9 comments/ 44656 views/ 12 favorites Banging On The Palace On Wheels By: paragon of virtue Starting in the 1600s, when the English first found India, family tradition has it that at least one male member of every generation has gone off in quest of Indian cunt; a kind of coming of age thing. Others went off to subjugate, to teach those damn natives what the white man's superiority was all about; but not us. Not for us pseudo patriotic thoughts of going forth to conquer for King or Queen, while building personal fortunes, or thinking in derogatory terms of black, brown and yellow natives. All that twaddle was left to the other classes. We are straightforward working class people, with simple goals in life - like fucking Indian cunt. Nothing written anywhere, but passed on by word of mouth - I first heard murmurs when I was eleven. By the time I came of age I had heard all about it. Not from my parents (my father and I had a nodding acquaintanceship, my mother was just too quiet and too strait laced and I am an only child), but from numerous cousins, uncles and aunts. We, of the English working class, have a strong sense of family. We stick together and meet frequently - at family gatherings and of an evening at the local. And we talk, oh yes we talk. I still speak in the manner I learnt at my mother's knee - even though I went and got myself a bleeding education. I am still working class and damn proud of it. But scholarships galore and before you could say Bob's your uncle, I was a doctor and not just any old doctor but a bleeding neurologist. Dealing with people is not my forte, but I have an insatiable curiosity; so I found myself a research position at the Institute in Queens Square. When I have to get up and speak I still find puzzled looks on some of the faces in front of me. As if education and a working class accent do not go together. The devil with them, I say; that is if there is a devil, and if there isn't, then who cares? But back to our quest for Indian cunt - goes back a few centuries. It started when my ancestors signed on as hands on sailing ships and the first Indian cunt was encountered - most likely a prostitute's. Later, when the East India Company was established we were there helping with this and that. And that is when the legend really took off - of Indian women and their superior fucking. Who knows if any of it is true, who knows if Percy who spent thirty years in India was the greatest fucker of them all? (For that matter who cares? It all sounds good). Family legend has it that Percy (1830 – 1860 in India, and who died eight years later of consumption, but with a smile on his face, in England) was the ultimate, the pope, the emperor, the man who had all the moves that everyone who followed, followed, to a T; and if they did, they then sank their pipe and buried their desires in prime Indian womanhood, to be resurrected to a higher level of fucking. Hallelujah. And it is his moves that I followed in 1992 when I went to India. Actually, it is more like his moves that I should have followed and didn't or more correctly – couldn't. Just out of school, scholastically accomplished, I wanted more out of life than more of that education. I wanted more education of the right kind. Of life. Or so I thought at that time. Of the stuff that would quiet my rampant hormones. The kind I was sure I would find in the arms of an exotic creature – gloriously brown skinned, black eyed and oozing sex from every pore. I was young but I was not naïve, at least not in the ways of fucking. I had started to plough my way through prime British womanhood soon after puberty struck and by the time I finished school I had acquired a modicum of expertise in fucking. Not because I was a natural gifted lover, but because older women, hairy cunts and all, love to teach young colts how to pleasure them and I loved to learn, and what the hell, family tradition had laid down that I had to be a gifted fucker. So in 1992 I thought I was ready to follow Percy and Will and Clarence and all the other ghosts of my ancestors down India way. Ready to discover what it was that had driven them crazy with lust and then had them die with perfect knowledge and a perfect smile on their face. Dead wrong, about my preparedness that is. I was not prepared for the filth, the stench, the emaciation, that passes for modern India. Where were the pristine sugar cane fields of lore where Percy held willing nubile Indian women up against swaying green stalks and banged their cunts till they cried uncle? The ramparts of forts where Will bent young wives of soldiers and jammed his manhood up their posterior apertures? As a matter of fact, where were those exquisite women of folklore? All I saw were dirty, emaciated working class women who lived in slums – Indian working class women according to our family folklore were the most uninhibited and hence the most passionate fuckers. And what little I saw of women of any other class, they all appeared to be wrapped up in the business of marriage - either married and hence inviolate or getting ready to be married and hence inviolate. Okay, so I had this thing figured out all wrong. I did not know the language, had not bothered to really apply myself and had entered the whole enterprise with romantic notions of sexy nymphs throwing themselves at me, the moment I set foot in India. All right, so I was naive. For crying out loud I was only eighteen. And one month was definitely not enough time. You see, I was actually on my way to work on a distant relative's sheep farm in New Zealand and really could not afford to stay in India any longer. So I screwed up. But I still had a few years. I mean a generation is twenty five years. Is it not? The last successful screwing of Indian womanhood by a family member happened in 1982. He was a British Airways employee. She was a dusky flight attendant from a small town in South India and lonely in London. He had validated it by travelling to India and nailing her voluptuous frame in Claridge's hotel in Delhi. Actually, validation had taken place earlier at the airport where he had banged her, standing up against the wall, next to the urinal, in the first class lounge's unisex bathroom. What we were given to understand, by him, was that he could have had her anywhere. She was like putty in his hands. Interestingly, this putty like creature, upped and went her own way shortly after this encounter and when last heard from had settled down happily with a husband and kids in a small town in South India. And he, who was a repository of family knowledge of fucking Indian women, a veritable encyclopedia of the techniques used by those who had gone before, had ironically actually gained access to her cunt by pure chance and good fortune. And never had he gained admittance to another Indian cunt. But the way he told it, he would have you believe that he had used his intimate knowledge of women, and of Indian women in particular (and this he had gained from family folklore), to bang her. Maybe all this so called family knowledge was hogwash? But who cares, the important thing was fucking; fucking prime Indian cunt. The end, not the means. By the way, he was Uncle George (named after the King, who was reigning in 1950, the year he was born, and his parents were running out of names as he was their eighth offspring). Sorry, all this is neither here nor there. All I meant to say was that I had till 2007. Why the emphasis on me? After all there were plenty of my extended male relatives still around, surely someone was going to do the deed? Sure, but the opportunities were very limited and each of us had to think as if it all rested on him. Before India's independence – Indian cunts galore, but since then prospects of hammering Indian cunt in India had diminished and had practically dried up since the seventies. Through my earlier farcical foray I had discovered the reason – you had to live there for a while to have a chance, and finding a job and living in today's India, for any length of time, for an English working class bloke was very difficult. Then I met Razia Ahmed. She was a post graduate student working with me on a research study. In her early twenties, tall, leggy, light brown with heavenly features and breasts to die for, she was a living wet dream. She fucked with her mind and body; bloody out of this world experience when she really got into it. Born and brought up in Bradford, she was not a virgin when I met her but her experience was very limited – two encounters with a distant cousin. I just could not get enough of her. But banging her in England was not really continuing the family tradition. And her family was originally from Pakistan. But this, we all decided, was a mere technicality. The real India was British India, not the present one, which was the result of an artificial religious division. But validation had to be in India. A colleague had recently visited India and been blown away by a tour of northern India in a luxury train. I was told that tickets for this 'Palace on Wheels' were difficult to come by and you had to book way ahead of time. So in May 2006 I bought two tickets for December '06. Banging Razia on the Palace on Wheels, everyone agreed, would satisfy family tradition and free everyone else for the next twenty five years. The train trip was scheduled to start on December 31st. and I had decided I was going to propose to Razia on the first day of the New Year. Oh, yes, I was smitten; head over heels in love; this exquisite woman had reached every fibre of my being, filled me, and made me complete. And then in November came the bombshell. Razia told me her family had arranged for her to be married to this son of a rich businessman in Lahore, Pakistan. This was delivered in a flat monotone, after a mind blowing fucking session in my Mayfair flat. "And you said yes. How could you? I love you, Razia," said I, plaintively. She had just come out of the shower, looking fresh and lovely. While fixing her bra she said, "You just love fucking me. But there is more to life than that. Oh, grow up Charlie." For crying out loud, this girl was just 22 and I was 32, closer to 33! "Like what?" I said, exasperated. "Like family honor, and tradition and besides which you are not really the marrying kind." She said this as she ruffled my hair and then got her shirt, panties and pants on. She tucked her shirt into her pants, wrapped herself in a heavy woolen foot length coat, took my face in her hands, kissed me on the lips, and said, "I will miss you forever, but specially your blue eyes." And then she walked out of my life forever. Just like that, it was over. Having my love rejected was bad but not being able to fulfill the family's fucking tradition was devastating. So now I had these two tickets, worth a great deal of real money and meaning really nothing. I called the travel agency through which I had booked the tickets and tried to get my money back. Of course it was all in the fine print. You had to cancel at least three months in advance to get your money back. Since I had already taken the time off, I decided to bite the bullet and endure this so called luxury tour on my own. So New Year's Eve found me on Delhi Safdarjung railway station, jet lagged and listening alternately to bag pipes and shehnais, as me and my fellow passengers were welcomed onto the train. Later on, after the train got moving, we were all assembled in the two dining cars on the train for a sumptuous New Year's Eve meal. I found myself sharing a table with a middle aged German couple, dour and tight lipped, who suffered their way politely through the meal. Suddenly, there was this delightful tinkle of laughter from an adjoining table and I looked up to meet the most beautiful pair of brown eyes that I had ever seen in my life. Briefly our eyes met, then she smiled politely in acknowledgement that we had made contact and turned her attention back to the person who had elicited that tinkle of laughter. She never looked at me again that evening. But I could not help flinging furtive glances her way. This was the face of a goddess, an Indian goddess I thought, in my fevered got to fuck an Indian cunt mind, but without those bilaterally symmetrical ten arms. An Indian goddess, an absolute Indian beauty, broadcast by her elegant sari and stylish blouse. She was fair, and I mean white like a Northern European, a long flawless neck enhanced by a discreet gold necklace, wrinkles around the eyes announcing middle age, but without the fleshiness below them that proclaimed it. It was an aristocratic face with beauty and not just vacuous beauty but beauty with character. Her full lips were painted with a hint of pink. My cock was at full mast thinking of what that delicious mouth could do to it. Why stop there? I could feel my cock's underside being coddled by an educated tongue while the helmet was being pampered by a discerning palate. So, maybe I am hornier that most and had not been laid in a while. After dinner I retired to my billet - a sumptuous cabin meant for two. The other bed was of course empty. Ah, if only Razia were here. My erotic reminiscing was brought to an abrupt halt by the ever present, splendidly attired, properly obsequious, male attendants. They wanted to know what time would Sahib want his morning tea served? I was beginning to understand why past generations of my countrymen had delusions of grandeur. Tomorrow's stop was Jaipur and we had to make an early start to tour the city. Next morning, I drank my tea, served surprisingly piping hot in an exquisite china tea set; then shat, shaved and showered and made my way down the narrow passage to a small common area at one end of the carriage where breakfast would be served. And there she was - my beauty of last night! In my coach! Of all the 14 coaches on this train she was on mine! Some things are just meant to be. Fate, destiny or kismet as the Indians would say. She was decidedly middle aged - mid to late forties as far as I could discern in the morning light, but deliciously so. Wrapped in an expensive silk sari which outlined her elegant form softly, with kohl highlighting those lovely brown eyes, and her dark hair done up elegantly in a bun at the back of her head, she looked even more like a goddess. "Good morning," she said brightly, "No one else is up so early, I have just ordered breakfast and he has gone to get it. But I am sure either he or the other fellow will be here shortly to take your order." Sure enough before she finished speaking the other fellow was there, tassels and all. And to my enquiry as to what was available for breakfast, he of course cheerfully said, "Whatever you want, sahib." We whittled down this nonexistent 'whatever you want' to bacon and eggs (sunny side up), with a pot of freshly brewed Darjeeling tea. Since she had spoken to me and I had not said a word to her, I happily informed her that she had been absolutely right about the other fellow turning up immediately and that there was nothing like genuine Darjeeling tea. She looked through me looking for the actual guy speaking behind my cardboard cutout likeness. I was so used to this, I just said with resignation, "I am English. Working class English." "This is so embarrassing," she said, "I am so sorry. We are so used to the English speaking BBC English that one forgets how diverse that country is, at least in its accents." She carried on cheerily," You know, this so called plum accent, is held in such regard by us Indians that we have people we call brown sahibs imitating it." And then and there I fell in love with her. And then and there I decided I had to find a way to fuck her and do my duty by my family. Was this going to be 1992 all over again - high hopes and lousy reality? No, I thought vehemently, no, I was better prepared, older and wiser. The morning activities in Jaipur got off to a start by going up to a fort on an elephant, seated directly behind the mahout who had obviously indulged excessively the night before. There is nothing more stomach churning than the expelled breath of yesterday's cheap liquor. At least the elephant had not been involved in the night's proceedings. I mean I was hanging on for dear life just to stay put on that swaying back. Heaven help me if it was the back of an elephant with a hangover! Lunch was on the lawns of a five star hotel. By the time I got there most of the tables had been taken. The only ones left, were out exposed to the sun. This was an Indian winter's sun, balmy and perfect for me. Not expecting company I spread myself out on a table meant for six. A jacket on this chair, my state of the art digital Canon camera on another, and the morning's purchases from the shop at the fort on another. "Mind if I join you?" I squinted into the sun and found my goddess of this morning looking down at me, the sun framing her face. "Absolutely, please," as I scrambled to get my stuff off the other chairs. "Please, please," she said," relax. There is plenty of place here. No need to be the perfect English gentleman," as she sat in the chair opposite me. Then after a moment's reflection," I am so sorry I was not belittling you or being sarcastic." And then," What is wrong with me! I am apologizing yet again to an Englishman. After what you people did to my country you should be apologizing for the next one hundred years!" And she meant it, brown eyes flashing, aristocratic features haughtily distorted. I cringed, because I kind of agreed with her. And then her features lightened," Ah, well, we can still be friends and let bygones be bygones." You bet we could - get real friendly, and the sooner I get to bang you the better me lovely, I thought. "Ah, there you are Ma," said a husky voice, and as I turned to look at who owned it, it continued," Got held up putting my stuff away. And here you are deep in conversation with a stranger." "Oh, no he is not a stranger at all. He is in our carriage, met him this morning. I just don't know his name." I got up and bowed," Charlie Hill, working class English, at your service." And despite all that working class stuff thrown in, the husky voice looked at me with gaping mouth. The mother quickly rescued her, "I am Alka Sapru and this is my daughter Priya." Oh, my, I was going to have trouble getting my tongue around all that. It had amused Razia no end - my inept pronunciation of Hindi and Urdu words. I got her to teach me how to pronounce cunt, cock and arse - choot, lund and gaand. One evening, while I was banging her doggie style (her favorite position because she said her G spot was maximally stimulated in that position), with my thumb embedded in her arse hole, I was very close to coming as she vigorously thrust herself back at me, I linked those words together with my version of Hindi/ Urdu and delivered them hoarsely in the throes of passion. It was very discomfiting to discover myself ejaculating into a body wriggling like jelly, wracked by laughter. I looked at the husky voice now called Priya, as she settled in a chair opposite me, and found a younger version of my goddess. Like a filly to a mare and a few inches taller. So I was the horse since I wanted to, no had to, mount the mare. Except, I did not have a clue how to. I mean our family folklore had a ton of great ways of bedding a nubile Indian. Except all those pointers were from a bygone age and pertained mostly to working class Indians, some of whom could be enticed with nothing more than the promise of exotic beedies. This was a sophisticated product of modern India. How was I going to bed her? Even worse, how was I going to pronounce her name? I mean your iconic philanderer would look a little foolish, if in the throes of passion, the person who is being philandered laughs, because your iconic philanderer conjures up visions of a fat mother or some such, while he thinks he is fervently calling out the name of the fuckee, to ensure that the said fuckee, understands that the fucker, is stamping the act of fucking with authenticity by calling out the name of the fuckee, while he is depositing a boat load of charged semen in her accepting vagina. Banging On The Palace On Wheels Following lunch we were taken in buses for a trip to an open air medieval observatory. After a while my attention flagged. I mean there is just so much of sun dials and their ilk I can take. Despite an interesting narration by an obviously well informed guide, I found myself dragging my feet and at the outer fringes of the flock following him. The faint whiff of a faintly familiar perfume made me aware that my goddess was nearby. I turned around and there she was, right beside me. "Losing interest in the history of this country that your country ruined, Dr. Hill?" How could I be goaded by those beautiful brown eyes, or by that aristocratic nose? Oh, how do I fuck you my haughty queen? "Ruined the country or its history, Mrs. Sapru?" Well at least that got her to laugh. Whether it was at my witty turn of speech or my horrible mispronunciation of her name, who cares? Because if you get a woman to laugh, said an ancient English sage, you have a woman you can fuck. And, of course, it led to an intense tutoring session on pronunciation. We finally decided on sup roo, and ul ka as in ulna. Just then her daughter caught up with us. Pre ya emerged as the preferred pronunciation of that name. What's in a name anyway - they looked spectacular in their form hugging saris, mother and daughter, with their sculptured midriffs showing, both eminently fuckable, the women not their midriffs. Whereas the mother was graceful and her movements languid, the daughter was coltish and her movements quick and jerky, quite attractive nonetheless. But I cared not for the daughter, only the mother, at least for the moment. To succeed you have to be goal specific and I wanted to succeed absolutely - for the ghosts of my ancestors; for family, for me, for my legacy in family folklore. Later we were taken to a carpet making place. We were shown how carpets were made, starting with the raw fiber and ending with the magnificent end product. There was a huge inventory of the finished product and the ladies invited me to join them in their buying spree. I would have gone with them to hell if it meant I could stay in their company. That is when I discovered that they were loaded with money. They were buying stuff for Pre-ya's new farm house just outside Delhi. I learnt that a 'farm' in modern Delhi had nothing to do with farming whatsoever. They bargained sternly and with authority for each carpet, wearing the seller down a few thousand rupees for each item. But they bought at least a dozen to be shipped directly to Delhi. Translated into pounds I could have afforded one, maybe two, at the most. The next day the train stopped at Jaislamer, a sleepy town on the edge of the Indian desert. A trip to the town was punctuated by another buying spree by mother and daughter. Original stuff I was told that could not be bought elsewhere. Again it was furnishings for Priya's fabled new farm house. It turned out that Mr. Sapru was head of one the biggest business houses in India. And his wife and daughter were no wallflowers either. Alka had attended Harvard Business School ( her father had been a bigwig in the Indian Foreign Service) and was on the board of several of the largest manufacturing companies in India. And her daughter was an MBA from the Indian Institute of Management in Ahmedabad. As Alka put it - why send your child abroad when the best was in India. Priya was the head of a very successful start up company, manufacturing the entire gamut of kitchen appliances adapted to Indian conditions. Goodness gracious, brains and beauty! How on earth was I going to honor my family's tradition? I mean I was brainy enough to match their braininess but clueless as how to achieve my objective of fucking Indian cunt, which to me right now meant fucking Alka's cunt. Oh, what a cunt! The closest I got to that cunt was holding Alka's hand that night as we all danced in a circle to live music from a band of rustic musicians. It was on the grounds of a luxury hotel, so the band could not have really been that rustic, and the dance was hold the hand of the person next to you and do something with your arms and legs without upsetting the whole circle. It was a warm hand to be sure, but it stayed lifeless and neutral in my hand till it was time to disengage. That night I invoked the ghosts of Percy and Will and Clarence and all the rest to show me how to fuck my Indian goddess and preserve my family's reputation. Things looked bad, mainly because I was overwhelmed and as I said earlier, clueless. I am neither a slouch nor a sniveling loser. Had this been Britain and I was dealing with a woman born and brought up there I would have found a way to her cunt by now, given our proximity and my burning desire. Had Alka been an Indian working class woman of the nineteenth century or early twentieth century the accumulated advice of my ancestors would have guided me. But this independent, intelligent, extremely rich twenty first century Indian goddess was giving me a permanent hard on, with no clue on how to relieve it. The next day was Jodhpur, the second biggest city in Rajasthan- another riot of forts and palaces. It was in the palace of the former Maharaja, now a five star hotel that I got my first glimmer of hope. As had now become usual, if three days qualifies as usual, Alka and I spent a lot of time in each other's company. After lunch we went off together to explore the palace grounds. We walked through the palatial grounds to the open air pool at the edge of a cliff which overlooked the city down below. There was no one in the pool, but I cared not, for following Alka's swishing sari clad behind was heaven. When she leaned over the railing and commented on how beautiful the sight of the city down below was, the sight of her perfect arse straining against her sari had me wanting to lift her sari up and bang her exposed butt right there. Though it seemed an eternity, it was but an instant before she turned right around and off we went traipsing past acres of manicured lawns back into the belly of the former palace now refurbished as a Taj hotel. I mean literally into the belly - the basement, to inspect the spa. Since there were no customers there at that time, we were taken on a guided tour of the magnificent facilities. Standing beside the rose scented water filled central pool with rose petals liberally strewn on its serene surface, I pictured myself behind Alka, giving it to her energetically as she held on to the edge with both hands, taking my thrusts gracefully and with a smile on her lovely face. That got me all hot and bothered, with nowhere to go. Just then I felt her hand enclose mine. Unlike last night it was anything but lifeless. Her fingers and thumb played sensuously with mine and then just as suddenly it was over. I turned to find her looking up at me with an enigmatic smile, and walking away. So what was all that about? I asked myself, as we walked to the bus that would eventually take us back to the Palace on Wheels. Should I test the waters by running my hand over her buttocks or take hold of her hand and squeeze it seductively? Should I make a move based on my impression that she had sent a clear 'I am interested, come fuck me' signal? I was horny, I wanted this woman, I wanted to fuck her like there was no tomorrow, but I did not want to screw up. What if squeezing my hand was just a gesture of friendship? What if what I thought was a signal that she was ready to be fucked was really an emancipated woman from a different culture telling me she saw a kindred soul? I decided I would do nothing but just follow that delicious behind back to the bus. And that is what I did. Call me a wimp. But family honor is more important to me than your worthless assessment. But first the bus took us to an emporium of sorts to buy genuine Indian handicrafts. Once again I was invited to join mother and daughter on their buying spree. Once again I accepted and stared at them with what I thought was well veiled delight as they bargained their way through a mountain of purchases. I learnt that they had come on this trip on a whimsy. The whole family, both husbands included, was supposed to have gone to an exclusive resort on an Indian Ocean island for much needed vacation. At the last moment, things had happened and both husbands had to go off to different parts of the globe to put out fires. In answer to my question, "How on earth did you get tickets at such short notice for this train?" Alka gave me one of her enigmatic looks. This time I surmised it meant - when you have so much money, the world is your oyster, get with it you English boor. I got the distinct impression that they had decided to slum it on this Palace on Wheels excursion, to see how lesser mortals lived. It was more of an amusing diversion than anything else. How could I make myself an amusing diversion for this formidable woman? How do I get her to fuck me? Alka provided the answer. After we got back to the train, we shared a table for dinner. By the way, the food on this train was out of this world, delicious. They served what they called Continental, Chinese, or Indian fare. No matter what they called it, it was all mouth-watering. I am partial to Indian fare, having been brought up on Indian takeaways. The Indian food served here was so scrumptious that I was literally salivating for the next course. Said Alka, seeing me masticating away on Murgh Makhani, using my fingers, " I see, the Englishman is going Native." That was my cue to gush on and on about Indian cuisine, caring not a bit about her attempt at sarcasm. "Well," she said," I have a book on Rajasthani cooking, that I picked up the other day, complete with illustrations. Would you like to see it?" Given my present state of gastronomic satisfaction with Indian cuisine there was only one thing I could have said, "Of course." I did not have clue what this Rajasthani cuisine was, except that it sounded Indian. So after dinner, we lurched our way back to our compartment, as the train reeling from side to side, moved on. Alka picked up the book, which was a glossy, hard bound, coffee table sized book and came to my cabin. We sat side by side on the unoccupied bunk bed and perused that book. Alka obviously knew a thing or two about the subject. She gave me an in depth analysis of the food, the chefs and the people of Rajasthan. She really held my interest with this commentary, so much so that for a while I forgot my horniness and infatuation with her. But then the top of her sari fell off and exposed the top of her low cut blouse and the soft tops of her breasts. That did it. From then on my eyes were riveted to those two mounds and the valley in between. And the way they deliciously came to life with movements of her arms. "Charlie," she said, following my gaze," are you even listening to a word or are you just going to stare at my breasts?" I should have been embarrassed, but I was not. There was something in the way she said it, that made it less of a rebuke and more of a let's see where this leads to, kind of remark. I decided to follow my instincts and said," I don't know. What should I do?" And smiled into those beautiful brown eyes. "You could start by at least being embarrassed." "Why?" "Because that is the proper thing to be," and then taking a ninety degree turn as women often do, " Have you been hitting on me?" An American expression that I could pretend not to understand, "What do you mean?" "Have you been trying to seduce me?" But of course me lovely, except that I did not have a clue how to. Aloud, I said, "Of course not, what makes you say that?" "Nothing tangible, just a feeling." I was getting somewhere at last. Just do not ruin it, I cautioned myself. "Did you want to be seduced?" We were sitting so close to each other that I could feel her breath when she turned and looked at me. And she looked at me for some time, before she said," I don't know, but I could be persuaded." Aha, I thought, aha, now we could be definitely going somewhere. I picked up a magnificently manicured hand and began pressing the sinews in that soft organ. "Looking for a place to stick a needle in, doctor?" said she, quietly. "Nope, I am not the needle sticking kind. I am more of the nerve activity mapping kind." And right now all nerves mapped their way to my penis. Because, there is simply nothing more sensual than rubbing the soft hand of a fuckable female. Done right, it hardens the penis to diamond density and softens the female into accepting that dense pole up her vagina. But, maybe not this female, for she just looked at me with an amused expression on her heavenly features. She said," And that is supposed to seduce me?" but said softly with a voice fraught with tension. Aha, maybe I was getting to her. I was so close to my goal. So close to fucking Indian cunt, so close to preserving the family's honor, calm down, I told myself, many a slip between cup and lip. Cannot slip up now, I wanted her so much. I wanted to possess her like nobody had before - hold her firmly, rub myself all over her, stick my tongue in her mouth and stick my cock in her cunt and bang her like there was no tomorrow. So, I gently embraced her like she was a fragile doll, and rubbed my face against hers. She responded by grasping my head in her hands and running her hands through my hair, while her lips grazed my face. And then we were into a mind blowing, soul finding, tongue dueling tongue, kiss, that went on forever. Now, I knew what I had to do. Now, at last I was in familiar territory. Years of satisfying women and making them mine had prepared me. I knew what I had to do next. To all you wannabe fuckers out there, I say - get down on your knees and worship the cunt you want to fuck; with your mouth. If you can do that well, the woman who belongs to that cunt is yours forever. And remember to not get too carried away by your ability. For though it is important, it is not everything. It is the sight of the dominant male in a submissive position before her that really gets to a woman. It quixotically brings out the maternal instinct in her. And it is this maternal instinct, no matter what they say to the contrary, that makes women into great fuckers. Or at least that is my theory, and I am sticking to it. I knelt down in front of her, my knees cushioned by the soft and thick carpet, and gently lifted her sari and form fitting petticoat out of the way, spread her legs, and exposed her designer panties. Softly, I removed them, caressing her legs as I did so, while she watched curiously. Then I parted her legs further and there it was nestling in a trimmed bush, lips glistening - my goal. It was beautiful, just as I had fantasized it would be these last few eventful days. Gently, I pushed her, indicating that I could gain better access if she lay down, or at least backed up against the side of the coach as far as she could go. I grabbed a pillow and placed it behind her head. Then I brought my mouth to her cunt and grazed my lips from the top to bottom of her mound, followed by licking those delicious fleshy lips alternating with tickling her prominent clitoris. I pushed back her exquisite thighs, exposing her divine cunt some more, and rested her bent legs on my shoulders. Now I penetrated her with my tongue, working it into her cunt, moving it in and out, fucking her with it. And she responded by moving against my tongue and flooding her tunnel with slick fluid. And then I completely changed direction. I reached back and began playing with her feet (pedicured to perfection), starting at the toes and working my way to her ankles. Women react differently to this foot massage maneuver. From giggling as they find it ticklish, through complete indifference, to enhanced responsiveness as it hits a definite sensual spot. A thrill ran through Alka's body telling me to which kind she belonged and encouraging me to really get into it. I extracted my face from her cunt and moved up her body, trapping her bent legs firmly beneath me as I went, till I reached her face. Her mouth accepted mine with eagerness, telling me that she had no problem with the taste of her cunt. My god, my goddess, was turning out to be quite a sensual woman! Between us we got her blouse and bra out of the way, and at last I could feast on those gorgeous orbs in their native, naked glory. Light brown nipples that sprang to attention at the slightest teasing of my tongue. I could have stayed there forever, for her hands had found my head and held it in a vice grip. My hands had found her cunt down below. Two fingers were sawing in and out of her vagina, while a thumb encouraged her clitoris. But we had to move on, move on to the main event. So I removed my fingers from her cunt and stood up, preparatory to getting my clothes off and getting down to the nitty gritty of fucking her, of fucking Indian cunt in India. The time spent in preparation for this main event had served me well, for she stayed in that bent up position. The only change was that her fingers had replaced mine and she was now playing shamelessly with her cunt, as I got up and quickly divested myself of all my garments. "Big one," she muttered appreciatively, when my excited member came into view. Well, maybe slightly longer than your average white English penis, it was its width that was impressive and the helmet or glans most impressive. Most women I had fucked had difficulty accommodating it and very few would even attempt to take it up their arse holes. Razia was one who did, I remembered fondly. Repeatedly at that! My god that girl was something else. And now she was getting fucked by an undeserving Pakistani. But to heck with her and onto this exquisite creature spread out in a seductive, fuckable pose in front of me. She occupied the bed, breadth wise, her legs bent, her cunt at the edge. So, after I had rid myself of all my clothes, I stood up on bent legs to get both our sexual organs aligned. Just then I came to my senses," I do not have a condom," I gasped. She shrugged her shoulders and screwed her face into the international expression of 'who cares'. "Have you got one?" I asked. "No," she said tersely, and waited. What the heck, take a chance, Charlie boy, I thought. My desire to fuck her, trumped my caution. I inserted my cock slowly, and patiently worked it into that slick tunnel. She was tight or I was really big for her because the process took a long time. A deliciously long time! Finally I was sunk in to the root. I had arrived! I had done it! I had pronged an Indian cunt within the time limit. I let out a sigh of relief and lowering my lips to hers, sealed the moment with a soul searching, mind boggling, tongues entwining kiss. Then I rose up in preparation of a merciless hammering and roughly got hold of her perfect breasts after lifting her legs over my shoulders and parting them as far as they could go. This was my triumphal moment. I was transformed. I felt like Caesar entering Rome, like Napoleon at Austerlitz. Briefly, I looked down and met her eyes and saw the pained expression in them. Quickly, I averted my eyes, squeezed her breasts savagely and watched my prick withdraw till only the tip was in and then I rammed it back in, all the way back, forcing my way into her grudgingly yielding vagina, with her legs all bent offering her cunt shamelessly. This was all about me and my family's quest, at least for the moment. I lowered myself back on her, my arms pushing her legs, forcibly keeping them way apart. I took hold of her head firmly in my hands and forced my tongue into her mouth. In honor of the moment the train had picked up speed. This meant it lurched a great deal from side to side. And since she was lying across the tracks, in a manner of speaking, I discovered the real joy of fucking in a train. If I timed it right, I could move in just as the train thrust her at me, enabling me to reach her depths with ease and elicit appreciative gasps from her. And vice versa as it took her away from me. Banging On The Palace On Wheels I pounded her brutally as I forced her mouth open and pushed oodles of my saliva down her throat. This was primeval; this was a caveman copulating, ruthless taking of a female, forcing her to accept his superiority. And then I noticed a change. My cock was moving in and out unimpeded, her legs had spread apart even further and she was thrusting herself back at me and grunting! I disengaged my mouth and looked down at her. That proud sophisticated visage was now distorted by unadulterated lust. She had become a rutting animal. She sneered up at me, even as she grunted in time to our fucking. This transformation in her was very exciting. I kept looking at her and the play of expressions on her face, even as I rammed her. It didn't take long, it couldn't at the rate we were going at each other. We came simultaneously. Her orgasm triggering mine, and I drenched her cunt with my fluid offering. Except, that I had not ejaculated for so many days. And so what I off loaded, filled her cunt and I could feel it freely flowing down her delicious thighs. I was so exhausted by the furious fucking that I just lay there on her with my feet on the floor, and my head next to her face. Also I was overwhelmed by the fact that I been so rough. Almost violent, and I abhor violence. It was almost as if I had to dominate, to overwhelm, to conquer, and all my life I have felt the utter ridiculousness of these things. Then I felt her ruffling my hair, as she murmured in my ear," My, my, so much aggression, so out of character." But, it was said in a tone that suggested a sated person, an appreciative person, not someone hurt or disappointed or taken advantage of. Maybe I should add a bit of roughness to my sexual repertoire! Her hand now began gently caressing my hair even as her tongue started licking my ear. The lady was ready for more! I moved us both till we were lying length wise on the bed. Much more comfortable and ergonomically superior to the breadth wise usage that had just ensued. Besides, I knew this was going to go on for a while. I had achieved my goal and there was no need for frenzied fucking. This was going to be all pleasure, exquisitely slow! Gradually, my cock which had never left the warm sanctuary of her cunt hardened to penetrating strength, once again. I became active with my tongue even as she ratcheted up the excursions of her tongue till after we had both licked every inch of the other's face, our tongues met and began dueling sensuously. The train had now settled down to a more sedate speed as had our fucking. I moved my face down to worship her breasts, licking all around till I reached the nipples. They were already erect with excitement and my sucking on them got deep murmurs of approval from her. All the while I kept my prick firmly embedded and moved my pubis on hers, stimulating her clitoris. Without disengaging we got her petticoat and sari off her. Now, it was truly skin on skin. I lifted myself on my hands to admire what lay beneath me. Somewhere in the proceedings, she had loosened her hair, and it softly framed that beautiful face that was now smiling up at me. Her arms came up and around and embraced me, even as her thighs bent back and feet turned inwards till her heels were working rhythmically on my back. She pulled me down and attached her mouth to mine, in another soul searching dreamily sensual kiss. This lady was a gifted fucker! In a move too quick to figure out, she turned us over and suddenly I was below her and she was mounting me. And she went to town as the Americans would say - riding me like a good jockey, coaxing the best out of me, teasing me, tormenting me with half plunges, till suddenly descending all the way and engulfing my cock in its entirety. Then quickly she would reverse direction, ascending till only the tip remained within her vulva, a moment's respite, and down she would come again till the root was sunk in her. She repeated this energetically in quick succession till I felt the sap rising and knew I was close to coming. Instinctively she knew this and suddenly slowed down and smiled enigmatically at me. Oh, no that enigmatic smile once again! What was it saying now? My mind overrode the internal debate which that smile started. Like Alexander the Great, I cut the Gordian knot and took matters into my own hands. I took hold of her buttocks and forced her willingly obliging cunt up and down on my prong. My movements got more and more urgent and frantic till a crescendo was reached and once again I gloriously came in her cunt. Oh, my, was I a king or what? Next morning we made an early start to get to a game reserve. The train was parked at a railway station with a long name and we were taken in open vans to this reserve - Ranthambore, I think was what it was called. At the reserve there were lots of monkeys, spotted deer, colorful birds and other such creatures in abundance, if you are interested in such things. People in one van got very excited because they had spotted a tiger. It seemed the majestic beast stepped out on to the trail just a few yards ahead of them, stopped and looked at them, decided they were not lunch, and then pottered off. I was in more of a reflective mood, and in any case all this craning one's neck to see stuff did nothing for me. I was filled with a sense of achievement, of having done what I had set out to do. Relieved that I had met the family's generational obligation. But now I was thinking ahead – I wanted more of Alka, wanted to fuck her a whole lot more. I could see her sitting wrapped in a blanket with Priya a few seats ahead, the two of them in animated discussion. And all I could think of was getting under that blanket with her and finger fucking her to an orgasm, right there, while everyone else concentrated on the fauna. Having fucked this woman, who I knew was above my station, at least financially; who I had fucked without really seducing, or indeed without really having had a clear plan to seduce, in effect a woman who I had been lucky to fuck - I was now filled with insecurity. Would I be able to fuck her again? My lust crazed brain was completely befuddled. Because, if truth be told, she had really fucked me or closer to the truth - allowed me to fuck her. Alka made all this circular thinking an exercise in futility. That afternoon, while we were having lunch on the train and I was once again shamelessly tucking in, she asked her daughter, " Are you going to watch that Akbar movie on DVD?" Priya nodded in assent. She had made friends with a young Indian couple from California, and was going to watch this classic Bollywood movie with them in the little alcove at the end of the compartment that served as breakfast lounge cum TV parlor. " In that case, I shall try and initiate Charlie here in the joys of South Indian cooking." What a good idea, I thought, as once again Alka lugged a coffee table sized volume and headed to my cabin. She seemed to be serious about the subject and straightaway launched into giving me a lecture on the delights of South Indian cooking. I discovered later, that she was a gourmet cook, and it was her interest in cooking that had launched her daughter's search for the ideal utensils and implements to make Indian cooking easy, safe and yet perfect. I listened in earnest because she was a good explainer of things culinary and I was infatuated with Indian food and her. But then, I am also horny, and her proximity was too enticing. I began gently squeezing the sari covered leg nearest me. " Charlie," she said, " you are not listening," sounding exasperated. Whereupon, I quickly reached up and began squeezing one blouse and bra encased breast. She sighed and said," You are like a little boy." I promptly broke into my version of a little boy grin complete with fluttering eyelids. "What am I to do with you?" "Fuck me?" Had I really used the f word in front of my goddess? Oh, my! Was it the right thing to have said? "I thought that was what we did last night," as she fondled my hair, so I probably was not all that out of line. I acted quickly before more insecurity and negative thoughts overwhelmed me into inaction. In a trice I moved blouse and bra out of the way and fastened my lips to a bared nipple. This elicited a languid sigh. I worked that nipple with my tongue till it sprang to attention and felt like a meaty bullet in my mouth. At that moment, an overwhelming urge to fuck her again, overtook me. Whenever such an urge asserted itself in the past with other women, I was usually able to sublimate it into some other activity like licking cunt thus enhancing my fucking companion's erotic experience. But not this time. Not with this woman. This Indian goddess. I wanted to get my prick in her as quickly as possible, just to reassure myself that indeed I had fucked her and could fuck her again. Reaching between us I loosened my belt and worked my trousers and then my shorts off my pelvis. My hard cock was now naked. I wrapped a hand around it and the feeling of flesh on flesh was good! So much so that I grabbed one of her hands and forced it around my turgid organ. Obligingly, she ran her hand sensuously over it. This excited me to no end. Roughly, I lifted her sari up to her waist even as I pushed her down till she was lying on her back breadth wise on the soft bed. I stood over her and hooking her panty to one side, pushed my penis into her cunt in one fell swoop, with her hand still wrapped around it as if it was guiding my cock in. And then I removed her hand and rammed her, once again taken over by this now familiar feeling to fiercely fuck the shit out of her. I was so taken up with this feeling that I closed my eyes and gave myself up to the incredible sensation that a smoothly clasping vagina produces. I am not sure how long this lasted, this mindless hammering of her cunt. But, at some stage I felt sated, and slowing down opened my eyes. I looked directly into her beautiful brown eyes and the expression in them complemented that on her face. It was like having cold water splashed on me. Completely blank, if anything with a hint of derision on it, her face exuded a complete lack of passion. This had the effect of completely unsettling me, indeed shocking me out of my rutting mood. But not my cock, which remained hard, though now quite still, within her warm cunt. "Are you quite done, Dr. Hill?" Like a strict school teacher to an errant pupil. I felt like a complete failure, an absolute idiot. What should I do now? But my cock obviously thought differently, for it had remained iron hard and smoldering like a hissing stationary steam locomotive waiting to spring into action. I let it take over my thinking and it made me lower myself and lick every inch of her face. And it made my hands grab her buttocks and gently but firmly squeeze them. All power to my prick! This must have been the secret of our lineage of fuckers of Indian Cunt. Just follow where your cock leads you. She was taken aback by this completely irrational response. Ha! ha! little did she know that I had cracked the secret family code. Whatever game she was playing had obviously been upended. She sighed and said, " At least get off me you slob." My, my, such exciting words. I grabbed her face and forced my mouth on hers. Grudgingly, she gave in till our tongues were dueling in gay abandon. I eased myself off her and sat next to her. She lifted herself and stood up. She looked at me with a faint smile on her face. Then she began a slow sensuous removal of her clothes. It was not a strip tease because it lacked the frantic gyrations that epitomize that genre of activity. This was a lazy, languid, casual, progressive removal of clothing that was much more exciting than a mere strip tease, till she stood before me in all her naked glory. Bending down she removed my trousers and shorts and then straightened up to get my shirt, till I was as bare as she was. We stood naked on the carpeted floor and contemplated each other. This woman was exquisite. Rounded in all the right places, a promise that you will squeeze flesh in the throes of your orgasm and not wrap yourself around a stick. There was no doubt that she exercised. It was in the firmness one felt while running one's hands over her body. But exercise that heightened the tone and resiliency of healthy tissue. Not exercise that made iron clad muscles, the kind I had encountered in some women athletes. She stood still as I ran my hands over her back and grasped her buttocks, my cheek caressing hers. We both gasped. Me, because her gluts firmed up tickling my erotic impulses, she - who knows why? Then, I moved my hands over her again, stroking every inch of her from head to mid thigh. Finally she moved, and inserting her hand between us grasped my penis. "So hard!" she marveled, and indeed it had stayed turgid and rigid. Softly, she massaged it. And then just as I was reaching spewing point, she removed her hand, and pushing up against me, indicated that she needed me flat on my back on the bed. I immediately obliged, my pole sticking up incongruously. She climbed up with her knees on either side of me, her trimmed bush over my cock. Taking hold of it she rubbed it along her vaginal furrow, before sinking down on it and gradually working it in till it was sheathed to its root. "Ah," she breathed. Surely with satisfaction, I thought, as she looked down at me with a contented look in those soft brown eyes. Her breasts looked like upturned pears from where I lay, softly jiggling up and down as she slowly rode me, inviting me to play with them. "Wow," she exclaimed, "Look at the rear of our train!" I had closed my eyes, my hands still playing with her breasts, to give in fully to the sensation of what her cunt was doing to me. Opening them, I lifted my head and craned my neck around to see what she was seeing out of the window. Our carriage was near the engine and the train was negotiating a tight bend. The rear of the train looked like it was another train on a parallel set of tracks. Did she say rear? That gave my horny, one track mind, ideas. I placed both hands on her buttocks and parting them ran a finger over her anus, feeling the corrugations of the opening. Testing the waters, so to speak, I pressed my finger tip against the muscular opening. There was no reaction, either positive or negative. A non event or maybe she just chose to ignore it for now, because she was now back to grinding her cunt into me. And I mean literally grinding, for she was rising and falling with rhythmic ferocity, alternately sheathing my prick completely in her warm cunt, before moving up till only the tip was in her, and then descending furiously once again. I left my finger tip at her anal opening, gently caressing it, and just gave myself up to the incredible fucking that was going on. This magnificent spearing of cunt on cock was going to make me ejaculate; I could feel the inevitable happening. I wasn't quite ready to finish it right now. I pushed her off me. She looked startled and fetching in her astonishment. Quickly, I moved out from under her and holding her in place, I placed myself behind her. Now she was on her knees, below me, with her face buried in the pillow. I looked down on two perfectly rounded buttocks as I lined up my cock with her cunt. Unlike a lot of fatty buns that are stuck together, hers were firm, each a complete entity, parted just enough to show you the bottom of the dark crevice that ran between. Parting those shapely globes a little, I could see her entire brown ridged aperture winking at me. Should I take her there? She looked so submissive lying there waiting to be fucked. But no, I did not have the nerve and besides her cunt was so warm and friendly. I lowered myself and just rested on her. Then I gradually began running my cock up the furrow on her rump. She moved her head to one side to see what was happening and I leaned in to kiss her exposed cheek and get hold of her dangling breasts. She reached below and between us to take hold of my prick. She moved a bit to free it, then placed it against her vaginal lips and pushed back to take the tip in. The warmth of her slick tunnel felt so good, that I rose up and pushed the rest of it in with a savage thrust. "Ugh", was all the reaction this got. A satisfied ugh, an ugh hoping for more. And so I let her have it. Pushing and thrusting like a man possessed. And she pushed back in time to my thrusts and with equal vigor. This was not going to last. It couldn't, it shouldn't have to because we were both seeking release. And release came with a loud prolonged moan and drenching squirts from her, and a grunt and loads of semen from me. She collapsed on the bed and I on her. I must have been really taken up with this woman, for my cock was not soft. I mean it was not bone hard but not down to pissing only softness either. I kissed her upturned cheek and moved my pelvis on her rear, massaging my penis in her cunt. "My, god!" she exclaimed, "more?!" but made no move to get away. So I lifted her up, back onto her hands and knees, and off we went again. This time I went slowly. Savoring the sight of this aristocratic beauty spread out below me in a most submissive fashion, I speared her cunt with deliberate intent. Every thrust sent her crashing into the bed, being thrown off the bed prevented by her clenching on to the bedspread for dear life and by my holding her haunches firmly. On and on it went, this firm fucking. She was moaning continuously now, and having got the nuance of this new rhythm she was thrusting back with every one of my forward plunges. I could feel the sap rising. But I was not going to give in to it and commence humping madly like a love sick bull. No sir, I was in control. I just went on as before, never increasing the pace of my thrusts, till suddenly I was there. I held her in place more firmly, if that was possible, and ejaculated at the same measured pace into her. Shortly after that we reached Chittaurgarh, a fortress town. The fortress was on a hill and we were driven up there. According to our guide, once upon a time, it had been attacked by a Muslim king called Alauddin Khilji. He was so taken up by stories of the beauty of the resident queen, Padmini, that he travelled from Delhi with a huge army and laid siege to this fort. He was willing to call the whole thing off, if he could just catch a glimpse of this imperial beauty. But because she was a properly married Hindu woman, no grown male apart from her husband could actually see her. So, legend has it, that a mirror was artfully placed, so that he could see her image but no matter what he did, he could not see her in person. We were shown this mirror, and everyone marveled at the genius of the Hindus. Later that evening, we were placed on tiered seats in the open and treated to a sound and light show about local history and of the fort in particular, and once again we heard the story of lust and fighting. Now, I am as horny if not hornier than the next chap, but this sounded farfetched to me. I mean, this Khilji fellow ups and moves a few hundred miles with his whole army, just so he can fuck this Padmini person? Someone that he has never even seen? Something's not right here. There's got to be more, like swag or land or something. I talked about this with Alka on our bus ride back to the Palace on Wheels. Her take on it was very surprising. It seemed to me that she took off on a tangent - on Hindu-Muslim relations. She said her forbears had been driven out of Kashmir by Muslims. And this present so called Kashmir problem was a British creation, a divide and rule thing, which actually sounded very clever to me. However, Alka was offended by it. Perish the thought, I was with Alka, every step of the way, to hell with the British and their evil ways. I wanted more of Alka, and I was not going to offend her by disagreeing with her on anything. Banging On The Palace On Wheels She told me that Kashmiris were the original Aryans. Which, according to her accounted for the fact that they were so fair, with lighter hair and eyes, than most Indians. It seems this migration of Aryans into India was from north to south. In the process they pushed the original inhabitants of India called Dravidians down south. These Dravidians it seems were some sort of an aboriginal, almost negroid race, not given to fighting and so were quite easily conquered by the Aryans. I told her that I had thought all this Aryan nonsense was a Nazi creation. She just ruffled my hair and said," Pay attention, Charlie." She carried on, " I am not saying that it was good or bad, but that was what happened. And we have kept ourselves Aryan by not marrying out of caste." My god, my Indian Goddess was a racist! On the one hand, she was against British rule in India because it denigrated Indians as inferior creatures, but on the other she was talking about a white Aryan north and a dark Dravidian south India, as if people living in the south were akin to the blacks in the southern states of USA. All right, I thought, they say the test of a truly intelligent person was the ability to hold two diametrically opposite thoughts in their mind and yet retain the ability to function. So, thought number one - Alka was very attractive, but thought number two - her racism was ugly. Yet, I retained the desire and ability to function at full throttle and fuck the living daylights out of her! But I must have offended her in some way, for that night I slept alone. Or so I surmised in my insecure mind. But of course I surmised wrongly ( like I usually did ), as the events of the next day proved. The next day was Udaipur. Another riot of fables, palaces and forts. But also a huge lake with, you guessed it - a huge palace. Too private for us to tour, but we were shown the boat and pier used in a 007 movie. That evening after another lavish meal on the train, we repaired to my cabin. Except, that today Priya came along as well. And so there we were, three people in a space with two beds. No Indian cook book to get the conversation going this time. And one person too many, I thought. Just then, there was a knock and Alka quickly opened the door. There stood our splendidly attired, properly obsequious, male attendants. They quickly erected a folding table between the beds and then proceeded to place an extravagant table cloth on it. Next, on it was laid an ornate ice bucket with a magnum of champagne embedded in the ice. Three exquisite flutes, along with caviar in a delicate serving bowl atop crushed ice complete with a mother of pearl serving spoon and unsalted crackers, finished the arrangement. Alka handed each of them some money, the amount of which by the look on their faces must have been stunning. She quickly shooed them out, after reminding them to pipe in some soft classical music. "Alright, Charlie," she said," Do the needful." Dutifully, I uncorked the champagne and poured the bubbly stuff into the waiting flutes. Raising her glass, Alka said," To a wonderful friendship," ( oh so that is what all this fantastic fucking is called, I thought!). "Hear, hear," said Priya in her husky voice (what the devil did she know?), as I silently tipped my flute and sipped. My word! This champagne was far superior to anything I had ever tasted. I now dearly wanted to look at the label, but couldn't without betraying how cheap I was. We settled down to a medley of small talk, soft music, nibbles of caviar on crackers, and sips of this fabulous champagne. The sips had a cumulative effect and I definitely felt a little tipsy. Shakespeare held forth about how alcohol increases desire but takes away performance. There is however a phase in the inebriation process wherein both are enhanced. We or at least I was there right now. Alka and I sat on one bed while Priya occupied the other. The gap between Alka and me had narrowed, and now we were sitting thigh against thigh. Under the table, Alka's hand was massaging my thigh. I looked over at the other bed. Priya was staying put, interestedly looking at us. She could definitely see her mother's arm moving suggestively under the table. Alka now reached for my cock and began rubbing it through my trousers. She noticed me looking at Priya and said dismissively," We have shared men before." This was too much, even for a pervert like me. My shock must have been writ large on my face, because she said," Oh, quit Charlie. Get used to it. Alright we are depraved but so what. Who makes these moral codes anyway?" Who indeed, I thought, and for whom? And do I care? And then my cock sprang to attention with the thought that maybe this meant I would fuck the daughter as well! An attractive, comely, eminently fuckable daughter. Alka's hand felt the surge in my organ, "I see you have grasped the implications. I was right about you, you too are depraved." She was right about me?! What?! I would get to that later. First, a more important question, "You have shared men? Like your husbands?" They both chuckled at this. Said Priya," No, Varun, my husband, is too straight laced and not that all that much into sex." Added Alka," And so is her father - straight laced and not into sex." Alka, got up and with my help moved the table and what was on it, out of the way. We settled down again, flesh against flesh, so to speak, and once again she reached possessively for my cock. And of course, Priya could now plainly see what was going on. "You remember Carlos the Brazilian who was hung like a horse, Priya?" continued Alka, as she unzipped me," So is this one," as she brought my cock out. It pleased me no end to see the look of lust and wonder on Priya's face as her mother brought my member out into the open. My penile dimensions had never been of much import to me, but seeing Priya's reaction to it, made me feel like John Holmes. She covered the short distance between us and reached for it. Her soft hands enclosed the tip even as her mother maintained an unyielding grip on the base. I reached over and felt Priya's breasts through her clothes, firm and bountiful in their youthful exuberance as she thrust them eagerly at me. I pulled her to me, and kissed her full lips. Her mouth instantly opened and her tongue sought mine. My, that went quickly! I was about to find out that everything went quickly with the daughter. I felt Alka stirring and her grip on my cock tightened. Getting the message, I disengaged myself from the daughter and got in front of the mother. I reached down and lifted Alka's sari up till her magnificent legs were exposed all the way up to her panty covered mound. Like I said before, if you want to get lucky (as the Americans would say) you have to work for it. Reaching, I pulled her panties right off. I spread her heavenly legs wide and got between them. I licked all over those perfect lips and then my tongue snaked its way inside her cunt. With my nose rubbing up against her pubes I really got going, tongue fucking her. Priya was pressed up against me, her wonderful though still clothed breasts rubbing my back as she worked my ear with her mouth and my naked cock with both hands. The daughter was as wanton as the mother! After a while I had Alka cooing and moaning. Warm enough for now, I thought, as I moved off her and my mouth sought her daughter's. She parted her lips and unhesitatingly and with passion tasted her mother on my tongue. Did this mean that mother and daughter....? As if she read my mind, Alka said tersely," Yes, we do," still lying there, with her sari bunched up around her waist, except that her fingers were now working that wonderful cunt that my tongue had just vacated. My mind went crazy with the image her comment elicited. I would love to see it enacted in the flesh. "You may see it later, you pervert," said Alka, continuing to read my mind, continuing to finger her cunt dexterously. Maybe in a while my aristocratic beauty I thought, as right now Priya had my full attention, with her tongue working my mouth and her hands wanking my cock. My hands of their own accord began caressing her buttocks and pulled her to me. And then we were undressing each other in a blur of movement and before you could say," Jack," we were naked as the day we were born. The daughter was quick! I stepped back to look at this naked beauty. Her figure was as exquisite as her mother's, only her breasts were larger. Would they hold up against the sag of middle age as well as her mother's had done? On the other hand who the heck cared? Stay in the moment, damn it. I groped them freely and then began sucking on her nipples in earnest. Her hands still working my cock, Priya said, "Come on," as she backed me onto the other bed. The daughter got to the point much quicker than her mother. Generation gap? Just as I was about to lie down, Priya said, "Ladies first," and pushing me aside, lay down and immediately spread her legs wide. She was already breathing heavily and had one hand working her cunt. The daughter really got to the point straightaway. None of the slow languid sensuous movements of the mother. Different, but just as exciting! I lowered myself on her, and the hand that she was fingering herself with, took hold of my prick and placed it at her vaginal opening. And then she quickly took it away and said once again, (in that husky voice, taken an octave lower if that was possible, by her passion), " Come on." I needed no second invitation. This woman wanted it quick and hard. But first, I had to ask, "Got a condom?" "No she does not, Charlie," said Alka firmly, still lying on the other bed, still shamelessly working her cunt, "She is on the pill and she is clean. We trust that as a doctor, you too are clean. Right?" "Of course," said I virtuously, and then with vigor I shoved my cock in. And in one fell swoop the damn thing was in to its root! And all it got by way of a reaction was a grunt. A grunt born of satisfaction, that I had surely engendered. A real husky grunt, by the way. The daughter's cunt was tight and clasping but not nearly as much as the mother's was. Go figure! A mature cunt, fucked many more times than the daughter's, spread by childbirth and yet tighter than a vagina that had not yet been penetrated by a baby. Here I am sinking my cock in prime Indian cunt and clinically comparing it with Alka's! Talk about not being in the moment! And in any case the only difference was that with one thrust I had hit bottom, as opposed to patiently working my way in. "My god!" said Priya, "I feel so stretched!" Her husky voice giving it even more erotic credibility than I thought was possible. "See, I told you!" said her mother. Egad! Mother and daughter had been exchanging notes on my penile dimensions! And obviously this had been going on while I was neurotically hoping that I had not offended the mother in some way to prevent further fucking. Talk about not seeing reality! I was in the presence of degenerates many moons ahead of me! This was going to be great! My mind boggled at the possibilities. I was in heaven, damn it! Or at least my vision of it. Damn it. I lifted myself off her and rested myself on my stretched arms. I looked down and saw my mass of pubic hair stuck up against her shaved pubis, and I could feel my cock in the warm embrace of her cunt. I withdrew my organ slowly till only the tip remained inside. I looked at Priya and saw apprehension/lust on her face. That goaded me, and I threw myself back on her, my lips seeking hers as my penis rammed into her vagina. And then, with our lips locked and our tongues dueling, I began hammering her mercilessly even as she threw herself at me, wantonly. We were both close to coming when I felt a hand running up my thigh and then clasping a buttock. Distracted, I stopped ramming Priya and turned away from those luscious lips to see what or who was up. I saw a very naked and upright Alka smiling that enigmatic smile while kneading my buttock. This time I took that smile to mean - do not forget me. Duplicating her action, I grabbed her thigh and ran my hand up to her buttock and returned the favor by kneading it. Priya had been distracted as well and her answer was to reach for her mother's trimmed cunt and shamelessly start fingering it. And I mean really finger, like she was so familiar with it. All this was well and good but Priya's cunt contracting around my cock reminded me of which Indian cunt I was in at the moment, and so still clasping Alka's prime buttock I once again found my rhythm and began attacking Priya's cunt. And she, while still diddling her mother, threw herself at me with the same fierce intensity. And shortly thereafter we came simultaneously, our lips licked, our tongues entwined, our hands on the front and back of Alka. Who knows how long we stayed like that, all three of us connected, but all things come to an end and I felt my cock softening and then with a plop it fell out of Priya's vagina. Priya disengaged herself from me and reaching up pulled her mother to her. Mother and daughter hugged each other briefly but with vigor. Then up the daughter got and off she went with her mother to collect the flutes and champagne. We all got our flutes back bubbling with champagne, freshly poured. We clinked our glasses and Priya said looking at her mother, "Success!" Success? What success? They looked at each other and then Priya said," It was your blue eyes that did it." Did what? "Ma was so taken up by them that first night at dinner, that she spent the entire evening stealthily checking you out. By the end of that meal she had decided. She found out which carriage you were in and got us moved into an empty cabin there. Then it took a little time before she could seduce you." Seduce me?! My, my, this was a fine twist! Was I in quest of Indian Cunt or was it in quest of me?! "Yes," said Alka, sipping some of that still inestimable champagne to clear her throat, before carrying on, "Priya, in the meantime, was checking out an Indian couple from California but that did not pan out." Both mother and daughter, in quest of cocks and cunts?! The thought was so stimulating that I felt my cock coming to life. We were sitting as we had done earlier with Alka and me on one bed and Priya on the other, except now we were naked as the day we were born. The stirring of my organ got Alka's attention and she cooed happily as she took hold of it and began wanking it. This really got the blighter's attention and he was up to ramming strength in no time. I handed our beakers to Priya and turned my attention to Alka. She had read my intentions and as a by now practiced lover was ready. She was flat on her back, legs extended, cunt pushed out, expectant look on face, ready to be penetrated. And penetrate I did. In one fell swoop I pushed my dong in till I was in balls deep. I make it sound as if it was effortless and easy. It was not. But I was not going to dolly around. No more nice guy, gently coaxing in cock. This was Genghis Khan taking by right and might what was his. And besides which, what was good for the goose was good for the gander, if the daughter could take it in one fell swoop, so could the mother. An iron hard cock thick with desire, made it easy. Her cunt lubricated with yearning, made it easy. Easy, not effortless. It took a great deal of effort and was that a squeal for mercy that escaped her lips? Regardless, I buried my cock and cut off whatever noise she was making by firmly planting my lips on hers. And full luscious lips they were, with an animalistic tongue that came forth darting from behind them to play with mine and fuck my mouth in time with my cock toiling to and fro in her cunt. She really was a gifted fucker; her tongue an added instrument of pleasure that felt so good in my mouth that it sent me into orbit. But it was her cunt clinging to my cock as it went rhythmically in and out like a piston that got me to boiling point. I raised myself up and looked at her face twisted with lust. I placed my hands on her perfect breasts and began kneading them mercilessly even as I resumed ramming her below. Her breathing got ragged and she placed her hands on mine but made no attempt to move them off her breasts. I moved back a little and bent her knees to her shoulders to give me more access to her vagina. A couple of thrusts and she reached orgasm, heaving and thrashing and moaning. The sudden gush of warm fluids in her cunt triggered my reaction and I came in red hot bursts. We lay like that, recovering, till our breathing slowed down to a more sedate rhythm and my cock fell out of her drenched cunt. We uncoupled and sat up and Priya handed our champagne flutes back to us. Alka, took a sip and began reminiscing. "I discovered quite early that my libido was greater than the norm. I had a gala time in Harvard fucking my way through a whole host of cocks from all over the globe," said Alka, " But in India you cannot do that. The priority is marriage and it has to be arranged." Arranged. Wasn't that what Razia had? An arranged marriage in Pakistan? Were these two countries, separated by religion, really all that different? Would Razia, who was certainly as fuck happy as Alka (if not more) end up chasing cock outside marriage? I guess it would depend on her husband's libido and ultimately on her own craving for cock. And did I really care? About Razia, I mean? A whole host of memories came crashing in, hammering me mercilessly like an Arctic blizzard. Quickly, I moved my mind away to more important and less wounding matters. Alka was carrying on, regardless. "And ultimately that is what I wanted, an arranged marriage - to keep the blood line pure." But of course, I thought, there goes my Aryan Indian goddess, true to form. "But my husband, a good man, a very good man, had the libido of a lemon." This got a chuckle from Priya. "But he did perform when it was needed, " continued Alka, looking fondly at her daughter, " But to keep me satisfied I had to look outside my marriage. Discreetly chosen lovers, discreetly conducted affairs and things remained 'normal'. Like any other Indian family. Our daughter grew up knowing the usual extended family of uncles and aunts galore, with the usual mix of family politics. Nothing dysfunctional. Which is why I was not prepared for what I discovered when my daughter was twenty and home on vacation, having just finished her second year at the Institute." "I got home unexpectedly early from an overseas trip and found Priya in action. She was getting it on with one of our servants, a strapping young lad from Haryana. She was on her hands and knees, getting it from behind. It was obvious that this was not their first time. There was a familiarity in their movements and he had his cock firmly up her arse." That must have been quite a sight, I thought, as I pictured Priya's shapely bottom being pounded. So, she does take it up the arse? Hm... I looked at Priya and found her totally not embarrassed and in fact she had a cute smile on her pretty face, evidently remembering the event with fondness. Her mother continued," I decided there and then to take matters in hand. The boy was dispatched to work on one of our properties in Mauritius. It didn't bother Priya one bit, she was not in love with him or anything, she wanted to be fucked and he was an easy lay. We had a heart to heart talk and discovered how alike we were in our sexual appetites. Just like me in Harvard, she had been fucking anyone she could. That is when we came up with this idea of fucking foreign guys together. Far away, so that ripples never reached home." "Yup," said Priya with a smile on her face, " We have two brothers in Norway. A father and son in Indonesia." Banging On The Palace On Wheels " There she goes," said her mother with an indulgent smile on her face, looking first at her daughter and then at me," Mentioning her favorites first, and notice how they are blood relatives, but the fact is we have been able to connect with a few more all over the globe - a couple, a single man, and a gloriously uninhibited group in Florida. We take time off whenever we can, to keep our relationship with them current and relevant." She pondered a moment before going on, and I piped in with, " And they are all enormously wealthy?" " But of course," said Alka dismissively, emphasizing it with an airy hand movement, "Who else has time on their hands?" " So why me?" " Because," said Priya, taking over from her mother, " You were there. And we had nothing better to do." Well, that was so flattering. "Come on, Charlie," said her mother, " It has nothing to do with you. You are a find!" "Oh, yes, " said Priya, raising her glass in acknowledgement, " Everything Ma said about you is true! You are something else!" Oh, and that was supposed to make me feel good? Priya put her glass away and moved over and sat by me. Without much ado she bent down and engulfed my cock with her mouth and began sucking it back to life. Now, that made me feel good! Nothing boosts a deflated ego like a beautiful woman lathering your prick with spit. What made me feel even better was what she said next, in a matter of fact fashion, but with a sultry slur in her husky voice," I want it up my arse." However, before I could act on her wanton suggestion, mother and daughter moved on to the other bed and eagerly spread themselves so that they were mouth to cunt in next to no time, with the daughter on top. I guess all this talk of fucking together had got to them. And off they went to the races, devouring each other voraciously, tongue fucking like there was no tomorrow. Made me proud to acknowledge that it was my semen that they were sucking out of each other's cunt. And so, there they were, mother and daughter, locked in an unholy embrace, ravishing each other's cunt with rapacious tongues. But what about me? Quickly, I climbed up behind Priya, resting my turgid cock on the furrow between her moons. Once again I marveled at the sight of two perfect globes. But these belonged to the daughter. Like mother, like daughter. I ran my prick up and down that furrow, contemplating my next move, when I felt my scrotum being pulled into Alka's mouth. She had shifted a little to gain access to my balls with her tongue. I pushed Priya's gorgeous behind forward a little, to allow my cock to slip into her mother's mouth. Eagerly, Alka swallowed my cock, or at least as much as she could. Come to think of it, this was the first time that she taken my cock in her mouth. I had been so caught up with trying to seduce her, that I was the one going down on her, at the drop of a hat. No more. With her tongue coddling the underside I began ramming her face, and she opened her throat I know not how to accommodate most of my penis. I parted Priya's buttocks till I could see the corrugations of her brown arse hole. I rubbed my thumb over it and then on a whimsy pushed it right in. This got a grunt from Priya, but instead of moving away from my intruding thumb she began impaling her arse hole on it! "Oh, yes, Charlie, she loves it up her arse," said Alka from down below, letting my cock dangle free, "ram her with that huge thing." Such tender motherly thoughts! I shut her up by pushing my cock back into her gurgling mouth. Then I removed it forcefully and shoved it back into Priya's cunt, and with another husky grunt she accepted it. I contemplated my next move. I had no oil or any other lubricant to hand. Rule number one of buggery is to lubricate one's cock to allow the buggered one to accept being pronged in the rear hole with joy. "Got some oil?" I inquired. "Use spit," husked the kneeling, arse thrust back Priya. Oh, no, I thought that is so vulgar. As I contemplated my next move, Priya spat on her hand and reaching back, smeared it on her own arse! Her upturned face was so pretty that even this crude gesture was becoming. Then her mother maneuvered her face to get her mouth at arse level and spat out a huge ball of spit onto Priya's crinkled opening. As I watched it bubble and foam on the ridges of Priya's anal opening, Alka brought forth another huge glob of sputum and spread it on my cock. Such degrading behavior from such sophisticated women! These Indian cunts were wonderful! I added to the sputum festivities by spitting on my pecker and smearing the resultant viscous mess generously over it. As a result of the cumulative spit I could move my fist smoothly over my penis. Just perfect for masturbating. But perish that tawdry thought! There was prime arse in front of me, begging me to bugger it! Was I a king or what?! I brought my prick to Priya's arse hole as she reached back and spread her buttocks expectantly. Gently, but with determination I pushed, till with a pop in went my helmet. And still Priya waited with spread buttocks. So I pushed with my hips and sank my cock in her rectum. My word, her rectum was so warm and clasping. And my whole cock had gone in smoothly. Priya was as talented as my one and only Razia! There she was spread out under me, holding her buttocks apart, just waiting to be buggered. And bugger her, I did. I let it rip. In and out like a demented machine my prick assaulted her arse. And all she did was grunt with satisfaction at each intrusion, still holding her buttocks apart passively! Her mother had moved out from under her, so that now she held her daughter's head and lovingly caressed her as she got buggered. But every now and then she would move and attach her daughter's face to her cunt. And Priya would lick it like there was no tomorrow, fucking with her tongue to the rhythm set up by my buggering. It was fucking out of this world - the warm tight embrace of Priya's rectum, enhanced by the sight of her face being shoved into her mother's cunt with my every thrust, and the sound of her slurping tongue licking away at Alka's nether parts. I could not last. I did not want to last. This was no endurance contest. There was no reason to show restraint. And I showed none, as I came in buckets up Priya's butt, coating the lining of her rectum with my come. My last thought was that I would die to see the mother lick my stuff out of her daughter's arse. A short while later, we were all sitting up, sipping the last of the champagne and chomping down on the last of the caviar. All very civilized and genteel, except of course we were all naked and Priya had a firm grip on my cock (which I had in the interim thoroughly cleaned). She began running it up and down the shaft, trying to get it back to fucking strength hardness once again. Her mother, who was sitting regally on the other bed, said reflectively," You know, Charlie, we have nothing to do for a few days. Our husbands are not going to be home for a while. Want to spend some time with us in Priya's farmhouse?" I was stunned and overjoyed at the same time by the invitation. I knew I could extend my vacation with a couple of phone calls. I had no serious clinical responsibilities and I was all caught up with my present research project. "Sure," I said, "absolutely, why not?" "Oh, good," she continued," then we will take you with us, once we reach Delhi." Priya had in the meantime attached her mouth to my prick and the son of a gun was ready to go. Not wanting to be rude and ungrateful, I thanked Priya for her sterling efforts but detached my cock from her mouth and moved to prong my goddess on the other bed. This was my Indian Cunt. Priya was a great fuck, an absolutely divine fuck, but her mother was my destination. Or rather her mother's cunt was my generational destination. Granted I had fulfilled my familial obligation, but there was no harm in sealing it, was there? Okay, damn it, I just loved pronging her. And she, divining my intent, had arranged herself in an accepting position on her back with her legs spread. And prong her I did. With gusto and relish I sank my rod into that divine cunt. And then rising up, I fucked her with utter abandon looking down at her ravaged face. She embraced me and encouraged me with grunts and huffs and with her feet beating a tattoo on my back. Before I reached boiling point, she did, and came in gushes on my prick. Priya now reached for me and kissed me soulfully. This was so enticing that when she indicated that I should move off her mother and mount her instead, I did just that. We moved over to the other bed and Priya had me take her from the back. The nasty girl obviously wanted to be buggered. But I was not about to oblige so readily. Instead I bedded my cock in her cunt. And once again I marveled at how easily I was in to the root. It moved smoothly in and out of her well lubricated cunt. Well lubricated because this wanton lass was well primed. She was so ready to get off that all it took was a few pokes and she came in gushes all over my prick. I removed my iron hard cock from her cunt. It was now well oiled by her secretions. I placed it at her crinkled posterior aperture and took a moment to appreciate the spectacle in front of me. Then I pushed in and hammered home in one fell swoop, toppling her over in my eagerness to engage her arse hole. She fell forward on the bed. Now I was lying prone on her, my front on her back, my weight grinding her into the bed. And all she did was turn her head sideways and try and peer into my eyes and say, " Yes!" And, yes, I did. I spread her legs a bit and then proceeded to jackknife my body in order to bugger her lying prone. Raising and lowering my buttocks only, with the rest of my body pressed heavily into her and my face on her sideward turned face. She grunted and clenched her buttocks, enjoying the brutal buggering. Her clinging, clasping arse was too much for me and in short order I proceeded to erupt into her. Early next morning, we were herded out to a bird sanctuary. It was a misty, foggy, murky, morning, and I was darned if I could see a thing. All that murkiness etc. was due to water vapor that rose up from a swamp which was the bird sanctuary. Must have been an awesome sight if one could see anything. It was kind of cold out in the open and all I could think of was the warm sanctuary of the cunts of this gorgeous mother daughter duo. They of course were keeping an appropriate distance from me to maintain appearances. That afternoon we stopped at Agra - a city steeped in Mughal history. I crossed off another to do thing on my list of things to do before I die as I beheld the Taj Mahal. Words fail me in describing the sheer magnificence of this edifice. But it stood as a symbol of true and extraordinary love whereas my story is to do with more mundane things - like fucking Indian cunt. So on with my story. That night we all gathered together on the train for what would be our final meal. Another gastronomic delight. Made all that more delightful by Priya, who was sitting across from me, surreptitiously stroking my cock with her foot, under the table. By the time the meal was done I was excited beyond belief. She took her foot away and gave me a few moments for my thingee to settle down. Then she said, " Come on," and in her vigorous fashion, quickly moved her chair out and off she went. Followed promptly by me and then her mother. We maneuvered our way in this formation to their cabin. The moment the door closed behind us, Priya reached over and felt my cock. She purred in that husky voice," So hard already." She unzipped me, and through the opening in my shorts brought my cock out. She bent down and licked it to fighting fitness. Then she quickly lay down on the bed, bent her legs, pulled her sari up and her panties off and said in that now familiar way," Come on." And come on I did. Fully clothed, only my prick exposed, which I quickly sheathed in her cunt. Standing up, for she was lying breadth wise on the bed, I banged her. Hammered her cunt with deep and powerful thrusts. I lifted her feet onto my shoulders and then reaching down, stuck a thumb unceremoniously in her arse hole. This got that well known grunt from her but there was no flagging in our frenzied fucking. I pushed an additional finger up her arse and this got a howl from her and she climaxed loudly begging me to come in her cunt, prompting her mother to turn up the volume of the piped music. I sucked and bit into the toes of one of her feet as I came in gushes up her cunt. She waited a bit till our breathing settled. Then she pushed me away. The daughter was decidedly abrupt and to the point! Not that I was complaining. How could anyone with the wild time I was having?! Next, she spread her legs, exposing her cunt fully, with my spunk leaking out, and waited expectantly. She was not looking at me, but at her mother. And Alka in her leisurely way, got down on her knees, still fully clothed, and placed her mouth at her daughter's cunt, in a meek and submissive fashion, I thought. How kinky was this?!! And then she began licking; with the same languid grace that embodied her every movement. First the stuff on her daughter's thighs, then what was on her cunt lips and then in went the tongue, snaking its way into her vagina till the mother's oral organ was heartily fucking her daughter's cunt, attempting to clear it off any and all evidence of male emission. Priya now had her mother's head in her hands and was encouraging her with insults and derogatory terms of endearment in a mixture of languages. Next, she placed her feet on her mother's back and dug them in, in time to her mother's facial movements as if she were digging her spurs into the sides of a horse she was riding. She looked up at me and sneered, "Bugger her. Stick it up her bum hole." Really? I mean with pleasure! In my haste I almost ripped my clothes to shreds. Priya had unceremoniously hiked her mother's sari up, exposing her panty covered behind. Diligently, I removed her panties, and gazed on those perfect buttocks upturned and inviting. Lovingly, I ran my hands over them as I cast my mind back to a few days ago when I was exactly in this position debating if I should go up her arse hole. Except, now there was no debate. I was going to do it! Yup, I was going to bugger her; filthily sodomize this haughty beauty in front of her daughter. Her daughter, who was once again fervently urging me to do it. Alka, turned her head and looked at my prick with apprehension, "So big," she said and I could have sworn that her voice trembled. Her daughter, twisted Alka's head back to its original position, " Shut up, keeping sucking my cunt." My, my, this was no way to treat a lady! No way to talk to your mother! My unreachable aristocratic beauty, how you have fallen! But did my cock care? Not a bit. It was as hard as it had ever been. I looked around for some oil. "What are you doing?" asked Priya. " Got some oil?" " You and your oil," said both mother and daughter simultaneously! "Use spit." Priya leaned over and reaching for my face placed a huge dollop of spit in my mouth, "There's some," she said. Then both of us ceremoniously spat on her mother's behind and spread the stuff over her buttocks and worked some into her arse hole. And Alka just went on languidly but with passion licking her daughter's genitals. Then Priya pulled my cock to her and bending down sucked the whole damned thing into her mouth. She noisily slurped all over it and then passed it on to her mother, " Lubricate the tool that is going to bugger you." And Alka docilely complied, anointing my cock with a boat load of saliva. "Now do it," said Priya, " bugger my mother." Emphasis on mother, I thought. I bent my knees, to line up my cock with her arse hole. And then I pushed with gradually increasing pressure, till with a pop her muscles gave and in went the tip of my cock. I waited for her reaction. There was none. All that trepidation at the size of my penis, for nothing! So, I braced myself and shoved the whole bloody thing in. This got a gasp. I leaned over and found her mouth, my cock firmly rooted in her arse. In the arse of my goddess! Her mouth tasted of her daughter's cunt and my come. The taste of my come was not wholesome but the urge to throw up was trumped by the excitement of the moment. I was in my goddess's arse. Tightly ensconced in unbelievable warmth. She moved her mouth back to her daughter's cunt and I moved mine to her daughter's. Even as I sucked the daughters tongue I began ramming the mother's arse. I occupied my hands by freeing their boobs of clothing, and then running them alternately over Priya's breasts then her mother's. Feeling two perfect pairs, appreciating the difference in their heft and firmness. One pair upright and the other dangling. And their nipples decidedly different. Priya's smaller in both length and circumference, Alka's more luscious and bountiful, but all four turgid with excitement. I looked down to see my hard as nails penis marauding Alka's butt hole. Going in and out of that brown corrugated opening. I moved my hands to hold those delicious orbs apart to better hammer Alka's arse and for a better view. On a whimsy, I stuck both thumbs in by the side of my cock, visibly enlarging the orifice. It must have felt like a blow to the stomach, because it got a scream from Alka. The shock made her go rigid and then she tried to move away. She couldn't because Priya realizing what was happening, had her mother firmly by the shoulders. Priya looked at me, with a gleam in her eye, and said in a matter of fact way," You are kinky." So there I was, brutally and cruelly living out my dream. My aristocratic, superior, refined beauty getting vulgarly buggered by me. The whole experience was ethereal. However unworldly I was feeling, my penis was decidedly on terra firma. The added sensation of my thumbs rubbing up against it was too much for it and it spewed forth in torrents. And I mean for a long time. Even after it was spent, I removed my thumbs and kept banging away, not wanting to relinquish Alka's arse. But all things must end. And so finally my cock gave up and softened till it plopped out. With a sigh I rose up, because I really wanted the buggering of my beauty to go on indefinitely, and moved to the bathroom to clean myself. I stepped into the shower stall and quickly got wet enough to get soap on my prick and clean it thoroughly. Then I just stood there and luxuriated in the warm spray. I was jolted out of my reverie by an excruciatingly painful sensation from my penis and balls that got an involuntary howl from me. A naked Alka had got into the shower and now had a strangle hold on my cock and scrotum. "Take that," she said," You scoundrel." And then she loosened her hold and began squeezing my pecker in an affectionate way. It took a while before the pain subsided and my cock began responding to her ministrations. I turned around and brought her into the spray. We kissed with her hand still moving on my penis while her tongue darted out and engaged mine. I moved till she was pressed up against a wall. Then I lifted her up and held her by firmly gripping her buttocks, parting her legs, and bringing her cunt to my crotch level. I guided my now rigid cock into her warm and slick vagina. She reached up and angled the shower head so that we were both drenched comfortably by the lukewarm spray. I moved in and out of her heavenly cunt, savoring every inch of it. Then the door opened and a naked Priya stepped in. I felt her press up against me even as her hands went around and under to feel my cock in her mother's cunt. She moved her hands till a finger found her mother's arse hole and when Alka went a little stiff I knew that Priya had penetrated her anal ring.