When Cruel Aisha was Kind

As earlier stories about 'Cruel Aisha' explain, for the last ten years I have lived with Aisha, and for the last five years we've been married. She is a British-Indian woman in her mid-thirties, and I am a white British man who has just turned forty. I am not allowed to have sex with my wife, or even to see her dressed in anything less than her underwear. The only sexual relief I am normally allowed is periodic handjobs from her, or masturbation under her supervision. She also monitors my lechery towards her and other women, and chastises me. Aisha, on the other hand, has had several lovers, ranging from long-term boyfriends to one-night stands, during our time as a couple.

I agreed to these terms when we first got together, as mature students. Now, Aisha is a Senior Lecturer at the university where we once studied, and I am a Partner in a consulting firm in the same city. Aisha is frequently cruel to me, but this is a story about a time she was unusually kind. Or, perhaps, it was just an even more refined form of her cruelty.

It was a Saturday morning in June and, as usual when the weather is nice, Aisha was playing tennis with Veronica. Veronica is a friend from their days at a Catholic boarding school, so she is now also in her mid-thirties, who happened to move to the same city as us. She works as the Finance Director for the city council and, as befits someone in such a role, she has an air of quiet authority and competence.

Veronica is a couple of inches taller than Aisha, perhaps 5 feet 11 inches, and slim in build, shapely and elegant in appearance and dress. She is more flat-chested, too, a 32A at a guess, whereas Aisha is a 36C, and I know from frequent observation that she often goes bra-less. Such observations have been noticed by Aisha, who has punished me for them and, even more humiliatingly, Veronica knows all about these punishments. Indeed, she knows all about our unconventional marriage and treats me with amused contempt whenever we meet.

They are well-matched on the tennis court, I gather, and they had played as a doubles pair when they were younger. When they play against each other, Veronica's long reach and athletic frame are parried by Aisha's aggression and better technique. They are very competitive, and my wife is always in a particularly bad mood when she comes home after having lost, and a correspondingly sunny one if she wins. Either way, she normally goes straight to the shower on her return.

But one day recently it was different. Instead of returning alone, Aisha came back from tennis accompanied by Veronica, and they sat drinking lemonade, still in their short white tennis dresses. Aisha had evidently won that day's encounter, and stretched back contentedly in her armchair, the hem of her dress rising to reveal not just her long brown legs but the black undergarment, something between a pair of knickers and tight pair of shorts, which she wore beneath. I couldn't help but stare.

"Are you perving at me?" Aisha snapped.

I had no choice but to admit it.

"God, men," she said to Veronica, raising her eyebrows.

Veronica shook her head, in real or assumed disgust at my behaviour.

"Well, if you're so interested in my knickers, maybe you'd better worship them," Aisha taunted. "Get over here on your knees. I'm going to allow you to kiss and lick my inner thighs."

It was so rare for Aisha to allow me that kind of physical contact with her that I was amazed, but also unwilling to humiliate myself in front of Veronica.

Aisha sensed my dilemma.

"Get on with it. You don't often get the chance. But I'm feeling unusually kind," she said.

Despite Veronica's presence, I couldn't resist.

On my knees, I began to kiss and lick the light brown flesh of Aisha's inner thighs. They were firm, but bulging slightly away from the tight constraint of her black under garment, and tasted salty from the sweat of her tennis game. Veronica stared, intently, and I felt between the two women a charged atmosphere of shared excitement at my humiliation.

"How does that feel?" Aisha asked. "To be close to me, to be kissing my skin? To be just inches from my sex? Are you imagining it? The puffy lips of my vulva? The fuck slit my lovers get to enter? The neat little triangle of my black hair? Can you smell the sweat? Maybe you can even smell my sex juices?"

Veronica laughed cruelly.

"Careful," Aisha warned me. "You mustn't kiss any higher. You can't kiss my knickers. But you can look at them. Look at the front panel of them, running down to the gusset. Look at the way they run around my hips, hugging tight around all the parts of me you're never allowed to see."

"He's so desperate, he'll do anything," she sneered, addressing Veronica.

"So I see," Veronica replied contemptuously.

"Take your cock out," Aisha ordered.

I was too excited now to even care how it looked to Veronica and, unzipping my trousers, pulled my erect penis out.

"Wow, it's just as small as you told me," Veronica remarked.

"Yeah, now you know why I need to go with real men," my wife replied, casually.

I wondered if I would be allowed to masturbate, but suddenly I felt Aisha's foot, or more accurately her white tennis trainer, rubbing against my cock and balls. It wasn't gentle, and the ribbed plastic and rubber scraped harshly over my genitals, despite the pre-cum I was leaking.

"He's really desperate, isn't he?" Veronica said, laughing.

"Yeah, he'd do just about anything to feel any part of me touch his cock, even my tennis shoe," Aisha said caustically.

Then I felt a change of texture. She had moved her foot away and was gripping my penis between her bare calves. Instinctively, I began to thrust.

"This is a big deal for him," Aisha explained to her friend. "Getting a leg fuck. Well, a calf fuck, anyway."

But, all too soon from my point of view, she released the pressure of her calves.

"That's your lot," she jeered.

"Make him do something else," Veronica urged. "This is really hilarious."

In response, Aisha laughed and told me to stand up, strip naked, and then kneel down in front of her again. After I had complied, she stood up in turn and pulled her white tennis dress of over her head and discarded it. Now she was revealed to be wearing a black sports bra.

"That's right," she said. "No sexy underwear for you, just this functional bra that keeps by boobs nicely supported on the tennis court. But it's enough to make you crazy with excitement, isn't it? What with me allowing you so little."

She sat back down in her chair.

"You can kiss and lick my lovely taut stomach now," she said. "But, careful, my bra and boobs are strictly off-limits, remember. And strictly is the word."

I needed no encouragement to follow her instructions, and as I did so Aisha once again massaged my engorged penis with her shoe.

"Make him kiss your armpits," Veronica suggested.

"Go on, then," Aisha said to me, lying back in her chair and lifting her arms above her head, revealing the patch of tangled dark-black hair beneath. "Kiss and lick my sweaty, hairy armpits."

It was something she had never asked of me before, and the thrill of being allowed so much close contact with her gorgeous body was overwhelming.

"Do you want to torment him?" Aisha casually asked her friend.

"Really?" asked Veronica. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

"No, of course not. It would amuse me," my wife assured her.

Veronica stood up, her long, lithe body unfolding from her chair.

"Look at her," Aisha commanded. "For once, you're being allowed to lech. Quite a day you're having, isn't it?"

Veronica stood before me in her tennis dress, towering over me, still on my knees.

"You've perved over me often enough," she sneered. "Looking up my skirt and down my blouse. Now take a good long look."

I drank her in, running my eyes over her body. After several minutes, she removed her dress to reveal her tall, slim body clad only in gauzy white panties and a matching bra.

"That's right," Veronica purred. "I wear a bra for tennis, as even my little titties need some support then. Have a good look at the cups and my cute little cleavage. Have a look at my panties. Can you glimpse the hair of my bush pressing against their gauze?"

She waited as I admired her.

"And now you can see my armpits, too."

Veronica lifted her hands above her head, to reveal completely shaved armpits, with just the hint of regrowing stubble.

"He's drooling," she mocked. "And look at all the pre-cum leaking from his cock."

Aisha laughed.

"Why don't you put him out of his misery?" Veronica asked. "I know he isn't allowed to fuck you, but why not let him fuck your armpits?"

Aisha laughed again.

"Go on then, why not?" she said, and told me I had permission to fuck her hairy armpits.

She moved so as to be sitting on the edge of her chair, so that if I stood up I could, with my knees bent, place my erection under one or other of her armpits. I leapt to obey her, scared she would change her mind, and chose her left armpit. She closed it on me, and let me thrust backwards and forwards.

"It's unbelievable," Veronica said. "He's got no pride at all."

"Oh, I teased and beat that out of him long ago," Aisha replied complacently.

I continued my thrusts. It was uncomfortable, standing in that position, but I hardly noticed, so intense was my pleasure at being allowed this degree of sexual contact with my wife.

"Go on," Aisha urged. "Keep fucking my hairy, sweaty armpit. Are you imagining it is my tight little pussy? Or have you given up on thinking about that now?"

I felt myself on the edge, and started thrusting even harder. As I did so, Veronica came and stood in front of me, just to the side of the chair, so that I could see her, and, with a giggle, unclasped her bra.

"Have a good look at my hard little titties that you're always trying to see," Veronica said contemptuously.

With a groan, I orgasmed, my jizz flying everywhere, some of it even reaching Veronica's breasts.

The two women began to laugh and, suddenly, I saw myself as I must seem to them. Pathetic. Humiliated. Laughable.

As I started to recover my breath, I heard Aisha apologizing to her friend for the drops of semen I had spurted on her.

"I'll punish him later, of course, but in the mean time I could make him lick it off, if you want, though I don't suppose you want him touching your boobs?"

I felt a momentary flicker of hope at the idea that Veronica might contradict her, and that I might have the chance to lick her sweet little titties, but it was not to be.

"Yuk, no," Veronica replied. "I'll just go and wash it off, if I can use your bathroom."

She left the room, taking her bra and dress. Meanwhile, Aisha put her own tennis dress back on, and told me to get dressed. Shortly afterwards, Veronica returned, also fully dressed, and sat down again.

They resumed drinking their lemonade, and discussing the tennis match they had played.