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It was a thick brown envelope postmarked San Jose, California. There was no sender address. On several sheets of thick paper a young lady has written her story in her beautiful hand. Knowing my interest in unusual sexual behaviour she has written about her experiences in the hope that I would publish it. She apparently feels confident about what she is doing and in the hope that it could be beneficial to others placed in similar circumstances she desires her story to be more widely known. I have not changed even a comma in her manuscript.


I am Kala. I am from Trichy, Tamilnadu, in India. I came to the U.S. after my arranged marriage to a Silicon Valley engineer. This is my story. Some readers may find my story beyond belief; others may be so disgusted that they would dart off angry comments and may even be abusive. I would like to assure them that even in my short life I have personal knowledge of no less than three stories similar to mine including a next door family I observed closely for an extended period. I feel my actions are clean and pure. Readers will of course form their own opinions, but one thing is certain, such events are commoner than we think possible even in conservative middle class Indian society and with more and more women taking up jobs it can only become more prevalent. Hence please read with an open mind.


“May I hold your hand” said James. I heard him but I did not react. I continued reading the document pencil in hand looking for typos. Then I looked up and smiled and extended my free hand towards him.

“You may,” I said. He took my hand gently in his and crushed it. He felt my fingers one by one and ran his hand over my palm and back of the hand as if he was a blind man exploring an object that was strange. I resumed reading but I was unable to focus on the job. After playing with it for sometime he placed my palm upwards and stroked it almost erotically. My work was over. I closed the folder and looking into his eyes I asked smiling.

“May I remove my hand?”

“You may,” he said. I wondered what significance he read into my not grasping his hand in return.

“Coffee?” he asked.

“Yes, thanks.” I said. He went to the kitchenette and came out with a cup in one hand and a mug in another. I accepted the cup.

“Bru?” I said.

“It is Bru. I thought you will not find out. I got it in an Indian store. Does it taste like your home brew?”

“Not quite. There we do not use instant stuff. We buy the beans and roast and grind it. My grandmother goes further. She roasts it fresh every time and grinds it in her hand grinder.”

“Must have filled the house with aroma?”

“More than that is the build up. The sound of the metal spoon scraping on the pan, the smell of roasting beans, the grinder’s hum all add up. My granny’s makes coffee drinking a spiritual experience.”

“Fancy that. I cannot imagine coffee drinking in that light,” he said as he sipped a brimming mug full of black stuff.

My work for the day was over. I left for my apartment on the way picking up Aparna my seven year old daughter from school. American born and bred even seven year olds do not need Mom’s help to wash and change. Soon the little one was at the dining table ladling corkscrew pasta from the bowl that I micro waved and placed on the table. I cannot stand corkscrew pasta but Aparna adores it. I took some uppuma and heated it and ate it. I drank water but let the little one have milk the way she takes it in school—from a paper can. Aparna took the plate and placed it in the sink. She then settled in her toy corner. I went into the bedroom and closed the door.

I removed my top and then peeled off the pants. My granny when she first saw my photo in pants described it as abasam. This Tamil word means not just obscene but disgracefully so. I stood before the full length mirror in bra and panties. It disturbed me that when I viewed myself so scantily clad my thoughts should revert to James.


James is the founder owner of the business and I was his secretary. It was a small business employing a dozen people but James sometimes jocularly describes himself as the CEO who cannot pay himself six figure bonuses. James is a gentle person. For a CEO, even a minuscule one, James had a serious disability—he has never been able to get himself into a state of mind where he could fire an employee. He compensated for it by taking great care before hiring one. May be owing to his goodness he rarely has to question his staff selection policy. I like him very much and he likes me too. I often see his eyes glittering with affection when talking to me. Affection I say, not lust. James had just turned forty. He is a divorcee of three years. There were no children in the marriage.


I undid her bra clasps and removed the bra. I rubbed my breasts as I suppose all women do so when their bras come off after several hours of wear. I am rather proud of my figure, but my breasts sag for not only did I nurse Aparna for nine full months I did canlı bahis so without using any formula milk very much to my granny’s pleasure. I jumped up and down to watch my breasts bounce. I do not know why I did that. Did James holding my hands loosen my inhibitions? I then removed my panties. I looked at my naked body in the full length mirror. I rubbed her hands on my pubic mound. A week’s growth of hair made it scruffy. Once again a disturbing thought. Does James like it hairy or polished? My husband had no preference. ‘Hair or no hair a lotus is a lotus,’ he once said and laughed. I got on to the cot and struck various poses and watched myself in the mirror. I thought the pose that would excite men most was the one were I am on my knees and elbows with knees spread slightly apart, the vulval lips parted, and breasts hanging down like mangoes. Why should I think of exciting men when my husband alone should matter?

I went for a shower but first I had to attend to my pubic hair. I put a stool in the tub and sat with feet resting on the tub rim. I used my razor and shaved the pubic mound and then all the scattered hair of the lips. I opened out the lips and caught any escapees. I was satisfied that I had done a through job. It was while I was showering that I got down to analysing James’ desire to hold my hands that I had kept postponing. I knew that my boss liked me and I was of course aware that in men a desire for physical intimacy follows. He was not the lusting type but was he in love? Love in the sense that one likes a person so much as to make the relationship very special. I did not have an answer. As for me I admired him and liked him. He figured often in my fantasies. When he was feeling my hand and especially when he was stroking my palm my heart was racing. What will be James’ next request and how should I respond to that? It was more than I could handle just then.

I got out of the shower and wiped and powdered myself. I selected a night dress that was Mittu’s favourite. (My husband’s name is Mitran.) It was lavender coloured and was soft and smooth. He used to say it accentuated my rear by settling deep into the gluteal folds. He was due in an hour and a half and I had to prepare supper.

Aparna was asleep in her bunk bed by the time Mittu arrived. I opened the door and then we both did something unusual. May be he felt the heat that had developed in me or possibly he was hot too. Anyway we hugged and kissed passionately with the door widely open. He went in and changed to pyjamas and thin cotton top his usual summer home wear and went to the bunk bed and kissed Aparna. I was laying the plates for supper when I felt Mitran’s hand rubbing my gluteal cleft over the night dress. Resting the heel of his hands on my waist he wriggled his finger tips to lift my dress inch by inch till my buttocks were bare. I helpfully held the dress up. He was on his knees on the carpet probing my gluteal cleft with his nose. I turned so suddenly that his nose was on my vulva. We laughed.

The day before my wedding my grandmother came to my room and gave me a one line advice. ‘When he is hot allow him to flow’ she said. My bewilderment made her smile. ‘When the time comes you will understand,’ she said. I acted on her advice now as I have done several times before. Girls who have not had grandmotherly advice would have said ‘no here,’ or ‘we will move to the bedroom,’ or some such thing. I did not do any such mood breaking foolishness. I spread my thighs further and moved backwards holding Mitran’s head so that he never lost contact with my vulva that he was now licking. I gently lay down on my back and put my feet in the air without disturbing Mittu’s contact. I was so hot that my G spot was right there on the surface for Mitran to stimulate. Soon I was clicking and moaning in a powerful orgasm, and when in the finale Mitran bit my clitoris I screamed softly.

“Quick Mittu, enter me,” I said. He did so and soon we had our climaxes, and he as always waited for my signals and gave me two more.

After supper we slept. I do not know what time it was when I woke up.

“Kala darling,” I heard him say.

“Yes my precious.’

“Has your boss made passes at you?”

“He has not and I don’t think he will.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“He is a gentleman. He will ask me first.”

“Without you life will be pretty impossible for Aparna and me.”

“Same here Mittu. It will not happen.”

We slept, over slept in fact.


Mittu has of course met James. We had been to restaurants on four occasions and he has come home a couple of times. The first time it was for Deepavali. I knew that he had a very sweet tooth. I arranged a long array of Indian sweets with accent on the ones from Bengal. I got anxious when he started tasting each and every one of them. ‘Now I know why diabetes is so common in your country,’ he said.

James is an ardent baseball enthusiast as Mittu is a cricket lover. They frequently had heated discussion on the relative merits of their games. James had a box in the stadium and Mittu often bahis siteleri went with him for games. I have never joined them in spite if pressing invitation from James to do so. I have not gone with Mittu for cricket games either. I promised to come for a playoff but their team never seems to get that far. Chess is another game both spend hours playing on the computer. In short Mittu and James are great friends.

One day, a month after the hand holding which incidentally James never requested again in spite of many opportunities to do so, Mittu returned from a baseball game with a smile on his face that was neither wry nor amused or anything I could put a label on. As James and he had had supper in a restaurant I had to put the bowls back into the refrigerator. I came and sat on the sofa beside him. Suddenly I got the word that best described his smile—bemused, that is what it was.

When I had settled down he started his story as I expected him to.

“You remember Kala one night in the middle of our sleep I asked you if James had ever made a pass at you and you told me that he was such a gentleman that he would never do so without asking. He appears to have reached levels in gentlemanliness even higher than what you had attributed to him—today he asked me.”

“Asked what? Your permission to make a pass at me?” I was thoroughly confused.

“Not quite that way. I’ll tell you what happened. During the meal it appeared as if he wanted to say something but did not know how to.

‘Is there something you want to tell me James,’ I asked.

‘Do you know why my wife left me?’ he said. I told him I had not the faintest idea. He said that she left him when after tests they found that he cannot have babies owing to lack of sperms in his semen. She wanted babies. She has one now after her second marriage.”

‘I want children too and I cannot adopt for single men by law cannot. Given my state I cannot ask any girl to marry me either.’ He stopped.

‘So?’ I said. He sat silent for quite sometime.

‘I would like to be a member of your family. That way I can have a share of Aparna.’

‘But you already have a share haven’t you?’ I said, ‘Aparna likes you very much and so does Kala.’

‘Yes, of course,’ he said, and then with great hesitation he continued, ‘I want to be a very intimate member of your family.’ I got his drift. I took a while to respond. He was looking at me patiently waiting for an answer that by all accounts was a quite an unprecedented question. Finally I replied.

‘I am game,’ I said.

‘But of course you will talk to Kala.’

‘I will,’ he said.

‘And what about Aparna?’ I said. He detected the mischief in the question. He smiled faintly.

‘When she is not old enough to understand,’ he said thereby removing any slight doubt I might have had on the import of his request.”

Mittu reported this conversation as if he was telling me of some office experience. My reaction was equally odd. I should have been indignant that my husband should have given his wife away so casually. I should at least have feigned displeasure. I did neither. My heart was fluttering at the thought of making love to a person I greatly admired and who lately has been a fantasy object. As for pretending, it was never on the cards. My husband and I have based our relationship on absolute frankness from day one. So I did not say anything. Mittu did not seem to expect me to respond either.

To jump ahead of the story a bit; in the event James did not have to wait for Aparna to grow up to seek her approval. He got his answer quite soon under circumstances that is an important part of my story.

This conversation got me steaming hot with desire for sex. I did not get into my night dress but just lay face down naked, head pressed on the soft pillow challenging Mittu to find a way to have me. The bright light was on. I heard Mittu come in and change, well in any case remove his clothes. I felt the cot creak as he got on. I wondered what he would do. He was up to it. He held me firmly by the hips and lifted me up as if I was damp cloth. My chest was on the mattress and my thighs spread out on either side of his body with my knees holding up my body. I could feel his breath on my vulva, and then he started licking. In this posture my clitoris faces up and his mouth faces down, ideal for proper contact of the clitoris. He was not so much licking as munching my clitoris and the equally sensitive inner leaves. High voltage thrills passes up and down my spine. Soon I was on the cliff edge and needed a nudge and this he delivered by swiping with his tongue and lower lip. I was screaming when he bit on my clitoris for the finale.

He entered me from behind something we had done once before so inexpertly that we never tried it again, but this time it worked because inadvertently I had found the correct posture namely to have the chest pressed on the cot to get the vulva at the proper angle for the penetration. The penis has firmer and wider contact with the sensitive clitoris and surroundings and man can apply more bahis şirketleri pressure on the G spot. I climaxed as I have never done before. I got it again and again and then rolled over exhausted.


James did not appear the next morning and for a week after that. He had to go out of town hunting for funds for a project. He was back on a Friday. On Fridays we end our work day two hours earlier. I had just then had my late lunch in my room when James came in and took the vacant chair.

“You look worried James any problem that I do not know of?”

“Nothing at all,” he said but sat vacantly looking at me.

“Why are you smiling that way?” he asked.

“I am reminded of my school drama when my closest friend forgot her lines and stood in the middle of the stage staring with mouth open at the crowd of family members in the hall. That’s what you are doing now.” He did not reply but the look of utter misery aroused all my motherly instincts. I went up and stood in front of him.

“You want to tell me something, James. I know that for certain. Do so. I am waiting for it.” He looked up. I could see his lips moving but no sound issued forth.

“I can wait. Tell me,” I insisted. He was looking at the carpet as if ashamed to look me in the eye. I held him by the sides of his head and turned his face towards me.

“Come on, tell me.” He seemed incapable of speech. I hugged his head against my chest. His cheek was pressing my breasts.

“Come on tell me. I want to hear it from you. Come on” My voice was soft and pleading. He was past talking. I turned his head and pressed his mouth against the cleft of my breast. My blouse was not low enough. I undid the blouse buttons.

“Kiss me there.” My bra was interfering. I undid the bra clasp and took out my breasts. “Now kiss them,” I said. He showed signs of returning animation. He rubbed his lips on my breast. ‘Not there; on the nipple.” I held one breast and offered a nipple. He held it between his lips.

“Now suckle. I want you to suckle me James. Suckle so that I give you nourishment.” I must have been mad to talk like that. He took my nipple between his lips and bit with his lips.

“No, not that way, cover your teeth with your lips and bite.” He did so and I moaned for he had me shivering. As he was suckling I removed my blouse and bra. I was naked above the waist. I then removed his tie and undid the collar button.

“Are you ready for more, darling? I have got more for you. Just a moment. You just go on playing with my breasts.” I removed my skirt and panties. I was now totally naked.

“Look at me James. I have shaved myself smooth so that you can lick me to high heaven.” I was hysterical, the speech and actions of a woman who has been concealing her desires even from herself. He placed his hands on my vulva and then for the first time he looked me in the eye. This action broke the spell. He now took over. We hugged and kissed passionately. He started undressing and I helped him. I gasped when I pulled down his knickers and the monster penis of this six footer came out. It was large and when I drew back the foreskin a scarlet rose blossomed. I have never seen a white man’s penis before and this erect and throbbing one had large and tortuous electric blue veins on its surface. I held his penis in my grip. We sank on the carpet. I was lying on my back with thighs spread and he came on top of me.

“Lick me with that large tongue of yours.” He slurped like a mango eater. He had hardly started when I climaxed. I pulled him up.

“Quick, James. I can’t wait.” I held his penis and inserted. I could feel the big one stretch my vagina as it advanced. He was in up to the hilt. I wriggled to get it all set. I could feel the vaginal stretch and it was good.

We climaxed and for the first time I was aware of semen flowing in. It must have been the size of the load in the tightly filled space that must have made me aware of it. And we lay side by side in a soft embrace. We snoozed. It was time for me to pick my girl from school. I dressed hurriedly and left.

I keenly observed Aparna if she saw any change in me. She apparently found nothing. Soon she was with her toys and I went for my bath and for the first time the enormity of my actions hit me hard for I realised that I was now an adulteress. I have been unfaithful to a husband who was so loving and so kind and so true to me. I come from a very conservative family where such actions are unimaginable. For me to commit adultery after such a spectacular seduction was something I was unable to comprehend. I was shedding tears profusely without being aware of it.

I showered and soaped myself thoroughly. I had to remove whatever new odours that were clinging to me. As I soaped my breasts my thoughts were on his biting my nipples which he did so well and when I soaped my vulva I looked down at the spot here he had penetrated. Was I ashamed? Feelings of guilt, yes, but shame not at all. And then this painful thought: Did I have no more feeling after sex with another man than a woman of easy virtue? But pushing everything into the background was my anxiety of how I was going to face Mittu who will be here in an hour and a half. After bath I sat on the sofa and moped. For the first time in my life I wished I was dead.

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