Post Reply 
Mixed Doubles - Sania Mirza's Sex Ordeal
07-15-2012, 06:05 PM
Post: #1
Mixed Doubles - Sania Mirza's Sex Ordeal
I first met Sania Mirza at a party organized by Americans of Indian origin in New York. I’d completed my BS in Computer Science from Virginia Tech, and was in a transit phase of my life. At 21, I was already at a stage where I had no dearth of money, having wisely invested my inheritance from my grandmother in the stock market. As with most Gujaratis from my circle in India, I’d too pushed off to the US after finishing school. I was not sure of what to do with my life, and not having anything else to do, I’d reluctantly accepted my maternal aunt’s invitation to come and stay a while with them in New Jersey. There was a large eco-system of Gujaratis from India in NJ, and it seemed like home away from home.

At 23, Sania was probably going through the toughest phase of her life. Her wrist injury had forced her out of competitive tennis for nearly a year now, and her rankings had slipped to an all time low. To compound her woes, she also had to deal with the ignominy of her engagement with Sohrab Mirza being called off. The party was a relatively high profile thing, with the chief guest being the Mayor of NY.

Sania was looking distinctly unglamorous, attired as she was in a pair of dark blue faded jeans with knee-high black leather boots, a black t-shirt, and a faded denim jacket thrown on top. She had the ubiquitous over-sized dark glares on her eyes, and her hair seemed to be hastily tied together in a pony. I was distinctly uncomfortable with social gatherings of these sorts, and the only reason I’d agreed to come along with my aunt and her family was because Sania was going to be there. She’d been my fantasy from my teenage days in school, and I’d been dreaming of a chance to meet her in person for a long time now.

Sania was in New York at that time as she’d been invited to play a couple of exhibition matches with the Williams sisters, alongside another Indian-origin tennis player, Sunitha Rao. This was part of the month-long series of events planned by the Gujarati community in New York, of which my uncle was the Treasurer. He had been instrumental in pulling a lot of strings with Globosport, the firm which managed Sania Mirza’s affairs, belonging to another Indian tennis star, Mahesh Bhupathi.

My cousin sister, who’d taken over the role of being my host-in-charge for the evening, was taking a lot of pains to ensure that I was not feeling out of place. She was the one who eventually introduced me to Sania at the party. There was the usual horde of autograph seekers, most of who were teenage Gujarati girls from my cousin sister’s friends circle. Surprisingly, the boys at the party did not seem as eager to meet Sania as the girls did.

“Hi Sania didi …” my 17-year old cousin exclaimed excitedly, pumping Sania’s had exuberantly “... I’m so so excited to meet you finally …” she gushed. My cousin Bhavika was an infectious girl whose cheerful personality put most people at ease instantly. By referring to Sania as ‘didi’, she’d not only established a friendly girl-to-girl bond with her, but also made herself stand out from the horde of other girls who’d queued up to meet her. “Oh I’m so sorry … I’m Bhavika …and I’m a huge fan of yours …” my cousin gushed, excitement writ large on her face.

Sania smiled and opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off my Bhavika, who was in full flow by now. “Of course … I know you have so many fans all over the world … but I’m just so excited to meet you, you know …” she went on. “And … oh … I almost forgot … this is my cousin Jignesh … he’s visiting us from India … he’s on holiday here …” Bhavika continued, unmindful of the fact that she’d not even let Sania respond. “He’s actually on his way back to India … but my mummy and I … we convinced him to stay back with us here for a few weeks …” she continued to speak excitedly. I groaned inwardly and pinched her gently from the side.

She yelped when I did that and suddenly becoming aware of the expression my face, ceased her non-stop chit-chat. To my relief, Sania did not seem irritated, an amused smile on her plump sexy face. Her eyes were hidden by those dark brown oversized glares, so I couldn’t read them. After my cousin had managed to take Sania’s autograph, we moved on since there were a whole bunch of other folks waiting to meet her. I managed to convince Bhavika to let me be on my own, and picking up a glass of wine, watched Sania from a distance as she went about handling the NRI crowd at the party with her customary professionalism.

Even in this utterly non-glamorous attire, she looked utterly desirable to me. At 5’8”, she was just about my height. To my pleasant surprise, she looked a lot taller in real life than on TV. Perhaps it was on account of the fact that other international players on the womens circuit were invariably taller than her. As I watched her, my eyes tried to discern the shape and size of her lovely breasts, something that I’d been fascinated by from the beginning. To my trained lecherous eye, they seemed to be a 34-C cup, though hidden as they were by the denim jacket she was wearing, I couldn’t be sure.

The procession of people wanting to meet her never ceased to end, and the guy who seemed to be her agent did not leaver her side at any moment. Feeling the urge to have a smoke, I stepped out of the hall into the large balcony overlooking the bay outside, getting a refill of wine. The night was cool and there was a distinct chill in the air. The balcony was not lit and was relatively dark. I walked up to the far end of the balcony, and placing the glass of wine on the parapet, lit a smoke.

I was enjoying the rare solitude of the cool New York night and admiring the lights twinkling in the distance on the bay, when I heard a footfall behind me. I turned around to see Sania walking up towards the same ledge where I was standing. She spotted me at about the same time as I did, and let out a surprised “Oh …” Stopping in her tracks, she said “I thought that …” letting her sentence unfinished, the disappointment of not finding this place solitary showing on her face.

“Sorry …” I said instantly, apologetic for some strange reason. “You must’ve thought there would be nobody here …” I continued in my apologetic tone “… I’ll go inside and let you be …” stubbing out my half smoked cigarette in the tray at the corner and turning to leave. “No … it’s alright …” she began, perhaps surprised by my offer to leave. “Oh no … I can understand how tiring these parties would be getting for you … I’m sure you came out for some privacy … I’ll go inside …” I said, a wry smile on my face. She looked perplexed as she pulled off her dark glares and gazed at me.

Anticipating her question, I said with a smile “Don’t worry … I won’t tell anyone you’re out here …” waving apologetically to her, and starting to walk towards the hall. Before I was halfway through, she called out behind me “Excuse me … please … you don’t have to go inside because of me …” As I turned around to look at her, she added “Really … it’s alright … I mean it …” “You sure you wouldn’t mind …” I asked her genuinely. She seemed to relax a bit, and flashing me one of her beautiful smiles, said “Yes … I’m sure …”

“Alright …” I said, shrugging my shoulders, and turned back. Walking back towards the ledge, I went and stood at the parapet again, my elbows resting on the parapet wall. “Hi …” she said with a smile, extending her hand “Um … we met inside … but I don’t remember your …” “Of course, it’s impossible to remember names when you’re hounded by so many people …” I replied with a smile, interrupting her. “I am Jignesh …” I said, taking her hand in mine and shaking it softly.

She had a firm grip that surprised me, and her palms did not feel soft like most other girls. But then that was to be expected since she spent most of her time wielding a tennis racket on the court. “Hi Jignesh …” she said in response “… your cousin is a very cute girl …” I laughed before commenting on that. “Yeah … she’ll look cute till such time you keep her at a distance … otherwise she’ll chew your brains …” I said. She too laughed at that and said in a chiding tone “Now that’s mean …” a smile on her luscious lips. “Oh she’s a darling …” I responded immediately “… I wouldn’t have even come here today had it not been for her …”

Tucking in her glares into the neck of her tight black t-shirt under the denim jacket, she turned towards the area overlooking the bay. She seemed lost in thought as she watched the boats and trawlers move slowly along the bay, going about their work like a colony of industrial ants. Not wanting to disturb her, I too stood there silently, admiring the beauty of the coast at night, my elbows resting on the ledge. I silently thanked Providence for blessing me with such an opportunity, where I was stealing a few moments of privacy with this 23-year old busty Indian tennis sensation.

As I was sipping my wine, she turned towards me and asked “What are you drinking …?” “Um … wine … white …” I replied, placing my glass on the ledge. She seemed to hesitate for a moment. Sensing her hesitation, I asked “Would you like me to get a glass for you?” She sighed, and then shrugging her shoulders, said “Umm … I don’t know …” as if unsure of what she wanted to do. “I was just about to go in for a refill … I can get another glass if you’d like …” I said, looking at her. “Nobody has to know …” I added for good measure.

Pausing to think for a moment, she said “Oh alright … I’d really appreciate that …” making up her mind. “Alright … I’ll be back in a minute …” I replied, glad to be of service to her, and at the same time thrilled that she’d agreed to have a glass of wine with me. After all, how many 21-year olds had the pleasure of sharing a glass of wine with the sensational Sania Mirza, on a cool moonlit New York night under the stars? I went in and came back quickly without arousing anyone’s attention. “There you go …” I said, handing Sania the glass of wine.

As she took the glass from my hand, she said softly “Thank you very much, Jignesh …” I was thrilled to hear her take my name. Shaking my head, I chided myself on being so foolish and utterly in awe of her celebrity status. As we clinked our glasses, she said “Cheers …” “Yes … here’s to many such moments of peace for you … in your otherwise hectic life …” I responded, looking at her pretty round face. That pleased her immensely, and she managed an “Ohh … thanks …” Turning back towards the bay, we stood there silently, our elbows resting on the ledge, and sipping on our wine.

Find all posts by this user
Quote this message in a reply
07-15-2012, 06:05 PM
Post: #2
RE: Mixed Doubles - Sania Mirza's Sex Ordeal
It was then that I noticed the crepe bandage around her wrist. “So how’s the hand feeling now, Sania …” I said, doing my level best to make small talk. “Oh it’s alright …” she said shrugging, looking down at her bandaged wrist “… still have some pain … but it’s getting better …” her tone dismissive as if suggesting that she didn’t want to talk about her injury. Deciding to leave it alone, I kept silent. We stood there silently for a while, without a word being exchanged between us.

Getting the feeling that she probably wanted to be left alone, I said to her gently “Sania … if you want … I’ll go in and let you be … I mean … I don’t want to intrude … and I think you wanted to be alone …” my expression trying to convey to her that I actually meant it. Gulping down the remainder of her wine in one big swallow, she placed the glass on the ledge and said “No … no … nothing like that … it’s alright … unless you have something to attend to … and would like to go in …” looking at me as she said the last few words. Trying to put on my most charming smile, I replied “What better thing can I have to do … besides enjoying the company of Sania Mirza …” laying stress on the way I took her name.

She just looked at me with one of these expressions that you could never for sure know. Shaking her head, she just sighed and flashed me a smile, as if she’d heard this kind of flattery so much that she was tired of it. Irritated with myself for that cheesy line I’d just delivered, I told myself to shut my trap. “Can I get you another glass …” I said, hoping that would not put her off. “Um … uh” she muttered, nodding her head, continuing to stare into the night. I picked up her empty glass and went inside once again. Returning with our refills, I placed the glass next to her silently.

“Thanks …” she muttered once again, picking up the glass and taking a sip from it immediately. Turning to me, she said suddenly “You were smoking … can I have a smoke too …?” Seeing the surprised expression on my face, she said “Oh please … now don’t start telling me why I should not smoke …” an irritated expression on her face. She really seemed to be in a bad mood, and I didn’t want to open my mouth for fear of upsetting her more. Silently, I took out my pack of cigarettes and slid one out for her. “No … I won’t smoke a full one … I’ll just take a few drags from yours …” she said, shaking her head.

“Alright …” I said softly, pulling out the cigarette myself. Lighting it, I took a deep drag to light up the tobacco sufficiently, and then handed it to her. I watched her from the corner of my eyes, as she took the smoke from my hand, and began to take tiny shallow puffs, blowing the smoke out without taking too much of it inside. After a few such drags, which were typical to those people who only smoked once in a blue moon, she handed the cigarette back to me. As I took it from her fingers and raised the cigarette to my lips, I thought I could taste her lipstick on the filter.

Perhaps that was my imagination, but I could definitely smell her lipstick on it. Once again, she gulped down the remainder of her wine in a single swallow, and kept the empty glass on the ledge. Turning to me, she asked “So tell me Jignesh, what do you do?” Relieved to have some conversation going, I proceeded to tell her about my self. She listened patiently as I gave her a quick run down about my rather non-descript life so far, nodding intermittently. “So that’s where I am now …” I said concluding my narration “… wondering what to do with my life now …”

“Yes … isn’t that the same with all of us …” she said mystically once I’d finished, letting out a deep sigh and turning back to gazing at the beautifully lit bay of New York. I decided against commenting on that, and remained silent. “Can you get me another glass of wine, please …” she said to me suddenly, handing me the empty glass. I was frankly quite surprised with the pace at which was drinking, but decided against saying anything. Instead, I just smiled and took the glass from her hand.

When I returned with the second refill for her and handed her the glass silently, to my surprise, she reached out with her left hand and touching my arm said softly “Thank you … for not telling me how much I should be drinking …” her voice languid and relaxed. “Who am I to tell you anything, Sania …” I said embarrassedly, suddenly aware of the fact that here I was, standing under the stars on a cool New York night, on first name basis with the sensational Sania Mirza. Shaking my head once again, I took a large gulp from my glass. As we stood there enjoying the silence, I figured she would have spent her entire life being told what to do and what not to do; by parents, coaches, well wishers, and practically everyone around who’d have anything to do with her remotely.

Flexing her bandaged wrist with a grimace, she said “I have to play 3 exhibition matches with the Serena this week … and then 3 doubles matches with her and Williams …” her eyes on her bandaged wrist. “I just hope my wrist holds up … I’ve been taking so many Cortesone shots that even they’ve stopped becoming effective …” she continued, her voice angry and frustrated. I just nodded and listened, figuring she was probably just wanting to speak, and not wanting any advice from some nobody like me.

“And Serena … she’s not going to give me an inch … she’s going to make sure does everything on court to humiliate me … even though it’s just a bloody exhibition match …” she went on, gazing at the water, and continuing to flex her fingers to exercise her bandaged wrist. Seeing that she was silent, I ventured “Um … why are you playing these matches then … why can’t you just refuse …” “Ha …” she let out a disgruntled laugh “… easier said than done … you think I’d be playing if I had a choice …” she snapped, her irritation returning again. Contrite, I just managed to mumble “Oh …”

Shaking her head and continuing to gaze at the water below, she continued “I tried reaching Serena many times … but she just refused to take my calls … even my agent could not speak to her agent …” her voice reflecting her frustration. “I mean … this is just an exhibition match right … it’s not going to affect her ranking or mine … so what’s the harm in splitting the matches …” she continued “… but she’s just not entertaining me …” shaking her head in frustration. She was becoming talkative now, and I thought that the wine had probably made her a little lightheaded. Otherwise, why the hell would she be saying all this to a complete stranger, whom she’d met only half an hour back.

“Split a match …?” I asked, unable to understand what that meant. “Meaning I get some matches … and she gets some … so that both our fans are happy …” she said by way of explanation. “I so desperately need to win this … all I wanted her was to agree to let go of this 3-match series … 2 to me … and 1 to her …” she continued, shaking her head again. “I am willing to give her my appearance fees too … but, she … she’s just not …” leaving her sentence unfinished. “Yeah … what does she need the money for … she just wants to thrash me in front of my home crowd … that’s what she wants …” Sania concluded with a sigh, dropping her head and rubbing her forehead as if to push her worries away.

I’d heard of players fixing matches, but this was the first time I was hearing it from the horse’s mouth. This was just an exhibition tour, but still for the fans, it was a match all the same. I’d heard my uncle say that there was lot betting money around these exhibition matches, but I still couldn’t fathom why Sania was playing in spite of her injured wrist. At that very moment, her phone rang. It was her agent calling her. I heard her say into the phone “Yeah, I am here only … yes … yes … I’m ready to leave …”

Thrusting the phone back into the pocket of her denim jacket, she turned to me and said “I’ve got to go now …” Thrusting out her hand to shake my hand, she said “It was nice meeting you … umm …” once again fumbling with my name. “Jignesh …” I said with a smile, as I took her hand. “Sorry … Jignesh … thank you … it was … umm … nice to meet you ..” she said, embarrassed that she’d forgotten my name yet again. “Likewise, Sania …” I replied coolly with a smile, though a little peeved that she couldn’t even remember my name. As she extracted her dark glares from were she’d tucked them into the neck of her t-shirt and put it on, I said to her “Umm, Sania …” “Yes …” she said, turning around.

“Umm … if you like … I can speak to Serena …” I said, my voice hesitant. “What …” she exclaimed, her voice surprised. “What … what did you say?” she repeated, pulling off her glares and walking towards me again, her eyes on me. “Um … I said that I could speak to Serena if you like …” I repeated slowly. “You know Serena!!!” she exclaimed, stunned and unable to digest that. “You know Serena Williams???” she shot again, coming close to me and looking at me as if I was joking with her. “Um … yeah … I know Serena Williams …” I said slowly, keeping a straight face. “How the hell do you know her …” she managed to stutter, still trying to grapple with how a fresh college pass-out Gujju boy like me could possibly know Serena Williams.

Her phone rang again, and pulling it out with irritation, she snapped into the phone “I said I’m coming right … so give me a minute …” her voice reflecting her irritation. Thrusting the phone back into her jacket pocket, she turned to me again, and exclaimed “Tell me … how do you know her???” the confusion writ large on her face. “Umm … it’s a long story …” I began tentatively. “Listen …” she said with urgency, grabbing my arm “… can you meet me later … “glancing at her phone again to check the time “… I have to meet some sponsors now, and I’m already running late … but I’ll be free after an hour … and I want to meet you then …”

Seeing the non-committal expression on my face, she added “I mean … I’ll be really grateful if you can meet me …” her tone changing from demanding to a friendlier one. She was probably used to ordering around people, and having her way, I thought to myself with a smile. “Alright, how and where do I meet you?” I asked. “Umm … you tell me … I can come wherever you want me to … or else you can come to my hotel …” she said rapidly, squeezing my arm again.

My mind in a tizzy from the sudden change in her attitude once she’d come to know that I somehow knew Serena Williams, I quickly thought through the options and replied “Alright, I’ll come by to your hotel …” “Thanks, Jignesh … I appreciate that …” she said with a bright smile, the diamond stud on her nose gleaming in the moonlight. With that she quickly gave me her hotel and the room number. Putting on her glares again, she walked away quickly, telling me as she left “Please come … I’ll be waiting for you …”

Find all posts by this user
Quote this message in a reply
07-15-2012, 06:05 PM
Post: #3
RE: Mixed Doubles - Sania Mirza's Sex Ordeal
“Please come … I’ll be waiting for you …” I repeated to myself after she’d left, and I’d lit another smoke to soothe my nerves. I’d just had the busty Indian tennis sensation Sania Mirza invite me to her hotel, and this being totally unexpected and beyond my wildest imaginations, I felt thrilled to the core. And I owed all of this to an accident that I’d been involved in nearly a year back. I was in the third year of my BS, when I’d bought my first car in the US.

That first car was a humble Honda Civic of which I’d quickly tired. My American friends had convinced me that if I wanted to drive a real car, it should be an American muscle car. Through some friends who dealt in used cars, I’d zeroed in on a 1967 Ford Mustang Shelby GT500 that was in mint condition, and churned out an incredible 815 bhp. I’d shelled out an arm and a leg for it, but I could afford it thanks to my inherited savings quadrupling over the years with some smart investments in the Indian stock market.

I was returning to my apartment one night after a late night party at one of the pubs in the heart of the city, when my car was rammed from behind. Luckily enough, I’d not had too much to drink since I had a quiz the next day, and was sober enough to somehow control the car as it swerved wildly on the tarmac, and came to a stop with a crash against one of the lamp posts along the sidewalk. Dazed, but unhurt, and thanking the tough built of the vintage Mustang; I stepped out of my car angrily to confront the bastard who’d rammed me out of nowhere. The car in question was a delectable red Nissan 370Z 2-seater sports car; and as I yanked open the car’s door angrily, I was stunned to see that the person at the wheel was none other than 28-year old Word No. 1 Serena Williams!

She was dressed in a hideous orange sleeveless party gown, that just about came to her thighs. Her ebony skin was glistening with sweat, and there was a glazed expression in her eyes as she stared at me as if unable to comprehend what had just happened. From the look of it, it was evident to me that she was totally smashed; though whether it was alcohol or dope or both, I had no way of knowing. Slumped on the passenger seat next to her, with her face buried in her hands was another girl, who was just rocking to & and fro and muttering “Oh shit … oh shit … oh shit …” again and again.

As that girl lifted her face from her hands, and looked at me with a mortified expression, I realized to my utter surprise that I was looking at Jennifer Capriati, another American tennis star who’d been a teenage sensation. At 33, she was clearly past her prime, having made a successful yet short-lived comeback a few years back. Capriati was dressed in a more conservatively cut black evening gown that came to her knees. Serena, who’d been staring at me with a dazed expression all this while, let out a long drawn groan of “Oh fuck … I can’t believe I crashed the damn car …” and threw her head back against the head rest.

In spite of what had just happened, my eyes automatically went to the deep cleavage of Serena’s massive breasts that were threatening to burst out of her skimpy tight hideously colored evening gown. “Stop starin’ at my tits, you asshole …” she snapped in a guttural voice “… and tell me if you’re fuckin ok …” I went hot behind my ears at this crude talk from this black tennis star, angry and yet embarrassed at having been caught staring at her breasts. “Oh shut up, Serena … will you …” screamed Capriati at her, throwing me an apologetic look in the process. Mercifully, the arrogant Serena shut up.

Capriati quickly undid her seatbelt and got out of the car. Even as a teenager, when she’d caught the tennis world’s fancy, she’d been a plump girl, and with age, she’d only filled up more. At 5’7”, she was just about my height, but had a wide hipped buxom built that filled her elegant black strapless evening gown rather well. Her full curvy wide-hipped body, with those strong fleshy calves somehow reminded me of one of my school days loves, a 16-year old teenager back in India by the name of Sejal.

She had a spattering of freckles on her chubby red face, and flashing me one of her trademark toothy smiles, she said apologetically “I’m very sorry for this, mister … I hope you’re alright …” Coming out of my reverie, I mumbled “Yeah … I’m alright …” glancing at my car. Mercifully my ’67 Mustang had old-fashioned metal fenders at the back, which had taken the brunt of the crash; and apart from a smashed tail lamp, and a few dents and scratches here and there, my car seemed to be alright.

Turning towards Capriati, I caught her looking at me anxiously even as Serena lay slumped in her seat, seemingly stoned. “I hope you’re ok … Ms. Capriati …” I said evenly, hoping that she’d appreciate me addressing her respectfully. “Oh I’m fine ... I’m fine ...” she said quickly, a look of uncertainty coming to her plump red-cheeked face when she realized I’d recognized her. Glancing at Serena was stoned out of her mind, and was leaning forward in her seat with her head resting against the steering wheel; I said “I hope she’s fine too … um … do you need me to call an ambulance or something …”

“Oh no … no … no need for that … “she answered quickly “… er … are you sure you don’t need one …” she said in a concerned voice “… you seem to be bleeding …” That’s when I realized that there was a cut on my forehead, and a trickle of blood had oozed down my face, creating crimson spots of blood on my white shirt. “Oh …” I exclaimed, reaching out to touch my forehead. I must have hit my head on the wheel with the impact, but so shocked was I at the accident that I’d not realized I’d cut my forehead. Realizing it was nothing serious, I just mumbled “It’s just a little cut … I’m alright …”

Both the headlamps of the girls’ car were smashed, and the bonnet had come dislodged with the impact. A small wisp of smoky steam seemed to be rising from under the bonnet, indicating a bust radiator. “Your car seems to be in a bad shape, Ms. Capriati … and she …” I said, nodding towards Serena “doesn’t seem to be in any state to drive …” Capriati just gave me an embarrassed look, and opened her mouth as if to say something. She paused, and then said “Oh well, she’s just had … um … a little too much to drink … she’ll be fine … I hope so …” throwing a concerned glance at the busty Serena Williams drooping over the steering wheel, oblivious to the world.

“Do you want me to call you a cab or something …” I asked, my shock at the accident beginning to wear of. “No … no … we’re fine ... we’re fine …” she said quickly, though her tone said otherwise. “Ma’am …” I said firmly “… I really don’t think you should be driving in this state … let me call a cab for you …” “Oh no … don’t do that … really …” she blurted out. “Don’t want the press or anyone to know … we’ve had bad experiences with cabbies in the past …” she added by way of justification to why she did not want a cab.

“Well then, can I drive you someplace …” I asked politely, dabbing at the cut on my forehead with my handkerchief. She seemed to hesitate before answering “Umm … yeah … I guess that’ll be fine …” nodding her head like a little girl and gazing at me, as if trying to figure out if I could be trusted. Even at 33, she’d not lost her girlish charm that had endeared her to millions of fans worldwide. When she’d burst upon the international circuit, I’d been hugely fascinated by her plumpish body and those big ripe breasts.

Realizing I was looking at her breasts, and not wanting to be chastised like I’d been by Serena, I pulled my eyes away hastily. “Yeah … we’d appreciate a ride …” she repeated, when she saw that I was silent and had not responded to her. “We’ll pay you for your troubles …” she added, somehow reaching the conclusion that I was perhaps looking to extract money from them in return for protecting their privacy. I just gave her one of those looks that conveyed my contempt at such thoughts, and said instead “Alright, let’s help her out of the car …” indicating towards Serena.

With that, I walked back towards their call, and opening the door, patted Serena on her strong muscular bare shoulders “Ms. Williams …” I called out, gently patting her. She stirred, and mumbled something incomprehensible, but made no attempt to get out of the car. “I’m going to need some help from you …” I said to Capriati. As I stood back, Capriati took hold of Serena’s shoulder and shook her roughly “Serena .. Serena … aw c’mon wake up girl … look at what you’ve done …” addressing her in a loud voice. I glanced down the empty street, as Capriati was trying to wake up Serena.

Mercifully there were no people or cars on the street at that late hour. My only fear was being spotted by a police car which routinely patrolled the streets at night. Unable to rouse Serena from her stupor, Capriati picked up a bottle of water from the car, and splashed some on Serena’s face. “What the fuck …” spluttered Serena, opening her eyes and blinking rapidly, the water stinging her eyes. “Oh shit ... fuck … shit …” she started mumbling, when the events of the past minute came back rushing to her. Looking up at me with those stoned eyes, she muttered “Who the fuck are you …?” I ignored her even as Capriati rolled her eyes, and pleaded with me to ignore her.

“Come on … get out of the car …” Capriati said to her, grabbing hold of her muscular dark arms and pulling her out of the car. As Serena was literally dragged out of the car, she tripped on the high heels and almost fell on to the street, had it not been for me and Capriati reaching out to grab her almost simultaneously. It was only because Capriati was there that I could support the 68 kgs. of Serena’s heavily muscled ebony body. Supporting her between us, with her arms around our shoulders to prevent her from falling again, we somehow half pulled half lifted her to my car, and shoved her into the back seat of my car.

As she slumped on her back in the rear seat, her short dress rode up further, baring those big muscular ebony thighs of hers. In spite of myself, my mouth went dry at the sight of her naked dark skinned legs. She had the kind of muscular physique that’d put most men to shame. As we walked back to their car, Capriati picked up their clutch bags that’d been lying on dash of the car. As she closed the door of the car shut, I opened the door at the driver’s side and got into it. “What are you doing …” she began to ask, when she saw me getting into their car.

“I’ll just park the car someplace safe …” I said, as I settled into the low slung seat of the 2-seater 370Z “… we don’t want somebody to spot this car in this condition on the road … I’m sure the press guys will recognize this car to be hers …” I continued, indicating to the fancy number plates that had Serena Williams’ initials on them. “Oh … yes …” Capriati muttered, a look that bordered on gratefulness in her eyes at my thoughtfulness. The engine was still ticking over, and engaging the auto-box, I pulled the car away from the pavement, and drove it a few blocks down the street, where the car could be safely parked till such time they sent someone to retrieve it.

After parking the car, which thankfully did not stall, I jogged back to my own car. I found Capriati already in the passenger’s seat, strapped in and chewing on her finger nails. As I got into the car, she said with a tentative smile “Thanks very much, muster … I … um … we … appreciate your kindness …” the southern drawl pronounced in her accent. I just flashed her a smile, as I gunned the engine and engaged gear. After all, it was not every day that you had Serena Williams and Jennifer Capriati for company in your car.

Find all posts by this user
Quote this message in a reply
07-15-2012, 06:06 PM
Post: #4
RE: Mixed Doubles - Sania Mirza's Sex Ordeal
As I pulled away from the pavement, I asked “So where do I drop you ladies, Ms. Capriati?” “Umm …” she pondered before continuing “… I think it’ll be better to take us to my brother’s place downtown …” As she gave me the directions, I accelerated and drove off. As we drove silently, she Capriati cleared her throat, and extending her hand to me said “I’m Jennifer … I’m sorry … I didn’t even ask your name …” Reaching out with my right hand which was on the gear knob, I replied “I’m Jignesh … Ms. Capriati …” with a smile. “Hi Jignesh …” she said with a smile, pronouncing my name with some difficulty “… you must be from India …”

“Yes …” I agreed with a smile. “And please call me Jennifer …” she added with a smile, as she shook my hand. “And that in the back seat …” she said pointing towards Serena was lying sprawled in the rear seat of my car “… is Serena …” said by way of completing the introduction formalities with a laugh. I too laughed at that. As I drove, she proceeded to tell me that they’d been to a party at some of Serena’s friends place, and they’d done some dope along with the mandatory booze. Serena had apparently been adamant about driving back, and not wanting to let her go alone in her inebriated condition, Capriati had accompanied her.

Soon we reached the apartment that Jennifer had guided me to, which apparently was where her brother stayed. She’d called him as we were driving, and he was waiting for us as we reached there. Steven Capriati was Jennifer’s younger brother by 3 years. He was a big and well built, and shared the same dark hair. Steven had played professional tennis early on, partnering with Jennifer in mixed doubles events in a couple of tournaments, but never went far.

At 30, he was retired from professional tennis, and was coaching at some universities now. As we shook hands and the introductions were made, he flashed a warm smile and thumping me on my back said “Thanks for getting the girls home safe, dude …” laughing heartily as he said that. Between the three of us, we’d taken the stoned-out-of-her-mind Serena upstairs, where Jennifer had helped her into her brother’s bedroom, even as I waited in the living room of the lavishly furnished apartment. I heard Jennifer and Steven having some whispered conversation, before they entered the room.

As they looked awkwardly at me, I realized it was time for me to leave. “Alright then … I guess I’ll make a move now …” I said, getting up from my chair with a smile. Both brother and sister almost spoke together as I rose to leave, but it was Jennifer who spoke first. “Oh … just a minute please …” she said to me, glancing at her brother. Seeing a signal to go ahead from her brother’s eyes, she said, albeit tentatively “Err … we’d like to compensate you for the damages … and your time … umm … I mean you took a lot of trouble …” her voice embarrassed, as she turned to look at her brother again for support.

Taking the initiative, Steven said “Look pal … we appreciate what you did back there … so we’d like you to take this money as compensation … and for keeping your mouth shut …” extracting a thick wad of hundred dollar bills from Jennifer’s clutch bag, and thrusting it out to me. As I looked at the wad of notes, they watched me expectantly. I was offended and angry at this gesture, so typical of Americans. Forcing a wry smile on my face, I looked at Jennifer and said “Thanks, Ms. Capriati … but no thanks …” Without a word; I turned around and walked out of the door.

Furious at being treated this way, I was thumbing the elevator button, when I heard the sound of a door slam, and heels clicking on the floor. Turning to look at the corridor, I saw Jennifer running towards the elevator corridor, her heels making click-clack sounds on the marble lined floor of their lavish apartment. “Please … wait …” she gasped, as she ran towards me, her heavy breasts heaving under her deep cut black evening gown, struggling to run under the tight confines of her dress. Ignoring her, I stepped into the elevator as the door opened. “Please wait … Jignesh …” she called out again, thrusting her hand into the elevator even as the doors were shutting close.

Alarmed that she might hurt herself, and also partly mollified that she’d at least called me by my name, I hit the door hold button. Breathing heavily, she stepped into the elevator. The doors closed and the elevator headed down. Her fair plump face was flushed as she clutched her hands together and said earnestly “I am sorry … we didn’t mean to … “shaking her head, unable to finish her sentence. Before she could begin to speak again, the elevator reached the lobby of their apartment and the doors opened. I stepped out, and with a curt nod said “Good night, Ms. Capriati …”

As I turned to walk away, she grabbed my hand and stopped me in my tracks. There was a look of genuine regret on her freckled plump face, and she seemed to be searching for words. “Please … I apologize … it’s just that we didn’t know how to react …” she said, trying to explain what had transpired in their apartment a few moments back. Trying to read my inscrutable face, she said again in a beseeching tone “Please … I am sorry … “I looked into her dark limpid eyes trying to make out whether she meant it. She seemed genuine enough.

Allowing myself to relax, I smiled slowly, and said in a softer voice “It’s alright, Ms. Capriati … you don’t have to apologize to me … I … well, all I’d like to tell you is that it was my privilege to meet you … and I’d like to assure you that I am not going to speak a word about this incident to anyone …” Before I could complete, she stepped up close to me; so close that I could smell the perfume she was wearing. Taking hold of my hand again, she said in a gentle tone “Please call me Jenny … “trying her best to smile. “And I … um … we … I mean me and Serena … we’re grateful for what you did for us tonight … and so is my brother … please don’t misunderstand us …” squeezing my hand as she spoke.

Jennifer Capriati was not beautiful by any standards, but since my school days, I’d had an immense fascination for her. I loved her plump luscious body, and I loved her earthy demeanor, and that awkward toothy smile of hers. And in some ways, I empathized with her too. She’d tasted too much success far too early, and had gone astray like most humans would. She didn’t have the kind of determination and single mindedness that many of the newer generation teenage tennis sensations exhibited, and I loved her for precisely that; for being human, and fragile.

As these thoughts flashed through my mind, I realized she was still holding on to my hand, and watching me with an expectant expression. The doorman of their apartment was watching this little scene unfolding in front of him, but she seemed to be unmindful of his presence. At 33, she was almost 12 years elder to me, and no longer the teenager I’d gawked at on TV at the tender age of 6.

Allowing myself a warm smile, I said “You know Ms. Capriati … I was 6 years old when I first remember seeing you on television … and I think I became your fan that very day …” She smiled upon hearing that, showing her big pearly white teeth, and tilting her head to one side, said “Well … in that case, I guess the least you can do for me … is call me Jenny …” a warm smile on her face. I guess I fell in love with her all over again at that moment. In spite of my being reluctant, she’d forced me to come back upstairs with her again.

Steven too had a sheepish expression on his sun-tanned face, and apologized to me. Jennifer had taken my number, and promised to call; something I expected her to forget promptly the next day. But to my pleasant surprise, Steven called the next day, and said that he & his sister were driving over to see me at my campus. Their arrival on campus specifically to meet me had created quite a stir in my institute, and made me into an overnight hero of some sorts; though no one had a clue how I’d made friends with the Capriati siblings.

Find all posts by this user
Quote this message in a reply
07-15-2012, 06:06 PM
Post: #5
RE: Mixed Doubles - Sania Mirza's Sex Ordeal
The next weekend, I was invited over to Steven’s place for dinner, an offer which I did not decline. When I turned up at their place at the appointed hour, I was surprised to find Serena and her sister Venus too at the Capriati house. There were also two Afro-American hunks, who looked like bouncers in some night club, and presumably were the Williams sisters’ escorts for the night. It was Steven who opened the door, and upon seeing me exclaimed “Now look who’s here …” a big smile on his face. I was feeling completely out of sorts in the company of these celebrities, and for a moment a panic attack seized me.

But to my utter and pleasant surprise, it was the haughty 28-year old Serena Williams, who took the initiative to put me at ease and make me feel welcome. She was dressed casually in a pair of baggy white three-quarters and a figure hugging white D&G spaghetti top that showed off her massive 36-D cup breasts in all their glory. The thin strap of a black bikini-style bra could be seen on either shoulder, alongside the shoulder strap of her spaghetti top. This time, I made a conscious attempt not to look at her tits, still smarting from the manner in which she’d mocked me when she’d caught me glancing at her cleavage the other night.

At 5’9”, she was a whole head taller than me, and just the sight of her muscular ebony fore-arms made me feel like a wimp. Her dense curly negroid hair was tied casually in a pony, and she wore a pair of white floaters on her big feet. I had never understood her loud and hideous dressing sense, something that was very typical to most Afro-Americans of her generation. Flashing me one of her big smiles, those pearly white teeth contrasting with the ebony skin of her face, she took my hand in hers and pumped it enthusiastically. “Guess I owe you an apology, darling …” she said, continuing to shake my hand.

“And a thanks too ...” chirped the bubbly Jennifer from behind her. Jennifer was dressed casually too, in a pair of denim cut-off shorts that showed off her fair muscular and rather plump thighs and a loose sleeveless collared white top, that had buttons in the front and looked like a man’s shirt, tied together in a knot at her belly. With a big smile, she came up to me, and to my utter surprise, embraced me warmly, giving me a good feel of her heavy 36-C breasts clad in a comfortable bra pressing against my chest. “Oh I will … I will …” Serena said with a laugh, and taking me by the hand, she led me into the dimly lit hall like a teacher leading a school kid.

I’d followed her uncomfortably, as she led me to the bar, and opened a can of chilled beer for me. Handing me the can, she popped open one for herself, and then touching her can to mine, said “Thanks m’ah friend … for bailin’ us out the other night … I guess I was in pretty bad shape, eh …” giving me a deep throaty laugh, that sounded almost masculine. She was an intimidating personality, both physically and otherwise, and all I could manage was a nervous laugh. Putting her hands around my shoulder, she turned me around to face the other folks who were waiting with their drinks in their hands, and raising the can of beer in a toast said

“Here’s to my new Indian friend … a gentleman at that …” “Amen to that …” Jennifer had chorused, smiling warmly at me, even as the others had joined in with chimes of “Yeah … yeah …” Embarrassed to the core, my cheeks had flushed red, and I managed to blurt “You’re very kind … all of you … I just did what anyone else in my place would’ve done …” There was silence for a moment as everyone just stared at me, and for a moment I thought I’d made a fool of myself again. “Ain’t he cute …” a squeaky girlish voice said, and at that all of them had erupted in laughter. Turning towards the source of the giggly voice, I realized it was Venus Williams who’d spoken.

At 6’1”, she towered over me. She was muscularly built too, though her towering height hid the broad frame of her physique well. She was not as attractive as Serena was, and her upper lip protruded well above her lower one, giving her face an awkward look. At 29, she was an year elder to Serena, and stood awkwardly with a perpetual stoop, her muscular round butt jutting out of her back. She was as broad as Serena, though she didn’t look it on account of her incredible height.

She was dressed in a black sarong of sorts that came to her calves, and showed off the incredible length of her long black muscular legs, and a bright red halter top that ( ) covered her relatively modest 36-B breasts, leaving her neck and shoulders bare. She too had worn a black bikini-style bra underneath, as I could make out from the thin shoulder straps that were tied around her neck at the back. As I looked shyly at Venus, she flashed me her awkward toothy smile, giggling to herself.

Steven came up to me and thumping me rather hard on my back with his huge palms, said “Well said, pal … well said … like a true gentleman from India …” his broad face creasing into a big smile. “Come on … let me introduce you to Venus …” he said taking my hand and leading me to her. Venus Williams was not half as sexy as the voluptuous Serena, but she more than made up for it with her earthy and friendly, albeit a little awkward, demeanor. As we shook hands, she giggled instinctively, and shifting her weight from one long leg to the other like most awkwardly tall people do, she said “Hey … thanks for takin’ care of ma’ li’l sista here … an ma’h da’hling Jenny too …” her accent more pronounced and coarse than Serena’s.

Awed by the fact that I was actually at a house-party with the legendary Williams sisters, I’d just managed to mumble “It’s a pleasure to meet you … um … Ms. Williams …” eliciting another round of laughter from all in the room, and another girlish giggle from the gangling Venus. “Hey … cool it guys … I don’t wanna you guys messin’ around with ma’h new friend …” Serena had said with mock anger, waving her fist at the others, and once again putting her big muscled black arms around my shoulders, giving me a feel of those huge DD-cup firm and muscular breasts to press against my shoulders.

After I’d been introduced to the two huge black guys too, we settled down to enjoy the evening. The two guys were apparently some friends of the Williams family, and were visiting them from Jamaicas. One of them was called Jake, and the other Jamal, though I couldn’t remember later which one was who. Steve put on some hip-hop music on his turn-table, much to the pleasure of the Williams sisters and their two friends, who quickly got down to the center of the room, and began to grind and rock to the music so popular with most black folks. Jenny was busy in the kitchen, grilling some steaks, and I joined her in the kitchen, since I had no intention of getting dragged into dancing by the Williams sisters, who were beginning to let their hair loose. Jennifer was pleasantly surprised to find me in the kitchen, and all the more impressed when I helped her with her cooking.

Cooking incidentally was one of my weird interests, and I somehow found it very therapeutic to cook, especially when I had an audience to cater too. What pleased me immensely was the fact the she’d taken the pains to put together a few vegetarian dishes knowing that I’d be a vegetarian. I helped her put together a salad recipe that I’d learnt a while back, and which was mopped up the folks in the house in no time. She asked me about my background, and took genuine interest in all that I told her. That little time I spent with Jennifer Capriati in the kitchen established a bond of sorts between us, and I was very pleased to find out how grounded a person she really was.

The apartment was a penthouse with a large terrace that overlooked the city, and eventually we’d all ended up there, enjoying the cool night air. I walked to one corner of the terrace to light a smoke, and was soon joined by Jennifer. Handing me another can of beer, she stood by my side, her shoulders touching mine. The initial discomfort and shyness at being in the company of these celebrities had begun to wear off, and I was starting to get aroused by the sheer physical proximity of these tennis players whom I’d lusted for so long. Leaning towards my side to nudge me gently with her shoulders, Jenny said “I’m really glad you came …” a smile of affection on her freckled face.

“I should be the one thanking you, Jennifer … for inviting me over … to be honest, I till can’t believe I’m here … with you …” I said to her, looking her in the eye. The beer had loosened me up sufficiently by now, and I felt bold enough to make such statements. On an impulse, she leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek, saying “I’d like to meet you more often …” At that moment, we were rudely interrupted by the ebullient Serena. “What da hell are you two doin’ … sneakin’ up in this corner, are ya …” she said good naturedly, slapping both of us on the back. Dragging both of us by our hands, she led us to where the rest of the gang was relaxing comfortably on recliners in the terrace.

Find all posts by this user
Quote this message in a reply
07-15-2012, 06:07 PM
Post: #6
RE: Mixed Doubles - Sania Mirza's Sex Ordeal
The booze was beginning to loosen up everyone now, and Serena and Venus especially seemed to be getting really high. I suspected they were doing some dope too, but I couldn’t spot anything that proved my suspicion. Urged on by Steven and the two big black fellows, Serena and Venus had started to dance in the center of the terrace, egged on by the rest of us. It was a groovy kind of mix of hip hop and reggae, and soon Serena and Venus had both stripped off their tops.

I watched them gyrate and grind their hips to the techno sounding music, my mouth dry and my cock hard, as I was presented with the sight of Serena’s huge 36-D breasts swing and sway in the black bikini-styled bra she was wearing. Clad only in the baggy white three-quarters and her bikini-styled black string bra, she looked like an ebony goddess, her muscles gleaming in the dim lighting on the terrace, as she danced in an alcohol-induced high state of mind. Venus too, stripped of her tank top, looked immensely arousing to me, her towering frame somehow masking her comparatively smaller 36-B rounded breasts that jiggled and bounced in her black string bra, which was tied around the back and around her neck.

Seeing these two athletes in this semi-nude state, their nipples clearly protruding through the fabric of their bikini tops, and their heavy ebony breasts swinging and jiggling freely in their bikini bras, drove me crazy. Jennifer however seemed to be well in control of her, and laughed and clapped gaily as her two friends danced with gay abandon, egged on by the three other men in the house. The two big black guys too had stripped of their t-shirts and had joined the Williams sisters in the sensuous Afro-American dance, their bulging muscles rippling and gleaming in the dim light.

Standing well over 6’4”, these two towering black hulks looked like a serious force to reckon with. With these two monsters around, I couldn’t dare take any chances of trying to get fresh with Serena, or for that matter, Venus. Jennifer however, was almost always at my side, doing everything possible to make me feel at ease; and I loved her for that. Once we’d finishing eating, we all settled down to enjoy a nightcap on mattresses that had been thrown around on the terrace of the penthouse. While most of the others picked up a glass of wine or some chilled beer, I settled for a coffee.

Jennifer came and sat by my side as I was sipping on the strong black coffee. As I shifted on the mattress on the floor to make room for her, she settled down next to me and put her arm around my shoulder. Sitting there like that under the cool night sky, with our backs to the wall, with Jennifer’s arm around my shoulder, and enjoying the feel of her heavy plump breasts under the sleeveless white shirt against my left shoulder, I felt a contentment I’d not felt in a long time.

I’d learnt a long time ago that in America, I shouldn’t always mistake physical contact to be sexual in nature. I was leaning back against Jenny’s shoulder, her heavy breasts pressed against my left shoulder, and my cock was throbbing inside my jeans. As I glanced at her muscular legs stretched out in those denim cut-off shorts of hers, I was tempted to reach out and feel the smooth skin of her waxed muscular yet plump thighs. Steve was in some deep conversation with Venus in one corner of the terrace, while Serena was relaxing on one of the recliners chit chatting with the two hulks, who were hovering around her, each seemingly trying to outdo the other.

That night was momentous for me in the sense that it helped me forge a very unique kind of friendship with Jennifer Capriati, as well as the Williams sisters. After finishing dinner, I’d taken leave, promising to keep in touch with them. At the door, all three girls hugged me in turns, making my tortured cock squirm inside my underwear. Serena was the first to hug me. She was in a gay mood and pulled me towards her by my waist, her crotch pressing against mine, and her huge D-cup breasts bulging out of that bikini string bra, mashing against my chest.

Giving my butt a playful squeeze, she said to me “You keep in touch alright, baby … you’re a nice kid and I like you …” I just mumbled my thanks, embarrassed to be hugged like this in front of all of them and hearing her say this in front of the others. Sweat glistened from her ebony skin, and my gaze inadvertently went to the deep cleavage of her black muscular breasts. Her belly was taut and muscular, and there was not an inch of fat anywhere on them. Praying that she’d not spotted me look at her tits again, I pulled my eyes away.

Venus was the next to hug me, and with her 6’1” lanky frame, she almost had to bend forward to do that. All evening she’d treated me like new plaything she’d discovered, and even as she hugged me and told me to come visit them sometimes. She was even more wanton in the way she hugged me, caressing my back and ruffling my hair. Owing to the height difference between us, my face was at chest height for us, and I got a good feel of her sweaty glistening cleavage rub against my face.

Mercifully she had to lean forward to hug me, and that meant that her hips were at a distance from mine, or else she’d have felt the way my cock twitched inside my jeans. As she let go off me, she turned to the others, and said with a giggle again “Ain’t he cute … he really is …” a comment that elicited laughter from the others and got the color rushing to my cheeks.

Steven was his usual back-slapping self, and made me promise to keep in touch. He took the onus of keying in their contact numbers into my phone, and bade me well. The two Jamaican hulks, Jake and Jamal, came up to me with unsmiling faces, and punched fists with me. “Yo kid … you take care of our li’l sista’s … you’re part of our brotherhood now … you got that …” Jake said, as Jamal nodded in assent. “Yo … “I said too, putting up my best effort at mimicking their ghetto language, something that made them laugh. “You’re a good kid …” they almost said in unison, eliciting laughter from both Serena and Venus. Jennifer said she’d accompany me downstairs to my car, and came along with me.

At the car, I turned around and said to her “Jenny … I’m … um … I’m really grateful you called me over tonight … I had a really wonderful time … though … um … I wouldn’t have come here had in not been for you … “She just watched me with fondness in her eyes and said “You’re a sweetheart Jignesh … and like I said earlier … I’d like to meet you more often …” a smile on her lips. Even with her teeth showing when she smiled, so besotted was I with her that I found even that arousing. “I’ll do that …” I said with a smile, extending my hand to shake hers.

Instead, she just wrapped her arms around me and gave me a prolonged hug, her hands lingering on my back, and her lush heavy body pressed against mine. Holding me in her arms, she said into my ear “I always wanted a kid bro … and you make me feel like I have one now … that’s why I love you, Jignesh …” once again pronouncing my name with difficulty. With that I took leave of her and drove back to my pad. Though Jennifer had made it clear that she was fond of me like a kid brother, I still couldn’t push away the sexual feelings that I felt for her.

Just imagining the way the top button of her top was undone, and the way her strong muscular yet plump thighs looked in those denim cut-off shorts was enough to make me hard. No matter how hard I tried, this had been a problem I’d had to deal with most of my teenage life. Girls just found me sweet, and I had begun to develop an aversion to that tag. Though I couldn’t complain, because that ‘sweetness’ which I hated so much and which they found so endearing, was what had eventually gotten them in bed with me. As I drove, I prayed that that would eventually happen with Jennifer too.

Find all posts by this user
Quote this message in a reply
07-15-2012, 06:07 PM
Post: #7
RE: Mixed Doubles - Sania Mirza's Sex Ordeal
After that evening, my relationship with Jennifer Capriati and the Williams sisters had taken off for good, and we became close in a manner that even I’d not imagined. But then that’s another long story, and it is best that I save that for another time. For now, I forced my mind back to the person who’d dropped into my yard out of the blue. As I drove my precious Mustang, which Serena had very thoughtfully got fixed like new, I thought of what I’d tell Sania when I met her. As I handed over the keys to the valet, I mentally prepared myself to be disappointed.

After all, Sania Mirza probably said a hundred things to a hundred people, and after all who the hell was I? It was not like that she wouldn’t have been able to figure out any other source to reach out to Serena Williams. Walking up to the reception, I introduced myself and asked for Sania. To my relief, she had actually left a message at the reception, asking me to be sent up to her room. One of the girls manning the reception escorted me to the floor which housed the suite in which Sania was staying. As I was riding up in the elevator, I wondered if Sania would be alone, or would her mother or her agent be there with her.

Once the reception manager had shown me the room, she departed. Taking a deep breath, I rang the bell. The door opened almost instantly, and Sania welcomed me with a polite “Hi … thank you for coming …” She seemed to have just washed her face, since a few strands of her hair that was still tied in a pony, were wet and hung across her forehead. She was dressed in clothes that indicated she was ready for bed. She wore a pink t-shirt with teddy embroidered on it, and a pair of matching pink pyjamas. She’d gotten rid of her lenses, and wore her customary stylish thick framed spectacles.

Devoid of any makeup, her ubiquitous nose stud shining in the artificial light, she looked like a girl next door. I thought of Sejal, a 16-year old teenage school girl whom I’d gotten to know after school in India, and I couldn’t help but see the physical similarities between the two girls. The only difference was that while Sejal was shy and demure, Sania was confidence and self assuredness personified. Her reasonably large 34-C breasts full rounded breasts, supported by what I presumed was a t-shirt bra inside, were hard to ignore and I had to put an effort not to look at them.

“Hi …” I responded with a smile, as I stepped in. “Please make yourself comfortable …” she said politely “… I’ll join you in a minute …” stepping into the bathroom as I sat down in one of the comfortable couches in the hotel suite. She returned after a while, putting on her glasses and blinking her eyes rapidly. “After all these years, I’m still not comfortable with lenses …” she said by way of explanation. I just smiled politely at her. She dropped the white terry towel on the bed and sat down on the couch opposite mine, pulling up her legs and folding them at the knees just like any teenage girl relaxing at home would’ve done.

Coming to the point straightaway, she asked “So tell me, Jignesh … how do you know Serena …” Disappointed that she wanted to get to business straightaway, but at the same time glad that she’d remembered my name now, I let out a deep sigh and said “Um … like I said … it’s a long story …. “ “Tell me please … I’m very curious to know …” she urged, pushing her glasses up her nose, and snuggling comfortably into the couch with her knees drawn up to her chest. I deliberated for a moment on whether I should tell her the truth, or come up with some cooked up story. Deciding that anything else that I cooked up would sound implausible, I began “Well … it all began with an accident I had about an year back …”

I then proceeded to narrate the incident which had thrown me together with the Williams sisters, leaving out the details of my physical intimacy with Jennifer or the Williams sisters. When I finished, she exhaled loudly and said with a gleam in her eyes “Wow … I can’t believe that happened … it’s amazing what goes on …” shaking her head. “Tell me … do you think they were really doing drugs …” she asked inquisitively, seemingly very curious to know about that. “I mean … I have always felt Serena has been doping … I mean … look at her physique … she’s like a man … I have difficulty accepting that she’s just blessed with a body like that … the rumor that she’s been successfully fixing all her doping tests is very strong on the circuit …” she added.

“Well … I can’t be sure of that … it’s just that I thought I smelt weed … and they did look like they were smoking at least marijuana …” I said in a reluctant voice. “Wow …” she exclaimed; the gleam still in her eyes “… sometimes I think that I’m just not enjoying my life …” a wistful tone to her voice. Interrupting her reverie, I said “Um … Sania … I hope you understand that I’d given my word to them not to ever mention this to anyone … so I hope you’ll …” “Of course … of course …” she cut me off “… I understand completely … and I appreciate you sharing this with me …” she added.

Looking at me with new found respect, she continued “I really appreciate you sharing this with me, Jignesh … I mean … all of us have skeletons in our cupboard … don’t we … “she finished philosophically. Before I could respond, she continued “In fact … knowing this just makes me realize that she’s after all human too … I mean … she’s got such an aura about herself on court … most people think she’s some alien on this planet …” she added seriously. Then turning her gaze to me once again, she said “I’m so glad to hear that you know Jennifer Capriati too … she’s someone I grew up admiring … and I’ve always wanted to know her personally …” her face showing her excitement.

“We’ve bumped into each other on the circuit a couple of times … but I’ve never gotten to know her well … I always wanted to meet her and seek her advice …” she said hopefully. I could relate to that. If there was anyone who could relate to Sania’s current situation, it was Jennifer. Both of them had experienced a meteoric rise to the top, and had exploded to the scene on the junior circuit. Both of them had experienced a burn-out of sorts when they were just into their twenties, and both of them had battled with career-threatening injuries.

“Yeah, Jenny is a wonderful person …” I replied with a smile “… I think you’ll like her …” She smiled at that and said in a small girl’s seductive voice “You’ll introduce me to her … won’t you …” her eyelashes fluttering as she looked into my face, turning on the famous Sania Mirza charm. I just smiled and said “Sure, why not …” “Tell me more about Serena and Venus …” she piped, her curiosity clearly piqued now. I smiled inwardly when I heard this. Most people would be asking a player like Sania Mirza this question, but here she was, asking a commoner from the world outside tennis, about the ebony divas who’d dominated women’s tennis for nearly a decade now.

I proceeded to tell her about what kind of personalities were Serena and Williams, all of which she lapped up attentively, nodding as if she knew that on certain aspects, while shaking her head in disbelief at others. When I’d finished, she let out another sigh and exclaimed “Wow … that surely puts them in a different perspective for me …” removing her spectacles and rubbing her eyes. Leaning forward on the couch, she propped her head in the palm of her hands, and asked me hopefully “So will you help me, Jignesh …”

“Um … I can set up a meeting between the two of you, Sania …” I replied. She thought about that for a moment, and then said “I think it would be a lot better if you speak to her on my behalf, Jignesh … I mean you seem to know her so well … I’m not sure if she’ll be receptive if I speak to her …” her tone reflecting her uncertainty. Thinking about it for a while, I said “Alright … if you think that’s better … I’ll do that, Sania …” my voice earnest. “Oh that’ll be so great, Jignesh …” she said excitedly, straightening on the couch “… I’ll be really grateful to you if you could do that …” she added with a flattering smile.

Not swayed by her flattering and somewhat seductive smile, I said “I’ll do what I can, Sania … though I can’t promise that I’ll be able to convince her …” After all, what Sania wanted Serena to do was throw two matches, and allow Sania to win the three match series 2 – 1. “I understand … I understand …” she added hastily “… you’re the only chance I have … so …” she left her sentence unfinished. “And in case she wants me to do anything in return … money or anything … please tell her that I’ll be ready to do anything to return this favor …” she added in an urgent voice.

Find all posts by this user
Quote this message in a reply
07-15-2012, 06:07 PM
Post: #8
RE: Mixed Doubles - Sania Mirza's Sex Ordeal
I was still not able to figure out her desperation to win this seemingly inconsequential exhibition series. “Can I ask you something, Sania?” I said slowly. “Sure … please …” she responded immediately. “Um … why do you want to play these exhibition matches … um … when you’re injured … “ “Oh …” she uttered, upon hearing the question which was inevitable. She seemed to be thinking about what to say to that, and was silent for a minute. Then with a loud sigh, she got up from the couch, and walked towards the mini refrigerator in the hotel room.

I watched her and admired the way her heavy boobs swung gently under her pink teddy t-shirt as she walked across the room. Bending forward to open the door of the refrigerator, she turned towards me and asked “Can I offer you a drink, Jignesh?” “Um … sure, a beer will be fine …” I answered, wondering why she was delaying answering my question. Picking up two cans of beer, she walked towards me and handed it to me, still seeming lost in deep thought. As I took the can of beer from her hand and popped it open, she settled down into the single seat couch next to mine, which was separated by a small glass topped round table.

Settling down into the couch, and once again pulling up her knees to her chest, she took a deep swig of the cold beer, and then proceeded to place the can on the table between us. I waited patiently, as she gazed into my face intensely as if deliberating whether she should share her predicament with me, a complete stranger whom she’d met only an hour back, but was now sitting in her hotel suite and sharing a beer with her. Then with a sigh she cleared her throat and said “Well … like you said it’s a long story … and I don’t know where to begin …” I just nodded my head and waited patiently for her to relax and open up.

Exhaling loudly, she began “Well … I’m probably going through the worse phase of my career now … as you can see …” a wry smile on her face as she said that. “And my injuries have not helped either …” she said, stretching her arm and showing me her bandaged wrist. Leaning back in the couch, she said “I realized about an year back that my body was not going to hold up to this strain for much longer … and that’s when I agreed to get married to Sohrab …” staring up at the ceiling, and referring to her engagement with Sohrab Mirza, which had got called off a month ago.

“I wanted to relax in life … I am just so tired of all this …” she continued in a small voice, as if speaking to herself, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. “And I’d thought that once I got married … I’d play fewer matches … and spend some time catching up on life … you know what I mean …” she said, turning to look at me with a sad expression on her pretty chubby face. I just nodded and remained silent. “But then … that was not to be …” she continued wistfully, biting her lips “… and you know what happened on my engagement front …”

I, like everybody else, was curious to know the real reason behind her break-up, but thinking better of it than to ask, I remained silent. Hearing no question or comment from me, she continued “And then I injured my wrist again … and Mahesh came up to me one day and told me that he would not be in a position to renew my contract next year …” referring to Mahesh Bhupathi who owned Globosport, the company that managed Sania Mirza’s professional tennis. This was news to me, and I was sure this was not known to anyone else either.

“I was shattered … you know …” she added, the hurt evident in her voice “… I mean that was the last thing I expected at the lowest point of my life so far … and Mahesh … I thought … I thought he was a friend who’d stick by me …” she added, her voice bitter with anguish. Continuing to bite her lips and clutching her knees harder, she continued “I mean I knew that he had always held a grudge against me for partnering with Leander in the 2008 Wimbledon, but I’d thought he had gotten over it …” staring at the ceiling again.

“I even distanced myself from Leander just because Mahesh did not like it …” she added with regret, her voice starting to get hoarse with emotion. I just sat there quietly and listened to this 23-year old busty Indian tennis star bare her heart to me, fascinated and overwhelmed at the same time. Clearing her throat, she continued “I ignored so many things that were going on behind my back … and made so many compromises … just to keep my career on track … but it just didn’t seem to end …” she said in a breaking voice, clearly struggling to keep her emotions in check now.

“Everyone let me down … Mahesh … Sohrab … everyone …” she continued, her eyes beginning to water. Seeing a tear trickle down her cheek, I was tempted to reach out to her and comfort her. But I held myself back, not wanting to cross the line with her. “And to make things worse … my prime sponsor Adidas is also saying that they won’t be renewing my contract next year … I heard that Mahesh is pushing them to look at Saina for next year … as he’s planning to getting her into Globosport next year …” she continued, referring to 20-year old Saina Nehwal, the Indian badminton sensation who was poised to break into the top 5.

“So that’s where I am now … without a professional management firm or a sponsor for next year … in nutshell, I am totally fucked up right now …” she finished bitterly, wiping away her tears angrily and picking up the can of beer and taking a deep swig from it. My beer was beginning to get tepid now, and I too took a swig from the can. “So you know where I stand now … Jignesh …” she added for effect “… that’s why this bloody exhibition tournament is so important for me … the fact that Serena’s playing means that Nike will be involved … and if I’m to approach them for sponsorship … I need to do well against her …” her tone resigned. “I can do without a PR company for sometime … but I can’t do without a sponsor …” she finished.

Not knowing what to say, I got up from my couch and walked towards the large French windows that lined one side of the suite. Parting the curtains, I gazed at the New York night life below, deep in thought. After a while, I sensed Sania behind me. Turning around to look at her pretty chubby face, her eyes red with tears, I felt a pang of compassion course through me. Gazing at my face intently, she said “What are you thinking, Jignesh?”

“Nothing …” I replied hastily, turning to look away from her. Sighing, she stood by my side, so close that I could smell the subtle smell of the face wash she’d probably used a while back. Clearing her throat, she touched me on my arm gently and said “I have no one else to turn to for help … so I’d be eternally grateful for whatever you could do …” her voice thick with emotion. “I know you don’t even know me … but …” she said sadly, dropping her gaze to the floor, and swallowing her pride. I remained silent, and just gazed at her beautiful dark eyes.

After a while, I turned away from the window, and walking up to the small table picked up the can of beer and finished it one swig. Dumping the empty can into a trash bucket, I said “I’ll speak to Serena first thing in the morning today … and I’ll let you know …” She nodded her head and continued to look at me. “I don’t want to promise anything now Sania … but I’m going to try my best …” I added, not wanting to give her any false hopes. “I understand … I appreciate that …” she replied, pursing her lips. “If you don’t mind … can I have your number …” I asked, half expecting her to decline.

“Of course … of course …” she replied hastily, walking quickly to the night stand next to the bed. She quickly scribbled her number on the note pad lying there and tearing off the sheet, handed it to me. “This is my personal number …” she said earnestly “… I’ll wait for your call tomorrow …” Taking the sheet of paper from her hand, I folded it and slipped it into my pocket. The thought crossed my mind that there would be many who’d kill me to get that number. Looking at her I said “I guess you flew in today … and I’m sure you’ll be tired now …” a polite expression on my face “… so I’ll take leave of you now … you’d probably like to catch up on sleep now …” glancing at my watch.

“Uh … ok …” she agreed, glancing at the watch on her wrist too. It was nearing 10:00 pm, and she looked like the type who went to bed early. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Sania …” I said as I walked towards the door, waving to her amicably. She escorted me to the door, and as I opened it, I turned around to face her again. Thrusting my hand out, I said with a smile “Good night, Sania …” Smiling, she took my hand in hers and said in a soft voice “Thank you … “She continued to hold on to my hand for a little more than necessary, and when I looked into her eyes again, she hesitated for a moment before saying “Um … just a minute, Jignesh …”

Letting go off my hand, she walked back into her room quickly. I saw her open the wardrobe and search for something. Closing the wardrobe shut, she came back to me clutching a small teddy bear, and a glossy hard-bound book. The book was a compilation of sorts that captured her life and career in high-quality photographs, and was something of a collector’s item for Sania Mirza fans. Looking at me with an almost embarrassed look on her face, she said “This is just a little something for your cousin sister …” she said in a hesitant voice “… tell her that Sania didi sent this for her …” laying special emphasis on the word ‘didi’, referring to how my teenage cousin sis had addressed her.

“Um … I’m sorry but I forgot her name …” she added almost apologetically. “Bhavika …” I replied with a smile. She asked me for my pen, and when I handed it to her, she autographed the book as well as the little card that hung from the teddy’s neck, taking pains to write a special note addressed to Bhavika. My cousin was going to be thrilled with this, and as I took the souvenirs from Sania’s hands, I said “That’s very kind of you, Sania … Bhavika’s going to love it … I … well I just don’t know how to thank you for this …” my face creasing into an embarrassed smile.

“Oh please don’t say that …” she responded immediately, a pleasant smile on her face that seemed genuine “… she’s a really sweet girl …” Pausing for a moment, she added “On the contrary …I am the one who should be thanking you … for …” her voice trailing off. “Please … don’t … I haven’t done anything yet … first let me try … and then maybe I can accept your thanks …” I replied pleasantly, flashing my most charming smile. “I’ll look forward to hear from you ...” she said, giving me a mystical look from those limpid pools of her dark eyes. With that, I took leave of her and drove back to my aunt’s place, worried about whether I’ll be able to convince Serena tomorrow.

Find all posts by this user
Quote this message in a reply
07-15-2012, 06:08 PM
Post: #9
RE: Mixed Doubles - Sania Mirza's Sex Ordeal
I called up Serena the next day, as promised to Sania. I left a message on her voice mail asking her to call me back, as she did not pick up the call. To my relief, she called back within a few hours. She sounded pleased at my having called, and chided me for not having met her before packing up for NJ. I briefed her about the talk I’d had with Sania, and she listened attentively. Serena had played Sania only once so far, which was at the 2005 Australian open, and she’d beaten Sania 6-1, 6-4. However, her sister Venus had played Sania four times so far, the last encounter being at the Family Circle Cup at Charleston in 2009. Though Venus had won the match 6-1, 3-6, 6-2 and led their head-to-head tally 4 – 0; it was the first time that

Sania had managed to take a set off Venus. “Look Jiggs …” she said in a matter of fact tone “… she’s a good kid … and personally I don’t have any problems with her … but she’s somehow managed to get under Venus’ skin …” throwing light on the simmering tension between them and Sania. “She’d said some things to Venus after their last match … which Venus didn’t like one bit …” she added with some rancor “… so if I’m going to put her in her place when I play her … that’s a promise I made to my sis …” she added by way of explanation.

Though the angle about Venus being the one who was pissed with Sania was news to me, I was still prepared for Serena to be adamant about the matter. I reasoned with her, and presented to her the real condition of Sania now. That seemed to mellow her down a bit, and she said in a reasonable voice “Look da’hling … I’m gonna go with this just ‘coz it’s coming from you … not for her alright … “she said, much to my relief. “So here’s what I’m gonna do … I’ll get Venus to give you call … and then you can talk it out with her … alright?” she said with finality.

I agreed to that, and before hanging up the phone, she reminded me with a laugh “But if you’re gonna side up with her when I come to NJ … I’m gonna eat you alive …” her tone bearing no malice. I laughed at that, and we hung up the phone. Within about 15 minutes, Venus called. “Hey ya, cutie …” she exclaimed in that girly sing-song voice that was so unlike her physique “… heard that Indian bitch wanna cut a deal with my sissy …” “Yeah …” I replied in my most embarrassed voice “… um … but only if you’re ok with it, Venus …” “Ya’r so cute … ya know that …” she said with a laugh. “Look sweetie … I’m gonna say yes only if …” she began, in a tone that was dead serious.

I listened in stunned silence as Venus then went about stating what she wanted in return from Sania as part of the bargain. “Uh … ok … lemme speak to her … and I’ll come back to you …” I managed to mumble, still dazed at the unimaginable terms that Venus had laid out. “Ya do that, baby …” she crooned “… an’ make sure you keep a night aside for us … before ya pack up ya’r bags and go back to India …” she added with a laugh. With that, I hung up the phone, my head reeling from what I’d just heard. After having a smoke to soothe my nerves, I nervously called up Sania.

She picked up on the second ring, and exclaimed “Hi Jignesh … I was waiting for your call …” “Er … Sania … I’m sorry but it doesn’t seem to be working out … Serena’s not agreeing …” I managed to mumble. I heard a sharp intake of breath, as Sania went silent. “Why … what … why …” she gasped, unable to structure her question. “I mean … what did she say … why … oh please tell her that I’m ready to do anything … anything she wants … oh please …” she almost pleaded. I remained silent, unable to tell her the truth. “Jignesh … please talk to me … please tell me what she said …” Sania said, her voice so desperate that it melted my heart. “Um … I can’t talk over the phone …” I said with some difficulty “… would it be possible for me to meet you …” “Yeah … why … of course … please … I’m at my room …” she answered immediately, the panic evident in her voice.

I landed up at Sania’s hotel in the next half an hour and rang the doorbell. She opened the door, and what struck me immediately was that she’d been crying. Her eyes were red, and her plump cheeks were flushed a deep shade of pink. She was dressed in a gym outfit of a pair of pink figure-hugging track pants, a white sleeveless tank top with the Adidas log on it, and a pair of white Adidas sneakers. Her large 34-C breasts perfectly rounded and incredibly erotic, supported as they were inside a near-perfect shaped sports bra. She had a sweat band on her forehead, and her hair was tied in the usual pony.

Forcing a smile on her teary-eyed face, she greeted me “Hi Jignesh … please come in …” I stepped into her room, avoiding her eyes. Even before I could gather my thoughts, she asked me “So tell me Jignesh … what did she say …” her eyes gazing at my face. With a deep sigh, I began “Um … she did not agree, Sania … she says … “hesitating before I continued “… she says … that there’s no way she’ll do it …” my head hung low. “But … but why … “ Sania implored. “Err … she mentioned something about you having said something to her after a match … and she’s taken offence to that …” I managed to mumble, not being able to think of anything else at that moment.

“What … when … “ Sania exclaimed “… I’ve never said a wrong word to her … I’ve played her only once … and even after that match I’d congratulated her …” waving her hands in the air. I remained silent, and walking up to the French windows, gazed outside. I felt Sania walk up towards me. Grabbing me by both my arms, she turned me around and forced me to look at her. “Jignesh, you’re hiding something from me … tell me the truth … please … “she asked in an imploring voice, her eyes boring into mine.

I swallowed, unable to respond. “Tell me, please …” she cried again, her hands squeezing my arm harder as she shook me violently. “Oh Sania … let it go … please … it’s not worth it … “ I pleaded, trying my best to convince her. Squeezing my arm harder, she took a deep breath as if to control herself, her big heavy breasts heaving inside the tight white tank top. Looking into my eyes with a dead serious expression, she said fiercely through clenched teeth “Let me be the judge of that … ok …” her voice almost a whisper.

With a deep breath, I forced myself to look at her. “Sania …” I began in a quivering voice “… you said that you’re ready to do anything to make this happen … what is it that you’re ready to do …” I asked, looking into her eyes. “What … what do you mean … I mean … whatever she wants …” Sania responded, shrugging her shoulders impatiently. “What, Sania … what?” I repeated, continuing to look at her with a pained expression in my eyes. “Um … money, if she wants that … I can give her my entire match fees … or … if she wants, I can endorse her brand of perfume for free … or whatever else she wants me to endorse … “ Sania said, racking her brains trying to think of what she could do.

When I was silent, she added “Or if she wants … I’m willing to lose every single match I ever play with her in future … all I want to be is in the top 100 …” her voice desperate now, and her eyes frantic. “I can’t think of anything else … what else can I do …” she asked in a plaintive voice, her eyes desperate looking into mine for answers. I looked at the 23-year old Sania, who was usually confidence personified on the court, but was now reduced to a state of utter helplessness.

“She doesn’t want any of that, Sania …” I said quietly, my eyes looking into hers. “And to tell you the truth … it isn’t about Serena … it’s about Venus …” I added with some reluctance, dragging my gaze away from hers again. “What …!” she blurted “… Venus!” Shaking her head incomprehensively, she asked “What did I do to, Venus???” her eyes wide. “You pissed her off, Sania …” I replied in a resigned tone “… something you said to her after your last match this year pissed her off …” I added, shaking my head and turning away. She followed me, and clutching her forehead, exclaimed “Oh shit … oh shit … that was just …” she mumbled, shaking her head in disbelief, probably remembering what she’d said to Venus after the match.

“Oh God … please … I didn’t mean it … it was just said in the heat of the moment … I was so pumped up, you know …” she exclaimed, her eyes imploring as if pleading with me to understand. “Of course, Sania … I understand … but she’s probably got a big ego … and doesn’t want to let go of it so easily …” I replied, trying my best to make her understand the situation. With a deep breath, Sania took hold of my arm again, and said to me almost gently in a totally demoralized voice “Alright … ok … so tell me how can I make it up to Venus … did you speak to her …?” she asked me. “Yes … I did …” I replied, turning to look outside the window again.

“Jignesh … please help me out here … I’m going out of my mind …” Sania pleaded, her eyes blinking rapidly, the tears beginning to wet her eyes. “Please tell me what I can do to apologize to her … “she almost wailed, clasping her hands together in a pleading gesture. Turning to look at her, I said in a flat tone “She doesn’t want an apology from you, Sania … she wants … she wants to humiliate you …” “What … how …” Sania mumbled, unable to understand the meaning of what I was trying to say. Shaking my head in exasperation, I said “She … she wants you to … to spend a night with her … and Serena …” my voice faltering, and my breath coming faster on account of the absolutely unbelievable thing that I was telling her.

Sania’s eyes went wide, and her hands flew to her mouth, as she just about managed to exclaim a shocked “Ohh …” Ashamed of being the messenger of such a depraved request, and irritated with her for having forced this out of me, I turned my face away. Sania was stunned into silence, and she swallowed involuntarily a couple of times, as if trying to say something, but unable to. Finally she managed to gasp “You mean … you mean … she wants to …” her hands still clutching her mouth, her magnificent bosom heaving. “Yes, Sania …” I said to her with a sigh “… she wants you to subject to her … and have sex with you …” my voice conveying disgust.

Find all posts by this user
Quote this message in a reply
07-15-2012, 06:08 PM
Post: #10
RE: Mixed Doubles - Sania Mirza's Sex Ordeal
But deep inside, I was hugely aroused by this incredibly perverted request from Venus. Even as I was conveying this to Sania, torn between my lust and the compassion I felt for Sania, my cock had begun to stiffen inside my pants. “Oh my God … oh my God …” Sania Mirza gasped, burying her face in her arms, and shaking her head to and fro. For a moment, I felt like I was the worst person on this planet, as I watched the sexy 23-year old busty Indian tennis star, shocked and stunned by what she’d just heard from my mouth.

Opening her mouth and looking at me, she managed to whisper “But … how … she’s a girl …” still shaking her head in disbelief. I just shrugged my shoulders, and gave Sania a look that seemed to convey “Come on, Sania … don’t be naïve …” “Is she … is she … a lesbian …” Sania managed to gasp, her eyes wide with shock. Thrilled that I was to hear that word from the confident and mostly arrogant Sania Mirza’s lips, I still managed to keep my cool, and just shrugged my shoulders again. Breathing heavily now, she just stood there in front of me, her breasts heaving, and her brain in a turmoil, trying to digest what I’d just conveyed to her.

After a while, she asked “Is she … a man … or a eunuch?” her voice almost a whisper. I almost felt like laughing when Sania asked this ridiculous question, but somehow managed to control myself. I guess Venus’ intimidating physique probably made many men and women suspect that. Shaking my head in refusal, I simply said “No …” She waited, as if wanting me to add something further. But hearing nothing further coming forth from me, she just sat down heavily on one of the elaborate couches in her suite, and buried her face in her hands again.

She sat there like that for a long time, shaking her head intermittently, but not saying a word. While this whole conversation with Serena & Venus in the morning, and now with Sania had awoken the pervert inside me, I also felt disgusted with myself at being part to this shocking communication. “I’m .. I’m sorry I told you this, Sania …” I said to her softly from where I sat in the chair opposite her “… I didn’t want to …” She seemed to be lost in a trance, and did not look up from where she sat with her face buried in her palms. Not sure if she’d even heard me, I got up and said gently “I’ll leave now ... I guess … I’m sorry …” my voice thick with emotion.

Just as I was beginning to walk towards the door, Sania called out “Jignesh …” When I turned around, she was looking at me. She was crying, and the tears were still rolling down her pretty face. “Please wait …” she said, her voice broken by her tears. With that, she simply lifted her arms as if reaching out to me, and held them out. It was the most intimate gesture I’d ever seen her do, and with a lump in my throat, I crossed the room to where she was seated in the chair. Taking both her extended hands in mine, I knelt down on the floor in front of her. Clasping her hands, I said to her earnestly “Let it go, Sania … it’s not worth it …” my heart going out to her. Wiping her cheeks on her shoulder, she said to me “I can’t Jignesh … I can’t … my whole future is at stake here …” shaking her head.

“But I still can’t believe it … I mean …” she said, the disbelief still in her voice, as she looked towards the windows. Turning to look at me again, still holding both my hands, she asked “Tell me Jignesh … what should I do … what would you do if you were in my position …” desperately seeking some help to figure out how to handle this. I shook my head, and said in my gentlest tone “I can’t Sania … I don’t want you to do this … but then … I’m not in your position … so I can’t be the judge of what you should do … or should not …” hoping that she would appreciate what I was saying. She was silent for a moment, as if contemplating upon what I’d just said.

Then with a sigh, she nodded and said “Yeah … you’re right … I can’t expect you to decide for me … after all it’s my career … and my life …” giving me a wry smile. Turning her gaze away from me, she let out a prolonged sigh before speaking. “Jignesh … do me a favor please … tell her … I mean, them … that I’ll do it … that I’m ok …” she said in a low resigned tone. In spite of the emotionally charged environment, my cock gave a jerk inside my pants. The busy 23-year old Indian tennis sensation, Sania Mirza, was telling me that she was ready to subject herself to a night of sexual depravity with the black goddesses of international women’s tennis, Serena and Venus Williams!

I gulped involuntarily when I heard that, and my mouth went dry. A shiver went down my spine, and I could feel my hair stand on end. Before I could say anything, Sania asked “Will it be just them … I mean, Serena and Venus … or will there be someone else too …” her tone apprehensive. I’d anticipated this, and had asked Venus precisely this question. And she’d stunned me when she said that the two huge black guys I’d met with them at Jennifer’s place would also be there. Apparently, she wanted to have an orgy of sorts, and the prized catch as the bait for Jake and Jamal would be 23-year old busty Sania Mirza.

Swallowing, I said hesitatingly “Um … there’ll probably be two guys also … their friends …” and wishing she’d stop asking me the gory details. “Friends …” Sania asked fearfully “… who … do you know them …” looking at me helplessly. “Um … yeah … I met them once …” I managed to reply, purposely looking away from Sania’s big fear-filled eyes. “Are they … are they also … black?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper, the fear evident. “Uh … yes …” I mumbled, feeling sorry for her, but at the same time aroused imagining those two huge negroes from West Indies with the relatively diminutive and plump fair-skinned Sania. “Oh Jignesh …” Sania said in almost a whisper, her hands clutching mine harder “I hope … I hope they’ll not hurt me …” in a tone that betrayed her paranoia.

I was sure she was thinking the same thing that I was. After all, the thought of getting fucked by two huge negroes would scare the hell out of any normal ( ) Indian girl. Taking a deep breath, I squeezed her hands reassuringly. “No, Sania … nobody’s going to hurt you … they may have a different lifestyle from ours … and their tastes may also be different from ours … and they may freely indulge in many things that you and I would not even think of … but they are not inhuman … or cruel …” I said to her reassuringly. “I know them personally Sania … so I think I can safely vouch for that …” I added for good measure, though deep inside I had my own fears about what the Williams sisters and their hulking escorts would subject the poor Sania to.

That seemed to mollify her a bit, and she just nodded her head dumbly. After a pause, she asked “You’ll be there no, Jignesh … I mean, with me … when I’m with them …” her voice eager, but feeble. Now this was the million dollar question I was waiting for her to ask. Both Serena and Venus had made it very clear that this deal was subject to me being present with them. While that had sent a shiver of excitement down my spine, I was also very apprehensive of how Sania would react to that. Now that Sania had asked that question, I took my time before replying, as if struggling with myself. “Err … no, Sania … I won’t … I can’t …” I said faltering, shaking my head as if I couldn’t even get myself to think about it.

“No …” Sania said fiercely, clutching my hands harder “Please … you have to be … I can’t … I can’t do this alone … you’re … you’re my only friend …” she pleaded in a beseeching tone, her eyes looking plaintively into mine. As I shook my head in negation again, she cried “Jignesh … please … I don’t have anyone else I can turn to … I can’t have anyone else ever know about this … please … you have to …” her voice beginning to break again. She was trembling now, and her lips were beginning to quiver again. I played the part of a reluctant participant for a while longer, making her cringe. Finally, I said “Alright … I will …” albeit in a tone of reluctance. “Ohh …” she sighed in relief “… thank you …” and with that she buried her face on my shoulder, where I was kneeling in front of her chair.

I’d never expected this kind of a gesture from Sania, and the physical contact with her made me shiver. She was holding on to my shoulder as if hanging on for dear life, as she buried her forehead on my right shoulder. In this position, my face was only inches away from those incredibly sexy and heavy breasts of hers inside her tank top, and I could see the enticing cleavage of hers at the round neck of her white Adidas tank top. My cock stiffened painfully inside the tight confines of my underwear, and I could smell her body; an erotic and heady mix of sweat and her perfume which turned me on immensely.

I was tempted to reach out and wrap my arms around her back, but afraid that I might scare her off, I refrained from doing so. Instead, I just rested my palms on her muscular thighs that were encased inside her figure hugging navy blue track pants. Sania sat there in that position, resting her head on my shoulder for some time, before she straightened and looked at me. There was a moment of awkwardness between us, when both of us just looked at each other. Not wanting to further her awkwardness, I stood up. Throwing her a warm smile, I said “I’d better get going now …” starting to walk towards the door before she could say anything.

She just gave me a weak and embarrassed smile, and stood up to. She followed me as I walked towards the door. As I opened the door and turned around to say bye to her, she looked into my eyes and said “Jignesh … thank you …” I was feeling quite ashamed of myself now, and hearing her thanks only compounded my guilt. After all, what was she thanking me for? For arranging to get her fucked by a bunch of crazed American dykes? I just managed to give her an embarrassed sigh, pursing my lips in the process. And then, to my complete surprise, she took two quick steps towards me, and hugged me. At that moment, I felt as if this was all that I wanted in the whole wide world.

Here was the 23-year old Sania Mirza, wrapping her arms around me, and hugging me, and giving me a feel of her young athletic yet plump body, with those firm heavenly 34-C breasts pressing against my chest. At 5’8”, she was just an inch shorter than me, and her head snuggled comfortably against my shoulder. I was so aroused that I was tempted to grab her, and press my pelvis to hers, giving her a feel of my cock which was erect and throbbing uncomfortably inside my underwear. But instead, I just placed my left hand on her waist and patted her head gently with my right. Since she had raised her arms to embrace me, her top had slid up at the waist, and when I placed my hand at her waist, I was rewarded by the feel of her bare skin at the waist.

She had just a hint of baby fat on her waist, and her skin felt hot to my touch. Her heavy breasts, held inside her sports bra, felt just heavenly against my muscular chest. She held me like that for what seemed like an eternity, before letting go off me. Looking up at my face, she smiled her trademark sexy smile, the nose-stud glittering in the artificial light. “I’ll see you soon …” she said in a voice that was almost a whisper.

I just nodded my head. On an instinct, I reached out and touched her gently on her cheek in a gesture of affection. “Bye …” I said softly, before turning around and walking away quickly. As I reached the elevator lobby, I turned around once. She was still standing there at the door watching me. When she saw me, she smiled and waved to me. Elated, I too waved to her, before I turned the corner and she disappeared from my sight.

Find all posts by this user
Quote this message in a reply
Post Reply 

Possibly Related Threads...
Thread:AuthorReplies:Views:Last Post
  Dia Mirza Seduces Meenal Jain Sex story Sex-Stories 2 10,951 06-13-2012 06:53 PM
Last Post: Sex-Stories
  Made love to Sania Mirza Sex-Stories 3 14,215 06-03-2012 06:45 PM
Last Post: Sex-Stories
  Slut Sania Mirza Having Sex Sex-Stories 0 35,618 06-02-2012 03:05 PM
Last Post: Sex-Stories
  Sania Mirza Tennis Star Sex Story Sex-Stories 0 26,322 06-01-2012 02:17 PM
Last Post: Sex-Stories
  Aishwariya Rai Airport Ordeal - A Sex FANTASY SexStories 8 12,596 12-20-2011 11:43 AM
Last Post: SexStories
  Amisha Patel's Ordeal Sexy Legs 5 23,045 09-05-2011 09:55 AM
Last Post: Sexy Legs