My Indian Summer Pt. 02

14 Heart to art.

He.

I little knew this side of her, my admiration for her increasing manifold. I wondered if I could even attempt to match up to her high standards, and what did she see in me. I was falling in love with everything, about and around her, and as I went around the village, talking to people around me, their face lit up when they heard her name, she had done more for them than anybody else, and was family. The tales of her selfless nature, and the love and effort she put into making a difference to their lives were stuff of legend.

I walked about the village, seeing if I could put my learning to good use, practically apply my knowledge, and noted down a couple of ideas in my mind. As I returned to her makeshift classroom where she was teaching the kids I was struck by the combination of love and passion she exuded, how excited she was as she went about making learning so much fun. The kids were spellbound and I was captivated too looking on upon her adoringly. She met my eyes for a second, staring at her, and lost track of what she was saying, getting flustered and concluding the class for the day.

As the children left for the day they looked at me, then at her, whispering secrets to each other, waving goodbyes. I asked her why she stopped suddenly. She said that when I looked at her like that, she forgot everything she was doing, and felt week at the knees. She was in a quandary and asked for my advice, she regarded the villagers as extended family and didn't know what to tell them about me. I had only two words, " the truth".

Now it was her turn to look at me, the same way I looked at her. What a simple, yet brilliant solution. We were at the village square, and in full view she brought her lips to mine, making a bold statement of intent, putting an end to the speculation about me, once and for all. She invited me to join her for lunch at her adopted grandparents house. They were a lovely old couple, very much in love, even after a half century of togetherness, and I found myself envious of the warmth they exuded. Best of all, they were happy to share their love, with whosoever they came in touch with.

They had never seen so much as a flicker of happiness on her face for the past 6 months, and here she was brimming with joy. They took me aside, and thanked me for bringing the smiles back to their granddaughters face, and showered me with their blessings for facilitating the spring blooms in a barren desert.The whole house was filled with a happy vibe and the joy was contagious.

They had prepared a simple meal of mountain greens cooked in a traditional style, and reprimanded her for not giving them advance notice of my arrival. If they'd known the jamai raja was coming, they would have laid out a feast. I was blushing, not being used to the surfeit of compliments that came my way. During the meal, I was subject to a barrage of questions, an intense cross examination, that had me break out into a sweat.

As the meal concluded with a traditional halwa made of walnuts and beetroot, they complimented her on the good catch she had landed in me, and asked her, loud enough so that I could hear, when they could expect the patter of little feet running around the house. I was delighted, more so at her reaction, where she enveloped her grandma into a hug, hiding her embarrassment, and conveying her happiness at the same time.

I realised how much their approval meant to her, and as her grandfather joined in the embrace, they pulled me into the circle too. It was obvious that she meant the world to them, she loved them very much, in return. There wasn't a single dry eye in the room, by the time we separated, and they said that we had made their day. I remarked that if we could even have a fraction of the love, that was so evident in their eyes, we would need nothing else.

The old lady then took out a beautiful stole in a traditional pattern that she had woven herself as a gift for her, and asked her if she liked it. She absolutely loved it, draping it immediately and asking me for my opinion on how it looked. I said it suited her perfectly, complimented her features, and more importantly reflected the love that they shared. She enveloped me in a hug again, remarking that I had charmed my way into her heart.

Her grandma told me that she'd have a gift ready for me to the next time I came, inasmuch I protested saying that love was enough. She smiled at me, saying that unlike her granddaughter she wouldn't be swayed with the sweet talk. And with a twinkle in her eye, said that her husband had been buttering her up for years and gotten nowhere. Her husband joked, it worked admirably, she had stayed married to him for the last 50 years, and concluded with a pat on the bottom that had her blushing. She then pulled me closer, her features becoming a little more serious whispered something in my ear. I reeled back stunned, saying I could never even think of it, as she kissed me on my forehead, blessing me again with the gift of happiness.

As we ventured outside, I couldn't resist breaking out into a goofy grin. She asked me what the joke was all about. I replied that nani had warned me against giving me any trouble. I had half a mind to complain that, it was she who was the real dadi (bully) in the equation, I was only an innocent waif who was subject to the torture of waiting for a reply to my heartfelt plea.

She looked away, her eyes brimming with tears, as I realised that in an effort to be witty I had inadvertently touched a raw nerve and caused her much pain. We walked up in a sad silence, as I didn't want to compound the situation by justifying what I said. As soon as we reached the top, out of sight of the hamlet below, she broke down, crying in my arms.

As much I wanted to calm her down, I couldn't stop crying myself, whimpering through my tears as what a fool I had been, no regard to her feelings, and a horrible sense of humour. As I turned my face away so that she would not see my tears, she turned my face towards me and enveloped my lips in a kiss.

It changed the mood immediately, sadness replaced by desire as we hungrily sought to salve the pain in each other's heart. She was all warmed up and itching to get out of her dress and soon divested herself of it. I followed suit and we were bereft of clothes once more. Her tits had hardened to points as she wrapped a leg around my waist, pulling me closer, as my big brown cock, vibrated against her belly.

I was afraid that my passion would take me too far, and asked her if we could lay down in the shade of the large oak, just holding each other close. We lay down, content in each other's arms and soon drifted off to sleep. I awoke refreshed and propped myself up on my elbows, looking on longingly on her supine body, still in repose, her chest undulating slowly as she breathed, a vision of loveliness that I didn't want to disturb.

She stirred, finding me staring at her reached out to me, but I was a little hesitant, so she asked me what was the matter. I asked her to elaborate what "coitus" was, I found it difficult to keep my hands away and didn't want to transgress the boundaries she had set, even unintentionally. She just pulled me closer, saying that coitus meant just intercourse, and she had no desire to abstain from outercourse.

In fact she had just awoken from a dream in which my tiny eclair had transformed into a chocolate bar oozing with nougat that she was hungry to eat, as her tongue coated her lips seductively. She said that she was practically fermenting with the liquids oozing out of her pussy, and guided my hand to her glistening mound if proof was needed. She was primed and ready to go all the way, and I could have my way with her if I wished.

But I respected the boundaries she had set, for me and was willing to wait for her consent to my offer for matrimony, before we consummated the union. She spelt out in lurid detail what was still permissible, getting me all hot and worked up as I clambered over her, as we went into a double header, impatient for gratification at the earliest.

I got to work immediately, parting her thighs to drink from her overflowing cup, relishing the taste of her sweet nectar, that had me addicted. She was quick to play out her fantasy sucking away at my dick, coaxing my cream filling out, giving me the much needed relief, that I sought.

I was in a lustful frenzy, and she had to interrupt her snack, to ask me to slow down my mauling as her tissues were quite sensitive, not being used to the constant traffic that had passed through them over the last couple of days. It opened my eyes to the realisation that pleasure is a mutual game, and the slower you go, the longer you last. I took my time, recalling the tutorials she had given me over the past few days, learning to push her buttons slowly, keeping a soft touch, unfurling her petals slowly, getting to her core. Her walls were pulsating, moist and warm as my tongue cleared out the milky white strands that clung to her walls and stroked her rising nub, aided by her moans.

I was groaning too, nearing fulfilment as she assiduously milked my cock, and as I pulsated about to come, she inserted a finger up my arse, as I erupted in paroxysms of pleasure. I sought her asshole as well, inserting a moist finger gingerly as she squirted on demand , filling me up with her intimate love potion. I rolled off her, and we lay by her side, using my tongue to clean up the evidence of our lovemaking as she proceeded to do likewise.

Our passions subdued for the moment we gathered our clothes into the bucket, making our way down to the farmhouse. As we reached the stream, I gallantly offered to carry her across it, but in my enthusiasm to carry her in my arms, hadn't reckoned with her weight, straining as we reached midstream, I had to let her down otherwise I would have thrown my back out, and as gently I could, lowered her into the flowing water.

She was shocked, to be dunked into the icy currents and flailed around wildly, grasping for support. She caught on to my wildly swinging dick, almost digging her nails into it, making me yelp with pain. She released it moulding her arms around my thighs, holding on tight. She let off a filthy stream of abuses quite unbecoming of her.

As she got up again, she apologised for her tirade, but had panicked when I let her down without any warning, as she didn't know how to swim. I said it was my fault and I should have known better, as we grabbed some towels off the line to dry ourselves, and went into the house.

She asked me whether I would accompany her to a section of the house, to which she didn't want to venture alone. I found her request a little strange, as she was not the kind of woman who would be scared of anything, and her wish was my command, no questions asked. She hugged me in response, as my assent meant so much to her, and grabbed my hand in hers, to take me to a wing located behind the kitchen, a part that I hadn't seen yet.

A lot of scenarios played through my mind as her tension was evident in her grip, and her usual voluble self was strangely pensive and quiet as we walked in eerie silence. I wondered if that section was haunted, or had a mythical treasure guarded by beasts. I hoped that it was bereft of lizards as it would be difficult to hold out against them.

We arrived at a huge door which was bolted. This was it, I thought, as a variety of different emotions flitted across her visage, the moment of reckoning. She wanted my support and I resolved to be there for her, come hell or high water, as I opened the doors, slightly jammed, as they had been shut for quite some time. A musty smell of dust and cobwebs hanging everywhere, large sheets draped everywhere, masked what lay underneath.

She looked at me, her voice quavering, expressed her gratitude to me once more. She said that it had been her studio, and had held many happy memories for her. But ever since that tragic day of double bereavement, she had not been able to come to grips with herself and gather the courage to go there again, and only the last couple of days had even brought the thought up.

I got busy opening the heavy curtains, as the light streamed in through the bay windows that overlooked the valley and the hills. She was a little emotional to be back there and I gave her a reassuring squeeze, that I was there at her side. She sighed and asked me to help in lifting the covers off what lay underneath.

On one side there was a loom, on which a tapestry lay nearly complete, in vibrant colours and brilliant hues, with bold strokes the like I hadn't seen before. As we took the covers off the settled dust flew into my nose, eliciting a sneeze that shook the house to it's core. "Bless you", she said, laughing, "your sneeze is as loud as it was earlier, some things never change." "Yes, I am blessed" I said my eyes rivetted on a large abstract painting lying on the easel, even incomplete, it was mesmerizing, the likes of which I had never seen before.

As we took the covers of another stack of artworks, I was mesmerized by the range of treasures that met my eyes. Also dotted around the room were some sculptures and multimedia works. I asked her if this was all her own doing, and she nodded wordlessly, matter of factly, I said she was a national treasure and these brilliant pieces of art needed to be unveiled to the world, not kept under wraps.

I asked her, what other hidden talents she had, as she was truly marvellous, a priceless gem. She laughed, and said that what could she hide, she was naked to my gaze as I looked upon her in adoration. It was just a passion she indulged in her free time. I asked her why she hadn't displayed them on the walls of the house. She had but had kept them in storage after the incident, the hurt too fresh to bear the assault of the memories everyone she looked at them, but now with me she felt she had been able to come to terms with it, achieved closure to move on.

I asked if she was ready to create again, and she nodded again wordlessly overwhelmed, rushing into my outstretched arms. I sought her lips and we kissed, oblivious to everything else, and I offered to make a website with a virtual gallery where she could exhibit her masterpieces.

She asked me whether I would pose for her, as the first thing she wanted to create would be a painting of me reclining nude. I thought, that my relatives would be scandalised, I would be disinherited, the family would wash their hands off me. But what the heck, I could do anything for her, and no simply wasn't an option. She said if being naked embarrassed me, she would arrange a garment, and I was relieved.

She spread out some silk sheets and some bolsters on the parquet floor, and asked me to make myself comfortable. I asked her to get my shorts, but in reply she just wagged her finger at me. "Not fair", I said, you said that I was allowed a garment. Yes, she said and came around to place the stole around my neck.

I blushed, realising that she had got the better of me, and tried to relax, contemplating a family scandal that was sure to erupt when the painting emerged. She got busy painting and soon time ticked by on the clock. It was good to see her back to her own self again, absorbed in her work, and I was happy to see her happy again.

But with her in direct line of sight, it did nothing for my erection which was in full view, waving around wildly. I apologised for my hard on, but she poohed me again. I couldn't stop gazing at her beautiful body, realising that she was aroused to by the state of her stiff nipples and the fact that she needed to use a cloth at regular intervals, to staunch the stickiness running down her thighs.

At last she said she was done, and I resigned to my fate, got up to see the masterpiece. As I came up to her and scanned the canvas, I was awestruck. I had never seen a painting so true to life that it leapt out of the canvas. It was a close up of my erect penis true to form, standing erect waving in the air. She had captured every nerve and wrinkle of the skin, the frenulum, and the mushroom head true to form, glossed over with the shiny gleam of my precum that was leaking out of it's tip.

"I love it", I said and offered to buy it from her. "Not for sale" she said, "it's for my personal collection, for my boudoir, holding a place close to my heart". "What about my modelling fees", I asked, jesting with her. She enveloped me in a hug, placed my hand on her very wet pussy, as she stroked my erection in turn, purring into my ear as I rubbed her clit, " I'm sure we will be able to work out a mutually pleasurable agreement",as her lips sought out mine in a kiss. It was impossible to win with her, but who wanted to when losing your heart could be so much fun.

It was evening and we went out to catch the beautiful colours of the sunset from the patio, just outside the studio, but I had eyes only for her as she sat on my thighs, and felt a rise stirring up, as the sun set in the west. As the sun set, the sky grew dark, there was a rumble of thunder and a few large drops splattered down. We ran towards the house, reaching just before the rain came down in sheets accompanied by the din of thunder and flashes of lightning. We got busy battening down, closing the windows securely before relaxing in the lounge.

She wanted to know a little bit more about my life and interests and despite my inherent reticence, I got talking about it. Being introverted in nature, I found my friends in books, being a voracious reader, and soon had gone through the extensive collection of books at home, as well as the local library. This reading, along with a photographic memory, paid it's dividends in the educational sphere and I consistently made it to the merit list in school as well as in college, getting a seat in the IIT.

I had a fascination with building lego models since my childhood, and therefore picked up civil engineering as my field of specialization and now was in my final year of college. I wanted to work in the rural sphere and used to be a regular at camps that were conducted in the villages to get a perspective and a practical experience of their problems. All in all, it was a very ordinary life, compared to the excitement every minute existence that she had led with such elan.

I tried to stay away from trouble and steer clear from controversy. I preferred a simple homely lifestyle to the glitz and glamour of the city. I loved to go on hikes, and was an active member of the hiking club that met twice a month. And I taught maths and science to the underprivileged kids in my locality during my spare time. So living on a farm was right up my alley, and a perfect place to put all that theory we had crammed in college into practice. I told her about some of the projects I had envisaged while strolling through the hamlet this morning and it had her all excited.

It had been a while since we last ate, the rain was pouring down, stimulating my appetite, and my stomach emitted a low growl. She got the message and went into the kitchen to rustle up dinner of piping hot dal khichdi and spicy potatoes. It was tempting watching her naked, bent over the stuff, cooking my favourite cuisine. My mouth watered , not so much by the aroma of the food that permeated the air, as much as her hot body bent over the stove.

I meanwhile rustled up a salad of apples, carrots, lettuce, almonds, all mixed in a bowl with some tangy lime vinaigrette that had her licking my fingers as I fed her. The meal concluded with her version of apple pie that had us groaning, hitting the right spots. Our hunger sated we retired upstairs to go to bed after a long day. At the door of her room, I wished her goodnight, but she asked me to sleep with her, as the sound of the thunder and lightning frightened her. And who was I to not heed the call of a damsel in distress, especially one who had stolen my heart away.