Days later, Aisha convinced Omar to return to the garage for a 'check-up.' While Omar haggled over the bill inside, Aisha wandered to the back alley where Aryan was smoking. 'You came back,' Aryan said, stepping close, his breath hot on her neck. She nodded, heart pounding. 'I couldn't stop thinking about you.' He pulled out his phone. 'Give me your number. Just for emergencies,' he teased. She hesitated, glancing toward the door, then typed it quickly.
That evening, as Omar prayed in the living room, Aisha's phone buzzed in the kitchen. 'What are you wearing under that hijab?' Aryan's message read. Her pussy clenched. 'Nothing you need to know,' she replied, but added a winking emoji. The texts escalated: him describing how he'd pin her against the wall and suck her nipples until she begged; her admitting how wet she got imagining his thick Hindu cock stretching her. One night, Omar fucked her missionary style, grunting quickly before rolling over. Aisha closed her eyes, pretending it was Aryan pounding her, her fingers circling her clit discreetly to finish herself off. The next message from Aryan: 'Tell your husband I fixed his car. But I want to fix you next.' She bit her lip, already planning their first meet.
Part 3: The First Touch
Aisha told Omar she was visiting her sister for the afternoon. Instead, she met Aryan at a quiet park on the city's edge. He arrived on his bike, pulling her onto the back seat. They rode to a secluded spot by the river, the wind whipping her hijab. Under a shady tree, Aryan kissed her hard, his tongue invading her mouth as she gasped. 'I've wanted this since I saw you,' he growled, yanking her abaya up to expose her thighs.
Aisha's hands trembled as she unbuttoned his shirt, feeling his hard chest. He pushed her against the tree, his fingers sliding under her panties to rub her slick pussy. 'So wet for a Hindu boy,' he murmured, dipping two fingers inside her tight hole. She moaned, grinding against his hand, her hijab still in place like a forbidden crown. Aryan dropped to his knees, pulling her panties aside and licking her clit with firm strokes. Aisha's legs shook as she came, her juices coating his chin. In return, she knelt, unzipping his jeans to free his thick, veined cock. It throbbed in her hand, pre-cum beading at the tip. She sucked him deep, her lips stretching around his girth, gagging slightly as he fucked her mouth. 'Good Muslim wife,' he taunted, pulling out to cum on her hijab, marking her. Back home, Omar noticed her flushed face but said nothing. Aisha smiled secretly, tasting Aryan on her tongue.
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