamely.

Mum disconnected and I sat staring unseeingly at the TV. Talk about not knowing what was around the corner! Shankar Sharma was a fit guy. Ok, he was in his fifties but he wasn't overweight, he didn't smoke and he didn't drink much. And he played squash once a week and golf on a Saturday morning with my dad and the others.

My thoughts turned again to Sunita, and I imagined her sitting terrified by the bed in the hospital while the instruments bleeped to indicate her husband's continued existence. What would she do if the worst happened? Her husband had looked after her for her entire married life, and before that her own father had had responsibility for her. She had never had to pay a bill or argue with a tradesman or fix a leaking tap. How would she cope on her own?

Visions flitted through my mind of me coming to her rescue in a series of unlikely scenarios that all resulted in me taking Sunita to bed and bringing her to a gasping orgasm as I thrust into her hairy pussy. Then I told myself not to be so stupid and heartless. The poor guy wasn't even dead yet.

That state of affairs was resolved in the early hours of the morning and my mother phoned me at eight o'clock and told me that Shankar had passed away peacefully just before three am.

'How's Sunita taking it?' I asked, which was a pretty stupid question really.

'I think she's in shock,' replied mum. 'Amanda Dickinson is coming to the hospital this morning and taking over from Olwen and me and then we're going to take it in shifts to support her.'

'That's really kind of you, Mum,' I told her, 'but what about her family?'

'Sunita's family went back to India, years ago, just after she married Shankar. She's going to phone them, of course, but I can't see them rushing halfway across the world.'

'What about Shankar's family,' I persisted. 'They're local aren't they? He's in business with his brother, isn't he? Was,' I corrected myself.

'Well they've been informed, of course,' mum replied. 'But reading between the lines, I think there's some tension between Sunita and her husband's family, although she doesn't talk about it. Well, you know Sunita, she doesn't say much at all.'

'Well if there's anything I can do to help,' I finished.

That was also what I wrote in my card to Sunita, expressing my sincerest condolences. I also added my phone number, just in case. I got the card from the local newsagents on Sunday afternoon and posted it on Monday morning. Like a lovestruck adolescent, I waited anxiously for her to phone me, if only to thank me for the card but of course she didn't. She had much more pressing matters to attend to, like organising her husband's funeral.

The funeral took place at the local crematorium three weeks later and after the brief, secular ceremony the widow and her guests went on to a local hotel where a wake had been laid on. It was a revelation to me. I had never seen Sunita in anything but flowing, full-length skirts and voluminous tops. But she stood at the entrance to the crematorium, welcoming the mourners, dressed in a black two-piece suit over a red silk blouse. I looked at her open-mouthed as I waited to greet her. Her figure was stunning! Slender, shapely stockinged legs beneath the skirt of the suit, slim hips, a narrow waist and a bust that was full without being enormous. She was also wearing a little pillbox hat with a gauze veil that partially obscured her face but not enough for me to miss the perfection of her features and the carefully applied make-up, especially around her eyes, which were huge and lined with kohl.

I got to the front of the queue and stepped up to Sunita, offering my hand, which she took with her small, gloved hand.

'I am so sorry for your loss, Mrs Sharma,' I said, trying to get every ounce of authenticity into my voice.

She gave me a small smile. 'Thank you, Aidan. And thank you for your card. That was thoughtful of you.'

I spent the time in the crematorium standing near the back of the hall, staring at Sunita's back and her night-black hair. She carried herself well, talking quietly, moving elegantly and slowly. She didn't do a reading; mum said afterwards that she wanted to but was too upset. My dad did a brilliant one and talked about the good times they'd had with Shankar on the golf course and at their homes and there were smiles and even some laughter which helped lighten the atmosphere.

Shankar's brother did a reading too but that was far less well received. I didn't quite get what he was saying half the time, he seemed to be making points that nobody understood, or maybe it was a family thing. But there was something not quite right about it and after he'd finished there was an awkward silence.

At the wake I made a point of introducing myself to Arjun, Shankar's brother. Afterall, we were both lawyers. But he made it clear that he wasn't interested in talking to me, and neither was his wife, a rather overweight, overdressed lady with a thin-lipped mouth and a seemingly constant expression of disapproval. Interestingly I didn't see either of them talk to Sunita. She spent most of the time surrounded by the three couples that were her closest friends. I managed to have a brief conversation with her and I reiterated my desire to be of assistance and she thanked me and smiled and I died inside from a mixture of lust and hopelessness.

And that was that, I told myself as I made my way home from the wake. I had no idea what Mrs Sharma would do now but it was a cinch that she wouldn't be staying in the big house she'd shared with her husband. I imagined that I would bump into her occasionally, presumably she would continue to play bridge with my mum and the others, but that would be it. I could hardly just phone her up and ask her out, could I.

As it turned out, it was Sunita who phoned me, one evening about two weeks after the funeral. The phone said, "Unknown Caller" and I nearly didn't answer it. When I did I immediately recognised the faintly accented tones of Mrs Sharma and my heart leapt in my chest.

'Sunita!' I gasped. 'How are you?'

'I'm really sorry to bother you, Aidan, but I wonder if we could meet. There's something I'd like to talk to you about.'

Sudden visions of erotic couplings flashed before my eyes. Had Sunita been harbouring a secret and reciprocal desire for me? But she sounded tired and close to tears. 'Of course,' I replied, 'how can I help?'

'I don't want to talk about it over the phone,' she replied. 'I know I'm asking a lot but would you mind coming over to my house sometime over the next few days. When it's convenient for you,' she added.

I looked at my watch. It was ten to eight. 'I can come now if you like,' I told her.

'Are you sure?' she asked, quietly. 'That would be very kind of you,' she said, stifling a sob.

'I'll be there in half an hour,' I said, firmly.

It was a rather different Sunita Sharma who opened the door to me some thirty-five minutes later. For a start she was dressed in black jeans and a T shirt. And she wasn't wearing any make-up, so she looked pale and wan and tired, with dark shadows under her eyes. And strangely that didn't detract from her beauty at all, not for me. It was somehow comforting to see that she was still gorgeous under all the cosmetics and this evening there was the added attraction of her obvious distress and vulnerability that tweaked the protective male instinct in me.

'Thank you for coming, Aidan,' she said when we were sitting in her lounge with cups of tea. 'I'm sorry to drag you out but I'm at my wit's end and I don't know who else to talk to that might be able to give me some advice.'

'What is it?' I asked gently.

'Shankar's brother sent me this,' she said, picking up a white, A4 envelope from the coffee table in front of her. 'He says that Shankar made a new will a few months ago and he's sent me a copy of it.'

Something in my brain clicked. 'And were you the sole beneficiary of the previous will?' I asked.

'Yes, everything came to me.'

'And that's no longer the case,' I guessed.

'No,' Sunita confirmed. 'Now I get the house and ten thousand pounds and the balance of the estate goes to his brother, Arjun.'

'And how much is that?' I asked.

'The last time he showed me on his spreadsheet it was about one and a half million pounds.'

I whistled. 'Can I see the paperwork?' Sunita handed me the envelope and I extracted the will and the covering letter and started to read.

Despite the living, breathing form of my most desirable fantasy sitting just across the room, the only time I could remember when she and I had been alone together for any length of time, I read slowly and carefully. Sunita brought me another cup of tea as I went through the document. It was only four pages long and in twenty minutes I was done. I laid the document back on the coffee table and looked at Sunita, who was looking fearfully back at me.

'It's been correctly drafted and signed,' I began.

'So that's it?' said Sunita, tears welling at her eyes. I had a sudden urge to go to her, to take her in my arms and hold her tightly and tell her that all would be ok.

'No, that's not it,' I told her, gently. 'Now, can you tell me who these people are who witnessed your husband signing the document?'

She came over and sat next to me and I felt my insides grow cold and heavy. Focus, you idiot, I told myself. This is important. 'Well Lakshmi Shankar is Arjun's wife,' she began. 'I don't know who the other signatory is.'

'Nothing like keeping it in the family,' I commented. I picked up the covering letter. 'Do you know this firm of solicitors who are dealing with probate?'

'I don't know for sure but I think it's a small company that Shankar and Arjun used to work with on bigger contracts.'

'And the covering letter tells us that Arjun is still an executor of the will despite now being a principal beneficiary,' I said, throwing the letter back on the table. I turned and looked at Sunita. 'I'll be honest with you here, this stinks. Suddenly a new will appears and it bequeaths a fortune to someone who wasn't mentioned in the previous will. There's also a professional connection between the law firm dealing with probate and that same principal beneficiary.'

'So can I fight it?' Sunita asked, her dark eyes on me, her hands clenched together.

I thought for a few moments. 'I've seen any number of fraudulent cases involving wills during my time with the Crown Prosecution Service, and I'll be honest again, fraud can be difficult to prove if the paperwork is in order. And fighting cases like this can take years and be hellishly expensive.'

'And I've got no money of my own,' said Sunita, wearily, 'except for a few hundred pounds savings. And the ten thousand from the will, I suppose.'

'Which you wouldn't get until probate is complete,' I said, heavily.

'Is there anything I can do?' she asked, wringing her hands.

'Is that your late husband's signature?' I asked suddenly, pointing to the final page of the last will and testament document. It was a complex, spiky scrawl, hardly distinguishable as a name.

'It looks like it,' she confirmed, sadly.

'Can you show me some other examples?' I asked.

She led the way into Shankar's study at the side of the house where she rummaged around in a bureau for long minutes. Then she went to his desk and went through the drawers, eventually straightening up with a sheaf of papers and a few plastic cards. She spread them on the desk. There was his driving licence, credit and debit cards, a blood donor card and a number of documents like hire-purchase and credit agreements dating back up to twenty years ago and long since repaid. I examined the signatures carefully, comparing them to the one on the will. They looked the same to me, but then I wasn't an expert. Fortunately, I knew someone who was.

***

About three weeks after my evening visit to Whitebeam Drive, I entered the premises of Sharma and Sharma, Solicitors at Law, the firm that Mrs Sharma's late husband had run with his brother. There were a couple of junior partners but I had insisted over the phone on speaking only with Arjun Sharma. I had explained that it was a personal matter but I had refused to give any details. I had given my name, but I doubted if he would make the connection with his sister-in-law and I was keen to surprise him.

After waiting for fifteen minutes or so, his secretary told me I could go through to his office. 'So what can I do for you, Mr White?' he asked as I came through the door. Then he looked up from his desk. 'Don't I know you?'

'I tried to talk to you at your brother's funeral recently,' I began. 'But you weren't interested in talking to me.'

'So what do you want?' he asked, his face hardening. He strongly resembled his brother but he was fleshier and somehow more dissolute. Without the air of trustworthiness and respectability that Shankar had had.

'I've come about that new will of your brother's that mysteriously appeared after his death. You know, the one that suddenly gives you a million and a half pounds of equities and savings.'

'That is all perfectly in order,' he hissed, his voice like ice.

'Well it certainly seems like it, on the surface.'

'What are you implying?' he asked. 'If it's the fact that I'm now a beneficiary as well as an executor then that's perfectly normal in the UK. And before you say anything you might regret, I should remind you of the seriousness of slander.'

'Slander is a civil offence, it's not as serious as fraud,' I said and the word "fraud" hung in the air for a few seconds.

'Get out of here,' Arjun said suddenly.

'I don't think I mentioned it,' I said, conversationally, 'but I work for the Crown Prosecution Service.' Arjun Sharma froze in the act of reaching for his intercom switch. 'I could walk out of here now but I'd be back later today with the fraud squad. I know the Detective Superintendent who runs it very well.'

Arjun sat back in his chair, beads of sweat had appeared at his brow and I thought he was a shade or two paler than when I had entered his office. 'What the hell do you mean, fraud?' he blustered.

'We work with all sorts of agencies at the CPS,' I went on, starting to enjoy myself. For example I've used a team of handwriting experts several times and I've got to know them quite well.' I paused but Sharma didn't seem to want to say anything. 'I passed them a copy of the new will together with twenty-three examples of your brother's signature - genuine ones,' I added.

'I won't bore you with the technical details,' I continued, 'but essentially they use points of comparison. Apparently Shankar's signature has an unusually high number of them. To cut a long story short, the number of POC's between the known examples of the signature varied between twenty and twenty-five. Conversely,' I went on, feeling like a college lecturer, 'the number of POC's between the signature on the will and the known examples was six. In other words it's a forgery and the team are prepared to testify as much in court.'

'That signature was genuine. The people who witnessed it will swear to it.'

'Yes,' I said,' I meant to ask. Who was the other witness, apart from your wife, who can hardly be called impartial?' Sharma hesitated and I pressed the knife home. 'White collar crime is viewed very seriously by the courts nowadays, Mr Sharma. In a recent case, that was not without its similarities to this situation, the guilty party, another solicitor, got a five-year custodial sentence. I mean he'll only serve half that, and probably in an open prison, but he was struck off by the Solicitors Disciplinary Tribunal, so he'll never practise again...'

There was a poisonous silence. 'What do you want?' Sharma asked. 'Is it money?'

I laughed. 'Is that the terms you think in? No, Mr Sharma, what I want you to do, right now, is to write Sunita an email saying that there has been a significant mistake and the old will has been reinstated in its entirety and is currently going through probate. Then I want you to follow that up with a written letter and then I want you to ensure that probate is expedited as soon as possible. If you won't do that, I will see you in court.'

Sharma considered this for a few moments and I could almost hear his thought processes. He was balancing up whether he had the ammunition to call my bluff. But I was confident of my position and at length he turned to his keyboard and started typing.

'I want to see it before you send it,' I told him. 'And copy it to my CPS account.' I passed him my business card.

Ten minutes later he clicked on "send" and it was done. I stood up. 'One last thing.' Sharma looked up at me resentfully.

'What?'

'If you make any attempt to intimidate or even contact Sunita after this sorry business is concluded then I'll come after you.' I walked to the door and opened it. Sharma's secretary looked up from her desk and I turned back to Arjun. 'You're a piece of shit,' I said and turned away. 'I'd look for a new job if I were you, love,' I told the secretary as I passed her desk.

***

I suppose I was expecting a phone call from Sunita with gushing thanks, but as the days went by I heard nothing. Later she admitted that she had got to the point where she was afraid to check her emails in case there was something nasty from her in-laws, so she hadn't been aware of my actions until she received the written confirmation from Arjun Sharma that I had insisted upon. Then she wrote to me.

It was about six days after I'd visited the offices of Shankar and Shankar (deceased) that I received in the post an envelope in expensive cream paper. I opened it after I'd finished my dinner and put my feet up on the coffee table. Inside was a letter written in blue ink with a fountain pen and in a flowing, copperplate script.

Dear Aidan,

I can only assume that it is you that I have to thank for the wonderful events of the past few days. I have received a letter from my brother-in-law telling me that my husband's old will is being reinstated and I am to receive the whole of his estate after inheritance tax is paid. Arjun estimates that probate will take no more than two weeks and then I will be free of him forever!

Aidan, you have lifted a huge weight from me and you have raised me from the depths of despair and into the sunlight. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! You have made me very happy!

But I wish to thank you in person and to that end I would like to invite you out to dinner one evening at your convenience. I thought that perhaps the restaurant of the Hotel Royale might be a suitable place for us to dine and for you to tell me all about what happened. I can't wait to hear!

If you would like to dine with me (and you're not put off because I'm one of your mother's friends) please let me know which evening would suit you and I will make the arrangements. I do hope you will accept my invitation and I look forward to seeing you soon.

With a thousand grateful thanks,

Sunita Sharma

Ps I haven't mentioned this to your mum or anyone else. I've been too embarrassed. Could I ask the same discretion of you, too, please, if it's not too late?

I read the letter carefully, twice, then put it down on the coffee table. So I was going to have dinner with Sunita. Well, well, well. And at the Hotel Royale, the most expensive and exclusive restaurant in the city. My gut contracted with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. Funny how I could face down a crooked solicitor but the prospect of dinner with Sunita had me quivering inside. However, I reminded myself sternly, she was a widow and moreover one who had suffered additional trauma at the hands of her husband's family so I should not even contemplate making a pass at her.

The whole idea was absurd anyway. She was years older than me. She was friends with my parents, for goodness sake! What did I think was going to happen?

In the end I emailed Sunita thanking her for her kind invitation and suggesting a Saturday evening three weeks hence. I don't know why I wanted to delay it. Nerves again, I suppose, and maybe a little male vanity that I didn't want to appear too keen.

***

I got a confirmation email from Sunita the afternoon of the following day telling me that she had booked the restaurant for seven-thirty and suggesting we meet in the bar at seven. Just after I got home that evening a huge bouquet of flowers was delivered with a card that just said, "Thanks. Sunita x". The scent of the lilies and the roses filled my little flat with fragrance and reminded me every day of my upcoming date.

The days dragged until my dinner with Sunita, but eventually the Saturday dawned. Interestingly, my mother called me mid-morning and said that she and dad were going to the theatre that night and would I like to come with them. I hadn't said anything about the debacle with the Sharma's will to my parents and I couldn't just say I was going to dinner with Mrs Sharma, so I just said I had a prior date and mum said she hoped it was someone nice and I cringed inside because the theatre was almost next door to the Hotel Royale and I imagined Sunita and me running into my parents.

In the early evening I showered and shaved and dressed in my best suit with a tie. It was walking distance from my flat to the restaurant but I set out early and was sitting at the hotel bar sipping a gin and tonic by just after six-thirty. I had a horrible feeling that my parents were going to come in for a pre-theatre drink but the theatre had its own bar and it was a lot cheaper and my dad was on the stingy spectrum so I needn't have worried.

Besides, I had other things to worry about. What would Sunita and I talk about once I'd told her about the forged signature? Would it all be cringingly embarrassing? And what would she wear? Apart from that one evening when she was in jeans and a T shirt, and the funeral, of course, I'd only ever seen her in flowing, flowery skirts and tops. The clientele in the Royale were strictly suits and cocktail dresses. Would she look horribly out of place? Would the appearance of a couple who were clearly years apart in age draw stares in the restaurant?

I sat half facing the entrance to the bar, scanning each entry, one eye on my watch as the minute hand climbed to the o'clock. It certainly seemed to be taking its time about it and my guts were churning. I checked my phone, too, in case she was running late and had messaged me.

At five minutes to seven Sunita Sharma walked into the bar of the Hotel Royale. Although I was looking right at her I didn't recognise her for a few seconds because she was dressed in an expensive-looking, dark-grey cocktail dress and her hair was piled on top of her head in a shining black mass with a couple of loose locks framing her face. She spotted me immediately and smiled and came up to the bar and I looked at her with a sense almost of disbelief. She was gorgeous!

The cocktail dress hugged her slender contours and showcased her flat stomach and full bust. Below the knee-length dress she wore black stockings and high-heeled shoes. Her hairstyle allowed me to see the slender grace of her neck and I could also admire the beauty of her face, enhanced with carefully applied cosmetics.

'Do I look alright,' she asked eventually after I'd been gawping at her for a few moments. I pulled myself together.

'You look... exquisite,' I said, shaking my head faintly. 'Absolutely exquisite.'

Sunita blushed a slightly darker shade of honey. 'I hoped it would look ok,' she told me. 'I went shopping in town this morning and I must admit I splashed out a bit. I had my hair done, too,' she added, touching her black locks self-consciously.

'What can I get you to drink, Sunita,' I asked. 'I'm on gin and tonic.'

'Just a tonic water, please, Aidan.'

We took our drinks over to a table by the window and sat down. 'So what happened?' Sunita began. 'What made Arjun change his mind?'

'The threat of prison,' I said and I told her all about the handwriting experts and the forged signature and my visit to the office.

'That's amazing,' she smiled, her teeth very white against the dark-red of her lipstick. 'You are clever!' She waved her hand around the bar. 'All this, it doesn't seem like enough of a thank you.'

I wanted to say that if she was really serious about thanking me then spending the night in my bed would be a good start. But of course I didn't. 'I've told Arjun not to contact you after probate's sorted,' I said. 'So if he does, let me know. I've also spoken to the local fraud squad and told them that I think he's a bent solicitor, so they'll keep an eye on him in future.'

'Probate came through this week,' Sunita said. 'That's why I went and splashed out on some new clothes. I haven't had any for years,' she added, wistfully. We went through to the restaurant and I noticed that some of the diners were staring at Sunita and I felt a warm glow. It was so nice to be in an expensive restaurant with a ravishing looking lady.

The next couple of hours flew past with indecent haste. And Sunita and I didn't stop talking except to eat and our conversations ranged far and wide and I began to see for the first time that Mrs Sharma was an intelligent and well-informed lady. It also became obvious, although she didn't say it in as many words, that her husband had kept a rather tight rein on his wife. He hadn't forbade her to lead an independent life, but he had subtly discouraged it, preferring that his spouse should stay at home and keep house for him. His one concession to her independence had been the Sunday evening bridge sessions with my mum and Olwen and Amanda.

'Were you unhappy?' I asked, gently.

She appeared to consider this question for a few seconds, sipping from her glass of Chablis. 'Not unhappy,' she said, at length, 'but certainly unfulfilled.' I looked at her across the table, elegant, beautiful, untouchable. If I'd been married to her I'd have treated her like a princess.

All too soon we had finished our coffees and Sunita had paid the bill and we were walking out of the hotel into the Saturday night bustle of the city centre. 'Are you getting a taxi, Aidan,' she asked.

'No,' I replied, 'it's only a half a mile to my flat.' We were standing by the taxi rank and I looked at Sunita and she smiled at me and a wave of hopeless longing surged through me and I knew that I had to say something, even if I was rebuffed.

'Thank you for a fantastic evening, Sunita,' I began. 'I really cannot remember when I enjoyed myself more.'

'Oh go on, Aidan,' she chided me, smiling gently. 'I'm sure you have lots of friends. And thank you, too. I've really enjoyed myself tonight. Thank you for everything,' she added, turning to the taxi at the head of the line.

'Look, Sunita,' I said, my voice sounding weird and strained, 'can I see you again?'

'Well, yes, of course...' she replied looking faintly puzzled.

'No, I mean can we have a date together?'

'Oh,' she said, looking surprised. 'A date?'

'Yes,' I went on, gabbling a bit. 'I mean I know that you're only recently widowed and it doesn't have to be tomorrow or next week or next month or anything... But I've had such a wonderful time with you tonight and I think you have too and I just thought... Well, I'd really like to see you again.'

Sunita looked up at me, her expression hard to read. ''Like girlfriend and boyfriend, you mean?'

'Yes,' I said, 'and I'm sorry if that sounds odd and I know you're older than me but...' I tailed off and stood miserably by Sunita. I'd blown it for sure. Why hadn't I taken it slowly? And of course the answer to that was that I hadn't had a plan at all, I'd just done a brain-dump on the poor lady and now she probably thought I was a weirdo.

'There's a coffee shop round the corner,' she said, unexpectedly, taking my arm. 'It'll be quiet at this time of night.' She steered me down the street past the waiting taxis and into a pedestrian side-street where there was a small coffee shop, still open at this late hour and virtually empty, as Sunita had predicted.

Once inside, Sunita took a small table in the window and I ordered coffees for us: flat white for Sunita and café latte for me. I went over to the table and sat down and we stared out at the late-night crowds milling past until the waitress came over with our drinks.

'I'm sorry, Aidan,' began Sunita, 'you must think me very ungracious, but I was so surprised at being asked out by you I didn't know what to say.'

'I'm sorry, too,' I replied, heavily. 'It was probably dumb of me to ask in the first place and I'm really sorry that it's spoiled the evening.'

Sunita sat quietly, looking alternately out of the coffee shop window or down at her hands. Eventually she spoke. 'It hasn't spoiled the evening,' she said, softly. 'It was just so unexpected.' She looked up at me and smiled uncertainly. 'I'm very flattered that you would want to go on a date with me.'

'So is that a "yes"?' I asked, my heart thudding in my ribcage.

Sunita was silent for a long time and I was on the verge of repeating my question when she looked up and her dark eyes met mine. 'Please don't think I'm being rude, Aidan, but as you know, better than most, my life has been turned upside down over the past few months and I'm facing a new and different life now. And it's not a life that I have been particularly well-prepared for.' She stopped again and appeared to be mustering her thoughts. 'But if you really would like to take me out on a date then I would like that very much.'

'That's great,' I smiled, my heart soaring. 'When would be a good time for you? I mean I don't want to intrude on your grief or anything,' I added belatedly and clumsily.

'That's alright,' she replied quietly. 'I have done my grieving.'

We left the coffee shop shortly afterwards and Sunita took my arm again as we strolled slowly among the late-night revellers, heading back to the taxi rank. We stopped at the head of the queue of cabs and I turned to Sunita. I was still walking on air; this beautiful lady at my side had consented to go on a date with me and now all things were suddenly possible, or at least not impossible.

'Thank you for dinner this evening, Sunita,' I began, 'and for your company. I've had the loveliest time.'

'It's me who should be thanking you,' she smiled up at me, her eyes on mine.

I looked at her for a few seconds, mustering my courage. 'Do you mind if I kiss you?' I asked, softly.

'In front of everyone?' she asked.

I smiled and bent my head to hers, pressing my lips to her lips and feeling their warmth and softness. A great bubble of desire welled up through me and I fought the urge to force her mouth open, to slide my tongue into her mouth. Instead I just maintained a gentle pressure, brushing my lips lightly against hers. Sunita stood passively, not moving her mouth but not pushing me away. Looking back on that evening I knew that our first kiss was stilted and lacking in passion but I was too wired by the situation to realise this, or care. I was kissing the object of so many years of fantasies and I wasn't going to let the fact that Sunita wasn't responding spoil the moment.

After about twenty seconds I straightened up and Sunita said, 'I ought to go.'

'I'll phone you next week,' I promised as she got into the back of a taxi. She waved a hand at me as it pulled into the late-night traffic and disappeared in the direction of her home leaving me standing alone and rather sad by the side of the road.

'Aidan!' said a familiar voice behind me and I turned to see my mother and father, arm in arm.

'Hi, Mum,' I said as airily as I could, wondering if they had spotted who was getting into the taxi. 'How was the theatre?'

'Great,' said mum. 'Crap,' said dad.

***

I wanted to call Sunita the next day, to make sure everything was ok and she still wanted to go on a date with me. I was anxious and needy, and I hated myself. What had happened to the cold, calculating lawyer who had slain the heinous brother-in-law? This was more like the adolescent Aidan who had masturbated endlessly to visions of Sunita Sharma naked and semi-clad. In the end I waited until Tuesday evening; I don't think I could have lasted another day.

In the event, Sunita didn't answer the phone and I fretted that she'd seen the caller ID and deliberately not picked up. I needn't have worried; an hour later, as I was watching a silly crime drama, she rang back and I answered with my heart in my mouth.

After we'd exchanged pleasantries I asked her if she was available on the following Sunday. 'I thought we might go for a bit of a walk in the national park and maybe have some lunch. What do you think?'

'That sounds like a lovely idea,' she replied, in her enchanting accent. 'Will I need some walking shoes?'

I picked her up on Sunday morning and we drove into the national park and parked in a remote carpark of dusty, beaten earth. It was early summer and the ground was hard and dry, the air hazy and filled with insects. Sunita was dressed in what looked like a new outfit of walking shoes, loose trousers and a lightweight top that fitted her well and emphasised her full bust. 'I went shopping,' she admitted. 'I didn't have any walking clothes.'

We walked out into the miles of desolate moorland. It was a beautiful day: buzzards wheeled high above us, calling to their mates and skylarks warbled and dived into the heather. The path was wide and well-used and we walked side by side, chatting about this and that. I asked Sunita about her childhood in India and she told me about the house she had grown up in near Hyderabad, where her father was a farmer.

After about an hour I summoned the courage to reach out and take Sunita's hand and I felt her grip me lightly and we walked on in the summer sunshine and all felt good with the world. About eleven o'clock we stopped in the shade of a limestone outcrop and sat down to have a drink and rest for five minutes. A silence fell between us as we stared out into the seemingly endless landscape, the wind soughing through the heather. I braced myself and leaned forward to kiss Sunita and this time she raised her face to mine and I pressed my mouth gently to her, working my lips lightly against hers.

But again she was passive, not pulling away but not engaging in the kiss and eventually I broke off.

'Are you ok, Sunita?' I asked.

'I'm fine,' she replied, not looking at me.

'Really?' I persisted. 'You don't seem very comfortable with me kissing you.'

She was silent for a little while. 'It probably sounds very odd to you, Aidan,' she said eventually, 'but I haven't really been kissed before. Not properly.'

'Well what did Shankar do?' I asked, amazed.

'Shankar was a good husband,' she replied, as though I'd criticized him. 'He was a good provider. But he wasn't a passionate man.'

'I'm sorry,' I said, 'I'm not trying to intrude on your life with him.'

'Perhaps if I explained things to you,' Sunita said, looking at me with those beautiful dark eyes. 'I was married to Shankar when I was very young. I was only eighteen and I was a very young eighteen; I'd never had a boyfriend before and my parents organised everything for me. I was always chaperoned when Shankar and I went out and we weren't ever properly alone together until our wedding night.' She blushed and looked down at her hands. 'The physical side of our relationship...' she paused. 'I don't want to betray his memory, he was a good man and he loved me. But our physical relationship wasn't very... well developed, I suppose. I mean I read books and I watched actors on television kissing and, and things and so I had some idea of what it was all about but...' she tailed off.

I was amazed, but I also wanted to laugh out loud, which fortunately I restrained myself from doing. The beautiful, unreachable, unobtainable Sunita was a sexual novice! How exciting was that! I wanted to ask her more but she would be embarrassed, was embarrassed! There was only one thing to do.

Very slowly, and giving her time to rebuff me, I reached out and put my arm around her shoulders and drew her unresisting to me. 'Perhaps it's time for some practice,' I said softly as I lowered my face to hers. She looked up at me, her dark eyes on mine, then she closed her eyes and tilted her face and my lips met hers, warm and soft and full. I brushed my parted lips against Sunita's, gently from side to side, pressing slightly harder and feeling her lips open against mine, resisting the temptation to slide my tongue into her mouth. Not yet.

I pressed her to me with my arm, feeling the warmth of her body against mine, feeling the slenderness of her frame and smelling the scent of her skin and her hair. I opened my mouth wider and worked my lips slowly against hers, relishing the taste of her and the warmth of her breath. I slid my hand from her shoulders to her head, feeling her thick hair soft against my palm, pressing her gently to me as I tried a little bit of experimental tongue. Sunita sighed softly as I slid my tongue between her lips and into the warm wetness of her mouth. Briefly I withdrew, sucking softly on her lower lip, then sliding my tongue back in, deeper, exploring her mouth, feeling her tongue against mine, wet and fleshy and alive.

I wanted to spend an hour in the shade of that outcrop, kissing my childhood dream, but I also wanted to gauge Sunita's reaction to what was presumably her first full-blown french kiss. So I reluctantly broke the kiss and hugged her to me.

Sunita was breathing faster and her dark eyes were wet with tears, the pupils dilated and I fancied that I could feel her heart beating in her chest. 'Was that ok?' I asked softly.

'Kiss me again, please Aidan,' she whispered, looking up into my eyes. I used my free hand to stroke the soft skin of her face and brush her hair away as I lowered my face to hers and kissed her again. This time I pressed my mouth to her more firmly, working my lips against hers, feeling her begin to respond with movements of her mouth and more little sighs of satisfaction. I also felt her arms embrace me, her hands on my neck and shoulders.

I felt my heart thudding with emotion and desire and a feeling of exquisite disbelief settled on me as I felt, for the first time, Sunita's little pointed tongue tentatively enter my mouth. Desire flooded me like an ocean roller crashing onto a beach and I held her tight and kissed her hard, mashing my mouth to hers, sucking her lips and tongue, running my hands over her shoulders and back, feeling the outlines of her body, feeling her move against me, feeling her begin to respond to my passion.

Suddenly, just as I was considering cupping one of her breasts, there was the sound of voices and Sunita broke away, her eyes wide, her red lips wet with saliva. I looked round and saw a group of walkers approaching along the dusty track from the south. I grinned at Sunita but she seemed flustered so I got my bottle of water out of my knapsack and offered it to her. She drank gratefully and we smiled at the walkers as they passed and said 'Hello' and what wonderful weather it was.

'Are you alright?' I asked after they'd passed out of earshot.

Sunita smiled. 'Sorry, I just felt a bit funny being caught kissing in public.'

'I don't think they saw anything,' I reassured her. 'And it's not against the law.'

'I know I'm being silly,' she replied, 'but I've never been kissed like that before and it felt so... so intimate.'

I stood up and held out my hand and pulled Sunita to her feet. 'Ready to go on?' I asked.

'Yes,' she said and then, to my surprise, she stepped up to me and kissed me briefly on the lips. 'Thank you, Aidan.'

We walked on but now there was a subtle difference. We had kissed, as lovers do; we had tasted each other's saliva and felt each other's lips against ours. The dynamic between us had altered and we now held hands freely as we walked and we stopped, when there was nobody else in sight, to kiss and embrace. It felt wonderful walking with such a beautiful lady on a beautiful day in beautiful countryside.

After an hour or so we came to a village. Eschewing the pub, which was crowded and noisy, we found a little teashop where we lunched on sandwiches and coffee and afterwards we walked back to the carpark and changed our shoes and I drove Sunita back to her house and parked in her driveway, the engine running.

'Are you coming in for a tea or a coffee,' Sunita asked and I sensed a nervousness. Inviting me into her home after all our kissing on the walk could be interpreted as an invitation for me to take things further and I was surprised she had said it. I was also determined to refuse. I wanted this lady more than I had ever wanted anyone before in my life, but I didn't want to spook her with a rushed seduction, particularly given her inexperience.

'I need to get home,' I lied, feeling a bit shitty as her face fell. 'But I've had a wonderful day with you Sunita and I wondered if I could take you out to dinner next Saturday evening.'

She smiled, showing me her white, even teeth that I had so recently run my tongue over. 'I would like that very much, Aidan.'

***

At seven o'clock the following Saturday my taxi pulled up on the road outside Sunita's house and a few seconds later I saw the front door open and she came down the drive and got into the back of the cab with me. 'I hope you like Greek food,' I said as the taxi accelerated down the road towards the city centre.

I hadn't had the chance to see her properly until we got out of the taxi outside the taverna. She looked stunning, dressed in a figure-hugging, sleeveless, ankle-length, red satin cheongsam, embroidered with flowers and dragons. It also had a knee-length slit up one side which revealed glimpses of a shapely leg and three-inch heels. Her hair was piled on her head as it had been when we dined at the Hotel Royale, and her make-up looked to be professionally applied with dark-red lipstick and a lot of eye shadow and liner.

'You look incredible!' I told her as the taxi pulled away from the curb and disappeared into the early evening traffic. 'Is that a new dress?'

'Thank you,' she smiled, shyly. 'I've always wanted a cheongsam.'

It turned out that Sunita had never tried Greek food before and she was captivated by the variety and tastes of the Mediterranean cuisine, while I was captivated by my dinner date. The food, for me, was just a distraction which I hardly noticed. I was utterly entranced by Sunita, sitting opposite me at the little table in the taverna. And nor was I the only one; a few of the male diners kept sneaking looks at her, and at me, and the waiters seemed to be particularly attentive.

'The service is very good in here,' commented Sunita after a waiter had topped up her wineglass for about the fourth time.

'I think that might be something to do with you,' I suggested and she blushed.

Sunita seemed more relaxed in my company than she had previously. We talked about friends and family and my job and her volunteer work and I stared at her across the table in a state of partial disbelief that this gorgeous, honey-skinned vision was sitting here with me and she was my date and we had kissed and maybe more would happen later.

We stayed in the restaurant for a couple of intensely enjoyable hours until the staff started to hint that they wanted the table for a later booking. Sunita wanted to pay the bill but I was firm and a few minutes later we were standing on the street outside in the summer dusk, waiting for a taxi. I took her hand and squeezed gently and she squeezed back which was nice, so I pulled her to me and bent my head to kiss her but she stepped back out of my reach.

'I'm sorry, Aidan,' she said quietly, 'I'm shy about kissing in public. Kiss me when we get to my house.' Which answered that question anyway.

The taxi dropped us off on Whitebeam Drive fifteen minutes later and I followed Sunita into her house and closed the front door. In the dimly lit hall I took her unresisting into my arms and we kissed slowly and sensuously, me doing most of the work, but with encouraging signs that Sunita was enjoying the experience and starting to respond, tilting her head to meet me and parting her lips to invite my tongue into her mouth. I was holding her tightly, my arms around her waist. She felt deliciously exciting: the satin material of her cheongsam cool under my fingers, her breasts pressed against me, her crotch millimetres from my swelling cock, the flare of her hips and buttocks under my hands. I felt hot and strangely disjointed, as though all this was happening to someone else, although I could feel Sunita and smell the scent of her skin and taste the sweetness of her saliva.

'Shall we go and sit down?' I asked, taking her arm and leading her unresisting into the lounge where we sat down of the big sofa facing the TV. I put my arm around her shoulders, my hand on her bare upper arm and we kissed again, slow, exploring kisses that went on for long minutes as dusk fell in Sunita's lounge. I slid my tongue into her mouth and felt the first, tentative engagement with hers, a warm, wet, slippery eel that touched me then shrank back.

I kissed her harder, opening her mouth wider, sliding a hand over her chest and cupping one of her full breasts. There was an instant of hesitation, a fleeting stiffening and then she was relaxing back into my arms as I stroked and squeezed her firm orb in its satin cover. Thus encouraged I slid my hand down over her flat stomach and along her cheongsam-clad thigh, seeking and finding the slit and sliding my hand beneath the material onto the warmth and firmness of her thigh. Again there was that instant of hesitation and I let her adjust to the feel of my hand before reaching higher, feeling the heat of her inner thigh on my fingertips.

Suddenly she shivered. 'What do you want of me, Aidan?' she whispered.

'I want to make love to you,' I whispered back, my face inches from hers in the gloom, her dark eyes in shadow.

For what seemed a long time Sunita was silent and still. Then she stood up and held out her hand and I stood too and she led me out of the lounge and up the stairs and into the big master bedroom at the front with the bay window. She drew the curtains and turned to me in the near darkness of her bedroom. 'I'm nervous, Aidan,' she said softly. 'There's never been anyone else apart from my husband and I'm afraid I won't be able to satisfy you.'

I stood before her and put my hands on her shoulders. She suddenly seemed very small and vulnerable. 'It's ok, Sunita,' I told her quietly. 'I'll be as gentle as I can and if you say, "stop", we stop.'

'Thank you,' she whispered. 'I know it's silly. I'm old enough to be your mother, but I really have no experience at all.'

I didn't reply. Instead I felt at the back of her neck for the zip of her cheongsam. 'It's at the side,' she murmured and I found it and drew it slowly down to her hip. In the darkness of the room I gently pulled the dress over her arms and peeled it down over her hips and down her legs to the floor. She stepped out of it with a steadying hand on my shoulder and stood before me in just a bra, panties and her high-heels.

'Lie on the bed,' I whispered in her ear and she took her shoes off and climbed obediently onto the big king-size and lay quietly on her back, watching me as I undid my shirt and pulled it out of my waistband; as I kicked off my loafers and pulled my socks and trousers off and stood by the bed, my cock tenting my boxers, debating whether or not to keep them on.

In the end I kept them on and crawled onto the bed with Sunita. She came into my arms and we lay in a glorious, warm, skin-on-skin embrace in the womb-like darkness of that suburban bedroom and I felt excited yet as nervous as a teenaged virgin. Would I be able to satisfy this gorgeous lady because it had become very important to me that I did. My feelings for Sunita were growing very strong and it wasn't all lust.

I stroked the soft skin of her back and her night-black hair, soft against my neck. I caressed her breasts in their lacy cocoon and ran my hand over her taut stomach and briefly over her panties. I kissed her neck and her shoulders and her cheeks and then her lips and Sunita responded more strongly. Pressing her mouth to mine, working her lips against mine. By pulling her to me I managed to unclip her bra and she let me pull it down her arms. Her breasts sagged a little to each side of her sternum but they were full and ripe and perky, her nipples hard with excitement, her areolae dark and big.

I lowered my head reverently to her breasts and kissed and licked and suckled her nipples and I felt and heard her breathing rate increase and little gasps pleasure escape from her mouth. I spent long moments using my tongue on her glorious tits and she put her hands on the back of my head and pressed me into her flesh until I could hardly breathe.

My heart was beating harder now and I felt short of breath. Without thinking I slid my hand down over her abdomen and under the waistband of her panties. She gasped and went rigid and I kissed her lips and told her that I would be very gentle and Sunita relaxed as my fingers found the luxuriant bush between her legs.

I was as good as my word. I went very slowly and very gently as though it was Sunita's first time. I stroked her hair, imagining the thick, black bush of silky curls. I ran my fingers through it, pulling and teasing, and as I stroked her bush I kissed her and she became very passionate, even sliding her tongue between my lips. And as she did that I reached lower and found her labia and she gasped again and I felt her fingernails press into the skin of my neck.

I wasn't sure how aroused Sunita would be. What, I wondered, had she done with her husband to be such a novice at the sexual arts? But my exploratory finger slid easily between her outer lips and into a place of liquid warmth and as I pushed it in to the second knuckle Sunita gave a little scream and dug her nails into me so hard that I gasped in pain.

'I'm sorry, my darling,' she moaned.

'Are you alright?' I asked.

'I'm nervous,' she whispered.

I pushed my finger deeper into her and pressed my lips to hers and a huge sense of wellbeing flooded through me; the object of my adolescent lust was almost naked in my arms and my middle finger was buried deep in her sopping pussy. And the evening was far from over.

Sunita squirmed as I slid a second finger into her vagina, and I felt her muscles grip my digits. God she was tight! I'd have to be very careful when I entered her. I started a slow in and out movement with my fingers and Sunita moaned softly and thrust her hips up to meet me. I kissed her lips and her cheeks and her neck; I took her full lower lip gently in my teeth and sucked it into my mouth in an act of breathtaking intimacy. Hooking my fingers, I slid them out of her cunt and up her labia, seeking her clitoris and finding the little bud, stiff in its protective hood. Gently I alternated between finger-fucking her and stroking her pleasure bud and Sunita responded with increasingly loud moans and groans, her arms tight around me, her nails digging into my flesh.

Suddenly she stiffened and gave a great groan as her orgasm started. 'What's happening to me?' she gasped and clung to me, her cheek against mine, her breathing loud in my ear as her climax racked her slender body. I slowed down and stopped and withdrew my hand from her knickers. Then I held her tightly to me, sensing that something pretty fundamental had happened, a feeling that was confirmed as she started to quietly sob, her cheek wet against mine.

We lay in the darkness for long minutes until Sunita stopped crying and gently disengaged herself. 'Are you alright?' I asked. It felt like I was always asking her that.

Sunita swallowed. 'Sorry,' she said, 'I think you've just given me my first orgasm. Oh, Aidan, it was wonderful. I didn't think anything could feel as good as that.'

'But surely you must have...' I struggled for the words, 'Surely you must have... done it yourself sometimes?'

'My mother was very strict. She told us girls that we must never touch ourselves down there except when we washed, and especially not before we were married. She said that we must be completely fresh for our husbands.'

We were both silent for a while. I was processing the fact that this gorgeous lady had never come before; I had no idea what was going through Sunita's mind. But it was she who spoke first.

'Do you want to enter me, Aidan?' she asked quietly. 'I'd like you to.'

I suddenly became aware of my penis, hard and throbbing in my boxer shorts. Yes, I wanted to enter Sunita, but I needed to be careful, to be aware of her fragility. I rolled on my back and took off my shorts. Oh, God, the relief. Kneeling up I looked down on my bed mate.

'I want you very much, Sunita,' I told her quietly. 'But I'll be very gentle and if you want me to stop I will.'

'Thank you,' she whispered.

'Take your knickers off and open your legs, I told her, and she obeyed, spreading for me, bending at the knees. I got between her thighs, feeling light-headed with desire. I couldn't see her pussy except as a vaguely darker smudge in the gloom of the late evening. I grasped my cock with one hand, feeling its slippery coating, and guided it to her, rubbing the head up and down her slit until I located the entrance to her vagina. Then I pushed gently.

I'm not enormous or anything, but my glans is pretty big, like a ripe plum, and I was aware of this as I pushed a bit harder and then Sunita gave a little cry as I parted her labia and slid into the depths of her pussy. I forced myself to stop a couple of times to let her adjust to my entry but after that first utterance she lay quietly and I sank myself into her fully and leaned down over her, supporting myself on my elbows.

I think I can safely say that penetration had never felt so good before. Not only was it the beautiful and mature object of my adolescent fantasises that I was finally entering, but she felt so fucking good! Hot and wet and tight, and I knew I wouldn't be lasting very long this first time.

'Are you alright Sunita?' I asked for the umpteenth time.

'Mmm,' she murmured. 'You feel very big, but it's lovely.'

I pulled out a couple of inches, feeling the suction of her pussy, then pushed back in, building up a slow rhythm, increasing the length of my strokes but still going slowly and gently. Inches from my face I could hear Sunita breathing, her mouth open. I thrust a little harder, testing her, and she gasped and gripped my shoulders and stuck her nails into me again. I was going to have to have a word with her about that.

But for now the mild pain only added to the feeling of utter and untrammelled pleasure that was rising through my body. I pushed harder and then pulled almost all the way out and as I slid my whole length back in Sunita groaned and started thrusting herself to meet me and I felt a bubble of intense pleasure rise and blossom and flood through my nervous system and then I was coming and my cock was squirting spunk into Sunita and I was gasping, 'Yes, oh God, yes!' and then the orgasm passed its peak and started to subside and I slowly withdrew from Sunita and lay on the bed with her, taking her into my arms again in a warm embrace.

Sometime later Sunita and I got under the duvet. There had been no discussion on me staying the night, in fact there had been no discussion at all. Instead we both fell asleep.

I woke just before dawn and Sunita was still in bed with me, although all I could see of her was her black hair piled on the pillow next to me. I snuggled up to her and she sighed and stretched and I pressed my hardening cock into the cleft of her buttocks, reaching round to fondle one of her breasts.

Sunita stretched like a cat and turned her head to me. 'Hello, Aidan,' she said with a shy smile.

'Hello Sunita,' I replied. 'Did you sleep well?'

'Mmm, wonderfully!'

I slid my hand from her tit and down to her vulva, cupping the hairy mound and squeezing gently. Sunita arched her back against me and I kissed her neck and squeezed harder.

'Do it to me again,' she groaned, 'with your fingers. Like you did last night.' So I masturbated Sunita again and it was one of the most intensely erotic experiences I had ever had. This morning she seemed more tuned to what I was doing and she squirmed against me as I pushed my fingers deep into her moistness, spreading her juices all over her labia, my fingers exploring and teasing, flicking over her pleasure bud and sinking back into her slick depths.

I kissed her shoulder and her neck as I masturbated her and she squealed as I nibbled her earlobe and slid my tongue into her ear, her breathing turning to panting as her orgasm approached. Towards the end I concentrated on her clitoris, stimulating the little nub with my fingertip as Sunita's climax rose and engulfed her and she cried out and went rigid as the pleasure wave crashed through her leaving her limp against me.

I entered her gently again and as I slid into her she opened her eyes and looked at me and I looked at her as I started to fuck her with long, slow strokes. Again, she seemed more attuned to me than she had the night before and I felt able to go faster and harder and she responded by digging her nails into me again. In the subdued morning light of the curtained bedroom I could see Sunita's face clearly and I was overwhelmed by her beauty and I fought a sudden urge to profess undying love. Instead, I leaned over her as I thrust into her, clamping my mouth on hers, tasting her morning breath and not caring.

I came so powerfully into Sunita that second time that it was almost uncomfortable. The orgasm pulsed through me and my cock throbbed hot spunk deep into her pussy leaving me drained and speechless, lying by her side, getting my breath back, my heart racing.

Afterwards we showered and dressed, me in last night's clothes, and went downstairs for breakfast, both of us quiet, absorbed with our own thoughts. 'What are you doing today, Aidan?' Sunita asked me over the second cup of coffee.

'I've got nothing planned,' I told her. 'But I should do some preparations for Monday. I'm in court in the afternoon,' I explained.

'Do you want to work round here?' she asked quietly, not meeting my eye. 'You could use the study, it's lovely and quiet in there.'

And that's how I came to spend the rest of the weekend with Sunita. She drove me to my flat and I packed an overnight bag and a suit carrier and stuffed a few papers into my briefcase and we got back to her house about eleven o'clock and I did a couple of hour's work and then we had some lunch and after we'd cleared that away I took Sunita in my arms and kissed her and asked her if she would like to go to bed again.

That afternoon was the most extraordinary sexual experience of my life, and I am sure it was the same for Sunita. 'Will you do those lovely things to me again, Aidan?' she asked as I kissed her and stroked her night-black hair. 'Yes,' I told her, 'and lots more lovely things too.'

I took her gently by the hand and led her up to her bedroom where she went to draw the curtains. 'Leave the curtains,' I told her. 'I want to be able to see you properly this afternoon.'

'But what if someone sees us?' she asked.

'Well they'd have to be about twelve feet tall, and besides, you've got net curtains.' Sunita looked unsure so I took her in my arms and she tilted her face to mine and we kissed slowly and deliciously, my tongue snaking into her mouth and finding hers, wet and warm and mobile. I undressed her slowly; she was wearing loose trousers and a blouse and when these were removed she stood, a little self-consciously, in front of me in lacy black panties and a matching bra. She looked exquisite: slender, full-breasted, honey-skinned, raven-haired, beautiful like a lingerie model, and I gulped with emotion.

I unclipped her bra and let it slide to the floor. Her breasts stood out proudly, the nipples hard like little bottle corks, her areolae dark and wide. I lowered my head and sucked one of her nipples into my mouth, licking and suckling, tasting her flesh, smelling the scent of her skin. Sunita shivered, her breathing shallow and fast, excited and nervous.

I pulled her knickers down, revealing her black bush and dark labia, the scent of her arousal strong in the still air of the bedroom. 'Lie on the bed, Sunita,' I said, relishing her name, a swift vision of all those years spent wanting her flashing through my mind.

I stripped quickly and efficiently and climbed onto the bed with her, gently parting her thighs. She looked at me expressionlessly as I put my hands under her knees and raised her legs up and over so that her pussy was exposed to me in all its hairy glory, her knees either side of her head. God, I'd dreamed about this for so long!

I knelt down between her thighs, my face stopping inches from her pussy. 'What are you doing, Aidan?' Sunita asked, a trace of nervousness in her voice.

'I'm looking at your wonderful pussy,' I replied, 'and smelling your scent, and when I've done that I'm going to lick you until you scream with pleasure.'

'Oh,' she said quietly, uncertainly. And my goodness Sunita Sharma had the sexiest cunt I had ever seen: thick, black, curly hair spreading up almost to her navel; folds of neat, dark-brown labia, parted slightly to expose a wet, pink interior. A wrinkled, puckered, dark-brown anus surrounded by soft black hair. And her odour! Strong and musky, like the very essence of sexual attraction. I inhaled deeply then lowered my head to her loins and slid my tongue between her outer labia, relishing the feel of her flesh, of her most intimate place. I probed deeper, tasting her wetness, her silky secretions, finding the entrance to her vagina and sliding my tongue in, my nose pressed to her clitoris.

At first Sunita stiffened, unsure of what I was doing and unsure if she wanted me to do it. But as I explored her with my tongue, licking her labia from bottom to top, occasionally flicking over her clitoris, she began to relax, began to enjoy it. She started making little mewing noises as I lapped her juices up, gasping when the tip of my tongue pressed lightly on her pearl.

I licked her for long moments, savouring the taste and smell of her, savouring the utter intimacy of the act, and the fact that it was Mrs Sharma beneath my hungry mouth. Eventually I started to concentrate more on her clitoris, licking and sucking, while I slid two fingers carefully into her vagina. Sunita groaned as my fingers slid in. 'Oh my goodness, Aidan, what are you doing to me?' she gasped.

I licked her nub harder and curled my fingers, seeking her G spot. She groaned louder as I sucked her clitoris into my mouth and teased it with my tongue. Suddenly she screamed loudly as the first waves of her orgasm hit and I held on tightly to her legs as she writhed and squirmed. I licked her until she went rigid and pushed me away, her clitoris hyper-sensitised.

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand I rolled Sunita over and told her to get on her knees and lay her head on the pillow. Kneeling before me on the bed, her perfect rear stuck up in the air, presenting me with her hairy pussy, I was again overwhelmed by a combination of tenderness and desire. But I was also ragingly aroused. I entered her easily and deeply, deeper than I had ever been in her before. I grasped her hips and began a rough thrusting, coming right out and back in like a porn movie star. Sunita moaned and grasped the pillow, her knuckles white as I rammed into her, relishing the tightness of her cunt, the smell of our joining and the delicious squishing noise as I fucked her sopping pussy.

I could have come inside her then, I was close, but I had other ideas. I withdrew and lay down on the bed beside her. 'Sit on me,' I told her. 'Sit on my cock.'

After her orgasm, Sunita was even more malleable and she made no comment about my request. Or was it an order? But it was clearly all very new territory to her. She climbed awkwardly onto me and I had to help her by grasping my cock and guiding it to her pussy as she lowered herself onto me. But the feeling as she sank her tight cunt down the length of my rigid meat was indescribable! As was the sight of her sitting on me, her breasts jutting proudly, her eyes closed, mouth half open in desire, or perhaps submission.

'Rock your hips backwards and forwards on me,' I told her and she started a little hip-flicking motion that sent shivers down my spine and made her tits jiggle delightfully. 'Harder,' I told her and she started rocking backwards and forwards and then, suddenly, she seemed to get what the position was all about and she leaned forwards, putting her hands on my chest and started a vigorous fucking motion that turned my guts to water and sent tendrils of pleasure up my spine.

'Am I doing it right?' she gasped.

'Oh, yes, darling,' I smiled, lying back and letting her do all the work while I admired the curves of her body and the way those wonderful breasts swayed from side to side. Then she was bucking furiously and gripping my pectorals with her hands, her nails digging painfully into me again.

'It's happening again,' she moaned, which I took to mean that she was having another orgasm. I gripped her hands and held her as she rode me to a second climax, her hair flying around her head, her hips rocking furiously.

After it was over she slumped down over me and I held her for a few minutes, feeling her heart beating in her chest, listening to her breathing subside, enjoying the feel of her naked body against mine, of her weight on top of me.

Eventually she raised herself up on her arms. 'That was so wonderful, Aidan! I can't believe this is all happening to me. I can't believe how you make me feel! And you called me darling,' she added, her eyes wet with tears. 'I know I've got a lot to learn but I will learn, Aidan. I'll be the best lover ever!'

'Hey, it's ok,' I said, stroking her face. 'Let's just take it easy and see what happens.' Which sounds crazy, I should have held her and told her that I was deeply in love with her and I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her but there was a voice inside urging caution. Yes she was beautiful and sexy and intelligent and interesting (and loaded), but she was forty-five and she was my mum's friend and she had told my mum that she couldn't have children.

Sunita gave me a look, which I couldn't interpret and swung one leg over, dismounting me. My cock suddenly felt cold after the warmth of a vagina. I was still at full hardness, coated with Sunita's juices, my glans an angry purple shade. She sat beside me and I looked at her and she looked at my penis.

'Touch it,' I said quietly. 'Hold it. See what it feels like.'

After a slight hesitation she reached out and took my cock in her hand, wrapping her tapered fingers around the shaft, squeezing slightly and starting a gentle up and down motion. She looked questioningly at me. 'Is that nice?' she asked. 'It's wonderful,' I assured her and for the next ten minutes or so Sunita Sharma began to learn how to pleasure a man with her hand. I guided her with words and with gasps of pleasure and she was a quick learner because in no time she was wanking me as if she'd been doing it for years.

'Use your mouth,' I said suddenly. Sunita looked dubious. 'Go on, suck me,' I urged. She knelt obediently and lowered her head to my cock, her hair falling over her face and obscuring the moment when she took the big head of my meat into her mouth and started a delightfully untutored sucking and licking. I squirmed on the bed and made little thrusts with my hips, pushing deeper into her mouth, overwhelmed by a powerful urge to possess this beautiful creature.

I shouldn't have come in her mouth that first time she fellated me, but I did. I gave her some warning that I was coming but to be honest I'm not sure whether she fully appreciated that meant I would ejaculate down her throat. It happened a bit suddenly for me, too. She got into a rhythm of sucking and wanking that had my climax exploding suddenly like a volcano, pumping semen into her mouth. She swallowed some and some trickled out of her mouth and she choked a bit and swallowed again and then she took her mouth off me and slumped down into my arms and I held her very tightly and kissed the top of her head.

Sometime later Sunita asked me if I would like a cup of tea and she got up off the bed and put a satin dressing gown on and left the bedroom and I heard her pad downstairs and then faint noises from the kitchen. She came back ten minutes later with two mugs and got back onto the bed with me. I'd had time to prepare my little apology.

'I'm sorry about coming in your mouth, Sunita. That was... inconsiderate of me. I'm afraid I just got carried away,' which was mostly true.

Sunita was sitting with her back against the headboard, cradling her tea in both hands. 'You must think I'm a very odd lady, having been married for years and yet not knowing anything about making love.'

'Well--,' I began but she cut me off.

'I told you about my mother telling us girls not to touch ourselves. Well when you've had something like that instilled in you it's hard to overcome. But on top of that my husband wasn't a passionate man, which I think I also mentioned. In fact he was hopeless. All he ever did was stick himself in me two or three times a week and push in and out a few times and then he was done. I did love him but even I could see that sex should be better than that. But I was married to him and he wouldn't talk about it and so that was that. Or it was until you took me to bed and showed me how wonderful it could be. I'm not sure if you realise how profoundly you have opened my eyes, Aidan. I feel as though I've been sleepwalking all my life and you've awoken me.

'So ejaculating in my mouth wasn't a problem, is what I'm trying to say. It was a bit unexpected, I didn't realise how much stuff you produced, but I'd already told myself that I wanted to taste you.'

'Had you?' I asked, surprised.

'Of course. You've changed my life, Aidan, whether you realise it or not, so I've spent a lot of time thinking about you. About us.' She blushed suddenly. 'Sorry, I'm getting all silly and carried away and forgetting that I'm old enough to be your mother.'

We got up and dressed after we'd finished our tea and then we went for a short walk through the local park and had an ice cream. But there was now something between us. I had been thrilled to hear Sunita talk about "us" but I'd also been alarmed. Did I really want to tie myself to this forty-five-year-old widow? I was twenty-five, a lawyer with a promising career ahead of me and the prospect of children and, eventually, grandchildren. Did I want to give that up for Sunita? Was her beauty and personality enough to compensate? I just didn't know the answer to that. How much of my thoughts she sensed I don't know, but there was a distance between us for the rest of the day although when we went to bed we did make love, and it was as good as it had been that afternoon. I came, thrusting into Sunita from behind while I told her to touch herself. The childhood stigma clearly not impossible to overcome as she brought herself to her first orgasm through masturbation.

I was away early the next morning, explaining to Sunita that I had a busy morning before court in the afternoon. She looked sad as I left and asked if she could call me that evening. And call she did, although it was a stilted conversation and only lasted ten minutes. Afterwards I sat in my favourite chair with a beer and thought about Sunita and about my life and what I wanted and what she wanted and deserved. It was a long evening and such introspection can change the life of a young man.

I called her on Tuesday evening and suggested we go out on Friday - there was a new show starting at the local theatre and I knew how much she liked musicals. I pulled up in the driveway in front of her house at six o'clock on Friday. The show didn't start till eight but I wanted to take her out to dinner first. Some things are better said over a meal.

She answered the door to my ring and I was surprised to see that she was still in slacks and a blouse. 'You'd better get a shift on,' I told her. 'The table's booked for six-thirty.'

'You'd better come in,' she told me, her face blank.

'What is it?' I asked. 'What's the matter Sunita?'

She led me into the lounge and sat down and I sat next to her on the big sofa that faced the television. 'What is it?' I asked again.

'I went to the doctor's this morning,' she began, twisting her hands in her lap. 'Apparently I'm pregnant,' she said, almost matter-of-factly.

'What! Weren't you taking any precautions?' I asked, not wanting to admit what my mother had told me.

'No, I wasn't,' Sunita said quietly. 'When it became obvious that I wasn't going to conceive, Shankar and I went to the doctor and we had tests and they sent us a letter which Shankar read out to me saying that I was infertile.

'Except that when I told that to my doctor, he found a copy of the original letter that my dear husband read out to me all those years ago and apparently it didn't say I was infertile. It actually said that he had a low sperm count.' She started sobbing. 'The bastard! What am I going to do now!'

'Marry me?' I said, before I had time to talk myself out of it.

Epilogue.

I'd pretty much convinced myself that I wanted Sunita more than I wanted children so the news that she was carrying our child was just about the best thing that could have happened. We married a few months later and three years down the line we now have two daughters. My parents have just about got over the shock, though the Morgans and the Dickinsons thought it was hilarious, especially Olwen!

Sunita is a brilliant mother and wife and of course lover. Her initial inhibitions and lack of experience have given way to what could almost be described as an infatuation with sex, which at times almost overwhelms me. But what a way to be overwhelmed!

The End