I won’t use my real name, not here. Not for this. You can call me Valley.
What you should know about me, I am a professional woman, a senior driving instructor, who trains not only new drivers, but instructors, and teaches defensive driving to corporate groups. I am a 47 year old red head, all natural, 48GG-40-46, spread over five feet seven of curved and fit. I dress conservatively, and to conceal because since I developed early and was shy, I have never found my body to be a source of pride, so much as embarrassment. I was that good girl your mother always wanted, and my sexual horizons are my first boyfriend in college, and my husband.
I was driving to the classroom to pick up materials for my next class. The office has another instructor drop them, so I can just go to the classroom and pick them up, and not have to journey all the way to head office all the way into the city.The light turned red, and I pulled to as top. I looked behind me and there was an East Indian woman talking on her cell phone in her BMW and I was afraid she was going to hit me. I tapped my horn to get her attention, and she dropped her phone, looked down to get it, and hit my car in the rear bumper.
She was clearly at fault, but I wanted to make sure she was OK, so I got out and got ready to exchange information. The woman who stepped out was not dressed for business, so much as she was dressed to be seen. I swear, the cost of her silk saree could have bought my car, and the price of her manicure probably paid for the repairs to both. The woman unfolding from the car made me stop my somewhat snippy demand for her licence and registration. She was stunning.
Flowing out of the car like a goddess descending from the clouds, she moved with a sort of supple sensuous grace that left me feeling like lumbering cow. Her saree looked formal from a distance, but closer in revealed a similar green leaf pattern bodice under the wrap, and much of her body, down to the swell of her generous hips was highlighted more than concealed. The gold and green fall of the saree called attention to the swell of her high firm breasts, just as the water like flow caused your eyes to follow the roll of those hips, the line of those long bronze legs, and wonder at the mystery just concealed between them. Looking up into her eyes, flashing like onyx beneath an odd gold chain of medallions affixed in her hair and hanging to her forehead, I saw a look of bored anger and contempt forming on a face that was exotic, beautiful, and fierce in the way of a falcon. Her lips were warm and sensuous, a lipstick of blood red matched the smoky eyeshadow to give her face a sort of opulent and open sexuality, coupled with the hauteur of a goddess slumming among mere mortals, gave her the power to stun a man at fifty paces, and it seems my own gender was not defense enough against her reguard when she turned those eyes on me.
A voice as rich and dark as her eyes rang from the Indian woman “You frumpy little cow. You made me drop my phone, on my toe, and I think you broke it. The toe, not the phone. What have you got to say for yourself?”
I held out my licence and registration.
My own reply was professionally courteous “Ma’am, you were driving while talking on your cell phone, that is against the law. You struck me from behind when I was stopped at a red light, that is against the law. Your insurance will pay for the repairs, but I will need your insurance paperwork. I am a driving instructor, and I can assure you, there is no reason to argue, just exchange our information and be on our separate ways”
I was trying to be reasonable, but the angry beauty in front of me did not look reasonable, she looked like a falcon unsure of bahis firmaları whether to scream and tear someone in half, or soar back to the heavens where she belongs.
Turing to look at me, her gaze was smouldering. Her voice rang now with challenge-
“You call that little bump a hit from behind? You have no idea what my husband Tarun will do to my behind when I tell him of this. Then you would know when you have been hit from behind, and when you have been only tapped.” She turned her rather curvy rump suggestively and glared at me.
I tried to be reasonable with her, offering assistance against what I thought she was saying.
“Spousal abuse is common in some communities, I know, but the police are there for you, and we have shelters if you need to get away”
She cut me off, stepping forward and grabbing my long red hair. My voice sounded in a mouse like squeak as she took me and walked me to my own car’s hood like a mamma cat with an unruly kitten. Her voice dropped low, threatening, and very sensual
“First you get me in trouble with this nonsense about the car, and then you wish to destroy my marriage by involving the police, and you go on to accuse my community of being abusive. You racist self absorbed self righteous little slut. You probably are so uptight you have no idea that a spanking can be as much a reward as punishment, and that a strong woman needs to be reminded periodically that her man is stronger yet. In fact, I think your uptight little conservative ass needs a good spanking, and I need an apology. Well my little red headed harlot, lets see about your education right now”
I put my hands on her wrist holding my hair, prepared to rotate and break her wrist and defend myself. Things did not go as planned when instead of striking me, her hand cupped my ass cheek and her lips descended on mine for a kiss that started soft, and swelled into an insistent hungry exploration of my mouth that drove all thought from my head, and resulted in my hands falling loosely to the swell of her hips as she teased my tongue into dancing with hers, and her hands roamed my body seemingly at will. Breaking the kiss with a giggle, she spun me around and looped a turn of her saree around my wrists behind my back, then leaned forward and undid my belt, sliding it down my pants to pool at my feet.
I started to protest, but she was having none of it.
Her voice now was dripping with honey and laughter
“Don’t be silly, who spanks through clothes? Unruly wives and ungrateful children are spanked bare bottom. Everyone knows that. Oh my god, what is that you are wearing on your bottom. Are those men’s underwear, or do they make something that hideous for women? No, don’t answer, I think little enough of you already, if you tell me you want to wear these granny panties I will lose what little respect for you as a woman I still have”
Without further ado, she whipped them down to my feet, and slapped each calf once to spur me to step out of pants and panties. I was naked from the waist down at the intersection, and cars were slowing to watch as they passed, but no one was interfering.
Sounding now like a proud teacher with a slow student finally making progress her voice was a mix of wonder and exasperation.
“Look at that, you are trainable! You have quite a nice arse, but a lousy attitude. Proper training can fix that you see.”
She sounded so reasonable, but here I was stripped half naked in the street!! I opened my mouth to shout at her, but I think she anticipated my outrage and was waiting when I turned to yell at her. She popped my panties into my mouth like a gag and laughed.
“See, there is a use for them. I wouldn’t even slow down my talking kaçak iddaa if you jammed my thong in my mouth. Even your big mouth can’t handle these ugly things”
Before I could think about spitting them out, the spanking began. How can I describe it? She cupped my throat in her hand to bend me back, then alternated hard vicious slaps to my ass that rocked my body, with full ass caresses that grazed my mound and little puckered hole. She began to chuckle low when she caught me trying to move against her hand during the caresses. Flinching from the anticipated pain was a mistake, for in pushing myself farther up the car hood, I exposed my pussy to her fingers when she probed my sex. She stopped and licked her finger clean of what she grazed between my legs when she discovered how hot and wet my married white pussy had become.
Her voice now held simple uncomplicated delight “A proper slut spanking requires full display, and your big cow udders are still covered. We can’t have that.”
She said. Reaching forward, she tore open my blouse, buttons flying everywhere. With an odd economy of motion, she popped the clasp on my bra and pulled it over my breasts, cupping them both fiercely and grinding me against the car hood as she mimed humping me. She kissed my neck as her hands cupped my breasts and pinched the nipples, lifting my heavy breasts by the nipples until I whimpered and begged through the gag. Laughing, she pushed me forward again over my car hood.
Now my 48GG breasts were bare, and my pale pink nipples revealed as fully erect. Grabbing my hair, she pulled me back to keep my upright, and began to spank me again. Each blow making my breasts bounce, and drawing honking and hollering from the male, and even some of the teenage female drivers as they watched the Indian goddess spanking my ass as red as my blushing face. My gag had fallen out, and as the spanking continued, she would alternate slaps and sliding fingers, both into my sex, and then later, into my virgin ass, using my own juices as lubrication. Soon she was making me beg, and choose which hole she would toy with between slaps, and making me beg her to continue, rather than leave me hanging.
Fingers driving into my pussy as she called me her little English randee, her porcelain slut, she drove me to the edge of orgasm, and then left me hanging. She whispered in my ear that I needed to ask before I was allowed to cum. I shook my head. I would not! She began now to probe my ass, rather than my needy dripping pussy and the edge of my release hovered just beyond me as she began to pound me slower, then with increasing speed and savagery. If anything, the denial forced my body far past any release I had ever allowed myself without going over the edge. She laughed as I whimpered and moaned. Finally I began to speak, to beg honestly, and she would not listen, would not listen until I was shouting at the top of my lungs!
“PLEASE may your little English randee cum? Please ma’am I am begging you!”
I was screaming at the top of my lungs, I could hear her laughing, and hear the honking of the men in the passing cars, enjoying the show. I no longer cared. I no longer cared about anything except being let over the edge; to cum. I accepted that I needed permission to do so, and would do whatever it took to get it. Laughing, she finally granted permission, and it was like releasing a bowstring, my body simply snapped directly into a spasm that bent me in half, face down against the hood, feet coming right off the ground. It was only her hand in my hair that kept me from falling off the car, and to the pavement. I have never cum that powerfully in my life. With a flick of her wrists, she unwound the saree from my crossed wrists and freed my kaçak bahis arms.
Her voice was imperious, a disappointed goddess addressing ungrateful worshipers
“There now, you have your spanking, and your reward, but where it the kiss for my pain? You made me drop my phone on my toe, what are you going to do about it?”
She asked haughty and cold as any falcon looking at prey. She extended one delicate, sandal clad foot, and pointed to the big toe. She had her camera in her hand now, as I crawled to her feet, bent my head down and kissed her toe, before taking it into my mouth and sucking it like a little cock. I kissed and caressed her foot, all the way to her delicate bronze ankle. Beginning to draw the saree up her beautiful legs, her laughter took on a low, deeply stirring hunger.
Rich Hindi accent teasing now, she teased me
“Is that all you want to kiss better, my little English randee? Do you maybe want to kiss my chut better?”
Her Indian accented voice left me guessing what randee meant, but pretty sure what chut meant, and pretty sure I wanted to kiss her pussy. I began to kiss my way up her legs, her thighs and into the golden valley between them. She spread her legs, and offered me access to her garden of earthly delights. Dark and hairy, her pussy was exotic and responsive. I began to explore her, running tongue along the outside of each lip of her labia, before beginning to suck on them gently. Her taste was divine, and soon my control was fading and I was lapping at her “chut” like a starving dog. Looking up into her laughing eyes, I saw she was filming me naked on my knees eating her pussy, and I didn’t care. All I cared about was pleasing her.
She was trimmed, that is her pubic area was shaped. It was perhaps the single most beautiful sight I have seen, other than that of my newborn daughters when they were first given to me. I caught my breath in wonderWith one hand she let me know when it was time, and drew my face to her clit, and I began to lick and suck it. I know it is hard for my to cum when my husband does not keep a rhythm when he eats me, so I strove to build a rhythm and then increase the speed as her cries became more urgent. Taking her clit into my mouth and flicking my tongue across it, I was rewarded when she dropped her phone a second time, and this time because both her hands were on my head, driving me inside her as she came. Her screams gave way to sighs, and ended in a sort of happy giggle. She patted my head, and began to adjust her clothes from their frenzied disarray. As she adjusted her saree to something resembling modesty, I picked up her phone and tried to hand it to her. Her voice sang out, a relaxed happiness filling it with warmth.
“Put in your number and name slut, then I will have you come over and arrange for our mechanic to fix your car. I don’t want to go through insurance. Oh, you may want to wear something that slides off in a hurry, there is a good chance if Tarun is angry with you that he will want to spank you too, and if he does, he won’t be as gentle to your clothes as I was”
I got my clothes back on, and was unsure what to do now. I was assaulted, or seduced. I wasn’t’ sure. I was humiliated, or maybe I was redeemed. I was so confused. Right up until she grabbed my shoulders, turned me around, and kissed me hard, long, and deep. Hugging me tight, she whispered quietly in my ear with such loving kindness that it washed over me like sunlight, blasting away all my doubts and fears.
“Oh my pretty little Valley, I am Zara. Tarun and I are going to so enjoy you, and you will at last learn how to enjoy yourself”
I may have been publicly used and humiliated, spanked and used, but I had just had the most profound sexual experience of my life, and was promised that it was only the beginning. I would not be reporting this accident. I would call Zara, and ask for instructions. Memory of that final kiss would allow me no other choice.