Adultery Swati by indian_exec2000

[Darksam]

Author's Note: I am writing about events that happened long ago. I write with the benefit of hindsight as well as with the knowledge of Swati's innermost thoughts, feelings and motivations that she has so generously shared with me over the years.

I would appreciate receiving readers' feedback. That is a great motivator for an author.

***

I've known Swati ever since we were kids. We grew up in the same small city in Maharashtra. Our mothers knew each other as they belonged to the same little taluka town in the interior of Maharashtra. Since they came from the same place, they shared a natural affinity. So our families used to visit each other quite often and we children used to play together. Swati is around three years older than me and my earliest memory of her is that of a thin, gangly, bossy girl in pigtails towering above me. She is the eldest in a family of two girls and a kid brother, while I am an only child. She was (and is) a natural take-charge type and would always be the one to decide what games to play and she would be the one to take one's complaints to whenever there was a fight or a dispute. All of us kids just naturally accepted her writ.

Her parents' marriage had caused quite a scandal in its time. Her father Laxmanrao was an ambitious, smart, flamboyant, aggressive, wheeler-dealer lawyer / businessman / small time politician belonging to one of the so-called "backward" castes while her mother Kusum came from a conservative small town  family. They had met while both were studying in the city – she was enrolled in the medical college while he studied law. Both were active at the fringes of India's freedom struggle. However, those were the waning years of the Raj and the British had already made up their minds to cut & run at the earliest opportunity. So her parents had not had to face the lathi & rifle wielding might of the British security officer. Quite fortuitously, the timing of their entry into the freedom struggle had been exactly right: early enough to be rated as "freedom fighters" while not so early as to be actually put to the inconvenience of being sent to jail or worse. Laxmanrao was smart enough to extract the maximum advantage out of his status as a "freedom fighter" and (much later) as a "backward caste" person in post independence India.

Like many people belonging to the "backward" castes, Laxmanrao too had an enduring fascination about  & all things . Although he was very proud of his own caste identity, it was his secret ambition to become a part of the  upper stratum of society. So, his falling for the slim, fair, pretty  medical student wasn't just the normal response of a red-blooded male to a desirable female. For him, her charms were multiplied a hundredfold because she was an alluring symbol of everything he aspired to become part of. He made up his mind to have her and set about assiduously to woo her. Although he was several years older than her, he was dashing and worldly, had excellent contacts and was adept at getting things done. Besides, he was swarthy, well-built and fairly good-looking in a rough-hewn, macho way.

Swati's mother Kusum was born into a poor middle class family in a small taluka town. He father was a highly respected college teacher. He came from a very old fashioned, conservative family. However, he had enthusiastically and wholeheartedly adopted the progressive and enlightened values and attitudes preached by the many great thinkers and social reformers whom Maharashtra was blessed with in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Since he believed that educating the populace was the ultimate panacea to all the ills besetting the Indian society, he had chosen teaching as his calling. He had also supported & encouraged all his children (including daughters) to acquire the best possible education & become self-reliant. He was an ardent nationalist. He had inspired an entire generation of young people to make sacrifices in order to attain freedom from the oppressive British rule. He also firmly believed that the deeply entrenched caste system was at the root of most of the evil in India. So, it was no wonder that Kusum's family commanded the highest respect in the community, in spite of being poor.

Kusum was a very bright, idealistic & rather naïve young girl who had imbibed all the values & attitudes of her father. In reality, she was swept off her feet by the swarthy, bold, self-assured young freedom fighter taking so much interest in her. Her upbringing had not quite prepared her for this and she didn't know how to respond to him. After initially rebuffing his advances, Kusum had eventually succumbed to his persuasive charm. They had waited patiently while she completed her arduous medical course. He was always there to give her a helping hand or a shoulder to cry on, as needed. They gave notice of their intention to get married just a month prior to the date of her examination results & got married in a civil ceremony the very next day. Neither of them had any relatives in the city. So, there were only a couple of close friends present to witness the marriage.

Their families lived in distant taluka towns. The state of communications in the pre-independence days being what it was, they came to know about the wedding only when Laxmanrao & Kusum came to seek their blessings as man and wife. There was utter consternation all around. Kusum's father was the first to calm down & bless the couple. He could see that this was a logical culmination of the principles & values he held so close to his heart. After the arrival of Swati exactly nine months & nine days after her parents' wedding, Kusum's mother too reconciled herself to this unequal match.

Laxmanrao's parents didn't accept their daughter-in-law. In fact, the elders of their caste panchayat decided to ostracize Laxmanrao & forbade their caste brethren to have any contact with him. They considered his marrying a girl from another caste to be an insult to the honor of their own. It was only years later, when continuing to isolate themselves from Laxmanrao's growing wealth, influence & power became detrimental to their self-interest did they finally reconcile with him.

Laxmanrao had all the right contacts in the new post-independence dispensation. If he had wanted, he could easily have arranged to get himself elected to the state assembly and become a minister too. He however preferred to operate in the background. He quickly grew adept at working the levers of the "license-quota-permit" system and soon acquired substantial wealth. He built a big bungalow in the best locality of the city and acquired a new Hindustan 14 car.

Laxmanrao was determined to ensure that his children had all the advantages that he himself had had to do without in his childhood. Swati & her siblings were always well dressed and attended the best English medium "Convent" college, rubbing shoulders with the children of other privileged parents. Laxmanrao had given his wife a free hand in bringing up the children. Kusumtai had largely succeeded in instilling in the children her own middle class  values like thrift, hard work and a respect for education. In consonance with her own progressive & liberal outlook, her children were encouraged to make friends across barriers of class, caste and gender. As her children grew up, they became aware of their parents' mixed marriage and implicitly understood that they too had the freedom to choose their life partners. In matters of sex, Kusumtai like most women of her generation was very conservative; her children were made to understand quite clearly that sex in any form before marriage was taboo.

Unlike Swati's mom, my mother had a rather more conventional life. She too had grown up in a poor but highly cultured family. She had gotten married at nineteen to a groom selected by her parents. My father was a man of progressive values. He had encouraged his young wife to complete her education. I was born three years after my parents' wedding, a year after my mother had graduated from university with a first class honors degree. Post natal complications unfortunately rendered my mother unable to conceive again, to her lasting sorrow.

As I said, my early memories of Swati are of a tall, thin, gangly, bossy girl. I didn't take much of an interest in girls those days and she was just another playmate in my disinterested pre-adolescent eyes. What I distinctly remember is that she had a few rather prominent pock marks on her face, the result of a recent, particularly severe attack of chicken pox. Anyways, my father (who had a transferable job as a middle level civil servant) was transferred out to another town and we lost contact with Swati & her family.

***

[Darksam]

We Meet Again

After an almost five year hiatus, my father was transferred back to our city. By this time, I was in high college while Swati was studying arts in a prestigious women's college. Kusumtai (Swati's mother) invited us to dinner one day and that's when Swati hit me between my eyes. I could hardly recognize her. She had filled out in all the right places and rather puzzlingly, seemed to have grown shorter as well. I later realized that she was of just about average height for an Indian girl and appeared shorter to me only because I had gained quite a few inches in the interregnum.

Her face was round. Her nose was short & up-turned. Her lips were full, almost thick. She wore her thick, silken, dark brown, shoulder length hair tied in a ponytail. Her skin was fair, smooth and velvety. She didn't have any problem with acne, the bane of many youngsters. Even the pock marks didn't look so prominent now. In fact they seemed to add character to her face. However her most striking feature was her large, sparkling, expressive eyes. They shone & danced mischievously as she spoke animatedly. In addition to the fact that all girls of a certain age look very pretty, her self confidence, grooming & manner of speech made her even more so, although she was by no means a raging beauty. That day she wore a simple cotton blouse and a matching, dark colored cotton skirt that modestly covered her knees. Her calves and ankles were slim & dainty. Although her blouse was loose fitting, it didn't conceal the fact that she had a well developed, high bosom. Altogether, she presented the picture of a healthy, wholesome, demure, yet very attractive young Indian girl.

I have always been a rather shy person and in her presence I became even more tongue-tied. In contrast, she was a fluent talker, liberally sprinkling English words in her conversation. She had well developed social graces and chatted effortlessly with us. I guess I had always been in awe of her & now, this new Swati almost seemed like a creature from another planet. She spent some time trying to draw me out of my shell and occasionally ribbed me and pulled my leg when I became even more solemn & withdrawn. At one point her mother gently admonished her and asked her to leave me alone. I couldn't get her off my mind for quite some time even after we had returned home.

In the weeks and months that followed, I found myself visiting Swati's home quite often. I got along particularly well with Swati's younger siblings – sister Kirti, who is about a couple of years younger than me and brother Kirit who is two years younger than Kirti. We enjoyed playing together. I am rather good at sports and loved to teach Kirti & Kirit to play badminton at a makeshift court they had in their backyard.

Whenever Swati played, my attention used to wander from the game and on to her figure. Some times, I was rewarded with a flash of cleavage or a quick glimpse of a shapely thigh as she ran & pranced around the court, chasing the shuttlecock; dressed in a skirt and Tee shirt. It was no wonder that the quality of my game invariably nosedived when I played against her. I fluffed the easiest of shots and on one occasion tripped & fell, much to the merriment of Swati & her siblings. I of course resented the humiliation, but swallowed it silently. In spite of this, my visits to Swati's home continued and my eyes always furtively searched for Swati whenever I visited them. I used to feel a palpable sense of disappointment if Swati was not around.

In those days Swati's attitude towards me was rather patronizing. Perhaps she still looked upon me as the brown, scrawny little boy of my early childhood. Or maybe it was because she had studied in an English medium "Convent" college she felt superior to those like me who studied in vernacular colleges. She affected a "Convent college" accent and just barely hid her mirth at my attempts to speak English in my desi accent.

The only reason I could even understand English at all was because of my father. He loved the language. He had a fairly large and eclectic collection of books written in English, covering children's books, classics, thrillers and humorous books, non-fiction books covering current affairs, science, philosophy & so forth. He had always supported and encouraged me to learn English and given me free access to his library. We also used to regularly listen to All India Radio's English news broadcasts (I still remember Melville D'Mello's flawless English diction and velvety baritone voice). However, we always used to converse in Marathi, my mother tongue. So, although I couldn't speak fluent English, I had an excellent vocabulary; I could read effortlessly & also write reasonably well.

Swati was a bright student, always close to the top of her class. On the other hand, those days I was not particularly interested in studies; and although I never had any difficulty in scoring pass marks, my scholastic performance was nothing to write home about. This was perhaps another reason why she looked down upon me.

I naturally resented her attitude & sometimes wondered why she even bothered to talk to me if she felt that I was not her equal. It was only much later that I understood what made her behave that way. In spite of her scholastic performance & her father's wealth and influence, Swati had to suffer subtle discrimination at the hands of some of her class mates & occasionally also by some teachers, on account of her father's "backward" caste. This was all the more galling since she, like her father wanted desperately to be accepted as part of the high caste society. I was the unfortunate target of her anger & frustrations: being a , I symbolized her upper caste tormentors and was a soft target, not being able to hold my own against her verbal aggression.

And yet, occasionally departing from her condescending attitude, Swati could be quite sweet & nice too. I think that at a subconscious level, she too was attracted to me. After all, I had grown quite tall, had a powerful physique, was not bad looking and above all, I was a , that most desirable quality in her eyes. Perhaps her verbal put downs were an attempt to hide the attraction. Be that as it may, I didn't understand any of this at that time and the only reason I put up with her bitchiness was because I was so completely infatuated with her. I was willing to do anything to win her respect. She was well aware of my infatuation and was quite adept at keeping my attention riveted upon her. In retrospect, I think that many flashes of her hot young body that I glimpsed while we played badminton were not entirely accidental.

One day it transpired that Swati was having some trouble learning to ride a scooter and out of the blue, her mother Kusumtai suggested that I might be able to teach her. Actually, although I had been riding bicycles since early childhood, I had never ridden a scooter till then. However, I was not about to admit this. I gallantly agreed with her suggestion. It was decided that I would come by after a couple of days to give Swati a scooter riding lesson.

Our family didn't own a scooter at that time, so I spent a couple of hours with a scooter owning friend, learning the ropes of kick-starting the engine, changing gears & so forth. I am pretty good with my hands & feet and quickly mastered the skill.

On the appointed day, I went to Swati's house. I had bought some chikki (a sweet made from roasted peanuts & jaggery) on the way, from a roadside vendor. It was around half past six in the evening. It was the beginning of winter and dusk had already fallen. The air was cool but not yet chilly. Swati's mother was about to leave for her clinic as I arrived. She hurried out after welcoming me.

Swati wore a salwar kameez outfit that day and looked ethereal to my infatuated eyes. We shared the chikki after making sure that her mother had left – being a doctor, Kusumtai frowned upon children eating unhygienic street food. I explained to Swati the basics of starting the engine, operating the clutch, changing gears & so on. She barely paid attention and impatiently wanted to start the riding lesson right away. We decided that a large parade ground on the outskirts of the city would be an ideal place for the lesson, since there would be no traffic there. I drove the scooter to the parade ground while Swati sat side-saddle behind me.

At the parade ground she took the driver's seat while I sat behind & reached around her to steady the handle bars as she gripped them. This naturally brought us in close proximity and I felt an electric excitement run through my body. I wasn't too sure but I felt her breath quickening too. After a couple of false starts she got the hang of releasing the clutch without stalling the engine and we were soon circling the parade ground at a fairly fast clip.

I had withdrawn my hands from the handlebars and held the grip provided for the pillion rider, allowing her the freedom to maneuver the scooter. Yet I leaned anxiously forward, peering over her shoulder, ready to take control in case she faltered. Her soft fragrant hair brushed against my face and I breathed in her exciting feminine aroma. She was thrilled with her accomplishment and let out a whoop of joy, revving up the engine. She wiggled around a bit on the driver's seat to make herself comfortable and pushed back slightly, bringing her back in contact with my chest. I tensed up a bit but then relaxed, since she didn't seem to mind this contact.

"Ouch!" Swati suddenly shouted and the scooter wobbled. I immediately took control of the handle bars as she let go & started rubbing her eye. I slowed & stopped the scooter, managing not to fall. We dismounted and I pulled the scooter on to its stand.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"Something went into my eye." She said, rubbing it hard. She was breathless and scared because of the close call.

"Let me see." I said, tilting her face up and peering into her eye. It was almost dark and I couldn't see a thing. I balled up my handkerchief, warmed it up by breathing hard into it and then held it against her eye, to provide some relief from the pain. After doing this a few times, the pain subsided and she was able to open her eye again. Perhaps the speck of dirt had been washed out by her tears. She breathed a sigh of relief and I was aware of her eyes glittering even in the semi darkness.

Then suddenly, she threw her arms around me and kissed me on my lips. That was my first ever kiss. Even today, I distinctly remember the smell of peanut chikki on her breath. I hugged her too & felt her trembling, soft body against mine. Almost immediately, she pushed me back & sprang out of my embrace.

"Let's go home. You better drive." She said in an unsteady voice.

This time, she sat astride on the pillion, throwing her arms around my waist & holding me tight. I was acutely aware of her soft breasts pressing against my back and the discomfort of my trousers constraining my hard-on. I drove as slowly as I could, to prolong the intimate moments. She let go of me only when we approached the city and could possibly be seen by passers-by. We didn't exchange a word on the way back to her home. Fortunately, there was nobody at home when we arrived. She quickly ran inside while I parked the scooter & then rode home on my bicycle.

[Darksam]

I did visit her home a few times after that, playing badminton with Kirti & Kirit, but Swati had become remote & withdrawn and just barely acknowledged my presence. In any case, she was in the final year of her Bachelor of Arts course while I was in the eleventh standard, a crucial year from the point of view of securing admission to a good college. The final exams were drawing near and so we both became busy with our studies.

***

Swati Goes To Mumbai

Swati had an artistic streak in her and was particularly good at drawing. I had seen some of her sketches & even to my untrained eye, they had looked beautiful. After graduation Swati joined a post-graduate course in fine arts at a well-known art college in Bombay (now Mumbai).

I surprised everyone including myself by scoring excellent marks in the high college final examination. I also sat for a competitive test & gained admission to the prestigious Indian Institute of Technology, Kharagpur.

***

In Mumbai, Swati suddenly found herself unshackled from many of the restrictions that a small town places on young, nubile girls. Moreover, in Swati's case, in spite of her attractiveness, her father's influence & power had made potential suitors wary of approaching her. Swati, having inherited her father's earthy, hot-blooded sensuality had found these restrictions all the more galling. It was no wonder then that in Mumbai she went a bit overboard with befriending boys and having a good time. She soon acquired a quite undeserved reputation of being a "fast" girl. She had an assertive, strong personality, quick wit and a sharp tongue. So, although she enjoyed being in the company of her many male admirers and reveled in the attention they bestowed on her, she never allowed anybody to take liberties with her, staying true to her mother's strict admonition: no canoodling and most certainly no sex before marriage. Nor did she ever violate the strict curfew rules of the girls' hostel she lived in. Until she met Satish, that is.

***

Satish

Satish was a tall, fair, well-built, handsome young boy, studying in St. Xavier's college. He had the looks and build of a Bollywood hero. He was the son of a powerful bureaucrat then posted in Mumbai. His family belonged to a wealthy, land-owning, well-connected North Indian  clan that traced its roots back to the days of the Mughal emperors. Over the centuries the clan had produced a galaxy of distinguished civil servants, academics, soldiers, diplomats and businessmen. Never had there been a time in the last four hundred years when there had not been clansmen in positions of power & influence in the durbars of rajahs & nawabs scattered all over north India, including the Mughal durbars at Agra / Delhi. The British era had been particularly propitious for the clan. Not only had they produced more than their fair share of Rai Bahadurs & Dewan Bahadurs, they had also accumulated immense wealth; lately by cornering lucrative war-time supply contracts.

Satish was an only son, born on the back of two daughters; the apple of his mother's eye. He had attended the best public colleges; was urbane, polished and well versed in the airs and graces of high society. He was always well dressed, even foppish and never seemed to be short of money. He had access to all the good things money & influence could buy even in the socialistic era of the nineteen-sixties. His most prized possession was a shaft drive BMW motorcycle his father had bought for him from a departing West German diplomat. No wonder then that he was always surrounded by a bevy of girls.

Unfortunately, although Satish was reasonably bright, he was vain, weak willed, ambitionless and lacked a clear goal in life. The deficiencies in his personality and character had not been helped by the shortcomings in his upbringing. Being the only one to carry forward the family name, he had been coddled and spoilt from an early age. An overweening sense of superiority about his illustrious family and their rightful position in India's power elite had been instilled in him since childhood. It was not surprising therefore that he was rather self-centered and used to getting his way; his petulance and arrogance lurked just under the surface.

***

[Darksam]

Swati Gets Married

Satish & Swati had met at a party and fallen hard for each other. Satish had everything that Swati wanted in her man: the looks and build of a bollywood hero, a background of wealth & privilege and a  to boot! To cap it all, Swati had been "shafted by his shaft drive motorbike" as she ruefully put it many years later while resting in my arms. Satish on the other hand was utterly captivated by the bright, smart, self assured, sexy, articulate young Swati who was so totally unlike any girl he had met till then.

They were soon inseparable. They bunked college and spent many an afternoon together, chatting in coffee shops, watching matinee shows, going on long drives on the powerful BMW bike and once in a while making out in the privacy of an obliging friend's bedroom. Although Swati was as passionate & hot-blooded as they come, she never allowed Satish to "go all the way", in spite of his desperate pleading & entreaties. She was very firm that to attain that prize, he would have to marry her first. This was a blow to Satish's pride; he had rarely had to take a no for an answer.

Weak willed & indecisive as Satish was, he waffled and procrastinated for a long time before finally proposing marriage. Swati was only too glad to accept, and immediately demanded to be introduced to his parents. Satish was realistic enough to know that his parents would never accept a "half-caste" Maharashtrian girl as their bahu (daughter-in-law). He didn't have any idea how he was going to broach the subject with his parents. He kept putting the matter off until one day Swati served him an ultimatum: there would be no more meetings until she was introduced to his parents. Fortunately, Satish was spared the pain of breaking the news to his parents when Satish's married elder sister accidentally found out about the relationship. When confronted, Satish had sheepishly admitted that he wanted to marry Swati.

With this, all hell broke loose in Satish's house. His hypertensive mother threw the mother of all tantrums and took to bed, refusing all food and drink, reducing Satish to a quivering lump of jelly. His father Santosh Kumar had a sound appreciation of his son's capabilities & character and knew that he would never be able to make the grade in the civil services entrance exams. He had therefore nursed dreams of setting Satish up in business and had even short listed marriageable girls from wealthy families of their own caste who could bring in a large enough dowry for the purpose. He was not prepared to see his dream shattered by an uncivilized, upstart half-caste ghati (a derogatory term North Indians sometimes use to describe Maharashtrians) girl. He was a powerful, influential bureaucrat with connections in high places. He immediately called his good friend, a highly placed security officer officer and asked for help to try and scare the girl off or, if absolutely essential, to bribe her to leave his son. His friend listened and promised to see what he could do. When his friend called back the next day, Santosh Kumar broke into a cold sweat.

"Do you know who her father is?" His friend asked Santosh Kumar and then proceeded to describe the reach and power of Laxmanrao's connections, right up to the highest political levels in New Delhi. Santosh Kumar was left in no doubt that Laxmanrao could be really bad news for anybody who dared to cross his path and that he was quite capable of ruining not merely Satish's life but also Santosh Kumar's career if he chose to.

"It is best to reach a compromise" was his last piece of advice as his friend hung up on Santosh Kumar. This left Santosh Kumar in a pretty pickle. He thought long and hard trying to find a way out. He made some more discreet enquiries about Swati & her family, probing for some weakness. He soon came to know about Swati's  mother & Laxmanrao's hunger for assimilation into the upper caste society. He developed an even greater appreciation of Laxmanrao's wealth & political connections. Gradually, it dawned on him that there was a real opportunity here. His spoilt, good for nothing son might actually have hit the jackpot, he realized.

Santosh Kumar's illustrious forefathers had been adept at reading straws in the wind and ingratiating themselves with ascendant political forces early on. That had been one of the secrets of the clan's great success. This faculty seemed to have curiously deserted the clan elders when in the late nineteenth century the forces of nationalism had risen from the ashes of their defeat in the 1857 War of Independence and slowly but inexorably gathered strength in the twentieth century, eventually resulting in the overthrow of the British Empire. As a result, there was not a single member of the clan in the nationalist movement in the pre-independence era and none in the political establishment, post Independence. Santosh Kumar had had to face many occasions to rue this grave omission. Being a hard nosed pragmatist, he now saw an opportunity to set the matters right by gaining a toehold in the political establishment. Thus it came by that Santosh Kumar decided to approach Laxmanrao to ask for Swati's hand in marriage for his son!

How Santosh Kumar managed to get his wife to agree to the match is an interesting story in itself but it need not detain us here. Suffice it to say that he succeeded as he usually did when he really put his mind to it.

***

To her credit, Swati never thought of using her father's power & influence to coerce Satish's family to accept her. Having delivered her ultimatum to Satish, she stood fast and waited. Her parents didn't have any inkling about this storm in her life. She called her father only after she had been dropped back to her hostel by Santosh Kumar and his wife after a high tea at their residence, during which they had formally welcomed her as their future bahu.

Soon, Santosh Kumar met Laxmanrao and all matters related to the forthcoming wedding were sorted out. Laxmanrao was very happy for his eldest and favorite daughter. She had done him proud; he could hardly have picked a better groom for her had he tried. He was determined to use this occasion to display all his wealth, power and connections. Needless to say, the wedding was a grand affair, running to five days. It continued to be the talk of our town for many years. After the wedding in our city, there were glittering receptions held in Mumbai as well as in New Delhi, attended amongst others, by prominent state and national level politicians and cabinet ministers. Even a usually blasé Santosh Kumar was dazzled. The brilliant display of power & wealth also served to nip in the bud incipient murmurs of protest by Santosh Kumar's clan brethren about the caste of the new bahu.

The newly weds eventually settled down in New Delhi where Santosh Kumar had been transferred to, on a plum posting (one of the early benefits of the recent alliance). Satish soon started an import-export business and became sole selling agent for several large European companies. Canny and farsighted Laxmanrao had ensured that Swati's name was included as an equal partner in the business. Apart from the huge profit the business generated on its own, it also served as a convenient conduit to siphon Santosh Kumar's "other" income to safe havens in Swiss banks. It was a dream arrangement that benefited everybody at the cost of the poor Indian taxpayer.

Although outwardly things were hunky dory for Swati & Satish, clouds had soon started appearing on the horizon. It had emerged that Satish had an inordinate fondness for liquor and an inability to hold his booze. Worse still, there had been whispers about his dalliance with other women. Not one to take things lying down (with one exception!), Swati had kept a careful watch and caught Satish red-handed. He had failed to convince Swati that he was "merely trying to comfort an old friend". There had been a flaming row and Satish had finally tearfully asked her forgiveness, promising to behave himself & never to stray again. It was in such circumstances that Swati had decided to take a break and arrived in our city to spend a week with her parents.

***

[NSEW1]

Looking forward to hear more. How will our hero reconnect to his Swati now that she is married!

[Darksam]

We Meet Once Again

At that time I was in the second year of my course at IIT Kharagpur. It seemed that I had a natural facility for engineering and was soon rated as one of the better students of my class. Unfortunately, I suffered a severe bout of typhoid and as soon as I had recovered sufficiently to be able to travel, my hostel warden had packed me off home, to recuperate & regain my strength. My professors had promised to help me to make up for lost time after my return so that I wouldn't have to lose a semester.

***

Long ago, my grandfather had purchased a small plot of farm land quite far from the city, bordering a "state highway" that was at the time little more than a dirt-track. He thought that the farm would supplement his small income as an astrologer. He had however proven to be an indifferent farmer. His son, my father had decided to quit farming and become a civil servant instead. Unlike many other small farmers, my grandfather had avoided falling into a debt trap and had eventually been able to bequeath the farm and a little house he had built on it, to my father. The farm had not been tilled in a long time. Instead, a neighbor's cattle were allowed to graze on it, in return for a small compensation. Over time, the city had grown and the state highway had been metalled and asphalted. Our farm & house were now just on the outskirts of the city.

When my father had last been transferred to the city, I was in high college. My mother had taken up a job as a college teacher. This not only helped her to do something useful with her education, she was also able to supplement my father's meager income (he was an honest civil servant, a species that was quite common in those days but is now perhaps on the endangered list). Within a year and half, my father was transferred out to a taluka town again. However, my parents decided that my mother & I should continue to live in the city so that my education and her job continued undisturbed. Soon we had moved from my father's official quarters to our little house. Although it was rather far from the city, we were hardy folk and riding twenty kilometers a day on a bicycle was no big deal for us. My mother continued to live by herself in our little house even after I had moved to IIT Kharagpur, since my father was soon due to retire & return.

It was early spring. Lush green grass grew on the farm and a mixed herd of cows and buffalos grazed on it. Mango & peepal trees grew along the boundary. It was late morning and my mother had already gone to college after cooking my lunch. I was pottering about the house, fixing some broken gadget. It was quiet and peaceful, the buzzing of bees, chirping of birds and the occasional snorting & snuffling of grazing cattle being the only sounds in the background.

The putt-putt-putt of a scooter intruded upon the peaceful scene; I looked out and saw Swati alighting. Since I was at IIT Kharagpur when she got married, I had missed her wedding entirely. In fact this was about the first time I was seeing her since our memorable scooter lesson more than two years ago. My pulse quickened and my heart jumped into my mouth when I saw her.

"Sameer! What a great surprise. What are you doing here? Where is Pushpa mawshi (aunty, a reference to my mom)?" She rattled off.

"And what brings you here? How long are you going to be in town? By the way, you look great!" I rattled off my own questions and a spontaneous response to her appearance.

She beamed at my compliment. It was true too. Although she was dressed in a simple cotton sari, she looked radiant. Although still slim, she seemed to have filled out a bit and her smooth fair complexion positively glowed. Her large, expressive eyes flashed and danced merrily. She wore a pinch of sindoor (red ochre powder) in her hair parting, a mangalsutra (gold necklace with black glass beads) round her neck and green glass bangles on her wrists, all symbols of her married status. A furtive inspection showed that under the pallu of the sari wrapped securely around her shoulders, her blouse was well cut and snug fitting. It had a largish neck opening; a departure from the rather more modest style of her earlier years. Even from the way she carried herself and her sinuous movements, it seemed that after marriage she had overcome some inhibition and found a new confidence to let her sensuality show through. Altogether, she looked vivacious, ravishing and sexy.

Strangely enough, it seemed that I too had lost my earlier awkwardness & reticence. My recent scholastic success and the opportunity to interact with a cosmopolitan crowd of bright students from all over the country had greatly boosted my self esteem as well as my command over spoken English. We were soon chatting away happily, bringing each other up to date with the recent, eventful happenings in our lives.

She wanted to be shown around our little farm; she wanted to sketch some nature studies, she said. We continued to chat while we took a leisurely stroll, picking our way around clumps of weeds and lumps of fresh cow dung.

"How is Satish? Is he going to be here too?" I enquired after her husband.

"Oh, he's fine. No, he won't be coming. He is too busy with his business." She responded, looking away quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly.

[Darksam]

"So, have you found a nice girl friend in Kharagpur?" She asked mischievously, changing the subject.

"No… No such luck." I responded.

"Oh come on, don't tell me there are no pretty girls on the IIT campus!" She ribbed me.

"Well, there is a nice girl, but I don't know how to talk to her." I admitted after she had probed a bit; and then told her about a dusky, doe eyed Bengali beauty, the daughter of our math professor whom a lot of us boys used to moon over.

"I am sure she must be dying to talk to you too! After all, you are quite a stud, so tall and strong! Look at those biceps!" She teased huskily, looking into my eyes and playfully gripping my upper arm.

"Oh, maybe." I responded non committally.

"Maybe you should give her scooter riding lessons!" She said, giving me a sideways glance. Blood rushed to my ears. Although my dark complexion hid my blush, she sensed my acute embarrassment and laughed out aloud. She once again had succeeded in turning me into a stammering idiot. I felt my anger rising but that merely made me more tongue tied. We strolled on. Once in a while she daintily raised the hem of her sari to avoid getting it soiled by the wet, overgrown grass. She followed my eyes as they furtively glanced at her slim ankles and shapely calves & smiled mischievously. Once she paused to admire a pretty flower and bent to pluck it. Her pallu just naturally slid a bit and I got a quick eyeful of the tops of her plump bosom. She noticed that too; arching a saucy eyebrow as she readjusted her pallu. The whole act was repeated again after a while. In short, she was once again being her old teasing & flirtatious self, getting a kick out of my discomfiture.

We soon reached the other end of our little farm and stopped near a beautiful stand of mango trees. Both of us were sweating after our walk through the sunny field. She unwrapped her pallu and fanned herself with it. I couldn't help noticing the dark circles of sweat that had formed under her armpits.

[Darksam]

"Oh, just look at those mangoes!" She exclaimed, looking up. A profusion of plump raw green mangoes could indeed be seen growing in the upper branches of the trees.

"I would love to taste them. Can I have some?" She begged.

"Of course." I said gallantly. A few well aimed stones brought down half a dozen fruit. The sharp smell of resinous sap oozing from the stems of the mangoes tickled our noses. Swati squealed in delight and gathered the fruit in her pallu.

"Wow! What perfect aim!" She gushed admiringly. I blushed & squirmed in pleasure.

"Well… oh thanks! Let me get us some salt." I stuttered.

"OK, come back soon. In the meantime, let me sit down for a while. The sun is getting to me." She said, indicating a little shelter at the edge of the field. I almost ran to my house and then hurried back, clutching some salt & chilly powder in my fist. In my hurry, I forgot to bring a knife.

There was a little rough shack off to one side, on the border of our field. It was used mainly by cattle herders to store odds and ends and as a rain shelter. It was small - around 8ft long and 6ft wide. There was a rough brick wall at the rear while the remaining three walls were made of woven bamboo mats tied to wooden posts. The corrugated tin roof was supported on posts and joists made of jungle wood. It was about 7 ft high at the rear and sloped down to 6 ft on the front. There was a long waist high wooden worktable placed against the rear wall. A little above the top of the table, the wall had a small rectangular window that had wooden bars running vertically. There was a small door, made of bamboo frame and woven bamboo mats in the front wall. The door could be held shut by a hasp made from a length of coir rope that could be secured to a stout nail driven into a wooden post. The floor was nothing more than compacted earth, about six inches higher than the surrounding ground, just enough to keep rain water from trickling in. Running along the rear wall on the outside was a trough of water for the cattle to drink from.

I had to stoop to go in through the low door. Swati was sitting on the wooden table & fanning herself. The mangoes were lying on the table. The shack was redolent with the mixed scents of stale smoke, dried cow dung patties (these are used as a fuel) and the tangy fresh smell of raw mangoes. Above all of these, my sensitive nose picked up the heady feminine scent emanating from Swati's young body.

"Let's eat mangoes!" Swati trilled. Since I had forgotten to bring a knife, I peeled the thick green skin off of a mango with my teeth, wiped it on my kurta and offered it to her. We were soon enjoying the sharp, sour, tangy raw mangoes, dipping them into the salt and red chilly powder, accompanied by loud appreciative smacks and sharp intakes of breath to cool our tongues. Swati wiped my palm with a piece of raw mango and savored the last morsel. She then leaned forward and licked up the remaining bit of salt & chilly powder off of my palm. That was an incredibly sensuous thing to do. A bolt of electricity shot through my body and I started trembling.

"Oh look, there is some mango sap on your cheek!" She said, looking up. I touched my cheek and felt something sticky on my beard. Well, although I was nineteen, my beard was actually little more than a soft fuzzy down that needed to be clipped once a month or so.

"Wait, let me clean it up. You will get a nasty rash if it rubs on your skin." She stopped me just as I was about to wipe it off myself. She then proceeded to carefully mop it with her pallu, her face just inches from mine. There was a magical moment of silence as I stood still and listened to her soft breathing.

[Darksam]

"You may touch them if you wish." She said huskily as she caught me looking at her breasts.

"What! No… no…" I stammered.

"Oh come on, don't act so innocent! I know you have been dying to touch them for years!" She said impatiently and sat up straight, thrusting her bosom out. Almost in a trance, I raised my hands and rested them on her blouse covered breasts, pressing lightly to feel their soft springiness.

"Wait a sec." She murmured and reached behind her to unclasp her bra. She pulled the blouse & bra up and her beautiful, plump breasts popped out, topped by stiff pink nipples. I went almost berserk and grabbed her breasts, mauling them roughly.

"Not so hard! Gently, gently…" She whispered, wincing in pain. I immediately restrained myself and started caressing them lightly, feeling her stiff nipples tickle my palms. I bent and closed my lips around a nipple.

"Aah!" She sighed ecstatically and arched her back, thrusting her soft breast into my face, as I suckled. Then suddenly, she grabbed my hair and pulled me off of her breast. She threw her arms around my neck, closed her thick, full lips over mine and started sucking and nibbling at them. I embraced her and straightened up, holding her tight against me. This lifted her off the table and her feet dangled in mid air, since I am at least eight inches taller than her. Her soft, bare breasts flattened against my chest and I could feel the vibrations of her throaty moans & her rapid, irregular heartbeat. Her tongue probed my lips, then slipped in and started dueling with mine. Our kiss deepened and my hard cock poked her thigh. I leaned forward, the better to kiss her. This bent her neck back at an awkward angle. She broke the kiss and motioned to me to support her neck. I changed position slightly, supporting her neck in the crook of one arm while the other held her against my chest; thrusting my hip to pin her against the table. Her arms clung around me as I started to kiss her back and thrust my tongue into her hot mouth, savoring the sweet smell of her breath and the tangy taste of raw mango.

Without breaking our kiss and still securely supporting her neck, I slipped my other hand between our bodies, fondling and kneading her breasts, taking extra care to be gentle. My hand wandered all over her back and then cupped her full ass cheek. She kept responding to my love play with throaty moans, little jabs of her tongue against mine and thrusts of her hips against my torso. Suddenly, she disengaged and held me off at arms length.

"Let's do it!" She whispered urgently.

My legs trembled violently and I could barely stand. She reached under her sari, pulled her panties down, stepped out of them and then hopped on to the worktable, pulling her sari up to expose her thighs. I in the meantime struggled to strip off my trousers and shorts. My cock sprang out, pointing upwards and tenting my kurta. As I pulled up my kurta she feasted her eyes on my thick, throbbing, hard cock, its blunt head completely wet and drooling with sticky fluid. She hitched her sari above her hips and I could see her wet pink labia nestled in a thick bush of curly black pubic hair. She spread her thighs and placed her feet on the edge of the table.

"Come." She murmured as I stepped between her outspread thighs. I felt the firm yet gentle touch of her fingers on my shaft, as she guided my cock into her pussy. Her inflamed labia spread and enveloped the head of my cock in their wet heat. My arousal was already at such a pitch that this last bit of stimulation was enough to push me over the edge. I ejaculated, sending spurt after spurt of thick, gooey semen spraying all over her pussy and thighs, matting her pubic thatch.

At that vulnerable moment, she held the power to make me impotent for life. Her slightest expression of disappointment, let alone disapproval would have scarred me for ever. But, bless her soul, she was completely unfazed by the premature peaking of my passion. She treated it as the most natural thing in the world and continued to kiss and caress me. She held my head to her soft bosom, cooing gently and showering affection upon me. Slowly, I felt my limp cock stir to life again. She felt it too, as it poked her belly. She reached down and gently caressed my cock, and soon it was hard again, raring to go.

[Darksam]

Once again, she guided it to the entrance of her pussy. I was now much more in control of myself. I twitched my hips and felt the welcoming heat of her pussy engulf my cock. With a couple of thrusts I buried the whole of my cock inside her.

"Aahhh…" Swati sighed as she felt my thick cock deliciously stretch her cunt. She wrapped her legs around my hips and leaned back, rested her head against the wooden bars of the window and supported her elbows on the table.

"Do it!" She urged, looking into my eyes. I pulled back a little and thrust in. It felt wonderful. I soon got into my stride and started pumping hard. There were slapping and slurping sounds as our bodies slammed together and my hard cock drove air in and out of her cunt. Her eyes became unfocussed and half closed as she felt the ecstasy of her response slowly build up.

"Harder… harder…" She intoned, her hips thrusting back against mine. Her breasts jiggled and bounced as her whole body jerked like a rag doll in time with my energetic thrusts. Both of us were completely crazed with passion and oblivious to the creaking noises the old, rotting wooden bars of the window made as her head was rhythmically forced against them.

Suddenly, there was a loud crack as one of the wooden bars broke. Splinters of wood flew in all directions; one of them ricocheted off the tin roof and embedded itself in my bare bottom. I felt a sharp jab on my posterior and stopped in mid thrust.

"MOOO!" A cow drinking from the trough outside the shack called out, startled by the sharp crack of the wooden bar. She snorted loudly and the sweet, fresh, grassy smell of cow's breath wafted in through the window.

I was still hard and buried deep inside Swati. Both of us giggled at this second interruption of our coitus. She kept stroking my back and I was about to resume my labors when her hand inadvertently nudged the wooden splinter sticking out of my buttock.

"Yeooow!" I yelled. This was something that needed immediate attention. I reluctantly pulled out of her; my cock started losing its hardness.

"Let me see!" She said examining my posterior while I bent over the table with my ass sticking out in a most undignified posture. She grasped the splinter between her fingernails and pulled at it. The wood was rotten and weak, so although most of the splinter came out, a little piece remained embedded.

"Hmm… This needs a little more work." She said. She fished around in her bag and came up with a safety pin. She then proceeded to dig out the offending little piece of wood, while I clenched my buttocks, gritted my teeth and barely suppressed the urge to yell out. She was finally done.

"Here it is." She said triumphantly, holding up the troublesome little speck on the tip of her forefinger. I didn't bother to look up and she gave a playful little slap on my rump.

There was a suspicious silence for a while. I straightened up and found her shoulders shaking, eyes watery and a fist thrust in her mouth, as she tried to prevent herself from laughing out aloud. The moment my eyes met hers, she burst out in hoots of laughter. I started giggling too; but then, all of a sudden something inside me snapped and my mood changed. All of my long repressed anger and resentment against her burst out.

"Don't you dare laugh at me, you bitch! I'm going to teach you a lesson." I yelled at her. She was taken aback at my outburst, and was completely unprepared when I grabbed her and forced her face down on the table, and gave a couple of whacks on her bottom.

[Darksam]

"What are you doing? Are you out of your mind?" She gave an outraged shout and tried to wriggle free. But I was not done yet. I was far stronger than her and easily kept her pinned down on the table with one hand while dragging her sari up with the other, exposing her round, full, smooth buttocks. I then landed a couple of juicy whacks directly on her bare buns. She continued to scream and protest, but there was a qualitative change in her voice. A couple of more whacks, and the fight seemed to go out of her. She stopped struggling. A low moan rose from her throat and she started to tremble all over. That was a turning point in our lives. Up until then she was the one who drove our relationship; now I was in command.

I felt blood surge into my cock and it once again stood erect, pointing upwards and throbbing in time with my heartbeat. My arousal was heightened even more when I noticed that the fair skin of her ass had turned a deep shade of pink and saw pussy juices trickle down her inner thigh. There was a couple of jute sacks lying folded in a corner. I hurriedly spread them on the floor while Swati lay unmoving, bent over the table, eyes closed.

Swati had been outraged, shocked and humiliated as the first stinging slaps had landed on her bare bottom. Never in her life had she been treated thus. Her total helplessness against the continuing assault had further deepened her humiliation and rage, until an emotional dam had burst and she had suddenly felt all the fight go out of her. By a curious quirk of human psychology that I haven't understood, all that pent up emotional energy had found an outlet in an intense sexual arousal. But now, she was just a passive participant, ready to do my bidding.

"Come." I whispered, raising her gently. She opened her eyes. They were wet with tears and shone with a peculiarly intense passion as she stared at my throbbing cock while I stripped off my kurta and became stark naked. I lowered her on the sacks, making her lie on her back. I raised her thighs and spread them apart; then knelt between them. As she looked on intently, I held my thick hard cock and rubbed it along her wet slit. She raised her hips and wiggled them to welcome my cock into her pussy. Once again the blunt head of my cock nestled between her inflamed, red labia. Having already ejaculated once, I now had plenty of staying power. I grasped her hips and slowly pushed in, savoring the feel of the soft, silky walls of her cunt stretch and rub past the head of my cock. I pulled back and then thrust in deeper still.

As I pulled back and thrust in again to the hilt, it was Swati's turn to climax prematurely. I felt the ripples of her contracting pussy around my hard cock and heard her ecstatic moans. However, unlike my premature climax, hers did not signal an end. It was just the beginning of a long and glorious series of climaxes like waves rolling in one on top of the other during high tide. She tightened the hold of her legs around my hips as I pumped energetically. I felt a surge of pride, exulting in my ability to bring this sensuous, sexy, thus far unattainable creature to experience such peaks of passion. I sensed my own oncoming climax. Wanting to prolong our pleasure, I paused; allowing the critical moment to pass, playing with her breasts and licking her lips before resuming my lusty thrusts. I did this a couple of times more until finally I could no more resist the oncoming tide. My cock spurted load after load of semen deep inside her and I collapsed on top of her.

[Darksam]

We lay entwined for many sweet minutes, savoring the dreamy intimacy of post coital release. Reluctantly, I got up and then helped her up too. She stumbled as she took a step; her legs had gone weak after all that she had gone through and it took her a while to find the strength to move. There was a large wet splotch on the sack where our love juices had dribbled out. Fortunately, there was a rusty half full bucket of water and a dented aluminum mug in one corner of the shack. Swati turned her back to me, tucked her sari around her waist, squatted on her haunches in one corner and washed herself clean. I was mesmerized by the slap-slap sound of water splashing against her pussy. I could see purple marks on her round, full buns and an impression of the coarse weave of the sack on the delicate, silky skin of her bare back, along with a few lacerations where her skin had chafed against the sack. After completing her ablutions, she turned around and spotted my cock that had incredibly enough become hard again.

"My God! You animal!" She exclaimed, a hand flying to cover her mouth. Her still naked breasts swayed deliciously from side to side as she ducked to avoid my embrace.

"Sameer, enough is enough! Do you want to kill me? I must go home now. My mom must be wondering what happened to me." She said. I agreed reluctantly.

Without a trace of coyness, she tucked her breasts back into the bra, reached behind to close the clasp, and then pulled the blouse in place. She put on her panties, loosened and re-dbangd the sari, ran a brush through her disheveled hair and tied it into a loose knot. All her movements were incredibly graceful and sexy. But more than that, it was the easy, trusting intimacy with which she allowed me to share those moments with her that I found most exciting.

"Do I look OK?" She asked.

"Perfect!" I responded.

"Liar! I have to peek into a mirror and make sure everything is OK." She said. I pulled her to me and we exchanged a long, lingering kiss. I allowed her a few minutes head start before I dressed and emerged from the shack; she had suddenly become coy about our being seen coming out of the shack together. She had already locked herself into the bathroom by the time I reached home. She was out in ten minutes, perfectly groomed once again. Only the slight inflammation of her eyelids betrayed the intensity of passion she had so recently experienced. She kick started the scooter and drove off in a swirl of dust.

That first fuck of my life was also one of the most memorable…

[NSEW1]

Gee I wonder how her husband will feel about all this when he finds out, that his wife got spanked and fucked. Will he be angry? Will Swati hide it from him?

[Renjith]

Super bro

[Darksam]

I have sometimes wondered, many years after the event, what made Swati & I do what we did. Or rather, what made her do what she did, since what I did was perhaps no different from what any other nineteen year old boy with raging hormones would have done, given the opportunity.

Swati was after all a recently married Indian woman in an age when female adultery, apart from being completely taboo was virtually unheard of in our society. Nor was she a slut or an easy lay. It had all started off as innocent flirtation and leg-pulling of a kind she had been doing with me for ages. I don't think she would have done that with any other male acquaintance. Perhaps she thought of me as a "safe" & nice guy to have some innocent fun with and hence became a bit more uninhibited than she intended. But it was a slippery slope that she had stepped onto and had soon reached a point where she couldn't stop herself. I suppose her husband's recent peccadilloes also had something to do with it; although knowing her as I do, she would never have thought of doing it as revenge. If one were so inclined, one could even detect the hand of fate propelling us inexorably forward on our preordained, intersecting trajectories. After all, our encounters had been accidental, not contrived by us.

In the end, I think more than anything else it was the sheer chemistry between us, simmering under the surface for many years that had suddenly burst forth under propitious circumstances. So spontaneously & naturally did it happen and so intense were the passions that we experienced together; neither of us felt any guilt. Instead, the lasting impression in our minds was one of wonder, awe even; as if we had been blessed with a divine gift. Although no words were exchanged, we both knew that this was the beginning of a new chapter in our relationship. Neither of us knew where we were headed, but we looked forward to the future with anticipation…

***

[Darksam]

A few days later, my mom told me that Kusumtai (Swati's mother) had invited us to dinner. My mother had begged off, since she had a lot of answer papers to grade. But she had promised to send me (talk about the hand of fate!). She had also told Kusumtai to cook something light & simple, since I was still recuperating from my illness.

***

Kirti, Swati's younger sister was in her last year of high college. She was an even better student than Swati. She was very diligent and hard working, attending coaching classes after college so that she could score well enough in the college leaving examination to gain admission to the best college in town. Kirit, the youngest and the only son was a bit roly-poly, jolly, dreamy, happy-go-lucky boy. Although he eventually proved himself to be the brightest of the lot, he had given no inkling of his future brilliance up until then. At that time he was off on a camping trip with his boy-scout group.

***

"It is open!" I heard Swati shout when I reached her home & rang the bell.

It was around 7 PM. Dusk had just fallen. There was nobody at home except Swati. Her dad Laxmanrao was away (as usual) on one of his long & frequent business trips. Her mom Kusumtai was at her clinic; she was expected to return after 9 PM. Kirti was at her coaching class, expected back by 8:30 PM. Kirit was going to return only the next day. Swati was busy in the kitchen, perhaps trying her hand at cooking some additional dish to supplement the efforts of the cook, who had already left for the day after making dinner.

"Sit down & make yourself comfortable. I'll be out as soon as I have finished kneading this dough." Swati called out, peeping out of the kitchen.

"Alright." I said, taking in Swati's visage. She was dressed in an informal, workaday cotton sari. She also wore a cotton apron that covered her front. She didn't betray any awkwardness about our meeting at my farm a few days back. I did feel a bit shy, though. I also felt nervous & excited, just to hear her voice and be near her again. I tried to distract myself by reading a magazine lying on the center table in the living room.

"Sameer, will you please tie this apron again?" Swati called out.

She stood in the doorway between the kitchen & living room. She held her hands in front of her since they were messy with partly kneaded dough. The knot of the apron had worked loose behind her back. Her face glowed with the sweat of her exertions in the hot kitchen. She was trying to blow back a strand of hair that had fallen across her brow. There was a streak of flour on her cheek. Her bright, expressive eyes looked sexy; there was a peculiar "look" in them.

[Darksam]

"Sure." I said.

"Is it OK? I hope it is not too tight." I asked as I stood behind her and securely re-tied the knot of the apron.

"No … I mean yes … I mean it is OK." She stuttered, rather uncharacteristically.

My nostrils flared as they picked up her feminine scent in the hot kitchen. I put my arms around her and hugged her from behind, feeling her soft body against mine.

"Sameer! What are you doing! Stop it!!" She whispered. She still had her hands extended forward, not wanting her clothes to become messy with dough.

I untied the apron, sneaked my hands under her arms and beneath her pallu and slowly caressed her breasts.

"No! Don't…" She gasped. I bent and kissed the side of her neck. An artery gently throbbed just under the soft skin. I licked it. Her skin tasted salty. My fingers undid the hooks of her front opening blouse, and then opened the clasp of the bra at her back. Reaching inside, I fondled and kneaded her bare breasts.

"Does it feel good?" I whispered in her ear.

"Unhh… nnn… nice…" She moaned.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, pinching her nipples.

"No… uh yes! … noo… nice…" She responded as I played with her nipples, occasionally pinching them harder, then again rolling them gently between my thumbs and fingers. She was breathing erratically by now. She turned her head sideways and offered her lips for a kiss. I captured them between mine and played my tongue on them, then lightly nipped her full lower lip.

I felt her knees going weak. Supporting her under her armpits, I half walked, half dragged her to the kitchen sink and washed the mess off her hands. I then guided her out the kitchen & through the closest door. It led us into her parents' bedroom. It was lit by the dim twilight filtering in through the windows. There was a large double bed right in the middle. I had a quick impression of a rather untidy room with clothes strewn all over the bed. As soon as I released her, Swati collapsed on the bed. Her pallu slid to one side and revealed her bare her breasts rising & falling rapidly. I reached inside her sari and felt my way up to her panties. My hand felt the moist heat of her aroused pussy as I reached for the waistband & pulled her panties down and free of her legs. I reached in again and probed her bare pussy with a finger. It was completely wet and slippery with her secretions.

[Darksam]

"Uhh… uhh… uhh…" She moaned throatily. I pushed her sari up to uncover her legs and stroked her thighs. I stood up and quickly stripped off my trousers & shorts, freeing my hard cock. Her eyes once again latched on to my cock. I was about to kneel between her legs when she stopped me.

"Wait! Please get a towel." She said, glancing at the wardrobe. I opened the wardrobe and fished out a large turkish towel. She raised her hips and I impatiently spread it under her, not bothering to remove the clothes she was lying on.

"Sameer… do it quickly please… Kirti will be returning soon." Swati whispered urgently. I needed no urging. I quickly mounted her and with a little help from her, my cock found the entrance to her pussy. There had hardly been any time for foreplay, perhaps no more than five minutes. Yet, she was hot, wet and ready to welcome my cock. A couple of thrusts lodged it up to the hilt inside her. She wrapped her legs around my hips and I started banging away. There was no premature ejaculation this time.

"Hmpf… hmpf… unhh… aahhh…" She grunted and moaned, thrusting her hips back against mine. The tempo of our lovemaking slowly increased and then reached a crescendo as she climaxed and let off a long, low groan "Uuuhhh…". Seconds later, I climaxed too, nipping her plump shoulder & pumping my semen deep inside her pussy. I then flopped on top of her. The whole thing was over in perhaps no more than five minutes.

I caressed her face and kissed it all over, lingering on her closed eyes, licking the salty sweat on her brow, nibbling her lips, fondling her swollen breasts while she lay back and enjoyed the affection I showered on her…

"Sameer… Get off! What do you think you are doing?" She tried pushing me off of her as she felt my cock hardening inside her. But I refused to decouple and started twitching my hips again.

"Are you mad? Kirti will be here any moment!" She said, almost in panic.

"Help me to do it quickly then." I said. She had loosened the grip of her legs around me. Raising myself on my elbows, I pushed my hands under her and grabbed her shoulders to prevent her from slipping away from under me. I then unleashed a series of hard thrusts, withdrawing almost completely and then plunging in till the head of my cock knocked at her cervix. This time, I was intent on achieving my own climax and continued to pound her mercilessly until I climaxed once again. Tears streamed out of her eyes as she too experienced an intense orgasm. Only then did I look at my wrist watch. It was 8:20 PM. Kirti could indeed be returning any moment.

[Darksam]

"Let's go!" I said. But Swati threw her arms and legs around me; not wanting to lose our precious moments together. I regretfully disengaged, quickly wiped her wet pussy with the towel and gave her a hand to get up. I cleaned myself up and got dressed, while Swati scooted off to her room with the soiled towel. Just five minutes after I had settled down on a sofa chair in the living room, turning the pages of a magazine, the bell rang. Kirti walked in as I opened the door.

"Sameer dada (elder brother)! How are you! My God, it's been so long since I last saw you. Where is Swati tai (elder sister)?" Kirti gushed enthusiastically. She was genuinely happy to see me.

"Oh, Swati was busy in the kitchen. I think she is getting dressed now." I said smoothly and proffered her a little gift that I had brought. Soon, we were chatting away thirteen to the dozen, bringing each other up to date with happenings in our lives. She had absolutely no idea of what had happened between Swati & I just a few minutes back.

Kirti had really grown since I had last seen her. She was tall with a slim, athletic build. She had a smooth, brown complexion, an oval face, high cheekbones, naturally fine arched brows, big eyes, shapely nose and Cupid's bow lips. In short, she was classically beautiful. Her build and facial features were not unlike Smita Patil's (a great actress of yesteryear) except that Kirti lacked her smoldering sensuality. In fact, Kirti radiated a serene, childlike innocence. Perhaps her natural feminine instincts towards the opposite sex had not yet been awakened. She had none of Swati's sauciness. What a contrast between two sisters!

Swati joined us after a while. She had showered, changed into a formal silk sari and put on make-up. I hadn't seen her so dressed up till then. She really looked fetching. Between them, the two sisters quickly finished whatever remained to be done in the kitchen & then joined me in the living room. Soon, Kusumtai too arrived from her clinic. We sat down to have a pleasant dinner. Swati was a little subdued and avoided talking to me directly except for monosyllabic responses when really needed.

It was getting late. Kusumtai excused herself, saying that she had had a long day. Swati, Kirti & I continued to chat for a while and then I looked meaningfully at my watch. Kirti too begged to be excused, saying that she had to be up early the next day. I got up and took leave of them.

[Darksam]

"Wait a minute. I'll walk you to the gate." Swati said without looking at me, and then quickly went to her room. When she joined me again, she had something in her hand. We walked to the gate, my bicycle by my side.

"When are we meeting again?" She asked, looking directly into my eyes. Her hand clutched mine. I saw again the "look" in her eyes that I had seen a few times in the past few days & now understood its meaning. She was aroused & ready to be taken right then & there. I felt a stirring in my loins again.

"Uh… I don't know… Look Swati, we didn't plan any of this… Things just happened… But we both know you have a commitment. So let's just leave it at that. Maybe we'll meet again just as we met this time. Maybe we should write to each other…" I said, gently disengaging my hand. There was a long moment of silence.

"No… I don't think writing is a good idea. Someone will find out. But Sameer, here is something I want you to keep for me." She said, thrusting an envelope in my hands.

"You may see it if you like." She said when I looked at her questioningly. I opened the envelope, took out a piece of stiff white drawing paper and peered at it in the dim light of the lamp at the gate.

I was stunned. With a few deft pencil strokes, she had captured on paper the soul of my vibrant, throbbing, erect phallus (if indeed phalluses have souls). The proud angle at which it jutted, the crooked, turgid vein running along its length, the shiny wetness of the taut skin of the crown, the curly dark undergrowth from which it sprang forth, even its slight leftward bend, all had been recorded with an admirable economy of effort. She had not signed the sketch.