The Tail Pt. 04

Priya woke on her side, with Sumit pressed up close behind her back. One of his hands draped gently on her side, and his halfway flaccid cock was resting against the side of her tail, its tip buried in the curly hair around the point where the tail entered her back. Her tail, for its part, had apparently decided to wrap itself gently around his thigh, then trail on down the lines of his well-muscled legs. She shifted comfortably against him, enjoying the feel of her ass against his legs. Sumit shifted slightly in his sleep, mumbling to himself, and she extracted herself gently, relaxing her tail and letting it pull across gently and sensually as she swung her legs off the bed and rose.

Priya stood naked in the morning sun, appreciating its warming rays across her healthy body. Her nipples were lightly firm with a gentle arousal, but not tight, and her cunt felt closed but restless as she stretched her arms out lazily, mind still getting up to speed. Her thick dark hair was tangled and bunched behind her, needing attention as her day began.

Sumit would sleep in for some time longer, this she knew. On his days off, he liked to try to embrace the opportunities provided him. She envied him his ability to flex his schedule like that. Even when she had no need to get up early, Priya still woke with the sun.

Today, she was feeling much more at peace and satisfied than any time since the beginning of her tail's strange growth. Good solid sex and an important fight with Sumit had both left her feeling more secure and grounded than she had for many weeks, even if she still had something to conceal from all the rest of her society. With Sumit on her side, the rest would take some work, but ultimately was just problems they could handle. He could find colleagues who could keep their secret to be her doctors when she needed them. Even childbirth, when they were ready, could be a private and appropriate affair. She wondered if their children would have tails as well. Then she decided that the gods would make that clear to them when that time came, and set it aside for now in any case.

Down below, in the streets below their building, the shadows were growing shorter as the sun moved up, harkening an unusually beautiful and low-pollution day. Priya turned toward her shower and began her morning rituals, carefully cleaning all the remnants of sex away and feeling wonderful flashes of sensation recollection as she remembered how she'd fucked her man last night, how he'd run his loving hands along her body and her tail. She lingered in the shower, not too long, but long enough to sensually appreciate her body as she cleaned herself, the musky odor of her sandlewood soap mixing with the warming flush of her aroused response.

It was only later, as she finish putting her sindoor in her part, that Priya realized what had been missing all the time since she had gotten up. The ache of growth was absent now, her tail apparently quiescent at its current length. She twitched it at her backside and she looked at where it fell. Just a couple centimeters off the floor. Priya felt glad that it had stopped, since dragging on the ground would be a bigger problem still. And if her tail was no longer growing, then that would make her day at work much simpler as well. She finished her preparations for the day, with meditation in a particularly peaceful mood outside on their balcony, smelling the day before her as she sat and prayed. Well fed in both her body and her soul, tail well secured beneath her bright green sari, she headed out the door to work, feeling like a school-girl practically skipping down the street.

And indeed, work was much easier for Priya this day, without her tail still growing. She was in a good mood, feeling accomplished and, well, normal as she returned home at the end of a pleasant day of architecture. She wondered what she would find Sumit up to, and if it would be another good night for sex.

As she opened the door of their flat, a smell assaulted her. Something smoky, burned. And also rice and frying, but the dominant smell was not so pleasant. A fan was going too, and as she stepped in and looked, she saw that the air was filled with a faint haze of blueish smoke. Sumit was standing by the open balcony door, flapping a towel in an apparent attempt to clear the smoke out faster, though it didn't seem to be doing all that much good.

He started guiltily as he realized she was staring at him, seeming to lose track of what he was doing with his hands. The towel hung there as she stared at him with growing concern, her high emotions plunging down toward an uncertain depth. "Sabu, what have you done?"

Sumit sighed, and said to her, "I burned the dal." His shoulders were sagging with evident disappointment.

Priya was a bit confused. "What do you mean?" She slipped her shoes off and came further in.

He gestured toward the kitchen. There was his laptop, open on the counter, and an apparently random scattering of ingredients and cookware all about. "I'm sorry, Jaya. I was trying to make our dinner, but it's all gone wrong." He started flapping his towel at the smoke again.

Approaching, she saw that indeed his laptop was showing a page on how to cook basmati rice. And on the stove was rice, a blackened smoking dal, and some sort of eggplant fried in oil. Her feelings were complex and contradictory. On the negative side: how dare he spoil her kitchen, had he damaged the cookware, and what a sin to waste good food. On the positive side: he was doing his best to cook for her, and he was trying to educate himself. She felt almost violated by the entry of her space without her consent. And there were some of her spices spilled on the counter. Lakshmi help her, was that her fucking saffron? Her temper was starting to boil. Her tail, still tied to her leg beneath her sari, was uncomfortably trying to lash back and forth.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw Sumit looking grave, clearly beginning to understand just how badly he'd fucked up. He wasn't moving any more. He was nearly frozen in his tracks, watching her inspect his sins. Priya turned back to the mess. The dal was clearly just unsalvageable. The rice? She stuck a spoon in and discovered it was fine. A little undercooked, but that was easy enough to fix. Another cup of water in, and turn the flame back on. Her ire was cooling bit by bit, the outraged good traditional wife ebbing back beneath the modern woman who had, she had to be fair, asked him to start doing this. She just hadn't thought through what it meant. And really, she should have known her man would be aggressive and relentless towards this goal, and just a little thoughtless too. Well intentioned idiot, she could work with that.

Tasting showed the eggplant was also palateable, though the spices hadn't blended properly. She turned to him, feeling herself continuing to soften from criticism to constructiveness, "You're going to need to learn to fry your spices, Sabu. You can't just put them in along with the vegetable to cook. You start with just the whole spice and the oil. When the spices roast enough, the oil takes their flavors and that's what will make your dishes taste the way you want them too."

Sumit visibly let out a breath, and Priya could feel her breathing settling too. "Come over here," she told him, inviting him properly into the space. He came. "You see the rice is still too dry? This is because this isn't my basmati rice. It's gobindo bhog, which means it needs more water." She showed him how to measure with his fingers, joking that if he cooked his manly hands would make them eat more rice. His smile was coming back now as she instructed him. A bit of leftover chicken heated up replaced the dal, and soon they sat and ate together, joking and touching one another as they ate and talked. Priya's tail, now loosened, crept around her husbands leg as the meal progressed, holding onto his solid calf.

And now, dishes cleaned and Sumit freshly practiced in dealing with burned-on food, they had progressed on back into their bedroom. Priya was still feeling somewhat strange and dislocated by their new arrangements in the kitchen, but she was also well aware that her discomfort was a result of something she had asked for, and she was working on accepting it. As she was thinking, Sumit broke into her thoughts. "Jaya. Thank you," he said, embracing her from behind.

She turned to him, melting, and embraced him back, laying her head against his shoulder, sighing and tired of all the change that she'd been going through, happy to just rest in a long extended moment as she leaned on her warm, embracing partner. He held her tightly back, and they just stood there, together.

As Priya held him, smelling his good smell and feeling the strength of his arms around her and his broad chest bumped up against her breasts, she realized that she was gradually beginning to shift from comfort to arousal. She began to stroke her husband's back, and Sumit responded by raising his hands up her back to her shoulders, then stroking down her sides to find her hips. Priya turned her head and nipped gently at Sumit's neck, which drew a startled moan from him. She nuzzled in and licked, tasting the delightful flavor of his skin.

Then Sumit's hands moved backward, shifting from her hips to cup her ass, pulling her up against his hardening cock beneath his trousers. Priya made a little whine of pleasure and desire, that turned into a hiss of blown out breath as Sumit's hands kept moving up and found her tail, stroking it just above her ass through all the layers of concealing sari fabric. As her pleasure rose, Priya brought it up between their bodies, around her front and pulling up the sari as it came, until the tip of her tail reached up to gently tap at Sumit's lips. He instantly opened and sucked her in, licking and sucking as she writhed within his soft and agile mouth. She whined and moaned and held him close, feeling the surge of spikes of pleasure running up her pulsing tail into her back, hot moist swelling in her cunt demanding a shift of attention soon.

Confidence and heating lust surging through her, Priya broke her embrace and stepped back from her husband. "Worship me," she demanded, "worship my body and my cunt." He breathed back, "Shakti," sinking down before her as she settled back upon the bed, raising and spreading her sari to expose her needy sopping cunt. Her top still clothed, she was naked, hairy, potent, powerful down below, and cried out at the moment when Sumit's lips made contact, pressing up against her labia as his hands pushed on her inner thighs, spreading her wide before his greedy mouth and tongue. Her tail was thwacking up and down beside her on the bed, thrashing as she held on to the sheets with clawed up hands, gasping and crying in wordless pleasure as her lover drove his tongue up, fiercely lapping at her throbbng clit. She came and came and came and came, the veil of the world tearing away and placing her in the cold mercy of the lustful gods, high up on Mount Kailash in a thundering vision of Parvati and Shiva's pounding union, heartbeat and cries of orgasm blending together as she went right up out of her mind in blinding rolling climax.

Then out, she needed him, pushed him away to draw him back again, his mouth up to bring her cunt taste to her mouth upon his lips, even as she wrapped her legs around his thighs, pulling his cock deep down inside her cunt, fucking and fucking and fucking until his own orgasm burst within, filling her up with churning sperm, then staying as she held him close, kissing deeply and fiercely as they both slipped toward postcoital grace, cock and cunt slipping apart eventually, their fluids dripping down between, pressed together, sticky thighs and sweaty bodies, lusting, loving, down and down to a peacefully snoring half-clad sleep, still tangled together in their unwillingness to part.