Message-ID: <39963asstr$1040386203@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Message-ID: <20021220012556.25202.qmail@www.boxfrog.com> From: "Sharmila Sanyal"@www.boxfrog.com X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Thu, 19 Dec 2002 19:25:54 -0600 Subject: {ASSM} My Story Repost (parts 1-4) X-Original-Subject: =?iso-8859-1?Q?=22My Story=22?= Repost (parts 1-4) Date: Fri, 20 Dec 2002 07:10:03 -0500 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: hecate, IceAltar Sharmila Sanyal please reply to anu_g42@hotmail.com Dear Moderator, I am resubmitting "My Story" with minor editorial corrections. This is the beginning of the postings that will (hopefully) see the end of the Book One of "My Story" Have a very merry Holiday and a happy New Year. Let us all pray that the Dogs of War are not let loose in the coming year. regards Sharmila. <1st attachment, "MS01.TXT" begin> This marks the beginning of the repost of parts 1 through 25 of "My Story." It has been a very long time since the 25th part of this story was posted. A lot had transpired between then and now which I will refrain from elucidating. I apologize for the inordinate gap that some of the readers have found rather "cruel". Lately I have received a handful of letters encouraging me to continue with the story. After a lot of thought, I have decided to finish this one. So, here are the reposts (with revisions in some), leading up to the conclusion of what I endearingly call the "Book One" of "My Story". The "prologues" to each part, as they appeared in the original posts, have not been deleted in the repost. I thought they had become very much a partt of the chronicle. +++++++++ Dear Readers, This part of the ongoing story of my life is being re-submitted. Thanks to some very enthusiastic readers, I received feed-backs regarding the numerous spelling mistakes and other editorial oversights. The reason it has taken me this long to post the second part is that I wanted to make sure similar atrocities were avoided. The editing took too long partly due to my busy schedule, and partly due to the "nature" of the story. I also realise that some news readers and/or email softwares have had difficulty in preserving the format of my submission, and I apologize for the inconvenience. To those, I take this liberty to suggest that they download the story from the asstr archive and read it in a regular word processor. Thank you again for the interest in My Story. Please bear with me. This is a long one. My Story (part 1) The story I am about to pen down is largely true. However, there would be some fantasy in it . . . the ones that have been part of my . . . our sex life. I have always been rather taken with sex . . . as far back as I can remember! My first memory of satisfaction is that of me masturbating one night in the privacy of my own room. I come from a rather well-to-do middle class family from India. Not many of my friends had rooms of their own as kids, but I did. My parents were part of an extended family. My dad was the oldest of three brothers. Our family home, which still stands in the northern part of the city, has three floors, and we . . . meaning my parents, my two brothers and I, occupied the third. Each floor has five rooms, including a common family room and while I had one room to myself, my two older brothers shared another. That night in question, I was having trouble falling asleep. I was reading a magazine where there was this short translation of a Victorian erotica. I am not sure if that was my first exposure, but it surely had made me very horny. I was probably around thirteen then . . . I remember touching myself between my legs and discovering the slippery substance literally oozing out. I am not sure if I should have been concerned, but inserting two of my fingers inside had felt so good that I had continued to make the fingers travel in and out . . . in and out . . .in and out . . . Oh! Even as I write this, the mere memory of that first conscious act makes me want to do it now . . . Anyway, that was probably the beginning of my sexual awakening, and I never stopped since. I have needed it to put myself to sleep every night. It was probably not long after that that I accidentally brought somebody else into the very private area of my life. It was during one of those innumerable festivities that our extended family liked to host. Our house -- as big as it might have been -- was packed with people. My cousins, uncles, aunts, and their not-so-distant relatives, were all made to feel welcome on those occassions. Those couple of days in question were no exception. Our home was teeming with relatives. It was a very joyful time and, for about two days (I was amazed to realize later), I had not sexually relieved myself. I was busy during the days and was tired enough at night to fall asleep without the help of my fingers. Most of our relatives left on the third day before supper. Among those that did not was my cousin Debi, who, along with some of the other cousins, was sharing the room with me. She is a little older than me; about sixteen then. And she was one of the most beautiful of persons I have known till today. Not gorgeous in the usual sense, but with an aura of beauty and attractiveness about her that made all the boys stare at her with lust. One of our distant cousins even ventured to flirt with her whenever he got the chance in those couple of days that he was our guest. I was in my usual mode the following night. Debi was sleeping beside me on my bed, which was just wide enough for the two of us. The other cousins that shared my room had all left. I was reading a short novel that had a few paragraphs of description of love-making between the lead character and his mistress. It would not cause such arousal today but, for my adolescent fourteen-year-old brain, that was plenty. My juices started flowing and pretty soon I could feel the thin fabric of the panties at my crotch sticking to my skin down there. I looked at my cousin; she seemed to be sound asleep. So, I gently put the book down and turned the table lamp off. The semi-darkness of the room served to heighten my arousal. I turned on my side, facing away from Debi, and gently folded my legs at the knees . . . almost to a fetal position. I pulled the front of my night dress up and, with my left hand, reached between my legs, parting the thin, soaked, divider at the crotch of my panties. I inserted my index and the middle into my slippery recess and wiggled around for a few seconds. I then pulled them out and, using the wetness, started gently rubbing the swollen seat of excitement -- the little button -- with those two fingers in a vertical motion. I did not realize how long I had been doing that, but I froze instantly when I felt a warm hand on my then almost bare bottom . . . "What do you think you are doing?" Debi whispered in my ears, her tone more naughty than threatening. I was mortified, nonetheless. I turned my head around towards her and tried to explain that I was just itching my thighs. That explanation couldn't have been very convincing, for I could hear her chuckle under her breath. "That was a long itch, wasn't it?" Debi's hand was on my soulder, "Watching you, I have started to itch too," she said in a monotone, like a matter-of fact statement. By then, her lower belly was pressed firmly against my buttocks. I felt the warmth of her body. I didn't speak. Debi started to gyrate her hips, as if trying to rub her belly against my buttocks. I was totally at a loss for several seconds that seemed like an eternity. My heart was pounding and I did not know if it was from fear and embarrassment or from Debi's excitement adding to mine. My indecision did not prevail too long. Debi put her left arm around me. Her hand found the few buttons on my dress-front and undid them. She caressed my small breasts lightly . . . they were small, really small. Yet, they took in her touch with eagerness, my tiny nipples stiffening under her palm. Soon, I became aware of Debi's nipples against my back, between my shoulder blades. They felt harder than mine, and bigger. At sixteen, Debi had a fuller body. My head was turned towards Debi, our warm breaths mingling. She said, "Sharmila, how long have you been doing it?" "Doing what?" I asked back. I guess I had not yet gotten over my initial bewilderment. "O, c'mon . . ." cupping one of my breasts tightly, and giving it a squeeze, Debi almost chided me under her breath, "you know what I am talking about. So, how long have you been doing it?" "Oh, I don't know" I replied, "quite some time now . . ." "Did anybody teach you?" "You're kidding, right?" I was truly surprised at that question, "who would teach me . . .?" These things, I thought came naturally to a girl. "I am horny too, you know" Debi's embrace had grown tighter, "want to do it with me?" Horny is a purely English word that has no equivalent in my language, but it describes adequetly what she had said . . .I think. To be honest, I don't remember what word she had used that first night, but I remember that it was a word my vocabulary had lacked and, that the mere novelty of that slang had added to my excitement. "Mmmmm, yeah", I was in no state to turn down the invitation. What followed was, for me, an hour of extreme pleasure. Debi got up from the bed, checked the door and made sure it was locked from inside. When she got back, I was lying flat on my back, with my legs squeezed tightly together, caressing my breasts with both hands. I was trying to derive the same pleasure Debi had afforded me a while back. It was nice, but that was the first time I realized that somebody else's hands do a far better job than your own . . . at least on certain parts of your body. It, of course, made very little sense then. Debi stood beside the bed, looking at me, and took her Kaameez off. Underneath she had nothing to hold her full, well rounded, breasts. In the moonlight that was sneaking in boldly through the open window, her breasts glistened with the slight hint of perspiration. She tugged at the cords that held her salwaar, and the loose fitting cotton pants fell to the floor. She was not wearing any thing under that either! Her pubic hairs were thick, forming a well defined triangle under the flat belly and between a pair of gorgeously slender thighs. I instantly idolized her figure. "Exquisite" did not fully describe it. Every part of the body seemed perfectly placed and shaped. I never saw another woman's body like that, and, before that night, never had thought about mine either. That was the night that made me aware of my own budding femininity beyond my routine sexual gratifications. I could not explain why, but Debi's nudity aroused me more. Even at fourteen I was not aware of anything other than the fact that sex feels good. Hetero- or homosexuality had little significance in that gratification. So, when I look back now, I understand why I felt aroused. It was my cousin's free approach and the offer of "doing it together" that was exciting to me. No more, no less. As will be revealed later, when it came to sex, I have been rather free-spirited ever since. However, I almost never feel fulfilled "doing it" with complete strangers or a person I don't feel affection for. Debi was one of my favorite cousins. I called her Moni-di. Debi stepped out of the heap of her salwaar and crawled up into the bed beside me. My night shirt was already bunched up around my waist, and my small breasts were bare through the front of the shirt. I still had my panties on. "Take these off, won't you!" She was slipped my panties off my legs even as she spoke. "Do you think I will ever get breasts like yours, Moni-di?" I said. "You will, if you massage them," Debi said, and then giggled under her breath, "or have them massaged regularly." "Yeah . . ." I said nervously. I knew what she meant, but I also knew that it was not easy finding somebody that would massage them. At that moment I was anxiously awaiting my older cousin's next move. Debi parted my thighs and lightly touched me across my peach fuzz. Her fingers brushed the opening of my wet slit. My whole body went tense with pleasure. I parted my thighs more in anticipation. She got the cue and became more deliberate with her hand. After cupping my mons with the palm of her hand she gently inserted a slender finger into me. "Wow . . ." she exclaimed under her breath, "you really are horny . . . my god, I don't think I get so wet . . . mmmm." I had nothing to say, other than my own "Mmmmmmm." Her finger felt heavenly in there. She started to finger-fuck me slowly, moving her digit in and out in a slightly circular motion. Then she leaned forward, her finger still carrying on what it started, and kissed me on my lips. It was insipid -- my first kiss -- that too from my cousin. And I did not feel anything then. We still have good laughs talking about it. I think she felt my lack of enthusiasm at that first kiss of my life, and did not dwell there any longer. Her head moved down to my chest and she started to lick my tiny hard nipples. As if instinctively, I arched my back and grabbed her head closer to my aching nipples. She bit them lightly and guided one of my hands to her crotch. She did not have to show me what to do. I ran my fingers through her silken curly bush and found my target. It was twice the size of my own pea! I collected some of Debi's slippery juice from her cunt and, lubricating her swollen stiff clit with it, started stroking it in a circular motion. Her hips started undulating, and, keeping her own finger inside my overflowing cave, she used her thumb to pleasure me at my clitoris. I raised my hips from the bed and we matched each other's rhythm. She stretched out beside me with her left thigh across my lower belly, her left hand working between my legs without losing a beat. I momentarily had to let go of her cunt, but quickly established contact with my left hand. I was still lying on my back. I started rubbing her clitoris with my middle finger, her slippery juice providing the continuous lubrication. I reached around with my right hand and started to cup and massage Debi's breasts. "Ohhhh! . . . yes . . . yes . . . yes . . ." Debi cooed into my ears, "do it . . . yes . . . feels good . . . doesn't it Sharmila?" "Yessss . . . Yessss. . . . Yessss" I hissed back in rhythm with our joint gyrations. "I am ready . . ." Debi started whispering, "I can't stand it . . . I'm ready . . . yesssss . . . oooooh . . .nnnnnghhh . . . Sharmila . . . ." "Noooo . . ." I almost cried out . . . "Not now . . . Moni-di . . . No . . . No . . . No . . ." the rhythm still intact. I was not ready to abandon this pleasure just yet . . . I wanted to prolong it for the rest of the night. . . . I wanted it to go on till I died . . . . "Oooh . . . Sharmila . . . you . . . are . . . so . . . naughty . . . ." my older cousin panted back. She understood what I wanted, intuitively. She panted in my ear, "OK . . . then . . . slow down . . . yess . . . don't . . . don't rub me any more . . . " Instantly I withdrew my hand from Moni-di's crotch. She gasped again, this time in frustration, "No . . . Nooooo . . . keep . . . it . . . there . . ." and tried to recapture my hand with her thighs. Confused, utterly confused, I obeyed and let my hand rest between her thighs, just under her moist opening, my fingers a hair away from her clit. I was also eager to touch her there . . . my own being very slowly and gently massaged by my cousin's fingers. Sensing that I was trying to get to it again, she parted her thighs and went back to the earlier position of having one across my belly. I touched it with my two fingers very lightly and could feel it throb. She dug her fingers inside me even deeper, as if to try and block herself from reaching her own climax. Through all that, I had not stopped rocking my hips. Moni-di was simply pressing down on my pleasure-button while continuing to slowly finger-fuck me. As a result, I was being able to control my own pace of deriving the pleasure from her hand. Pretty clever for a relatively novice of fourteen, don't you think? My spouse thinks so! He was impressed beyond his wits the first day we made love. I drove him crazy with anticipation and with the way I used his whole body to pleasure myself. Our sex life never ever slowed down since that first day. But, let us not get ahead of ourselves. Debi was already covered with a thin film of perspiration and my shirt was getting soaked too. So, she let go of me for a moment. I sat up on the bed, and she pulled the shirt off me over my head. We were now both naked. Sitting up like that, she embraced me, and our breasts flattened against each other's. I could feel her stiff nipples trying to stand up against my small breasts. Debi looked into my eyes and planted a full kiss on my lips. This time it was so very different that I shuddered! I never had any idea that a simple kiss could make one's cunt throb inside, but that was what happened. I was left breathless when Debi removed her lips. It was not even a deep one. Debi had confessed later that that was her first kiss too, and she only knew that a kiss was supposed to be with the lips. Needless to say, we perfected our techniques over the years and both of us have benefited from our early teenage explorations. We kissed and kissed and kissed, till our lips ached. With each one, we discovered a little more about it. While, through all that, the urgency down below between our thighs was no longer burning, our kisses grew more and more passionate. Our bodies were tingling with each others passion, as if each of us could feel the sexual energy of the other through our moist skins. That night, we discovered for the first time how unimportant climaxing was. Debi told me later that she had also masturbated towards orgasm as fast she could . . .till that night. We abandoned the bed and rolled around on the floor never letting each other go. Our legs intertwined, the seats of our passion were rubbing against each others thighs, sending shock waves through our bodies. Another half-hour had passed. I do not remember what all we did, except that I had a feeling of melding with Debi's body. She was too excited to want to hold off much longer. Without any words, she turned me over on my back. The cool cemented floor against my back did little to take the heat away from my naked, perspiring, body. Debi lay her body on top of me and guided one of my hands between our bellies and to her cunt. I started rubbing her clit vigorously while she once again inserted two of her finger into me and resumed doing me. Our mutual frenzy manifested itself in the urgency with which we were bringing each other to the ultimate moment. Strangely, though, to both of us climaxing was still no longer the immediate goal. It was our mutual satisfaction that pervaded our thoughts: "Oh . . . Oh . . . Oh . . . Sharmila . . . want to come?" panted Debi. "Yesss . . . Yessss. . . . Yesssssss . . . Oh, yessss . . ." I replied with no less an ardor, "You? Moni-di? Do you want it now?" "Oh . . . sweet Sharmi . . . yes . . . ahhhhgh . . . yessss . . ." she doubled the speed of her fingers, and her thumb attacked my clit with a renewed vigor, "Do it . . . yesss. . . . nnnnnnngg. . . . my God. . . .too much . . . ooooof . . . ." My hand picked up her tempo and, clutching her with my other free hand around her back, I used all my fingers to rub her across her entire opening. I could feel my juice wetting the floor under my buttocks. Debi's were flowing freely down my hand and across my wrist. Both our hands were making slurping noise between our legs. I came first. "Yessss. . . . happening. . . . Moni-di . . . Oh . . . Oh . . . Oh . . . yesss . . . aaaaarrgh. . . . my God. . . .nnnnnnngh . . ." I almost let out a shout when Debi muffled my pleasure cries by putting her palm across my mouth. And she came . . . trying to suppress her own cries that sounded like loud whimpers, "yeah . . . oh . . . yessss . . . Sharmi. . . . sweet . . . nnnnnnnnn.. . . . yeahnnnnng . . . ." She slumped on me, both our bodies limp from the extreme pleasure. My cunt was still throbbing inside, and Debi pointed that out with a suppressed giggle, "Wow . . . Sharmi . . . you are still pumping my fingers . . . you not done yet?" "I am done all right" I replied lazily, "that has never happened before, I mean when I do it myself" "I know what you mean . . ." Debi sat up on me, holding my hand there and guiding my fingers into her, "feel it . . . I am doing the same thing . . ." She was indeed! We woke up next morning sprawled on the floor as naked as we were when we dozed off from exhaustion that followed the hour-long pleasure. It was Moni-di who frantically woke me up by poking me on the side and whispering in my ears . . . "Hey . . . Sharmi . . . wake up . . ." I heard the knocks on the door even as I was coming out of my sleep! I looked at the wall-clock in my room . . . it was already eight in the morning. We never slept past seven in our household. "We'll be right out . . ." I shouted in my sleepy voice. Moni-di got up from the floor and, looking at my naked form on the floor, smiled a shy smile. It was her first time too with another girl! I stand corrected; it was the first time with another person for both. (However, she did admit to being shown her pleasure zone and to being hinted at about pleasuring herself by one of her friends at school.) I guess the happenings of the night before were as unreal to her as it was to me. But even as nudity was disappearing under her salwaar and kaameez, I couldn't but help remember our intimacy fondly. And I could feel the wetness developing between my legs. Again. "Will we do it more, Moni-di?" stretching on the floor I threw my naive question at her, half expecting a denial from my older sixteen-year-old relative. After all, although we were close as distant relatives can be, we had never even come close to being THAT close prior to that night! But her answer had my juices flowing in full gust again -- the weariness notwithstanding. "Not till tonight, I guess . . ." She said , "and I don't think "Moni-di" is what you want to call me after last night", she added with a wink and a smile! The explanation of this little transition in addressing could hardly be a part of this narrative. Debi is one of my uncle's nieces by marriage. That is, her dad and my uncle's wife are siblings. By extension, she is my cousin. They lived in the same city, about thirty-minute's bus ride away. Which meant that we started seeing each other quite regularly. After that night, she stayed back for another night's pleasure, and we made the most of it. Then, it was happening almost every weekend. Sometimes she would come over to spend the night, or else I would go over to their house. Since she shared her room with her younger sister, we had to do it rather quietly which was not easy. So, mostly it was at our house. Anyway, none of our parents thought much of our closeness. I faced some objection at addressing her as "Debi", instead of "Moni-di" as she is known to her younger siblings and cousins; but Debi insisted to the elders that I address her as such. So the matter was soon forgotten. And, close friendships between girls of our age was not unusual in India. Till today, nobody is any wiser except those that matter. A year had passed since that first night. One night Debi, while caressing my breasts, whispered "I have done it with Ajit". I sat up on the bed. We had climaxed once already that night and was preparing to go at it a second time after resting for about fifteen minutes. "Really?" I was not surprised at all; "when?" I pressed on. Ajit was Debi's fiancé. They had been going steady for about six months. End Part 1 (To be continued . . . ) <1st attachment end> <2nd attachment, "MS02.TXT" begin> The subsequent parts are forthcoming. I have written a lot, but editing needs to be done and when I ask for help at home, editing remains farthest from anybody's mind. So, please be patient. My Story (Part 2) He was a handsome guy of seventeen. They were classmates at school and 'twas not until they graduated that they decided they liked each other. I liked him too, but Debi, of course, had the first pick! "Oh.. yesterday actually," Debi was visibly excited just recalling the fact, for her hand moved from my breasts to my underbelly. I felt a tingling run up from my navel to my nipples as her fingers roamed above my pubic bone. I was getting excited too, again, just imagining Debi's moist vagina being filled with Ajit's erect and hard penis. Oh yes! I had turned fifteen and was well read about sex by then. Vibrators or latex penile merchandises were not readily available in India; and we never really heard of those things either. Debi and I had experimented with candles and phallic arboreals. They were all right, but hardly as pleasurable as each other's fingers or tongues. Both of us dreamed of the real thing on and off the bed and hoped that we will not have to wait too long. I was glad, and aroused, to learn that at least Debi has had the pleasure. "How was it?" I asked eagerly while parting my legs a little, "Is it big?" "I don't know. It felt big" Debi replied, moving the hand between my parted legs. I was confused, to say the least. Debi explained: They had masturbated each other off. It was somewhat anticlimactic, but, at the same time, I must admit, I was a little relieved that Debi had not beaten me to the finish line. They were sitting by the lake, in a darkened corner, when Ajit kissed her deeply. The kissing and necking got really hot, with both their tongues playing frantic games with each other. Ajit, for the first time, took liberty with her breasts . . . from above the blouse, of course. He had lightly touched one with his free hand, letting it roam on the ample mound in apparent leisure. Debi's body, under her sari and blouse, instantly had caught fire. She could feel her nipples expand. She did not resist. Slowly unbuttoning the front of the blouse she had guided Ajit's hand to her back and helped him unclasp the bra from behind. Then she had wrapped the sari around her neck to cover herself from any accidental passers-by. Ajit needed little cue after that. Cupping both her free breasts in his palms, Ajit started massaging them with vigor. Her swollen nipples tightened up and became stiff - so stiff that they almost hurt. Before she knew it, her hand had travelled to the front of his trousers and she felt the stiff bulge. It formed a mound, pushing the length of the fly out as if begging to be freed. Her hand rested there for a while, taking in the heat of his hardness. She also felt it throb. Debi lightly caressed the bulge. And with each pass of her hand over the fabric of Ajit's trousers, the bulge got bigger; and it throbbed. Debi searched for an opening. She wanted to feel his flesh. She was wet, her panties soaked through. She found it . . . the zipper. She tugged at it but it wouldn't budge. Ajit shifted and, momentarily withdrawing one of his hands from her chest, unzipped his pants with one swift motion. The rest was up to Debi. She inserted her right hand into the opening and encountered his briefs. She pulled at the elastic waistband and proceeded farther inside. Ajit shifted again and helped her grasp his member. It was warm . . . no it was hot! It was hard! And it throbbed again at the direct touch!. She encircled the shaft with her slender hand, just as she would a long cucumber. But it felt nothing like one . . . its heat being transmitted up her arm and up to her breast - then down into her own crotch. Her cunt was dripping - and throbbing inside. Her blood rushed to her clitoris . . . Debi started rubbing Ajit's cock with a pumping motion. She and I had read about male masturbation in quite some detail (and every time it had led us to relieve ourselves halfway through the descriptions). Ajit moaned and started bucking his hips . . . which, I am sure was difficult in the position they were. He sucked on Debi's tongue fervently and took his hand to her waist, trying to get it under her sari. Debi said, "Wait . . . not this way" and guided Ajit's hand under by slightly bunching up her sari and the petticoat. Ajit pulled the thin fabric of the panties aside and commented with a whisper, "Oh . . . Debi, it is soaking wet . . . you are so wet . . ." "Yes, aaaah . . . Ajit . . . put . . . your fingers . . . inside . . . and do me . . ." Debi panted, frigging him even harder. "Not so fast . . . nnng . . ." Ajit cautioned her. "Yess . . . I know. . . . " holding him even tighter with her free arm, Debi proceeded to bring all of it outside. It was not easy. The long and hard cock was stuck inside his underpants facing his thighs. Debi struggled and finally succeeded. Ajit did not seem to mind all the tugging; he was actually moaning in pleasure through all that. It was huge! According to Debi it was a foot long and eight inches in girth! (But, as I were to discover in the years to come, it was an exaggeration for most!) With Ajit's penis out, Debi could not help her curiosity. She held it in her hand and looked at the 'huge' thing. It almost jumped on her outstretched palm . . . pre-cum oozing from the slit on its pointy bulbous head. The foreskin was drawn back and the head glistened with his own copious juice. His own two fingers were inside Debi by then. He was making a straight in- out motion with them. He was terribly excited by getting to touch Debi there and at what he was doing . . . his cock was almost ready to shoot. He clenched his teeth and tried not to think about the present. It was hard, in more ways than one. Debi was no less excited. She would climax the moment her clit would get rubbed. And she wanted it badly. She resumed masturbating Ajit and, with the other hand, guided him to her clit. Ajit knew all about clits . . . well, almost. He started rubbing it with the heel of his palm very deliberately yet gently . . . he wanted to climax too . . . "Yesssss . . . oh . . . yesss . . . yesss . . . oh! Oh! Oh! . . .nnnnnnng" Debi moaned. "Aaaahhhrgh . . ." whispered back Ajit, "Harder . . . yes . . . pump . . . pump . . . pump . . . oooooooh . . . . nnnnnng . . ." He squirted through the air and the first load landed in the water of the lake in front of them. Then it kept coming . . . load after load, squirt after squirt, for what seemed like a heady eternity. Debi came too . . . almost at the same time . . . And she moaned and moaned and moaned . . . I was moaning too, frigging myself on Debi's thigh. I pictured myself watching them masturbating each other, sitting on the grass beside the small lake, shaded from the street-light by the big tree. I imagined myself standing right behind them and letting my juices run down my thighs as I enjoyed their mutual gratification. I got hot listening and imagining. Debi was also excited talking about it. We were sitting up. Debi was sitting cross-legged with her back against the wall. I had one of my thighs over her legs, my wet cunt touching one of her thighs. As I was rhythmically pressing it there, and moaning, she grabbed one of my hands and placed it between her legs and silently urged me to rub her. We looked into each others eyes and did it to each other for a while. Our breathing got strained from the excitement and we could not just remain in that position for long. I let her cunt go and fell back on the bed with my wet, slippery lips still pressed firmly against Debi's thigh. "Ohhhh! Sharmila . . . " She started to protest. "Come on . . . " I invited her by folding up my knees and letting them fall away from each other. She did not need any more encouragement. Sitting up on her knees, Debi straddled one of my thighs and lowered herself on me. Our wet and juicy openings met, sending electricity from our clits through our lower bellies and up to our brains. She rocked back and forth and I matched her rhythm with my hips. We held each other's hands tightly and pulled with all our strength as if to meld our mutual seats of pleasure together. It did not take long. Putting our cunts together has always been the fastest and most vigorous way of reaching orgasm for us. The friction (or the lack thereof) of our clits sent sparks in a few minutes. I pulled her down on me . . . our breasts met, sending further electricity through our nipples, and we muffled our orgiastic cries by burying our faces into the sides of each other's necks. "Oooof!" Debi whispered, "that was so good . . ." "Oh yeah . . . Debi . . . " I concurred, "When are you going to do the real thing with him?" "Oh, I dunno . . . I don't want to seem too eager, you know . . ." She said tentatively, "And then . . . somehow it does not seem much fun without you." "Debi!" I said with some nervousness, "you are not serious, are you? He is your boyfriend . . . and what do you think he will think? Have you told him about us?" I was probably babbling to hide my nervousness. For, there was this slight envy about Debi being able to do it with Ajit (whom I have imagined naked and admired the imaginary member from time to time). A thousand possibilities had raced through my mind even as we were rocking locked in our cunt-to-cunt embrace. Now, at the very slightest hint of Debi's reluctance in leaving me out of the equation, my clitoris was starting to get engorged, again. Later in my life I had learnt that very few Bengali girls (especially of the social stratum we belonged to) ever were as liberal in their sexual mores as we were. Indeed, for a very long time I believed that my way of thinking in matters sexual was the norm. I guess my thought processes in that regard were primarily driven by the type of erotic books that Debi and I read on a regular basis. We were aware that we were doing something quite arcane by the very nature of sex. Yet, I have always understood that to be true with everybody. That is, I believed everybody fantasized and enjoyed sex as well as he/she could. Thus there was little guilt in me and none of the sense of immorality. Sinful? Oh yes! Isn't that half the fun? Anyway; enough metaphysics of sex. My clit was fully swollen and, concealing my fantasy about Ajit, I started to rock my pelvis. Debi's thigh was between my legs; she had stretched out atop me after the last of her waves had subsided. I had pulled up my knees again to get a better contact with her thigh. I tried to stimulate her again; but, to my dismay, she was already too tired from the last orgasm and I felt her falling asleep on me. I smiled, gave her a kiss on her cheek and gently rolled both of us over. For a little while I lay on top of her shapely body, my underbelly resting on hers. Then I slipped off her to one side, not letting her go. I was on my side, with one of my legs across her thighs. I was tired too, but the tingle between my legs was too much to resist. I pressed my cunt to the side of her waist and started to heave my pelvis in gentle thrusts. "Mmmmm . . . yessss . . ." Even in her sleep Debi moaned her approval. "Shhhhh . . . sleep tight . . ." I whispered back in her ears, my pelvis not missing a beat . . . I guess I didn't realize how tired I was, for I couldn't finish it. I dozed off. I dreamed of Ajit, Debi and me in a threesome, like the ones we read about in so many smutty novelettes. (to be continued) <2nd attachment end> <3rd attachment, "Ms03.txt" begin> I have to admit that when I first contacted ASSM and started sending in the story, I had no idea that it would be received so well. I have, since the first post, received numerous letters of encouragement. Some of them (blush) have been rather amorous while most are quite objective. Taken together, the response has put an extra burden on me which I regard with both enjoyment and trepidation. I sincerely hope that I can (or, more aptly, My Story) live up to the expectations. Hence the spacings in my postings. I am trying to do as thorough an editorial job on my writing as my schedule would permit. I have also taken the plunge and made an FTP site available for myself from the ASSTR, and I thank the abministration for it. So, from now on, this story will be 'simulnet' (there you go, another weird coinage - if it does not already exist) to the readers as 'email' and at my site (look under 'authors'). MY STORY (Part 3) Debi called me up that day. It was a Friday morning in May, a few months after her first sexual intimacy with Ajit. Our summer vacation had started and, it being my last year in high school, I was supposed to be studying hard for my State Board Exam. I have always done well in my studies and never have had to be tutored by anybody. But my parents wanted me to do really well if I wanted to be a doctor. Admissions in Medical Schools in India required making it through a very tough "Joint Entrance" exam. To be able to go to a school of your own choice, you had to rank high. And there were other independent tests for private schools. So I was studying in my room. Or so my parents thought. I was; but after a couple of hours, tired of reading for the exam, I was lying down on my bed with a Bengali smutty novelette. Debi somehow managed to buy those books without any embarrassment. This one even had about twelve pages of colored photographs, poorly copied from some European porno magazines. They were probably meant for some extra stimulation and had little relevance to the actual story. But the story I was intently reading was hotter than the picture of that blonde servicing three men, or the one of a German shepherd mounting the brunette. Personally, I hate themes involving bestiality. When my Mother knocked at the door and announced Debi's phone call, I was about to reward myself with my fingers for having read about five pages without so much as a squeeze of my thigh muscles (You see, my clit is set low enough between my legs which enables me to pleasure myself quite easily). "I'll be right out, Ma . . ." I answered. I wasn't undressed; so I hid the book under my bed and opened the door. My Mother had already left by then. We had the phone on the second floor. I ran down the flight of stairs, my cunt tingling with each step I took. "Want to spend the night here with me?" Debi asked. "What's up?" I couldn't help but notice the excitement in her voice. "Ma and Baba are away for the weekend with Sutapa," Debi announced, "They are on there way to my MejoMashi's place and won't be back till Monday" "You mean . . ." I gasped, "you're all by yourself . . . in the house?" I thought I had not heard it right through all the honking of those cars down below on the streets. "What have I been telling you?" unable to contain her excitement too long, Debi sounded irritated at my questions, "do you want to spend the weekend here or not?" "Let me ask . . ." with that I put the phone down and went upstairs to ask my Mother. She did not find anything wrong with that and actually encouraged me to take my books along with me so that Debi could tutor me if needed."OK . . . will be there in a few hours" I added into the phone with a chuckle, "and Ma wants you to show me a few things." "Yeah . . . that can be arranged, I'm sure" Debi chuckled back, "see you . . ." As you probably guessed by now, I could not have enough sex even as a teenager. At this mature age of thirty-something (I'm not giving it away, though), I have to have it about four or five times a day. At work, I have my fingers and a small vibrator. At home . . . well . . . I urge patience. I later learned that such sexual need was unusual for a girl between the age of thirteen and eighteen. I was aroused even at the thought of spending the whole weekend with Debi, my partner in carnal pleasures. The very prospect of finding ourselves alone in that house, with nobody else to bother us, sent electricity all through my body, the tingling sensation from my head to toe translating into shallow spasms in my vaginal muscles. I was old enough by then to start wondering if I were a true lesbian. Not that it bothered me too much; I seemed to have fallen madly in love with my older cousin. Also, as I have tried to convey, I have been -- as they put it in the West -- rather oversexed. Sex in India, though a taboo subject now, had always been regarded an integral part of human existence. It was never supposed to have been set aside from our spirituality, for a satisfied libido has less distractions for spiritual pursuits. I suppose that undercurrent of that Indian sexuality still flows beneath the facade of middle-class morality. Indeed, the lowest and the uppermost strata of the Indian society have never been too attentive of such moralities. pardon my digression. Anyway, On with my narration. It wasn't anywhere near a 'few hours' before I found myself ringing the door bell at Debi's. Indeed, I was at their door-step within the hour since talking to her over the phone. It was the middle of the day and the streets were not as crowded. The bus was packed, however, and, save the occasional gusts through the open windows, the humid summer air inside was almost unbreathable. I was hot and so was the bus. Before the seat in front of me was vacated and I could grab it, I had to endure the poking of a hard member from behind. A man, standing right behind me, took advantage of the crowded bus and made little effort to move his swelling manhood away from my buttocks. He was wearing a dhoti* and panjabi**, and there was little between my dress and his cock. I was hot enough to not mind and actually enjoyed the feeling of the hard thing between the crease of my buttocks; especially when I sensed that he was looking over my neck and straight into my blouse. Over the past several months, I had developed from a nondescript teen into a shapely one. Regular sex and the associated foreplay had helped me develop into a young lady. Although I never flaunted my obvious prides, their shapeliness attracted second looks which I enjoyed. So, the man standing behind me was not helping his condition by getting a deeper look down my blouse. I arranged my sari, as if oblivious to his stare, so that a little more of the open, rounded, neck of my blouse was exposed. And I felt his member throb a few times. He started to take advantage of the bumpy ride through the streets and I almost sensed his urgency. That had to wait. The seat in front of me came vacant and I, somewhat reluctantly, slid into it. I wish I had not. The man was in his fifties and had scraggly beard all over his face. He did not even try to hide his excitement; and I could see it pushing up the bunched up fabric of his dhoti. He was obviously wearing the Indian version of "boxers" under his dhoti, which help little in concealing such states. I wished I had not seen his face, for it immediately dampened my arousal - the arousal that I had been saving for Debi. I wished my fantasy about a hard cock of a handsome man against my buttocks were left intact. I shifted my eyes to his groin area. Through my sunglasses, I kept staring at the sign of his arousal. For the rest of the commute, I tried to imagine a handsome man as its owner. And that kept me from getting to Debi with a dry cunt. Debi was probably taking a shower. She peeked through the small window that flanked their front door. Spotting me, she opened the door and stood aside behind it, out of sight from the busy street outside. She did well, for she was only wearing a petticoat from under her armpits. It covered her breasts and ended right below her buttocks. Her hair was wet. "I just got out" she said and gave me a hug. It felt good after travelling thirty minutes in the humid heat. "Oh . . . I must be stinky . . " I said, trying to get away from a clean and fresh Debi. "No, No," Debi did not let me go; and, poking her nose into the side of my sweaty shoulder drew a deep breath, adding, "I like your natural smell . . . it makes me hot, you know." "Yeah, right . . " I managed to get away from her, more than a little flattered. She bared her beautiful teeth and grinned. "I was doing it in the bathroom when you rang the bell . . . see . . ." and she took hold of my hand, guiding it under her petticoat and between her legs. I touched her there and, beside feeling the stickiness, was surprised to discover that her dense bush was reduced to a very short patch. "What the . . .!" I exclaimed, and pulled the hem of her petticoat up. "Like it?" She tried to gauge my reaction. "I do . . . but . . . why . . . how?" I really wasn't sure how to react. It was a novelty to me, seeing her without the silky curls that used to frame her nether lips. But it felt good to the touch. The triangle was not completely bare. It is hard to describe, so I will not attempt. I could not help myself. I knelt down in front of her, right there - just inside of the doorway - and, grabbing her buttocks with both hands, drew her clipped muff to my face. She shuddered as I took the swollen lips into my mouth and gently nibbled on them. "Ooooohhhngggh . . .. Sharmi" She cried out and grabbed my hairs, gently tugging at them in an attempt to free herself. "Wait, wait, not now . . . oh, oh, oh, I will . . . cum . . . right now . . . if you don't . . . no, no, don't . . . yessss . . . oh my . . . no . . " with my tongue inside her, she obviously could not make up her mind. I was too hot to let her go; especially after finding her already hot from an unfinished shower masturbation. My own vaginal muscles were in violent spasms all by themselves. All I needed was a finger inside there . . . and it would have been all over for me too. "No! Sharmi . . ." Debi finally wrestled herself off my mouth. "I don't want to finish it right now, Sharmi." "But" I let myself collapse on my butts and let out a whimper. "I am just too horny right now" Debi tried to reason, "And you know we never rush through it. If you ate me one second longer, I would've cum in your mouth right now." "OK, OK . . . My God . . . I am terribly hot . . " I declared, "Let me take a shower then to cool off." I said; then, looking at her eyes, I added quizzically, "And what are you going to do in the meantime; not finger yourself I hope?" "So what if I did?" Debi said in jest while helping me get off the floor. "C'mon Debi . . . you didn't let me finish you, and now . . ." I played along coyly. "You know what? Let me come into the shower with you" "Hey . . . We have never done it in the shower . . . like we read in those stories" I was most definitely eager. We soon discovered it was not as easy as the stories made it out to be. We went to the bathroom and, standing outside the door, she helped me undress. In India, the bathroom floors are almost always wet. Few houses have anything like a bathtub or a separate shower stall. The showers in some houses are separate from the lav. That's how it was at Debi's, and we didn't want to get our clothes wet. "You soaked your panties, Sharmila !" Debi laughed out loud checking them out. She tugged at the chords of her petticoat and it fell to the ground. I smiled back and said, "Let me go pee and I'll tell you all about it." I needed to relieve the pressure on my bladder that had built up over the last hour or so due to my prolonged state of arousal. I felt refreshed as I stood under the stream, the cool water washing away the salty sweat that had formed a sticky layer on my skin. Debi watched me for a while and then stepped in under the shower. "What was it that you wanted to tell me?" She asked while forming some lather up with the bar of soap. She started to put the lather on me with her soft hands and I started to narrate my bus-ride experience. It was nothing new to her, she said: "Oh . . . I get that all the time . . " and ran her two palms across my already hard nipples. "You do?" I asked, "but you never told me . . ." "Yeah . . . one day I even felt a guy cum like that" "How could you tell?" "You know . . . " Debi explained, "I felt it jump a few times and go soft in a little while" "I wonder if he wet his pants through" I was getting even more excited imagining the cum oozing out from under his underwear and onto the fabric of his pants. I put my fingers to work. The soap had washed off my skin by then. Debi was holding me from behind, her two hands cupping my well-formed breasts. She was massaging them in a slow circular motion. I inserted two fingers inside myself . . . and it hurt a little . . .I withdrew them right away and tried rubbing my clit. And it did not feel right! I turned around to face Debi and she planted a full kiss on my mouth. Our tongues mingled, the water running down our faces and into our mouths. I took my hand between our bellies, parted her swollen lips and started stroking her love-button. We have masturbated each other standing up many times. Our juices flowing out would be plenty for the lubrication. But, Debi also complained about it now. It didn't take us long to figure out that the running water was washing us away and we were losing our natural lubrication. We lathered up our hands and tried again; but it stung a little. I guess, the use of our fingers everyday had caused minor abrasions down there. So, we decided to let our shower fantasy remain a fantasy for then. We have had good laughs about that incident whenever the subject came up. It wasn't until much later that we got to doing it 'in shower'; but let us continue on with the present timeline. We wanted to do it in the shower so we had to do it in the bathroom - at least! We shut the water off and, standing under the shower-head in a tight embrace - our wet bodies connected almost at every square inch, we started finger-fucking each other. Our mouths locked in a deep deep kiss, our tongues darted in and out of each other with fiery passion. I grabbed her mons as if to tear it off her body, my short nails digging into her clipped thatch, and into the flesh surrounding the opening of her cunt. "Aaaaahhhhnghhhh . . . yessssss!" pulling her mouth away slightly, she almost yelled out in a pleasure sensation that bordered pain. Her finger dug deeper into me, the passage, by now, filled with my love- juice. I could feel her whole body tighten up. Her stiff, swollen nipples dug into my breasts as she started rubbing them against mine. Sparks shot out from my own and spread downwards, crossed the valley of my stomach and, following her finger, into the deep dripping crevice of my cunt. The muscles under my navel contracted spasmodically . . . almost too strongly for me to remain standing. I steadied myself by putting my free arm around and over her shoulder. "I am ready." Debi declared. I had not even touched her clit! It made me feel so good that I started bucking my hips on her finger and rubbing her cropped mons with the heel of my palm at the same time. I was ready too. "Yeaaaasss . . . Debi . . .. do it . . . frigg . . . frigggg . . . fuck . . . fuck . . . Ooooo my god . . . aaaaaah . . . aaaah . . . aaah . . ." I screamed out. Our repertoire of Bengali sexual slang was essentially a la those smutty stories that we devoured regularly. Such words are considered "untouchables" in our language and society; and it took us a while to internalize them. Yet, once we got used to them, our sessions rarely were complete without whispering them to each other. The frequency and intensity of such utterances have been directly proportional to the state of our arousal. "Yesss . . . fuck . . . fuck . . . cum . . . cummmm . . . nicely . . . yesss . . . oh, oh, oh, oh . . . aaaargghhhnnnng . . . do it . . . aaahng . . . do it . . . aaaaaaaaaaaaa . . . . ." We came. We came with earth shattering intensity. Juices, pent-up since that morning -- and through all that had happened -- gushed out with uncontrollable spasms from deep inside my cunt. Debi had been so aroused that she didn't need any clitoral stimulation, although I finished her off by pressing down hard on it with all my fingers and doing a pumping maneuver. Her legs shook violently and we dropped to the wet bathroom floor, still in each other's arms. Lunch was almost perfunctory. Debi's mom had prepared food to last us a couple of days and left it the small fridge. She knew I'd be spending the weekend there, and took the liberty to cook a few of my favorite dishes. Ordinarily, the mere mention of bottle-gourd and shrimp curry would make my mouth water. But, that afternoon, something else was in a constant state of wetness that demanded attention. So, we decided to savor the delicacies during our supper. +++++ end pt 3 * A 5-yd length of finely woven cloth worn by men as a traditional attire ** Kurtaa in Hindi; almost knee-length shirt, usually w/o collar. Usually worn over dhoti or pajama. ++++++++++++++++ <3rd attachment end> <4th attachment, "MS04.TXT" begin> This is the fourth part in the ongoing "My Story". I thank my readers for writing to me. I am indeed overwhelmed by some letters . . . and enjoy them immensely. While I do not mind receiving emails from fans, I do urge all my readers to be grounded in their realities while making this a part of their fantasies. This is My Story and I am recounting MY erotic past and present. However, I am limiting myself to episodes, days and events that I consider seminal. So, if any of you want to know something in a greater detail, you'll have to let me know and I will try to include them in the future (Only if I find them not too intrusive). If some things can not be accommodated in the present narration, I will try and recount them in another series. I try to answer the mails if and when I find them stimulating (in more ways than one, of course). I am an extremely busy person and find it rather difficult to answer every mail -- what with having to also write this account at the same time. So, to all the readers that like the narration, thank you all once again. SS. Note: Please include the words "My Story" in the subject line, if and when you write. My junk filter is set on high due to the huge number of spam that I seem to be getting lately. (The usual disclaimer remains: The material presented below is meant for mature readers only. If you are under-age (usually 18-year-old or younger) or are offended by descriptions of making love in ways other than the missionary, you will be well advised to leave this site -- or skip the message -- altogether.) My Story (Part 4) The afternoon was spent reading some stories that we had not finished reading in prior occasions. And we let Nature take its own course. Comfortable in the knowledge that there would not be any interruptions on a summer afternoon, we did not rush ourselves this time. It is hard to describe the sultry laziness that drapes the City of Joy during the hot summer afternoons. It is easy to abandon oneself completely to worldly pleasures . . . from siesta to sex; and I always found sex to be more rewarding. We had not realized how famished we both were till we finished our lunch -- a heavy one at that too. After washing the dishes and the utensils, we retired to Debi's room. They had a small two-storied house, with Debi and her sister sharing a room on the upper floor adjoining the bathroom-lav combination. The only other room on that floor was a rather small one and it was used for occasional guests. It also housed the "shrine" for her Mother's daily worships. Her room overlooked a wide strip of playground that the local kids used for Soccer and Cricket. I drew the heavy curtain on the window and turned the fan on at full speed. Fully dressed, we sat down on Debi's bed, our backs resting against the wall and a pile of paperbacks in front of us. Debi had the most exquisite collection of smut, I think. We read the episodes that were new to us. Midway through the second one -- where three teenage boys were satisfying one of the boy's older sister in her mid twenties -- we were tweaking each other's nipples under our blouses. By the time we finished reading that one, our blouses were off and, mouths locked together, our bare breasts were almost flattened against each other. We deliberately let the area between our legs alone. By the end of the next episode, we were caressing our naked thighs, keeping safe distances from the nether regions. We had, by then, divested ourselves of our outer garments. Not having bothered to put on any undergarments after leaving the shower, that meant we were as Nature intended us to be. Yet we took it easy . . . almost as if to test our own limits of endurance. We, of course, had moved to the cool cemented floor to avoid soaking her bed through. The floor beneath our buttocks was getting slippery with the proof of our arousal. We could read no longer after having read partly through the third book (and the sixth episode) -- where, sitting in an empty class-room, two teenage high school buddies were pumping each other off. We had been reading those stories for almost an hour and a half by then and had still refrained from touching where it counted! Wow! Weak at the zenith of our excitement, we faced each other and opened our legs wide. Supporting ourselves with our hands planted flat on the ground behind us, we had our legs folded at the knees. The ceiling fan was going at full speed, moaning a constant pitch; as if trying to cool down our libidos just enough. Both of us were breathing heavily with our lips parted. From under our heavy eyelids, we looked down at each other. Debi's cunt lips were swollen and parted wide. The pink inside was filled with her copious secretion. The nub of her clitoris was exposed at the entrance. I looked down at myself. There was a pool right under my cunt. Although the dense curly bush was hiding my own opening, I could still see the dark moist crests of my own labia. And I looked at Debi again. Our eyes met. I could see the urgency in her huge beautiful eyes, beneath those eyelids -- droopy from her state. "Are . . . we . . . ?" She panted the redundant query . . . "My god . . . I am . . . dying . . ." I lifted my wet buttocks up slightly and moved my cunt forward. "Ooooooooh . . . shhhhhhh . . .. yesssssssssssss" Debi reciprocated and moved hers towards mine. She lifted her right leg and placed it across and over my left thigh. My vaginal muscles quivering in anticipation, I pushed my pelvis forward and closer, my arched back supported with my hands planted firmly on the ground behind. And I immediately let out a scream -- "Aaaaaahhhngh . . . oh . . . ooooooooh . . ." Our cunts had made contact. My swollen clitoris was smack against Debi's wet entrance. We moved urgently, but very cautiously. Debi and I were already familiar with each other to the point where we played one another like two finely tuned instruments, making the sweetest music. I am sure Debi had felt the same electricity spread from her clit as I had. Both of us, despite our extraordinarily long endurance through the self-tease, wanted the silent crescendo to last forever . . . But, we couldn't help grinding our sexes together without any break. When one of us would back off, the other would urge on and press forward. When I clenched my teeth and tightened my stomach muscles and stopped moving, Debi moved her hips in all four directions at double the rhythm, compensating for my inaction. "Noooooo . . . Noooooo . . . Ohhhh . . . Damn . . .. I . . . I . . . Oh Damn . . . Oh Damn . . ." and I came, "Yessss, yesss . . . Debi . . . Debi . . . do it . . . do it . . . do it . . ." "Me too . . . I can't . . . Oh . . . I can't . . . my god . . . yeah . . . yeah . . . Sharmi . . . you . . . oh . . . you are . . . sweet . . . fuck . . . harder . . . fuck me . . . yesss . . . fuck . . . do it . . . fuck . . . do it . . . fuck . . . do it . . .." And we continued to wring out the last bit of our orgiastic delight from each other's dripping cunt for the next several minutes . . .. I woke up to the sound of the door-bell downstairs. I sat up straight on the floor. We fell asleep just the way we finished. Our bodies were still probably connected at our sexes the remainder of the afternoon. Debi's right leg was still resting on my left; and my leg felt numb. I quickly woke her up, "Debi . . . somebody is at the door downstairs." "Oh?!" She looked at her sprawled out naked self and muttered groggily. "Debi! Get up . . . " I almost had to pull her up, "Put something on and go downstairs" - 'RRRRRRRRRRNNNNG' -- That one made her stand up. She looked at me and said, "You put something on too . . . that may be Ajit!" She quickly donned the kaameez over her naked torso and hurried out. I kept staring at her magnificent figure that the knee-length frock betrayed. I heard her running steps going down the two flights of stairs and thought to myself, 'I'm totally in love . . .' Then I heard Ajit's voice; and Debi's yell -- "Sharmi, you want to come down . . .?" Her voice broke my trance and I replied back, "Won't be a minute, Debi." I liked saying her name. When I descended upon them, they were sitting in the so-called 'drawing- room' (a room where guests and drop-by's are received), close together on the only couch that was set against the far wall. Ajit looked at me and grinned, "So, how are your studies coming along?" "Oh, well . . ." I did not like such questions; especially from Ajit, and he knew it. Although he and Debi were already in the second year of college, I did not consider them much older. So, Ajit liked to tease me with such somber addresses. Ajit knew that I liked him. Debi knew that too, and assumed it to be quite brotherly. Or, did she? I could not say for sure if my attraction towards Ajit was sexual. I later had figured it out to be due to the fact that Debi loved him and I loved anything that she did. We had tea and biscuits (the Indian kind) that evening and talked about things irrelevant. I let them have some privacy by stepping out for a stroll through the neighborhood. The evening was a little cooler with a southwesterly wind picking up, signalling a heavy downpour. I always enjoyed this part of the metropolis for its suburban ambience. Few houses were more than a couple of stories tall, with some space between each. Up north, the houses stood in rows of three to four stories, sharing the walls between them. Our house is one of very few that had narrow alleyways on either side. The sky here always seemed much wider, not framed by the outlines of old brick buildings; and, here you could track the Moon longer on clear nights. I roamed aimlessly for about an hour and realized that it was getting late when the old dim streetlights gained prominence. Large droplets started striking the ground intermittently. I drew in a chest-full of air laden with the smell of wet earth and headed back. I had to run the last few yards. Debi and Ajit were kissing standing under the small porch, safe from the lack of any lamp-post nearby. Kissing within other people's sight is never done in India. There is a more esoteric reason for such prudence, but I'm sure this is not the place to elaborate on it. I startled them, for I didn't see them until I was upon them. They almost jumped back from one another. I giggled and put them at ease. Ajit said, "Can't you clear your throat or something?" "What, and miss the fun?" I grinned back. "She likes to watch, you know . . ." Debi injected a little naughtiness into it. "Oh yeah?" Ajit grabbed the chance, "We could arrange a better show then, couldn't we?" "Sure . . ." Debi nodded. That's as far as our indiscretion had gone. Debi had loosely kept our relationship from Ajit. I am not sure if he suspected anything, but he had accepted me in Debi's life as something more than just a distant cousin. Hence the impishness between us. "I better go" Ajit said and unfurled his umbrella. In Calcutta, come May, everybody carries one. We stood there and watched him disappear around the corner. The bus-stop was on the next street. It had, by then started to pour, with a slight wind, and we were catching the mist. It felt nice. "Hey . . . that's my boyfriend!" I turned to Debi quizzically. "I know, I know" I mused back at her, "But no harm in fantasizing, is there?" "I guess not" Debi said while dragging me inside, "As long as I am part of it." Yes, we were more bold with each other when Ajit wasn't around. Such fantasies had been part of our love-making for quite sometime now. Ordinarily we would be grabbing at each other with the start of such exchanges. That evening was a little different. I was cooled down by the May rain. I have always felt poetic at the start of the monsoon, which is heralded by the hurricane season in the Bay of Bengal; and that afternoon's sex had left me satiated a little more than usual. In other words: I felt mellow. Debi too, I could tell, had just finished a round with Ajit. So, we spent the rest of the evening talking and planning as an old Bengali movie played on the TV. (That was fast becoming the weekend ritual in most households. Calcutta was losing its wonderful evening life because of the box.) Ajit had managed to get hold of three matinee tickets to one of the Films that would be playing at a nearby artsy theater the next day. It was a Hungarian movie. Debi had already forgotten the name of it. "You know, I was indeed wondering if we could catch a movie or something tomorrow" I said, "that would be perfect then" "Yeah . . . you can wear one my Sari's" Debi said. "I'd rather wear the white Salwaar-kaameez that you have . . . I like the design" I told her. "So, what did you guys do?" "Oh . . . you know, the usual . . ." Debi replied. "C'mon, tell me . . ." I wanted some details from her. I always got the details from her. "Well, he was already hard when you left, so it did not last very long for him the first time . . ." Debi was saying . . . "First time?" I interjected, "How many times did you two . . ..?" "Twice . . . for him . . ." she explained . . . "I was doing him under his pants . . . you know . . . putting my hand through here . . . " she gestured at my waist . . . "and he was so hard already . . . so I asked what made him so . . ." "What made him so?" I repeated. "He was reading an English thriller . . . and it had a lot of quite explicit sex in it . . ." "So he did not jerk off?" "No . . ." Debi said, looking at me with a triumphant expression, "he wanted to save it for us . . ." "Wow . . . he loves you so . . ." I was jealous and had to hide it with a quirky comment like that. "Well . . . I stroked it lightly and he put his hands on my breasts and came inside his pants" "That was quick . . ." "Tell me about it . . ." Debi continued, "I was already hot and I told him so. He understood and took his hands under my skirt and did me . . . and within another five minutes he was hard again. He says rubbing me down there makes him horny. So, I took his cock out of his pants and we frigged each other nicely. It was good . . . oh . . . I am exhausted today." I bet she was. Otherwise she would be dying to recount every little detail; and I would insist that she did, too. For that would invariably lead to a hot session between us. That evening was different in two ways. We have had our fill for the day, and Debi was just satiated by Ajit's fingers. "Me too . . ." I agreed, "We should get a good sleep tonight" "Yeah . . . and I am hungry too." We had our supper, and went to bed. Usually whenever we slept together we had little clothing between us. That night, we didn't bother undressing, for we knew we needed the sleep that night if we really wanted to make something out of that weekend. I had no idea that the following day would mark the beginning of another chapter in my already libidinous existence. +++++++++ (End Part 4) (To be Continued) <4th attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. 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