It was 2 weeks after the Indian women tested themselves against Anupama by trying to find out who could make her cum the most. (See the 2 previous stories in this series). I was driving a minibus with the 14 Indian women who were present then and now were the founding members of the Subcontinent Railway Station Sex Club. We were on the way to evaluate an unused warehouse in Rockbank, a far west outer suburb of Melbourne.
Dhriti, a 21-year-old from Indore and cousin of Nabh, the prodigious cummer, had an uncle who was willing to rent it to us. As I drove on further and further from civilisation I was humming the Talking Heads hit, “Road to Nowhere.” It fitted perfectly. The mini-bus was filled with the excited chatter of the 14 Indians who ranged in age from Saanvi the 56-year-old mother of the captain of the Indian Tertiary student cricket team I coached to the 18-year-old private school student Vanya. Eventually, we reached the warehouse.
It was an old double story ex-farm barn and the promised parking lot was simply a truckload of gravel sparsely scattered over the grass. The women got out of the minibus. Gone were the cotton Salwaar Kameez they had worn that night. Now they tottered on their newly purchased high heels and tight wore belly exposing silk saris with a halterneck or string choli, an overtight exotic anakarli suit or a western night club dress. The restrictive nature of their new outfits hampered their progress over the muddy uneven ground. The exception was the 18-year-old Vanya who in her Year 12 school uniform, having wagged school for the day.
Dhriti opened the door on the ground floor and we all flinched. Pallets of old broken Indian cooking utensils and out of date ingredients covered the floor. Discarded wrapping and broken packets lay everywhere. And the rotting. sour smell. It had to be experienced to be believed. “We could clear it up and clean it,”‘ Kyra hesitantly ventured after a long pause. Dhriti replied unconvincingly, “Its not this. It’s the upstairs floor.
I think that is better from my uncle’s description and he only wants $400 a week.” There were stairs at the back and I sent Navya, the 200 pound plus aunt, up first before I would trust myself to step on those stairs. We went up and the silence from the women as they entered was deafening. It faced us: an empty, dirty, dark room with walls covered with graffiti.
Rotted floorboards complete with used condoms, broken glass from the shattered windows, old empty MacDonald food containers, stale rotten food, and the remnants of fires completed our visual inspection. It wasn’t pretty but it had a toilet. Yes, the room corners had dried urine pools and what I hoped was only Rocky excrement. Then the smell hit us and we staggered downstairs and luckily the staircase didn’t collapse from the surge of bodies.
The women were distraught, but I managed to say that I had located another building to visit, and surely it had to be better. Downhearted they got on the minibus and I drove the now subdued group to High Street Northcote, a trendy suburb about 7 km from Melbourne’s CBD. I pulled up outside a double fronted three-story building in the main shopping street strip.
Northcote dated from 40 years after Melbourne was founded in the 1850s and this building was from the 1920s in an art deco style. It even had an original granite face stone on which the engraving proudly stated I Wright Purveyor of Fine General Merchandise Since 1921 Downstairs was currently occupied by a seller of reproduction Edwardian fittings for the now trendy, expensive renovated houses in that area.
Upstairs was unoccupied, but the first floor had been a dance studio at some stage with kitchen, toilets, change rooms and a separate back entrance. The top floor was bare and open and obviously where that Purveyor of Fine General Merchandise had stored his products. Why were we here? Well, a wealthy client of mine Chin Do who preferred to be known as the Big C was cheating on his 45-year-old wife with a 20-year-old massage parlour girl.
The Big C owned the Vietnamese “massage parlour” industry which he ran on a franchise basis providing the girls, advertising and protection and liaison with the police and local councils to his franchisees. The 20-year-old had him wrapped around her finger. To prove his love he had purchased 4 buildings including this one as a gift for her.
Luckily his ever astute accountant, knowing this had happened before, advised him to keep the titles in a trust consisting of him, the woman and myself (the aforementioned accountant) for a while before handing them over to her. And it was lucky I did as he drove off the Great Ocean Road near Apollo Bay in his BMW sports and the 100-metre fall killed him and the woman.
Probably happened because she was sucking his cock at the time, and her teeth were too sharp. In that case, he died with a smile on his face. In all fairness to his wife, I didn’t want her to know what he had planned with the massage girl. Therefore I let her think it was just a one-nighter, and as the sole survivor of the unknown trust sold the buildings to myself at a low price purely so that the thieving Government would not get their exorbitant stamp duty. So I could look the 14 Indian women in the eye and say, “What do you think? It’s ours if we want it.”
They rushed around and I could hear their squeals of delight and their comments, “Look at the size. The chandeliers. Its got a kitchen. The toilets are so good. What about the wall mirrors?” But then someone ventured the big question, “It’s perfect, but it would cost a fortune. How can we afford it? Why tease us by bringing us here?” I played my trump card, “It’s virtually free. The owner will let you have it for $1 a month.”
We have to pay to have a legal contract.” There was a stunned silence before they exploded into excited chatter until finally Tanvi, the businesswomen cut through the noise of their voices. “It’s you. You are the owner.” I smiled modestly and went into my best salesmen spiel. But it was unnecessary.
I was preaching to the converted, but I continued and sold them the dream. It was THEIR club, not the boys. Downstairs we would have an Indian restaurant, a Subcontinent Grocery store and Travel Agency open 7 days a week and all bringing in a steady income. The ex dance studio would be the events room where we would have our private events and those where lesser members paid entrance fees to attend and participate.
The change rooms would become webcam girls that we ran, with the girls being international students attending universities. The 14 of them would share the profits. Anushka, the previously shy 44-year-old, interjected, “And you too.” I allowed myself to be persuaded that we should split the profits between 15 and continued with the details that I thought would be best for the club which I had already incorporated as the SRSS Club: short for The Subcontinent Railway Station Sex Club. Club language would, therefore, be railway orientated.
Diesel train (male) steam (female) Electric (male and female} carriages (number of participants) freight (anal) mail (oral) water (piss). E.G. Person X pulled a 6 carriage 2 freight 2 mail diesel train equalled person X had 6 men of whom 2 came in the arse and 2 in the mouth. Membership. They would be a Gold class. No fees, the only card with voting rights, and of course full participation in all events.
Of course, as time passed some of them would move on, and so to keep the club running would need to be replaced. But the replacements must be approved by all, and would have no voting rites and a far smaller share of the profits. These would be 9 karat gold members. Then there would be others because some events would need quantity plus it would generate revenue.
First-class passengers who, after qualifying to the gold members satisfaction, paid a high annual subscription and paid a lower price for tickets to most but not all events, Second class passengers would pay a lower annual subscription for access to fewer events, Baggage class paid only for attending mass events and Rooftop would be free attendance when huge numbers were needed or paid specialists like catfighters.
Gold class membership would be finalised after pulling a 4 carriage 2 freight and 2 mail diesel train, and a 3 mail electric in the one gang bang. Consistent money inflow generated from the restaurant, the Indian/Asian grocery and Travel Agency below in the 2 shop areas below and sale of liquor refreshment at club prices upstairs would require volunteer help from them.
Events would be sexfights, catfights, train pulling, bizarre sex events, swinger parties and then the open only to gold class Internal championships, sexfight and catfight teams versus others, and cricket season post-match orgies with the cricket team. Gold class elite display boards to show superiority. Large photo of each of the 14 women pulling their train. Honour boards showing each years Champion sexfighter, catfighter and longest train pulled.
Then I got to their obligations to the club. They would be getting sex and profits from the club, but from their paperwork submitted to Ruth I had worked out the ways they could help the club in a way most suited to them individually. I called them alphabetically so no one thought one job was more important than another.
Anika, the 20-year-old with big hips and thighs would be full time paid Shop Supervisor managing the Grocery store. Anushka, the short dark round-faced and round bodied 44-year-old cousin whom I had thought shy and proved a revelation would be Timetable Superintendent responsible for thinking of and planning the future events Anvi, the 26-year-old Prostitute would be Head of Publicity spreading the word through her contacts to get paying members and rooftop participants.
Dhriti, the 21-year-old was Head of Procurement liaising supplies from her uncle the importer, while Ira, the 22-year-old bespectacled English student was to be Supervisor of Maintenance responsible for keeping the upstairs area cleaned and ready to go Kyra, the solid dark 30-year-old doing media studies would be Head of Media recording events for sale or distribution and managing the cam girls.
Navya the 48-year-old BBW with the huge nipples and clit would use her bar girl background to be Bar Manager upstairs on event nights, while Pari, the tall good looking bib boobed 19 year old would be Events Manager in charge of the actual running of any event upstairs. Priya the 46 you old horny exhibitionist was to be Head of Membership testing and approving First or Second class passengers and when I announced this she nodded her head in approval.
Ruth the 47-year-old thin Anglo Indian was already Head of Administration and would keep that role and be my point of contact with running the club. Sai, the 50-year-old overweight aunt having done this job in Madurai was to be paid Chef in the restaurant/takeaway. Saanvi the 49-year-old thin small titted birdlike mother of out cricket captain would be Station Master or trouble fixer helping each department.
Tanvi the 46-year-old sophisticated elegant businesswoman would be Master of Ceremonies being the voice at each function and Vanya the 18-year-old Catholic school girl already doing work experience at my Accounting business was to be Financial Controller. Not surprisingly my research had been good and they were happy, or at least accepting, with my job allocations and the fact that they all would be rostered to help downstairs.
That left one role. The CEO and I said that it was too important for me to suggest and they should decide. Ira called out, “Priya. She is the most sexy and horny. She is perfect.”
The Southern Indians roared their approval, but Sai called out, “I nominate Saanvi. See how she came when Anupama ate us and see how she made her cum.”
This time the Northern Indians yelled their approval. It had gone to plan. I called for a secret vote and Ruth and I tallied the votes. No need to cheat. It was a tie with the Northern Indians voting for Saanvi and the Southern for Priya.
I called the result, asked if either would withdraw and when neither would I turned to our new Timetable Superintendent Anushka and asked her advice. “Sexfight,” she quickly replied and so the Subcontinent Railway Sex Club was to have its first sexfight. Priya was medium height, slightly overweight with a 36C 30 38 figure and as usual was dressed to show with a red, tight, low cut cocktail dress with a front split almost to her cunt. She stepped forward and advanced towards the older Saanvi as Anushka announced that it would be best of 3 cums.
First, a 69, then a standing fingering, and if needed an anything goes. The two women appraised each other. Dark black eyes met jet black ones. The intensity of dislike radiating between them could be felt by everyone. The two soon-to-be combatants did not exchange words; instead, they let their bodies do the talking as they began to strip.
Priya, as I expected, elected to go first taking the initiative. Saanvi merely stood a few feet away from her with her arms crossed under her small breasts, watching with a bored look across her face as the 45-year-old kicked off her 5-inch heels and removed her clinging dress. Like the women watching I was appreciating every piece of flesh Priya was showing.
She started by wriggling the shoulder straps free and peeling the tightly adhering top off, allowing her 36C bra less tits to tug against the fabric until they were finally released, where they flopped down in their rightful position. Priya smiled as she flaunted her mounds in front of the older flat-chested woman. Priya continued, shimming out of the dress fully, then turning around and bending over as slowly as she could, giving Saanvi a full view of her 38-inch arse.
She faced Saanvi and pulled down her thong slowly and provocatively, revealing her cunt with its huge wide patch of hair to Saanvi as sensually as she could. Turning again, she spread her arse cheeks apart, giving Saanvi a full view of her arsehole and swollen cunt hanging below it before standing up straight and facing her opponent. With Priya fully naked, Saanvi knew it was her turn. She knew the ball was now in her court, and that she had to match that display.
She took a different route. With no tits or arse to match Priya’s, she went the way of a slow striptease. First, she kicked off her high heels, then removed her stockings peeling them away at a deliberately slow pace. Once off we could compare her legs with Priya’s and see they were paler and more slender. It was obvious that they were longer and more shapely. Saanvi continued her process with the next article of clothing to be removed her long, tight semi see-through anakarli suit. She raised her arms and shimmied out of it and we could all see her uncovered nipples hardening immediately as they were exposed to the coldness of the unheated ex dance studio. Next, she removed her garter belt and stockings. No need to remove any other underwear as she wore none. Saanvi still had one last trick to play. She placed a single digit at the base of her slit.
She gently rubbed the entire length of her cunt from bottom to top with the single finger, and continued upwards, trailing past the trimmed pubic hair that adorned her pelvis. She caressed the finger up her taut belly, between her small tits, up her neck, and finally into her mouth, before she suckled on it suggestively. Her finger was covered with her love juice. I hadn’t thought it possible the 52-year-old would get wet before the battle even began.
But her striptease and sensual finger movements had paid off. From the viewpoint of the watchers she had matched the exhibitionist Priya and the sour look on Priya’s face showed she knew it too. Somehow Anushka had found a sofa that had been stored in a change room and after a couple of the women had brought it into the old dance hall she soon had the 2 women sitting on it.
On her command the two initiated contact and kissed, their hands reaching out and exploring each other’s bodies for the first time. However, knowing the rivalry that had already built up in just two weeks, I knew it was only the start of many contests between the two alphas. Anushka tapped them on the shoulders and they commenced, each striving to gain a better position in the first contest: a 69.
Priya’s greater size and strength allowed her to maneuver herself to the top. She knelt over the older Indian’s face and holding her legs apart, lowered her face into Saanvi’s cunt, Her tongue extended and she started on the quickly wettening slit under her. Saanvi although at a disadvantage being underneath bent upwards until Priya’s gash met her eager mouth.
The feeling of Priya’s lapping tongue in her hole was quicky arousing Saanvi but she was returning the favour with interest. Saanvi’s slit was oozing love juice and she was getting closer to cumming, but Priya was also aroused and this allowed Saanvi to grip the younger Indian’s thighs tightly, pulling her pussy tightly onto her mouth and nose.
Both Saanvi and Priya reacted and moaned as their clits and pussies were licked, teased and sucked as they continued to force the other to cum first. They struggled relentlessly against the arousing erotic stimulation and sensations racking their slits and fought to feel that flood of cum in their mouth that signalled victory.
Each pulled the other’s moist hot and leaking pussy tighter to their face, forcing their tongues into overdrive, enjoying the cunt juice flowing into their mouths. I couldn’t tell who was going to drag that winning cum from the other. Priya was still on top her face buried in Saanvi when she threw back her head, arched her back like a drawn bow and she howled her orgasm, then orgasmed twice before Saanvi released her. The score stood Saanvi 1, Priya zero. Five minutes later, fully naked and still aroused, both women waited as Anushka began the countdown.
In front of the other women, Priya and Saanvi prepared for the second contest: a finger fuck. When the countdown finally reached zero both women went into action. They stood locked together with their lips touching, tongues duelling and their hands reaching down to the other’s pussy and arse. But quickly Priya hooked a leg behind Saanvi’s, used her body weight to force her to the ground and took control. The larger, stronger Priya quickly pinned the smaller Saanvi to the timbered ex dancing floor and brought her tits to her face, smothering Saanvi’s face between her full natural mounds.
She mounted herself on the older woman’s stomach and reached a hand behind to begin teasing Saanvi’s cunt, rubbing two fingers up and down its length. Her other hand reached behind Saanvi’s head and pulled her face into her breasts. Saanvi began to panic from the surprise attack, lack of oxygen and Priya’s frenzied fingering.
She writhed around on the floor, but it did little to stop the onslaught from Priya. Her brutal finger work was effective drawing wetness from Saanvi’s cunt lips. Saanvi spasmed, and despite being between Sanvi’s tits her head was rolling from side to side as she tried to squirm free from the younger woman’s controlling hold. Priya slid a finger fully inside Saanvi’s cunt searching for her G spot. Due to the preceding 69 and her finger work now, she encountered no resistance from the wet, slick surface of Saanvi’s fuck tunnel. She heard a muffled whimper from the smothered face between her tits as she forced in another and then a third finger.
Increased moaning, whimpers and pleas from Saanvi made Priya go to town. She slammed all four fingers into Saanvi’s cunt and rapidly finger fucked her, her fingers plunging in and out like the pistons of a Formula One racing car. Every time she thrust them downwards to drive deeper into her opponent’s unresisting cunt, we heard a loud wet slurping noise.
Priya still held Saanvi’s face between her large, hard nippled tits. Saanvi was unable to break free and was losing strength due to the lack of oxygen. But even worse was the increasing pulsing sensation in her cunt, signifying that a huge orgasm was cumming. Out of options and time, Saanvi did the only thing she could think of.