1 comments/ 10902 views/ 5 favorites Hjjer Arrives in India By: Mnhb It was New Year's eve; 31st December is cold in New Delhi, India but if you know the right people - and sometimes even if you don't - it can be a wild and fun evening. But for me it wasn't. It was cold alright, but I sat alone in the company guesthouse - a three bedroom sprawl in one of the city's upscale localities - drinking dark rum mixed with warm water flavoured with some delicate spices. For company, I had Vince Gill singing his lonesome "When I Call Your Name". With every sip of the warm beverage I seemed to sink lower into the emotional hole I had gotten myself into. I rushed home from work like I always do I spend my whole day just thinking of you When I walked through the front door my whole life was changed Cause nobody answered when I called your name Trying to shake off the melancholy and gloom that seemed so all pervasive, I stood up from the warm comfort of a recliner chair and walked to the glass wall that separated the heated interiors with the chilly terrace garden. Although a light mist had descended across the city, I could see the brightly lit streets and neon coloured signs across this part of the city. The inviting glow of New Delhi's first luxury hotel 40 years ago was barely a hundred metres ahead and I thought maybe I could walk across and spend some time at the bar there. But the mood didn't quite favour company at the moment. Instead, I slid aside the glass door and stepped out on to the terrace. It was close to freezing temperature and all I had on was a tracksuit top and a pair of faded denims that had been worn thin on account of innumerable wash and dry cycles in the washing machine. My feet were bare as I walked across the terrace and stopped at the edge,the parapet against my thighs. From here, I could see further out across a golf course, twinkling lights in the distance. A gentle breeze fanned across my face, chilling my blood to near zero. I had a fleeting but crazy thought about gliding down from my perch like I had seen peacocks do so often in the mornings across the golf greens ahead. I lingered in the biting cold for about five minutes before I could take it no longer; then walked back to the warmth of the apartment before the crazy thoughts drove me to some insane action. Sliding the door open, I walked in to the welcoming comfort of the living room. Vince Gill was winding up his number. Oh the lonely sound of my voice calling Is driving me insane And just like rain the tears keep falling Nobody answers when I call your name There was a grave somberness that coloured my mood, the rum only deepening it to a blinding darkness. I took my empty tumbler and walked across the room to the bar. Pouring myself a stiff tot of the fantastic Indian Old Monk rum, I added the mix from a saucepan on which I had boiled water with cloves, cinnamon and cardamom. As a thin finger of steam wafted up from the mug, it condensed on the bar mirror in front of me. Instinctively, I raised a had to dry wipe it and saw myself staring back from the glass. I hadn't shaved for a few days because of the holidays and not going in for work; a dark shadow of blue-grey stubble seemed pasted on my face. I felt the rough bristle as I ran a palm across my chin and jaws. My hair was longer than I normally leave it, which is fairly long in any case, but it seemed somewhat unruly as the dark curls made an untidy frame for my face. I stared into my eyes, wondering if I could call them pools of darkness like the romantic novelists do, but decided that wasn't a fitting description. I took a step back from the mirror, wanting to distance myself from the dismal somberness of the situation, and stared at myself again, this time mug of rum in hand. At 6'0" I was a little taller than the average; there was now a little excess weight across my middle, but otherwise I looked in good shape. Physically, on the exterior, that is. I took a large sip of rum and turned around to walk back to my recliner. As the warmth burned its way down my gullet, I felt unsurprisingly sad. The occasional firework that lit up the darkness outside the glass wall reminded me of the festive jolly season outside; my own state of lowness constantly trying to dampen further my spirits. I pulled the lever up on the recliner so that my legs rested horizontally on the cushioned extension. As another country singer crooned on the audio system, I followed the words and allowed my remaining consciousness to flow along. It was a cover version of the Dreamgirls' "When I First Saw You". I needed a dream to make me strong You are the only reason I had to go on I live in Europe and I speak English, Spanish and French. I've been visiting India for a little over nine years, making at least four trips annually - sometimes more. Unfortunately I have not been able to pick up the language here, my Hindi vocabulary being limited to what I find the most useful 100 words. I work for a global engineering firm based in Europe and have grown professionally in that organisation. My international career with them began about ten years ago, and since then I have traveled all over Asia. For the last four years, I have an operational base in New Delhi which I use as a hub for my fairly large geographical coverage. During my visits here, I usually spend four to six weeks during which I need to travel frequently to various destinations for short two-day visits across the continent. I have a small office in that luxury hotel two blocks down that the company contracted to keep for five years, and I've recently renewed the contract for another five. Its staffed with more technology than people although we do have a small complement of administrative personnel. The technical people we hire in India - as in Thailand, Malaysia, Sri Lanka, Vietnam, Japan and South Korea - are all housed in large offices situated in industrial zones earmarked for engineering and construction firms. In all cities where we have corporate offices, the company has rented on long term leases accommodation of visiting management and technical specialists that fly in from Europe whenever contractual assignments demand. The house I live in is the exception; it is exclusively for my residential purposes when I visit. Although I spend only about 60-70 nights a year in it, our financial gurus at headquarters feel it is far more economical than my staying in a hotel. I have no complaints. And yes; sorry I forgot - my name is Hjjer. That's what everybody calls me in the company and in the limited friends circle I have. It's pronounced Hyair. My staff call me either Sir or Sahib. Supporting me in this house is a driver - his name is Bahadur - and a maid. Her name is Sunita. Both live relatively close by. Bahadur arrives at 6:00 every morning on his Honda 250 cc bike and Sunita pretty much runs the house. Ran it. I have no idea where she stays but it seems to me she lives here. Lived. Irrespective of what my travel or stay plans are, she's always there when I wake up and she's always there when I go to bed. Was. Bahadur is always with me when I'm on the road - in the city or outside. Nowadays he drives me around in a Porsche Panamera when we're in town and a Cayenne Turbo when we need to go within a 1000km radius around Delhi. Cool wheels, both of them. When I first got here almost ten years ago, it was the month of March. The city was experiencing some very pleasant weather after the winter. I enjoyed that very much, being innocently clueless about the impending Indian summer whose onset was hardly a couple of months away. I landed at Indira Gandhi International Airport very late at night on an Air France flight from Paris, but well rested in the business class cabin for what must have been about a 12-hours flight. Immigration and baggage formalities took as long as they usually do at international airports; nothing new there. When I walked through the exit gate, I read my name and saw the company's logo on a placard being held up by a smartly liveried chauffeur whom I walked up to. Introductions done - I didn't catch his name - I was told to wait by the curbside with my luggage while the vehicle was fetched. Four minutes later I saw a huge box-on-wheels SUV roar up to me, braking to a sudden halt, and spewing out my driver all in what seemed like a fraction of a second. I later discovered it was aptly called a Sumo. An uneventful 45 minute drive later we arrived at the hotel - the same one I can now see from my terrace. This was my first visit to India, in fact to Asia. In the busy environment of the airport, my focus was on the various formalities and chores as a result of which I hadn't really noticed or absorbed anything. The drive through relatively dark and empty roads didn't make much of an impression either. But here, in the elegant surrounding of Delhi's No.1 luxury hotel, I felt a comfortable smile playing on my lips. The decor, the lighting, the ambiance all gelled perfectly to exude a feeling of distinguished well-being. And the beauty of the women behind the reception counter was quite intoxicating. I suddenly realised, while checking in, that I had heard so much of the fragile Indian beauty of its women - and here I was, experiencing that first hand. At least the urban version. That first sight and the feelings that accompanied the experience,has stayed with me all these years. It is not something I am able to describe or articulate well but in my heart and mind, it was momentous. They spoke politely of course, but gently as well - almost like a classical damsel whispering into her lover's ear. Dressed elegantly in the Indian saree wrapped around the waist, with the loose end of the drape neatly over the shoulder, baring about a three-inch swathe of the midriff. The top was a perfectly fitted blouse that caressed the curves of their bosom, a modest neckline and sleeves that covered half the arms. The colour combination was dark midnight blue with thick red and gold borders. I fell in love with the ethereal concept that is Indian woman. I took the elevator up to my room on the club floors; in fact I was escorted up by one of the young ladies but was completely tongue-tied and unable to make any worthwhile conversation while she tried her absolute best to engage me. Her name was Anita, I still remember. Of course, I stayed at the hotel for almost 100 nights in that first year so I ultimately got to know all their names. But Anita was the first. She was the first Indian woman I met. We got to my suite, Anita explained everything about it to me, told me to call her if I needed anything (I wondered, but gave up that line of thought!), wished me a pleasant night - what was left of it - and left. I was in a swoon. I was 30 years old then, not married, no serious relationship back home, a maybe girlfriend who was more excited about my being in India so she could visit than sorry that I had left, and a huge professional responsibility ahead. After Anita left the room, I couldn't stop thinking of her and picturing her in my mind. I felt stupid at my inability to have sustained any kind of conversation with her. But the five minutes I had spent with her at the front desk, and briefly in the elevator, were moments etched in my brain. I sat down on the bed and stared into oblivion, day-dreaming of this first Indian woman I had ever laid eyes on. Her perfectly featured young face, framed neatly in jet black hair that draped her neck and ran down to her hips. The rounded bosom demurely covered by the silken cloth of her saree. The smooth light brown skin of her midriff, a deep navel so enticingly winking every time I caught a surreptitious glance of it. The saree neat and tight over the swell of her hips and thighs, before flaring into a full flow down to her delicate looking ankles. Her sweet toes with their painted toenails peeking out occasionally from under the hem of the saree. I could almost feel my hands running over these contours as I pictured every inch of her in excruciating detail. I leaned back against the headrest and let my imagination run a little wild. I wondered if it would ever be possible for me to make love to this woman. I knew that hotel personnel tended to avoid fraternising with guests but that didn't stop me from picturing Anita in my room. In the silence of the night and with lights dimmed, I thought of how tasteful a kiss on her lips would be as her body pressed against mine. I thought of the drape of her saree falling off her shoulder and seeing how the close fitting blouse would enhance the roundness of her breasts. Maybe, with the first electric touch, her nipples would swell - I wondered if they were brown or pink... There was a quiet knock on my hotel door. My baggage arrived and was laid out in various corners of the suite as I directed; then there was silence peace and quiet. Even my heart took a breather. I drew aside the drapes but a sudden tiredness overtook me so I lay down on the bed without getting undressed, not even removing my shoes. And I was out like a light moments after my head hit the pillow. Three hours later I awoke just as suddenly as I had fallen asleep. There was the faintest hue of dawn as I looked out of the large windows that overlooked a wonderful display of greenery stretching out into the distance. Between the trees I could just about make out flat green that looked like a golf course. I got off the bed and realised I still had my shoes on. Kicking them off and stripping out of my clothes, I went into the bathroom and had a revivingly cold shower, brushed my teeth and slipped into one of the hotel dressing gowns. After getting myself a cup of coffee from the machine in the suite, I walked into the living room to draw the curtains and let in the gradually increasing daylight. On the work desk was a large company folder along with some additional files. Also, there was a Blackberry devise and another cell phone, a laptop computer and charger for all gadgets. Clearly, I was expected to hit the road running. I was here as a Deputy Manager, reporting to a regional head based in Kuala Lumpur. I knew my day had started when I heard the mobile phone ring. I had arrived at my new assignment. India. Before my arrival here, a start-up team had been sent in from Malaysia to organise the essentials of setting up an India office for the company. By the time I got in, administrative staff had been hired, an office was taken on lease in the hotel where I was staying, transport vehicles had been purchased, communications networks and other basic infrastructure had been taken care of. In less than a week of my joining, I found myself in the same vehicle and with the same driver that had collected me from the airport. He told me his name was Bahadur, that he was my driver, and that he had been hired two months ago and had been awaiting my arrival ever since. He lived in Delhi not too far from the hotel, but his home and his family lived in a village some 400 kilometers north of Delhi, somewhere in the foothills of the Himalayas. In fact, the area we were visiting today, and for the next three days, would take him past his village. The company was on the verge of reaching an agreement with a local corporation that would see us working on a series of projects involving the construction of small bridges and dams in the upper reaches of some of the rivers that flowed from the Himalayan glaciers into the mighty Ganges. They had, to my ear, exotic sounding names like Mandakini and Alaknanda and Vasukiganga. They went through and into towns like Rudraprayag and Devaprayag and on into Rishikesh and Haridwar. Most of these were of major religious significance for those who followed the Hindu faith. Some of these towns we drove through; others I read on the road signs. And the entire experience was astoundingly uplifting. The people, the towns, the rivers. I hadn't yet met government officials and the bureaucracy but that was something I encountered soon enough. Now, ten years later, I am a wiser man. Bahadur and I stayed three nights in various corporate or government "guest houses", and I spent the days either meeting people or doing preliminary surveys. It was now late March but the hills were still chilly in the nights, although the days were comfortably pleasant. On the fourth day we started back for Delhi; I was really looking forward to the comfort of my hotel room after this grueling trip over uneven roads and often through dirt terrain. There was a weekend coming up so I would have time to recover. Bahadur had asked me the previous evening if we could stop for about an hour at a point on the highway from where he would take a brief sojourn into his village. I had agreed, so we decided to leave as early as possible so as to accommodate the stop for his village. We left Devaprayag at 7:30 in the morning, driving downriver towards Rishikesh which was about 75 kilometers on the national highway (NH 58 I think). To our left was the river which I could spot every time the hillsides didn't obstruct my view. About an hour's drive downhill, Bahadur pulled over to the right side of the road at a small shack which functioned as a tea stall, or maybe even a breakfast halt, for bus and truck drivers. Since I have dark hair and am not as fair complexioned as most Europeans, I didn't attract the kind of attention that another westerner may have done. Bahadur apologised and thanked me simultaneously like he had done almost twenty times since I had agreed to accommodate his request the previous evening. "I go quickly Sir, then I come soon. Very sorry. Thank you very much Sir". And with that, he was off, leaving me behind in the Sumo as the sun began to climb over the mountains. I got out of the car, locked it and decided to wander off the road for a bit. On the right side of the road was the tea stall, to the left (facing downhill) was forested hillsides. I walked back upriver for about ten minutes till I saw the semblance of a dirt track going uphill. Leaving the road behind and forging my way ahead, the spirit of adventure still ripe in the first ten days of my arrival in India,I began to walk into the forest. It was quiet after a while, the noises from the highway very faint. After about another ten minutes I crested the hill and saw the lovely river about 40 feet below. It was a steep drop but didn't look particularly dangerous. Between me and the river, the trees grew fairly thick, but they were deciduous trees with pine needles carpeting the forest floor. I used the trees and their branches as handholds to descend towards the river. It took me only a few minutes to walk all the way down where a flat ledge stretched in both directions along the water's edge. Below the ledge was just a five-foot drop to the gushing river. I could see its pretty rough torrent and eddies along the bank and had an uninterrupted view upriver, downriver and across to the other bank. Not another soul in sight and only the sound of the water for company. I sat down on the ledge with my back against a pine tree, lit a cigarette and gave myself to the peace and beauty of my environs. I must have been sitting there for a quarter of an hour when I thought I heard human voices filtering through the noise of the waters; high pitched female voices. But when I tried to listen more attentively, I didn't hear anything again. Intrigued, and a little inquisitive, I got up and walked along the ledge in the direction from which I thought the sound of voices had come. About 50 metres on I was surprised to see a small inlet in the side of the forested hill, creating a sort of lagoon about the size of an Olympic swimming pool. All around the land bound sides of the lagoon was the same forest that I had walked through. There was no ledge like the one I had been sitting on; instead the riverbank looked almost like a narrow sea beach. While I was looking at this absolutely idyllic spot, I heard the voice again. Hjjer Arrives in India Slipping quietly behind a tree, I peered through the foliage trying to spot the source of these voices. Gradually, and silently, I moved closer to the lagoon, being careful to dart surreptitiously from one tree to the next. As I reached the last line of trees, beyond which I would not be able to hide any more, I spotted two girls along the water's edge, not more than twenty feet away from me. I was stunned, not least because I didn't want to be spotted, and certainly didn't want to be caught in a situation where I would have to explain myself to anyone in a language I didn't know. And no Bahadur to translate either. There were two girls, one swimming in the lagoon and the other sitting on the bank that was against the cliff side. The pool ran its length from where she was sitting by the treeline for about 50 metres towards the river, and from the colour of the water I figured that it got deeper as it approached the river. On the side, the one opposite where I stood, the cliff edge was a sheer drop of almost 80 metres, while the spot where I was standing was about four feet above the water level. I slowly crouched to the ground and decided to brazen it out by moving in front of the tree behind which I hid. Then, using the tree trunk as a back rest, I sat on the pine carpeted ground, stretched my legs out, and absorbed the view. Since I had on a dull army green T-shirt and a pair of faded denims, I hoped that was camouflage enough if I sat still and made no sound. A cool breeze washed over my face as I focused in on the bathing beauties in front of me. I realised immediately that they weren't girls as I had thought earlier; they were adult women. The one on the beach head was squatting by the water's edge and washing what seemed to be an orange coloured saree. She kept pounding it rhythmically on a flat stone by her side, then soaking the entire garment in the water, wringing the water out of it, and pounding it again. This cycle went on for a while. She had long dark black hair that was soaking wet and rested in trails across her neck and back. Every once in a while, she would push some loose strands over her head or behind her ears. She wore a long skirt like garment; something I later discovered was a petticoat that is worn beneath the saree. This too was orange in colour and drenched in water as it clung to her hips and haunches while she squatted doing her laundry. Her breasts were full, like ripened melons, covered by a lime green blouse. I saw her in profile; big breasts that looked firm and perfectly round-shaped, the spine creating a ridge that ran down from her neck to her buttocks, the fleshed out hips and strong thighs outlined by her wet petticoat, the bend of her knees where her legs folded back, the back of her shin and ankles and heels creating the perfect cradle on which her ass rested. After a couple of minutes of pounding and wringing, she stood up with the soaking wet saree and threw about four yards of it over her shoulder. I realised then that although she was wearing a blouse, it wasn't buttoned up in front. In fact the lime green cloth barely covered what appeared to be very ample breasts. She walked to a large bush in my direction and knotted one corner of the saree to a branch. I sat absolutely motionless for fear that she might spot me. Then she turned around and walked to an overhanging branch some five yards away and knotted another end of the cloth to it. As she did, her petticoat looked as though it had been glued to her body; the shape of her buttock, and their wiggle as she walked, were abundantly visible. In fact I could even see a hint of the crack between her ass cheeks as the wet petticoat became almost like a second skin. This was clearly a large and well endowed woman, maybe 5'7" tall - well over the average height I had seen in women over the last ten days. After hanging up her saree to dry, she walked back to the water's edge, removing her blouse completely. Her full breasts fell out freely and for the first time I saw how large they were. And firm, not sagging. She would probably have worn a 40DD brassiere, but for now she wasn't wearing one. She squatted once again by the water, this time hiking her petticoat all the way up to her crotch. Her thighs were bare and smooth and large. I looked at them and her haunches and though of how much pressure they could exert if ever a man lay between them. Her boobs kept mashing against her thighs as she bent to wash her blouse in the same pound, rinse, drown cycle that she had used earlier. Maybe there was a small bar of washing soap that went into the mix as well, but I can't seem to remember. About three minutes later, she got up and went to lay the blouse out on a flat stone by the cliff side. The sun was up, daylight changing the hues of the water. The big woman turned back after drying out her blouse and started walking in my direction again. As she did so, she turned her head to look out at the other woman still swimming or wading at the deeper end of the lagoon. She called out, "Anju..." and beckoned her to come ashore. I only caught the name, unable to understand whatever else she said. As she walked closer in my direction, I noticed the other woman, Anju, swimming back to the small sandy bank of the pool. Her head bobbed as she treaded her way across, suggesting that the water was five or six feet deep. As she approached the shallow end, more and more of her body became visible; first her shoulders which were bare, then her chest and in a few seconds, her breasts. They were bare; Anju was a lot fairer than the woman on shore. She walked a few more metres and stood still, looking at the other woman, who had now sat down on the ground, her back resting against a log - the trunk of a broken tree. "Kamini", she called as she herself stood with the water lapping against her abdomen, just below her navel. I stared at this beauteous creature, her breasts also large but not as much as Kamini's. Anju had tied her hair on top of her head and now raided her hands to loosen the bun and let her hair cascade down. It was even longer than her friend's, tumbling down till the level of the water where the final few inches now flowed with the ripples around her. When she raised her arms, I saw the darkness of her underarm hair, wet and clinging to her armpit. The swell of her breasts showed perfection incarnate; I thought maybe 36". Large dark brown aureole formed the base for darker nipples, standing out almost three-fourths of an inch possible because of the coldness of the water. She then continued to walk out of the water, calling to Kamini again, this time waving at her as well. As she walked out of the water, I saw the most perfect natural female body I had ever seen. I sat at my perch stunned into a mind-numbing stupor. She had a wheatish complexion, but lightish; the sun now hitting her body turned it into a mellow gold. As she raised her arm waving, I could see that her underarm hair was thick without being too bushy. She called out again, and said something I never understood. Her voice had a delicate tingle to it. With the water level now down by her ankles, she revealed herself in complete nakedness. Below her firm breasts was a flatboard stomach and a thin waist - not more than 24". I felt I could encircle her waist with my palms alone. Her hips flared gently; no excess fat, the muscles rippled smoothly as she walked, swaying ever so delicately. From where I sat, she was walking not exactly headlong toward me, but only at a slight angle. I saw her navel twinkling as an occasional sunbeam broke through the trees and struck her delicious body. The two knobs of her hip bones were just about visible, a wide V then tapering down to her pubic area. She had a very thick covering of hair that matted her crotch, starting from a wide base about four inches below her belly-button and then forming a perfect triangle of shiny black carpet with its apex at her vagina. Unlike other hairy women I had seen, the inside of Anita's thighs were perfectly smooth and hairless. Her flanks were firm and strong, her muscles feminine as ever, glistening in the water that was still running off her. Her calves looked firm too as they narrowed down to her ankles, around one of which was a thin silver chain. Her other ankle had a dark tattoo encircling it like a thin snake whose head seemed to form a clasp at one side. I wondered where Anju's clothes were, but presumed they were hanging out to dry just like Kamini's, somewhere outside my field of vision. In fact, for a minute or two, she herself went out of view adjacent to the drop closest to me. The two of them kept chattering in soft undertones, Anju's a little husky, as though she were whispering loudly. As she walked back into view, she was still naked, strolling almost gazelle-like towards Kamini. Her back was now towards me. I could make out the ridges of her backbone moving gracefully as she walked, her hips swaying gently like a bough in a soft breeze. The roundness of her buttocks were tantalisingly perfect as they meshed with her thighs. She walked up to where Kamini sat on the ground, rubbed her hands down her shanks as if to brush off the last droplets of water that lingered on her, the sat down next to her friend. Seeing the two of them, one stark naked and the other with nothing but her petticoat on, I was totally riveted. But I couldn't shake the constant reminder that Bahadur could call me on my cell phone any time. I surreptitiously fingered a lever on the side of the phone and switched it to the silent mode, then slowly took my hand out of my pocket. While doing that, I also realised how stiff my penis was, crammed inside my underwear, held tightly in place by the raw denim of my jeans. But I didn't dare to try and move myself, or my cock, into a more comfortable position for fear that any movement may alert the two women. As I looked on at the two of them, I had to stifle an animal-like urge to throw caution to the winds and join them in their idyll,their garden of Eden. But of course I didn't. With streaks of sun falling on Anju's face, she snuggled lower to get the light out of her eyes, and eventually settled with her head in the crook of Kamini's arm. She stretched her legs out fully on the ground, small waves of water now lapping at her heels and ankles. As she did that, Kamini stretched out her right arm to let Anju settle her head more comfortably. Kamini had bent one knee so that her petticoat road up to uncover her thighs. From my vantage point I couldn't see her crotch and wondered if it was as hairy as Anju's. I could now see her underarm since she had raised her arm to cradle Anju's head; there too was a small grotto of dark hair on her armpits. I watched silently as Anju kept her eyes shut and her body still, almost as though she were dozing. Her friend just stared out pensively looking at the flowing river beyond the lagoon, her large breasts though still relatively firm were splayed out on to either side of her chest. I placed one palm on the hard bulge in my jeans, stroked it for a few seconds, but then thought better of it and sat still. They still hadn't spotted me even though they would be able to if for some reason they decided to look up and to their left. After a while, Anju stirred. Even though her eyes were still shut, she turned towards Kamini's body, her face resting against the other woman's right breast. Anju's own boobs softly squashed against Kamini's ribcage. Since she was also facing now in my direction, I could see her thick hairy bush, or at least that portion that was visible above Kamini's waist as she stretched the length of her body along the bigger woman's torso, shank and legs. Then, slowly, Anju moved her right arm which had all along been resting on her hip and thigh, and brought her hand up to Kamini's breasts. Her touch was at first tentative, cupping the underside of Kamini's breast with almost feather-like pressure. I thought I heard a moan as Kamini appeared to push upwards into the caress. This seemed to spur Anju on as she took Kamini's nipple between her fingers and rubbed delicately as they stood up hard and defiant. She tilted her face upwards to look at her friend whose eyes were now shut. Raising her head off Kamini's shoulder and chest, Anju raised herself and straddled her mate, almost lying on top of her with her own legs spread apart. Anju then cupped Kamini's breasts with both hands, molding the swollen flesh as her nipples poked through the spread fingers. I could almost feel that was burning with arousal, her body humming in hunger for the other woman's flesh. She licked her lips, then lowered her mouth and touched the tip of her tongue to Kamini's nipple. She was immediately rewarded with the moan I'd been sure of hearing earlier, growing heavier and louder as she swirled the tip of her tongue around her friend's aureole. I could see Anju getting more excited as she drew flesh deep into her mouth and this time I think the moan was from her. I imagined both women getting wet as their vaginae clenched and throbbed in wanting. Kamini now raised both her arms and wrapped them around the smaller girl, holding her head as Anju continued to pleasured her. She in turn clung to her friend, switching to her other breast which she showered in kisses before taking the nipple into her mouth. Their bodies were now flush and Anju began to gyrate against Kamini, seemingly unable to stop herself. Her hips moved in rhythm with her mouth, unstoppable apparently. With her petticoat having ridden all the way up to her hips, Kamini, lying under Anju, now spread her own thighs a bit, forcing Anju's legs apart. She of course spread them quite easily, given the throes of ecstasy she must be in, and Kamini rested her hands on Anju's rear, guiding her thrusts. Anju pulled away from her friend's breast as she raised her head almost level with Kamini's. Her eyes were hooded and her lips parted in desire. Anju lowered her own mouth to meet Kamini's and they kissed deeply as she ground her clit against the other woman's thigh. Kamini's hands on the younger woman's ass now grabbed the flesh, pulling her hard against her own body, leaving red stripes as she clutched at the sensitive flesh of Anju's buttocks. For a moment, Anju raised her torso to stare down into her friend's eyes. Then, slowly, she lowered her head again to Kamini's mouth. Warm and gentle, her lips pressed moistly against Anju's firmly but tenderly. Her fingers slid round into the younger woman's hair as her lips parted softly. They kissed open-mouthed together, with increasing hunger until Kamini's tongue slipped out and probed into Anju's mouth. Their naked bodies pressed against each other's; their breasts squashed as they clung to each other. Anju's thigh moved, gliding upwards along the other woman's shank till her knee rested close to Kamini's crotch. Petticoat raised completely up to her stomach now, the full glory of the woman's bush was visible from where I sat. Kamini's fingers squeezed the other girl's breasts gently, coming together to press her nipples firmly.As she teased the nipples, Anju did the same; both of her hands stretching over Kamini's heavy breasts. The soft flesh filled her hands; her dark nipples swelled as Anju stroked them to hardness, and an appreciative murmur escaped her soft lips. Kamini tilted her head towards Anju's boobs, opening her mouth to kiss the left nipple, and then take it entirely into her mouth. Her hands meanwhile stroked her friend's sides; the curvature of her lower back, and out over her hips. Her hands wandered towards Anju's ass at the same time as she took the nipple gently between her teeth and began to flick it gently with her tongue. Anju moaned as Kamini's hands confidently stroked the curves of her bottom; pulling the cheeks apart and running teasing fingers between them. Briefly Kamini pushed Anju away and I saw her untying the cord that held up her petticoat, pushing the obstructing garment down to her ankles, then kicking it away. As she settled down again on the sand, Anju followed every movement, keeping her eyes on the intoxicatingly sexy body of the bigger woman. Every curve was lush and sensual - her hips, her waist, her buttocks, her back and her breasts. This was a woman built perfectly for sex, I thought. They settled down again lying together, inches apart. They held apart, not kissing at first as their hands reached out to each other as they gazed into one another's eyes. Then Anju propped herself up on one arm as she used the other to explore the other's voluptuous body. Starting again with those magnificent tits, Anju soon left left those bounteous pastures to explore her friend more thoroughly. Her hand drifted up to her friend's breast and into the crook of her shoulder; and then down the delicate clavicle to her breastbone. Meanwhile Kamini's hand moved delicately on a similar journey as Anju explored her body. Her fingers traced up the smaller woman's neck on one side; around her jaw and across her dark lips where she kissed them softly; and around to the opposite ear which she caressed delicately. Anju's hand slid down Kamini's back, pulling her friend towards herself; while Kamini's hand was on the back of Anju's head, urging her on. Their breasts again pressed against each other, their hard nipples raking the softer flesh of the other's upper body. Then, delicately, Anju slid her tongue inside Kamini's ear, and I could see her shudder slightly. Kamini pulled the younger woman even closer to her body as her free hand was firmly squeezing the soft curves of Anju's bottom. Then Kamini opened her legs wide as she caught Anju's hand and shoved it between them, with a louder moan than I had so far heard. With Kamini almost flat on her back now, I could see Anju's fingers slid over her firm, slightly wet body, and then sink down into her glistening cunt. Effortlessly, her fingers plunged between the soaked, swollen lips and deep inside her. Kamini groaned, and Anju pulled back to see her beautiful face contorted in ecstasy. I saw Anju smile, as she moved back, kissing Kamini's neck passionately as she started to thrust two fingers in and out of her. Kamini's hips started to move, thrusting against her friend's hand as Anju pushed two fingers into her. She was bucking against the pumping fingers, and murmuring passionately with words that Anju must have understood. Then Kamini grabbed Anju's wrist, guiding her hand to faster and faster strokes, until her pussy must have tightened around the fingers, and her body contorted. She cried out as she came, clinging to Anju tightly as she shuddered with her climax. Finally, Kamini relaxed, uncurling from Anju enough to bring her mouth to hers for a passionate kiss. Then, resting on one elbow, she used both hands and lips to caress Anju's breasts, kiss her neck, and tease her lips. For a while, she avoided the nipples; concentrating instead on the soft curves underneath the young woman's breasts, and the cleavage between them; moulding the breasts alternately softly and firmly in her hands without touching the nipples other than in passing. Anju groaned as Kamini sat up slightly, her hands stroking the flat tummy, and then out to the tops of her hips, her palms caressing the tiny waist and the smooth skin. Anju shuffled up the ground, still flat on her back, but bringing her legs up slightly. Kamini took her friend's nearest leg and lifted it; pushing so Anju bent at the knee, and brought the foot to her lips. She kissed the side of the delicate foot, stroking the tops of the toes against her chin before bringing them around to her mouth. Starting with the smallest, she delicately licked and sucked Anju's toes in turn; her hands caressing the back of her calf and thigh all the time. Kamini stroked the younger woman's thigh as she took the big toe out of her mouth and gave it a little kiss; then swung Anju's leg across as she moved forwards. Now, she knelt within Anju's spread legs, looking down at her. Her hand slid along Anju's thigh, tantalizingly close to her pussy before gliding past and up onto the girl's flat stomach. Hjjer Arrives in India She knelt forward, stroking the length of Anju's body until her fingers touched her lips, and Anju took them deep into her own mouth. Then pushing back, Kamini's hands glided down Anju's chest and across her breasts and her belly. Her face had sunk past Anju's wet pussy, and her hands followed it down. As they brushed against the thick mat of hair above Anju's moistness, they parted slightly; her fingers trailing just either side of the girl's labia before sweeping up the inside of her widely-spread thighs. Kamini was clearly teasing; her hands drifting again and again to just brush tantalizingly against Anju's outer lips before slipping away. Finally, when Kamini placed one hand on Anju's buttocks and back up, she let a single finger trail across the swollen labia; sending sudden spasms through the young woman's body. Kamini slowly licked the whole surface of Anju's fully exposed pussy; each lick finishing with a teasing brush across her swollen clitoris. Anju gasped and moaned; meaningless syllables in fits and starts as the elder lover began to systematically eat her out. As Anju writhed ecstatically, Kamini's tongue thrust deep into her pussy, licking out the tight channel before arising to stroke little circles upon her clitoris. It was clear to me that the younger woman would shortly be in the throes of her own orgiastic climax. Soon, Kamini's fingers slipped pleasingly inside Anju as she continued to tease her clitoris. I saw Anju's belly tighten as her arms and legs started to quake. The bigger woman's fingers and flexible tongue worked away on her; I could almost feel her orgasm getting closer when Kamini started using her other hand to stroke between Anju's buttocks. A single finger probed delicately at her perineum, which was clearly soaked in her rich juices, and Kamini's saliva. I was staring at Anju's face when I saw her eyes suddenly burst open, and then widen as she felt a finger press into her tightly closed arse - and then slide deep inside. I think the stimulation of having a hot and horny woman friend between her legs; tongue on her clitoris, two fingers in her pussy, and another deep in her arse was far too much for Anju to hold back any more, and in seconds her orgasm must have crested like a wave. It would have slowly built up in the shallows, pushed along by a greater force, and then thundering onto the rocks. She must have felt as though molten fire was running through her veins. Anju suddenly cried out, babbling and moaning incoherently as her orgasm went on and on and on. Kamini held her place; still rocking her fingers gently back and forth; trying to perhaps eke out the last peaks and troughs of her friend's mind-blowing orgasm. Finally, she rested her head on the younger one's thigh and was still; her fingers still inside the soaking cunt; but motionless as Anju gasped for air. A minute or so passed where all Anju did was breathe, and rest a trembling hand on Kamini's wavy black hair. Finally, Kamini looked down to see her friend looking up at her with what I felt was a look of deep affection. She crawled upwards towards the log which had been a headrest for Anju and lay pressed against her, their lips kissing gently. I had been witness to a glorious display of love between two rural Indian women. This was an experience I was never to forget, not even the minutest of detail. Which is why I can, now almost ten years later, remember the incident in such vivid detail. I shifted to the side by a couple of feet away from the tree against which my back rested, then slid backwards still on my arse till the women disappeared from view. Then, ever so slowly, I raised myself up to my feet, taking cautious steps backwards. When I sure they wouldn't spot or hear me, I turned around and headed back to the road on which my vehicle was parked. It took me almost 20 minutes to get back. Bahadur was waiting by the Sumo; he had been there for about a half hour but couldn't call me because the battery of his cell phone was completely discharged. Bahadur once again thanked and apologised in the same breath; I of course said not a word of my forest encounter. We started on our way back to capital city. It was still a long drive but we did it at a fair clip. We'd likely reach by sundown, which gave both of us a much needed weekend. And Monday, the 17th of March was another holiday for the Holi festival so I was really looking forward to the extended weekend. Even though I had only been ten days on the job, I was exhausted, particularly since I hadn't had a break - not even a free weekend - since the Christmas and New Year holidays two and a half months ago. I was suddenly shaken out of my reverie when my cell phone rang. I was about to reach out for it but decided to let it keep ringing. Instead I walked up to my bar to pour myself another rum and warm water mix. While making the drink, remnants of my vivid recollection of ten years ago still wavered in my mind's eye, like the last wisps of a fast disappearing mist. The phone started ringing again, the incessant call irritating me somewhat. And then suddenly, the night sky outside my glassed in living room exploded in a forest of light; long trails of multi-coloured fire shooting upwards into the sky, cutting the darkness like lasers on their way to heaven. It was midnight as I slid open the glass door to step out on to my terrace again. The call on my mobile phone was from Anita; she was still at the same hotel - which also housed my office - but now headed the front office. We were now on fairly casual terms so I pressed the button to take her call. "Happy New Year, Hjjer! Where are you?" *****