My Indian Summer

4.Farm villa.

She.

I woke up early in the morning, dreaming of him and a pillow between my legs, a wet patch forming at the confluence of my thighs. My breasts were tender and I milked them to reduce the fullness that I felt and then proceeded to relieve the itch lower down as well, closing my eyes, as my nimble fingers pushed the buttons that opened the floodgates of desire to clear out my slit.

The first rays of the sun were peeping out behind the hills and as I opened the windows the cool morning breeze formed goosebumps on my exposed flesh. I grabbed my nighty and looked in the cupboard for some underwear to shield my privates from his gaze, but found only sexy lingerie settling for a lacy white one which was better than none at all. I also grabbed a coat to protect my chest from the morning breeze and keep me warm.

I went into the garden, pottering about the plants and felt a wave of happiness spread all over me as I burst into song. I took the hose and began watering the shrubs, when I glanced upwards to see him at the window, looking at me with an unblinking gaze, as if trying to make up for the lost decade. I smiled back at him and motioned him down to join me in the garden.

He came down a while later looking quite refreshed but a little forlorn that the curtains were closed on the free show that I had given him last night. He was tongue tied no more, the rest and the familiarity loosening it from it's moorings, the repartee was crisp and the wit crackling. I lost no opportunity to pull his legs although they were long enough, but he gave back as good as he got.

I asked him whether he could wait for breakfast, he said that he had chugged a whole bottle of milk, and was in no hurry. I blushed realizing that the milk he had relished so much was the one I had expressed barely an hour back. But I didn't want to embarrass him further with this revelation, preferring to let some secrets remain concealed.

I started a series of warm ups and yoga, and he joined me in them. But his concentration was more on my body than his own, and I could feel parts of me tightening rather than loosening. I wondered if it was such a good idea after all, as he broke into a sweat trying to keep pace with me. I slowed down, offering a few words of encouragement to keep him from feeling dejected, laughing away, all awkwardness of the previous evening vanishing into a familiar conviviality as we went indoors for breakfast.

As I prepared breakfast, I called upon him to help me, feeling uncomfortable at his unblinking gaze, and to provide me some eye candy as well. I took in a whiff of his manly scent as he helped chop the vegetables, suitably impressed with his culinary skills telling him that he would be a prize catch and make his wife very happy.

But he seemed totally smitten with me and turned my comment back on me, that distracted my attention from the stove leading some hot oil to splutter on my finger. As I instinctively pulled it away he put my finger into his mouth cooling it down, but making a feeling of warmth spread through my beings culminating at a blush on my cheeks and a wetness permeating my lower lips.

He insisted on feeding me,and was much improved after last night's fiasco, but I playfully bit on them to show him it was like putting his hand in a lioness's mouth. He winced in mock pain, but I was annoyed at him, playing with my concern and told him that it was no joking matter. Suitably contrite and a little dejected after this dressing down, he stubbornly refused to eat until I gave in and fed him with my own hand.

I was hopelessly falling in love with him with every passing moment, and could see that he was quite besotted with me as well, but didn't know whether it would work out. I resolved to put some space between us, to put a brake on the runaway wagon and give us some time to think it over.

We were going for a tour of the farm and needed to get ready. I asked him to go up ahead, to give me a chance to view his cute butt as he had already seen a lot of mine. I showed him how to use the geyser and repaired to mine running the bath for a relaxing soak. As the water started to fill the tub, and the steam rose I started to hum an old Hindi film number.

Filling in the bathtub, I sang," Bhai batur, bhai batur, Ab jayenge kitni door, Nazuk nazuk meri jawaani, Chalne se majboor" roughly translated to 'dear friend, I have now come of age and it is up to us how far we go together in this journey of love.'

I removed my garments sliding into the warm water I closed my eyes, imagining his virile body naked in the shower, and let my fingers play out my fantasies once more as the humming gave way to a series of moans, as my pleasure points got activated again and I shouted his name out loud as waves of pleasure washed over me.

From the other side came the answer "Yes Di" and the strains of another number, "Thande thande paani se, Nahana chaahiye, Gaana aaye ya naa aaye, Gaana chaahiye" roughly translated as " You should always have a bath with cold water, even if you don't know how to sing, you will burst into song". I blushed the entire length of my torso, as I realized too late that the bathrooms shared a common wall and the vents to let the steam out were connected, enabling the sound to travel through clearly as well.

All my carefully laid plans of putting some space between us came to naught in the matter of a few minutes, as I fretted how to salvage the situation. I wondered what his reaction was to my masturbatory moans, did I make him hard as well or was he disgusted and scandalized by my unabashed sexuality. I decided that discretion was the better part of valor, if I let sleeping dogs lie hopefully he wouldn't bring the topic up again.

I quickly completed the rest of my bath in silence, putting on some denim shorts that I hoped were not too revealing and a loose shirt, with one of his Stetson hats to complete the look. As I viewed myself in the mirror the shorts were indeed too tight looking as if they had been painted on, as I hadn't accounted for my post pregnancy changes, but the shirt concealed my boobies quite well,I let the shirt hang loose, letting it fall over my hips too, and went downstairs to wait for him.

He came downstairs nattily dressed in a matching pair of denim shorts and a singlet which emphasized his toned arms, muscles rippling. He let out a low whistle as he saw me and I blushed again, looking away. As he came down, he asked me why I had stopped singing, I had such a good voice he was looking forward to playing antakshari with me. He asked me if the sexy chorus of aah's was there at the end of the song, or if I had made it up on my own.

I knew he had caught me out and mock punched him in indignation to conceal my embarrassment. But it broke the tension in the air and the conversation began to flow as before. We walked around the farm which extended over the whole valley, our nearest neighbors at least a good 20 miles away. When I first saw it I had whooped in delight at a slice of heaven at my doorstep, and couldn't ever imagine going back to the city which felt so alien to me now, far away from this piece of paradise that I now called home.

I hoped that he would see it in the same way that I did, but his eyes as usual were stuck on me. He was well and truly beyond redemption, but also quite naive, not versed in worldly matters. We reached the stream and to ford it would have to cross over in knee high water. We sat down to remove our boots and placed them about our necks. I caught him gazing at my legs, as I finished, but then I too was no better in my behavior that befitted a smitten schoolgirl.

I cautioned him to be careful fording the distance, but hardly had I finished saying it, did he lose his footing falling heavily on me as I teetered to keep my balance. I told him to walk on ahead, and keep an eye on the road hoping to get some relief from his persistent gaze. In fact I quite liked the attention he lavished on me but it could be a bit too much at times, and it would give him some time to think as well. But he had a better idea, we could walk together, putting paid to my idea of putting some distance between us.

The path was narrow, so it necessitated us sticking together which suited him perfectly as his arm brushed the side of my breast frequently, electrifying my entire being. It was not that I minded it, but it was a slippery slope that could take us to places we didn't expect. As the sun rose in the sky he opened the front of his vest, and I salivated getting a view of his glistening six pack and abs. I also undid a few buttons and caught him a couple of times trying to peer down my cleavage, glad that it was loose enough not to reveal my nipples, now aroused to points.

I tried to explain to him the variety of foliage that dotted the farm, but he was simply not interested. We stopped to pick some berries but he wanted me to feed him, and him me. We gathered some oranges, apples and mangoes which had just started to ripen. I tied them up folding the bottom of my shirt revealing my tight shorts and a sliver of my midriff to his eager eyes.

And that's when, he slipped, an accident waiting to happen rolling straight into the bramble bushes full of nettles as I watched on in horror. I ran not bothering about the fruits which fell out, to carefully extricate him from the mess as he winced in pain, the nettles stinging him. I peered into his eyes glad that they were untouched, as tears of relief coursed down as I cursed myself for allowing it to happen.

He was now covered in a red rash, swelling up with pain trying to conceal the discomfort as I rested his head in my lap and tried to extricate the bunches still stuck to his skin carefully. He was now almost writhing, unable to lay still as the rash manifested all over his body. I panicked, concern manifest all over my face, holding him close to my bosom, wracking my brain what to do.

I started to kiss him to take the hurt away, but my lips swelled as the sting of the nettles lodged on them too. Now we were both in the same boat, but my pain was just localized, but at it's most acute at a place where my skin was the most sensitive. In retrospect it was a bad idea. But pain coursing through my mind reignited a connection that lay buried somewhere deep in my childhood store of memories.

I remembered a visit to our ancestral village, where a toddler had similarly stumbled upon these very same bushes. The wise old lady asked his mother to apply her milk on the rashes, and lo, he was immediately better. I decided to give it a shot, turning away from him, undid the buttons on my shirt, trying to express my milk to soothe his pain.

But my normally full breasts that were forever tender and full, had somehow dried up and no amount of massaging them elicited a single drop of my elixir. I was getting desperate, as the minutes ticked by, at wits end how to start the flow, stress writ large on my features. I decided to take a gamble.

I turned around to face him, my torso bare, as he looked on them again awestruck, like a deer stuck in the headlights, viewing my rack for the second time in less than a day, this time no accident, wondering what the hell was I up to. I brought one to his lips and asked him to suckle on them. He was conflicted, in pain, but scarcely believing the good fortune that was staring at him in the face, he needed no second invitation and latched on like a hungry baby.

Right on cue, responding to the stimulus, my mammaries started flowing again. He alternated from one boob to the the other, milk flowing down his face as I applied it to his torso, and the rashes started disappearing, as if by magic. I was overjoyed to see him out of pain, but dumbstruck as well, as my lips had swelled up to mammoth proportions, tears of joy streaming down my face.

He looked up as my tears wet his hair. As he saw my swollen lips, his relief vanished immediately, replaced by a concern and he brought his lips to mine, the milk covering them working wonders reducing the swelling and the sensations returning. But neither did he stop, nor I, the Rubicon had been crossed, and concern had transformed into passion, our relationship had transcended the platonic into something much deeper than it had ever been

He.

She showed me how to start the hot water, and I half expected her to bathe me as earlier, but I was not a child anymore, and she left leaving me alone with my thoughts. I undressed, but was still hard, as my mind tried to recall my childhood days. I would have loved to have her bathe me, more so if she was naked herself, but that rising organ would be difficult to subdue.

As I began to stroke it absentmindedly enjoying the warm spray of the shower, I could hear a faint humming coming from the other side. I shut the shower to concentrate as I pictured her soaping herself as she sang. Towards the end she ran out of words and ended in a series of sexy aahs, and called my name out loud.

I thought she wanted to hear me sing, and being a bathroom singer myself, responded with a song of my own. But I was met only with a puzzling silence, as I surmised I was singing out of tune and she couldn't take the torture any more. I finished the bath and changed into denim shorts and singlet, making my way down.

She was waiting for me looking stunning in a shirt a couple of sizes too big almost completely covering a pair of teensy denim shorts that felt that they had been painted on and a Stetson to complete the look. I couldn't help but let out a low whistle as I saw this apparition as I descended the stairs. I asked her why she had stopped singing midway hoping I wasn't off key but she punched me in mock indignation.

It was a beautiful day, but it hardly mattered as I couldn't take my eyes off her shapely legs, especially when we stopped to remove our boots as we forded the stream. She warned me to be careful and watch my step but I lost my balance, nearly upending us both into the icy water.

But she caught me just in time and I got a whiff of her heavenly perfume, nestled in those soft arms. My legs were numb , but I felt all my blood had flowed to another appendage that was straining against my shorts. She asked me to go on ahead, but I preferred to walk side by side enjoying the feeling of my arm brushing her breast on that narrow path.

We stopped to collect some fruit and she fed me some of the sweetest berries that I'd ever tasted, made sweeter by her own sweet perfume. The day was getting warmer so I unbuttoned my singlet and saw her shooting some passionate glances at my abs, which I had worked on to get into shape. She opened a few buttons of her shirt, and I tried to peek at her cleavage, but she caught me out, and I had to abandon the idea.

As we went up ahead she gathered some fruit in the bottom of her shirt revealing her shorts and glimpses of her midriff. We were on a slightly elevated portion of the path as it curved upward when I lost my footing as the loose earth crumbled beneath my foot sending me tumbling into the brambles.

She came running behind me only to find me entangled in nettles that produced a rash, that was extremely uncomfortable, and painful as well. She extricated all the nettles but I was writhing in pain the rash causing tremendous discomfort She cursed herself for not taking enough care, as it was torture for her to see me writhing thus. She tried to kiss my pain away, but it just didn't work.

She turned away trying to figure out a remedy. When she turned back again towards me, I could only look on dreamily as she had unbuttoned her shirt , and her substantial rack was subject to my lustful gaze again, but this time it was no accident. She came towards me and proffered her breast to my mouth. Obeying without question, I complied and began to suck greedily as her milk issued out faster than I could swallow.

I alternated from one breast to the other the rash on my face subsiding as the milk flowed over it. She applied it like a salve, and all the pain immediately vanished. I felt my hair getting wet and looked up expecting rain. But all I saw were tears flowing down her face, lips swollen shut as the nettles stung her.

I moved my lips to hers, and the milk within them, immediately brought the swelling down. It was my first lip lock and felt so good, that I didn't want to stop and neither could she. My hands went to her breasts massaging them feeling their squishy softness between my fingers and pinching the nipples standing up like nubs. Her hands were at the back of my head, holding it in place lest I move it away, her tongue seeking mine and wrestling with it.

It was a lifesaver for both of us and we broke away panting, not realizing when a medical procedure had transformed into passion, and things would never be the same again. I couldn't get enough of her milk and as I mauled her breasts again,she moaned tossing her head back as she nurtured me with her largesse.

The realization hit me that it was her milk that I had relished that morning and cleared up the mystery of her blush when I had told her that I had never tasted such sweet milk ever. Her breasts were now drained, but a wet spot was forming on her shorts and on mine at the exact same place. We got up weary, but with enough motivation for the journey back.

She left her shirt off as her breasts were too tender and red from my greedy suckling, and even the soft cloth seemed to chafe them. She gathered the fruits in her shirt and slung it over her shoulder, her firm breasts standing tall like an Amazon, defying gravity lending her arm for support as we hobbled back home.

At the stream on the way back she gave me a dunking even as the icy water knocked the breath out of me,saying it would reduce the itchiness that remained. I splashed her in return, not wanting to miss out on the fun myself which made her dripping mad. We made a mad dash for the house shivering in the midday sun to dry off, grabbing towels off the clothes line, draping them around our waist and divesting ourselves of our wet shorts.

We sat at the kitchen table as she put a tureen of hot soup to boil, secure in our own skin after a morning full of excitement and adventure. We were getting comfortable going bare chested around the house and I was fascinated to see that the raised nubs of her nipples, had come down, flush with the remaining boob. She caught me looking on wonder struck, and asked me what I was so confused about.

I came clean to her about my thoughts, and said that I was a novice in these matters, having no experience of the fairer sex whatsoever. She offered to take a class of sex 101 after lunch and I quite appreciated her candour in matters of love and lust. I was quite eager to learn from her and volunteered immediately to sign up for the course, where would I find a teacher as good as her.

She gave me a sampler of what was to come, saying sex did not lie between the thighs but rather between the ears. She asked me to just look at her breasts and without even so much as a touch, the nipples rose up from the surrounding surface to points. She said there was a difference between making love and fucking, and while she could teach me everything about the former, she wasn't interested in the latter.

She told me that she would teach me all that she knew, and by the time my holiday was over I would be a PhD in such matters and would have a hard time fending off advances from the fairer sex. I told her that I was a one woman man, and she laughed at me. In her experience, life was full of unexpected twists and turns and one should always be open to new experiences, taking life as it comes, never saying never.

She said that it all started with treating your partner with respect, and knowing where to draw the line, no meaning no. Sexuality must not be repressed and as her mother had taught her, it was not a dirty word, but rather one of the most beautiful outlets of expression, distinctly human.