Jump to ****** for the sex
I’ve been reading for a while and decided to add what may be the hottest experience I had, though still pretty vanilla compared to what else is on here. I had been working with Prisha for a couple of years and we were often assigned projects together. She was, on first glance, a typical Indian woman: hardworking, smart, detail-oriented, determined, and pretty much no-nonsense. I was similar, except for the last part, as I love to joke and lighten up things up when I can. When our manager said in a meeting that with Prisha and I working on something, he knew that no detail would be overlooked, I said, “Yes, we dot all the T’s and cross all the I’s.” But because she was always so serious, I didn’t really know much about her outside of our work.
I should add that she dressed business conservative: boxy women’s suits in dark colors that did not accentuate her figure in any way. She was 28, about 5’7,” medium build, with dark hair that she always wore up. Looks can be deceiving though, I later learned.
When we made our first business trip together, the first day was just that: all business. But at the end of the day, when it was time to go find some place for dinner, I started looking at my phone and naming places, suggesting some that looked like they had a good vegetarian menu. She sighed and said, why do you assume I’m a vegetarian? I said back slowly, “because you’re Indian?”
“And?”
“Therefore a Hindu and therefore vegetarian?”
“Yes, I am Hindu, but I don’t follow all of the rules necessarily. What are you?”
“Um, Catholic, sort of.”
She laughed hard and snorted, the first time I heard her do either. “Yes, I bet you follow all of their rules too. I’m sure you and your girlfriend don’t have sex, and if you do, you don’t use birth control.”
I smiled and said you’re 0 for 2 on that, but I get the point.
She added, “I was 3 when my parents came to America and though I am Indian in many ways, I choose to be American in others. Diet is one. I love sushi.” Then she laughed again at her own ironic joke.
Later, over dinner at the sushi restaurant, she opened up more, and was surprisingly warm. “You know I *really* appreciate that you treat me like an equal colleague,” she said. “So many others treat me differently.”
“Because you’re Indian?”
“Yes, and a woman. The slights come in many different forms, usually not intended, but nonetheless… both are hard to take. I’m not more or less competent, more or less emotional, more or less intelligent because I’m either Indian or a woman.”
“Um, well, I’m sorry again for my earlier assumption about your dietary preferences.”
“Hah, you’re so sweet. That’s the most benign thing.” She paused. “You should also know that I’m not more or less interested in sex than the typical woman or Indian. Wait, on second thought, maybe I’m more interested in it,” she said, looking at me differently. And intently.
This conversation suddenly took an unexpected turn and my usual wit abandoned me. I said nothing.
“Do you know I’m on Tinder?” she asked. “And you cannot tell anyone about that.”
“I won’t, but what’s the big deal? Everyone I know is on Tinder.”
“True. But if you have an image of me as the conservative, self-contained, chaste Indian girl, waiting for her parents to arrange her marriage, you’d be surprised. I use Tinder the way I imagine some men do—and all men want—as a way to scratch my itch. I like being in relationships, but I like, and need, sex more. So when I need to…” she then said the word stretching it a bit, “fuuuckk… My parents would be shocked of course, but I am discreet. When I can, like when I’m traveling for business, I’ll find someone to hook up with and then usually never see them again.”
She paused and again I said nothing, but nodded my head.
She continued. “Tonight, I’d like to do something different. I like you. I also find you attractive. Rather than swiping right, I’d like to take you back to my room.”
Before I could say anything, she added, “There are conditions: no one can ever know, not even your girlfriend. And it will be this one time only.”
“Wow,” I exhaled, a bit stunned.
She added, “And you should know that as buttoned up as I am work, I’m very different in bed. You will *not* be doing all of the work. And I scratch.”
I paused, then said, “If you can skip the scratching, which would be hard to explain to my girlfriend, I’m in.”
*********
She smiled. We quickly paid the bill and hurried back to her hotel room, walking arm-in-arm as we went. We breezed through the lobby and anyone who looked at us probably assumed we were an established couple, not two horny business people about to hook up for the first time. Once in the elevator, she kissed me hard on the lips and my cock immediately began to swell.
When we got to her room, we started kissing passionately, and she hungrily started to undress me. I ran my hands around to her back and helped her take off her jacket. That’s when I realized how sexy she was. Those jackets disguised her shapely figure. She was a 34B, narrow waist, and when I removed her blouse, a tight stomach. Turns out she had played soccer in college and kept herself fit by running.
And she had stamina! Once we had undressed each other, she took my cock in her hand and began to stroke it, before pushing me firmly back to sit on the bed, and then began sucking me until I was rock solid. Looking up at me she smiled and said, “It’s great that a nice guy also has a big dick.”
She then told me to scoot back onto the bed and then climbed on top of me. And then, I don’t know how she had managed to hide it to this point, but she produced a condom and said, “This also is a requirement,” before opening it and sliding it on me. Looking at her awesome body on top of me, I wasn’t going to object, esp. since as soon as it was on, she positioned herself over my dick and rubbed my head up and down her slit, before she took me in. I love that feeling when you enter a woman for the first time.
Her pussy was so tight, hot, and wet—I could feel it all even with the condom. She rode me slow at first, but then faster, and her hair, now down, she swung around her as she shook her head. She straddled me and moved like a piston, pounding up and down on my rod, her beautiful, brown-skinned body flushed. At one point she slowed down and placed all ten of her fingernails on my chest and scratched lightly. “No marks, I promise,” she said.
One thing about cowgirl, if I’m not thrusting, I can last a long time, and she took advantage of that and fingered herself while riding me until she came. She then leaned forward, stretched her legs out until she was lying on top of me with my dick still inside her, hugged me, and then said, “Your turn” and rolled her body and mine over. I didn’t need any more encouragement than that, and I pulled her legs over my shoulders and began pounding her.
That’s how the rest of the night went—each of us taking turns leading the action. It was both exhilarating and exhausting. When we were done around 1 a.m. she said, “OK, this was great fun, but now go back to your room and let me get some sleep.” Before I could protest, she said, “Yes, this is what I do with my Tinder dates. I don’t let them stay the night. Sorry.” Her tone was more like her business voice than any time that evening, so I knew it was pointless to argue. Her mind was made up.
The next morning, I woke, showered, and went on to our next meeting. Prisha was wearing her typical black, boxy pant suit, but in my mind I could now see all of her gorgeous body underneath. And that would be all I could do, because true to her word, we never spoke of it, and we never hooked up again.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/kml8q6/make_no_assumptions_for_you_will_be_wrong
Outstanding story!!!