The Indian bride

The man opened his eyes, lazily. The morning Sun sent its blessings over the endless plain, no sight of human disturbance anywhere but for the large bus, alone moving on the empty road.

"Shhhh." The woman's hand moved instantly to cover his eyes. She had been waiting for him to stir, patiently but very attentively, her body coiled though not like a panther's at all. In fact it was coiled like a wife's engaged in the activity of becoming pregnant against impediments, her feet together, remarkably dirty ankle socks resting jointly on the headrest in front of her, knees bent up pressing down her breast, her ample bottom almost resting on the back of the seat opposite, her head quite low, her face turned to him, watching him. "Don't wake up." she whispered, then drew her breath and whispered it again, adding a baby at the end.

The man grunted vaguely. "Let me tell you a story." her whisper continued, gaining a sing-song quality as if she borrowed liberally from the craddling traditions of her land. "Would you like mommy to tell you a story baby ?"

There was no answer, nor was an answer strictly speaking necessary. "There was a pretty girl", she continued, evenly, a faint smile curling on her face, "who never in her life had any notion of what things actually are. She always half-suspected it, but her parents very carefully kept all mention far from her ; her older brothers silent ; her older sisters even more silent still. When she was married she didn't even know what it was for, but vaguely, to make babies, and be happy with her husband."

She continued, dreamily, "After her marriage her husband took her on to see his parents, before they'd lay together. She didn't know what it meant, laying together, or why he did such things, but she imagined it must be because he wanted his parents to see her first. The place he came from was very far, and they did not have too much money, so they took the bus. It's a very modern service and elegant he said, and so it is, there's even places to sleep, made special, and many other things."

"The first time her husband went to use the lavatory," she whispered, toridly, biting her lip, "the serving woman came to her. It's just a lowly job, serving on the bus, but the girl was very much intimidated by her. Earlier, just as they climbed in, the woman looked at them both together and then said 'No shoes for the lady. Barefoot only please.' She didn't even look at the girl as she said that, nor at her husband, yet the girl couldn't help but obey her. He didn't say anything," at this juncture the man grunted and stirred, but she shhh'd him again, sweetly, and carried on with her whispered tale "though she could tell he'd like to say something maybe ; but she kneeled down and took her sneakers off, then stood with them awkwardly in her hand. She didn't know what to do, so eventually she offered them to the woman, who looked at her with a snicker and took them away. The girl paddled in just her ankle socks to her seat and sat down. Her husband asked her what will she do now, but she said she will be okay."

She reached down and unbuttoned his pants, pulling them down on either side of him, and lifting his shirt to his chest. She then ran her hand over his midsection softly, caressing aimlessly from his belly button down through his thighs. She felt him stir in his underwear and smiled widely, then whispered "Careful not to spill, baby." Then she continued with her story, the central point having been somehow perfectly made that it all depends on him, her continuation entirely rests on his abstention as she had defined it. "The first time he went away the serving woman came to her, and gave her a pill. She said 'put this in your husband's drink when I bring them, it will make him sleep'. She didn't know what to do, it seemed to her maybe dangerous to obey a stranger in that way ; but then again she was the serving woman, and you're supposed to do what she says. Besides, maybe she knows best, and the girl's husband always complained about sleep and being woken up. As he came out the woman served them drinks, and the girl took the pill into her mouth, and turned over the seat to give her husband a deep kiss. He took the pill from her mouth himself, with his own tongue, and then she held up his glass to his mouth, so he could drink it down, which then he did."

His underwear had reached his jeans by now, and her hand, wrapped firmly around his bulging penis, stoked firmly, carefully. He wasn't much longer than her palm was wide, and so her stokes were more like vibrations, her fingers bumping against the very large flare on his head with every slight movement. "Just as soon as he had fallen asleep, the woman came to the girl, and said to her 'It's all set, he's waiting for you in the lavatory.' The girl didn't know what it means, but she needed to pee desperately, though she didn't want to walk there in her socks. She wanted to ask for her shoes back, but the woman gestured that way as if to say 'well go on, then' and so she had to stand up and walked there, whether she liked it or not. It seemed to her everyone on her way is looking at her, like she's delicious candy, weighing her as she went by. Inside the lavatory there was a man, waiting for her. He said 'oh hello there, pretty whore!', at which the girl" stopped, and looked at the man officially sleeping right next to her. Irrepressible impulse made her lean over, and climb on top of him, his arms now captive under her knees in the seat, on either side of him. She rested her ass right above his hair. Lukewarm, thin manhood came flooding out of her, spilling on him as if to anoint his body with her love, or anyways other mens' love for her. She reached behind and re-assumed her firm grasp of his manhood. He kept his eyes closed by himself, his whole body spasming, as if electrocuted.

"Do you like the story, baby ?" she needled him, while stroking behind her, evenly. His breath was uneven, belaboured, "You like it, don't you. Be careful not to make it end, it's hard for me to see like this. You have to help me hold you up, away from it. Okay ?" He nodded vigurously, and she reached her other hand to his lips, caressing them at first, then her thumb finding its way inside his mouth, for him to suckle on just like a newborn babe as she went on, "The man in the lavatory waiting for the girl said 'hello there, pretty whore!' when she went in. She didn't know what to say. She tried 'I'm not a whore, I am a married woman' but the man just laughed and took her clothes away. 'That just makes you even the bigger whore', and then her blouse was off, then her bra. She shuddered but the man pushed her down, and then unbuttoned himself and pushed his penis in her face. It smelled, of sweat and of another scent she didn't know back then, but he rubbed it on her lips, and then as she opened her mouth he shoved it inside. He made her head move and told her tongue to lick and love. The door was wide open. She'd have liked to close it, but there was no room inside to somehow close the door. She focused on the man in her mouth, doing just what he'd showed her, exploring his sausage with her lips and tongue. When she looked up again the woman was taking phone pictures of her ; the girl wanted to say something but couldn't, because her mouth was full."

The man let out a groan, but she pacified him, "There there baby, we're nowhere near done. There's so much more to tell of this beautiful long story. Hang on." She re-arranged herself, shifting her weight, and taking the hand from his mouth to grab tight on his balls instead. "You won't be able to do anything like this" she said to him reassuringly, while squeezing him hard as he winced. "The story must go on, baby. I know it's not easy for you, but it wasn't easy for me, either. It must go on." He nodded, and she continued "The man flooded the girl with a sticky goo, it's what men do, though then she didn't know. It went all over her face, and on her neck and breasts. Then the man left, but the serving woman grabbed her by the wrist and took more pictures of her like that. Then she gave her two bills of five thousand rupees each. The girl didn't understand, but the woman said 'Unless you want me to give it to your husband instead ?' The girl reached out and took the bills, because she didn't want the woman to bother her husband, waking him up. She put it in her pants pocket, and then the serving woman said 'Your next one's ready' and she made a gesture with her hand. An old man came over quickly, and as the woman left he said 'Oh, what a pretty whore!' but the girl said 'I'm not a whore, I just need to pee!' and he laughed and said that's all the better for a whore. He took her pants off, and then he rubbed his penis on her lacy underwear underneath, as he told her to go on then, pee! She couldn't hold it inside any longer, so she let go as he rubbed his penis on her. She squeezed him tight between her thighs as she did, and he moaned and made his white pee before she was done making hers. Then he left, and the serving woman came back. She was surprised at what went on, and upset she missed it for her phone pictures ; but she said she's never letting the girl out of her sight again, she's too much of a whore. The little girl said 'but I'm not a whore, you know that!' The woman looked at her from toe to eyebrow and then asked 'What do you call this ?' and the pretty wife looked at herself in the mirror and she said 'I look just like a whore.'

He struggled against her, painfully. His erection had much subsided, almost gone. She let go of his balls, and ran her hand in the slick spot developing under herself. She carried the substance to his mouth, rubbing it against his lips, coating it inside his open mouth in specific places she came up with on the spot. By degrees she focused less and less on this tasks of transportation and more and more on rubbing her fingers against herself in the slick. Soon she was bent over him, her mouth open, panting her breath into his open mouth. She tortured herself mercilessly as she came, yielding nothing of the demanding fingers even as her clitoris became engorged, so very tender and unbearably sensitive. She exploded again and again inside herself. But as her orgasms subsided, her rasped voice continued "The little girl said 'I look just like a whore' and the woman said 'That's just what you are.' and then told her to take her filthy panties off, and mocked her for having an accident, like she were a little kid. There was a rich businessman waiting outside, sitting on the chairs by the door. As the little girl came out in just her socks, he grabbed her by the hips and forced her down, to sit on his penis he was playing with. He hurt her bad, inside, and she squealed. He looked at her with glazy eyes and just forced her up and down faster and faster, until she could feel him squirt molten shame inside of her. Then he pushed her aside from him, and she felt to the floor. 'Filthy whore!' he grunted in disgust, then spat on her before he left. Two young men were already waiting, their penises out, engorged in their hands. She just looked at them from the floor, but they helped her up to her feet, and bent her over. One propped her from behind, and the other put his penis in her mouth like the first man who took her blouse off of her. She's just like a fingertrap, the pretty girl thought to herself, and then the young man behind her came to front, and they switched places, because he was done the first time. They switched places many times, but when they let her go she went back to her husband, who was by now just waking up."

He opened his eyes to look at her. She smiled at him, and said "I'll let your seed spill on the floor, I hope you don't mind." He closed his eyes and groaned deeply, while she did exactly as she had promised. "I'm sure I'm pregnant already anyway" she continued, while his manhood was spasming uselessly, confined in her hand. "I can feel it, deep inside, it's full and happy and alive." He didn't say anything, but she continued her thoughts in the same, relentless sing-song voice she had discovered in herself "We'll live like this from now on, it's very good. I'm sorry that the thirty thousand rupees I earned aren't even enough to pay for the nice jeans you bought me before we left ; but I will work more cocks and we will make it all back. I can't wait!"

And on they went.