Shasha was a Malaysian central banker, no joke.
She had come to the US for a mid-career degree at a local policy school, and was heading back home to KL to climb the ranks a few months after we met. She’d agreed to go to a small, out of the way bar in the area, and, given her pious image, I wondered if she would show up.
She did, in a headscarf and very modest dress. She only drank cranberry juice, no alcohol, like a good Muslim. The conservative look didn’t totally hide her figure: she had large breasts on her relatively small frame. Her eyes came alive and communicated charisma as we chatted. She was around 32-33 I think, with jet black hair (wisps visible) and eyes. Her skin tone bordered on nutmeg. I detected a trace of acne scarring on a cheek despite well applied makeup. She was eager and easy to talk to–she’d gone to school in Europe and the UK, and then done a stint in DC repping the Southeast Asian region to the IMF, so we shared enough to get on well.
After my second (maybe third? I tend to overdo it) drink, I suggested we walk. Of course we went back to my place, and, much to my surprise, she agreed to come up without the slightest hesitation. Once in private, her demeanor changed. She was open and engaging like before, but the the scarf came off immediately and she shook out her hair. She saw me pouring myself a scotch, and asked for one too. She sipped and appreciated it like a pro. What had been eager now had the edge of hunger.
After moments on my couch, we began making out. Up close, with my tongue in her mouth and my nose by her skin and hair, I had my first intense sensory experience of the encounter. She had this smell about her (neither good nor bad exactly, but oddly specific) which I now associate with people from the region, whether Malay, Chinese, or Indian. I was a bit surprised at the intensity at the time, but in the moment I stripped her top off, and then her bra.
Her breasts were larger even than I had thought, with deep brown nipples. By this point she was sitting on my lap and had put them in my face. pressing them from the sides. We were kind of joking around and laughing, in a leisurely hook-up way. She thought they were her great feature, and made a point of saying how much larger they were than Chinese girls–not that I was at all comparing. They were heavy, and had heft when I lifted them in my hands and played with them. Up close and raised I did see horizontal scars–she told me she’d had surgery, to remove something, I think. She was pliable, eager, and let me do whatever I wanted. I took her to the bedroom quickly.
That’s when the conservative side came out again. I pushed her into the bed and told her to spread her legs for me (I had just taken my underwear off). She told me I couldn’t fuck her normally (vagina off limits) but that she’d take care of me. She did. I just sort of laid back rested stretched out on the bed, and she gave me a great rubdown, massaging me, and using her mouth and tongue all over my body. It was incredibly pleasurable and I became fully relaxed, while also quite hard.
Over time, after she had seen to my cock, she subtly maneuvered her body up mine, pleasuring me the whole time, until she had gotten into a near sitting position over my midsection, with a leg on either side of me. She centered my cock with her hand around the shaft to point it up, and then guided it into her ass. She took it expertly, with seemingly no preparation. I never saw her apply lube, and though it felt dry as I entered, it did ho right in. She rode me that way, bareback anal. Clearly she must have done this before. For awhile I held back, wary of hurting her, but I eventually let go and returned the thrusts. I wanted to change positions, but she insisted on staying on top, maybe for control. We rocked and pounded hard for quite a long time, and then I came, and she slowed and let me pulse inside her. She dismounted, and cleaned both her and myself. I slept immediately in drunken exhaustion and surprise.
The morning was awkward. She was up very, very early, with the sun. I watched her dress and rearrange her headscarf to the picture of modesty, and saw her to the door. I think she said something like “see you again, maybe.” I never did. I never texted, but then again she didn’t either. I felt reckless and regretful, and went back to get more sleep.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/mi14x1/ham_sap_her_f_headscarf_caem_off