Muslim Hotwife Prequel: How We Met [MF]

Muslim Hotwife Prequel: How We Met
(See my earlier post if you want more context: https://old.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/iommef/muslim_hotwife_mf/)

I. Background (Jump to Section II if you just want to read some action. This is a long story.)

This happened in the days just before Christmas, 2019.

I was in town for work. The tech company that employs me, which shall remain nameless, has an office in the region and I have a few engineering teams here. I make periodic trips to rally the troops and had one last meeting to get out of the way before everyone disappeared for Christmas.

I am a seasoned business traveler and always make sure to exercise and eat properly while I’m away from home. And I felt entirely comfortable standing in this gym, looking down at the increasingly heavy (for me) weight at my feet. By the standards of actually strong men, I’m not a strong man. But neither am I weak, and in most commercial gyms I’m among the strongest people in the place.

The gym was a relatively new creation, built after the Crossfit craze, and was more than amply equipped in terms of weight equipment. It was deliberately minimalistic, big, and airy. The steep price of the day pass made clear: It was the sort of place for white collar types and nobody else. It wasn’t very full.

I’d rested for long enough, so I forced myself to crank out another set. The impact of the rubber weights hitting the padded floor reverberated through the place. I stopped again to catch my breath, and felt a tap on my shoulder. Before me stood a man, slightly taller than me, wearing matching blue Nike warmups and an affable smile. His tanness suggested foreign birth, and his haircut suggested a relatively high salary. Of course, I figured: He probably works for me and I’m completely blanking now.

“Hey. Gimme a sec,” I said between breaths, still winded. If he knows me, he’ll know my first name. I’ve known for years that every sycophant opens with the first name and tries to find a commonality to remark upon.
“Totally cool, man. Take your time.” He definitely didn’t know my name–thank God–and his accent confirmed the foreign birth. So why were we talking? I looked over at the station next to mine. He was my neighbor, and coincidentally doing the exact same lift with much less weight on the bar. This was to be a bromantic chat.

I engaged him. He offered a typical compliment about my strength. But he also wanted to talk about lifting, and how he might improve and how long it would take. My tone generally changes when I learn someone seeks guidance in their own betterment, and this was no exception. I gave him the best advice I could, and pointed him toward specific books he should read if and when he ever got serious. In between my own sets, I watched him do a few reps on his own, and gave him some form advice. He periodically disappeared, only to reappear a few minutes later, ready for more advice.

Toward the end of my workout, and around the time I was done giving him advice, he innocently let slip that he had been checking on his wife, because the two of them were finally getting into shape together. He pointed her out to me, on the other side of the building, casually riding an exercise bike. She was looking directly at us. She was a bit far away, but she hardly looked unfit. She wore a black sports bra, and her hair was up in a ponytail that revealed a very lean neck and sculpted shoulders. She belonged in an advertisement for gyms.

He remarked to me that she’s attractive, and I politely confirmed. “Actually, she thinks you’re very good-looking guy.” He forgot to use an article, which I immediately noticed but put aside.
“Too bad she’s married. Story of my life,” I replied goodnaturedly.
“Not at all,” he quickly replied. “We’re not like that. If I’m okay with it and she’s okay, it’s okay.” I immediately stopped talking, which I sometimes do when I realize I’ve grossly misjudged a situation. I stayed silent and looked back at her. She was looking directly at me, watching intently as though she knew when the conversation had turned. It was then that I realized the extent of my misappraisal. Her clothes, his clothes–they were brand new, perfectly coordinated, and not at all what gymgoers wear. They came here expressly to find someone.
“I’m not quite sure I follow,” I replied.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. If you like her, you guys can just have a drink and talk.” This wasn’t the first time someone I knew had implied that they’d be okay with me banging their missus. But the other people who confided this to me were close friends, usually intoxicated.

I politely declined, and a back and forth ensued. After a minute or so of his repeated assurances, I agreed to meet them, in an hour, to discuss the matter further at a nearby coffee shop. It was part of the same complex as my hotel. “See you there. If I don’t show, it’s no problem,” he remarked as he walked away.

I finished up my workout and arrived, unshowered and wearing street clothes, at the coffee shop. I was right on time. Apart from a couple unaccompanied men on laptops, the place was empty. I bought a bottle of water and took it to a table in back, near a large bookshelf. I decided I’d stay for five minutes and then leave.

A couple minutes later, she hurriedly walked in. She was alone. As she quickly ordered her drink I got a better view of her body. She stood about 5’7″, with a fit, well proportioned body. Her jeans accentuated a nice, round ass. I couldn’t quite get a read on her tits. Her hair was up in a tight bun. She scanned the room and saw me in back. I saw a faint smile flash across her face. She walked over and sat down across from me, smiling nervously.

I said nothing and got a better look. Her teeth were perfect and she was undeniably pretty, with high cheekbones, and clear, soft skin. Her soft brown eyes looked directly at me as I worked my gaze past her slender neck and checked out her tits. Even under her collegiate sweatshirt, I could tell they were C cups. She had delicate hands and long, slender fingers. I decided I was going to fuck her. Perhaps unsettled by being examined like this, she started talking.

“Umm, hi; thanks for coming,” she started tentatively. Her English was accented like her husband’s. I looked right at her. “You’re late,” I said.
“Yes, sorry about that. I ran into some traff–”
I cut her off. “I don’t care. I’m here; you’re here. Why are we here, exactly?”
“Well, I thought my husband told you. I wanted to meet you for coffee,” she continued. She was clearly nervous but she maintained eye contact with me. Most people don’t do that, even when they’re not nervous. I have learned from years of living life that I have a manner that can be off-putting. I’m often blunt. I tend to make direct eye contact with everyone, and I tend to remain expressionless whether I’m elated or furious. These traits have served me well professionally, but they can be liabilities outside the office. I softened up a little. What a waste of time this will have been, I told myself, if I blew it without first getting to feel the inside of her pussy.
“Your husband isn’t here. So be it. Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?” I asked. She smiled and started prattling on about herself. I am used to this, and an expert at picking out the relevant details.

As she spoke at length, I got a pretty clear picture of her. She was driven, ambitious, uncommonly intense–with a lot of Old Country religious baggage. After gently pressing her for more relevant details as to why they’d approach a random man at a gym, she was forthcoming. She and her husband had known each other since childhood. They had been married (arranged) for a few years and decided after a few years of unfulfilling sex to start watching porn. The porn led them to the cuckold kink, and the kink led them to start looking for men, often at gyms and climbing walls. She liked the look of me lifting weights, and in particular the sight of her husband next to a much stronger man. She liked the idea of a man just using her for sex, in front of her husband. It was early on for them in this experiment–I wasn’t the first man they approached. But I got the impression that the experience hadn’t been so great with some other men. I didn’t ask for details, nor did I offer any commentary.

When she finished, I remained quiet for a moment. She seemed more at ease. More people had come into the coffee shop. She leaned slightly toward me, to better hear me talk. Her eyes remained fixed to mine.
“Listen, I am very flattered by all of this. You’re a very attractive woman and I respect that you guys have the guts to approach people like this.” Her shoulders slumped slightly. “But I don’t think I’m going to be any better at this than the other people you’ve met.”
“What? Why? It’s just fucking. Don’t you like to fuck?” she replied, emphasizing the profanity. There’s always something oddly sexy about a foreign woman using that word.
“Of course. But I’ve done a fair amount of it and you guys seem inexperienced. I don’t think we’d have such a good time together.”
“I don’t get it. At least tell me why if my looks aren’t the problem. Is it the husband? I can’t change that, but that’s good for you, isn’t it?” She spoke with the entitled tone of a woman who’d never been unattractive for a moment in her life.
“Fair enough; I’m happy to tell you in more detail. But I don’t think this is the place to discuss it, given the audience.” I motioned toward the people at the other tables.
“Yes. So? Where?” she replied, as if I were delaying.
“I have a room in the hotel,” I replied. She stood up before me.

The walk to the hotel took a couple minutes, and on the way she chided me for underestimating her. She was clearly annoyed by my remarks, but I couldn’t quite tell which one set her off. Was it my refusal? That I wrote her off as a dilettante? In any event, she seemed a bit worked up. I didn’t really care.

We arrived at my room, and I invited her to take a seat on the couch in the living area. I sat in a small armchair next to the couch. There was a coffee table with water bottles on it. I still had mine from the coffee shop, but I offered her one. She politely accepted. She angled her body toward me and leaned forward. She was quiet and deliberate with her words. “There’s nobody here. So what’s the problem, exactly?” she asked.
“You’re just not ‘there yet’ in terms of having the kind of sex you think you want to have. Life isn’t a porno movie. You don’t know enough about your own boundaries as individuals and as a couple to know which ones you want pushed.”
“You. Are. Wrong,” she said, tapping my knee. I ignored it, and remained unperturbed. She pressed on. “What is it you think I can’t handle?”
“I don’t think you can just be used as a sex object like the women you see in those movies. It looks nice on film, but it takes a certain type.”
“So try me, then.”

II: Cutting To The Chase

She’d maintained eye contact for the forty-five minutes we’d been talking. I shrugged. “Fair enough. Stand in front of me and get naked.” She also shrugged, and kicked off her shoes before taking her sweatshirt and undershirt off in one motion. Her skin was flawless and a red bra held her two perfect C-cups snugly against her chest. She disrobed confidently, and gave a smirk before turning around so I could see her ass in jeans. With her back to me, she began to unbutton her jeans. She casually stopped and motioned to the large windows on the other side of the room. The curtains weren’t drawn, and it was early evening. People in the buildings next to us would be able to see us.
“Get the curtains?” she asked, smiling.
“Curtains stay open.” She gave me a dismayed look. I shrugged again. “It’s up to you. This doesn’t need to go any further,” I replied. She paused for a moment and inhaled before pushing her jeans down to her ankles. “If that was a bit much, you should bail now. I’m serious.” She didn’t respond to the taunt.

She wore matching red panties and her ass looked even better without the jeans. She struggled a little to get them off her ankles, but it afforded me an even better look at her. She turned around to face me and undid her bra. It fell to the floor. She looked at me, as if expecting a compliment. “Underwear, too,” I replied, unmoved. “Let’s go. Ignore the windows.” She took off her panties. I could tell they were wet.

Naked, she was a sight to behold. Her supple, brown body was symmetrical and she seemed not to have an ounce of excess fat. Her stomach was enviably flat, and each of her long legs tapered perfectly to a small ankle. Her pussy was completely shaved–earlier in the day, I surmised. I motioned to the couch. “Get on the couch on all fours, ass toward me.”

She complied, and positioned herself on the couch. She faced the window. Her knees were close together. “Spread your knees,” I told her. She did so, a little, and I got a glimpse of her pussy from behind. It was plump, with small, delicate lips. I could see a little wetness above them, at the entrance to her pussy. Her hood concealed a noticeable bump. I got up and walked over to pick up her panties. They were wet. “What’s this?” I asked as I walked over to her and put the wet spot up to her nose. “Why are you turned on? We haven’t even done anything yet.” She pulled away slightly but couldn’t really move. “Now get down, spread your knees, and show me your asshole.”

I put my hand between her shoulder blades and pushed her down toward the couch. She spread her knees. I left the panties on the couch next to her and walked back to the chair. I could see everything now: The round, brown globes of her ass, the perfectly unblemished valley between them, her tender pinkish-brown asshole. She shivered slightly as I took it all in. “Now stay there and don’t move.”

I walked into the bathroom right next to the living area and took a leisurely piss. The bottle of water had worked its way through, and I knew I had to take advantage of my current softness. I washed my hands and dried them before returning to the living area. She was still in the position. But the panties were closer to her nose than I’d left them. “Good. Stay like that.” I walked across the room and closed all the curtains, one after another. I walked back to my chair and sat down, admiring the view in front of me as I slowly untied my shoes and took off my socks. She was more visibly wet, and remained uncharacteristically quiet as she looked at me, head against the couch.

I took the rest of my clothes off, one by one, until I was standing in front of the couch with only my my boxer briefs on. I was still a little sweaty from my workout and I hadn’t showered. My hard cock was straining against the material, its girth plainly visible. Her eyes were locked on it. “Sit up,” I told her. “Get your face in front of it.” She obeyed, and sat on the couch, her face mere inches from my crotch. “Take down my boxers.” She gingerly worked her fingers under the waistband and pulled down, gently at first, until my boxers were around my thighs. Freed from its constraints, my cock sprung up, swinging past her face. She drew back slightly, startled by the effect.

I leaned forward slightly so the head was nearly touching her nose. There was some precome. She looked right at the tip before looking up at me. “Have you ever seen one that’s thick like this before?” I asked.
“No,” she replied quietly.
“This is what a man’s cock looks like. Do you know how to satisfy one?” I asked, looking down at her. She didn’t reply, and instead tried to put her mouth on it. I am girthy, especially in the head, and I immediately felt her teeth. I gently pushed her back. “You didn’t answer me. Yes or no?”
“Not really,” she replied. “My husband and I don’t do this.”
“You and I are going to do this,” I told her. “But slowly, since you don’t know how. Now, kiss the tip.” She hesitated before leaning forward and planting a tender kiss on my pisshole. The precome got on her lips. “That’s good,” I assured her. “Lick your lips. That’s what a man tastes like.” She licked her lips slowly while looking up at me.

I put my right hand on her scalp, right behind her ear. “Now, kiss my balls,” I told her, guiding her head as she moved it toward me. She kissed each of my balls in turn. I could feel her breath there as she inhaled and exhaled. I held her head still. “That’s how a man smells. Now suck on one, then the other.” Her approach with the first was a bit eager for my tastes. “Gently, now,” I suggested as she did better the second try.

I removed my hand and guided my cock right up to her lips. “Open, and this time be careful of your teeth,” I reminded her. I slowly guided the head of my cock into her mouth. She adjusted her head and neck a little to get the angle right so I’d not feel any teeth. Most women take a little while to master this but she got it right away. Mouths are always a bit small for me, but hers felt exceptionally soft and wet. I worked my cock in and out in a slow rhythm, holding her head still with both of my hands.

Her eyes looked up at me. Her look was both curious and deeply aroused. I saw one of her hands venture toward her pussy. “Nope. You don’t touch yourself except with my permission. Get your hand back up.” Her look was one of protest but she obeyed nevertheless. I maintained the same rhythm in her mouth and with one hand reached down to feel her breast. It was larger in my hand than I’d expected, and perfectly smooth. The nipple was hard. I switched hands and felt her on the other side. I heard a muffled squeal as I pinched the nipple.

After a couple minutes of slow thrusting I felt myself get close. She’d noticed too, because my cock gets even fatter when I’m close and the fit became even tighter. “I’m going to come in your mouth now,” I told her gently, “and you’re going to take it.” Her eyes widened and I could see some panic on her face. She didn’t pull back. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you through it,” I assured her.

The orgasm was an intense, almost dissociative experience. I heard myself sigh as I let go, and I felt the come shoot out of me. I held her head completely still with both hands. The first burst must have filled the remaining space in her mouth, and the second was too much for her. She recoiled as come came out of the corners of her mouth but didn’t move her body away from me. My cock shot a few more ropes, hitting her in her chin and neck. Annoyed by the interruption in sensation, I pushed her down so she was sitting on the floor with her back to the couch, totally beneath me.

She coughed a few times and looked up at my face, which probably reflected my disapproval. I remained quiet as she recomposed herself. She was quiet for a few moments before asking me for her bottle of water. I gave it to her–I was standing over her and there was no way for her to get up and get it off the coffee table. She took a drink and then sat back, partly covered in my come.

I gathered up some of it with my index finger and brought it to her mouth. She opened her mouth and accepted it. I repeated this until her face and neck were clean. Neither one of us said anything as this process concluded. I noticed her staring, again, at my cock and realized my cock had softened a bit and was now only half-hard. And obviously uncut, as all except for the very tip of it was covered in foreskin. There was also quite a bit of come that had seeped out, just stuck there.

I stood up and looked down at her. “Is this your first uncut cock?” I asked. Every now and again this happens with women, but it hadn’t happened for a while.
“I’ve never seen one like that,” she whispered.
“That’s okay,” I replied. “But you’ll still need to satisfy it.” I took a half step forward, so my cock was almost touching her upper lip. She stared at it. “Kiss it again.” She looked up at me before kissing it, right on the patch of the head that remained uncovered. Without being told, she sensually licked a small circle with her tongue to gather up the come, and tasted it before swallowing. “Do you like the taste?” I asked.
“I do,” she replied. We stayed in this position for a few moments, with my cock hovering just above her mouth. She was smelling me. I could feel her breath right on the tip of my foreskin, and took another look at her. Her hair was a mess, and there were streaks of dried come on her face and upper body. She seemed to take deeper and deeper breaths, occasionally closing her eyes.

“Touch yourself,” I told her. She immediately started making circles on her pussy. I grasped her lower jaw with my hand and pulled down gently. She opened her mouth and looked at me. I pulled back my foreskin and put my soft cock inside her mouth. I immediately felt her mouth engulf me, sucking gently but persistently as she masturbated. With her other hand she gently felt and squeezed each breast, stopping occasionally to caress her neck. She continued like this for a couple minutes. I grabbed her panties from off the couch and held them up to her nose. I heard her inhale.

Her tongue worked its way around the head, and I heard her moan as she sucked out the last few drops of come. Her hand quickened, and I felt her sucking grow more urgent. I felt myself starting to get hard again as she came, moaning loudly and licking over my pisshole repeatedly with her tongue. Her sucking became more gentle as she came down, until it was just my cock resting in her mouth, semi-hard. I slowly pulled it out. It was slick with her spit. I put it up to her mouth, and she kissed it. I grasped her by her wrist and brought her hand up to her mouth. “Suck on your fingers,” I told her. She did without hesitation.

My cock was about hard again. I handed her the water bottle. “Get ready. If I’m hard, we’re not done yet,” I told her. She drank what was left of it. I took a step back. “Stand up,” I said and offered my hand. After she stood up I held her panties up to her nose again. “Now we’re doing something,” I told her. She took my hand and I led her into the bedroom that was just across from the living area. Her body moved beautifully in the dim light as she walked with me for a few steps. I carried the panties with me.

I gently pushed her down, on her back, onto the bed. I realized I didn’t have any condoms: C’est la vie. I rudely grabbed her by the knee to spread her legs, and held the tip of my hard cock at her entrance. I looked at her. She was already looking at me, and said nothing. I gently pushed in. She was wet and very slick, but my girth still made her gasp. I pulled her by her legs so she was closer to the edge of the bed and started slowly fucking her.

I kept the rhythm slow as she got used to me, but increased the pace a little once I felt her pussy adjust. The pussy you’re in always feels like the best pussy ever, and she was no different. But I nevertheless felt a sense of triumph as I looked down at her. She ran her hands over her breasts and neck again. Her moans, already puncuated by each thrust from me, started to get louder. I slapped the inside of her thigh. “Shh,” I told her. She quieted down a little, but before long her moans got loud again. I grabbed a pillow and pressed it on her face.

She grabbed the pillow and pushed it into her face, nearly screaming into the pillow. Her pussy was swollen and wet. I took my thumb and made circles on her clit, quickly pushing her over the edge. She bucked and moaned as she came, clenching her flat stomach and twisting her torso around. I had by now lost track of my own self, and suddenly realized I was nearly there. I quickly pulled out and jacked off onto her. My cock was so slick it was hard to get a proper grip. It didn’t matter. I still came all over her.

She pushed the pillow away and took deep breaths, a relieved expression on her face. Having finished myself off, I rubbed the head of my dick against her inner thigh to get the last bit off. She was sensitive there, and the sensation made her jolt. I got on the bed and straddled her face, putting my balls right above her mouth. “C’mon,” I beckoned. She gently kissed them before sucking on them and licking the area where my thighs meet my crotch. I caught my breath hovering over her like this. I took my slick cock and put it against her mouth. “Clean me off,” I told her. She looked at me and hesitated, apparently turned off by herself. “I’m not asking you. Clean me off and satisfy me properly,” I told her. She gingerly licked up and down my cock. I held her head in place and thrust my cock back and forth over her mouth. “There we go,” I told her. “Now suck it,” I reminded her, and she took the head into her mouth and sucked. After she’d gotten the last bit of come out, I laid down next to her.

III: Epilogue

We were both quiet for a few minutes, just breathing. After that brief respite her questions began. She peppered me with personal questions: where I was from, what I did for a living, what kind of women I liked, how often I have sex like that, how often I find myself in town–it just went on and on. I gave some vague answers. The truth, which I told her, was that it was getting late and I had work to get to. “Yeah, me, too,” she replied.

I got up first, if only to admire her beautiful body on the bed for a moment. I grabbed her panties and used them to clean the come off of her. I rubbed them over her pussy, making her gasp, and then dismissed her. “I’m keeping these. Go home like this and tell your husband what you’ve done,” I admonished.

I remained naked and watched her get dressed. Even in reverse her undressing process aroused me. I thought maybe I should fuck her again, but I decided against it. At the end of it, I stood completely naked and she stood before me, completely clothed with hair tousled and without underwear. She asked for my number, which I gave her. “That was really nice,” she said.
“You’re attractive but men like me aren’t easy to satisfy,” I replied. It was the truth.

She left, and I took a shower before going to bed. I awoke the next morning to a poorly written text she’d just after midnight:”i think u can teach me a lot…”

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/pss3gh/muslim_hotwife_prequel_how_we_met_mf