I am Thangam (Gold In Tamil). I had a taste of mother’s love. Strangely enough it is from my mother-in-law. This is strange, for in our culture the relationship between daughter-in-law and mother-in-law is mostly strained. My Athai (Tamil for mother-in-law) is like my mother to me, and often we are more like friends. I will describe my sexual life for it is relevant to the story I am about to relate. I am married for a little more than a year and a half, but that does not prevent me from thinking that I have found the key to a happy married life.I will tell you what I consider the key. Unless a woman learns to enjoy sex with her husband happiness in marriage is not a possibility. My husband’s name is Elavarasan. In our culture I cannot call him by name. I call him Athan. Though Athan means maternal uncle’s son a woman can call her husband Athan even if he is not a blood relation. Athan likes to see me go about my household work in the nude. I am pretty certain that all men would love it once they get a taste of it. Unfortunately in our house that is possible only in the bedroom. My husband and I found the pleasures of nudity quite accidentally. I was in the nude one day ready for love making when the telephone rang. I took the call and I had to rummage the desk drawer to give the caller the particulars she required. I was doing that when I noticed my husband looking at me with excitement. I was reading out the particulars over the phone when something was nudging between my legs. I looked down. It was Athan, face upwards, trying to insert his head between my legs. I was amused. I parted my legs as I continued reading. Soon his lips were on my vulva. I placed one foot on a chair, and he gripped my buttocks and started licking my clitoris in right earnest. Luckily I completed the task before I had orgasm.
The listener is bound to have suspected that something was happening at the other end, but she could not have guessed what it was in a million tries. From then on whenever we were in a mood for it I would go nude and carry on my job of writing or reading or arranging the room or whatever. Athan never allowed me to complete what I set out to do. He would start sucking or licking till I had to call a halt to my task. These episodes always ended in hot lovemaking with powerful orgasms.One evening I had to talk to my husband on a matter that was in my thoughts for some time. I had to get him into a proper mood. I know how to do that. I carried a silver tumbler with milk to the bedroom. My husband was reclining on the bed. He received the tumbler and drank with relish. Both my mother-in-law and I do not believe in the modern craze of 2 percent, half and half, and other forms of milk. It has to be whole milk, and one of us has to be there at the gate watching the milkman as he milked his cow. The milk has to boil, and then only is it fit for use. Whole milk from one cow (a rare privilege in the modern world) has a special taste. No doubt my husband drinks with relish. He drank half and gave the tumbler to me to drink the rest.”Have a little more,” I said. He took one more sip and gave it back. This time I drank the lot. Wife drinking what the husband leaves from his tumbler of milk is a First Night ritual. We have continued that custom every day for a year and a half. The ritual of course does not stop with milk drinking.”Your choice today,” I said. My husband pondered, and then gave his order as if I was a waitress in a restaurant.”Licking.” He paused, and then continued, “with you on top.” Sixty-nine with woman on top is as different from sixty-nine with woman below as North is from South. I arranged pillows for him to rest his head at the right height and angle. This is very important. The reputation of sixty-nine promising a lot and delivering little is owing to couples neglecting this detail.
“Undress me,” I said. He did.”Undress me,” he said. I did. It is a game we play. I examined his penis. I held it and ran my fingers up and down the shaft. I held the glands with my fingers bunched on the ledge and gave the shaft a gentle pull.”Is it up to your expectations?” he asked.”It’s good. Now position yourself.” When he was ready I climbed up, went on knees and elbows, and reversed rather like a car. He tapped my buttocks as if they were combo drums, gently of course. When he stopped drumming I knew the positioning was good. He knows my vulva like the palm of his hand, but that does not prevent him from inspecting it with awe every time he has the chance. I of course could not see him but I could feel his breath as he reconnoitered. Then he nipped the labia menorah and then licked the secretions I was pouring in my excitement. Then he touched my clitoris with the tip of his pointed tongue. I shuddered. It is always my response to the first touch—a shudder that shakes my whole body. Meanwhile I was playing with his penis: Stroking it, licking the drops of clear fluid that oozed at the tip, and then taking the gleans into my mouth. We had both agreed that till our first child appeared not one drop of his semen should go anywhere but into the vagina. But that did not prevent me from taking his penis into my mouth and chewing on it. And then suddenly his licking intensified. Athan says that licking is different when the clitoris is above. The inner leaves open out like the petals of the lotus and the clitoris thrusts out like the stamen. He says that his upper lip now comes into play and not the lower lip as when I am on my back. Also he gets more of the clitoris to play with. He held the clitoris with his lips and licked. My buttocks were moving back and forth, almost vibrating, and then he stopped for a moment; when he restarted he swiped. I cascaded in an intense orgasm. He bit on my clitoris still I was screaming a muffled screams. I waited for the thrill to subside and turned round and lay on my back, feet in air. I guided his penis into my soaking wet vagina. Soon he ejaculated, and I had orgasm at about the same time. Then I had some more.”Cup me,” I said. He cupped his hand on my vulva and pressed, and I had some aftershocks. We rested for a while. We went to wash. He washed me with a softness and delicacy that is an experience in itself. I then washed him and we lay and snuggled. “Athan darling, I have something important to discuss with you,” I said. “Go ahead,” he said.
I do not believe any wife has ever proposed to her husband what I intended to. I was convinced that I was doing the right thing, but it was so bizarre that most would think it horrific. Few would believe it. I had pondered about this for weeks and now I was going to plunge ahead. “I want to talk about Athai,” I said. “What of her?””She is lonely.””You keep her company isn’t it?””I mean persons of her age.””She is very friendly with many neighbor women.” “Yes of course she has many friends with whom she goes to temples and even movies.”Then what?” Man’s incapacity to grasp even the basics of woman’s wants can be exasperating. I tried a different approach.”She’s young for her age.””What do you mean young for her age?””She is only thirty-eight.” “She married early. That is why she has a daughter-in-law when she is so young.” “Many women nowadays marry when they are in their thirties.”My husband finally understood what I was driving at. He became thoughtful.
“Do you think she misses that?””Of course.””How do you know? Did she tell you?””Don’t be funny. Is she likely to tell this to anyone? I am a woman. I know.””What can anyone do? That’s fate.””A widow woman near my home who was older than Athai and much less attractive than her did not leave it to fate. She developed a relationship with one of the many men swarming round her. The resulting scandal destroyed that family.””Are men swarming around mother?””Of course they are. Any single woman, especially a young widow as attractive as Athai would attract the attention of men, and not all of them are old.””How do you know?””I see them.””I don’t””I have eyes to see them, and to feel their presence.””Because you are a woman?””That’s correct.””Do you think mother would do such things?””I am almost sure she would not. But human nature being what it is accidents can happen. Anyway why should she suffer the agony of want of such a basic human necessity? And is it fair that I should have it sumptuously every day when my mother-in-law is starving?””What to do? You seem to have some solution in your mind.” “I do.” I did, but how to say that was my problem.”Then tell me.””Do as the sashtras say.””What do they say?””My late grandfather’s library is a large one. It has many books on sashtras. During my graduate study of sociology I used to refer to them. The ancient sages have a solution.””What’s that?””They say that it the duty of the son to act for the dead father if the widow is young.” Athan sat up.”What happened to you Thangam, have you taken leave of your senses?””I told you it is not my idea. That is what our wise ancestors have said.””But that is incest,” he said. I bridled up. I was now on surer ground.”What is the Tamil word for incest?” I asked.”I don’t know.””There is none. There is none in Sanskrit either. Incest is a concept imported into India by the missionaries. Do you know that the bible has a story of two daughters seducing their father to save their tribes, and the two tribes they produced flourished with God’s blessing?”‘The bible?”
“Yes the bible. I have a copy of the bible I will show you tomorrow. God destroyed two sinful cities and saved a man called Lot and his two daughters. The daughters seduced their father. If they had not the tribe would have become extinct. God blessed them and their progeny. If daughters can, why not a son?””But she is my mother.””Of course she is. Can you say with total honesty that you have never looked on your mother on occasions with sexual thoughts?” He was silent. “She is an attractive woman. She is full of life. Is it not better that her son who loves her, and whom she loves more than anything else on earth should have sex with her rather than some lustful stranger?””Your suggestion is quite absurd. If mother gets a scent of what we were talking about she may faint with shock at the enormity of it.””She may not. On several occasions I have seen her looking at you with eyes that spoke something else.””How do you know? Don’t tell me because you are a woman.” “That is exactly why I know.””But Thangam I am shocked that you should be suggesting that I must be unfaithful to you.””When it happens with my consent it cannot be cheating. On the other hand it is pure. She carried you in her womb, she gave birth, and she suckled you. Physically she has been closer to you than any human living or dead can ever be.” Later I reviewed the answer I had conjured up on the spur of the moment. I do not feel I need to modify it. I am as possessive of my husband as any wife but this was a case of mother and son, and the circumstances were very special. Women create a furor when the husband goes astray because they feel he may desert them leaving to them the task of fending for the family. If that situation does not exist they are much more tolerant to husband’s shortcomings.
“I do not understand your attitude,” said my husband. “It is all very puzzling. You seem to suggest that is no such thing as incest.””Tamil, a two thousand year old language, does not have a word for incest. What does that mean? It means that such a relationship is not definable””What do you mean not definable?””Every culture has it own idea of what is proper relationship and what is improper relationship for marriage. Please note it is for marriage alone. Marrying sister’s daughter is unthinkable among Malayalees of the West coast of South India. But among the Tamils and Telugus of the East coast it is not only acceptable but is the first choice match. Father’s brother’s children are taboo but mother’s brother’s children or father’s sister’s children are proper among Hindus, but the reverse is true among Muslims. So much for marriage. As for relationships outside marriage there are no guidelines at all. Most of the confused thinking arises out of assuming that all sexual relations ought to be within wedlock alone. “It is illegal.””Yes, under British inspired laws that we still follow. I am sure it was not during ancient days.””But it is not happening “It is. Have you noticed the sister and brother in the corner house?””Ajit and Prabha?””Yes. If you notice them you would see that they are very close to each other. The way they smile and look at each other is not like brother and sister, but like lovers.””You mean incest?””Don’t use that word. Probably there is no sexual intercourse between them, but certainly they are hugging and kissing and fondling.””If you can glean that much won’t the parents also have guessed and have done something to prevent it.”They would have guessed for sure. Probably they think that it better than the boy visiting one-night stands, and the girl developing some unwanted relationship. Harmless release of tension.””Harmless? You don’t think it is wrong?”
“Not wrong. Not something to be encouraged, but when it happens that close need to be supportive. In due course Ajit and Prabha will marry others and have happy married lives. Such things are happening all over. Not a surprise considering that brother and sister, both sloshing to the brim with hormones, are in such close contact. They kiss and hug and fondle and may be masturbate each other, and even have sex. Studies show that up to fifteen percent of brothers and sisters indulge in some sort of sexual activity. To a much lesser extent the same goes for loving father having sexual contact with daughters. It may be nothing more than the father pressing his erect penis against his daughter’s vulva while hugging her, and the daughter developing moistness about her vulva. Or when hugging he may pretend that his hand is not on her breast, and she may pretend that he is not fondling. And so it could go on. Fathers after all are the first fantasy objects of daughters. Mother and son having sexual relationships is an extension of the love they have for each other. It is not good, but it is not wrong. It would be unfair to apply a derogatory word to describe this relationship. That is why such a word does not exist in Tamil, and I am sure in many other ancient languages. Relationship within the family is common, and is not evil.””Then you must explain why in Tamil, and I am sure in most languages bad words are all about having sex with sisters and mothers?”
“It shows that people do not approve of such relationships, but such relationships are sufficiently common for these words to be in everyday use.” “How do you know so much?””The so called incest was the topic for my graduate thesis.” “Why don’t you tell me a case from your study.””Happy you ask husband darling. A childhood friend of mine was an internee in the local hospital. She introduced me to the obstetrician and she gave me many cases for my study. This pregnant girl was eighteen, and unmarried. After medical termination of pregnancy I interviewed her. Her father and two brothers all three have sex with her on a regular basis. The mother knew and was supportive. I did not interview the mother but I presume she did not want her husband and sons to visit prostitutes. The men were teetotalers. All three men had stable well paying jobs. The whole family was comfortable with the arrangement. The girl did not seem to think her men were abusing her, or even using her. The doctor did what was her routine in these cases. She wasted no time moralizing. She inserted a copper T contraceptive. With that in place she would not conceive. Later before marriage if she comes to hospital the doctor would remove it. This was by no means a rare case. I interviewed three other girls who had relationships with close members of the family in the short time I was in the project.””I am still in a state of complete bewilderment Thangam.”
“I have told you because I strongly felt I have to. You must use your superior judgment. I am feeling sleepy, darling; put me to sleep.” I lay on her back and he leaned over me and cupped my vulva with a hand. He pressed and I snuggled till the hand was in proper fit. Our eyes met. He bent down and we kissed. ‘I love you, darling,’ I said. During the early days of marriage I wanted him to press my vulva after intercourse. When he did that I used to get aftershocks to the orgasm. I slept off once of twice while he was holding and that must have set a sort of conditioned reflex. Soon it became a pleasant routine. I am Elavarasan. I am a owner of a Book shop Like Higginbothams at Anna Salai. Not a high paying job, but as I have inherited property in the form of houses and agricultural lands I am well off. I live with my widowed mother and wife in one of our houses. I was only 21 when I got married. My wife Thangam is two years younger. She is a very thoughtful girl. She is also an ardent love maker. Not many wives would be willing for sex every night, and daytime too whenever the opportunity offers. I told you she is thoughtful to the needs and concerns of those round her. A few days before she said that my widowed mother, who is only 38, needs to have outlet for her sexual desires. She discussed the subject in a round about way and finally suggested that I must have sex with her. I thought she was mad. She calmed me and then argued her case as if she was a lawyer. ‘Can you with total honesty say that you have never looked on your mother on occasions with sexual thoughts,’ she asked me, and in honesty I had to agree that she was spot on. When I was a bachelor it was with difficulty that I used to keep my mother away from my sexual fantasies. While nearing the climax of masturbation as often as not it was the nude image of my mother that would be in my mind’s eye. I used to admire her breast valley surreptitiously, and when she sat if her thighs lay partly exposed I used to admire them. One day she sat on a low stool reading a magazine. Her sari was awry and I could see a lot of her thighs. Then she suddenly changed her posture and for a while I saw her vulva for the first time. She was not aware and she held that pose for a while. I was terribly excited. I went to the bathroom as soon as the show was over and masturbated with no-hold-barred images of my mother’s vulva. A few days ago she was standing at the doorway and Through her thin sari I saw her body silhouetted against the wall opposite. The shape of her buttocks was magnificent. I was as hard as rock.My silence to Thangam’s challenge said it all. Having got me where she wanted she presented her case. She discussed about what we call incest. Yes, Thangam was right about incest. There was no word for incest in Tamil. Her reasoning is that that there are circumstances where sexual relationship between close relatives like brother and sister, father and daughter, and mother and son are acceptable. Labeling such relationships with a derogatory word may be unjust to those who perform a necessary act. She quoted an example in the bible where two daughters seduce their father in order that their tribe would not go extinct. During her college course in sociology Thangam has done fieldwork on her thesis on incest. In one of her cases an unmarried girl was having sexual relations with her father and two brothers with the knowledge of the wife and mother. Were the sons having sex with the mother? Thangam did not know. Probably they were. It amused me to note that if it were it would be a well-knit family in the complete sense of the word. And what of my neighbours Prabha and Ajit? Yes, I often have seen them on the scooter with Prabha holding her brother by the waist with her cheek pressing on his back. Once in the football ground nearby I saw Ajit teaching his sister to ride the scooter. They were pretty close, and were clearly enjoying the intimacy. Prabha would pretend to lose balance and her brother would hug her and both would laugh boisterously. I agree with Thangam that they were kissing and fondling and maybe even having sex. Why not? It was harmless fun. I am amused that my wife was able to convert my views of family intimacy with such ease. She had brought me round to a stage when I no longer viewed her suggestion with horror and abhorrence though I could not accept it.For the next two days Thangam never referred to the topic. I assumed that having had her say Thangam considered her job over. I was mistaken. Thangam had a plan. On the third day Thangam was leaving to a nearby town nearby for a family wedding. She was giving final instructions to me.”You must help Athai shampoo her hair during her oil bath tomorrow. Her shoulder pain is still there. She can’t take her hand to her head.” Mother back was turned and Thangam smirked and winked a prodigious wink that could mean only one thing.
I am Sumathi, Elavarasan’s mother. I was 35 years old when my husband died after a three-day illness. I now live with Elavarasan, my only child, and his wife. My daughter-in-law Thangam is a gift from heaven. I am sex starved. My husband was very active sexually. When were young we used to have sex every day. After he crossed 35 we used to have it at least twice a week. The day before his hospital admission for his last illness we had sex. He was in fact very vigorous that day. Now for three years I am suffering abstinence. Every night my son and his wife drive me to bursting point. Like his father he has it every night. My keen ears can hear the rhythmic creaking of the cot, and following that the sound of water sluicing in their bathroom. From the way water splashes I can say whether it is my son or Thangam who is washing. ‘Is he washing her?’ i’ll ask myself and this thought racks my body with desire for my husband always insisted on washing me and after that I washed him. His hands were as soft as rose petals, and his touch on my vulva was a delightful experience.
I have another problem, and that is very serious indeed. The object of my fantasies is my son. I know it is satanic but I cannot help it. No, I do not want to think of any other man. That would make me a slut in my estimation. I have tried various ways of getting out of this infatuation. I tried to involve myself in religion. I attend all forms of religious discourses. Nothing helps. Once the preacher, a holy man clad in saffron gown whose ashram is in the Himalayan foothills, spoke of my problem. I wondered how he could know my case history. Apparently what I am suffering from is the norm for young widows in India. He said that because Hindu religion prohibits widow remarriage sashtras allow widows to have discreet relationships with close members of the family. He said that narrow-minded men who dominate our society have not only not allowed women to make use of this liberal provision in the sashtras, but have also prevented its very existence from being known. I wanted to ask him if close relations include the son, but with my friends surrounding me there was no way I could approach him during the question session. The only way I could cool the heat to some extent is by some discreet exhibitionisms. I will put on a thin low-necked blouse and allow Munthani or Pallu to fall off when my son was about. At times I will go round my chores with a thin sari and no skirt on. I could see my son watching me with excitement. Once I was on a low stool reading a magazine. My sari was awry exposing my thighs. I allowed more and more of my thighs to get exposed. Elavarasan was watching and I, while pretending to set my sari right, moved my thighs in such a way that I exposed my vulva for my son to see. I held the posture for a while pretending to be engrossed in my reading. I hope my son feasted on the sight. He must have for I could see a bulge of sexual arousal. As the months went past I was convinced that it was my fate to lead the life of abstinence. I was mistaken.
One weekend my daughter-in-law went on one of her rare visits to the house of a relative in Kanyakumari at the very tip of the Indian peninsula. She was to be away for three days. Saturday was my oil bath day. As I had shoulder stiffness Thangam always shampooed me during my oil bath. She requested her husband to do that for me in her absence. But first a few words about this ritual that is practised all over Southern India. Sesame oil is rubbed on the scalp and allowed to soak in for an hour or more. In the bath that follows the oil has to be washed away using shampoo. Oil baths are refreshing. The problem is that one has to work vigorously on the scalp to get the best results. I confess that though my son would only be shampooing me I was excited at the prospect. The reason for my excitement was this: When Thangam does the shampooing I would be nude, which amongst women is natural. Would that be possible with my son? I would love to sit nude as he works on my head, but would I have the courage to do so? These thoughts kept me sleepless. It was Saturday morning. The events of that day are unforgettable. I served him dosai, a very popular crispy dish, with coconut chutney just the way he liked it. His usual dose is two dosais, but that day he had three. After clearing the table I took an ounce of sesame oil and applied it to the top of my head and rubbed it in. One has to allow the oil to soak in for an hour or more. I went about my chores as if noting special was to happen. My heart however was thudding.
I arranged the low stool to sit on. I placed soap and shampoo on another stool. I closed the bathroom door but did not latch it. In the event the decision of whether to be in the nude or not presented no problem at all. This was a chance. I would be doing myself an injustice if I do not grasp it. I undressed to nudity and crouched on the stool. I asked Elavarasan who was outside to come in. I sat with eyes closed, in shame probably. I heard the door open and then close. Was my son surprised to see me in the nude? Was he excited to see me that way? I do not know. I could hear him open the shampoo bottle. He poured some on my head and started shampooing. He worked from behind me. He did it well. Now he had to come to the front to turn on the shower. He did it. How much of me did he see while he was in front? I do not know, but that did not diminish by one bit the thrill coursing down my spine. I was now in a frenzy to show my body to my son. “Open the shower more fully and do my back.” I said. I sat up with hands by the side and opened out my thighs. If my son turns in my direction he cannot fail to see my breasts and vulva. Elavarasan started with the back of my neck, and then the sides of the neck. He was not soaping me; he was caressing me. He did the front of the neck and as he rubbed under my jaw and chin I had to bend my neck backwards. I opened my eyes for the first time. We made eye contact, and I read desire in his eyes. He was bare crested with a towel round his waist, and he was making unsuccessful efforts to hide his erection. He was clearly as excited as I was. Whatever inhibition remained now evaporated.”
You need not have to hide behind my back,” I said. He came round. “It is quite natural to have an erection when in front of a naked woman even though it is the mother.” So saying I gently removed the towel round his waist. He was twisting and squirming. I cut it short by taking a grip of his penis, and I say to my great pride that it was very large. “I have held it many times before,” I said. “Now bathe me.” So saying I stood up. Elavarasan by now had recovered his aplomb. He stood in front erect penis and all and soaped my shoulders and arms, and then he soaped my breasts. He did a thorough job of kneading it and plucking at the nipples. He looked up. Our eyes met and we hugged. The shower was on and our wet bodies rubbing against each other under the shower was an indescribable feeling. I thrust my pelvis forwards, and he, with a hand on each of my buttocks pressed against me. I felt his penis touching my vulva. We held tight and kissed passionately on the lips. “My own precious darling,” I said.He did my abdomen and thighs. I had to sit down in readiness for the key event. He sat by my side on another stool. He soaped my lower abdomen and then my thighs. I had to take the lead. Leaning on him I held his hand and placed it on my vulva. His palm was on my vulva. It was as soft as silk. He applied soap and rubbed. His middle finger was at times in my vagina and his rose petal soft index was stimulating every sensitive point in and around the clitoris with precision. I spread my thighs as far as they would go, and my feet were up in the air gently waving in my excitement. He worked with a deftness of touch that defies description. He brought me to the brink of orgasm. “Take me to the bed, darling,” I said. I was feeling were weak at the knees. He held me and gently took me out of the bathroom, both of us dripping wet, down the passage to my bed. I lay on my back. He came on top of me, and I held his penis and inserted. Mother inserting son’s penis into her vagina must be an emotional event. It was not. To me at that moment it was the most natural thing to do. From his reaction Elavarasan could not have felt It differently. He gave me a massive orgasm, my first in over three years. We lay side-by-side hugging Each other. I felt his wet hair.”Get up Elavarasan and wipe your hair. You may catch cold,” I said. He found this funny and laughed. I wiped his hair, and he wiped mine. We went to the bathroom and washed. I felt his soft hands once again on my vulva. I washed his penis. With pride I noted that his penis was already turgid. “Dress up. I must serve you lunch.” I wrapped a thin sari round me and served him lunch. He asked me to eat too. I sat by his side and ate. After lunch I cleared the table. Elavarasan sat sipping buttermilk. He asked for water. I had to go to the fridge to get ice-cold water he always likes. He caught the Munthani of my sari.”Let me go,” I said.”Am I holding you?” he said smiling mischievously. I understood. I had to turn round and round to unwind the sari as I moved away. After two turns I was one layer away from nakedness. There was still more than a meter to go. Elavarasan tugged at the sari. I allowed it to go. He drew it up, folded it and sat on it, a grim smile on his face. I filled a tumbler and I walked back carrying it now quite naked. “Get on with your work mother,” he said. To humor him I went about my chores. After a few moments I found it quite thrilling going about the house with no clothes on under the exciting gaze of my son. I wish my husband and I had known of these games when we were young. I was arranging the vessels in the shelf when he cupped my breasts from behind and said ‘guess who?’ I laughed. Elavarasan embraced me from behind with one arm that went all the way round the chest to cup one breast. The other hand cupped my vulva. I turned my head around, and we kissed on the lips. In that posture we moved slowly step by step to the bed.”I want to suckle you mother,” he said. I was as eager to nurse him as he was to suckle. I sat cross-legged as Elavarasan rested his head on my lap and suckled. My hand was stroking his erect penis.”You certainly were not holding my penis then.””Some times I did that.””It could not have been erect.””More often than not it was erect in its own tiny way.””Am I sucking as well as I did as a baby?” he asked.
“Then your mouth was small and you were toothless. You used to take in as much as you can into your mouth and munch like a toothless man eating banana. You were a greedy fellow. You would hold on till you became breathless and then let go and gasp for breath. Then you would search for the fountainhead waving your arms frantically. I would nudge you towards the nipple, and you would grasp it with your lips with both hands holding the breast just as you are doing now. I never had to tap your back for burping. When I lifted you up after a session you would burp like a beer drinker. The noise used to startle you, and then you would smile broadly.” The recollection of that smile made me feel extremely tender towards him. I held his head with both hands as he bit my nipple with teeth covered by lips. Though it was a two decades ago that I last suckled I can say with assurance that the sensation he produced now, though pleasant, is very different from what I felt while nursing him. Suddenly every bite produced a thrill. I was chirping with pleasure. I shifted him to the other nipple and again I chirped. Suddenly the nipples lost all sensation. Instead my vulva became hot. I pushed his head down. He slid down. Resting on his elbows, with hands on cheeks, he crouched with his face close to my vulva. He was examining my vulva with intense concentration.”Remember it?” I said. He chuckled.”I must have been very tiny to negotiate this passage,” he said. It was my turn to chuckle.”Six pounds and eleven ounces,” I said. I was pouring secretions that he dutifully licked clean.
“It’s lovely,” he said. And then spreading my inner labia he went for the clitoris. He did it expertly. Soon my buttocks were heaving up and down, and up and down. He stopped. I almost feared he was giving up when he recommenced in slow swipes. I cascaded in orgasm of an intensity I had never experienced before. “Come up I can’t wait,” I said. He came up. I held his throbbing penis and inserted it for the second time. We had it in unison, and then he gave me two more. He rolled over and then did a trick that was new to me. With his hand he cupped my vulva and pressed. That gave me several mini shocks. We then rested in each other’s arms.We had in once in the evening and again late at night. I had orgasms every time.Darling,” I said, “you have cooled all the heat that had built up these three years. I will tell you when I need you again. It would not be in the near future. You must promise me that you would never make the approach.” He promised. He always keeps his promises.”What would Thangam say when she gets to know?” I said mostly to myself.”She would understand,” he said. “She says that the sashtras of our religion that does not permit widow remarriage allow a lot of liberties to young widows to unite with close family members.” My son and his wife must have certainly discussed my needs, but did they plan this encounter? Probably not. The fact that had talked about it gave me assurance, but I continued to be apprehensive of how I would react when I meet Thangam the next day. Thankfully Elavarasan would be in his office.
Thangam:During the return journey by bus my thoughts were all on what had or had not happened during my absence between mother and son. As I stepped in my mother-in-law came out from a side room, and our eyes met. Her face lighted up in her happiness on seeing me. Then a strange transformation took place. Her eyes opened wide, and an unmistakable look of guilt took over. She averted her gaze. I went up to her and hugged her.”Athai,” I said. She sobbed bitterly. “There is nothing to cry about Athai darling. Your son did his duty to his young widowed mother as prescribed in the sashtras. Don’t cry. God has rewarded your son for his sense of duty. You are going to be a grandmother soon.” She looked up. Her tear stained face broadened in a beatific smile.”True?””Of course it is true.” She hugged me, but suddenly she let go of me and rushed into the puja room and came back almost immediately brandishing a pinch of kumkum. She applied it to my forehead. She then hugged me and into my ear she spoke the most beautiful words a woman can ever hope to hear.”I prayed for a good girl for my son, but the Almighty gave me a goddess.” You want this Goddess Thangam at any time or her mother in law Sumathi. Please feel free to contact by email to [email protected]
What did you think of this story??