Susan was very kind to Amna after her day’s work; sensitively noting the young girl’s disorientation, but perhaps not really understanding why. She and her Pakistani friend took her to a burger bar where they chatted over some very squelchy whopper-burgers. Amna realised through the haze of her thoughts that Susan and the Pakistani were getting on very fine, swapping telephone numbers and quite freely kissing each other. She felt great jealousy, which reinforced her general feeling of misery.
The two girls escorted Amna to a taxi rank and paid the driver to take her back to Aunt Salim’s flat. The taxi drew off while Amna pressed her face against the window and enviously watched the Pakistani walk off with her arm round Susan’s slender boy-like waist. She reflected on her day, which after her sex scene with the male star was followed only a couple of hours later by a scene in which she had to have sex with two men simultaneously while a Tibetan woman with surgically enhanced breasts covered her face with salty kisses and filled her mouth with the distinct taste of the penises she’d been sucking. She forgot what the excuse for this sex scene was: only that it was quite painful. She’d not properly recovered from her first scene, and her anus was so tight that it almost defeated entry by the slightly tubby Malaysian man who had elected to bugger her. She now felt totally wretched and humiliated, and looked forward only to having a bath and going to bed.
As soon as she got back to the flat, she ignored her Aunt Salim’s cheerful enquiries about her day at work and dashed straight into the bathroom, where she sat naked on the toilet for nearly twenty minutes struggling unsuccessfully to have either a shit or a piss or something else to evacuate from her system. Nothing happened. She then ran the bath water and sat in its water long after it had lost its warmth and all the bath foam had evaporated. She expected to see torrents of blood and semen burst out of her violated orifices, but in fact only the merest red and creamy stains could be seen in the bath water. She pummelled her vagina and arse with soap and loofahs, crying to herself, and self-consciously feeling the tenderness at the top of her cunt and around the rim of her anus where she had received the most insistent pounding.
“Are you all right, Amna darling?” asked her Aunt Salim through the bathroom door.
Amna was now out of the bath, furiously towelling herself, even though she was thoroughly dry, in the vain hope of scrubbing off the last traces of her ordeal.
She grunted in reply.
“Can I come in?”
Amna grunted again, and stood naked on the bath towel in front of her aunt who was wearing her usual choice of silky lingerie. Amna had never appeared naked in front of her aunt before, but she felt beyond caring.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Aunt Salim asked with some concern.
She walked over to her niece, and with some tenderness put a long arm round Amna’s shoulder. Amna had clearly been crying, despite her attempts to dry off the traces with the towel. She didn’t resist her aunt’s approach; instead she rather desperately wrapped her arms around her.
“I’m so unhappy!” she confessed. “I don’t know what to think or what to do.”
“Was your first day at work really that bad?” wondered Aunt Salim. “Surely clerical work can’t be that bad.”
“It’s not clerical work,” Amna confessed through a sudden outbreak of tears. She could feel the teardrops run down her face and into her mouth. Snot ran from her nostrils and made her nose feel slightly sore. “It was never clerical work.”
“Can you tell me what it is?” her aunt asked sympathetically.
Amna shook her head.
“Never! No! Never! I could never say.”
Aunt Salim was tactful enough not to pry further. She escorted the still naked Amna to the living room and continued to hug her, while the girl rambled on about the various things that upset her. With time, and with very little prompting, Amna confessed all to her aunt. Her passion for an oriental girl in sex cinema, her work on Hot Asian Lovers, her on-screen sex, her jealousy and her current despair.
“And that was the first time for you?” asked her aunt.
“It was horrible! Horrible! I’ll never be able to go to the toilet the same way ever again! What must you think of me? I’m a disgrace to the family. What I’ve been doing is disgusting and filthy. I’m just a pervert.”
“Ssshhh!” Aunt Salim prompted. “Don’t blame yourself. Allah willing, all will be fine. I certainly won’t treat you as anything other than my little niece, Amna.”
“Thank you! Thank you!” replied the young girl, smiling bravely through the misery of her tear-stained face. She cuddled her aunt closer and closer, feeling the silkiness of the lingerie close to her naked skin and the pressure of her aunt’s breasts against her own more ample pair.
There was no particular single event that determined the course of events, but Aunt Salim’s comfort of Amna somehow drifted into Aunt Salim’s bed, which felt so deliciously clean and smelt so freshly washed. Amna lay there beneath the sheets with her aunt’s now naked body wrapped around her. There was no genital contact between them, but their kisses strayed around the face, into the mouth, into the ears, to the tips of the nipples and as far down the body as the belly button. Her aunt made occasional comments as to the beauty of the dark hair on her niece’s arms, and the extent of her facial hair, which constituted a soft down of feminine sideburns. Amna only noticed and appreciated the safe comfort of her aunt’s beautiful warm body, her clean and smell-free skin, the curious tilt of her nipples, the slightly long ear-lobes, the strong teeth and her long tongue which tickled every crevice of her ears and licked clean the tears off her cheeks.
Amna eventually managed to fall asleep. Her body wrapped up in a foetal ball around her aunt, one hand covering the thick mass of her pubic hair and the so conclusively violated vagina, while the other gripped tightly to her aunt’s shoulder. Salim looked at her niece with an indulgent smile and tried to make herself as comfortable as she could while not disturbing her. She smiled more and more broadly and glanced over to look at the reflection of herself and Amna in the dressing-table mirror. She frowned at the peculiar sight of two women enmeshed in each other. The image didn’t entirely please her. Her gaze wandered over to a text from the Koran that was framed on the wall. She frowned more deeply.
She started to stir, to disengage herself from niece but as she did so, Amna made a little grunt as a part of her reacted to her aunt’s motion. Salim studied her niece. She looked at her dark skin, the even blacker hair cascading over her face, the breasts she’d never been able to contain very well under her clothes and the softness of a belly that would never be as taut and firm as her own. She examined the breasts heaving in her slow breathing and felt the girl’s breath against her cheek. She smiled again, and pulled Amna closer to her. The next time when she looked at their reflection in the mirror it was with undiluted pleasure.
Amna didn’t need to go to work the following day as the Director had excused her from appearing as he’d concluded that she probably would not be in top form after her previous pummelling. She anticipated her aunt telling her in no uncertain terms to stop working in hard-core sex films, but in fact she said nothing of the sort. When she woke Amna up with a tray of breakfast, she made no comment at all on discovering that Amna had the day off and was due back on the set the next day. She merely kissed her niece softly on the face, and prepared herself for her own job, covering up her silk lingerie under her clothes and tucking her long hair under a silk head-scarf. Amna stayed in Aunt Salim’s bed all morning, relishing the silky softness of the sheets and the luxury of her free day.
She hadn’t been up very long when her aunt returned from work. She was sitting in her knickers and bra, her feet drawn up beneath her, watching an imported soap opera whose banality somehow comforted her immensely. Her aunt greeted her cheerily with a smile, before retreating to her bedroom to change. She returned in red underwear with her hair loose, and sat next to Amna watching the predictable events the soap opera characters found themselves in.
“Did you have a nice day?” Aunt Salim wondered. “Do you feel better now?”
“Yes, much better!” smiled Amna bravely. “I’m sure I’ve recovered.”
Aunt Salim put her arms around her niece, drawing her close to her and then on impulse showered the girl’s face with kisses. Amna reciprocated, with less passion but with the definite need for affection. Her aunt brought her hands around to the clasp at Amna’s back that held the strap of her bra together.
“You don’t need to wear this you know,” she said with a chuckle. “It’s several sizes too small anyway!”
She removed the bra and with a single gesture threw it into the waste-paper basket. Amna made no protest as her full breasts fell out unrestrained and felt instantly more comfortable. She made no protest, either, as her aunt removed her knickers which she said barely covered her properly anyhow, and found herself sitting naked on the sofa. She wondered whether her nudity would now be the prelude to more active caresses, but her aunt did no more than cuddle her.
The evening was spent with the aunt and niece seated on the sofa when they weren’t eating dinner, their arms round each other, caressing each other and watching television. Aunt Salim concentrated her attention on her niece’s breasts and face and torso. She stroked the expanse of pubic hair, making no attempt to masturbate her niece or to let her fingers enter her vagina. When bedtime came, it seemed quite natural for the two of them to drift to Aunt Salim’s bed, where, for the first time that evening, she took off her underwear, and Amna was able to feel the full warmth of her aunt’s breasts and the crenulations of her nipples. The two lay together, but only Amna’s hand strayed below the waist to feel her aunt’s clitoris, which she seemed to find very enjoyable.
Their lovemaking remained tender and somehow detached. There seemed to be no inconsistency in Amna’s mind in her aunt accepting her work in sex cinema, her passion for Susan or indeed her being related. Aunt Salim saw her niece off to work the following day as if she really were going to the office to work in a clerical capacity, only commenting on what clothes she should wear. She advised Amna to wear the clothes she felt comfortable in, not those in which she auditioned because, as she commented, these wouldn’t be the clothes she’d be working in.
As Amna left home in her jeans and tee shirt, travelling on the underground train, it was several stops until she recalled to herself exactly where she was going and what her work entailed. She felt a sudden rush of dread as she contemplated the violation of her groin again. But as she thought of that and the idea of sex came into her head, the image of her aunt’s body and that of Susan’s appeared. She couldn’t help asking herself how much the relationship she’d developed with her aunt somehow compromised the passion she felt for Susan. Which was the stronger and which was the more real? The answer she decided was that her relationship with her aunt was one of affectionate touching, whereas the feelings she held for Susan made her cunt feel much warmer and excited. The thought that most stimulated her was to imagine the caresses she’d given to her aunt, her tongue licking around her nipple and the excited shudders she’d given when she tweaked her clitoris. And then to substitute the naked form of Susan for that of Aunt Salim.
She needn’t have felt anxious about having sex as she found that she was surplus to requirements on this particular day, so she was able to join the rest of the cast in watching the filming. Her jeans and tee shirt didn’t seem at all inappropriate, if a little tight around the hips, as most of the other girls were wearing the casual clothes they’d normally wear, which included one thick-waisted woman who was a committed naturist and another who, like Maisie, had taken to wearing a dildo under her shorts.
However, the lack of sex may have been a great relief in one sense, but what she was left with was mostly boredom, as more was done preparing the set than actually filming. She was pleased, though, that the filming was done outdoors near a private lake so she could enjoy the sun beating down on her and didn’t have to pretend to have any real interest in the work going on. She felt deprived though in that both Susan and Aisha, the Pakistani girl, were not sitting with her and keeping her company. What troubled her as well was why the two girls were absent, and her fears proved well founded when they started filming the scene, which Amna just couldn’t find in the script she’d been provided with.
The scene by the private lake was meant to be taking place at a distant Asian lake of a kind it was assumed was commonly found in this mongrel Asian country. Susan, as a Japanese tourist, came on the set and was apparently so taken by the lake that quite naturally what she did was to take off all her clothes and wander into the lake for a swim. Naturally, her clothes were stolen while she was in the water, so when she finished swimming she found herself left only with her camera and travellers’ cheques. Amna thought something was very strange about that. Surely a genuine thief would have rather less interest in a Japanese tourist’s clothes (which probably wouldn’t fit very well, anyway) than her money and camera.
Susan was then meant to panic and by chance she immediately met Aisha who was dressed in a similar kind of Hindu outfit to the one Amna had worn. She also had her short-cropped hair covered in a long dark wig with a long plait reaching down her back. Within seconds, Aisha and Susan somehow lose all interest in their futile search for Susan’s clothes, and showed a great deal more interest in each other’s bodies. This was the part of the filming that troubled Amna the most. The two girls were clearly quite keen on each other and displayed unfeigned passion that stimulated the Director and cameraman. Amna had to watch for well over an hour while the two girls made very passionate love that soon graduated from oral sex to full penetration with a dildo which bizarrely enough Aisha had been carrying around beneath her sari. Amna felt jealous pangs as she watched Susan being deeply penetrated and gasping and screaming with her pleasure. If only she didn’t enjoy it so much! If only it wasn’t Aisha doing it! If only it was Amna who was making love to her!
Inevitably, the hero of the film had to be involved in some way, and as this in some unexplained way involved the return of the Japanese tourist’s clothes this had to be expressed by Susan’s gratitude, which meant of course three-way sex with Aisha. It also entailed Susan penetrating his anus with the dildo, which was apparently unscripted but greeted with enthusiasm by the star and the Director. The love scenes at this stage troubled Amna rather less than before. Somehow the only rivals to her affection that Amna worried about were female ones. She couldn’t imagine male lovers being anything to be unduly concerned about. She didn’t really understand what it might be that so many women found attractive about men. The more she saw of them, and the more sex she had with them, the less she understood it.
Eventually, of course, the relationship between Amna and her aunt led to their caresses drifting down more often and more actively to their groins. Aunt Salim took more and more pleasure in exploring the folds and crevices of her niece’s vagina, and frequently found her tongue sore in the morning from running it over the thick pubic hair. Often she found strands of hair stuck between her teeth (sometimes tasting rather unpleasant when her tongue strayed inside Amna’s hairy anal crack). She once even found herself coughing up a pubic hair on the underground train on the way to work.
Amna less often let her tongue wander between her aunt’s legs, but their relationship had settled on a pattern that somehow suited Salim: in which Amna was the passive recipient of her aunt’s not inconsiderable attention. Amna wasn’t sure how this had come to be, but she enjoyed lying back on the sofa or bed while her aunt stimulated her clitoris, vagina and anus. She felt rather detached from the activity even on those occasions when she was stimulated to feelings of greater passion than usual. It was clear to her that her aunt wasn’t sure what her reaction should be but was somehow disappointed by her lack of frantic, wild or unrestrained orgasmic pleasure.
Amna’s lack of passion sometimes troubled her, especially when she glanced down at her aunt, head in pubic hair and longing eyes gazing up, feeling she was somehow cheating her of all the pleasure she was hoping for. She quite gladly abandoned wearing underwear round the house. It only made her nipples feel sore and nothing she wore seemed to prevent the pubic hair from straying over the waistband or on the insides of her thigh. She liked to sit on the sofa feeling the warm bushiness of her groin and brushing her fingernails against her proudly growing nipples.
She became more accustomed to making love at work, and though she couldn’t really claim to actually enjoy it and it still gave her pain on occasion, it was no longer something she particularly dreaded. It was just part of a day’s work. She got quite inured to the sensation of an erect penis thrusting away at her cunt, and took the advice of some of the other girls in lubricating it in advance with ointments and grease. However, no amount of lubrication made it that easy when it was necessary for her to be buggered, but she squeezed her eyes tight and bore it as well as she could. She would bear anything for the opportunity to be near Susan and for the promise of the pay she’d get for it.
She also got quite accustomed to seeing Susan having love made to her or indeed making love to others. It seemed to Amna that there was nothing unfeigned about her enjoyment, whether with a man or with a woman. She also noticed with alarm that her friendship with Aisha was increasing rather than diminishing with time. After all her sacrifice, however, Amna was disappointed to find that the love scene that she was originally scheduled to be in with Susan was changed so that the woman the object of her passion now made love to was Aisha. This was because the passion and photogenic value of their lovemaking had so impressed the Director. However, Amna was compensated by yet another scene in which she had sex with two men simultaneously in what was supposed to be another temple and was in fact the same scenery used before but slightly reorganised. This was not quite the compensation she’d been hoping for.
The filming was coming to an end, and so too would come both the last opportunity for having sex with Susan and receiving a cheque for her performance. Amna accepted with regret that Hot Asian Lovers was not going to be the film in which she’d consummate her love for Susan, and became more drawn to calculating the impact on her life of the substantial rewards she’d get for her acting.
Through her new contacts in the film industry she managed to acquire quite a collection of film stills and posters featuring Susan. The best she believed was a full poster in a film called Bangkok and Sodomy where she’d had the starring rôle. In this poster, Susan was positioned in underwear that revealed her crotch and fully displayed the flatness of her chest. The print with it explained that for Yoko, as Susan was known, the front entrance wasn’t enough and the servants’ entrance needed just as much servicing. There were some stills associated with the film, which more graphically displayed penises entering her anus while she was apparently totally overwhelmed with joy. She put this poster and all the other pictures up on her bedroom wall in Aunt Salim’s flat where they acted as a kind of shrine to Amna’s unrequited passion.
She could see that these pictures somehow disturbed her aunt, who nonetheless made no more comment about them than she did about her niece continuing to work in sex cinema. Amna didn’t care, though. She would lie on her bed during the day while her aunt was at work daydreaming about Susan and her child-like figure. She had even bought a couple of videos featuring Susan and watched them for Susan’s body alone: frequently running the video past scenes in which other film stars were engaged in sex. The scenes she most enjoyed were the ones where Susan, clothed or unclothed, playing Hiyuchi or Nori or whoever, would be filmed with no other characters on the set at all. She rather relished the image of herself as a naked girl sitting around surrounded by images of her oriental love.
She masturbated to the images of Susan. She tried to achieve the orgasm that her aunt wasn’t able to elicit from her, and which she’d only ever been able to fake on set; but it stubbornly refused to happen. However much she beat away at her cunt and arse with carrots, courgettes, fingers or fists, she could only beat at the doors of passion but they didn’t seem to want her to come in. All she was left with was a feeling of dissatisfaction, a sore wrist, a messy groin and images in her mind of Susan being fucked by men, women and most of all by Aisha. Sometimes the unfairness of it all caused her to cry and cry, knowing that the tears she shed would be rewarded by her aunt’s passionate embraces, kisses and even more frantic attempts to provide her with that elusive moment of pure pleasure that seemed to come so easily to Susan.