Thread: Sonia and Anil
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Old 04-11-2017, 07:41 AM
totapuri totapuri is offline
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Default Sonia and Anil

Chapter 4

Sonia

Sonia’s Flashback


Sonia was instantly transported to the apartment complex she had lived in so many years ago.

She was sitting by the pool one summer afternoon, soon after she had turned eighteen with her friend, Roshni.

“Hey,” Roshni said, “did you see that new guy with the orange Camaro?”

“Hmm…not really. Who is he?”

She turned her attention to Roshni. Behind her, Sonia could see the complex of red-brick-facade buildings with green faux-gabled roofs, the expanses of grass and carefully placed trees and bushes to give the appearance of privacy and intimacy.

“Oh,” replied Roshni, “he is this gorgeous…drool worthy guy. He is Indian…I think, but born here, in the US. But his name is Micheal. That’s what he said.”

Sonia had indeed seen the guy in question, actually ogled him secretly from her balcony and from behind the bushes as he sped about within the complex, over the speed limit, in his sports car.

Roshni then went on to describe exactly drool-worthy Michael really was, how she had seen other girls eyeing him, how he had an easy smile, brilliant teeth, a great body—she had apparently seen him at the pool one day in swimming trunks—and on and on and on. Sonia too had seen Michael in his swim trunks one afternoon from her balcony, but she didn’t mention this to Roshni.

“Are you…um…dating him?”

Sonia knew Roshni dated occasionally, and probably was not a virgin any more. Her small town ethics told her that this was a bad thing, an unacceptable thing even, especially for an Indian girl, but with Roshni somehow it did not seem to matter.

“Well…he and I have gotten together,” she said and arched one eyebrow.
Sonia presumed this meant she’d had sex with the guy. But Roshni was well shielded in her dark wraparound shades and she could not tell what she was thinking.

“And…” Sonia made a give-me-more gesture with both hands.

“His place is over there,” she said, jerking her thumb toward the rear of the complex where the garbage dump was situated next to the unused logging trail.
“Any good…in the sack?” She felt awkward asking this question since she herself had no experience, but she had gauged Roshni pretty well.

Roshni giggled, then threw her head back and guffawed. “Pretty fucking good,” she said when her laughter had subsided.

Then her face clouded. Her good mood was suddenly gone like a person finding a worm in a fruit they have been enjoying.

“You know that Lisa? She’s been making eyes at Michael for a while, and I’m not sure…” Roshni trailed off.

It was clear to Sonia that Roshni was uncertain about Michael. Roshni was a great gossip, and had tidbits about every boy that was even remotely interesting, and this included the married men in the complex, and sometimes even the fathers and uncles who would come to visit. Pretty much no one over the age of sixteen was spared.

“You mean that Hispanic girl Lisa? What…is he cheating you with her?”

“Cheating on you,” Roshni corrected automatically.

Roshni had lived in the United States for far longer than she had, and therefore accepted her as a senior and a mentor. Roshni could occasionally correct her accent, tell her things like, “I will be out of town,” instead of “out of station,” and generally came to oversee Sonia’s complete Americanization. One of the earliest embarrassing errors Sonia made was, of course, to call an eraser a rubber. Later, they would laugh about it but Sonia would turn still red.

“Sorry, cheating on you.”

Sonia tried her best to blend into the school system, but for the first several months found herself hanging out with the other Indian girls who like her, were immigrants themselves. The desi girls who had been born in America had no Indian accents and despised the “recently off the boat” people. As a result, Sonia tried her hardest to get rid of her Indian accent.

“Well, I’m, not sure about it.” Roshni frowned. She developed a cute little wrinkle on her nose when she did that. “But if I ever catch him at it, his ass is grass.”

That expression. And the easy, comfortable way Roshni said it. Sonia felt she needed to learn American idioms and sayings tried mightily by using the free English language tapes at the local library, audiobooks, free lessons at the school for people who spoke English as a second language, and slowly but surely, her accent improved to the point where people could not tell where she was from, at least in short conversations. Longer ones took more effort and her accent would lapse, but overall, she thought she was doing pretty well.

Besides, her name was easy for Americans to say, and with her light complexion, she could pass for a Latina or perhaps someone from Southern Europe, especially if she dressed the part.

“Sooo…” she said, changing tack, "Rakesh is history?”

“Oh yes…I didn’t sleep with him, you know…just a hand job a couple times, and the poor fuck, he was so happy. I told him that his dick was too big for me… Roshni began to giggle. Her large breasts, barely contained in her swimsuit jiggled.

Sonia glanced at the undulating tit-flesh and sighed. How she wished she too had such mammaries. She glanced down at her own, more modestly covered smaller boobs and sighed.

“…and the poor fuck, he believed me!”

Roshni was now laughing hysterically, her whole body shaking. Sonia pictured the absurd Rakesh, joined her in the mirth, and soon both of them were all but rolling on the floor.

The complex was largely populated by Indians, families usually with small kids, and singles always on the prowl. Rakesh was one such single. His h*** was in the latest Bollywood style and with his knock off Ray-Bans, he assumed it was his birthright to pursue any girl he fancied.

Roshni continued talking, oblivious of Sonia’s thoughts. “You know, you really need to get laid…you’re going to be an old maid soon.” She idly rubbed the front of her crotch over the tiny triangle of dark cloth covering her cunt.

Sonia glanced at it quickly—it was impossible not to—and glanced away, but she was sure there was a dark stain there. Surely Roshni couldn’t be getting aroused from just talking about sex, could she? But the truth was that she too was getting a little tingly down there.

Of course boys. Roshni’s favorite topic. Second only to sex. It wasn’t like Sonia was not curious about boys, but most of her energies had been directed at settling in the new country with strange customs, school with unusual routines, the language, the accent that for the first several moths she could not even fully comprehend, and even the other Indians in the apartment complex were very different from what they had been back home in Jabalpur.

Roshni leaned over and ran her index finger over Sonia’s chest, between her breasts and down to her belly. “This jawaani,” she said with a giggle, “will not last forever, you know. Time’s a wasting…I can fix you up with a friend of Michael’s if you want.”

Subsequent events would prove however that Roshni’s assessment of Michael was wrong, oh so wrong, and that she had been viewing him through the proverbial rose colored glasses.
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