I took a cab to my paying guest accommodation at Warden Road. My landlady was an old Parsi widow who lived in a spacious apartment. I had rented a furnished sea-facing room with an attached toilet in her apartment. My landlady was a lively, energetic person and took a keen maternal interest in me. She insisted upon my having breakfast with her every morning. She took in my bedraggled appearance with a cocked eyebrow. I didn't pause to give her an explanation and rushed into my room. I quickly stripped and had a long, luxurious shower. I soaped my body vigorously, paying close attention to my crotch. I pulled back the foreskin and thoroughly cleaned up the crown of my cock. The soap stung a bit. I peered closely but didn't find any cut or bruise, although the crown was inflamed and red due to all the rough rubbing it had experienced against Swati's pussy, mouth, throat and possibly her teeth. I looked at the watch. It was around six o'clock in the evening. I decided to take a short nap before going to the mehendi ceremony. When I woke up with a start, it was almost eight o'clock in the evening. I cursed myself for having overslept and hoped that I would be able to reach the party before it ended. I quickly freshened up and changed into a churidar-kurta outfit. By the time I took a cab and reached the venue, it was forty five minutes past eight PM.
***
Swati's friend Priyanka was the daughter of a wealthy industrialist. Her wedding was being celebrated in style. For the convenience of wedding guests, her father had booked an entire floor in a luxury hotel in downtown Mumbai. A medium sized convention hall had been reserved for the mehendi ceremony. The actual wedding was going to happen the next day, under a large shamiana (colorful temporary canvas roof) in the hotel's open courtyard. I need not have worried about reaching late. The convention hall was well decorated, brightly lit, noisy and overflowing with guests. Females of all shapes and sizes in glittering attire overran the place. They outnumbered males three to one. After all the mehendi ceremony was primarily a women's function. Perhaps half of the ladies were young belles, well made up & decked out in their best finery, vying with each other in trying to look their best & grab eyeballs. The other half of the female population was evenly divided between screaming young kids chasing each other, buxom matrons rushing about on important errands and gossiping old ladies. A buffet table was laid out at one end while professional musicians sang melodious folk songs in another corner, joined in by enthusiastically singing, clapping and dancing guests. In another corner, men clustered around a bar serving the finest liquors available. There were frequent bursts of laughter as guests cracked ribald jokes. All in all, everybody was having a thoroughly good time.
In the center was a wooden platform covered with beautiful carpets. On it sat perhaps four or five mehendiwallis; professional women artists who specialized in drawing intricate & beautiful mehendi (henna) patterns. They had been specially commissioned to apply henna on the hands of women present at the ceremony. Many girls had already had their turn & moved around with their hands stretched out, waiting for the henna paste to dry out and transfer its color to their skin. Others waited patiently for their turn before the artists. After the paste dried, lemon juice mixed in sugar syrup was applied, to fix & deepen the color of henna. Folklore had it that the depth of the color indicated the strength of the love between the girl & her husband (future husband, in case of unmarried girls). So most girls, particularly the unmarried ones tried to keep the henna paste on as long as they possibly could.
Nobody paid any attention to me as I wandered around; my eyes searched Swati. I finally spotted her in a knot of girls milling around what turned out to be the bride-to-be, Priyanka. I sauntered towards the crowd and eventually caught Swati's eye. She beamed in response, disentangled herself from the crowd and came towards me.
I was stunned. Never had I seen her so provocatively dressed. She wore a pink silk ghagra-choli (long loose skirt teamed with a brief, tight fitting blouse) outfit. It glittered with mirrors & sequins. The choli was backless. Two thin silken ribbons ran across the back, one at the shoulders and the other a couple of inches above the midriff. Each ribbon were tied in a knot at one side to hold the choli in place. The front of the choli was somewhat more modest; the rounded neck was just deep enough to reveal the top of her bosom. A narrow yoke ran down to the navel, leaving the sides of her waist bare. Since the choli was backless, a bra couldn't be worn; instead it had built-in cups. They were perhaps a size too small for her ample breasts. The gauzy cream colored chunni wrapped around her shoulders did nothing to conceal her creamy, bare back and the tops of her full breasts swelling out at the neck. She wore a long necklace with a diamond pendant that drew attention to the cleavage between her breasts. The loose ghagra was tied well below her navel and flowed downwards, the hem almost sweeping the floor. Her slim waist accentuated her flaring hips and generously proportioned bust. She was wearing at least three inch heels. The high heels caused her pelvis to thrust out provocatively. Her eyes were outlined with eyeliner and she wore a pink lipstick matching the color of her clothes. She wore long dangling ear rings. A dash of sindoor in the parting of her hair indicated her married status. Her hair was worn in a high chignon and fragrant white mogra flowers were strung around it. Unconstrained by a bra, her full breasts swayed fluidly as she moved. She oozed sensuality & looked absolutely amazing. Henna had already been applied on her palms and on her forearms halfway to the elbows; she too held her hands out, waiting for the henna to dry. My cock stirred to life as I looked at her.
"Oh Swati! You… you look…" I stammered.
"Sameer, there you are! Why are you so late?" She cut me off. She caught me staring at her bosom & her eyes twinkled naughtily.
"I went home, showered and then slept for two hours. I had a rather hectic day, you know." I said.
"Oh really? Did you have to work very hard?" She asked slyly.
"Well, sort of. But it was pleasant work." I winked.
"Anyway, you've come in time, just when I need you." She said.
"What's the matter?" I enquired.
"There is a little problem. You are the only one who can help me. Just wait here a moment." She said mysteriously. She approached a large buxom woman, the bride's mother & had a brief conversation.
"Come!" She said.
I followed her out of the hall. We took an elevator and got off on an upper floor where all the rooms were reserved for the wedding party. A fat, stern looking woman sat on a chair in the lobby; she was apparently a trusted family retainer guarding the rooms while the guests were busy enjoying themselves at the mehendi ceremony downstairs. Swati talked to her while I hung back. The woman led us to a room at the end of the corridor and unlocked it. She had no reason to be suspicious about us. She just assumed we were husband and wife. I tried to draw Swati in my arms as soon as I locked the door behind us.
"Wait! This is an emergency." She whispered urgently.
She had been having discomfort in her vagina for some time since the afternoon. It had slowly aggravated into an irritating itch. She had bought a couple of tubes of a medicinal cream from a chemist in the hotel's shopping arcade, just in case it was needed. Since she was a doctor's daughter, she was familiar with medicines; and in India, one does not need a prescription to buy most medicines.
"The itch is now really bad! Besides, I need to pee. But I can't use my hands with all the mehendi on them and I don't want to wash them just yet. I don't want my mehendi to look pale & washed out! So please help me." She begged.
We hurried into the small bathroom. I raised her ghagra above her hips and made her hold it up by pressing it under her arms. Her glorious, plump, smooth thighs and tight red panties were revealed before me. My already half erect cock twitched again at the sight. But knowing how desperate she was, I didn't tarry & quickly pulled her panties down her legs. She sat heavily down on the toilet seat and I could hear a hissing sound as she urinated with a relieved expression on her face. That sound was enough to make me fully hard. Since I stood directly in front of her, Swati immediately noticed the bulge at my crotch grow bigger. The "look" in her eyes betrayed her response to my arousal. Not a word was exchanged between us as I slowly took off my kurta, loosened my churidar and pushed down my shorts. She stared hypnotized at my thick, hard cock that bobbed inches from her face. I held her head and placed my cock between her open lips. Her tongue swirled languidly around the crown while she held her hands away, still determined to avoid smearing her mehendi.
"We should hurry. Someone might come looking for us." She whispered, coming up for a breath after pleasuring me for a while and then took my cock in her mouth again.
"Come!" I raised her to her feet. I unfastened the knots holding the choli and pushed it off. It slid forward & uncovered her nipples but remained loosely in place since the tight sleeves held fast on her arms. The diamond pendant glistened in the valley between her voluptuous breasts. I paid obeisance by fondling them & pinching her nipples; she leaned back against me and moaned in response. I quickly brought a pillow from the bed and placed it on the marble counter top. I made Swati bend forward and rest face down on the pillow, placing her folded arms on the counter above her head. The high heels she wore made her ass stick out provocatively. I removed the panties that lay tangled at her ankles, bunched the ghagra around her hips and spread her legs apart.
***
Swati's friend Priyanka was the daughter of a wealthy industrialist. Her wedding was being celebrated in style. For the convenience of wedding guests, her father had booked an entire floor in a luxury hotel in downtown Mumbai. A medium sized convention hall had been reserved for the mehendi ceremony. The actual wedding was going to happen the next day, under a large shamiana (colorful temporary canvas roof) in the hotel's open courtyard. I need not have worried about reaching late. The convention hall was well decorated, brightly lit, noisy and overflowing with guests. Females of all shapes and sizes in glittering attire overran the place. They outnumbered males three to one. After all the mehendi ceremony was primarily a women's function. Perhaps half of the ladies were young belles, well made up & decked out in their best finery, vying with each other in trying to look their best & grab eyeballs. The other half of the female population was evenly divided between screaming young kids chasing each other, buxom matrons rushing about on important errands and gossiping old ladies. A buffet table was laid out at one end while professional musicians sang melodious folk songs in another corner, joined in by enthusiastically singing, clapping and dancing guests. In another corner, men clustered around a bar serving the finest liquors available. There were frequent bursts of laughter as guests cracked ribald jokes. All in all, everybody was having a thoroughly good time.
In the center was a wooden platform covered with beautiful carpets. On it sat perhaps four or five mehendiwallis; professional women artists who specialized in drawing intricate & beautiful mehendi (henna) patterns. They had been specially commissioned to apply henna on the hands of women present at the ceremony. Many girls had already had their turn & moved around with their hands stretched out, waiting for the henna paste to dry out and transfer its color to their skin. Others waited patiently for their turn before the artists. After the paste dried, lemon juice mixed in sugar syrup was applied, to fix & deepen the color of henna. Folklore had it that the depth of the color indicated the strength of the love between the girl & her husband (future husband, in case of unmarried girls). So most girls, particularly the unmarried ones tried to keep the henna paste on as long as they possibly could.
Nobody paid any attention to me as I wandered around; my eyes searched Swati. I finally spotted her in a knot of girls milling around what turned out to be the bride-to-be, Priyanka. I sauntered towards the crowd and eventually caught Swati's eye. She beamed in response, disentangled herself from the crowd and came towards me.
I was stunned. Never had I seen her so provocatively dressed. She wore a pink silk ghagra-choli (long loose skirt teamed with a brief, tight fitting blouse) outfit. It glittered with mirrors & sequins. The choli was backless. Two thin silken ribbons ran across the back, one at the shoulders and the other a couple of inches above the midriff. Each ribbon were tied in a knot at one side to hold the choli in place. The front of the choli was somewhat more modest; the rounded neck was just deep enough to reveal the top of her bosom. A narrow yoke ran down to the navel, leaving the sides of her waist bare. Since the choli was backless, a bra couldn't be worn; instead it had built-in cups. They were perhaps a size too small for her ample breasts. The gauzy cream colored chunni wrapped around her shoulders did nothing to conceal her creamy, bare back and the tops of her full breasts swelling out at the neck. She wore a long necklace with a diamond pendant that drew attention to the cleavage between her breasts. The loose ghagra was tied well below her navel and flowed downwards, the hem almost sweeping the floor. Her slim waist accentuated her flaring hips and generously proportioned bust. She was wearing at least three inch heels. The high heels caused her pelvis to thrust out provocatively. Her eyes were outlined with eyeliner and she wore a pink lipstick matching the color of her clothes. She wore long dangling ear rings. A dash of sindoor in the parting of her hair indicated her married status. Her hair was worn in a high chignon and fragrant white mogra flowers were strung around it. Unconstrained by a bra, her full breasts swayed fluidly as she moved. She oozed sensuality & looked absolutely amazing. Henna had already been applied on her palms and on her forearms halfway to the elbows; she too held her hands out, waiting for the henna to dry. My cock stirred to life as I looked at her.
"Oh Swati! You… you look…" I stammered.
"Sameer, there you are! Why are you so late?" She cut me off. She caught me staring at her bosom & her eyes twinkled naughtily.
"I went home, showered and then slept for two hours. I had a rather hectic day, you know." I said.
"Oh really? Did you have to work very hard?" She asked slyly.
"Well, sort of. But it was pleasant work." I winked.
"Anyway, you've come in time, just when I need you." She said.
"What's the matter?" I enquired.
"There is a little problem. You are the only one who can help me. Just wait here a moment." She said mysteriously. She approached a large buxom woman, the bride's mother & had a brief conversation.
"Come!" She said.
I followed her out of the hall. We took an elevator and got off on an upper floor where all the rooms were reserved for the wedding party. A fat, stern looking woman sat on a chair in the lobby; she was apparently a trusted family retainer guarding the rooms while the guests were busy enjoying themselves at the mehendi ceremony downstairs. Swati talked to her while I hung back. The woman led us to a room at the end of the corridor and unlocked it. She had no reason to be suspicious about us. She just assumed we were husband and wife. I tried to draw Swati in my arms as soon as I locked the door behind us.
"Wait! This is an emergency." She whispered urgently.
She had been having discomfort in her vagina for some time since the afternoon. It had slowly aggravated into an irritating itch. She had bought a couple of tubes of a medicinal cream from a chemist in the hotel's shopping arcade, just in case it was needed. Since she was a doctor's daughter, she was familiar with medicines; and in India, one does not need a prescription to buy most medicines.
"The itch is now really bad! Besides, I need to pee. But I can't use my hands with all the mehendi on them and I don't want to wash them just yet. I don't want my mehendi to look pale & washed out! So please help me." She begged.
We hurried into the small bathroom. I raised her ghagra above her hips and made her hold it up by pressing it under her arms. Her glorious, plump, smooth thighs and tight red panties were revealed before me. My already half erect cock twitched again at the sight. But knowing how desperate she was, I didn't tarry & quickly pulled her panties down her legs. She sat heavily down on the toilet seat and I could hear a hissing sound as she urinated with a relieved expression on her face. That sound was enough to make me fully hard. Since I stood directly in front of her, Swati immediately noticed the bulge at my crotch grow bigger. The "look" in her eyes betrayed her response to my arousal. Not a word was exchanged between us as I slowly took off my kurta, loosened my churidar and pushed down my shorts. She stared hypnotized at my thick, hard cock that bobbed inches from her face. I held her head and placed my cock between her open lips. Her tongue swirled languidly around the crown while she held her hands away, still determined to avoid smearing her mehendi.
"We should hurry. Someone might come looking for us." She whispered, coming up for a breath after pleasuring me for a while and then took my cock in her mouth again.
"Come!" I raised her to her feet. I unfastened the knots holding the choli and pushed it off. It slid forward & uncovered her nipples but remained loosely in place since the tight sleeves held fast on her arms. The diamond pendant glistened in the valley between her voluptuous breasts. I paid obeisance by fondling them & pinching her nipples; she leaned back against me and moaned in response. I quickly brought a pillow from the bed and placed it on the marble counter top. I made Swati bend forward and rest face down on the pillow, placing her folded arms on the counter above her head. The high heels she wore made her ass stick out provocatively. I removed the panties that lay tangled at her ankles, bunched the ghagra around her hips and spread her legs apart.