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 My Story (Part 17) by Sharmila Sanyal

"Can't you stay a few more days?" he whispered as I stood at the steps to the doorway while the servants loaded out small suitcases into the car.  My parents were inside the house, talking to my aunt, and uncle.  His proximity had my juices flowing again as I remembered the impetuous night.

"Why?" I looked at his eyes, and threw back a plethoric question.

"You know very well, Shona-di!" he murmured under his breath as he doodled on the dirt with his foot.

"Yeah... you want to do more naughty things, right?" I said — very aware of the naughty tone in my own voice.

"Well...” he looked straight at my eyes with an impish grin, and answered with a question, "Don't you?"

"Sanju!" I hissed, "We'll be in big trouble if somebody finds out!"  I furtively swiped my glance around us.  I sincerely hoped — and prayed — that the servants at the foot of the stairs were truly out of the earshot.

"Why? How should anybody find out?" Oh, the boldness of adolescent testosterone!

"People will... if you don't watch out," I couldn't find a very convincing reason myself that would keep me from seeking a repeat of the pleasure.  I struggled with myself to keep my mind from remembering the intense arousal that I had experienced.  It was hard for my libidinous mind to close the door completely on any future rendezvous with him.

"I'm not going to tell anyone, Shona-di!" he pleaded with his assurance.

"OK...” I could not have been more transparent, I realized, "I cannot stay anymore now, maybe when you come, and visit us in Calcutta." I am sure Sanju's manhood received the vague promise without any "maybe", for I could swear I saw a bulge forming in that general vicinity.  The open prospect of a future tryst was also affecting me, I should confess.

"There you are," Sharmila-boudi appeared at the doorway behind us, and startled me.  "I was looking for you to say 'bye'!", and then she looked at Sanju.  I thought I saw something there which I could not quite put my finger on.

"Oh... Boudi, I was chatting with Sanju," I said.  I was feeling rather uneasy having Sanju around in her presence.  I was afraid that I was going to give us away by just being too much on our guard.  At times I felt she exuded a subtle earthy aura that was hard to miss.  It made me wonder if, and how much of my own carnal disposition she could see.  Women, I dare say, are notorious for such insights.

      During the past two weeks, we had gotten to know each other better.  I found her extremely lovable, and simple, and — as the expression goes — with a very 'country like' charm about her.  I also had a feeling that, in a very girlish sort of way, she herself was unaware of her very palpable lusciousness.

"We should meet more often, Sharmi," she said with a smile.  She wore that very sexy look now.  I found Sanju looking at her adoringly, and I was embarrassed to discover myself begrudging that.

"Sure," I agreed.  Till that very moment, I never realized how ridiculous it was for us not to have been better acquainted since her marriage.  Although a first cousin, I have never felt particularly close with Parimal-da, and as a consequence Sharmila-boudi, and I never connected, despite the fact that they actually lived a couple of streets over.  "I will come over sometime," I added.

"Yeah, I will too," she said, and then added in an undertone, "I think I may need your advice on something!" Her beautiful smile — accentuated by the two canines slightly raised from the rest of her otherwise perfect set of teeth — stunned me in that monsoon morning's subdued light.  Beauty is not always in perfection!

"My advice? What for?" I was a little amused at that.

"Oh... aren't you going to be a doctor?" she said with a giggle.

"Yeah... but I am only in my second year now!" I was a little embarrassed, "I know virtually nothing of medicine, Boudi!"

"Never mind that... talk to you later.  We are going to be taking the next train out," she continued to giggle, and disappeared inside.

"So?" I looked at Sanju, and said, not meaning to say anything.

"I'll miss you, Shona-di," he said, and walked over to the car — as if to inspect something.

"You can visit us during the Puja holidays, can't you?"

"May I?" he spun around, and looked at me... a look that few would construe as conveying boyish excitement!

I had created a monster!

***

"You must be crazy... !" Debi was shocked and incredulous when I told her.  "He is merely a boy!" She had opined.

"Not anymore, Debi, not anymore," I said as I lay exhausted from a torrid session of sex with her.

      As I was describing what the two weeks at my aunt's had led up to, she was grinding herself against one of my thighs.  Under her, my sodden womanhood was getting its fair share from the movement of her undulating body.  She had her head buried against the side of my neck as I was whispering the lurid details into her ear.

      I had debated with myself for several weeks whether to bring Debi into confidence.  I had never kept anything from her, but this felt so very scandalous that I just couldn't be certain how she would be reacting.  What had also bothered me was the fact that, since returning from that eventful trip to my aunt's, I could not keep myself from reminiscing — with much fondness too!

      That night, I had gone over to spend the night with her.  After the last class of the day, I had headed for the Coffee House.

      Debi, and Ajit were sitting in our favorite corner.  It was one of the tables beside the windows against the south wall.  The guys at the cafe knew us and our routine.  As I drew up a chair at the table, Debi held up a hand to signal a waiter.

"What are you guys up to?" I said.

"Ajit has to leave shortly," Debi said, "he has to spend some time at Jadavpur looking for some papers."

"Yeah, I wish our library had the journals," Ajit didn't seem too thrilled at the prospect of leaving us.

"You know what? You could come, and spend the night at our place!" Debi said excitedly.

"But...”

"Looks like you two are going to have some fun tonight," Ajit said with a wink.

"What would you like Sharmi-didi?" I looked up, and was surprised to find Ramu-da standing beside my chair.

"Ramu-da!  When did you come back here?" I asked the gentle old guy with a big smile.  Ramu-da had gone to work at the Coffee House down South near the Jadavpur University.  He always had a smile under that big pair of whiskers that made everybody feel at home.

"I am going to be here for another week," he said in his endearing raspy voice, and the unmistakable Bihari accent, "They were short-handed.  So, what? I am busy... can't chat."

"Just a coffee," I said.

      Most that frequented the enormous cafe, did just that, ordered a cup of coffee or "infusion" (espresso), and spent hours talking.  Some didn't even bother.  The din that spilled over into the bustling streets just a floor below, carried thoughts about politics to poetry, religion to sex.  Big contemporary minds gathered there almost every day.  Poets, painters, future politicians, and journalists have all said the same thing to Ramu-da: "coffee".

"C'mon, Didimoni, the Chicken Kabiraji is good today," he insisted.  Not that it made any difference to him what we ordered, but, I suppose he just had to ask, making sure that we ate something with our coffee.  I don't remember any other waiter there bothering to ask the way he did.  Not every big mind got that from him, I liked to believe.

"No money, Ramu-da," I looked up at him with feigned helplessness.

"To kya? Ajit khilaiga, hehehe...” he said with a chuckle, lapsing into Hindi momentarily, and turned towards him, "Kyon re?"

"What am I? Gouri Sen?" Ajit responded with indignation.

"What has happened to men these days!" Ramu-da shook his head in mock exasperation.

"OK, get a piece of cake for me," I said, and let him go.

"So, are you coming?" Debi asked as soon as Ramu-da left.  I could understand her eagerness.

"My God, Debi!" her fiancé sounded hurt, "Won't Sutapa be there?" Ajit knew what Debi was thinking about.

"Would I ask her over for the night if she were there?" Debi answered with a naughty smile, "She has gone to her friend's house in Dumdum for the weekend."

"Hmmm... I wonder...” Ajit made a suggestive remark about Debi's sister.

"Ajit!" Debi censured him by making her big eyes even bigger.  I was amused.  Her voice conveyed caution that was absolutely superfluous at the Coffee House; for, in that place, I have never been able to overhear anybody past my table.

"What?" Ajit responded with the same impish grin.  He knew perfectly well that somebody spending the night at a friend's place did not automatically translate into sex, but he rarely passed up an opportunity to be lewd.

      I called home from the Coffee House, and let my Mom know that I would be spending the night with Debi.  She reminded me to be back early the next morning, as we had to visit one of my father's friend for lunch.

      We took the train.  It was packed with homebound commuters.  At the Sealdah station, we were virtually carried into the compartment by the crowd, and ended up standing in the middle of the coach.  The three of us huddled together, and slowly moved towards a safe corner by the wide door so that getting off at our destinations would not be too much of a hassle.  Debi, and I, being females, were distinctly at an advantage over others in settling down — thanks to some still chivalrous commuters.  Ajit, being part of the close trio, reaped the benefit.  I felt his hard "thing" against one of my thighs as he shuffled his position as best as he could between his two female companions.  I felt my pulse quicken as he looked at us, and smiled.  Debi knew exactly what was going on, for we had talked about his "moves" in crowded transports.  The knowledge that Debi was enjoying this little indiscretion was not helping to calm my own libido.

      After Ajit got down at the Jadavpur station  we were standing face to face — the entire lengths of our bodies pressed against each other —, and I could feel the heat of her body permeating into mine.  With the gentle sway of the locomotive, our breasts, flattening against each other, rubbed through the soft fabric of our clothes, and made us both hot.  I felt like kissing her right there among the weary commuters.  I felt like sticking my arm inside her saari.  I looked into her eyes, and saw the same heat there.  I formed a word with my lips moving silently, and she responded by widening her eyes, feigning reproof.  I felt her hand on my buttocks, as she naughtily drew me closer.  It was thrilling to have our foreplay started in a commuter train while being kneaded by the swaying bodies all around us.

      Our juices were flowing in full gush as we were being pushed out of the train, and onto the platform.  Debi grabbed my hand strongly, and pulled me away from the crowd as the train started to pull away.  We headed towards the gate, and decided to walk to their house which was only a mile or so from the station.  It was cloudy, and rain seemed imminent, but we did not mind.  We welcomed the fresh air after the muggy ride on the train.

"That was naughty, Sharmi!" Debi said as we descended down the few stairs, and onto the street.

"Wasn't it though!" I squeezed her hand, and said.  I could feel the trickle down my inner thighs as we walked.

"I know," she squeezed back.

       We took showers (no, not together... her parents were home), had our supper around eight, and, after I had dutifully fulfilled my obligation of exchanging niceties with her parents, we retired to her room for the night.  I had changed into one of Debi's maxis after the shower.  It was early by any standard, but then we were not in a mood to hang around the kitchen looking busy.

      We were all over each other even as the door was being bolted.  We had not been together since I returned from my trip to the wedding, and I could sense the longing in Debi.  I too wanted to feel her body against mine, and the little exhibition of our passion — although  probably unnoticed — whetted my appetite.

      I turned the table lamp on, and the shaded light cast a warmth through the room as if humoring our mood.  Debi walked over to me, and holding me with both arms, staggered towards her bed.  We lost our balance, and fell to the floor, laughing aloud like little kids.

      I buried my face into her deep cleavage, taking in her smell with a deep inhalation.  She pushed her hand into the maxi that I was wearing.  It was buttoned all the way down my front, and looked more like a house coat.  She undid several of the buttons, and her hand found my naked skin.

      Her impatient fingers caressed my breasts passionately while I worked to expose hers.  With her blouse out of the way, I held one of her nipples lightly between my teeth. As my tongue touched its tip I sensed the shiver that ran down Debi's body even as I felt the nipple grow and become taut.  She pulled me up, and kissed me passionately.  As our tongues darted in and out of each other's mouth, our hands were busy unclothing ourselves.  I was out of my maxi in no time, but Debi had to eventually stand up to get out of her saari and the rest.

      As she stood in the middle of the room in her petticoat, I looked up from the floor, and playfully disappeared under it and between her legs.  My nose found its mark, and I nuzzled up deep into her wet love-canal; she planted her feet further apart to accommodate me between her thighs.  As I licked, and probed with slow deliberate motion, she started to gyrate her hips, making low sounds announcing her pleasure.  My own cave was craving for my fingers, and I battled with my urge to oblige for as long as I could.

      I finally lost the battle gladly.  My cunt muscles gripped my two fingers in spasms as I licked at Debi's swollen clit under her petticoat.  I started lapping her up earnestly even as my own sex dripped with juice along the length of my digits.

"Oh... Oh... Oh... Sharmi...” I could faintly hear Debi hiss, as she moved, and pressed against the sides of my head with her inner thighs.  She gasped... she shuddered... and her legs gave.  She squeezed hard with her thighs, and I felt her reaching the point of no return.  I took her clit lightly between my teeth and gently caressed her buttocks with my free hand.  As I tenderly nibbled, she came helplessly, tensing up and relaxing uncontrollably in fleeting successions.  I felt the unmistakable flexing of her thighs... the tightening of her buttocks... and I forced my chin up into her, kneading and nibbling at the same time.  It was a short orgasm for her as my own cunt kept its pressure on my fingers, warning me of an impending resolution if I so chose.

      I chose not to.  I have always liked to prolong the sensation and, almost as a self-torment, enjoyed hovering at the brink of a climax for as long as my brain would allow.  So, as Debi's short, and flattering release made her stagger off my face and toward her bed, I released my fingers from the throbbing grip.  I sat on the floor, my buttocks resting on the heels of my feet.  I looked at her in the subdued light of the shaded table lamp as she almost slumped down on the bed.  She looked unbelievably luscious lying topless like that.  I tasted her juice on my lips, and I smelled her sex on my nose.

"That was quick!" I commented, amused at the sanguine tone in my own voice.  It is always so gratifying to prevail.

"It was, wasn't it?" she gasped out her response, "I was terribly hot."

"Why?" I asked as I stood up from the floor, and approached her.  That had become a rather habitual query which, till today, does not seem 'overused'.  I knew perfectly well why she was 'hot'; for the same reason that my cunt was dripping!  Yet we asked each other that question to elicit the predictable response of recapitulation.  More often it would happen during our mutual pleasuring, but sometimes it also served to rekindle the fire after a lopsided outcome not unlike this one.

"Wow!" Debi exhaled, "Did you feel his dick?" She was referring to Ajit's, of course.

"Did you?" I asked her with a naughty grin as I sat down on the bed beside her.

"Sharmi, I do 'most everyday...” she said in a lofty tone, "I just let you... out of pity. Poor Sharmi...  has to be satisfied with only me...”

"That's what you think...” the words just escaped my mouth as I cut her off in the middle.

"Right...” and it took her a few seconds to grasp them in their context, "What on earth do you mean by that?" A frown replaced the mischievous smile.

"Easy, Debi...” I placed a hand on her petticoat-covered thigh, and said, "I did not mean Ajit."

"Then?" she looked more perplexed at my reassurance, "Anyway, not that it mattered," she added hurriedly — perhaps to hide the natural jealousy that I had been mindful of all along.

"Oh yeah?" I squeezed her thigh, and moved my hand up towards the junction of her legs, "You mean that I could 'feel' him myself?"

"Well, if you want to," she tried hard to sound lofty, and then added, "As long as I am with you."

      I suppose, had our sexual appetite not been at a similar level, Debi would have put her foot down a long time ago.  But, the fantasy of including me in their sex life had been just too powerful for her to ignore.  Furthermore, the lewdness of our imagination had increased several-fold since Dipankar arrived on the scene.  Perhaps, in our minds, his ultimate inclusion was a given.

"Don't worry," I said, as I undid the cord of her petticoat, and started to lightly touch her above the pubic area, "it's somebody else." I felt the muscles of her stomach tighten as I ran my fingers across her trimmed silky triangle.  I knew at that moment that I was going to tell her all.  The fire burning between my legs had helped remove the last mental obstacle.  "You remember Sanju, don't you?" I said as I lay down beside her on my side, my hand never interrupting what it started.

"Sanju?" with little recognition in her voice, she asked.

"My aunt's son... you had met him at our place," I said, and, by the time I had finished narrating the first night's incident in that drawing room, Debi had started showing signs of heat.  My finger entered into her, and I felt it’s muscles come alive.  She closed her eyes and, with her breathing growing faster, placed one of her hands on my chest.  She took one of my nipples between her fingers, and gently massaged it between them.  Her hips started to heave and rock as I gently slid my two fingers in and out.  I stooped over her, and put my tongue inside her open mouth.  Our tongues played with each other for a while before she broke off her kiss, and panted, "Then what happened?"

      I described the afternoon tryst in as much detail as I could.  As I was describing Sanju's coming inside the towel, Debi rolled over on top of me, and started to rub her cunt on my thigh.  She had her head buried against the side of my neck as I was whispering the lurid details in her ear.

"Tell me more... Oh... Oh...” Debi panted, and I obliged.  My own cunt throbbing against her smooth thigh, I recalled how Sanju throbbed in my fist — his semen  spurting out under the cover of the towel — and how he bucked his hips in rhythm.

"Ssshhhhhhh... Sharmi... naughty... naughty...  Sharmi...” Debi's movement got faster, "Is that all? You just jacked him off?"

"No, aaaaaah... nnnghh...” I was trying to maintain my cool as I narrated my experience.  Every time I said his name, and remembered, the flames scorched me between my legs.

"You didn't... Oh... nnnng... Sharmi... yesss... yessss... you... did you... ah... ah...  fuck?" she held me tight, her breasts massaging against mine while her undulating hips caused her soppy cunt to grind against my thigh.  I was almost there as I described that crazy night in a strained whisper — every labored breath inching me closer and closer to the zenith.  I felt her whole body quiver from time to time as I described how he came in my hand, and how I took the head in my mouth.  I could not finish describing the details before I almost screamed out in delight at the final rubbing of her thigh against my aching cunt.

"Aaaaa... aaahhhhhhhh... Debi... yesss... thick... white... sticky... all over me... oh... my god... Debi... come... yesss... yesss... I ... I... I... nnnnnnnggghhhh...” I pushed from below her to maximize the friction, and came... and came... and came...

"You must be crazy...!" Debi moaned without stopping the movement, "He is a mere boy!"

"Not anymore, Debi, not anymore," I said, panting from the exhaustion, and trying to get her to come.

"So, you fucked his leg...” Debi was close too, "Oh... I wish I was there... my god... Sharmi... did you... taste... his cum? How was it... fuck... fuck... fuck... oh... yeaaaaahhhnnnngggggg...” and she followed suit soon after.  Needless to say, we had graduated to the level where the slangs flowed freely at such times.

"My... God... Sharmi...” Debi's hot breath seared the side of my neck as she exhaled her words, "how old...  he is a kid... isn't he?" we still had our slippery cunts pressed against each other, and she was still undulating her hips in a deliberate — if listless — motion.  She was squeezing out the last bit of pleasure as she restated the obvious.

"Well...” I was not sure this time how to qualify my answer.  When does a person stop being a kid?

"Well what?" Debi gave a final shove with her cunt, and propped herself up on her elbows.  Our stiff nipples brushing against each other's she asked again, "How old is he?"

"Past fifteen, I'm sure," I said.

"Sharmi... this is... this is so naughty...” I distinctly felt her pressing her cunt down on me even as she said that.

"I know...” I said.

"Maybe you shouldn't... anymore," she said with a sigh as she rolled off me.

"Why?" I asked quite innocently.

"Why? Sharmi! He is your brother," I detected a hint of reproach in her voice.

"You're right, I should not," I conceded, and momentarily something flashed across my mind.  I sat up straight on the bed, and looked squarely at her eyes.  "But, why is it wrong for me, and not when Ajit, and Dipu do it... did it?"

"But... they were boys...” the way her voice trailed off, I knew she had momentarily realized the dissimulated logic.

"You mean it is OK for boys to do it between themselves but not so when it comes to a boy and a girl?" I still retorted with some sharpness.

"I guess you are right," she said, "But just make sure you don't get into trouble."

"Debi, I did not let him do it, did I?" I tried to assure her but I didn't sound too resolute to myself.  Debi picked up on it too.

"Sharmi...” she frowned, and looked at my eyes with concern, "are you sure you will be able to resist it next time when you are alone with him?"

"Well, why don't I call you up then," I laughed out loud as I said that.

"Don't be naughty," she said, and finished with an equally mischievous grin, and a wink "But that may not be a bad idea!"

      That night we made love some more after Debi insisted on hearing about Sanju again.  As I described in more detail — mixing little fantasies — she and I rubbed each other with our hands, finishing up in a sixty-nine.  Spent, we drifted off to sleep with our heads resting comfortably on each other's thighs.

+++++++++++++  End Part 17.

'Gouri Sen' : A name, I believe, gleaned from the mythological goddess of plenty whose pots are never empty (Gouri, one of the incarnations of Goddess Durga).  The 'Sen' is just a surname flippantly added.  An equivalent in American  would be "What am I, the Fort Knox?" This is my take on it, since I never asked anybody about its etymology. 

One of the readers later gave an entirely different explanation. Apparently there was a seventeenth century philanthropist by that name in Calcutta.  He was known to help out anybody who asked for money.