"an Indian woman fell for me. i thought she was simply lonely or just a prostitute. i have never been with a prostitute. she said she wasn't one. she was recently divorced and looking for a husband. being american she thought i would not be a stickler for her traditions and maybe would like her enough to spend time with her, take care of her. i couldn't take her out of the country but for the two years in India she was my woman. i had to take her to another town far from her people to avoid ridicule. it was a solemn time in a sense because we came from two different worlds and she was considered an untouchable and i was american.
we lived together for four months before we had sex. she was offended at first but i never berated her and she liked that and took care of me. she cooked for me and washed my clothes and took care of our apartment. at night we watched tv and got to know each other watching tv and eating in bed. she never had eaten in bed or thought of doing such a thing until we got together.
one afternoon as she was falling asleep her head, on my stomach, her slim nakedness got to me and i pulled her face up to mine and gently caressed it. it was a gentle kindness in my touch as she slowly came fully awake. she had been wearing a short thin see through for a couple of weeks she was so comfortable with me, and i slid it up. when i was in her i found the depth of her pussy and saw her soul in its fragmented colors and the need she had to connect her soul with mine. i wouldn't come for a long time. i was on top of her between her legs and the entire length of me was buried in her vagina. she groaned and moaned under me staring in my eyes.
i saw fear first, then i saw acceptance, as she slowly gyrated her hips in a rhythmic pattern matching our breathing together. looking deep into each others eyes we bonded our spirits together holding dear the moment, the feeling, the love of ourselves with each other. that first time was a uniting force that has not been able to fade over the years.
we made love a lot and eventually began to fuck wildly. then i learned how much fantasy and technique lived in her imagination as it came out for me. her fuck and her love making were serious for her and being held, honored and loved was a balm, it seemed, for and on her soul. i loved and still love her. i miss being with her and grief in our absence wondering if i did enough to keep her or enough to get her out of the country. but in the end india is her home and she couldn't leave it anymore than i could not not go back to america." -
as told me during sacred times. shared by permission
excerpt from the Book of Wheels
Gregory E. Woods
Keeper of Stories
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