My Mother, My Wife and Ibymintabal3239©
I am Alamu. I am twenty years old. I have a strange story to tell. My life to all external appearances is a humdrum one, but I have done something that is quite astounding, possible unique. I will come to that presently. I live with my husband and mother-in-law in a small town in South India near the tip of the peninsula. I do not remember my father; he died when I was three. My mother passed away when I was seven. I have only vague recollections of her. My maternal grandmother brought me up. She was over sixty at that time my mother passed away. I have experienced only grandmotherly love, which is different from motherly love. Each is good in its own way. They complement each other. But as a grown up woman I have had a taste of mother's love. Strangely enough it is from my mother-in-law. This is strange, for in our culture the relationship between daughter-in-law and mother-in-law is mostly strained. My Athai (Tamil for mother-in-law) is like my mother to me, and often we are more like friends.
I was very good in my studies. May be if my parents had been alive I would have ended up as a doctor or computer engineer, but not having had that advantage I did graduate study in social sciences. I was a gold medal winner with scholarship to do further studies, but a marriage offer came up and an aunt (who after my grandmother's death had taken charge of me) persuaded me to marry. I did, and I do not regret it one bit for my married life is as happy as could be.
I will describe my sexual life for it is relevant to the story I am about to relate. I am married for a little more than a year and a half, but that does not prevent me from thinking that I have found the key to a happy married life. I must be very immodest, even a bit arrogant, to assume that I know so much and so early about something that learned people have been grappling with little success for years. I will tell you what I consider the key. Unless a woman learns to enjoy sex with her husband happiness in marriage is not a possibility.
My husband's name is Krishna. In our culture I cannot call him by name. I call him Athan. Though Athan means maternal uncle's son a woman can call her husband Athan even if he is not a blood relation. Athan likes to see me go about my household work in the nude. I am pretty certain that all men would love it once they get a taste of it. Unfortunately in our house that is possible only in the bedroom. My husband and I found the pleasures of nudity quite accidentally. I was in the nude one day ready for love making when the telephone rang. I took the call and I had to rummage the desk drawer to give the caller the particulars she required. I was doing that when I noticed my husband looking at me with excitement. I was reading out the particulars over the phone when something was nudging between my legs. I looked down. It was Athan, face upwards, trying to insert his head between my legs. I was amused. I parted my legs as I continued reading. Soon his lips were on my vulva. I placed one foot on a chair, and he gripped my buttocks and started licking my clitoris in right earnest. Luckily I completed the task before I had orgasm. The listener is bound to have suspected that something was happening at the other end, but she could not have guessed what it was in a million tries. From then on whenever we were in a mood for it I would go nude and carry on my job of writing or reading or arranging the room or whatever. Athan never allowed me to complete what I set out to do. He would start sucking or licking till I had to call a halt to my task. These episodes always ended in hot lovemaking with powerful orgasms.
One evening I had to talk to my husband on a matter that was in my thoughts for some time. I had to get him into a proper mood. I know how to do that. I carried a silver tumbler with milk to the bedroom. My husband was reclining on the bed. He received the tumbler and drank with relish. Both my mother-in-law and I do not believe in the modern craze of 2 percent, half and half, and other forms of milk. It has to be whole milk, and one of us has to be there at the gate watching the milkman as he milked his cow. The milk has to boil, and then only is it fit for use. Whole milk from one cow (a rare privilege in the modern world) has a special taste. No doubt my husband drinks with relish. He drank half and gave the tumbler to me to drink the rest.
"Have a little more," I said. He took one more sip and gave it back. This time I drank the lot. Wife drinking what the husband leaves from his tumbler of milk is a First Night ritual. We have continued that custom every day for a year and a half. The ritual of course does not stop with milk drinking.
"Your choice today," I said. My husband pondered, and then gave his order as if I was a waitress in a restaurant.
"Licking." He paused, and then continued, "with you on top." Sixty-nine with woman on top is as different from sixty-nine with woman below as North is from South. I arranged pillows for him to rest his head at the right height and angle. This is very important. The reputation of sixty-nine promising a lot and delivering little is owing to couples neglecting this detail.
"Undress me," I said. He did.
"Undress me," he said. I did. It is a game we play. I examined his penis. I held it and ran my fingers up and down the shaft. I held the glans with my fingers bunched on the ledge and gave the shaft a gentle pull.
"Is it up to your expectations?" he asked.
"It's good. Now position yourself." When he was ready I climbed up, went on knees and elbows, and reversed rather like a car. He tapped my buttocks as if they were combo drums, gently of course. When he stopped drumming I knew the positioning was good. He knows my vulva like the palm of his hand, but that does not prevent him from inspecting it with awe every time he has the chance. I of course could not see him but I could feel his breath as he reconnoitred. Then he nipped the labia minora and then licked the secretions I was pouring in my excitement. Then he touched my clitoris with the tip of his pointed tongue. I shuddered. It is always my response to the first touch—a shudder that shakes my whole body.
Meanwhile I was playing with his penis: Stroking it, licking the drops of clear fluid that oozed at the tip, and then taking the glans into my mouth. We had both agreed that till our first child appeared not one drop of his semen should go anywhere but into the vagina. But that did not prevent me from taking his penis into my mouth and chewing on it. And then suddenly his licking intensified. Athan says that licking is different when the clitoris is above. The inner leaves open out like the petals of the lotus and the clitoris thrusts out like the stamen. He says that his upper lip now comes into play and not the lower lip as when I am on my back. Also he gets more of the clitoris to play with. He held the clitoris with his lips and licked. My buttocks were moving back and forth, almost vibrating, and then he stopped for a moment; when he restarted he swiped. I cascaded in an intense orgasm. He bit on my clitoris still I was screaming a muffled scream. I waited for the thrill to subside and turned round and lay on my back, feet in air. I guided his penis into my soaking wet vagina. Soon he ejaculated, and I had orgasm at about the same time. Then I had some more.
"Cup me," I said. He cupped his hand on my vulva and pressed, and I had some aftershocks. We rested for a while. We went to wash. He washed me with a softness and delicacy that is an experience in itself. I then washed him and we lay and snuggled.
"Athan darling, I have something important to discuss with you," I said.
"Go ahead," he said.
I do not believe any wife has ever proposed to her husband what I intended to. I was convinced that I was doing the right thing, but it was so bizarre that most would think it horrific. Few would believe it. I had pondered about this for weeks and now I was going to plunge ahead.
"I want to talk about Athai," I said.
"What of her?"
"She is lonely."
"You keep her company isn't it?"
"I mean persons of her age."
"She is very friendly with many neighbour women."
"Yes of course she has many friends with whom she goes to temples and even movies."
"Then what?" Man's incapacity to grasp even the basics of woman's wants can be exasperating. I tried a different approach.
"She's young for her age."
"What do you mean young for her age?"
"She is only thirty-eight."
"She married early. That is why she has a daughter-in-law when she is so young." "Many women nowadays marry when they are in their thirties." My husband
finally understood what I was driving at. He became thoughtful.
"Do you think she misses that?"
"How do you know? Did she tell you?"
"Don't be funny. Is she likely to tell this to anyone? I am a woman. I know."
"What can anyone do? That's fate."
"A widow woman near my home who was older than Athai and much less attractive than her did not leave it to fate. She developed a relationship with one of the many men swarming round her. The resulting scandal destroyed that family."
"Are men swarming around mother?"
"Of course they are. Any single woman, especially a young widow as attractive as Athai would attract the attention of men, and not all of them are old."
"How do you know?"
"I see them."
"I have eyes to see them, and to feel their presence."
"Because you are a woman?"
"Do you think mother would do such things?"
"I am almost sure she would not. But human nature being what it is accidents can happen. Anyway why should she suffer the agony of want of such a basic human necessity? And is it fair that I should have it sumptuously every day when my mother-in-law is starving?"
"What to do? You seem to have some solution in your mind."
"I do." I did, but how to say that was my problem.
"Then tell me."
"Do as the sashtras say."
"What do they say?"
"My late grandfather's library is a large one. It has many books on sashtras. During my graduate study of sociology I used to refer to them. The ancient sages have a solution."
"They say that it the duty of the son to act for the dead father if the widow is young."
Athan sat up.
"What happened to you Alamu, have you taken leave of your senses?"
"I told you it is not my idea. That is what our wise ancestors have said."
"But that is incest," he said. I bridled up. I was now on surer ground.
"What is the Tamil word for incest?" I asked.
"I don't know."
"There is none. There is none in Sanskrit either. Incest is a concept imported into India by the missionaries. Do you know that the bible has a story of two daughters seducing their father to save their tribes, and the two tribes they produced flourished with God's blessing?"
"Yes the bible. I have a copy of the bible I will show you tomorrow. God destroyed two sinful cities and saved a man called Lot and his two daughters. The daughters seduced their father. If they had not the tribe would have become extinct. God blessed them and their progeny. If daughters can, why not a son?"
"But she is my mother."
"Of course she is. Can you say with total honesty that you have never looked on your mother on occasions with sexual thoughts." He was silent. "She is an attractive woman. She is full of life. Is it not better that her son who loves her, and whom she loves more than anything else on earth should have sex with her rather than some lustful stranger?"
"Your suggestion is quite absurd. If mother gets a scent of what we were talking about she may faint with shock at the enormity of it."
"She may not. On several occasions I have seen her looking at you with eyes that spoke something else."
"How do you know? Don't tell me because you are a woman."
"That is exactly why I know."
"But Alamu I am shocked that you should be suggesting that I must be unfaithful to you."
"When it happens with my consent it cannot be cheating. On the other hand it is pure. She carried you in her womb, she gave birth, and she suckled you. Physically she has been closer to you than any human living or dead can ever be." Later I reviewed the answer I had conjured up on the spur of the moment. I do not feel I need to modify it. I am as possessive of my husband as any wife but this was a case of mother and son, and the circumstances were very special. Women create a furore when the husband goes astray because they feel he may desert them leaving to them the task of fending for the family. If that situation does not exist they are much more tolerant to husband's shortcomings.
"I do not understand your attitude," said my husband. "It is all very puzzling. You seem to suggest that is no such thing as incest."
"Tamil, a two thousand year old language, does not have a word for incest. What does that mean? It means that such a relationship is not definable"
"What do you mean not definable?"
"Every culture has it own idea of what is proper relationship and what is improper relationship for marriage. Please note it is for marriage alone. Marrying sister's daughter is unthinkable among Malayalees of the West coast of South India. But among the Tamils and Telugus of the East coast it is not only acceptable but is the first choice match. Father's brother's children are taboo but mother's brother's children or father's sister's children are proper among Hindus, but the reverse is true among Muslims. So much for marriage. As for relationships outside marriage there are no guidelines at all. Most of the confused thinking arises out of assuming that all sexual relations ought to be within wedlock alone.
"It is illegal."
"Yes, under British inspired laws that we still follow. I am sure it was not during ancient days."
"But it is not happening
"It is. Have you noticed the sister and brother in the corner house?"
"Meena and Shanker?"
"Yes. If you notice them you would see that they are very close to each other. The way they smile and look at each other is not like brother and sister, but like lovers."
"You mean incest?"
"Don't use that word. Probably there is no sexual intercourse between them, but certainly they are hugging and kissing and fondling."
"If you can glean that much won't the parents also have guessed and have done something to prevent it."
"They would have guessed for sure. Probably they think that it better than the boy visiting one-night stands, and the girl developing some unwanted relationship. Harmless release of tension."
"Harmless? You don't think it is wrong?"
"Not wrong. Not something to be encouraged, but when it happens those close need to be supportive. In due course Meena and Shanker will marry others and have happy married lives. Such things are happening all over. Not a surprise considering that brother and sister, both sloshing to the brim with hormones, are in such close contact. They kiss and hug and fondle and may be masturbate each other, and even have sex. Studies show that up to fifteen percent of brothers and sisters indulge in some sort of sexual activity. To a much lesser extent the same goes for loving father having sexual contact with daughters. It may be nothing more than the father pressing his erect penis against his daughter's vulva while hugging her, and the daughter developing moistness about her vulva. Or when hugging he may pretend that his hand is not on her breast, and she may pretend that he is not fondling. And so it could go on. Fathers after all are the first fantasy objects of daughters. Mother and son having sexual relationships is an extension of the love they have for each other. It is not good, but it is not wrong. It would be unfair to apply a derogatory word to describe this relationship. That is why such a word does not exist in Tamil, and I am sure in many other ancient languages. Relationship within the family is common, and is not evil."
"Then you must explain why in Tamil, and I am sure in most languages bad words are all about having sex with sisters and mothers?"
"It shows that people do not approve of such relationships, but such relationships are sufficiently common for these words to be in everyday use."
"How do you know so much?"
"The so called incest was the topic for my graduate thesis."
"Why don't you tell me a case from your study."
"Happy you ask husband darling. A childhood friend of mine was an internee in the local hospital. She introduced me to the obstetrician and she gave me many cases for my study. This pregnant girl was eighteen, and unmarried. After medical termination of pregnancy I interviewed her. Her father and two brothers all three have sex with her on a regular basis. The mother knew and was supportive. I did not interview the mother but I presume she did not want her husband and sons to visit prostitutes. The men were teetotallers. All three men had stable well paying jobs. The whole family was comfortable with the arrangement. The girl did not seem to think her men were abusing her, or even using her. The doctor did what was her routine in these cases. She wasted no time moralising. She inserted a copper T contraceptive. With that in place she would not conceive. Later before marriage if she comes to hospital the doctor would remove it. This was by no means a rare case. I interviewed three other girls who had relationships with close members of the family in the short time I was in the project."
"I am still in a state of complete bewilderment Alamu."
"I have told you because I strongly felt I have to. You must use your superior judgement. I am feeling sleepy, darling; put me to sleep." I lay on her back and he leaned over me and cupped my vulva with a hand. He pressed and I snuggled till the hand was in proper fit. Our eyes met. He bent down and we kissed. 'I love you, darling,' I said. During the early days of marriage I wanted him to press my vulva after intercourse. When he did that I used to get aftershocks to the orgasm. I slept off once of twice while he was holding and that must have set a sort of conditioned reflex. Soon it became a pleasant routine.
I am Krishna. I am a teller in the local branch of a national bank. Not a high paying job, but as I have inherited property in the form of houses and agricultural lands I am well off. In due course when the bank considers my promotion to manager I will refuse; managers are subject to transfers. I have to be in the town to look after my properties.
I live with my widowed mother and wife in one of our houses. I was only 21 when I got married. My wife Alamu is two years younger. She is a very thoughtful girl. She is also an ardent love maker. Not many wives would be willing for sex every night, and daytime too whenever the opportunity offers.
I told you she is thoughtful to the needs and concerns of those round her. A few days before she said that my widowed mother, who is only 38, needs to have outlet for her sexual desires. She discussed the subject in a round about way and finally suggested that I must have sex with her. I thought she was mad. She calmed me and then argued her case as if she was a lawyer. 'Can you with total honesty say that you have never looked on your mother on occasions with sexual thoughts,' she asked me, and in honesty I had to agree that she was spot on. When I was a bachelor it was with difficulty that I used to keep my mother away from my sexual fantasies. While nearing the climax of masturbation as often as not it was the nude image of my mother that would be in my mind's eye. I used to admire her breast valley surreptitiously, and when she sat if her thighs lay partly exposed I used to admire them. One day she sat on a low stool reading a magazine. Her sari was awry and I could see a lot of her thighs. Then she suddenly changed her posture and for a while I saw her vulva for the first time. She was not aware and she held that pose for a while. I was terribly excited. I went to the bathroom as soon as the show was over and masturbated with no-hold-barred images of my mother's vulva. A few days ago she was standing at the doorway and through her thin sari I saw her body silhouetted against the wall opposite. The shape of her buttocks was magnificent. I was as hard as rock.