Adultery NEMESIS

[Neelkantha]

Part 74 – New Day, New Relationship

Pihu’s POV- There is a saying that a thorn should be pulled out only with a thorn. I don't know how true it is. But in our daily lives, we all do it to a greater or lesser extent. Some at our workplace. Some on the streets. Some in our neighborhoods. And some at our own home. Some with that annoying colleague in the office, who complains about you to your boss at the first opportunity. Or with that old man in a crowded bus, who travels back home with you almost every day, and takes advantage of the crowd in the bus to comfortably touch many private parts of your body. Or with your quarrelsome neighbor aunty, who picks up a huge fight with you over some petty issue at the first opportunity. Or you can do it with your husband or wife as well, with whom you had vowed to walk hand in hand for the rest of your life, one day with the holy fire as witness. The point is that we all do the act of pulling out a thorn with a thorn at some point in our daily lives, whether we admit it publicly or not. I too did the same. Not to anyone else, but to my mother-in-law herself. Yes, although I was not angry, jealous or envious of her. I did this only to protect myself. However, it did more good than harm to my mother-in-law. And with this, I also got to know many things about my mother-in-law, which even my husband Bijan might not know. What is that thing? And how did I get to know? Let's know it in detail in this part of our story. In the previous part of our story, you read that when I was coming out of uncle’s room at midnight, my mother-in-law saw me in that condition. Although she did not say anything to me at that time, but she had already got to know my secret. The next morning, I noticed that she was very calm and serious. Not only with me, but also with the rest of the family members. Bijan once asked me, "What's the matter Pihu? Why is mother's mood so bad today? Everything was fine till last night, she kept smiling and talking to me, and since this morning I have been noticing that she is in a bad mood. Do you know anything?" "I know everything. And all this has happened for me only. But if I tell you everything now, you will faint immediately." I said to myself. But I told Bijan, "I don't know. Something must have happened. Don't worry about these things. We are going to that woman's house this afternoon, don't forget again." Bijan smiled and said, "Even if I want to forget, will you let me? You have told me this at least five times since this morning." Then Bijan stopped and said in an anxious tone, "But what's the matter, why are you suddenly insisting me on taking you to Gita Aunty's house?" I said, "Oh, is her name Gita?" Bijan nodded and said, "Yes. But now you tell me the real story, darling." I said, "What is the real story? I don't understand what you are saying." Bijan looked at me and said, "Since yesterday evening, I have been noticing that you have been asking a lot of questions about her ever since you got off the bus. You are showing unnecessary curiosity about her. Today you are behaving strangely again and are planning to go to her house today itself. Isn't that a bit strange? Tell me the truth, what happened on the bus? Did she say anything to you?" "Many things happened yesterday on the bus, Bijan, but I can't tell you everything right now." I said to myself again. But I smiled and said, "Oh, nothing like that happened. We talked to her yesterday, she invited us to her house, so I thought, when I am free this afternoon, I will go and visit her house. I will talk to her for a while." Bijan did not say anything more to me, but I could tell by the look on his face that his doubts had not completely wiped. But even if I wanted to, I could not tell him everything here. If my father-in-law had heard these things, I would not have been able to protect myself. So I kept quiet, partly for my own safety as well.

That afternoon, Bijan took me to the house of that lady, Gita Aunty. Bijan wanted to take his mother also along with us to their house, as they were very old and good friends. But I refused him. Because if my mother-in-law went with us, it would create a problem for me. Because then I would not be able to talk to Gita Aunty properly and openly. And I would never know what I was going to know there, which was very important for me to know. However, after listening to me, Bijan did not say anything to his mother. Both of us started walking towards Gita Aunty's house. Bijan had told me that her house was in the street next to our house. I saw the same. It did not take us even a few minutes to reach her house on foot. Nowadays there are many concrete houses in the village. But in our village the number of poor working people is more. Therefore, there are more small houses than concrete houses. However, I saw that Gita Aunty's house was also a two-storied concrete house like our house. It was well painted. It looked quite nice from outside. Bijan knocked on the door and someone came out. As soon as she came out, I recognized the woman. It was the woman from yesterday, Gita aunty, Bijan's mother's best friend. Gita aunty was a little surprised to see us at first, but then became happy. She said smilingly, "Hey, you two! I never thought that you would come to my house. If you had sent this news through someone in advance, I could have made arrangements for you." Bijan said as he entered the house, "Aunty, what else can you arrange for us? Actually, Pihu has been restless to come to your house since yesterday, so I had to bring her to your house. You must know what magic you have cast on her, or she must know. She has been talking about you a thousand times since yesterday. The same has been happening since this morning. My ears are ringing." As embarrassed as I was after hearing Bijan's words, Gita aunty seemed to be equally happy. Of course, I knew the reason for this. So I did not talk much in front of Bijan. But I noticed that Gita aunty was equally smart in front of men. She looked at me from behind her glasses and said with her patented mischievous smile, "Hey, is that so? Anyway, I did not talk to her properly yesterday. Whatever happened, it was all done by my hand only." Turning the topic towards Bijan, she said, "Meaning, I caught her for standing in the bus, that's what I am saying. Come, come. Come home. After a long time, someone has come to my house to talk to me. Nobody comes to my house much. So I have to go to other people's houses to talk. To gossip. When you have come today, I will not let you go so easily." Her words sounded a bit strange. Why does no one come to her house? So does everyone in this village know about her? That is why no one wants to come to her house? Anyway. I did not say anything. Gita aunty took me and Bijan to the living room on the upper floor. Her house is quite big and sprawling. Every corner of the house is filled with expensive furniture. This reflects both her financial status and taste. But so far, I have not seen anyone else in her house except her. As soon as I entered the drawing room on the upper floor, I saw an old black and white photograph of a middle-aged gentleman on the wall. A garland of fresh tuberose flowers was hanging on it. Incense sticks were burning under the photograph. Aunty had left us there and went herself to the kitchen to make tea for us. She did not pay heed to our warnings. We sat on the sofa. Pointing to the photograph, I asked Bijan, "Whose photograph is this?" Bijan replied, "Uncle's. I mean Gita Aunty's husband." I said, "Oh. But I see that the gentleman in the photograph is quite young. So he passed away many years ago?" Bijan said, "Yes, you can say that. When he died, we were very young. He was probably of my father's age. When he died, he must have been forty years old. If he were alive now, he would have been sixty-seven or sixty-eight years old." I said, "That means he died at a very young age. He died about thirty years ago." Bijan said, "Yes, that would be it. A year or two here and there. Not more than that." I asked Bijan again, "I don't see anyone else at home except her. At this age, does she stay at home alone? Doesn't she have a family?" Bijan said, "Yes, she does. But not in this country. Abroad. She has a son. He got a job there, got married and has his own family. He wanted to take his mother with him, but aunty did not agree." I said, "Why?" Bijan said, "The same old problem. Sentiment. She did not want to leave the village. Now take the example of my uncle. As soon as my aunt died and Ani stood on his own feet, he left Mumbai and came to live in this village. He also has the same sentiment. He cannot leave the village in his old age."


"Why else would he stay?" Before Bijan could finish his sentence, aunty entered the room. She had three cups of tea and some biscuits on a tray for the three of us. I got up from the sofa and took the tea tray from her hand and placed it on the table. Gita aunty came and sat next to me. I gave tea cups to both of them and took one for myself. Aunty took a sip of tea and said, "Yes, I was saying the same thing. Why would I leave this village and go somewhere else at this old age? When I came to this village after getting married, I must have been around 20 years old. And now I am around 63 years old. That means I have spent more than 40 years in this village. Would I not have any sentiments attached to this place for so many years? You both are married. Husband and wife. You love each other. Will the same sentiments not develop between you two after 40 years from today? Will you be able to leave each other then? Not only me or your uncle, if you think carefully, you will understand that every person in this world is sentimental. Some about their family. Some about their work. Some about their home or wealth. Actually, we are all the same. Sentimental." Gita aunty stopped after speaking continuously. She spoke beautifully and briefly, I must admit. Bijan too did not say anything further to her. Obeying her, he quietly sipped his tea. Aunty too changed the topic and started talking about some personal and household things with Bijan and me. Today I felt more comfortable with her than yesterday. Perhaps I did not like her because of her sudden antics with me yesterday in the crowded bus. But today I felt quite comfortable talking to her. We both started talking to each other. I saw that Bijan was getting impatient to leave from here. But I did not want to go back so soon. I wanted to talk to aunty for some more time. Perhaps understanding this, Bijan once said, "Pihu, you talk to aunty. I am leaving." I said hesitantly, "I wanted to sit and talk to her for some more time. But since you are leaving, let me also leave today. Perhaps I will come to talk to her some other day." Bijan said, "Why later? You sit and talk now. I will come back in an hour and pick you up." Before I could say anything, aunty said, "Wait Bijan, you don't need to come back here later. I will drop Bouma (daughter-in-law) at your house myself. You go. If you stay here, we won't be able to talk peacefully. What do you say, Bouma?" I didn't say anything, just shook my head. Bijan didn't stop any more there. He left. Aunty went downstairs, closed the door and came and sat next to me again. But this time a little closer. She pressed her body against mine. I knew in my heart that even if she didn't do anything in front of Bijan, she would definitely do something to me as soon as he left. And that's exactly what happened. But today I had come here fully prepared. I didn't tell her anything. If I had to find out what I wanted to know, I would first have to win her trust. And to do that, I would have to let her do whatever she wanted to do with me. And this is why I came here to do today.


Aunty came a little closer to me and lifted the saree from my legs a little above my knees. This exposed my fair, fleshy thighs in front of her. She gently caressed my thighs with one of her hands and said, "Can I call you by your name instead of bouma? Actually, I mean, calling you by your name will create a deeper bond between us." I immediately nodded and said, "Absolutely. I have no problem. From now on, you will call me by my name only." Looking at her face, it seemed that she was very happy to hear what I said. She smiled and held me and turned me a little towards her. Then she caressed my thighs again and said, "Tell me Pihu, why are you so scared of me? What is there to be so scared of me? Am I a lioness or tigress who will eat you raw?" I replied smilingly, "You are no less than them, Aunty. They just chew their prey..." Before I could finish, Aunty looked at me from behind her glasses and asked, "And me?" I smiled again and said, "You swallow your prey whole." Aunty started laughing loudly after listening to me. I also started laughing along with her. The atmosphere of the house was slowly becoming normal. The relationship between us was also slowly getting stronger. She now pulled my saree up to the top of my thighs. My slightly wet panties started peeking out from under the saree and petticoat. Aunty saw this and again started caressing my thighs. I thought that maybe she will remove my panties or touch my pussy directly. But she did not do anything like that. Rather, she started caressing my thighs slowly as before. This way I realized how skilled a player she is in this game. She did not want to ruin my and her mood by quickly removing my panties or putting her hands in my pussy all of a sudden. Rather, she was doing the opposite. She was trying to excite me by caressing my thighs slowly. Just like she did with me yesterday afternoon in the bus. At first she did not touch my boobs or pussy. She aroused me by caressing my belly. Then, after some time, she put her hands on my boobs and pussy. To be honest, I could feel from my own body how effective this trick of hers was. Whenever she would gently caress my thighs, every single hair on my body would stand up. I was feeling a little uneasy in my body. The saree and blouse I was wearing were feeling very heavy on my body at this moment. If I remove both, then maybe my body will feel a little lighter. But suddenly I felt a little shy to remove my saree and blouse in front of her. So I kept sitting there without doing anything. And I started feeling the touch of Aunty’s hand on my hairless thighs.


But aunty did not remove her hand from my thigh even once. She kept caressing my thigh and kept looking at me with a mischievous look. As if she wanted to understand by looking at my face how excited I was at this moment. To reduce my restlessness, I asked her, "So do you live alone in this house? No one else lives with you?" Aunty replied calmly, "I am very unlucky. Who else will stay with me? My husband died many years ago. I got him for me in the fourteen years after we married. Then he left me alone and went to heaven. And my son was left behind for me. He completed his studies and went abroad. He got a job there. He got married there. He had children there. He has a home and a family there. He has everything there. Earlier he used to come home every year during Durga Puja. Initially his wife and children used come with him. Then he used to come alone. Then he stopped that too. He gave me the excuse of work. He asked me to pack my things and go to settle there. I refused him outright. I said, 'If there is so much pressure of work, then don't come even when your mother dies. All the people of the village will perform my last rites together.'” Aunty said these words taking a deep breath. I could understand from her words how lonely she was from inside. I said, "But why don't the people of the village come to your house?" Now, aunty laughed and said, "Why will they come? Everyone has understood my nature. Not everyone is like you, who will come running to me despite knowing everything." I finally asked the question that was bothering me for so long, "Well, was this your habit from the beginning? Or after marriage?" Aunty laughed and said, "I had no such habit before marriage. I did not even know about lesbians then. Even being a woman, I never thought that I could like another woman's body. All this started after my husband died. How old would I have been when he died, let's say around 34 or 35. Maybe I was a little older than you then. He died suddenly in a bike accident. I did not even know, the vermilion on my forehead was wiped off and I became a widow. How old would my son have been then, maybe 10 years old. I could not sleep at night, you know? I used to feel a strange restlessness in my whole body. Would you like to hear that story? It is a very interesting story!" I said, "I will listen. You tell me." Aunty now sat comfortably on the sofa with her knees bent. Then looking at me, she started telling the story of her past life. She had already told me that her story was quite juicy. As soon as I heard her story, I understood that she was not joking at all. The more I started listening to her story from her mouth, the more excited I started feeling inside. Aunty started saying, "Actually, your uncle, that is, my husband, was a very lustful person. He loved me very much. After our marriage, he did not leave me alone even for a day. I have no hesitation in telling you that since our marriage, we both have been having sex very passionately. Your uncle's energy was also limitless. I used to get tired of having sex repeatedly in a single night. But he did not get tired even once. There were many days when we used to have sex the whole night. In the morning my whole body used to ache. I could not even move. But he used to keep on thrusting his cock in my pussy till then." Aunty was telling me these things openly without any hesitation or shame. I was not able to understand whether she was saying these things to excite me more or not, but I was enjoying hearing these things from her own mouth. And I was getting excited inside. Seeing me listening to her attentively, aunty must have become even more excited. Because this time she started saying with even more enthusiasm, "Do you know, your uncle had a strange habit, Pihu? At the end of sex, he would not put his cum in my pussy or anywhere else. Do you know where he used to put it?" I asked curiously, "Where?" Aunty smiled and said, "On my cheek. He would put all his cum on my cheek and then rub it on my entire face like cream with his hands. He used to tell me, 'The most expensive and natural face cream in the world for women is men's cum.' He also used to say, 'If women stop applying all creams and start applying only men's cum on their faces, then their faces will shine even more.' I would jokingly tell him, 'Then why are you wasting your precious cream by applying it on my face? Put it in a box and send it abroad. See, you will become a millionaire in two days.' He used to say smilingly, 'I will definitely send it abroad, Gita. First I will apply it on your face and increase the glow of your face, and then I will sell my precious cream abroad at a high price.' Both of us used to laugh a lot after hearing this. What wonderful days those were, Pihu!!! What wonderful days those were!!!"


After a pause, aunty resumed, "And your uncle's cum was so abundant that what should I tell you, Pihu? Even if I tell you, you won't believe it. He used to ejaculate a cupful at a time. Once I forcibly asked him to measure it. The entire cup was filled with his cum. And when his dick was fully erect, it was as big as my whole hand. I used to joke, 'You must have been a donkey or a horse in your previous life. Otherwise, a man's dick would not be this big.' He loved hearing these things from me. And when I said this, he would laugh. When he would put his entire cock in my pussy, I would stop breathing. It felt as if there was no more space left in my pussy. When he would thrust, it felt as if the head of his cock would tear my pussy and enter my stomach. When I took his cock in my pussy for the first time on our first night, I remember crying. Of course, there was no problem after that. On the contrary, taking that long and thick cock in my pussy and enjoying it was a different feeling. You can't even imagine, Pihu." I was listening to everything she said mesmerized. And I don't know when I started rubbing my pussy over my panties unknowingly. Once aunty looked at my pussy and just smiled. But I did not feel shy at all. On the contrary, I started getting even more horny. I asked aunty, "Then?" Aunty resumed, “After marriage, he himself told his parents not to put any pressure on him or me to have a baby for three years. I was both ashamed and happy to hear this. I knew very well that once I had a baby, I would never be able to take that big cock in my pussy again. For three years, he never ejaculated in my pussy. His timing and patience were incomparable. So many times I thought he would ejaculate in my pussy, but he would take his cock out of my pussy at the right time. And he would either ejaculate on my boobs or on my face. For three years of marriage, I became addicted to getting fucked by his cock every night. I could not sleep at night without getting fucked by his cock once. And no matter how tired he was, he would fuck me at least once a night. After three years, one day, he told me, ‘Gita, it is time to have a baby. From now on, I will ejaculate my cum in your pussy only. I will put it in your pussy. You take it all inside.' It was easy to say but difficult to do. How would I take so much cum in my small pussy? I would lift my pussy as high as I could and try to take his cum completely inside. Only as much cum as possible would go inside my pussy and the rest would fall on the bed. He would pick up the fallen cum with his fingers and put it back in my pussy and stir it with his fingers. He would say, 'I have mixed my cum well with your pussy juice, Gita, see, the baby will come in your womb soon.' Even after I conceived, we continued to fuck regularly for four months. Then he himself stopped fucking me. I was upset. But I could not say anything. But even in that condition, he would fuck my mouth and cum in my mouth. On the day of delivery, I myself asked the doctor to do my tubectomy after delivery. I knew that after the tubectomy, I would be able to get fucked by him without any limit. I would be able to have sex without any hesitation. I would not have the fear of getting pregnant again. He had said no, but I did not listen to him.” Aunty stopped for a moment. I got up and brought a glass of water for her. She drank all the water in one swig. Then she looked at me and said with a smile, "You are really enjoying listening to all these dirty stories from an old woman like me, isn't it?"


I smiled and holding her chin shook it a little and said, "Oh my old lady!! When you have no problem in telling your juicy stories to me, then why should I have a problem in listening to your juicy stories?" She laughed after hearing me and then said, "Should I tell you more?" I sat down next to her and pulled my saree and petticoat up to my waist. Then, rubbing my pussy again over the panties, I said, "Sure. Tell me your juicy stories, aunty." She said smilingly, "You are absolutely right, Pihu. This is indeed a juicy story. It is a story full of juices. My pussy juices. And my husband’s cock juices. Both juices mix together and become one. Anyway, coming back to the story. A month after the delivery, our passionate sex started again. Initially, I had difficulty taking his cock in my pussy. The stitches of the operation used to stretch. Still, we used to have sex. Till my son grew up a little, we continued having sex like before. When my son grew up a little and started understanding a little, things started getting a little difficult for us, especially for me. If I did not have sex at night, I would not be able to sleep. And if my son was awake, I would not be able to have sex. Then, when my son would sleep, we would have sex. That too slowly so that the noise or the movement of the bed would not wake my son up. If you sit for sex with so much caution, then the real fun gets spoiled. This is what happened with me too. Sex which was once my addiction, if I had not sex at night, then I would not be able to sleep. Sex itself gradually became a source of annoyance for me. When I got bored of all this, I stopped having sex myself. We used to have sex once or twice a week when my son was sleeping. Even though the desire for sex had ended inside me, the bug was still inside me. That bug would sometimes start biting my pussy. What a terrible ‘sex-bug’ used to bite me, Pihu!!! It felt like my pussy was on fire. Only when I would take his cock inside my pussy would I get some peace. I spent a few years struggling like this. When my son became about seven years old, I would send him to another room to sleep alone. Then we would start playing. Although there was no passion like before, that sex was no less exciting for me. I used to enjoy a lot by putting his cock in my pussy and lying comfortably under him and enjoying its pleasure. Sometimes I would ride his cock myself. I would take his cock completely inside my pussy and would go crazy. I would jump up and down on his cock like a slut. When his cock was in my pussy, when his cock would come in and out tearing apart the soft fleshy inner walls of my pussy, Pihu, I can't tell you how good I felt. Sitting on his cock, I would release my pussy juices. My pussy juices would bathe his cock and flow down. Then when he would make me lie down and climb on top of me, grab my boobs and put his cock in my pussy, I would love it. Then he would insert his cock completely inside my pussy and ejaculate. In the end, I had no problem taking his cock completely inside my pussy. In fact, I loved it. My whole body would shudder at the touch of his warm cum in my pussy. I would hug him to my chest in joy and full satisfaction." After a pause, aunty started speaking again, "But God must not have been able to bear my happiness. My husband died suddenly one day in a bike accident. Absolutely dead on the spot. I was not even allowed to see his dead face for the last time. How horrible that face might have become after being crushed on the pitch road. Well, after his death, I became all alone. For so many years of marriage, he was my one and only world. I knew nothing else except him. He was with me for so long, and now suddenly I was all alone." Aunty finished her talk and started wiping her tears with the lapel of her saree. I too could not hold back my tears after listening to her. I also started crying. If I had not come here today and talked to her, I would not have been able to understand the pain, suffering and loneliness hidden inside this woman. Aunty said to me, "What will you do by crying for me, Pihu? My fate is bad. Everyone has their own fate. Can anyone change what is written in fate even if they want to?" I wiped my tears and said, "Then?" She said, "Then what? I started raising my son on my own. You know Pihu, after his death the sex-bug inside me became uncontrollable and unbearable. I could not control it at all. Many nights I was burned myself to death in the heat of my lust, and cried out to God, 'Don't torment me any more. Take me away.' But it was a pity that I could not even die. I spent a few more years burning in the fire of my own lust. When my son turned eleven, I got him admitted in a big college in the city. I had no work at home. I did not like to stay alone. So, I used to take him to college myself and bring him back after college. It would take about 45 minutes to reach his college by bus from here. It would take the same time to come back. This would cost me some time." Now, pausing for a moment, aunty said, "And it was at such a time that I met Snigdha for the first time." Aunty stopped talking. I asked, "Who is Snigdha?" Aunty did not answer this question at first. Then she looked at me once and said shyly, "My lesbian education teacher." (Contd.)

 

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