My Indian Summer Pt. 02

11 Body line.

She.

After our morning in the fields we returned to the house, ravenous. I was in no mood to cook, with a lot of work to be done on the produce we had gathered. I put the tools away, and cobbled up some masalas, oil, sugar and large jars from the larder as we repaired to the terrace on the first floor. I asked him to get some theplas, achar, and khoprapak from the stash that his mom had dispatched for me, as I warmed myself in the midday sun. As I lay down enjoying the warmth after the dunking, my eyes went to my slip which was a dirty shade of brown.

I went to my room, depositing it in the bathroom as I opened my wardrobe looking for something comfortable to wear. All my lingerie was either too provocative, or didn't fit at all, leaving me in a quandary. Then my eye went to my red bikini tucked away in the corner. It would have to do, or I would have to grin and bare it, no choice in the matter. I quickly put on the bikini bottoms and ventured out again, glimpsing into the full length mirror, to see if I was adequately covered. It did an adequate job, but just about, a red triangle covering my mound, and pubic patch, but not much else. I hoped it would save me the blushes and not give him too many ideas as I returned to the terrace.

He sauntered in, and stopped in his tracks, mouth opening and shutting like a goldfish as he laid his eyes on me. I blushed a deeper shade of red than my bikini bottoms, wondering if it would give him an attack, if I ever went completely nude. Every time he saw my body even slightly uncovered, it elicited the same wide eyed look of astonishment on his visage, as if it was too good to be true.

I proffered an excuse, that I had become fat and needed to go on a diet, none of my clothes fit anymore, asking him his opinion on the matter. He disagreed with me, saying that in his opinion I was perfect, with curves in all the right places, soft and huggable, unlike the androgynous, hard, stick figurines that most of the girls gravitated to these days. But if I felt I needed to go on a diet, I should, he was hungry enough to make short work of the theplas and khoprapak he had just returned with.

I gave in to temptation, the lure of his mom's cooking and my rumbling stomach impossible to resist. I told him that the diet could wait for another day, and I would make a start by sharing, what I had initially no intention to. He smiled to himself at my convoluted logic, as I got about layering the theplas with murabba and achar, rolling them up for convenience. I started at one end, and he at the other, our lips meeting in a kiss at the centre.

The stack disappeared in no time, but the kisses, only got longer and better. I made a mental note to thank my cousin for her thoughtfulness and ask her for the recipe, if only I could rise above these constant distractions. The khoprapak was divine melting in my mouth and I showed my appreciation by indulging in some heavy tongue work, demonstrating the art of french kissing, astonishing him with my initiative. But he gave as good as he got, and was playing with my tits whiles our tongues danced the salsa.

Much as I wished to continue, there was a lot of work that needed to be done, and asked him to rest, while I got busy pickling and preserving the fruits and the veggies, to make them last longer. But he insisted on staying on and lending a hand, wishing to spend as much time around me as he could. I wondered if this was a good idea, distracted with lustful thoughts of his pecker waving in front of me all the time, making me wish I could pickle it to make it last longer as I licked my lips suggestively at this delicious thought.

And a helping hand would help make short work and help pass time better. I put him to work grating the apples and the mangoes for the murabba whilst I cut them into small bits and applied the masala. It was warm, and sweat dripped down my forehead and matted my hair, sticking it to my face. But my hands were covered with spices, so I called him over to tie my hair into a bun. As he came closer, his prick brushed my cheek, and I was half tempted to enclose it in my lips, but exercised self control as all good things come to those who wait.

Instead I assuaged my hunger feeding him strawberries licking my lips as the juice dripped on his toned apps, and seductively popping the fruit in and out of my lips, looking him in the eye, suggestively flitting down to his effect penis. All this temptation was making him distinctively uncomfortable, as he preferred to be the hunter not the prey. He said that he wasn't used to long hours in the sun and was developing a headache.

I smiled teasingly, saying that, this was the excuse we women used when we were not in the mood, surprising myself with my innuendo. I offered to give him a head massage to make him feel better. I moved behind him as he leaned into me, my breasts poking into his back. I hummed a song to distract myself from my lusty thoughts, and soon he seemed to be returning to normal.

As I concluded it, I asked him how he felt. He just turned around and wordlessly kissed my fingers, each individually, his adoring gaze upon my face. It struck me like a thunderbolt that the feelings he had for me were not just an infatuation but an adoration, and I couldn't meet his eye, my mind jumbled. I was rendered speechless by his gesture, holding him in a tight embrace, afraid of hurting him in any way. He took in a couple of deep breaths and I did too, slowing my runaway heart.

I confided my feelings to him, saying that I felt the same way about him as he felt about me, but shared my apprehensions too, that in case things didn't quite work out, it would shatter both of us, and we never would be able to see eye to eye. And that would be the end of something so special, that I cherished. I was talking non stop, not finding the right words, and my eyes becoming moist, on the brink of tears.

He was nonplussed, just bringing his lips to mine, as he perfected the technique that I had demonstrated over the past few days. As we concluded our kiss, he looked into my eyes, making me melt with the intensity and depth of his passion reflected in them. He professed that these very thoughts had flitted through his mind too. But love just happens and he was lucky to have it happen to him, and was willing to take the risk, whatever happened, would do so for the best. He was just enjoying being swept away by the emotions and would accept gracefully whatever the future held in store.

I couldn't believe his transformation, the student had become a teacher, and hugged him secure in the knowledge, that my boy had grown into a man. I felt light, all my weighty concerns evaporating into thin air and wanted to reciprocate the joy he had filled me with in my own special way. I told him to lay back and enjoy, what I promised would be the ride of his life as I gave him a body to body massage and a happy ending to boot. It was the first time that I was trying out a concept that I had only fantasised about earlier.

I took the leftover strawberries and massaged the pulp into his back. My breasts were tender, and I milked them allowing the milk to drip down the length of his spine. I then lay supine on top of him, adjusting my body to his and slowly squishing the remnants of the fruit, before running my tongue down his torso enjoying the strawberry milk that coated him.

Now I flipped him over, and was happy to find his dick at full mast, a sight for sore eyes as he looked up at me worshipping my form. I picked up the most luscious strawberry from the bowl and outlined my body with it from my breasts to my navel, even popping it within my bikini, from one side and retrieving it glistening with my juices from the other. He looked on mind boggling with the possibilities as it continued it's path up the length of his cock as I squeezed it to coat a load of his thick cream over it before moving it to his open lips and enjoying the feast together.

I then brushed my nipples against his mouth to get him to stimulate the flow again. Then I spread the strawberry pulp liberally on his chest, putting his hands to my tits, letting him get in on the action as well as I bounced up and down his chest. His cock was now pushing against my back door as I lay down on him twining my fingers with his, our bodies slick with pulp, milk, and our own thick secretions, his cock pushing into the indentation of my navel.

I was now ripe and ready, my bikini front sopping wet, turning around to give him his first 69, along with a graphic blow by blow description of what it would entail. He got to work in a jiffy, as we finished up with a bang for the buck and a mutual happy ending to boot. As we lay panting we used our tongues to get some nourishment from the strawberry milkshake and dispose off all evidence of our mischief.

I had another surprise lined up for him, as I pulled him into the open air shower to cool our overheated flesh. I had got my grooming kit, and was going to give him a personalised intimate grooming session. It was a bit disconcerting to have remnants of his hair in my mouth, every time I gave him a blow job, and preferred the clean-shaven metrosexual look, to the wild caveman forests that he sported around his dick and armpits.

One look at his erect phallus and I knew he was up for it. I first used a pair of scissors and trimmed the long grass which had grown unchecked for months. Soon it resembled a freshly mown lawn. I took a sniff of his underarms enjoying his manly scent, asking him if it was enough manscaping, or if he wanted to go all the way, matching my smooth pastures.

He wondered why I even bothered asking all these questions. I got out my pink razor and carefully got going removing all vestiges of hair from around the base of his prick, my hand curving around him protectively, keeping vital equipment out of harms way. Soon he was all clear after a detailed inspection to check for any stray strands. I licked my lips lasciviously, pleased with my efforts.

Then I suddenly remembered something, turning away from him leaving him baffled. As he tried to sneak a peek over my shoulder I dipped the razor into my bikini, getting rid of the stubble that he had felt earlier today. I then reached back for his hand and guided it within my bikini, asking him if I passed muster myself. He did quite a thorough job as my sluice gates parted, to accommodate his roving fingers, coating them with my own sticky love.

His newly shorn cock pushed, against my butt as his fingers pistoned in and out of me, his hand massaging my pendulous breasts my mouth turning behind to meet his for a kiss, as we came with a bang, collapsing in a heap on the shower floor, the sun bathing us in a golden glow.

As the evening shadows lengthened we repaired inside, after cleaning up the mess on the terrace floor. Not yet hungry we repaired to the lounge, catching up on the intervening years when we were out of touch with each other. I had done brilliantly in academics, and was amongst the top 3 consistently in my school. The board exams saw me in the top 10 of the entire state.

Everybody felt that I would make a brilliant doctor, as I had got cent percent in Biology. But I surprised them all taking up arts as a career choice. My teachers and relatives were all aghast at my career choices, and tried their best to convince me to change my mind, but to little avail. I held firm, my parents backing me to the hilt, proud that I had the conviction of my beliefs, and did not wilt under pressure.

I preferred not to confirm to established stereotype, but plough my own furrow. They were scandalised further, when news got out that I was working my way through college, teaching disadvantaged children in the nearby slum, and fighting pro bono for the disenfranchised and marginalised sections.

They cautioned me of the dangers of this course of action and tried to dissuade me from what they deemed was childish impetuosity. But I was made of sterner stuff, my moral compass well grounded, to stand up for the weak and against perceived injustice, no matter the strength of forces ranged against you, as I strove to make a difference, one step at a time.

Whenever there was a protest, you could be sure I would be at the forefront. Once the powers that be at the university imposed the ridiculous step of banning jeans on campus. I attended lectures clad in only my underwear. I was rusticated for a whole fortnight, but that put paid to the moral policing then and there.

Though I was quite modern in my outlook and had a liberal grounding, some vestiges of tradition still stayed with me. I was still a virgin in the traditional sense though I had masturbated regularly ever since I had attained puberty, a bit too often whenever the urge overtook me.

But I still retained some family values that were too deep rooted to change, I could not or would not even consider casual sex, there had to be a deep feeling of love that would impel me to surrender my body to someone else. It had to be not a bodily need, but a meeting of minds a merging of souls. I had to hear the music playing in a full orchestra, and it had never happened until now.

Whereas my roommate had a succession of lovers, and every weekend the room would fill with the sounds and smells of sex, I couldn't see myself treading down that path, though sometimes in the dark of the night my hand would go to my own intimate zone as an antidote to the loneliness that overcame me.

And though I had all the attributes of a women, developing a hourglass figure and a beautiful complexion as I blossomed out, I was least concerned about my sex appeal often turned out in loose, baggy clothes for comfort rather than dressed to the nines like a clotheshorse.

And I couldn't imagine myself doing those shallow things that most girls my age found so delightful, they put me off, and didn't interest me at all,. I was markedly indifferent, not that I envied them, but not judgemental either. After some tries my roommates, generally left me alone, as I was beyond redemption, and I was left to my own devices. They lived their lives and I lived mine. And my firebrand image put off any stragglers that remained.

In short my love life was like an oasis, a figment of the imagination in a barren wasteland, parched and untouched by the passing clouds that flitted across the desert sky, preferring to deposit their showers elsewhere. And I was quite comfortable with that, I had other axes to grind and whenever my body needed it, I treated myself to some tender self love.

After college, I worked with artisans especially in the handloom sector and in rural schools, and that's how I met my husband as he was volunteering at one such. It was a whirlwind romance and he had swept me off my feet quite literally. One day we were returning from the school, having got quite late in the evening as I had been so absorbed in teaching the students that it had been almost dusk.

Whilst all the other teachers and staff had left, he had graciously stayed behind, preferring to stay behind and accompany me on the long trek home. It was quite sweet of him, and the first time I noticed the way he looked at me, quite besotted with my charms, though I was quite casual about my looks and cavalier about my appearances quite unlike other girls my age.

But that day I felt that I wished I had spent a little more time on my looks as I sensed his gaze on me. After leaving the students to their homes in a nearby hamlet we made our way through the dark hillside back home. It was a new moon night and just my luck that a freak thunderstorm came down upon us with the cold winds and the biting rain, coming down in sheets making visibility difficult and the ground beneath my feet slippery.

But he knew the mountain path like the back of his hand, and could traverse them blindfolded if need be. He asked me to stay close to him and be careful, but I was impetuous, reckless and headstrong. I didn't believe in outdated notions of male chivalry, and my carelessness led to a slip, which could have been fatal, if not for his alertness which caught hold of me just in time on the edge of a precipice that led to a deep valley below.

Cradled in his strong arms, I got a whiff of his manly scent, as he strained to keep me balanced, and bring me back to the land of the living. His fingers intertwined with mine established a connection that was eternal, as I felt emotions hitherto alien to me. And as the sky lit up with a bolt of lightning, outlining how close I had been to death, disablement or worse, the thunder rumbled in the sky; my heart was cleaved by a thunderbolt of love, as a cloudburst flooded my parched valley, leading to a profusion of blooms in my desert landscape unaccustomed to the ways of the heart.

My eyes misted over as I opened up my life to him with my recollection of my love.And I could sense his eyes brimming over too as he hung on to every syllable,spellbound. I needed his touch and reached out in an embrace as he melted effortlessly in my arms.My head turned towards his and our lips met in a kiss, languorously, savoring the magic of the moment, letting our emotions flow.

Though he was eager to hear the rest of the tale, it was getting late, and dinner had to be prepared. I rustled up some beautiful jacket potatoes along with peas and carrots, making for a colorful repast. It had been a long day, first working in the fields then the rest of the day on the terrace, and he looked dog tired,not used to the exertion.

I suggested an early bedtime, to recuperate from the rigors of the day and he plodded on upstairs as I followed on in his wake. His eyes were dropping and even the customary goodnight kiss failed to revive him. He tried to enter my doorway, but I simply pointed him to his own before going within.

I got out of my bikini bottoms which were caked with my cum, and lolled on the bed reminiscing old memories, which I had refreshed recently in the lounge. My hand absentmindedly caressed my smooth mound, as I recalled that fateful night not even 9 months back, when I was saved from falling into a gorge, but fell head over heels in love.

I remembered twining his fingers in mine, his arm around my shoulder, as I nestled close against him, inhaling his intoxicating aroma, the rain soaking us completely, my breast brushing against his chest as we walked the hilly pathways to my quarters. And that as he turned to leave I called out to him and gave him my first kiss, clumsily seeking out his lips, surprising myself as well as him with my audacity.

But remembered the tenderness with which he kissed me back, and the familiar feelings it stirred up in my loins so much wanting him to crush me to his chest. And wistfully watching him leave, as a perfect gentleman, not wishing to take advantage of me in my moment of weakness, though I half wished he would.

And that night like today, I divested myself of my wet garments, strands of smegma coating my loins, and indulged my fantasies with my fingers, plumbing my depths taking me to realms of pleasure that I had never witnessed before. My fingers were busy at work flicking my clit, getting my juices flowing again, as I heard a knock on the door.

I first thought it was my imagination playing out my fantasy, when I heard it again, this time accompanied by his voice calling out my name, "Di" from the other side. I asked him to give me a moment as I rushed to my cupboard, putting on a dress hurriedly, cleaning up evidence of my interrupted pleasure session before going to the door, wondering what brought him there.

He was standing there looking very sheepish, as I cocked my eyebrow at him in a query. He requested me to let him sleep the night in my room, as he had seen a lizard on the wall, and was terrified of the blighters. I broke into a laugh,as I imagined a prime specimen of manhood, cowering from a puny little lizard.