I left school without qualifications and little prospect of any kind of meaningful or rewarding career. There were few opportunities in my hometown and I enlisted in the forces as a means of escape. I had around twelve months before I was able to actually enter and in order to pay my way at home, I started working with my father, a carpenter and all round odd job kind of guy.

I'd just turned eighteen, it was August and I had two months before I was due to leave. My dad had got a job fitting new windows to a large Victorian house closer to London. It was a bit of a trek every day but it was a big job and the money was good so it made the early morning and long days worth it. We'd be there for at least a couple of weeks and after ten months of working with him I more or less knew what I was doing; I had certain jobs that I'd take care of and my dad did the more skilled and delicate stuff.

The house was lovely, very grand, not too big but with lovely features. There were six or seven bedrooms, a huge ground floor dining room with seating for twenty people and a music room full of instruments and a grand piano.

I'd been bought up to be polite and respectful and so I was with the owner, an incredibly beautiful and elegant Indian woman who seemed to spend the day in the home gym or out shopping. I was amazed that her dressing room was bigger than my parents bedroom and stuffed full of clothes that looked unworn. Her husband was a surgeon and she clearly didn't need to work but the money and rich lifestyle did not make for a happy life, or so it seemed. She was incredibly rude, never looked me in the eye and rarely spoke to us. She would leave curt notes for us when she left, it seemed she couldn't bring herself to speak to us unless she had to and so messages like, 'Don't walk through the house, go around the side' were delivered to our van before she left for the day. When she did speak she would do so in a derogatory and critical way as if we couldn't possibly understand the value and history of the objects in her home, after all, we lived in a pit of filth and squalor. My father and I laughed about it but I could tell he was pretty pissed off, there was just no need for such rudeness.

This continued for the whole time we were there and on the second from last day we were finishing off and making good. The plan was that I would return on my own for the last day and complete the tidying up, something I often did if we needed to start another job. I was outside at the top of a ladder at the first floor bathroom window when 'madame', as we'd come to call her, walked in. The window was ajar and she looked over to me an snorted something and walked out. I carried on and a few moments later she walked back in, stepped to the sink and through the frosted window I could see her inspecting her beautiful face. She stood upright and began to fiddle with the buttons on her top. I couldn't quite see what she was doing but then she shrugged it from her shoulders so the hem was still tucked into her waistband and I could make out her lovely brown skin and a black bra. She knew I was there but she said nothing and made no attempt to hide. She unclipped the bra, removed it completely and stepped back so that I had a completely clear view of her through the open window. She kept looking at herself in the mirror, twisting slightly to get a view from the side and allowing me to see both of her gorgeous breasts.

She had dark, hard nipples sitting on top of two incredibly perfect breasts. I stared with my mouth wide and she lifted one hand and stroked the top of her breast and down to her nipple stopping for a second as her skin became goose bumped from the cool outside air and the warmth of her fingers. She pulled her blouse back up, fastened the buttons and walked out with her bra in one hand.

"Have you finished up there?" my dad snapped me from my trance.

I had a hard on pushing at my jeans, there was no way I could climb down.

"Almost."

I spent the rest of the day in a bit of a daze. Madame went out and we left before she returned.

The next morning I drove there early, hoping she would be out, I just found the whole incident a little puzzling and although I'd spent the night wanking myself into a frenzy, part of me disliked her enormously and I was also scared of any repercussions. I had fantasised about fucking her but what if we were caught, what if she used it against my dad in some way, she was so vile she might even claim I'd attacked her.

I busied myself outside for the morning, hoping she'd leave but the music from inside told me she was in the gym and just after lunch I had no choice, I had to go in to finish off. The house was quiet, I'd seen no one but I could still hear the familiar sound of her music from the gym. I was in another bathroom upstairs when she walked in behind me. She was in a T-shirt and jogging bottoms and was panting a little and sweaty. Her silky, black hair was tied up and the tee had a patch of sweat between her breasts, which appeared to be free of any support, the same, glorious nipples I'd seen the previous day pointing hard against the fabric.

"Sorry," I said, "I'll work on something else and come back."

"No, it's okay," she looked at me for the first time, "stay, you need to finish." It was the most congenial she'd been since we'd arrived, the first time she'd managed to say something without putting me down

I turned back to the window and carried on painting. I could hear her behind me but didn't know what she was doing.

"Turn around." she said suddenly in a firm tone.

I twisted about and she was stood facing me with her back to the toilet. She'd kicked her shoes and socks off and I could see her brown skin got lighter towards the soles of her feet and her red, perfectly painted nails.

"I work hard for this figure,." she said, smiling thinly at me. "Did you like watching me yesterday?"

I nodded and croaked a yes and my pants began to tent.

She held the waistband of her tee and lifted it off her body and dropped it to the floor. Her perfect tits wobbled and swayed as she pushed her thumbs into the waistband of her joggers and, in a single movement, pushed them and her knickers down to her ankles and sat down on the toilet. She leaned back and showed me her naked body, parting her knees so I could see her pussy. Her lovely brown colour was the same all over her body and only her lips were darker. Her mound was clean shaven, with just a hint of stubble and her cunt looked like a soft peach, large and plump.

Without taking her eyes off me she placed a hand to her pussy and pulled her lips open. She was pink and wet inside and they stuck together before slowly peeling apart, a thread of clear fluid joining them before snapping and forming an orb on one crinkled brown lip. She held herself like that for a few seconds and then began to pee. A light coloured trickle at first, it developed into a strong gush that hit the pan and as she closed her eyes and leaned back a little more, pulling her lips open wide, sprayed onto the seat then over it and onto the floor in front of me.

I remember thinking that my pee in comparison was just a trickle, gravity fed, but this was driven by a strong internal pump that produced a long, wide arc which hit the ground with force, splashed everywhere and made a wonderful gushing sound as it left her pussy..

When she slowed down she opened her eyes again and with her free hand wiped the last few drops onto her fingers. She bought them to her mouth and sucked them in the most erotic way. Looking down at the wet floor she kicked off her joggers and standing up, pulled her wet knickers against her smooth pussy.

She said nothing else as she stepped over to the sink. Her hip brushed my hard cock as she leant forward to flick away a hair from her face then she washed her hands. There were black hairs over her arms and her face and I was so close to leaning forward to brush my lips against them, wrap my arms around her naked waist and push my cock against her bottom. From the way she acted, I knew if that's what she wanted, she would have demanded it.

She rotated slightly and put more pressure on my cock, her taught arse pressing against me now, then she stepped out of the room and was gone.

I'd stood there like a rabbit in the headlights and almost knocked one out after she'd left. My groin was aching so much and from that moment I don't think I had a single wank over the next five years that didn't feature her. I never saw her again.

I'm forty two now, have a family and a good life but I've never felt the soft, brown skin of an Indian woman and that's something I desperately wanted to change. My wife had an affair a few years ago and as a consequence I ended up doing the same to get even. We realised we wanted slightly different things and now we have what a lot of people would think is a little weird in that she has a regular lover and I'm not particularly bothered about it. There have been opportunities for me also, some I've taken up but most I've rejected as I'm difficult to please and very particular.

It was whilst I was off work for a couple of weeks that I decided I needed something different too. I thought I'd just be brazen about it, placed ads in several locations online and although I was specific; I wanted an Indian woman, NSA, just sex, I also decided that I should take whatever came.

I had no replies, nothing for more than two months and then, when I had forgotten about most of them an email came through;

Hi,

I am a married woman of Indian descent. I am interested in your advert.

P

That started a series of emails to and fro. She lived a couple of hours drive away so not exactly convenient and we exchanged photo's and our emails grew more adventurous and more explicit. I told her how my desire for Indian women had started and the experience with the rude, wealthy woman in London. She was just a few years younger than me with a husband who had several mistresses and no interest in her. Despite this she looked happy, each photo she sent me she was smiling and as they became more revealing I saw that she had that same, soft brown skin I craved, large breasts hidden beneath a red lacy bra and stretch mark lines leading down towards her nipples, a large round stomach, dark hair covering her arms and a line of it from belly button to beneath her knickers.

Although nothing like the athletic woman from my youth I wanted to touch and taste her, she looked wonderful.

We arranged to meet at hers as she wanted to feel secure in familiar surroundings and we had agreed that we both just wanted sex. We'd learned enough about each other to have gained some trust, we'd spoken on the phone, she'd confided in a friend about me and that friend knew when I would be visiting. I drove there leaving early one morning and when I arrived at the single story, suburban house the door was unlocked. She'd told me in her last email she wanted for our meeting to be well planned so I was given a set of instructions I was to follow. I stepped in to a plain looking but clean and perfumed home, followed the passageway until I got to the door she'd specified and pushed it open ever so slightly as she'd asked.

It was a warm day and she was stood inside a bathroom in a set of red underwear I'd said I'd liked from one of her photo's. She had her back to me and was staring into the mirror, leaning forward over the sink. I could see her beautiful skin had more stretch marks over her round kidneys and a soft down of black hair was just visible along her spine, growing thicker as it reached the top of her knickers. In the mirror I could just make out the edge of one of her breasts as it wobbled and could just see a dark patch of nipple through the fabric.

She ignored me, moved away from the sink and stepped back behind the door so I had to step in slightly to look round the door. She sat down on the toilet and opened her legs, keeping her knickers on to cover her pussy. Her belly sat on top of her thighs and as she leaned back I saw a wet patch form between her legs, then a trickle and then, as she hooked her fingers into one side of her knickers and pulled them over her lips, a squirt. Another squirt hit the porcelain and then, as she relaxed and raised her knees up so her feet her on tip toes, a hard stream of pee sprayed out of her making a lovely, powerful sound and splashing back over her naked, brown thighs and onto her pussy.

She had a large dark triangle of pussy hair covering her lips and extending right up to her belly button. Her hair grew close to her skin so it looked like a soft, black carpet and clear beads of pee formed on the hairs and her fingers as she pulled her lips apart with both hands. The inside of her cunt was dark pink and as I stared at her I pulled down my jeans and shorts and started to stroke my cock.