I never expected it to happen there. I mean, being the age that I was and all, I always expected that sort of thing to happen to me back home, in the US. Not in India. But there I was, a young lad at the age of 19, visiting relatives, and discovering that this wasn’t the India of my childhood.

I was born in India, but my parents moved to the US when I was 6 months old, and we’ve lived there ever since. But we visited often, at first every summer, and then every other summer, and then for almost 5 years, not at all. I was busy with high school, my sister was busy with college, Dad was working a lot, and Mom had gone back to work in the medical field now that we were all old enough to take care of ourselves. So India had become a place we kept meaning to visit but never did, until finally that summer after my sophomore year, we all found ourselves free.

Even though I should have been doing an internship, I was confused about my major and the direction my life was going, and decided India would be a good break. College wasn’t going the way I’d planned. I’d gone expecting to do premed, get excellent grades, graduate and go on to a top ten school. But I didn’t like medicine, and my grades were starting to flounder.

On top of that, my social life sucked. Class and homework took up most of my time, and I hadn’t gotten a chance to party, or experience too many girls. That last thing hurt the most. I was a sexually frustrated young teenager, on the verge of becoming twenty, and I still hadn’t lost my virginity. I hadn’t even had my dick touched by a girl. I was always shy, and coupled with bad luck, my experiences with girls were horrible. India was a way for me to get away from my life, to take my mind off of school and sex.

It took a while getting reacquainted with all my relatives. We’d all grown, and everyone had changed so much. All the adults looked so much smaller, and all the kids looked so much bigger. My cousins Manish and Sudip had grown the most, and they turned out to be totally different than when we were younger. I soon found out they liked to party: go to clubs, meet girls, etc.

Manish told me he’d take me out to the best clubs in Bangalore, but before he had a chance, he got a call from his father, requesting that he come to their coffee plantation to help take care of business. Sudip was busy with work, and so I found myself spending the days relaxing with family. I didn’t mind, but at the mention of girls, I had gotten excited for a while.

India was so different from what I remembered. The city was much more cosmopolitan than before, and the youth were certainly not the same. You saw plenty of couples around, and the girls were noticeably more attractive than in previous years. The influence of Western culture had them looking and dressing better and sexier. They strutted around in tight jeans and shirts, some of them in shorts, their brown, sexy skin exposed. I soon realized that coming to India to get my mind off of girls was not going to work.

Manish came back to the city for a couple of days, and he suggested I go to stay with him at the plantation. Some of my other visiting relatives had gone to other parts of India and things were starting to get a bit boring, so it seemed like a good idea. I figured I’d be bored as hell out in the middle of nowhere, but it would be something different, so I went.

The coffee plantation was about 200 miles from the city. It took us almost 8 hours to reach it, and halfway through the trip, I was wishing I’d stayed put. The roads were awful, with ox-drawn carts, pedestrians, and animals slowing traffic. Not to mention the quality and small size of the roads. I was grateful when we got to the plantation, though looking around at the crops, the few homes which dotted the land, and the huge mansion we had sitting on a hill, I started to think I’d come all the way out here for nothing.

Manish spent the next few days showing me around the house and the plantation. The house was incredible. It was huge, with big, airy rooms and lush decoration. Though not extremely modern, everything was top quality and in great condition. It had a charm that only older homes can have, and I warmed to the place.

The plantation itself was immense, acres of coffee plants covering the surrounding land. Down one hill was a small village where most of the plantation workers lived. We strolled through here, and I had to admit, I felt strange. We were noticeably bigger and of different stock than the people here. They were small, their bone structure being slim from their meager diets. And they were dark. Very dark.

I myself am on the darker side, and I know many dark Indians myself, but most of the Indians I was used to were wealthy in India or raised in the US. Our darkness is different, it’s hereditary. These people had a different darkness, one that not only came from genes but from spending all their hours toiling in the sun. Their skin had a different quality to it, tougher, yet with a beauty no soft, rich person can have. Even though I knew about all this intellectually, it was quite another thing to see it in the flesh again after so long.

In the village, children ran around naked. The women and young girls were dressed in saris, and even though of low quality, they all had a vibrancy and color to their clothing that we in the West don’t have. Naturally, I noticed some of the girls. Though of a different stock than us, they were still attractive, many with sharp, clean features and smiles that you saw in their eyes. They all stared when I came through, though I figured it was out of novelty rather than attraction.

Manish seemed to know all the villagers well, as he was their employer, and they all addressed him with deference. Manish even introduced me to the more important men in the village, though we could say little to each other. We simply said “Namaskar,” but all the men seemed to have a sort of deference to me as well. It actually made me a little embarrassed that men three times or more my age would be acting as if I were someone special.

That night, we had a delicious dinner cooked by the servants. Since there wasn’t anybody else here except Manish and me, the servants did all the work. I noticed a couple of girls from the village among the servants. They were cute, but young. A few were boys. Then I noticed one woman who I wasn’t sure was or wasn’t a servant.

She was taller and thicker than the other females, and a bit older. And she had a look about her that didn’t fit. For one thing, she wasn’t as dark as the others, even being a bit lighter than me, though she was still very brown. But her skin had a different quality to it than that of the other servants. It wasn’t as “sunbaked”. In fact, she looked almost middle class, except for her sari and the work she was doing. She was extremely cute, with a small, Meg Ryan-type nose, big, Indian eyes, and a round face.

“Who’s that,” I asked Manish.

He looked over his shoulder at her, then smiled. “That’s Radhika.

One of the servants.”

“She doesn’t look like a servant. At least, not as much as the others.”

“She is, though her story is different. She’s the child of a plantation owner and a servant girl. The next plantation over, in fact. The plantation owner couldn’t claim her as his own, of course, but he felt he couldn’t let a child of his be raised without money or a father, so he moved the servant girl and the baby, Radhika, into his home as full-time servants. She was raised well, and never had to do any of the backbreaking work of the field workers. Plus she lived in the plantation house, and ate well. That’s why she looks so different.”

“So she wasn’t really treated like a servant.”

“Well, she was really. I mean, she wasn’t sent to school, and she helped with the cooking and cleaning. And she spent a lot of time taking care of the owner’s legitimate children.”

“Her half-siblings.”

“Yes. After the owner died, his wife didn’t want Radhika in the house, so she cast her out. But we knew her - she had watched over us when we were young, and had spent time at our house when we were short on help - and Appa felt bad for her, so we took her in. She’s lived with us ever since.”

“She took care of you? How old is she?”

“Not exactly sure, but probably around 27. Three years older than me. Maybe four.”

I nodded, then went back to eating.

“Why?” Manish asked suddenly.

“Oh, I was just wondering.”

He smiled, with a little mischief in his eyes. “Have you taken a liking to her,” he asked.

“No, of course not. I mean, she is really cute...”

“I could arrange something,” Manish said, letting the sentence trail with possibilities.

I was shocked at the thought. That seemed so wrong, taking advantage of a woman like that. But in fact, I was more shocked that it was even possible. I guess I should have expected things like that to go on, but Indian kids raised in the US are taught that Indian people do no wrong, and this activity came as a surprise to me. “No, that’s okay,” I said.

“Suit yourself,” Manish said. “But she’s a great lay.” My jaw dropped open. “Well, you think I can have a girl like that in the house and not want her? Especially being out here, kilometers from anybody. Besides, it’s not as if she isn’t willing. Sudip had her first, in fact, when he was helping my father out here. He’s the one who introduced me to her charms. And she has many, I’ll tell you that now, Vishal. Many charms. Apparently, whatever it was her mother had was passed down to her.”

Just then, Radhika entered the room, a young girl in tow. They were heading for the kitchen. “Radhika,” Manish called. “Come here.” He called her in Kannada, of course, not English.

She came to the table, stopping a few feet from it, and stood smiling at him. Then she turned to me, and her smile seemed to get even brighter. “Radhika, this is Vishal, my cousin from America.”

“Namskara,” she said, her hands clasped in front of her.

“Namskara,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you,” I added, in broken Kannada.

Both she and Manish laughed at my statement. Radhika seemed friendly but shy. “You can go,” Manish told her, and she turned towards the kitchen. But before she did, she shot me another smile, a very friendly one.

Manish shot me another mischievous look, then turned the conversation to other matters. I was glad to get the topic off Radhika, but she stayed in my mind the rest of the night. In bed, I got hard thinking about her and found myself reaching for my cock. I jerked off with the beautiful servant in my mind, imagining fucking her. I came in no time and fell into a deep sleep.

I woke to the sound of dogs barking. In India, there is always noise and movement, even out in the country. It’s not bad, though; it adds to the charm of the country. You never feel alone, like in the US. There are always friendly people around, and everyone seems to smile at you.

I knew it was late when I awoke. The sun had climbed high, and I could hear the sounds of the servants cleaning around the house. I got up and went to a small sink in the hallway, where we brushed our teeth. Manish was awake, bathed, and had already gone out to supervise some of the workers. He had come back to make a call to his father in Bangalore.

“So, you’re finally up! Do all you Americans sleep so late? Haha, just kidding. Have you had your bath yet?”

“No, just about to. Where is the bathing room?”

“Just one second,” Manish said. “I have to call Appa. I’ll send a servant to show you the room and how to operate the water heater.”

I went back to my room and waited, but no servant came. I grew restless from waiting, so I poked around the house until I found the bathing room. I grabbed my clothes and went in. The house was old, and the bathroom was pretty traditional, though it had some modernity added to it. The room consisted of two sections: the first, a tiled area with a small bench where you could put your clothes. Shelves were on the wall above the bench, holding towels.

The second, larger part of the room was a semi-rough floor with a drain in the middle. Against one wall of it was a hot water heater, a big, steel contraption that looked brand new. There was a small hand bucket next to it. The way to bathe was to heat the water, then grab water out of the heater with the hand bucket, and pour it over yourself. A wall separated the two sections of the room, with a way to walk through at one corner, and on the wall sat some soap and shampoo.

Even though it had been a while since I last bathed this way, I remembered the general specifics of bathing. So I stripped and went over to the heater. It felt weird, being naked in the room like that. Back home, we get into a tub with a curtain right around us. Here we are sort of out in the open, even though we are in a room by ourselves. Plus there were windows in the room, near the ceiling. No one could look in at that height, but with the air blowing in and the sounds of people not too far away, it didn’t feel totally private.

But at the same time, it felt liberating. I liked strutting around the room stark naked, even if by myself. The heater was turned off, I realized. I switched it to “on”, and I knew I had some time to wait before it heated up. I went over to the bench and sat down.

As I sat there I looked over at the door and realized it was unlocked. I was just about to get up and lock it when the door opened and someone came in: Radhika. She stepped in and didn’t see me at first, but when she saw me her eyes got wide, and she seemed surprised. But she didn’t look away, and quickly casting a glance over her shoulder, she stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind her.

I sat there, totally naked, in shock. No female had ever seen me naked since I was 11 or so. I froze, and Radhika just looked at me with her arms crossed in front of her. She looked me up and down, and straight at my cock. It had shrunk to an extremely small size, and the head just peeked out from the bush of my pubic hair. Radhika surveyed me with little emotion, then went over to the water heater, took the top off, and dipped her hand into the water. “Come, it’s warm,” she said to me in Kannada.

I didn’t move at first, but she beckoned me with her hand. “Come.” Slowly I stood up and made my way to her, completely aware of my nakedness.

When I got close, she reached out and gently grabbed my arm, then pulled me to standing in front of her. It was only then that I realized how tall she was. I’m not tall, just 5’7”, and she was eye-level with me. While 5’7” might be normal for a woman in the US, in India, especially for a servant, it is extremely tall.

Radhika dipped the bucket into the water and poured a little over my shoulder. “Is it warm enough?” she asked. It was. The water ran down my shoulder, over my chest, down my waist and hip and thigh and shin to my feet. She poured the rest of the bucket over me, then got more. She slowly and gently wet my entire body. I stood there, just watching her. She was so beautiful. I hadn’t been this close to her before, and I got a good look at her now.

Her skin was smooth and mostly clear. Her eyes were big and wide, her nose so perfect. Her hair was long and thick, braided behind her. Even though she wore a sari, I could see she had a shapely figure. It wasn’t some perfect, American body, but she had the right curves and proportions. Her breasts were small, I could see that, but it didn’t matter at all.

She rotated me in place so that my back was to her and continued to wet me. Then she poured water over my head. “This way,” she said, turning me around to face her. Radhika put shampoo in my hair, and began to lather me up. She did it very well, massaging my scalp at the same time. “Close your eyes,” she told me, then began to pour the water over my head, rinsing my hair out. It was incredible, standing there with my eyes closed, the hot water pouring over me, with this beautiful woman attending to me.

Then I felt something. It was my penis, and I swear ... her hand. I started to open my eyes, but as if by coincidence, the water flow increased, and I had to close them. The hand (at least, that’s what I thought it was) was gone immediately, and then I opened my eyes. Radhika’s expression indicated nothing. But my cock had been touched, and now it was coming alive. I’d been too stunned up to this point to become aroused. But now my cock started to fatten.

Radhika grabbed the soap and started to lather my body. This was the first real, continued physical contact between her and me. Her hand, with the small soap bar in it, roamed over my shoulders and chest. She had nice hands, soft and brown. Her nails were neatly clipped to the ends of her fingertips.