Message-ID: <29709asstr$986440202@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: From: "Sharmila Sanyal" X-Original-Message-ID: X-OriginalArrivalTime: 05 Apr 2001 01:42:37.0593 (UTC) FILETIME=[B1A86090:01C0BD71] Subject: {ASSM} My Story (Part 18) by Sharmila Sanyal Date: Wed, 4 Apr 2001 23:10:02 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, kelly _________________________________________________________________ Get your FREE download of MSN Explorer at http://explorer.msn.com <1st attachment, "MYSTOR18.txt" begin> I am immensely grateful for the encouragement, critique and corrections I receive from the readers. Take, for example, my naive hypothesis about the cliched reference to 'Gouri Sen'. Well, as pointed out by one of the readers, I was utterly ignorant about the origin of the phrase that I myself have used so often. One of the more informed readers has pointed out that, at the turn of the last century, there indeed lived a wealthy and over-zealous philanthropic 'landlord' in Kolkata (erstwhile Calcutta), so named, who could not turn away anybody in need. Thereof was coined the popular locution: "Need money? There's always Gouri Sen!" (loosely translated). Of course, since presently I am not privy to a comprehensive history of the city , I will accept this legend at its face value. One more thing! While I consider the impatience among readers quite flattering, please realize that I am allowed to be busy with my life and work outside of the realm of ASSM. Please visit my ftp site at ASSTR. Please write at with comments and corrections. WARNING: Do not proceed beyond this "warning" if you are not a mature person and/or are offended by explicit written descriptions of sexual encounters. My Story (Part 18) A few months later it was the Puja festival and Sanju came over for a couple of weeks after the Lakshmi Puja and, from the very first day, he was behaving like an infant waiting for the candy he was promised. Who could, in good conscience, blame a boy his age when, with the memories of our intimacy, it was hard for 'yours truly' too. Believe me I tried my utmost not to think about it! It would be virtually impossible for us to get that close in our house. Sanju and I both were certainly past the age when we would have been able to to share the same room at night . . . and, assuredly by no specific design, the two of us never found ourselves 'alone' in the house. I tried my best not to appear too eager, for I did not want to give Sanju reason to believe that I was looking forward to some hanky panky myself as much as he was. Debi dropped by one day during that week and later confessed to me -- albeit in her usual raillery -- that Sanju indeed had grown into an attractive young man and that she wouldn't mind sharing him with me. Her visit -- a very social one at that -- and our ensuing discussions revolving around my cousin did little to help curb the want. By the fifth day -- when we had no opportunity to be alone -- I, quite boldly, suggested to my Mom that I would take Sanju out. While my guilty mind was aware of the excuse, to anybody of a sane mind it was a very simple and natural gesture. That's what cousins did. So we were off to the local 'park' that evening. "So, Sanju, what have you been up to?" I asked like a big sister. "Nothing," he answered. "Nothing?" I said, a bit interrogatively -- I must confess - - as we walked side by side through the sea of people out to take in the revelry of this very Bengali autumn festival. Although most of the cloth-and-bamboo structures for the Puja were taken down, a few, more elaborate constructions, remained, as they usually do, to afford the less enthused locals a chance to view the incredible artistry, if they so chose. Blaring loudspeakers with blended, indecipherable, Bollywood film songs poured in from every direction, while occasional pieces from Tagore or Nazrul tried to sneak in from some remote streets. The cacophony helped us steer our conversation towards the intended earthly direction without the risk of being overheard. "Read any good books lately?" I asked. "Yeah, Shankar's latest . . . didn't like it, though," he said. "I am not asking about Shankar or Tagore, Sanju . . ." I looked sideways at his face and smiled impishly. "Shona-di!" - his voice showing the shock mixed with with excitement. "What?" "People will hear," his voice showed genuine concern. Being from a small town, he was lost in the circus. Looking at the crowds, he had reservations about venturing out on an evening like this. "Don't worry, kiddo," I had to assure him, "nobody hears us in this noise." I delivered a short lecture about the advantage of the immensity of the crowd and its inherent boon in imparting virtual anonymity. "So, did you read any new ones?" I insisted. "Yeah . . . " Sanju said with a grin, "and one of them was about a brother and a sister . . ." "Oh yeah?" I pictured Sanju reading and masturbating. I started to flow. I wasn't even sure where we were going and what we were going to do once we reached there. "I want to listen to the story," I almost had to shout as we passed a 'mandap' and its two huge speakers. Sanju waited for the auditory assault to wane and started to narrate the story. I stopped him. "Not now, I can hardly hear a word," I said and looked at him. I caught him peering down my the blouse I was wearing over my long knee-length skirt. "Sanju!" I widened my eyes at him in mock censure. "Sorry, Shona-di." he smiled with unabashed lust in his eyes, "couldn't help it." "Look at other girls," I continued to be flippant too, "there are better ones around in this crowd." "No, none as beautiful." I was impressed at his directness, and, admittedly, quite pleased by his admiration -- however unctuous it might have been. We reached the local park. Ordinarily it would be the site of a Puja 'mandap', but a few years back, the puja committee had a fight early on and decided not to have any at all. They never went back to using that park again. As I understand it, the park is no more either. A high-rise apartment building stands there instead. We sat down under a tree, facing away from the street. There were a few other couples that had already staked out spots in more secluded spots. From where we sat, we could see a couple oblivious to the world and locked in a tight embrace. "My God!" Sanju exclaimed in a low voice. "Why . . . they have every right to be here," I said. "No, not them . . . them," and he gestured towards the other side. "Oh! Eeeeeshhhh!" it was my turn to inhale deeply. About fifty feet directly to Sanju's left, against a low-cut hedge, a man was lying flat on his back while a woman was on top of him. Doubled over, she was stradling his waist. It was hard to tell if he had his pants on, but I could easily see that the woman's sari was riding high around her waist, leaving her legs bare. We could make out a slow rhythmic movement from the duo. I had never seen a live show like that and, as embarrassing as it was to have to watch, it immediately lit a full blown fire between my legs. The couple was very well hidden from the street and the spot was rather poorly lit to figure out too much, but the silhouette of the couple in that unmistakable coital pose would have been enough to light my fire anyway. It did, only to be rudely doused by somebody sweeping a powerful flashlight across and over the bushes. My heart stopped as the beam of the light momentarily swept over the couple we were watching intently. I was embarrassed for the woman as the light fleetingly transformed the suggestive silhouette into a real couple engaged in sex! From what I could see, the man was fully clothed. It wasn't hard to imagine the arrangement. "Ooooof!" Sanju exclaimed under his breath. "Let's get out of here, Sanju," I said as I stood up. The flashlight could have belonged to a constable or a prankster, and I wasn't about to find out for myself. "But . . ." Sanju was obviously in two minds and I believe, owing to his excitement, leaning a little towards being bold. "No, no . . . you don't understand, we'll have to leave," I felt my voice shake in utter panic. "Oh OK . . ." he gave in. I suppose some of his blood managed to sneak back into his brain. Without a word, we exited the park the way we entered. My heart was racing and I looked straight ahead to avoid making eye contact with anybody that we might come face to face. All my bravado under the supposed anonymity had evaporated with one flash of a beam of light. I was still sexually aroused, but I felt cold with apprehension. "Shona-di!" Sanju said calmly, "will you relax please!" His voice sounded calm coming from behind. I guess I was almost running and he was trying to keep up with me without appearing to be running. I didn't slow down my pace till I reached the street. A few passers by glanced at me and then at my cousin behind me and frowned. I suppose they wondered about the breathless look on my face exiting the park. "Lets go home, Sanju!" I deliberately raised my voice as I realised that some young men were about to come to my aid. I most certainly didn't fit the crowd of revellers on the street. "Let's .." Sanju took the cue from me and announced equally aloud for the benefit of those that had been staring at us, "It's too crowded out here, Shona-di!" That extra bit, though unnecessary, helped, and people left us alone. I grabbed Sanju's hand and virtually dragged him through the throng and towards our house. As my palpitation subsided, I admitted to myself that the mere thought of getting caught with Sanju in the park was what spooked me. Consequently, I had to admit that I had the raunchiest intentions . . . and that had me back in my aroused state again. "Hurry up, Sanju, lets go home!" I said impatiently and increased the pace of my walk, wading -- as it were -- against the sea of people. "I thought . . . I thought . . ." the disappointment in his voice was so obvious that I couldn't pass up the opportunity to torment him some more. "What?" I said, "You didn't think . . . Oh my God, Sanju! Were you expecting . . .?" "Never mind, Shona-di," he looked away and snatched his hand away from me. "Angry, are we?" I grabbed his hand again as we kept on moving. I am sure by our demeanor we looked like two lovers in the midst of a quarrel. "I'm sorry." "You are terrible, you know," he tried to sound cold, but the tremor in his voice gave his frustration away. "OK . . . OK . . . lets go home first . . ." I said in a manner akin to that of a parent promising candy to her toddler. Well, in a manner of speaking . . . As we reached home, I was dripping with anticipation. I felt the crotch of my panties sticking to the entrance to my soppy cave. Impulsively, I had clipped my hair that morning while I was in the bathroom. I felt terribly sexy thinking about it. As we went up to our floor, I saw my parents dressed up to go out. "We are going out for some quick shopping, Sharmi," Baba said, "We didn't think you two will be back so soon." "Too crowded," I said, "Sanju didn't like the melee." "OK, we'll be back in a couple of hours," Ma said as they descended the stairs, "I told Abha to start the rice around half-past eight." We went to the balcony and saw them leave the house. That was it! My heart started pounding at the thought of being all by ourselves. We were really not alone in the house, for my uncles and aunts were there downstairs, but we were alone, save Abha, on our floor. I turned and looked at Sanju, and saw a very knowing smile there. "What?" I said to him, smiling back. "Nothing," he said, "just thinking that we are all by ourselves now." "So?" I played along. I was burning up even as I stepped back into the drawing room from the balcony! With Sanju at my heels, I reached the stairs. "So?" he echoed, and followed me as I continued on up the stairs . . . up. I spotted Abha-maashi, our live-in maid, busy in the kitchen as I continued up the stairs. "We will be on the roof, Abha-maashi." Slightly hard of hearing, she did not respond. I wondered if she knew that we were home. Still, I couldn't take any chances and considered the roof a much safer place. I closed and bolted the door to the roof behind us. The night sky was aglow from the festive lightings that draped the city. We could see each other clearly in that light that reflected off the smog. "So, what did you think of the show in the park?" I asked. "Hot!" "How hot? Did you get hard?" I couldn't help it. "I did . . . I am . . ." he looked into my eyes and said. "Let's see?" I said, and touched him there . . . at the fly. I felt his bulge and felt it pulsate at my touch. Sanju stood there in front of me looking down at my hand. "Wow," I looked up at his eyes and said, "it's moving!" He said nothing. +++++ (End Part 18) To be Continued . . . Puja Festival: This is essentially a month-long (two lunar cycles) autumn festival beginning with the worship of the 'Durga' form (Shiva's consort) of the Devine Mother. She is the ten-armed deity who vanquishes 'the bad' (or 'suffering') [du'h (Sansk.) = a prefix meaning bad/difficult/evil, etc.]. The festival ends with the much known 'Deepaavali' or the 'festival of lights' that coincides with the worship of 'Kaalee' in Bengal. There are countless other folklores and mythologies associated with the festival that are beyond the scope of this narration. <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. The post was sent as an email attachment and has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+