5 comments/ 87445 views/ 33 favorites My Indian Sex Adventure By: peachtree1958 It has rained every day for the first two weeks I've been here. Most of the people seem to revel in it, walking around without an umbrella or making any attempt to run to a shelter when the rain started. As a matter of fact, they seem to go out of their way to GET in the rain, as if they were soaking it up after being parched in the desert. And I guess that was the sensation they felt. It was the monsoon in India and it provided most of the rain they would get for the year. It gives life and that's the way people see it, not as something to avoid, but rather to embrace like a long lost love. Besides that, it's useless to try to stay dry, unless one just stays inside all day, and even then, things get damp even with an air conditioner running to pull out the moisture. So, after the first week, I simply got wet, knowing the rain would end later in the day and I would dry out then or get as close as I could get to being dry. I've just completed my third year of college and I'm on a year abroad. I know it'll sound strange to you but I'd chosen to split it between India and Scotland. India because I was always intrigued about it and my college roommate is Indian and he and I used to talk about it while we were sitting around the dorm drinking cheap beer, the only kind we could afford actually. I chose Scotland, which I'll go to later this year because my ancestors originally came from the Hebrides. Either of them would work for my major, which was in International Business. In India, I was going to study the outsourcing business that India was such a big recipient of. And in Scotland, I'd be studying the effect of the U. S. economy on Scottish economic prospects. It India, I'd chosen to live in Mumbai, for two reasons. One is that it is rapidly becoming a focus for outsourcing and the larger reason is that it is where my friend Vikram is from and I could live with his parents. Finding a place to live in India is not particularly easy for a Westerner, particularly one that didn't speak Hindi very well, and that may be an understatement. In fact, I only spoke a few words of Hindi. Additionally, while I'd talked endlessly with Vik about India and Mumbai in particular, I knew it would be so alien that having a familiar host family would be hugely beneficial. Even with all the research I'd done, I was not prepared for Mumbai. It is a city of over 15 million, but what makes it confusing but intriguing, is that it is probably the most diverse significant city in India and probably in Asia. And while it is a thriving, bustling city, it is still one of great poverty and a relatively poor infrastructure in most of the city at least by U. S. standards. Just operating in the city can be a chore, but it has some of the kindest, most hospitable people in the world. Vik's whole family picked me up at the airport. I'd met Mr. and Mrs. Dalal before, when they visited Vik in college. And Vik's older sister, Sarrita had also visited with her husband and two children. But, I'd never met his older brother and his family or his grandmother. I've never been met anywhere by so many people that I was somewhat embarrassed, but they are so delightful that they wanted to make sure I felt like part of the family. The extended Dalal family lived in an area known as Colaba, which ranges from middle class to upper class. Mr. Dalal was in the commercial construction business so it seemed they were pretty prosperous. The house consisted of five bedrooms, with a wing out back for the servants. Everyone that is middle class and above in India has servants and the Dalals had a driver, gardener, housekeeper, cook, and a few more that seemed primarily to serve as a relief force for the others when they were away. The only people currently living in the house was Mr. and Mrs. Dalal, the grandmother and of course the servants. Vik's brother, Rajeev and his wife Sujata lived a few miles away and his sister, Sarrita (she insisted I call her Sara) and her husband Atesh and their son and daughter live next door. In traditional Indian fashion, the Dalal house and Sara's house were both enclosed with a high fence, so the area seemed like a compound in many ways. I was assigned a bedroom that also had an outside entrance, and a small room next to it that I could use as an office. This was more that I could have expected, particularly when one takes into account the fact that I really had to do nothing domestically - cook, clean my room, do my laundry, shop. As a matter of fact, everyone, including the servants, seemed to be offended when I did do something for myself. All I had to do was concentrate on my work and see India. Nevertheless, it was all still somewhat alien to me and frankly I missed the U. S. I liked the food, loved the people, and the Dalal family couldn't have been more welcoming, and since I have been away from my family for three years, I didn't really miss them that much. What I did miss though were the little things - ordering pizza, going to the movies (I hadn't gotten used to the Bollywood fare), hanging out with my friends, just getting in my car and driving. In Mumbai, one would have been crazy to try driving. Besides, the Dalal family cars and their chauffeur were available and the public transportation was excellent and inexpensive, albeit crowded and sometimes uncomfortable in the extreme heat. I visited a lot of companies, both U. S. and Indian, that were involved in outsourcing but when I wasn't doing that, I was typically either in my room working or reading. That was often punctuated by visits with Mr. or Mrs. Dalal, and when they dropped in, some of the extended family. I didn't see much of Sara and her family; the day after I got there they left for a visit with his family who lived in Delhi. I was looking forward to their return because both Sara and Atesh were very nice and interesting and their children, 12 and 14, seemed to be great kids. They were probably nearer my age than Sara was, and I know they were closer than Atesh, who looked to be in his 50s or so. Vik was 16 years younger than his brother Rajeev and nearly 20 years younger than Sara. I was returning from a meeting with a U. S. company that was one of the first outsourcers for technology development in India when I saw Sara and Atesh's children kicking around a soccer ball in the side yard. "Hi kids, looks like fun. How was your trip?" They spoke English fluently as did the entire family. They both replied at the same time, but then Sanjay finished it, "it was ok, but we're glad to be home. It gets sooooo borrrr-ing. And there's nothing to do there." I chatted with them awhile and then Sara came out to call them in to lunch. She asked me in to join them. I demurred, replying, "no, I know you just got back from a trip and you're tired. I don't want to bother you." "Don't be silly," she replied, "it's just a simple lunch for the children and me. Atesh is at work. We got home late last night. Please come in. I'll call over and tell them that you'll have lunch here." So, I joined them for lunch, chatting with all of them about their trip. They were all curious about the U. S. and the kids seemed to know about the latest U. S. fashion, movies and TV, so they asked a hundred questions. After lunch, the kids ran to their rooms, presumably to play video games and watch TV. It had started to rain so they couldn't go outside anymore. Sara asked me all about my early impressions of India, and about my work. She'd gotten a degree in business and worked for some period of time in IT before deciding to become a full-time stay-at-home mom several years ago. She has terrific insights into what was going on in India. Her husband, Atesh is a member of the Mumbai city administration even though I don't really know what he does. After a little while I prepared to leave. "Sara, it has been great talking to you. I can't tell you how much I enjoyed visiting with you and the kids. It's good to find someone that is interested in what I'm doing here." She smiled brightly, "Ben, I loved talking to you. It gets me excited to talk about business and your project sounds so interesting. Keep me informed about how it is going, will you? And I appreciate your kindness in thanking me. Have you met any girls here yet? I know they'd love to become interested in what a handsome young guy like you is doing?" I felt myself blushing a bit even though I didn't quite know why. "No, not girls yet. And anyway, I didn't find too many girls in the U. S. that was very interested in international business anyway. Or maybe they just weren't interested in me," I laughed. "Don't give me that. You're a very interesting and attractive guy. If I were just twenty years younger, you'd have to fight me off. I'm just an old married woman so I know you'd rather find someone your age to talk to, but I do want you to come over as much as you can. Atesh travels so much it gets lonely. So indulge a middle aged housewife when you can." I replied, "come on Sara, no one would mistaken you for an old housewife. A young pretty one maybe but not an old one." And in fact, as I sat there, I had been marveling at how attractive she is. She had black hair, very pretty smooth skin, dark eyes, and a beautiful face. She was wearing an outfit that's called a salwar-kameez or Punjabi as it's known by its popular name. The bottom, on salwar, is a pajama like garment that is tight at the waist and ankles but generally loose and billowing otherwise. The top, or kameez, is a tunic like garment that hangs below the waist and typically to mid-calf and below. Sara's was a gold color with various designs and it was clingy, almost like silk and perhaps it was. Even though the Punjabi fit loosely, when she sat, the silk draped to her shape. While she obviously had on a bra, the silk of her kameez permitted a good view of the shape and curves of her apparently firm, medium-sized breasts. And while the outfit pretty much obscured the rest of her body, she had slim hips and what looked like nice well-shaped buttocks. It shows you the condition I was in that I was lusting after my best friend's forty-year-old sister, wondering what it would be like to...well, that only leads to frustration. And frustration with women wasn't something I needed right now. I'd had my fill of that over the last few years. During high school, I wasn't one of the more popular kids so - well, let's just say I wasn't a habitue of the dating scene. And in college I dated a few girls but only once with any seriousness and it turned out that she was much more interested in herself than me. It wasn't that I was bad-looking; as a matter of fact, I was often complimented on my looks and at 6'2" and 190, I was fit and stayed in shape by regular exercise. I guess the problem was that I was pretty shy with girls my age and I felt more comfortable and confident in the library than in the student union. So, I was not long on sexual experience; as a matter of fact, I hesitate to say that I'm still a virgin. But, over time, I've gotten a Ph.D in masturbation, and if they'd offered them, I would have had have been able to get tenure at any Ivy League school as a jack-off instructor. I can see it now, all the kids coming to learn from the latest techniques of the esteemed professor, Dr. Dick Whacker, perhaps, Dr. Peter Puller. With that little snippet of self-revelation, I don't need to tell you what I did after I left Sara that day. Over the next few days, I only saw Sara a couple of times, and even then, just to speak to as I was coming or going and she happened to see her as she was doing the same. In the meantime, I'd met some of Vik's friends and started hanging out with them. As I said earlier, Mumbai is an amazingly diverse place so I was able to meet people from all over the world. As I arrived home after a day of work and a little sightseeing, I noted a folded paper under my door as I arrived at my room. It was an invitation to dinner a few days later with Sara and her family. I gave her a call the next morning to tell her I'd love it. So, on the evening of the dinner, not knowing exactly what was appropriate to take as a gift when one is invited out to dinner, I picked up a bottle of wine. Even if they were non-drinkers, as many Indians are, they would probably know I meant well anyway. I knocked on the door and was answered by one of their servants. I was slowly learning names but for the life of me, I couldn't quite figure out who did what. In either case, Sara and the kids came out to greet me. "Ben, so lovely to see you. I'm glad you could make it. And thanks so much for the wine. I'll open it and we can have some with dinner. I'm sorry to say that Atesh can't make it tonight. As usual he is working late. I should have anticipated that this would be the case on Thursday night but I figured you wouldn't mind having dinner with me and the kids." This time Sara was dressed very elegantly but simply in another version of the outfit she had on before. Later I learned this one was called a churidar-kameez, the only difference being in the pajama-like bottoms. A churidar is tighter around the hips and legs than a salwar. The kameez, or tunic-like top, she wore tonight was also tighter, both across the chest and at the waist and hips. It was silk and very soft and a deep vermilion color. "Sara, I don't mind having dinner with you and the kids at all. It would be an honor. And you look lovely. I love the outfits you wear here. There is such variety in style, color and fabric. Is that silk?" "Thanks, Ben. Yes, it is silk. Want to see how soft it is? I love silk." With that she took my hand and, since the kameez had short sleeves, the only place she could put it was the area around he waist. So she put my hand just above her waist and I felt the soft material. But what I was really noticing was how firm and supple she felt for her age. I suppose I make her sound ancient but in fact, she is almost twice as old as I am. As I again complimented her on it, she replied, "thanks. My mom thinks I should wear saris all the time like she does but to me, saris are so uncomfortable. I always think something is about to fall out. While sometimes, one doesn't mind something falling out, in most cases it would be unfortunate, wouldn't it?" The extended family were all vegetarians so Sara, or more correctly I guess, their cook, had prepared a wonderful vegetarian meal for us. We opened the wine and Sara and I had a glass during the meal. The kids were all excited about some new video game they had just bought and after dinner, they took me to their rooms to show me. After playing with them for awhile, their mother made them get to bed so they could get up early the next day for school. I prepared to leave but Sara asked me to stay awhile and chat, so I went back to the family room and poured myself another glass of wine. In a bit, Sara joined me and also got another glass. We talked about the differences in growing up in the U. S. and India. Of course, I'd gotten some of this from Vik, but it was interesting to hear it from a woman's point of view. The childhood and adolescence she described was one that was more regimented and disciplined than my own. And we both agreed that this offered both advantages and disadvantages. We finished the bottle of wine and Sara suggested opening another. I frankly had had enough but she seemed to want to talk so I agreed to have one more glass. As she sat back down, she pulled the kameez, which reached mid thigh, up so it was bunched around her waist. The churidar was white and being very soft and fine silk, it conformed to her body contours. She'd put her legs on a hassock and spread them a bit so that the silk material draped between her legs provocatively. She looked very fit for a woman that had bore two children. She resumed talking, "you know, Ben, when I was growing up, it was unthinkable for me to just date on my own. Of course, we found ways to meet boys and a group of us would visit at each other's house. But, we could never be too explicit about dating a specific boy. And I know you've heard about arranged marriages. That still goes on much more in modern India than people often think, even among well-educated, urbane families. And in some ways, it's good." "Er...maybe you don't want to answer this, but was your marriage arranged?" I inquired. She laughed, "no, I don't mind you asking. My parents wouldn't call it an arranged marriage but I think most people would. Basically, they picked out suitable candidates, we were permitted to visit and talk - like a chaperoned date - and let our parents know who was suitable or who we preferred. In some ways, it took some pressure off. But, one really doesn't have that many to choose from in some ways and by the third or fourth one there is terrific pressure to accept somebody - ANYBODY. So, Atesh was the second one I met and he seemed the least objectional," Sara laughed, "so he was the one." She looked at me and the smile faded a bit, "I'm sure you noticed that Atesh is several years older than me. When I was 19, he was in his early 30s, already had a good position, and he came from the right family, and from the right caste, and for a young girl, it was a little scary, but still pretty exciting. So, that's the way it worked." "Well, Sara, it seemed to work fine didn't it? Atesh is a really nice guy and you have a beautiful house and two great kids, so everyone wins don't they? Maybe I should let my parents find a wife for me when the time comes." She laughed again, "your time will come, Ben. And yes, it has worked out well. I came to love Atesh. But I was so inexperienced. One could maybe wish for having the freedom to try other things and other people. Sometimes it seems like I was always married. Sometimes I just want to break free - but that's silly isn't it? I have everything a woman could want." I replied, "yes, and in the little bit of time I've spent with Atesh, he seems to be very content with his life too. So, there may be more to this arranged marriage thing than one would think." Sara sighed, "you may be right. And I think Atesh is content. For him, as long as he has his job and the enjoyment and prestige that offers, and the kids and a comfortable house when he gets home, then he is very content. Atesh is not a very adventurous man, so the thoughts of wanting something else probably never crosses his mind. In some ways, I think the Indian way is easier for men than women. Men have their jobs and their hobbies. Rejeev's wife, Sujata is a good example. Have you met Rajeev's wife?" I replied that I'd just met her briefly a couple of times. "Sujata is probably my best friend. We talk all the time. She's a little bit younger than Rajeev and she was even more sheltered than I was when she married, if that's possible. She'd never even held a boy's hand, much less kissed one, so she had no idea what she was doing. And Raj is a nice guy but he didn't know what he was doing either, and even if he did, he is sometimes so timid that he wouldn't be able to teach her anything, so that poor woman has been frustrated to his day, even though in may ways, she and Raj are very compatible." Sara seemed to want to keep on talking - she'd poured us each more wine - but I didn't know if I should offer to leave or not. It was getting late, so I figured I should at least offer to leave, out of politeness. As soon as I did so, she protested, and sat down next to me on the sofa "no, no Ben, please stay. While you were with the children, Atesh called and he is staying over in the city. He does that a night or so a week so please stay and let's talk a little while longer. I'll get you home in plenty of time and if my parents want to know why you were staying out so late, I'll tell them you were keeping an old lady company," she said smilingly. My Indian Sex Adventure "I was talking about Su - we call her Su - I feel so sorry for her sometimes. I shouldn't say this, but I guess it's the wine talking but poor Su is even more frustrated than I am. Rajeev is so passive, sometimes I don't think he even tries to please her, and she gets so lonely, and so - well, she has needs you know and poor Raj can't please her, or doesn't seem to want to. I know how she feels - Atesh is that way too, I'm afraid but maybe not as much - but I'm older and can understand things. Su thought for years that things were supposed to be this way, that it ah, well, that she shouldn't be feeling the things she's feeling, that she was just abnormal. She told me once that she felt like a wanton woman at least in her mind, with all those thoughts and desires. I quickly assured her that I also had those thoughts but that over the years, it had gotten some better and maybe at some point, they would just go away. But, I have to admit, those thoughts don't go too far away for too long, even at my age." As she was talking, she was turned on the sofa towards me with her knees in her arms. With her legs pressed together, I could occasionally glimpse between her legs and see the oval of flesh between them, the soft, thin, silken material not disguising much. I imagined leaning over and kissing that little oval nest of flesh with a thin layer of silk or perhaps two with her panties keeping me from what I wanted. I bet her pussy smells and tastes so fucking good. I had turned a little and had my arm on the back of the sofa and as she talked, she absent-mindedly rubbed my arm. I knew what I wanted to do but I had no idea what I was supposed to do. I knew one thing though, my cock was bursting out of my pants. She must have noticed my discomfort. She looked at me and blushed, "I'm talking too much and embarrassing you, Ben. I shouldn't say these things. Don't ever tell Vik I told you all these things. I should be ashamed of myself. But you're such a good listener, but I know the last thing you wanted to do tonight is hearing some boring, lonely, frustrated old woman." I reached out to take her hand in both of mine. It was warm and soft. "Sara, I love to listen to you. You are not boring at all, and you're certainly not old. You are a very desirable, attractive woman." Wow! I was impressed with myself. How did I ever get that out, particularly because I was very aroused at the setting and the conversation. She leaned over to give me a kiss on the cheek. I guess with the wine and the situation, I was a little too impetuous and misunderstood the situation. I turned to kiss her lips and they parted and I thought that she was returning my kiss, her tongue meeting mine, and I swore I felt her hand on my leg and heard her breathing hard. My hand moved to her leg and I caressed it, so soft and silken under my fingers. But, suddenly she pulled away, startled. "No, no Ben. Please don't. I...I can't Ben. I'm a married woman. I guess I talked too much and misled you. I'm so sorry Ben." I was devastated and laughed nervously, "I'm sorry, Sara, I just thought...I'm sorry. I need to go now. Thanks for dinner." And with that I beat a hasty retreat. God, how could I have been so wrong? I guess that's what comes from inexperience. I was so embarrassed, how could I ever face her again? Fortunately, I didn't have to over the next several days. I stayed busy and saw my friends periodically, and also visited with Mr. and Mrs. Dalal some. They traveled quite a bit so they weren't home that much but when they were, I often had dinner or a drink with them. In Sara's case, I saw her a few times in the yard with the kids or as we met when arriving or leaving, but on those infrequent occasions, we simply waved. I suspect she was embarrassed for me so it was gracious of her not to force a meeting that would further humiliate me. I was completing my sixth week in India when I heard from Sara again. One evening when I got home from work, there was a note under my door. "The rest of the family in going to be out of town this weekend. Atesh is taking the kids to see their cousins, and I know my parents are out of town also. And, Rejeev is going away on a trip to England. So, Su and I are going to have dinner together and thought you may want to join us. We'll be going to Palkhi - I think I told you about it before. It is amazing. I hope you can join us. We can go in our car and Su will join us there." I made up some lame excuse for not being about to make it but then she called and wouldn't take no for an answer, so I reluctantly agreed. Well, I'd just have to swallow my embarrassment. But, it was going to be an interesting evening in some ways. Sujata could barely speak English and I could only say a few words of Hindi so it'll be an interesting three-way conversation. I had not idea what to wear but I decided in the end to put on a sport jacket and nice pair of pants and take a tie along in case I needed it. Ties at dinner were somewhat rare in India, which makes sense because of the extreme heat most of the year. As a matter of fact, jackets were also generally not worn. I showered and got dressed and was waiting to meet Sara when she emerged from her house. This time she was dressed in an elegant sari, of deep blue and yellow. On the way to the restaurant, we talked about the kids and my work. There were no signs of the earlier discomfort that I think we both felt. She was warm and charming. Instead of meeting Su at the restaurant, we picked her up. She was also wearing a sari, or a variation of a sari. To a westerner, or at least to me, a sari is an intriguing outfit. It is yards of cloth, all draped around the body in some way that looks as complicated as some sailors' knots. In actuality, most of them (I think) consist of a petticoat or undergarment that is like a long slip, with a generally tight fitting garment across the chest, somewhat like a sports bra. And then a long piece of fabric is wrapped around the body and then generally draped over the shoulder. In short, it is beautiful and elegant but it looks confusing to wear, at least to a male and particularly a male that was still learning to tie a tie right. I've heard it said of a sari that it "covers all and reveals all," and in the case of both Sara and Su, that seemed to be the case, perhaps more for the covering part than the revealing part. But, more about that later. As I said, Su did not speak English fluently by any means, but she could speak it better than I'd expected. However, when she first got in the car, Su and Sara had a whispered conversation in Hindi and both laughed, glancing over at me as they did so. I wasn't sure what that was about but I suspected they were talking about the horny young prick that couldn't tell the difference between a matronly kiss on the cheek and a pass. It was going to be a long evening if they continued to do this the whole time. But, after that episode, they were very charming conversationalists, even considering some language difficulties, at least between Su and me. Both Su and Sara had long flowing black hair, and in Su's case, she had the darkest eyes that I'd ever seen. She had beautiful skin that was slightly fairer than Sara's. She was about the same height as Sara but seemed slighter, less full in the breasts for example. She was childless so perhaps that had something to do with it. The restaurant was only a short distance away and on the way, we talked about the menu. I'd never been there but apparently it was pretty well-known in Mumbai and somewhat difficult to get into. Both Su and Sara were predominately vegetarians but not in any really strict way, and Palkhi served both veg and non-veg meals. Many vegetarians would not frequent a non-veg (which is the local term for meals with meat) restaurant but Sara and Su didn't seem to have any hangups about that. As we entered the restaurant, both Su and Sara seemed to get their share of appreciative looks, from both men and women. They were both very striking to begin with and their saris emphasized their beauty. I think Su's outfit was a variation of a sari actually. It had a silken and sequined halter-like top (like a longer sports bra in some ways) that was tight across the breasts and left the midriff exposed, but that was all surrounded by the flowing sari that alternatively covered and revealed the top. In Sara's case, she seemed to have on a traditional sari but one could also get a glimpse of her midriff, though not as much as with Su. The dinner was marvelous and at the end, we each ordered a dessert called srikund, which is a traditional yogurt-based pudding. It is marvelous but we were all so full that we didn't eat anything. However, something interesting happened that I didn't understand until later. As we were having tea, Sara kept dipping her spoon in the srikund and letting it slowly drain off the end of her spoon; it looked like pale yellow cream. As she did so, she looked at Su and they both started laughing and said a few words in Hindi. Then both of them did it, and as they did so, Su let some drain over a spoon she held over her mouth and caught some in her mouth and the rest went down her chin. Sara then put some on the spoon, licked it off with a slurping sound, with an "ummm." They were both laughing and while I thought it strange, I assumed it was just two ladies out without their husbands having a good time. For all I knew, all Indian women liked to play with their food at the end of a meal. As we left the restaurant, Su and Sara walked on each side of me and I have to say, it was a stimulating walk, if there is such a thing. Both were very close and each held my arm in such a way that their breasts rubbed against my upper arm as they moved. It was like four live things moving, with the tips of their breasts brushing me as we walked. When we reached the car, we all sat in the back seat, with me between them. On the way home, they leaned over to talk to each other and again, my arms were treated to breasts pressed to me. And in both Su and Sara's case, as they often leaned to speak to each other, they each put a hand on my thigh. If they'd moved it up my leg a couple of inches, they would have felt the head of my cock stretching towards their fingers. I was lucky it was going to be dark when we got home; I could simply jump out of the car when dropped at my place, maybe without them noticing the randy kid that was about to have an embarrassing discharge. When we got to Sara's house, however, they really didn't give me any options. On each side of me, they steered me inside the door into the family room. As we moved down the darkened driveway, I felt Sara's hand brush the front of my trousers, and my cock reacted like a coiled spring. At first I thought it was an accident but then it happened again. And again, Sara said something to Su in Hindi and they both giggled like schoolgirls. Once we got inside, Sara said something to each servant. They brought in coffee and after-dinner drinks and then they left, apparently for the evening. We sat on a L-shaped sofa, with Su and me and one side and Sara on the other. Su sat facing the both of us, with her legs crossed on the sofa. Sara and I shared a hassock. "So, Ben, have you met any Indian women yet?" Sara inquired. "Not really," I replied, "just on a casual basis. They seem nice but I don't guess I've found one that is quite ready to go out with me yet. Of course, I haven't gotten to know them well enough to ask." Su, using halting English, said, "Indian girls are - sometimes afraid of foreign boys. They, they - what's the word - shy. But, if you get to know them, they can be very, very passionate." "I bet that surprises you, Ben. Look I have an apology to make," Sara said as she sipped her drink, "when you were here the last time, I...I shouldn't have acted the way I did." God, why did she have to bring that up? I was sorry that we were going to discuss my bumbling groping with Su. She probably knew about it anyway but I didn't want to discuss it. "No, Sara, I shouldn't have acted the way I did. With all the wine and maybe being a little lonely, I shouldn't have tried to kiss you like that. I was just out of line and I apologize to you." Sara laughed a little, "no, I didn't mean that. I meant that I shouldn't have acted the way I did when I led you on and then when you responded, to push you away." "Don't worry about that Sara. You didn't lead me on. You were just being friendly. I shouldn't have assumed that meant you wanted to do anything else and I did. Let's just forget about it." Sara leaned over to put her hand on my leg, just above my knee. "Ben, listen to me. What I mean is that I shouldn't have pushed you away. I did want it to go further. I was just afraid. Indian girls are taught to hide their feelings about men. They're taught that their husbands can do what they want but that the women have to be faithful and take care of the kids. So, I just felt...like...well, I guess I felt like it wasn't right or something. But, after you left and ever since then, I realize that I have feelings and needs too, and I was too timid that night." To show how much of a doofus I am, I still misunderstood the situation. "Well, we probably both had a little too much to drink so we'll just blame both of us for an unfortunate situation." To my amazement, Sara slid to the floor on her knees and began to caress my leg. "Ben, Su and I planned tonight. Neither one of us get what we need at home. So, when I told her about you, we both had the same idea. For a long time, we didn't talk about it until one day Su said that she couldn't get it out of her mind, and I told her I couldn't either." Now Su was leaning over to rub my chest. And to my amazement, she started unbuttoning my shirt. I sat paralyzed. Sara continued, "so we planned this Ben. And unless you say you don't want to, we're going to show you how passionate Indian women can be." As she was speaking, she moved her hand up to cup around my cock, which was fully erect. She felt the length of it as I leaned back and moaned. Su was caressing my chest, after she'd pulled my shirt from my trousers and finished unbuttoning it. Sara pushed the hassock to the side and got between my legs. I felt the tug as she unbuckled my belt. Slowly she unzipped me. Reaching inside she grabbed my cock and in so doing pulled my shorts down. It all happened in an instant and I was still immobilized. Su's hands moved to my chest as she leaned in to put her lips to mine. I felt her tongue forcing my mouth open and I didn't respond quickly enough in return and the sensation I had was that she was raping my mouth with her insistent and exploring tongue. Sara's tongue in turn was running up the length of my cock as her fingers were on top of the head clutching it tightly. I was astounded by what was happening to me. But, after being stunned for the last few minutes, I finally gained my wits about me. As I started to stand, Sara gently pushed me to indicate she wanted me to stay seated. She stood and backed off a bit and then began to unwrap the sari she was wearing. I've never seen a woman unwrap a sari before. This one was yards and yards of mostly blue, soft, diaphanous silk that was wrapped both around the waist and legs and over both shoulders I think. As she unveiled it, she dropped it to the floor draping it around her. Finally when it was finished, she stood before me. The only thing she was wearing was the petticoat and top. Both were sheer and the light blue of the sari. I could see her legs underneath the material, and I think I can see the darkness of public hair around her groin. Apparently she wasn't wearing panties. I was mesmerized by her beauty and the eroticism of the moment. The top was a tight camisole with a bottom that ended halfway between her tits and bellybutton. He tits were fully and firm beneath the thin material. I could see the darkness of her aureoles and the prominent nipples that looked like they were about to pierce the fabric. Laughingly, she reached to Su's hand and also pulled her up, and they spoke in Hindi. Sara reached to Su's waist and began to unwrap her sari. She let it fall to the floor and Su was also wearing a sheer white petticoat. Her camisole, while tight at the top was not sheer because it was an outer garment. She was slighter than Sara but her tits were also a good size in proportion to the rest of her body. Sara reached to Su and caressed a breast, saying, "soft bublays," which I assumed was the term for tits. Su laughed and raised her arms as Sara pulled the camisole over her head. Su's tits fell free. They were magnificent - prominent, firm and capped by nipples that were the size and color of a pencil eraser. She said something to Sara and Sara raised her arms and pulled off her camisole also. Her breasts were bigger than Su's, probably a C or D cup whereas Su's were certainly no more than a C cup. There was only a slight sag in Sara's tits, primarily because of the size and weight. She had very wide aureoles and as I said before, very long and hard nipples. I had wriggled out of my pants and shirt at this point but I was still sitting, with my cock straight up into the air. I didn't know how long I could avoid stroking it but I knew that if I did, I'd cum immediately and I didn't want to do that if I could avoid it. Both Su and Sara looked down at my cock and said something in Hindi, this time not laughing. My cock is around 8 inches and fairly thick and while I had no idea what they were used to, I was proud to say that I think they were impressed. Su was literally licking her lips as she looked at my dick. Quickly they both dropped their petticoats. Sara wasn't wearing anything underneath and she revealed a mass of dark hair covering her genital area. She was slim but had a slightly rounded lower stomach that one would expect from a 40-year-old woman with two children. Her hips were a little bit wide, which I actually like. All in all, her body was magnificent. Su had pubic hair that was just as thick and dark but apparently she trimmed hers because it didn't spread out to her legs the way Sara's did. She cast her eyes away from me shyly but her flared nostrils and accelerated breathing, as well as the urgency of her movements now suggested her desire. Her eyes were glued to my cock and she immediately dropped to the floor and held it and moved it to her lips. First she squeezed the head with her fingers and kissed the tip, her tongue exploring the hole in the end and tasting the precum that bubbled up. One hand was wrapped around my shaft and the other cupped my balls as she began sucking me. Sara came to my side so I could reach around her and take her nice, rounded ass in my hands and pull her to me. I smelled the lust of her hot cunt as she pressed her groin to my face. She opened her leg as my hand explored her inner thighs and she spread them farther as I found her the pussy lips that were swollen between her legs. She let out a gasp as I fondled them for a moment. I was able to glance down and see Su'd dark head moving up and down on my cock. She'd moistened it with her saliva and while she doesn't seem to be the type that has a lot of cock-sucking experience, she was doing a terrific job on mine. It was surprising how deeply she took it inside her mouth. As I was alternatively licking and caressing Sara's puffy-lipped pussy, I felt Su's mouth leave my cock and I looked to see her straddle my legs. She had my cock in her hand as she moved it towards her hairy pussy, positioning it and getting it wet by moving it up and down her slit. She was making guttural noises now, with the only words I could recognize "pucchi" and "luvde" which means pussy and cock respectively. But then as she lowered herself she keep repeating, in English, "fuck me, fuck me." Her pussy was warm and wet as it slid down my shaft. As she began riding me, I started fucking and bucking her and I immediately exploded inside her pussy, spraying her inner walls with hot sperm. I noted that her pussy was tightening around my cock too as she was bucking and yelling with her own orgasm. My Indian Sex Adventure Sara had opened her legs more and got in a position in some way so that her pussy was over my face and she was moving it up and down on my mouth. I kept my tongue out as much as I could but in actuality it probably didn't matter to her; I wasn't licking her - she was clearly fucking my mouth. As I started to cum though, I reached up to hold her gyrating buttocks and I could feel the muscles tightening with tension as she began an orgasm. She was moaning and also speaking in Hindi and whatever she was saying, it was passionate. I don't know if I ever got soft or not but I do know that Su kept fucking me after a short pause and soon I knew that my cock had hardened again. Once Sara came, she dismounted from me and got on the floor so she could get a good view of my cock entering Su's sweet cunt. Sara looked at Su and smiled but Su was too intent on fucking to smile back - she was dead serious about what she was doing. I reached to hold her bobbing tits and she moved her hands over her head and pushed out her breasts, like she was offering them to me. As I was caressing them with one hand, with the other I reached around her back to bring her closer to me. Su seemed to be trying to communicate something but I wasn't sure what. Sara looked at me and said, "she wants to be fucked hard." I pushed Su off me and disengaged from her pussy. I turned so I could get behind her as I put her torso on the sofa and I got on my knees. "Su, I'm going to give you what you want. I'm going to fuck the hell out of you." Su may have not understood each word because of her limited english and the fact that I was talking in such a husky voice but she sure understood the intent, because when I entered her open pussy again, she yelled something that sounded like, "AIIIEEE" over and over and then "FUCK ME HARD." Even though I was in somewhat of an awkward position, I could spring from my legs so I was able to drive my big dick hard inside her sloshing-wet cunt. As I did so, I slapped her on the ass and she twitched and it seemed almost as if her cunt got wetter when I did so. Now, Sara put her hand down to our genitals and said something to Su; the only word I could understand was "chunni" that I knew from Vik was Hindi for clit. Su raised her body off the sofa a few inches; Sara reached underneath and between Su's legs so that the flat of her hand was on Su's pussy with her forefinger and middle finger spread around my cock as it entered Su. Every thrust rocked her fingers, which stimulated Su's "chunni." Su began to push back into me forcefully, when further increased the movement on Sara's hand on her open pussy. I clawed at Su's ass and began making short but very hard thrusts inside her pussy; I could feel a huge orgasm coming. And Su began gasping and moaning and making animal-like sounds and I knew that she was cumming almost uncontrollably. Sara was talking to her and Su was grasping. Soon I felt a gushing coming from her pussy, wetting the front of me. It wasn't urine because it felt a little thicker and smelled differently. I felt my balls and upper legs wet with her juices. My thrusts slowed in rapidity but didn't diminish in force. Finally with one final thrust inside her, I collapsed on her back with my cock buried inside. Sara's soaked hand reached around my balls and held me deep inside Su's still throbbing and contracting pussy. Finally, we all fell to the floor, like deflated balloons. We were somehow intertwined, but I couldn't tell where one of us left off and the other started. I was surrounded by glorious, supple, smooth, soft woman flesh. We talked softly for a period - I don't know how long, when I felt a hand move to my cock, just cradling it in a palm. I heard Sara's voice. "Su, I get this inside my hot pussy next." I smiled and knew it wouldn't be long, but first we relaxed and talked. They told me all about the planning for this evening, and each said they'd often masturbated (separately, not together) thinking about this evening. While both of them had very limited sexual experiences, their fantasies were very vivid. We discussed some of them and as they described what they wanted to do, my cock began to get firmed, particularly because Sara continued to caress it. One of Su's fantasies was watching someone, both masturbating and having sex. She seemed to have a bit of voyeur in her. "Su, how would you like to see your best friend get fucked?" She smiled, "I'd like that very much, Ben." So, I suggested that she sit of the sofa. I pulled Sara to her feet and we embraced, with her big tits pressing into my chest and her groin pressed to mine, at least to my legs, with my cock pressing her stomach. I then took her over to a chair and leaned her front torso over the back of it. She spread her legs comfortably, and her hand reached behind to hold my cock. She was moaning now. My fingers slipped down to between her legs and though the nest of hair, I rubbed her cunt. She moved one foot to the arm of the chair. As I stroked her now fully opened pussy, my fingers immediately got wet from her fluids. She cocked her leg even more so she was totally exposed. I dipped a finger inside her and she pressed back on my hand, almost like she was willing her pussy to suck me inside. She was moaning loudly now, and trying to talk at the same time, repeating over and over again, almost as if in a daze, "fuck me hard, fuck me hard, fuck your slut hard." I parted her cunt lips with my fingers and then put the flat of my hand hard up to her spread pussy lips. She was more than ready. They almost engulfed me; I could feel the writhing, alive, wet flesh pressed against my palm. My fingers groped for and then found her clit and I began circling it with my forefinger, not really pressing it to the little button yet. She began rocking on the cabinet, moving her upper body so her crotch was moving over and against my hand. She was so wet that I could hear squishy noises as she moved. I talked to her as I hand-fucked her pussy. "Sara, your cunt feels so good on my hand. Fuck my hand baby. It's so fucking slick and wet Sara. Do you like to be hand-fucked sweetie? Does it feel good to have a man's hand on your needy, hot cunt?" I pressed my dick to her leg. "Feel how hard you make my cock, Sara. Think about how long and thick you make my dick, with your hot pussy sliding over my hand." Her hands groped for my dick but in her rocking, she wasn't able to grab it. She was in a frenzy of fucking and I knew that she was about ready to go over the top. I quickly stood up and moved behind her and quickly thrust my cock into her pussy. It sunk to the hilt on the first thrust. The sensation entering her and then being fully ensconced within was like being inside something thick and writhing, like someone was using a silicone filled glove to massage me. I looked over at Su. She had her hairy pussy spread and I could see the milky pinkness inside, with my still evident cum bubbled at the entry of her pussy. Slowly, she intertwined her fingers in her think pubic hair. As soon as I entered Sara, I could feel her contractions beginning. Sara's pussy became so tight up and down the shaft of my cock that it felt like it was both trying to reject my cock and draw me in at the same time. On the first thrust, I implored her, "Sara, cum on big hard cock. Cum hard on me Sara. Milk my dick baby." Those words seemed to spur her to new heights of passion. She pushed back against me and fucked my dick, all the while cumming. I - and as she later admitted, she - had no idea how many times she came. She rose off the chair back and leaned on her arms, so I was able to reach around her with one hand while the other held her ass, so that I could fuck her the way she wanted, hard and deep. I could hear the slapping sounds of my flesh meeting her ass. I could feel her tit move under my hand as I fucked her hard. And then with grunts, groans, moans, yelling, probably making animal-like snorting sounds, I came deep in her pussy. Continuing to thrust but on a decelerating basis, I emptied my sperm inside her. As I did so, I noted Su, fucking her pussy with her fingers of one hand. As she started cumming, she moved her other hand to hold the one inside her cunt, and with both hands she fucked herself until she too yelled with passion and then, release. I held Sara tight, pressed to her back and our thrusts and contractions subsided. Our bodies were covered with perspiration. I stayed next to her and felt the cum drain from her pussy and then my cock plopped out and it continued to drip on the floor, with her foot still resting on the arm of the chair. The night, and the rest of my erotic adventure in India was just beginning.