First off, lots and lots of thanks to Jim and Pam. Sorry to have been off circuit for so long! I guess this is what we all wanted to share...
* * * * *
In The Beginning
The bedroom is illuminated only by the dull glow of the monitor. The man is huddled on a swivel chair, peering into the monitor.
The PC sits atop a long table, the 20-inch plasma screen at the extreme left side. The CPU is located at the man's feet under the monitor.
The man is wearing a loose t-shirt and black boxer shorts. His brown hair is rather long and tufts of it fall down on the collar behind and cover more than half of his forehead in front.
The man manipulates the mouse with his right hand. His eyes glow just like the monitor does as he devours the images flashing on it.
At the moment, the man has no need of the keyboard: the mouse is enough. That leaves his left hand free as well.
The left hand is certainly not free. In the dim light, one can make out the jerking to and fro motions of the left hand that is buried between his legs.
It all started when he first received a response from an admirer out of the US of A. An admirer who liked the way the man wrote erotica for a site on the web.
In his response, the admirer admitted that the stories were extremely sexy and that he and his wife enjoyed reading them together. Of particular note to the man was that his admirer and the wife adored the situations in his stories that described a man's penis thrusting back and forth between a woman's breasts.
For as long as he could remember, the man had always been fascinated by that particular piece of anatomy of a woman's body. They always enraptured him, irrespective of whom they belonged to.
There came a time when his brother-in-law, in one of the intimate conversations that married men usually have in their late twenties or early thirties, confessed to the man that he, the brother-in-law had found a exciting way of 'keeping the blood pumping'.
This brother-in-law had a young voluptuous wife endowed with rather large breasts. The brother-in-law had confessed that his wife had urged him to place his penis between her breasts and move it back and forth, back and forth till he would come to the point of ejaculation after which he had to freedom to do with his penis whatever he desired to do. The brother-in-law had admitted bashfully that most times, he would contend ejaculating all over his wife's breasts and that in fact, she loved it more than he did.
As he heard his brother-in-law describe it to him, the man had wondered why he had never thought about it before. Of course, during that time, the man had no access to a PC or to the VCD's / DVD's. All he ever did was to gaze longingly at almost every woman's chest. In bed with his wife, he loved to spend long times kissing, sucking, licking and fondling her breasts.
No body else after that had ever told the man about this particular fetish and he now practiced it regularly with his own wife, regretting that he hadn't known about this earlier. It became a ritual with them, more so and especially after he was exposed to the Internet and VCD's / DVD's were selling on footpaths.
His brother-in-law had been the only person to have actually described to him about this particular fetish. No one else had. Until now.
It began with a mail where the admirer admitted that he and his wife loved his stories. The next the man read was when the admirer wrote to say that he and his wife had visited the man's country during their honeymoon and that the admirer loved to watch his wife with other colored men. The letter also mentioned that the wife liked to have a colored man's penis between her breasts. Later, the admirer attached a few photographs of his wife.
The wife was good looking, and from what the man could make out from her photographs, was generously endowed in the department of breasts. She was blonde and though he wasn't certain, her eyes seemed to be a shade of blue. In one photo, she was in a ponytail, but the other photo showed him that her hair was long enough to fall to her shoulders. In the photo that showed her in a Jacuzzi, the man could see her generous cleavage and along with the suggestive letter that accompanied the attachments, he was aroused.
WHEN IT BEGAN
"It was lucky that we got to know each other on the net and luckier that you agreed to show us around, Ray."
Ray shook his head. "No problems, Tim. It's entirely my pleasure. Remember you mentioned that this is the second time you are visiting India?"
"Yes," Sam answered. She was sitting on the rear seat while her husband drove shotgun with the tall gangly Indian. "We were here for our honeymoon five years ago."
"Oh, that part I know."
"But you know how those trips are like, pal," Tim said ruefully. "You aren't too concerned about the geography of the area you are visiting, if you get me, huh?"
Ray nodded, smiling. "I know," he replied. "I had set up what I had thought would be a very exciting beach resort for our honeymoon. Hell, we might as well have booked into some hotel anywhere else. I mean, we never went around the beach, it was so noisy."
"Not something to look forward to during your honeymoon huh?" Sam laughed.
She had a nice smile, Ray thought, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. Nice and easy – it revealed her pearly, perfect teeth. Luckily, the man thought, there were no feelings of feeling awkward in each other's presence, even if enough had been revealed about each other in those long mails they shared.
But then, the man knew, one often exaggerates what he says on the net.
"That is true," Tim said. "Sam's brother, Dave, was furious that we didn't see the actual rustic part of India."
"Foreigners don't always see those parts, I suppose," Ray said, forcing his eyes away from the mirror to concentrate on the road. The expressway had six-lanes and the going was pretty good, especially since there was very little traffic. "They are more concerned about visiting the Taj Mahal and those various palaces and forts. Personally, I find it boring. You see one palace and you have seen them all. I mean I have nothing against these trips, but if you are visiting to just soak in the sun and have a relaxed vacation, there is little point in trudging with those awful guides and listening to them reel off statistics about the palaces and the forts."
"I agree," Sam said. "I believe you visit those places only if you are interested in writing or in history. Which, at least I am not."
"You are not, Samantha?" Ray asked.
She let out a peal of laughter. "Not at all. And while you are at it, just call me Sam. Samantha seems so old fashioned. All my friends call me Sam."
Tim grinned. "So Ray, what is this place you are taking us to?"
Ray cleared his throat. "Well, I thought that maybe we should begin by unwinding in a remote place, far away from the hustle and bustle of the city and the tourists. There's this place as I told you, about three hours drive from the airport. It's a kind of a resort, facing a lake – very rustic, very quiet. Its around a few square miles and pretty jungle-like with literally thousands of trees of almost every variety growing all around it. There's a twenty-four hour restaurant, a couple dozen cottages for guests and miles and miles of paths where you can trek. It's also supposed to be an ornithologists delight, but hey, I don't go in for that stuff. Maybe I can tell the difference between a crow and a parrot and that is all."
They laughed. "Who the hell is interested in birds?" Tim agreed.
The man thought that the couple stole a glance at him almost together.
It is always tough to break the ice, he thought.
"What that means is that the most guests you can expect are the very few who want basically a place to get away. Weather's good at this time of the year and the trees are so thick, there are areas where you would be lucky to see sunlight even in the afternoon."
"Ought to be wonderful," Sam said enthusiastically. "We can scarcely wait to get there."
"First things first," said Tim. "Got to have a shower. It's pretty humid here, huh?"
Sam laughed. "Remember how we used to have showers practically every two or three hours? But yes, I can hardly wait to have one myself."
"We stayed at Delhi and visited Jaipur during our honeymoon," Tim said, continuing to keep the conversation alive, though all of this had already been discussed during one of their chats. "Not that we were too concerned about visiting those palaces, as you said!"
"The place to go for a honeymoon is either the beaches at Kerala or at Goa," Ray told them. "Of course, as you said, and to hell with all those tourist trips. Good hotels, good food, private places along the beach and most of the folks who visit there are generally honeymooners."
"So tell us about yourself, Ray. You did fill us up on your brief background, but we would like to hear it from you," Sam said, leaning toward the front seat.
Ray couldn't help noticing the way her heavy breasts strained against her top and he was pretty sure she wasn't wearing a bra.
"There isn't much too tell about me," he replied rather modestly. "I'm an engineer and do a lot of free lancing. Project management and development. I got a cute wife and a couple of wonderful kids. Freelancing has one benefit. You are your own boss."
"How old are the kids?" Sam queried.
"The danger age," Ray laughed. "He's nineteen and she is sixteen. It's that age when their questions and demands are quite hard to answer and fulfill."
They started a discussion on today's kids and the inevitable comparisons of the time that they were kids themselves.
* * * * * *
The 'cottage' was basically two large adjacent bedrooms, with an interconnecting door, in which you entered through a small common sitting area. The one that Ray chose was set off about half a kilometer away from the main area and was quite remote. In fact, they had to walk for almost ten minutes to reach the cottage. "It's really quite good, you know," remarked Tim. "It's so very quiet and so far off, away from the crowd."
"Yes," added Sam. "And also quite close to the river and in the middle of a mini-jungle!"
"Not to worry," Ray assured them. "Luckily, they have room service and though it takes quite awhile to get service, you will find that it's reasonably good."
Each of the two bedrooms had large 4-poster beds in the middle, a few old cupboards against one wall and a door at the opposite end that led to the bathrooms. The bathrooms weren't luxurious. There was no tub; instead, there were four showers at the center. Apparently, there were times, Ray told them, when the force of the water was too less and that was the reason the owners had put up so many of them in one place. There was a rather large writing desk and four cane chairs at one corner of the bedroom. The sitting area had a low divan at one end and a high and narrow single bed stood a small distance off. Three overstuffed chairs and an octagonal centerpiece surrounded the bed. The two rooms had two ancient ceiling fans, one each. The roof was slanting and was rather crude in that it was made of semi-circular red tiles. All in all, like Ray had said, rustic and quiet and remote.
* * * * * *
Tim was tied to the chair in the bedroom, tied securely by a nylon rope that the man had produced from under the bed. Tim was buck-naked. His spread-eagled legs were fastened to the base while his hands were secured to the arms of the chair. A tape was stuck across his mouth.
Sam was trussed up on the bed. Her hands were pulled up over and behind her head and tied together at the center of the bed. Her legs were spread wide apart and two strips of nylon ropes secured them to the opposite posts of the bed. Sam was stripped naked. She had a kerchief protruding from her mouth. Her shoulder length blonde hair, fanned out under her head on the pillow.
The couple realized that they had been tied up only after they woke up from their drug-induced sleep. The man had previously slipped enough sleeping tablets, powdered of course, in their drinks and it had taken all of twenty minutes for them to be knocked out after which the man had set off about his task of stripping them off their clothes and tying them up.
Tim woke up from the slumber first, his eyes widening as he took in the scene around him. He tried to shout and realized that his mouth was taped. He looked across at his wife trussed up on the bed.
The man was nowhere in sight. In fact, he was in the sitting room, peering through the door to ensure that both were awake when he made his entry.
The man made sure that the couple was wide-awake and casually pulled out his trousers, revealing shorts. There was a prominent bulge between his legs. He also pulled off his t-shirt. He was scrawny and very slightly built. He picked up a small bottle filled up with a yellowish fluid and than made a casual entry into the bedroom.
"Awake?" he asked, smirking at the helpless couple.
Tim struggled in the chair and Sam tried to pull her arms away from the knot above her head. Both made futile efforts to speak.
"Easy, easy," the man taunted, walking up to Tim, but his eyes on Sam's voluptuous naked body.
"Jeeze, lookatit tits!" he muttered. "All the way driving up here, I am looking at those jugs bouncing under the t-shirt and hoping the t-shirt would have been flimsier! Had to rip that tight top off, so sorry, baby! But the fucking top was so tight it seemed it was kind of glued on if you get what I mean. Wasn't very surprised you weren't wearing any bra inside. Your tits don't need any. Meant for the whole world to know, huh? I thought I had a good hard-on just watching your boobs while driving down here and checking into this cottage, but tell you what, one look at them naked titties and god, I thought my dick was going to shoot all over!"
Tim struggled even more furiously and the man now looked at him and grinned, revealing his teeth. "Don't do that, Tim. Was in the military school and they teach you how to tie a mean knot. More you struggle, tighter it gets and who knows, you might just cut your wrists – that's nylon for you. By the way, I wonder who the fuck is Ray! Jesus, you believe everything, don't you? Internet's a cool way to fool most people for most times."
The man stared at the couple, his eyes glittering manically. Most of the time, he had his eyes on the helpless woman tied to the bed.
"Shaved pussy, eh? That hole looks real mouth watering bitch. Let me tell you slut, I love eating pussy. Never had a taste of white cunt!"
The man chuckled. He extended the small bottle towards Tim.
"Know what's in this, pal?" he asked, continuing to grin. "How thoughtless of me! Even if you did, you wouldn't be able to say so, huh? I mean I got that tape sticking to your mouth real tight, huh? Well, folks, I'm very soon going to pull out those mouth-shutters. You know why? I want to hear the two of you. No fun if you don't hear anything when you are fucking, huh? Besides, you know that this cottage is almost a mile off from the rest and you scream and shout no one's going to hear you."
They realized that he was speaking the truth. They now knew why the man had insisted that they occupy the remotest cottage. They did have to walk almost a mile from the edge of the other cottages and had nodded enthusiastically when the man had told them that they would be better off so far from the rest.
"You feel real peaceful like, you know?" he had said.
"Well, what's this?" the man was speaking again. He had a baritone voice, low and husky and his English was without any hint of accent. He looked lovingly at the bottle.
"This here is highly concentrated acid. They use it in labs, you know. Look what it can do."
The man picked up a stainless steel spoon off the writing desk. He upended the bottle and allowed a tiny drop of the liquid to seep from the orifice of the cap. There was a hiss and a lot of smoke accompanying the strong odor.
The man straightened the bottle and turned the spoon sideways to show them the tiny hole gaping in it. He laughed delightedly.
"See? If this fucking thing can make a hole in this fucking spoon, just think what it will do on fucking human skin!"
Excellent vocabulary, Tim thought resignedly.
Almost as if the man had read Tim's thoughts, he said, "Pardon the French, but tell you what, I love that kinda language."
The man hooked the second chair with his feet and pulled it towards him. He planted one foot on it and set the spoon on the desk again. He disappeared into the bathroom and Tim stared at Sam's frightened eyes when they heard him moving inside.
The man appeared again, this time sans the bottle. He grinned.
"Got plenty of these bottles hidden in a million places in this fucking room. Places that you wouldn't be able to find. Just like I hid this one as well."
Sam shivered. Why did he have to hide the bottles?
"Outside," the man continued, jerking his head at the door. "Outside are four of my closest pals. They are guarding us, sort of making sure we will not be interrupted. That's not just additional insurance against the possibility of any accidents during our performance. Because," he laughed harshly, "They are just as eager to get a shot at your white pussy, Sam! But I did convince them that it was important for me to go in first so I could sort of lay down the ground rules. So, I'm going to free the two of you, eventually. Wouldn't like to fuck a broad who can't move and do things to me as well, you dig? My pals outside will massacre you if they see you without me and moreover, even if you try, there are these bottles that I could find and fling it all over your mugs, get me?"
Tim was staring at the man and glanced at his wife helplessly. That she was naked didn't help any. Sam was a really sexy, voluptuous woman and looking at her even under such diverse circumstances, he couldn't help but feel a twinge running through him.
Tim and Sam had a very adventurous outlook at life, especially their sex life. Both were inhibited and ready to experiment, but what the hell did this man know? Even though a lot of secrets had been traded during the chats, there were a lot more that were left unsaid. Tim recalled the various times during their love-making that he and Sam had whispered their fantasy of her being ravaged by a group of strangers. Was she remembering them? Tim wondered if this was going to change the two of them. Fantasizing was one thing, but actually experiencing it at some faraway land was quite another. All Tim could think at this moment was how the hell they could get away from this weirdo.
Fuck, he thought. What kind of a guide had he picked up for them? Being on their own would have been better, he concluded. That this sick guy wanted to rape Sam was evident.
If the man really was speaking the truth (he was, about the acid: the spoon was proof enough) about his friends outside, they were sunk.
"Let me tell you something, Sam," the man spoke, sitting down on the chair that he had recently yanked towards him. He was facing the bed and Tim was to his right.
"I always wanted to make it with a white woman. When I saw you, believe me, I been having this awful hard on all the time."
Casually, as if he was glancing at his watch, the man unzipped his trousers and drew his thick and hard penis outside.