Indecent Proposal

Silence. Deafening silence. Until Saira spoke again.

"What if Rahman and Haseena were to ... you know, together? Do we still get the full amount?"

I don't know who was more shocked - me or my daughter. Even by way of innuendo had I never entertained such a thought, and here was my wife, laying it all out like some simple picnic lunch. "What!" I was the first to find my voice.

Saira ignored my outburst, opting to wait until either of the Germans answered her. Katrine smiled warmly; Heinrich allowed himself to relax. "Yes, we would."

"No way," I broke in abruptly. No way was I going to fuck my daughter, and that too in front of a camera. Not for a million bucks. Not for all the money in the world.

Saira turned to me. "Listen, we need the money, don't we? We have built so many dreams on it already. Can you give it all up?"

"But Haseena is our daughter -"

"I am more aware of that fact than you are - after all, I am her mother. Bore her for ten months. I am also aware that we need too much money for you to let your morals guide you."

I was stunned into silence for a couple of minutes. Noticing my troubled expression, Heinrich offered to leave the room to give us some privacy, but Saira asked that they stay back. It was a tricky situation, and as much as I found myself wanting to say no, I couldn't bring myself to voice the words.

Instead, I rallied back for another attack. "She is a virgin, and she should be for her wedding night."

Saira laughed at my archaic excuse. "It's Pakistan of the 21st century, my dear husband. Few remain virgins until marriage nowadays. Besides," she cut me off when I started to argue another point, "Hymens are not the absolute evidence of virginity. It can be torn by any number of reasons, and I don't suppose any son-in-law will want to learn more of such things about his wife."

Clean bowled.

Saira turned to Haseena. "What do you think, Haseena? Would you act alongside your father?"

My daughter lowered her head. She did not say anything. She did not say no.

Saira turned to me with a victorious smile. "See! Haseena has no problem with it!"

I wanted to point out that our daughter hadn't said yes particularly, but Saira anticipated my defense. She shushed me with a finger on my lips, and I obliged. Heinrich and Katrine were watching the unfolding situation with interest, arms around each other's waist, ready to step in if I took to violent means. But I could see that they were interested. After all, wouldn't we be emulating them?

"Listen, dear husband of mine," Saira continued in a gentler, more sensual approach. "Losing my virginity to you is something I still rank as one of my best decisions. Not just because I love you, but because I loved the way you made love to me that day. You are a very good partner, and I would say that Haseena following in my footsteps to lose her virginity to you is probably the bonus in the whole affair.

"I know she is just nineteen; and do you remember how horny we were at that age? I mean, just look at her peers. Most of them are already on to their second or third boyfriends. Premarital sex is not as uncommon as you would like to think, Rahman, it's the reality that you have to accept."

I stared at her blankly.

Exasperated by the reaction, Saira grabbed Haseena's arm and pulled her to a couple of feet in front of me. "Look at her, Rahman, look at her! She is not some young girl whose trust you are violating - she is twenty, for crying out loud. She needs a person to love her as you love me, as a man loves a woman. We can't afford that on what we earn, we can't get an ideal match for her. So we will have to do with the best that we've got."

"And I am the best you've got?" I asked sarcastically.

I will forever cherish her reply. "Make no mistake about it, hubby dear. You are the best. I am the lucky one to have you."

Saira allowed a moment for the compliment to sink in before doggedly returning to her idea. She placed a hand under Haseena's jaw and tilted her face up. I was looking into my daughter's downcast eyes, shame or reluctance the cause, when my wife ran a hand over the swell of my daughter's breasts. It was a purely reflex action that I followed the movements of her hands with my eyes.

Ya Allah! I swear I hadn't entertained any incestuous thoughts about my daughter before.

Before.

For the first time, I saw that my daughter had, in the physical sense, grown into a fine woman. She was well-filled in all the right places, yet not obscenely so, and the heaving of the lungs as she breathed heavily was only emphasizing her womanly features. I took in the trim stomach, exposed in a narrow gap between the saree and her pallu. These were just the physical features, and I realized that my little girl was as beautiful below the neck as she was above, as peerless outside as she was inside.

The thing that disturbed me was not that it was a father's pride I was feeling. It was something more... animalistic? The lust that one feels for another? The strange feeling that they call love at all levels? All I knew was that at that moment, my daughter passed away. In her place was Haseena, a very beautiful woman who no man, including her own father, could resist.

The battle raged within me. How could I, I asked myself, even subject her to this? It should never have been brought up, the suggestion of incest. But now that it had, now that my wife had drawn my sexual gaze on to my daughter, I didn't know if things would ever return to normal again.

"I don't think Haseena is too keen -" I protested.

"Nonsense," my wife countered. Turning to our daughter, she asked her, in a very kindly voice, "Do you want to do it, Haseena? Don't say yes, though, if you want to say no. Don't say yes unless you are sure you want Papa to make love to you."

I expected my daughter to shake her head. Instead, slowly, almost imperceptibly, my little girl nodded. I could see the grin spreading across my wife's face. "Are you sure, Haseena?" she prodded.

This time, she looked up and met my eyes. I could see the blush on her cheeks, like a dash of rouge, and she maintained eye-contact for five seconds. Then she lowered her head in the manner of a demure princess accepting the hand of a suitor, and said, clearly, plainly, "Yes."

"That's it then," my wife moved over to the Bunders, shaking hands with them. "It's decided. Deal?"

"Deal," Heinrich concurred, shooting the three of us a very relieved and thankful glance. Katrine and Saira hugged each other, then the German girl gave my daughter a hug. It wasn't my imagination that saw Haseena winking at me naughtily over Katrine's shoulder.

Heinrich came over to me and shook hands very warmly. "Thanks, my friend, you just saved my ass from getting fired. It is a pleasure doing business with you."

"When do you want to shoot?" I asked, indeliberately betraying the same anticipation that my daughter must have been feeling. Saira looked at me with an amused expression, and I grinned back at her.

"How about right now?" Heinrich replied. "We've got the video setup ready in the master bedroom... but if you want to wait..."

"Now would be just fine," my wife broke in. "I mean, there is nothing else to do except making love, right? No scripts or anything?"

Katrine nodded. "There is nothing to delay us tonight itself, and I would much rather that we get it to Gunter as soon as possible."

I feigned still-lingering reluctance as the five of us walked to the master bedroom on the first floor. What I saw amazed me! The room was half the size bigger than the living-room below, and that made it almost six times as big as my entire house. There was a huge bed, gold and ornate, in one corner of the room, opposite to which there were five wardrobe-cabinets with full-size mirrors.

On a tripod a little away from the dead center of the room was a camera, attached via cables to a small screen on a table beside a door that, I guessed correctly, led to the bathroom. There was a diffused light in the room, and the whole atmosphere seemed to act like an aphrodisiac. My resolve to back out anytime I had to was starting to weaken.

"Wow!" exclaimed my daughter. I looked at her, not at the face as a whole, but the little features that lead to the big picture. Her rosy red lips, those blushing cheeks, that cute dimple of hers, the thin strands of hair that almost always fell across her face, those brown eyes, the nose with that sexy upturn, the ears adorned with imitation jewelry... she was a sight to behold.

I knew I had fallen in love with my daughter. And I knew it was wrong.

It was only when Saira waved a palm in front of me that I realized that I had been daydreaming. On everyone's face now was a silly, infectious grin, except on Haseena. I have never seen a smile more beautiful, more communicative. Once again, I pinched myself mentally. This was not the time to go ga-ga over my daughter.

"Why don't the two of you move into the middle of the room and start kissing? Just wait for the signal," Heinrich said from behind the camera. Katrine sat at the screen-console, and Saira joined her at her side. Haseena was already in the position indicated, and she cast a quick, shy glance in my direction as I walked over to her.

I stood in front of my daughter, smelling her sweet perfume that would make an incense stink by comparison, and just savored the feel of looking at her. There whirring of the camera started, a couple of lights were switched on, Katrine barked directions to her father, but inside my ears, all sounds ceased.

The Universe ceased. There was me, and there was my daughter. There were just the two of us.

I had no idea what I was supposed to do. Kissing, yes. But where would I proceed from there? I felt like a kid on his first date. If there was one thing I didn't want to do in the whole world, it was to humiliate myself in front of Haseena. I wanted to prove to myself that I was worthy of her.

"Action!"

Haseena still hadn't looked up at me again, but as soon as I heard the signal, my head just started to move towards her beautiful face as if I had willed it. There was no hurry, only the languid movement of my face towards hers, my lips towards hers. At the last second, Haseena looked up, our eyes met.

Perhaps it is human nature, handed down from generation to generation, or perhaps all of our sensual actions are governed into mechanical responses, because the kiss was incredibly indefinable. She was a virgin, this was probably her first kiss, and I had never kissed a woman other than my wife in my entire life, but as soon as we made contact, there was the sense of fulfillment, of closure, that is so characteristic of a true act of love.

My tongue peeked out and traced the contours of her lips; the latter parted, and her tongue darted out quickly, just touching the tip of my serpent before shyly withdrawing. As much as I wanted to, I didn't follow her - I felt that I had to give her time to discover her own calling. It was a magical day for both of us, more so for her as she would become a woman. I teased her lips with my tongue, alternately mashing against them with my lips.

After a couple of minutes, a period that I later measured in the video, Haseena ventured out again to invite me. This time, she let herself linger longer in my mouth, playing around with my tongue until I chased her back. We kissed like lovers - we kissed as lovers - for some more time.

Almost as if on cue, both of us pulled apart at the same time, still tasting the other on the lips. Her eyes, two brown pearls, gazed into mine with a matching intensity, reflecting the limitless love that we held for each other. The rest of the world was forgotten; the motif of our existence became each other.

Her hand went up to her pallu, the free end of her saree that was hung over her shoulder, but I placed a gentle hand on her. Wordlessly, I told her that I wanted to undress her. I wanted to take her clothes off, one by one, tasting her flesh as they were exposed inch by luscious inch. Haseena dropped her hand to her sides, but they soon gathered a confidence of their own accord, and as I pushed her saree off her shoulder, her digits started to unbutton my shirt.

Sarees, like dhotis, have to be tied around the waist - this is often done by wrapping it tightly around the waist and squeezing the free end between the body and the cloth. Once the pallu slid to the floor with a very erotic swish, I allowed my hands to trail down the sides of her body, down her flat stomach, and inserted it into the hem of her dress.

Haseena undid the last button on my shirt in perfect sync with the dropping of her saree.

The rest of our movements can be best described as a dance of love, as we kissed once again. Her blouse was off next, followed by my vest. It took my breath away to see this vision par excellence standing there in just her bra and underskirt, waiting for me to make love to her. The bra straps slid of her shoulder, and she wiggled out of them, the action causing her pert, young breasts to jiggle slightly. They were, I thought proudly, the best anyone could ever come across. Firm, around the size of a clenched fist, with those delectably pink buds on top that deserve a much better name than 'nipples.'

I brushed lightly against one of the nipples, and she let out a moan. Not too loud, but not too silent either. Emboldened by her response, I flicked the bud with my index finger. Another moan. Her hands clutched the back of my head as I started to envelop her breast, evoking, this time, a very loud moan. She fell back on the bed, pulling me along with her.

I suckled and nibbled along her tits - once again, a derogatory term for those perfect mounds - until she started to buckle and jerk under me. Her first orgasm! I quickly whipped off her underskirt, my hands doing the work automatically. I cupped her pussy, smooth and baby-soft, as the first jet of her juices came rushing out, soaking the sheets and my hand.

After another, similar result with her right breast, I kissed my way down to the shaved V of her womanhood. It's one of the few edicts of Islam that I really agree with - pubic hair is nothing but a nuisance. Especially on a woman as beautiful as my daughter. Haseena gasped when I kissed her just above her slit.

"What are you doing, Papa? Isn't it... dirty?"

"Nothing's too dirty for you, my princess," I mumbled as I ravished her femininity with my mouth. "Honey - that's what this is, Haseena. Your honey."

I ate her until she orgasmed again, this time covering my face with her juices. She tugged me gently by my hair, and I moved upwards again, until I was hovering over her. Face to face, eye to eye. A drop of her cum that had been hanging from my nose fell on her face, beside her mouth, and she ran her lips over the gooey stuff.

Apparently, she liked what she tasted, because she didn't let me go until she had licked my face clean. We kissed again as I stripped myself of my pants, my hands seemingly assured of themselves as they pushed the material, now soiled with her cum, down to my ankles. I tasted herself on her, as we tossed saliva mixed with the juices that she had licked off my face, and the sensation was nothing short of the exuberance of life.

The continuous motion finally landed my hard cock at the entrance to her hole. The acquiescence for the ultimate act of unison between man and woman was given, and I started to slide into her. She was a tight fit, almost wrenching my cock into two before I had even reached her hymen. Images of me breaking Saira's skin that first night flashed before my eyes, but even though I was nearing my release at a neck-breaking pace, I knew that pain was the last thing my daughter needed.

Instead of just ramming apart her pussy, I primed her for the penetration, slowly sliding back and forth until the stimulation caused her to see stars again. At the highest peak of her orgasm, I slammed myself to the hilt inside her. That was all it took for me to blow my own load.

Over and over again, we came, father and daughter consummating like few others had done. The slight run of blood from her torn knot mixed with our combined fluids, seeping out as a tiny stream from the still stuffed pussy. Haseena had her legs wrapped firmly around my waist, and I collapsed on top of her, locked in the tightest of embraces with my daughter. With my daughter who was my lover.

I closed my eyes as I rolled over, settling with Haseena on top of me. She laid her head on my chest, the long, soft hair spreading over her back and sides like some exotic blanket. It was only when Katrine - or was it Saira - cleared her throat that we came back from the realms of the loving.

"Great stuff," Heinrich complimented.

"Wonderful," Katrine chirped in.

All eyes turned to look at the silent and sober Saira. She stared at me, intimidating me because it was a totally unexpected reaction from her part. Abruptly, she broke into the widest of grins I have ever seen on a face. "And I thought I was the only one who got you going!"

Suddenly, Haseena and I realized that we were still naked - not only naked, but still 'conjoined.' Haseena started to get up, ever conscious of the fact that her crotch was an obscene evidence of our lovemaking. As strange as it may sound, my cock was still in a firm grip inside her womb.

"It's all right," Saira assured, seeing our daughter's endeavor to get up. "Don't bother covering yourself. In case you've forgotten, we've got the last hour on tape... you didn't seem so worried about clothing back then."

"Ya Allah!" I exclaimed. One hour! "Did we really go at it for an hour?"

"And a couple of minutes," Katrine added, and pointed to where her father was removing the tape from the camera. "It's a seventy-five minute tape, and frankly, we were starting to get worried about containing everything on a single cassette."

"Let me burn this into a CD," Heinrich said as he walked towards the door. "And then get it to Gunter as soon as possible. Back in an hour, folks." Turning to Saira and Katrine, he winked mischievously. "Fraus Saira and Katrine, don't you think these two should get some privacy now?"

The two ladies grinned patronizingly as they followed Herr Heinrich Bunder out of the room. "Good night!" "See you tomorrow!"

"Papa," Haseena whispered huskily after the door closed. "Is it always this good?"

I smiled at my lover. "Why don't we see about that?"

It was even better.

It's been three months now, from the very day that Haseena and I had become lovers. Not a single day had passed without us making love, and the only downdraft had been that tongues had started to wag about us in the neighborhood. Heinrich had asked me the last time he called whether I wanted to move to Germany, in return for a couple of more films with the company. Without any further deliberation, I had said yes.

It's not that I don't like Pakistan - I just don't think people will understand it when Haseena delivers our baby the coming September.

That's just six months from now.

P.S. Now my wife thinks the movie was a bad idea - after all, she got a wonderful groom for her daughter without paying a single paise. Me.