A matter of honour? (499 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.25 on 22 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by BillyGoat (View user info) at 2007-10-02 19:34:19 EDT
She was on her hands and knees. Cheeks spread, thrusting me deeper and deeper in slow motions that channelled themselves onto every nerve, coating my penis. I could feel every bit of her, as the skin of her lips stretched and relaxed in rhythm, up and down my shaft, making slurping sounds which sounded like ten churchbells muffled by the 5pm rush hour.
Faster and faster she demanded, smeering me with her juices-until my penis was licking her inside. I duly obliged, cupping her breasts and thrusting more as she squeezed in tandem. Her moans grew more frequent and higher pitched until, she snapped into an intense orgasm that reverberated through me and shot out of my penis. I filled her and we remained coupled- knocked out, lubricated,slippery and painted by love.
That was Yasmin, 2 months ago, happy and fulfilled in every sense of the word.
The first I saw of her was an aerial view of dark limp hair entering a bar above which I was working. Luckily, for me, she had stayed long enough to see me saunter through , completely exhausted by the searing July heat. She was leaning on the bar counter, facing the road and I was completely taken by her beauty as soon as I saw her.
Her beauty was not the obvious kind, like the air brushed wenches you see on American TV shows. Hers was accessible beauty, the kind, were a guy like me had at least half a shot. A beauty which could be won by a bit of charm and banter maybe laced with a few dirty jokes. Real beauty
I failed my architecture course at university, but one thing I learnt was that a plan view of anything didn't do it justice. The flatness hid the crucial contours and elevations that gave a building or a structure its character.
Well there was nothing flat about this girl. I could see her breasts just peak out from what must have been a push up bra. They created an unblemished crevice which mimicked the deep V of her blouse. She must have noticed me looking because she gave me a smirk and half turned to shield herself from my wondering eyes. However she remained open enough for me to take in her hips-thrust out invitingly for me to see. I guessed that they were 32 inches-no fat- athletic like a swimmer, and looking back I wasn't far off because she turned out to be a 30. Even better. She was wearing one of those gypsy white skirts that had become very fashionable in the summer of 2006. I could just about make out a tiny white thong that was slightly puffed up by her dark pubic hair. A girl like this rarely came my way and it would be a travesty if I didn't have a go.
So that's how we met, on a hot summer's afternoon in half decent bar in London's commuter belt. She would go on to tell me why she felt so lonely when everything pointed out that hers was a charmed life.
Her life fell apart when she got pregnant whilst at university, after a sainted relationship which (they thought) must have been presided over by God. Seldom did they, argue, annoy or berate each other. They were the happiest couple on campus. Yet, these heavenly thoughts were brutally smashed when reality kicked in and her boyfriend left when, the prospect of being a father became too much for him to bear. She hadn't been ready herself, so she sought advice from the only person she hoped would understand. After all her mother had conceived her first child at around the same age, so would draw upon her own experiences.
Her mother had vowed to keep the secret until she found a way to break the news to her staunchly religious husband. This level of trust gave Yasmin the impetus to reveal all. A move which would drastically change her life.
Initially, all was well, with Yasmin reciting how they had met and fallen in love in their first year and remained together up until she got pregnant. Her mum did not show much emotion and merely nodded in that understanding way that mother's have. When Yasmin told her the father was a non-Asian, she flipped. She lashed out, saying that Yasmin had dirtied the blood line, and the seed of this man would never be accepted in their homogenous community. 'How many half casts do you see around you,' she said at one point. Worse was to come, when Yasmin admitted that the father was a non-Muslim. A kaffir- she lamented as she wept in her hijab.
This was a sign that she had failed to raise her child properly. She blamed herself, for failing to instil the correct Muslim values upon her daughter and letting her mix with the 'undesirables.' Conveniently forgetting that the greatest influence on Yasmin's life was the westernized society in which they lived in. There was a perfectly good husband (Abdul) in Pakistan that she and her husband had chosen for their little girl, only for her to reject him In favour of the kaffir.
Was he not ideal? A DENTIST, from a respectable family, who could speak Urdu, Arabic and English and was well versed In the Islamic ways-a shining light. Why would Yasmin turn away from this, for a life with a man with nothing between the ears and no religion?Why?
2 days later she found herself facing the elders in their musty lounge overwhelmed by the odours of 5 men and 3 women. The discussion was mostly among the man, who referred to her in the third person each time they addressed her.
Her mother, disgraced and shamed did not say anything, but settled to pick the dirt from her carpet as the conversation raged. She sat demurely on the floor, legs crossed, head down, in a black burqa- head to toe-something she wore on the most sombre of occasions. The elders had already lambasted her for being a failed parent. What more could she say. She said nothing, never in one instance, defending her daughter who was being banished before her eyes. The only time she pecked up was when her husband mentioned the Abdul, as If to say, that marrying the dentist would be Yasmin's redemption.
Finally the crescendo reached a climax, when the leader- Yasmin's uncle- majestically rose to his feet, gesturing to silence the kraal. He zoned into Yasmin and laid down the sentence. Yasmin was no longer part of the family and she would be sent to Pakistan the following day. She had tainted the family's image in their close knit Muslim community and brought shame to her parents and the extended family- all 35 of them. Her plane tickets would be bought that day and arrangements with Abdul would be finalized by evenings end. That was it.
Such contempt was unheard off. This was the kind of thing Yasmin read in the Sunday supplements. Yet it was right here, moulded into 8 people in her parents leaving room.
She left that night, once the kraal had dispersed to their cosy houses. No doubt to gossip about the abomination that was her. She felt disgusted and completely worthless. Dismayed at how her family were prepared to sell her off as a slave to some backward county that they themselves had escaped in fear of retribution. How would she have survived? She didn't speak the language-knew no one, had no idea of the culture and the position of women in the country. Her life, if she was lucky, would be of compliance and servitude.
Through, the weeks, she thought her family would come to their senses and take her back. Not that she would return-but to re-assure her that they were still human. Made of the same flesh and blood like she was. But there was nothing. No one searched for her-no public announcements in the local mosque, no mention of her at the social gatherings. Nothing at all, it was like she never existed. She was just another Muslim who had upset Allah and paid the consequences.
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This is where I come in, a failed architecture student- turned builder. With enough common sense to look past someone's religious bent and take them for who they are. I don't care what went before. I have sympathy for the girl but I want her to live in the present, to know that I'm the one in her life now. If her family do not want her then I'll take her and we'll build a new life together.
Our relationship is based on trust and friendship. A sense that the other party won't deceive or do something that might inhibit what we have. We want a good life. But still, we feel like we are at that transition moment, where we have to declare our love in some way. Some people buy flowers, pendants, rings and so forth but we've always wanted something more.
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I'm lying in bed catching up on the evening news when I see her return from the bathroom with tears in her eyes. Her hand is concealing something but I can't quite make it out because it's tucked, slightly behind her. The other hand is covering her mouth so that a very faint sound- akin to a whimpering cat comes out. I do not know what to say to her so I walk up her and cuddle her. I have only seen her cry once before, when she told me of the anguish she felt for separating from her parents. Those were tears of sadness, but I'm not sure about today.
Her head rests-full weight- on the trough of my collar bone and I wince as she adjusts it so that her ear doesn't touch bone. I gently shift my balance, but do not what to disturb this delicate angel of mine.
I like the way she cries, silent and dignified, without any of the hysterics that accompany many a TV show. Her cries are now so inaudible, I think she has stopped, and so I lift her head from my shoulder and kiss her on the cheek. I look deep into her eyes-now deglazed and enquire sheepishly.
"Baby what's the matte..."
I do not need to finish the question as I know the answer. The hand that was hiding has returned and in it lies a white piece of plastic-15 cm long. There's is no mistaking the single blue line cutting across the transparent bit of the pregnancy strip.
I feel my legs give in, and sink slowly onto the carpet. I clutch her tightly and we sob together .Finally we have found what we were searching for.
User Reviews
Submitted by triangle_man (user info) at 2007-10-03 13:30:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
good story though
Submitted by TheGoat (user info) at 2007-10-03 13:16:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
looks like i need to do more proof reading...
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2007-10-03 13:14:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I like you. Both your posts have been a treat to read.
Submitted by HurtByTheSun (user info) at 2007-10-03 12:02:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Could have done with a proof read.
Submitted by DangerPants (user info) at 2007-10-03 12:00:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
Riddled with horrible and ridiculous spelling errors. Seriously, man. Proofread.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2007-10-03 12:00:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2007-10-03 10:13:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"...slurping sounds which sounded like ten churchbells muffled by the 5pm rush hour"???
That has to be the most interesting description of vaginal intercourse that I've ever read.
Submitted by Fartman (user info) at 2007-10-03 09:55:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
I liked it, although it's a tough read with all the errors.
Submitted by monkeyswithguns (user info) at 2007-10-03 09:06:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by i_can_get_you_a_toe (user info) at 2007-10-02 21:17:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
not bad, however - maybe i'm not getting it, but what happened to the first baby?
Submitted by ChaosJester (user info) at 2007-10-03 04:36:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Good story, but the numerous spelling and grammatical errors just threw me off too much.
Keep at it, though.
Submitted by pshuu (user info) at 2007-10-03 02:12:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Interesting short story. The flow is pretty good. Good job.
Submitted by Bohme (user info) at 2007-10-03 00:35:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Die.
Submitted by rosemadder (user info) at 2007-10-02 23:14:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I'll never understand why people are above using birth control. How many times to you have to get pregnant by accident to figure it out? Don't get me wrong, I think children are always a blessing, but I just don't know why it's so complicated.
Submitted by ilikesteak (user info) at 2007-10-02 22:53:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
...not thouroughly impressed.
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2007-10-02 22:25:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
i liked it. however two things bugged me that i'm guessing as a brit and a man you wouldn't know:
a) yasmin, while the name of a former baywatch girl, is also the name of a birth control pill over here.
b) "hips-thrust out invitingly for me to see. I guessed that they were 32 inches-no fat- athletic like a swimmer, and looking back I wasn't far off because she turned out to be a 30."
that measurement is mighty scary. by athletic like a swimmer and a 30" measurement i can only assume you meant she was man shaped. with a 30" hip measurement that puts her at less than a size 6 uk or size 0 us. which means she's either emaciated, only 4'6" tall, or her hips actually go in from her waist. sorry to pick out a detail like that. the "perfect" woman is commonly tallied at 36-24-36 which is a small in women's clothes and would make her very much not flat. that probably only stuck with me cuz i used to make costumes.
anyway, like i said, i liked it.
Submitted by i_can_get_you_a_toe (user info) at 2007-10-02 21:17:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
not bad, however - maybe i'm not getting it, but what happened to the first baby?
the typos were annoying too
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-10-02 20:24:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Ballare (user info) at 2007-10-02 20:06:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Crystle (user info) at 2007-10-02 20:02:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
irony below - ignore the apostrophe in 'commas'
and I only mention the commas because they did distract me from the writing, which really is good.
Submitted by Jeanneee (user info) at 2007-10-02 20:01:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This +2 is for the first 2 paragraphs. I won't be reading any further because I'm almost certain it will kill my buzz.
Submitted by Crystle (user info) at 2007-10-02 20:01:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
you write well for the most part.
having lived in a Muslim country, I love writings about those cultures and you did it justice here.
However, you use FAR too many comma's in inappropriate places, and you should run your stuff through spell check.
But this was awesome. Keep going :-)
Submitted by SgtHartman (user info) at 2007-10-02 19:55:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment