Anonymous - The Oyster Volume VI

'So long as their partners are happy about what's happening and children are protected,' she added hastily and then tuttutted when she saw Phil pouring tea into the cups.

'Aren't you supposed to pour in the milk first?' she asked, a view with which Claire and I concurred.

However, my chum would have none of it. 'That's just an old wives' tale,' he scoffed, it doesn't make a scrap of difference either way, although it's true that everyone has their own way of making a “cuppa”. It's quite extraordinary how the preparation and drinking of tea is very much ritualized all over the world. When I went out to India last year, I could see that the tea stall is a veritable institution in every town and village and each chai wallah has his own way of making tea, though it usually comes ready mixed with milk and sugar.'

'Ugh! I don't like the sound of that,' remarked Becky but Phil gave a throaty chuckle as he went on: 'Come to think of it, the best cup of tea I ever had was in India. By Gad, I won't forget that afternoon in a hurry. My brother Cuthbert and I were staying in Agra with General Sir Barnett and Lady Hazel Meade, who are very good friends of my parents. Naturally the first trip on our itinerary was a walk around the Taj Mahal.

'Well, I was so fascinated by the building that the next day I returned for a second visit whilst Cuthbert went off with General Meade to a polo match in Delhi. After a couple of hours sauntering through the magnificent gardens I was feeling thirsty so I bought a cup of tea from an elderly man who had set up his stall on a wooden pallet underneath an awning.

'Now I had been told by Sir Barnett that many of these were great characters and were often the founts of local gossip so I was not entirely surprised when he said to me in that inimitable Indian sing-song fashion: “Sahib, please do not take offence at my asking you this question, but are you not the young lordship from England who is staying with his young brother at the home of General Meade?”

'“Yes, that's right,” I replied in an amused tone, feeling slightly flattered that my arrival in Agra was deemed worthy of talk amongst the local inhabitants.

'What did surprise me, though, was that a gleam appeared in the old chap's eyes and he shouted some words in Hindi to a wiry youth who was lounging against the wall before turning back to me in great excitement and saying: “Lordship, I have been a chai wallah here for many years and am well known to all the highest-ranking officers and their families who are stationed at Fort Vedgama. Often I carry messages for them and I have one for you from the General Meade's daughter, Miss Fiona, who for a reason of which I am not aware was not able to speak to you in person before you left for the Taj Mahal this morning. But she sent a servant down here with a note for you in case you walked through this street and so now it is my pleasure to give this letter to you.”

'He called out again to the young man who ambled up and with a bow produced a sealed white envelope from his tunic which he gave to me. I tore it open and swigged down a gulp of sweet warm tea whilst I read:

Dear Phil,

I had to leave home at an early hour this morning because Mama commanded me to accompany her whilst she carried out an inspection of the regiments new medical clinic. But thankfully she has gone with Papa and everyone else to the polo match which means that I will be all alone this afternoon. So please do hurry back from the Taj Mahal and join me for tea.

Fiona Meade

'” I'll say I will,” I muttered to myself as I passed my glass back to the old chai wallah and gave him a generous tip. He blessed me in English and Hindi and insisted that I allow the young man (who happened to be his nephew) to take me to the Meades' residence in his donkey cart. Well, it might not have been the most elegant form of transport but it was much better than walking and would get me to the fair Fiona that much quicker!'

'Oh, ho, a bit of a corker, was she, then?' Becky laughed and Phil could not prevent a smirk from spreading over his face as he answered: 'I won't lie, m'dear, Fiona was a real smasher. She was a bonny lass of nineteen with gold-dusted light brown hair and, being of a light-hearted disposition, her pretty face was more often than not lit up by a merry smile. Both my brother and I were also entranced by the feminine curves of her figure which were, to say the least, extremely well proportioned and I must confess that during the previous evening I had found it difficult to keep my eyes away from the two proud spheres of her gorgeous breasts.

'Fiona had been eager to hear all the latest news about what people were doing in London and it was as plain as a pikestaff that she was bored with life in India. This was not surprising because there was very little social life for a lively girl like Fiona-although I am sure that there must have been a great many young officers who would have given their eye-teeth for an introduction.'

'Presumably her Pa kept her on a very tight rein,' I remarked. But Phil replied: 'No, not really, Andrew. General Meade was an amiable old buffer, not like a lot of those chaps who come back here with their brains addled by the heat and dust to spend their declining days writing tracts about the secrets of the Pyramids or propounding some fanciful idea about a secret conspiracy of one-legged Spaniards who are planning to take over the British Empire. Her Ma was a bit of a tartar, though, and the poor girl had almost no opportunity to meet any boys of her own age.

'Anyhow, Fiona was delighted to see me and we chatted avidly during tea. Then we decided to take a stroll in the garden. As we left the room, I asked to be excused for a few moments as I needed to wash my hands.

'“I'll wait for you on the patio,” said Fiona as I made my way upstairs to the bathroom where I relieved my bladder of all the tea I had been drinking that afternoon. Then, as I was about to button up my trousers, my eyes fell upon a magazine which had been left on the window-ledge. “Good heavens!” I gasped as I thumbed through the pages of The Star of India. It was nothing less than an Indian version of The Oyster. My shaft stiffened up as I gazed at the randy photographs which showed a good-looking native couple in a variety of revealing sexual poses. Almost unconsciously, I clutched my rock-hard chopper in my hand and slowly rubbed it up and down, closing my eyes as I fantasized about how marvellous it would be to run my hands over Fiona's beautiful breasts, fondling her delectable ripe titties as I slid my hot, throbbing cock into her juicy cunt.

'I was on the verge of spunking when my reverie was disturbed by a gentle knock on the door. “Who's that?” I called out, my hand leaping away like lightning from my prick. Then my heart began to pound when I heard the soft reply: “Its only me, Phil. Are you all right?”

'“Yes, yes, I'm fine, thank you,” I panted and rushed across to open the door where Fiona stood with a worried expression on her face. “You're not suffering from what we call 'Delhi belly', I hope?” she asked anxiously. Then, before I could even answer, she looked fleetingly down at my tummy and burst immediately into a fit of giggles.

'What's so funny?' I asked as I followed Fiona's amused gaze downwards. Then I let out a little cry of sheer horror when I saw that I had forgotten to button up my trousers: my erect throbbing truncheon was poking out in a lewd salute towards her!

'I sat down heavily on the side of the bath, my face burning bright red as I stammered out an apology whilst I stuffed my fast-shrinking shaft back inside my trousers. I could see myself being expelled in disgrace from the Meade household. But, to my overwhelming relief, Fiona assured me that she had not been offended by this unintended exposure of my cock. Far from being annoyed at my discourtesy, the sweet girl smiled whilst she sat down next to me and slid her hand inside my flies to bring out my flaccid prick. She murmured: “Oh dear, I didn't mean to upset your shy little cockie. Shall I bring him out again and see if he would care to be petted?”