The Perfect Pair Perched Up There

She swept one knee to the other side of my face. I looked up in a trance. Just above me was poised the most magnificent scenery on earth. A glorious view of the best-ever female flower had bloomed just above me. The flower was filled with pristine nectar, the flower was surrounded by soft fleecy silken growth. No scenery in the whole world is comparable to that promise.

'My goddess, my goddess,' I whimpered. My sound had a deep tremor. Slowly the exquisite flower came down to me, she let the skirt of the gown tumble down and collected my head in her beautiful hands. I was in the tent of her gossamer gown, just under the nectar-filled garden that I adore so much. This was my most intimate and cherished dream. My ardent prayers to my own Madonna on the computer were being answered. Exactly like, feeding a baby, she put her overflowing opening to my hungry mouth. The ultimate union!

When my face first touched the fragrant and moist softness, I thought I was dying in ecstasy, my body was going limp and weak. My favorite musk kissed me deep into my being. The dream of a lifetime had come true. I was ready to sacrifice anything for that moment. I strained to burrow deep into heaven, into the beginning of life, into the glory of being one with the absolute. Thunder and lightning streaked the heavens, the whole world was bathed in a purging downpour. I was bathed in my goddess. I lost contact with the world, and only a heady aroma remained. Anna was pressing my face to her, and the holy flower danced in a primordial rhythm. I strained to return forever to my paradise, to the womb of divine motherhood. I experienced another climax ravaging me far and deep somewhere at the end of the world. Then the high Richter scale tremors began. I tried all I was worth not to spill the nectar. It flooded my mouth, fresh and warm, sweet and slightly salty, therapeutically aromatic. Her spasms and whimpers continued. Then she collapsed over me, backward. She spasmed, I thought she was dying. She struggled to breathe. I gently kissed her core and softly ran my fingers along her belly, along her breasts. Rare tears were rolling down her cheeks.

'My goddess, please,' I wailed.

'It is all right, darling. Let me recover. I needed it, I needed it badly,' she kissed my thighs.

After half an hour she was almost recovered. We undressed each other and explored each other. Somewhere deep in the morning, we settled into a euphoric 69 and dozed off. Occasionally we would wake up each other with the sweet swipes of the tongue giving an orgasm. After each bout of orgasm, we talked. We confessed our souls out.

'I had been painfully dreaming this for long, also I had been trying to flee this situation for long,' she confessed.

'Today my most cherished wish came true, now my prayer is that the sweet dream does not end.'

Anna told me that she was not a machine, she was aware of my infatuation right from the day of her wedding.

'Hope you have noticed that my nipples are always hard when you are around. I could not help it. In the beginning, I had tried to conceal it, but it was futile.' She smiled into my pussy.

'You have noticed that my poor breasts are also on high alert when you are around,' I said, burrowing my nose into her deep-down hole. Anna shuddered and ran her fingers in my hair. She also dived deep and strained to open my anus with her tongue.

'Sweet goddess, no need to do that to me, I do it because I need it, I need to dive deep into the heaven that you are.'

'I also need it my darling,' she insisted.

She told me that she was aware of my feasting on her soiled inner ware. She confessed that she used to steal into my room to read my private diary, which used to make her very passionate and overflowing. Also, she had seen herself on my computer in the Madonna form. Each revelation forced me to blush deep into her furry paradise.

'If I am not truthful to my breasts and refuse to give them the love they long for, I will be like many other women who failed to respect nature and provoked breast cancer. When the breasts are disappointed, they try to commit suicide.' She turned around and let me kiss her nipples again. She swiveled and languidly settled back to the 69 position and we were running our fingers in the fur and kissing the wet opening.

We planned our days to dawn till morning. Let the sleeping dogs lie, it will be business as usual. There are truths to be told and truths to be hoarded. Our honeymoon period was the ten days long Christmas vacation. We furtively garlanded each other at the famous St. Anthony's chapel at Kaloor.

In front of my computer Madonna, we promised each other to be loyal for the rest of our lives, no matter what. Under her Midas touch, the entire world was transmitted, I was in paradise. Our paradise is within us, our barathrum too. I was never tired of exploring her exquisite body, which was a treasure trove of pleasures. Our nights were steamy and revolutionary. And our cuisine also changed. I made interesting dishes, using my darling's nectar. Anna was glowing, her breasts becoming more ripe full, and magnetic. In our privacy, I would make love to those darlings for hours on end. Breast stimulation was enough to make her come. Using her syrup, which erupted during multiple climaxes, I made salads, for both of us, ice creams were special with my angel's flavor. the lemon and fruit juice had my darling's honey as an essential ingredient. Yogurt was not yogurt without that exotic and spicy syrup. So much so that her taste was always on my tongue. By and by we synchronized our periods too, and we used to help each other during those three days. Her precious breasts would be heavy during those days and I used to pamper and lick them to ease out her discomfort.

At night, after putting the kids to rest in their room, sometimes we relax for a while before proceeding to the bathroom to bather each other. We had a curious way to relax. We would recline on the bed with our faces glued to each other's breasts. We would suckle, nurse and talk. If we are in the ovulation stage, sometime this pastime would trigger an orgasm also. Sometimes, we would passionately lick the entire bust and the armpits too. It was an intimate experience. On one such evening, we were relaxing after an orgasm. Then I asked her.

'My goddess, a few months ago I found you quite sad and you had obviously wept. What had gone wrong?'

'You still remember that, my love? That day your private diary touched me deeply, it was painful. You were dying for my breasts, for my body. My body was also revolting. But my mind was not yielding. My breasts quarreled with me and my pussy without my permission flooded and came. That day I hated myself. I thought I was ruining you, that I was ruining me and my family. Your adoration and poignant verses catapulted me to a war zone. I had to kill and conquer me.'

'But what had I written in my diary?'

'Oh your pain, the things you do in your imagination to my breasts, to the core of my womanhood, to the shrine of the sacred feminine. Also, there was profound pain that you would die and waste your life never realizing your fulfillment, which is the fusing of souls with me. And I had stopped sending you good morning wishes. In fact, I was trying to build a barricade, to protect myself from myself. And I found a verse in your melancholy book: A good morning wish, a picture card of bliss

'You posted daily for me to read or miss

Like the fresh innocence of the sun on the hill

Like the frail diffident flower in the morning chill

The amber sun, the morning chill, and you

Came for free, undemanding and ever new

You remembered me, I had taken it for granted

Like the sun and chill, coming not wanted

And one day your wish stopped coming

You faded into silence, sans a cue or warning

Is it that you transcended the chill and the sun?

Is it that memories faded as the days begone?

If you still remember me, remember this

Far beyond the morning chill and failing sun

We may or may not reach out, but will miss

This pain, that we convulsively hold and kiss

We may read in each other's eyes again

The pain, the pain we left behind to remain.'

'The Son of God came to convey his sole message to the world, love, love even your enemy!' I said.

'Yes, in the west, I read, certain churches perform lesbian wedding ceremonies. God does not forbid love. In fact, one day I went to the local convent for a counseling session with Sr. Celesta. She also said the same thing, it is not a sin to love. But love must not hurt, love should not end up in possessiveness. She said, no matter what, Benoy must not be hurt. He must not know what is going on and he should get what is due to him as my wedded husband. If we stand against the grain of nature, she said, we will be dismissed by nature.'

'That explains why she is gentle and considerate to me these days at church!' I quipped.

My addiction to her breasts was inexorable and unbridled. Once I wrote a verse celebrating the twin sisters. She read it, smiled and tucked it into her bra cup, and quipped, 'Let her head it, it is addressed to her.'

On another occasion I told her, 'these buttery breasts have made me a poet.'

'Convey your verses directly to her,' she opened her shirt.

Thereafter, almost every day, I used to scribble a line or two on the breasts, praising them. She used to laugh heartily at my pranks.

'I offer these girls to you, you may take care of them hereafter,' she suggested one day.

'My pleasure, not only my precious darlings, your entire body I will take care of,' I made a tall promise.

My routine is now much different, I have already shifted to our nuptial bed in the master bedroom. As soon as I get up my day begins by kissing her cheeks, lips, and nipples, and ultimately I stand on my knees before the statuesque sculptured feminine perfection, and like a devout pilgrim, I plant a fervent kiss on the furry paradise, to fill my soul the aroma of heaven long ago lost. Strangely enough, she also does the same to me.

These days, in the privacy of the house, we eat from the same plate and drink from the same glass. Sometimes I drink from her mouth and she mine. We shared our panties, but our bras will not and cannot match. Putting on her used panties, I used to get a better confidence at college.

One of our intimate pastimes was to bathe together taking long hours. Every day she dressed my hair for going to college in our privacy and I would suck on her nipples when she attended on my hair. It was a very erotic experience. It was my pleasure and prerogative to select the right bras for Anna from different shops. Every day in the morning and after taking bath it was my pleasure to dress her. Clamping the bra after tucking in the breasts and pointing the cone right to the nipples is a thrilling experience. Sometimes our dressing process took almost an hour to complete, with one or two climaxes in between.

After Christmas break, I went to college as an embodiment of self-esteem and confidence. I had nothing more to gain in the world. In the evening I came home holding the hand of little Stefan, in a state of excitement. She was waiting for me, in the prime of her charm. I pushed her into our bedroom and madly opened her shirt.

'What is this, dear, I must feed Stefan, he is famished.'

'Just a minute, let me say my thanksgiving prayers at my shrine.'

I kissed both breasts just above the bra cups and swiped up the thin film of sweat.

'Thank you, my angels, I scored good marks in the first-semester final exams. Thank you, my precious guardian angels,' I passionately kissed them again.

We embraced and she held my face to her bosom. With my head resting on her breasts and she embracing me, I knew I am safe and sequestered, I am in heaven, and I am in protective hands.

One night, while basking in the afterglow I asked her, being a prime and proper housewife, how she had mastered the art of satisfying a woman. She told me that the entire credit goes to a gifted writer of Literotica, hiding behind the nom de guerre: DAB32697. Her stories, especially the ones such as the Rear end story, the Captain and the General, Sorority initiation, and the like profoundly influenced her and induced her to tip over to her current orientation. She did not have any idea about the vast and magnificent sapphic world. Anna had been undergoing an internal struggle for many months, to be or not to be. Many critical social, emotional, and moral parameters were involved in it. At last, she had stumbled on the truism that your life you have to live and nobody else will vicariously do it. Another realization was that there is that nothing is absolutely right, right or wrong depends on the attitude. If we do not live away our life when we can, there will come a time when we will pine for what would have been and what could have been. And life is one-way traffic, there is no chance for a trial run and actual life.

On Sundays, when children take their nap or go to the kid's park, I would massage her body, which is sheer poetry in flesh. It was the time to nourish her skin with the essential body lotions and to take care of the most perfect breasts god has ever created. When I massage those fabulous breasts to shape, she would purr and savor the feelings closing her eyes. She has very many times confessed, 'my darling, do you know how many months and years I hade longed for these fingers and lips on those nipples?'

I would say, 'same situation here. You cannot imagine how many nights I have spent sighing and craving for these marvels.'

'If we had a machine to read or a facility to decipher the silent thoughts of people the world would have been much different.'

'From the very day I saw you in the church six years ago, I have fallen for you. In your wedding gown, these breasts were exquisitely elegant. I was unable to take my eyes off them.'

'They have a personality of their own. Whenever you are around, they are erect and stand in attention.'

'These dainty supple sisters know me so affectionately. I will be worshipping them to the last of my breath, if possible, I would do it even after that.'

'Usually, when I go out or meet with people, I put on a jacket because I know the effect my breasts have on people. But with you I did not try to hide them, oft I wanted you to look at them. In the beginning, I used to be embarrassed when they reacted to your eyes.'

'So, you were aware of my furtive glances!'

'Oh my sweet wife, how you have transformed me. Life is a sweet and enchanting song now. I worry not about anything. In love, all things fall into place. In love, the contradictions of life dissolve and disappear.'

At this point, most often than not we would lunge for each other's lips and end up in a slurpy climactic 69, and to doze away breathing in the intimate fragrance of the heaven between our legs. On Friday I bought shaving cream and razors for my beloved. When I brought it out the next day, she was happily surprised. She had been shaving the private parts when Benoy, my brother was around.

She languidly stretched on the floor of the bathroom and I proceeded to a prolonged ceremony. First I kissed and licked the soft fur in her armpits, inhaling the healthy aroma there. Her armpits also had a diluted fragrance of her pussy. Then I applied the cream and shaved her delectable armpits clean. I did not want to clean shave her pussy, I needed the cute and ticklish hair there. But I shave it to a beautiful triangle and trimmed it to a thin mat. The pubic hair I collected is still with me, I keep it in my college uniform pocket, at times touching it and making sure that my beloved is a reality. In moments of distress, such as class tests and seminars, I would run my fingers in the softness and recharge myself.

In April, we got the news that Benoy was coming home on a one-month leave of absence. We decided to handle it delicately. I will have to vacate my nuptial bed, it is only for a month. He may make love to her, but it is his right, we will manage that. But she may suffer if I am not around to please her, nobody can do it the way I do.. woman's love is a totality, it is not conditional and it is not localized. The whole body becomes an erogenous zone, the bodies of both partners fuse into one, to become a single sexual organ. Furthermore, sex is not a release, it is the expression of a prolonged celebration of total love. It is not giving and taking, it sharing a collective ecstasy. It is a union, an ephemeral union with the absolute. A solution to the lost paradise syndrome.

'There is little space for intimacy and all that, my dear, I and Benoy will be traveling most of the time. The kids will be safe and happy with you here. We will visit some of the family members in Palai region. Then we go to Kashmir, the paradise on earth. We plan to stay with Tariq Bhut, his colleague in Abu Dhabi.'

'I am happy for you, dearest. Enjoy the moments, I will be here happily thinking of you and dreaming of the things we are going to do in the years to come.'

'I know it,' she kissed right into my mouth. I passed the chocolate I was munching in my mouth into hers. In our kissing duel, the chocolate price passed mouths many times, until it altogether melted away. We sweetly fought to suck as much chocolate-rich saliva as possible. It was almost like slurping the nectar from her paradise.

Together we went to the international airport, which was twenty kilometers away. The kids were excited and giggly. Mary was meeting her father for the first time. She was too young to recognize him last time. He landed early in the sultry April morning, after the prolonged thunderous rains, pulling his highly stacked trolley. We were proud and happy to receive him, the tall muscular, and charming man of the house, my protective and caring brother. He was bringing a cornucopia of enchanting goods from an exotic world to his dear ones. Stefan hugged his legs. Benoy picked him up and kissed him. Then Mary protested and struggled in my arms. Benoy picked up the tender girl also and both kids proudly and happily looked at us. He walked in front, taking the lead, carrying the children. We followed pulling the trolley.

Anna took the driving seat, I vacated the front seat for her husband. We inched our way in the frantic pandemonium of morning traffic on the cochin- Bangalore highway. I felt sorry for my brother. But he had no reason to be sorry, to know is to be unhappy, ignorance is bliss!

April is the annual holiday season, after the semester exams. Hence, I had plenty of time to take care of the kids. Even otherwise they were almost like my own children. They will not miss their biological mother even a wee bit.

When they were gone to Kashmir, we were in constant touch on WhatsApp. On the second day of departure, I sent a poem for my beloved:

Wait for me

Under the cosmic tree

Wait for me

On the cosmic ways

And Stars in your eyes

Wait for me

When the day dies

And dreamy shadow lies

Wait for me

When you are free

Freed from the social bree

Wait for me

Dew trickling from tress

Moist is your floating dress

Wait for me

Like a song long lost

A dreaming petrified ghost

Wait for me

One day come I will

By your lonely windowsill

Wait for me

Across days and nights

Beyond alarms and lights.

Wait for me!

She responded, 'thank you, dearest, I will, I certainly will.'

'Did he make love to you?' I asked out of an innocent curiosity.

'Not exactly. I managed it. He needs release and is not particular about my sexual counterpart organ. I just fellated him and spat away the release. He is happy with that and so far your paradise has not been vandalized! Now delete the message for all as agreed upon.'

'Sure, dear, we will play it safe.''