My Indian Summer

5 Lessons in love.

She.

With that one kiss we had irretrievably changed all the equations that existed between us, and opened the floodgates of passion. For a novice and someone hesitant to even speak to woman, he had a pretty good technique and learnt the ropes on the job pretty fast. He was sensitive to my every need, quickly making an adjustment wherever needed, reading volumes in my reaction before I could even speak, implementing my every wish as if it were a command.

He couldn't get enough of me and drained me dry, it was only left for me to burp him. My breasts were now tender from his ministrations, so I didn't even bother putting on my shirt, letting the sun and the wind dry them out. Besides, he had not only seen them, but felt and tasted them as well, and it didn't behove me to act coy where it wasn't needed. I usually didn't wear a stitch when I was working alone and it suited me just fine, as I was comfortable in my own skin.

Though we hadn't even travelled half way on the farm, the excitement was too much for the day, besides he was hobbling and needed my support, having sprained his ankle on the way down. So we retraced our steps returning to the stream. I had heard that cold water is an effective antidote for nettle stings, and proceeded to dunk him in the icy runoff from the snow melt that fed the stream.

He gasped at the chill, the breath knocked out of him, but splashed me in his playfulness. His mood was buoyed by the tender love he had just received and pulled me down atop him, till I was dripping wet, spluttering in annoyance. He said that I had nettle stings too, as he stroked my lips, and did make a compelling argument.

As we got out soaking, a cool wind blew across, forming goosebumps on my skin, making us shiver, as we raced back to the comfort and warmth of the house. The bath towels were drying on the line and we used them to dry, and get out of our wet shorts, draping them across our waist and going forth into the kitchen.

I put a tureen of broth on the stove and sat down at the table fortifying ourselves with fruit till lunch was ready. I found him staring at me again looking slightly confused. He wanted to know where my nipples had disappeared to. But the very thought of them, made them rise again from the surrounding boob.

I took the mangoes that we had picked earlier and placed them next to my breasts, now I had four. I asked him if he remembered the surfeit of mangoes we feasted on, at the village every summer, sucking them greedily. It was the same with the breasts, you started with a light touch and then moulded your hands around them getting them ready and finally sucked them dry, demonstrating the technique on a mango before eating it messily, with the juice running down my mouth and neck and coating my torso.

I dangled my luscious fruits before him, licking my lips with their tangy sweetness and asked whether he would like to have a go. I sat back on the table as he proceeded hesitatingly, first kissing me on the lips and then trailing down to the boob alternating it with the mango, to enjoy a mango milkshake. I just let my head fall back and enjoyed the experience as he licked me dry. I inquired if he was happy with my nipples now, and proceeded to tease his nipples with my fingers till they were pointy too, although, not as prominent as mine.

I adored his simple naivety and asked whether he would be interested in some sex ed after lunch, not waiting for an answer, as he nodded enthusiastically. The soup was ready and with some fresh garlic toast that he helped me prepare was just the sustenance we needed and provided much needed warmth inside to match the warmth of our feelings for each other. Needless to say, we fed each other, but he was in a haste to finish as I had piqued his curiosity and arousal as well with my offer.

Lunch over and the kitchen sparkling clean we retreated to the cosy confines of the lounge as I began my master class. I first laid out the ground rules, assent and comfort were paramount both for him and me, if at any point of time, either of us was uncomfortable we just had to lift our hands and opt out. It would be in the form of the game of truth or dare, played with the right spirit of gaining better insights and being comfortable with our bodies and each other rather than cheap titillation. The questions would go back and forth from one to the other, till we got tired or ran out of time.

I started first asking him about the range of his sexual knowledge or experiences. He was startled at my forthrightness, but said that his only knowledge was from the sex ed class at school which didn't amount to much, he could never understand girls or found himself attracted to any one of them; that's why the events of the last day were probably more than the entire span of his life put together. He had not only seen his first breast since infancy, but also tasted it, and a short while ago, experienced his first liplock and had only stoked his hunger for more.

Now was his turn, and he chose a dare, a little bashfully, could I teach him how to kiss? Of course, I could and with a technique that would put a serial kisser to shame. I would demonstrate an entire gamut of kisses that would tire him out. I started with the air kiss which was not a kiss at all, and then an innocent peck on the cheek. This had him protesting that I had twisted his words out of context and was not what he meant. He made a sour face and turned away.

I gave him my first lip lock, and then a French kiss, demonstrating the finesse of a technique that we had tried earlier that morning, as he warmed up to me again and concluded with a hickey on the neck to remember me by. I told him that he was good for a beginner, but would need to practice to be perfect, and offered myself as a volunteer to hone his technique. The essential thing to keep in mind that it should not be forced, but flow, giving both parties an equal pleasure. He didn't mind more demonstrations, but that would hardly leave time for anything else, and we had the whole syllabus to be covered before he could graduate in my university, with a lot of hard work ahead to be a master of sex.

Now it was my turn, I noticed his pecker peeking out of the folds of his towel, I asked him if he had ever taken himself in hand. He was such a darling, that he didn't know what I alluded to, blushing when I asked him point blank if he had masturbated. He quickly replied in the negative, making me raise a quizzical eyebrow, but then embarrassed remarked that he had woken up sometimes wet and sticky after a particularly sexy dream, the last time this morning, but felt a sense of guilt that haunted him for days.

My mom's words all those years ago rang true in my years and I repeated them verbatim, that it was not a sin but the most natural thing in the world to give in to your urges, and made the world a safer place to be in. I offered to teach him some techniques for future reference whenever he found the need to be too pressing, and he jumped at the offer.

I too had a vested interest, not having seen a live specimen for the last six months, and his since the days that I bathed him more than a decade ago. I tugged at the towel tucked at his waist, as he turned his face, embarrassed to be seen in his birthday suit and as it fell away his very impressive specimen sprang up almost swatting my breasts.

I looked at it eyes wide, admiring it's length and girth. It was indeed a prime specimen of manhood, not that I'd seen many myself, just two, my husband, and now him. For one that was in prime condition, hardly used it was quite impressive in size, but seemed a perfect size for my receptacle, it would fit my socket nicely. I salivated at the thought and a gob of spit fell on the mushroom tip.

I busied myself inspecting his goods. The weeds needed some trimming as the jungles down below needed to be rid of vermin, but otherwise was in the pink of health twitching as my fingers caressed it's length and juggled with the balls in the sac below. I ticked the box for size, which really was incidental, but what was important was the functional test for virility.

I was excited, akin to taking a new model for a test drive, licking my lips in anticipation as I cranked his gearshift. He closed his eyes, groaning as my fingers pumped his length, and a tiny bead glistened like a crystal, a portent of good things to come. As I increased the pace the fiction increased, causing him some discomfort. I asked him if he was game for a tit fuck, he had never heard it before but it sounded promising.

I squatted on the floor between his legs, and positioned his prick between my breasts, expressing some milk to make them slippery and proceeded to jerk him off. As the pace increased and he pulsated in anticipation, I took him to paradise by engulfing his tip into my mouth, meeting his eyes whilst giving him a blow job he would never forget as he spurted, generous reserves of his cream, releasing it into the moist confines of my mouth as ropes of his baby batter filled me up, till I had to swallow to make space for more.

It was nice to taste concentrated man protein again, and I relished the strong musky aftertaste devouring it greedily not spilling a single drop of his seed. He was completely blown, as he lay back exhausted but fulfilled, in another realm altogether. Meanwhile I was enjoying myself just as much, leaking copiously onto the towel, that almost came undone with my exertions. I inserted a finger into my folds and completed the job, sighing silently as I cleaned myself out, imagining his plug in my socket.

As he slowly got his strength back he ruffled my hair as I had done for him many a time, saying that he regretted that he waited so long to do it, and if he had known it before it would be a part of his daily routine, morning, noon and night. Then, still embarrassed, asked me if girls do it too.

I smiled and told him, that we were not called the fairer sex for nothing, we had the ability to have multiple orgasms, while menfolk got tired after one and needed to recuperate before they got it up again. I told him that I invariably had a series of them before I went to bed, and the first thing upon waking up in the morning. I then conspiratorially told him that I just fingered myself whilst he was getting his breath back, and he incredulously looked like he couldn't believe me.

I then did something that I didn't expect myself to do, I got up and kissed him, giving him a taste of himself. Then turned around so that he noticed the wet patch on the towel saying " that's me" as he moistened his fingers with my essence and tasted my juice, going into a trance as he closed his eyes, savoring my sweetness, saying , " shit, I missed the main show".

I told him not to worry too much. We had a whole fortnight of opportunity waiting for us. Then I whispered in his ears, that the oohs and aah's that he had heard at the end of my mornings rendition, were the result of flicking my clit in the bathtub, and that I called out his name as I came. That's why I blushed when he asked me about it in the morning. It only whetted his appetite to know more, but I didn't want to rush him with too much information, preferring to dole it out in digestible bits. I told him not to repress his urges, but take himself in hand, now and then.

Now it was his turn and he asked me to point out the various erogenous zones and how to stimulate them. I pointed out that there were many, but if you took care of just one, the rest didn't matter. His gaze went towards my groin, but I gave him a light rap saying that I didn't expect him to have such a one track mind, and must really work in clearing it of all the filth accumulated since ages. I pointed at my head, and being a bit dense, he didn't understand, smiling sheepishly as realisation dawned that it lay in the space between the ears, so to speak, it's all in the mind.

I proceeded with a practical demonstration of the same, saying that while both sexes had some in common they had some features unique to their sex. I debated whether to start bottoms up, or from tip to toe, but it really didn't matter much. I said that the whole body pretty much constituted an erogenous zone especially when you are head over heels in love, and he nodded his head vigorously in agreement.

I asked him to copy my movements, as I started the tutorial. I first ruffled his hair and he ran his hand through my tresses. Next I proceeded to nibble his earlobe, and lick the back of his ear, feeling his pulse quicken as I began to work my magic on him. He was a quick learner and added a touch of his own, by sucking on them, as I sighed with pleasure.

Next were the lips, which had the most nerve endings and were one of the most sensitive parts of the body, and he proceeded to stimulate mine as much as I did his, stuck together, as if a vacuum held us together. Up next was his neck, and I taught him to create a hickey, using his teeth and deep suction to leave a mark that stood out, as I pushed my neck back whining, as he did the pleasure of branding me.

I asked him if he would like to do the honours in my underarms, as his were a little too hairy for my liking. I lifted up my smooth armpits, releasing my pheromones as he took in a deep sniff, closing his eyes as he inhaled. He then licked them with relish, enjoying my distinctive flavor, triggering my sluice gates lower down to overflow.

I next ran my nails on the inner folds of his elbow, as he writhed in delight and he didn't miss a trick. I then proffered my palm to his lips and let him explore it on his own, before inserting my lithe fingers into his lips asking him to suck them as I did his, stimulating fellatio on his as he groaned in pleasure.

I used these very same fingers to trace the length of his spine making him shiver in anticipation as I reached his butt and squeezed his taut buns, digging my nails into his sacral dimples. Meanwhile, he enjoyed my curvature of my spine and the soft bounce of mine, trying to insert his hands into the waistband of the towel, before I stopped him, knowing fully well that I wouldn't be able to control myself once he breached there.

I now sucked his cute little nipples, flicking them with my tongue and grazing them with my teeth as his midgets strove to emulate my mature boobs. He didn't need much of an invitation as he latched on to mine, enjoying a milkshake from his own cow, as I fed him with my love. I guided him to the valley of my cleavage and the underside, so as not to miss even an inch of my ripening mounds, as I threw my head back and moaned in pleasure.

I then proceeded to his navel, running my tongue around it, before zeroing out in the center. He enjoyed the soft folds of my flesh, as I undulated my stomach, guiding his tongue to the soft folds of my belly button, that mirrored a deeper indentation a mere six inches lower, beyond his sight and reach. He had reached as far as he could proceed, as I was not yet ready to unveil my crown jewels to his thirsty gaze.

Now I bowed down in all humility, he was standing erect at attention, as I proceeded to do the honours. First I dug my fingers into his perineum, circling his asshole before inserting a well lubricated digit to explore uncharted territory, simultaneously enveloping his ball sac in my pliant lips, as he stroked my hair. I then proceeded up his shaft, paying particular attention to his frenulum, making him dance to my tune. I rimmed his sensitive glans with my teeth, before swallowing him whole.

He thrust upwards, groaning as my tongue snaked around him, coaxing his cream out of him, milking him dry as he screamed my name out loud as he shuddered into my mouth. It elicited an encore from my vulva, as my fingers flicked my clitoris below the hood, within the folds of my towel.

He was panting from the pleasure, and I scooped out a little of my cream, first tasting it myself, enjoying the potent cocktail it made with his virginal reserves, to rejuvenate him and reward him for being such a good boy. He sucked my fingers dry and greedily asked for more, and I obliged him as I had plenty to spare.

I then licked his inner thighs, as he groaned as he hadn't yet recharged his reserves and was still softly plopping down near my cheek. I asked him if he was done for the day or was game for more, but he was a stickler for punishment.Who wouldn't be when punishment is so pleasurable in the first place that it almost seduces you to be a smooth carnal criminal.

He then looked into my eyes and said those dreaded three words, " I love you" and then followed it up with four, that were as fresh now, as when he had uttered them more than a decade back, making my heart go aflutter now as it did back then, " will you marry me?" Despite all my experience and intelligence, I was surprised, I should have seen them coming, and anticipated this would happen.

And even more stupidly couldn't stop myself from uttering, "I love you too", sealing the deal, leaving no escape hatch to back out from. I rebuked myself for the words uttered in haste, only to repent at leisure. For what did he know, of love and other matters, probably thinking with his dick, and I too had allowed lust to cloud my thinking.

To salvage the situation as best I could I came out with a rider, as he looked upon me beaming like he was the happiest person in the whole wide world. " But", I qualified, " although I am flattered with your offer of marriage, I feel that things are moving too fast. Let's not do something that we will regret and hurt each other irrevocably, spoiling something sacred and profane. You know nothing of love, yet in less than a day of meeting me, after a decade apart, have proposed marriage. I will not grace you with a reply immediately, though my entire being resonates with your love, and I want so badly to say yes. So as to ascertain it is not a passing phase, an infatuation, and give us both some time to think it over I suggest that we wait ten days. And after that if you still feel the same way that you do now, I will honour you with my answer."

The happiness that was so evident on his visage was clouded by lines of worry, and he seemed downcast, wondering how he could bear the suspense of ten long days of waiting. He looked forlorn as I tried to reason with him, that he had his entire life before him, whilst I could never imagine myself leaving this place, which was akin to heaven for me, and did not wish to tie him down.

Also I was an older woman and would most likely be seen as a seductress, cradle snatcher and man eater, and although I didn't care two hoots for what the world thought or said, I didn't want him to be hurt in any way as he surely would, not for himself but at the slurs levelled at me.

He looked so low that I felt the need to do something to cheer him up. I said we were nearing the end of our lesson and whether he would like to explore my legs, knee down straightening them up for a better view. He was a leg as well as a breast man, besides my pins were toned, my knees too were smooth and he covered them, opening his mouth wide as I kicked forward in response.

I asked him to lick the crease at the back and he lifted the towel to gain better access, becoming bolder, hand creeping up my thigh before I swatted it away. I knew he was eager to view my cove of heavenly pleasures, but I was not yet ready to unveil all my treasures just as yet.

He would have to make do with my calves and my toes, sucking each one with reverence that had me sighing in delight as he managed to hit all the right spots. He was literally grovelling at my feet, gaining a practical experience, far beyond books and asked me what I wanted as my Guru Dakshina. I replied that the look of happiness that reflected on his face was good enough for me, but if it pleased him, a relaxing massage later, would be wonderful.