ciyimifu

And what would it feel like to wear such clothes? "Before we start to study slang, can I ask you a favour?" she asked. "Of course." "I do not understand fashion in Canada. Do you think — do you think you could come clothes shopping? With me?" Manjula's cheeks were pink with embarrassment. Tony hated clothes shopping, which for most of his life had been a grim monotony of waiting while his mother dragged him from store to store, never buying anything he liked. Then he remembered this was Manjula talking. "Absolutely. We can take the bus." *** When they reached the mall, this turned out to be harder than it sounded. Tony knew little about shopping malls other than where the food court, bookstore, and computer stores were. He was at a loss as to the best place to buy the kind of clothes Manjula was after. "Do you not know anything about women's clothes?" "Other than staring at them... I guess not." "Maybe we should put that to use. Stare at a girl." "What?" "Just stare at one!" Manjula snapped irritably. Well, who can refuse a command like that? Tony let his eyes wander, looking for a hot girl. He settled on one with long slender legs, her white minidress barely clearing the bottom of her ass bestfreeporn. The dress clung to her chest, leaving the outline of her breasts plainly visible. As she walked by, Tony could see most of her back visible through a mesh, topped by a mane of straight blonde hair. Manjula hurried after the blonde. "Excuse me!" "Yes?" The blonde turned around. "My boyfriend was just staring at your outfit," said Manjula smoothly, to Tony's consternation. "I wonder if you could tell me where you got it?" "Oh, of course!" said the blonde eagerly. She launched into a detailed discussion of brands and colours that made Tony's eyes glaze over. He suppressed the urge to whip out his phone. Manjula, however, seemed just as excited as the blonde. "Thank you!" she called out as the blonde headed off. "Come on." She grabbed Tony's hand and pulled him in the opposite direction. Tony realized that they were now holding hands. What did that mean? And Manjula had referred to him as her "boyfriend", or was that just an excuse to talk to the blonde? He decided to just enjoy it. Manjula paused when they reached the store. "You know why I asked you to bring me here, instead of the other girls?" "Why?" "Because the others will treat me like an idiot." "You're not an idiot." "What I want is to buy clothes that make boys stare at me. The way you stared at that girl. Find me clothes that make you... boys like you... want to look at me. Can I trust you to act like a man? A mature man?" Seeing how dead serious she looked, Tony could only nod. He knew what made him stare — the clothes had to show as much skin as possible, and to hang loosely, giving the impression they were about to fall off. He wasn't used to looking at girls' clothes without an actual girl in them, but the mannequins were a reasonable starting point. There are breasts men, and there are legs men. Tony was a legs man. None of the outfits he selected went more than halfway to the knee. Manjula, who hadn't shown her legs in public since she was a little girl, looked extremely nervous the first time she came out of the changing room. "You don't need to worry," said Tony reassuringly. "Your legs are lovely." He could spend all day staring at them. He squatted down for a better look, resisting the urge to look up her skirt. Manjula managed a wan smile. "Does it look nice?" she asked. Did it ever! For the first time in his life, Tony had a good time shopping. He hadn't known what a joy it is to watch a pretty girl try on clothes. Every outfit was another testimony to her loveliness. It was like leafing through a fashion magazine, but the model was here, in front of him, smiling at him, batting her eyes, looking pleased with herself, her confidence growing, her shyness diminishing. Manjula looked adorable in a little red dress that brought out the sensuous curve of her waist. She was fetching in a slight magenta number, translucent enough to see much of her body, if you looked closely. She was delightful in a fluffy black skirt that left her shoulders and upper back bare. Tony did notice she was mentally calculating each price in its rupee equivalent. "Are you okay? Can you afford all this?" "Yes... yes, my scholarship includes an allowance for clothes and entertainment. I am just not used to seeing prices so high." Nonetheless, Tony paid for her dinner. Afterwards, they went to a discount store, where he found her a tight turquoise T-shirt that clung to her breasts like glue, and denim shorts that hugged a small bit of her upper thighs. On sale, they found a light green sundress with a pineapple design, leaving arms and legs bare. Tony found this so arousing it was all he could do not to put his arms around her and kiss her then and there. He even caught one glimpse of Manjula in her underwear, when she opened the change room door to let him pass a shirt through. He turned around quickly, red-faced, but wondered if that had been a giggle he heard. Certainly, the mere thought of her being in her underwear, just a door away from him, brought all manner of forbidden thoughts into his brain. Had Manjula suspected this? Not long after, she took Tony to the lingerie section, saying she wanted to try this type of underwear. She didn't actually model any of the items for him, making her own decisions in the changing booth. But he did spend some time looking at the illustrations of the ones she'd picked. Mostly white and bright colours, which would contrast perfectly with her brown skin. An emerald lace cut out bra and thong, both with plenty of holes to see the action. A delicate little one-piece chiffon teddy. A white fishnet outfit, luring his greedy eyes to the triangle between the model's legs. Tony had masturbated to pictures of girls in lingerie many times, but he had never actually seen a live girl in one. Shopping for underwear with Manjula was, in fact, the most sexually intimate experience of his life so far. How did she feel about it? The confident smirk she gave him as she came out of the change room seemed to say it all. They talked more on the bus ride back to campus. Manjula had grown up in a desperately poor village in Sri Lanka's Mullaitivu District. Her parents had been killed in the massacre that ended the civil war ten years before. She'd moved in with her aunt and uncle. Their house had been destroyed in the war, and they'd built a bamboo-mud hut with their own hands. It only had one room, and on it she, her three cousins, and their parents all slept in mats on the floor. They had to make do with an outdoor latrine, just a hole in the ground, really. They cooked on a wood fire outside, settling for raw vegetables when it rained. The family was too far from the coast to easily get seafood, and too poor to afford mutton, so chicken was their primary source of protein. "So that is what I thought of when she talked about a cock. We did keep our own chickens, and it really mattered which one was a cock and which was a hen." "Can you see why the word 'cock' came to mean what it does here?" "Why?" "It's like the Sinhalese word cukula." Cukula also literally meant rooster. Roosters are mostly slaughtered for meat. But you need to keep at least one around so that the hens can reproduce. That one rooster routinely mates with a whole row of hens. He is king of the chicken coop; he can have any female he wants. He's a cock. Thus, in Sinhalese slang, cukula means a swinger, or ladies' man. Tony's father had explained this to him once. Manjula, who spoke Sinhalese as well as Tamil and English, knew this well. She began to laugh again, a merry laugh, her eyes twinkling. Tony stared wonderingly into her face, thinking again how beautiful she was. And the outfit she was now wearing — a short navel top, leaving her midriff exposed, and cut-off jeans, showing off her lovely brown legs — brought out a surge of emotions in him. Tony thought about how much fun she was to be with, whether they were seriously studying, looking at videos, or even staring at girls together. He looked into her eyes, which had lost that scared look entirely, now carefree and cared for. He did not even think about what he was doing until his lips were touching hers. All he could think about was how badly he wanted to be close to her, as close as he possibly could. The touch of her lips felt so wonderful, and her scent filled his senses with delight. He put his arms around her; she was so warm and clean and adorable. He just held her, lips locked, for a long time. Tony pulled back and gazed into her eyes again. He saw warmth there, but also nervousness. "I'm sorry, I—" "That is all right. It felt good." He wasn't quite sure what to say after that, but settled for just leaning back against his seat, her hand in his. "I will see you in class on Wednesday," she said on leaving the bus. That was in two days' time. Too late, after she'd gone, did he remember he'd forgotten to get her phone number, or offer his. *** That night in bed Tony found himself with a raging hard-on. It was not every day you got to watch a very sexy girl try on equally sexy clothes, and be rewarded with a tender kiss. That brief glimpse he'd caught of her in her underwear — he was tantalized by the memory, of that smooth, narrow tummy, the alluring curve of her navel, the silky elegance of her thighs. He wondered what she was doing with the lingerie she'd bought. He felt like he would give anything to see her nude. He had searched the net for years, but had never been able to find professionally produced porn featuring South Indian or Sri Lankan girls, only low-quality, dimly-lit crap taken on someone's cell phone. But was it right? Tony knew how conservative Sri Lankans were. Both men and women were expected to be virgins on their wedding night. The only concession made to the twenty-first century is that engaged couples might sneak off for a discreet tryst before the wedding took place. But having sex with one person and later on marrying another — that was unthinkable. And the age-old double standard was still there. He might still find a wife if he were not a virgin, but he knew if Manjula were not, no one would marry her. Sleeping with her without a truthful promise of marriage would be akin to rape. As much as he liked Manjula, he was only eighteen years old, and she must have been about the same. He just was not ready to marry her. He doubted she was either; teenage marriages were as distant a memory in Sri Lanka as they were in the West. Even masturbating to thoughts of her seemed wrong somehow, but his erection was more than he could stand. He tried looking at some porn, but suddenly found hardcore distasteful. Softcore — try as he might, he kept thinking of Manjula. The best he could find was a softcore site featuring black models, the closest he could find to her appearance. "Manjula," he whispered as he climaxed. "Manjula." Chapter 2 In math class, Tony usually sat on the far-left side of the room, that being the only place where left-handed desks could be found. But on Wednesday's class, he scanned the room anxiously looking for Manjula. She was wearing the revealing sundress he'd picked for her. Stretching out her legs in the front row, she looked irresistible. hotmyfreecams And few guys could resist her — there were two flanking her on each side, each vying in assorted ways for her attention. Tony smiled sadly in her direction and went over to the left-handed desk. He had a lot of difficulty concentrating in that class. At one point he was struggling to keep up, seeing the professor write out an incomprehensible series of partial derivatives. Manjula interrupted. "Excuse me, sir?" "Yes, miss?" It was almost embarrassing how this professor, notorious for his normally gruff, abrasive attitude, was now being obsequiously polite. "That plus on the third line — should that not be a minus?" The professor stared for a minute — at Manjula's legs, not the equation! "Oh yes," he finally said, and corrected it. Tony peered at the whiteboard. Now finally he began to understand the equation. After class, he made a beeline for Manjula. To his immense relief, she waved goodbye to the other guys and walked off with him. "Are you a math major?" "Biology." "Biology? But if you're this good at math, you must be awesome in biology." "Maths has always been my favourite subject. Even in the sciences, I like physics and chemistry better." Tony found it very cute that she used the British form of the word, maths, like his parents did. "Why study biology then?" he asked. "I want to be a doctor." "Why, if math is your favourite subject?" "What can you do with a maths degree?" "Tons of things. You could be a quantitative analyst—" "In finance? We do not have much of that in Sri Lanka." "There are lots of math-related disciplines. I'm in computer science. Or you could do engineering—" She cut him off. "I need to be a doctor." Questions popped into his head, but seeing her expression, he decided to put a stopper in them. He followed her to the library. They hadn't actually made plans for another Tamil lesson, but Manjula started one anyway. Before long, she had him try to make complete sentences. Enakka Tamil theriyum. I understand Tamil. Intha oor nalla oor. This is a nice city. Ninga alahanna. You are beautiful. "How do you say very?" he asked. Manjula's irritation was gone; she had a warm smile on her face. "Chadyanna." "Ninga chadyanna alahanna," he said. You are very beautiful. "Thank you," she said. He hoped to press the point further, but she moved on. Enakka cutherica virappamillai. I don't like eggplant. Enakka puttu virappam. I like puttu. "What I would not give for puttu right now," she sighed dreamily. "I have not had any in weeks. Even rice is hard to get around here." In Toronto, there were any number of Sri Lankan restaurants that would have served that flour-and-coconut dish, but they were not in Toronto. Then a thought occurred to Tony. "I know a place you can get good Sri Lankan food. Homemade." Her eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas morning. "Enga?" she asked, using the Tamil word for "where" in her excitement. "My parents' house. I could take you there this weekend. You could stay in the spare room." She looked suspicious. "I hope you are not trying to marry me. I am not ready for that." It was as if a weight had lifted off Tony's chest. "No, no, nothing like that." He didn't want to introduce her to his parents as a candidate wife. But he did want to introduce her as his girlfriend. Did he dare ask her that? How did she even feel about the whole notion of boyfriends and girlfriends? If he asked her, would it ruin everything? There was an awkward silence. "So about slang—" she said finally. "Yes, I've got the book here," he replied, pulling it out. "If you do not mind, I want... I want to ask you about sex." Is she on to me? he wondered desperately. Had she guessed that he wanted to have premarital sex with her? "They were talking about putting a penis in their mouths," said Manjula. "Has any girl done that for you?" Tony blushed to the roots of his hair. "Well... um... the truth is... no, none have." "I thought that by university most people here have had sexual experience?" So help him, she'd done research. "Well, you know, that's an average, I guess I'm, um, in the tail end of that distribution." Oh funny man, he thought. I'm in the tail end for getting tail. "Do you want to do it?" Tony dropped the book, staring now with unconcealed hunger at her perfect round lips. Those lips, around his cock. That tiny, smooth, perfect body, on her knees, naked. He felt his cock squirm. "Yes. Yes, I would love it." "What is the appeal? I do not understand." Dammit! She hadn't been propositioning him, she'd been curious about the act itself. "Well the most obvious is you can't get pregnant that way. The risk of disease transmission is also less." "Surely that is not the only reason." "I—" He hesitated. "Do not be afraid," she said reassuringly. "I will not judge you." Somehow that did reassure him. "A girl's face in... in my midsection is a sign of submission. She's putting her face, the core of her identity, in my sexual organs." Manjula looked curiously at him. He continued, "It's... it's especially arousing to see a girl kneeling before me to do it. It would make me feel like a lord, like a master, a king..." It seemed very silly to say that out loud. "I see," she said, but it was obvious that she did not see. "And what is the appeal to the woman?" Tony had often wondered this himself. "I... I don't know." She paused. "And the comparable thing to a woman, what do you call that?" "The formal name is 'cunnilingus', but it's usually called 'going down on her' or 'eating her out'". "Would you do it?" "Well..." Tony was conflicted. None of his friends had said anything positive about the smell or taste of that region. But they had very positive things to say about how their girlfriends had responded to it. "From what I know, women are much more likely to come to orgasm when stimulated by the tongue, than by the penis." "Is that not terribly dirty?" she queried incredulously. In fact, she looked much more shocked talking about going down on a woman than about going down on a man. "I guess you could always wash it or something," said Tony lamely. When most of your knowledge of sex is second- or even third-hand, eventually you run out of wisdom to dispense. "Do not be embarrassed," she said kindly. "I have another favour to ask you." "Name it." "I... I tried looking at these videos. These sexual videos. You call them pornography? Most of them are blocked by internet providers in Sri Lanka. And..." "What happened?" "I have never seen anything like that before. It is very scary for me to watch those videos by myself. And there are so many, I do not know which ones boys are watching. I think you must have watched them. Can you... can you show me some?" Tony's jaw dropped so far he nearly fell out of the chair. He had been viewing porn for many years. Most males accompanied this with mental fantasies of pretty girls they knew, in similar poses or acts. As the years went by without any other outlet, Tony's fantasies had curved in a different direction. Masturbating to porn had become its own reward. He found himself imagining, not actually having sex with a girl, but merely having her, fully dressed, look at him while he enjoyed himself with porn. To have Manjula be the one watching — at that thought, his cock rose like a tower. Cut the thought, he told himself sternly, she didn't say she wants to watch you, just the videos themselves. "You want me... to show you... pornography?" "I feel the biggest divide between east and west is actually about sex. I come from a country where pornography is illegal, and I am now in one where everybody seems to be influenced by it. I need to understand it. And I need... I need," she said, shyly, "a boy whom... whom I trust to show me." Tony felt enormous affection for her at that moment. He rose and gently pressed her hands to his lips. "Of course... of course, we can do that." The library is not, of course, a good place to look at porn. Tony wasn't sure where Manjula wanted to go, but she led him to her room. That means she trusted him with knowing where she lived. Then again, it was probably still safer for her than going to his room.