3 comments/ 29417 views/ 6 favorites A Letter from Old India By: battleaxe_babe Nagapatnam -- India, 23rd May, 1702 Dear Husband, I sincerely hope this letter finds you in good health; please reward the boy who took it to you as generously as it is appropriate. The Marquis and his wife are wonderful hosts, as if there was need to add anything to the beauty and life of India. From the window of the room where they have gently allowed me to stay, I can see the port. It is fascinating to follow the trades, ships approaching and mooring, strong young boys carrying all sorts of goods on wobbly planks, the yells of merchants. I dare say the Doctor blessed me with his recommendation to move here, what a spell of fortune! Taking a stroll is a pleasure to the senses; they can only be tickled by all the colors of exotic fruits, scents of teas and spices, visions of well-muscled boys used to hard labor. No woman of a noble family would be allowed so close to these brutes in Rotterdam, at what a loss. Our long nightgowns, silent companions hiding missed pleasures, are nothing more than a miserable excuse. Etiquette! As if we lived on rules, could you imagine animals mating under blankets or hidden in the dark of nights? Yet we hide our bodies and forget our pleasures for the sake of rules, marital duties. As if your clumsy fumbling once a month could compare to a strong pounding. Women of all origins wait for the sailors in the poor barracks at the end of the pier, but they do also in the rich palaces, their white thighs showing to the sun as they lift their gowns to attract customers. When a sailor picks a woman they sometime retire in her room, but not always. Many a time I witnessed their wild mating. Behind a tree, she would bend over a rice sack and the sailor would expose her flesh to the sun, sometimes she would be young and fresh as a rose, sometimes she would be old and wrinkled, it never seemed to make a difference to the sailor, which would still penetrate her with his hard manhood and pound her hard. Oh the screams. Why has our intercourse always been so silent? Silence is decency, as we say, but with silence in the dark of nights, how many pleasures are forbidden to us. She screams in pleasure just as much as he grunts, his blows get harder and faster as he approaches his pleasure, her eyes are often closed and she grips to the sack, or any surface available. Her head arches back and her body shudders as pleasure runs through her in waves. At that point I would often run away, my cheeks blushing and my heart pumping so quickly in my chest. Behind a wall I would often feel a tingling between my legs and feel tempted to do what my lovely nurse taught me was immoral since my earliest days. Hopeless to get a pleasure denied to our social rank I would stay immobile until my heart would slow down and I could resume my usual composure. Now I have a confession, dear Husband, because I could not go on another day with this secret in my heart. My imagination ran wild at the image of the sailor and the prostitute. So wild that one night I woke up in a state of excitement, my breasts were pointing up through my nightgown. I was feeling so hot and opened the curtains to let the moonlight enter my room. So I stood for a moment, in front of the open window overlooking the seaport and I watched the people on the road. A few gentlemen who, I guess, had lost their way and were rushing home. Also less respectable women with their shorter gowns, showing their legs bare under clouds of white undergarments. Their breasts were being pushed high and revealed enough to show a hint of nipple, what generous beauties and what a waste to have kept mine jailed under these strict clothes. One of the women must have heard my sighs and staring up at me she pronounced words I could never repeat here but which were a challenge, or an invitation, to step out of the strictness of our lives. In a place so different from our dear home country we ought to be different too, so taken by an unspeakable courage I left my hosts asleep in their quiet dreams and I dressed up and headed out in the darkness. As you can imagine, my clothes are suitable to the respectable woman I have always been. So I used a few pins to lift the edge of my skits and a few buttons went forgotten. I felt so naughty walking without a corset, so pleasantly wrong as I silently closed the door behind my back. Even in this tropical place the fresh hair of the night made me feel even hotter, my bare skin exposed to the cold shone to the moon. I could hardly hide being a noble woman but still hoped to find relief for the burning passion I had inside. I walked briskly past a row of rich houses and headed directly to the seaport; even late at night there were lanterns in every tavern and brothel to call the sailors. The seaport was always awake, ships coming and going at every hour of the day and night. I wished I had the courage to enter one of those taverns of sin, but no, that was not for me. So I resorted to standing close to a tree, that same tree which witnessed the sailor giving the prostitute that hard pounding. I remember standing in that place of sin for so little, but even in the semidarkness I had attracted someone's attention. Two lads around eighteen years of age had clearly seen my shadow and were walking to me quickly, both fairly tall and slim but with well muscled bodies and I could guess from their clothes they were ordinary seamen, perfect. As they walked closer I noticed the smaller fellow must have been a little younger, maybe just a sixteen years old cabin boy, he looked rather reluctant to approach me as he was standing a step behind his companion. Instead the other walked boldly to my side revealing a mop of dark blonde hair and naughty eyes as he handed me a few coins. Good heavens! Could you imagine? I blushed so heavily he must have thought I was odd; as an answer he pushed the money right in my hands. Even being moved by that state of excitement I have told you earlier I was still surprised and was not sure how to respond to that act. The older lad took my hand and without saying a word he dragged me away from the tree, into a barrack. It was a warehouse, barely a wooden shelter to pile up goods before departing, with little space available. With little ceremonies the older lad pushed me to lay on a stack of wooden tables. My heart was beating so quickly and his hands grabbed the bottom of my skirts with no hesitation lifting them over my back, exposing my bare behind. The younger fellow, who stayed in a corner just until that time suddenly appeared on front of me offering his male sword to my mouth. He surely was younger and more naïve than the other but his manhood could embarrass many of his companions. What a wonderful thing! I was reluctant at first but then he grabbed my head and pushed his shaft right into my mouth. It made me gag, tears to my eyes, but I wanted it so much and the scent of his male skin was so exciting I let him drive my head on him. In and out, in and out ... I moved my head, licked his shaft all around, at it again. In the mean time the other lad was finding his way to my most secret place, I felt his breath on my thighs and his tongue probed me deeply. How hard he licked me, just as if he wanted to eat me. Why, dear Husband, why could not we do that too? Why for us being husband and wife mean only laying cold in bed once per month? He licked me so perfectly, so hard, and I gave my best on the younger lad's cock. Heavy and hard, I sucked it with passion and ate it as the sweetest food in the world. I could not be surprised when I felt the older fellow's cock knocking at my door. No timid fumbling, he just rammed his weapon up my cunt all the way. Cunt! You must be surprised at what words I have learnt. So he grabbed my hips steadily and without wasting a moment he started moving in and out of me. He gave me blows hard enough to make me struggle to keep sucking the other fellow, but what bliss! My cunt was open wide and the fellow was riding me like a horse. My tongue would swirl around the tip of his companion's big cock and move to the base, then return and suck him hard, I saw how much he liked it and it will be a present for you too, when we are reunited. I came, so many times I met that rare pleasure that makes one a woman! A heat wave came up to my head from my cunt, tingling and pure pleasure mixing up; seeking relief I rubbed my cunt against the fellow to reach my pleasure. Almost in desperation to get the best satisfaction I grabbed the other man's cock hard and sucked him harder. I felt it pulsating under my fingers and it gave me its fluid. Salty, the taste of sin, unless sin is having no pleasure. On the last wave of pleasure I grabbed his hips and let my body shake and arch as if the sea had just reached violently inside that cabin. The emotions were so strong and so heavy that I must have laid spent on that poor bench for some time. When I woke up the two lads were not with me but there were a couple of coins on the wooden plank next to me, they are enclosed to this letter and with this I am so bold as to address you a prayer. I bid you for a different life, my dear Husband. Happiness and pleasure are not of our old continent, etiquette and social rules are like water thrown on a fire, may this fire never be spent. I wish you with me here. May we discover the pleasures of this world together as this perilous travel to Orient has revealed to me. With the grace of God, I bid you a warm farewell, and hope to see you here very soon. Yours lovingly, Margriet A Letter from Old India Ch. 02 This story is copyrighted ©, all rights reserved. If you wish to use it please contact the author. Nagapatnam -- India, 17th July, 1702 Dear Husband, I honestly hope this letter finds you well, please offer the best welcome to Mijnheer Abbott, our neighbor who has so kindly offered to deliver this letter to you as he was going to sail to my dear country. From a wife to a husband I wish your rage has stormed away by now. Strong, spiteful words were written in your last letter. They were meant, as you said, to bring a high-born wife back to the honesty and decency she should have never left. Did I? What is respectable? A life without pleasure means decency, or may it mean death? And how can one live a life that is dead already? Is honesty the murder of pleasure and desire? Or it may be more honest to take pleasure in what life gives us, our bodies too? Yesterday I went out for seeing a bit of this lovely country. Neela is my maid, a lovely young girl around the age of eighteen. She dresses in a white gown as all servants do and walks like a feather on the wooden floor. She is a good company, good at conversation and good at her chores. The Marquise surely picked the right girl to serve me, yet I like to treat the servants with more familiarity than she does. This country is so warm and beautiful that exploring it without a local guide is like smelling a rose without being able to feel its scent, for this reason Neela often joins me into my promenades out of our residence. The warm humid air embraces our bodies in a wet hug, sometimes with a light breeze from the ocean tickling drops of sweat on our foreheads. Indian women wear colored sarees fluttering in the breeze, no corsets but a small blouse; what a difference from our strict undergarments! I can only imagine how fluidly those colored vests fall on the floor showing perfect ebony bodies, not like our laces and petticoats, leaving a caricature in fluffy cotton. Yesterday we left home early morning; the air was still fresh enough to take a long stroll. Neela was with me, walking side by side. The Marquise advised me this habit of letting the servants out with me and allowing them to walk by my side, not a few steps behind me, was going to create some minor scandal through the good society. They are just blind, unhappy people craving for a satisfaction of any kind, so poor inside that they can only take it out on the servants! We walked in front of our fort, from which the Official in charge controls all the trades, then headed to the Temple. It will sound strange, dear husband, how I love that temple. All the figures carved in the rock, attractive unknown gods entering into the most human activities. Neela tells me tales of her gods from time to time. Each god has had a life, with passions and flaws; martyrdom is not their only value. Can you believe couples too are carved into statues, or painted on walls? As if our churches could ever host a husband taking his young wife. Our old society can only learn from these natives, and then we will see how valuable was the freedom we have lost for the sake of a strict etiquette. In front of the temple there is a market, families mix with merchants, selling produce of their own gardens or goods just arrived from the land. Women in colored sarees happily mix in a swirl of colors and languages, tasting, touching and haggling over the price. It is a sea of colors, sounds and scents, big sweaty merchants and women who use fragrant spices on their skin. There are so many unknown powders, fruits and roots peeping from baskets, attracting our attention. Smooth, firm mangoes their fibrous sweet pulp showing up bright yellow or red colored litchis with the pointy hard shell protecting the white pulp around the ebony seed; there is so much bounty to choose from. As the sun was getting higher into the sky the pleasant breeze from the sea faded and I started to feel tired. Neela pointed me to a group of banyan trees making quite a shelter from the road. There I sat on the grass and watched the hummingbird flying in a frenzy around flowers. The long beak entering the flower, barely touching it, sipping the nectar then gracefully fly to the next flower. Hummingbirds have nothing to hide, neither their shiny feather nor their making love to the flowers. They are a banquet for the senses to watch, sin would be hiding them. As I was lost in my thought over the hummingbirds my mind returned to the Temple gods, the sculpted figures and their poses. The image of those two gods standing with their legs entwined stood in my mind, how lucky was the goddess, engaged in an eternal kiss of stone she had hosted the divine cock for centuries. Other two gods were watching the scene, with a badly hidden interest. Maybe Neela could tell me if they all took part in that mythological orgy. Lucky gods, for they can have all it is forbidden to us. Lost in those thoughts my hand had started wandering on my corset and started tickling a breast. Lifted my skirts, aided by the privacy given by the tree and bushes sheltering our private spot, and touched my most intimate parts to send a thrill through my body. Indeed, I was wet and my breasts were strictly closed under the corset, begging for freedom. Neela was laying on her side, her quiet dark eyes staring what I was doing. I asked her to help me with the corset, definitely too strict for that heat and sat up enough to let her access the laces on my back. You could never imagine, my dear Husband, what the dear Neela did. I felt her breath on my neck and her soft lips kissing it. I turned surprised and caught her cheeky smile. She said "If Madam will allow ..." and did not finish the sentence, for I had allowed her already by returning the smile. My corset came off and her thin fingers closed in a cup around my breast; what a vision! Her ebony fingers on my pale white skin, her mouth on my neck, kissing and arousing inch by inch as she was undressing me. Her tongue nibbled and tickled one nipple, then moved on the other, with a twirling motion she bought me close to ecstasy, once, twice, she did it over and over leaving me panting for more after each time. In my eyes I could only see the pointy hibiscus flowers, carefully attended by hummingbirds, just as my breasts. Her hands moved as feathers on my body, removing garments and leaving my pale skin exposed to the warm exotic air. I sat up and helped her undress; her full breasts were hanging free under her white cotton dress, and the big nipples were pointing to my mouth just as if they were calling for attention. When I got closer to suck one I felt the scent of spices, of almond and turmeric the local women use on their skin, mace, or cinnamon maybe. They were a drug to the senses, penetrating my nostrils and my mind, attracting my lips to fondle that ebony skin. Neela's dress fell on the grass and my lips approached her crotch, what a pleasure. A smell of freshly caught fish mixing with cinnamon and other spices, my dear Husband, what a pleasure we are forbidden. Neela laid on the grass spreading her legs, showing her secrets, you should have seen those lips, darker than the rest of her skin, slightly wrinkled, soft and juicy under my tongue. The warm moist center in the middle, dark pink and wet of a white humor, inviting my tongue to probe deeply, then move up to the pinhead over it. She called me to straddle her face so she could, "return the favor Madam is doing to her," I did not waste time and moved as she directed me. Two of my fingers plunged deep into her opening, her hips moved to meet my hand, the palm grinding on the little needle tip. What a contrast were my pale fingers against her tanned skin, how inviting was that opening, I dipped my tongue in it. I tasted her juices, moved my tongue inside and felt more of them dripping in my mouth. Neela reacted arching her back and moaning softly, that excited me so much I sealed my lips around her cunt, explored and sucked with passion. Any time I would push my tongue in Neela moaned; I wanted her moans to never stop so I didn't leave her flower until her legs trapped my head in place on her groin. She was holding me between her strong tanned thighs, grabbing my hair with a hand so my tongue couldn't leave her groin. It was like convulsions shook her, so close to reaching her final pleasure. My fingers, my face, they were all coated in her juices and I was feeling so hot and wet myself. She came like a wave, grabbing my head so strong I thought she could pull it off. My fingers inside her cunt felt her inner muscles throbbing, then every muscle of her body contracted and she let out one final loud moan before collapsing, panting heavily, just as if a demon, or a god, had just possessed her. I stood back a little and feasted on the view of her naked body, smooth colored skin. My own body was reclaiming attention and my pussy was now dropping juices all over my thighs, so my hand slipped under my garments and started rubbing my most intimate place. Standing on my knees I opened my legs as wide as my unacceptable clothing would allow me and dipped three fingers into my pussy, used them to furiously fuck my own cunt, as if they could be the most amazing tool of a man. I reached my own pleasure quickly, for I was already far on that path. The scents, the sight, all came to my senses and pleasure took a hold of me, rushing, gushing and owning my body as if the same demon that owned Neela had moved into my body. I collapsed near my trusted maid and must have needed some time to regain consciousness. I must tell you, my dear Husband. The pleasures of this world have always been forbidden to us, but no more! A life with no pleasure I will have no more. Mijnheer Abbott will deliver this letter into your safe hands but our home country and its silent rules will see me no more. The time of six months the doctor had prescribed me that dark day in Rotterdam is up, but the Sereniteit will sail back home without me. The few coppers I had sent you from my last adventure were returned. I once again enclose them into this last letter, in the hope you will use them as a payment for my services, as a loyal yet not pleasure-deaf wife, when you will take your pleasure from me. Otherwise may they just be a help to the distant memory of a once well-known person. With love, Margriet A Letter from Old India Ch. 03 This story is copyrighted ©, all rights reserved. If you wish to use it please contact the author. * India, 3rd November, 1702 My dear Husband, I meant to write this letter a few weeks ago but circumstances made it better to wait, the reasons you will learn as you read. I must offer you my deepest thanks for the safe chaperoning of Mr. Aakster; it was a surprise to see him at the door just a few weeks after my last letter. With my best expectations I still could not imagine your intentions and the presentation letter carried by my chaperone did not lighten up how your mood could have been affected by my last adventures. Aakster's main concern was to embark the both of us on the Sereniteit as soon as possible and as the silent man he was; he did not wish to give many explanations. At the same time I could not abuse the generosity of my good hosts, which, having no knowledge of the changes that have happened and having had no part in them, took the news of my departure with renewed joy wishing to see my native land and dearest husband very soon. It would be a lie to say I left Nagapatnam with a smile; as the ship left the harbor I thought what my eyes were seeing was the last glimpse of a land of freedom and pleasure before I once again see the cold fog of Rotterdam. But my fate was to take an unexpected turn very soon. About twelve days out the safety of Nagapatnam harbor I was in my cabin getting ready to sleep when a loud thump sounded over the whole ship; it rocked so violently no one could ever stand. I grasped to the table but fell badly and I am sure the force that threw me on the floor was so strong I must have been slammed into both sides of the cabin, even if I do not remember that happening. All I remember was a pounding headache and the worried look of one of the officials, Mr. Timms. He was so attentive and took good care of me. He explained a whale had hit against our ship and the Captain had decided to head to a small safe island for repairs. We reached there in half a day, however I cannot tell much of the journey as I spent most of the time in bed trying to get over my headache. A nasty bump had appeared on my forehead, all swollen and painful to the touch. After the beauties I admired during my stay at Nagapatnam I did not imagine there was an even better place in the world. The island, in its simplicity, was the prettiest land I have ever seen. The profile of a palm tree against the blue of the ocean is the simplest pleasure for the eye, palm fronds moving softly in the wind, their quivering reminding of a fan. Our small group found shelter under tents raised between the palm trees close to the beach, I must say it was not a big party, other than the crew and me I could mention only another couple and my chaperon. The Captain made things easy for all of us but the forced inactivity increased our contacts with the crew, which added to my pleasure I must admit, however Mr. Aakster did not seem to appreciate and always kept himself apart. I did not see him much, always closed shut in his tent. The interest Mr. Timms was taking in me was evident to my eye, his manner so gentle too that I loved to stay by the fire after dark to enjoy his conversation. In the quiet of those nights, the ocean waves were the only accompaniment of our thoughts The rain season was due to begin and soon enough black clouds started to gather at the horizon. One night rain was falling from the sky so heavily there was no way to stay dry. I was alone on the beach, lit only by the light of a full moon and wearing my white petticoat. It had rained the whole day and the black clouds at the horizon promised more for the night, even though allowing a quick evening break. I was not so alone in fact, because I saw a shadow approach and knew instantly it could only be Mr. Timms; for the looks we shared during our frugal dinner I knew he would look for me soon. His solid presence beside me felt reassuring; he touched my elbow in the semi obscurity. A feather touch, then his fingers opened and he held my arm. Feeling no resistance he wrapped his arms around my waist. Strong fingers crawled on the wet fabric, feeling every wrinkle. His touch was so soft, yet so demanding. I shivered in anticipation; just a couple layers of fabric separating me from the manly body behind me. His mouth descended on my neck and the contact with his lips made me shiver. Oh dear husband, what sweetness we have missed during our flavorless marriage! Holding a breast with one hand, the other moving down to explore the most hidden folds of my body, he whispered soft words to my ear. I knew that night would be our own till daybreak. There was no rush, no urgency, we had all the time to savor each moment and feed on each other's passion. Thunder sounded in the distance and the floodgates of heaven opened on our heads with a heavy shower of rain. Mr. Timms grabbed the edge of my now soaked petticoat and lifted it above my head. The rain splashed against my body and gushed in streams on each fold of my skin. His mouth tasted a nipple, holding the hard point in his lips he sucked hard; I grabbed his arm and let myself fall on the soft sand. He stood watching me for a moment, eating me with his eyes. Quickly his clothes came off, piling up on the sand in a shapeless lump. His profile loomed in the light of the full moon, a strong body shaped by a life spent on sea; he knelt on the ground and whispered a moan. Hands caressed by body from head to toe, igniting fires that would not be spent easily. Shivers of pleasure and anticipation ran down my spine and we rolled in the sand, letting the rain and our skillful touches wash away the dirt. 'Let me taste you' he whispered to my ear just before grabbing my knees and pulling them high. Between my legs he nestled, exploring my most intimate folds with his tongue. I moaned heavily as soon as his tongue penetrated my cunt, he wiggled it and I curled my toes with the sensation. His tongue reached the small grain of pleasure on top of my cunt and sucked it hard, I screamed and my fingers sunk in the sand. With wise licks he brought me almost to the top of pleasure, and then moved up, licking every bit of my skin up to my belly, then between my breasts and gently tasting my nipples. His engorged manhood stood erect between the hairs, pushing against my leg it asked for my attention. Even in the dark I felt him tensing when my fingers closed on his pole, breathing harder he lifted his body above mine and rolled on his side. I sat up and stroked his cock with my hand; the big head glistening in the moonlight invited my mouth to feel his taste. He groaned helplessly when my lips closed on his manhood sucking hard, he rested his head back and his fingers ran softly through my wet hair. My head moved quickly, alternating with my hands, sucking and pumping while the rain continued to fall on our bodies. I felt his cock swelling more in my mouth, harder than ever, and his touch pushed me back on the sand, under him. He quickly lifted his body over mine and positioned himself between my spread legs. 'Take me' my plea was drowned by the sound of thunder but he needed no encouragement and his cock soon pushed in to find its way in my pussy so wet. 'Deeper' I whispered to his ear and he pushed harder until he was deeply sunk in my cunt. I was feeling so full, so wanted, his lips searched mine and our tongues played passionate games at the same time he started moving his hips. Mine accompanied his movements, slow and regular then hard to desperate, and our fires burned together. At the top of pleasure I held tight to his back and my body shook in pleasure, arching my body against my man, against the rain, a tingling started from my cunt and spread all over my body. My muscles grasped to his cock and we reached pleasure together. Later we stood, covered in sand and each other's fluids on a tropical beach having learnt another side of passion. But my letter will not be completed until I explain the events that took me where I am now. Soon after out nightly adventure the ship was repaired enough to sail away, however, as the Captain explained, it was not fit to face the long journey on the ocean so we were bound to return to Nagapatnam where it could be thoroughly repaired and leave again in a few weeks. I am truly sorry my husband that you missed the chance to see Mr. Aakster's face when he learnt I would not be joining him on the next trip of the Sereniteit back to Rotterdam. I trusted our wedding band to him and prayed him to deliver back what belongs to you, the gold band. He must reach Rotterdam very soon so I expect you will already have it back when you will receive this letter. This may be the last missive you receive from me and spare your rage, my former husband; I did not escape with Mr. Timms, for a woman cannot be truly happy with a man until she can be happy with herself. So consider yourself free from your vows and I wish this has taught the both of us to make better use of them the next time. Fare thee as well as I fare. Margriet