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I did also not know what was wrong. Even though my husband frequently used to kiss me on my lips I was not getting pregnant. Till that time I as well as my poor twenty one years old husband were under the impression that if a boy kisses a girl on her lips she gets pregnant. Though we were husband and wife, we never had sex. Truly speaking we were not even aware that there exists any relationship like sex. As more and more days passed by people indirectly started taunting me that I am baanzh (in fertile). That started worrying me a lot. My husband’s cousin brother who was of my age only, was then studying medicine at Mumbai and was a student of final year. Once during his visit to our place, I got opportunity to talk to him and explain to him about my problem. Although, I was feeling little shy I told him clearly that even though your brother frequently kisses me, I am not getting pregnant.I could understand from his face that after listening to me he is totally shocked and seriously. The girl who helped me with paperwork gave me a sly smile when I got to my office. I knew there was something wrong. I dropped my briefcase on my desk when Nick's voice came through the intercom."Got a moment?" Sure. Coming," I replied, and walked towards his office. Nick's secretary gave me a sly smile when she saw me."Close the door, James," Nick said when I got into his room."What's the matter?" I closed the door, pondering what had happened."How was it?" Nick asked, giving me another sly smile."Great. The renewal contract will be sent out on Thursday." I know that. I meant how was she?" Who?" Jennifer, or if you prefer, your bitch." Nick had a big smile on his face."What about her?" Damn it, don't fool with me. The whole office knows you bought her a Tiffany necklace. Don't tell me you did that as a business gesture." Everyone knows?" My mouth dropped open."Everyone knows. Mariah called Mary. How was she?" Fuck!" I growled."You fucked her?" Nick's smile grew bigger."Nick, she.
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Her thighs parted as the skirts exposed the ebon skin of her legs. Preleis turned his head to look at her knees, his mouth still anchored to her breast. Then, as the sight of her exposed privacy came into view and the skirts were at last completely bunched in his hand, he gasped lightly and the nipple dropped from his mouth. As Leah lay there, writhing in want and need, her legs spread and closed rhythmically. Her perfectly trimmed pubis was almost bare of the soft downy white hairs she kept trimmed down to a small triangle on her mons. And Preleis could see the pouting fullness of her labia, her lips slightly opening and closing with the movement of her thighs. His hand let go of the material of her skirts. His fingers moved lower, grazing across her abdomen. Then, he was cupping her sex, no longer caring about being tender. He held her firmly in his palm, reveling in the feeling. Here it was, the thing she had always hidden from him by duty and cultural law. Her sex, her mons, her.

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