tagInterracial LoveThe Sidecar Tales 06 - Rana & Sumita

The Sidecar Tales 06 - Rana & Sumita


I kinda pretended to ravish her, when she told me to, right after I fixed her plumbing. Its kind of complicated, you see ..."

- - - - -

Coming off the Old Mine Road, out of the Delaware Water Gap State Forest, I crossed over the Delaware River via the toll-bridge at Montague, New Jersey. I powered up the road, and into the small former mill-town. I was beat, even though it was still just late afternoon. I'd spent the better part of a week in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, with my attorney and the State Police, on legal matters.

So, I was pretty much pooped by the time I motored through town, and saw a motel off to the left. I just stopped the bike-sidecar rig, and went in to get a room. It was a mom-and-pop place, and the person taking my money (cash) was an East Indian woman. I thought she looked pretty. She was polite, but spoke with an accent, and made little eye contact with me. I got one of the rooms next to the motel office, as there weren't many travelers in mid-week. The room had a back door, to the utility area, which I just ignored.

I unloaded the scooter and sidecar completely, thinking to take everything to a service station with a coin-operated vacuum, and suck up six months worth of accumulated dirt and crud. So I wound up with my tools and spare parts in the room with me, besides my minimalist clothes and other stuff.

After stripping to my underwear, I lay down on the bed, just to close and rest my eyes for a minute, before getting some dinner.

When I heard the bang and whoosh of high-pressure water, and the scream of women's voices, it must have been four hours later, pulling me from a sound sleep.

It was full dark, and the lights were out. I heard screams and excited female voices, and, again, my damsel-in-distress gene kicked in. Fumbling for a flashlight, I stumbled out of bed, dressed in boxer shorts, socks and an undershirt. Nothing was unusual, out the front door, so I opened the back door, and heard more screams coming from my right. So, of course, that's the direction I went.

I blundered into the motel's utility room, and was met with a scene of wet chaos. The lights were off, and there was water spraying everywhere. It looked as if a water main had burst, and was shooting water everywhere. Sparks were coming from the main electrical panel. Acting on instinct, I grabbed for the handle that shut down all the power, and pushed it up, somehow without electrocuting myself. Inside the room, there were two women, clutching each other and screaming, as water cascaded into the room. The sunken cement floor was already a couple of inches deep, and the water was rising.

I knew I had to act fast, so, not asking for permission, I started searching for the main water shut-off valve. With cold, near-freezing water pouring over me, I carefully directed the flashlight's beam over the pipes, back from the break, and after a few minutes, found it. It was the usual ball-valve, and, grabbing the handle, I pulled hard, and dragged the handle into a right-angle to the pipe. The gush of water, now ankle-deep slowed and then ceased.

Completely soaked, I turned to the whimpering women, and said, "Where's the floor drain?"

One, the older, dressed in a tunic and pants thing I've seem before on Indian women, just stared and shrugged. The other girl, a lot younger, looked at me, and said, "It's somewhere in the middle, but now I can't tell, it's so dark." I sighed, and got down on my hands and knees, to do a sweep search of the floor.

It took about ten minutes and my hands were numb, before I found it. Naturally, it was solidly clogged. I got up, and 'squelched' back to my room, to get my tool kit, spares, and the little box of latex gloves I keep in the bike. Returning, I re-found the floor drain. Getting out my biggest screwdriver and a locking wrench, I managed to get the brass screws off the drain cover, and the cover off, as well.

When the younger girl brought me the bucket I asked for, I put on the gloves, then just got back down on my knees, and started pulling nameless black gunk from the vertical drain. The clog went down, and down. When I reached the limit of my arms, and the drain still hadn't opened, I got down on my side, and managed to reach down another foot or so, to bring up more nameless black stuff.

Laying there in the cold water, I sensed a presence and looked to the side. The older woman had thrown off her tunic top and, dressed in a wet t-shirt, was helping throw out the accumulated stuff I'd pulled from the drain. The water-soaked thin material had molded itself to her skin, and covered her breasts and nipples like a second skin. Not wanting to pass up this 'wet-t-shirt-moment,' even cold, wet, shivering and dirty, I looked over at her, with her small breasts outlined by the wet fabric and said, "You're very lovely."

She gapped at me, and then, so help me, she both blushed and grinned, saying, "You must be knowing that I'm a wet mess and a married woman, too."

I said, grasping at what felt like a major piece of clog, "I still think you're beautiful. He is lucky."

Maybe I wasn't supposed to hear, but she murmured, "He is not here. He is never here. He is with his drugs and his boy-friends, in New York City. Only you, Sumita and I are here, and I think you are very beautiful, too."

I grabbed at the last piece, and pulled it out of the black hole of Calcutta. The water gurgled, and started draining out of the floor. I got up, and then looked over at the place where the water pipe break had taken place.

"Uh-oh," I said, as it was clear that the water meter had been clumsily by-passed by a section of light copper pipe, and it had been that by-pass that'd broken. Someone—I'd have placed quite a bet it was the husband—had tried to save some dollars by getting free, un-metered water. I grasped at the fitting, and it came away in my hands, the copper rotted where it had been in contact with the iron pipe.

There wasn't much I could do, but, if I wanted another hot shower, the place would have to have running water. I looked around, and scrounged up some wire, and a piece of stiffly-flexible plastic. I dried the fixture as best I could with a couple of still-dry towels, from the room I had. Putting four hose-clamps loosely in place, and then slathering on fast-set epoxy from my kit, I clamped a patch over the broken opening. Along with the hose clamps, I wrapped some heavy wire I found around the patch, and smeared on some more epoxy. I did this for both the broken pipes, so the water would run through the meter, again, and tightened the clamps.

I told both the women not to turn on any water (because the epoxy had to cure), and then looked over the two big washers and dryers for water damage. The washers appeared OK, but it was immediately clear that the dryers were jammed full of soggy lint and waste. Their lint screens had been pulled out, and thrown on the floor. So, I spent more cold, wet time, digging out sopping-wet lint. I then went outside, and, in the cold weather, cleaned out the louvers and the dryer exhaust ports. It was cold and windy out there, and I was numb and shivering when I got back inside.

Returning, I cautiously pushed the power-handle of the electrical box back up, and re-set all the switches. Suddenly we had light.

Then, carefully, I turned on the water at the main valve, and determined that all I had from my fix was one small, dribbling leak. A bucket, emptied regularly, would take care of that. I re-lit the motel's large hot water heater. I told the older woman that she just had to get a plumber out there, to put the damage back to rights, and to call the water company, too.

All three of us were dripping wet and cold. This had the immediate effect of erecting her generous nipples, and so I again said, "You are very beautiful, Mrs. Married woman." She just giggled, but, with her younger girl, stared fixedly at my shorts, which were filthy, wet ... and all but transparent. Ahh, shit, I started to erect. Before I could turn away, my snake was at half-mast and rising. I heard shrieks of laughter, and, turning back, saw the younger woman grasping at her crotch, while the older Indian lady was clasping repeatedly at her breast.

I beat the most hasty retreat I could, and re-entered my room. Waiting for a few minutes, and shivering, I stripped down and took a really long, hot shower, to get the accumulated sculch and crud off of me, and to warm up. I thought I heard noises in my room, but these were muffled by the bathroom's closed door. Finally, feeling more human, I got out of the shower and dried off. Opening the door to my room, I stepped out and ...

Nearly fell to the floor on my knees. I did have to grab the door for support.

On the queen-size bed, on her back, laid out with her hands and arms over her head, was my older Indian woman. Her hair was spread out on the pillow. Her wrists were tied together with what seemed to be bright red, padded cuffs. The small strap between the cuffs led through a couple of bright-yellow loops in tape material, at the top of the mattress. Looking down, I saw that her thighs, partly drawn up, were held open by another set of cuffs, attached to yellow tapes that disappeared under the bed.

She was naked, with her crotch shaved and bare.

Her breasts were distended, and her nipples, surmounting very dark aureoles, were nearly quivering, they were so erect. She was breathing hard and fast.

I was erect in half a minute.

She said, in a low voice, but clearly, "Ahhh, there you are. You are hard. You desire me. That is good. You are my attacker. I cannot move. I cannot get away. You will be ravishing me, I am sure. You are a man. You must take your sexual pleasure within my helpless body."

I suppose I'm slow at these things, but I just gapped, open-mouthed.

She grinned, and said, "You must be forcing me, right now. You must penetrate my obviously un-willing body with your huge pe-nis now. It must be a ravishing. I am so ready to be ravished, and taken by a lover, who will be pounding his male member into me. Put your hard lingam into my sweet, wet yoni, thrust and cum inside me. You must be ravishing me, there is no other way."

I must have smiled all over my face in wonderment, as I mounted over her, placed my cockhead at the entrance to her drenched pussy, and started to thrust into her. I encountered no resistance at all, and nearly fell forward, as my questing penis sank to her depths in the first stroke.

"Ahhhh, yes, ah, yes, now I feel the first penetration of my ravishing. I must call out for help, that I, a decent married woman, am being forced to perform sex against my will. I will call out now."

She rolled her hips, and her vaginal muscles contracted around my shaft, pulling me inward, as she called out, "Help. I am being ravished by a naked fiend."

Quietly. Certainly she couldn't be heard outside the motel room's door.

She gasped, and then rotated her hips again, rhythmically, as she gasped out, "Ohhh, my attacker has made me cum. Ahh, I am a fallen woman, having my first orgasm while being ravished. It felt so good, I must be having another. Yes, while you are fucking me, you must kiss my breasts. You must do this now, so that I may have a second orgasm, while you ravish my body and make me cum again. I shall love that cum."

I kissed, as directed, and simultaneously thrust with my hard cock, into someone I thought was a little mad.

"Oh, yes, you are a good attacker, although I must call out again for help, because you are penetrating my un-willing body. I am a fallen woman, and must somehow defend what remains of my honor. I will be calling out now."

"Help. I am being ravished by a naked fiend, who is quite good looking, by the way."

A sleeping kitten could have purred louder.

"Ohhh, yes, you are so deep inside me. Soon you will be cumming, as I am, again. Yesyesyes, cumming. You must shoot your male semen into me, deep into me. Yes, you must continue ravishing me. You feel very good, and I am being fucked so well, I will have dreams tonight of your god-like pe-nis in my body's holy temple."

I felt the onset of that first dull tingling, and I knew that I didn't have long to wait. She must have picked up on the extra hardening of my cock, because she said, in a hoarse whisper, "Ohhh, I must be calling out. One last time, I must be calling for help in my degradation, before my unwanted lover fills me with his so-wonderful male cream. I shall now call for help."

Not much above a voiced whisper.

"Help. I am being ravished by a naked fiend, who is quite good looking, by the way, and who also is hung like a horse!"

I shouted and shot my jism deeply into her, thrusting a

nd shouting, plunging my dick into her liquid depths. Vaguely, I heard her also scream out loud, demanding more and even more of my semen, deposited into her temple's storehouse.

Looking up, I saw the younger girl, looking down at us both, as we wallowed in our respective fluids. She was wearing the smallest and hottest micro-mini skirt and crop-top I've ever seen, and sandals. Without a word, she knelt over the older woman, and released her padded cuffs.

The older woman, whose name I still didn't know, got up in one graceful, fluid motion. Both she and the younger girl pulled the yellow-tape restraints out from under the mattress.

Then the younger girl simply slid in bed with me, and the older woman—who I just 'molested'—covered us both with the blanket. Finally, with one foot raised on the side of the bed, she 'pushed' with her amazing stomach muscles, and the drool of jism and lubricant came oozing from her pussy lips, to run in big droplets down one thigh, finally reaching her knee.

She smiled again, and said, "Look, niece, here is proof that I have been ravished, and am no longer a good, proper wife. I cannot be a married woman any longer, since no decent man will have me. I am a dishonored woman, and I must now learn to be a prostitute."

"Perhaps, if I am lucky, I can find a lover, and own property on my own. Here, you must see the male deposit within my body that was done to my defiled body's sex. You are a witness to my downfall and degradation."

She turned to go, and then said, "As soon as our lover is recovered, he must take you to dinner. I must fast, and perform the changes, and get my clothes in order. I shall not see you again tonight. Sleep with him all night. I shall ask you how you performed. Work starts tomorrow at the usual time. Dinner is at eight o'clock. He shall wear nothing at all, and we shall worship his lingam many times."

Singing happily to herself, the older woman walked out the back door, and closed it.

The younger woman put her arms around me, and grasped at my fallen and softened cock. Squeezing it, she offered that, "You'll be ready to fuck in a couple of hours. Let's rest, and then you can take me to dinner. You'll need to keep your strength up."

I thought this over, and then asked the question uppermost in my mind, "What's your name? And who did I just ravish? And why did I take her?"

The girl giggled, snuggled some more, flipped off her top, rubbed her generous breasts all over my chest, and said, "I'm Sumita. That's pronounced Sue-Me-Tah, accent on the second syllable. The lady you just raped is Ranalovanatha Devanathan. Call her Rana. She's my aunt. Isn't she a horny thing? I thought I knew a lot about fucking, when I turned eighteen and graduated high school, but she'd been giving me college-level courses on making love. I wondered how long it'd be before she figured out how to justify taking a hot lover."

"By the way," she added, "I watched you two in the last few minutes. My God, man, you are hung like a horse. I can't wait to let you fuck me tonight, so I can show you what I've learned.

Intelligently, I said, "Uhhhh..."

Sumita giggled again, snuggling deeper under the covers, and pushed off her micro-skirt. She said, "Now, as to why you had to take Rana, that's a little harder to say."

"You see," Sumita went on, "Rana was from a largish but very conservative village in Central-Southern India. Her marriage was pre-arranged since she was eight years old. She had no say in the matter. So, when she was fifteen, she was married. Her husband was the younger son of the village elder, and it was a step upward for her family."

"Later, this man proved to be pretty much homosexual, and brought shame to the village and his father, when he was caught fucking a lower-caste boy up the ass. So he had to move away, and Rana had to go with him. They caught a break, and were able to emigrate to America, but then he had to go to work, and he hated that. So they borrowed money from his people, in India, and they washed their hands of him, knowing he'd never pay them back. With the money, he bought this motel."

"He must have figured that he'd get Rana to do all the work for him, but he had to do a lot of fix-up stuff, and he was clumsy with tools. That water by-pass was one of his bright ideas, so we wouldn't have to pay for water. He took the screens to the dryers off, so he wouldn't have to clean them every day."

"He 'fixed' the sign outside; fixed it so good that only half of it works now, even though he keeps trying. The biggest fix, though, was in this room, where he cut a hole in the wall and watched some of the people in the motel fuck, through a one-way mirror."

I looked over at the mirror, and raided one eyebrow. Sumita giggled again, and said, "Well, yes, I did. Didn't she just scream for help so quietly. I really want to move my hips like that, so my lover's dick nearly falls off."

"Anyway," Sumita went on, "he started to go back to screwing boys again, and then to make trips to New York City, every weekend. He'd come back on Sunday evening, and he'd be high on something. He started taking money out of the bank, and then, when Rana hid the operating money, he took money from her purse, for boys and for drugs. The last thing was, he threatened to take all of her dowry jewelry, and sell it, to pay for more boys and drugs. We can't find a lot of her gold jewelry, already, and we think he took it, and sold it for drugs and boy-sex."

"I know he left for the City just before you came in, and he took all of our money with him. We're broke, unless someone pays for their room in cash, tonight."

"So," she continued, "here you have a very conservatively raised but very horny, sexy Indian woman, with a homosexual, drug-using, boy-fucking husband, and then suddenly a total stranger comes into our lives, and rescues us from disaster. And this stranger stands in front of us in his wet underwear, and we could both see his 'package,' and suddenly, right after you left us, Rana says that she must be 'ravished'. I knew exactly what she meant."

"In her home village, there were only two kinds of women, excluding children. There were chaste virgins and there were wives. That's fine, but in times past, some of the wives and virgins were raped, either by bandits, or soldiers, by accident ... or by design. Now, at least there, once a woman had been raped, she had to call for help at least three times. If no one came to witness the act, then she had to show the evidence of penetration and ejaculation, to at least one of her female relatives. Then, though, she'd have to become a prostitute, a whore, because no decent man, including a husband, could stand being married to a woman who had entertained—however unwillingly—another man's penis inside her, or had his jism shot up into her."

"But," Sumita crowed, in a louder voice, "the forced woman isn't bound to her husband any more. She's cut off from her village mores. She can have sex for money. She can earn money and not give it to a relative or husband. She can, if it so happens, own property. She can take a lover. She becomes a lot more free, since she's ... well, not 'untouchable' ... but thoroughly degraded in they conservative eyes of her village and culture."

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