Chapter 13
Spanish Fly
My next flight proved to be one in a million! I was part of a whole-crew which was being airlined to Bombay. We were to be based there for two weeks to operate a shuttle service between Bombay and Singapore. The only unfortunate thing was that we arrived in Bombay when all the hotels were on strike. I'd had visions of staying at the Sun and Sands on Juhu Beach. Instead, we were put up at an hotel in the center of Bombay. Worse still, we had to share rooms, but Hilary was on the crew, so we grabbed a room-if you could call it that-together. We weren't allowed to take any booze into Bombay, but we had to fill in a liquor permit. This little piece of paper enabled you to drink the local brew, (for which you needed a very strong stomach lining) in one of the drinking rooms set aside for that purpose in the hotel. There was a wooden box-like room without any windows at the hotel. You produced your permit and had it stamped, and then you could buy a glass of the local firewater!
Bombay was a lot like Colombo, but bigger, busier, and dirtier. The hotel looked out on a local housing estate. The balconies of the shack-like buildings were crammed with locals, who never ceased to stare at us. Our rooms opened out onto a long balcony. The sewerage works were also open-air affairs. Rats were to be found in abundance. Services was nonexistent, and the hotel staff parked their bikes on the landings. The food was inedible, and the water was absolutely deadly. Hils and I surveyed our dwelling place for the next two weeks with abject horror. We decided to spend as little time as possible in the hotel and found our way immediately to the swimming club where, for a few rupees, we were made members for two weeks. The club was intended only for the use of the white population. I thought that sort of thing had died out years ago. The boys who served the meals and drinks were locals in newly laundered dhotis and sparkling white jackets.
Hils, the rest of the crew, and I were lying by the pool the first day when I noticed this guy staring at me. He bore more resemblance to an ape than to a man, with a face that hung down almost to his navel. His navel was set in a large mound of quivering flesh. It suddenly clicked that I'd met him at a party in Hounslow when I first embarked upon my career as a stew. He worked as a nav for a freight company. I smiled at him, and he wobbled across to me.
"Hi, Fiona," he said. "Remember me?" he asked.
"I do indeed," I replied quickly, trying to recall his name.
"I'm Bernie," he said.
I introduced him all round, and he sat on a deck chair beside us. I asked him what he was doing in Bombay. He was based for six months there with his wife and the rest of the crew from the freighter and their wives. They were shuttling freight to Tokyo. They'd been in Bombay three months, and they'd all rented flats with servants and were having a ball. They asked all the crew to a curry party that very evening.
Hils and I left the swimming club early to prepare for the party. It was just before the monsoon period, and the weather was hot and humid. I changed into the tiniest silk halter top and long, brilliantly-colored skirt embroidered with a dragon and the words "Star of Siam" which I had purchased in Bangkok. We arranged for two taxis to take us all to Bernie's apartment, which was just above the swimming club. The apartment was sparsely, but tastefully, furnished. Each room had a huge, centrally placed fan suspended from the ceiling which whirled around at high speeds and produced a gentle breeze
I was very interested in Bernie's standard lamps. The shades were made out of beautiful local silks, but it was the wooden bases which were unique. The bases looked like pretty wooden carvings at first glance. However, I looked closer. They were indeed beautifully carved pieces of wood, centuries old, but on closer inspection I saw that they depicted the most erotic happenings. One was of an Indian girl lying on a bed. A man was standing over her head with his cock in her mouth while another man was busy fucking the hell out of her at the other end. They had been exquisitely and lovingly carved with great skill. I immediately asked Bernie's wife where she had got them, and she replied that she had found them at the Thieves Market. I made a mental note for that market to be my next port of call. It was said that if you had anything pinched you could rush down to the Thieves Market, put a deposit down, and then buy back your stolen goods. I decided that one of these blocks of carving would make an ideal door handle for my apartment in town.
The evening was a huge success. I had never been to a curry party before. There was the most incredible display of dishes that I had ever seen, such as great wooden bowls of different sorts of curry, masses of steaming hot, fluffy white rice, and an assortment of the usual accompaniments that go with it--pineapple, grated coconut, pickles, chutneys, crispy bananas, and feather-light popa-dums. I didn't know where to begin, so I started on a tall, slender dish in the far corner. I found out later that he was a Spaniard who had been living and working as a trader in Bombay for some considerable time. He spoke with a very upper-crust English accent. I couldn't really guess accurately at his age. He could have been anywhere between forty and fifty years old, and he was very gentlemanly in a curiously correct, old-fashioned manner. He bowed low over my hand and brushed it with his lips as we were introduced. "My name's Alfonso," he said.
His voice was very low and as soft as. the rustle of a silken sari. He straightened up and looked down into my eyes. The message was as loud and as clear as if he had said, "I'm going to fuck you," so I replied, "I'm Fiona," and returned his stare boldly.
We passed the next two weeks-except for the two flights I had to make to Singapore-literally glued together. I spent hardly any time in the tacky hotel, but resided mostly in Alfonso's cool first-floor apartment, which was just up the road from Bernie's. His transport was teriffic-a very old bright-blue Morgan two-seater with an open roof. We bombed or rather chugged our way round Bombay's perilous streets in it. The only way it could be started was by cranking it with the starting handle, and it frequently boiled over and broke down in the middle of all the traffic.
The first place Alfonso took me at my request was the Thieves Market. I had never seen the-likes of it in my whole life. Every conceivable item from massive Georgian chandeliers to rags which were sold to the locals as clothing were loaded onto stalls. I couldn't understand how he was able to find his way through the maze of alleyways. We eventually arrived at the shop which sold the erotic carvings, and I picked out a beauty. Alfonso spoke the local lingo and bartered with the shopkeeper, so I got it for next to nothing. Our second port of call was the silver market, where I purchased a most beautiful intricately woven solid silver belt. It was handmade and consisted of three separate plaited strands joined together by a superbly worked clasp.
I was overjoyed with my plunder, and we drove out to watch the sunset over Juhu Beach. He took lots of pictures of me as the sun was setting over the vast expanse of silver sand and the shimmering water of the Indian Ocean. The air was as soft and as warm as the slither of foreskin over a silken cock. I ran wild and free, immersing my lightly clad body in the warm water. Alfonso took pictures of me which, when later developed, showed me looking like a mermaid emerging from the depths of the ocean with hair dripping wet and the thin material of my dress showing every rise, fall, and mound of my body. The skirt of my dress stuck between my legs. Everything I had was visible, but in subtle shadowings.
The dress dried off in a few minutes as we sped back to Bombay. I asked Alfonso if I could visit the Bombay "cages." I didn't really believe what I had heard about the "Cages of Bombay." As we approached the district where they were to be found, the air got heavier, the smell more and more repugnant. Then I found myself in the most amazing maze of little streets lined simply with cages. They were hut-like affairs, row upon row. of them, but the fronts were barred. The vast prostitute population of Bombay squatted behind the bars and in the gutters in front of them. I leaned precariously over the side of the Morgan to take some pictures. They all turned away or hid their faces. Alfonso kept driving, praying that we wouldn't break down there, as we would probably have got lynched by the women and their customers. Although I wanted to see it, the sight appalled and sickened me. There were young girls of about nine or ten behind the bars offering their wares. How anyone could make love in surroundings like these was beyond my comprehension. With all the heat, filth, and lack of sanitation, disease of all sorts were rife.
Once having seen this utter degradation, I wanted to leave the scene as soon as possible. We returned to Alfonso's absolutely palatial apartment; that's how it seemed when, in fact, by European standards it was just a reasonable dwelling. I rushed straight for the shower and spent a good hour scrubbing every part of my body and washing my hair in case I had contracted anything in passing. I came down the stairs-his home was a maisonette on two floors-wrapped in a big white bath towel, and another smaller towel was wound in a turban around my hair. He also showered while I set the table and lit the candles for dinner. He returned dressed formally for dinner. I remained as I was. He complimented me on the way I looked. My skin had tanned to a deep bronze color which contrasted beautifully with the white toweling.
Then the houseboy-cum-cook who looked after him prepared us a real Spanish dinner. It was the first time I felt it was safe to eat anything. We had mountains of sensational paella with a rich fishy sauce. You could tell it was going to be delicious from the heavenly aroma alone. I dug in, and we had homemade ice cream to follow. Alfonso played the guitar and sang to me in his sweet low voice over coffee. I looked out of the window and could see the lights of Bombay dancing on the water. Everything was perfect. Alfonso dismissed the houseboy, who didn't stop smiling and wagging his head as I complimented him on his excellent dinner. Alfonso took my hand and led me upstairs to his bedroom.
The lighting was low and rosy, and the furniturewith the exception of a single cane chair-consisted of a huge bed. He unwound my towel and let it drop to the floor. He took off my turban and brushed out my hair which was still damp. He pulled back the covers, picked me up, and laid me between the cool sheets. (The sheets made in Bombay are some of the most luxurious I have ever slept on. I brought several pairs home, and I am still reminded of the night I spent with Alfonso when I climb between them.) I watched him undress and lay his clothes out neatly on the cane chair. His body was hard and sinewy with masses of black fur around his erect cock. He got into bed, rolled on top of me, pushed his way into my semi-moist pussy, and came instantaneously. Then he began apologizing profusely. I pushed him away and told him not to be so silly and never to say sorry.
"I wanted you so much and have lived a celibate existence for so long that I couldn't help myself. I could think of nothing else all day than the thought of being inside you. I was in such a state of excitement and expectation that the moment I was inside you I lost control and came," he explained.
"Alfonso," I replied, "don't you realize that that's one of the greatest compliments you can pay a woman? I adore being wanted like that. Now we have plenty of time to relish each other's bodies. I'll work you up all over again," I said lovingly.
"Suppose I don't make it?" he asked.
"Don't worry, you will, and even if you don't tonight, there are lots of ways you can satisfy me without having an erect cock," I said.
I turned myself right around so my feet were on the pillow next to Alfonso's head. I lifted my legs and literally shoved my pussy into his face, and he started to eat me straight away. I went down on him and drew his soft sticky cock into my mouth. I did everything slowly with no jerky or violent movements. I sank my head into his mass of pubic hair and applied my lips and tongue gently to the tip of his rubbery, uncircumcised cock while he sucked my cunt with extreme tenderness. I was almost suffocated by the great warm nest of his pubic hair, but I took deep breaths, inhaling his delectable warmth and the exquisite scent of his manhood. He had a pungent, overpowering smell, stronger than I had ever smelled before, but fantastically exciting. I sucked and sucked. I let my hand stray around the gentle curve of his bottom. I loved the feel of his soft hairy ass brushing against the palm of my hand. For a man with such firm flesh his bottom was surprisingly soft. Alfonso had replaced his mouth with his fingers and pushed his forefinger deep into my love channel. One finger became two and two became three. It took only a few minutes of my cunt being finger-fucked for me to climax.
I opened my mouth to cry out with pleasure, and his still flaccid cock plopped out of my mouth with all the flexibility of a slippery eel. He had given me one of the best finger-fucks of all time. I was getting really worried because there was no action going on at my end. I replaced his penis in my mouth. Carefully pushing down the foreskin, I swallowed him once more and began gobbling and gobbling. I pushed him over so that he was lying on his back. My bottom and crotch were suspended above his face. I thought that maybe the sight of my private parts exposed without inhibition might turn him on. I was now able to work on him more freely and come up for air more easily. I let his cock slide slowly from my mouth and got my head right under his balls and licked among the hairs behind his scrotum. He started to moan. I quickly returned to his cock and saw that, although he appeared to be on the verge of an orgasm, his cock hadn't swelled out at all. I swiveled myself right around and wedged his cock between my boobs. I swung them backwards and forwards, not letting his sloppy cock slip from their grasp. I felt a tepid tiny trickle spill out onto my boobs, and it was all over. Alfonso pulled me up, smearing all his sperm over our bodies. He kissed me, muttering over and over again, "Darling, darling!" and continued, "My sweet, I'm sorry my performance wasn't up to much tonight," he apologized.
"Why worry?" I asked. "You've come twice, and I had a beautiful orgasm while your fingers moved in my cunt. We've plenty more days for a regular fuck! You've made me very happy. After all, a stiff cock isn't the be-all and end-all of lovemaking."
I wanted to spend the night with him, but I was off to Singapore in the morning. He took me back to the hotel and arranged to meet me at the airport the following evening. We were doing a shuttle from Bombay to Singapore and back to Bombay in the same day. We were due into Bombay about ten the next evening. He kissed me good night and shouted farewell over the roar of the Morgan's engine. Hils was already in bed asleep, so I undressed in the dark and quietly slipped into bed.