07-04-2023, 04:22 PM
Group Sex, Memsaheb fucked by mechanics
The speed with which the clouds gathered and the skies opened up took me by surprise. I was on my scooty, driving back from a work-related assignment in a village about 40 km outside of Delhi. Usually, I’d take the car for such a distance, but it refused to start in the morning. I expected to return before sunset, but the assignment had taken longer than expected and by the time I got done, the villagers insisted I have dinner before leaving.
So there I was, on my scooty, close to 10 pm on a narrow local road when it started raining cats and dogs, as the cliche goes. Since it wasn’t the time for monsoons, I expected the rain to stop soon, so I just pulled over by the side of the road and stopped under a tree. Half an hour later, the rain still had not let up. I was completely soaked, even under the tree.
I thought of calling home for a rescue from my predicament. As I reached into my purse to take my cellphone out, I felt certain dampness. That’s when I realized I had taken my fabric purse, which was obviously not waterproof. The cellphone was also wet, and had conked off. Great, I thought to myself. Stuck here without a working cellphone on a highway late at night. Some vehicles were passing by. I thought of flagging one down. But there had been so many news stories recently about a group of men in their cars or SUVs kidnapping women from the roadside and banging them, that I did not feel comfortable doing so. I decided the best course of action was to drive until I reached some village, and then make a call from there.
So I got on my scooty and drove for about half a km when putt... puttt... putt… hisssss. The scooty engine just stopped with some ominous noises. I tried to restart it. Even tried the manual kick-start. Did not work. Great. As if things couldn’t get any worse. Now I was soaked to my skin, with my scooter and cell phone refusing to work, stranded on a deserted road at almost 11 pm. I stood there re-evaluating the option of flagging down a car. The rain had gotten even harder now, definitely the heaviest downpour in the region in years.
Finally I decided to take the chance and stood by the edge of the road waiting for some vehicle to pass by. Nothing. Zip. Not a single car or truck for about 10 minutes. Was I in the twilight zone, I wondered.
That’s when I noticed a guy on one of those old rusty bicycles approaching from the Delhi side. He was wearing a raincoat, and had his eyes on the road, so did not notice me immediately. I called out to him and he stopped. Crossed the road and came close to me.
“Hello…, my scooty has broken down and my phone isn’t working either. Do you have a cellphone on you?” I asked in Hindi.
The man pushed his hood back. He was bald and in his 40s. Wiped the water from his face and replied in Hindi, “Cellphone? No. I don’t own a cellphone. But I am a mechanic. Want me to take a look at that scooty?”
“Oh, thank you. It will be great if you can fix it.”
He got off his bicycle, and started examining my scooty.
“Why are there no cars at all on this road?”
“It’s a pretty bad storm, Madam. Trees fallen all over. The road is shut on both the sides, about a km on the Delhi side and a couple of km on the other side. I was just cycling back home from the garage I work at. It’s just a km away.”
This did not sound good. If the road was closed both ways, how was I to get home? The man realized what I was thinking from the worried look on my face and said, “Don’t worry about the Delhi side. They were saying it will be cleared within an hour. It’s not a very big tree, they say.”
He looked under the scooty a few times. Took the toolbox out of the side-box and puttered around. Tried to start it a few times. And then said to me, “Sorry, Madam. There is thingummy thingummy with the thingummy of the thingummy and we need a thingummy.” Well, that’s not exactly what he said. But I am a total dunce when it comes to automobiles so he might as well have said that and I wouldn’t have understood it any less.
“Alright, so can you fix it?” I asked.
“No, not here. Don’t have the tools and parts for it. But if you like, we can go to my garage. It’s just a km away. We’ll get there in no time. There’s also a phone in the garage, so you can call someone and have them pick you up.”
That sounded like the best possible option. So we set off on foot towards his garage, him dragging my scooter, and me rolling his bicycle along.
“So Madam, if you don’t mind. What is your name?”
“Lafiza” I replied, and out of courtesy asked him, “and what is your’s?”
“I am Naresh Verma. If you don’t mind my asking…, what is a young lady like you doing here at this time. As far as i know '. women are all housewives, they don’t come out like this alone? We usually don’t get Delhi ‘memsaahibs’ in our parts.”
“Who told you this?” I asked him… in hindi. “That time is gone, even '. girls are working in metro cities now a days. I had some work in a village. Was driving back when this storm started.”
“Yes, this storm is really unexpected. Never seen it rain like this even in the monsoons.”
He stayed silent after that, but I noticed that he’d keep stealing glances at me. I had been so preoccupied with thinking about the scooty and how to get home, that I didn’t realize how completely soaked I was. Fortunately, as I always do while on village assignments, I was wearing a very conservative salwar-kameez, with a long scarf around my neck and chest. But even so, being as soaked as I was, the fabric was hugging some curves of my body more tightly than it ever would.
Nothing too scandalous, mind you, but I am sure it was titillating enough for a middle aged mechanic like Naresh. His name indicated he was a ***** and ***** women in those parts dressed very conservatively. So I must have been quite a sight for him. I tried not to think too much about it though. Apart from a few glances, which were perfectly normal for any male, he had been very polite and well-behaved. I did not feel threatened by him at all.
The speed with which the clouds gathered and the skies opened up took me by surprise. I was on my scooty, driving back from a work-related assignment in a village about 40 km outside of Delhi. Usually, I’d take the car for such a distance, but it refused to start in the morning. I expected to return before sunset, but the assignment had taken longer than expected and by the time I got done, the villagers insisted I have dinner before leaving.
So there I was, on my scooty, close to 10 pm on a narrow local road when it started raining cats and dogs, as the cliche goes. Since it wasn’t the time for monsoons, I expected the rain to stop soon, so I just pulled over by the side of the road and stopped under a tree. Half an hour later, the rain still had not let up. I was completely soaked, even under the tree.
I thought of calling home for a rescue from my predicament. As I reached into my purse to take my cellphone out, I felt certain dampness. That’s when I realized I had taken my fabric purse, which was obviously not waterproof. The cellphone was also wet, and had conked off. Great, I thought to myself. Stuck here without a working cellphone on a highway late at night. Some vehicles were passing by. I thought of flagging one down. But there had been so many news stories recently about a group of men in their cars or SUVs kidnapping women from the roadside and banging them, that I did not feel comfortable doing so. I decided the best course of action was to drive until I reached some village, and then make a call from there.
So I got on my scooty and drove for about half a km when putt... puttt... putt… hisssss. The scooty engine just stopped with some ominous noises. I tried to restart it. Even tried the manual kick-start. Did not work. Great. As if things couldn’t get any worse. Now I was soaked to my skin, with my scooter and cell phone refusing to work, stranded on a deserted road at almost 11 pm. I stood there re-evaluating the option of flagging down a car. The rain had gotten even harder now, definitely the heaviest downpour in the region in years.
Finally I decided to take the chance and stood by the edge of the road waiting for some vehicle to pass by. Nothing. Zip. Not a single car or truck for about 10 minutes. Was I in the twilight zone, I wondered.
That’s when I noticed a guy on one of those old rusty bicycles approaching from the Delhi side. He was wearing a raincoat, and had his eyes on the road, so did not notice me immediately. I called out to him and he stopped. Crossed the road and came close to me.
“Hello…, my scooty has broken down and my phone isn’t working either. Do you have a cellphone on you?” I asked in Hindi.
The man pushed his hood back. He was bald and in his 40s. Wiped the water from his face and replied in Hindi, “Cellphone? No. I don’t own a cellphone. But I am a mechanic. Want me to take a look at that scooty?”
“Oh, thank you. It will be great if you can fix it.”
He got off his bicycle, and started examining my scooty.
“Why are there no cars at all on this road?”
“It’s a pretty bad storm, Madam. Trees fallen all over. The road is shut on both the sides, about a km on the Delhi side and a couple of km on the other side. I was just cycling back home from the garage I work at. It’s just a km away.”
This did not sound good. If the road was closed both ways, how was I to get home? The man realized what I was thinking from the worried look on my face and said, “Don’t worry about the Delhi side. They were saying it will be cleared within an hour. It’s not a very big tree, they say.”
He looked under the scooty a few times. Took the toolbox out of the side-box and puttered around. Tried to start it a few times. And then said to me, “Sorry, Madam. There is thingummy thingummy with the thingummy of the thingummy and we need a thingummy.” Well, that’s not exactly what he said. But I am a total dunce when it comes to automobiles so he might as well have said that and I wouldn’t have understood it any less.
“Alright, so can you fix it?” I asked.
“No, not here. Don’t have the tools and parts for it. But if you like, we can go to my garage. It’s just a km away. We’ll get there in no time. There’s also a phone in the garage, so you can call someone and have them pick you up.”
That sounded like the best possible option. So we set off on foot towards his garage, him dragging my scooter, and me rolling his bicycle along.
“So Madam, if you don’t mind. What is your name?”
“Lafiza” I replied, and out of courtesy asked him, “and what is your’s?”
“I am Naresh Verma. If you don’t mind my asking…, what is a young lady like you doing here at this time. As far as i know '. women are all housewives, they don’t come out like this alone? We usually don’t get Delhi ‘memsaahibs’ in our parts.”
“Who told you this?” I asked him… in hindi. “That time is gone, even '. girls are working in metro cities now a days. I had some work in a village. Was driving back when this storm started.”
“Yes, this storm is really unexpected. Never seen it rain like this even in the monsoons.”
He stayed silent after that, but I noticed that he’d keep stealing glances at me. I had been so preoccupied with thinking about the scooty and how to get home, that I didn’t realize how completely soaked I was. Fortunately, as I always do while on village assignments, I was wearing a very conservative salwar-kameez, with a long scarf around my neck and chest. But even so, being as soaked as I was, the fabric was hugging some curves of my body more tightly than it ever would.
Nothing too scandalous, mind you, but I am sure it was titillating enough for a middle aged mechanic like Naresh. His name indicated he was a ***** and ***** women in those parts dressed very conservatively. So I must have been quite a sight for him. I tried not to think too much about it though. Apart from a few glances, which were perfectly normal for any male, he had been very polite and well-behaved. I did not feel threatened by him at all.
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