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Message-ID: <27573asstr$975039006@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Sharmila Sanyal" <anu_g42@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} re-posting of "My Story" parts 1 to 11.
Date: Thu, 23 Nov 2000 23:10:06 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

I have been receiving mails from a lot of readers that are finding it
difficult to access all the parts of this ongoing narration.  Some have
even asked that I mail them the parts directly.  The very nature of "My
Story" precludes that possibility.  I am thankful to "Henlar" (a very
erotic author at the assm) for his help in getting all the parts downloaded
back from asstr.  I deleted all the individual parts from my disk/comp. 
once they appeared at asstr site, and I was having trouble downloading them
from my site.

   I am terribly busy lately.  The part 12 may not be ready for submission
till Monday, I'm afraid.

   Regards

   SS
___________________________________________________________________________
__________ Get more from the Web.  FREE MSN Explorer download :
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   <1st attachment, "ms_1.TXT" begin>

   Dear Readers,

   This part of the ongoing story of my life is being resubmitted.  Thanks
to some very enthusiastic readers, I received feedbacks regarding the
numerous spelling mistakes and other editorial oversights.  The reason it
has taken me this long to post the second part (and re-post this one) is
that I wanted to make sure similar atrocities were avoided.  The editing
took too long partly due to my busy schedule, and partly due to the
"nature" of the story.  I also realise that some news-readers and/or email
softwares have had difficulty in preserving the format of my submission,
and I apologize for the inconvenience.  To those, I take this liberty to
suggest that they download the story from the asstr archive and read it in
a regular word processor.  Among the better news readers, I suggest the
free version of Eudora.  Thank you again for the interest in My Story. 
Please bear with me.  This, as some have guessed, is a long one.

   My Story (part 1)

   The story I am about to pen down is largely true.  However, there would
be some fantasy in it ...  the ones that have been part of my ...  our sex
life.  I have always been rather taken with sex ...  as far back as I can
remember!

   My first memory of satisfaction is that of me masturbating one night in
the privacy of my own room.  I come from a rather wellto-do middle class
family from India.  Not many of my friends had rooms of their own as kids,
but I did.

   My parents were part of an extended family.  My dad was the oldest of
three brothers.  Our family home, which still stands in the northern part
of the city, has three floors, and we ...  meaning my parents, my two
brothers and I, occupied the third.  Each floor has five rooms, including a
common family room and while I had one room to myself, my two older
brothers shared another.

   That night in question, I was having trouble falling asleep.  I was
reading a magazine where there was this short translation of a Victorian
erotica.  I am not sure if that was my first exposure, but it surely had
made me very horny.  I was probably around thirteen then ...

   I remember touching myself between my legs ...  and discovering the
slippery substance literally oozing out.  I am not sure if I should have
been concerned, but inserting two of my fingers inside had felt so good
that I had continued to make the fingers travel in and out ...  in and out
...  in and out ...  Oh!  The mere memory of that first conscious act makes
me want to do it now ...  even as I am writing this.

   Anyway, that was probably the beginning of my sexual awakening ...  and
I never stopped since ...  I need it to put myself to sleep every night.

   It was probably not long after that that I accidentally brought somebody
else into the very private area of my life.  It was during one of those
innumerable festivities that our house, as big as it might have been, was
full with people.  My cousins, uncles, aunts and their not-sodistant
relatives ...  our home was teeming with relatives.  It was a very joyful
time and for about two days (I was amazed to realize later) I had not
sexually relieved myself.  I was busy during the days and was tired enough
at night to fall asleep without the help of my fingers.

   Most of our relatives left on the third day before supper.  Among those
that did not, was my cousin Debi, who was sharing the room with me with
some of the other cousins.  She is a little older than me; about sixteen
then.  And she was one of the most beautiful of persons I have known till
today.  Not gorgeous in the usual sense, but with an aura of beauty and
attractiveness about her that made all the boys stare at her with lust. 
One of our distant cousins even ventured to flirt with her whenever he got
the chance in those couple of days that he was our guest.

   I was in my usual mode the following night.  Debi was sleeping beside me
on my bed, which was just wide enough for the two of us.  The other cousins
that shared my room had all left.  I was reading a short novel that had a
few paragraphs of description of lovemaking between the lead character and
his mistress.  It would not cause such arousal today, but for my adolescent
fourteen-year-old brain that was plenty.  My juices started flowing and
pretty soon I could feel the thin fabric of the panties at my crotch
sticking to my skin down there.

   I looked at my cousin ...  she seemed to be sound asleep.  So, I gently
put the book down and turned the table lamp off.  The semidarkness of the
room somehow heightened my arousal.  I turned on my side, facing away from
Debi and gently folded my legs at the knees ...  almost to a fetal
position. I pulled the front of my night dress up and, with my left hand,
reached between my legs ...  parting the thin soaked divider of my panties.
I inserted my index and the middle into my slippery recess and wiggled
around for a few seconds.  I then pulled them out and, using the wetness,
started gently rubbing the swollen seat of excitement - the little button -
with those two fingers in a vertical motion.  I did not realize how long I
had been doing that, but I froze instantly when I felt a warm hand on my
then almost bare bottom ...

   "What do you think you are doing?" Debi whispered in my ears.  Her tone
more naughty than threatening.  But I was mortified.  I turned my head
around towards her and tried to explain that I was just itching my
thighs.But that was not very convincing, was it?

   "That was a long itch.  wasn't it?" Debi's hand was around me by then,
her lower belly pressed firmly against my buttocks, "watching you, I have
started to itch too ...." Debi started to gyrate her hips, as if trying to
rub her belly against my buttocks.

   I was totally at a loss for several seconds that seemed like an
eternity. My heart was pounding and I did not know if it was from fear and
embarrassment or from Debi's excitement adding to mine.  But my indecision
did not prevail too long.

   Debi put her left arm around me ...  her hand found the few buttons on
my dress-front and undid them.  She caressed my small breasts lightly ...
they were small, really small.  Yet, they took in her touch with eagerness
and my tiny nipples hardened under her palm.  At that moment I became aware
of Debi's nipples against my back, between my shoulder blades.  They felt
harder than mine, and bigger.  At sixteen, Debi had a fuller body.  My head
was turned towards Debi, our warm breaths mingling.

   She said, "Sharmila, how long have you been doing it?"

   "Doing what?" I asked back.  I guess I had not yet gotten over my
initial bewilderment.

   "O, c'mon ..." cupping one of my breasts tightly, and giving it a
squeeze, Debi almost chided me under her breath, "you know what I am
talking about.  So, how long have you been doing it?"

   "Oh, I don't know" I replied, "quite some time now ..."

   "Did anybody teach you?"

   "You're kidding, right?" I was truly surprised at that question, "who
would teach me ...  ".

   These things, I thought came naturally to a girl.

   "I am horny too, you know" Debi's embrace had grown tighter, "want to do
it with me?"

   "Mmmmm, yeah", I was in no state to turn down the invitation.

   What followed was for me a hour of extreme pleasure.

   Debi got up from the bed, checked the door and made sure it was locked
from inside.  When she got back to it, I was lying flat on my back, with my
legs squeezed tight together, caressing my breasts with both hands ... 
trying to derive the same pleasure Debi had afforded me a while back.  It
was nice, but that was the first time I realized that somebody else's hands
do a far better job than your own ...  at least on certain parts of your
body.  It, of course, made very little sense then .

   Debi stood beside the bed, looking at me, and took her Kaameez off. 
Underneath she had nothing to hold her full, well rounded, breasts.  In the
moonlight that was sneaking in boldly through the open window, her breasts
glistened with her slight perspiration.  She tugged at the cords holding
her Salwaar, and the loose fitting cotton pants fell to the floor.

   She was not wearing any thing under that either!  Her pubic hairs were
thick, forming a well defined triangle under the flat belly and between
those gorgeous, slender thighs.  I instantly idolized her figure. 
"Exquisite" did not fully describe it.  Every part of the body seemed
perfectly placed and shaped.  I never saw another woman's body like that,
and never had thought about mine either.  That was the night that made me
aware of my own budding femininity, beyond my routine sexual
gratifications.

   I could not explain it why, but Debi's nudity aroused me more.  Even at
fourteen I was not aware of anything other than the fact that sex feels
good.  Hetero- or homosexuality had little significance in that
gratification.  So, when I look back now, I understand why I felt aroused.
It was my cousin's free approach and the offer of "doing it together" that
was exciting to me.  No more, no less.  As will be revealed later, I have
been rather free-spirited ever since, when it came to sex.  However, I
almost never feel fulfilled "doing it" with complete strangers or a person
I don't feel affection for.  Debi was one of my favorite cousins.  I called
her Moni-di.

   Debi stepped out of the heap of that salwaar and crawled up into the bed
beside me.  My night shirt was already bunched up around my waist, and my
small breasts were bare through the front of the shirt.  I still had my
panties on.

   "Take these off, won't you!" She was slipping my panties off my legs
even as she was saying that.

   "Do you think I will ever get breasts like yours, Moni-di?" I said.

   "You will, if you massage them ..." Debi said, and then giggled under
her breath, "or have them massaged regularly.."

   "Yeah ...  " I said nervously.  I knew what she meant, but I also knew
that it was not easy finding somebody that would massage them.  At that
moment I was anxiously awaiting my older cousin's next move.

   Debi parted my thighs and lightly touched me across my peach fuzz.  Her
fingers brushed the opening of my wet slit.  My whole body went tense with
pleasure.  I parted my thighs more in anticipation.  She got the queue and
became more deliberate with her hand.  After cupping my mons with the palm
of her hand she gently inserted a slender finger into me.

   "Wow ..." she exclaimed under her breath, "you really are horny ...  my
god, I don't think I get so wet ...  mmmm."

   I had nothing to say, other than, "Mmmmmmm ...".  Her finger felt
heavenly in there.  She started to finger-fuck me slowly, moving her digit
in and out in a slightly circular motion ...

   Then she leaned forward, her finger still carrying on what it started,
and kissed me on my lips.  It was insipid ...  my first kiss ...  that too
from my cousin.  And I did not feel anything then.  We still have good
laughs talking about it.

   I think she felt my lack of enthusiasm at that first kiss of my life,
and did not dwell there any longer.  Her head moved down to my chest and
she started to lick my tiny hard nipples.  As if instinctively, I arched my
back and grabbed her head closer to my aching nipples.  She bit them
lightly and guided one of my hands to her crotch.

   She did not have to show me what to do.  I ran my fingers through her
silken curly bush and found my target.  It was twice the size of my own
pea! I collected some of Debi's slippery juice from her cunt and,
lubricating her swollen stiff clit with it, I started stroking it in
circular motion.  Her hips started undulating, and, keeping her own finger
inside my overflowing cave, she used her thumb to pleasure me at my
clitoris.

   I raised my hips from the bed and we matched each other's rhythm.  She
stretched out beside me with her left thigh across my lower belly, her left
hand working between my legs without losing a beat.  I momentarily had to
let go of her cunt, but quickly established contact with my left hand ... I
was still lying on my back.  I started rubbing her clitoris with my middle
finger, her slippery juice continuously lubricating my fingers.  I reached
around with my right hand and started to cup and massage Debi's breasts.

   "Ohhhh! ...  yes ...  yes ...  yes ..." Debi cooed into my ears, "do it
...  yes ...  feels good ...  doesn't it Sharmila?"

   "Yessss ...  Yessss. ...  Yessss" I hissed back in rhythm with our joint
gyrations.

   "I am ready ..." Debi started whispering ...  "I can't stand it ...  I'm
ready ...  yesssss ...  oooooh ...  nnnnnghhh ...  Sharmila ...."

   "Noooo ..." I almost cried out ...  "Not now ...  Moni-di ...  No ... 
No ...  No ...  " the rhythm still intact.  I was not ready to abandon this
pleasure just yet ...  I wanted to prolong it for the rest of the night.
... I wanted it to go on till I died ....

   "Oooh ...  Sharmila ...  you ...  are ...  so ...  naughty ...." my
older cousin panted back.  She understood what I wanted, intuitively.  She
panted in my ear, "OK ...  then ...  slow down ...  yess ...  don't ... 
don't rub me any more ..."

   Instantly I withdrew my hand from Debi's crotch.  She gasped again, this
time in frustration, "No ...  Nooooo ...  keep ...  it ...  there ..." and
tried to recapture my hand with her thighs.

   Confused, utterly confused, I obeyed ...  and let my hand rest between
her thighs, just under her moist opening, my fingers a hair away from her
clit.  I was also eager to touch her there ...  my own being very slowly
and gently massaged by my cousin's fingers.  Sensing that I was trying to
get to it again, she parted her thighs and went back to the earlier
position of having one across my belly.

   I touched it with my two fingers very lightly and could feel it throb.
She dug her finger inside me even deeper, as if to try and block herself
from reaching her own climax.

   Through all that, I had not stopped rocking my hips.  Debi was simply
pressing down on my pleasure-button while continuing to slowly finger-fuck
me.  As a result, I was being able to control my own pace of deriving the
pleasure from her hand.  Pretty clever for a relatively novice of fourteen,
don't you think?  My spouse thinks so!  He was impressed beyond his wits
the first day we made love.  I drove him crazy with anticipation and the
way I used his whole body for to pleasure myself.  Our sex life never ever
slowed down since that first day.  But, I will come to that part later.  Be
patient.

   Debi was already covered with a thin film of perspiration and my shirt
was getting soaked too.  So, she let go of me for a moment.  I sat up on
the bed, and she pulled the shirt off me over my head.  We were now both
naked.  Sitting up like that, she embraced me, and our breasts flattened
against each other's.  I could feel her stiff nipples trying to stand up
against my small breasts.

   Debi looked into my eyes and planted a full kiss on my lips.  This time
it was so very different that I shuddered!  I never had any idea that a
simple kiss could make one's cunt throb inside, but that was what happened.
I was left breathless when Debi removed her lips.  It was not even a deep
one.  Debi had confessed later that that was her first kiss too, and she
only knew that a kiss was supposed to be with the lips.  Needless to say,
we perfected our techniques over the years and both of us have benefited
from our early teenage homosexuality.

   We kissed and kissed and kissed, till our lips ached.  With each one, we
discovered a little more about it.  While, through all those, the urgency
down below between our thighs was no longer burning, our kisses grew more
and more passionate.  Our bodies were tingling with each others passion, as
if each of us could feel the sexual energy of the other through our moist
skins.  That night, we discovered for the first time how unimportant
climaxing was.  Debi told me later that she had also masturbated towards
orgasm as fast she could - till that night.

   We abandoned the bed and rolled around on the floor never letting each
other go.  Our legs intertwined, the seats of our passion were rubbing
against each others thighs ...  sending shock waves through our bodies. 
Another half-hour had passed.  I do not remember what all we did, except
that I had a feeling of melding with Debi's body.

   She was too excited to want to hold off much longer.  Without any words,
she turned me over on my back.  The cool cemented floor against my back did
little to take the heat away from my naked perspiring body.  Debi laid her
body on top of me and guided one of my hand between our bellies and to her
cunt.  I started rubbing her clit vigorously while she again inserted two
of her finger into me and resumed doing me.  Our mutual frenzy manifested
itself in the urgency with which we were bringing each other to come. 
Strangely, though, to both of us climaxing was still no longer the
immediate goal.  It was our mutual satisfaction that pervaded our thoughts:

   "Oh ...  Oh ...  Oh ...  Sharmila ...  want to come?" panted Debi.

   "Yesss ...  Yessss. ...  Yesssssss ...  Oh, yessss ..." I replied the
same way, "You?  Moni-di?  Do you want it now?"

   "Oh ...  sweet Sharmi ...  yes ...  ahhhhgh ...  yessss ..." she doubled
the speed of her fingers, and attacked my clit with her thumb with renewed
vigor, "Do it ...  yesss. ...  nnnnnnngg. ...  my God. ...  too much ... 
ooooof ...."

   My hand picked up her tempo and, clutching her with my other free hand
around her back, I used all my fingers to rub her across her entire
opening. I could feel my juice wetting the floor under my buttocks.  Debi's
were flowing freely down my hand and across my wrist.  Both our hands were
making slurping noise between our legs.  I came first.

   "Yessss. ...  happening. ...  Moni-di ...  Oh ...  Oh ...  Oh ...  yesss
...  aaaaarrgh. ...  my God. ...  nnnnnnngh ..." I almost let out a shout
when Debi muffled my pleasure cries by putting her palm across my mouth.

   And she came ...  trying to suppress her own cries that sounded like
loud whimpers, "yeah ...  oh ...  yessss ...  Sharmi. ...  sweet ... 
nnnnnnnnn.. ...  yeahnnnnng ...."

   And she slumped on me ...  both our bodies limp from extreme pleasure
...My cunt was still throbbing inside, and Debi pointed that out with a
suppressed giggle,

   "Wow ...  Sharmi ...  you are still pumping my fingers ...  you not done
yet?"

   "I am done all right" I replied lazily, "that has never happened before,
I mean when I do it myself"

   "I know what you mean ..." Debi sat up on me, holding my hand there and
guiding my fingers into her, "feel it ...  I am doing the same thing
..."She was indeed!

   We woke up next morning sprawled on the floor as naked as we were when
we dozed off from exhaustion that followed the hourlong pleasure.  It was
Moni-di who frantically woke me up by poking me on the side and whispering
in my ears ...

   "Hey ...  Sharmi ...  wake up ..."

   I heard the knocks on the door even as I was coming out of my sleep!  I
looked at the wall-clock in my room ...  it was already eight in the
morning.  We never slept past seven in our household.

   "We'll be right out ..." I shouted in my sleepy voice.

   Debi got up from the floor and, looking at my naked form on the floor,
smiled a shy smile.  It was her first time too with another girl!  I stand
corrected; it was the first time with another person for both.  (However,
she did admit to being shown her pleasure zone and to being hinted at about
pleasuring herself by one of her friends at school.) I guess the happenings
of the night before were as unreal to her as it was to me.  But even as
nudity was disappearing under her salwaar and kaameez, I couldn't but help
remember our intimacy fondly.  And I could feel the wetness developing
between my legs.  Again.

   "Will we do it more, Moni-di?" stretching on the floor I threw my naive
question at her, half expecting a denial from my older sixteenyear-old
relative.  After all, although we were close as distant relatives can be,
we had never even come close to being THAT close prior to that night!  But
Debi's answer had my juices flowing in full gust again ...  the weariness
notwithstanding.

   "Not till tonight, I guess ..." She said , "and I don't think "Moni-di"
is what you want to call me after last night", she added with a wink and a
smile!  The explanation of this little transition in addressing could
hardly be a part of this narrative.

   Debi is one of my uncle's nieces by marriage.  That is, her dad and my
uncle's wife are siblings.  By extension, she is my cousin.  They lived in
the same city, about thirty-minute's bus ride away.  Which meant that we
started seeing each other quite regularly.

   After that night, she stayed back for another night's pleasure, and we
made the most of it.  Then, it was happening almost every weekend. 
Sometimes she would come over to spend the night, or else I would go over
to their house.  Since she shared her room with her younger sister, we had
to do it rather quietly which was not easy.  So, mostly it was at our
house. Anyway, none of our parents thought much of our closeness.  I faced
some objection at addressing her as "Debi", instead of "Moni-di" as she is
known to her younger siblings and cousins, but Debi insisted to the elders
that I address her as such.  So the matter was soon forgotten.  And, close
friendships between girls of our age was not unusual in India.  Till today,
nobody is any wiser except those that matter.

   A year had passed since that first night.  One night Debi, while
caressing my breasts, whispered "I have done it with Ajit".

   I sat up on the bed.  We had climaxed once already that night and was
preparing to go at it a second time after resting for about fifteen
minutes.

   "Really?" I was not surprised at all; "when?" I pressed on.

   Ajit was Debi's fiance.  They had been going steady for about six
months.

   (To be continued)



   <1st attachment end>

   <2nd attachment, "Ms_2.txt" begin>



   My Story (Part 2)



   He was a handsome guy of seventeen.  They were classmates at school and
'twas not until they graduated that they decided they liked each other.  I
liked him too, but Debi, of course, had the first pick!  "Oh..  yesterday
actually," Debi was visibly excited just recalling the fact, for her hand
moved from my breasts to my underbelly.  I felt a tingling run up from my
navel to my nipples as her fingers roamed above my pubic bone.  I was
getting excited too, again, just imagining Debi's moist vagina being filled
with Ajit's erect and hard penis.

   Oh yes!  I had turned fifteen and was well read about sex by then. 
Vibrators or latex penile merchandises were not available in India; and we
never really heard of those things either.  Debi and I had experimented
with candles and phallic arboreals.  They were all right, but hardly as
pleasurable as each other's fingers or tongues.  Both of us dreamed of the
real thing on and off the bed and hoped that we will not have to wait too
long.  I was glad, and aroused, to learn that at least Debi has had the
pleasure.

   "How was it?" I asked eagerly while parting my legs a little, "Is it
big?"

   "I don't know.  It felt big" Debi replied, moving the hand between my
parted

   legs.

   I was confused, to say the least.  Debi explained: They had masturbated
each

   other off.

   They were sitting by the lake, in a darkened corner, when Ajit kissed
her deeply.  The kissing got really hot, with both their tongues playing
frantic games with each other.  Ajit, for the first time, took liberty with
her breasts ...  from above the blouse.  He lightly touched one with his
free hand, letting it roam on the ample mound in apparent leisure.  Debi's
body, under her sari and blouse, instantly caught fire.  She could feel her
nipples expand.  She did not resist.  Slowly unbuttoning the front of the
blouse she guided Ajit's hand to her back and helped him unclasp the bra
from behind.  Then she wrapped the sari around her neck to cover herself
from any accidental passers-by.  Ajit needed little queue after that.

   Cupping both her free breasts in his palms, Ajit started massaging them
with vigor.  Her swollen nipples tightened up and became stiff - so stiff
that they almost hurt.  Before she knew it, her hand had travelled to the
front of his trousers and she felt the stiff bulge.  It formed a mound,
pushing the length of the fly out as if begging to be freed.  Her hand
rested there for a while, taking in the heat of his hardness.  She also
felt it throb.

   Debi lightly caressed the bulge.  And with each pass of her hand over
the fabric of Ajit's trousers, the bulge got bigger ...  and it throbbed.

   Debi searched for an opening.  She wanted to feel his flesh.  She was
wet, her panties soaked through.  She found it ...  the zipper.  She tugged
at it but it wouldn't budge.

   Ajit shifted and, momentarily withdrawing one of his hands from her
chest, unzipped his pants with one swift motion.  The rest was up to Debi.
She inserted her right hand into the opening and encountered his briefs. 
She pulled at the elastic waistband and proceeded farther inside.

   Ajit shifted again and helped her grasp his member.  It was warm ...  no
it was hot!  It was hard!  And it throbbed again at the direct touch!.  She
encircled the shaft with her slender hand, just as she would a long
cucumber.  But it felt nothing like one ...  its heat being transmitted up
her arm and up to her breast - then down into her own crotch.  Her cunt was
dripping - and throbbing inside.  Her blood rushed to her clitoris ...

   Debi started rubbing Ajit's cock with a pumping motion.  She and I had
read about male masturbation in quite some detail (and every time it had
led us to relieve ourselves halfway through the descriptions).  Ajit moaned
and started bucking his hips ...  which, I am sure was difficult in the
position they were.  He sucked on Debi's tongue fervently and took his hand
to her waist, trying to get it under her sari.

   Debi said, "Wait ...  not this way" and guided Ajit's hand under by
slightly bunching up her sari and the petticoat.

   Ajit pulled the thin fabric of the panties aside and commented with a
whisper, "Oh ...  Debi, it is soaking wet ...  you are so wet ..."

   "Yes, aaaah ...  Ajit ...  put ...  your fingers ...  inside ...  and do
me ..." Debi panted, frigging him even harder.

   "Not so fast ...  nnng ..." Ajit cautioned her.

   "Yess ...  I know. ...  " holding him even tighter with her free arm,
Debi proceeded to bring all of it outside.  It was not easy.  The long and
hard cock was stuck inside his underpants facing his thighs.  Debi
struggled and finally succeeded.  Ajit did not seem to mind all the
tugging; he was actually moaning in pleasure through all that.  It was
huge! According to Debi it was a foot long and eight inches in girth! 
(But, as I were to discover in the years to come, it was an exaggeration
for most!)

   With Ajit's penis out, Debi could not help her curiosity.  She held it
in her hand and looked at the 'huge' thing.  It almost jumped on her
outstretched palm ...  pre-cum oozing from the slit on its pointy bulbous
head.  The foreskin was drawn back and the head glistened with his own
copious juice.

   His own two fingers were inside Debi by then.  He was making a straight
in-out motion with them.  He was terribly excited by getting to touch Debi
there and at what he was doing ...  his cock was almost ready to shoot.  He
clenched his teeth and tried not to think about the present.  It was hard,
in more ways than one.

   Debi was also no less excited.  She would climax the moment her clit
would get rubbed.  And she wanted it badly.  She resumed masturbating Ajit
and, with the other hand, guided him to her clit.  Ajit knew all about
clits ...  well, almost.  He started rubbing it with the heel of his palm
very deliberately yet gently ...  he wanted to climax too ...

   "Yesssss ...  oh ...  yesss ...  yesss ...  oh!  Oh!  Oh! ...nnnnnnng"
Debi moaned.

   "Aaaahhhrgh ..." whispered back Ajit, "Harder ...  yes ...  pump ... 
pump ...  pump ...  oooooooh.. ...  nnnnnng ..." He squirted through the
air and the first load landed in the water of the lake in front of them. 
Then it kept coming ...  load after load, squirt after squirt, for what
seemed like a heady eternity.

   Debi came too ...  almost at the same time ...

   And she moaned and moaned and moaned ...

   I was moaning too, frigging myself on Debi's thigh.  I pictured myself
watching them masturbating each other, sitting on the grass beside the
small lake, shaded from the street-light by the big tree.  I imagined
myself standing right behind them and letting my juices run down my thighs
as I enjoyed their mutual gratification.  I got hot listening and
imagining.

   Debi was also excited talking about it.  We were sitting up.  Debi was
sitting cross-legged with her back against the wall.  I had one of my
thighs over her legs, my wet cunt touching one of her thighs.  As I was
rhythmically pressing it there, and moaning, she grabbed one of my hands
and placed it between her legs and silently urged me to rub her.

   We looked into each others eyes and did it to each other for a while. 
Our breathing got strained from the excitement and we could not just remain
in that position for long.  I let her cunt go and fell back on the bed with
my wet, slippery lips still pressed firmly against Debi's thigh.

   "Ohhhh!  Sharmila ...  " She started to protest.

   "Come on ...  " I invited her by folding up my knees and letting them
fall away from each other.

   She did not need any more encouragement.  Sitting up on her knees, Debi
straddled one of my thighs and lowered herself on me.  Our wet and juicy
openings met, sending electricity from our clits through our lower bellies
and up to our brains.  She rocked back and forth and I matched her rhythm
with my hips.  We held each other's hands tightly and pulled with all our
strength as if to meld our mutual seats of pleasure together.

   It did not take long.  Putting our cunts together has always been the
fastest and most vigorous way of reaching orgasm for us.  The friction (or
the lack thereof) of our clits sent sparks in a few minutes.  I pulled her
down on me ...  our breasts met, sending further electricity through our
nipples, and we muffled our orgiastic cries by burying our faces into the
sides of each other's necks.

   "Oooof!" Debi whispered, "that was so good ..."

   "Oh yeah ...  Debi ...  " I concurred, "When are you going to do the
real thing with him?"

   "Oh, I dunno ...  I don't want to seem too eager, you know ..." She said
tentatively, "And then ...  somehow it does not seem much fun without you."

   "Debi!" I said with some nervousness, "you are not serious, are you?  He
is your boyfriend ...  and what do you think he will think?  Have you told
him about us?"

   I was probably babbling to hide my nervousness.  For, there was this
slight envy about Debi being able to do it with Ajit (whom I have imagined
naked and admired the imaginary member from time to time).  A thousand
possibilities had raced through my mind even as we were rocking locked in
our cunt-to-cunt embrace.  Now, at the very slightest hint of Debi's
reluctance in leaving me out of the equation, my clitoris was starting to
get engorged.  Later in my life I had learnt that very few Bengali girls
(especially of the social stratum we belonged to) ever were as liberal in
their sexual mores as we were.  Indeed, for a very long time I believed
that my way of thinking in matters sexual was the norm.  I guess my thought
processes in that regard were primarily driven by the type of erotic books
that Debi and I read on a regular basis.  We were aware that we were doing
something quite arcane by the very nature of sex.  Yet, I have always
understood that to be true with everybody.  That is, I believed everybody
fantasized and enjoyed sex as well as he/she could.  Thus there was little
guilt in me and none of the sense of immorality.  Sinful?  Oh yes!  Isn't
that half the fun?

   Anyway; enough metaphysics of sex.  My clit was fully swollen and,
concealing my fantasy about Ajit, I started to rock my pelvis.  Debi's
thigh was between my legs; she had stretched out atop me after the last of
her waves had subsided.  I had pulled up my knees again to get a better
contact with her thigh.  I tried to stimulate her again ...  but to my
dismay, she was already too tired from the last orgasm and I felt her
falling asleep on me.  I smiled, gave her a kiss on her cheek and gently
rolled both of us over.  For a little while I lay on top of her shapely
body, my underbelly resting on hers.  Then I slipped off her to one side,
not letting her go.  I was on my side, with one of my legs across her
thighs.  I was tired too, but the tingle between my legs was too much to
resist.  I pressed my cunt to the side of her waist and started to heave my
pelvis in gentle thrusts.

   "Mmmmm ...  yessss ..." Even in her sleep Debi moaned her approval.

   "Shhhhh ...  sleep tight ..." I whispered back in her ears, my pelvis
not missing a beat ...

   I guess I didn't realize how tired I was, for I couldn't finish it.  I
dozed off.

   I dreamed of Ajit, Debi and me in a threesome, like the ones we read
about in so many smutty novelettes.

   +++++ (End Part 2)

   (to be continued)



   <2nd attachment end>

   <3rd attachment, "Ms_3.txt" begin>

   I have to admit that when I first contacted ASSM and started sending in
the story, I had no idea that it would be received so well.  I have, since
the first post, received numerous letters of encouragement.  Some of them
(blush) have been rather amorous while most are quite objective.  Taken
together, the response has put an extra burden on me which I regard with
both enjoyment and trepidation.  I sincerely hope that I can (or, more
aptly, My Story) live up to the expectations.  Hence the spacings in my
postings.  I am trying to do as thorough an editorial job on my writing as
my schedule would permit.  I have also taken the plunge and made an FTP
site available for myself from the ASSTR, and I thank the administration
for it.  So, from now on, this story will be 'simulnet' (there you go,
another weird coinage - if it does not already exist) to the readers as
'email' and at my site (look under 'authors').



   MY STORY (Part 3)



   Debi called me up that day.  It was one Friday morning in May, a few
months after her first sexual intimacy with Ajit.  Our summer vacation had
started and, it being my last year in high school, I was supposed to be
studying hard for my State Board Exam.  I have always done well in my
studies and never have had to be tutored by anybody.  But my parents wanted
me to do really well if I wanted to be a doctor.  Admissions in Medical
Schools in India required making it through a very tough "Joint Entrance"
exam.  To be able to go to a school of your own choice, you had to rank
high.  And there were other independent tests for private schools.  So I
was studying in my room.  Or so my parents thought.

   I was; but after a couple of hours, tired of reading for the exam, I was
lying down on my bed with a Bengali smutty novelette.  Debi somehow managed
to buy those books without any embarrassment.  This one even had about
twelve pages of colored photographs, poorly copied from some European porno
magazines.  They were probably meant for some extra stimulation and had
little relevance to the actual story, .  But the story I was intently
reading was hotter than the picture of that blonde servicing three men, or
the one of a German shepherd mounting the brunette.  Personally, I hate
themes involving bestiality.

   When my Mother knocked at the door and announced Debi's phone call, I
was about to reward myself with my fingers for having read about five pages
without so much as a squeeze of my thigh muscles (You see, my clit is set
low enough between my legs which enables me to pleasure myself quite
easily).  "I'll be right out, Ma ..." I answered.

   I wasn't undressed; so I hid the book under my bed and opened the door.
My Mother had already left by then.  We had the phone on the second floor.
I ran down the flight of stairs, my cunt tingling with each step I took. 
"Want to spend the night here with me?" Debi asked.  "What's up?" I
couldn't help but notice the excitement in her voice.  "Ma and Baba are
away for the weekends with Sutapa" Debi announced, "They are on there way
to my Mejo Mashi's place and won't be back till Monday."

   "You mean ..." I gasped, "you're all by yourself ...  in the house?" I
thought I had not heard it right through all the honking of those cars down
below on the street.  "What have I been telling you?" unable to contain her
excitement too long, Debi sounded irritated at my questions, "do you want
to spend the weekend here or not?" "Let me ask ..." with that I put the
phone down and went upstairs to ask my Mother.  She did not find anything
wrong with that and actually encouraged me to take my books along with me
so that Debi could tutor me if needed.  "OK ...  will be there in a few
hours" I added into the phone with a chuckle, "and Ma wants you to show me
a few things." "Yeah ...  that can be arranged, I'm sure" Debi chuckled
back, "see you ..."

   As you probably guessed by now, I could not have enough sex even as a
teenager.  At this mature age of thirty-something (I'm not giving it away,
though), I have to have it about four or five times a day.  At work, I have
my fingers and a small vibrator.  At home ...  well ...  I urge patience. I
later learned that such sexual need was unusual for a girl between the age
of thirteen and eighteen.

   I was aroused even at the thought of spending the whole weekend with
Debi ...  my partner in carnal pleasures.  The very prospect of finding
ourselves alone in that house, with nobody else to bother us, sent
electricity all through my body, the tingling sensation from my head to toe
translating into shallow spasms in my vaginal muscles.

   I was old enough by then to start wondering if I were a true lesbian. 
Not that it bothered me too much; I seemed to have fallen madly in love
with my older cousin.  Also, as I have tried to convey, I have been - as
the Westerners put it - rather oversexed.

   Sex in India, though a taboo subject now, had always been regarded an
integral part of human existence.  It was never supposed to have been set
aside from our spirituality, for a satisfied libido has less distractions
for spiritual pursuits.  I suppose that the undercurrent of that Indian
sexuality still flows beneath the facade of middle-class morality.  Indeed,
the lowest and the uppermost strata of the Indian society have never been
too attentive of such moralities.  pardon my digression.  Anyway, On with
my narration.

   It wasn't anywhere near a 'few hours' that I found myself ringing the
door bell at Debi's.  I was at there door-step within the hour since
talking to her over the phone.  It was the middle of the day and the
streets were not as crowded.  The bus was packed, however, and, save the
occasional gusts through the open windows, the humid summer air inside was
almost unbreathable.  I was hot and so was the bus.  Before the seat in
front of me was vacated and I could grab it, I had to endure the poking of
a hard member from behind.

   A man, standing right behind me, took advantage of the crowded bus and
made little effort to move his swelling manhood away from my buttocks.  He
was wearing a dhoti* and panjabi**, and there was little between my dress
and his cock.  I was hot enough to not mind and actually enjoyed the
feeling of the hard thing between the crease of my buttocks; especially
when I sensed that he was looking over my neck and straight into my blouse.
Over the past several months, I had developed from a nondescript teen into
a shapely one.  Regular sex and associated foreplay had helped me develop
into a young lady.  Although I never flaunted my obvious prides, their
shapeliness attracted second looks which I enjoyed.

   So, the man standing behind me was not helping his condition by getting
a deeper look down my blouse.  I arranged my sari, as if oblivious to his
stare, so that a little more of the open, rounded, neck of my blouse was
exposed.  And I felt his member throb a few times.  He started to take
advantage of the bumpy ride through the streets and I almost sensed his
urgency.  That had to wait.  The seat in front of me came vacant and I,
somewhat reluctantly, slid into it.

   I wish I had not.  The man was in his fifties and had scraggly beard all
over his face.  He did not even try to hide his excitement; and I could see
it pushing up the bunched up fabric of his dhoti.  He was wearing the
Indian version of boxers under his dhoti, which help little in concealing
such states.  I wished I had not seen his face, for it immediately dampened
my arousal - the arousal that I had been saving for Debi.  I wished my
fantasy about a hard cock of a handsome man against my buttocks were left
intact.  I shifted my eyes to his groin area.  Through my sunglasses, I
kept staring at the sign of his arousal.  For the rest of the commute, I
tried to imagine a handsome man as its owner.  And that kept me from
getting to Debi with a dry cunt.

   Debi was probably taking a shower.  She peeked through the small window
that flanked their front door.  Spotting me, she opened the door and stood
aside behind it, out of sight from the busy street outside.  She did well,
for she was only wearing a petticoat from under her armpits.  It covered
her breasts and ended right below her buttocks.  Her hair was wet.  "I just
got out" she said and gave me a hug.  It felt good after travelling thirty
minutes in the humid heat.

   "Oh ...  I must be stinky ..." I said, trying to get away from a clean
and fresh Debi.

   "No, No," Debi did not let me go; and, poking her nose into the side of
my sweaty shoulder drew a deep breath, adding, "I like your natural smell
...  it makes me hot, you know."

   "Yeah, right ..." I managed to get away from her, more than a little
flattered.

   She bared her beautiful teeth and grinned.  "I was doing it in the
bathroom when you rang the bell ...  see ..." and she took hold of my hand,
guiding it under her petticoat and between her legs.  I touched her there
and, beside feeling the stickiness, was surprised to discover that her
dense bush was reduced to a very short patch.

   "What the ...!" I exclaimed, and pulled the hem of her petticoat up.

   "Like it?" She tried to gauge my reaction.

   "I do ...  but ...  why ...  how?" I really wasn't sure how to react. 
It was a novelty to me, seeing her without the silky curls that used to
frame her nether lips.  But it felt good to the touch.  The triangle was
not completely bare.  It is hard to describe, so I will not attempt.

   I could not help myself.  I knelt down in front of her, right there -
just inside of the doorway - and, grabbing her buttocks with both hands,
drew her clipped muff to my face.  She shuddered as I took the swollen lips
into my mouth and gently nibbled on them.

   "Ooooohhhngggh ....  Sharmi" She cried out and grabbed my hairs, gently
tugging at them in an attempt to free herself.  "Wait, wait, not now ... 
oh, oh, oh, I will ...  cum ...  right now ...  if you don't ...  no, no,
don't ...  yessss ...  oh my ...  no ..." with my tongue inside her, she
could not make her mind up.

   I was too hot to let her go; especially after finding her already hot
from an unfinished shower masturbation.  My own vaginal muscles were in
violent spasms all by themselves ...  all I needed was a finger inside
there ...  and it would have been all over for me too.

   "No!  Sharmi ..." Debi finally wrestled herself off my mouth.  "I don't
want to finish it right now, Sharmi."

   "But," I let myself collapse on my butts and let out a whimper.

   "I am just too horny right now" Debi tried to reason, "And you know we
never rush through it ...  If you ate me one second longer I would've cum
in your mouth right now."

   "OK, OK ...  My God ...  I am terribly hot ..." I declared, "Let me take
a shower then to cool off." I said; then, looking at her eyes, I added
quizzically, "And what are you going to do in the meantime; not finger
yourself I hope?"

   "So what if I did?" Debi said in jest while helping me get off the
floor.

   "C'mon Debi ...  you didn't let me finish you, and now ...." I played
along coyly.

   "You know what?  Let me come into the shower with you"

   "Hey ...  We have never done it in the shower ...  like we read in those
stories" I was most definitely eager.  We soon discovered it was not as
easy as the stories made it out to be.

   We went to the bathroom and, standing outside the door, she helped me
undress.  In India, the bathroom floors are almost always wet.  Few houses
have anything like a bathtub or a separate shower stall.  The showers in
some houses are separate from the lav.  That's how it was at Debi's, and we
didn't want to get our clothes wet.

   "You soaked your panties, Sharmila !" Debi laughed out loud checking
them out.  She tugged at the chords of her petticoat and it fell to the
ground.  I smiled back and said,

   "Let me go pee and I'll tell you all about it." I needed to relieve the
pressure on my bladder that had built up over the last hour or so due to my
prolonged state of arousal.

   I felt refreshed as I stood under the stream, the cool water washing
away the salty sweat that had formed a sticky layer on my skin.  Debi
watched me for a while and then stepped in under the shower.

   "What was it that you wanted to tell me?" She asked while forming some
lather up with the bar of soap.  She started to put the lather on me with
her soft hands and I started to narrate my bus-ride experience.  It was
nothing new to her, she said: "Oh ...  I get that all the time ..." and ran
her two palms across my already hard nipples.

   "You do?" I asked, "but you never told me ..."

   "Yeah ...  one day I even felt a guy cum like that"

   "How could you tell?"

   "You know ...  " Debi explained, "I felt it jump a few times and go soft
in a little while"

   "I wonder if he wet his pants through" I was getting even more excited
imagining the cum oozing out from under his underwear and onto the fabric
of his pants.  I put my fingers to work.

   The soap had washed off my skin by then.  Debi was holding me from
behind, her two hands cupping my well-formed breasts.  She was massaging
them in a slow circular motion.  I inserted two fingers inside myself ...
and it hurt a little ...I withdrew them right away and tried rubbing my
clit.  And it did not feel right!  I turned around to face Debi and she
planted a full kiss on my mouth.  Our tongues mingled, the water running
down our faces and into our mouths.  I took my hand between our bellies,
parted her swollen lips and started stroking her love-button.  We have
masturbated each other standing up many times.  Our juices flowing out
would be plenty for the lubrication.  But, Debi also complained about it
now.

   It didn't take us long to figure out that the running water was washing
all our juices away.  We lathered up our hand and tried again; but it stung
somewhat.  I guess use of our fingers everyday had caused minor abrasions
down there.  So, we decided to let our shower fantasy remain a fantasy for
then.  We have had good laughs about that incident whenever the subject
came up.  It wasn't until much later that we got to doing it 'in shower';
but let us continue on with the present timeline.

   We wanted to do it in the shower so we had to do it in the bathroom - at
least!  We shut the water off and, standing under the shower-head in a
tight embrace - our wet bodies connected almost at every square inch, we
started finger-fucking each other.  Our mouths were locked in a deep deep
kiss, our tongue darting in and out of each other with fiery passion.  I
grabbed her mons as if to tear it off her body, my short nails digging into
her clipped thatch and into the flesh surrounding the opening of her cunt.

   "Aaaaahhhhnghhhh ...  yessssss!" pulling her mouth away slightly, she
almost yelled out in a pleasure sensation that bordered pain.  Her finger
dug deeper into me, the passage, by now, filled with my love-juice.

   I could feel her whole body tighten up.  Her stiff, swollen nipples dug
into my breasts as she started rubbing them against mine.  Sparks shot out
from my own and spread downwards, crossed the valley of my stomach and,
following her finger, into the deep dripping crevice of my cunt.  The
muscles under my navel contracted spasmodically ...  almost too strongly to
remain standing.  I steadied myself by putting my free arm around and over
her shoulder.

   "I am ready." Debi declared.

   I had not even touched her clit!  It made me feel so good that I started
bucking my hips on her finger and rubbing her cropped mons with the heel of
my palm at the same time.  I was ready too.

   "Yeaaaasss ...  Debi ....  do it ...  frigg ...  frigggg ...  fuck ...
fuck ...  Ooooo my god ...  aaaaaah ...  aaaah ...  aaah ..." I screamed
out.  Our repertoire of Bengali sexual slang was essentially a la those
smutty stories that we devoured regularly.  Such words are considered
"untouchables" in our language and society; and it took us a while to
internalize them.  Yet, once we got used to them, our sessions rarely were
complete without whispering them to each other.  The frequency and
intensity of such utterances have been directly proportional to the state
of our arousal.

   "Yesss ...  fuck ...  fuck ...  cum ...  cummmm ...  nicely ...  yesss
...  oh, oh, oh, oh ...  aaaargghhhnnnng ....  do it ...  aaahng ...  do it
...  aaaaaaaaaaaaa ....." We came.

   We came with earth shattering intensity.  Juices, pent-up since that
morning - and through all that had happened - gushed out with
uncontrollable spasms from deep inside my cunt.  Debi had been so aroused
that she didn't need any clitoral stimulation, although I finished her off
by pressing down hard on it with all my fingers and doing a pumping
maneuver.  Her legs shook violently and we dropped to the wet bathroom
floor, still in each other's arms.

   Lunch was almost perfunctory.  Debi's mom had prepared food to last us a
couple of days and left it the small fridge.  She knew I'd be spending the
weekend there, and took the liberty to cook a few of my favorite dishes. 
Ordinarily, the mere mention of bottle-gourd and shrimp curry would make my
mouth water.  But, that afternoon, something else was in a constant state
of wetness that demanded attention.  So, we decided to savor the delicacies
during our supper.

   +++++ End Part 3

   * A 5-yd length of finely woven cloth worn by men as a traditional
attire ** Kurtaa in Hindi; almost knee-length shirt, usually w/o collar. 
Usually worn over dhoti or pajama.  ++++++++++++++++

   (To be Continued)

   <3rd attachment end>

   <4th attachment, "Ms_4.txt" begin>

   This is the fourth part in the ongoing "My Story".  I thank my readers
for writing to me.  I am indeed overwhelmed by some letters ...  and enjoy
them immensely.  While I do not mind receiving emails from fans, I do urge
all my readers to be grounded in their realities while making this a part
of their fantasies.  This is My Story and I am recounting MY erotic past
and present.  However, I am limiting myself to episodes, days and events
that I consider seminal.  So, if any of you want to know something in a
greater detail, you'll have to let me know and I will try to include them
in the future (Only if I find them not too intrusive).  If some things can
not be accommodated in the present narration, I will try and recount them
in another series.

   I try to answer the mails if and when I find them stimulating (in more
ways than one, of course).  I am an extremely busy person and find it
rather difficult to answer every mail -- what with having to also write
this account at the same time.  So, to all the readers that like the
narration, thank you all once again.

   SS.

   (The usual disclaimer remains: The material presented below is meant for
mature readers only.  If you are under-age (usually 18-year-old or younger)
or are offended by descriptions of making love in ways other than the
missionary, you will be well advised to leave this site -- or skip the
message -- altogether.)

   My Story (Part 4)

   The afternoon was spent reading some stories that we had not finished
reading in prior occasions.  And we let Nature take its own course. 
Comfortable in the knowledge that there would not be any interruptions on a
summer afternoon, we did not rush ourselves this time.  It is hard to
describe the sultry laziness that drapes the City of Joy during the hot
summer afternoons.  It is easy to abandon oneself completely to worldly
pleasures ...  from siesta to sex; and I always found sex to be more
rewarding.

   We were both famished and had not realized it till we finished our lunch
-- a heavy one too -- and, after washing the dishes and the utensils, we
retired to Debi's room.  They had a small two-storied house, with Debi and
her sister sharing a room on the upper floor adjoining the bathroom-lav
combination.  The only other room on that floor was a small one and was
used for occasional guests -- and also housed the "shrine" for her Mother's
daily worships.  Her room overlooked a wide strip of playground that the
local kids used for Soccer and Cricket.  I drew the heavy curtain on the
window and turned the fan on at full speed.

   Fully dressed, we sat down on Debi's bed, our backs resting against the
wall and a pile of paperbacks in front of us.  Debi had the most exquisite
collection of smut, I think.  We read the episodes that were new to us. 
Midway through the second one -- where three teenage boys were satisfying
one of the boy's older sister in her mid twenties -- we were tweaking each
other's nipples under our blouses.  By the time we finished reading that
one, our blouses were off and, mouths locked together, our bare breasts
were almost flattened against each other.  We deliberately let the area
between our legs alone.

   By the end of the next episode, we were caressing our naked thighs,
keeping safe distances from the nether regions.  We had, by then, divested
ourselves of our outer garments.  Not having bothered to put on any
undergarments after leaving the shower, that meant we were as Nature
intended us to be.  Yet we took it easy ...  almost as if to test our own
limits of endurance.  We, of course, had moved to the cool cemented floor
to avoid soaking her bed through.  The floor beneath our buttocks was
getting slippery with the proof of our arousal.

   We could read no longer after having read partly through the third book
(and the sixth episode) - where, sitting in an empty class-room, two
teenage high school buddies were pumping each other off.  We had been
reading those stories for almost an hour and a half by then and had still
refrained from touching where it counted!

   Wow!

   Weak at the zenith of our excitement, we faced each other and opened our
legs wide.  Supporting ourselves with our hands planted flat on the ground
behind us, we had our legs folded at the knees.  The ceiling fan was going
at full speed, moaning a constant pitch; as if trying to cool our libidos
down just enough.  Both of us were breathing heavily with our lips parted.
From under our heavy eyelids, we looked down at each other.  Debi's cunt
lips were swollen and parted wide.  The pink inside was filled with her
copious secretion.  The nub of her clitoris was exposed at the entrance.  I
looked down at myself.  There was a pool right under my cunt.  Although the
dense curly bush was hiding my own opening, I could still see the dark
moist crests of my own labia.

   And I looked at Debi again.  Our eyes met.  I could see the urgency in
her huge beautiful eyes, beneath those eyelids -- droopy from her state.

   "Are ...  we ...  ?" She panted the redundant query ...

   "My god ...  I am ...  dying ..." I lifted my wet buttocks up slightly
and moved my cunt forward.

   "Ooooooooh ...  shhhhhhh ....  yesssssssssssss" Debi reciprocated and
moved hers towards mine.  She lifted her right leg and placed it across and
over my left thigh.

   My vaginal muscles quivering in anticipation, I pushed my pelvis forward
and closer, my arched back supported with my hands planted firmly on the
ground behind.

   And I immediately let out a scream -- "Aaaaaahhhngh ...  oh ... 
ooooooooh ..." Our cunts had made contact.  My swollen clitoris was smack
against Debi's wet entrance.

   We moved urgently, but very cautiously.  Debi and I were already
familiar with each other to the point where we played one another like two
finely tuned instruments -- making the sweetest music.  I am sure Debi had
felt the same electricity spread from her clit as I had.  Both of us,
despite our extraordinarily long endurance through the self-tease, wanted
the silent crescendo to last forever ...

   But, we couldn't help grinding our sexes together without any break. 
When one of us would back off, the other would urge on and press forward.
When I clenched my teeth and tightened my stomach muscles and stopped
moving, Debi moved her hips in all four directions at double the rhythm,
compensating for my inaction.

   "Noooooo ...  Noooooo ...  Ohhhh ...  Damn ....  I ...  I ...  Oh Damn
...  Oh Damn ..." and I came, "Yessss, yesss ...  Debi ...  Debi ...  do it
...  do it ...  do it ..."

   "Me too ...  I can't ...  Oh ...  I can't ...  my god ...  yeah ... 
yeah ...  Sharmi ...  you ...  oh ...  you are ...  sweet ...  fuck ... 
harder ...  fuck me ...  yesss ...  fuck ...  do it ...  fuck ...  do it
... fuck ...  do it ...." and we continued to wring out the last bit of our
orgiastic delight from each other's dripping cunt for the next several
minutes ....

   I woke up at the sound of the door-bell downstairs.  I sat up straight
on the floor.  We fell asleep just the way we finished.  Our bodies were
still probably connected at our sexes the remainder of the afternoon. 
Debi's right leg was still resting on my left; and my leg felt numb.

   I quickly woke her up, "Debi ...  somebody is at the door downstairs."

   "Oh?!" She looked at her sprawled out naked self and muttered groggily.

   "Debi!  Get up ...  " I almost had to pull her up, "Put something on and
go downstairs"

   - 'RRRRRRRRRRNNNNG' -

   That one made her stand up.  She looked at me and said, "You put
something on too ...  that may be Ajit!"

   She quickly donned the kaameez over her naked torso and hurried out.  I
kept staring at her magnificent figure that the knee-length frock betrayed.
I heard her running steps going down the two flights of stairs and thought
to myself, 'I'm totally in love ...'

   Then I heard Ajit's voice; and Debi's yell -- "Sharmi, you want to come
down ...?"Her voice broke my trance and I replied back, "Won't be a minute,
Debi." I liked saying her name.

   When I descended upon them, they were sitting in the so-called
'drawing-room' (a room where guests and drop-by's are received), close
together on the only couch that was set against the far wall.

   Ajit looked at me and grinned, "So, how are your studies coming along?"

   "Oh, well ..." I did not like such questions; especially from Ajit, and
he knew it.  Although he and Debi were already in the second year of
college, I did not consider them much older.  So, Ajit liked to tease me
with such somber addresses.  Ajit knew that I liked him.  Debi knew that
too, and assumed it to be quite brotherly.  Or, did she?



   I could not say for sure if my attraction towards Ajit was sexual.  I
later had figured it out to be due to the fact that Debi loved him and I
loved anything that she did.



   We had tea and biscuits (the Indian kind) that evening and talked about
things irrelevant.  I let them have some privacy by stepping out for a
stroll through the neighborhood.  The evening was a little cooler with a
southwesterly wind picking up, signalling a heavy downpour.  I always
enjoyed this part of the metropolis for its suburban ambiance.  Few houses
were more than a couple of stories tall, with some space between them.  Up
north, the houses stood in rows of three to four stories, sharing the walls
between them.  Our house is one of very few that had narrow alleyways on
either side.  The sky here always seemed much wider, not framed by the
outlines of old brick buildings; and, here you could track the Moon longer
on clear nights.  I roamed aimlessly for about an hour and realized that it
was getting late when the old dim streetlights gained prominence.  Large
droplets started striking the ground intermittently.

   I drew in a chest-full of air laden with the smell of wet earth and
headed back.  I had to run the last few yards.  Debi and Ajit were kissing
standing under the small porch, safe from the lack of any lamp-post nearby.
Kissing within other peoples sight is never done in India.  There is a more
esoteric reason for such prudence, but I'm sure this is not the place to
elaborate on it.

   I startled them, for I didn't see them until I was upon them.  They
almost jumped back from one another.  I giggled and put them at ease.  Ajit
said, "Can't you clear your throat or something?"

   "What, and miss the fun?" I grinned back.

   "She likes to watch, you know ..." Debi injected a little naughtiness
into it.

   "Oh yeah?" Ajit grabbed the chance, "We could arrange a better show
then, couldn't we?"

   "Sure ..." Debi nodded.

   That's as far as our indiscretion had gone.  Debi had loosely kept our
relationship from Ajit.  I am not sure if he suspected anything, but he had
accepted me in Debi's life as something more than just a distant cousin --
hence the impishness between us.

   "I better go" Ajit said and unfurled his umbrella.  In Calcutta, come
May, everybody carries one.

   We stood there and watched him disappear around the corner.  The
bus-stop was on the next street.  It had, by then started to pour, with a
slight wind, and we were catching the mist.  It felt nice.

   "Hey ...  that's my boyfriend!"

   I turned to Debi quizzically.  "I know, I know" I mused back at her,
"But no harm in fantasizing, is there?"

   "I guess not" Debi said while dragging me inside, "As long as I am part
of it."

   Yes, we were more bold with each other when Ajit wasn't around.  Such
fantasies had been part of our love-making for quite sometime now. 
Ordinarily we would be grabbing at each other with the start of such
exchanges.  That evening was a little different.  I was cooled down by the
May rain.  I have always felt poetic at the start of the monsoon, which is
heralded by the hurricane season in the Bay of Bengal -- and that
afternoon's sex left me satiated a little more than usual.  In other words:
I felt mellow.

   Debi too, I could tell, had just finished a round with Ajit.  So, we
spent the rest of the evening talking and planning as an old Bengali movie
played on the TV.  (That was fast becoming the weekend ritual in most
households.  Calcutta was losing its wonderful evening life because of the
box.) Ajit had managed to get hold of three matinee tickets to one of the
Films that would be playing at a nearby artsy theater the next day.  It was
a Hungarian movie.  Debi had already forgotten the name of it.

   "You know, I was indeed wondering if we could catch a movie or something
tomorrow" I said, "that would be perfect then"

   "Yeah ...  you can wear one my Sari's" Debi said.

   "I'd rather wear the white Salwaar-kaameez that you have ...  I like the
design" I told her.  "So, what did you guys do?"

   "Oh ...  you know, the usual ..." Debi replied.

   "C'mon, tell me ..." I wanted some details from her.  I always got the
details from her.

   "Well, he was already hard when you left, so it did not last very long
for him the first time ..." Debi was saying ...

   "First time?" I interjected, "How many times did you two ....?"

   "Twice ...  for him ..." she explained ...  "I was doing him under his
pants ...  you know ...  putting my hand through here ...  " she gestured
at my waist ...  "and he was so hard already ...  so I asked what made him
so ..."

   "What made him so?" I repeated.

   "He was reading an English thriller ...  and it had a lot of quite
explicit sex in it ...  "

   "So he did not jerk off?"

   "No ...  " Debi said, looking at me with a triumphant expression, "he
wanted to save it for us ..."

   "Wow ...  he loves you so ..." I was jealous and had to hide it with a
quirky comment like that.

   "Well ...  I stroked it lightly and he put his hands on my breasts and
came inside his pants"

   "That was quick ..."

   "Tell me about it ..." Debi continued, "I was already hot and I told him
so.  He understood and took his hands under my skirt and did me ...  and
within another five minutes he was hard again.  He said rubbing me down
there made him horny.  So, I took his cock out of his pants and we frigged
each other nicely.  It was good ...  oh ...  I am exhausted today."

   I bet she was.  Otherwise she would be dying to recount every little
detail;

   and I would insist that she did, too.  For that would invariably lead to
a hot session between us.  That evening was different in two ways.  We have
had our fill for the day, and Debi was just satiated by Ajit's fingers.

   "Me too ...  " I agreed, "We should get a good sleep tonight"

   "Yeah ...  and I am hungry too."



   We had our supper, and went to bed.  Usually whenever we slept together
we had little clothing between us.  That night, we didn't bother
undressing, for we knew we needed the sleep that night if we really wanted
to make something out of that weekend.  I had no idea that the following
day would mark the beginning of another chapter in my already libidinous
existence.

   +++++++++ (End Part 4)

   (To be Continued)



   <4th attachment end>

   <5th attachment, "Ms_5.txt" begin>

   I have received some letters wondering about my reluctance in
elaborating upon certain social paradigms.  I deliberately refrained from
such explanations hoping that the unspoken would add to the exotic.  I am
not sure if even now I want to explain such things as "kinship" and
"customs of intimacy".  May be those that are left wondering would find it
worth their while to discover more about my beloved country (which has a
lot to offer besides "smuts") by themselves.  However, I am not totally
opposed to the idea.  Given enough interest among the readers, I may
venture into the task of familiarizing my readers with the relevant Indian
(specifically Bengali) socio-cultural aspects.  Till then, enjoy My Story
as it is narrated.  Please feel free to write back with any corrections in
my language and/or comments that you may find appropriate.

   USUAL DISCLAIMER: Those that are offended by sex, are disturbed by
images of humans enjoying sex and those that fear blindness (or excessive
acne) are advised not to read past this disclaimer.  People not belonging
to the "Mature" category of beings (18 years or younger, where applicable)
are PROHIBITED beyond this point.



   My Story (part 5) by Sharmila Sanyal



   Debi was awake before I was.  She had already had a sumptuous breakfast
ready when she woke me up with a sensuous kiss.  She is usually slightly
horny when she wakes up in the morning.  I haven't ever felt particularly
amorous before I have had a chance to brush, shower and answer Nature's
call (not essentially in that order).  Even in the coldest of mornings I
have to have a shower before I am fully myself.  Debi was caressing my
breasts and kissing me on my lips.  I pushed her away ...

   "Debi ...  don't ...  let me ..." I said with some urgency.

   Debi put her arms around me and, bringing her mouth to my earlobes,
whispered sensually, "You look and smell sexy when you wake up." Of course,
till this day I do not believe that.

   "Whatever.  I have to freshen up ..." I said, planting a light kiss on
her cheek.

   Debi had prepared two huge omlettes and we had them with toasts.  We
were re-energized for another amorous day.  My cousin was excited that we
were going out for a movie that afternoon with Ajit.  Indian parents rarely
allowed too much public display of relationships with boyfriends.  So,
going out with Ajit used to be rather restricted for Debi too.  Going to
movies happened once a month.  I suppose, Debi was also pleased that I was
going with them (no matter how strange that might seem to some).

   We took the morning very easy.  We went out for a little while and were
back by about ten, before it got too hot outside.  Once back home, Debi and
I shut all the windows to keep the heat out.  This is almost a ritual in
Calcutta during the summer days.  The shade inside made it cool; and I
started feeling the usual stir between my legs.  We stayed downstairs and
in the living room.  We took off all our clothes and lay on the floor
slowly caressing one another.  I got on top of Debi and, with my legs, I
parted her thighs.  Our tongues playing with each other, the doors to the
caves between our legs were slowly opening wider.  The passages were coming
alive and, with each gentle thrust of our pelvis, getting more lubricated.

   Debi shifted under me and pulled one knee up so that our cunts were now
making full contact with each other's upper thighs.  I could feel her wet
lips there and my own inside throbbed.  She grabbed my buttocks and pulled
me tighter against her.  We rocked together, our breasts almost flat
against each other ...  our nipples getting harder.  We rocked, and rocked,
and rocked ...  taking it easy and enjoying each other through every pore
of our bodies.  The ceiling fan kept moaning above us ...  as if egging us
on to reach our climax ...

   We finished it off by going into a sixty-nine.  And we lay there, with
our heads resting comfortably on each other's inner thighs.  Although I
came blissfully, Debi's odor made me stay at the height of my excitement
even longer.  I tried to lick her again, but she was too sensitive there
and begged me to stop.  My god, it was hard for me foregoing that urge to
lap up her tasty juice.  I remained in that suspended state of excitement
and decided to make the night wild.

   We reached the cinema about fifteen minutes before the show was
scheduled to start and I was a little surprised to find a lot more than the
usual number of people waiting to get in.  Usually the artsy foreign films
do not attract too many patrons.

   Ajit was waiting for us at the entrance to the lobby.  He was wearing a
pajamas and a dark-colored panjabi.  He was his usual handsome self.  I
felt a tightening in the area just above my pubis.  A radiant smile broke
out on Debi's face and she looked even more beautiful.  'They are perfect
for each other,' I thought to myself.  We were both wearing saris.  Sari
made me look rather mature.  As Debi walked quickly up to him, I remained a
few paces behind.  As I was passing a group of young boys, I could hear
them inhale.  One let out a muted whistle.

   We bought some fresh roasted peanuts and three bottles of ThumsUp before
entering the lobby.  I had been there before with Debi.  The inside of the
old theater was fairly big, with about seven hundred seats arranged in
three columns.

   A group of four guys in their early twenties and a lightly made-up
beautiful woman in brushed past us at the entrance to the auditorium.  She
looked at me and smiled, somewhat stunning me with her perfect set of
teeth. I wondered -- and then remembered having seen her in a few movies.
Debi confirmed, and added that she lived in the neighborhood.  The 'Star'
will remain unnamed, since she is now quite famous on the silver screen.

   We had our seats in the last row of the balcony.  I commented on the
price of the tickets, and Ajit said reassuringly, "Don't worry about it; a
friend of mine managed to get these for half the price."

   I looked around and found very few sitting in the balcony.  The balcony
tickets are expensive and not many want to pay the premium.  There were two
guys in their late teens sitting in front of us -- one seat over to my
left. A couple sat a few seats down to my left in our row, which was right
beside the short wall that defined the entrance.  Ajit took the aisle seat
with Debi on his left; and I sat beside Debi.

   I still remember the name of the film.  It was by Zoltan Fabri, titled
"The Peddler".  Pretty soon it was apparent why the crowd was thicker than
usual at the cinema.  Indian film-goers rarely saw such open sex in films!
And this one had more than a few of those with frontal shots.  So, when the
first 'hot' scene came up, the shuffling noises inside the hall were hardly
unexpected.  Shocking?  May be; but unexpected it was not.

   The lead guy, a burly cop (?) in his forties, was being given a
fantastic blow job by the hooker whom he was supposed to be booking.  As
her head bobbed up and down on his lap, she had her shapely breasts out for
him to fondle (and for the entranced spectators to see).  Perfectly round
and taut -- and capable of making any woman envious -- they were by no
means ordinary.  I am not sure if implants were as commonplace then, but
people wonder these days about similar perfections.  Such skepticism aside,
I have the privilege of knowing women with attributes that rival any
augmentation.  As I recollect, this person of presumable ill-repute did not
lack the necessary appeal otherwise.  As just her face filled the screen,
sounds of collective inhalation and low whistling inside the cinema
testified to that.

   Indian boys are known to jack off watching scantily clad heroines and
vamps doing suggestive dance numbers in those wildly popular Bollywood
films.  So, in anticipation, I looked at the two boys sitting in front of
us, my own juices having started to flow.  The boy on the right looked
around furtively.  He adjusted on his seat and leaned slightly left.  His
left shoulder moved and, after some more movement from the other boy,
settled into a slow and regular undulating motion.  I had never been
witness to masturbation by the other sex, but I did not find it hard to
imagine what they might be doing or trying to do.  My musings made the
situation - between my legs - worse.

   Without being too obvious I looked to my right; I saw both Debi and Ajit
staring straight ahead.  Debi had that familiar look in her face.  I
wondered what they would have been up to had I not been sitting next to
them.  Suddenly I felt like the proverbial 'fifth wheel'.  My own arousal
notwithstanding, I started feeling rather lousy ...  and a bit resentful of
those two!

   I looked in the other direction.  The couple sitting to my left were
hunched towards each other.  They were kissing!  I could not help but
stare. I saw the woman's hand moving in his lap in a deliberate up-down
motion.

   I looked away and at the screen.  The screen was filled with the man's
face, contorted in pleasure -- his fast, heavy breathing and the "Ah's",
mixed with the slurping sound of his cock being sucked on -- were heard
through the speakers around us; and pretty soon he came.  So did a few
others in that hall, I am sure.  The two boys in my front had been going at
it quite gently; and they stopped, each leaving his hand on the other's
lap. I squeezed my thighs tightly as little doubt remained about what they
were doing!

   Debi's breathing was audible and I wished I could pleasure her sitting
right there.  I took my left hand to my waist and inserted it from there
and under my sari.  I found the elastic of my panties and my hand found its
way under it.  I was soaked there.  Lightly I touched myself, hoping that
Debi would not notice me engaged in masturbation.  I was not a little
emboldened by the general ambiance inside the theater.

   'If only he was not with us!' I remember thinking.

   It was not long before another explicit scene erupted across the screen.
The wife had invited the 'peddler' in and, one thing leading to another,
they found themselves in the bedroom.  Some very passionate kissing and
necking melted into the shot of them having wild sex.  My first exposure to
explicit coitus on film!

   The man was leaning his back against the head-board and the woman was
riding him completely naked with her back towards him.  She was kneeling
astride his waist.  In the subdued light of her bedroom, a close-up shot
showed her looking down and presumably reaching with her hand to guide the
man into her.  The action, though hidden from the audience's view, could
not have been more erotically conceived.  I heard a few loud gasps even at
this.  I guess everybody else heard them too, for Debi placed her left hand
over my right and gave a knowing squeeze.  I looked in her direction and my
eyes almost automatically followed past her face and to where her other
hand was.  It was on Ajit's lap!

   It was actually out of sight!  It was inside Ajit's pajamas!  Ajit was
staring straight ahead at the screen.  I clenched my teeth and dug the two
fingers of my left hand deeper into my dripping cunt.  The muscles inside
pulsated around my digits.

   Debi was doing it to him ...  right there ...  in the hall ...  while I
was sitting right beside her!

   The woman on the screen had started to grind her hips in an up-down and
sideways motion.  The man reached around her front and started rubbing her
clit, his legs spread slightly apart and out towards us.  We could not see
his cock, but could almost see her vaginal lips under the thick triangle of
her pubic hair.  She was doing him rather gently at first ....

   I looked back at Debi.  She was enjoying the scene.  Sensing my stare,
she turned her head and looked into my eyes.  Then, without letting Ajit
go, she leaned towards me and whispered "How do you like it?"

   "My god" I replied, "I never imagined ...  and you are enjoying a whole
lot I see."

   "Yeah ...  " she whispered again, "Do you see the two in front of you?
They are really doing it hard"

   I had not looked at them since this scene had started.  Debi was right,
the two were jerking each other off in full swing.  I guess they were too
excited to even remember that there were people around.  Then again, from
the various sounds that we could hear from around the cinema, they were not
the only ones that could not help themselves.  This film, to us, was the
next best thing to a porn.

   The seats being staggered, one of them was sitting slightly to my left.
Slightly craning my neck, I could see his' trousers were open in the front
and his friend had the hard manhood out and in his fist.  He was massaging
it vigorously while himself being rewarded for it by his friend.  My first
glimpse at an adult male principle -- albeit poorly lit -- live; and that
too in its full glory!  I felt my vaginal muscles squeezing my fingers a
few times in response.

   I turned to Debi and whispered, "The couple on the other side were
kissing a while back"

   "Kissing!" Debi said under her breath, "My god!  She is sucking him!"

   Obviously she could see past me.  I turned my head around rather slowly.
I need not have been worried about being discovered looking at them, for
the guy's head was thrown back and he was breathing through his mouth, his
eyes closed.  His partner was bent over towards him, her back to us, and
her face was buried in his lap.

   I had to jerk my fingers out of my cunt.  It was getting hard to resist.
Debi had not noticed; but the sudden movement of my hand under my sari drew
her attention.  Figuring out what I was up to and she offered her hand,
"Let me do it.."

   "Are you crazy ...?" I said in a whisper, "Ajit ..."

   "Never mind him ...  look" and she gestured towards herself.

   Ajit's left hand was inside her sari too.  I had missed it before since
Debi had carefully concealed his hand with the 'aanchal' of her sari.

   I smiled , grabbed her left hand, and guided it to my stomach in silent
approval.  She deftly wiggle her hand inside.  Her hand touched my wet
fingers.  Guiding it to my moist opening, I left the rest to her -- my hand
just resting on hers while she pleasured me.  I looked in her direction
again.  Our eyes met.  I saw the familiar naughty glitter in her
glazed-over eyes.

   Ajit was leaning slightly towards Debi to allow himself better control
over what he was doing under her sari.  He appeared rather calm for
somebody getting jerked off by his girlfriend ...  his lips were slightly
parted and I noticed him periodically closing his eyes; nothing more than
that to give him away.  Not that it mattered, for he was well-shielded from
the aisle by the short wall.  The usher, who normally hovers around with
his penlight turned on, were nowhere to be seen.  There was one short row
of seats behind us, and that was empty.  The row of seats one over and
across the aisle was occupied by the actress and her companions.  They were
all sitting very low in their seats and I could only see the crowns of
their heads.  Despite my preoccupation with what was going on between the
three of us, I couldn't help but wonder what THEY were up to.

   The auditorium was alive with the sounds of the love making on the
screen, mingled with those being generated by some of the members of the
audience in various states of excitement.  I myself was breathing rather
heavily ...  and audibly.  Despite the usual Bengali pedanticism about sex,
a sense of helpless abandon pervaded the theater.

   I wanted to lean over and kiss my cousin.  It was a strange feeling ...
as if we were engaged in a threesome.  I could almost feel Ajit through
Debi.  I wanted to do what he was doing to her.  Regardless of the state I
was in, I could not penetrate the thin veil that separated me from him.  I
reminded myself that I loved Debi too much to risk it.

   So, I satisfied myself by caressing her hand that was engaged between my
thighs.  Our fingers played a delicate instrument there; and I could sense
the rhythm from Ajit's hand transmitting through her and to our intertwined
fingers.  My other hand wanted to reach out and touch her breasts.  And
again I refrained from intruding.

   The woman on the screen was riding the man in a frenzy.  The full
frontal shot in the semi- dark bedroom showed her small firm breasts
quivering as she gyrated her hips, the man rubbing her at the apex of the
dark triangle.  Her head thrown back, she was screaming out her approach.
The man was bucking his hips up and down, his face hidden from the camera.

   The boys sitting in front row were visibly nearing their climax.  I
could see their hands moving faster and faster.  As I momentarily looked
back at Debi and whispered to look at them, Debi glanced in their direction
and, clutching my pubis with a little extra vigor, announced, "Oh ...  my
...  he is ....  comming ..." (literally translated: "Oh ...  my ...  the
boy ...  its happening !")

   I immediately jerked my head back in that direction, a sense of
momentary disappointment taking over at the prospect of missing the show.

   I did not.

   The boy, whose erect member I was able to see, was still shooting his
white semen out under the expert pumping action of his friend's left hand.

   That was another first for me ...

   The force of his ejaculation sent the first few spurts above and over
the empty seat in front.  The boy was visibly exhausted; and as his friend
continued to pump him, his flow reduced to globs trickling down the head
and onto his friend's fist, he let is head slump back on the back of the
seat.

   It could not have been sooner.

   Immediately after that, the fucking on the screen was rudely interrupted
by the woman's toddler daughter, hugging her doll, barging in on them.

   Yeah!  They had not locked the door!  'Serves them right...', I remember
regarding in utter disappointment transmuting to a sense of ire towards
them.  It was hard to tell who was more disappointed ...  the woman, so
close to her climax, or the people, that were so in tune with the scene
this side of the screen.  The let down at that stage was too much for some
to bear ...  and it was almost palpable.

   In truth, we really did not need any stimulation from the movie anymore.
We were in our own world of sexual bliss.  The three of us carried gently
on and on with Ajit coming first.  As Debi announced in my ear about his
reaching the finish line, I couldn't hold back any longer.  More than the
sex on the screen, the thought of Debi's fist around Ajit's throbbing
manhood pushed me over the crest.  I closed my eyes and came -- holding our
two hands between my thighs in a vise-grip.  Debi needed a little more
fingering from him and she climaxed with carefully controlled convulsions.
A few more scenes showing explicit and simulated sex had come and gone,
undoubtedly bringing the rest of the audience some satisfaction ...  but I
didn't even bother to follow the rest of the movie.  I was in heaven.  The
invisible barrier that Ajit had unknowingly erected between me and Debi,
had finally started to crumble.

   There wasn't much of the movie left when we finished.  Like I said --
the 'goings on' on the screen were meaningless to me once our 'threesome'
got going in full swing; and I think the same was true for Debi and Ajit.
We caught our breath and spent the rest of the time in the soft darkness
rearranging our clothes.  The odor of male and female exudate, mixed with a
sweaty smell, filled the air inside.  When the credits started rolling and
the lights came on slowly -- matching the mood of the audience -- we looked
around us and discovered that the couple on my left had already left.  As
we were making our exit, I noticed some guys trying to hide the wet spots
in their clothes with their hands strategically placed in front of them. 
Some had their shirts out of their pants.  Not a few of the women had their
saris rather badly crumpled.  The ushers, standing at the gate, gave them
the knowing smirk and made some remarks to each other under their breaths.
The women tried to ignore them but the color on their cheeks gave away
their embarrassment.  The very public nature of what we had been a part of
made me horny again.

   Ajit and Debi looked at each other with naughty satisfied smiles at the
bus-stop.  He also looked at me and said, "So ...  how was it?" It was a
question equivocal in obvious naughtiness; and, looking straight at his
eyes, I knew that that's exactly what he intended it to be.

   I replied, albeit with another, "How did YOU like it?"

   He looked at Debi and said, "Oh ...  it was marvelous ...  the movie, I
mean".

   Debi hugged me from the side and said, "Sharmi loved it -- I know ... 
the movie, too?" Then she broke out in laughter.

   "I did, too -- you'll have to fill me in about the story later" I said,
and then added, "Are you leaving now?"

   "He has to" Debi answered for him, "He needs to freshen up".  I thought
I was a little disappointed at that.  God!  What was I thinking!  What did
I expect from Ajit's coming back to the house with us?!  I reproved myself
for letting my lurid imagination run amok.

   The bus came soon and Ajit clamored in along with a bunch of other movie
goers.  It was already crowded and I thought to myself that they wouldn't
need explain their disheveled clothes at their destinations.  I thought
about my experience the day before and felt my stomach muscles tighten as
the bus pulled away.

   "I am ready again, if you are" I told her as we left the bus-stop.

   "I know ..." Debi squeezed my hand and said, "me too ...  "

   " I want to know everything" I urged her by squeezing her hand back.

   "Oh boy, he was holding my hand and when that scene started he pulled it
to his lap," Debi described, "I felt it had swelled, so I started squeezing
it through his panjabi and the pajamas ..."

   "And it got more hard ...?" I was already breathing heavily.

   "Oh yeah ...  right under my hand; and I got sooo wet!  Ajit then pulled
up his panjabi and loosened the cord of his pajamas.  I figured what he
wants.  Put my hand inside and then under the 'jaangia' (Bengali for
'briefs').  It was sooo hard ...  like steel.  I started to pull it out;
but he stopped me.  I guess he did not want to mess up his clothes on the
outside.  So I held it inside his jaangia and massaged ..."

   "Was its head pointing up?" The details ...  I wanted the details.  I
needed to know the details to fully become a part of the threesome.

   "No, silly ...  then it would spurt out and on his panjabi, wouldn't
it!" Debi explained -- a slight hint of condescension in her voice, "the
head was down between his legs ...  Ooooh ...  it was really hot ..."

   "Then ...  ?" My clit was getting a gentle massage with every step that
I took.  I couldn't care less about sounding naive.  So I was -- for all
practical purposes; and Debi knew it.

   "He put his hand inside my sari, of course, and started doing me." Debi
said almost in a whisper, lest the passers by should be scandalized; not
that anybody could hear anything over the din of the usual evening crowd
and the honkings.

   "Oooh ...  Debi ....  I am hot ....  again!" I let her know.

   "I know.  I figured by just looking at you," Debi assured me.  "So?  You
want to do it here?" She added with a naughty chide in her voice.

   I must admit - I never knew that I had a little exhibitionist in me --
the idea did not seem too bizarre to me then.  Indeed, like I said before,
I had discovered just a short while back the eroticism inherent in doing it
in public.  While the idea was extremely appealing, we certainly could not
venture into making it real.  So, we waited till we were alone at Debi's.
Once inside, she quickly closed the front door even as I was taking my sari
off.

   We went into the living room and Debi closed the windows.  Through the
wooden shutters, twilight filtered into the otherwise darkened room.  I was
standing in the middle of the room in my petticoat and blouse.  Debi turned
around and looked at me with tender lust.  My heart fluttered in
anticipation.  I wanted her right then.  I wanted to smell her and I wanted
to smell Ajit on her.  As she approached me I grabbed her hands in mine and
lifted them up to my face ...  I covered my nose in her palm.

   Aaaah ...  Ajit's and my own odor mingled from her two palms and into my
nostrils.  I felt my cunt throb, soaking my panties some more.

   Cupping my face in her palms, Debi kissed me on the lips.  As I parted
them, her tongue darted in, caressing my teeth and then playing with mine.
I reached around her back with both arms and drew her to me.  My fingers
found the hooks that held her sleeveless blouse and I undid them one by
one. She reciprocated by undoing mine from the front.  We were still
standing in each other's arms; and Debi was still fully clothed.  I
presumed she didn't want dash at it.  It was just fine with me, for I could
feel my juices running down the inside of my thighs.  The thin fabric of
the panties could hold only so much!  As much as my orgasm was just a
finger's touch away, I did not want it to be over just yet.  I have forever
been a sucker for gentle and prolonged sex.  Not that there haven't been
occasions and needs for quickies - solo or otherwise - but, following one,
I am almost always left with a sense of non-fulfillment (is there such a
word?  If not, consider it coined; for there isn't a better word in my
vocabulary).

   Debi pushed my blouse aside and unclasped my bra with one hand --
passing it with a feather-touch from my nipple to nipple.  Already
engorged, they now firmed up and became erect.  The third throbbed between
my legs - begging to be touched.  I stiffened every muscle in my body and
ignored it.  Oh ...  was it ever tough!  Indeed, I had to keep my thighs
adequately apart to keep my love-button from receiving any involuntary
attention.

   It seemed like an eternity before Debi broke her embrace and withdrew
her tongue from my mouth.  Both of us gasped for air, surfacing from the
depth of our mutual desire.  She tugged at the cords of my petticoat and it
fell to the floor in a neat heap around my ankles.  I took my blouse and
the bra off.  Then I simply tugged at her sari, that was neatly tucked into
her petticoat, and it came undone almost all at once.  She hurriedly undid
the chords and slipped out of the rest of the garments.  The next moment,
we were again standing in a tight embrace - this time ,though, only a thin
film of sweat -- beside my panties, drenched at the crotch -- was all that
separated our bodies.

   My nipples rubbed against her's and they seemed to swell further and
become more stiff -- if that were possible.  They were sending off sparks
in every direction, as we moaned into each other's ears.

   "That movie was ...  terrific ...  wasn't it?" Debi moaned, trying to
part my legs with her thighs.  She wanted to do it standing.

   "Oh ...  yesss ...  Debi ...  and ...  you frigged ...  Ajit ...  seeing
that!  Didn't you ...  ?" I said, holding my ground with my feet firmly
planted on the cold cement floor.  I did not want any part of her to touch
me there!  Not even the fabric of my panties would then prevent the
inevitable.

   "Yessss ...  yesss ...  oh ...  it was hard and warm ...  and he came
inside his jaangia ....  " Debi kept saying, still trying to get to my cunt
with her thighs, "and I did you ...  in there ...  it was so hot ...  that
way ..."

   "It was hot ...  Debi ...  let me do you now ...  " I begged, "I want to
...  so much ...  sweet Debi ..."

   "I want to do you too, Sharmi ..." Debi insisted.

   "I am too hot right now" I whispered, "I will come right now if you
touch me." Debi understood and, breaking our embrace, stood back a little.
Holding my breasts in her hands, she stooped and took one of the erect
nipples between her teeth.  I clutched her hair and cried out in pleasure -
"Oh my ...  Debi ...  nnnnngh ....  aaaaahhhhh ....  God ...  ohhhh!" With
that I pulled her down on the floor.

   She lay on her back, her firm well-rounded breasts quivering in
anticipation.  The two dark aureoles, capped by swollen hard nipples,
beckoned me urgently.  I crawled on top of her - supporting my torso on my
elbows - my two legs resting slightly apart between hers.

   I looked into her eyes as our nipples met, once again sending ripples of
electricity through my naked form.  She closed her eyes and parted her
lips. I dove into it with my tongue and sealed it with my lips -- making an
'O' around hers.  I flicked my tongue around inside her mouth.  She played
with it with her own.  Mixed together, the saliva was an aphrodisiac!

   She brought her hands up and, supporting her breasts from the sides,
gently rubbed her nipples against mine.  They were aching ...  as if they
would burst ....

   I slid down along her perspiring body and buried my face into the soft
valley.  She smelled wonderful, with her perfume ...  her sweat ...  her
arousal mingling into the familiar aroma of excitement.  I inhaled and
bathed my senses in it.  Then, propping myself up again, I took her nipples
in my mouth -- taking turn and lingering on each.  I would circle the
aureoles with my lips, and then gradually let it slide back till the nipple
positioned itself between my lips.  I would suck hard and then lightly bite
on it ...

   We had learned to pleasure each other over the past several months. 
Some of it were gathered through erotica, both English and Bengali; but,
mostly, we discovered our bodies mutually.  Wonderfully, though, despite
our knowledge of each other's body and its pleasures, we rediscover each
other every time.  We have never failed to surprise each other.

   "Ohhhhhnnnnng ...  Aaaaaaah ....  Sharmi ....  Ooooh ...." Debi started
to moan.  She clasped the small of my back with her legs and started to
rock ...  thrusting her pelvis towards me ...  almost pathetically making
futile attempts at trying to make her cunt make contact with my belly. 
Even in that state of my own arousal I felt in control.  I was in charge of
the schedule.  I would decide when she spent ...  when we spent ...

   Even as I was raising the heat in Debi, I was wetting the floor directly
beneath my cunt with my more-than-copious juice seeping through the thin
fabric that clung to my crotch.  I took a hand between our bellies and
moved it down between her legs.  Her cropped silky thatch, slippery wet
from my secretion, was plastered against her pubis.  I slid the hand
slightly further down and -- parting the swollen lips -- inserted two
fingers inside.  Her juice, having welled up in the tunnel, immediately
flooded my hand up to the wrist.  I started a slow ,and deliberate motion
...  wiggling my fingers with every stroke...

   "My ...  Ahhhhh ....  God ....  Sharmi ...  yesss ....  yes" Debi arched
her back and shouted her approval.

   "Mmmmmmm ....  " is all I responded with -- my mouth busy at her
breasts.

   "Oh ...  oh ...  Sharmi ...  Sharmi ...  Sharmi ...  my God ...  I ... I
...  ooooof ...  oooof ...  nnnnng ...  I can't ...  stand ...  it ... 
anymore ..." Debi moaned and crooned and undulated.

   It was getting harder and harder for me to keep my cool.  I had to
struggle to keep my thighs from coming together upon my lowset clit.  But,
even as Debi gyrated her hips in rhythm, matching that of my digits, I grew
more and more determined to take her to the nadir and show her that what
Ajit could do, I could do better.  My love for her and my envy towards her
beating me to a cock complemented each other, I think.

   "Sharmi!  My Sharmi ...  do it ...  do me.  Fuck me ....  fuck me ....
ooooooof .....  nnnnnng ....  fuck me ....  frig ...  frig ...  frig me ...
yesssssss ....  yes ...  yes ...  " Debi's whole body was flailing under me
...  her back arching ...  her hips moving up and down, and sideways ... 
forming a wave.  I decided it was time.  I withdrew my fingers from her
cunt.

   "Ooooooooh!  No ...  no ...  nommmmmm ....." Debi bucked her hips up --
moaning her disappointment.

   "Shhhhh ...." I stopped her objection with my lips and massaged both her
breasts more vigorously with both hands.

   I slid down again, keeping both my hands on her breasts and tweaking the
stiff nipples between the index and middle fingers.  Drawing my tongue
along the middle of her belly I stopped at her deep navel.  I felt her
muscles tighten as she let out a lung-full of air when I drew a circle
around it with the tip of my tongue.  Clutching my head in her hands, she
held it there for a moment and then let me on my way for further
explorations ...

   I pulled myself up on all fours, my head hovering directly above her
lower belly.  She looked at me from under her heavy eye-lids ...  a
helpless abandon in that look.  I was in charge!

   I kissed her mons, the tickle from her triangle sharpening my own
excitement.  I placed my hands on either side of her cunt lips - taking
care not to touch them directly.  I squeezed the flesh, that flanked her
swollen lips, together ...  Debi squealed in delight ...  forming some
intelligible words of pleasure.  Clear slippery juice dribbled down the
crack, along her buttocks and onto the floor.  Almost involuntarily, she
pulled her knees up and spread her thighs wide apart.

   I could wait no more.  Without my hands holding them shut, the labia
were almost an inch apart.  The pink tunnel -- filling up constantly with
her juice -- twitched at me invitingly; and I didn't have the will left to
resist ...

   Getting between her thighs, I brought my mouth down to her cunt.  I
extended my legs behind me and, lying now on my belly, I put my tongue
inside her.

   "Oh ...  my God ....  my ...  my ...  Sharmi ...  eat ...  eat ...  eat
...  eat my cunt ....  yessss ...  " her buttocks raised up in the air and
stayed there, as if to engulf me by her sex.

   I slurped and slurped and slurped ....  her never ending nectar flowing
down the side of my mouth.  I felt her clitoris throb against my nose and,
as I lapped her cunt, I pressed hard against the lovebutton with my nose.
Debi shuddered and brought her thighs together to hold my head tightly
between them ...  as if afraid of my mouth losing its target.

   "Aaaaaaaaaah ....  fuck ....  eat ....  yeah ...  yesssssss ..... 
ooooooooooof ....  I ...  I ....  I ....  Noooooo ...  nnnnnnnnnnnghhhh
...."

   And she came!  Her clit almost shuddering against the tip of my nose --
her cunt muscles spasmodically squeezing my still moving tongue -- she
came...

   I was still in control -- I thought to myself!

   I kept on nudging at her clit and kept on licking up her juice from
inside her and she kept on coming.  My nipples ached in distension; my own
vagina flowed uncontrolled; under the drenched fine fabric, my clitoris
cried out for a touch -- but I kept on sucking at her as her hips gyrated
wildly, my head still tightly held between her thighs ...

   Finally she let herself go.  With one loud sigh, she dropped her
buttocks back to the floor and let her thighs fall on either side.  But I
had not had enough of her yet.  I took her clit between my lips and started
sucking ...

   "No!  No!  Sharmi ...  sweet darling ...  Sharmi, no more ...  please
... please ...  I am done ...." Debi begged me to stop.  But I was in a
sexual frenzy of my own.  I kept playing with it using my lips, my tongue
....

   She yanked at my hair and pulled me up on top of her.  I kissed her full
on her mouth ....

   "Mmmmmmmmm ...  I taste good!" She said, licking her own juice off my
face.  And with that, she slid one of her thighs between mine and pulled
her knee up ....

   I squirmed on her thigh ...  my clit sending shock waves through my
body. She rocked with me laying on her ...  stomach to stomach, nipple to
nipple, our breasts pressed together ....

   Like a hurricane making landfall it happened ...  and I came -- my
panties still on, I climaxed in a violent convulsion that lasted for a
whole minute ...  (I think...)

   "I ...  I ...  I'm cummmmmmming ....  Debi .....  yes ....  yess .... 
yesssssnnnnnnnnng ..." I yelled out in pleasure.

   Debi continued rocking; and she massaged my back and my buttocks with
her two hands, urging me to completion, "Oh ...  yes ...  do it ...  do it
...  on my thigh ...  yes ...  come ...  come on me ...  nice ...  Sharmi
...  nicely ...  yesss ...." she sighed in my ears as I drenched her thigh
blissfully.

   We lied there, I on top of her, on the cold cement floor for eternity.
The ceiling fan -- the sole witness to our sex -- groaning above us as if
complaining of being left high and dry.  I am not sure how long we had to
wait to catch our breath, but Debi finally reminded me of another urgency.

   "I need to pee ..." She said with a chuckle.

   "My God, yes ...  me too ..." I was suddenly aware that my bladder must
have reached its limit for quite sometime.

   Exhausted, we both had to pull ourselves off the floor.

   I learnt that night that such scenes, that drove me and most of the
spectators wild, were not new to Debi.  She had watched movies with
steamier scenes with Ajit.  I was hurt -- for I immediately imagined them
sitting in a dark cinema, masturbating each other off -- without me.

   I know, I know; but when it came to Debi, I was not quite rational.

   ++++++ end pt 5

   (to be continued) +++++++++++++++++++

   <5th attachment end>

   <6th attachment, "Ms_6.txt" begin>

   Thanks to a friend (and his on-line stories), I am having to submit the
second revised version of "Part 6".  Having received a number of letters
wondering about the follow-up to Part 5, I rushed and, consequently, it
ended up with a number of spelling and editorial mistakes.  Readers are
welcome to find mistakes, if there are more, and email me.  Next time, I
will only post the revised version on my ftp site.

   A Note from Me:

   I have been told that, for the reader to be able to comprehend and enjoy
the eroticism in My Story, I need to include a few explanations about
certain sociocultural aspects.  So, the introduction to this part will be
about those that have already figured in the story.

   I was addressing Debi as "Moni-di": Indians, in general, do not address
somebody older by her/his first name.  That is considered rude and
uncivilized.  Instead, an order of kinship and familial addressing system
has been developed that is followed even between strangers.  While in some
parts of India people are slowly moving away from such traditions, Bengal
still follows it.  Older sister and brother are addressed as Didi and Dada,
respectively, in Bengali.  Those are rather generic and usually within a
family setting, extended or nuclear, the short suffix of -Di or -Da are
used (e.  g.  Sharmila-di).  In some families, like mine, it is insisted
that the real given name not be used as it would be tantamount to challing
her/him by name.  So, endearingly, Debi was called "Moni-di" by her juniors
in her family; and, since we had none addressed in our family by that name,
we had adopted it too.  To my juniors in our immediate extended family, I
im known as "Shona-di".  To my more distant cousins, I am "Sharmidi". 
Sometimes, by the permission of the addressee, one is allowed to use the
real name.  This also is a sign of closeness between the two.  Hence the
change from "Moni-di" to "Debi".

   Kissing in Public: It is not so much a taboo as it is a question of
sensitivity.  Kissing is part of the foreplay that leads to sex.  Lovers'
kiss in India is part of an intimacy that is only to be enjoyed in private.
It is not as trivial as it is in the West.  If kissing were a taboo, it
would have remained from the mainstream literature.  Far from it, joining
of lips between lovers has been described by Indian poets and bards in
exhalting details through millennia.  Thus, the mores against public
displays of intimacy are rather esoteric, in my opinion.

   The Usual Disclaimer: Please do not proceed any further than this line
if you are not an adult.  The following contains description of sexual
intimacy between two human beings that care about each other.  If anything
but the most missionary offends you, you are advised to move on.

   Feel free to write to me with your comments and any meaningful insights.
(anu_g42@hotmail.  com)



   My Story (Part 6)

   In the next few months that followed, Debi, Ajit and I had gotten
closer-- psychologically speaking.  We would meet almost every other day at
a coffee shop in South Calcutta.  Our conversations ranged from politics to
sex.  Debi and I would strike up conversations about her sex life with Ajit
and he would join in, describing, albeit allegorically, what they had done
the last time.  They still had not, however, progressed to the essential
union.  Both of them, for some esoteric reason, had wanted to wait more. 
Nonetheless, they were (and I was) having fun exactly the way it was.  I
took satisfaction in the knowledge that the only sex that Debi's touched
was mine.  Sometimes when Ajit came in her hand too quickly - especially
when he would have a prior exposure to some juicy erotica - and Debi would
not want to be just frigged -- she would come over to our place unannounced
and surprise me.  The surprise would spill over well into the night after
the rest of the house fell asleep.

   My big days came and went.  I did rather well in the Joint Entrance and
in my Higher Secondary.  All through that time I never stopped sleeping
with Debi.  Indeed, I realised later that, I could not have done well in my
exams if I did.  I would have constantly thought about sex and my studies
would have suffered.  Of course, Debi was instrumental in not allowing me
to remain consumed with thoughts of sex.  She took charge during that month
and never let me stay awake past midnight.

   I got into Calcutta Medical College.  I was also accepted at a very
reputable college down South, but, of course, decided to remain in
Calcutta. Debi and Ajit were by then in their final year of college.  Both
were going to graduate with Bachelors in Physics.  Since my college is in
the central part of the city, and almost next door to theirs, the
Presidency, the three of us met everyday.  Sometimes, after college, Debi
would come home with me and spend the night.

   For two weeks, right before and during the Christmas-New Year holidays,
I went away with my family to visit one of my aunts who lived in another
city, in another state.  Needless to say, during that time, I missed Debi
-my own fingers failing to fill the void.  I could not wait to get back to
Calcutta.

   I went straight to Debi's place the same evening we were back.  It was a
Saturday.  She quickly took me to her room, asked Sutapa to get lost, and
closed the door.  I hugged her tight and kissed her on the lips.  She
reciprocated by putting her arms around me and squeezing my buns.  I had
gotten wet between my legs in anticipation even as I was riding the bus to
her home.  And, now her smell made my cunt throb inside.

   Debi broke our embrace and said, "I have something to show you. . .  "
and with that, she opened the lock to her personal cupboard and brought out
a slender white thing that resembled a tooth-brush holder - only much
thicker.  It was about eight inches in length and an inch in diameter, with
one end smoothly tapered.  Debi held it up in her hand, her fist around the
base, and it took me a few seconds to figure out what it was.  We have seen
pictures of it in magazines and have even seen pictures of it being used.

   "Wow, Debi. . .  " I exclaimed, "where did you get THAT?!"

   "Ajit's cousin brought it" Debi explained, "You know, the one he always
talks about . . .  "

   "You mean . . .  that Dipankar?" Ajit had talked about his cousin who
lives in the USA.  Dipankar's parents, both architectural engineers, had
emigrated when Dipankar was about five.  In due course, they became US
citizens.  He and Ajit are almost the same age, Dipankar being older by
about six months.

   "Ajit apparently asked him to bring this for me and you" Debi explained,
handing me the thing.

   "You mean Dipankar knows about me and you?" I asked with a little
embarrassment.  I guess I had grown up too much and did not like anybody
else in on our intimacy.

   "No, no. . .  " Debi calmed me down, "Ajit did not tell him anything
about you, so don't worry.  "

   "So. . .  have you used it?" I asked, trying to figure out how it works.

   "No. . .  " Debi took a step closer and, putting a hand over one of my
breasts, whispered in my ears "I was waiting for you to get back. . .  no
fun alone.  "

   "Does it need batteries?" I asked.

   "Yeah, and I have put them in.  " Taking the object of our discussion
from my hand she turned it on by twisting the base.  The thing made a low
pitch noise.

   "Want to try it out now?" I brazen.

   "You must be crazy. . .  Sharmi. . .  " Debi tried to pour some cold
water on me, "You know Sutapa will be back any time.  We have to wait till
later. . .  may be tomorrow at your place?"

   "And what do you think I do in the mean time?" I complained with genuine
hurt in my voice.

   "Oh. . .  Sharmi. . .  you are very very naughty and incorrigible" Debi
said, "OK let me do you. . .  " with that, she had one of her hands inside
my sari.  I reciprocated and we were on her bed the very next moment,
rubbing each other with our hands.

   "Oh. . .  Oh. . .  Oh. . . .  " Debi was no less horny; her passage was
definitely slippery.

   "So. . .  you didn't want it - eh?" I looked into her eyes as I inserted
one finger into her cunt.

   "God. . .  I missed you. . . .  " Debi tweaked my clit between her two
fingers

   "Oh yeah?  Not as much as I did. . .  " We were laying on our sides,
facing each other, with our arms straight inside each other's sari through
the waist.  It was not a very comfortable position.  I was horny enough not
to mind the slight discomfort I felt in my left arm, with the palm facing
out at Debi's cunt.  Debi didn't seem to mind either. . .

   "You and Ajit did not frig each other all this time?" I am blunt when
horny.

   "Did. . .  oh. . .  oh . . .  oh . . .  yes . . .  faster . . .  but . .
.  he . . .  has been. . .  rather busy . . .  with his. . .  cousin . . .
" Debi was already bucking her hips at me with her eyes closed.  From her
breathing I could tell that she was not going to last too long. . .

   "Yesss . . .  want to finish it. . . .  Debi. . . .  my Debi. . .  " I
asked while keeping a steady pressure on her clit.

   "Yess. . .  Yesss. . .  oh. .  yesss. . .  " She whispered loudly,
"haven't done it for a week. . . .  nnnngggghhhh. . . . .  faster . . . .
rub it.  . .  rub it . . . .  my God . . . .  yeah . . . .  come . . . 
come with me . .  .  sweet Sharmi . . . .  are you ready . . .  ?"

   I had been ready for the last week, too.

   "Yesss . . . .  I'll do it . . .  I'll come . . .  fuck me . . .  with
your . . .  finger . . . .  yeah . . .  like that . . . .  yyyyeaaah. . . .
come. .  .  come . . . .  come . . . .  "

   We were frantic.  In a tight embrace, our mouths locked as if in a
vacuum and our bellies grinding against each other -- oblivious of the
cramp developing in our arms -- we spent with a series of shudders.  It was
over as fast as it had started.  For the next few minutes we lay in each
other's arms, one hand still between the other's legs . . . .

   There was no need for the new toy that evening!

   Debi came to our place the next morning.  I happened to be downstairs
and answered the door-bell.  There she was, on our doorstep and right
behind her was Apollo.

   "Hi there, Sharmi. . .  " Debi was probably addressing me, "Look who's
herewith us"

   Yeah. . .  Debi, Ajit and Apollo.

   "Hello. . .  Ajit . . .  "

   "Not there, here. . .  " Ajit passed a hand in front of my eyes. . .

   "Yeah. . .  Yeah. . .  OK . . .  " I could not take my eyes off Apollo.

   "This is Dipankar, my cousin" Ajit introduced Apollo.

   "Namashkaar. . .  !  How are you?  I mean. . .  blah blah blah. . . .  "

   "Sharmi. . .  Do you want us to stand here for the rest of the morning?"
Debi interjected rather sharply.  She had to, otherwise I would have kept
on making a fool of myself.

   Yes!  Dipankar has the most beautiful body and the most handsome face to
go with it.  He looked like Ajit a lot, but was a little taller with a head
full of wavy hair.  Ajit is a shade darker than Dipankar.  Ajit did not
look athletic; Dipankar, you could tell, worked out regularly.

   Well, you guessed it: It was 'LOOOVE' at first sight.  By the time we
were up in my room, I was daydreaming.  Strangely enough, I was not
wondering about Dipankar's manhood like I used to about Ajit's.  However, I
was getting wet just the same -- merely thinking about him.

   So, we got introduced to each other better once we were in my room. 
Apparently Ajit has talked about me a lot, sans the intimate details (I
hoped).  And Dipankar said that I looked even more beautiful than he had
imagined.  I was expecting some sort of a foreign accent in his Bengali and
was impressed to find none.  Later I learned that he visited Calcutta
almost every year when he was in school.  We kept on making small talk thre
rest of the morning -- and I kept on looking at him and being horny.  Debi
guessed my state.  She took me outside and asked, "You are horny, aren't
you?" What could I say?  I nodded helplessly.

   "You want me to stay tonight?" She asked.

   "Yes, did you bring that thing with you?" I asked.

   "You know what?  I did. . . .  " Debi smiled, "I had put it in my purse
before I left. . .  just in case. . .  "

   So, Debi stayed back for lunch and beyond.  It being Sunday, others in
the house were settling down in their rooms with books and siesta while
Debi and I went up to my room and closed the door securely.  The winter
afternoons are pleasant -- even cool for a typical Bengali -- and my room,
being in the North of the house, was chilly.  After a heavy traditional
Sunday lunch, we were both cold.  I rubbed my hands together and looked at
Debi.  She was looking just fantastic in her heavy saalwaar-kaameez.  Her
shapely figure was accentuated by the loose-fitting dress that hung
provocatively from her shoulders and over the mounds of her beautiful
breasts -- a mysterious appeal carelessly shrouded from view.  I looked at
her eyes and she smiled back, sitting down on the bed.  I picked up her
purse and opened the clasp.

   "Can't wait, can you?" leaning back on my bed with her hands supporting
her torso, Debi commented at my eagerness.

   "I am 'hot' . . .  " I said, "I've been looking forward to seeing you
since yesterday, you know!"

   "Just seeing me?" Debi teased me.

   "Yeah . . .  " I had the 'THING' out in my hands, "and to watch you fuck
yourself with this.  "

   "Let's do it tonight, Sharmi, " Debi said, "I just want to cuddle up
with you now.  "

   "You're going to stay tonight?" I asked with excitement in my voice.

   "Yeah . . .  my Ma knows that I am spending the night here.  "

   "All right . . .  " I dropped the thing back inside her purse and got
out of my skirt.  The panties followed the skirt on the floor and I climbed
into my bed.

   "So, you want to sit there fully clothed?" I asked

   Debi.  She stood up and unbuttoned the kaameez, and I could see the
smooth skin of the valley between her breasts.  Sensuously, she slipped out
of it and stood there in front of me in her loose fitting pants and a
skimpy bra.

   "Wow!" I said with a low whistle, "when . . .  where did you buy it?"

   "At the New Market" she replied and pulled the cord of her saalwaar. 
Stepping out of the pants -- that lay in heap around her ankles -- she
added, "Ajit insisted that I bought these - you like them?"

   Her panties -- an equally skimpy piece of cloth -- matched her bra. 
They barely covered her essentials.  The bra was designed to accentuate the
fullness of her breasts by separating them just enough while supporting the
globes firmly (not that they needed any extra support).  The upper border
of the bra barely covered her large aureoles and the nipples started to
show through the satiny fabric.  I guess my admiring (and eager) stare had
started to arouse her.  The panties did nothing more than define the
gorgeous area under her belly-button and between those slender shapely
legs. Not only the was the triangle of her pubic curls showing from either
side, the awfully narrow piece, representing the crotch, did little to
cover her labia.  She looked edible enough.

   "You look . . .  mmmm . . .  you are making me hot, Debi!" I said, "Did
Ajit see you in this . . .  of course not.  All you two do is . . .  "

   "Soon . . .  pretty soon.  " She said and crawled into the bed beside
me.

   I grabbed the comforter and covered ourselves with it.  Debi's skin felt
nice and warm against mine and we lay there for a while on our back -- our
bodies barely touching along the lengths of our arms.  Debi wore a light
perfume -- a mildly seductive fragrance of Gardenia.  Well, some would
argue against that and would insist that Gardenia does not smell seductive,
but on Debi it did - mixed with her natural scent.

   "Dipankar is beautiful, isn't he?" Debi spoke her mind finally.

   "Oh . . .  hmmm.  " I sighed my response.  "But Ajit is handsome too,
Debi.  "I made sure she was reminded.

   "Sure . . .  I know that, but Dipankar is . . .  I don't know . . . 
like . . .  like . . .  "

   "Apollo?" I finished her sentence.

   "Apollo!  You are right!" She said.  Then she propped herself up beside
me and, looking into my eyes, asked, "you are totally gone, aren't you?"

   I put my arm around her neck and said, "But why would he be interested
in a poor Bengali lass when he can date those blue-eyed blondes in
America?"

   "Don't be coy . . .  you . . .  you, " Debi said, "you know any man
would give his right arm to be able to be with you.  God, I haven't seen a
more beautiful girl!" She planted a kiss on my lips.

   "Don't exaggerate Debi!  Look at yourself in the mirror?" I always got
embarrassed at such things from Debi.

   "OK may be I have, " she said with a chuckle and, pushing her thigh
between my legs, added, "but that does not disprove what I just said.  "

   "How would you know?  You're not a man.  "

   "No.  I'm not.  But when did that start bothering you?" Debi sounded
hurt.

   "Oh, Debi . . . .  I love you so much.  You know what I meant.  " I
said, pulling her thigh in towards me.

   "Yeah . . .  I know, I know . . .  you need a big hard dick!  I was just
teasing.  No, seriously, Ajit is always talking about you.  " Debi said,
her soft hand gently passing over my breasts under my blouse, "if it were
about someone else, I would have been mad.  "

   "So you don't mind him admiring me?" I nuzzled my face up under her chin
and whispered.

   "Not at all . . .  indeed it would be fun . . .  me and you . . .  and
Ajit . . .  "

   We were well into our lurid mood.  I freed myself from her and propped
myself up on my side -- facing Debi -- just as she was.  Our nipples
touched, sending a mild shock through my body.  I closed my eyes and stuck
my tongue out; and I felt the tip of hers touching mine.  We lay on our
sides, our bodies touching only at our nipples through the fabrics.  We
played with our tongues.

   "Aaaah . . . .  " Debi exhaled, "I wish Ajit was here with us.  " I
always let her begin the fantasizing.  Even at the height of my arousal, I
managed to keep my senses about.  I didn't want to risk anything that we
had.  One never knows how and when resentments on such things creep in. 
Once she started, I went along with it - never showing too much ardor.  I
fantasized about Ajit a lot.  He had been a predominant subject -- albeit
never without Debi -- during my solo sessions.  That afternoon another face
kept appearing alongside; and I could not let it go.

   "And, Dipankar . . .  " I let my fantasy be known.

   "Yes . . .  " Debi looked into my eyes and betrayed herself, "they both
would be doing us . . .  ooohhh . . .  it's . . .  it's . . .  "

   "So hot!" I finished her sentence and drew myself closer to her body.  I
pushed one of my thighs between her legs.  My wet lips touched her skin
--sending a shiver across my belly and up to my breasts.

   "We would take turn sucking their cocks and they would suck our pussies.
. .  " Debi continued and reached between our bellies to pull the crotch of
her panties to one side.  Her bare cunt made contact with my thigh.  Lying
on our sides in a tight embrace, we started pushing our hips -- gentle
delight from the soft wet friction pervading our senses in the slow rhythm.
We moaned and whispered our fantasies into each other's ears as we received
pleasure from just being there in each other's arms -- breasts to breasts,
belly to belly -- cunts pressed against thighs.  After a while we stopped
saying anything.  We just breathed and purred into each other's mouths as
we rocked and we squirmed for the whole afternoon without climaxing.

   That was indeed a first for us and it felt good -- so good that, without
having to say a word to that effect thus far, both of us knew that we
didn't want to reach orgasm.  When we finally broke embrace, we were
virtually breathless.  Our breathing during the past couple of hours had
accelerated to such a pace that we felt light-headed.

   "Ohhh!" Debi spoke after a while, "I feel like doing it into the night
like this!" We were lying on our backs looking at the white ceiling.  It
was already getting dark.  I looked at the table-clock beside my bed.  It
was half-past-four!

   "I know . . .  I don't want to open the door tonight.  " I said; and as
I caressed the inside of her thigh with my fingers, I could feel the linen
under my buttocks getting wet from my juices running down along the crease.
It was a giddiness that I was almost afraid to let go -- a feeling that I
wished would last for an eternity.  Debi felt the same way.  She expressed
it just the way I would have "I don't want to finish it, " she said.  There
was -- is -- no better way to express it.

   We didn't want to leave the room and for the first time ever I realised
the functionality of an attached bathroom.  When I opened the door, my
brother was standing there -- about to knock.  He is just about a year
older than me and we have always been quite close.  He looked at me
quizzically and announced that Ma was worried that we were sleeping so late
on a winter afternoon.  I did not say anything meaningful and simply
brushed past him towards the bathroom.

   That night, with the unfulfilled tension held over since the afternoon,
we fucked each other with the vibrator till the battery gave up.  It was
definitely a new sensation.  I can not say I liked the thing immensely. 
Nothing matches a warm mouth and a tongue or a real finger; but the very
idea of using a vibrator -- of which so much have been made in photo shoots
and other erotica -- made us horny.  I must admit that it felt good on the
clit when I touched it very lightly.

   As we put the humming vibrator inside our cunts, we whispered our
fantasies into to each other about Ajit and Dipankar fucking us both,
taking turns; and that Ajit and Dipankar were watching us masturbating.  We
imagined them jerking off together as spectators -- and every other
conceivable lurid scenarios.

   Picturing them naked together and masturbating was what drove us over
the peak and we climaxed blissfully, panting and huffing our wild fantasies
into each others cunts.  And, somewhat ungratefully, we hardly gave the
vibrator a second glance before we fell asleep for that night.

   Our colleges reopened in the first week of January and Debi, Ajit and I
started meeting up everyday as usual.  Dipankar had left just before that.
It was actually an official visit for him.  He is an engineer by profession
and was sent to Calcutta on business by his firm.  I met him about twice
since that morning, and he promised to return that summer for a longer
visit.  Debi and I now started including him regularly, along with Ajit, in
our fantasies during love making.  We discovered that the images of two
boys in their twenties pleasuring us simultaneously drove us crazy with
lust.  Then we also discovered that we liked to fantasize about Ajit and
Dipankar engaged in masturbation with each other.  It drove Debi especially
wild.  I knew already that Debi was also quite impressed with Dipankar's
good looks -- and after a while I was convinced of the physical effect he
had on her.

   It was during one such wild fantasizing session in the intimate privacy
of our room that Debi decided to let me in on a secret.  A secret that she
had apparently kept from me till then, apprehensive of my reaction.

   "You want to know about Dipankar?" She said.  I was laying flat on my
back and she was on her side with one thigh over my legs - caressing my
breasts with a gentle massage.  We had just finished each other off with
our fingers.

   +++++++++ End Part 6

   (To be Continued)



   <6th attachment end>

   <7th attachment, "Ms_7.txt" begin>



   Some other preoccupation had kept me from reviewing and editing this
portion of My Story, and hence the slight delay in posting.  I have
received a few letters from readers urging me to hurry up, and I am truly
flattered at their impatience.  I think I have indicated earlier that I
have completed writing "My Story", so, barring my demise, all of it should
appear in due course.  In spite of some serious suggestions about using one
or two proof-readers, I have decided not to.  Instead, I rely on my readers
to find the mistakes and email me at their convenience.  I sincerely
appreciate any feed-back.

   NOTE: Please visit my 'ftp' site at asstr-mirror.org's Authors section to read
the previous parts.

   WARNING: Do not proceed beyond this "warning" if you are not a mature
person and/or are offended by explicit written descriptions of sexual
encounters!

   **********************************************

   My Story (part 7)

   It was during one of their annual visits to Calcutta, that Dipankar,
then around twelve, initiated his first cousin in the art of masturbation.
Being close in their ages, they were also best friends - despite the
geographical distance.

   It was the summer of 1974 and Calcutta was transformed into 'Venice' due
to a week of continuous rain.  Schools were out and the kids were all
having fun floating paper-boats right from their door steps.  Being from a
part of the world where cities rarely took on a similar appearance,
Dipankar was in a state of shocked amusement.  Not that he had not
experienced monsoon in Calcutta before, but not in that scale.  His
parents, quite understandably, did not let him play in the dirty water. 
So, Dipankar was in his room upstairs doing what a bored twelve-year-old
would like to do on monsoon afternoons, especially if he could have sneaked
in a few Playboys in his suitcase from America.

   When Ajit came up to the room, looking for his American cousin, he found
him sprawled on their bed on his tummy, his legs spread apart.  His chin
resting on the pillow, Dipankar had a colorful magazine open in front of
him.  He was intently looking at something on that open page and rocking
his hips back and forth.  Although he himself had never done it that way,
it did not take him long to realise what his cousin was up to.

   Ajit had been masturbating since he was ten.  But, so far, the only way
he did it was by massaging the head between his thumb and the fingers.  He
couldn't even do it with his left hand -- it had to be the right.  Things
were about to get a lot better as he slowly closed the door and locked it
from inside.

   "So...  I thought you did not do it..." as Ajit broke the silence of the
room, Dipankar froze.  "You don't have to worry Dipu, I do it everyday..."
Ajit assured his cousin as he sat down on the bed.

   Dipankar turned his head and looked at him.  "I was bored ...  so I
thought I'd look at the Playboys," he said almost in an explanatory tone.
To Ajit, that name made little sense.

   "Wow..." Ajit's eyes were drawn towards the open pages, where a girl
with alabaster skin was sitting cross legged in the nude, with one hand
strategically placed between her legs.  the hand only had covered the slit,
the curly blonde pubic hairs showing around it.  The boobs were perfect
domes, capped with taut nipples centering the large aureoles.  As a natural
reaction to walking in on his cousin's solo act -- and to the picture in
front of him now -- Ajit's own member was fully erect under his shorts. 
Like most kids his age, he did not wear the 'jaangia' at home; consequently
the sign of his arousal was quite apparent.  "What book is this?" Ajit's
eyes were about to pop out of their orbits as his hand almost involuntarily
found its target between his legs.  "Where did you get this?" He asked in a
whisper.

   "You like this one?" Dipankar said, "You want to see more?" And with
that he handed him the glossy Playboy.

   Ajit had never seen anything so lurid.  His sexual stimulation usually
had come from the mutts engaged in the act on the streets.  Some times he
had stood in front of the used-book stalls by the sidewalks and looked at
the covers on the smutty novelettes, before hurrying back home for a trip
to the bathroom -- to be alone.  At night, he would simply lay on his left
side and use the right hand to rub the foreskin on the head, easily
reaching 'orgasm' within a few minutes just thinking about the pictures of
half-clad women.  He had not yet started ejaculating.

   As Ajit intently looked at the pictures of the beautiful women, Dipankar
watched the reaction between Ajit's legs.  He was experiencing the same
effect that Ajit had experienced watching him do it against the mattress.
He pressed his cock hard against the bed and rocked his hips from side to
side ...  and he realised that he was getting more excited doing it in
front of Ajit.

   Dipankar turned over on his back.  He was wearing a pair of pajamas and
had his cock facing his navel between his belly and the sheet.  The pajama
cord must have come loose while he was pleasuring himself like that, for
the young manhood -- in its full glory -- popped out into the open through
the top.  As if instinctively, Ajit reached out, grabbed his cousin's hard
cock and started frigging him the only way he knew how.

   "Aaaaahhhhh..." Dipankar moaned.  It felt good.  He then offered to do
Ajit, and Ajit opened the fly of his shorts.  His already rock-hard penis
jumped out.  Dipankar circled the slender cock between his index and the
thumb, and started stroking it up and down, pulling the foreskin all the
way down and exposing the red pointed head.  Ajit closed his eyes and
enjoyed the manipulation.  He never felt this good doing it himself.

   After a while the tentativeness disappeared and Dipankar held his
cousin's hard cock in his full fist.  He continued moving his hand up and
down, feeling the heat from Ajit's cock being transmitted from his palm, up
his arm and to his own engorged penis.  A sticky watery droplet formed at
the slit of the round bulb, lubricating Ajit's fingers that massaged the
pinkish head through the foreskin.

   "You wanna pee?" Ajit made his naivete known.

   "Ngh-ngh" eyes closed in pleasure derived from his cousins fingers,
Dipankar shook his head.

   "But...  Dipu...  you are..." Ajit insisted....

   Dipankar looked at his cousin in amusement and explained.  Ajit was even
more excited following the short course in essential physiology.  He was
sitting, beside his prostrate cousin, genuflected at the edge of the bed
rather awkwardly.  Making himself more comfortable by stretching out beside
Dipankar, he lay on his side -- his slender hard cock jutting out through
the fly of his shorts.  He faced his cousin and resumed masturbating him.
He increased the tweaking motion on Dipankar's cock and started bucking his
hips in earnest, deriving immense pleasure from sliding his member in and
out of Dipankar's fist.

   Though not his first, Dipankar was also enjoying this session very much.
He had had participated in mutual masturbation with a couple of his friends
at school, but both his other friends had been rather knowledgeable in
matters of sex and self-pleasuring.  The idea that it was obviously very
unique and eye-opening for Ajit, made this one far more exciting for him.
He closed his eyes and prepared to come.  He tightened his stomach muscles
and flexed his legs straight out, at the same time tightening his fist ever
so slightly around Ajit's cock in the hope that he would follow suit.

   "Aaaaghhhhh....  faster...  yeah....  AAAAAAAAH ....  aaah ...  aaah...
aaaah....  nnnnnnnnnnnnnnggggg" and he shot.  The way Ajit was doing him,
his palm formed a hood over the head of his cock; and his semen shot out to
strike against his cousin's cupped hand.

   Ajit momentarily stopped what he was doing to Dipankar's penis, and
soon, as if by instinct, started pumping him up and down in his fist -- now
well lubricated with Dipankar's own cum.  He wanted to come himself, but,
despite the pleasurable sensation, the unknown stroke in Dipankar's fist
would not help.  So, after Dipankar finished shooting his load, using the
lubricated fingers of the hand that was holding his cousin's penis, Ajit
brought himself to completion.  With deliberate and swift movement of the
fingers and the thumb, he rubbed the pointed head of his cock, while
Dipankar held it in his hand - watching intently.

   "Nnnnngh ....  Nnnngggggh ....  AHHHGGGGH ....  nnnnngggggggg...." A
little bead of slippery juice oozed out from the slit as he 'came'.

   Such was the humble beginning of a relationship between two cousins that
lived on two opposite faces of the planet.  During the rest of his stay --
taking advantage of the fact that they slept on the same bed in the same
room - - Dipankar taught Ajit a lot of different ways of solo and mutual
masturbation.  You see, in Bengal, cousins of the same sex often would
share a room and even a bed (especially if they are as close as Ajit and
Dipankar were).  I am not sure how many of such arrangements end up in
benefiting each other in this manner, but I have a hunch (and many have
agreed) that such things are more common than the 'grown-ups' would like to
admit.  I have now come to accept the fact that memories of the adolescent
years are carefully tucked away by the 'moral' majority, lest sex should be
regarded with tender love.

   There I go again - off on a tangent....

   Since Dipankar used to visit Calcutta on a regular basis every summer
during school break, the two cousins continued to explore each other's
sexuality.  Dipankar used to sneak in explicit books and magazines for
Ajit, and they enjoyed frigging each other while reviewing them.  The
visits became irregular once Dipankar started going to college, as he had
had to do summer jobs.  But, their youthful indiscretions continued at
every opportunity.

   "You mean ...  they ...  still ...  do it?" I was rubbing myself and
panting in unbearable heat.  I found the thought of two boys engaged in
mutual masturbation extremely arousing.  Debi's account had not been too
long (Yes...  I have taken the liberty to fill in the gaps from my
imagination even as I did back then) but, mentally, I was actually
witnessing the two masturbating each other off.  I had never in my wildest
actually thought that Ajit and Dipankar did it together.  I thought Debi
and I were simply talking dirty during our passionate love-making and
making up stories that we found exciting.  But all those times that Debi
whispered her fantasies in my ears, while rubbing her seat of excitement on
my thigh, she knew about Ajit and Dipankar.  I remember feeling like the
fifth wheel again after a long time but also the very fact that Debi let me
in on their secret (and what a secret!) also drove me wild with passion.  A
thousand possibilities rushed through my mind and I virtually attacked Debi
with my sex.

   She was telling me about it lying on her back.  As soon as she was done
with it, I straddled her face and almost gagged her with my wet dripping
cunt.  For the first time, I think, I was too wild to think about her.

   "Urgh ....  mmmmm .....  Sharmi...." Debi managed to utter.

   "Eat me ...  eat me ....  Oh ...  Oh ....  Oh...  " I commanded her,
rocking back and forth on her mouth.  Visions of Ajit and Dipankar fucking
us together kept flashing before me as I came almost as soon as Debi
managed to touch my clit with her tongue.  I convulsed in a series of short
orgasms and collapsed against the wall in front of me -- Debi's head still
between my thighs.

   "Wow -- Sharmi ..." Debi said, extricating herself from under me, "You
are really hot about Ajit and Dipu doing it together ...  aren't you"

   I had little energy left to answer that redundant query.  I was hunched
up in a ball at the head of my bed, utterly exhausted from a super-fast
mind-numbing orgasm.  Debi sat up and hugged me from behind.  The feel of
her naked skin against mine sent another series of sparks -- only this time
they were soothing.  I turned around from my crouched position to face her.
She kissed me deeply and tried to put one hand on my pussy.  I squeezed my
thighs tightly and said ...  "Oh my God...  not now ...  I am done!" That
was the first time that either of us had climaxed alone in each other's
company.  It was hard for her to believe that I finished completely.  I
could see the hurt in her eyes, for she was aroused talking about her
fiance and his cousin, and then by the 'assault' of my cunt on her mouth.

   There must have been something unfamiliar in my voice, for she let go of
me and dropped back on the bed, sobbing.  Laying there on her back, with
knees folded up, she covered her face with both hands and sobbed
uncontrollably.  I could not see her hurt that way.  I loved her too much
and that's when I realized that I was a little mad about sharing Debi with
anybody.  It felt so silly momentarily that I started to cry too.  Thank
God the room adjoining mine was empty, otherwise our joint sobbing would
surely have attracted some unwanted attention.

   I looked at Debi and her vulnerability begged me to love her.  Her
beautiful fullness lying in front of me -- her skin glistening with her
sweat -- beckoned me to comfort her.  I felt low for having done to her
whatever that she thought I had done.

   Her sex was in full view between the smooth mounds of her buttocks, from
under her thighs that she held pressed together -- the heels of her perfect
feet digging against the underside.  My eyes were drawn to the dark swollen
lips of her vagina.  They were parted wide, invitingly framing her pink
tunnel that was still welled up with her juice.  I crouched low on my
stomach and folded my legs back and up at the knees.  My feet resting
against the wall and the crown of my head right under her feet, I reached
out with my tongue and touched those lips with its tip.

   "Nnnnng ....  Sharmi...." she let out a suppressed moan, mixed with
obvious excitement of surprise at what I was doing.

   "Shhhhh ...." I put one hand on the top of her feet and signaled her to
stay put ...  and she did.

   Without touching any other part of her body, I leisurely traced my
tongue over the labia and felt her thigh muscles flex while she let out yet
another muted moan ...  "Aaaaaahhhhhh ssshhhhhh".  Then, she grabbed both
her legs under the knees with her forearms and pulled them tightly toward
her chest.

   I could feel a gentle wave of excitement pass from the tip of my tongue,
along my neck, through the valley of my firm breasts and down to my own
sex. Debi's moans of pleasure never failed to excite me.  And, in spite of
myself, I felt the telltale warmth spreading through my earlobes.  My
tongue made its way into Debi's love tunnel.  I tasted the musty sweetness
flowing there uninhibited, the tip of my nose nudging softly against the
distended nub -- nestled within her silky curls -- that quivered at the
entrance.

   "Sssshhhhhhhhh .....  mmmmm" Debi drew in a lung-full of air in a
desperate attempt to keep still; but I could feel her entire body shaking
with heightened arousal as she pulled her knees apart with both hands -- as
if serving her sex for me to feast on with more ease.  I did full justice
to what was in front of me.  I sucked on the dark flesh of her labia and
then dove into her cunt with my tongue.  My face half buried into her, I
found myself reaching for my breasts with both hands while pressing down on
the clit with my thighs.

   "Oh ....  Sharmi ....  yessssss ...  nnnnng .....  nnnnng .....  nnnnng
....." I heard Debi whimper.  Then she started to rock from side to side --
still holding her legs to her chest -- trying to divert some of the
friction to her clit, which was, by then, straddling the bridge of my nose.

   I sucked hard to draw out as much juice from her cunt as I could.  She
kept flowing -- in keeping with my thirst; and I kept forcing my tongue, my
mouth and my nose inside her, stretching the tight -- yet soft -- tunnel as
much as it would take.  Debi was too far gone to sense pain, even if she
felt any.  I was determined to give her an ultimate mouth.  (There isn't a
word like that?  Well, there ought to be.)

   Perhaps a tiny remnant of the same jealousy was still driving my arousal
too as I matched Debi's rocking motion and started rocking myself -- only
back and forth -- driving my mouth again and again into her cunt,
transforming the length of my naked perspiring body into a gauntlet, as if
to get lost within my lovely cousin.  The curls around her opening were now
a matted mass -- wetted thoroughly with my saliva and her own juices.  The
silence of the room was only broken by the sound of me lapping Debi up
frantically....

   "Eeeeeeeeeessssssssshhhhhhhhhhh ...  ahh ...  ahhh ... 
aaaaahhhhhhhnnnng ...." another suppressed squeal from her announced her
impending climax.

   "Come ...  please ...  come ...  yess..." I spoke into her cunt, trying
not to interrupt either my feast or the rhythmic flexing of my thigh
muscles.  I was almost ready myself for the third time that night.

   "Yessss ...  Yessss ...  eat ...  eat ...  eat ...  do it ...  do it
...." she whispered loudly, this time announcing her orgasm, "Oh ... 
Sharmi...  Sharmi....  Sharmeeeeeeeennnng...  commmmming... 
aaaaaahhhhhh...."

   And I joined in with a "Mmmmm ...  mmmmnnnnnnggggggghhhhhh...." Pinching
down hard on my nipples and massaging my clit between my thighs, I let out
a long and satisfied moan -- muffled by my cousin's sex -- even as she let
go of her legs to bear down on my head with her thighs.  I virtually
collapsed -- breathless -- between them, my face still buried in her wet
and slippery cave....

   I woke up in the middle of the night -- or whatever was left of it --
and found myself in almost the same position.  Laying flat on her back,
Debi was sound asleep; and, with legs bent at the knees and my feet resting
against the wall, my head was resting on one of her thighs.  I was stiff
from passing out in a position that would be immensely uncomfortable except
while having sex.  I opened my eyes, got my bearing and sat up after some
effort.  The alarm clock on my study table showed four.  It was early April
and the first day-light was going to break in another hour-and-a-half. 
Usually I would not go back to sleep if I woke up around that time.  But,
that morning, I was in no shape to get up for the day.

   The exquisite nude form of my beautiful cousin -- her legs wide apart --
the perfect mounds of her breasts resting symmetrically on her chest, was
occupying the center of my bed; a restful and satisfied look on her
handsome face.  I didn't feel like disturbing her sleep.  I grabbed the
'maadur'* from under the bed, the spare pillow from the bed, and spent the
rest of the morning on the floor.

   +++++++++ end of part 7 (To be Continued)

   ***************************************** *a mat woven from the coconut
fronds



   <7th attachment end>

   <8th attachment, "Ms_8.txt" begin>



   I appreciate your feedback.

   NOTE: Please visit my 'ftp' site at asstr-mirror.org's Authors section to read
the previous parts.

   WARNING: Do not proceed beyond this "warning" if you are not a mature
person and/or are offended by explicit written descriptions of sexual
encounters!

   **********************************************

   My Story (Part 8)

   My jealousy notwithstanding, the three of us drew closer as days went by
and became more and more daring.  I was living a heady life which, by no
means, could be classified as staid.  I took sex as an essential part of my
existence that I enjoyed extraordinarily.  More I loved more I wanted to be
one with the object of my love; and Debi was that person in my life.

   I had a purely sexual interest in Ajit, but that part of me was
carefully guarded from Debi, lest I should offend her.  I was mature enough
to conceive that fantasies whispered during sex often are just that. 
Ajit's presence made my juices flow; yet I did not feel that I had to have
him.  So far as friendship went, I regarded him as close as any; and I
think he felt the same way.  That is not to say that he ever failed to
steal a glance in my direction -- especially when I wore slightly revealing
clothes.  I have caught him off guard staring at the cleavage of my
breasts. I have wondered about it.  At the risk of sounding conceited, I
must admit that people find me worth a second look; but, Debi has had a far
better figure, with ample yet firm breasts.  Her shapely waist curved down
to the most perfect derriere I have ever seen.  At five-five she had the
right fullness that would rival that of any centerfold.  So, Ajit's stares
obviously flattered me.  My breasts have a wider valley between them, and
that -- I guess -- makes them sort of mysterious to some men; or so I have
learnt.  I had a much more flat stomach in my teenage years that
accentuated the firmness of my shapely breasts.  Saree really looked good
on me and I knew it.  So, I would occasionally remember to dress rather
provocatively with sleeve-less blouses that showed the gradual slope of my
full breasts and the valley between them -- if I chose to.  Apparently,
that had a dual outcome: It turned Debi on too.  She has rarely -- even in
public - been able to hide her desire to be close to me when I dress that
way.

   It was a breezy evening in late April that I found myself strolling down
the Hooghly river with the two of them.  We were talking about a lot of
things, ranging from academics to politics and politics to entertainment.
In a natural progression the subject turned to sex while dwelling on films.
Ajit started describing this South Indian film that he had been to with a
few of his classmates.  The film was about a village boy falling madly in
love with a older women in her thirties.  From what he was describing, a
lot of steamy scenes had escaped the scissors.  Listening to Ajit describe
the scene where the boy (presumably)masturbates while spying on the object
of his infatuation while she is (presumably) indulging herself in the
shower and then getting caught by her -- only to be drawn inside the
bathroom for her own pleasure (presumably) -- I became a little aroused.  I
could feel the lips between my legs swelling and parting.  As we walked
side by side I imagined the entire scene where the boy has his wish come
true in the woman's bathroom.  I pictured the woman kneeling in front of
the boy, his adolescent cock standing up in front of him ...  inches from
her eager mouth.  Snippets of such shots fleeted past in my imaginative
brain; and I wished Debi and I had accompanied him to that movie -- I
wanted to do it with them while watching the movie in the darkened theater.

   By the time we reached a nice spot by the river, where we could sit down
on a clean bench, we had walked about three miles along the bank; and with
the slow pace of our stroll, I had been rubbing my clitoris between my
thighs with every step.  I felt the juice trickling down my inner thighs.
If I wished I could have probably come that way -- while walking beside
them and listening to Ajit's watered-down account of the movie -- but I did
not.  (I really do not remember if I was unaware of the potential or simply
did not want to do it that way; but, assuredly, you that it is easily
achieved!)

   We sat down on a bench under the huge tree.  The bench was surprisingly
clean, despite being under the tree.  It was already quite dark and Debi
sat close to Ajit ...  'almost on his lap, ' I thought to myself.  She, I'm
sure, was also no less aroused by the story she was listening to.  I could
not see her face clearly but could make out her glistening eyes.  I wasn't
sure what would happen next, but my heart was pounding and my cunt was
throbbing.

   "So, why didn't you take me to see the movie?" Debi demanded, with one
of her hands resting palm down on the bulge on his lap.

   "Debi, I went the guys without any plan." Ajit said.  He and of his
buddies from the Zoology went out to this theatre to something else; the
film was no longer playing and they ended up seeing this one -- he
explained.

   "All right; but what did you guys do in the theatre?" Debi's risque
query told me that she was aroused.

   "NOTHING!!" Ajit said quite emphatically and, looking at her with a
smile, added "God!  Debi ...  what will Sharmi think?" That was a redundant
comment, for Sharmi and the two had had exchanged raunchier words between
them.  It was, of course, part of that intimacy.

   "It's pretty late, maybe we should head back" Debi said quite abruptly.

   "Umm...  sure ..." Ajit nodded in agreement, "But let's enjoy the breeze
for a while."

   "OK..." Debi looked in my direction and added, "We'd have to walk back
to the bus-stop"

   Talk about a let down!  Here I was, horny and dripping, and the two of
them were trying to behave cool as cucumbers.  I could sit there and finger
myself to a good orgasm within a few minutes!  My brain was about to
explode inside my skull.

   "Dipankar is going to be here sometime next month" Ajit said looking
straight ahead at the flowing water.  Did I detect a hint of excitement in
his voice?

   "Really!" Debi sounded interested.

   God!  what was I thinking?  Did I expect Ajit and Debi to engage in wild
sex right there on the bench and invite me in their frolic?  After the
breeze had cooled me down a bit, I almost laughed out loud in embarrassment
at my unexpressed thoughts.

   "Yeah...  let's start back" I forced myself to agree ...  and squeezed
my thighs together, as if to stifle a bawl from my unruly and disappointed
cunt.

   For the next five or ten minutes, we talked about other things and about
Dipankar and then headed back to where the buses would stop.  We boarded
the first bus that came along.  From there all went to the Esplanade.  It
was quite empty and Debi and I sat down on the small seat by the gate. 
Ajit stood in front of us.  That stretch of the ride being a short one, I
guess he wanted to be closer to us.  I glanced at his fly and noticed the
distinct bulge.  I looked at Debi and found her looking in that general
direction.  She looked at me, winked with a naughty smile, and gave my hand
a squeeze.  My love canal started throbbing again.

   "Are you two hot?" Ajit threw the double-edged query at us.  It was
almost May, after all, and it was humid and hot.  Looking up at him, I saw
the glitter in his eyes and the all too familiar impish grin exposing the
crowns of his perfect teeth.  He had realised the dubious nature of his
question.

   "What do you think?" I smiled back at him.

   "Well ...  you are sweating ..." Ajit winked at me.

   "So I am, Ajit, " I said.  Then looking at Debi I asked, "So...  Debi...
What is he going to do about it ....?"

   "I don't know ...  why don't you ask him!" Debi said.

   There wasn't anybody near us and the bus made enough sound to muffle our
low-pitched conversations.  Yet, a middle-aged lady sitting across from us
gave me a dirty look.  I guess, she had a better hearing than most.

   "Well, do you carry a fan or something with you?" I looked at his fly
and asked.  Something in me that evening made me more risque than usual ---
and I couldn't care less what the fellow passengers thought.

   "I do ...  but ...  Debi needs the fan..." Ajit stooped down and
whispered between our ears.

   Well ...  our boldness had advanced to a point where almost anything
went in our conversations.  Sometimes Ajit would steer our conversation in
that general direction from where he could be more explicit with us.  I had
the distinct feeling that the openness was more for my benefit.  I did not
mind -- and nor did Debi.  We gathered our fodder for wild fantasies from
what Ajit would say.  It was a strange thing ...  now that I look back!

   I said 'bye' to them and boarded the 2B that was about to depart from
the Dharmatala stop.  It was nine already and it was another thirty-minute
ride home.  The bus was almost empty the rest of the way.  A petit girl, of
about my age, sat across from me and we exchanged smiles.  She was
beautiful with her big eyes and a perfect pair of lips that reminded me of
the medieval sculptures.  Her hair, made up in a single braid, was lying on
her front -- along the contour of her rather full breasts.  I couldn't help
but stare at her mesmerizing beauty.  She obviously felt embarrassed; for
she smiled an awkward smile again and crossed over to where I was sitting.
She tried to make light of the situation by sitting down beside me and
striking a conversation.

   "Are you going all the way?" She asked with a shy smile.  'Was everybody
talking in riddles tonight!' I remember wondering.  I had to engage a
mental brake to keep me from scandalizing my companion.

   "Er ...  no ...  and you?" I replied.  "I am sorry if I made you
uncomfortable, but you are beautiful." I added.  Now, it is not at all
unusual for one woman to complement another this way and, let me assure you
in no uncertain terms that, it does not carry any other connotation.  She
blushed.

   "So are you, " she said, "my name is Jayati." (Well, of course I don't
remember her name.  I am having to make one up.)

   "I am Sharmila" I said.  "Where do you live?"

   "I live in Ballygunj ...  but I am now going to my aunt's place in
Manicktala; I'll spend the night there with my cousin.  We will be going on
a trip to Digha early morning tomorrow."

   "You'll have to take the bus from the Esplanade, I suppose?" I carried
on.

   "Right.  I wish there was a train, " she said, "I hate long bus rides."

   "So do I." I empathized and looked at her eyes.

   She helped me divert my attention away from the urgency between my legs.
I enjoyed a pleasant ride with her for the next fifteen minutes before she
got down at her stop.  I looked at her as she waived a short good-bye
standing at the stop.  She reminded me of myself and I could not get her
face out of my mind.  More I thought about her, more her Eloraic beauty
captured my imagination; and soon I found myself fantasizing.

   When I reached home, I could feel the crotch of my panties soaked
through again.  I rushed upstairs and into the bathroom with my head filled
with the memory of the mild yet intoxicating scent that had drifted from
her and into my nostrils.  I could hear Ma calling after me for supper even
as I was closing the door shut behind me; but I had to relieve the pressure
that had been building up in my bladder for the last hour.

   I lay in my bed naked.  The elaborate shower before the supper had done
little except heighten my arousal.  Throughout, I kept thinking about my
fellow passenger and her exquisite beauty.  I had touched myself under the
shower teasingly, knowing that I was going to reward myself later in my
bed. And now I was doing just that.  The silence of the warm and humid
night around me was only broken by the monotonous hum of the ceiling fan
cooling my naked body.

   As I caressed my hard nipples between my fingers, I imagined that
'Jayati', my beautiful fleeting acquaintance, was lying on top of me --
kissing me with her full shapely lips.  My nipples were brushing against
hers and sending sparks through my body while she rubbed my clitoris with
the palm of her soft hand.

   I felt her tongue inside my juice-filled cunt as my own two fingers
traveled in and out in a deliberate phallic motion.  She was lapping me up
hungrily ---- and I was obliging her, quenching her thirst for me.  Her
long jade-black hair flowed freely on the flat of my stomach, shielding my
sex while she feasted.  I felt her soft cheek brush against my inner thighs
as she moved her head up and down -- side to side.  I felt the wet spot,
where the roundness of my buttocks met the sheet, expanding.  Her mouth
made slurping sounds at my dripping cunt, as she spread my lips down there
with her own soft, shapely lips, while driving her tongue deep -- twisting
it to lick my inside ...

   "Nnnnnnggggggh...." I moaned in delight.  "Lick me ...  yesssss ... 
yessss ...  eat my cunt ...  eat it ...  goooood ...  uh ...  uh ... 
uhhhhhhhhhhnggggggg ..." My supine naked form writhing in ecstasy, I came
in her beautiful mouth ...  my own tongue darting out and finding her clit
....

   I drifted off after the short but intense sex ...  I dreamt of Debi and
Ajit, lying naked by the river -- with me eating them in turns ...  while a
beautiful girl, with dark flowing hair, Eloraic lips and a smile that would
melt any rock, straddled their faces ....

   I could not remember her name in my dream.

   ++++++++++++++ (End Part 8)

   (To be Continued)



   <8th attachment end>

   <9th attachment, "Ms_9.txt" begin>

   I rely on my readers to find the mistakes and email me at their
convenience.  I sincerely appreciate any feed-back.

   NOTE: Please visit my 'ftp' site at asstr-mirror.org's Authors section to read
the previous parts.

   WARNING: Do not proceed beyond this "warning" if you are not a mature
person and/or are offended by explicit written descriptions of sexual
encounters!

   **********************************************

   My Story (Part 9)

   "I had been thinking about you a lot!" He said as we walked side by side
along the concrete paths that crisscross the 'Lily Pool' park by the
'Lake'. When I was a kid, it used to be a nice park -- complete with small
animals and birds.  Bureaucracy and corruption in the municipality did t
in. Now all that remained were a few run-down gazeboes and the man-made
stream that wound its way around and through the park.  I had not been
there in several years and the obvious signs of neglect all around me were
making me sad ...

   "Oh! ..." That's all I said in return --- I think.  I was preoccupied,
trying to reconcile my childhood memories with the dilapidation around me.
Debi and Ajit were several steps in front of us ...  hand in hand walking
towards the exit.  We had to leave before six.

   "Did you hear what I just said?" Dipankar stopped and said -- in
English. The keenness in his voice drew my attention.  I suddenly became
aware of myself.

   "Yeah; and pray why?" I inquired softly, in English -- and felt blood
rushing to my cheeks as my own affected inflections echoed in my head.  I
have never been bashful; but as a Bengali girl of eighteen I had to be a
little demure -- in spite of myself.  Truth be told, I had dreams -- some
of them rather fervent -- that involved him.  I guess it was to be
expected, what with all the raunchy fantasies that Debi and I shared.  And,
did I mention that Dipankar was terribly handsome?

   "Why?  Don't you look at yourself in the mirror?" He craned his head
down a little and almost whispered back.

   "I do; but what's that got to do with anything?" I wasn't giving up
being coy.

   "Sharmi, I know we have not talked a whole lot, but I haven't had a
goodnight's sleep since I met you..." He said.

   "Well, Valium or good solid exercise ..." I liked what I was doing, "You
need to make sure that your parasympathetic system does not overwhelm you."
I wanted to be flippant too.

   "Huh?!" The Engineer looked at me with bewilderment.

   "Never mind," I said.

   "So...  ?  Whad'ya have to say?" Dipankar insisted -- in American.

   "O...  I don't know ..." I still wouldn't give in.  For the first time I
caught a fish and I wanted to play with it -- even at the risk of being
thrown overboard.  I started walking again.  We caught up with Ajit and
Debi and the conversation did not proceed any further that evening.

   Dipankar's parents had, by then, bought a flat near the Lake and he
stayed there whenever he visited Calcutta.  Ajit's elder brother had gotten
married and there weren't enough room at the old house.  The four of us
walked and talked heading towards Gariahat.  The leisurely stroll with
Dipankar made me feel happy.  The crowd of shoppers, teeming through the
congested hub of South Calcutta, provided perfect excuse for Dipankar's
seemingly inadvertent brushes against my body.  A few times, as he took up
position behind me in the sluggish sea of people, I was delightedly made
aware of his obvious affection for me.  The short but slow stretch between
Gol Park and Gariahat 'mercado' -- a claustrophobe's nightmare -- seemed
too short as we reached the crazy intersection of Rashbehari Avenue.  I
never imagined that I would like to go back into that stifling crowd in a
muggy evening, but that was exactly what I wanted to do ...  just to be in
that physical proximity with my Apollo!  But as luck would have it, my ride
home -- the infernal 'Number 2' -- pulled up almost empty.  Well, as empty
as would preempt any suggestion of waiting for the next one.  The woman in
me, not willing to betray my feelings, 'eagerly' boarded the bus.  I even
found a seat by the window.  As I looked out, all three raised their hands
and waved.  They were going back to Dipankar's place.

   I could not fall asleep easily that night.  I was thinking of Dipankar.
Was I in love?  I had never thought about it this seriously before.  He had
been a part of my fantasies all along ...  but that evening changed
something.  With the first meaningful conversation, he had let me know
about his feelings for me; and I -- although elated and flattered -- didn't
know how to react.  I knew I was attracted to him; and that it was
different from the attraction I felt for Ajit.  I wanted Dipankar to be a
part of our sexual escapades but at the same time I wanted to be absolutely
alone with him.  As my thought turned towards sex, I felt the familiar
stirring my stomach that gradually spread through my body.  I took my hand
to my legs and stroked - gently -- around the opening of my sex.  I
wondered how Ajit's American cousin would feel if he knew about Debi and
me. I wondered if the two cousins still exchanged pleasures.  I decided it
was time I listened to my body; and I found myself imagining Dipankar's
naked form.

   I got up from the bed and retrieved the thick candle that I used to keep
hidden away in my desk drawer.  It wasn't easy saving one, for the frequent
'load-shedding' by the Calcutta Electric Supply generally made it
impossible to have enough candles around.  The one that I had was of the
thick kind -- and Debi thought that it was about the same girth as the one
between Ajit's legs.  That night, though, it stood in for Dipankar's ...

   The cold wax was just there to fill up my wet cave.  I felt the soft
muscles inside me gripping it in spasms as I massaged my breasts under my
night-shirt, my hands transforming themselves into Dipankar's.  With every
spark shooting out from my hard nipples, the candle was being pushed out by
the contractions of my slippery cunt.  I held my thighs together -- and the
'cock' in place.  I enjoyed my fantasy of being pleasured by Dipankar's
manhood (which, I was confident, would be warmer and match his comeliness).

   "Aaaahhh ...  Dipankar ...  do me ...  put your thick hard cock inside
me ...  yessss ...  Dipankar ...  do me ...  fuck ...  fuck ....  fuck
me... hard ...  screw me ....  " I whispered his name and moaned my raunchy
profanities over and over again till I felt my stomach muscles tighten in
preparation for the final delight.  I squeezed both my taut nipples hard
between my fingers and -- even as my cunt started its convulsions -- I
pressed my thighs tight together to hold the candle in place, half buried
in the deep recess of my womanhood.

   "Aaaaannnngh......." I climaxed ...  blissfully ...

   I was blushing by myself in the shower the morning after.  A strange
feeling had engulfed me since the solo of the night before ...  albeit
complete with Dipankar's shadowy presence.  I wanted to see him badly
...his handsome face and his beautiful body a constant source of arousal
for me.

   * * *

   We sat in the movie theater, his hand in mine.  My heart pounded as I
tried to concentrate on the film playing on the screen.  I don't even
remember its name!  All four of us had decided -- on the spur of the
moment-- to catch a movie and Debi suggested the film.  All I recollect is
that it was one of those run-of-the-mill movies from Bombay.  It had
titillating scenes aplenty -- enough to earn it a solid 'A' rating.

   After a while, I adjusted myself leaning ever so slightly towards him...
the side of my supple breast denting against his arm.  I could almost feel
him tense up at the feel; and then he relaxed.  I looked in his direction
and found him looking at me.  A thrill overcame my senses and I took his
hand, brought it up to my lips and gently planted a kiss on his palm.  I
could feel him shudder ...

   The two weeks leading up to that evening had brought us to a point where
each of us knew where we stood with each other.  Nothing singular was ever
verbalized in any form ...  yet I knew that he knew that I knew that he
knew!  (Well ...  I always wanted to write that down and see how that
sounded; and now that I've done it, I must say that I couldn't have
expressed it better.  But I'll try and refrain from repeating this.)

   Debi was truly happy about it.  Since we four were almost always
together, it was quite obvious -- the mutual pull between Dipu and me, I
mean -- to the other two.  One night, as Debi and I lay in each other's
arms in my room, she mused about him and me and got all worked up just
talking about a still hypothetical night of amorous lovemaking between us.

   "You sure you are not ...  ?" I had had to interject.

   "Don't be stupid Sharmi ..." She had pinched my butt and added, "Ajit is
far better looking ..."

   "No way ...  Dipu is like a Greek God" I had laughed.

   "Seriously ...  I get wet just imagining you two together" Debi had
said, "Do you think I can join in ...?"

   "Oh yeah?  And what about Ajit?"

   "Sure ...  he can join too ..." with that we both of us had laughed --
nervously.

   Strange, how a fantasy that Debi and I shared as a part of our
lovemaking could sound so scandalous now.  Scandalous -- but no less
stimulating.  Talking about the ignominiously delicious prospects, we had
made the most of our excitement that night.

   Following the lead from my unexpected kiss on his palm, Dipankar put his
arm over and around my shoulder and let the hand rest on the slope of my
breast -- the 'aanchal' of my saari the only barrier between his beautiful
fingers and my skin.  I froze, every muscle in my body flexing at once;
and, at that instant, I wished I had worn my saari in reverse and not in
the usual Bengali way.  I still melted -- my earlobes felt like they were
on fire.  I did not move for several minutes -- uncertain about any signal
I might give out that would cause him to withdraw his arm.

   I looked at Debi from the corner of my eyes, and I found her head
slightly turned toward me; and, in the light reflecting off the silver
screen, I detected a familiar twinkle in her eyes.  I turned my head in her
direction slightly and smiled and she smiled back her approval at me.  I am
not sure if I was waiting for a direction from my cousin, but my body
relaxed instantly.

   From the way his hand rested on me, I gathered he was tense too.  Having
overcome my initial awkwardness, I let my hand slip from the armrest and
onto his lap, bringing it to rest on his thigh.  Dipankar let out a gentle
sigh and, without moving his gaze, let his hand loose on my breast.

   I slowly moved my hand further to where his fly was and rested it on the
obvious bulge.  This time his breathing became audible.  He traced circles
with his fingers on the slope of my breast.  I looked at him and marveled
at his sharp handsome profile.  He detected my stare and a sanguine smile
broke out on his face.  Letting its weight go on his lap, I moved my hand
very very gently up and down along the length of bulge.  It throbbed.

   So did my heart and my womanhood.  I squeezed my thighs and a shiver ran
up my stomach, and to my already taut nipples.  I thought Dipankar felt it
too, for he momentarily became bold and placed his hand directly over my
breast -- cupping the soft mound with his palm.  Through the saari, through
the thin fabric of my blouse, through my bra -- I could feel the warmth of
his hand.  My nipples ached to be freed -- and to be touched.  Dastardly, I
wished Debi could put her hand between my legs and relieve me of my
arousal. I could not bring myself to induce the person beside me -- who had
engendered my arousal -- to do anything about it; nor did I do anything to
relieve the pressure I had helped build up between his legs.  For the rest
of the time in the darkened cinema, Dipankar's hand played on the slope of
one of my breasts with ever so light a touch, while I let his member throb
under my fingers -- the thick fabric of his pants seemingly straining at
the seams.

   When it was time to leave the theater, I was shivering from the
unresolved excitement.  My body ached from the strain of having to be at
the dizzying height for so long.  I looked at Debi and she immediately
recognized the look on my face.

   "What?" She inquired under her breath, "Did you guys ....  ?"

   "No!" I whispered back, out of the earshot of Ajit and Dipankar who were
walking out through the gate ahead of us.  "I'll tell you later." What I
felt comfortable talking about in Ajit's presence, somehow was out of the
question in his cousin's company -- despite the emotional nearness that had
developed between us.

   I myself couldn't fathom my shyness.  The mere thought of Dipankar made
me horny; yet I could not take the initiative!  I knew that if I had given
the slightest "go ahead", his hand would have been inside my blouse the
next instant -- but my Bengali prudence made me bashful.  'Maybe I'm just
too grown up!' I thought to myself.

   The four of us sat down at a nearby tea shop and had tea and egg-toast.
Amidst the constant noise of automobiles and the acrid exhausts that seemed
to blanket the sidewalk, I suddenly realised I was hungry!  As I savored
the spicy egg-toast and sipped at the hot brown concoction, I reflected on
the evening's advances.  While a part in me wanted to pull the rein back,
the libidinous me was feeling disappointed for not having gone at least as
far as Debi and Ajit went routinely in darkened theaters.  I was feeling an
emptiness at the possibility that such an opportunity might not present
itself anytime soon.

   Dipankar was to leave in a couple of days and the three of them talked
about his next visit.  I demurely concentrated on my tea.  I heard him say
something like, "I would if I'm wanted here ..." or something very cliche
like that.  Debi was more forthright and said, "We will be looking forward
to your next visit, and that includes Sharmila, I'm sure."

   "Sure.  So when is your next visit?" I heard myself saying almost
matter-of-factly; and the next instant I could have killed myself for not
even trying to be a bit more romantic.

   "When?" Dipankar tried to fathom me, I am sure, "Oh ...  I don't know,
maybe next summer again." He must have been perplexed beyond his wits;
especially after the light intimacy at the movie.

   "Why are you acting as if you didn't care?" Debi said with a slight hint
of irritation in her voice.

   "But I do ...  I do...  and Dipu knows it too; don't you?" I smiled at
him.  We looked into each other's eyes and a lot was said at that instant.
I knew that he would be back sooner than the next summer; and my body had
already started to react in anticipation.

   +++++++++ (End Part 9)

   (To be Continued).



   +++++++++



   <9th attachment end>

   <10th attachment, "Ms_10.txt" begin>



   I rely on my readers to find the mistakes and email me at their
convenience.  I sincerely appreciate any feedback.  This part had been
"edited" by one of my very gracious readers, but this version is not it. 
This is the original one as I have not had a chance to do the editing as
per his recommendations.

   NOTE: Please visit my 'ftp' site at asstr-mirror.org's Authors section to read
the previous parts.

   WARNING: Do not proceed beyond this "warning" if you are not a mature
person and/or are offended by explicit written descriptions of sexual
encounters!

   ******************************************

   My Story (Part 10) Sharmila Sanyal.



   My first cousin (from my mother's side) was getting married.  During the
relentless monsoon in early June the following year, I found myself in a
small town a couple of hundred kilometers north of Calcutta.  Dipu had
written to me that he could not make it that summer and was going to try
Christmas.  I was a little disappointed, but I had not broken down or
anything.  My studies kept me intellectually busy; and Debi kept me
satisfied physically.  She and Ajit had decided to get married sometime
that year.  He knew all about us and, from what I gathered, derived much
pleasure from the descriptions Debi recounted of our regular sessions.  I
could tell, by the way Ajit looked at me and Debi when we three would go
out together, that he would very much like to be a part of our intimacy.  I
can't say that such a possibility never crossed my mind either -- I found
Ajit, as I have alluded to earlier, very attractive.  But, not having
received any indication from Debi, I had decided not to ever bring that
subject up while sober.  I loved Debi too much to risk upsetting her.  I
let the chemistry remain just that.

   Anjana, about five years older than me , was all aglow from the
anticipation and could hardly hide her excitement.  I have always failed to
understand how one can be look forward thus to being hitched up with a guy
that is next to a total stranger.  Chhordi was an attractive girl -- always
had been -- yet she waited for her parents to find a "perfect match"
through newspaper advertisements!  Not that their family was any more
conservative than ours; but, I guess the girls are either too shy or they
lack the confidence in themselves.  After all, sharing your life with
someone for the rest of your life is no small thing.  Hence, they avoid
deciding for themselves.  I believe it is a form of escapism that has been
built into the social fiber.  However, arranged marriages had already
become relatively rare in Bengal, and Chhordi's marriage just happened to
be one such.  It turned out to be a very good union too.  They now have two
beautiful children.  I like her husband.  Subhashda is a handsome, smart
and witty college professor.  Chhordi, though a Chemistry graduate, never
sought to pursue any career of her own -- being happy taking care of her
little family.  But that is another story.  Something else happened during
that happy fortnight that warrants a mention in this narrative.

   My aunts family is an extended one -- not unlike our family -- and their
house is huge.  It is a two storied house with about twenty big-sized
rooms. The house itself probably occupies about three quarters of an acre
and sits about a hundred yards back from the main street on a five-acre
land, complete with a heavy fifteen-foot iron gate and a gravelled driveway
that runs from the gate to the front portico of this palatial house.  At
the back of the U-shaped house is a pond covering an acre.  The pond used
to be rather well cared for.  Needless to say that my aunt's family is
quite well off.  Indeed, from what I have been told, they used to own most
of the land where the town stands; and the area they now live is named
after their family- name.  So, I was not surprised to find about fifty to
sixty relatives, including us, showing up for the hoopla leading up to the
wedding.  Such prolonged festivities were rare even then, and one would be
considered crazy to even contemplate such extravaganza these days.  From
what I have heard from my elders, there used to be a time when the entire
neighborhood would not light their stoves for a whole month should a
wealthy family happen to have a wedding.  While not in such a grand scale,
that house was the focus of the neighborhood when we arrived.  It being the
first wedding of a girl in that house -- and the first in almost 16 years
-- Chhordi's family had decided to make it a memorable one .

   Among my relatives were a number of my cousins -- close and distant --
that I had not met in a few years.  Chhordi's younger brother, Sanjay, had
grown into an attractive young 'man' of fifteen.  The last I had seen him a
couple of years earlier at our house, his voice had started to change and
he had sounded funny.  I remembered teasing him about it.  The handsome boy
was now an inch taller than me.  Then there was Parimal-da, another of our
cousins who was a painter.  With a face full of beard and shoulder-length
hair, he definitely looked like an artist.  His wife, also Sharmila and
about three years older than me, looked more beautiful than I remembered
from their wedding a year back.  She had put on some healthy weight and
looked very attractive in the light blue sari loosely draping her rounded
curves.  She wouldn't be considered a ravishing beauty, but she was no
doubt pretty and had about her an unmistakable allure.  I realised that
Sanjay was not a kid anymore when I found him glancing at her furtively
with admiration in his adolescent eyes.

   "So, you like Sharmila-boudi?" I asked him in jest.  His face went red.

   "I ...  I ...  yes, she is nice." Sanjay said.

   "You don't have be coy about it," I smiled and said, "she is indeed very
attractive, isn't she?"

   "That she is." He was visibly embarrassed at my directness; and he tried
to make light of it by adding, "So are you, Shona-di." It was my turn to be
flustered.

   "I'll beat you up, you elf." I said in an attempt to hide my reaction. I
guess I actually gave it away, for he responded with a wink.  'Boy!  He IS
an elf' -- I mused.  I have not been flattered like that by a fifteen-
year-old and it felt funny.

   The day we arrived, the sky opened up above us from the afternoon, and
we spent the remainder of the day talking and playing cards in the huge
drawing room.  There was a constant supply of 'Jhhaal-muri' and tea.  We
talked and we sang and we munched on the fritters till it was time for
supper, which, of course, most of us young folks had to forego.  By the
time we went to sleep it was about midnight.  I fell asleep peacefully
listening to the rain.

   Next morning, after finishing our 'community breakfast', I was sitting
on the steps of the back porch, enjoying the beautiful green in front of me
and admiring the geese paddling busily in the pond, when Sanjay appeared
behind me and asked.  "Hey, Shona-di, I'll have to go to the market to get
banana leaves, want to come?" I welcomed the idea, having really nothing
else to feel useful about.  I looked up at the sky and saw very few clouds.
The local market was about half a mile away and I suggested that we walked.
Lunch would not be ready any time soon, and the banana leaves should not be
a priority anyway.  Sanjay grabbed one of the several umbrellas from the
house and we were on our way.

   Having been born and raised in Calcutta, I always enjoyed the
countryside.

   This was a fairly big town with the ambiance of a village about it.  We
talked about his school and my life in Calcutta and before we knew it we
were at the bustling market.  It was crowded and the ground beneath us was
wet and muddy from the downpour of the night before.  I cursed myself for
wearing a pair of sandals that splattered mud all over my back with every
step I took.  Sanjay was wearing rubber shoes and made fun of my mud
splattered form.  I tried to take it in good a spirit but for a city girl
like myself, it was hard to ignore the mud on my skin.  I used the aanchal
of my white sari to try and wipe it off, cursing myself some more for
ruining one of my favorite saris.

   There was a hand-pumped tube-well beside the stall that was selling the
banana leaves.  Sanjay went up to it and pumped some water to wet his hands
and, walking back to me said, "Here ...  let me," and he was wiping the
splatters of mud off my back ...  from the back of my neck ...  from the
area between my blouse and my sari.  I didn't know what to say.  The lady
who was managing the stall knew Sanjay.  She smiled at me and asked him who
I was.  Sanjay said, "This is Shona-di, my aunt's daughter."

   "Your brother is terribly nice, Didimoni," she said with a grin exposing
her stained teeth, "see how he cares for you!" Now, readers unfamiliar with
Indian dialectics would probably find some innuendo in her comment; but let
me assure them that there was absolutely none.  It is easy to translate
words; not so when it comes to expressing the meanings or feelings behind
them.  Anyway, I was actually caught off-guard by Sanjay's good intentions;
and, till this day I have not been able to figure out why his wet hands on
my bare skin had sent a shiver through my body that morning.  Well, they
did, and I abruptly - - albeit involuntarily -- moved out of his reach with
something like, "Never mind, Sanju, I will clean up when we get back ..."
or something equally cliche.  My reaction at my 'brother's' effort to wipe
the mud off me must have appeared funny to the lady at the stall, for she
stared at me just long enough to make me uncomfortable.  However, I tried
not to think much of it; and I was certain Sanjay was not mature enough to
detect my uneasiness.  We picked up a few other things from the market and
headed back.

   The sky got dark above us as we walked side by side, and about halfway
between the market and the house, it started to rain again.  By the time I
took the big bundle of banana leaves and the small bag of knick knacks from
Sanjay's hands to allow him to open the umbrella, we were both drenched. 
There is little one can do to avoid getting drenched in monsoon, unless
already wearing a rain- coat.

   We started walking a little faster -- as fast as I could make it with my
blasted sandals -- huddled close together, under the only umbrella.  Pretty
soon, I started experiencing the same sensation I had moments ago when my
cousin wanted to wipe mud off me at the market.  I realised that my blouse
and my sari were sticking to my skin, making it impossible to hide much of
anything.  The blouse was sticking to my breasts like a second skin and the
elbow of his arm, that held the umbrella, was directly pressed against the
side of one of my breasts.  I felt a familiar stir in my body.  I looked at
Sanjay's face; he was staring straight ahead as we briskly walked towards
the house.  I could not read any emotion there.  I should have felt at
ease, but something inside kept chiding me for even feeling the way I did.
I kept reminding myself that the boy next to me was my cousin -- and three
years younger than me.  My attempt at disciplining my mind was actually
backfiring every time I thought about his age.  I felt faint from the
primal urge.  I walked closer to him -- trying to feel the side of his
folded arm against my breast through the wet blouse.  I felt my nipples
swell up underneath my bra and I looked down at them to assure myself that
they were not obvious through the drenched clothes.  I thanked myself for
wearing a sari, for even the pleated length of the aanchal barely concealed
the telltale sign.  I sensed Sanjay's tension momentarily as he flexed his
arm.  He could have easily shifted the umbrella to his other hand if he
wanted to -- but he didn't.  He was enjoying the feel of my breasts against
his arm!  He had been breathing heavily and so was I.  But that could very
well have been from walking so fast!

   By the time we were back at the house in our drenched state, there was
little doubt in my mind that I was a miserable sex maniac that lusted after
her fifteen-year old 'brother'.  I was also wet between my legs.  Once at
the house, Sanjay grabbed the leaves and the plastic bag and quickly
disappeared towards the kitchen -- leaving me feeling guilty for putting
him in an awkward state.  After all, his adolescence would make him
extremely vulnerable.  Adolescent!  I should not have thought about that
... !

   "Oh God, Sharmila!  Look at you ...  you'll get pneumonia!" Sharmila-
boudi was sitting inside the doorway that led into the drawing room.  She
jumped up and dragged me upstairs to the room that their family was
assigned to.  She made me take everything off in spite of my protests. 
"You don't need to get bashful like that in front of me," she said, "I am
older and I am a woman, after all."

   "Yeah ...  you are almost fifty, ain't you?" I said jokingly.  I was
trying to hide my tension from everybody, for I was too aware myself of the
sinful arousal.  I wasn't sure either whether I would be able to hide the
wetness between my legs if I stood naked in front of her.

   "You OK, Sharmi?" She asked.  She was probably wondering about my
momentary hesitation in getting out of my clothes, but, to me it sounded
rather penetrating.  "You will catch cold if you don't hurry!" She
repeated. Her back was turned towards me as she looked for some clothes for
me in her own suitcase.  I quickly pulled the sari out of my petticoat and
unhooked my blouse -- all the time hoping that the brassiere would not be
wet enough to warrant getting out of.  But, they were.  My petticoat was
sticking to my thighs too.  So I hoped my panties would be wet all through
to hide my arousal.

   "Here, I had brought some pairs of saalwaar-kaameez," Boudi had picked
one up for me as she turned around and found me standing in the middle of
the room in my wet bra and petticoat.  "Oh ...  Sharmi ...  I had not
figured you as that shy!" She said with a smile.  "Here, wear these for
now; I'm leaving.  You don't need to wear bra for a while ...  or are you
the kind that can't do without one?" Sharmila-boudi added with a naughty
chuckle and a wink.  That's when I realised that I she rarely wore one.  I
was quite impressed, for she hardly needed one.

   "That's OK, Boudi, you don't have to go out ...  " I finally became bold
enough.  "It's just that I have not undressed in front of anybody since
twelve or thirteen." I added a lie as a justification.  I took my bra off
and heard a compliment from Sharmila-boudi.  I picked up the Salwaar so I
could slip it on over the petticoat without having to reveal the rest of
me.

   "Won't it get wet if you did not take the petticoat off?" Sharmila-
boudi had to say something like that, didn't she!

   I thought I had it all figured out, but she was right.  Feeling rather
helpless, I put the shirt back on the bed and untied the knot -- The
petticoat essentially stuck to my thighs and I had to pull it down.  As I
was doing that, I looked down at my panties and, the next moment, thanked
the Person upstairs for having poured buckets on, allowing even my panties
to soak through completely.

   Sharmila-boudi was sitting right in front of me on the bed.  I looked up
at her and found her looking at me.  Her gaze, quite naturally brushed over
the area where my panties barely hid my womanhood.  It was probably the
first time I felt somewhat vulnerable in my nakedness.

   "Oh how I wish I had a figure like you!" She said as if talking to
herself.  At around twenty-one, she certainly need not have felt self-
conscious of her figure; and I told her so, and she looked at my eyes and
blushed.  Her stomach wasn't as flat as mine, but the slight plumpness she
had developed over the past year made her look healthy.  Indeed, I thought
she looked very sexy.

   "Don't say that, Sharmila-boudi," I said, stepping away from the small
puddle that had formed where I was standing, "you look quite 'sexy' the way
you are.  What does your hubby have to say?" I am not sure if I sounded
impudent saying things like that to my 'sister-in-law', but the words came
naturally -- kind of; perhaps because I was myself buck naked -- save the
panties -- in the middle of the room.  She did not seem to mind either.  In
our family, there are very thin yet palpable boundaries between people of
different ages.  One did not say, to somebody 'older', things that might
sound brassy.  And, Sharmila-boudi, though just three years my senior,
could easily have fallen in the 'older' bunch -- especially since
Parimal-da was almost ten years 'older' than me.  Ordinarily, the
relationship between two 'sisters-in-law' would be either adversarial or
friendly -- even sweet.  If closer in age, often the latter happens.  With
Sharmila-boudi, I had not had any due to quite infrequent encounters.  In
fact, that was probably just the second since I attended her wedding.  So,
her very casual reaction to my obvious allusion to their conjugal intimacy
put both of us at ease momentarily.

   "You know your Dada ...  he can be quite oblivious to such things," she
said.  Then, after a moment of apparent hesitation, she added, "but we do
have regular ...  you know; just that he never shows if he likes the way I
look." Amazing, isn't it?  They courted each other for about two years
before they got married.

   "Well, don't worry about what Parimal-da says or doesn't say," I
ventured to express my opinion, "I'm sure he thinks you are sexy."
Something in her openness was reassuring enough that I could get out of the
remaining wet piece without feeling shy anymore.  I got into the clothes
she had so generously offered.  She said I looked wonderful in that light
mauve colored saalwaar.  And then she said something that startled me.

   "Are you sure you are OK, Sharmi?" Sharmila-boudi said again.  We were
about to leave the room, and I stopped.

   "Why?" Is all I could manage.

   "You seemed to be rather flustered when you came back from the market
... with Sanju...  " she let that last bit of redundant statement hang in
there as if she had something more to add.  I looked at her eyes trying to
gauge that 'something'.

   "Was I?" I asked back still trying to decide what she was fishing for;
and I tried to explain it away, "Oh ...  I don't know, I might have been
breathless or something ...  we were almost running back , you know."

   "Perhaps," she said, "I wasn't sure ...  knowing Sanju..." she added
that almost under her breath.  I wasn't sure if it was meant for my ears
and I deliberately chose not to hear that.  We joined the crowd downstairs.

   The wedding was truly something that I will remember.  There were at
least a thousand guests and the food was fabulous.  Some of the men that
made up the groom's party tried to flirt with me and other girls.  Not
finding anybody interesting enough to oblige, I pretty much kept to myself.
Subhash-da -- the groom -- was dressed quite modestly in the usual dhoti
and panjabi.  I was glad to see that he refused to wear the traditional
cork toque which, in my opinion, makes anybody look extremely funny.  I
struck up a conversation with him easily and decided that I liked him.  He
definitely had his wits about him and, by the time everybody was retiring
after the grueling day, he had made quite an impression among his new
sisters-in-law.  Herself being a very outgoing and jovial person, Chhordi
definitely felt comfortable in the knowledge that she was not getting
hitched to a social washout.

   The girls that stayed up at night, lurking around the room assigned to
the bride and the groom -- for pure voyeuristic delights -- were totally
disappointed.  The next day, Chhordi left for her new home.  The usual
sadness and tears notwithstanding, I knew she was happy.  Although we used
to see each other once in a blue moon, watching her leave made me sad too.
My mother did not want to leave her sister right after the following day's
reception at the groom's place; so we were to stay back for another week. I
look back upon that week with some mixed feelings.

   +++++++++ End Part 10

   (To be Continued)

   ******************* Notes:

   "Sharmila-boudi" : Older Sister-in-laws are addressed as "boudi", a
compound word formed from "bou" (pronounced 'bo-u'), meaning 'the bride',
and 'di' (abbreviated address for 'didi' -- elder sister).

   "banana leaf" : Traditionally food is served on banana leaves in such
festivities.  It is more common in Eastern and Southern part of the country
than anywhere else, I believe.

   "Jhhaal-Muri" : A very Bengali delicacy.  Puffed rice with chopped
onion, coconut, germinating grams, peanuts, green pepper, coriander leaves,
etc.  mixed with a dash of a special spice mix and raw mustard oil.  I have
not known anybody not to savor this one.  Almost a must during such evening
get-together; especially if it happens to be monsoon.

   "Brother" : In India, there is no equivalent word for cousin.  In our
languages, they are simply "sisters" or "brothers".

   "Didimoni" : A generic address for a younger girl.  Often used as
generic address for ladies.

   ******************

   <10th attachment end>

   <11th attachment, "Ms_11.txt" begin>

   I rely on my readers to find the mistakes and email me at their
convenience.  I sincerely appreciate any feed-back.  I reply to almost
every mail, but, often, personal schedule does keep me from being prompt.
Even if you do not receive an acknowledgment from my end, please know that
your comments, critiques and corrections are immensely appreciated.

   Please write at <anu_g42@hotmail.com>.



   NOTE: Please visit my 'ftp' site at asstr-mirror.org's Authors section to read
the previous parts.



   WARNING: Do not proceed beyond this "warning" if you are not a mature
person and/or are offended by explicit written descriptions of sexual
encounters!

   ******************************************



   My Story (Part 11)

   by Sharmila Sanyal



   I woke up feeling rather warm and sweaty and it was still dark.  It took
me a few seconds to remember that I was in a strange place.  I was on my
side, my knees folded up.  I felt a warm breath on my chest.



   There were about fifty people among the bride's family and friends that
were invited to the reception at the groom's house.  After the reception,
Chhordi wanted me, Sanjay and her best friend, Sumitra-di, to stay and
spend the night at her new home.  I guess she had started to feel homesick
and knowing that her brother, cousin and her friend would be close by --
even if it were for one night -- gave her sense of security among virtual
strangers.  It was not a big house.  Indeed, it was rather small
considering that Subhash-da's parents, his younger brother and a sister all
lived there.  They had three rooms, of which one was being taken up by the
newlywed couple.  The two neighbors had set up their houses for the
overnight guests.  Subhash-da's mother wanted us to stay in their room, but
we all convinced her that we would be perfectly OK in the drawing room. 
There were a few others there and the three of us staked our claim in one
corner.



   A big rug was laid down on the floor, covered with two layers of heavy
linen; and pillows were graciously lent out by all the neighboring
families. It was past midnight before we let the newlyweds go to their room
for their 'Honeymoon" night.  Some of the other girls were giggling as the
two exited the drawing room.  I was wondering if the expectation that they
would consummate their relationship wasn't rather revolting.  The thought
of the very ritualistic nature of two virtual strangers engaging in
intercourse turned me off.  Whether it was their unfamiliarity with each
other, or the thought of them knowing that they are supposed to be doing
this regularly, but only with each other -- I couldn't feel very excited
about them.  We talked and we laughed about things insignificant and,
before long, I had drifted off to sleep.

   My sleep was interrupted by a warm breath on my chest.  I opened my eyes
tried to recognize the head that was almost nudged up against my breasts.
The aanchal of my saree having shifted off, I could feel the breathing
directly on my skin.  It was a humid night and I felt rather uncomfortable.
After a moment's hesitation, even as I was going to try and push the head
away, I felt something else.  It was against my knees . . .  a hard and
warm something!  I froze and realized that it was Sanjay -- my handsome
adolescent cousin.

   He was between me and the wall I was facing.  That had been the
arrangement on our make-shift community bed, I remembered.  My back was
turned towards Sumitra-di.  Instantly, I recognized the feel of the
'thing'. Regular commuting in crowded buses had been quite educative in
that respect.  By the time I was totally awake, I knew that he was awake
too.  He was awkwardly lying on his side in a crouched form with his hard
adolescent manhood against my knees.  I could feel the heat from his
excited state through his jaangia and his dhoti -- and through my sari and
petticoat!

   My instinctive reaction was that of total shock.  As I became more aware
of what was going on, the 'big sister' in me wanted to put a stop to it. 
But the lascivious teen in me set off a debate inside my head.  I could
pretend to wake up suddenly, stretch and turn -- away from him.  On the
other hand, I could submit myself to the dictate of my libidinous nature
and keep feigning sleep.  For several long minutes I could not decide
either way; and then the "naughty sister" prevailed.  I lay there feeling
my cousin's hard cock being rhythmically pressed against my knee, while my
own body slowly started responding with unmistakable signs of arousal.

   Sanjay moved with amazing gentleness, the tempo deliberately slow, his
breathing --on the valley between my breasts -- heavy, yet controlled.  In
spite of myself, I was marveling at his effort to keep his masturbation
against me almost imperceptible.  Indeed, but for his temptation of getting
his face close to my chest, in all probability, I would still have been
asleep.  It was dark inside the room, and I could not see him move -- not
even a sound!  I simply felt his rubbing . . .  no, pressing . . .  of the
length of his hardness in a slow rhythm that matched his breathing.

   While the sheer bawdiness of what was going on drove me wild, I decided
to lay still -- just as I was -- and let him have his pleasure.  The humid
warmth of Sanjay's breaths on my flesh sent flashes of heat down my body
and to the pulsating tunnel between my legs.  I was well out of my frozen
state, but I couldn't even flex my thighs -- a maneuver that would have let
me take care of the fire.  I was afraid to let my adolescent cousin feel
any movement.  I wanted him to continue with what he was doing.  I wanted
to feel him reach his goal.  I lay there motionless -- my teeth clenched --
while Sanjay increased his pace ever so slightly.  His motionless head
directly under my chin, and the smell of his hair, sent waves of desire
down between my thighs.  I felt my cunt filling up with juice.  I silently
prayed for strength to help me control the impulse building up inside me --
the immense urge to quit being a silent, undiscovered, participant.  Oh! 
How I wished Sanjay would actually bury his face between my breasts.  I
wished he would take my aching, taut, nipples between his teeth.  I wished
I could reach out and grab his hard cock and jerk him off.  I wished a lot
of things -- but I dared not act upon it.  The 'big sister' in me kept my
libido from taking over my senses.

   He carried on and on and on -- breaking off his contact with me every
now and then, presumably to prolong his pleasure.  Sometimes he just left
his cock pressed against me -- and I could feel it pulsate.  After what
seemed to be an eternity to me, he increased his pressure and the rhythm
faltered . . .  and I felt the thing heave and throb!  He turned his head
away from my breast and let out an audible gasp.  He used a little more
pressure against my knees this time, perhaps momentarily forced to lose his
constraint at the peak of his urgency.  He left it pressed as it pulsated
some more . . .  and then I felt it slowly lose its hardness.

   Sanjay pulled himself back gently and turned away from me on his side. I
didn't move, waiting till I heard his breathing become regular as a sign of
him falling asleep again.  Somewhere far away, a clock struck three times .
. .  the faint sound barely audible.

   I had to go to the bathroom.  I waited a few more minutes making
absolutely sure that my cousin was peacefully asleep before I got up.  As I
stood up, I could feel the crotch of my panties sticking to my sex.  I
tip-toed carefully out of the room.  I also had to take care of the fire
between my legs in the bathroom.  I have had strangers rub against me in
buses and, while not everybody managed to climax, with those that did, I
had become quite adept at detecting male climax just by the nature and the
rhythm of the pulsations.  Regardless, I must admit that I would usually
feel a little aroused myself from such lewdness (and, I have serious doubts
in the veracity of claims to the contrary).  But, this experience was so
very different!  There was none of the namelessness -- on the contrary, he
was my "brother" and it was only a couple of days back that I was
shamefully enjoying a bodily contact with him!

   After emptying my bladder, I stood up and leaned against the wall.  It
did not take too much to attain a blissfully simple climax.  A few strokes
-- with my index - across the swollen labia brushing over my seat of
excitement ...  and I came with a short shudder.  I rested a minute or two
and headed back to the drawing room.  I was in still in a state of
confusion about what had just transpired.  It was different, too, in that I
hardly felt satisfied -- not even after having had an orgasm in the
bathroom!  I could not go back to sleep easily.  With Sanjay sleeping
beside me, my lurid thoughts raced uncontrollably through my mind.  I had
to sleep, I thought; and, with that, in a very deliciously fragile state, I
promised myself a reward before I headed back to Calcutta.  The resolution
seemed to work and I slept like a log till Sanjay woke me up around eight.

   Staring at him in the dull light of a monsoon morning, I realised that I
had stepped on a very slippery stone when I wasn't looking.

   +++++++++++++ (End Part 11).

   (To be Continued)





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