Indian DelitebyLucky Mann©
It had been a long, dark, and stormy day. A large hurricane had broken up off the coast of the Carolinas, and its remnants were moving up the eastern seaboard. I had not been anxious to tackle the 14-hour drive home in such a storm. So, I had slept a little later than usual.
It was late morning when I finally checked out of my central New Jersey motel room. The desk clerk warned me of the approaching storm. Road conditions were expected to deteriorate and become hazardous. I didn't believe road conditions in New Jersey could get much worse than they were under the best of circumstances.
As I headed south, traffic on I-95 was practically bumper to bumper. In the constant rain, it was moving slowly, but moving. Occasionally, an intense thunder storm cell would pass through the area I was in and make driving even worse. I seemed to be making very little progress.
I should have expected nothing less than a hurricane as I headed home. A hurricane was a fitting way to end a stressful week in New York City. In spite of the weather and traffic, I was relieved to be heading south, toward my home in South Carolina.
I had not been in New York City on a pleasure trip. My job as a private investigator had taken me there. I had spent most of my time in NYC in the seedier areas of Brooklyn and The Bronx. A forty-four-year-old, balding, over weight, white man can easily get himself killed working in some of those areas, if he doesn't stay on his toes. Though I had successfully completed my assignment, I was still feeling the stress of being an outsider in some of the most dangerous neighborhoods in America.
Travel was becoming exceedingly slow. By late afternoon, I had only gotten to the northeastern edge of Philadelphia. Traffic on the I-95 expressway had come to a complete stop.
A short time later, on my CB radio, I overheard the truckers reporting a major bridge ahead of me had been closed. The truckers were saying the bridge would probably remain closed for several days. I tuned in a local FM radio station on my car's stereo, and the announcer soon confirmed the truckers' bridge reports. The closure had resulted from damage to the bridg's approaches due to storm related high water and wind. In addition to the storm surge on the coast, many of the smaller streams in the region had swollen beyond their capacity and were flooding. Alternate routes were either closed or as badly backed up as I-95.
Seeing the futility of trying to continue driving south, I pulled off the interstate, and headed for a Holiday Inn I knew to be nearby. I had previously stayed at that particular motel while working a case in the Philadelphia area. I secured one of the last rooms they had available, dropped my luggage at the room, and went to their restaurant for dinner.
The dinning room, like the motel, was filled to near capacity. The dinning room staff was short handed due to the storm, and they were struggling to keep up with demand. Some of the customers were complaining. Too many people, who seemed to think they are the only people who mattered, were loudly complaining about the slow service.
I have found, if I treat the staff well, they will do their best for me. Even so, it took a little longer than normal to get my dinner. But then, I wasn't going anywhere anyway. Niether were the complainers.
My dinner finally arrived, and it was delicious. I was enjoying my steak, onion rings, and glass of wine when I noticed a young lady walk into the crowded restaurant.
She was a very petite, dark skinned, beauty with long flowing black hair. Her facial features indicated to me she was of Asian Indian ancestry.
She appeared to be alone. There were no empty tables. I had a table for four to my self. So, with a broad smile, and indicating the chair across from me, I asked her, "Would you like to sit here and join me?"
The young lady seemed shy and hesitant. She cast her eyes to the floor and did not respond.
At first, I thought I was being brush off. I then remembered some of my high school world geography lessons. India still had a cast society, and the women there were not nearly as assertive or self-confident as many of our American ladies are. They were seldom allowed to make decisions without a father or husband's approval. So, I stood, pulled out the chair opposite me for her, and, with a firmer voice told her, "It may be a while before another table opens up. Sit here!"
She hesitated a few seconds more, then said, "Thank you! Are you sure you don't mind?"
"I don't mind at all. I will enjoy the company. Now sit down, please." I told her.
"I am hungry, and I really don't want to wait for a table." A smile was beginning to brighten her face.
As she sat down, I handed her my business card, held out my hand to her, and said, "I'm James. Please call me Jim. What brought you here on this stormy night?"
Shaking my hand, she said, "My name is Damini. That means lightning. (How apropritate) I'm going to visit family in Atlanta. A cousin is getting married in a few days. Why are you there?"
Thus, started a long evening of conversation between a beautifully petite, twenty-three-year-old girl and a man old enough to be her father.
Damini was soon feeling much more comfortable about spending time with a stranger, and she began to open herself up to me. She had been born in New Jersey, but her family had clung to their Indian culture. They had kept tight control over her. Even when she had attended an out of town college as a resident student, she had been required to go home every weekend.
I found Damini fascinatingly different, and I enjoyed listening to her. The floresent lighting of the motel restaurant seemed to make her dark skin glow.
As her dinner arrived, Damini had agreed to share a bottle of wine with me. By the time we had finished eating, the wine was also nearly gone. At my invitation, Damini had moved to sit closer to me.
As we finished the last of the wine, I said, "Please, join me in the lounge for another glass of wine. Maybe we could share a dance as well."
Again she hesitated, before agreeing.
I picked up both dinner tabs and left a tip. We then headed to the lounge. As we left the restaurant, Dimini walked quietly behind me with her head slightly bowed.
I stopped in the hallway, turned to face Damini, and gently took her by the hand. I pulled her up beside me, lifted her chin, and told her, "Damini, you are an American woman in America. Women here do not follow behind their men. Walk beside me."
For the first time that evening, I saw a warm smile on Damini's lips. She continued holding my hand as we walked into the lounge. She and I enjoyed another glass of wine while we chatted in the crowded and noisy lounge. When the live band played a slow tune, I took Dinimi's hand and guided her to the dance floor.
As our first dance began, Damini seemed very tense and held me at a distance. Whether it was my charming and disarming manner, (yeah, right) or, more likely, the wine, she slowly began to relax and let me pull her closer. She told me that was the first time she had danced with a man without members of her family present.
As the song ended, I lightly kissed her cheek. A broad smile slowly spread across her face. In return, she softly kissed me on my lips. When we broke the kiss, we remained in the middle of the dance floor holding each other until the next tune started. As we stared into each other eyes, a hard driving rock and roll number brought us back to reality. With a firm hug, we returned to our table.
When we had finished our wine, I offered to escort Damini to her room. She told me she hadn't checked in yet. Knowing the crowded conditions at the motel, I feared she may have waited much too late to get a room.
I accompanied her to the lobby, where the desk clerk told her there were no rooms available.
I asked about other motels in the area, and was told they too were full.
Damini looked a little panicked. She looked at me and asked, "It's getting so late. What am I going to do?"
As is my natural instinct, I took control of the situation.
Facing Damini, I took her by both hands and said, "I have a king-sized bed and a nice big sofa in my room. You will stay on the sofa tonight. Now, where is your car? I will bring your things in."
Turning to the desk clerk, I said, "Please have some extra bedding sent to my room."
With her hands slightly trembling in mine, Dimini gazed into my eyes for a few seconds before saying her car was parked behind the motel.
We walked hand in hand to her car. As luck would have it, her car was parked just a few spaces down from my ground floor room. In no time, I had her suitcase on the luggage rack provided in the room.
As she opened her suitcase, and began setting her toiletries on the bathroom counter, there was a knock at the door. The bedding had arrived.
While I made up the sofa for her, Damini disappeared into the bathroom. I heard the shower running and Damini singing a song in a language I didn't understand. When she reappeared, she was wearing an extra long T-shirt as a nightgown. She was indeed a rare little beauty. She stood just under 5' tall and didn't weigh more that 95 pounds. She appeared to be nearly flat-chested under the T-shirt. Her dark skin seemed to be glowing.
She came toward me, stopped, put her arms around my neck, gave me a firm hug, a soft kiss, and said, "Thank you."
She smelled delicious. I had an urge to scoop her up, lay her on the bed, and have my way with her. However, common sense prevailed, and I merely returned the hug and kiss. Since it was getting late, we released each other and, she headed for the sofa.
Turning off the lights, I undressed, and turned in as well.
Neither of us seemed to be able to fall asleep. After an hour or so of tossing and turning on the bed, I very quietly ask, "Are you awake, Damini?"
"Yes! I can't sleep." She replied.
"Neither can I. I can't seem to get you out of my mind." I told her.
"I've been lying here thinking of you, too." She said just above a whisper.
"Why don't you join me here?" I asked, as I patted the side of the bed nearest her.
"I don't know." She hesitantly answered.
"Get your beautiful little butt over here, Damini." I gently ordered.
Damini instantly complied. I lifted the covers for her, she climbed in bed, and scooted toward me.
I cradled her in my arm and pulled her firmly to me. Laying side by side, facing each other, I gave her a long passionate kiss.
Damini slowly responded. She returned my kiss and hugged me tightly.
I began nibbling her ear, kissing her neck, and rubbing her back through her shirt.
She cooed softly and brought her soft flat belly to mine.
With another passionate kiss, I gently pushed her onto her back and began rubbing her belly under her shirt. Slowly, very slowly, I rubbed my way up to her breasts. When I squeezed her small breasts, she inhaled sharply but made no protest. Though her breasts were small, as befitted Damini's petite build, they were topped by large nipples that were soon standing very erect.
As I continued massaging her breasts, Damini began cooing again. I had slowly worked her shirt up until her breasts were fully exposed. Sliding down a bit, I took a hard nipple into my mouth and sucked.
"Oh!" Damini gasped.
As I increased the pressure of my sucking on her nipple, Damini began rubbing the back of my head and moaning louder and louder. I continued to massage her other breast. Little pinches and nips to her nipples only increased the pleasured responses from Dimini.
When Damini began slowly, almost imperceptibly, rocking her hips, I let the hand massaging her breast trail softly down her belly, into her panties, and to her thick black pubic bush. Stroking her bush, almost as if I were grooming it, brought more pronounced hip thrusts from Dimini.
In the mean time, she had begun to slowly spread her legs.
Releasing the vacuum grip my lips had on her nipple, I returned to her lips for another firm, tongue dueling, passionate kiss. As I pulled her face tightly to mine, she raised her hips to meet my hand. I moved the hand that had been stroking her bush a little further down and fully cupped her crotch.
Damini gasped sharply and said, "I've never...."
"Shhhuuuuush, baby. It'll be OK." I told her. "Do you want me to stop?" I asked.
"No! I just don't know what to do." She whispered.
"That's OK, honey. I can show you all you need to know. I'll be gentle with you. "OK?"
We resumed petting, and when her hips were again responding to my hands attentions, I spread her outer lips and stroked her virgin hole. When I grazed her clitoris, Damini lifted her butt completely off the bed and held my hand tightly to her pussy with both of her hands.
I partially inserted a finger gently into her tight hole and stroked slowly. Her pussy was soon drenched with her lubricating juices.
I quickly removed her shirt and panties and tossed them to the floor.
Returning my hand to pet her pussy, I quietly asked, "Are you ready, baby?"
"I think so." She replied.
I rolled on top of Damini, and she spread her legs wide to accommodate me. I reached down and placed the head of my dick at the opening of her pussy. With a quick, short push, my dick's head spread her outer lips and partially entered her. Wrapping both my arms around her, and kissing her with all the passion I had, I stroked in and out of the first couple of inches of Damini's tight pussy.
She began responding with her own tentative thrusts.
I soon felt she was ready for the next step. Holding her firmly, I shoved my dick fully into her virgin pussy. I felt her hymen give way as my cock passed through it.
A gasping cry escaped Dimini's throat as her virginity was lost, but she continued to hold me tightly. We lay locked together without moving for a minute or two. My body almost completely covered hers. Holding Damini tightly, I remained fully buried in her hot, tight pussy. Continuing to fondle her breasts and kiss her neck seemed to help Damini get past the pain that breaking her cherry had produced.
In a short time, I could feel her body relaxing beneath me. Only then did I start slow and gentle strokes in and out of her pussy. All the while, I had been smothering her face and neck with kisses which she eagerly returned.
I had never felt anything quite like Damini's pussy. Even though she had just lost her virginity, and was still extremely tight, she produced enough lubricating juices to make the stroking smooth and easy. My dick felt like it was snugly wrapped in wet warm velvet.
Gradually, Damini began timidly returning my thrust. I was soon taking full, deep, strokes into her. Her thrusts were becoming more and more forceful as well. Then, with little warning, she tensed and lifted her ass completely off the bed. "Oh my! Yes! Please, don't stop!" Her voice was ragged as the orgasm overtook her.
In the mean time, I was driving into her hot hole as hard and deep as I could. With one final plunge, I slammed deep into her freshly opened love hole, hugged her tightly, and pumped a load of hot cum deep inside Damini.
We stayed connected, and I nibbled her ears and neck as we slowly came down together. I stayed in her until I softened. Only then did I slowly pull out and rolled off Damini. We cuddled and talked until falling asleep about 20 minutes later.
Some time during the night, I heard the shower running. The combination of Damini's juices, my cum, and a little blood from her destroyed cherry earlier in the evening had made quite a mess of her legs and ass.
I was awoken in the morning by the sun was shining brightly through the gaps in the curtains. I reached out to hug Damini. She was not there.
Sometime during the night, she must have packed and continued her trip to Atlanta. Or, was Damini just a dream? Was she just a figment of my imagination?
No! She was not a dream. Damini had been very real. The evidence of her presence was still in the air. Her perfume lingered mixed with the scent of sex. The reddish stains on the sheets bore positive proof I had not simply dreamed of her. Damini had been there, but all I had left was my memory of her.
The memory of Damini will stay with me a long time. Her petite, dark-skinned body, shy manner, delicious perfume, and the special gift of her cherry will stay with me forever.