Unlike her mother Indrani, my houseowner’s daughter Nila was tall, maybe five feet six or seven inches, about 168 cm. She was thin, and counter to most women, had short hair. The one thing she shared with her mother was her curves. She also had a pierced nose that I found particularly erotic. Unlike her mother though, she was shy, very unsure of her sexuality, being almost childish in her flirtations. But she did flirt, which I welcomed.
She also had a close-knit group of friends that I was welcomed into, making my time in Delhi much more interesting. There was Rashmi who was brash and a bit annoying, her one asset being her tits, she was stacked. At least a 36D in American bra sizes, don’t even ask me how that might translate across cultures, but let’s just say, her breasts were quite prominent.
Then there was Ajanta, a very petite dark-skinned Tamil girl whose smile was infectious. She was very cheerful and, of the three, the easiest to hang out with as a westerner. She was clearly the leader of the pact. They had a few male friends, but more often than not, it was the three of them and myself.
They were my guides during my time there as well as my “key informants” if you will into Indian youth culture. I often met one, two, or all three of them at the campus canteen in between classes for chai and samosas and we would usually meet after classes and go out and about, sometimes over to Connaught Place to wander around, sometimes to old Delhi. A few times we ventured to the upper scale shopping areas of south Delhi.
Generally, though, we would end up at one of their places to chat and study, particularly Rashmi’s as her father was a bigwig civil servant and they had a beautiful home.
Once my affair with Indrani started, I couldn’t help but check out Rashmi’s mother. Though attractive, she seemed quite cold and distant actually. She probably needed a good fuck, but I sure wasn’t going to be the one to give it to her.
It was after I started fucking Indrani on a regular basis that I found myself becoming increasingly bold in my interactions with the three girls. It was one trip to old Delhi though that opened the gates to some more erotic and intimate encounters.
It was just Nila, Rashmi and myself going, as Ajanta had some other things to take care of. We were taking a cycle rickshaw toward the Jama Masjid, and ultimately Karim’s for dinner one night.
It was still a bit chilly in the evening and the girls had shawls on, Nila over a shalwar kameez and Rashmi in jeans and a long kurta. The three of us jumped into one rickshaw, which meant that Nila had to sit on my lap.
When she climbed up, I spread my legs apart so her ass was directly on my crotch. Given the bumpy ride, it was probably not the best choice I made, but feeling her ass constantly rub up and down on my cock felt good. And I know she could feel me getting hard underneath her.
Rashmi was squeezed in next to us and, without any option, I stretched my right arm around her, sliding my hand under her shawl onto her back. She stiffened at first but then relaxed. With my other arm, I wrapped it around Nila, placing my hand on her belly.