index


Message-ID: <35850asstr$1016935804@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Sharmila Sanyal" <anu_g42@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} MyStory (Part 24) by Sharmila Sanyal
Date: Sat, 23 Mar 2002 21:10:04 -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






_________________________________________________________________
Chat with friends online, try MSN Messenger: http://messenger.msn.com


<1st attachment, "MS24.txt" begin>

I had actually decided that I would not post any more of this
story.  That, coupled with other preoccupation and some physical
"downtime", had almost made me drop out of ASSTR and retire.  A
few of the readers (three, to be precise) actually expressed much
concern or have wondered about my intent regarding "My Story".  I
decided eventually to continue and at least finish this narration
before calling it quits.  After all, I write as much for my own
pleasure as I do for the readers; and even if there are only
these three.

Please write at <anu_g42@hotmail.com> with (sensible, not moral)
comments and corrections.

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

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 24) by Sharmila Sanyal.

"We'll be right there," Debi managed to stutter through her
giggle.

"I'll have to leave soon," Promila was looking down at the floor.

"What time is it?" It was my turn to put in my contribution
towards normalizing the situation.

"Half past nine," I heard Promila say as she made an about turn
and left for the kitchen.  The sheer curtain that hung from the
door frame flew around like frail maiden trying to guard her
charms from some unseen miscreant.

	As we silently had our supper, Promila sat at the kitchen
door and looked away from us most of the time, unless she was
being spoken to.  And then, when Debi suggested that she could
easily stay the night if it was late to be walking back to her
'bustee', she looked up with a tormented expression in her face.
A sudden rush of blood made her face almost pink.

"I don't think it's very late," I found myself saying.  I tried
not think about it too much.  I was afraid.

"No, no .  .  ." Promila grasped at my words, "I have walked back
even at eleven sometimes!"

	Debi looked at me blankly and tried to fathom the depth,
for she could also see the disturbance in Promila's eyes.  I
returned the blank stare.  I didn't want to admit to myself that
I was struggling hard to ignore the natural charm and sexuality
that seemed to be gushing forth from our maid's flushed
countenance.

	By the time Promila took our leave for the night and Debi
locked our front door, I could feel the distinct trickle of my
love juices down the inside of my thighs.  I was so horny that my
legs shook.  I could hardly wait for the nightly rounds to the
bathroom to be over.

	Debi was on the bed already when I entered her room and
deposited my short night-gown on one corner near the foot of the
bed.  The whitewashed walls reflected the funny green glow from
the night lamp that Debi insisted remain on all night and my
white satin half-slip took on a weird color from it.  I turned it
off.  The room was instantly plunged into a total darkness.

	Being against three other flats, Debi's room had no
windows.  Indeed, in that flat, the only rooms that had windows
were the bathroom, the kitchen and mine.  Debi actually liked it
that way, especially since she preferred to have the lights on at
night when Ajit were in town.  She liked to enjoy her lovemaking
to the fullest .  .  .  with all her senses.  As far as I know,
she still does.

	As I climbed onto the bed I wondered why she had not
objected to my turning the night-light off, and then it became
clear! She was fast asleep already! It wasn't going to dampen my
spirits -- as damp as I was that night.  I cuddled up to her and
slid my hand under her nightdress and to her supple breasts.  The
warmth of her skin sent tremors through my already tense body.  I
wanted her warmth and I craved for her touch with all my being.
I could feel my freshly cleaned womanhood welling up inside with
my slippery eagerness.

"Mmmmm .  .  .  naah .  .  ." I heard Debi murmur in her sleepy
voice.

"Shhhhhh .  .  ." I breathed against her earlobes.  I wasn't
about to give up.

"Oh! Sharmi!" She tried to push me away in her sleep.

"Just lie there," I whispered, "I will do it all!" It was a
suddenly discovered moment for me.  I had started enjoying my
role as the late night seductress.

"Mmmmm .  .  ." Debi responded by relaxing her body.  Her verbal
disinterest notwithstanding, she had -- in her languor -- already
started to enjoy whatever I was doing.

	I sat up and slid my half-slip off my burning body.  I
wanted to be completely naked with my beautiful cousin that
night.  My nipples stood erect and taut in anticipation of her
touch.  I reached for the bed-switch and turned the night-light
back on.  I wanted to see my cousin's beautiful face.

	The single button that held the front of Debi's nightdress
was already undone.  Eyes still closed, her face held a smile
that begged me to "wake" her up.  She had her legs slightly apart
and the thin material of her nightdress clung to the contours of
her two shapely legs.  Since her marriage, she had put on a
little weight just at the right places, and her legs got their
optimal share.  She was quite conscious of her heavier legs and I
took it upon myself to reassure her in every way that I could.

	I leaned over and started kissing the length of her legs
starting at her ankle.  She shifted her weight and I knew she was
awake.  It was not the first time that we played that game, but
it was the first time that she had actually fallen asleep before
I got to bed.  I couldn't ponder on that little detail.  I was
burning up.  I could feel the trickle down my inner thighs
already.

	As I slid my hand between her legs, drawing her nightie up
as I went, Debi parted them slightly.  We knew each other's moves
well and that was her way of urging my hand further up.  I
obliged.

"Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhnnnnnghhhhh .  .  ." faint, almost inaudible a
moan though it was, Debi could feign sleep no more than I could
dam the flow between my legs.  Her hips lifted slightly off the
bed as her flexed legs supported her lower back for a few
seconds.

"Want me to eat?" I asked in a loud hoarse whisper, breaking the
raunchy silence inside the room.  My voice sounded bawdy even to
my own ears and I felt a spasm inside my wet recess.

"Yesssss!" I heard her hiss.

	In spite of myself, I wanted to take my time.  In spite of
my own urgency, I wanted to make my lovely cousin scream in
pleasure.  I wanted to make her drip with honey that I could have
to my heart's content.  I touched the inside of her thighs
lightly with a feathery touch of my fingers and she squirmed.  I
could feel her buttocks flex as she inhaled noisily.  I looked
down towards her feet and saw them curl.  As much as I had found
it quite unappealing before that night, the garish green of her
night-lamp reflecting off her almost perfect feet made it
sinfully inviting.  I positioned myself on her outstretched legs
and brought my dripping pussy down on her toes.

"Yesssss .  .  ." she said.  Her toes took a life of their own in
my wetness as I almost screamed out in delight.  She opened her
eyes and I saw the lust in them.

"And I thought you were asleep!" I crouched low and towards her
torso careful not to slip from her toes.

"Yeah .  .  .  right!" she panted out her response, "Who could
sleep after this?"

"I wanted to fuck you badly," I spoke my mind.

"Oh, boy! You are rather heated, aren't you, naughty girl!" She
wiggled her toes and sent my senses reeling.

	She knew exactly when and how much my vocabulary gained
some extra edge.  She was the one, though, that introduced me to
the world of sexual slang through the fertile creations of the
"anonymous" authors.  While she and her husband had, over the
years, built up a formidable collection of these less-than-
literary endeavors of frustrated souls, Debi rarely made use of
the vocabulary that so crudely flowed through them.

"So, do you want it or not?" I teased her.  I had pulled her
night-dress up to her navel and was drawing my fingers lightly
across the short-clipped silken triangle of hers.  "Aren't you
going to shave?" I asked.

"Maybe tomorrow," Debi said as she grabbed my hand and guided it
to her cunt.  It was open and wet, waiting for my tender touch.
"Are you going to help me shave?" I always helped her shave.
That was a question that begged no response in words.  I inserted
two of my fingers in her and my own cunt gripped her toes in
spasms.  I wiggled on them and my distended seat of pleasure
lightly rubbed her skin, sending sparks through my entire body.

"But now I want to eat you .  .  .  I want to lap up the last
drop from you," my voice had grown louder.  I was caught in that
strange tension when the body wants release but the mind begs to
prolong.  My mind has always (well, almost always) won over my
body.  That night was no exception.

	I lifted myself off her toes and crouched down toward her
cunt as she spread her thighs apart to accommodate my hungry
mouth .  .  .

"Diiiiing .  .  .  dong"

I bolted up straight to a sitting position, straddling Debi's
leg.

"This late?" I wondered aloud.  Debi looked at me through the
green hue of her night light in as much puzzlement as could be
expected.  Instinctively, she had grabbed the bed sheet and
covered her semi-nude form even as I reached for my night robe.

"Diiiiing .  .  .  dong, diiiiing .  .  .  dong," the door bell
rang out through the relative quiet of our cozy little flat for a
second time, relaying the urgency on the other side of our front
door.

"Amazing! Who could it be at this hour?" I repeated myself in
utter surprise.  It wasn't really "late" -- not for any full-
blooded Calcuttan, anyway.  Our neighbor, who had all the
contempt for TV, was listening to his radio and I could hear
Nilima Sanyal's unmistakable voice, on the news being broadcast
from New Delhi, permeating through the walls that separated
Debi's bedroom from his.  However, we rarely, if ever, had had to
answer the door at that our.

"You are not going to answer the door like that, are you?" Debi
giggled as she sat up on the bed in her own state of undress.  I
looked at myself in the mirror and mused about the effect that I
might have on the man standing outside our doors, should I
present myself in that night gown.  Ending just above my knees,
it seemed to reveal more than it concealed.  It was obvious, even
in the subdued green, that I had little between my skin and my
thin gown.  Although such an attire may fail to raise any
eyebrows in the Occident, in India it would be beyond bold.  I
suddenly felt bold.

"Why not?" I declared in a mock defiance, "If somebody can come
knocking at this hour, I have the right to answer the door in my
night dress, don't you think?" And with that, I tip toed out of
room and towards our front door.

	As I placed one of my eyes against the peephole to check, I
was surprised again! I really hadn't had anybody in mind, yet .
.  .

"You? what happened" I said even as I hurriedly opened the door.

+++++++++++++++++



End Part 24 (To be Continued)

+++++++++++++++

Bustee = slum




<1st attachment end>


----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format.  The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations.         |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+