On the Road Ch. 01

Dave took his foot off the pedal and stepped on the brakes lightly, bringing the car to a a halt. We were now right in front of a small "paan" shack on the Bombay-Agra highway somewhere in Northern Maharashtra. It was 3 in the afternoon, and the sun was shining bright. Dave put the car in neutral and looked at me.

"You know what I want." he said.

I nodded and looked straight ahead.

"Can we..." I said tentatively, "well...can we drive a bit further so I can muster up the courage?"

"Come on, Pooja! This is the fifth shack already!" Dave said in a slightly annoyed voice.

"Yes, I know. I am sorry, but this location seems a bit risky. And the guy in the shack looks..." I turned over my shoulder to look at the shack. Dave turned and looked to and said,

"He looks what? To me, he looks old and thin. Minimum risk. And there are no other shacks, stores or houses anywhere in sight. The traffic is light too. Pooja, this is as safe as it can get."

I didn't say anything, and looked down.

"Frankly Pooja, I am starting to think this whole trip was a big mistake. What we had going online was better. Maybe we should call it off even now. I'll drop you off at your home, and maybe drive around India alone like any typical American tourist. Taj Mahal, Rajasthan, Khajuraho, Ajanta Caves, beer in South Bombay, and then back to the States. And you can do and get kick-started on your wedding shopping."

"No, Dave, please. All I am saying is, I need a little more time. Maybe half an hour. And then..." I protested.

"No! You've been using this half an hour excuse for four hours now. You know I don't like the usual Master-Slave drama like others, but you must remember, you agreed to obey me. I am going to put my foot down. I command you, do it now! Or I turn this car back, drop you in your home town, and I go my way. After all, if this simple task is so difficult for you, the rest of the trip is going to be impossible."

I sat there, conflicted. I did not want him to leave. I did want this trip. But I was scared too. And tense. But he was right. This was very simple. If I could not do this, then the rest of the trip was going to be unthinkable. I tried to psyche myself into readiness. It's a small thing, I told myself. Like ripping off a band-aid... or a wax-strip. Like jumping in the cold water and braving those first two minutes of chill. Like...

"Well?" Dave interrupted my chain of thoughts.

"OK, I'll do it. But, I have a request." I said.

"Could you please get out of the car and stand next to the door where he can see you?" I said in a pleading voice.

"Alright, since this is your first task, I will. But in the future, I make the rules, and you follow them, get it?" Dave said. He opened the door, stepped out of the car, and stood there. I took a deep breath, opened the passenger side door and stepped out too.

I slowly walked to the shack and was standing in front of the window-counter. The old man behind the counter, who was sitting on a stool, looked at me quizzically.

"One pack of big Gold Flake cigarettes and three packs of Benson & Hedges. And three bottles of water." I said to him in Hindi.

The old man reached to his right and took out the cigarette packets and plonked them in front of me. He then got up and went to the back of his shack.

"They're not cold. Is that OK?" he asked.

I had been busy craning my neck in either direction to make sure there were no pedestrians walking towards us. All I could see was Dave, leaning against the car.

"Yes, that's fine." I said. He got three bottles put them on the counter next to the cigarette packs.

"Anything else?" the old man asked. I shook my head. "That will be.... 265 rupees." and he started putting everything in a plastic bag.

And here it was. The moment of reckoning. The first step. I looked back at Dave with a pleading look on my face, almost praying that he'd tell me to just pay the man with money and get it over with. But Dave only gave me a stern look and nodded his head slightly, as if telling me to go ahead.

"Memsaab, 265 rupees." the old man reminded me again.

Memsaab.... the word made me smile a little. A word that was coined during the British rule of India to refer to British women. But now, all these decades after independence, if you used it to address a stranger, you were usually a poor person from the lower classes of Indian society. And that stranger was usually an Indian woman from the rich or upper middle class, dressed in Western clothes. And I did look like a Memsaab. I was wearing a knee length skirt which showed off my milky white calves. A t-shirt with some English gag written on it. And my hair was straight and streaked with blond highlights.

"Memsaab?" he said again, interrupting my irrelevant thoughts. I looked at him, and for the first time looked into his eyes. This was it. Enough stalling. It was now or never.

"I don't have money to pay you for this, but I have another offer if you are interested." There, I said it!

"Ug....huh?" he said confused.

"If you let me take all of this, I will take off my t-shirt and bra, and let you look at my boobs for one whole minute." Just saying it out aloud gave me goose pimples. Saying it in Hindi ('mammey' for boobs) The die was cast.

"What???" he almost shouted, and I repeated my offer in very calm words.

The old man swallowed nervously. He looked at me with renewed interest, almost checking me out. He then fixed his gaze on my ample bosom, my 34D boobs straining against the t-shirt. He then looked at Dave. Dave is a white man with a big chest and huge arms, and he stands at 6 ft 4. He looks intimidating even when he is wearing a suit. And on that day he was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt that showed off his tattoo-covered arms, and cut-off denim shorts which showed off his massive thighs.

"Won't he.... get angry?" the old man whispered.

"No, don't worry about him." I said, feeling a lot more confident. "So do we have a deal? All this for one minute of my naked boobs."

"Five minutes!" the old man found his voice and countered, holding up 5 fingers. When the study of human genomes gets advanced, I am sure scientists will find that Indians have a dominant haggling gene. Even in this situation, faced with the opportunity to see topless the sort of women he would never even get to talk to beyond a minute, the old man was haggling.

"Three minutes. Final offer." I said, holding up three fingers, suddenly enjoying this. I looked back and saw Dave laughing. He did not understand Hindi, but understood what was going on.

"OK." the old man said, and grabbed the plastic bag with my stuff in it. He then looked at a dust-covered clock on the wall and said "I will give this to you after three full minutes of your... show."

For a few seconds, I felt exhilarated, as if I had just climbed the Everest. But then reality bit me hard. As much as I had dreaded saying all this, it was the easy part. The difficult part still lay ahead. Holding up my end of the bargain. ------- I looked at Dave, and he gave me a broad smile of encouragement. I looked up and down the highway. There were no vehicles. And I looked at the old man, who was now staring at me with a very hungry look on his face. I'd better get done with this fast, I thought to myself. I reached down with my hands, and pulled my t-shirt upwards. I first pulled it slowly, stopping when the t-shirt was bunched up under my chin, showing the old man my bra-covered tits. His eyes grew wide and he opened his mouth as he stared at them.

I paused like that for two seconds and pulled the t-shirt over my head, taking it off completely. I held the t-shirt in my right hand and just stood there, suddenly aware of most of my torso being exposed. The old man could now see my flat stomach, my big bra-covered tits, my cleavage my shoulders, my belly button.

"Wow! You're so beautiful!" the old man said, but then his practical side kicked in and he reminded me, "Remember, the three minutes don't start until you take that off too."

He was right. I looked up and down the highway again many times. Still deserted. Then I reached back and unclasped my bra. The sheer weight of my tits always made sure that whenever I unclasped my bra, it fell forward instantly, hanging off my arms, bringing my tits completely into view. I heard the old man inhale loudly as he got a look at my tits. I took off the bra too, and held it in my right hand with my t-shirt.

And there I finally was. Completely topless in front of a stranger on an Indian highway. I looked back at Dave. He looked at me, smiled and nodded in approval. He then gave me the thumbs up sign. Then I noticed his gaze move from me towards the old man. Dave cocked his eyebrows and smiled again. He then looked at me and gestured me to look at the old man.

As I looked back at the shack, I saw the old man looking at me hungrily. Also, his right hand had disappeared below the counter and has moving rapidly. That's when it hit me. He was masturbating! It disgusted me and turned me on in equal measure. A horny old man that I'd have normally ignored if he had addressed me on the street to ask for the time. And here I was, topless, helping him jack off.

"Please come closer." the old man said in a breathless voice.

"Okay" I said with a smile "But no touching."

And I stepped forward, until I was resting against the wall and my boobs were hanging over the counter. From that angle, I could see the old man's dick. It was erect, medium sized, and very dark. There was a thick bush of pubic hair around it. And the old man's right hand was jerking hard at his dick.

"Ohhh.... you are so hot." the old man said as he kept staring at me and I kept staring at his dick with amusement and arousement.

That's when I heard the sound of an engine in the distance. I was about to turn around and watch when I heard Dave say in a very commanding voice,

"Don't panic. Just stay where you are. They probably won't even notice. And even if they do, I am right here."

I just stood there, as if frozen into a statue as the sound of the engine grew louder. It sounded like a truck. I was aware of every millisecond as the truck passed by. And Dave turned out to be right. The truck passed without noticing me standing there topless.

"Please memsaab....please...can I touch.... just once? Please?" the old man said in a pleading voice. "You can have anything you want from my shop. Take everything. Just let me touch those magnificent breasts once."

The hungry look on his face gave me a sense of power that I had never enjoyed before. At the same time, I felt bad for the poor man. He probably lead a joyless life. Today was going to be a day which he'd remember forever. Why not make it perfect for him by letting him touch me?

"Dave, I am going to let him touch me." I yelled to Dave to make sure he didn't take the old man's actions as aggressive and unwanted. Then I looked into the old man's eyes and nodded slowly.

He didn't need a second invitation. Right away, he jumped up from his stool, and with his right hand still jacking his dick, he stepped ahead and with his left hand, grabbed my right breast. I inhaled deeply as I felt his rough callused hands grab my tit and press it hard. I closed my eyes as he started massaging it. That's when he suddenly stopped and said

"Ahhhhhh..."

The next thing I knew, i felt something warm and sticky hit my stomach and tits. It took me a couple of seconds to register what was happening. The man was cumming! And he was cumming all over my tits. I opened my eyes and saw that sure enough, the old man was holding his dick pointed upwards, still rubbing it, and was was shooting the jizz all over my upper body. A few specks even landed on my neck and my chin.

"Yuckkkkkk!!!" I shouted and stepped back. "YOU DIRTY OLD MAN!!! HOW DARE YOU!!!"

But all I hear was laughter. Two distinct laughters. The old man and Dave were both laughing as I stumbled back, almost falling, looking at the semen all over my body.

"Sorry, memsaab." the old man finally stopped laughing and said with a lecherous smile. "I got carried away."

"Idiot!" I said and started cleaning his jizz with my t-shirt.

Meanwhile Dave, still laughing, walked towards the counter and held out his hand. The old man smiled and gave him the plastic bag. Dave took out one pack of B&H, opened it and took out a cigarette. He put it in his mouth and lit it with his zippo lighter.

I had cleaned the old man's jizz using the t-shirt and put my bra back on. There was no way I could wear the t-shirt any more. I threw it at the old man and he caught it deftly with his right hand and started laughing again.

"Let's go Dave." I said in a cold voice, and started walking towards the car.

"In a minute." Dave said and took a long puff from the cigarette. He then fished his wallet out of his pocket and took out a crisp 500 rupee note. He kept it in the counter, said "Keep the change." and walked back to the car with the plastic back.

I walked around to the passengers side and just as I got in, the old man yelled,

"Come again soon, memsaab. Everything is on the house for you." and started cackling again.

Dave got in, put the car in gear and started driving.

"Well done!" he said to me.

In spite of the fact that I was feeling a bit upset, I smiled and said,

"Thank you" ------------------------

It all started six months ago. I had lead a pretty typical life for an upper middle class girl in Thane. I studied hard in high school, got into engineering college did OK there, and eventually got a job in an IT company. On the way, I had what I consider a fairly normal love life. Had a boyfriend in high school, but kept it secret from my parents. Him and I did not go beyond kissing and heavy petting. By the time he started pressuring me to sleep with him, I had realized there was no future in that relationship. So we broke up.

In engineering college, I was at the receiving end of a lot of attention because of my looks, which were much better than the average female engineering student. I was slim, with big boobs, had a shapely body otherwise, silky hair, a pretty face, and I dressed trendily, not hiding my beauty. So naturally I had all sorts of guys fighting for my attention. In the second year, I finally committed to a guy and officially became his girlfriend. I lost my virginity to him, on his parents' bed, when they were out of town. Eventually we told our parents about each other, and neither of them had any objections. So all through engineering, we were a couple, and with the understanding that eventually we'd get married.

In the final year of engineering, we both applied to the same American schools for graduate studies. This is where my first mistake happened. He was a lot smarter than I was. Among the toppers in the university. And got a near perfect GRE score. So he had applied to the Harvards, Stanfords, MITs of the world. Even his "safe schools" were high ranked. I was an average student. And my GRE score was not too great either. So when the universities got back to us, it turned out he had been accepted to 3 schools, and I had been rejected by all of them. I should have applied to some lower ranked schools. But I had not, and was thus not going to America.

We got engaged in an elaborate ceremony before he flew to the US to start his graduate studies at MIT. I started working in one of the big IT firms in Thane. The plan was, that I would re-apply, this time to lower ranked schools in and around Boston, so we could be together. But then it happened to us. Something that happens to millions of couples. Having been together practically all the time for 3 years, we found the switch to a long distance relationship very difficult to manage. Plus the time zone difference. We'd fight and fight, over chat, over emails and over the phone. We started becoming jealous of each others friendships with members of the opposite sex.

And eventually he cheated on me. Said he had found his actual "soulmate" in the US. We broke up, or rather he dumped me. The wedding was off. My parents were devastated and his parents were unhappy too. But he was steadfast in his decision.

Now break-ups of long term relationships and engagements always hit self-esteem really hard. But what hit my self-esteem even harder were some of the reasons he gave for dumping me. He told me how sex with his new girlfriend was great. How she was imaginative, experimental, kinky, and made him feel like a real man. Sex between us, he said, had been very boring and vanilla. I refused to experiment or try anything new. I was too conservative, he said. Even if we had gotten married, I could not have satisfied him and he would have had to look elsewhere for sex. So it was better that we ended it now. And one of the last things he said that will stay with me for life - "Pooja, you think that just because you are pretty and have a hot body, that is enough for a guy. It isn't. Having sex with you is like fucking a very pretty wax statue from Madam Tussaud's".

He told me how his new girlfriend experimented in bed. Loved to be tied up. Actually enjoyed giving blowjobs and didn't treat them as boring chores. Watched porn with him, read erotic stories with him, and played out fantasies. Whenever he had tried to get me into all this, I had protested, saying it was too "perverse". And he was right. I had thought it too perverse.

As I started dealing with the break-up, that aspect of his criticism stung me the most. Living in Thane with conservative parents, I didn't really have too many options to explore my horizons in real life. In fact my parents were convinced that despite being in a long relationship, I was still a virgin. I couldn't bring guys home and experiment with them sexually. Neither could I spend nights with other guys. And frankly, even if I had the freedom to do all that, I just didn't find any guys I worked with, or guys in my extended friends circle, attractive or exciting enough.

So I did what many Indian girls do to satisfy their sexual curiosity. I started visiting porn sites, reading erotic stories on sites like literotica, ASSTR, FSI, ISS etc. I had watched some porn before, but it had been just regular "vanilla" porn. But through the stories, I got exposed to different things. Threesomes, foursomes, group sex, cuckolding, BDSM, and what turned me on the most- exhibitionism.

I had always been somewhat of an exhibitionist, even if a very mild one. I liked wearing tight jeans, tight t-shirts and tops that drew attention to my cleavage. Through my teen years and later, I was always amused at how guys of all sorts, whether they were fellow-students, professors, shop-keepers, cab drivers, or even family friends, often sneaked a peak at my huge boobs. I enjoyed the attention, but I had never really thought of taking it beyond just providing cleavage-glimpses. But as I read stories of women flashing their tits and asses to truckers on highway, or in bars and clubs, or even otherwise, I started getting turned on. I'd fantasize about doing all that. Showing some actual naked skin.

I also noticed that there were hardly any good stories of exhibitionism set in the Indian context. They were all set in America or Europe. And of course, those societies were a lot more liberal, where women would get away with this. In India, I could not really try anything. If I flashed myself to someone, they'd jump me and rape me. Or then police might arrest me. I lived in a country where a couple kissing on the street can be charged with a crime and taken to jail. What chance did my fantasies have? So I was limited only to fantasizing.

And then Dave entered my life. He was my favorite author. His stories were almost always about exhibitionism and voyeurism, with a very light BDSM element thrown in. There were no masters and slaves calling each other "master" and "slave", like playing out some movie script. But there was always a dominant person who told the girl how and where to exhibit herself. That theme was common through his stories. I'd read and re-read his stories, imagine myself to be the girl in the story, and masturbate myself to multiple orgasms.