Radhika

I met Radhika two years ago, when I was living in Auckland, where there is quite a large Indian and Fijian Indian population. I was walking past a gift shop, and glanced in through the window. Standing at the counter, reading a magazine, was the most gorgeous young Indian woman. The shop was empty, so, sucker that I was, I walked straight in there and started pretending to browse, while sending the occasional glance her way. Before long, she looked up and smiled. “Hello.”

That was my cue to look at her properly. She was about 5’6″, very slim, very beautiful. Her skin was the color of rich coffee. Her face was gorgeous; full, dark lips, white teeth, a small nose. Her eyes were almost glittering-black, and her eyebrows were lush and heavy. Her blue-black hair was loose, tumbling like a mane down her back, and she had soft, black, downy hair on the sides of her face, all the way to her jaw line. She wore a short-sleeved top, and her slim arms were brushed with soft, dark hairs.

“How are you?” she asked.

“Fine, thanks.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“No.” I continued to browse for a few moments, then looked at her again. My heart was pounding: this was my only chance. If it went wrong, at least I would never have to come back here. “I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you really are very beautiful.”

Her dark eyes darted to the side, and she smiled: she had dimples. “Thank you.”

“Would you like to go for coffee, sometime?”

She looked surprised, but her smile grew. “Okay.” Such a direct approach often fails, but I figured I had nothing to lose, and it had worked. She handed me a store business card with her name – Radhika – in red. I thanked her, and left. I called her the next Friday, and we met on Sunday at two o’clock. Radhika looked breathtaking. Her lush black hair was tied into a careful ponytail, her black eyes shy below those bold, thick eyebrows. It was April, still warm, and she wore a grey tank top and black bootleg pants, and my hopes were confirmed within minutes of her arrival. To my astonishment – and delight – black hairs peeped from under her arm when she reached for the sugar bowl. The grey top had been a mistake to wear: she was evidently nervous, and before long there were dark rings of sweat under her arms. As we struggled through our conversation, it became obvious that we really didn’t have much in common. So I tried the direct approach again.

“You’re so gorgeous,” I told her. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me!”

“Really?” That smile, again. “What am I doing?”

“I’m so horny I’m about to explode,” I confessed, and Radhika laughed.

“Maybe we’d better do something about it?” she suggested.

There it was, in plain English. We weren’t about to have a deep-and-meaningful relationship, we weren’t even ‘dating.’ We just wanted sex. She suggested going to her apartment, because it was within walking distance, so we hurried down the busy road. I held her hand: her pale palm was cool and dry. When we got to her place, she led me straight into her bedroom. I undressed in the corner, Radhika by the bed. The boots and pants, first: sliding down her long brown legs. Her skimpy grey marble knickers had no chance of hiding the bushy mass of her pubic hair; black curls peeped around the little triangle of cotton. She pulled her knickers off, and I just stared. Her pubic bush was beautiful, broad and thick and black, a trail leading all the way to her belly button. She pulled her sweat-ringed tank top over her head, revealing barely-there breasts high on her ribcage, dark-chocolate nipples. She paused to untie her hair, and my eyes rose to the deep hollows of her armpits. The hair was thick and black, filling the gully of each armpit. For the first time, I realized that she was feeling self-conscious of her hairiness. “You still like?” she asked me timidly.

“Very much,” I admitted.

She was a fantastic kisser, her dark lips parting to reveal a pink tongue: she tasted sweet, and we lay naked on her bed kissing for half an hour. My jaw hurt, but I couldn’t get enough of her mouth, and the feeling of her tongue playing with mine. Eventually, I kissed her lovely face, her thick eyebrows, and then the soft hair down her cheek. It was incredibly downy, fluffy, and I kissed to her neck, deliberately working my way to those armpits. Her shyness returned when I reached her shoulder, but I gently lifted her arm. Immediately I caught her aroma; a heady, slightly-pungent scent of flesh and sweat, a scent more beautiful and captivating than any perfume. I put my face close and sniffed, slowly, deeply, savoring the smell of her body. My cock was so hard it ached. When she felt my tongue teasing through the lush, feathery hair of her armpit, Radhika I gave a groan of pleasure. She didn’t wear deodorant, and I could taste the slight sourness of her body as I buried my face in her thick clump of armpit hair. My tongue dragged through the resistance of the hairs, tasting the saltiness of her skin. She moaned and squirmed in delight. I kissed my way along her slender arm: her upper arm was covered in the finest, silkiest downy hair. The hairs on her forearms were longer and darker, but no less soft. I could have spent hours just kissing her beautiful hairy arms and armpits.

Instead, I turned her onto her stomach, lifting her heavy mane of thick black hair away to expose the nape of her slender neck. Like the fuzz of a peach, tiny hairs formed a trail down her spine. I followed it to the small of her back, where it became fluffier: even her bottom, exquisite, tight, and firm, was softened with a fine fuzz. The natural gully between her slim brown thighs was an incredible sight: a dense black and hairy tangle that hid her pussy from view. Only her dark anus, surrounded by dark hair matted with perspiration, was visible. I wanted her so badly: my cock was hard, my heart was pounding. I leaned down and licked the ravine between her buttocks, then pushed my face in so that I could tongue the flinching brown star of her arsehole. Radhika moaned and sighed, her fingers clawing the bedclothes. I dipped a little lower, and dragging my tongue through the forest of hair that covered her pussy, finding her sweet treasure beneath. Radhika ‘s groan became more urgent, and suddenly, she turned over, her eyes dark with desire, and pulled my face into her tangled bush.

Radhika ‘s pubic hair filled my mouth as I nuzzled a path through its tangle, finally finding the secret bud of her clitoris. It swelled and hardened as her arousal grew. She tasted like heaven itself, and I sucked and licked on her wonderful hairy pussy, wishing it would never end. But in minutes Radhika was squealing with pleasure as her orgasm hit, her hands in her hair, her down-covered belly heaving. We weren’t finished yet, though: still wet, and still horny, Radhika got on all fours so I could fuck her. I did it doggie-style, my cock disappearing into that dark thatch of hair, my hands caressing that hairy butt, my hands sliding under her cup-cake breasts, through the damp hair of her armpits, along her downy arms. I exploded inside her, filling her. Afterwards, we lay side-by-side on her bed, and I stroked every inch of that wonderful body, feeling her soft velvet, marveling at her hairiness. If any woman on Earth could convince the rest of the world that being hairy is beautiful, it was Radhika. When I kissed her mouth, I savored the fine hairs above her lip. It didn’t seem right to talk about her body hair: it was as if she took it for granted, and would have been offended if I made a fuss about her because of it. By the end of the afternoon, I got ready to leave. She lay on the bed: her gorgeous body, dark skin against white sheets, naked, watching me as I got dressed. She was full of smiles, half-shy, half excited, and asked if we should do it again soon. I assured her that we should. Any unsatisfied ladies(married/single/ divorcee/widow) please contact me for a nice time. Please send me your feedback to [email protected].