SIGHTSEEING IN INDIA an erotic short story © Saskia Walker

Originally published By Virgin Black Lace in Wicked Words Volume 8, 2003 and reprinted 2004.
Edited by Kerri Sharp and published here with kind permission.

Sightseeing In India

A bead of sweat tickled a dusty smudge across my breastbone. I smiled down at it, self-indulgently. I didn't care; I was about to have the most longed-for bath on the planet. Four weeks of all the dust and grime that Nepal and India could possibly imprint upon my body was about to be gone, into blissful lukewarm water: I couldn't wait.

I turned to eye the bath tub. It was big, yes, but with the most pathetic-looking shower head drooping over it, forlornly. Even that was a major symbol of luxury after the fortnight I'd just spent roughing it in the Vindhya Mountains. How I'd longed to get back to the junction town of Nagpur, which represented the height of civilisation, when confronted by yet another week of self-enforced suffering with insipid and/or sadistic guides, red dust, heat, insects, rumours of civil unrest and more importantly: no bath!

I shivered slightly as the luke-warm water embraced my hot dry skin, and then slid deep into the depths of the tub. Ah, such luxury, it was going to be hard to climb out of this precious haven of moisture into the stifling air once again.

I lay watching the motes of dust floating on the hazy sunshine that fell from the high window. The dry season was at its driest; the monsoon was on its way in a matter of weeks, but at that moment I was immersed in complete bliss; oh, how I was enjoying that bath. It was like having the most delicious meal, after two months on a bread and water diet. It was like having sex, after…after having none, in ages. Yes, I mused, sex. Sex after… God, how long was it? Too long!

My fingers were already rippling the water in and around my pubes; I latched one leg over the edge of the bath, then the other. At home I have a big mirror leaning down from the ceiling at the end of the bath, so I can have a long languorous session of self-indulgence. I watch myself seeking out every morsel of pleasure whilst imagining some poor slave-lover kneeling in front of me, hands bound behind him, unable to even get a touch of the cunt he was quite obviously desperate for. However, I wasn't at home, so I let my eyes close and my mind began to wander along with my fingers.

The train from Bombay had traversed a long flat plain where the earth met the sky in a dramatic sweep that filled my vision. The rocking motion had set me on edge. I pressed my thighs together, my sex flesh crushed and constantly moving with the rhythm of the train. My body had ached for release then, just as it ached now. Somewhere amidst the chatter of voices further down the train a woman's voice had flown up in song and the sound of finger cymbals danced towards me, softly entwined with the scents so distinct to the east: sandalwood, tamarind, coriander. The exotic: something in me was ready to be dangerous in unknown territory.

There's a place where my hand fits, moulded over and under my pubic bone. On the train I had put my backpack on my lap, hiding the movement of my hand as it went under my long shirt and into my combat trousers. With the flesh of my sexlips spread wide and my clit pushing up between two fingers, with the tips of my fingers curled into the sensitive ring of my cunt: this is the gateway to the sex goddess, to her pleasure-trove. Every stroke and rub of my hand lets free a thief who is hunting for pleasure, who slinks through the gateway and then pulls back with his reward. As the thieves come thicker and faster, so my cunt awakens and the goddess rises up, chases after the thieves and devours them for her own, ultimate, pleasure. On the train she had to be surreptitious, absorbing the pleasures without drawing too much attention to herself. Today she was up in a flash and devoured them quickly. Quickly, and rather noisily.

The tap dripped. I sighed; my flesh trembled slightly. After a few minutes I climbed out of the bath; it had always been my favourite place for masturbating and I was amused and yet annoyed with myself; I was supposed to be living hard and alone, traversing India from north to south, proving the strength of my inner character and that I could do without all sorts of luxuries. Including baths, and sex.

'Humph.' The mutter echoed round the gaunt room.

I picked up the ropey towel I had been issued with on entry to the hostel, in exchange for my passport. Checking in had been far too reminiscent of the opening scene of a prison documentary, but I'd been willing to sell my passport and my soul by then, for the chance of a proper bed and a bath. The bed was thin and hard. The towel was threadbare and rough.

'For fucks sake,' I muttered, stomping away from the bath. Sometimes a wank was far from enough to quell the need for action, in fact sometimes it had quite the opposite effect. My cunt was now nagging most insistently for something hard inside it.

I tied the towel around my chest and stalked determinedly to the bathroom door, wishing for a keen and able man to appear - as if by magic - and tugged the door open. At that I heard a great cracking sound that suggested the door was about to fall off its hinges. No sign of a man though. I smiled wryly to myself and glanced down the corridor, poised to cover the twenty odd feet to my room as quickly as possible. I set off, but was brought to a standstill after but two paces, by another loud cracking sound. I realised it hadn't been the door at all - the sound had come from the stairwell, or beyond. A sudden tirade of raised voices and running footsteps confirmed that all was not well in the Madhya Pradeshi Travellers Hostel. It began to dawn on me what the sound was: a gunshot? Was it? Yes, it was a gunshot! Panic set in, in a heartbeat.

The skin on my back prickled with alarm. The footsteps were running in my direction. I glanced around, looking for cover. My options were limited. My room was just at the top of the stairwell. There was no way I could get to it before whoever was pounding up the stairs right now appeared right around that corner. There was a pair of louvered doors to my left, one was slightly ajar; I had an image of opening it to find a blank wall. Another gunshot and a woman's voice screaming a string of what sounded like Hindi curses suddenly made the louvered door look like the best option.

I grabbed the door, twisted my body inside what appeared to be a gloomy store cupboard and pulled it closed behind me, very nearly smashing my fingers in the process. Slats of light from the corridor helped my eyes get accustomed to the gloom; a stack of laundry stood slightly to my left. I leaned into it, huddled for safety. My heart was thudding mightily; I shut my eyes, praying to a god I didn't even believe in. When I heard the door creaking open I peeked and pulled it shut, with a fingernail hooked over a slat. I snatched my finger away as a shadow passed outside the doorway. The figure moved past, I breathed again, giving a sigh of relief. It was then that I was suddenly grabbed, from behind.

It happened so quickly I was barely able to gasp a breath before a hand fell over my mouth, another arm grabbing my body and hauling me back, against a large body. A large male body. I kicked back and jagged my elbows but the man had a mighty grip, his arms hauling me back against his rib cage, almost completely winding me. I was locked in against him.

My arms went limp; all my self-defence training flashed before my eyes, but I was hardly in a position to kick him in the balls, was I? If he loosened his grip on me I could maybe twist enough to get free and wind him back - but what then? Was what was outside the door worse, or where they in it together with my assailant? In what together? I was very confused and hot, and barely able to breath; my mouth opened against his hand, I tasted his salt on my tongue, together with a hint of mint, and the warmth of cumin.

'Stay quiet,' he hissed, against my ear. 'Your life might depend on it.' What was that supposed to be – a threat, or a warning? I wondered. I rested back against him, though. It seemed the simplest and safest option, if you could call it an option. He gradually loosened his grip on my mouth so I could at least breathe a bit easier. He held onto my body tight, still, moulding against me. I noticed how I fitted almost perfectly in against him; he was about two inches taller than I was. I shifted my arm to get more comfortable and he also moved, blowing some of my hair; it flew out from my face, his breath was warm and caressing against the side of my neck. He gave a quiet groan and it was then that I felt it: his cock, stirring against my buttocks.

My blood hit boiling point in a flash. A mixture of fear, outrage and something I couldn't quite admit to myself at that point raced through me: sheer, rampant lust. I reacted out of instinct, bit against his hand and twisted away to face him, my elbow winding him as loosened his hold in reaction to the teeth I sank into his palm.

'Wait,' he whispered, his body doubled over, one hand held up as if to signify peace.

He regained his footing and stood up in front of me, his towel shimmying down from his waist to his feet. He had both his hands held up now. It was then that I realised to my surprise that he must be a guest at the hostel, like myself, and he'd obviously taken shelter in the store room, just as I had. He was a well-built bleach-blonde hunk with startling green eyes and a devilish goatee beard; a prime piece of best beef, by the looks of him, and with the most impressive erection I had seen since I'd left my cushy London gym for the wilds of Nepal.

I realised I was staring and looked back up at his face. He suddenly broke into a smile, lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug and eyed me back, up and down. It was then that I realised that my own towel had also dropped to the floor in the sudden scuffle.

'Oh, shit,' I muttered and began to bend to rescue the towel. As I did, the man suddenly grabbed my arm and pushed me back into the furthest recess of the cupboards with the bulk of his body, careering us both into a teetering stack of sheets and towels. He put his fingers against my mouth, more gently this time, and nodded towards the corridor. I couldn't hear anything, but then…yes. Someone was moving back along the corridor, very quietly, whispering along the walls. What where they searching for, or whom? I clung to the shoulders of my fellow traveller; I suddenly felt like he was my life raft, my saviour. How quickly the tables can turn, I taunted myself, wryly.

His jaw was about level with my forehead, I was pressed wholly against him and leaning back slightly to look up at him. My position pivoted my hips forward as a result of being pressed onto the mound of towels stacked on the ledge behind me. A whispered conversation filtered down the corridor to us. It was calmer than before, a discussion; he held my eyes with his, looking at me intimately and reassuringly, as we strained to hear. It wasn't the only thing straining. My nipples rubbed hard against his chest, and his cock had now embedded itself upright against my abdomen. God, that felt so, so good.

'Sorry,' he mouthed, glancing down to where our hips melded together, as if suddenly embarrassed by the waywardness of his manhood. But I was starting to enjoy that particular aspect of the situation, far too much. My sex had already begun to cloy; I could smell the scent of my own desire mounting alongside his. The space we were enclosed in was a riot of pheromones. My hands slid down his back to trace the firm outline of his buttocks. He arched one eyebrow at me, amusement tingeing his expression, then he suddenly glanced away as the conversation started up in the corridor again, this time louder.

'I think its okay, we're safe.' He had leaned down and whispered against my ear. I didn't know what startled me most, that he obviously understood Hindi, or his Australian accent. I was still trying to make sense of the conundrum - which was hard, while also managing my residual fear and an extreme case of arousal in his physical presence - when he broke into another very endearing grin. 'I thought it was regional troubles and it's a marital breakdown.' He started chuckling to himself, trying unsuccessfully to hold it inside.

'What?' I replied, incredulous. I had also assumed we were about to be thrust into the civil unrest I had heard so much about in the past couple of weeks.

He nodded. 'The husband has been here before to meet with his concubine, and the wife has hunted him down with a pistol that she stole from her brother in-law. She's demanding to know where the other woman is, and he's more worried about where she got hold of a pistol, and her eyesight.' He put his hand over his mouth, quelling another chuckle. 'Apparently he thinks she wouldn't be able to see straight to shoot and he's pointed out that she has already shot out two of the lights on the stairs, so he's worried about how much he will owe the landlord.'

His whole body was starting to shudder with amusement. So, we were merely by-standers in a crime of passion. I suddenly realised how ridiculous the situation was. There I was, relieved. I was relieved to be trapped in a cupboard in the arms of a naked and very aroused man, a man that I had never met in my life before, simply because it was only a half-blind woman shooting up the place out there. Fine, we were all completely safe then! His eyes were warm on me though, he was still smiling, and he smoothed my upper arms with broad warm palm strokes; I began to chuckle too.

He didn't seem in any rush to move, and instead pressed forward again, giving me an inquisitive nudge of the cock that had been nestled against me for so long.

'I do apologise,' he said, again, with more than a quirk of amusement in his expression.

'Well, at least one of us was armed.' I replied and pushed him to arms length, looking down at the fine piece of weaponry that rested against my thigh. It wasn't quite the sort of sight I expected to be enjoying in India, but I sure was enjoying it. He chuckled, then I heard his intake of breath and saw that he was looking down at my tell-tale nipples, bouncing free when our bodies moved apart for the first time in some several minutes.

He glanced up at me and his hand closed over one breast; he watched me for my reaction. I pushed up against his hand, showing him my willingness and consent. He began to stir his palm over my nipple.

'I couldn't help it; I was holding a red-hot piece of ass in my arms.' I smiled at his directness, it wasn't something I was used to, but I quickly decided I could get used to it. He bent to kiss my shoulder, his mouth breathing the promise of intimacy over my skin, across shoulders and neck, until I turned my mouth into his.

His kiss was strong and suggested a deep sensuality, his tongue teasing along the inner side of my lower lip in a way that sent shivers down my back. When I moved in his arms he moved his mouth to my nipple, sucking and teasing it erect again. I could hear the audible purr in my own breathing. Voices flared up in the corridor and he chuckled, his mouth moving from my nipple.

'What now?' I asked, rather annoyed.

He looked up at me; he was truly gorgeous, especially when he was smiling that way. 'It’s the landlord, demanding his money.'

I laughed. 'How dare they interrupt?' I grabbed his hand, leading it to the heat between my thighs.

'Indeed,' he replied, slipping one finger inside me, to test my wetness. I groaned and then he pushed me up against the shelves again. I balanced my hips on the narrow ledge behind me, and clutched at him, one leg climbing against him, inviting him close against me again. He looked down at my open legs, and touched his hand against my moistness, stroking my sex, then took his fingers to his mouth, slowly licking the juice off them. I was so surprised at his complete blatantness, and then he shocked me even more.

'Oh, woman, I want to eat you, now,' he said, groaning, and pushed my legs wider apart.

'Oh, yes ... please....' I mumbled, in a mix of raging lust and confused embarrassment. Was I dreaming this out of sheer hornyness? But, no, he knelt down, right there in front of me, and nestled his face in against my hot cunt. Oh god! His words and actions flushed yet more heat and moisture inside me. I could hear the pant in my own breathing.

He stroked the folds of my sex with his tongue in long firm movements, and then he let his teeth close over the mound of my sex, pulling at my flesh. He slid up and down then paused with my clitoris sucked hard into his mouth, and attacked it with the quick flicking movements of his tongue. In a flash I was gone on it, and arched over his shoulders; my body lifting up away from the intense pleasure laced with the hint of sweet pain.

He pushed his fingers deep inside, opening me to his tongue, and licked at me inside my cunt, his whole face was moving against me, his free hand running over my thigh in quick strokes. He was pumping me fast, bringing me to pitch. My throat ached, my whole body burned; my orgasm was blistering just beneath the surface. He curled two long strong fingers in against the front wall of my cunt, his knuckles nudging at a spot that wired the rest of my body into its intensity. I gripped his shoulders and as the first bolt of pleasure hit me; I heard myself let out a muted scream. He flexed his fingers out again, brushing over the surface of my palpating cervix. That was it, both my legs were over his shoulders and I was grinding onto his face; grinding every second of exquisite release. I bit my lip to silence myself, and he pulled free and rose up.

'Oh my, you are noisy. Noisy and hot… my favourite kind.' He gave me a wink and a positively sinful smile, and then glanced at the doors, but all seemed quiet outside. He grabbed my hair around the back of my head with one hand, drew my mouth to his and lunged into me with his tongue. With his other hand he offered me his erection and I closed my hand over the hot, rock-hard surface. The taste of my own pleasure on his skin stirred me up even more. I couldn't believe this was happening; I was fucking around with a complete stranger in a cupboard. I felt totally wild. As he moved nearer, slowly thrusting his cock into my hand, I pulled away and leaned back against the wall to look down at his cock. I was captured by its shape, its vitality reaching out through the space between us. It looked so powerful, I felt weak and hot, my body still running rivers of heat in my orgasm.

'I want to see it,' I breathed, as I looked down at the column of energy resting in his hand. He groaned and put his hand up against the wall to steady himself. I let my feet move wider, spreading my hips open, leaning back. My hand went to my wet cunt, my fingers sliding inside, bringing me back to bliss with quick sharp strokes.

'Make yourself come, I want to watch you do it,' I managed to pant the words out; I felt wild, I had never ordered a man to wank in front of me, but I suddenly realised I had always wanted to do just that very thing. He watched my fingers pushing in and around the moist folds of my sex, my clit jutting between the length of two of my fingers, just the way I like it. His eyes were burning me up as he watched me stroking myself and I totally loved it. His hand closed over his erection again and he began to move on it. I moved my free hand over his, sliding up and down his shaft with regular movements, my other hand echoing the rhythm on my sex.

'You are so hard,' I whispered. He leaned into me, his mouth against my head. His cock glistened wet and fierce. He was fit to burst; I could feel his teeth on my hair. He wanted to be inside me, every atom of his body told me that. I wanted him inside too, but all in good time. I let go of his shaft and pushed him gently back.

'I want to see. Let me see it?' He moaned quietly and his hand moved faster. He reached down and locked my hand over my splayed sex. I could feel the reluctant control in his touch.

'God, woman, you know how to drive a man insane,' he muttered. I gave a gentle chuckle at the strangeness of his Australian accent and then let my eyes take in the look of the fierce pulsing head of his cock. It was so swollen; the sheen of it glistened in the gloomy heat of the cupboard. His fist rode it faster, his body arched before me to fulfil my request. I glanced up; he was looking at my face. His eyes were like hot coals, burning with lust as I watched him. His eyebrows were drawn close together, concentration holding them. I could see how much he wanted me in his eyes. That was quite, quite delicious. My mouth opened, I felt my fingers still moving inside my sex. My eyes were locked to his, but the pressure was building in my clit again.

'I thought you wanted to see it,' he said, quietly, and his voice had dropped to a low pant. His mouth opened and his hand moved faster still, then it slowed to a complete stop. I looked down and saw the upward surge of the flesh in his hand. As it pumped and spurted the jets of semen flew across my inner thighs and up across my stomach. I gave a small cry at the sight of it and then he fell against the wall, closing over my body. His cock still moved slightly as it rested against my thigh. My fingers knotted and twisted on my clit, pushing against the folds of my sex. That did it: I spasmed again; I was totally drenched.

'I'm Oliver,' he panted, against my ear. 'How do you do?'

I began to chuckle and let my legs close around his hips.

'I'm Natalie, and I'm very well, thank you, Oliver,' I replied. 'And you?'

'Marvellous... but I'll be even better when I have got you on your back… on my bed.'

I smiled and purred my consent to him and he lifted me gently from my perch, wrapping my towel around me in the most gentlemanly manner. I loved his directness; I loved it right from the moment I had felt it pressed up against my behind. He asked me if I was ready to make the quick dash to his room. Too right, I was.

We spent a week in that hostel, venturing little further than the market for food and supplies. It's not quite what I had expected from my time sightseeing in the East, but I certainly wasn't about to complain. It was hot, very hot — the weather, and the sex. Particularly the sex. The next time I go travelling I plan to get sightseeing down under in Australia, where I am led to believe it can sometimes get even hotter.


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