An Indian Dhabha Adventure- part-1

Published by jollydead in the blog jollydead's blog. Views: 446

"I am not the writer of this story. This i have borrowed from a writer on other forum , the writer went inactive nearly 5-6 years ago..so am sure it is not a problem if i share this story here .If anyone does not understand the Indian words used here, message me and i will clarify..or google is our friend :)"


I finished the last of my chicken curry and roti, gulped down the tea,
and got up. I looked around and surveyed my surroundings. Dark
moonless winter night at a highway dhaba in the interior of eastern
Uttar Pradesh. Fog all around us. The tables mostly empty. The dhaba's
brick-structure illuminated by a flickering tubelight. And he stood
right under the light, looking at me. From that angle, I couldn't see
his face. But I am sure he was looking at me. What or who else could
he be looking at?

I walked to the faucet by the side of the dhaba, bent down and started
washing my hands. He approached. Even without looking at him, I could
sense his gaze on my jeans-covered ass. I finished washing my hands
and stood up. He handed me a ragged hand towel. I wiped my hands and
looked at him. He was smiling knavishly.

"So?" he asked. "What did you decide?"

I said nothing and walked back to my table. He didn't follow me. I
picked up my phone and checked it for the hundredth time that hour.
Still no network. I raised it and moved it around, but in vain. No
network coverage at all. Two AM on a dark foggy night in the
boondocks, and my cellphone had no coverage. I looked back at the
dhaba. He was sitting on the steps. I beckoned to him and he sprinted
over.

"You're sure you can get me a ride in time?"

"Absolutely." he nodded eagerly.

"What if you're just lying to me?"

"I swear by Vaishnodevi I am not! It'll be here in an hour. And it'll
get you to Meerut by noon."

I sat down, and ran my hands over my suitcase thoughtfully. I looked
at him. He was cute in a rustic kind of way. Pleasant face with high
prominent cheekbones and a three-day stubble. His sweater and trousers
clung to his lithe petite 5 ft 2 frame. Short wiry hair. I guessed he
was about 20 years old, so a decade and a half younger than me.

I was used to respect, even subservience from guys his age, especially
in his socio-economic class. Yes, there were whistles and catcalls and
stares on the streets sometimes, especially in Delhi. And what woman
in India hasn't endured faceless gropes on crowded streets? But an
elaborate well thought out proposition of the kind this boy had made!
It almost seemed like one of those MTV pranks.

I looked into his twinkling light brown eyes and reconsidered his
proposition. The look of eager admiration in his eyes made me
seriously think about it.

I hadn't gotten laid in a while anyway. Almost two months. A decade
long marriage by itself would have severely undermined any couple's
sex life. Add to it four years of dating and we now had almost 15
years of sexual monotony. Add to it demanding travel-heavy dual
careers. Two kids who refused to go to bed unless threatened with
decapitation or bribed with riches. The inescapable toll time takes on
the body. It's a miracle we had any sex at all.

Of course, there had been opportunities and temptations to stray.
Although not quite the Perfect Ten I used to be in college, I was
still attractive enough to turn some heads. There were flirtations and
come-ons of varying levels of intensity at work, in hotels, in
parties, at holiday resorts, parent-teacher meetings, and of course in
the gym.

I had always resisted the temptations. Had never let it go beyond
really blatant flirting and maybe a cop and feel when drunk during a
dance. And then imagining my pursuer in my masturbatory fantasies or
while having sex.

I'd like to think it was all based on morality. But honestly, a large
part of it was the hassle of complications that could arise and the
possible shaming in the still conservative Indian upper middle class.
I knew some women (and men) who had strayed, had been found out, and
their family lives and careers were irreparably damaged.

So more than moral, my concerns were practical. Although not ideal, I
had a pretty good life. Why throw it all away? I had too much to lose.

Except here. He didn't even know my name. Or where I lived. Had no
real motivation or resources to hunt me down and demand more. Expose
me if I refused. And even if he did, so what? A dalliance with a
colleague, neighbor, friend, or acquaintance, if exposed, could be
proven or at least seem plausible. Who would believe this guy?

"Well?" he broke my reverie.

"Okay." I shrugged and immediately shuddered at what I had just said.

"What?" The smile disappeared from his face.

"Okay." Saying it a second time made it even scarier.

"Really?"

For the first time that night he suddenly seemed unsure and nervous.
Like a poker player who had gone all in on a pair of sixes expecting
everyone to fold, but had instead been called on his bluff.

"Yeah, really! I have to get to Meerut at all costs."

Which wasn't strictly true. Yes, getting to Meerut in time was crucial
to closing on a multi-million dollar contract. And missing the meeting
would lead to a lot of groveling, explanations, discounts, and fending
off more attacks from the competition. Still, if I didn't get there in
time, it wouldn't end my career or anything. Once they saw my totaled
car, I would be off the hook.

But now, the idea had taken root. The temptation had been succumbed to
in all but deed.

I got up and stood right in front of him with my hands in my jacket
pockets. He gave me a nervous smile and turned around.

"Okay...come with me..." he picked up my suitcase and started heading
towards the dhaba "...no no....wait here....or maybe.....yes wait
here. I'll put your bag away."

I stood there as he picked up my suitcase and started walking towards
the dhaba. A few steps later, he walked back.

"The purse?"

"I'll hang on to it." I patted the purse dangling from my elbow.

"Okay.." he turned around and then stopped after a couple of steps.
"Actually, come with me."

I followed him to the dhaba. He opened the door to a room and walked
inside it with my suitcase. Then I heard a woman's voice. She talked
with him in what sounded like an annoyed voice. They had a bit of an
argument. I wasn't sure who it was. His wife? Mother? Sister?

As the argument continued, I gave a bit of a start as a few feet away
from me, something moved. Or rather someone moved. I hadn't noticed
that an old man was sleeping on a mattress by the wall, covered with a
blanket. He sat up, reached for his glasses, and put them on. They
were thick glasses, as if made of coke bottle bottoms. He looked at
me, confused. I looked back at his magnified eyeballs with a blank
expression, unsure of what to say.

The argument got louder as the guy walked out of the room, followed by
a fat woman in her 50s, presumably his mother.

"I am telling you, I will be back soon."

"Nonsense! Who will look after the dhaba? Just ask her to phone
someone." she noticed me standing there and glared at me. I wasn't
sure what to say to her. Obviously, he wouldn't have told her the
truth about the quid pro quo.

"I told you, there is no network." he walked down the steps and was
next to me. He then noticed the old man. "And grandpa is awake."

The woman walked close to me and gave me a stern look.

"500 rupees." she said.

"What?"

"My son is an idiot, being the good samaritan at the expense of
business. But you look like you can afford 500 rupees."

I had no idea what this woman was saying. Yes, I could afford 500
rupees. My boss would have approved a voucher for a hundred times that
to get me to Meerut. But 500 rupees for what exactly?

She took my confused silence for refusal.

"Okay, 300. Or he stays here."

The guy was unlocking his bicycle.

"Ma, don't be so greedy." he yelled.

I quickly reached into my purse and fished out a 500 rupee note. The
woman snatched it from my hand and walked towards her room.

"Don't be too late!" she said and slammed the door shut.

He pushed the bicycle with his hand and asked me to follow him. We
walked about 50 feet when he gave me the bicycle and said,

"Just a minute. I have to give grandpa some instructions."

The skinny old man who was now trying to stand up, listened as the guy
whispered something in his ear. He then looked at me and nodded. The
boy walked back to me, took the bicycle and led me to the road. He
threw his leg over it and lowered his bony butt on the hard underwear
shaped seat.

"Sit."

"Where?"

"On the bar obviously."
I hadn't sat on a bicycle bar since I was a kid. It took me a while to
stabilize my butt on that cold metallic bar. His stubble rubbed
against my cheek as he grabbed the handle and started pedaling. We
rode on the highway for about 200 meters past what remained of my car.
Then he turned onto a dirt track between the trees into the fog.
Another 100 meters or so and we were at a thatched clay hut, about 20
feet by 15 feet. I got off the bicycle and he propped it against a
tree. My eyes had gotten used to the darkness by now.

"Here?" I asked and he nodded.

The hut's door was a sheet of old cardboard. He moved it aside, led me
in and "closed" it again. The room was completely dark. And it was
colder than outside. Even with my multiple layers, I felt a slight
chill. Then I heard the sound of a match being struck as he lit a
kerosene lantern hanging from the roof. The hut was filled with dim
yellow light from the oil flame.

It seemed to be a storage of sorts. There was firewood piled up in a
corner with some wooden crates. There was a rusty old iron cupboard a
few feet away from me. And a khatiya, which is a cot with a wooden
frame and ropes, propped up against it.

As I was looking around, suddenly the kid lunged at me, pushing me
against the clay wall. His fingers struggle with the zipper of my
jacket for a few seconds before he opened it. He was about half a foot
shorter than me, so his kisses landed on my neck and shoulder. His
hands then slipped under my sweater and my top and started rolling
them up. Soon he had rolled them up to under my armpits and my bra was
in sight.

"Wow!" he said and started clumsily kissing my boobs over the bra. "I
had no idea they were so big."

I winced at the coldness of his fingers as they dug into my bra and
scooped my boobs out. He was a busy little fella, and soon his lips
and his stubble were rubbing against both my boobs.

"Ouch!" I said as he bit my left nipple. With my torso exposed I was
feeling really cold and my nipples were naturally erect as a result.

"They're so big. Much bigger than Chameli's or Parvati's."

I did not ask whether these ladies were his girlfriends or ladies of the night.

He bit the other nipple with less force and then starting licking my
boobs. My hands were by my sides. I raised them and put them on his
bony shoulder blades. Then I traced an arc along his sides to his
waist and started pulling his sweater up. His shirt rolled up with it.

He took a break from eating my tits and looked a little surprised at
what my hands were doing. Although I had accepted his offer, I don't
think he expected me to be an equal participant in the act. He looked
into my eyes and smiled. Then he pulled off the sweater and the shirt
himself.

Before I could examine his chest properly, he was wrapped around me
again. This time while his mouth returned to my boobs, his hands went
behind me and grabbed my ass. He squeezed it for a few seconds and
then started grinding his crotch against my thighs. I could feel his
erection through his pants and mine.

I put my hands on his bare back and hugged him, mindful of the heat
and moisture developing between my legs. This scrawny fella wasn't
much to look at. His mouth and hands moved with the finesse of a
sputtering lawnmower. And yet, so starved was my body of male contact,
that I was responding to him.

I felt his hands maul my ass and I wanted to feel his fingers inside
my pants. I took one hand off his back and unbuttoned my jeans. He
felt the fabric at my waist loosed and immediately slipped his hands
inside. Inside my jeans and my panties. And his rough thin fingers now
started rubbing all over my ass. His erection was grinding into my
thigh even harder.

While his stubble was still rubbing against my tits, his hands seemed
very pleased with my ass. I decided to reciprocate and moved my hands
to his ass. The bare minimum flesh. Not made for grabbing. But still,
feeling another man's buttocks felt nice.

He inhaled loudly and raised his face. he looked back to see my hands
on his ass and then turned his head back and smiled at me.

"Are you a memsaab or a randi (whore)?" he said and chuckled.

Although the remark was made half in jest, I felt a surge of rage. I
lowered my head and bit him on the neck really hard.

"OWWWW!!!" he screamed and jumped back.

"Don't call me a randi!" I said angrily.

He rubbed his neck and stared at me a few seconds. Then he took a step
forward and tentatively flicked my still erect nipples one by one. As
if to test if my outburst meant that the deal was off. I grabbed him
by the back of his head and pulled him into a kiss to assure him it
wasn't.

"Don't you know you're supposed to kiss during this?" I said while my
full lips attacked his thin rough ones.

He was taken aback for a moment, and then started kissing me back. His
tongue darted into my mouth right away, so he wasn't alien to the
concept. As we kissed, he slipped his hands into my panties again and
this time started running his finger through my butt crack.

Our bodies rubbed against each other as we kissed for several minutes.
He had one hand exploring my ass and another squeezing my tits. Then
he broke the kiss and staggered back as I released my grip on his
head.

He walked to the cupboard, picked up the khatiya propped against it,
and brought it to where I was standing. He laid it on all four legs
and pushed me towards it. I started lowering my jeans and panties
while I sat down on it. The rough thick thread of the cot felt
unfamiliar against my naked butt and when I put my weight on it, I
felt the flesh form into several rhombus shaped protrusions through
it.

"Wow!" he said staring at my pussy and started helping me take the jeans off.

When the jeans got stuck around my ankles, I realized that the boots I
was wearing were too big for them to just slide off. I bent down to
take them off, but he was too impatient. He tugged at my jeans and
they were inside out extending from my feet in his hand.

He tugged at the jeans hard, making the cot slide towards him and
making me fall back on it.

"Listen, the boots.."

I started saying, but by now his tugging was having effect. The bottom
of the jeans stretched and started slowly moving along the boots.
After they passed over the heel, the jeans came off in one rapid
motion, making him stagger backwards, and making my legs fly upwards
in ricochet.


"Ooooooh!" he whined in delight at the sight of my naked ass and pussy
suspended in the air for a second as my legs were almost above my
head.

When the legs started coming back down under guidance from the laws of
physics, he leaped forward and stopped their descent. He grabbed my
feet by the boots and parted them, staring down at the sight it showed
him. I had shaved down there just a couple of days ago, so my pussy
was almost completely naked.

"Hrrrrrrrrhhhhh." he let out a groan of appreciation. My tits, still
naked with my sweater, shirt and bra bunched up under my armpits,
jigled back and forth as his knees banged against the edge of the cot.

He let go of my left leg and with that hand started unbuttoning his
pants. I kept my leg in the position he had left it and started at the
crotch of his pants, keen to see what bounty awaited me.

I was only able to see it for a second or so because as soon as he got
it out, he bent his knees and shoved it into my now moist cunt.

"Uhmmmmm." he said as my warm cunt walls wrapped around his dick.

What I felt inside me confirmed what my eyes had seen for a couple of
seconds. It was slightly below average in size. On closer examination
a while later, I guessed it to be around 4 inches or so. Not much in
terms of girth either. My husband is a little over seven inches, so
this this penetration didn't exactly test the limits of my cunt.

He let go of my legs, leaned forward, put his elbows on the cot under
my armpits and started fucking me with a rapid motion.

He wasn't much in terms of size. And he wasn't anything at all in
terms of technique. So in pure physical terms, he wasn't exactly
setting my loins on fire. But the relatively rare sensation of a warm
hard boner inside me still felt good. Just shows how badly I was
aching to be fucked. I even moaned a little.

He wasn't exactly the dream lover between the legs. But I decided to
make the most of it. I wrapped my legs around his butt and pulled him
in as deep as I could. I put my hands around his head and drew him
into another kiss, as he kept fucking me at a really rapid pace.

"URHHHHHHHHH!!!" he closed his eyes and grunted hard barely a minute later.

I started his warm semen start shooting into my cunt. He kept humping
me as he came for half a minute after he was done cumming, as if
wishing it had lasted longer. And then he collapsed on top of me,
breathless. Luckily he didn't weigh much so only the cot creaked, not
my bones.

I was also a little breathless. When he rolled off me and lay by my
side, I felt my cunt with my hands. There was a lot of sticky stuff
there. For something that had lasted such a short amount of time, the
incident had left quite a lot of evidence.

I scooped his cum out and instinctively rubbed it against my rolled up
sweater, regretting it at once. The rest of the remnants I rubbed
against the thick threads of the cot.

"Maza aaya (Did you enjoy it)?" he propped his head up on his elbow
and asked. I politely nodded. His hand reached down, rubbed my pussy
and then patted it.

"How is it that you have no hair down there?" he asked.

"I shave it." I said.

"Shave it? With a razor?" he was genuinely surprised. Women in his
world probably kept their bushes intact.

"Yes."

"What if you cut yourself?" he asked, rubbing my pussy again.

"I don't."

"How is that possible? I have been shaving my beard for 5 years now
and I still occasionally cut myself. This..." he pinched my labia and
then unintentionally rubbed my clit for a second before moving on to
other parts, "...is so uneven."

I didn't exactly know how to explain to him the mechanics of shaving
pussy, so I stayed silent. He played with my pussy artlessly for a
couple of minutes in silence and then put his hand on my hips. He
pushed at it and I rolled over on my side away from him reading his
intent.

"Kya mast gaand hai (what an amazing ass!)" he said, and spanked it.
The smack filled the tiny room.

"Next time I will fuck you from behind." he said, filling me with
conflicting emotions. On the one hand, I hoped he didn't mean he
wanted to fuck me in the ass. On the other hand, I was happy there
would be a next time and I hoped this one would last longer.

I really wanted him to have another go at me. I decided to take things
into my own hands. Or my own mouth.

He smiled happily when I rolled off the cot but instead of getting
dressed or walking away, stood between his legs. He was then astounded
when I squatted and pulled his hips forward. And he was about ready to
faint from shock when squatting in front of him, I took his limp dick
in my mouth and started sucking on it.

"Oh wow!"

"Oh man!"

"Oh brother!"

"Oh mother!"

"Oh amazing!"

He kept letting out exclamations of delight as I put my considerable
talents at fellatio to work. I wanted him hard and I wanted him inside
me. Once I had crossed the threshold, no point in half measures. I was
happy when in a minute or so, his dick started responding. My ass was
freezing by now. In a couple of minutes, it was fully erect again. All
four inches of dark brown sausage.

In deference to his wishes, I got on the cot on my hands and knees and
arched my back to make my ass jutt out. The jute matting of the cot
swayed as he got on his knees in position behind me. I wrapped my
fingers around the thick threads and waited to be fucked again. My
boots were still on and their toes rested inside gaps in the matting.

He grabbed my hips and entered me with ease. This time, I was happy to
note that he didn't start rutting me like a goat in heat. He started
off with deep slow strokes. I thrust back with my ass in his rhythm
and soon we were fucking again. The body heat warmed me up soon and I
didn't feel as cold anymore.

He took one hand off my hip, and reached forward to grab one of my
swaying boobs as he fucked me. This was much better. Yes, this felt
much better. I took one hand off the cot and started playing with my
clit. Soon we were both moaning and groaning as our thighs slapped
against each other loudly.

He increased his pace gradually this time and by the time he was
hammering me hard, was had been doing it for almost ten minutes. It
felt good to know it wasn't going to be another two minute maggi
noodle experience.

SMACK! HMM! SMACK! HMM! SMACK! HMM!

He spanked me every few seconds making loud noises as he did so in
appreciation of how my butt jiggled. My fingers were giving me as much
pleasure as his dick and pretty soon I brought myself to a small
orgasm as he kept fucking me. He groaned in happiness as my slight
shuddering during the orgasm was felt by his dick too.

"HRMMMMMMMMMM"

A loud throaty grunt.

But it didn't sound like him. It came from door. I turned my head
sideways and saw that the cardboard door had a 4 inch gap in it. And
the lantern light from inside the room was reflecting off the thick
glasses of the old man, who was hunched over, taking the sight in. The
sight of his presumable grandson fucking a bonafide urban memsaab.

"What the hell?" I said, annoyed. But I was enjoying the fucking too
much to stop. I did however pull my sweater down to hide my swinging
tits from the old man.

The boy looked at his grandfather, clicked his tongue and said in an
irritated tone while continuing to fuck me.

"Daddu!"

Like me, he too was too engrossed in the sex to stop. As the fucking
continued, all sorts of thoughts ran through my head. The shameful
shock as well as forbidden pleasure of having sex while someone
watched. A worry that the old man might want to fuck me next. A bigger
worry that I might actually want the old man to fuck me next.

"MMMHHHHHHHHHH"

This time it was the boy. His thighs slapped against mine faster as he
started shooting his cum inside me again. I looked at the old man who
was just watching everything with a flat expression on his face. And
for some reason that did it. I started cumming too, this time not from
my fingering, but from the increased pace of the dick inside me
combined with the kinky delight at being watched.

We both were groaning and yelling in orgasmic pleasure as the old man
watched, for about 20 seconds. And then the dick finally got done
shooting its jizz inside me. The boy, making a habit of it now,
collapsed on top of me again. His wet dick rubbed against my ass as I
took the weight of his slight frame on my back. And we both just lay
there for a minute or so, breathing heavily.

The boy rolled off me and started putting his clothes on.

"Daddu!! Go back to the dhaba! The truck will be here any minute!"

Daddu cast one long look at my naked ass and then shuffled away.

"Truck?" I asked, getting off the cot myself.

"Yes, your ride."

"My ride is a truck? What the fuck?" I said the last line in English
unable to resist the rhyme.

"What?"

"You said it was a taxi." I said, taking my boots off so I could put
my jeans back on.

"No!" he said, buttoning his pants. "I never said taxi. You asked me
if you could get a taxi somewhere because you had to get to Meerut by
noon urgently. And I said I could get you a ride to Meerut. I never
said it would be a taxi. It's a truck that always comes by around this
time of the week. Like clockwork. I know the guys. They will take you
to Meerut."

I snorted and laughed, slipping my panties on.

"You sneaky motherfucker!" I said.
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