Sundara - Part 1 - Sex Stories

Sundara - Part 1

... reluctance seemed to fit with the fantasy. “You make a valid point about creepy old guys, but I’m sick of walking, so promise me you won’t make any excuses when we find a shop with a young hottie.” “Promise,” she smiled. That was a pretty quick agreement; I got my first inkling that I was being set up. There was another shoe shop up ahead and I looked in as we passed the window. Empty: good. Half past three on a Wednesday afternoon in early spring is a good time for shoppers and a bad time for shop-keepers; even the streets were pretty empty of pedestrians. We stepped in the door and looked around for the shop assistant … oh, fuck it! “Let’s go,” I said. “There’s another one down the street.” “Hang on,” Belinda whispered. “He’s pretty young and handsome.” “He’s pretty young and Indian!” I hissed. “You’re being racist,” she said. “I’m Indian!” I glared at her. “I can’t be racist to another Indian.” “You told me you were Australian,” Belinda smiled. “Besides, what’s wrong with Indian? Hot is hot in any package.” “He’ll judge me,” I explained in a whisper. “Indian boys think all white girls are sluts and all Indian girls are chaste virgins. If you flash him he’ll smile and enjoy it; if I flash him he’ll think I just crawled out of the gutter from fucking a wino.” “You’re being melodramatic,” Belinda rolled her eyes at me. “Besides, he could be Pakistani.” “Right! A Muslim with a little statue of Ganesha on his desk?” I asked, tapping one foot and giving her my best ‘Oh, really?’ ...

... look. “Hey, don’t get your panties in a tangle!” she teased me. “I’m not wearing any!” I hissed. “And it’s your fault!” “Well me neither, but I’m being a bit more grown up about it,” she shot back. “Look,” she said, suddenly getting all serious and trying on her commanding act; but at 4’11” and three-quarters, blonde elfin features and wearing a green and white striped summer school dress, Belinda looks about as commanding as a Brownie … although I concede she does look a lot hotter. “This is how it is,” she delivered the ultimatum, “he’s hot and you promised. Is any of that untrue?” “You set me up, didn’t you?” I said. “Have you been here before?” “That’s hardly the point,” she defended. “Am I, or am I not, the Queen of Hot?” I sighed. “You are the Queen of Hot, Belinda. And I am but your humble servant girl.” This was a familiar game. “If I say it’s going to be hot, is it ever not?” She had a point. She comes up with sexy games on an almost daily basis – the girl’s got imagination – and she never strikes out. Ever! “If you say it’s going to be hot, it’s going to be hot.” Sigh. “This is going to be hot, Rupali.” She looked up at me with blonde eyebrows raised. At 6’1”, I’m more than a foot taller than her; why do I let her push me around? I could pick her up under one arm and walk her out of the store myself. “OK. Let’s go.” God, was my heart hammering before? Now it was about to leap out of my throat. The shop assistant – pardon me; the hot, Indian shop assistant – started ...