Sex Games with Sameera
I met Sameera in my first year of college. She stole my heart on first sight. Intelligent, warm, frisky, fun-loving, describes her personality. She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen in person. She’s petite, nicely-developed but without big breasts. Most women would kill for her hair. It is long, wavy, and always bouncy and full. She swings her mane like a sexy movie star. Her legs could stop an express train. She doesn’t walk, she flounces–almost a dance. She’s full of energy and a passion for life. She radiates positive vibes to everyone around her. Consequently, she’s very popular.
I knew my chances of winning her love were practically nil. Some call me a nerd, though I don’t wear glasses or carry the pencil and pen variety pack in my pocket. I’m not physically adept. Sports hold no interest for me. My one strong suit was my intellect. I applied that intellect to winning her heart. I wrote her anonymous love sonnets, put a white rose in her desk every day after spying her when she was not there, and wrote her passionate declarations of my love. It took three months for me to expose my identity to her, three more to get her to go out with me, six more before she agreed to be my steady, and in the middle of my final year of MBA, Sameera said yes to my proposal of marriage.
Early in my courtship, after telling her I wanted to marry her, I swore an oath to remain a virgin until our wedding night. We were not going steady at the time. She thought my pledge was cute. She then launched a discussion on what constitutes virginity. We came to the mutual conclusion that true virginity was a triad of genital, anal, and oral virginity. I told her I was a total virgin and would remain so. She told me she was a total virgin, but said, “If we do get married, you might be the only total virgin in our honeymoon suite.” She said it in a playful, teasing way, but her words strung my ears. I just never thought of her as someone who could lie down with a man she didn’t love, or that she could love anyone but me. I also felt like kicking myself for making that stupid pledge.
I sweated out the months between my declaration and our going steady. Each time she went out on a date, I managed to quiz her as to the state of her virginity, always in a delicate, humorous way, but dead serious. She didn’t mind my queries, and saw right through them. Soon after that, after a date, she’d come right out and say, “It’s still there (meaning her hymen),” or something licentious like, “He didn’t even put a dent in it.”
She floored me one day by saying, “Boy, we sure had a close call last night. Thank god for pre-mature ejaculation.” Another time, she told me she defended my precious hymen with a blow job, sacrificing one third of her virginity.
The day before she took my ring, she went out with Viraat Singh, our cricket captain. I could not sleep all night. I called her at six in the morning, waking her to ask how she was. She groggily said, “You mean how is your hymen? Can’t you wait until a decent hour, like noon? I can assure you its status won’t change between now and then.”
My heart fell. She heard it fall and said, “Relax. It’s still there, damnit! It took more than a blow job, though. My ass is still leaking at it hurts like hell. I should make you kiss it. I did that for you, you know. Look on the bright side; I’m still a one-third virgin.”
What do you do when the love of your life tells you she sucked and took in the ass the most desirable guy in the school, for you. I was so relieved, I said thanks. She said, “You’re welcome. Good bye! [Click.].” I was back on the line at noon, begging her to go steady. She took pity on me and accepted my ring.
The next few months were the best of my life. Sameera and I were inseparable. Our love blossomed. We talked of marriage and a life together, named our kids, and plotted our future. When we set a date–two years off–we made formal announcements. My feet never touched the ground. I never touched her in a sexual way, and she never offered any services to me. We did, however, spend hours kissing and holding each other.
While we were dating, I never brought Sameera near my house. My house was a zoo, and my family–step family mostly–were animals. I lived in a run-down suburban home with my mother, step-father, and four step brats, all boys ranging in age from ten to fifteen. My step-father, Roshan, drove an Uber. Roshan treated me like a red-headed step child, though my hair is black. I do all of the stepping and fetching; his kids don’t do anything except create work for my mother.
Roshan is one of the most vulgar men I’ve ever met, and I’ve met a bunch. My mother attracts that type like a dead squirrel attracts flies. Between marriages, Mom brought home some truly skuzzy humanoids. In truth, I was relieved when she married Roshan. Roshan may be vulgar, but he’s not physically abusive. He loves my mother, though he treats her like trash. I’ve known for years that my mother feeds on abuse–physical or mental. I’ve lived through the bondage freaks, the slave scene, the orgy set, and a few real perverts. I’ve actually seen my mother gang banged in my living room at the age of sixteen. I’ve had to feed her and attend to her toilet while she was tied naked to a chair for days on end. I’ve sat in on photo sessions where Mom had to pose with dildoes and other women. Then, I had to live with the humiliation when those photos–published in a porno magazine–got circulated around school. Thankfully, we moved away right after that.
So Roshan isn’t so bad by comparison. Crude and vulgar, I can live with. I hope he stays with Mom for the rest of her life. The only problem was Sameera. No way did I want Sameera exposed to Roshan and his brood. It would be like placing a lamb among wolves. Therefore, I went to great lengths to keep her away. After our engagement, though, Sameera wanted to get to know her new family. She became adamant, even after I told her what they were like. I reluctantly consented, and managed to bring her by when I knew Roshan was working or hunting. I kept him from seeing her for two months. It wasn’t long before I got pressure from both Roshan and Sameera to bring her by so they could get acquainted. I fought this as long as I could.
Sameera loved my family and they adored her. She thinks it’s is neat the way my mom takes abuse from my step-brothers. She found it amusing that Roshan threw away all of Mom’s underclothes and makes her wear ridiculously shot skirts, tight sweaters, and high heels. Sameera laughs openly when one of them flips up Mom’s skirt or pinches her boobs. I’ve seen her instigating abuse. Once, when we were on the sofa and Mom was cleaning the fireplace, giving us an unintentional rear beaver shot, Sameera leaned over and told little Kevin, “I dare you to go up and stick your finger in her pussy.” He did and Sameera thought that was the funniest thing she ever saw. I think I was more shocked by Sameera’s vulgar term for the vagina. Nothing foul could come from Sameera. In my mind, her shit came out in little perfumed plastic capsules.
The day I’d dreaded arrived. Sameera was invited to dinner. I picked her up. On seeing her, my mouth dropped open. I never saw her looking so sexy. She wore a short dress with an open bodice, high heels, and had been to the beauty parlor. She wore heavy make-up. She looked like a Sunday school whore. She could not have picked a worse outfit to wear in front of Roshan, and I begged her to reconsider jeans, tennis shoes, a sweat-shirt, and no make-up. She brushed me off with a simple, “Don’t be silly.”
I was shitting razor blades all the way to my house. Sameera seemed quite calm. When Roshan saw Sameera enter the house, his eyes sprang out and he began salivating. He took her in a big bear hug, groping her ass with his greasy paws, welcoming her to the family, astonished that I could get such a fine piece (his words). I wanted to die, but Sameera took the groping and the hugs warmly. Roshan turned her loose and stood back to admire her body, telling her to turn slowly in place. Sameera blushed, smiling, and basking in the lewd attention. Roshan said, “You know what I like best about your legs, honey.”
I went pale. I knew what was coming. I knew Sameera would freak out and leave, never to return. I wanted to stop her from answering. Sameera smiled her cutsy smile and said, “No what?”
“They got feet at one end and pussy at the other.”
Sameera laughed. She didn’t bat an eye. She said, “We have something in common all ready, because that’s what I like about them too.”
Her impulsive response had an immediate impact on Roshan. He held out his hand and said, “Sweety, if you’re going to join this family, then we have to have us a little private talk.”
Sameera cast me a curious look. I tried to signal with my expression, “No! Don’t go!” She offered him her hand then followed dutifully right into his bedroom. Roshan slammed the door shut, collapsing my world. Viraat, Roshan’s oldest boy, taunted, “Dad’s going to fuck your little fiancee.” The four boys dashed for the closed door and pressed their ears to it.” Mom came over and held me, saying, “Now, now, you know what a tease Roshan can be. He’s just making you think bad thoughts, dear. Don’t get upset.”
The boys took delight in running in and giving updates, like: I heard a zipper; she’s moaning; they’re on the bed. After ten minutes, the updates weren’t necessary. We could hear the squeaky bed springs and the banging of the headboard all through the house. I fell into a chair in a catatonic daze. The boys were merciless in their taunts. Brian shouted, “It looks like Dad added a new whore to the stable.” I wanted to kill him, but all I could do was stare fire at him.
They stayed in the bedroom for over an hour, and by the sounds, had three sessions of intercourse. Mom had the food on the table, getting cold, waiting for Roshan to finish with my love. He emerged from the room moving Sameera ahead of him. He brought her before us, holding her by the shoulders like a trophy–her bra and panty in his left hand. Cum trails ran down both her legs, clear to her high heels. Her right shoulder strap had been ripped apart and the flap of dress material kept sliding off her right breast. She caught it just in time each time it threatened to uncover her nipple, but then stopped trying. The flap slid then flopped down, baring her right breast. She looked at me as if to say, “I tried, but I’ll be dammed if I’m going to hold it up all night.”
Roshan tossed the bra and panties at Mom, the panties landing on her head. He said, “She understands the house rules. Throw those damn things away.” He announced, “All right. Listen up. We have a new member of our happy family. I want you guys to treat her with the same respect and consideration that you treat my dear wife.”
This brought howls, cheers, clapping, and jumping joy to his four delinquents. I saw Sameera smile. I could have crawled under a sheet of paper. Brian said, “Can we fuck her, Dad?”
“Son, if she will part her pretty legs for you, you’d be a damn fool not to.”
This brought another round of buffoonery. He added, “That don’t mean you can just dog pile her and take it. If you want some pussy, you’ll have to do it like gentlemen. You talk her into it like I had to. You do it right, and she’ll strip, lie back, and put her knees in her arm pits without the first finger being laid on her.”
Viraat said, “Is that what she did?”
Viraat addressed Sameera. She finally blushed and quietly said, “Yes.”
Viraat said, “Was she a virgin, Dad?”
Roshan turned her back to us, pushed her shoulders down to knee level, pulled the back of her skirt up over her creamy moons and shot me through the heart. There was my lady love’s vagina, in full view, gaping open obscenely, tainted red and smeared with cum. Roshan made her widen her stance, saying, “These boys have never seen a fresh-fucked virgin before. Give them a good look, sweetlips.”
I watched in horror as those four perverts gathered at her ass and peered into her vagina. What shocked me even more was how easily Sameera accepted this treatment. Far from being traumatized, she had a sexual glow about her. Despite my anxiety, I couldn’t help admiring her beauty. Having never even seen her tits, I at least had Roshan to thank for exposing all of Sameera’s hidden treasures. I also figured that since she was no longer a virgin, our sexual relationship could begin.
Sameera sat through dinner with her right tit hanging out and leaking Roshan’s cum on her seat–a mess my mother had to clean up. The only topic of discussion was Sameera’s performance. She sat quietly listening to them talk about her reViraatable abilities and attributes. After the bizarre dinner, I felt as though I’d been in the bedroom with them throughout. I learned that Roshan took her orally, anally, and vaginally. That Sameera sucks a mean cock, and does a trick with her sphincter that drives Roshan wild.
He also informed us that her toes turn inward when you nibble on her clit. I made a mental note.
Viraat kept pressing for specifics on what to say and do to get Sameera to spread her legs. Roshan said, “I’ve always said, ‘Treat a whore like a lady and a lady like a whore and you’ll never go wrong.'”
“Yeah, but what is she, a whore or a lady?”
Roshan leaned forward, got serious, and said, “Sameera is the exception to the rule. She’s a whore that likes to be treated like a whore. If you boys want anything from this little slut, you got to treat her like a whore. She can’t resist that approach. She told me that herself.”
Sameera peered at me while casually placing a fork of mashed potatoes in her mouth. She turned the fork head-on and sucked the potatoes off. I made another mental note. We left shortly thereafter. Mom pinned Sameera’s strap in place. It troubled me that Sameera did not bother to clean herself. She sat on my new seat covers, but I said nothing. We drove in silence. When I drove past her turn off, headed in the direction of our favourite makeout spot, she said nothing. My cock leapt to attention; my foot pressed harder on the accelerator. I parked the car by the lake and turned in the seat to face her. Sameera turned her head towards me. I scooted over and took her in my arms. We kissed. I grabbed her right breast and squeezed. Sameera took it off, leaned back and said, “What do you think you’re doing?”
My face burned with shame and confusion. I said, “Sameera, don’t be mad at me. I tried to warn you.”
“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about you grabbing my breast like I was some cheap slut. Is that what you think of me now?”
“No, of course not.”
“Do you think that just because I stripped off all my clothes right after entering the bedroom, and climbed onto the bed; that because I spread my legs and played with my vagina; that I told him I was a virgin and wanted him to fuck my pussy; you think that makes me a whore?”
“I only did that because I knew that’s what he wanted and expected. I only wanted to be accepted by the family. And after what you told me, I knew he’d just take it anyway. I didn’t want that to tarnish our relationship, so I gave it willingly, so he wouldn’t carry any guilt. I did that for us, and you call me a whore.”
“I’m sorry, Sameera. I never called you a whore, or even thought it.”
“Do you think I enjoyed exposing my pussy to those boys, your mother, and you? Is that what you think?”
“No, not at all. It must have been terribly humiliating.”
“Do you think I enjoyed being talked about in the most vulgar terms and having all my sexual secrets laid bare for everyone to know. Sure, I told him I wanted his boys to treat me just like your mother. I don’t want special treatment. Your mother appreciates that, if her son doesn’t”
“But, Sameera. That wasn’t necessary. My mother likes that kind of treatment.”
“I suppose she’s a whore, too?”
“No, you’re putting words in my mouth. Sameera, I love you.”
“I don’t want to discuss this anymore. I need time to think about our relationship. Take me home.”
“Take me home!”
I started the car and eased onto the roadway. All the way to her house, I pleaded for forgiveness, rededicated my love and respect, promised never to insult her modesty or impugn her virtue, praised her for her sacrifices on our behalf, and thanked her for placing the welfare of my family members above her own. As I turned into the driveway, I said, “Thank you for handling Roshan the way you did. That was smart. He would have taken it anyway.”
I put the car in park. Sameera turned towards me on the seat and said, “Do you really mean that?”
“Yes, I do.”
“And how about me suggesting to Roshan that the boys treat me like a whore.”
“I thought you asked him to be treated like mother?”
“Same difference. I may have said whore. Well?”
“Okay. Yes, I agree. I don’t like it, but now that I know why you said it, I agree.”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I trust you anymore.”
“Sameera. I love you. You know that! You can trust me.”
“All right. You heard Roshan tell the boys how to get me to spread my legs, right?”
“And those boys expect me to put out, just by treating me like a whore, Right?”
“Well, yes, I suppose, but nothing says you have to.”
“And if I let Roshan, or Viraat, but not the others, can’t you see where that will cause hard feelings.”
“Well, yes, but…”
“No buts, you know it’s true. Face it. From now on, I’m a whore for Roshan, Viraat, Brian, Stevie, and Kevin. Can you deal with that reality.”
“You’ll never be a whore to me.”
“But I will and am a whore to them, don’t you agree? It’s all right. It’s the truth. I won’t get made if you say it. I want to hear you admit that I’m a whore.”
I was terribly confused, but one thing I knew–Sameera did want me to call her a whore. I said, “You’re a whore, Sameera.”
She smiled and made me say it ten times. She then said, “But I’m not a whore to you. To you, I’m a virgin princess.” I nodded my weak understanding. She went on, “That means I expect to be treated no differently by you. Between you and me, nothing has changed. And I’m holding you to your pledge. If you can accept those terms, I’ll consider the wedding still on; otherwise, I never want to see you again.”
This was like a splash of ice water. I quickly said, “I can accept those terms.”
“That means that you have to watch while your step-father and your step-brothers enjoy what you must wait two years for.”
This was another splash in the face. I nodded weakly. She smiled and said, “I’m not sure you fully understand. Close your eyes and imagine this scene. We’re sitting on the sofa, cuddled up, watching TV. Little Kevin crawls up, reaches under my skirt and starts playing with my pussy. I reach down and pull my skirt up. I lay my leg over your lap and lay my head into your shoulder while he finger-fucks me. And you look down at the pussy you haven’t even touched and see your brat brother in it to his wrist. Could you sit still for that?”
The vision, oddly, had my cock standing tall. I said I could. She went on, “Okay, later, Brian leans across you with his dick in his hand, right in front of your face, and says, ‘Suck my cock, bitch.’ I lean over and slide my mouth over it and start sucking. I’m sucking Brian’s cock with my mouth right next to yours. In fact, his cock is under your nose and the shaft is against your lips. You don’t pull away because you know better. You know it makes me angry when you don’t let them humiliate you. Sometimes I pull off and press his cockhead against your lips. You open and suck him in. I like to jack him off in your mouth especially if your mother is watching. I like making him cum in your face, or on mine and having you lick it off. Can you see yourself doing those things?”
Unbelievably, I was about to cum. Breathing hard, I managed to say, “Yes.”
She said, “One day, Viraat comes over and say’s, ‘Give me some pussy, whore.’ I calmly get up. I do a strip. Viraat lays me over your lap so that my ass is over your crotch. You see Viraat get between my widely-parted legs and center his cock at my hole and shove. You watch that hated cock take your lady’s pussy and can only imagine the exquisite feelings he’s experiencing. Everybody gathers around to watch Viraat fuck me. I hold my feet by the toes and beg Viraat to pound my cunt. They’re all excited because they know what happens after Viraat cums. After getting my pussy pumped full of Viraat’s sperm, I jump up and stand on the sofa cushions with my back to you. Your head is laid back and I get my cunt over your mouth. You suck all the sperm, right from my fresh-fucked snatch. Your hands are dutifully at your sides, because you still can’t touch my pussy. Only your lips and tongue can touch my pussy, and that’s only if there’s sperm in it. Can you see yourself doing that?”
I had my cock out and was masturbating. Cum flew out and peppered the headliner. Sameera laughed and said, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
When my breathing returned to normal, I glanced sheepishly at my love. She was smiling. She said, “Do you still want to marry me?”
I said, “Yes, god yes.”
“Good, then you have potential as a husband. I can’t go in the house like this. Take off your shirt so I can wipe my cunt.” I handed her my shirt and watched her mop her crotch, wipe her legs, and draw it up the crack of her ass. She handed it back and said, “Well, got to go. Great dinner. Thank everyone for me. See you in school. Bye.” I put my soiled shirt back on and drove home in a daze.
We were married as planned. Sameera stood beside me at the alter with five loads of cum drooling down her legs–none of which was mine. Roshan and the boys took turns with her in the bridal chamber, wiped their dicks on her train, and sent her down the aisle. Things haven’t changed much since, but I finally got to make love to my lady. That whore is one fine piece of ass, and she has this thing she does with her sphincter. What a gal!
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