Foggy Night in India

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Preface: When I discovered erotica on the internet over a decade ago, almost all the stories were written by Americans or Europeans. The few Indian stories were a mishmash of hurriedly described fantasies in bad grammar. The only exception was an author named Mary Jorsay Gandmar. The deliciously dirty Hindi pun in the name is indicative of her body of work – Caligulan levels of hardcore depravity dressed in perfect language, compelling narratives, and believable characters. And frequent use of typically Indian inter-class taboos.

Then suddenly she disappeared. If you google her name, you can still find a couple of dozen stories by her, especially on asstr. But there was one that I read ages ago, that was my absolute favorite, that I just can’t find. She never posted it on asstr but on some other site that has since ceased to exist. It was written in diary format and was about a young lady stranded on a highway in India. And then eagerly, not under real duress, doing a lot of things to get going. In college, I fingered myself to countless orgasms while reading the story hundreds of times. Sadly, I never saved it. I have tried many different keyword searches but just can’t find it. All that remains is a hazy yet detailed memory of that masterpiece of erotica.

So I have decided to rewrite it. But in my own voice and with my own choice of backstory and circumstances. For example, unlike the story where the protagonist was an 19 year old girl (just like me when I read it), here it’s a 35 year old married woman with kids (just like me as I write it). The essential plot of the story stays the same. But I have added my own touches to it, so consider this an adaptation. I hope that wherever she is, she reads this story and doesn’t hate it.


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 halkal─▒ escort 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.


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.


“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 taksim escort 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.



“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 ┼či┼čli escort 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.


“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.”

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