An Unhappy Union Ch. 01

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Astur watched her husband Mohammed eating his breakfast, and hated him knowing the truth finally; that her husband had been cheating on her. The pair of them had moved from Somalia several years earlier to the United Kingdom fleeing the brutal Civil-War and Islamist terrorism. Their lives were happy upon landing in London, and being given a council home. Now almost a decade since moving to the UK had discovered in her twenties that she was unable to conceive children, and her husband had been devastated but unfairly blamed Astur for everything.

Knowing she could not give him children she had tried to be a loving, perfect wife to him but had had notions, and even gut-feelings of him perhaps seeing another woman in secret. He hid his phone from her, and sneaked off to make secret calls to someone. Astur was now thirty five years old, same age as her husband. She was once skinny, athletic and firm but had grown more curvy, her bubbly, thick chocolate body should have turned her husband’s attention but now she found him never interested in her.

As he ate his toast, halal chicken franks and fried egg he seemed more interested in his phone than his wife. Not noticing that his wife had gone out of her way to dress for him wearing a long dark purple dress that reached down to her knees, and sleeved. Her hijab was a brighter purple in colour, and she wore matching eye liner, shadow and lip gloss. Wearing a pair of seamed, seamed sheer purple pantyhose with a simple pair of black flat-sole shoes on her feet.

Looking up from his phone with his balding head, and reading glasses on his nose he spoke. “Oh yes Astur, I will not be home tonight until late. They want to keep a few of us back for some catch-up work. So if I’m not back tonight, I’ll probably be in the morning.” He told her, barely giving her a glance before looking back down at his phone.

“Oh, OK.” Was all she could say in response, knowing he wasn’t listening for a protest.

But her heart was pained; it was their 10th wedding anniversary that day, and Mohammed had clearly forgotten, or didn’t care enough to remember.

“Honey, what are we doing tonight?” She asked him beaming, smiling and feeling excited.

He looked up as if surprised. “Astur, I have to work late tonight.” He told her turning back to his phone.

Astur’s warm smile dropped, and she felt crestfallen. Lowering her gaze, she fought back tears. Across the dinner table she heard her husband. “I better be off to work, I’ll see you later.” He said putting down his fork after finishing his chicken sausage.

No kiss. No embrace. No apology for forgetting their anniversary. He had even forgotten her thirty-fifth birthday only two months earlier, and she believed he was with his mistress that night also. He had left her alone in the apartment, and never came home until the morning.

Astur heard the front door close behind him, and she broke down in tears at the table. Sobbing, and crying she hated her husband but blamed herself for making him seek out another woman.

Cleaning away the dishes, and the kitchen she went to take out a bag of rubbish downstairs to the outside bins of the building. As she stepped out of her apartment, closing the door behind her she made her way downstairs to the bins. As she did she passed a young man on the stairs, and she knew him to be her downstairs neighbour. He was almost thirty, and from the North of England in Manchester and living in London for work.

John McCay stepped out smiling at Astur, with his thick brown beard and short matching hair. He was wearing jeans, and a large black hooded jumper.

“Oh hey, Astur. Getting colder, you should have a coat on love.” He told her with a warm smile, with his northern accent.

Astur smiled, seeing the young Northerner. She had to admit that John was handsome, and rugged.

“I know, just putting a bag out to the bins. I should have put something on.”

John listened noticing Astur’s curves, and the long robe-like dress she wore that clung to her body. He had noticed Astur’s beauty, but assumed she was devoted to her husband. He had also noticed the wagon Astur dragged behind her; her large bottom. To him it was a bubble butt, or a booty sized behind. Her dress clung to her large behind, and seemed to even accentuate her bottom from behind.

Astur heard the sound of a zip, and watched as John took off his jumper offering it to her. “I’ll walk you down to the bins.” He told her, as she let him put the jumper over her and zip it up from the front.

Astur didn’t protest and they walked downstairs together, as Astur smelled John’s scent from the jumper. At first she felt uncomfortable, only because it was another man’s jumper on her but she soon relaxed as they exited the building’s front door.

His mere presence at her side made Astur’s breathing quicken, and she fought butterflies in her stomach as they walked. He even took the rubbish bag from her and carried it to the bins with her, when he suddenly spoke in his northern brogue.

“So what are you xvideos porno and Mohammed doing for your anniversary tonight?” He asked her as they turned the corner to the bins.

Even John remembered her and Mohammed’s wedding anniversary, when her own husband didn’t want to be with her for the celebration.

“My husband is going to be working late tonight. We’ll try for our next anniversary.” Astur said simply, forcing a smile.

John threw the heavy bag of rubbish effortlessly over his had into the large bin. Turning to Astur, John smiled.

“That doesn’t make sense, love. Mo should be making sure to spend your anniversary together, why’d he not just ask ahead weeks ago to make sure the evening was set.” John surmised.

Astur knew why Mohammed hadn’t done this, because he was spending every free minute he had with his new mistress.

She didn’t know what to say, and her face told John everything he needed to know. He breathed hard and spoke honestly.

“He’s either forgotten your anniversary; or he’s found another reason to not come home to you.”

Astur was stunned at his honesty, and adept analysis. He was right, and she looked away ashamed.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried love. I just think he should try more for you, Astur. You deserve better.”

Astur smiled, and swung her head.

“No it’s fine, John. I was wondering if you would like to come up and eat with me, I had prepared a meal for the evening with Mohammed; but not it will only go to waste.” She said smiling at John.

The offer was gracious, John knew that Astur even offering to be alone with him was quite a concession in her life, and culture. He agreed, and she had even told him to bring his own beer with him for the meal.

They had agreed on 7pm, and John would come to Astur’s home.

“I guess I’ll see you at seven, then.” He told her with a warm smile at her door, as she was about to take his hooded jumper off and hand it back to him. But he told he to wear it, he’d get it later tonight.

The idea, even the prospect of wearing his jumper out in public and smelling his scent seemed dirty, even a sensual idea.

Astur didn’t protest, not really given a chance to as he left and went back to his apartment. She found herself wearing his black hooded jumper, she grabbed her purse and left to get ingredients and shopping for the meal. Astur even found herself looking forward to John’s company, in lieu of her husband.

Besides John seemed friendly, always helping her with shopping when Mohammed was away or out with his secret lover. He had even let her stay in his apartment for a few hours one day, when she had locked herself out and waited until almost midnight for Mohammed to come home.

For the rest of the morning, and early afternoon Astur went out to her local Halal butchers, grocer and bakery to get what she needed for the meal.

She planned to cook a home-made chicken curry, with rice, bread and steamed vegetables. She returned home at about three o’clock in the afternoon, and began cooking and preparing the food for her and John.

Still wearing his scented jumper she thought about John as she cooked, and even felt the surge of butterflies in her tummy as she thought of him. As the clock chimed 6pm she knew she had an hour to prepare herself, as the food was ready for serving when John arrived.

Astur changed her underwear from simple black panties, to a clean purple silk pair. Matching her pantyhose, her panties were simple but snug on her mound and bottom.

Rolling her pantyhose back up her long, thick legs and over her large bubble she let her robes drop to cover herself again. She opted to slide off her slippers, and put on a pair of black ankle boots she had bought to wear for her husband when out, as she liked their style.

Astur felt sexy once more, and stepped out of her bedroom to check on the food cooking. The next hour was simply finishing, and preparing the food ready to be served when John arrived. Just as Astur finished laying the table for the meal, she heard a knock at the front door.

It was exactly 7pm, and John was on time for their meal. Quickly checking herself in the wall mirror near the front door, her beautiful Somalian features, and matching purple eye shadow, and liner finished off what she thought was quite a modest outfit for the evening. Moving to the door she opened it and saw John, who smiled and held a carrier bag containing four cans of beer.

She was accepting of the alcohol, even though a Muslim she wanted John to enjoy the meal with her.

“John, you made it.” Astur said happily, and smiling at him.

John grinned back.

“Aye love, I’m not too early am I?” He asked her concerned.

Astur smiled, beckoning him inside.

“No right on time, sweetie.” She said as he stepped past her into the apartment.

“You have a lovely home, Astur.” John remarked seeing the Arabic writing, and framed words, even a Koran on a small stand near a book case.

Astur yabancı porno smiled at his northern voice, and his warm words.

“Thank you, John. Please go on through, the food is almost ready. I’ll get you a glass for your beers.” She said and went ahead of John to the kitchen, as she did John watched her voluptuous, curvy large body. From behind her his eyes were drawn to Astur’s large, big bubble butt hidden beneath her robes.

The tight purple robe and dress clung to her large bottom, that was in the shape of a peach; with big, large meaty buttocks. John followed her until veering off to the couch, and television.

He watched her in the kitchen as he sat down on the couch, Astur returned to him with a large glass for his beers, and a glass of water for herself. As she sat down next to him, her long robe clung tight to her and she was forced to rearrange the dress. John quickly glimpsed her thick chocolate legs and thighs, and saw the purple nylon clinging to her. He had even seen the white seamed line running up the back of her legs into her robe.

Her purple attire, and her eye shadow, liner and a light purple lipstick made John very uncomfortable, but it was a man’s urges he felt. Seeing her juicy, thick thighs encased in purple nylon forced John to reposition his growing hard-on in his jeans. He made sure Astur did not see him, and quickly returned to a normal position on the couch.

Astur sipped her glass of water, as John took out a can of Hieneken beer. Cracking it open he began pouring it into the large glass Astur had given him, and spoke.

“So you and Mohammed have been married for how long, Astur?” He asked her as he poured his beer into the glass, careful and experienced in pouring it without it bubbling over.

Astur smiled back, her leg on the couch as John notice her ankle boots.

“Ten years today, we have been married. A decade together.” Astur said, her voice was controlled but she felt an anger, and unhappiness to her husband Mohammed.

John caught her eye, and they looked at one another as John put aside the empty can of beer.

“A happy marriage so far, I hope?” He asked her.

Astur didn’t know how to answer him at first; their tenth wedding anniversary and Mohammed was away with his mistress, instead of being at home with her. He also still blamed her for her inability of getting pregnant, at times when in a heated argument bringing it up and blaming her for imprisoning him in marriage.

John lifted his glass of beer to his mouth, sipping it and listened.

“So far, I guess.” Astur said trying to sound convincing, but it did not work.

John sat up, never breaking eye contact with Astur.

“What’s wrong, love?” He asked her.

Astur looked away ashamedly.

“Astur, love. You can tell me anything.” John tried to console, and convince her to open up.

Astur knew John wouldn’t let up and turned to him, before speaking.

“Mohammed has been seeing another woman, he is with her tonight instead of with me.”

Her simple explanation angered John; not towards her, but to Mohammed for cheating on her, and not even spending their anniversary together.

John sighed hard.

“He’s not here with you, he’s with his mistress?” He asked her still clutching his glass of beer in his hand.

Astur nodded simply looking down at her ankle boots.

“Dirty bastard.” John laughed, but Astur knew the laughter was not happy, but anger and distaste he had for Mohammed.

“You deserve far more than this, Astur. He has no reason to cheat on you, to go with another woman.” John said moving closer to Astur on the couch.

Astur swung her head left to right. “No I did this, I cannot give him children John. He has reason to find someone else.”

Astur was blaming herself for Mohammed’s infidelity, she began to sob trying to stifle her crying from John.

Suddenly she felt John take her hands and faced her fully on the couch.

“I am sorry, Astur. But that doesn’t give him any reason to cheat on you, if he’s unhappy then leave and let you meet someone else.”

Astur chuckled sadly.

“Someone else? Who wants a barren woman, John?”

Suddenly John turned Astur to face him as they sat close, their eyes locked as John held her hands.

“Maybe he was the problem, Astur. Regardless forget that word, I would want you. I would want you as my woman, and that fucking means being loyal to you. That’s no reason for him to treat you like this, if he isn’t fucking happy then he should leave with his fucking mistress.”

Staring into her eyes with his own hazel brown eyes, he held the beautiful, Somalian, Muslim woman’s soft hands in his own.

Suddenly the sound of the oven, an alarm signalled that her Chicken curry was piping hot in a clay pot.

“I should get that, the food is ready John.” She told him, wiping tears from her eyes as she stood from the couch but did not release his hands immediately.

“Put the TV on, John. I’ll get the dinner yaşlı porno ready.” She told him and rubbed his hand warmly, before going over to the kitchen.

John sat up and watched her go into the kitchen, her tight robe clinging to her bubble butt, her hijab framing her face and features perfectly.

He had always suspected Mohammed of hiding something, and he knew what it was now; his mind and focus was not on his wife, but on his mistress. John drank his beer and a few minutes later Astur laid out the food on the dinning table.

“Come John, the dinner is ready.” Astur said with a warm smile from the dinning table.

John brought over his half empty glass of beer, and another can from his shopping bag to the dinning table. As he did he saw Astur’s big bottom, and wanted to grab her. But clearing his thoughts, he sat down and on the dinning table was a plate of flat bread, a bowl of rice, and the medium sized clay pot of steaming curry.

Astur smiled as she sat across from John, and began to ladle the curry out as John took a portion of rice, and a piece of the warm flat bread. Astur asked John for his plate, and taking it she ladled him a good portion of the curry onto his plate.

Smiling across the food and table, Astur felt happy again to have a real man’s company, and if Mohammed was not that man she didn’t care what he thought. As they ate, they spoke at length about their hobbies. John enjoyed hiking, going away for long weekends back to the north, and both the Peak and Lake districts. He was an outdoors man, he knew how to hike, camp and enjoyed it. Astur felt a thrill hearing of the time he had gotten caught at the top of one of the peaks in the north, and stupidly done so through growing snow and hail.

Managing to get down from the peak, pushing through hail and snow he was able to get down and spoke of how cold, and close he had come to hypothermia. Cracking open another beer can, he filled the glass again. Laughing at several jokes that he made, Astur felt comfortable and content.

Astur ladled another portion of the hot curry from the clay pot for John, and he ate like a bear. Astur loved that about him, and his personality and humour shone through.

Astur spoke of how her and Mohammed had fled Somalia, and it’s capital Mogadishu almost a decade ago due to the heavy fighting, violence and killings. Daily bombings put fear into the people, fearing where the next bomb was planted. The pair of them were able to get to a UN refugee camp on the border. Eventually gaining entry, and accepted into the United Kingdom for refuge. Astur loved the UK, and how free it was but also the British way.

As John sipped his beer again, he spoke.

“Does Mohammed go and see her often, his mistress?” He asked her.

Astur sipped her water, and nodded.

“If he can avoid being here, he will. He lies about work, and makes up excuses. I know truth, but I just cannot face him over it. I am bigger, I am fatter. He doesn’t want me any more, I think.” She said with a sigh, trying to not make eye contact with John out of some form of shame.

John had drank half of his beer so far, and looked up at her.

“Astur, you are a beautiful woman. You’ll find another man who appreciates you.”

Astur chuckled sadly again, drinking her water. “What man would want me? I’m fat, and ugly.”

John stood suddenly from the table, and went over to Astur slowly before as she looked up at him wondering what he would do, he leaned down to press his lips against hers. Astur shivered at the feel of his warm, rough, thick beard tickling her chocolate cheeks. He slid his tongue into her warm, wet mouth touching hers gently.

Then she heard the sound of a belt being unbuckled, and turned to see John undoing his belt, then his hand found his zip and he began to pull down his jeans. Breaking the kiss John stood straight, as he pulled open his jeans and he fished out his big, thick, hard erect cock in Astur’s face.

“John, what are you doing?” She asked him in shock.

His cock inches from her nose allowed her a clear view of his erect member; he was both thicker, and even longer than Mohammed’s own cock. The fat cock-head was the shape of a thick sausage end, and his shaft was about four inches in girth and seven inches in full length.

“You think you’re not attractive, well this proves otherwise, Astur. If he cannot appreciate you, Astur. Then I will.” He told her stroking his impressive member in her face.

“John we-I can’t do this.” Astur exclaimed.

But John was persuasive, as he took hold of the back of her head and the hijab.

“Right now, Mohammed is with another woman, Astur. Don’t you deserve this, a real man and to truly fucking get him back for what he’s done to you?” He asked her, holding his cock with one hand in her face, and the other holding the back of her head.

Looking from his thick member and up to his brown hazel eyes, and his thick brown beard.

“You’re so big, you’re bigger than him.” Astur moaned, with a teasing smile.

John smiled, having convinced her; he knew he had her now. Unzipping his black hooded jumper, he took it off and put it aside as Astur watched him undress in front of her. He wore a nice, laid back blue shirt and undid the buttons as Astur continued to stare at his member.

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