Tears ran down the Pakistani forty-two-year-old Asma’s face, and her body still shuddered from the aftershocks of the final massive orgasm that had left her defeated in the sexfight against the Pakistani newcomer brought to Oz by her husband as a second Muslim wife. She looked up from her prone position on the floor to see the nude body of the twenty-two-year-old Rahmi Syed standing, legs apart straddling her, ready to deliver her victory piss shower.
With her win, Rahmi had replaced Asma as the main wife of the fifty-two-year-old Afsar and relegated Asma to little better than a housekeeper. To Asma, it was like a slow-motion scene from a movie with every detail emphasised as the 5 ft 7 Pakistani reached down, took Asma’s left hand and roughly removed the wedding ring which she placed on her left-hand third finger. Asma’s eyes took in every detail; the attractive gloating face, the 33B tits, slightly smaller but firmer than her 34Bs, the same one inch long but thicker, erect nipples. All of these were covered with streaks of ejaculate that had squirted from Asma over Rahmi during her final losing orgasm.
As Rahmi parted the long lips of her shaved, bristle length landing strip slit she flaunted its still aroused and swollen, slowly pulsing clit that still stood proud of its hood. A droplet of ejaculate formed on its tip. Gravity won out and it dropped onto Asma’s body, followed by the first droplets of her piss.
Rahmi had arrived from Pakistan that morning and Asma had woken almost orgasmic in anticipation. After twelve years of no sex except for her recent fucking of her eighteen-year-old son, for the past ten days since her seduction of Afsar, she had been fed cock in every way possible by her husband. And not just any cock. Although only 9 inches in length its circumference was nearly that of a champagne bottle.
But that wasn’t the real reason for her state of bliss. Today the twenty-two-year-old Rahmi Syed was arriving from Pakistan on an Etihad flight. The paperwork said her niece was on the plane. Niece, that was a joke. Corrupt paperwork back home had changed a future second bride for Afsar into her niece. She acknowledged that a Muslim man could have four wives and that Afsar had not fucked her for years before the last couple of weeks, but it would still be a kick in the teeth to have to be cook and housekeeper for the new twenty-two-year-old fuck toy of her husband. Since her newly rekindled sex life with Afsar, she knew he wanted to see Asma sexfight and beat this Rahmi and deny her his cock. She reached across to suck her sleeping husband’s cock.
Two and a half hours later she was in the car travelling to Tullamarine airport sitting on a still throbbing arse as Afsar, awoken by her cock sucking, felt like anal for breakfast. Twenty-five minutes later they were waiting at Arrivals holding a sign with Rahmi’s name on it. Passengers exited, each potential candidate ignoring the sign to be greeted by friends or relatives. Then success. The sign was acknowledged, and the trolley headed towards Afsar and her
Surprise. It was no wide-eyed, plainly dressed woman from a small country village, but someone who would not look out of place in the affluent F6 or F7 sectors of Islamabad. She was as tall as Asma, probably more attractive facially, slimmer with slightly smaller tits, and was dressed in skintight jeans and a pink, tight, off the shoulder, midriff-bearing crop top. At least she was wearing runners not high slut heels like me, thought Asma.
Introductions were made and Asma took a step closer to the new arrival, extending one stocking clad leg that ended in her five-inch slut platform shoe. She knew the action would stretch her board tight black skirt and reveal the outline of the garter belt holding up her stockings. It was a French-made brand, Maison Lejaby, and was special in that the extra short straps enabled the accompanying stockings to be longer than standard. Specially made to match the short straps they reached level with the bottom of her cunt and meant miniskirts and, at a stretch, some micro-minis could be worn with the stockings. She had recently discovered Afsar was a lingerie freak and it was in fact this that had initiated their recent sex. “Match that bitch,” she thought.
If she expected a reaction, she got it. But it was not what she expected as Rahmi reached down to open one of her suitcases and pull out a pair of six-inch-high stilettos. As she bent to buckle the ankle strap, necessary with such long thin heels, she presented Afsar and Asma with her back bent over and the top of her black thong above the waist of the jeans fully visible. “So good to feel a woman again,” she sighed. Then as if noticing Asma’s pose she reached out and squeezed and shook her belly, smiled sweetly, and said, “I hear it’s hard to keep the flab off as you age, but don’t give up, keep trying and I am sure you can bring it under control or choose clothes that hide it.”
Asma seethed but had no response with Rahmi’s exposed taut midriff on display and mentally added another thing she would do to humiliate her in their bahis siteleri sexfight. She could hardly wait for the contest later that day. Rahmi continued, “And I hear that it’s just as hard to initiate sex drive as you get older. What are you, in your late forties?”
“Forty-two,” hissed Asma, but Rahmi ignored her and spoke directly to Afsar sliding her hand through his arm. “So this is whom I am replacing, is it?” Turning back to Asma she said in a condescending voice, “Be careful with those suitcases. Make sure they don’t fall off the trolley.”
Once they got inside the house a fuming Asma faced the new arrival and ripped off her blouse to display her tits of which only the bottom quarter was covered by her bra. Her exposed nipples quivered. Rahmi laughed and responded by ripping off her pink crop top and aggressively facing Asma. No bra for her, yet her pert tits did not droop. She sized up the older Pakistani woman standing before her. Both had eye-catching faces. Asma’s was longer with high prominent cheekbones, a hawk-like nose and green eyes topped with a short, feathered hairstyle that flattered her age. Rahmi’s face was rounder, more Iranian, blue-eyed and surrounded with cascading long thick permed hair. Rahmi was slightly slimmer, her hip bones more prominent against her flat belly than Asma’s rounder, curved stomach. Asma’s full, 34B mounds were hanging out of the supporting quarter cup while the pert 33Bs of Rahmi stood straight and pointed challengingly at the older woman.
Rahmi’s gaze never left Asma’s eyes as she stood close to her. She enjoyed the fact that Asma kept staring at her firmer, younger tits. She knew they were in incredible shape even though they were natural, and she loved flaunting them, especially like now in front of the woman she would be sexfighting. Rahmi parted her red lips and a sexually inviting look came across her face. Her hands quietly and seductively came up to her breasts and she began to fondle them slowly. She was attempting to stimulate Asma and arouse her, but more importantly, she was sexually challenging her as only a woman could do. With the tactile stimulation, Rahmi’s nipples stiffened, and the areolae appeared to widen and spread across the front of her breasts. She smiled, knowing that although her nipples were slightly shorter than Asma’s they were far thicker, and that they responded instantly to her touch. Cupping the underside of each breast with her hands she moved slowly forward. Her nipples stood fully erect, and her breasts tingled with the anticipation of contact with Asma’s tits.
Suddenly Asma could stand it no longer. Everything boiled over. She slammed Rahmi back against the wall and grabbed at her skin-tight jeans, pulling and breaking the zipper, then ripping them down to just above knee level. With her free hand, she grabbed the landing strip through the minuscule black thong, tugged hard and, as Rahmi screamed, raked her nails along the lips of her rival’s labia. Rahmi retaliated immediately and reached down and grabbed the firm cheeks of Asma’s arse, ripped her skirt and thrust one leg between her rival’s legs and felt the wetness of Asma’s cunt on her bare thigh. With her fingers clawed ser nails raked Asma’s tits delighting in the sound of her screams. Entwined, they pulled hair, tried to scratch, crushed tit against tit, hissed and spat at each other.
“Ugly Bitch.”
“Old Hag.”
“I am his new wife. I replaced you. You can watch me fuck him and learn how to do it for your next job in a brothel after I kick you out.”
“Fuck you. I’ll win and the only time you will get his cock is today when he splits your arse while you eat me after I beat you.”
“The only cum of his you will get is when you suck it from my pussy.”
“Unlike me, you won’t be able to fit in in your whore hole, so how is that going to happen?”
Afsar managed to separate the two. Asma held her torn, expensive bra with one hand and managed the last kick at Rahmi who was hampered by the jeans around her thighs. They were two sex cats waiting for, and wanting to win, the upcoming competition and become the only wife that Afsar fucked. Now that Asma was being fucked by Afsar in every way there was no way she was going to lose. He was turned on by this new sluttish Asma and what she had planned for the young bitch after her win would bond her and her husband even more closely. For Rahmi there was no way a woman twenty years older was going to beat her and stop her from fulfilling her dream of a new life in Australia; one without sexual restrictions. Her wedding present to her husband would be to fuck the bitch senseless in front of her husband.
Rahmi stated, “By being brought here I have replaced you, so that makes you the challenger.”
“Whatever,” replied a pissed off Asma, “As long as I get to fight you and fuck you in front of Afsar after I win.”
Rahmi smiled. She had expected an argument as to who would have defender status in her upcoming sexfight. “Then that means I get to set the contest conditions.”
Asma cursed under her breath. Her anger had cost her. She canlı bahis siteleri should be the defender setting the rules as in reality, she was the current wife. Asma fumed as Rahmi took a catnap in preparation for the fight accusing Afsar of all sorts of things. He managed to get a word in and said he was playing along so that they could get her here at home and match Asma against her in the sexfight, and to quote Asma herself “He would see Asma win and then he would split the newcomer’s arse with his cock”. Further, as Asma had also said, “That would be the only time she got his cock meat and the only cum of his she got would by eating it from Asma’s cunt”.
This placated Asma who once again fantasised about how she would fuck the defeated bitch while Afsar made arrangements from the list Rahmi had given him.
The doorbell rang and Afsar opened it admitted two Vietnamese skanks from a local massage parlour, Lan and Ngoc. Following a generalised instruction from the list, Afsar had phoned and negotiated their use for a few hours. Both sluts were about twenty and you all know the type: not over attractive, unhealthy skin from the drugs, slim, shortish with tattooed legs and arms, fairly small titted, dyed yellow hair with the natural black growing it out. Lan had very short jeans shorts with frayed patches that showed the thong underneath, and a tee-shirt tied in a knot under her tits. The slightly heavier Ngoc had a denim mini that showed her lack of panties when she sat and a loose Tee shirt. Both had the latest iPhone 12 which judging by the value of their clothing meant the phones were probably stolen.
Ngoc appeared to be the spokeswoman, although Lan nodded her head as though she was listening, and she asked to see the money or else they would leave.
Satisfied by the wad of notes, she pointed vaguely around the room and said, “nice stuff.” Probably deciding what to take. Afsar, and Asma who had removed her skirt and blouse and was now wearing only her Maison Lejaby garter strap, stockings and matching thong and a new tiny, lacy, black open bra that only covered up to 2 inches below her one-inch nipples, waited. Lan and Ngoc sat in the strained silence until Ngoc, ever the entrepreneur said, “Do you want to pay more and see me and my cousin do 69.” Lan nodded her head and then spoke for the first time, “Or we could suck youse two real good.”
Eventually, Rahmi entered, and as she was wearing only a red garter belt, metallic gold stocking and red stilettos, for the first time Afsar and Asma saw her slit. She had a two-inch landing strip above her slit which was not one of those tight narrow gashes, but wider and semi-open allowing her inner lips to dangle alongside her long crinkly outer flaps. A three-inch gold chain with a diamond at the end hung from the left outer flap.
“Red and gold. The traditional Pakistani wedding colours. What I will still be wearing for my first fuck with my husband soon.” She fingered the chain hanging from her cunt flap and spoke to Afsar. “This is the engagement present I bought with the ring money you sent. Do you prefer it to a ring? The wedding ring I will just take from her.”
She had the perfect knack for getting Asma boiling but somehow, this time she managed to ignore it and added it to the punishment list she would dish. Seeing the looks on the Vietnamese’s faces Rahmi explained to them. “The old bitch here is being replaced by me, but she wants to stay on, so I am going to help her leave.”
“Ah,” said Lan in a knowing manner, ” She can’t fuck any good. Like trading in a car. Same as I do with men if they are no good at fucking.”
“That’s correct, but I don’t think she ever could fuck good.”
“So how do you prove you are better,” queried Ngoc.
We sexfight,” she began to explain but Ngoc interrupted, “You know Lan. Same as my mum does for the $100 bets. Make the other cunt cum more times. What do Lan and me do?”
“Three things. You record me winning and fucking her.”
Asma screamed, “You mean video me winning and fucking you.” Rahmi laughed and continued, “You participate in the warmup preliminaries, and you enjoy watching me win.
Following Rahmi’s written instructions Afsar filled 2 cups with water and gave one each to Asma and Rahmi to hold in their left hand. Both women reached out their right hand and placed it near the other’s cunt.
Afsar read more of the instructions, “The loser is the first to spill water from the cup.” Asma immediately reached out and parted Rahmi’s fuck tube lips and started fondling Rahmi’s clit. She was both astounded by, and disappointed to find out, the size of the twenty-two-year old’s clit. Asma had thought hers would have belittled her intended replacement, but Rahmi’s was a little bigger. However Rahmi’s wetness soon covered her hand as Asma confidently massaged and manipulated the new arrival’s clit in her fingers, enjoying the thought she would quickly beat this bitch and then cum herself. Inserting 2 fingers into Rahmi she felt the grip of the younger woman’s strong cunt muscles, but she continued to finger fuck her canlı bahis while she controlled the clit between her finger and thumb. Rahmi’s thick precum was oozing down her fingers onto her hand and she increased the speed of her fingering, loving the control and superiority she was showing to the newcomer.
With a low guttural moan, Rahmi came strongly as her hips fucked the fingers inside her love box, but her hand remained steady. Sneering at Asma she showed her the full cup. It was only luck Asma thought as she could see Rahmi was too affected by her quick start and fingering skills to try and pleasure me. She increased the speed of her masturbation of the twenty-two-year-old and increased the pressure on her clit. Rahmi groaned and came again and then shortly after, a third time. But the newcomer was enjoying it and each time paraded the full cup in front of Asma’s eyes. She had had her three attempts and it was Rahmi’s turn. She began her attack and quickly made Asma aware that she too knew how to finger arouse a woman. Her long fingers invaded Asma’s womanhood, awoke her clit started her juices flowing before her middle finger was forcefully thrust deep into Asma.
Taking her time, she deliberately, slowly played with Asma’s pussy looking directly into her eyes searching for any sign of weakness. Everyone in the room could see the effects on Asma: the tension in her face, her irregular breathing, her trembling thighs. All a result of the efforts Asma was making both not to cum and to keep the cup steady. Smiling confidently Rahmi knelt before Asma, extended her tongue and slowly traced the length of her cunt before finding and concentrating on her clit. Slowly sucking it, alternating with the rapid flicking of it with her tongue she made Asma cum so strongly the cup not only spilt water, but the cup fell from her fingers. In the space of 17 minutes, she had shown Asma that today’s contest would not be as easy as she had confidently anticipated.
Afsar read the instructions, though obviously they were known to Rahmi as she had written them. He spoke. “There are three stubbies of beer for you each to bring back to the end of the room using only the strength of your cunts. No hands are to touch the stubbie bottle. Chains will be attached from ankle to wrist by the helpers as per the diagram. This will stop you from walking normally. You can start each lap after you make your assistant, who will swap each lap, cum. The assistant who lasts the longest total time before cumming will receive a $150 bonus.”
He showed the two Vietnamese the diagram. A naked Lan attached the chains securing Asma’s right ankle to her left hand which was behind her back and vice versa for the other chain, while a naked Ngoc did the same to Rahmi. Ngoc started her stopwatch to record the time it took for her to cum, then squatted over Rahmi while Lan lowered her already wet pussy over Asma’s face.
Immediately Rahmi and Asma used their tongues to part their Vietnamese slut’s cunt lips positioned just above Asma’s and Rahmi’s faces. Asma could taste the fishiness of Lan’s juices and could feel the immediate response to her exploring tongue. Within three minutes Lan was humping Asma’s face and tongue and forty seconds later her long, high pitched squeal of pleasure announced her orgasm. Asma glanced across at Rahmi who was frantically using her tongue nose and chin to fuck her face sitting Vietnamese massage parlour worker writhing uncontrollably with pleasure written all over her face.
Having made Lan cum Asma set off for the full beer bottles while Rahmi still tried to make Ngoc cum. Hampered by the chains Asma crab-walked to the other end of the room and the full stubbie beer bottles. She tried to grip one between her thighs, but the bottles had been covered by grease and she could not hold it. Rahmi by this time had made Ngoc cum, reached her 3 bottles and she placed her cunt over one, lowered her hips, and despite the weight of the full bottle, swallowed it into her cunt and set off for the other end of the room. Seeing this spurred Asma and after some trouble, she managed to grip the bottle with her cunt and set off in pursuit. Hampered by the chains the two Pakistani women were uncoordinated in their movements, but Asma’s superior agility enabled her to crab crawl past Rahmi and deposit her bottle. She scrambled under her changed partner, Ngoc, who lowered her oozing pussy onto Asma’s face, while Lan prepared to face sit Rahmi.
By the time two bottles had been deposited Asma’s superior crawling speed had kept her in front, even though Ngoc again narrowly lasted longer than Lan before she came. She frantically tried to make her original assistant Lan cum, but Lan had her eyes on the bonus and was straining not to cum. Rahmi had reached Ngoc and Asma could see Ngoc was responding big time to Rahmi. Asma redoubled her efforts and broke Lan’s defences. The Vietnamese shuddered and covered Asma’s face in cum allowing her to start her crab walk down the room. She reached the end of the room, groaned as she forced the last bottle deep into her cunt, half enjoying the feel of something in her cunt gripped by her muscles, and turned for the home stretch. That bitch Rahmi hadn’t reached the bottle yet and couldn’t catch her now. She had shown the overconfident cunt not to underestimate her.