Some in Dhotis, some in shorts, all in sandals.Most of the men faced the girl, some to press against her, some to merely look. She had a pretty, shapely, figure, and her brief floppy shorts and sleeveless T left little of her charms to be imagined. They were on honeymoon. Dave and Nicci Saunders were their names. They’d been to see the temple at Maracci, near Mumbai.Now they were trying to get back into town but hadn’t been able to find a taxi, so had taken the train instead. It was dusk light fading fast. The train was shuddering painfully from stop to start, to stop again, along an ancient line. The eyes of the men, all dark, were on hers, clear blue and on her face, plump lips, clear eyes, neat chin. They wandered over her straw-coloured hair drawn back in a pony-tail. Smooth neck, creamy skin very pretty thing. So it was perhaps unsurprising although it surprised Nicci at the time when one of those crammed around extended a hand and gently cupped her buttock. Nicci Saunders. " He moved lower before she could speak and she felt the thickness of his tongue.It swiped at the pink flesh between her legs, licking at the drops of her arousal with a satisfied moan. It was electric, every stroke made her arch up against him, every touch of his tongue upon her clit drove her higher, taking her from plateau to plateau of pleasure until she shuddered delicately against him, her cries ringing in the air above them."Yes," he groaned, moving up her body, his thick and rampant cock rubbing along the slender curve of her leg. "That was wonderful, my love. Now, accept me, all of me." He grabbed her ankles, sliding her legs up his arms until she was caught at his elbows and bent almost in two. The head of his shaft was swollen, angry looking. It pulsed against her wet slit, delving into the pinkness of her pussy with little regard for the pitiful cries that escaped her lips."Please don't," she moaned, feeling him stab at her with his blunt, rounded head. "Please, I don't.
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