Ramya: I go to Raj's island

"How did that big dick feel when it popped your cherry?" Claire asks with a ton of enthusiasm when I call her on the drive home. "Tell me everything."

"I'm still a virgin," I say, and I can hear the silent disappointment on her end of the line. "Until next week at least," I add, then explain the condom situation.

Claire teases me mercilessly for a few minutes, demanding I keep her updated on every filthy detail. Her excitement only makes the ache between my thighs worse.

My new job as a young CIO intensifies fast. The outgoing, retiring CIO checks out mentally, so I'm pretty much in the role as soon as I return from Cancun. The hours are long but rewarding.

A crisis at work the next Wednesday keeps me a virgin a little longer. I have to cancel on Mark, and for now we don't reschedule. My pussy continues to throb with frustrated, unresolved need. I masturbate every night and think about the head of that cock that I couldn't quite fit.

Then Raj shows up at work the next week. I am now in the key meetings, a central player in the joint venture our firms are forming. It is a brilliant idea, and I am genuinely impressed with Raj as a sharp, decisive businessman that radiates quiet dominance. He never lets on to the rest of management that we have already met in Cancun, where a very drunk me dropped to my knees and sucked him off with shameless enthusiasm. I appreciate the discretion and feel I can trust him.

Raj leaves on a Wednesday, but that night my phone rings. His voice is smooth and confident. “Come to my island this weekend, Ramya. You won’t regret it.”

Mixing work and pleasure makes me nervous, but he spends a patient half-hour talking me into it by reassuring privacy, emphasizing there is no real conflict since he runs his own empire. Then, almost casually: “You should lose your virginity first though. It will be more fun if you’re already broken in a little.”

“Whatever,” I laugh. “Maybe I already did.”

“You didn’t,” he teases.

“Well I tried. He was big like you, and it wouldn’t fit. And if I do it now, I’ll still be sore this weekend. I’m very tight apparently.”

I can’t believe I just told Raj that, but he clearly loves it and tells me I got him hard. Our banter flows easily, charged and playful. I agree to go. I sense it will be a fun, unique experience, but I keep my expectations muted. I am probably going to just get properly laid, not married. He doesn’t even mention his whole weird audition process. He simply says his assistant will call to set things up.

And that’s when things get really interesting. Kiki is her name. She arranges a thorough medical exam for Friday afternoon with bloodwork and full DNA testing. It's a massive invasion of privacy, but the non-disclosure agreement signed by him that Kiki gives me and the promise of viewing his records too reassure me. This tells me I am actually being considered for the “wife” position, which is crazy.

The female doctor is kind and professional. No pelvic exam, but she asks plenty of nosy questions about my sex life (or lack thereof). Raj covers the bill in advance. I take an Uber straight to the airport.

The private jet is intimate luxury. During the smooth flight, I review Raj’s impeccable medical file as promised. We land at a tiny airstrip, then take a boat the rest of the way. I don an unflattering life-preserver, and sea spray soaks me, salt on my lips, wind whipping my long black ponytail. Kiki is waiting at the dock.

"I'm so glad you made it!" she shouts over the engine noise, her smile genuine and bright.

Kiki is a petite Japanese beauty, maybe 5'1", a full foot shorter than me. She explains I won't see Raj until the audition the next day, even though he's already on the island. The island is a small paradise, less than a square mile, dotted with discreet buildings hidden among lush trees and paths. I love it immediately. It's a perfect home-court advantage for Raj after the private jet ride. Like any woman would, I'm already imaging a life with him.

That evening, Kiki and I bond. We talk careers, laugh about cultural pressures and share stories. She is flirty in a light, easy way that made my skin tingle. She compliments my height, my confidence, the way my body fills out the casual outfit I packed. I know she is Raj's eyes and ears, and if he trusts her, she must be smart. I don't hide anything and keep it genuine as she elicits tons of information that she no doubt will feed Raj.

I have a private, one-room cabin near the beach that has everything I could need. I sleep very well.

The morning after I arrive, I sunbathe topless on a secluded beach near my villa at Kiki's recommendation, letting the sun kiss my heavy, pendulous breasts. My curvaceous figure stretches out on the towel, long legs parted slightly, feeling bold and free.

I'm dozing off when I hear a splash. A tall, powerfully built Pacific Islander man emerged from the ocean, water streaming down his chiseled muscles. Completely nude. My eyes lock immediately on his cock. He's thick even flaccid, heavy, swaying with each confident step.

He boldly approaches and lets his gaze wander across my body. "Hello," he says in a deep voice.

This is one of the sexiest men I have ever seen. “Hi,” I eke out, suddenly very aware of my exposed breasts and dampening pussy.

He chuckles. "Please keep this between us, Ms. Venkatesan. I'm not supposed to see the candidate before the audition. I apologize for the intrusion. I'll make sure nobody else bothers you."

I stare openly at that massive dick and hope my sunglasses hide my gawking, my pussy clenching with sudden, shameful arousal. Heat floods my cheeks and between my thighs. I nod, barely able to speak, my heavy breasts rising and falling with quickened breaths. "See you soon," he says with a knowing grin, then turns and disappears down the path.

I scoff and shake my head, heart racing. Was Raj behind this "accidental" encounter? The thought makes me even wetter. I didn't even catch his name. For now I dub him "Aquaman," since he looks just as amazing as Jason Momoa's iconic character.