All’s Well that Ends Well
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My mother came up to the hotel room to see for herself that everything was in order.
“Sumant,” she said to my husband as she prepared to take leave, “Maadu is a sweet kid; she responds several folds to kindness”
“Don’t worry aunty,” he said, “I’ll see to it that Madhuri sheds no tears.” Mother left. I closed the door and turned. He hugged me and for the first time we kissed on the lips. I went to the bathroom to change. The reception lines were along and I was weary and hardly in a physical shape for my First Night. No Indian arranged match bride ever is. I filled the bath with steaming hot water and soaked myself. My thoughts reverted to the question I have been asking myself for some days now. ‘Does he know enough to suspect?’
I climbed out of the tub. I wiped. My breasts were turgid and warm. Will he find it warmer than usual? I pressed my nipples between my thumb and index and closely inspected my fingers. They were quite dry. I put on the night dress especially selected by my sister. My husband gave a wolf whistle as I stepped out.
“Lovely,” he said. We hugged and kissed again. He then we went for his bath. I ordered for coffee. Without the stimulant I might be in deep sleep even before he came out. We sipped coffee and talked mostly about the reception.
“Your friend Silpy was weeping her eyes out. She must be missing you terribly,” he said. Silp indeed was weeping as if she had lost someone near and dear to her. “I don’t remember being introduced to her husband,” he continued. Silp was married only a week ago and had postponed her honeymoon to attend my wedding. Her husband was away on duty.
“We were great friends,” I said. “We did most things together.”
He pulled his chair closer and leaning forward he kissed me on my forehead and then the nose tip and then the cheek and finally on my lips. I placidly watched him till he came to my lips when I pecked back. My valley visible in the very low neck line of the dress now claimed his attention. He peered down the valley and then he rested his face on the exposed part of the breasts. I held his head. I liked the pleasant fragrance of his hair oil. He undid the buttons at the shoulder of the dress and slipped the dress down. Special bridal night dress design those shoulder buttons no doubt, or may be Vidya custom designed it! The extra neck width notwithstanding my breasts were too big for the dress to slip through. I released the breasts and sat on the double sofa naked above my waist. He leaned back and took a view of my bare torso.
“Magnificent,” he said. He then ran his palms over the breast. When his fingers touched the nipple I felt a funny but not unpleasant sensation.
“Warm,” he said.
“Warmer than…?” I questioned. He did not note the tinge of anxiety in the query He laughed.
“Warmer than other parts of the body, the cheek for example. Other unexposed parts may be warmer too.” He laughed again.
“If I had blushed the cheeks might have been as warm.”
“Possibly. Do breasts blush too?”
‘They do under certain conditions,’ I said but to myself. He took a nipple between his lips and sucked. I wriggled for my nipples had acquired a sensitivity that they did not have before. He then sucked the other nipple. I moaned and held his head. He lifted his head and smacked his lips as if he felt a taste.
“Got something?” Once again he did not notice unease in my tone. He did not reply. He resumed sucking. He did it expertly. I moaned unashamedly. My nipples suddenly became dead but my vulva was now tingling.
My clitoris was demanding a lick. If his expert sucking was an indication he must have had some experience. Are men, even ones with experience, bold enough to suggest a lick on the first night? But my body with those changing balance of hormones was demanding it. Has any woman asked her man to lick her on the first night? Well without asking I can make him do it by positioning; I certainly can.
We moved to the bed so soft that I sank in. These bridal suite beds in Five Star hotels do not offer the firmness couples require when they grind each other’s pelvises. Rather odd thought for a bride on her first night I said to myself and smiled.
“Why that smile.”
“I suppose this is the time for smiles,” I said. I on my own slipped off the dress. I sat hiding my nakedness in my crouching posture. He sat in front viewing me with an intensity that had me tingling. He then held my knees and parted them the better to see my vulva. I resisted initially and then I yielded. I leaned back parting my thighs and held his head as if I was reaching for his lips but really I was bringing them closer to my vulva. Hormones wracking my body had heightened the sensitivity of my erotic zones several folds. I wanted a lick and I decided that if I did not succeed by my manoeuvres I will brazenly demand. I did not have to shame him. He went for it and I leaned back with feet gently waving in the air. He did a splendid job. My inner leaves and clitoris were so sensitive that no sooner had he stimulated taksim escort them my pelvis started moving up and down. Soon I was in the throes of a massive orgasm.
I was gasping. I saw his penis. It was big. I held it. I guided it in. I could feel it entering. There was no resistance to its entry. Did he expect one? Was he disappointed that there was none? We had orgasm at the same moment. Mine was a monster. I held his pelvis with both hands lest he remove his penis. He was a person with experience. He knew that women when they get one can get one or two more. He gave me another and then another. I lay back exhausted. If this was the only thing I got out of this marriage it was all right with me.
The next morning we flew to Delhi for our honeymoon. That afternoon we had it once again but we were too tired that night. Both of us slept soundly. The next morning I got up late. I was feeling queasy. I felt like vomiting. I tried to suppress it but could not. Sumant heard me vomiting. He tapped the bathroom door. I opened.
“Must be something you took for supper,” he said. I nodded thankfully. “We must see a doctor?”
“Why?” I of course knew why I was nauseated.
“Once we came here for a college excursion. My friend vomited. It turned out to be jaundice. He became comatose within two days. We had to cremate him here itself.” He looked into my eyes and was not sure there was not some yellow there. “We must see a doctor,” he said again.
In the out patient department I asked to see a lady doctor. The doctor I saw, a very senior lady with a kind motherly face, listened to my history and ordered for some tests. I underwent the tests and waited to see the doctor. She read the reports looked up at me and then at the henna markings on my hands and the brand new yellow thread round my neck signifying that I was newly married. She smiled.
“Same man?” I nodded it was not. “Have you any idea how you are going to proceed?” I looked blandly into her eyes.
“No.” I said.
“Do you want any suggestions?” I nodded again. “Tell him your true story with as much detail as he wants. Please remember that I have dealt with such cases several times in my professional life. I can help you if you need my help like say terminating the pregnancy.” I thanked her and inserting the reports in my hand bag, zipped it shut and walked out.
“What did she say?” asked Sumant.
“Nothing much. No jaundice anyway. We’ll go to the room. I’ll explain.” In the room I changed and sat on the sofa. Sumant was patiently waiting for me to tell me what was wrong with me. I opened my hand bag and handed the reports to him and sat back to watch his reaction. There was no change in his facial expression but his hands holding the paper were shivering.
“I am sorry Sumant,” I said.
“Who was he?”
“I don’t know.”
“If you don’t want to tell its OK. It s not important anyway.”
“Not that Sumant. I really don’t know. Shall I tell you my story? Then you will understand why I say I don’t know.”
“Do,” he said. He sat in front of me. I do not know what his mood was. It certainly was not anger
“I come from a broken home,” I said quite calmly.”My father has mistresses; my mother has reconciled herself to her lot. To me my father was a wonderful person and so is my mother. When father and mother live in one place it is home. Mine was not a happy home, but it is not an unhappy one. My sister is a good girl. I am not. I must have in inherited father’s genes for I am promiscuous. Yes, that is what I am in plain terms.
“I was 18 when I got acquainted with a boy living in the house behind ours. We used to meet in the bus stand. We soon became friends. A 7 foot wall separated the backyard of our house from the backyard of his. One evening when father, mother and sister were away this boy jumped the wall. I was scared for it was all so unexpected. But soon I calmed down and we had a pleasant chat; we also hugged and kissed. These visits became regular. We added fondling to our repertoire till one day he demanded sex. I yielded not unwillingly. He used condom. I did not like condom and I never allowed it again. He was able to obtain pills for me. This went on for 6 months. My sister knew of it but she did not tell mother. Soon he got a job in one of the gulf countries. I did not miss him. I missed the cuddle and the sex. It was then that I realised that I was promiscuous. I did not give up using the pills. In short I was waiting for my next chance. Quite a woman you chose for a wife.” Sumant returned my smile.
“Are you OK with listening to my story,” I asked. “Technically you are my husband at this moment. It may not be pleasant hearing.”
“But you are no ordinary wife,” he said with a broad grin, “you are carrying someone else’s child in your womb. Please continue.” He spoke casually. I suppose it is logical. If our relationship was sure to change soon there was no need for him to get worked up about it.
“I was studying at that time in a woman’s college. çapa escort I did not have much chances of male company. I missed male company. One afternoon I was sitting as I usually do on the drawing room floor with my back to the sofa reading a magazine. My father was on a sofa in front watching TV. I happened to glance over the magazine when I saw him intently watching me. My skirt must have been awry and he was looking deep into my thighs. I pretended to be reading. I then shifted my position slightly so as to give him a better view. I had knickers on. I wish I had been bare. I could have given him an eyeful.
I have read somewhere that father is the first fantasy object for all daughters. For me he was. I was excited that he found me sexually attractive. Yes, he often sat on that sofa while watching TV and while reading the paper, and I often sat on the same part of the floor while reading my books. Maybe without being aware of it I did put on a show. If it were so I was eager to play the game. The next morning to keep his mood going I bent low while serving him breakfast. The neck of my blouse was so low that I am sure his goggling eyes saw my breasts through and through.
Two days later the setting was perfect. Mother and sister were attending a wedding and would not be back till late night. I chose a short skirt and no knickers. I sat on my spot with a book. Father came with his morning paper and sat where I expected him to. I pretended to be engrossed in my book and gradually lifted my knees. The book I had chosen was big enough to hide most of my face. Father’s eyes were darting to my crotch. I slid my buttocks forwards and widened my knees further. I was sure my father could see my vulva. His hands were shivering. I maintained the position for some time and then I pulled myself erect. I took care not to look in his direction. I went through these moves again and once again. Now I was ready to pull the trigger.
I again slipped down and but this time I slipped all the way on the smooth flooring and my head hit the floor with a gentle thud. I was lying face up with my skirt well over my waist. I pulled it up while slipping. My vulva was on display and my father was standing over me anxious to help me up.
“I am OK Appa,” I said smiling. He bent down as if to pull down the skirt and restore his daughter’s modesty. “No need to Appa. It is something you have seen many many times.
“It was years ago. It was different then.”
“No trimmed hair then, all the more reason why you must renew the friendship.” I said. “Appa, sit down. I love you Appa. There should be no secrets between us. Touch me now. You must have when you changed my nappies. Have you changed nappies or did you leave that job to Amma.”
“I have occasionally,” said my father. He was fully composed now.
“Touch me now,” I said again. He was hesitating. I took his hand and placed it on my vulva. “Warm, is it not? Have you kissed it when I was a baby?”
“Not that I remember,” he said. “I often kissed your buttocks. They were so soft you know.”
“Probably as soft now Appa. Why not find it for yourself.” I turned round and presented my buttocks to him giggling away like a school girl. He held them with his hands and kissed one and then the other. I spread my thighs. “Can you see my vulva Appa?”
“Of course I can.”
“Kiss that Appa darling.” I could feel his cheeks digging between my thighs and reach for the vulva. He kissed it smack on the cleft. I turned round and sat on the edge of the sofa and lifted my feet and spread my thighs. Holding my father’s head I pulled it to my vulva.
“Lick me Appa. I will spread it with my fingers. Lick me.” He did so expertly. Soon my buttocks were vibrating and I holding on to hair with my fingers entwined. I pulled savagely, and he felt no pain. I lay on the sofa and spread my thighs ready to receive him. He had slipped out of his dhoti. His penis was large and erect. He came on top.
“No fear of pregnancy Appa, I am on the pill.” I held his penis and inserted. If father found it strange that his little darling daughter was not only not a virgin but was also on the pill he did not show it. Perhaps fathers who have sex with daughters have different orientation in such matters.
My father gave me a splendid orgasm. He must have had a good one too for he was panting. I embraced him tightly with my legs not allowing him to get away till he gives me more. I got one more. He still lay on me, and then he got up. I held him tight by his waist.
“Don’t think of me as a mistress but as your wife,” I said. “I am from now on your darling daughter slash wife.” That is how we were for the enthralling nine months that followed, and then stomach complaints that were always with him turned to cancer and he was gone. For six months I mourned and then my friendship with Silpa opened up wider avenues.
Sumant was listening without comments as if he was listening to some story teller and not the intimate secrets of his wife. After a pause I continued.
“I bakırköy escort was never secretive about my body. I have no problem baring my body to any extent. Silpa my college mate was the same. We were friends. We were close, so close that we exchanged our sexual secrets. Like me a neighbour deflowered in her when she was 18, and like me she was leading an active sex life. It was through her that I came to know the three young men. They were junior executives and all had travelling jobs. We spent time with them when one or other was free. Soon we were on a kissing, fondling basis most of the activity taking place on the back seats of cars (parked or travelling) that two of them owned. I do not know if women read this but if they do let me assure them that there no greater pleasure than giving oneself up to two men at a time. I used to enjoy these car sessions. At times I will be in the front seat the very model of female propriety with one of the men driving. All sorts of things will be happening on the back seat but I will never turn back lest I disturb the driver. An accident can have very unpleasant and far reaching consequences. My turn on the back seat will be thrilling. One will be fondling and the other kissing or licking or whatever.
Once we went to Goa, all five of us. It was there that we had penetrative sex for the first time. We took two rooms with a connecting door. We reached one afternoon. That evening we had the first session. I was on the sofa with Sumeer and Partha in one room. I was wearing a chemise that hardly came to mid thighs and the two were in front drinking in the sight. Sumeer leaned back and looked into the other room. He smiled and with his index pointed in a significant manner. The connecting door was wide open. I went round and saw the naked Silp on the bed face up and thighs spread out with Vikram on top of her. That posture was possible only when the man is deep inside.
“If the door is open it is not improper to go in and even join,” said Sumeer answering my thought. I went in softly. I was level with them when Slip smiled and gestured to me to come closer. We held hands and then she went into her climax. She tightened her grip till it pained me but I held on. I waited till she had another. Then they rolled over. I came back to join the other two.
“It was thrilling,” I said. I held the offered hands of Sumeer and Partha and led them to the bed. I slipped out of the chemise and lay on the bed. Sumeer hugged me. We kissed. I pulled Sumeer’s head to my vulva. I have never had proper orgasm without licking foreplay. I pulled Partha’s hand and placed it on my breast. I told woman readers earlier and I repeat it, women need two men for full sexual satisfaction preferably both at the same time. Human socials order is such that only one in a hundred thousand or may be one in a million get the chance but those who do are blessed. Yes, they have to pay a heavy price, but nevertheless I repeat they are blessed. Given the ambience I had to have a stupendous climax and I got it. Sumeer dismounted and Partha, who was straining on the leash, got on. I did not even have to guide him into the vagina that Sumeer had filled up. Partha’s penis slipped in.
‘Have you heard of troilism Madhu,’ Partha asked.
‘No,’ I said.
‘Troilist is a man who likes to watch as another man has sex with his wife. It seems the peak of pleasure is to insert his penis into the vagina of the wife filled with the hot semen of the friend. Now that I am experiencing it I can affirm that it is an indescribable sensation.’
“If he had proposed at that moment it would have been a unique proposal and maybe I would have accepted and spared you the ordeal you are now facing. The next 48 hours was heaven on earth. Silpa and I had sex with all three. I did not keep count of the number of orgasms I had. A week after our return Silp gave us the astounding but happy news that Vikram has proposed and she has accepted. A few days later you came bride viewing. This Goa trip was lucky for Silpa and me.
“I was not regular taking my pills about the time of the Goa visit for I missed the next period. It was too late for me to do anything about it. I told Silpa. With Vikram’s help Silpa and I tried to procure an abortion. The doctors we met were unwilling to do so without parental approval. Anyway it was not possible without the family knowing for it as it involved a day’s stay in hospital. Silpa felt my agony. That is why she was weeping so uncontrollably during the wedding. That is my story. Now for the future. I have made my plans. It is as follows.”
“Plans?” said Sumant.
“That’s it. First I release you. But before that I need your help to get the pregnancy terminated in secret here in Delhi. The doctor who saw me today said that I could come to her for that. Secondly the sordid thing about money. I’ll pay my share for this ‘honeymoon.” I flicked my index fingers to indicate that the word honeymoon was within inverted commas, “and of course for the doctor visits. Thirdly, when we reach Madras I tell my parents that I need a separation for reason that has nothing to do with you. I am sorry for what I have done to you Sumant.” I was now fully at peace with myself. But Sumant was an annoyance. He was not reacting. This was quite exasperating.
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