The Guidance of Nephews Ch. 07bymisterwho©
"Where is Arvind?" the man at the door shouted. He must have been about seventy years old. He was wearing a shirt and a dhoti, which is a white cloth worn around the waist in South India and covers the lower part of the body all the way down to the toes.
Saroja heard the noises outside and came rushing from the kitchen. Who was this asking for her husband so rudely?
Her frown changed to a smile. The man at the door was her husband's uncle. This was the same uncle whose children were Sundar and Gopi. For those who do not recognize these names, Sundar and Gopi were her two nephews. She had taken both of these young men to bed. They had lost their virginity to her. And she had lost her innocence to them. The sex between a woman discovering her sexuality and young men discovering sex could only have been animal and animal it was.
Right now she had been working in the kitchen. Without bothering too much about her disheveled state, she wiped her hands on her sari pallo and walked towards the door to invite him in.
"Welcome, welcome Mama!" she said. He was Arvind's mother's brother.
"Where is Arvind?" repeated the agitated elder. At 70 years age he remained sprightly and fit. As he worked himself to a fury his face reddened.
"Come in and sit down first," pleaded Saroja, a little embarrassed. Neighbors were peering from their balconies and windows. Her previous house was an independent bungalow. It was different there.
Let alone simple things like someone shouting at the main door, some audacious moments could happen in that bungalow. She had deflowered her nephew, exchanged intimacies with her maid and been plundered by the maid's husband. In fact, the maid had treated the nephew to some wild sex as well. All had happened there with discretion. No one knew. No one heard anything. Not even Saroja's husband.
This new place was in an apartment block. If someone stood around and shouted everyone would notice. The shift from house to apartment had happened at Saroja's insistence. She had felt the need to change her locality and put distance between Suguna the maid and her husband Murugesh and herself. While the maid's hands were magical and the husband's sexual prowess and endowment was unique in its combination, Saroja was wise enough to move away.
She had fucked her nephew, done stuff with her maid and filled -- no feasted on the maid's husband. But when the moment passed her usual self took over. No one could be permitted to retain any hold over her. The nephew studied well after the focus she created in his mind by making him familiar with sex. She shifted to a completely different locality. And so the new domestic staff had to be from the new locality.
"I have not come here to sit down!" shouted the man, creating a scene. Saroja could see her neighbor open the door ajar and peer at the commotion. Others craned their necks from their balconies and up and down the stairwell.
"Mama!" hissed Saroja. "Come in. People are watching!"
"Let them watch! Let them know what kind of new neighbor they have," ranted the old man.
Saroja grabbed his arm and pulled him through the door. "What are you talking? What happened now?" asked Saroja alarmed at his tone. The two families had an excellent relationship and the tone adopted by the uncle was unjustifiable.
"Is Arvind not at home?" thundered the uncle.
"No. He is outstation on a tour," said Saroja. She was too was red now, flushed with embarrassment.
"Well, then, let me ask the witch herself," taunted the uncle.
"What? Unless you tell me what the matter is how can I respond to anything?" pleaded Saroja showing the deference expected in Indian society.
"Did you do things with Gopi and Sundar?" asked uncle.
Saroja reddened ever more and she felt a choking sensation. Not that! She hoped and prayed the boys had the good sense to keep their sexual adventures private and confidential. There were reasons and situations which to her mind justified whatever had happened. But she did not want to have to discuss those with anyone.
"What things?" she stammered. Suddenly she became conscious of her disheveled state. More than the untidiness she was conscious of her blouse which was a tad too small for her. Her sari was not wrapped around her so her torso -- blouse and all -- was open to inspection. Damp patches of sweat made her skin show through. And she had been washing vessels- so water too played its part. She drew her sari palloo around herself trying to appear more decorous.
"Now it is too late to cover anything!" continued uncle with his taunts. As Saroja covered herself, he too took a look at his nephew's wife; by extension she counted as a daughter-in-law. The full breasts, flesh bursting from the ill fitting blouse did not escape his attention. He caught himself assessing her sexuality, but it was her fault. It was natural to wonder if the woman was capable of the things that had been reported to him. He would not know for he had never looked at her in that manner.
But since he had been told of the possible sexual corruption of his sons, he had tried to remember this woman in different terms. However, each time he could only recall her as Arvind's caring wife who looked after his every little need. And equally attentive to his needs as a daughter-in-law of the house. In the same manner that she who would care for her father-in-law in a traditional household.
In fact, he could not recall any specific physical attributes, let alone anything sexual.
On the train trip he took to confront Saroja and expose her to Arvind, he tossed and turned all night. He had always thought the boys were safe in their house. Could it have been her? Was she the type? Or was it someone else the boy's befriended in the neighborhood? But he had been told of some incident in the family wedding the previous year...
His inability to conjure up images of her was now compensated by her physical shape in front of him.
"I don't know what you are talking about," said Saroja as she brushed past him to close the front door. It helped her to avoid looking him in the eye, guilty as she was of solving the problems the boy's faced by giving them the sex they so keenly wanted. She was also guilty of going beyond and indulging herself rather fully. More fully than she had ever sexually encountered her own husband.
As she walked past, uncle took note of her glistening neck covered with perspiration from the humid air. He also smelt her sweaty aroma. And yes, her arm brushed his arm. She seemed like a woman bubbling with sexuality. There could be truth in those rumors.
It suited him as well that they were no longer face to face. He could blurt out what he wanted to confront her with a little easier.
"I am talking about what you did with Sundar when he was here," he said.
"I only made him focus on his studies," she said heading back to the kitchen, once again past him.
This time uncle took in the sight of her rolling backside; it looked sumptuous and full too. There was more to this woman than he had previously noticed, obviously.
"By doing what!" asked uncle, again raising his voice.
"By removing distractions," replied Saroja determined to skirt uncle's issues but keeping focus on the real issues.
"You are supposed to advise and restrain them, not indulge them," remonstrated uncle.
"Both Arvind and I use a carrot and stick approach with them. That is why they listen to us. That is how he got admission at the IIT," said Saroja. She was clear that the outcome justified any means she may have adopted.
"I don't it has anything to do with Arvind. Something has been going on between you and Gopi and Sundar which Arvind does not know about. Or should I tell Arvind about it?" asked uncle. He now had the upper hand. He knew Arvind could not possibly know of his wife's activities.
Saroja stiffened. The young men seemed to have been boasting. Was she a conquest? Or had she just been an aunt intent on comforting and soothing the confusion brought about by unfulfilled sexual needs? Why had they not taken care of her by keeping these things to themselves?
"I just managed things no one else in the family could," flared Saroja. Attack was the best form of defense here. She bustled about the kitchen and hall attending to minor chores and tasks, not standing still to face uncle. In the process, her pallo fell loose from the tuck around her waist and once again uncle was privy to her charms. That bosom, sweaty, damp and stuck in places to her skin told him she could have been the subject of the rumor.
"Any young man would be attracted to such a woman'" he thought. "But there is a decorum a daughter -- in -- law of the house must observe'" he said aloud.
"And have I not maintained that?" she said with a toss of her head. Her tousled hair made her look even more attractive. Uncle was now sure. Yes, his daughter-in-law had the sexual demeanor that could validate his suspicions. Had she been any different, he would have had doubts. But once he had assessed her in this fashion, he could see the possibility.
In fact, uncle was aroused. He felt his cock twitch like it hadn't in a few years now. He was surprised at himself. He was ashamed at his bodily response.
He turned away from her to avoid being spotted. The Indian dhoti was a poor garment at hiding the male erection. Any tenting would be obvious even to a casual glance.
"I would agree with you if there weren't any rumors," he said.
"What rumors?" asked Saroja, irritated.
"That you corrupted them," he said. There was no word for 'sex' or 'fuck' or even anatomical parts in the language their community used. Everything taboo lacked an expression in language even.
"I removed corrupt thoughts from their minds," defended Saroja.
"By corrupting them?" asked uncle disbelievingly. He was now visualizing Saroja disrobing for Sundar and Gopi. The thought caused his cock to swell to full proportions making it impossible for him to turn towards her. His voice turned hoarse from his arousal and Saroja sensed that the edge of hard anger was gone. She knew she had a fighting chance of coming out of this.
"They have needs, okay? You and mami are just not tuned to those needs. Whether it is counseling, books, money, materials, and permission to travel -- whatever. They have no one to sync to. That is why they look to Arvind. And to me!" she explained.
"Those things are okay," admitted uncle. Unable to take the conversation further without being explicit he brought himself to utter the word: "But sex? No, you should not have exposed them to that."
"Youngsters nowadays need no one to tell them anything. They already know about everything. Merely hiding the issues or ignoring them solves nothing," replied Saroja.
"But elders in our families handle these things differently," said uncle.
"Yes. And the children wander away," argued Saroja.
"Yes, but not like this," insisted uncle.
"They have needs okay!" shouted Saroja, losing her cool. This was the problem with the older generation. Obstinate and unwilling to see another point of view.
She grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him around, "Look at me," she insisted. "I have only made them focus on their studies," she pleaded.
As he was turned around by her forceful pull, uncle desperately reached for his dhoti to pull it up so it would camouflage his shameful erection.
He merely invited attention to it.
Saroja gasped in horror. She pulled back, taken aback. But her eyes stayed on the erection tenting the older man's dhoti.
His hung down in embarrassment.
"This is not the way these things are to be," he mumbled, crestfallen. His bodily reaction had deprived him of his moral high ground.
"But this is how it is," said Saroja firmly. "At your age, you have needs. Then why should they not when they are at that age?" she demanded to know.
"I don't have any such needs," protested the old man.
"Come here," said Saroja holding by his hand and moving him into her bedroom. The hall had too many windows and she was now in dangerous turf. "Then what is that?" she asked glancing down at the telltale sign of a significant erection.
"Nothing. Nothing. You are misinterpreting things," mumbled the old man, tears welling up in his eyes.
"This doesn't need interpretation. This is reality. This is what I am asking you to recognize" said Saroja, unaware that the shamed man was in tears. Saying this she stepped forward and with gentle fingers traced the outline of the cock within the cloth in a bid to establish undisputed facts.
Uncle broke into tears. His embarrassment and exposure was complete. He shuddered when she touched him and it was more humiliation than he could bear.
"Mama!" cried out Saroja alarmed. "I didn't mean it that way!" she said, startled at the turn of events. She put her arms around him to comfort him. Uncle slid down in a complete breakdown.
He buried his face in her shoulder weeping uncontrollably.
"Shh!" she soothed him, rocking him to her bosom. Uncle felt comforted but it was not because of her soothing words. It was because he enjoyed the warm softness of her breasts. His mind turned to the actual fact of her breasts in his face. His hard on which had flagged at the tears soared to new highs. He nuzzled her.
Saroja stiffened. Had he?
He rubbed his face in her breasts again. Yes, he had.
She did not know how to react. Uncle sank into the comforts of her bosom and made no sign of leaving her embrace. She stayed still. She wanted the tears to stop and this seemed to be helping.
As she waited patiently, rocking him, the other thing the closeness helped reached mammoth proportions. It would have gone unnoticed but for the drop which fell from the cock onto her foot. It could have been a tear. That is what Saroja thought till a moment later she felt the erection nudge her thigh. Now she suspected it to be a drop of pre-cum.
She sighed. "There is only one way to teach a man, young or old," she thought to herself. Her hand snaked down and gently held his shaft in her hand. As she did so she reflected on how similar he was to Arvind, her husband. "Probably not so hot in bed either," she mused.
There was nothing desperately inadequate in Arvind. What he lacked by comparison to someone like Murugesh, the well endowed and powerful husband of her former maid, Arvind made up in affection and the feelings they had for each other. Having experienced several men in the last few months -- each separately and each justified separately as well -- she just ended up making comparisons. Even if they were meaningless. After all, she was not going to bed uncle was she? Was she?
Uncle shuddered and stifled a groan as he felt a woman's hand on his cock after several years, even if it was through cloth. "Sarojamma!" he moaned her name. He called her like that often to emphasize the father-daughter nature of the relationship. But this time the calling out was so hopelessly different. But there was no other endearment he had for her. And he had to call out to her so dearly. The calling out was somewhere between an apology and surrender.
"This," said Saroja, clenching and unclenching her fingers on the slenderish cock, "is desire. This is the need. It is the same need those boys had. Who else can feel for them that way? And who else can take care of it for them so harmlessly?" asked Saroja.
Uncle's hips moved in the rhythm that no man needs to be taught, his desire demanding some comforting from being masturbated. At least for the edge of his desire.....?
"Harmlessly?" he stammered. "What do you mean harmlessly?" It was not an actual question. His body had overtaken his mind and he needed some form of engagement. Otherwise his real attention was on Saroja's breasts which he continued to nuzzle. As he soaked the fabric he started to wonder if she was wearing a bra at all. Or was he going to be lucky enough to get at her nipple?
Had be pulled back and reflected he would have been shocked. A girl he himself had selected for his nephew to marry, who had treated him with great respect befitting a family elder: here he was fumbling among her clothes to feel her flesh with his lips. But he was no longer thinking.
She was. She was very conscious of what was happening here. As she had been with her brother-in-law, her nephews -- she knew that once again the fabric of relationships in the family was going to be dependent on her adroitness.
(The incident with Murugesh, the maid's husband was not to be over-interpreted. She was vulnerable at that moment and he was exceptional. That was the nature of sexuality -- once unleashed, it reduces a woman to forgo anything to indulge in that joy as observed in that timeless love-sex manual The Kamasutra. It was unalloyed pleasure. She had taken it, reveled in and moved on.)
So if once again gaining control over Uncle was going to be instrumental in keeping the family together she was not going to balk.
While she justifying what was happening with all those thoughts, her hand was lazily sliding back and forth on uncle's very rigid member. If it lacked anything in dimension, it lacked nothing in hardness. She was brought back to reality by his other hand cupping her breast and clumsily trying to find its way through to flesh where actually no such path existed.
"This is how they were too," she said pushing him back and holding his face in her hands. His tear stained face stared up at her. He wondered what would happen next. The tears had come from embarrassment and the strain of feeling illicit desires. They had dried and now, avoiding looking in her eyes to hide his guilt, he had worked on her body. Forced to look into her eyes now he realized that the moral authority with which he had descended on her had completely evaporated.
But even as she looked into his eyes, the continued stroking of his cock told him he need not worry about anything stopping just yet. Cleverly, he adjusted himself so that his dhoti parted. As she continued her gentle stroking -- not too hard to count as masturbation; not too soft to allow his brain to start thinking again -- she felt his bare thighs. Suddenly she knew that she could feel his flesh in her fist -- if she wanted to.
"And if I gave them what they wanted, they were fine too," she said withdrawing her hand, leaving him gasping for her just-right grip again. She was testing him. How far would she need to go? Had she done enough to buy his silence?
"But they are too young for this. At least, I am married," said uncle in a daze.
"This," she said firmly, sliding her hand in between the folds of the dhoti and gripping his hot member in her soft fleshy fist, "is the same. Whether bachelors or unmarried. Old or young. Desire," she whispered. Her hand moved more firmly this time giving him a dress rehearsal of what she could do to him, for him. Uncle shuddered helplessly as he felt himself milked. He was wasting time, he suddenly felt. He should ravage her. Now! Grab her breasts. Suck and bite them! And mount her. And show her how much of a man he is!
He reached with both his hands for both of her breasts. He did not manhandle her. He held them as if weighing the mounds. His thumbs tentatively searched out for her nipples. He still did not know whether there was an impeding bra.
"This too, they wanted," she said. She would have to do more to silence him. He wasn't blackmailing her. She was not buying his silence. But step by step, what needed doing was so clear. "I gave them," she went on. Her hands left his cock hanging for more once again.
As she reached for the hooks of her blouse he found himself willing to wait. But his cock ached and he reached for it himself and did something he had not done since his teen years -- he played with himself.