Khandala Overpass is a winding cut through the Western Ghats Mountains that connects Lonavla with Mumbai and the Pune. On the south side, where the road drops below National Highway 4 and the fast four lanes thin to two crumbling invitations to a head-on collision, the Hills becomes funky Khandala, where forty-year-old bungalows sit next to multilevel glass contemporaries that sit next to gingerbread houses. Shivaji built a castle in there among the steep hillsides. Salim Khan lived in a clapboard house near the little market that still serves as the Hills's only commercial outpost.
The Hills was a place where the new rich -- rock stars, writers, film actors, and drug dealers -- came to live. They braved the mudslides and the monumental traffic tie-ups just to call the Khandala Overpass home. Varun lived on Shantipur Mountain Drive, a steep upward grade off Khandala Overpass Boulevard that made Manisha Karmakar's BMW convertible work extra hard. Manisha pulled to the curb behind a multicolour Ambassador that was at least twenty-five years old. Khandala Overpass was like that, a time warp.
She wore tight fitting jeans and a blouse that was not tucked in, but still could not conceal the swaying of her generous breasts as she strode up the walkway and rang the doorbell. From deep in the house she heard a large dog bark and after some twenty seconds the door opened and Varun stood there, bare-chested, and wearing only a pair of paint-stained jeans and boat shoes.
"I'm Manisha," she stated matter-of-factly.
"Come in. I'm Varun," he said.
She decided he was about forty and slightly out of shape, but she could tell that he was, or had been athletic from the way he walked, leading her into the cozy living room and gesturing for her to be seated in what was a Lazy-Boy recliner.
"Beer or Tequila? He asked quietly.
"Beer," Manisha replied and wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. "It must be a hundred and five out there," she said as he moved into the kitchen to retrieve two beers.
"A hundred and seven as of ten minutes ago," Varun answered, returning quickly and handing Manisha a cold beer.
She took a long gulp and gave a light belch, causing Varun to grin at her.
'He's handsome enough, if he lost ten kgs, ' she thought.
"So," he began, "you said on the phone that you had two good prospects. Now, I don't know you from YRF, or Lathika, but the Anurag says you're legit."
"Hardly legit," she replied with a dry laugh, then took another swallow and belched again; this one was significantly louder.
"Um, been in any flicks yourself?" He asked his curiosity piqued by the more than generous tits he was watching rise and fall with each breath Manisha took.
She smiled at him. "Not that you've had the pleasure of seeing."
"And the, err, prospects?"
"Nope, they're virgin in that regard."
"How old are these... virgins?"
"Do you really want to know? I have valid proof they're at least eighteen. Shouldn't that be enough?"
"Let's see it."
Manisha dug into her purse and produced two Maharashtra driver's licenses.
He studied them in turn. "Lathika Vadalkar, nineteen, not bad, got a picture of her naked?"
Manisha dug into her purse again and handed him two dog-eared photos.
"Nice," he said, almost purring.
"I heard that you preferred them young," she said, her voice a shade above a whisper.
"Uh-huh," he said, off in another world for the moment.
Manisha waited patiently until he turned to the next picture. "That's Manisha, Manisha Chaudhury, also nineteen, almost twenty.
"They runaways?" he asked suddenly, staring hard at her.
"Probably," she answered slowly, staring back at him. He looked away first.
"Gimme the truth, how old?"
Manisha shrugged. "You really want to know?"
"I asked you didn't I?"
"Evie's maybe eighteen, Manisha is nineteen, going on thirty.
"They like to fuck?"
"They live to fuck."
"They do women?"
"Some days I have to pull them apart with a leash."
Varun laughed at that, picturing it in his mind.
"And Anurag fuck 'em?"
"Regularly."
"You and him an item?"
"Motwane and I get it on... occasionally. Sometimes we do a foursome. If Motwane's up for it."
"Motwane's always up for it," Varun smiled knowingly.
"The girls and I... we make him wilt occasionally."
"I'll bet you do," he adjusted himself and Manisha's eye's lit up.
"Fancy a fuck, dearie?" He said in a Marathi accent that had Manisha laughing.
"Got a pool?"
"Got a pool table," he said, grinning lewdly.
"Good enough," Manisha said. "Lead on, oh Lord of Erotica," and she matched his grin with a lewdness of her own.
-------
They took the stairs to the second floor and sure enough, there was a green felt covered pool table. Manisha loved the concept and told him so. "I've never gotten laid on a pool table. It's a fantasy of mine."
"I always help a lady with her fantasy if I can," he said, unbuttoning his jeans.
Manisha nearly tore her blouse off and then began unfastening her jeans. She couldn't help but check him out, sneaking a peek at his cock. Manisha was impressed. Usually the makers of porno films had little dorky dicks, but Varun was well endowed by desi standards. Not as big as Motwane, but there weren't many men with foot long cocks. She guessed Varun to be about seven inches and fairly thick in circumference. The head of his cock was like a small apple, with a deep cleft at the bottom of his glans that flared up like a big giant mushroom. She continued struggling with her jeans and he came closer to help her.
She reached out, took him in hand and gave him a gentle squeeze.
"You've got a great set," he told her as she struggled with the tight jeans. "Can I help?"
"Umm, yeah, sure," she said and squeezed him again and then moaned softly as his precum oozed out and dribbled like honey over her fingers. She forgot about her jeans and caressed the crown of his dick.
It was a struggle, but together they finally enabled Manisha to squirm out of her jeans.
"Hop up on the table," he said, "I want to taste you."
Manisha did as he asked and then lay back and spread herself lewdly open before him.
"Hmmm," he said as he licked his lips, looks like a smorgasbord."
"Cunt ala carte," Manisha giggled, "Have at it, loverman."
But Varun left her there and went looking for a couple of towels to avoid leaving any telltale stains on the green felt cloth that covered the pool table.
Holding two black towels in the crook of his arm, Varun approached Manisha from the side and when her eyes followed him he made his dick jerk wildly and that caused her to start laughing.
"You're an amusing guy," Manisha laughed. "I hope you intend to treat my girls alright."
He was now leaning between her wide-spread thighs, looking lasciviously at the pink slit that was partly open to his view.
"I treat all my girls' right, you needn't worry about it. Besides, if they can act, or at least speak their lines clearly, I'll make them stars and they'll make all of us a ton of money."
"Are you mafia-related?"
"No. At least not so's you'd notice."
"What's that mean?" Manisha asked as his fingers found her slit and delved inside.
"It means I'm not with them. I sell product to them..." he added another finger and Manisha moaned with intense pleasure.
Varun kept talking, not sure if she could hear him. "But they're not interested in me, 'cause the feds might use it as a means of nailing the bastards to the wall. So they leave me alone, all they do is the distribution."
He leaned into her and she shrieked with joy as his tongue grazed her flank. Then, growling with lust he began licking her stomach, wriggling his tongue around in her navel like an animal might.
Before long, Manisha's hands were guiding him, pushing him lower. He was eager to taste her and as he moved ever lower he felt his chin running across her wiry pubic hair. His tongue replaced the fingers delving into her juicy cunt.
Manisha began chanting, "Yes... baby! Eat my cunt... Eat me, Varun!"
Varun knew how to give head, for he had practiced on, by his own count, some 1237 different women. He was able to achieve this only because he was in a position to hire young actresses eager to enter the porn industry.
His tongue started to make slow circles around her clit and then he began to gradually increase the tempo, sensing her growing need. His tongue flicked over her clit again only a little harder and then moved down her slit. As his tongue moved closer and closer to her tempting pink target, Manisha's moans grew louder and her hips moved faster up and down. Varun pulled away slightly and blew gently into her pussy; the puff of cool air across her erect clit caused her hips to move even faster. He moved his mouth back to her pussy and gently sucked her clit between his lips. Holding it, he pulled back a little as his tongue pressed hard against it. Manisha was now moaning without knowing it.
Varun felt her hands on the back of his head, urging him on. He continued to suck on her clit, pulling it deep into his mouth and then releasing it; moving his mouth down, he circled her opening with his tongue, lapping at the cream that was trying to escape.
Although he still preferred his women young, he found Manisha to his liking, for she was sloppy wet, fairly oozing the juice he loved to lap up. As he continued going down on her he searched his memory for another woman as juicy as this one and came up empty. She was by far the juiciest.
Manisha moaned, shuddered and sent her legs up around his shoulders as Varun continued to devour her pussy. He kept at her, relentlessly and Manisha had one last coherent thought. 'This guy sure loves his pussy.' Then she was screaming, her hips jerking spasmodically, pulling at his hair so hard she tore several tufts out.
He smacked her hard to force her to release his hair. Manisha never felt a thing, but did open her hands and let go of his mane.
The Hills was a place where the new rich -- rock stars, writers, film actors, and drug dealers -- came to live. They braved the mudslides and the monumental traffic tie-ups just to call the Khandala Overpass home. Varun lived on Shantipur Mountain Drive, a steep upward grade off Khandala Overpass Boulevard that made Manisha Karmakar's BMW convertible work extra hard. Manisha pulled to the curb behind a multicolour Ambassador that was at least twenty-five years old. Khandala Overpass was like that, a time warp.
She wore tight fitting jeans and a blouse that was not tucked in, but still could not conceal the swaying of her generous breasts as she strode up the walkway and rang the doorbell. From deep in the house she heard a large dog bark and after some twenty seconds the door opened and Varun stood there, bare-chested, and wearing only a pair of paint-stained jeans and boat shoes.
"I'm Manisha," she stated matter-of-factly.
"Come in. I'm Varun," he said.
She decided he was about forty and slightly out of shape, but she could tell that he was, or had been athletic from the way he walked, leading her into the cozy living room and gesturing for her to be seated in what was a Lazy-Boy recliner.
"Beer or Tequila? He asked quietly.
"Beer," Manisha replied and wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. "It must be a hundred and five out there," she said as he moved into the kitchen to retrieve two beers.
"A hundred and seven as of ten minutes ago," Varun answered, returning quickly and handing Manisha a cold beer.
She took a long gulp and gave a light belch, causing Varun to grin at her.
'He's handsome enough, if he lost ten kgs, ' she thought.
"So," he began, "you said on the phone that you had two good prospects. Now, I don't know you from YRF, or Lathika, but the Anurag says you're legit."
"Hardly legit," she replied with a dry laugh, then took another swallow and belched again; this one was significantly louder.
"Um, been in any flicks yourself?" He asked his curiosity piqued by the more than generous tits he was watching rise and fall with each breath Manisha took.
She smiled at him. "Not that you've had the pleasure of seeing."
"And the, err, prospects?"
"Nope, they're virgin in that regard."
"How old are these... virgins?"
"Do you really want to know? I have valid proof they're at least eighteen. Shouldn't that be enough?"
"Let's see it."
Manisha dug into her purse and produced two Maharashtra driver's licenses.
He studied them in turn. "Lathika Vadalkar, nineteen, not bad, got a picture of her naked?"
Manisha dug into her purse again and handed him two dog-eared photos.
"Nice," he said, almost purring.
"I heard that you preferred them young," she said, her voice a shade above a whisper.
"Uh-huh," he said, off in another world for the moment.
Manisha waited patiently until he turned to the next picture. "That's Manisha, Manisha Chaudhury, also nineteen, almost twenty.
"They runaways?" he asked suddenly, staring hard at her.
"Probably," she answered slowly, staring back at him. He looked away first.
"Gimme the truth, how old?"
Manisha shrugged. "You really want to know?"
"I asked you didn't I?"
"Evie's maybe eighteen, Manisha is nineteen, going on thirty.
"They like to fuck?"
"They live to fuck."
"They do women?"
"Some days I have to pull them apart with a leash."
Varun laughed at that, picturing it in his mind.
"And Anurag fuck 'em?"
"Regularly."
"You and him an item?"
"Motwane and I get it on... occasionally. Sometimes we do a foursome. If Motwane's up for it."
"Motwane's always up for it," Varun smiled knowingly.
"The girls and I... we make him wilt occasionally."
"I'll bet you do," he adjusted himself and Manisha's eye's lit up.
"Fancy a fuck, dearie?" He said in a Marathi accent that had Manisha laughing.
"Got a pool?"
"Got a pool table," he said, grinning lewdly.
"Good enough," Manisha said. "Lead on, oh Lord of Erotica," and she matched his grin with a lewdness of her own.
-------
They took the stairs to the second floor and sure enough, there was a green felt covered pool table. Manisha loved the concept and told him so. "I've never gotten laid on a pool table. It's a fantasy of mine."
"I always help a lady with her fantasy if I can," he said, unbuttoning his jeans.
Manisha nearly tore her blouse off and then began unfastening her jeans. She couldn't help but check him out, sneaking a peek at his cock. Manisha was impressed. Usually the makers of porno films had little dorky dicks, but Varun was well endowed by desi standards. Not as big as Motwane, but there weren't many men with foot long cocks. She guessed Varun to be about seven inches and fairly thick in circumference. The head of his cock was like a small apple, with a deep cleft at the bottom of his glans that flared up like a big giant mushroom. She continued struggling with her jeans and he came closer to help her.
She reached out, took him in hand and gave him a gentle squeeze.
"You've got a great set," he told her as she struggled with the tight jeans. "Can I help?"
"Umm, yeah, sure," she said and squeezed him again and then moaned softly as his precum oozed out and dribbled like honey over her fingers. She forgot about her jeans and caressed the crown of his dick.
It was a struggle, but together they finally enabled Manisha to squirm out of her jeans.
"Hop up on the table," he said, "I want to taste you."
Manisha did as he asked and then lay back and spread herself lewdly open before him.
"Hmmm," he said as he licked his lips, looks like a smorgasbord."
"Cunt ala carte," Manisha giggled, "Have at it, loverman."
But Varun left her there and went looking for a couple of towels to avoid leaving any telltale stains on the green felt cloth that covered the pool table.
Holding two black towels in the crook of his arm, Varun approached Manisha from the side and when her eyes followed him he made his dick jerk wildly and that caused her to start laughing.
"You're an amusing guy," Manisha laughed. "I hope you intend to treat my girls alright."
He was now leaning between her wide-spread thighs, looking lasciviously at the pink slit that was partly open to his view.
"I treat all my girls' right, you needn't worry about it. Besides, if they can act, or at least speak their lines clearly, I'll make them stars and they'll make all of us a ton of money."
"Are you mafia-related?"
"No. At least not so's you'd notice."
"What's that mean?" Manisha asked as his fingers found her slit and delved inside.
"It means I'm not with them. I sell product to them..." he added another finger and Manisha moaned with intense pleasure.
Varun kept talking, not sure if she could hear him. "But they're not interested in me, 'cause the feds might use it as a means of nailing the bastards to the wall. So they leave me alone, all they do is the distribution."
He leaned into her and she shrieked with joy as his tongue grazed her flank. Then, growling with lust he began licking her stomach, wriggling his tongue around in her navel like an animal might.
Before long, Manisha's hands were guiding him, pushing him lower. He was eager to taste her and as he moved ever lower he felt his chin running across her wiry pubic hair. His tongue replaced the fingers delving into her juicy cunt.
Manisha began chanting, "Yes... baby! Eat my cunt... Eat me, Varun!"
Varun knew how to give head, for he had practiced on, by his own count, some 1237 different women. He was able to achieve this only because he was in a position to hire young actresses eager to enter the porn industry.
His tongue started to make slow circles around her clit and then he began to gradually increase the tempo, sensing her growing need. His tongue flicked over her clit again only a little harder and then moved down her slit. As his tongue moved closer and closer to her tempting pink target, Manisha's moans grew louder and her hips moved faster up and down. Varun pulled away slightly and blew gently into her pussy; the puff of cool air across her erect clit caused her hips to move even faster. He moved his mouth back to her pussy and gently sucked her clit between his lips. Holding it, he pulled back a little as his tongue pressed hard against it. Manisha was now moaning without knowing it.
Varun felt her hands on the back of his head, urging him on. He continued to suck on her clit, pulling it deep into his mouth and then releasing it; moving his mouth down, he circled her opening with his tongue, lapping at the cream that was trying to escape.
Although he still preferred his women young, he found Manisha to his liking, for she was sloppy wet, fairly oozing the juice he loved to lap up. As he continued going down on her he searched his memory for another woman as juicy as this one and came up empty. She was by far the juiciest.
Manisha moaned, shuddered and sent her legs up around his shoulders as Varun continued to devour her pussy. He kept at her, relentlessly and Manisha had one last coherent thought. 'This guy sure loves his pussy.' Then she was screaming, her hips jerking spasmodically, pulling at his hair so hard she tore several tufts out.
He smacked her hard to force her to release his hair. Manisha never felt a thing, but did open her hands and let go of his mane.