I am Rani, a 27 year old Indian woman, an ambitious high tech worker working in the USA, This story starts two years ago, at my Texas graduate school, with a cancellation of my research assistantship causing a financial desperation which leads me to adopt an arrangement with an older, married American sugar daddy. The first three chapters describe my journey of discovery, my priorities and final decision to get into this relationship. I describe my first passionate encounter in Chapter 04. In chapter 05, I spend the rest of the night of our first date exploring both mental connection and body intimacy across cultural and age divides. My vivid memories of this life-changing first night as a sugar baby concludes in this series. However, my interracial romance story continues after this encounter, which I will write about in another series.
My story is filled with highlights of my conflicting emotions, my Indian femininity and sensuality, cultural differences which impacts my sexuality with my American sugar knight. The story has a lot more than just my sexual pleasures, to set the right expectations for the readers.
Dinner
Around 9:30 PM, after our passionate bridal mating ritual, a soft slide of Chris's fingers on my face woke me up from my post-coital sleep. Slowly coming to my full senses, I felt surprisingly shy with this strange white man sitting in front of me, covering myself up fully to my neck with my comforter. He had just freshened up, his hands smelled of soap, back in his black boxer briefs contrasting against his almost glowing white, almost pink body, his hands moving to my shoulder.
"Sorry, I did not mean to wake you up, I was just moving your hair back from your face. Rani, are you hungry?" he asked softly, his eyes warm as they met mine in the mix of dim light from the bathroom and soft moonlight peeking from the blinds. I sat up, pushing my tangled hair back, feeling the slight numbness in my body, pulling up the comforter on my chest that lay on top of my naked body, with musky smells of our passion reminding me of our evening.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Chris. I completely forgot about dinner," feeling a bit guilty of not taking care of my guest, a big tradition in any Indian household. "Don't be sorry," he smiled, leaning in to give me a quick, tender kiss on my cheeks. "I was also hoping to take you out somewhere. I don't think we are in the state to make it on time anywhere on time except Taco Bell! What do you feel like eating?", in his commanding American accent.
I looked at him. "You tell me, you are my guest." He chuckled, sitting back on the edge of my bed, with a mischievous grin. "I think I'm fully immersed into the Indian experience today."
I also feel an urge of naughtiness. I leaned forward, touching his bare chest, and with a cunning smile, "Well, considering I just finished enjoying a very large serving of your American white cream a while ago, Indian sounds like a perfect balance." He laughed and he kissed me on my cheeks. "You are funny. I like that."
Discussion of food and my cultural norm of treating a guest, normalized my senses. I remembered, "Oh, there's a popular spot nearby that all the students go to. It's authentic and fast and they open late and they deliver."
"I will order," Chris said, handing me his phone to pull up the online ordering site. I rattled off a feast. "We'll get Vegetable Biryani, Paneer Korma, Malai Kofta, butter Naan, extra raita to cool things down, two salted lassis, and Mango Shrikhand for dessert." I was clearly famished, ordering classic rich food when one is hungry.
I paused, looking at the menu again in his hand. "They are famous for their chicken kababs, all my friends enjoy it. Do you want to add those?" Chris shook his head firmly, his hand resting on my knee. "No, I'm eating vegetarian with you tonight. I'm going with your flow tonight, remember." The gesture touched me more than I expected, his willingness to step into my world completely.
He placed the order, waited for the food to arrive, still only in his boxer briefs. I excused myself to the bathroom to freshen up, quickly picking up my clothes from the floor, shying to hide my shame in front of this stranger from a distant land turned lover, who cannot keep his eyes off me.
While relieving myself in the bathroom, I looked down at my thighs, realizing that I needed a clean up. No energy for a complete shower, my stomach growled. I quickly jumped into the shower, turned on the handheld shower, took some time to rinse all the sticky love juices mixed with sweat between my thighs, even cleaning up the inside edges of my labia with my fingers.
I put on my petticoat, wrapped the sari on my waist, looped the pallu end snugly around my chest and tucked it up in my front waist. The chiffon of my sari felt soft against my nipples, with a sense of comfort without the extra snug layer blouse on my sweaty chest. Not quite the "bridal" look I had a few hours ago, but preserving the feminine get up for the rest of the night. I felt a bit uninhibited.
I stepped out of the bathroom while brushing my hair, saw Chris at the open main door, in his briefs with his bulge clearly visible, receiving our food and tipping the guy. As soon as the door closed, I ran to him and screamed in shame.
"Are you crazy Chris, now my neighbors will have seen a naked guy in my apartment." He hugged me. "Don't worry, I only saw the delivery guy." I slapped him on his chest, not very happy, "Chris, this needs to be discreet. I cannot be distracted with all the questions from my colleagues who live around me." He responded, "Ok, Rani. I understand. Sorry, I will dress up for you. We can always go to a hotel." I thought visiting hotels would just be too cumbersome and uncomfortable for me. "That's ok Chris, thanks for being a bit more careful. I feel safe here in my place." I later discovered his quirk about showing me off.
There was a lot of food, we devoured the feast, fueling our bodies after our evening workout. After cleaning the table, we took our lassi glasses and retired to the sofa.
I settled under his arm spread around my shoulder, with my right leg crouched on his thigh, my cheek resting against the warm bare chest. My fingers traced the lines of his muscular breasts, teasing his nipples, feeling the slow, steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath his skin. As my brown hands contrasted against his white skin, I had never imagined being sexual with a white man. My impression about American men, from Hollywood movies and some porn, was that they were more physical, maybe aggressive and focused on their own mental state rather than the romanticism and drama of Indian relationships. Chris shattered those stereotypes with his caring and responsiveness to my needs. His skills surpassed anything I had ever experienced, marked by a genuine interest in my pleasure and respecting my boundaries. Even physically, his endowed white ling (cock) was the best I had encountered compared to my previous two boyfriends.
He grabbed his phone to show me glimpses of his life, latest pictures of his children, and eventually peeked at his beautiful wife. I looked at her elegance and then back at him, tucked in his arms, half-dressed and smelling of our shared love making. I thought to myself: she would pounce on me if she knew her hunted lion was now sowing his seed in my den. A sudden guilt pierced through me. Had I lured him here, or had our worlds simply collided, or I was trapped by this cheating white man? I hugged him tight to ignore the doubts in my mind, cherishing the afterglow of the moment.
We ended up talking more, ignoring any talk of our opening act. In the silence of our embrace, I realized that the combination of my physical satisfaction and the financial safety he provided had unlocked something new inside me. It evoked a primal desire to connect with him more deeply, to give him more of myself, and to be fearless, opening the door to my own sexual exploration. I did not see any future with Chris, preserving my vision of spending my life with an Indian man in a very traditional path with cultural compatibility. But Chris provided me a temporary escape, away from judgements based on old Indian traditional conservativeness, separated by distance and hidden in the sanctuary of my apartment. I was completely lost in my thoughts as my fingers also wandered across his body including his rising bulge, without knowing it.
Chris randomly whispered looking dreamily at my face, caressing my shoulders, "What are you thinking about, Rani. Are you ok? I hope you are comfortable".
"Oh, sorry, nothing. I hope I am not boring you.", immediately removing my hands from his bulge, embarrassingly burying my face into his chest.
"Of course not. I could stare at you all day and night." Feeling the weight of his arm around me, his face approached to kiss me, realizing his recovering lust. I was also aroused, feeling a sense of confidence, femininity and freedom from social and work pressures. I felt my body needs to be worshiped more. As my legs were rubbing his thighs through my sari, my wetness returned in my pussy, I decided to play.
"Dessert time!". I said with a smile, and got up.
Dessert
Chris was about to get up to help. "No, you sit, I will get it, it's just a little cup." I got up to the refrigerator, explaining, "This is a yoghurt pudding, fairly rich and sweet, but refreshes the mouth. This one is mango, with saffron and cardamom blended in. You can taste the butteriness from the churning. I hope you like it." With the dessert cup and a spoon, I stood in front of him, handing him the cup. I gathered the hem of my sari, pulled the sari and petticoat to expose my knees to straddle him to find a comfortable spot on his thighs to sit. My sari was now draping both our legs. Chris was enjoying this.
"Ready for dessert?" I grabbed the cup and scooped an orange dab of the thick, fragrant pudding on the spoon and fed him directly into his mouth.
"You like it?" I whispered, my voice thick with mischief. When he nodded, his eyes locked on mine, assuming that I would take the next bite. I took another generous dabble, but instead of my mouth, I smeared it slowly across his lower lips. He was confused till I leaned in and began to suck the pudding with deliberate slowness. I pulled back with a naughty laugh playing on my lips as I saw him catch his breath, his hands tightening on my waist as he realized the game I was playing.
Chris took the spoon from my hand, dipped it deep into the bright orange shrikhand and brought it to my neck, slowly smearing the cool, sweet pudding just below my jawline. The chilled yogurt sent a sharp shiver down my spine, contrasting with the rising heat between my thighs where I was pressed against him. He waited to lean in, teasing me, his breath hot against my damp skin, and began to lick the sweetness away with long strokes of his tongue. The friction of his tongue against the sensitive pulse point of my neck made me moan and tickled me enough to involuntarily shake him off with a giggle.
I took a spoon full of pudding, holding it right between our faces, leaned in until our lips were touching, the sweet, chilled yoghurt caught in between us. We licked on the pudding together, our breaths mingling as the flavors of saffron and cardamom exploded on our tongues. The sensation was incredibly intimate, as he let me playfully tease him.
Chris's patience finally broke as he reached for the edge of my sari pallu and pulled, unraveling my top until I sat before him completely bare from the waist up. His eyes stared at me to instruct, "The rest of it, put it on your nipples. I like my dessert extra sweet."
I felt a surge of femininity by evoking his raw hunger for me. I looked at him as I dipped my fingers into the cool, golden shrikhand and began to paint myself for him. I drew a slow, chilled line of pudding from the hollow of my throat down to the edge of my breasts, the cold yogurt making my skin tickle. I continued the trail, tracing circles around my breast edges in towards the dark aureoles of my breasts, before finally placing two thick dabbles onto my hard nipples. Chris watched my every move with the stillness of a hunter lion waiting in the bushes for his prey.
He leaned forward pouncing on his feast, his tongue closing over my neck with a desperate intensity. He began to suck on the sweet pudding on my skin, his tongue swirling around my breast curves, his teeth grazing me just enough to make me cry out and arch my back. He moved from one breast to the other, devouring the sweetness I had laid out for him, his hands now gripping my shoulders to hold me steady as he claimed his feed. My soft moans grew louder with his rapid mouth teasing my chest, holding me close to him with his tight grip on my arms.
He had unlocked my buds once again. "Stand up, Rani." I obeyed and rose from his lap. Chris gently tugged the end of my sari making me spin to be unwrapped the second time. The soft chiffon unspooled, and looking deep into my eyes as he pulled the string of my petticoat, letting all the fabric lay at my feet. I stood before him as a naked goddess, in full light of the living room, being admired like a statue in a museum.
He turned me around, his eyes and fingers traveling over every curve of my back to discover my body, tracing the dip of my waist and the mounds of my hips. His fingertips moved down my thighs before traveling back up to trace my spine. Driven by his lustful exploration, I brought my own hands up to my breasts, and began to sway my body in sync with my soft moans, in slow seduction as he continued his worship of my body. The lone lavender candle still lit up on the coffee table as if it was fueling the flames inside me. His hands grabbed my hips firmly, and he leaned in for kisses against the small of my back and the tops of my buttocks. As soon as he turned me around, he pulled down his briefs revealing his bold erection.
I slowly lowered myself onto him, straddling him on my knees. I wanted to play a bit more. I positioned myself back and sat at the edge of his knees, his cock throbbing to devour me. He leaned in, my mouth finding his in a passionate kiss that tasted of the lingering sweetness of mango. As our tongues danced, I reached down with my fingers gently closed around his raging cock. I started stroking it lightly with my fingers, my thumbs feeling the silky pre-cum from his bulging pink head. Chris started moaning, "oh Rani, please.. ", while he was wildly rubbing my outer thighs with his palms, confused whether he wanted to just grab and fuck me, or let me do my thing.
I got off my knees to wrap my legs around his waist. I slid forward on his thighs to find a comfortable position to guide his head touching my wet labia folds. I moved my body slightly back and forth, looking at his desperation as I was enjoying rubbing my clit against his head. I resisted his pull to enter me for a few more minutes, continuing my rhythm. I felt a slight weakness, a shiver in my body, giving Chris the opportunity to pull me in. I let out a moan as my hips moved forward to take his hardness to fill me up again. I angled my hips to make sure his top edge was brushing my clit. I got into a rocking motion, shifting front and back to control the depth and pressure of his length inside me. My hands hanging on his shoulder, there was just enough of a gap between our chests that my hardened nipples teasingly grazed his chest. He brought his warm hands up to capture my breasts. He kneaded the soft flesh with a possessive grip, his thumbs occasionally rolling and pinching my nipples.
"The lotus position... it's so sensual," I whispered against his ears, my hands wrapped around his neck. "We are completely wrapped around each offering maximum touch.". He whispered back, "In America call it the cowgirl. Enjoy your ride." He put his palms on my hips to offer support.
I continued to ride him slowly, front and back ensuring my clit was being caressed with every stroke. I continued the rhythmic dance almost like a peacock attracting his mate. This time our moans were not accompanied with my bangles or anklets clinking as my hands and feet clenched around his body and buried in the backrest of the sofa.
"I am completely under your Indian spell. I simply feel I am in heaven and you are my angel, Rani."
My breath came in short and hurried, trying to find a break between my loud moans. I could feel a weakness in my dance rhythms as I was panting and my inner body had its own plans. Chris grabbed my hips tighter and was now helping me ride his hard throbbing cock filling me up to my cervix. My contractions started centered right where his hard top edge met my clit, followed by a tremor in my thighs and raced upward to a shiver in my chest. "Chris!" I gasped, as a powerful, shaking orgasm took hold of me. My internal muscles clamped down on him in strong pulses, and I collapsed against his chest, my limbs feeling numb, my body completely exhausted and unable to move another inch.
He wasn't finished. With a sudden surge of strength, he gripped my hips and stood up from the sofa, hoisting my limp body into the air. I instinctively locked my ankles behind his back, hanging on his body, tightening my grip around his neck. He began to move with an animalistic energy, bouncing me up and down on his shaft. With every downward plunge he let gravity drive him deeper inside me. He then just moved his powerful arms under my legs to hold me in position in mid air, while he pounded into me with desperate thrusts. My anklets now jingled in the passionate sync with my screams and the now loud slapping noises of my orgasmic juices and the sheer strength of his thrusts. This was my first time being held and penetrated given he was taller with a broad and strong upper body. My only remaining senses were only focused on holding him tight while the rest of my senses were dedicated to Chris fucking me like a doll.
Finally, his entire frame tightened, his fingers digging into my hips as he buried his pulsing cock deep inside my vagina one last time. I felt the hot lava pulses of his second release erupting deep within me, filling me as he stood there roaring and his hands trembling with the force of his climax. He collapsed back on the sofa with me still wrapped around him on his chest. My pussy felt flooded with his soft ling (penis) still inside my yoni (vagina), our love juices oozing out of me on his thighs. I did not care, as we drifted into a nap on the sofa in a tangle of damp limbs, devoid of energy and slowed heartbeats.
Sleepover
It took a long while for our bodies to recover from that extreme workout. Chris may have been awake as I recovered from my nap, it was around midnight now. We decided a shower was the only way to drain the exhaustion. We were so tired, we moved slowly with him tenderly holding my hand into the shower.
Under the steamy shower spray, Chris gave me a gentle head massage, his fingers working the shampoo into a rich lather against my scalp, easing the last of my tension. I started removing my jhumkas (hanging earrings), my bangles and asked him to remove my necklace.
"Do you mind bending down to remove my anklets? I am too tired." He kneeled down on one, gently placing my feet over the other bent knee. I pointed out the hook that needed to be twisted. He patiently worked on it, as I felt a surge of power, where this CEO is serving me on my feet. "I wonder what people will think of you serving me at my feet." I laughed. "They will see a man lit up by your fire."
We took turns lathering each other's bodies with my sandalwood soap, our hands moving on each other with extreme care to ensure every inch was clean. It was sexy but not sexual. We dried and wrapped each other in towels. Chris moved to the bed as I took some time to blow dry my hair. As I gently sprayed the Jasmine perfume again, I caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror, as a woman who had crossed an ocean to find her future, but possessing a new dangerous sexual freedom in this new jungle. Maybe I belonged here now.