Feature Writer: Penelope Silversmith /
Feature Title:  Bindi /
Story Codes: Young, Lesbian, First Time, Indian, Urine, Pregnant, 3Some /
Synopsis: Adventures of a Lesbian in India /
Warning: If you’re under 18 or it is illegal to read this, then don’t–go elsewhere.
Author’s Note: This story is the property of the author. It can be downloaded for personal reading, pleasure, or sending to a friend, but if you wish to re-post them on your own site, please contact the author for permission
Copyright: 2011 Penelope, All rights reserved

 

Bindi

Buying a dress for my sweet little Bindi almost resulted in my being fired from my first job with the Charity. The occasion was the dedication of a new orphanage for girls the Missionary Group had partly funded. A number of dignitaries were present including the Canadian Ambassador to India. I had prepared the only dress I owned for the ceremony and I had chosen for Bindi a schoolgirl uniform especially for the occasion.

At home I rushed to prepare myself for the ceremony, styling my hair, putting on a touch of makeup, and getting the creases our of my own dress. I tossed the new uniform to Bindi, and instructed her to put it on quickly. When I was done getting myself ready, I noticed her standing there, in the dress, white knee socks on her dark brown legs, and her hair nicely combed and parted. She looked so sweet and beautiful, and I told her so. With a mischievous smile on her face she used both hands to lift the skirt up, showing me she was not wearing any underpants. Her brown little pussy with its plump lips and the crease visible between her thin legs stopped me in my tracks. Without thinking I lifted her onto the dresser and buried my face in the little girls’ sex. My tongue slipped between her folds and I tasted the sweet essence of her which was by now so familiar to me.

One thing led to another and we were soon lost in a passionate encounter between an adult European woman and a pre-pubescent dark-skinned Indian girl. When our passion for each other was temporarily satisfied, I realized we were very late and our carefully prepared dresses were now stained and wrinkled. There was nothing to be done about it but get dressed, wrinkles and all, and hurry to the school where ceremony was to take place. Luckily the Ambassador was late too, and no one noticed me arrive with Bindi. But it was a close call and I resolved to be more careful in future. Here is the story which led up to the events that occurred that day.

When I was a newly minted foreign aid worker one of my first overseas assignments was to the city of Trivandrum in the State of Kerala in India. I was only 22 and responsible for the entire Aid Project of a group of Canadian churches. I found myself in charge of ten people in this out of the way place. It was hot, dirty, the people were mostly dishonest and the work relentless. This was before the days of internet and my only communication with head office was by letter which took a fortnight, and the occasional overseas call.

The only benefits were I had no one locally to answer to and in my own world I was a Goddess. I confess I was young enough to let it go to my head. Fortune smiles on fools and I managed to get away with it – but I am getting ahead of my story.

I found myself in this job because although I was trained as a teacher, I was caught having sex with one of my young female students. She was barely 13, and although I avoided prosecution it was very strongly suggested I get as far away as possible and never to show my face in the town or even the country again. A cousin felt sorry for me and introduced me to the Church Aid organisation which, after some training, send me to India. So began my career in Foreign Aid, which has continued to this day.

I should describe myself – I am medium height by Canadian standards – which made me taller than most I worked with in Trivandrum – slim build and short brown hair. I am not really pretty but I have a straight prominent nose which gives my face character. Many men and also women have found me attractive. I have no interest in the former, and as you might guess my taste for the latter runs to the younger variety.

One of the main roles of our charity was to distribute powdered milk (Canadian-made) and biscuits to the street children of the city. Every day in the afternoon, my staff and I would set up a big cauldron of milk and the street children would line up to receive a cup. If they drank the milk – it tasted pretty awful – the children would be rewarded with a biscuit.

The homeless street children were an even mixture of boys and girls, skinny, dirty, and dressed in rags. They were mostly lower cast Untouchables who had been abandoned by their parents to whom had befallen some accident or simply had not the means to feed another mouth. I am sure many escaped unspeakable situations: child labor or child prostitution. Almost all were pre-pubescent. I had a pretty good idea that once these children reached a certain age the boys would drift into petty crime and the girls into prostitution.

I made it a point to supervise the milk and cookie detail myself. It really broke my heart at first to come into contact with these children who were so utterly without hope in their lives. After the first couple of days I noticed one young girl who seemed quieter and less rambunctious than the others. We used to feed over a hundred every day before our daily ration ran out. I don’t know why I noticed this girl in particular. Perhaps it was the way she kept looking at me with her big brown eyes.

I began to favor this little girl, making sure she was at the head of the line and even giving her second helpings if it were possible to do so with being too obvious. I was breaking all the rules, but they were my own. She must have been 10 or 11 but looked at least three years younger owing to malnutrition. She was very dark brown, had skinny legs and arms, and wore a dirty shapeless dress. Her teeth gave away her age though, they were large, white and clearly adult. She was barefoot and her feet and legs were indescribably filthy. It was her hair which was truly frightening; it was black, turning to dirty gray and matted. It reached the middle of her back and was tied somewhere near the end to keep it out of the way.

I had learned some words of Malayalam, the local language. One day I noticed the girl was hanging around after all the milk and biscuits had been given out. I tried out some of my rudimentary language skills on her. I was pleased to see she responded shyly. I was able to teach her my name: Penny, which she pronounced as Peenee. She told me her name which was something unpronounceable, so I shortened it to Bindi and she seemed to respond to that. I could not understand much more of what she said so I asked one our local employees, a woman, to interpret for us.

The woman was middle aged and dressed in what to my eyes was a fairly expensive looking Sari. She was slightly plump, light skin for an Indian and her long black hair was tied tightly in a bun behind her head. The contrast between her and the ragged street urchin could not have been greater. The woman was understandably quite reluctant; feeding these lower caste urchins was one thing. Actually getting to know one was another. But I was the boss, and young enough to use it to my advantage. I asserted my authority and the woman began a dialogue with my urchin. Thus I discovered she was indeed eleven as I had guessed. Bindi had actually been living on the street with her mother, begging. That is until her mother got sick and died a few weeks before. Bindi was alone now and running with a gang of girls and boys her own age.

After translating this story for me the woman employee said it was very sad and that the girl had a very uncertain future. She said it would not be long before she would likely be abducted and forced into prostitution. I was a bit annoyed at her fatalistic attitude and I think this is what prompted me to do what I did next. I instructed my female employee to ask Bindi if she would like to work for me. I told her I needed an assistant.

As I mentioned earlier I was young and impulsive. My motivations were partly altruistic, but I can confess that my sexual interest in young girls played a part in my offer. The woman balked at my request and began to argue with me, stating what I had in mind was wholly inappropriate and completely unsuitable. We argued for a bit and I put my foot down.

‘Tell her what I told you. And tell her I will pay her one rupee per day. She will be in my care and I will provide food and shelter.’ I said to the astonished woman.

She translated my offer. The effect on Bindi was transforming. A bright smile lit up her face, she fell to her knees and put her arms around my legs and looked like she was about to kiss my feet. I motioned her to stand up and asked the woman to translate one more thing for me.

‘Tell her she must obey me and follow my instructions. If she does not she will be on the street again.’ This was duly translated and the woman seemed to feel a little better about what I was proposing. I learned Bindi had no possessions other than what she carried so I motioned her to follow me to my quarters.

xxxxx

 

I led Bindi through the dirty crowded streets to the bungalow which I was using. My house was located in a cantonment that had once been used to house British non-commissioned officers, mostly bachelors. My house was part of a gated compound with a guard, with a surrounding wall and barrier. What passed for middle class living for the local people was a far cry from Western standards. A double bed, a rattan settee and an electric fan were all the furnishings the house contained. There was a cement kitchen sink and some cupboards but no stove or fridge.

I ate all my meals outside the house either in restaurants or from street vendors. The windows were shuttered against the heat, and the thick walls provided some insulation against the 40 plus degree temperatures outside. Attached to the building was a simple shed which contained a tap with a length of hose attached, and next to it the ubiquitous porcelain hole in the ground with two footrests which passed for a toilet in this part of the world. That was my bathroom.

As we entered my house I immediately became conscious of Bindi’s smell. It was pretty ripe. She smelled of the street, of the garbage she picked through and of her own unwashed body. Outside with all the other smells of the street it was not noticeable but here in my house it was overwhelming. ‘Right.’ I thought. ‘Clearly a cleaning is the first order of business.’

I beckoned her outside to what I called the bathroom, took the hose in my hand, turned it on and handed her the soap. I began to tug at her clothes, signalling to her that she should undress. She began to shake her head and utter cries of protest. Clearly she did not want to strip. I felt I had to assert my authority, so I repeated my gestures and she continued to refuse. I folded my arms, put an exaggerated frown on my face and pointed to the gate.

‘Jao (go away)’.

I told her firmly several times and turned my back on her to walk back into the house. My pantomime had an effect. I heard the faint rustle of her clothes coming off and when I turned around she stood there naked with the pile of her pathetic clothes at her feet. I had a clear view of her thin naked brown body, her slim hips, flat belly and visible ribs. Her breasts were barely noticeable, but her nipples were large by comparison and dark brown, nearly black.

Her legs were so thin that the space between her thighs afforded me a clear view of the outlines of her hairless brown pussy. The plumpness of young western girls I had known was entirely absent in her vulva, and I could detect her inner lips peeking out between her folds.

I set aside my sexual interest for the moment and concentrated on cleaning her. I directed the hose on her and used the stream of tepid water to thoroughly soak her from head to toe. I then handed her the bar of soap, she cleaned herself to my satisfaction. I fetched a bottle of shampoo and began to tackle her hair. She did not appear to mind my touching her in that way. It was a herculean task but I eventually got it to some semblance of cleanliness. It was still matted and tangled, surely had not seen a comb or brush for years. I had a horror of what bugs or disease still lay under the tangle, but I left it for the time being.

I gave Bindi a towel to dry off with, and when she had done so, she reached to put on her clothes. I stopped her decisively. With an exaggerated gesture I threw them into the dirt of the garden, took her by the hand and led her into the house. There I fetched her one my t-shirts and made her put it on. It was a blue t-shirt with the caption: A Woman Without A Man Is Like A Fish Without A Bicycle, with the appropriate cartoon of a fish riding a bicycle on the front.

A souvenir of my lesbian rights days in University. Bindi seemed happy enough to wear the shirt; it was huge on her small frame and came nearly to below her knees. I gave her a big smile and signaled my approval. She saw this and gave me a big smile in return. At that moment whatever doubts I had began to melt away.

Supper was the next order of business. I left her alone in my house and went about 100 meters up the road and purchased some curry and Nan bread. I bought enough for four people. My instinct proved correct because when I served the food, Bindi ate for three, and probably could have eaten for two more. I was pleased. It was getting late and I wanted to sleep. I went to brush my teeth. I had a spare toothbrush and gave it to her. She mimicked my every move. I was not sure if she had ever used a toothbrush before but she did a good job copying me. Next I applied some cream to my face, a nightly ritual I found necessary in this climate.

Next I got undressed, normally a pretty mechanical act. But I was conscious of her eyes on me and I was certain of her curiosity. I unbuttoned the army type shirt I wore. I find the large breast pockets in those kinds of shirts very handy, as I did not normally carry any kind of purse or handbag. Then with two hands I pulled up the Lycra sports bra I normally wore. I prefer to go braless and my breasts are small enough to get away with it, but at that time in India it just wasn’t done.

It would invite unwanted attention and undermine my authority. I took my time and let Bindi have a good view of my breasts and the brown curly hair under my arms. I don’t bother to shave, partly because no one would notice and also in the hot humid climate it was just one more place to invite a rash. I am quite proud of my boobs, they were barely a B at that time, but still had the shape and firmness of my youth. My nipples were large by comparison and got like little pencil erasers when hard.

Still naked from the waist up I pulled off my jeans and underpants in one motion. At that time, and today still, I wear half-sized comfortable cotton undies, sometimes white and sometimes a pastel color. Plain and comfortable; anything more delicate or fancier would not last in the climate or the frequent washings required. My bush was then not trimmed or shaved, nor is it today.

I am not that hairy now and I was less hairy then, but I still had a mound of brown curls draping my crotch and vulva which trailed down my crack and ringed my ass. On impulse and noticing Bindi’s eyes riveted on me I turned away from her and bent down naked to pick up my jeans and undies. I gave her a clear view of my pussy and ass from the rear.

I put on the long t-shirt I usually slept in, still noticing Bindi’s eyes on me unwavering. It occurred to me I must look terribly foreign and exotic to her. Surely I was the first westerner she had laid eyes on and certainly the first to see naked. She took a blanket from the bed and proceeded to curl on the floor with it. I patted the bed and motioned her to join me on it but she would not be persuaded. It was late and I was tired so I pulled a sheet over me and went to sleep.

I woke up in the middle of the night to pee and observed her small form curled on the floor illuminated by the moonlight shining through the shutters. One leg was bent and the other straight and her t-shirt had ridden up above her waist. Her thin dark naked buttocks were visible and so was the fleshy crevice between her legs. I felt a pang of arousal as the image was imprinted in my memory. I returned to bed and dreamed of dark young female flesh.

The next morning I decided the first order of business was to find some clothes for Bindi. I left her alone in the house and headed for the market. I decided I didn’t want her in a Sari or any traditional Indian women’s clothing, so I chose instead some long trousers, t-shirts and flip-flops as well as some underwear I thought would fit her. Of course I also picked up some food, which I gave her first and which she ate as if it was her last meal. Then I gave her the clothes.

Bindi said something I did not understand, but put them on without a fuss. Thankfully they fit. While she was changing I once again had the opportunity to see her naked. She was so small and looked so innocent. Her body was very thin but well proportioned. I could not keep my eyes off her small dark pussy. I thought she noticed me staring and I blushed and looked away.

I took her with me to work. I knew they would have all heard what I had done from their colleague, and I received some strange looks, but no one said anything. I indicated Bindi should sit in a chair next to my desk, and she took up residence there, not moving from it the whole time we were in the office. Surely she had never been in an office before and she took in everything that went on with those big brown eyes of hers.

Rahul was a young Indian Christian who was my second in command and the person who generally translated my instructions to the others. I would not call him a friend, but we got along pretty well. He knew nothing of my preference for women, nor did I want him to know. I took him aside and told him that I had decided to take care of Bindi. He nodded, probably thinking I had some misplaced maternal instinct. He told me to be careful because the street children could not be trusted. And he asked me kindly if there was anything he could do to help. I thanked him and told him I would let him know.

I was pretty busy for the rest of the day. While in the office Bindi just sat there. Occasionally I paused to offer her some tea or ask if she needed to use the toilet. I took her out for lunch to a nearby canteen, and again she ate for two. After that I had to run some errands around town and used a tri-shaw. This is was the most common form of transport in India at the time. It is small motor scooter with two wheels on the back and a three seat bench mounted on the rear chassis. Most also have a canvas or beaten metal roof to keep off the rain. Bindi and I sat in the back of the tri-shaw as it careened around the narrow streets of the town. Each turn pushed us close together and I enjoyed the feel and of her small warm body against mine.

The temperature was in the high 30s and very humid. In no time at all I was soaked with my perspiration. Bindi seemed unaffected by the heat, only a small row of moisture on her upper lip gave any indication of the temperature. Wherever we went she stayed very close to me, once or twice even taking me by the hand when it was possible we would lose each other in a crowd.

We looked an odd couple, me tall and blonde, her short and dark. Eventually my errands were finished, I stopped briefly at the office and we went for supper. Even though it was dark the night was sweltering hot. We sat in an open air restaurant eating our curry dishes on benches covered in plastic table cloths. Around us the noise of the city continued, cars and Tri-shaws driving by, beggars stopping to implore us for food. Even at night the sights and sounds of India never ceased.

During dinner I began teaching Bindi rudimentary English. I began with words for familiar objects like man, woman, food, knives, forks and so on. She was a clever girl and a quick learner. I believe any reluctance she may have had initially disappeared, and she began to trust me. Of course it could be expected as I was the first person to show her kindness and affection since her mother died. Bindi also opened up and smiled a lot more, her smile was a wonder to behold; she was all teeth and her dark black eyebrows would knit together over her large brown eyes.

When we returned to my house I was seriously hot and sticky. Almost as soon as I got in the door I had stripped off my clothes and headed out to the bathroom. There I used the hose to cover myself with the lukewarm water and wash off the sweat and grime of the day. I washed my hair too, using shampoo I had brought from abroad. Feeling a lot cleaner and even fresh I walked into the house naked holding a towel.

In my absence Bindi had cleaned the house and changed into the t-shirt I had given her the night before. While my clothes lay in a pile on the floor hers were neatly folded on the dresser. I was pleased and direct in my praise. I took the little girl in my arms and gave her a hug telling her how good she had been. I had forgotten I was naked and could not help notice the warmth of her small body on my naked skin.

Taking things a step further I bent over and kissed her on the mouth lightly. She did not respond but she did not pull away either. I noticed her hair was still a knotted disheveled mess and it had bothered me all day. I attempted to sign and pantomime that we had to fix this, and grabbing a brush, shampoo and conditioner I took her out to the shower to see if I could put it in order. I lifted off her t-shirt and admired her nubile naked body again. This time I attacked her hair first with the shampoo and conditioner and then with the brush. An hour later I was still frustrated, there appeared to be no way to tame her unruly tangles and years of ground in dirt.

I had an idea – if I could not untangle it perhaps I could cut it. I found the sharp scissors I used to trim my own hair and tried to make her understand I was going to cut hers. I think had I tried this the day before she would have rebelled. But we had built up enough trust that even though I knew she was not happy about it, she did not try to stop me. I should mention that I had observed not a single Indian woman or girl I had met had anything but nearly waist-length black tresses. So I set to work and it took nearly an hour. By the time I had finished her straight black hair came to just below her ears in a fringe about the same length all around. In fact I had given her nearly the same hairstyle I wore myself.

We were both naked as I did this, partly because I took Bindi in and out of the shower to wet her hair and clean off the cut-off locks, and partly because I wanted her to get used to us being naked together. It was not so much that I was consciously attempting to seduce her. Rather for me it was an experience that I was willing to push to see how far I could go, and I was hoping nature would take its course. When I showed her the final result in the mirror and made happy noises to her she seemed pleased. I kissed her again gently and told her how beautiful she looked. She did not understand the words but I was able to get the idea across.

By this time it was late and I was ready for bed. I lay down in it without putting on my nightshirt and beckoned for Bindi to join me. This time she came and jumped into bed next to me, like a little girl would. This was the first time I had seen her act in such a childlike way. I took her in my arms and pulled her close to me. My body pale against her dark skin, my hard nipples pushing their way into her chest. I held her close to me and stroked her hair and back. Her face nuzzled into the crook of her neck and I could feel her warm breath against me. I used my fingers to gently explore her back, her buttocks and her legs.

Within a short time her breath changed and I sensed she had fallen asleep in my arms. Still holding her close I reached down and slipped my finger between my legs, bisecting the full growth of soft curly hair on my pubis, and using it to flick the hard bud of my clitoris. Careful not to waken Bindi I used my finger to circle and stroke my clit. The feel of her small body next to mine and her sweet scent, a combination of soap, spices and young girl aroused me very strongly. A familiar tension began to build in my pelvis and I was soon moaning softly as I brought myself to a climax. I could feel the juices from within me had released and produced a slippery slickness between my legs. It was a very good orgasm, and blissfully unaware of it little Bindi lay in my arms, deep in untroubled sleep.

xxxxx

 

Bindi’s new hairstyle provoked some stares in the office, but India is a very hierarchical society. I was the boss and no one questioned me. We had more than our fair share people staring at us on the street, but being a single blonde woman in India, I was used to being looked at. I think she accepted she was with me and chose to ignore the rest of world. We were inseparable, where I went Bindi came with me. In the days that followed she also took my lead and when we were alone she became much more physical and more like a little girl. I got her used to hugging and kissing to the point where she sometimes took the initiative. I would be doing something at home and Bindi would come to me and put her arms around me and hold me tight. We slept together naked, and because she fell asleep easily I was able nightly to relieve the tension her presence caused me by fingering myself to the point of orgasm while she lay in my arms.

Her English improved at an astonishing speed. Soon her vocabulary surpassed my limited Malayalam and we began to converse solely in English. One of the first words I taught her was ‘pretty’. I pointed to a model in a women’s magazine and said: ‘Pretty’. Then I pointed to her and repeated the word.

She repeated: ‘Bindi..preetee’ several times, rocked back on her heels and peeled with laughter, white teeth framing her pink tongue against her very dark face. Then she pointed at me and said: ‘Peenee..preetee’, and once against burst into gales of laughter. We had hours fun together in this way.

I made it a point that we should be very comfortable with each other naked. Eventually as the frightened street urchin in her faded away and the pre-pubescent girl emerged, her natural curiosity took over and Bindi began to express curiosity about my body. The first, naturally, were my breasts. We were lying together in bed and my nipples had begun to harden into little brown points the shape and size of a large pencil eraser. Probably in anticipation of the pleasure I was going to give myself as soon as Bindi was asleep.

She pushed my nipple and with her finger, it completely disappeared within my breast and slowly popped back out again. Bindi laughed. In return I used my index finger to circle her small, nearly black nipple. Bindi giggled as I did so. Her nipple grew and swelled slightly. I did the same with her other nipple with similar effect. Her expression was now a little more serious and she was paying careful attention to my actions.

I leaned over her and covered her small precious tit with mouth and began to suck it gently. It was evident from the expression on her face that she liked this. I then turned my attention to her other small black nipple and gave it the same treatment. Bindi stroked my head and murmured: ‘Nice Peenee, nice Peenee.’ This was her way of saying she was pleased.

I lifted my head from her chest and pointed to her and said:

‘Bindi you baby! I pointed to her and cradled my arms and made a rocking motion. Then I pointed to my own breasts. She got the idea pretty quickly and said:

‘Bindi Peenee baby.’ I sat up, put her on my lap and cradled her as if she was a young child. The young girl’s mouth attached itself to my nipple and she began to suck it. As her soft mouth enclosed on my hard nipple it felt so wonderful. The view of her small dark face on my pale white breast was a powerful visual stimulus. I mentioned earlier my breasts are not huge, but they were large enough for Bindi’s small hands to cover one as she suckled me.

I moaned softly and said: ‘Yes Bindi, yes. Good girl!’ Her sucking my nipples felt so good. I wanted her to know she was giving me pleasure. On her own accord the little girl switched to my other nipple and said:

‘Beendee like. Good Peenee.’ And she gave my other nipple a similar treatment to the first. I began to feel some very strong sensations in my pussy, and I could tell I was lubricating freely. I had always produced a lot of lubrication when aroused, from the time my first lesbian encounter when I was eleven. In fact I am part of the small, but happy minority of women who can actually squirt when they climax if sufficiently aroused. I could feel my juices dribbling out of my pussy and down the crack of my ass. I made a mental noted that I would have to clean the settee later.

Bindi was naked, seated on my lap. Her legs were slightly spread. My hand almost involuntarily migrated to caress her inner thigh. The skin there was deliciously smooth and my hand traveled up to where her crease formed. I was a bit worried about moving too fast, but I could not help myself and I gently rubbed the delicate soft skin on her crotch. Bindi shifted slightly opening her legs a little wider and giving me more access. She continued sucking on my breast uninterrupted.

My hand caressed her sex. The skin there was silky smooth and my fingers delved into the crevice between her plump labia. It softer inside and I could feel the small flaps of her inner lips. I was nervous lest the little girl realize what I was doing and try to stop me. I need not have worried; she was nearly as excited as I was. Bindi began to gently push her dark little sex against my fingers. I used my thumb to rub around the hood of her little clitoris, while my index finger explored further down. It descended over her hole and my finger slid inside. It was slippery at the opening, my finger slid past her urethra into her vagina. I was surprised, my finger slid in easily. The little girl’s hymen seemed completely absent.

My finger was inside her to the second knuckle. My fingertip stroked the spongy ridges on the top of her vagina while my thumb circled her clitoris. The little girl continued to suck vigorously on my nipple and squirmed on my lap. Clearly she was aroused. I was elated. My reservations disappeared like the snow in spring. I wanted to taste my little Indian girl. I detached her mouth from my nipple and lay her on the settee. Bindi was smiling as I knelt down on the floor, opened her legs and pressed my lips against her exposed sex. Her bald pussy was smooth on my cheeks as my tongue quickly darted in between her plump labia to explore the territory beyond.

Every girl, and woman smells and tastes different. I was born with a Murphy nose, which is what we say in our family about those born with a heightened sense of smell, like me. It is both a curse and blessing. Here in India it often seemed like a curse. At the moment it was a blessing as I inhaled the scent of her young girls’ sex, aroused as it surely was. Her taste was a mixture of the spicy food she ate every day, a hint of urine, soap, and of course the musty flavor which is at the heart of every woman. I remember her taste and smell to this day, and if I had to take a blind taste test of a dozen pussies, I could pick hers immediately.

I licked her up and down her crack. It’s pink inside contrasting with the brown skin outside. Perhaps that is why I love dark women; their pussies are like pink open flowers. I sucked and licked her tiny clitoris and forced my experienced tongue into her waiting vagina. My little Indian girl was patting my hair with her small hands and repeating my name: ‘Peenee, Peenee’.

I pushed her legs higher and let my tongue slide down across her perineum and found her little anus. I licked her there and probed the tight cavity with my tongue. Then back up to her clitoris. It was small but quite accessible. The shiny tip was smooth on my tongue as I pursed my lips and sucked it like I would suck a little penis. At the same time my finger was moving out in and out of her tight little hole. Hymen or no hymen, Bindi was very tight and her pussy gripped my finger as I brought her closer to orgasm.

I increased the tempo of my finger jilling her as my tongue circled her sensitive bud. Bindi had stopped calling my name, she was now breathing hard and appeared to be concentrating. Suddenly she let out a loud moan, she went stiff, and I could imagine an increased wetness there in my mouth. Her body went rigid and I knew I had brought Bindi to orgasm. It was beautiful to see this little dark skinned girl in my arms, quivering with pleasure. I felt the moisture between my legs, signalling my own arousal and. My body was telling me I needed relief.

I lifted Bindi off the settee and took her place. She crawled up onto me unbidden and took hold of my breasts. She fondled them laughing. Her mood was infectious; I tickled her under her ribs and armpits. She did the same to me and played with the hair under my arms. I was now seriously hot and needed the little girl’s mouth on my wet pussy. I pushed her down and opened my legs.

Bindi examined my hairy bush, and I use my fingers to spread my vulva for her. She peered closely at my sex, eager to see it up close. I took her hand and placed it on my wet pussy. Bindi rubbed me with her small hand, sending impulses into my lower body. I suddenly had an overwhelming desire to be filled, and to be fucked hard.

To this day I do not know what came over me that night, but it was start of what you might call a fetish which remains with me to this day. I lost my virginity when I was twelve, a sixteen year old cousin who was babysitting raped me. Since that time I had always been careful about what I put in my vagina, always choosing the smallest vibrator or dildo available.

When I was active in the Lesbian scene at my University, if there was a strap-on involved, I was the one usually wearing it. I had fisted my partners on occasion but I had never been fisted. That evening I saw Bindi’s small brown hand from a different perspective and a light bulb went off. And from that day one of my greatest pleasures in loving young girls has been the feeling of their small fists driving into my wet vagina and pushing against my uterus.

I took hold of Bindi’s hand and guided her two fingers into my wet hole. Holding her by the wrist I helped her move them in and out. Her fingers made a squishing sound as they dived into my vagina. I placed my hand on the back of her head and pushed her face down to my spread legs. Her open mouth latched onto my vagina with the same eagerness as she had sucked my nipples. I felt a huge amount of pressure building up in my womb which needed release. I guided her thumb behind her fingers in a ‘duck bill’ shape and I eased her whole hand inside me. Bindi was a fast learner who licked and sucked my clitoris nearly as well as I had hers. She lacked some finesse which she made up for enthusiasm.

The feeling of this young girl pushing her small hand deep inside me and her lips licking and sucking on whatever bits stood out gave me the strongest orgasm I experienced to that point in my life. Perhaps it was also the idea that this young girl who was mine added to the feeling. The sight of the dark hair on her small head bobbing between my legs, the slight curve of thin brown bottom, and even the pink soles of her feet at they moved around in the air with the effort of pleasing me. I mentioned that when I have a strong orgasm I squirt. Well I squirted hard that night. The clear liquid which was my cum shot out of my vagina like a fountain, soaking Bindi’s hair and, of course, the settee. I could see the surprise on her face, because she thought I had peed on her. She soon realized it was not pee, and she marveled at this woman who could gush water from her sex.

From that night we were much more open about sex. In fact that was pretty much the basis of our relationship. Bindi was a sweet little girl and so eager to please me. When we came home after a day in the hot and dirty city streets, I was barely in the door before Bindi was on her knees in front of me tugging at my trousers. I would be sitting down legs spread while the little brown girl sucked and licked my hairy pussy. She did not seem to mind that sweat and whatever discharge from the day happened to be in between my vulva lips. The little girl was able to give me orgasm after orgasm in this way without asking anything in return. Afterwards we would usually shower together and I would take a turn exploring her beautiful little body and her small, perfect, brown, hairless little sex.

xxxxx

 

I could not get enough of beautiful brown child lover. In bed I would explore every inch of her perfect thin childlike body. She quickly some some weight from the regular meals I had been giving her and her ribs showed a little less. I loved to lick her sweet girl like slit which was brown outside and delicate pink inside, and I loved to feast on her small childlike nipples.

My favorite was to lay my little Bindi on her tummy on the bed and spread her small brown cheeks. I could then lick up and down her perfect little crevice, alternating between her little wet vagina and her small puckered anus. I could spend hours with my mouth buried in backside. And don’t imagine for a minute that she lay there passively. I am not sure whether Bindi had an orgasm but she would eagerly press her little girl sex against tongue and lips, urging me to penetrate her.

As the weeks went by and we became closer, my young Indian lover and I explored a few kinks. One night, before tucking into our takeaway supper I went into our rudimentary bathroom and took out a chocolate bar from my pocket. I broke off a length of several squares and pressed it deep into my vagina. There it lay melting while we tucked into our curries. When we were done I said to her: ‘Time for dessert!’ I stripped off the sarong I wore around the house and sat on the table, in front of my little Indian girl. Sadly I had miscalculated the timing and my arousal, because the sweet brown viscous liquid had poured out of my vagina and down my thighs and legs nearly to the ankles.

Not a problem for my little darling. She loved chocolate! Bindi’s tongue was very pink in contrast to her dark brown lips and face. She licked up my legs and thighs like a little pussy cat. The closer she got to my wet center the more aroused and wet I felt, and began to drip more. But she caught up and soon was licking and sucking the chocolate juice out of my sweet sticky bush. Finally she placed her whole mouth inside my vulva and licked and sucked to her hearts’ content. We played this game several more times, putting chocolate in each other wet holes and licking it out. Being a young girl with a very sweet tooth she never tired of our chocolate fun.

I must confess to another small fetish – I love to watch young girls pee. I find something so erotic about seeing a trickle of urine run down their hairless little pussy lips. Bindi noticed I liked to watch her while she squatted over the toilet and could not help but stare at her cute little pussy while she peed. She in turn watched me while I peed. I think for her it was a game and she entered into it enthusiastically.

When I placed my hand against her little brown pussy to feel the warm pee running over it, Bindi giggled and gave me a warm toothy smile. I felt the trickle of her flow on my fingers. When she was finished I dipped my hand in the bucket which was there for the purpose, cupped my hand to hold some water and used it to wash her little privates clean. Next I took my turn, squatting on the primitive toilet and letting the pee flow out between my meaty lips and through the tangle of my pubic hair. Bindi let my heavy stream run between her fingers. After she washed my sex the same way I had washed hers’, but not before she licked and smelled her urine covered fingers.

We soon took our playing to the next level. I lay on the floor and had Bindi squat over my chest. She peed onto my breasts and stomach. One of her little squirts went astray and landed on face. I licked it. Not too salty and tasting of ammonia. I then decided to prepare a surprise for my little brown lover.

We had developed a kind of routine after work. When I entered the bungalow Bindi would remove my shoes, trousers and underpants. She would immediately begin to lick my pussy like a little kitten, using her little pink tongue to cover every nook fold and crevice between my legs. No matter how hot and sweaty I was, my little Indian girl seemed to relish removing every bit of the day’s feculence from my privates. As her tongue probed my clitoris, vagina and anus I would inevitable succumb to a powerful orgasm which drenched the little girls’ face with fluid.

My wicked surprise for Bindi was that I decided to hold my pee for a long as possible, and drink extra water to make up for the perspiration which poured off me all day in the brutal climate. As soon as my underpants had been removed and Bindi’s face was inside my hairy bush – its rightful place, I let go with a powerful stream of urine.

Bindi nearly jerked back with surprise but I held her head in place and my stream poured onto her. The little brown girl quickly recovered and opened her mouth to accept my malodorous gift to her. The volume was far too much. She swallowed a little but my current seemed to go on endlessly and she closed her eyes, letting it wash over her. We made quite a mess on the tiled floor, and of course I helped her clean it up.

I had tried some water sports in my University days, but my Indian child-lover inspired me to take it to another level. I had an idea that I wanted to try out, and I had some beer and soft drinks delivered to my bungalow. I drink moderately, but cool Kingfisher beer was the perfect drink for the appallingly hot climate. My house was not equipped with a refrigerator and I had to order in a big bag of ice.

I drank several bottles of beer and encouraged Bindi to drink the sodas I had ordered. She needed no encouragement! Like most little girls she had a sweet tooth. I managed to stop her emptying her bladder. When we had both consumed several bottles I spread a plastic cover on the bed and we both undressed. I kept foreplay to a minimum because our bladders were close to bursting. I mounted little Bindi in the scissors position and pushed our two sexes – my hairy pussy and her hairless little slit – together. I began to rub her so that my open vulva were rubbing against hers.

Bindi quickly caught on and began rubbing me back. The sensation for me was excruciating. The pressure of my arousal and the pressure on my bladder together was both unbearable and exciting. I cannot tell you how Bindi felt but she was humping me enthusiastically panting with excitement. When the pressure became too much to bear, I released my bladder and the pee coursed out of me straight at my little lovers hairless little slit.

It felt incredible, the release of my aching bladder and the warmth of my own pee trapped by her little body was indescribable. But what happened next was even better. Bindi followed my example and let her own stream flow and a second jet of warm liquid pulsed over my open vulva. The climax that I had at that moment was one of the most powerful I had ever experienced.

The result however was that we were lying there each covered in each others piss. The cover on the bed was in no way capable of containing the inundation of our combined discharge and had to be washed. The whole house smelled of urine for the next couple of days. I made Bindi clean it up. I should point out at this time our relationship had evolved as my dominant side emerged.

Bindi, though sometimes a little mischievous as young girls often are, was very obedient and eager to please. My nature being what it is, I took advantage of this and used her whenever and for whatever I pleased. Whenever my conscience pricked me I would remind myself that were it not for my generosity she would be living in a cardboard box somewhere.

When we were at home, I insisted Bindi remain naked for me at all times. Of course I trained her to do what limited housekeeping the small bungalow required. She became very sensitive to my every whim and my moods, and sought to please me in any way that she could. Being more than slightly dominant in nature, I took advantage of this situation and used her for my own pleasure, whenever and however I felt like.

I had her lie between my legs, face into my muff for hours at a time, licking and sucking on my pussy and ass. She gave me a seemingly endless stream of orgasms with that talented little tongue of hers. On the other hand if I wanted to taste her, she was mine for the taking. I did not tire of her little brown pussy with its delightfully pink center. And since her hymen was already absent I had no qualms about using my fingers and tongue deep into her tight little hole. If I had stopped to analyze this I should have realized the poor little girl was desperately afraid of being turned out into the street, and her submissiveness was a self-preservation mechanism. Today I would act differently, but then I was young, thoughtless and self-centered.

xxxxx

 

One day Bindi and I were walking through the market when a female beggar approached us. Nothing usual in that, I often had to fight my way through them to get from point A to point B. This beggar was quite a young woman who was obviously very heavily pregnant. I would have guessed late third trimester and I would have been right. She wore a dirty blue Sari and it was evident she was living on the street. The beggar suddenly recognized Bindi and before I knew it the two were hugging and chattering in their language, which I did not understand.

Bindi tried to explain to me who she was. I had to slow her down and in between the little English she had learned and the poor Malayan I spoke, I managed to piece together the story. The pregnant girl, Laghima, was related to her mother. She had been married very young but her family had not been able to pay the dowry which was promised them. She was therefore a virtual slave in her husbands’ family’s home and very badly treated. And she was in danger of being murdered in order for her husband to remarry for a proper dowry. It was then, sadly, a common enough occurrence all over India, and still is to this day. Laghima ran away, and was living on the street.

I did not have to be a genius to guess what would come next. If I was not careful I was about to pick up another stray. I probably should have said:

‘Have a nice day!’ And gone on our way. But I was very pleased with Bindi. Truth be told I was really fond of her. She looked at me with her beautiful brown eyes and I could not refuse her. On top of that Laghima was very pretty, from what I could tell beneath the dirt, and she seemed very sweet natured. I told them the expecting mother could stay with us for a couple of days, to rest and get cleaned up.

The three of us piled into a Trishaw taxi. On the way the two girls chattered happily and I had a chance to observe Laghima. She was quite a bit taller than Bindi, but quite thin apart from her huge baby bump. Her breasts appeared full and heavy. She was quite a bit lighter than my young lover; one could not easily imagine them being related. When we arrived at my bungalow, I told her she must wash and I instructed Bindi to go and fetch us some supper.

The little girl left and I showed Laghima the toilet and rudimentary shower. She immediately and unselfconsciously removed her Sari. She was naked underneath, and I had my first view of her heavily naked body. The first thing I noticed was the dark hair under her arms and a full pubic bush between her legs. Her breasts were heavy with milk and her nipples dark and big, typical of many pregnant women. Her abdomen was large and pointed straight out from her thin frame.

Since she clearly did not mind me watching, I stayed. Laghima took her time, carefully washing her body and her long black hair. Then, using a nearby bucket for this purpose she began to wash her single garment. I went into the house to fetch my sarong for her to wear. When I returned to the bath-shed, I found Laghima squatting over the toilet-hole peeing. She laughed at me good naturedly as I watched the stream of urine expelled between her legs. Again without modesty she used some water to clean herself, stood up and walked over to me to take the sarong I had for her.

Bindi returned with the usual assortment of curries and Nan bread. Laghima dug in as if she were eating for two. The girls talked non-stop, and I understood barely a word. I was not sure then if Bindi had explained to her cousin the exact nature of relationship, but subsequent events proved that not only had they discussed it, they had talked about how Laghima could join our games. After supper Bindi cleared the dishes and Laghima joined me on the settee, sitting very close. I was conscious of her heavy stomach leaning gently against me. I reached over and rubbed her swollen abdomen, smiling at her. Bindi joined us after a few minutes. The young girl lowered the pregnant woman’s sarong top and exposed her swelling breasts and large nipples.

‘Milky for Beendee.’ She said to me an promptly took a large brown nipple in her mouth and began to suck. Laghima pulled her head close and began stroking her hair. Bindi was sucking on her nipple greedily and I noticed some drops of milk drip from the side of her mouth. I was surprised because I thought women could only produce milk after giving birth. I found the sight highly erotic and felt a familiar pressure in my pussy.

To my surprise Laghima smiled and beckoned me, cupping her hand beneath her swollen breast as an offering. I approached her leaking nipple with a mixed sense of repulsion and fascination, mothers’ milk was something I had never tasted. I closed my mouth over her large warm brown nipple. I could immediately taste it on my tongue. It was sweet and had a hint of curry to it. I sucked and got a mouthful of Laghima’s milk, it was the consistency of coconut milk, just as sweet, but without the coconut flavour.

Laghima must have been very aroused – she had the two of us, a full grown European woman and a young Indian girl sucking on each breast. From the corner of my eye I noticed the young mother-to-be had her hands between her legs and was rubbing her pussy in a determined fashion.

‘My goodness!’ I thought to myself. ‘This is really arousing her.’

I decided I had to have a taste of her pussy. I stopped the breast feeding and led Laghima to the bed. The sarong fell to the floor and she was naked to me again swollen pregnant belly protruding. I quickly stripped off my own clothes and Bindi followed suit. Laghima appeared a bit apprehensive but docile. I spread her legs and buried my face in her hairy sex.

Some say women taste differently when pregnant. This may be true but I cannot confirm either way. What I can say is that her vagina was preparing for delivery and was wide and wet. I had no difficulty pushing four fingers into her gaping vagina. As I fucked her with my fingers she moaned and gasped. Bindi had crawled in next to her and was once more nursing. I pushed her to straddle Laghima’s head and before long the pregnant woman was pushing her tongue into the twelve years old girls’ little pussy.

After some time like this we switched positions – me on my back with my legs wide open, Laghima kneeling and licking my wet hairy pussy. Bindi went behind the pregnant woman and used her talented little tongue to probe her pussy and anus. I had Laghima suck on my clitoris while I hooked my own finger and used it to stroke my g-spot which is located at the top of my vagina near the back. The pregnant woman was shocked when the resulting fountain of clear fluid squirted in her face.

So began our delightful menage-a-trois. The bed was a bit crowded and either Bindi or Laghima would end up sleeping on the settee, depending on who fell asleep first. I did not bring Laghima into my work with me. I just didn’t want people staring at us. Instead I left her with a few rupees each day to arrange supper for us when we returned. Laghima was quite submissive and really horny.

She more often than not initiated our sex games. She loved to have her breasts nursed and Bindi was always willing to accommodate, sucking her nipples greedily. Laghima was happy between my legs, licking and sucking and trying to bring me to orgasm so she could watch me squirt. Both girls found it an endless source of amusement to watch me squirt from my pussy. Rarely have I ever been so regularly sexually satisfied for a period of time.

While this wonderful arrangement was going on, things were about to take different turn in my career. I received a letter informing me that a Missionary was being sent from Canada to take over responsibility for the organization. I had half expected this. My appointment had been only temporary because of my relatively young age.

Luckily I had made some contacts with other NGOs (Non Governmental Organizations – another word for Charities) in the area. Thanks to a friend I heard of an opening in Kathmandu, Nepal. Luckily I had developed a reputation for getting things done in Trivandrum and I was able to obtain very good references. The job was offered to me, starting as soon as possible. This was for me great news and the perfect solution. But what to do about my new Indian family?

I have always been a good lateral thinker and I hatched a plan. I invited my second in command, Rahul, out for lunch and explained to him that I had been offered another job starting almost immediately. I told him I would be grateful if he could take over from me. He was quite surprised, pleased, and flattered at my confidence. I warned him he would only be in charge until the new Missionary arrived, but I would happy to increase his salary in such a way as it would be difficult to roll back. But, I made it clear, I needed something in return.

Rahul listened very carefully as I told him I wanted him to take Laghima onto the charities payroll and keep her there. He gave me smile and wink and said he understood perfectly and would do his best to look after ‘my girls’. I made it clear that if he reneged in any way I would return and he would surely regret it. He shook his head and assured me it wasn’t necessary. I invited Rahul to our house for supper the next day. He explained to my ‘girls’ that I had to leave and what the arrangements were. They were not happy with my leaving, but grateful for the security I had arranged. The following day my girls and Rahul saw me off from the airport. There were tears all around.

The Missionary from Canada turned out to be a pedophile and was stupid enough to be caught buggering a young boy. He was promptly sacked and sent home, leaving Rahul in charge. It was a job he kept for many years. I never returned to Trivandrum, but I kept in touch with my girls through Rahul.

I sent them gifts of money every so often for the next couple of years. Laghima had a daughter. She began to work for the Mission shortly after and Bindi cared for the baby. She continued working for the Mission for many years and as far as I know Bindi stayed with her.

For me, Trivandrum was a wonderful first taste of adventure in foreign lands with beautiful dark (and young) women. I was completely enamored by the work, travel and helping other people. I spent the next twenty years doing Development work and having many adventures. I will share some other experiences with you in future stories.

THE END