Foggy Night in India

The cleaner got dressed and walked out of the hut. The boy came in. I looked at him with semi-closed eyes. Had he been watching the whole time? Did he want another go? I didn't care. I just wanted to sleep.

Turns out he didn't want another go. He helped me get dressed, and led exhausted staggering old me back to the dhaba and helped me on to the truck. I sat on the cheap rexine seat, leaned against the backrest and passed out.

BLAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRNNNNNN

I woke up with a start at the sound of a loud truck horn. It was daylight but there was still fog. It wasn't a dream. I was sleeping with my head on the lap of the cleaner. His hands were inside my jacket, fondling my boobs over my shirt.

"Awake?" he leered as I looked up at his face. "Want to fuck again in the back, memsaab?"

"Shut up!" the driver growled. "It's tough enough driving in this fog."

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. I looked at my watch. It was a little before 8 in the morning.

"Where are we?" I asked rubbing my eyes.

"Half an hour away from Kanpur." the driver answered, his eyes still on the road.

"Could you drop me at the airport?"

He nodded.

For the next half an hour, the cleaner kept fondling my ass and my boobs, whispering requests for a quickie. I negotiated it down to a blowjob. When the truck pulled up outside Kanpur airport, I was on my knees on the floor of the truck's cabin, with the cleaner's jizz in my mouth again. This time I swallowed.

He helped me get down from the truck, squeezing my ass one last time as he did so. The driver handed me my bags and without as much as a goodbye, drove off.

The CISF security guards wrapped in shawls outside the terminal were staring at me in confusion. It's not often that a memsaab gets off a rickety old truck. But it wasn't just that. I realized that my jacket was unzipped, and the cleaner's grimy palm prints were all over my shirt.

"Charter flights office?" I asked.

The security guards pointed me towards it. I could still make it to Meerut by noon.