Incest/Taboo Adventures of Venkat

Wife to mistress in a few short steps

I am Yamini, the fourth and last daughter of my parents. I have no brothers. I was born and brought up in Kumbakonam, a temple town in South India. My father is a clerk in a financer's office. He earns enough to meet our family's frugal life style. My sisters are all married. Their husbands are clerks too. As soon as I graduated I joined a furniture company as a sales girl. I was eighteen.

I am very pretty to look at. I am not boasting, but that is what everyone tells me. The owner of the store, Shiva, was not quite middle aged. He was tall and handsome, and very kind to those who worked in his office. We all liked him. A month after I joined I lost my virginity to Shiva. He called me into his inner office one afternoon. He made me sit on the couch and gave me coke to drink. He then held my hand. I drank the coke and allowed him to squeeze my hand. I did not resist. Finding that I was not protesting he hugged me and kissed me. I allowed him. He then removed the pallav of my sari and gently touched my breast. A thrill passed through me. I pressed his hand. Encouraged by that he unhooked my blouse and then undid my bra clasp. He released my breasts one at a time and kneaded them, and then he sucked. I liked it. He then made me lie on the sofa and lifted up my sari. He asked me to spread my thighs and I obeyed. He then undressed. I saw his penis. It was large and straight like a ruler. It was the first time I was seeing an erect penis. He unrolled a condom over it and came on top of me.

He asked me to hold his penis. I did so. He asked me to put it in. I did so. He moved for some time and then made rapid thrusts of his penis into me. He must have ejaculated for when he took his now small penis out the rubber sac was dangling with semen inside. You may be surprised that I am writing this, the most important event in the life of a woman, as if it is a school essay on a domestic animal. I am surprised too for I was without any emotion when it happened. Not excitement, not anxiety, not fear. I was totally relaxed.

To this day I cannot explain why I allowed myself to be deflowered with such ease. I am not a person of low intelligence either. I was one of the top pupils in my school. It was not as if our family were loose in morals. My upbringing was strict. My sisters were good girls. I am not a good girl. I think I was born that way. I approached the event as a prostitute does during the course of her daily duties. Sometimes I regret that I yielded so readily. At other times I get the noble feeling that my beauty, like the talents of music and dance, is God given, and it is my duty to share it with others.

My parents might have got the suspicion that a relationship was developing between Shiva and myself. He was a married man, and he did not have a good reputation in the town. Soon after they arranged my marriage. The family of my future husband was very well to do. They were not at the all the people to mix with the family of an indigent clerk. I thought it was my good looks that did the trick. It was, but not quite the way I expected. Later I came to know the rottenness that lies hidden in affluent homes. I went to Madhurai, a hundred miles to the South, to live with my in-laws, as is the custom in these parts. My mother-in-law not only accepted me without dowry but also was very indulgent towards me. She was 42 years old, but looked a sprightly 35. She was a TV addict, and quite youthful in her tastes. Her husband, my father-in-law, was twelve years older than his wife. He looked much older than his age, and spent a lot of time in the puja room.

My Athai (mother-in-law in the Tamil language) would not allow me to work in the kitchen, and encouraged me to dress well, and use expensive cosmetics. It was too good to be true. My husband was not keen that we should have children soon, and he supplied me with oral contraceptive tablets. I threw them away, one every day. I had no fear of pregnancy. When in middle school a gynaecologist found out that I had infantile uterus and cannot bear babies. My Athai was aware that I was on contraception, but she did not object. This again was unusual. I could sense that some conspiracy was on. For the life of me I could not guess what it was. My parents had not told them that I could not have babies. We were bad people in that respect. In the event it was my in-laws who had the last laugh. The reason for the special privileges I enjoyed became obvious when my husband's uncle, a film producer, came one day. I had to dance and sing as he watched. He seemed pleased with my performance. It was then that I knew they were planning a movie career for me. But that was not to be. They found a less uncertain way of exploiting me

My husband was a junior executive in a firm manufacturing electronic goods. It was a big company with an all India presence. He had prospects. On the fourth month of our stay I attended an office party, a get-together for the staff and their families to meet the big boss from Madras HQ. The party was in a big hotel of the type a small town clerks daughter hears about but never has a chance to enter. The food was good, as was the entertainment of light music that followed. The big boss was a friendly person who wanted the family members of his employees to call him Tarun rather than as, 'Sir'. Tarun was in the early forties, slim and athletic, though balding. He took a lot of interest in me, but getting extra attention from men was something I was accustomed to.

'Tarun likes you,' said my husband when we reached home. A month later my husband came home in a high state of excitement. 'Yamini, you know how much I get as increment this year? Five instalments in one shot, quite unprecedented. The previous highest in the office has been only three. I am on par with assistant managers though not designated that as yet. We have assistant managers only in Madras HQ.' And he bubbled along in his happiness. My husband, though regular to duties, did not appear to be a person so extraordinary in his abilities as to get any unprecedented hike in pay. From the way the boss looked at me I suspected that I figured in it. I left it at that.

Within a fortnight my husband got orders to join the headquarters office as an assistant manager. My mother-in-law moved in with us. Life was not very different in Madras. Power cuts were less, but water scarcity was acute. Evenings were cooler.

Three months after he joined there was an office party. I met the wives of the other assistant managers. They were a gossipy lot. They seemed to know a lot about office politics. Tarun was very attentive to me, and maybe not by chance at dinner I was at the same table with him and another lady manager. We discussed music, a subject in which I had interest. But when we were leaving I was in the elevator with him along with two others not of our office. When we got out he tapped me on the cheek and said 'you are very pretty'. That evening my husband asked me about my experiences at the party. I told him, but left out that bit about the cheek tapping. My husband told me that Tarun was known to 'misbehave' with wives of his subordinates.

'You mean he pinches' I asked. My husband nodded. 'If he finds one in a quiet corner he may kiss and fondle too,' I continued.

'I don't know about that,' said my husband.

'And to promote one to senior assistant manager he may want the wife to go even further,' I said. My husband laughed.

'Well I don't know about that either,' he said. I pretended to be reading a magazine.

'What would you like my reaction to be,' I said with my eyes still on the pages of the magazine, "if he makes such a request?'

'You have to use your judgement,' he answered immediately as if he expected me to ask that question.

'Suppose I judge that it is in our best interest to humour him would you accept me back as if nothing has happened.' My husband did not say anything for almost a minute.

'I would respect your judgement,' he said. The mystery of the promotion was solved. My husband was not unwilling to share his wife with his boss.

I have of course heard stories of how weaknesses in the big bosses are made use of by his subordinates to climb up in the company. It happens in the army and the civil services too. It is in private firms where the big boss is the owner and has total control that it occurs in the most florid form. I was game to the adventure.

I was curious to find what my mother-in-law thought about it. But first I had to know how much her son has told her. I waited for her to start the topic about the party. She did that afternoon.

"How did you like the party?" she asked.

"Athai, the big man was very attentive to me." The old lady went into a fit of hacking laughter.

"Pretty women turn them on," she said.

"What should I do?"

"Humour him of course."

"If he pinches?"

"Did he pinch you?"

"This time he did not, but next time he would."

"Why are you so sure?"

"I can sense it. What should I do?"

"Say it pains you."

"If it does not pain."

"What does a pinch of two amount to?"

That for me was a complete answer.

From the servants and neighbours I came to know more about the family. The father was a child of rich man's concubine and my Athai, when she was a young woman, was involved in an affair with a neighbour.

Two weeks later one morning Tarun called. I told him that my husband had gone to office. He said he knew but wanted to talk to me. We had a pleasant chat. The topic was a continuation of the subject we were discussing in the party about music, both light and classical. He said that he would like to meet me to analyse an article he is writing about the use of classical ragas in cinema music. I said I would have to ask my husband and mother-in-law before I agree. He wanted to know if I had any objection. I said I had none. Athai was enthusiastic, and my husband readily agreed. When he called me the next day I said that I was game. He fixed the morning two days later for the discussion (as he called it). He asked me to come to a hotel with my mother-in-law.

We took a taxi. I was rather intimidated by the imposing men guarding that place, but I spotted Tarun who was waiting for us in the lounge. He came out and took us to a room. He ordered coffee and snacks, and we talked for a long while. My Athai, ordinarily a very talkative person was silent that day. I suspected it was by arrangement. Mother and son were using me as bait. I relished the adventure.

Tarun was genuinely interested in music. He knew classical music. I was also trained in music and liked light music as it occurred in the movies. We had an animated discussion for we had different opinions on the place of classical music in movies songs. We became friends.

He held my hands. I darted a glance at Athai. She was looking away.

"May I go and sit in the lounge?" she asked.

"No," said the boss. "For me to be alone with your daughter-in-law in this room would not be proper. But you need not be looking away. Please be natural. Please sit on the opposite sofa and watch." She immediately moved to the opposite sofa.

We were discussing tune of a recent hit. I said that a different rendering of the tune would improve it and demonstrated how I wanted it done. My neck was stretched as I was handing a difficult part of the tune when he kissed me on the side of the neck. After that he kissed me on the lips. He removed the pallav of my sari and placed his hand on one breast. He undid the blouse buttons, and then as he hugged me he unclasped my bra. I did not resist. I helped him rather. If it had been my husband and the place our locked bedroom I would not have acted differently. It seemed so unlike for Tarun, a man with such cultured behaviour, and a lover of classical music, to do something so atrocious as seduce a woman in front of her mother-in-law. He had his reasons, as I was to know later. But the reaction of my Athai was unbelievable. She was unabashedly enjoying a live show from a ringside seat.

With my help he removed my blouse and bra. He sucked my nipples and kneaded my breasts. Soon we he was working on my sari, and I was in the nude. I helped undress him. I darted a glance at Athai. She was trembling with excitement. The pallav of her sari had fallen off her shoulder and she was displaying a very decent valley. I smiled. Tarun wanted to know why I smiled. I said that I was wondering if mother-in-law would undress and join us. He turned her way and laughed. The senior had removed her blouse buttons exposing her breasts. She was amply endowed.

We then got into frenzy. He licked my clitoris till I had an orgasm, and then he entered and we had orgasms together. After my third I relaxed. I turned towards Athai. She was reclining on the sofa with breasts exposed, and legs up, with vulva on display. If one could have unleashed young men on her she would have thoroughly enjoyed a gangbang.

"Mother-in-law is cross-eyed with excitement," I told Tarun. "We can't leave her high and dry."

"Yes it would be cruel to leave her in this state." He took the phone and spoke for a while. Soon there was a delicate tap. A strapping young man was standing at the door as if waiting for orders. Five Star hotel services I knew were wide ranging, but I did not suspect that it was this comprehensive.

"This is auntie," said Tarun. He came to her and took her by the hand and led her to the other cot. The half screen between the cots was only five feet high. When Athai was astride him her face was visible. The old lady would never forget the experience of that day, and I can never forget the sight of her striding on him, turning this way and that, with a bewildered look. Then she jumped up and down in frenzy, and at the climax she screamed softly. They separated. After a moving farewell she let her partner leave. She retreated into the bathroom and came out like a flower in bloom. She hugged me, and then she thanked Tarun.

"Would you mind if I ask Yamini to stay with me?" he asked.

"Forever?" asked the old lady.

"Yes."

"If she so wishes," she said, reluctantly I thought. He turned towards me. I nodded. I was of no further use to my husband. To get away would be the proper thing to do.

The old lady hugged me. She was in a daze after an emotion packed hour of action, but she had the thought to bless me before she turned and hurriedly walked away.

"Any regrets?" asked Tarun.

"I may miss the old lady," I said.

"I like her too," said Tarun.

That's how I became the mistress of Tarun

Simple solution to an erection problem

Tarun set me up in an independent bungalow in an exclusive suburb. Everyday he had lunch with me and stayed on till three in the afternoon. He came home on Friday evening to be with me till Sunday morning. I was surprised that though he cuddled and fondled and licked till he gave me orgasms we never had sexual intercourse for a week. He never undressed below the waist either. I could not understand why. During the course of our lovemaking I had felt his penis. It was turgid, but never hard enough for penetration. But in the hotel room I had normal intercourse with him. What was the explanation? That weekend Tarun provided the answer.

He was inviting a couple for the weekend. They came on Friday evening. The man was about Tarun's age, and the woman about five years younger. Tarun introduced them to me as Jaswant and his wife Meenu.

After dinner the cook cleaned up and left. We went to the music room and listened to classical music for a while. Tarun turned to me and suggested that we change. He said he would like me to wear a dress he had got for me that day. I opened the box. It was a frock of thin material with spaghetti straps. 'Wear it without bra and knickers,' he said. It came up to mid thighs.

I liked myself in that dress. When Jaswant saw me he give a resounding wolf whistle. We all laughed, Meenu more than the rest of us. She had a dress similar to mine but with wider straps.

We sat on double sofas facing each other, Tarun and I on one said, and Jaswant and Meenu on the other. It was clear to me that there was no way I could preserve my modesty. I just relaxed, as did Meenu. If Jaswant saw as much of me as I saw of Meenu then there could be no secrets between us. Tarun nuzzled me, and then he kissed, and then be lifted my skirt and as I lay on the sofa he licked me. I spread out and held his head with finger entwined in his hair. I turned to see what our guests were doing. Jaswant was already on top of Meenu. Tarun gave me a very satisfactory orgasm by licking alone. I demanded loudly that he enter me there and then and he did. He was hard and he filled me. Now I knew that Tarun needed spectators to perform. I had no objection. Rather, I liked it too. I decided to be supportive and never put him in a position where his inadequacy would stand revealed. We had it two more times that night, all in the company of our guests. They left the next morning.

The next weekend we went to a Five Star beach resort, and there we met Viswam and his wife Shama. We had a large bedroom with a king sized cot. With curtains drawn and light blazing we had the time of our life, all four of us crowded on one cot. But swinging was not on the agenda. Even king sized beds do not have ample space for four persons. To rub against another couple while lovemaking is one of the most delicious experiences of life.

Tarun had a library stocked with books about sex. Many were very expensive publications with vivid photographs. It was not pornographic literature, rather like scientific studies. The books were in chaste English. I read most of them. I learnt a lot about sex. Men seem to have many strange desires. Some enjoy seeing their wives nude in the presence of other men, some like to have sex with their wives in the presence of others, and of course there are those who like wife sharing. It would appear that there are husbands who are turned on when they see their wives have sex with other men in their presence. I wondered how I would feel if my husband was this latter type. Honestly I would have no problem pleasing him. I am of the view that any sexual activity that freely consenting adults indulge in is proper, even incest.

I had a splendid time with Tarun. We went to Darjeeling for the summer, and to Agra to see the Taj by moonlight. Flying business class and staying in Five Star hotels was heady stuff for a clerk's daughter. One evening we went to a hotel for a show. The last item in the programme was the celebrated Seven Veil Dance. The girl peeled off her dresses one by one till she was stark naked, and that was how she danced for almost three minutes. The audience, consisting mostly of men, went riotous with enthusiasms.

"What's your reaction to this dance?" asked Tarun.

"I am certainly not disgusted as many women pretend to be. If there are people wanting it let them have it."

"Would you mind appearing nude in public?"

"In a place where all women are in the nude I would have no problem being nude too. And would you mind my being so?"

"In a place where all women are like that I would be thrilled to see you also nude. It would be very powerful turn-on."

One weekend we went several miles on the coast road. It was a dry, almost deserted place with no habitation in sight for miles and miles. I could never have imagined that in an overcrowded country like India we could have such a place. We turned into a side road and soon came to a compound surrounded by high walls. The gate was so solid that one could not see what was going on inside. Tarun spoke to the jawan on duty. He checked some papers that Tarun gave him, spoke into the intercom, and then opened the gate. It was lush and green inside. One wondered from where they got all that water. He drove in and parked the car. We entered the lounge. Tarun spoke to a lady at the counter. She seemed to know him. 'Room 34' said the lady and we went down the corridor and found the room at the end. Tarun asked me to sit down on the sofa; he sat by my side.

"This is a very exclusive club. They take only couples." He paused and then he continued. "It is a dress optional club." He looked keenly at me wondering if I had caught the point.

"Nudists?"

"No. Just people wanting to relax."

"Optional means that if you want to be dressed you could."

"Not quite. Topless is minimum. Are you comfortable with it."

"I think I can manage being topless. If the company is right the other too." He smiled.

"Partner exchange?" I asked.

"Not in the club agenda anyway. If there are couples wanting it then I suppose it could happen."

We got ready for a swim.

"Do we know anyone here," I asked.

"No. We would get acquainted; most of the members are not known to each other."

I removed my dress and covered myself with a large towel. Tarun wore bathing trunks. Four couples were on divans under umbrellas. The lady at the counter, who was in a two-piece herself, (the three employees of the club were all women) introduced us to them. The men were in bathing trunks. Two women, both Indian, were topless but had knickers on. The other two, one Chinese, and one Japanese were nude. A white man and a girl were frolicking in the pool. The counter lady introduced them too, and they waved.

The Japanese couple smiled and we went and stood by them. I removed the towel and sat down. Tarun did not gasp as I thought he would, but smiled with a bit of wryness in it. I was blushing all over. I must be a natural exhibitionist for I found it a thrilling experience to be nude in public. I darted a glance at the Japanese man. He was discreetly enjoying the sight of me. I turned as if not on purpose and spread my thighs to give that man a good view of my vulva. When he was enjoying the view he looked up and was mildly shocked to make eye contact with me, but he managed a smile. I smiled back and widened by thighs a wee bit more, and then put my feet up and spread still more. The Japanese woman was smiling and so was Tarun.

We chatted of this and that. The Japanese man said they were business tourists. The white couple came out of the pool. The girl, a beautiful blond, came dripping, towel in hand. She wiped herself in front of us. She was nude. She had luxuriant pubic hair; so luxuriant that her nudity was hidden. I suppose that was how Lady Godiva covered her nakedness rather than with the tresses of the hair on her head. Tarun turned away. He liked women to be clean-shaven. The Japanese man suggested that we have some fun in the pool. We agreed. Both the Indian couples also were by now in the water. The Indian ladies, probably after watching me, were now totally nude.

We were frolicking in the water when one Indian woman nudged me. 'Just glance landward,' she said. I did. On the divan the whites were making love. Though I could only have short glimpses between spurts of swimming I could see all. He was on top and she lay on her back with thighs spread. We could see her hold his penis and insert it in. And then they pumped and soon it was all over. They went to a tap nearby and washed in the open and were back on the divan in a cosy huddle. The men were watching too. 'Nice,' said the girl who had drawn my attention to it. 'I am hot,' she said. I was hot too. I swam towards Tarun. 'Did you see,' I asked. 'Hmm,' he said. 'I am hot,' I said. 'So am I,' he said. As we swam towards the steps I turned to my informant and jerked my head as if to say 'we are going to, are you?' She waved as if to encourage us. We got out and wiped and then moved to a divan five feet from the one where the whites were lying. I was hot and defiant.

We sat and kissed on the lips. Tarun's hand went to my breast. He kissed my cheeks and jaw, and then neck, and then over the collarbone, and then on the valley, and then ran his lips on the surface of a breast, and then his lips plucked a tit. It was so thrilling that a moan escaped me. When he hears a moan he gets into frenzy. I never try to deceive him by false moans. I held up my breast mother-like as I always do, and he bit it. It was exhilarating. I took his head in my hand and moved it to the other breast. I turned to look at our neighbours on the divan. The couple were resting after the exertions of a short while ago. The man was lying face down and the woman was laying on top of him also face down. Both the heads were turned in our direction. To be watched as one is making love is a thrill that one has to go thorough to appreciate to the full. It is a pity that, thanks to false conceptions in human culture, one of the purest of thrills is lost to us.

Soon my tits lost sensation and my clitoris tingled. I took my hands to his bathing trunks and pulled it down and caught his penis in my hands. I pushed his head down and he licked as only he can. I came in an orgasm that cascaded like a waterfall, and then he plucked my clitoris between his lips and bit in quick succession till I almost screamed from the aftershocks. And then he got on top of me and he inserted. When I came to my third orgasm I could faintly hear clapping sounds. Our friends were watching the show and applauding. I did not have the energy to take the bow.

Vaguely I was able to see my fellow guests. The couple on the divan next to us still had their faces turned towards us. Their eyes were glittering with appreciation. One of the Indian couples after some kissing and fondling went in. Apparently they were not ready for an open show yet. The Japanese's were cuddling legs intertwined. The other Indian couple were not in my line of vision.

More couples joined us. The two days we spent there was enthralling. The best time was at night after supper in the hall. The whites, who were from Denmark, had hot music from their native land, and all the couples including the ones who did not participate that morning had imbibed the sprit of the place and lost their inhibitions. The Indian couple that had retired to their rooms in the morning were fully converted, and like new converts they were rather more uninhibited than the others. We were watching TV when they switched off the set and lay in front of the set and coupled with the woman on top. The woman looked towards us and moved up and down so that we could all see that she was well and truly impaled. She made eye contact with as many as possible and smiled unabashedly. We lost count the number of times Tarun and I had it, but every time it was in the presence of an appreciative audience. We were proud that we did not let down the traditions of Kama Sutra country. We returned two more times in the next two months to that haven of lovemaking.

A year and six months later one weekend Tarun stayed overnight as he always did. I kissed him at the head of the stairs the next morning as he took leave. He got into the car. He waved to me from the car as it turned the corner. That was the last I was to see him. He had a heart attack in the office that afternoon and died before they could take him to hospital. The watchman got to know of it and told me. I called his office and they confirmed the news. I wept bitterly. That was all I could do.

The funeral took place the same day. I sat at home. I had no idea what was in store for me. Three days later one morning his car driven by his chauffeur came down the drive. A man of about fifty got down. I met him in the drawing room.

"Are you Yamini," he asked.

"Yes," I said. He then spoke as if he was a newsreader.

"I am Mr. Tarun's lawyer. He has not made a will but he has written a letter in which he has listed what he wants us to do to you in the event of something happening to him. Please read the letter." It was the original written in his own handwriting. All that he had got for me including the jewels and dresses are to be mine. In addition he gave rupees one hundred thousand in cash. "We are of course honouring his decisions," said the lawyer, "this house is rented. We would be paying the rent till you find another accommodation. Would three months be adequate?"

''I may not need more than a few days to vacate this place," I said. The lawyer handed me a cheque for one lakh. I collected my possessions in two large travel cases and left a day later. On the train I decided that my good looks were no blessing but a curse.

I had a classmate staying in the workingwoman's hostel in Coimbatore and there I took a room. I got a job as a receptionist in a hotel and stayed for almost a year. My intention was to be single, but soon I found it impossible to live without a male companion. I was not missing sex; I needed male protection. A pretty young divorcee is just too much for the men young and old to resist. Their attentions were just impossible to bear. I found an ad in the papers attractive. A widower with two boys wanted a mother for the boys and a companion for himself. Matrimony was one of his conditions. I agreed straightaway. We were married and I came to live in Munnar where my husband worked.

Venkat meets Yamini and the curse is neutralised

I am Venkat again. You might have read the first part of my story titled 'Adventures of Venkat'. The story is of how one aunt, and then another, no doubt attracted by my good looks, seduced me and dashed my hopes of ever becoming a graduate engineer. I continue that story where I left off. I became supervisor of the processing plant in a tea estate in Munnar. I met Yamini there.

Munnar is a summer resort in South India next only in popularity to Ooty and Kodaikanal. A bit too much of rain in the monsoon season, but for the rest of the year it is just fine. The estate that employed me was 15 kilometres from the town. The senior engineer and I had to keep the machinery of the tea factory working. As the junior it was my duty to attend to night calls if the need arose, and in compensation, depending on how long the call lasted, I could go for work late in the morning or not go at all.

I was popular with my colleagues, and I thought that I was much admired by the girls I came across. I did not fancy the many young pretty things that crossed my path. I began to suspect that like a former King of England my liking was for older woman with living husbands.

The company gave me a bungalow on the slopes of the hill surrounded on three sides by tea gardens. There were two houses in that corner. The accountant of a neighbouring estate occupied the bigger of the two. He had a wife, and two sons who were in school. The boys were seven and eight years or thereabouts. The school was in the town and a bus came every morning to take them at eight, and they came back home at five in the evening. The husband was a nine-to-five pen pusher.

One strange thing I noticed about my neighbour was that all the windows on my side were closed. On the other side they were wide open. The second morning after I had taken up residence I saw my neighbour walking to the company bus. I wished him. He waved his hand and at the same time grimaced—an unfriendly twist of his face. The same happened the next day. A surly fellow I concluded and I decided to leave him alone. His boys were an interesting age. They played in the compound on the other side of my house. One day their ball fell into my compound and both the boys came running into my house to fetch it. I asked them their names, and the father who was in the veranda shouted in a language I did not understand, and the boys took the ball and without even looking at me rushed out as if afraid of reprimand from their father if they answered me. I had to leave them alone too. As for the mother of the boys I had not clapped eyes on her even though I was living next door for almost 10 days. On the eleventh day my luck changed.

I had a night call that kept me on duty till dawn. I was hence exempt from attending duty that day. I got up late. I was at the window drinking coffee when I saw the neighbour's window on my side open. My neighbour's wife was standing at the window polishing a brass idol. She was a beauty. She had thin nightdress on and I could see the clear outline of her sagging breasts. Ever since attaining manhood under my lactating aunt's tutelage I have been an admirer of sagging breasts. I watched enthralled. Soon she closed the window.

My next free morning came ten days later. I took a plate of toast and eggs and set it on the patio table. It was a cold sunny day and I thought I would spend some time sunning myself.

I heard the opening of the door in the next compound. I turned and saw the rear door of my neighbour's house open. The lady came out. She was in her nightdress but not the one she was wearing in our first encounter. This one was not of thin material but it did not in any way make her breasts less attractive.

"Good morning," she said, "I am Yamini."

"Good morning," I responded, "I am Venkat."

"If you are from the plains Munnar can be quite cold," she said.

"I am from Conjeevaram. Yes I find it cold here."

"Sunning yourself in the tropics I believe is not good. I would advise you to go in. I am going to polish some brass icons. If you are at your window we can talk." The door closed.

The window opened. She was holding an icon in one hand and some cloth in the other. I noticed with some excitement that she had changed to the thin nightdress. I went to my window closest to her and spoke.

"But why are you keeping the windows shut. Cold breeze?"

"Hot breeze rather," she said with a serious face. I did not get the joke if indeed it was a joke. "Your home town is of course famous for its saris," she said to change the subject."

"Yes."

"Are you in any way connected with it?"

"Yes my grandfather used to weave them, and my father used to market them."

"Famous for its temples too. I have visited those temples. I come from a temple town too"

"Where?"

"Kumbakonam."

"Then you must be a Tamil girl," I said quite excited. Munnar is in Kerala and the language spoken there is Malayalam.

"Through and through," she said speaking in Tamil of the purest Tanjore accent.

"Your husband speaks a language that is different," I said.

"He speaks to his sons in a Konkani dialect," she said. His sons indeed. Then she is not the mother. The sag of her breasts if it is not owing to suckling then it must be owing to amorous use—considerable amorous use. She surely had an interesting past. She enjoyed talking in her native tongue and I was too. We talked of Conjeevaram saris, and Kumbakonam temples, and Tamil movies, and so on for a long while. She had stopped the pretence of polishing the icons long ago. I could hear her phone ringing and she closed the window and left.

Saturday afternoon and Sundays were off days for me and so were they for the man next door. The only time I got to chat with my neighbour was on days I had night calls. The next chance occurred a week later. The window was open even when I woke up. Later as I was having coffee Yamini was standing at the window.

"How did you know I would be going to factory late," I asked.

"I heard the company car fetch you and then leave you several hours later, and I knew you would be going to office late or not at all," she said. We spent the next hour chatting. The phone rang. She asked me not to go away. She was at the phone for less than five minutes.

"My husband. He always calls to check if I am calling anyone." We were silent for a while.

"Don't you have anything to say?" she asked.

"Its your personal matter and not a pleasant one. I think it is best for neighbours not to probe."

"You are wise. How old are you?"

"Twenty four."

"Wise beyond your years."

"Thanks."

"But some thoughts would have passed through your mind."

"Surely."

"But you prefer to keep them to yourself."

"Yes."

"Suppose I tell you why he does so, would you mind?"

"Not at all."

"His first wife, the mother of his two sons, ran away with the manager of the estate where this man was accountant."

"Leaving the children."

"Yes, the older was then only four years old. He had no notion that his wife had developed a relationship with the neighbour. When he came home and saw the letter he fainted."

The phone rang. She went and came back almost immediately.

"My husband again. He thinks that once his call has come I would be free to make calls on my own. He hence calls randomly. Mood out," she said, and closed the window.

The next chance we got a week later. She told me the story of her marriage, and how it ended, and her days as a mistress and how that ended, and her second marriage. She said that her husband wanted a reliable housekeeper and not a wife. His interest in sex, she hinted, was minimal.

I told her my story. My love life tickled her.

"Aunts?" she asked. I nodded.

"Older married women?" I nodded. "With living husbands?" I nodded again. "You deserve some sort of prize," she said and giggled. She then became serious. "Venkat, both of us are living under a curse of good looks. We must find a way out." I said I had independently come to the same conclusion.

I had no night calls for ten days. On the eleventh day during lunch break I had a call. It was Yamini. She was speaking from a local workingwoman's hostel. She said she has left her husband and was on her own. I was not surprised. Though she had not told me anything about leaving him I could make out for the tone in which she spoke of him that the marriage could not last long. She said she was leaving town that evening and would be back in her old hostel in Coimbatore. I asked her to call or write from there. She called after three days. I took down her address and phone number. We had known each other but casually. I should have forgotten her, but I did not. I missed her.

This was new experience for me. I never missed the two aunts with whom I had had sexual relations. In fact I have never met them after parting. But now even though I had not so much as touched Yamini I missed her sorely. I called. She sounded excited to hear my voice. I called every day—a relationship was developing. A month later I had to go to Coimbatore to collect some spares for our motors. I met her in the lounge of the hostel. We were together for almost an hour. When we took leave of each other quite spontaneously we hugged and for the first time kissed. A fortnight later I took leave and went to Coimbatore to meet her. We went to Top Slip resort. In the forest glade I told her that I couldn't live without her. She said she felt the same way. I proposed marriage.

"Marriage?" Yamini was surprised.

"Yes," I said.

"Don't be funny. You have never been married but you known what two very respectable married women did to their husbands. I was twice married and both my husbands married me with the intent of exploiting me. I have known a man before the first marriage, and was mistress to a man before the second. I have had sex when others were watching many times and I enjoyed that experience. Many would call me a slut, which by any definition of the term I am. You are young and very handsome; you can choose a spouse from a sheaf. Why should you want to marry a barren woman who is four years your senior?"

"I have thought of all that," I said.

"I refuse to consider such an absurd request. Please remember that when I am forty you would be a blooming thirty-six. Impossible Venkat, quite out of the question. We'll be friends. The only time I was happy was when I was a mistress. I want to be your mistress. When you get an urge to marry and have a family I will gracefully go away." We discussed for a long time and then finally we decided that there was no hurry to decide.

We went round the forest glades and then we were back in the room. I was lying on the cot reading the morning paper. She came and stood by the bed. She loosened my pyjamas tape, took out my penis, and kissed the glans. The paper dropped from my hand as I watched her plopping it in and out of her mouth, and then stand back and inspect the results of her efforts with satisfaction. She then slid out of her nightdress and climbed up and stood looking down on me.

"The window is open. Do you mind?" she asked.

"No," I said. "My only regret is that only spotted deer are watching." She laughed. She bent down and kissed me on the lips and said 'my man'.

She stood up with feet planted on either side of me. I was looking up at her vulva, smooth and polished to my taste, and beyond that her magnificent sagging breasts, and her beautiful face wreathed smiles. Her vulva was not the characterless mound with a slit. The skin over the clitoris raised a prominent knob as a reminder of the splendour it concealed; the leaves guarding the slit were just visible, and as if this was not perfection enough a bit of moisture was peeping out to proclaim the steaming heat inside. She then lowered herself, and in one smooth move she held my penis and let it into herself. She bent forward to kiss me. He breasts were hanging like ripe mangoes. Sagging breasts are the best turn-on for me for it was on suckling breasts that I had first graduated. I was close to frenzy and so was she. She moved up and down and I responded to her rhythm. I was in the height of my orgasm when I shouted,

"Will you marry me Yamini?"

She was panting in the throes of her orgasm but she was able to speak.

"I will my most precious darling" When we were cuddling she said." Darling I promise that if you fall in love with a young thing at any time you would have my full and unstinted support. " Even in that emotional moment she made clear her protest at the arrangement.

We are now settled in far away Assam. Two persons cursed by good looks have done the right thing by coming together. The curse is neutralised for we are a happy couple.​