Marchwood Ch. 05: Venus in India

Chapter 1: Arrival

The great steam engine thundered across the burning plain. Behind it rattled a string of carriages, windows open to admit what little cooling breeze was available. Inside the passengers sweated in the brutal heat, enduring the smoke and smuts blowing from the engine so they could obtain what little relief the open windows offered.

Augustus Marchwood sat in a first class compartment alone, his uniform stuck to his skin and he was very tired but soon he would be arriving at Malagar junction ready to take up his first posting. He could not believe it after what seemed the most rudimentary basic training he was now apparently ready to command a platoon of men in the Indian Army. The thought filled him with apprehension and excitement.

Some time later the train pulled into the station. Porters rushed to claim passengers' baggage and young Marchwood climbed down onto the platform and was besieged by men in turbans wearing armbands proclaiming that they were official Indian railways porters. Most of them jabbered at him in a language he did not understand, presumably Hindi but one fellow seemed to have some rudimentary English.

"Sahib, please I carry baggage," he demanded.

Marchwood nodded in assent and allowed the man to lead him to the baggage car to identify his trunks. As the fellow assisted by two of his companions loaded his baggage onto a barrow two soldiers shouldered through the crowd towards him and then came smartly to attention and saluted

"Havildar Narayan and Sepoy Gupta reporting Sahib," barked the older man who sported three chevrons on his sleeve.

Marchwood suddenly remembered he was supposed to return their salute and clumsily executed one himself.

"Subaltern Marchwood, very pleased to meet you chaps," he replied.

"Now we go to hotel Sahib," Narayan announced.

"But aren't we going to the regiment?" asked Marchwood.

"Long journey Sahib. Leave in morning. Now please come to hotel," Narayan explained.

He then delivered a stream of instruction to the porters in Hindi and led everyone in a procession out of the station. As they walked along Marchwood examined his companions. Havildar Narayan was a tall imposing fellow with a bristly moustache tinged with grey. Gupta was quite the opposite, he seemed too small to be a soldier, perhaps only five and a half feet with pointed features and broken teeth. Nevertheless, Marchwood noted that on his sleeve he wore the crossed rifle badge indicating that he was an excellent marksman.

The Railway Hotel proved to be a traditional Indian building constructed on four sides around a courtyard which they entered through an archway. The porters deposited Marchwood's luggage and demanded an exorbitant sum for their services which drew a loud retort from Narayan.

"Sahib, much too much price. Only 1 anna is enough."

Marchwood gave the fellows two annas which they accepted with good grace and departed.

Marchwood was greeted as he dismissed the porters by the proprietress of the hotel, a large but comely white lady. "Good afternoon, you must be Mr Marchwood. I am Mrs Cummings, welcome to the Railway Hotel. I hope we shall do everything we can to make your stay as comfortable as possible."

Marchwood bade farewell to his two sepoy escorts who promised to collect him bright and early the next morning. He was then escorted to his room by Mrs Cummings followed by a small retinue of hotel servants bearing his luggage. She showed him to a commodious and cool bedroom overlooking the courtyard with a seating area and washing facilities attached. A large punkah or fan flapped overhead, operated by a punkah wallah in the courtyard, bringing in a cool draft of air. All in all a very pleasant suite of rooms for his overnight stay.

When he was settled, Marchwood washed away the soot and sweat from his journey with the cool water and soap provided and changed into evening dress. He spent the remainder of the afternoon writing a few letters to post before he departed and finally went to the dining room when he heard a gong announcing the arrival of dinner.

He proved to be the only guest but Mrs Cummings asked if he would like her to join him for dinner and he eagerly agreed to this suggestion in order to gain some company. Mrs Cummings was a plump woman, perhaps in her forties, who still retained some of the charms of her youth. She had dressed formally in a ball gown, which had perhaps seen better days. Nevertheless, the low cut front displayed her fine bosom to great advantage and she had adorned herself with a gold chain and locket and gold earrings and put up her dark hair in a bun. Over dinner, he tried hard to look into her eyes which were a delightful green colour but he could not help allowing his gaze to stray to Mrs Cummings delightful cleavage and the swelling mounds surrounding it.

Servants began to serve an elaborate meal in the Indian style with curries accompanied by dahl, rice, chapatis and a variety of pickles and sambals. Marchwood was only just getting used to Indian food but was rapidly acquiring a taste for it and greatly appreciated the impressive array which was deliciously spicy without being brutally hot.

Mrs Cummings quizzed him a little about where he had come from and what had motivated him to join the Indian army. With some gentle probing, she readily began to reveal her own life story. Her husband had been a sergeant in the British army and she had accompanied him to India. They had had three children who had all sadly succumbed to the dreadful climate and diseases, which took such a toll on Europeans. Her husband had then also taken ill with the typhoid and passed on leaving her virtually destitute apart from a tiny army widow's pension. Thankfully, the colonel of her husband's regiment had taken pity on her and arranged a small loan which had allowed her to purchase the run down Railway Hotel and start her own business. Malagar Junction was the nearest station to Amalabad where Marchwood's regimental headquarters was located. There had been talk of building a branch line but nothing had become of it so most travellers to Amalabad were obliged to stay at the only hotel in town before embarking on the day's journey by horse or carriage to Amalabad. As dinner was coming to an end over some excellent Malabar coffee and a glass of brandy Mrs Cummings made a curious revelation in muted tones.

"Mr Marchwood we do provide certain discreet services for our guests should they so require it. You only have to say the word."

"Erm, what kind of services do you mean?" Marchwood enquired in some confusion.

"Well some of our gentleman guests such as yourself are in need of, how shall I put it, a little female companionship and we can readily provide for most tastes for a small fee. The girls are of course Indian but all very comely. None of your bazaar girls here Mr Marchwood. All vetted by me and regularly checked by our local doctor. If course if you prefer a white lady, well as a special treat I sometimes offer my own services to certain chosen guests and you Mr Marchwood would be among them as a gentleman of distinction, what with your father being a lord and all."

Marchwood was a little taken aback that Mrs Cummings' seemingly respectable hotel was operating as what was in effect a covert bordello.

"So these additional services you provide Mrs Cummings, they haven't attracted the attention of the authorities?" he enquired.

"Oh goodnesss no sir," Mrs Cummings responded. "You see the local superintendent of police is one of my regular customers, not to mention quite a few officers from your regiment. No I think if anyone tried to close me down there would be uproar among the local Europeans."

"So you would be able to offer me a special service yourself?" asked Marchwood intrigued to know more."

"Oh yes my dear but as I said I am very particular about my personal clients. Also I have to warn you that I am only amenable to pleasuring gentlemen in certain ways," she said mysteriously.

"Oh and what might those be?" Marchwood enquired.

"Well as I told you earlier I have borne three babies in this accursed country and I have no intention to give birth to any more so I am afraid I rule out any activities which well.... which might result in me getting with child," she said attempting to explain herself with difficulty.

"I see well that is perfectly understandable given your history," Marchwood responded. "I wonder whether you might enlighten me as to the ways in which you offer pleasure to gentlemen."

"Well my dear, I am not sure if you have ever come across the phrase 'entering by the backdoor' but I have found from experience that that is a sure way of satisfying a gentleman while avoiding any undesirable consequences. Of course, it is not to everybody's taste but I have come to have a bit of a liking for it myself with the right gentleman of course. And if that is not to your taste young sir then I think I can offer the fullest satisfaction by the application of my lips."

Marchwood could not believe what he was hearing. Mrs Cummings was actually hinting that fellatio and even sodomy were her preferred forms of sexual intercourse. This so entirely coincided with his own preferences that he decided there and then that he would engage her for the night and not consider the tempting offer of the Indian ladies.

"Mrs Cummings just to avoid any confusion are you suggesting that you would be willing to permit me to bugger you?" asked Marchwood incredulously.

"Of course my dear," she responded. "Is that something you fancy? If so of course you should try it."

"Well to tell the truth it is a practice which I have already dabbled in a little. There was the most delightful older lady on my voyage out here who sort of took me under her wing and well... one thing led to another and she introduced me to a variety of pleasures including that one."

"Oh I see, so you are already a man of the world who appreciates a more mature lady. A man after my own heart," Mrs Cummings said appreciatively. "Very well my dear, I have duties to attend to and need to make sure the hotel is secured for the night. I will come and join you in your room, if you wish, in an hour or two."

Marchwood returned to his room taking another glass of brandy and changed into his night attire. He could hear the noise of servants moving around the hotel for some time and then things became quieter. He wondered how long Mrs Cummings would be and tried to read a book but could nor concentrate. His thoughts kept returning to Mrs Cummings impressive bosom and he could not help imagining what those magnificent mammaries would be like when fully exposed. There was also the thought of penetrating Mrs Cummings in her tightest and most private orifice, which was already bringing on a swelling in his manhood.

At last there was a soft knock on his door and Mrs Cummings entered. She was now attired in a silk nightdress which was similarly low cut at the front to her evening gown. However, it did not push up her voluptuous mounds in quite the same fashion. Her hair formerly in bun now tumbled down over her shoulders in dark waves. Marchwood suddenly realised that despite her slight plumpness and the onset of middle age Mrs Cummings was still a startlingly attractive woman.

"Will you come and sit on the bed with me my dear," she said invitingly and sat down beside him.

Marchwood was unsure how to proceed but Mrs Cummings took the initiative and gently pulled his mouth towards her's kissing him at first tentatively and then with increasing force and passion. This did not appear the way of proceeding of a common whore. Mrs Cummings was doing more than acting. She seemed to genuinely desire him and be intent on her own pleasure as well as his. As they kissed he felt her hand groping towards his groin. Through his nightshirt she could feel the swelling pole of his manhood and after rubbing it a little though the fabric, she raised the hem of the garment and exposed his stiffened prick.

"Oh Mr Marchwood you have an exceedingly fine cock," she gasped, "and I have seen a few in my time. May I kiss it?"

"Of course," Marchwood responded breathlessly. "But you must call me Augustus or even better Gus now that we are friends."

"Of course my dear, Gus it is," she replied. "And I am Margaret but everyone calls me Maggie."

Having established this degree of intimacy, Maggie bent her head and began to gently lick on Gus's erection. She was clearly highly skilled in the art of fellatio and began by teasingly running her tongue along the length of his engorged tool several times and then around his sac. This subtle stimulation drove him wild with anticipation as to what she might do next. She did not disappoint and pulling back his foreskin she lightly circled the rim of his purple helmet and then flicked across the opening at its summit. She continued in this manner for some minutes driving his wild with desire before she finally wrapped her lips around his throbbing phallus and began to suck it in the most lascivious manner. Even then, she remained in control, producing the most exquisite sensations in his loins but never sucking him hard enough to bring on a climax.

"Mrs Cummings, I mean Maggie," Gus gasped. "May I ask you a favour? Would you remove your nightgown? I would dearly love to see your exquisite breasts and perhaps hold them a little."

"Of course my dear boy," she replied. "I couldn't help noticing your fixation on them over dinner. Don't worry I will take that as a compliment."

With that she raised herself up and in a graceful movement lifted her nightgown and pulled it off over her head. She sat on the bed without embarrassment, allowing Gus's gaze to rove across the charms of her body. Her breasts were indeed exquisite. Now released from the confines of her evening gown, they admittedly were no longer pushed into two plump mounds but sagged a little but for Marchwood this only added to her allure. Small freckles adorned her chest and upper breasts and while for some men this might be deemed a flaw, for him it only added to her charm.

"They are delicious Maggie, like two ripe melons," declared Gus. "With your permission may I taste them?"

She nodded in assent and he leant forward to cup one of her luscious fruits in his hand. For a few moments her gently caressed and palpated the soft sphere of flesh and then he bent forward and wrapped his lips round the generous pink nipple, suckling on it and circling his tongue around the aureole and then across its tip. Maggie gently murmured in encouragement, delighting in the way he was pleasuring her in this sensual manner. After a little time stimulating her left bosom until her nipple hardened with yearning, he switched his attention to the other teat.

At the same time his hand reached down and brushed her plump inner thigh he roved upwards gently caressing her silken skin until he found the forested thicket of her pubis and allowed his fingers to brush through the mass of dark curly hair until he found her outer lips and ran his finger along the groove between them. Maggie gasped as he found her slit at last. Part of her longed for his fingers to penetrate her womanhood and pleasure the interior of her moist cavern. Instead, his finger found the hood of her clitoris and gently massaged the tiny organ until it swelled like a bud. Maggie moaned in approbation, delighting that he was taking the time to pleasure her in this manner and was not merely intent on his own gratification. His shipmate mistress must have trained him well, she thought.

Now she pushed him gently down on the bed and straddled his face. Maggie Cummings loved it when her male admirers performed cunnilingus on her, though sadly some gentlemen seemed reluctant to afford her this pleasure, even when she offered them the most exquisite oral stimulation herself. She was hoping that Gus's training with his previous lover would encourage him to indulge her. Bending over she took his cock in her moth and began gently sucking it and swirling her tongue around the tip.

Gus looked up and he could see Maggie's extremely hairy cunt hovering above his face. He gently pulled her hips down until his tongue could reach her moist fanny and began to lick up and down her slit. Maggie purred in pleasure, delighted that Gus had taken up the opportunity and was ready to orally stimulate her. She could feel his tongue probing deeper and deeper into her pussy and then gently tongue fucking her. She might not be able to enjoy the boy's cock in her cunt but his deeply probing tongue was the next best thing. In response Maggie began to suck on Gus's cock more furiously bobbing her head up and down on his shaft and taking it deeper and deeper into her mouth. Gus had never experienced a woman taking all his shaft to the back of the throat in this way. He marvelled at Maggie's skill as well as delighting in the exquisite sensations she was producing in his swelling organ. After some minutes of delicious soixante-neuf Maggie surfaced for air.

"Oh Gus my dear, if you carry on like this I am sure I will come which might be a very nice thing," Maggie said. "Howwever, I would love to feel your manhood filling me from behind when I come so if you are ready..."

Gus was more than ready. He too had been desperately holding off from coming as the prospect of penetrating Maggie's delicious rear entrance was too good to miss and he wanted to save all his seed so that he could spend fully In Maggie's rectum. Soon Maggie had positioned herself on all fours.

"If you look in the drawer of the bedside table you will find a bottle of coconut oil, I think you may need in now" she gently suggested.

Gus quickly retrieved the bottle, which she must have placed their earlier precisely to prepare for the situation they now found themselves in.

"Coconut oil is a wonderful substance," Maggie explained. "The Indians use it for all sorts of things, cooking, improving their hair and of course it is the most wonderful lubricant."

Gus opened the bottle and took a sniff, enjoying the strong coconut scent from the oil. He poured a little into his left palm and put the bottle to one side. Then he dipped his finger in the greasy liquid and experimentally dabbed a little around Maggie dark brown rosette.

"That's good but you will need plenty more. Don't forget to push your finger inside," Maggie instructed him.

Gus patiently recoated his pinkie and this time gently pressed it against the tightly close entrance. Gradually he worked his finger in until the tight ring began to relax and he was able to coat it with the oleaginous liquid. He worked in more and more oil probing deeper and deeper until all the liquid in his palm had been transferred to the interior of Maggie's back passage.

"I think that will do," announced Maggie. "Just make sure you coat yourself well with the oil as well. Hurry up I so want to feel you inside me."

Gus took some more oil and slathered it over his rampant prick. That would surely do it, he thought. Now he positioned himself behind Maggie ready to penetrate her from the rear. He placed his mushroom head against her dark hole ready to push forward.

"That's it," said Maggie encouragingly, "but easy does it at first. Just let me get used to you before you go in too deep."

Gus of course had some familiarity with the art of sodomising a lady but was polite enough to listen to Maggie's advice without comment. He gently pressed forward and could feel Maggie push out her sphincter to open it up, allowing the tip of his cock to slide into her rectum.

"Oh my lord, you feel big my dear," groaned Maggie as her anus was horribly dilated by his swollen phallus. "But don't worry you are filling me up nicely, it just takes a moment to get adjusted."

Gus paused considerately and when he felt she was ready, pushed his prick forward another half inch. Looking down he could see the twin hillocks of Maggie's buttocks split by his burgeoning cock, which was half buried in her greasy and tightly stretched hole. His member pulsed with excitement at this delicious vision and sensing his need Maggie pushed pack impaling herself further on his thrusting weapon.