The next morning was bright and clear. My Corsair had been brought up on deck. It was painted dark blue above and white below and the original markings restored. As I walked up I noticed something different. On the engine cowling a pirate's flag had been painted. On the opposite side on the cowling in beautiful cursive they had painted, Lone Ranger. The ground crew broke into the theme of the Lone Ranger, clapping on their knees like a horse racing along. I looked at the Chief who was smiling.
“You got to wear your kills, Sir,” he said.
I couldn’t help but laugh. The ground crew helped me into the plane and as they strapped me in, the one young kid said, “You done good, Sir. Safe flying today.”
“Thanks,” I said.
He saluted and jumped down. The starter pulled the prop through and I hit the ignition. I noticed that the switch on the floor was gone as if it had never been there. I was feeling a mix of emotions as I readied the plane, lowered the wings, and lined up on the deck. I was happy to be leaving, but I also felt a sense of loss, that I was no longer going to be part of this entity, the crews, the men who make this monster of the sea what it is. I had been a part for just a few days and the comradeship I felt was the most intense I had ever felt. Thirty degrees of flap, rev up the engine, the launch officer saluted me, then lunged into the wind. I released the brakes. It was a little difficult seeing as I lifted off, not because of the design of the Corsair this time, but because there was a mist over my eyes.
I raised the wheels and flaps and turned back. At two hundred feet, I did a slow roll as I passed the Kitty Hawk. I could see the crews waving as I went by. I could also imagine Captain Bowman muttering, 'Damn pilots!' The trip to Bombay was a quick jaunt as I was half way across the Ocean already.
You’ve seen movies of India, with all these milling masses filling the streets. Well, you have no idea until you see just how many people fill those streets. The reality is daunting. How in the hell do they feed all of those people? From the look of most of them, they don’t feed them. India does not have America’s obesity problem. I almost decided to climb back in the plane and leave right then.
I hired a taxi at the airport and had him take me to a reasonable hotel, reasonable for a Westerner that is. I wanted running water and a toilet that wasn’t a hole in the floor. The driver’s English was good but heavily accented. He asked what I was doing and I told him. He asked if I wanted to meet an Indian lady. I said I wouldn’t mind, if she were attractive.
Why is it that some ethnicities have a much higher percent of good looking women than others? Okay, accuse me of racism or whatever, but it is true. It isn’t race, per se. I mean, Thais and Swedes have a high percentage of good looking women per total population. Malays and Norwegians, right next door to those countries don’t have such a high ratio, they are pretty much in the middle. But Arab and Indian women have a way too high percentage of uglies and a way low percentage of beauties. Arab women wear a veil and it isn’t to protect them from the sun.
I made sure the driver understood I meant good looking by my standards, not the India standard. He assured me she was attractive and accomplished. I told him I’d close the door in her face if she barked. He was sure, so I said send her.
I got cleaned up. I had lunch in the hotel and it was good, different than the ‘Indian’ food I got at home. This was much spicier, and also more flavorful.
It was hot in the afternoon so I rested in the hotel, napping briefly. When Americans travel to countries like India you get a real understanding of the siesta. Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun. The air and heat saps your strength. A little midday nap sounded just fine.
I was awakened by a knock. When I opened the door, a tall woman in a sari was there. “I am Geeta,” in musical but understandable English. I didn’t make the connection immediately until she mentioned the driver. He was right, she was quite attractive, at least the part I could see, so I invited her in.
She mentioned a price and I mentally did the math. I paid more for a bottle of wine than her price. I knew it was probably higher than her usual since I was a ‘rich’ American, but I just couldn’t bring myself to quibble. I nodded.
Geeta came into my arms and we kissed. Soon, her hands were wandering around and my clothes seemed to melt away in the afternoon heat of Bombay. She pushed me back onto the bed and stripped off the last of my clothes. Smiling, she began a subtle dance to music only she could hear, though I could see in her face that she was hearing music. Her clothes slowly dropped onto the floor as my cock responded to the tease and stood up; clothes going down, blood rushing up.
As the last piece of cloth dropped, she was naked, except for the painted jewel smack in the middle of her forehead that has always reminded me of the Cyclops. She still danced, but now she came over to the bed. Still moving with some natural rhythm, she bent over me, her hands lovingly finding my cock, and bent down to take it into her mouth.
Her eyes held mine as she sucked and licked my staff, making it longer and harder with each pull of her lips along the slick shaft. It was like she was making my hard on with her lips. Her tongue flicked against the end as she sucked. It was wonderful. When it was fully inflated, she sat up, her hand still lightly stroking me, keeping me as hard as stone. She straddled my loins, slipping the shaft into her, and sat down, driving my cock into her.
Then she started doing things I had never felt before. She sat perfectly still, a slight smile on her face, as her internal muscles began to milk at my cock. Nothing seemed to be moving but those warm wet fingers inside her as they rolled up and down my shaft. Christ, she could make me cum and never move. I had to push back the rush of sensation or I knew I’d be cumming in no time.
I knew then the woman had studied the Kama Sutra and she knew how to please a man. She shifted slightly and began moving up and down her internal muscles still milking at my cock. I had never felt anything quite like this. After a few minutes of this exquisite torture, she moved again to a different position but never quit massaging my cock. Americans might not belive it being raised on a steady diet of sex is sinful but the Kama Sutra was written as a holy book. Many Eastern cultures feel that you approach God during sex and therefore it is a religious duty to have sex and have rollicking good sex. Indian temples are often adorned with figures that would be banned from our TV like one I saw that had devotees engaged in gymnastic sex. That's my sort of religious worship.
We rolled to the side into another position, then another, and another. I lost track of everything except how good this felt. Arms went this way and that. Legs were intertwined, then released. Finally, I wound up on top of Geeta and began pounding into her. I was ready by his time and felt the urges deep in me. Blast after blast I sent my cum into her. She moaned and shuddered as I emptied myself into her.
We lay on the bed after, covered with a fine sheen from the exertions in the heat of Bombay. After I had recovered I was feeling languid and satisfied. She was curled up at my side as I softly touched her and she me. I was just floating along, not a worry in the world. She was asking me about my flight, my life in America, and about sex in America. I happened to mention my fantasy to have a virgin, at least once in my life. Isn't it funny that in America we try so hard to suppres sex and what happens, you can't find a virgin girl unless you find a girl under fourteen.
Her head came up, “That is possible.”
I looked at her and I could see she was being genuine. I could also see that this wasn’t a particularly unusual subject like it would be in America with giggles or outrage. “How?” I asked.
“Oh yes. I have a cousin, she is ready to enter the profession,” she said.
“I don’t want a child,” I said rather defensively.
“No, no. She is ready. She will enter soon. You can be the first or some other man can be first but it will be soon and it will be some man. Why not you?” she asked.
I couldn’t answer that because I was skewered on the dilemma of my own upbringing on one hand, and what I knew to be right on the other. Why not me? “Why is she going to become a…” I couldn’t say it.
Geeta laughed, “A courtesan.”
“Yes, a courtesan.”
“Because, her mother is a courtesan, just like our mother was, and her mother before her. She has always known what her life would be.”
Here, women are locked into profession, and their children follow them. It all goes back to caste system. Geeta and her cousin had grown up the children of the bordellos, knowing their life was ordained.
This brings me to one of those nagging questions in life. Am I responsible for everything wrong in the world? Obviously, from my Western vantage, the locking of people into their ‘proper’ social level is wrong. Hell, that is partially why we tossed those goddamn British and their Aristocracy. Do I have to cure all of the world’s ills? Or can I say, 'When in Rome?'
The very world view is different in a Hindu world. This is a middle world, neither good nor bad. If you live life well, for a thousand lifetimes, you can get promoted to a better world. Another thousand good lives, a better world, until eventually you can get to Nirvana. Talk about delayed gratification. Hindus believe this is a middle world by design and that it will always be a middle world. The idea of progress, in a Western sense of the world becoming a better place, is anti-religious in a Hindu world. The idea is to become a better person and leave this middle world not make this world a better place.
Gandhi showed his western education in believing in the possible improvement of India and again in using Western methods following Thoreau’s method of civil disobedience. It was very Un-Hindu. So, who is right? Has the world gotten better or simply different? What is the difference between Roman Gladiators and UFC fighters bashing each other’s brains out in staged cage fights? Have we really progressed beyond those barbarians? Of course, we in the west are always right. Really?
As Geeta was leaving she stopped in the doorway. “Should I bring my cousin?”
I hesitated but the never filled fantasy won, of course. “Can you bring her tonight?”
She smiled, “Can you perform tonight?”
I smiled, “That won’t be a problem.”
“I will bring her. Since this is her first, the cost will be higher,” she said delicately.
I nodded.
She smiled and left.
I had dinner at the hotel early and retired to my room. I lay in bed and fantasized about the girl I was about to meet. I had been a little slow in high school with girls. Being raised with brothers, I was slow to realize you had to treat girls differently, that is if you wanted to get laid. I figured that out when I was in the army, but by then all the virgins were de-virginized, at least the girls I met around army bases.
I was brought out of my reverie by a soft knock on the door. Nervously, I jumped out of bed, smoothed my shirt, and opened the door. Geeta was there and next to here was a small girl who looked to be about ten. Geeta came in, followed by the girl. I was put off by the girl; she had to be too young.
Geeta introduced me, “This is my niece, Suchitra.”
“I am very pleased to meet you,” I said to the girl who looked down at the floor when I spoke to her. Then to Geeta, “She is too young. What is she ten?”
“I have told you, she is not too young. She is fourteen and has already had her first monthly,” she said with some heat.
I was surprised, but I also didn’t think Geeta was lying. In a flash I realized that with the kind of diet the girl ate, she probably was behind American girls in growth. But damn, she did look young. Geeta’s eyes challenged me, ‘What are you going to do?’
I took a deep breath, “As you say.” I looked the girl over, and other than her youth she wasn’t bad looking. But I was still unsure about how she looked with the loose clothing she was wearing.
Geeta put her hand on my arm, “Please. I know you will be gentle with her from earlier. I felt you were a considerate lover. That is why I offered her to you. If you do not, then some other who maybe will not take care and hurt her will be first.
The woman was making me feel guilty for not having sex with the girl. I was trapped and I knew it. It was time to cooperate with the inevitable. I nodded, “Okay.”
Geeta smiled. Then she knelt and spoke to the girl in rapid sing song. The girl nodded several times looking serious. Then Geeta stood. “She doesn’t speak English yet. But then how much talking does she need to do. So much you can say with the body,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “I will come back later.” She talked quickly with the girl who nodded, then Geeta swept from the room.
That left me alone with Suchitra. How was I to start when we didn’t share one word of a common language? I smiled. She smiled back. Then she solved the problem. She started removing her robe. It was soon apparent that I had been very wrong in my assessment. The girl was short and that made me think she was younger. As she took off her clothes it soon was evident that she actually had a nice little body under her clothing.
She lay back on the bed. That woke me up from my trance as I had watched her strip. In moments, my clothes were off and I joined her on the bed. She was smiling at my hurry. As I lay next to her, the smile went away and was replaced by anxiety. I wished I could say, don’t worry, but hadn’t the words. I said it in actions. I bent over and gently kissed her. As I broke the kiss, she opened her eyes and smiled, which I returned. We kissed again, softly and slowly.
I was wondering how much the girl would know of sex, then remembered she grew up in a brothel She had probably been watching people have sex since she was old enough to remember. She probably knew more than I did; she just had no personal experience.
'What the hell,' I thought. 'I’ll give her the experience she needs.' Her tits were small but well formed, and firm with large brown nipples on top. I bent forward and kissed her tit. My tongue lashed the nipple before I sucked it into my lips. The girl lay back on the bed and moaned softly. My other hand gently caressed her other nipple.
I kissed lower down across her flat belly then down to her triangle of fur. She was watching me intently whether with anticipation or anxiety I couldn’t tell. She jerked when my tongue first touched her labia. She moaned when my tongue began circling her bud. I laved her bud up and down and sideways as her hips began a rhythmic bouncing in time with the ministrations of my tongue. I licked down to her opening just to check if I had been hoodwinked. She had a hymen, though it wasn’t much. But she definitely hadn’t had a full size cock inside.
Quickly, her pussy was awash with her juices. I rose up over her seating my cock between her legs. She reached between her legs and seated my cock at the entrance of her pussy, rubbing it around to get it wet. I was surprised she knew what to do, then I realized, even though a virgin, she had spent her life watching people screw and probably been trained on what to do herself. She was trying to please which was fine with me.
I pressed forward, felt the resistance of muscles unused to being spread and the flap of skin of her hymen. It tore easily as I pressed it forcing her open. My cock slid deeply into the girl. Suchitra moaned as I pressed deeply inside her pussy. Once inside, I began a slow rhythm until she relaxed a little. Her hips began moving with mine. I felt her pussy muscles ripple along my cock. More of that training she had received. The girl was trying hard to please and with her naturally tight pussy that rippling made the pressure spike. I nearly shot my wad right then.
Banging the girl hard now, I was humping away feeling the climax coming quickly. The girl stayed with me like a pro. I had cum recently with Geeta so I had a little reserve, but fucking this young tight girl was too much. Rumbling, my balls emptied themselves as blast after blast I sent my cum into her pussy.
I suspect what I had just done was illegal for most Americans. Luckily for me, I was immune. When Congress passed the law making it illegal to travel overseas to have sex with someone under 18, even if legal in that country, they couldn’t use the sex act itself since that occurred outside US jurisdiction. So what they did is they made it illegal to use a commercial carrier like an airline or a cruise ship with the intent to have sex. The crime isn’t the sex, since that is legal and outside the US. It is traveling on a federally regulated carrier with the intent to have sex. One wonders how the Government knows your intent when you board a plane. Does getting on board with a hardon prove intent? Since I was traveling in my own plane, the law didn’t apply to me.
And what most folks don’t get is it doesn’t apply to Congress either. You see, when Congressmen go on their jaunts they travel on Air Force jets so the law doesn’t apply to them either. You can always tell a bad law, like sexual harassment, Obamacare, or social security, because Congress exempts themselves from the law. I just saw a write up of a case before the Supreme court on Federal workers access to the courts. Turns out Congress tried to make it impossible for Federal workers to use the laws Congress has written for workers, like unions, to use against regular companies. If we were to go through the federal register and repeal all laws that Congress has exempted themselves from we would go a long way to cleaning up the bad laws in this country.
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