AN EROTIC STORY HOSTED BY IMPREGNORIUM.NET

I was adopted by my parents at the age of three weeks from an orphanage in Cuttack (India). They had otherwise three sons who became my brothers after adoption but longed for a daughter. As I was only three weeks old, my mother, who was then around 35, chose to tandem nurse me along with my youngest of the brothers who was about two years old then. Three years later my parents were blessed with a daughter. But I continued to be the darling of my parents as I was not only very beautiful but mentally sharp too. Not surprisingly, I started experiencing sibling jealousy from a tender age. A manifestation of this was that I became a victim of sibling jealousy right from a very tender age. However, I remember that out of special feelings for me my mother continued to breastfeed me in tandem with my younger sister. Even after she weaned and I started going to school, she would sometime breastfeed me on demand. Mother would often playfully nudge me while nursing, “Kiddo, I am sure even when you get married and have children of your own, you will still come to our house and suckle my breasts”. I had good education and showed good results.

My both the elder brothers got married in quick succession when I was thirteen. By then, all knew that I was an ‘adopted’ child in that family –hence an ‘outsider’. My parents always used to vociferously deprecate such references. But my brothers’ wives would discriminate against me in favour of Mini (my younger sister). It was tolerable only as long as my parents were alive. Then one December evening, the whole thing shattered like a dream. My parents met with a fatal car accident. I was then about 20 and had enrolled myself for Ph.D. the same year.  Within a few months, the behaviour of my brothers and sisters-in-law changed for the worse. I was even held responsible for their failure to beget children even after 7 years of marriage and was often called a “snake woman”. I was virtually forced to leave home and shift to a hostel. Soon thereafter, I took up a job with a foreign-aided NGO that was studying the socio-economic conditions of the tribal population in the region. I took a house on rent and got settled. Shortly thereafter, my brothers and sister left the town. As they had sold the parental property also to raise capital for the business, the last trace of my past in that family was wiped off. I was on my own thereafter; an orphan once again.

After a few months I met Sana – a mining engineer – in his mid thirties and fell in love with him. He was a divorcee but without any children and was then living at Haldilla where a copper mine was being developed, about 300 km from Cuttack in forest. The fact that he too was raised in an orphanage had stirred my special feelings for him. We got married in a simple ceremony in a temple at Cuttack. He wanted to tell me something urgently before marriage- perhaps something unpleasant about his past - but I refused to listen as I did not want to know something that would jeopardize our marriage.  He could get leave from his company just for a week or so. But what an uproarious week that was. We had no time for anybody else. We made love several times a day in all kinky positions. By the time he left promising to meet me after about a month, my body was sore all over and because it was my fertile period too, I thought that I must have conceived. But it was proved wrong as my aunt visited me in full glory after about two weeks. I was crazy to get a child and requested my husband to either come to Cuttack or make arrangements for my visit to Haldilla. I specified a period converging with my fertility cycle.

Sana had arranged for my visit to Haldilla in the subsequent month itself and on the suggested date. The place was connected only by railroad at which only a goods trains operated daily up to Jhorguda about 80 kms. beyond Haldilla. An old passenger coach was attached to the goods train almost every week. The train had only a few halts.The journey involved about 14 hours. So I carried sufficient eatables and drinking water. I was told that there will not be any electricity all through, the small Guest House at Haldilla included.

The train started at 8 in the morning. Being March, the weather was quite pleasant though it used to warm up later. There were only three passengers besides me in the coach, a local shopkeeper and a labourer couple. They went only up to the next halt. Before getting down they advised me to lock the door firmly from inside and not to open it to anybody till my destination. All went well for another four hours during which I read a novel, ate and had a nap. Around early afternoon the train reached its second halt. Soon an urchin came running to my coach with an aluminum kettle with tea which he gave to me in an earthen cup. It took me a while to pay him. Suddenly there was a commotion at the door and two women with children climbed up with two bundles – one quite a large one. In the tow was a girl of about 14 or 15 carrying a baby in her arms; a toddler of about two years was also there. I found it difficult to ask them to get down, especially because of the children. Within minutes the train moved away.

I looked at my companions. They were tribal and were quite neat and clean. I became interested professionally. The younger of the two women (around 25) had placed the big bundle behind the partition in the coach and sat in front of me panting and wiping sweat Both women and the girl wore colourful home-made Lehnga (pleated large rimmed skirt) that came well above their ankles. They wore home-made ‘Choli’ (a brassiere-blouse) that barely covered half of the breasts, making the cleavage deep and prominent bound by a strap at the back, and a Chunari (scarf covering head and back). The girl had a loose colorless top shirt - also home-made - that barely reached her navel with slits on both sides. The older woman and the girl sat a little away from her; the toddler gazed at me and the girl stroked the baby (of about six months) to sleep. After about 15 minutes, the older woman (about 40) smiled to strike a conversation with me in broken Oriya language though I had working knowledge of their dialect too, ‘Are you going to Haldilla?’
‘Yes, but I don’t live there’, I replied.
‘We live 20 kms this side from Haldilla’.
‘I see.’
‘We have been to the bi-monthly market.   Now we are returning home’
‘I see. What all have you brought from there?’ 
‘Oh, we sell. We bought only tobacco and medicine for the husband.’
‘And what do you sell?’
‘Well…’
Our conversation was interrupted as the younger woman made a gesture. The older woman took out a small tin-box from a pouch tied to her waist-bund. All three of them closed their eyes and quickly intoned a prayer, then opened the tin-box and took out small quantity of powder each while passing the box to each other. Then they raised their heads and inhaled the powder. I then understood –‘snuff’. The older woman had a shy laugh looking towards me. The younger woman went to the other side of the partition. The baby was now awake and started crying for the feed. To my surprise, the young girl opened the buttons of her shirt and her conical, somewhat drooping breasts heavy with milk pushed the flaps of the shirt  to her sides on their own. She gave a nipple to the mewling baby who latched on. ‘Oh, she is the mother of the baby ‘, I thought, ‘but too young to be a mother’. But seeing her large breasts, suddenly I started regarding her as a woman. What motherhood does to a girl? Letdown of milk caused formation of a drop on her other exposed nipple too as that breast rhythmically stirred to and fro with the movement of the train. The older woman opened her bag and started arranging food for everybody. Presently the toddler too started feigning hunger. The older woman shouted at the girl to control him. She mechanically pulled him towards her and gave him the other nipple. He latched on while standing. I could not contain myself any longer: ‘Is she the mother of both the children?’
‘No, the boy is born of me’, the older woman replied laughing stuffing Chunari cloth in her mouth.
‘But he is suckling her milk…And she is your daughter?’
‘No, no, she is not my daughter; she is my co-wife. We can suckle each other’s babies because the milk is owned by the same husband. You will notice that all the babies have six fingers in the right hand – the stamp of father who sired them; he too has six fingers. Otherwise also, a woman with milk can suckle any baby…what is there in it? A woman is woman and a baby needs milk. In our village most women are doing it… nursing friends’ and neighbours’ babies, nephews and nieces, even brothers and cousins ..and grandchildren as well…and some even nurse their baby-cousins of their parents – as it happens sometimes. Actually women breast feed each other’s babies both out of love for each other or if the need arises.’ She gave a detailed explanation.
The younger woman came from the other side of the partition and told something to the older woman who readily gave her an aluminum plate full with eatables. She promptly took it to the other side again.
‘And who is she?’ I asked.
‘She too is our co-wife. Her name is Neela and she is Hamsa (she pointed towards the girl)… And I am Pago’, she again stuffed the cloth in her mouth suppressing laughter, ‘and you?’
‘I am Abha……but why is she taking food alone and not with you two?’ I asked.
‘She is not alone. Our husband is there too. She too is our husband’, she went red and this time Hamsa too reeled with laughter with her, ‘she does everything with us that a husband would do to his wife’. She disciplines us like a husband - like a man’, they told. I thought it to be some sort of a mutual joke between them.
‘And how many children she has?’ I asked.
Both of them became serious, ‘she lost her baby a few months ago and she does not want to talk about it. But sometimes she also feeds these two’, they pointed towards the baby and the toddler. With Goddess’ blessings, she will soon conceive.
Hamsa said something to Pago; perhaps her breasts had gone dry but the nursers did not want to stop. Pago pulled the strings of her Choli on her back and her breasts came out. They were large but had more prominent sag and much larger aureole and nipples.

Pago changed the subject, ‘You were asking what we sell. We make such clothes (she pointed towards her Choli and Lehnga) at home and sell them at the bi-monthly market. Me and Hamsa manage the sale and mind children too. Neela sells herbs and medicines and also treats people for snake bite and for other problems, especially women, sometimes with the help of snakes. She is also known as “snake woman” I started; so someone else also has this unfortunate title. Neela walked in and sat opposite me. The women and toddler had finished food. They put back the remains. I noticed that Pago and Hamsa had not arranged their clothes and were still bare breasted quite unmindful about it. It had become warm too.

We all were feeling bored. ‘How was your sale today?’ I asked Pago casually.
‘Not very good as we also had to show our husband to the local doctor …. We are actually taking back half of clothes that we had taken to market.’ Suddenly she asked: ‘Why don’t you buy some of our clothes? They are carefully stitched. You will have a memento of this place and sometimes you can wear them - at least at home.’ She looked expectantly at me. As there was nothing else to do and I was curious about what they do and how they live, I said: ‘All right show me, but I don’t promise to buy them.’

Hope brightened their demeanor. A packing was undone and about a dozen dresses were taken out. They were all of bright colours (colours made of herbs I was told later). I enquired about price and size.  Neela was getting interested. I noticed that the baby was now in her lap and suckling her breasts. She said, ‘Perhaps only two will fit you’, and selected a green-blue and a mauve coloured pairs. ‘You better try them for comfort,’ they said in chorus.
 
I must have appeared a little hesitant to disrobe in their presence. ‘Oh come on. We are only women here and the only man is too young to notice. You have seen our bodies also’, Neela said. I did not want to appear prude and had also seen naked and semi-naked women several times. ‘Why not’, I thought. I got up and began unbuttoning the top-shirt that I had over the jeans.

Hamsa jumped up, ‘Let me help you’. Once the top was off they saw my brassiere and took much interest in its shape and stitching. ‘You city folks treat your skin rather harshly,’ Pago remarked. Standing in front of me Hamsa tried to undo the hooks of my bra. Perhaps out of excitement a drop of milk from her nipple and smudged at mine. She noticed and giggled. Hamsa and Pago took turns and time to cup both of my breasts in their hands to assess size, sag, cantilever, size of areoles and elasticity (they kept telling me while touching and pressing). I was then 34C.  They helped me to don the Choli. It was very comfortable indeed. The sleeves were snugly fit; the breasts were slightly raised and their undersides getting support without any built in wire mesh. The breasts were only slighty restrained, pleasantly raised and looked well separated. The areoles were just covered, so a deep cleavage still formed. They asked me to bend, raise my arms up and swing them sideways. The Choli wonderfully adjusted to the movements. Neela complimented me: ‘You are very beautiful, fit to be abducted’ - their way of praising beauty of a woman. They then asked me to remove jeans to try the skirt. That too was a good fit. Over a foot of midriff was left bare with my navel fully exposed. Pago said, ‘your hips are heavy like royal women who are not used to doing manual work, and only to that in the bed (she placed cloth over her mouth to conceal amusement). But for the pleats we have provided in the Lehnga you would have been somewhat tight there.’ I bought both the dresses. They gave me matching Chunaries and covered my head and shoulder with one of them. ‘Now, you are ready to meet a man’, Pago said, her eyes expressing mirth. Hamsa suggested that I should continue wearing their dress till the end of the journey. I was curious to see in the mirror how did I look in it. The only mirror was in the toilet, so I went there. I was happy to see the change the dress had brought to my looks. The skirt had a large girth to enable walking with long strides. It was only on return from the toilet that I noticed that near the partition an old man was sleeping. I remembered Pago was mentioning about her husband being there. So this was the large bundle Neela carried on her shoulders while boarding the train. Returning to my seat I observed Hamsa had put on my brassiere: ‘I wanted to see how it feels’, she stammered. But I had something else on my mind: ‘Is the man beyond the partition your husband?’
‘Yes’, Pago said,’ I had told you’.
‘Is he quite sick?’ I asked.
‘No, mainly old age. He is around 80. He can’t walk much now. Sometimes gets pain in the joints too.’ Pago told. I was surprised that the old man had three wives, at least two very young, and had little children. But I did not say anything.

The atmosphere had become somewhat heavy. ‘Where do you live and what do you do?’  Pago suddenly asked me.
‘Well, I am currently based in Cuttack and am doing a job. I am also studying.’ I said.
‘And what does your husband do?’
‘He is in Mining, presently at Haldilla. I am going to meet him there.’
‘How do you manage alone at Cuttack?  You don’t have signs of bearing children?’ she enquired
‘Well I keep busy in my work and studies. I don’t have any child as I got married only last month’ I told her.
She was visibly surprised: ‘How do job and studies help a married woman’s loneliness. What she needs is husband’s attention….Daily.’ she said looking at me meaningfully. ‘A married woman is like a field that must be ploughed regularly. What is the purpose of her life if she does not bear children and have milk in her breasts’, she observed.
I felt somewhat angry at her brazen observations but only said: ‘Well, thinking differs. And I have lived with my husband only for a week or so.’
‘Oh that may be the reason though a week is sufficient time to make a beginning…for you know what…provided those are the benign days of Goddess’ (perhaps she meant the fertile period)… Make good of this time when you are with him. Carry back his seed in your belly,’ she was uncomfortably frank.

I was really angry now but preferred to change the subject and to cut her to size as well: ‘How come you three are so young as compared to your husband and have little children?’
‘Well, he was a widower with no family until five years ago. Neela married him then as he used to teach her capturing and charming snakes and about herbal medicines for which she has natural talent. He married me about two years ago as Neela then just had a baby and I wanted a family having left my earlier husband and three children behind. Hamsa joined us two years ago as she was made outcaste by her people for some serious charge and needed protection. Our husband wants to give us another child each…,’ she placed cloth over her mouth bashfully.
‘But why he wants more children? And how does he support you three?’
‘How can a woman who gets period remain without a child? It is husband’s duty to give her at least a few. As for support, Goddess gives everybody the means…Incidentally, he and Neela treat people for snake bite and several other ailments. We make clothes and collect forest produce and herbs for selling and own a house. Yes, we are not rich; everybody is poor in our area, but we are able to manage.’ Well, they did seem to have a philosophy.
‘But, to put it in your own words is he able to ‘plough’ you three regularly?’ I asked. The atmosphere in the coach suddenly became charged. Neela suddenly handed over the baby to Hamsa and stood in front of me naked breasts swaying, and angrily demanded: ’Do you think then we have got children by sleeping with other people?’
I too felt angry and raised my voice: ‘I don’t know how you got them, but I know for sure that at that age no man can do that. Their organs become soft like cobwebs..’
‘Enough of it, city bitch’, Neela shrieked and almost raised a hand to hit me, then quickly dropped it; ‘we too have self respect and shall punish you for what you said’.
‘I will hand you over to the authorities at the very next halt’, I retorted.
‘You will regret it bitch, she said and walked away. I heard her talking in an agitating tone to the old man and also crying aloud beyond the partition. She returned and ordered Pago and Hamsa to leave my cabin. They took away their belongings too. There was peace though I could hear low voices from the other side of the partition. I must have dozed off when I was woken up my Hamsa who was standing there with some pieces of fruit placed on a piece of paper that she offered to me with an apologetic grin. I hesitatingly accepted them. I leisurely ate fruits and pondered finding myself at fault. The fruits had a pleasant but somewhat metallic taste.

I must have fallen asleep again because I was woken up - this time by Neela. Hatred was writ large on her face. I wanted to get up but could not as I felt inexplicable weakness in my limbs and heaviness in the head. Fruits must have been drugged, the thought crossed my mind and also that those people did not mean well to me. Surprisingly I found my powers to feel and observe quite normal. Neela called Pago for help. They yanked my listless body half way down the berth. Neela then opened the waistband and pulled off the Lehnga and then the panties I wore. ‘The bitch is very hairy’ I heard her telling Pago. They then made me lie fully on the floor on which some thick cloth was already spread. I noticed the spectre of the old man – their husband- moving towards my feet. He had put on a big turban and was tall but stooping, copper complexioned with white moustaches pointing up. He wore just a loin cloth. His chest was full of grey hair. Neela pulled down the loin cloth and then removed the double folds of cloth-bands that were tugged into the waistband securing his organ firmly she opened his waistband too. Old man’s penis was quite fat and large – about seven inches in semi-erect condition, but what surprised me was the long sag of his balls that were much larger than tennis balls and went half way down to his knees providing a background to his penis. Neela asked Pago to leave. The old man squatted right in between my knees that she had already separated for him.

Neela then deftly started frigging my clitoris and vagina - in between combing my pubes with her fingers. I felt my vagina becoming moist and the fat head of the penis at its entrance. A jerk from the moving train pushed it in by about two inches. The old man was not making any effort leaving things to the rhythm of the train. In about 10 minutes, he thus secured full entrance of 8 to 9 inches and then sat on his haunches. I closed my eyes out of shame and helplessness. Both Neela and the old man sat silent for what seemed well over an hour. The jerks in train only created some friction inside my vagina. Involuntarily I must have come three or four times and each time he looked into my eyes quite indifferently. I remained penetrated in a tight fit. But he did not seem to ejaculate. The old man then mumbled something to Neela who shouted for Pago. They helped him to get up and holding him from both sides took him away. My ‘punishment’ was perhaps over.

But no, Neela returned after about 10 minutes. She raised my torso and with expert hands quickly untied the strings behind the back and pulled out the snugly fit Choli from my breasts. She began pawing them mercilessly. After about 5 minutes that gave me both sharp pain and passionate pleasure, she stood in between my fully stretched legs and removed her own Choli and then the Lehnga. She had strong muscular thighs and legs. She was fully naked now. But then I noticed a ‘penis’ hanging in between her legs with a fat blunted triangular head (about 2.5 inches in diameter) that looked solid. The eight inch long and about two inches in diameter penis had eye-shaped shiny markings in tan and brown colour all over it. It looked like a fat snake, or otherwise a dildo about which I had only heard my hostel mates talk. If it was a live snake I was as good as dead, I thought. (Later on I had learnt that it was a ‘home-made’ dildo. Neela had dexterously stuffed something into snakeskin while the head was that of a real snake with shining eyes coated with some dried transparent forest adhesive to avoid direct contact with the skin). She then sat on her knees placed my legs on her shoulders like men do and inserted the head into my vagina. It was hard, smooth and cold and went in easily. She pushed in 4-5 inches more of her ‘penis’, brought down my legs to the sides of her waist and laid over me. Her forearms went from under my armpits; the hands cupped my face as she held me in a tight embrace. In this position my breasts and nipples could not escape getting crushed by her larger and heavier milk-filled breasts and taut nipples that poked my areole for a while. She also stroked in her ‘penis’ further and started making love to me like a man sometimes muttering my name under her breath. The entire length of dildo was into me now and our pubic bridges and hair were grinding. Soon her nipples began leaking. The slush of milk was producing voluptuous swishing and smacking sounds. It also worked like balm over the bruises and welts created by her on my breasts earlier. She kissed and bit my lower lip. After about what appeared like ages she perhaps came. I experienced wetness below and her hold became loose. She laid panting over me in a passionate reverie. Suddenly she started sobbing and crying. Remorse? But I was not in a position to do anything. After a few minutes she kissed me on the mouth for a long time and left. I noticed it was already dark and it must be near my destination. I felt nervous about my hapless condition.

Later, in the pitch dark coach, two persons came (I guessed Neela and Pago) and somehow dressed me up – jeans and Choli and shirt top covering it,  folded the skirt and placed it along with the water bottle into the large bag that I carried. Pago left while Neela stayed with me in the dark, her left arm providing support under the nape of my neck, in a sitting position and my head resting over her shoulder. The train suddenly started whistling continuously and slowed down. I felt a powder like substance over a palm being placed beneath my nostrils and its particles entering my breath as I inhaled. Its smell was sharp and pungent and went straight into my brain. I sneezed several times in quick succession and came around. A shiver ran through my body as my strength began returning to me as the ‘antidote’ worked. She pulled me up by the arm collected my bag and guided me through the coach and helped me to get down. She quickly kissed me and vanished in the darkness mumbling something like ‘you belong to me’. As I stood near the rail track and was approached by the attendant of the Rest House, I saw some persons hurrying away in the dark at a distance - perhaps my journey companions. The Rest House Cottage was just a few yards away from the ‘platform’. It consisted of four rooms with limited facilities. The multi-purpose Attendant provided me water to wash and asked for food that I denied. I cried in the loneliness until the sleep overtook me. Strangely I did not have a feeling of being raped or violated - just that of being punished for some indiscretion on my part.

In the forenoon Sana, my husband joined me. I narrated to him the details of journey avoiding mention of the unfortunate incident with the tribal folk. I wanted to forget it myself too. But he did enquire about the fresh bruises over my breasts; I gave him a prepared reply that I had been having a nasty allergy and rashes but that did not seem to satisfy him. During the next 10 days or so I stayed with my husband who had taken leave to be with me. We made love twice or thrice daily as there was not much to see around and otherwise do at the Rest House. He told me that he had applied for job at other places so that we could settle down and live together. Till then we had to continue seeing each other occasionally. After the expiry of leave, he saw me off for the return journey. The same coach came from Jhorguda but this time with the family of a railway officer – an elderly woman and two adolescent boys. The journey was smooth and devoid of any problem.

I quickly settled down in my routine at Cuttack. After three weeks of returning from Haldilla I realized that I had missed my periods. I allowed another week to go by and then went for a medical check up. The doctor confirmed pregnancy after conducting a simple test and asked me to take lot of precautions for its successful completion. I was ecstatic. I tried to contact Sana but he had left for exploration of another site deeper in the forest not covered by telephonic communication. So I wrote to him a letter informing of pregnancy and asking to visit Cuttack at the earliest. I began anxious as no reply came for another month. The doctor warned me to avoid tension at all cost as it might be harmful for me and could even cause a miscarriage. In the meantime I struggled with problems of morning sickness, lethargy, constipation, etc. It took about 6 weeks before my pregnancy settled down and I began noticing the changes in my body – the heaviness and enlargement of breasts, colour of areole darkening from brown to black, slight drooping and heaviness in hips, etc. A few women colleagues and the doctor herself who had given birth to a daughter just a few months ago were very sympathetic and encouraging as if there was absolutely nothing to worry about.

The belated reply that came from Sana was devastating. He had informed that his sperm count was negligible as a result of which he was not in a position to cause impregnation and that his ex-wife had forced a divorce on the grounds of mutual incompatibility after discovering this and trying in vain his treatment for four years. Further, he wanted to tell this to me before marriage but I would not listen and that he had married me thinking that I was interested in him solely and were not keen for a child. He also accused me for ‘obvious infidelity’ as I had become pregnant in spite of his being sterile. I took the doctor into confidence and told her about the ‘rape’ by the old man in the train. She told me though it looked improbable it could not be ruled out. I sent a message to Sana to immediately come to Cuttack and discuss the matter, but he declined. It also became impossible after two months when I learnt about his death in a mine accident.

It was my doctor Kiran and Anjali, a woman colleague who too was a young mother, who saved me from irretrievable breaking down. Both of them convinced me that I should tale good care of myself at least for the sake of my child in the womb who can’t be held responsible for anything whereas I was responsible for him / her. It still took me several weeks to reach near normalcy. During all this period, a thought would frequently come to me that if my baby’s father was the old tribal should my baby not know it at some stage. Having been an orphan myself I was very clear that not knowing one’s parentage is a life long curse. I made a secret resolve to try to meet those tribals once again, preferably when my baby would grow a few years in age to remember the identity of his father, provided the old man was alive till then. I was most surprised that often I would remember the tricked sex with the old man in the train with forgiveness and even longing. A few times I had relived it in dream and each time I woke up climaxing. 

In the ninth month, Dr. Kiran and Anjali started preparing me for the final stage. The former instructed me to do certain exercises and the latter told me about how to breastfeed the baby. Once jokingly she asked me to put her eleven month old daughter to my breasts to get a feel. The colostrums came in the middle of the ninth month. On 5th December 2004 after about 10 hours of labour my son was born. It was a normal delivery. I forgot all the troubles I had experienced in the past several months when I saw his angel face. The nurse, who had checked him, drew my attention to the fact that he had six fingers in his right hand and suggested that a small operation early would take care of it. I told her not to mention it again; how could the poor woman know that it was a proof of his parentage. So it was settled that I had the old man’s baby.

I had a glorious six months bringing up the baby. Even an infant sometimes gives you a feeling that you are in company of another individual who conveys his own likes and dislikes. The most wonderful system of breastfeeding has been created by nature to convey liquid love that even an infant recognizes, awaits for and acknowledges with a beautiful smile and immeasurable happiness. My enlarged breasts were always full and ready for a let down at the slightest whimper of my baby (I had named him Anshu) to provide him all immunities, strengths and protection in life through my breast milk.

I had rejoined my job and had to Anshu to the care of a maid servant on each of the week days for six-seven hours at a stretch. About a dozen bottles of expressed breast milk were stalked in the fridge to feed him while I was away. During the period of my leave, the Institute had obtained a contract for a comprehensive study of tribal areas for which some villages were being adopted for case studies. The entire staff was pressed into this project. I was also sounded that visits to the field and a few brief stay there would be inescapable but women were being assigned easier destinations.

After about three months, I was told that I am required to go to a village called Katana in the interior (where our worker had almost completed the job but had fallen seriously sick) and shall have to stay there for about a week to recheck information and later write a case report. The lure was that it could be my only field visit and that I shall be air dropped there and lifted back by a chopper. So I packed stuff needed for a week for myself and Anshu and was transported. My place of stay was a one room enclosure to the freshly built temple that also housed the priest and his family. I took several rounds of the place noting down details along with the priest’s wife who helped me in communicating with people and also carried Anshu most of the time.

In about four days I had completed rechecking and collected the information required for the study. But the helicopter had to arrive only after three days and on fourth day Anshu had high fever and rashes. I was extremely worried and started exploring help for transportation to a small town about 45 km away where the nearest doctor was available. But the priest’s wife insisted treatment by an indigenous medic and shaman in the next village, about two km from Katana. It was getting late, so we rushed to the place.

The medic / shaman proved to be a woman – a very familiar one, Neela – who, matching my surprise, took me in a tight embrace and assured me that she will cure Anshu with her herbs in no time as the ailment was caused by a local insect bite, but I should better stay at her place for the night lest some problem should arise. She told priest’s wife that we had met before. Stupefied I allowed her to send the priest’s wife away. Neela immediately went out carrying a knife and a basket and returned after about 15 minutes with some grass and herbs that she washed and then crushed on a stone to make a thick paste. Suddenly a baby started crying; she rushed into a small room and returned with it. On the way she bared one of her breasts and gave the nipple to the baby who became quiet and began suckling. ‘My baby…Samb… he is eight months old’, she said beamingly and squatted near me. She asked me to remove Anshu’s clothes and apply the paste all over his body. While I was doing it, she mentioned that it was a common problem in that area and usually bothered outsiders as the locals had become immune to it. Anshu perhaps did not like the cool wet sensation of the paste and started crying. She cooed to quiet him and then asked me to feed him. I obeyed and uncovered a breast and pushed the nipple in his mouth. We remained quiet for some time. She was staring and I became conscious; I remembered that she had liked my body in the train. To divert her attention I enquired about Pago and Hamsa. She was visibly angry and informed that both had eloped with their babies– Hamsa was adopted back by her people and Pago had ran away with a city-bred who had promised to marry her and adopt her son. ‘And…and he..he…?’, I tried to ask about the old man.
‘Well the husband …he is inside….sleeping. It is his, I mean, our house’, she replied, ‘and he is much better now than how you had seen him in the train’. Both of us shifted babies to other breast.
‘And where is your husband? Are you now living together?’ she asked.
‘He is no more…I mean, he is dead’ I told her.
‘Oh, I am sorry… Was he born after his death?’ she asked pointing at Anshu.
‘Yes’.
‘Oh poor boy, he could not meet his father.’ Neela said.
I could not hold any longer, ‘I am not sure’ I drew her attention to the six fingered hand of Anshu.
‘You mean?…You mean..?’ she raised her fore finger over her head alluding to the train incident.
‘Perhaps. Most likely, as my husband was impotent.’ I replied.
‘In that case he is my son too’, Neela shouted excitedly’, ‘…and we are sisters, wives of the same man. I will give him the good news as soon as he wakes up,’ she referred to the old man. ‘Our son will be alright by the night… you will see,’ she patted Anshu’s head. She then leaned over and gave me a never ending kiss on the mouth. A current passed through my body. I hated myself for enjoying all that was happening.   

It was already dark. There was some movement in the house. ‘He is awake…. I will break the news to him’. Neela rushed inside. I could hear some excited conversation going on. Then Neela came and motioned me to accompany her. He was sitting on a raised ground platform of the size of three double beds. It was covered with soiled cotton mattresses - their bedroom. He was holding Samb in his lap and with a broad grin motioned me to hand him over Anshu too. I did it reluctantly fearing that he will cry to see a ‘stranger’ in a semi-dark place. But Anshu was engrossed looking at Samb. Soon the old man made both the children sit nearby and involved them in some sort of finger catching fun. From nowhere Neela produced a lot of eatables, bread, fried meat, nuts and local fruits, etc which she offered to me as well. Then she took me inside and made me change into one of her spare Lehnga and Choli so that my clothes could be saved from getting soiled.

 Anshu’s fever had vanished. The itching was also not there. I felt a sigh of relief. The children enjoyed playing with their father who would repeatedly kiss Anshu’s six-fingered hand. Samb too had six fingers. I asked Neela how she called her husband. ‘I call him Saal. That is his real name too,’ she informed.

When the children fell asleep we sat talking. Saal spoke something to Neela in a low voice. She laughed, then spoke to me: ‘He is regretting what had happened in the train. It was done at my insistence (because I wanted to teach you a lesson.) Perhaps Goddess had so willed it. You must excuse him. You are nice as you have already borne him a child. Such things are in accordance with destiny and are not sheer accident. He is prepared to take you as his wife, that is, if you would accept it. You are welcome to live here and share ups and downs of life with us. You should not be angry with the boy as it is none of his fault. Feed him as much as possible. He is enquiring whether your breasts are able to produce sufficient milk and whether your milk is sweet, otherwise he is asking me to feed your boy also…,’ she laughed again. I felt shy at such frank observations but was touched too. I said: ‘I have no hard feelings for whatever happened in the past… I like Neela very much. I cannot marry you formally as I have to live at Cuttack, but you have given me, though not deliberately, the most precious gift of my life, my son…our son… son of us all three. Me and Neela are like sisters and have much to share’. I could not believe it was me saying all this. But Neela suddenly took me in a tight embrace and kissed me on the mouth. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she conveyed my forgiveness to Saal. Anshu woke up and I lay in a corner to feed him and there only I fell asleep.

I must have slept only for couple of hours that I was woken up by some sort of a noise. In the pale light of lantern I saw Neela and Saal making love. He was no more that inert being I had seen in the train. Neela was experiencing intense pleasure, moaning non-stop, swaying and pupil of her eyes dilated as she returned his rhythmic thrusts. Sitting a few feet away I too felt aroused. I turned my head away but not before they noticed.  Suddenly Samb cried and Neela whispered to me with urgency: ‘Feed him. He has just emptied both of mine’ she referred to Saal. Oh, my God, I thought, me too? But I lazily undid the string at the back and freed my breasts from the Choli. Samb looked a little confused by the unfamiliar smell and touch, looked at me quizzically and then mouthed the nipple. He started suckling with gusto and slurping noise that seemed to amuse Saal. Anshu woke up for his mid-night feed. I pulled him up also and put him on the other breast. I had never thought that I would some day do tandem nursing. The sensation was new but quite pleasant, especially as I was able to put up with the need of children. They slept again after nursing. I felt too lazy to cover myself again and dozed off.

Neela nudged me, ‘Saal is calling you’. As I moved towards him half awake, Neela removed my Choli and also opened the Lehnga (skirt). I was now naked like her and fully awake. Before I could say or ask anything a long arm stretched in my direction and rough fingers grabbed my right breast. He pulled me down to him all the time mauling my breasts. He alternatively sucked away whatever milk in them was left after nursing children. In spite of myself I was shuddering with passion as he penetrated me. Even at that time it occurred to me that he had no time to wash after doing Neela and so I was receiving her body fluids too. He built a steady rhythm. I could not but admired his staying capacity and virility. I experienced several orgasms during one of which I passed out. When I regained senses it was already morning. Saal had left. I enquired about Anshu. He was fully well and cheerful and was taken good care by Neela. Both the children were happily engaged in the game of being together.

The whole of next day also I spent at Neela’s place. In the afternoon Saal returned. We again had sex with children playing around. That was the limit of depravation for me but a normal lifestyle to Saal and Neela. By the evening I had a strong urge to return to the priest’s house as the next morning I had to be airlifted. On their insistence, I gave them my address thinking that it was hardly of any consequence as we might not meet again.

Three years have passed since all those happenings. On returning to my place I had learnt that I was again pregnant. I had a baby girl in due course. I gave her the name Anshika. After her birth, on Dr. Kiran’s insistence, I had been on pills lest there should be any problem again. It was a wise decision as last year Saal and Neela unexpectedly showed up. Neela too had a daughter. They lived at my place for a couple of weeks; the old relationship was renewed. A few months back Neela returned with children as Saal passed away at his village. I cried a lot as soon as she told me about it. We are now staying together as a family as Neela has wound up the village set up at and brought her meager belongings to Cuttack. That also includes her masterpiece – the  snake-dildo.