From ERWA Authors
by Amanda Earl
Naked in Varanasi
by Lisabet Sarai
by Amanda Earl
A Separate Peace
by Robert Buckley
Lusting After Jeremy
by Amanda Earl
by Daddy X
Flashers & Poetry
by Dark Horse
by Henry Corrigan
Dick and Jane
by Big Ed Magusson
by Ian D Smith
by Various Authors
Naughty Bits: Technology for Authors
(Non-fiction) by Lisabet Sarai
A Slip of the Lip Anthology
Edited by Remittance Girl
Naked in Varanasi
by Lisabet Sarai
She was everything he had sworn to avoid.
Her scent hauled him back to the world of things, invading the hard-won emptiness of his mind. At first, he struggled to hold on to his meditative state, but soon he understood that the struggle itself caused more damage than her disturbingly feminine presence. With a sigh of resignation, he opened his eyes.
Breasts round as the moon spilled from her sari, a careless drape of gold-embroidered crimson that barely hid her lush hips and buttocks. A ruby nestled in her exposed navel, crowning the gentle hillock of her belly. Her thighs whispered to him, coy behind the silken cascade of her skirts. She smelled of frangipani and musk. Each time he breathed, he hardened further.
Her jet-black eyes sparkled under brows arched in amusement. A smile danced on her full lips. As he watched, transfixed, she peeled a ripe mango with jeweled fingers and took a generous bite. Juice trickled down her chin, into the hollow between her breasts. His traitor cock twitched as he fought the lascivious images she evoked. He saw himself, burying his face in that valley to lick out the sweetness - moving down to suckle the prominent, chocolate-hued nipples - then sinking lower still...
"Would you like some?" She offered the moist yellow fruit, bearing obvious marks from her white teeth, and his stomach growled.
"No - no, thank you." As part of his pilgrimage, he had resolved to eat only once a day, a meager bowl of rice and dahl taken before the sun rose. At first he had been hungry all the time, but now, after a month, he thought he'd learned to ignore the craving for more food. Now her presence rekindled that hunger as well.
"Are you quite sure?" She stepped into the shade of the banyan tree, where he'd been sitting in full lotus, meditating, since dawn. "You're very thin - I can see your ribs. You need to eat more. Come with me to the darshan. They're handing out sweetmeats blessed by the Lord Shiva."
"I eat to keep my body alive. That's enough."
Her laugh was a crystal bell ringing through the temple courtyard. She sank to her haunches in front of him and her thighs parted, releasing a new gust of oceany perfume. His cock reared up from his lap, distorting the loose cotton dhoti wrapped around his hips. "Silly man," she murmured. She brushed the palm of her hand over the bulb, sending a shimmer of pleasure through his body.
"Don't!" He grabbed her wrist before she could touch him again. Her cinnamon-colored skin felt like sun-warmed satin under his fingers. Lust boiled up, threatening to drown him. He closed his eyes, fighting for control. She reminded him so much of Sara, despite the differences in complexion and hair color, with her lush, treacherous curves and intoxicating scent. He had to get away, before all his resolutions crumbled to dust...
Her bangles clinked as she extricated herself from his grasp. "Another holy fool who believes that denying the flesh is the path to moksha." Sympathy mingled with the scorn in her voice. She cupped his cheek, staring into his eyes, and electric delight shuddered up his spine. "You poor misguided soul. Renunciation will not lead to what you seek. Believe me, I have tried that path. I've endured austerities you can't begin to imagine. You can't make the physical world go away by pretending that it doesn't exist."
"Each of us must find our own path," he told her, shaking her off and trying to rise, eager to escape. Stiff from sitting for so long, his limbs wouldn't obey him. He stumbled, falling into her waiting arms.
Fire raced through him as she clasped him to her pillowy breasts. His bare chest tingled everywhere it touched her flesh. "Ah yes," she murmured, planting sticky, mango-flavored kisses on his lips. His swollen cock settled into the silk-lined creased between her thighs, ready to explode. "That's much better, isn't it? Devotion is the only true path to release, meri jaan." Her hands roved over his body until they found the spot where his dhoti tucked into his waist. Her mouth still feasting on his, she tugged at the cloth. It fell away, leaving him naked and unprotected as she bore him to the dusty ground and stretched her ripe body over his.
She was every bit as bold as Sara, stroking his poor prick, fondling his balls, probing his ass with her busy fingers. He tried to object, but her determined kisses sealed his lips. His feeble struggles were useless in the face of her power. In her confident embrace every part of him grew weak and limp - except, of course, his cock, now impossibly hard. She rubbed the tip back and forth across her damp pubic curls and he was sure he'd spurt his seed all over her smooth, brown belly, before he'd even entered her.
Somehow he managed to hold back. He found the strength for control, not in his vow of abstinence, which crumbled to nothing at her touch, but in anticipation of the slick heat he knew awaited him in her tight, wet cunt. He didn't want to come yet. He wanted to fill and stretch her first, to plumb her secret depths and coax screams of passion from her throat. Writhing and moaning, he stabbed blindly at her pelvis, seeking access to her treasure. With a satisfied purr, she wrapped her legs around his waist and guided him inside.
Molten velvet engulfed him. Tendrils of fire licked at his cock. She clamped down upon his quivering shaft, the muscular walls of her sex rippling along its length, coaxing the cum from his balls. Too soon, he thought. I want to fuck her for a long, long time. The notion flitted through his mind, leaving him unconcerned. Compared with the barrage of pleasure assaulting him, anything else was insignificant.
Brilliant white light bloomed around them. His cock shuddered, an instant away from flooding her with his spunk. She raked her fingernails along his thigh and thrust her tongue into his mouth. Come for me, meri jaan, he heard her say, out of the heart of the brightness. Let go, and let us be one. He was more than ready to comply.
You're such a filthy pervert. It was Sara's voice, surfacing in his lust-tranced mind. You think with your dick. And you know I love it, baby. I want you to fuck me till I can't stand up.
A wave of sudden guilt crashed over him at the memory, drowning his desire. "No!" he yelled. "Get away from me." Strength surged back into his wiry frame. The strange woman tumbled off and rolled away, into a tangle of tree roots. "I swore to stay celibate." Snatching up the dhoti, he wrapped awkwardly it around his loins, trying to hide his still-swollen cock. "You can't make me break that vow."
The dusky beauty surveyed him, her chest heaving with exertion and her thighs wet with arousal. "You're fooling yourself," she said finally. "You can fast and meditate forever, but it won't cure you of your lust. That's part of who you are."
"People can change."
She shook her head, setting the golden ornaments in her earlobes swaying. "You have immense sexual vitality - like my Lord Shiva. You cannot deny your true nature. When Shiva's lingam fell to earth, it consumed everything before it. You are the same."
Strength deserted him. He sank to the ground, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. "I've got to change." He recognized the old despair in his voice, the desperation he thought he'd banished over the past month of spiritual reflection. "I've caused too much damage already."
"Tell me, little one. You can confide in me." Her voice held a note of maternal concern. Gazing at her loveliness (he still couldn't force himself to look away), he sensed that despite her youthful appearance, she was far older than he was.
She gathered her sari and draped it around her, covering her bare breasts and pouting sex. The garment did little to dispel her overwhelming aura of sensuality. He breathed a bit easier when she seated herself on a stone bench about five feet away. His cock subsided to semi-erection.
"You're lonely. Here you are in a strange country, with strange customs and beliefs, wrestling with your personal demons. You need a friend, a guide. A guru. Let me help you."
The compassion in her voice melted him. He looked up. Her kind smile gave him the courage to continue. "I had an affair." The admission stirred his guilt, but at the same gave him a sense of relief.
"You were unfaithful to your wife?"
"No, no, I'm not married - but - but she was. To my best friend." It all rushed back - the shame, the humiliation, and the terrible excitement of those illicit afternoon meetings. Sara teasing him, tempting him, egging him on - showing him how very low he'd sink for a taste of her cunt or her ass. "It went on for months. Jeremy never caught on, even though we worked together. I kept trying to end it, but she wouldn't let me..."
"I understand," his companion murmured. "You seduced your friend's wife, and now you're trying to make amends."
"She seduced me!" He shook his head at the recollection. "But I didn't resist - not really. I wanted her so much, it was scary. On the days we met, I'd be inside her within five minutes of her opening her door. On the days we didn't, all I did was think about the next time I could have my dick in one of her holes."
"Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore. I realized my life was a complete lie. I quit my job, rented out my condo, and came to India."
"Looking for enlightenment." Her gentle mockery only made him feel worse.
"Right." He shook his head at his prick, still partially engorged. “I'm so fucking pathetic.”
“Come to me, my poor child. I will lead you into the light.” She rose, towering over him, shimmering in the sun-baked air. What the hell? He stared at the crescent moon gleaming above her forehead, the electric blue lotus she clutched in one of her four hands. A tawny lioness crouched at her feet. Maybe I really should be eating more. The world wavered around him, fluid and dreamlike, a sea of mist in which she was the only solid object, a pulsing technicolor idol, simultaneously gorgeous and obscene.
Her smile beckoned. Her flesh drew him like a magnet. His whole being ached with the need to touch her. Before he knew what was happening, he was on his feet once more, propelled into those perfect, welcoming arms. He raced to close the few feet of distance separating them, but physics intervened. His dhoti slipped from his hips to entangle his legs. He sprawled onto the packed dirt of the courtyard with a force that drove breath from his body.
“Ooph!” Pain flared in his knees and palms, where the rough ground had abraded his skin. The environment snapped into sharp focus – gravel digging into his chest, the weight of the sun on his bare back, a faint tinkle of temple bells and an odor of manure and sandalwood. “Ow...” He raised his head, expecting to see her hovering over him, triumphant and irresistible.
The yard was empty, save for two scrawny pigeons perched on the edge of the sacred well, pecking at the devotional garlands. The woman who had tempted him was gone. He peered up at the pebbled domes of the main shrine, stark against the white-hot sky. Had he imagined the whole episode?
His memory conjured her lurid image, and his flaccid cock twitched and swelled in response. He hastened to cover himself once more, noting the gummy residue of her secretions on his stubborn flesh. Not a dream then – but surely the last part had been a hallucination, when she'd glowed like one of the garish posters that decorated the walls of the pilgrims' hostel.
Hunger sharpened the mind and subdued the body, or so he'd read, but perhaps he'd taken things too far. He limped into the shadowy sanctuary, almost choking as incense filled his lungs. Trying not to trample the white-garbed bodies prostrated before the statue of dancing Shiva, he made his way to the deepest alcove, which housed the Jyotrlingam. Surrounded by heaps of blossoms, wet with the libations offered by the pious, it looked like a bowler hat made of black stone. Two priests flanked the holy object, naked save for their loincloths and the sacred strings crossing their chests. Their faces, daubed with turmeric, charcoal and chalk, were unearthly masks.
He knelt before the holy object, wincing at the sting from his scraped knees, and touched his forehead to the stone floor as he'd seen the other pilgrims do. One of the priests handed him a pitcher and beckoned toward the lingam. Dizzy with the incense and the scent of flowers, he leaned forward to drizzle milk onto the granite cock, while the priest chanted something unintelligible. He handed the empty vessel to the Brahman, who marked his forehead with something oily.
Immediately his cock surged into full erection. Not again, please... The priest seemed not to notice – or perhaps this was a normal reaction to making obeisance to the penis of a god. As he struggled to his feet, the priest handed him a package wrapped in silvered paper, redolent of honey and rosewater.
The scent made him salivate. He wanted to devour the prasad as soon as he emerged back into the sunlight, but he forced himself to wait. Stomach growling, squinting against the glare, he hurried through the crowded lanes of the old town, down to the river. Only when he reached Meer Ghat did he allow himself to peel away the thin layer of silver and pop the syrup-coated morsel into his mouth.
Sweetness exploded on his tongue, so intense it made his teeth ache. He chewed slowly, savoring the rare treat, hoping that it wouldn't make him sick after so many abstemious weeks. That would serve him right. He should spit the cursed thing out.
Of course, he did nothing of the sort.
Ashamed of himself but unable to stop, he drew out the sensual feast as long as he could. Then he sat on the stone steps, watching people descend to bathe in the Ganges. Some laughed and splashed one another, overcome with joy. Others were solemn, sinking down to allow the turbid water to close over their heads. When they climbed back up the stairs, soaked garments clinging to their bodies, all wore an expression of peace he could only envy. Immersion in the Mother River was believed to wash away every sin.
If only it were that simple.
* * *
Midnight had come and gone. He lay on his pallet in the dormitory, breathing sour sweat and tangy fenugreek, listening to the rasping breath of the man in the next cot. He was hard. How could he be otherwise, when every time he closed his eyes he saw her?
He needed to jack off. It felt as though his balls would burst, if he didn't give himself some relief. He hadn't come in five weeks, he realized with perverse pride. But what did that matter? He hadn't managed to liberate himself from lust. Quite the opposite. Why not just give in? What was he trying to prove?
No. I've got to learn to say no, and mean it. If I'd been strong enough to say no to Sara, that first time, everything would be different. I wouldn't be here, suffering. Was that true, though? Had he really been happy with his life, before the affair? Hadn't something been missing? Wasn't that why he'd been so susceptible to her in the first place?
“You think too much, meri jaan.” As though conjured by his fantasies, she was suddenly there - her warm breath in his ear, her heady scent in his nostrils, stretched out beside him on the narrow mattress. Her fingers tickled his nipples then danced away to flutter over his cock. “The mind cannot lead you to release. It will only mire you further in samsara.”
He groaned as her touch, her nearness, tripled the agony he'd felt before. Her naked curves molded themselves to his angular frame. One smooth thigh settled over his, nudging his aching balls. One breast nestled plump and smooth against his chest, the taunting nipple making his mouth water.
“Do not fight yourself, little one,” she murmured. “Do not fight me. You cannot win.”
Her lips, her tongue, her hands, all were busy coaxing endless varieties of sensation from his traitorous body. Now she straddled his torso, bent at the waist to nuzzle his cock, her lush ass inches from his face. Potent musk poured from her moist cleft, the distilled essence of every woman he'd ever known.
Hunger seized him. He grabbed the fleshy mounds and dragged her onto his face, plunging his tongue into her cavity.
At the same time, she swallowed his cock, pulling him deep into her throat.
He thought that he'd die from sensory overload. She held him, pinned to the bed, while she ravaged his cock. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, but he was not afraid. If he were to expire smothered by her meaty ass, drowning in her sex juice, that would be only right. She deserved to be worshiped, to have a man give up everything in order to bring her to final release.
She sucked hard. Meanwhile she gyrated on top of him, pressing her moist, elastic flesh into his mouth. Her clit felt like one of the pebbles from the temple courtyard, granite-hard and warmed by the sun. When he flicked his tongue over the node, she squirmed, loosing a new flood of lubrication that he drank up like wine.
The knob of his cock grazed her palate, triggering new ecstasy. He was closer to the edge than he'd been that morning, but somehow he knew he could hold on until he brought her to the same state. She moved back and forth on top of him, sucking in time with his thrusting tongue. Yes, that's right, he thought. Come for me, come hard. Soak me with your juice. Let me explode in your mouth. Let's go up in flames together.
He licked her into a loud, lewd frenzy. She screamed and cursed in her own language. He had forgotten the other men sleeping around them. It never occurred to him to worry that they'd wake. Fever held the two of them in its grip, making them wild and hot, sick with lust, totally insane.
She raked her teeth across his rigid flesh. Cum jumped halfway up his stalk. He forced it down, waiting for the moment when they would burst together.
"Ah meri jaan," she yelled. "You will destroy me!" She ground her cunt against his face, completely blocking all light and air. Convulsions shook her flesh. Her spasms bruised his lips. Fluid gushed from her, drenching and blinding him. She came and came, her cunt locked to his mouth. Shards of color floated before his eyes. He grew lightheaded from lack of oxygen, but he didn't care. He was giving her what she needed and deserved - he, a poor pilgrim on a foolish quest for salvation.
His cock throbbed, pleasure racing up and down in electric sparkles, yet he was still far from coming. Perhaps I've learned some control after all, he marveled, in this month of denying myself.
His companion went limp, her heaviness settling on him like a soothing blanket, woman-fragrance still wafting from her sex. As for him, he was harder than ever, yet strangely satisfied.
He went off into some dream, then, not too different from the focused emptiness of meditation. Only when she stirred did awareness return. She clamped a tight fist around his still-rigid cock, stifling a giggle. Lust rushed through him like a supersonic jet.
"Oh, I've sadly neglected you, haven't I? Let me remedy that..." She swung around to sit on his thighs, so that his cock just grazed her bush. In an instant he was on the verge once again.
One of the other pilgrims turned on his cot, muttering something in Hindi.
"No - please...," he told her, filled with sudden disgust at the notion of coupling here, among these holy men. "I can't..."
She shook her head in disbelief. "Are you still resisting me, then?"
"No, no - but not here in the hostel - it wouldn't be right...anywhere but here..."
"Ah." Her eyes glittered like jewels in the dark. "Well, then..."
He blinked. Everything went black. Familiar scents tickled his nose: sandalwood, flowers, charred meat, rotting vegetation. Then she was upon him, skin on skin, flowing like honey over his body. She captured his cock between her thighs and her musky odor overwhelmed everything else.
Where are we? a tiny corner of his mind nagged, before lust flared and consumed even that shred of concern. Astride his cock, his lover milked him with her cunt-muscles, sending the most exquisite sensations rippling up his cock. He felt every flutter, every contraction. His prick swelled to outrageous proportions inside her steamy cavity.
She wouldn't allow him to move. Somehow she held him transfixed, as she skewered herself again and again on his massive erection. Before, he would have given anything to fuck her. Now, he was simply content to be fucked - not just content, but unutterably grateful.
He had stopped fighting. Let her take him over the edge and into bliss. His vow meant nothing compared to the feelings she kindled in him - body and soul. Aside from the sensual delight of being inside her, she made him feel special - cherished. She knew his sins, but she did not condemn him.
The blackness was absolute, yet he could practically see her, solid, majestic, taking possession of his poor emaciated body. Everything faded but the pleasure. He would come in an instant, filling her with his cum, as he'd wanted to do from the instant he set eyes on her. The pressure built, instant by instant, but there was no urgency.
She rocked on his prick, murmuring endearments and encouragement. "Come for me now, meri jaan, my horny little seeker of truth. Scald me with your seed. Let go and be free."
A flicker of light shattered the velvet dark. His balls contracted, forcing the cum into his shaft. "Yes," she shouted, starting to come herself. "Yes! Fuck me, my darling! Now!"
Blinding radiance burst from his cock, streaming out along the semen. She loomed over him, hair snaking around her head, soaking up the light. A fierce grin split her jet-black face. One hand gripped the root of his pumping cock. One slithered beneath his buttocks to impale his ass. The other two pinched the enormous nipples adorning her pendulous black breasts. Hanging between those luscious, terrible mounds was a necklace of miniature skulls.
Everything poured out of him - cum, light, energy. She swallowed it all. He writhed in the throes of unutterable pleasure as everything drained away.
The tempest finally spent itself. The light dimmed. He lay limp, unable to move, near senseless, his lust relieved at last. A third eye blinked open in the vast expanse of her forehead and regarded him with an eerie calm.
You are free now, meri jaan. That is my reward for your devotion.
The world brightened around him, not the harsh glare of his lust-light but a soothing, pearly gray tinged with pink. The goddess floated to her feet, darkness leaching away from her skin until her complexion was golden as the sun. More glorious and desirable than ever, she made a gesture of summoning. A sleek feline shape padded to her side. With infinite grace, she seated herself upon the lion's back. Then she was gone.
The pilgrim's body stretched out, immobile, upon the stone stairs. Dawn painted the sky across the Mother River in gentle shades of violet and peach. Tendrils of smoke rose from the pyres of yesterday's cremations.
He recognized where he was now, and smiled inwardly at the irony. She had taken him at Manikarnika Ghat, the sacred burning ground. Having sucked the life from him, she'd left him among ashes of the dead.
And was he in fact dead, or on the verge of dying? No exercise of will would allow him to move. He was not sure he was breathing. Still his mind appeared to be intact. He could see the glory of the sunrise, hear the mourners approaching with today's corpses, smell the perfume of incense and the rankness of decay.
Had the goddess taken his life as payment for his lust? Empty and at peace, he decided that it didn't matter.
He was, as she had promised, free.
© 2013 Lisabet Sarai. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
Bio: Lisabet Sarai has been a member of and contributor to the Erotica Readers & Writers Association more or less forever. She joined when her first novel Raw Silk hit the shelves in 1999 and she was totally clueless about the publishing world. Thirteen years later, with eight novels and nearly a hundred short stories to her credit, she can now claim to have a clue - but she still loves to hang out at ERWA. For more about Lisabet visit her website at: www.lisabetsarai.com
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