“Hi. Are you Vicky from Vikramshila Colony? If not, then please sorry. Ignore this message please. – Mausami”
I started at this scrap message in my Orkut profile for quite long; relieving and relishing memories that rolled forward from the archives of my memory department.
Vicky- this is my pet name; only my family, my childhood friends, and neighbors at places where I grew up use this to address me.
Vikramshila Colony is one of those places, where I spent 3 of my earlier teen years, 13-16.
And Mausami. Yes. Who can forget her. Pity, she did not upload any of her photograph on her profile.
And yet I could see her relief standing sharply against all the haze that 10 intervening years had condensed upon. Curvaceous; buxom; young; beautiful; unblemished and utterly desirable- she defined the classic oriental beauty so often eulogized in ancient Indian texts.
Incidents had now started to flash on my vision plate, in any order. Our endless conversations on the roof tops; Our afternoon chats in her drawing room- both of us on the di`wan, She propped against the pillows, and me reclined, my head in her lap, my cheeks pressed in her warm, soft and intensely feminine thighs, while we talked away hours; The day of drenching-when I had stood for an hour in the fiercest of the downpours after she had accused me for selfishness, and her hugs – after she dragged me inside- wet and warm, both; Her first try on mini skirt and the rush of excitement as she danced ‘Rangeela Re’ for me; me sneaking the ‘Kamasutra’ book to her, and our joint, secret and thrilled perusal of its content. Our nightly sojourns on our roof tops. Our joint exploration of porn pictures that I gleaned from my friends. Our intimate contacts when my hand glided up her thighs under her skirt and my fingers brushed against her vagina- her pretence of ignorance, but her silent approval with lift of her hips at my attempt of removing her panties, the expression in her wide eyes when I first inserted my fingers in her vagina, our secret hours of mutual masturbation,…
Mausmi was our neighbor in Vikramshila colony, when we had moved in there. Our houses were adjacent; as a matter of fact they rather abutted, so that our roof span, for all practical purposes, was one single continuum. She was in class X and I was in class VII (at different schools) when we had met first.
As I have already mentioned, she was buxom, very pretty, delightfully voluptuous, and perhaps an inch taller than me, while I was a skinny and diminutive kid. Yet there was a strong charge of excitement and intense lust between us from the day one. I called her ‘Mausmi Di’, but no relation could be less brother and sister like.
Our age difference looked much greater due to our different levels of outward physical maturity and therefore no one in my or her family really bothered at our hanging out together. With both my parents working, everyday almost all of my post school hours were spent in her house. Soon her mother too grew extremely fond of me and she so whole heartedly approved my visits that she called me up if my arrival was delayed beyond the usual time of 2 pm. Thereafter we retreated in her room, at the back of the home, and no one disturbed us there till late evenings.
Free and unobtrusive from any prying eye, our relationship matured rapidly. There was only an outward pretense of innocence between us, while both of us knowing our wants very well. Therefore whenever I rested my head on her lap, she always pulled up the hem of her skirt as far as possible. On one pretext or another I frequently touched, caressed, and smoothed the fabric of her dresses above her breasts, feeling their full roundness, softness, and many a times her nipples too, in the process.
When I happened to be on a chair or in any sitting position, she would often sack over me with her heavy breasts resting on my shoulders, the side of my face pressed against them. If she had been sitting on the chair, I used to lean over her shoulders and girdled her neck, my fingers playing on the white smooth skin of her neck and chest as close to her cleavage as they could dare. And of course, her round fleshy thighs were my routine pillows when we talked
Our relationship also progressed rapidly due to encouraging role played by Mausmi’s mother. How exactly she did it would constitute a separate and equally intimate tale, which I would take up in some next instance (to quote one scene – she started to breast feed both Mausmi Di and me together, a year later on ).
Within three months of our first meeting, I was emboldened enough to show her the Kamsutra book. She was not overtly agitated or vexed at seeing the pictures. Laying besides each other, we had silently pursued its pages, eyeing the artistic illustration of various sexual positions, and reading through the accompanying texts. At the end of it, she had just reflected “it doesn’t show much”.
But then she did something both strange and exciting. She opened last three buttons of her shirt and then taking my hand she placed it on the flat of her stomach at right over her navel. Almost instinctively, I started fondling and caressing her smooth and soft belly, stroking it gently along the width. Several times I put my index finger in her deep seated navel, and churned it inside out. She cuddled me close to her, and I shifted myself comfortably to have my face pressed completely over her right breast. It was a very cozy feeling, laying besides the warmth and softness of her form, stroking and nuzzling her silky belly skin, and feeling the bulging softness of her large breasts just under my cheek.
It still remains one of my fondest memories of life. It was almost as if a shed was dropped between us. Next day onwards we made this cuddling a routine. She would unbutton her lower shirt and I would fondle and stroke her belly, her breasts acting for pillows under my head. Add to it my legs crossed over hers, and the picture becomes full.
Now I was also motivated to show her some more books that a colony guy had given me- it was later I learned they are called pornographic books. They depicted clear graphic representation of sexual acts between men and women. I had to wait few days before I could borrow them from that guy.
Saturdays our schools remained closed and I used to spend my almost entire day in her home. The next Saturday morning when I went to her home, there was a small book hidden between the cover leaves of my homework notebook that I had finally obtained just the previous evening.
I must had been acting furtively, because Mausmi Di immediately guessed I had something to reveal. She pressed me very hard to know what it was, and when I withheld it from her, although promising to show it in evening, she had very rudely said “then why did you come here, now”.
This statement stung me, and I was immediately prepared to leave her house. However, her mother got an inkling of this tension, and she almost forcibly stopped me from leaving. I stayed morosely in their drawing room, watching television, and doing my homework, and refused to take stock of Mausmi di, as she moved around in a short frock, trying to catch my eyes once.
Even at lunch I neither looked up, nor spoke to her, despite her apparent commiseration for her rashness. She tried filling my glass of water after every draught I took, fiddled to serve me herself, and mollycoddled in every possible way, all which I ignored. At last, when aunty (her mother), left us to wash her hands, she swiftly came over, hugged me deeply, kissed me on both the cheeks and said sorry in her warmest and truest of voice, that I finally relented, and rested my head in her soft bosom.
We stayed in this position for a minute or so, and moved only when aunt re entered the dining room.
She must have seen our embrace, but it was not a big deal. She had seen us hugging many times earlier, and never objected to it. In fact on this occasion she had positively beamed, gave a fleshy pat on Mausmi di’s buttocks and said “Don’t fight with him again. Now take him to your room, and let me clean this table- and listen, it’s looking like a storm, so stay in your room and don’t you two run on roofs”
Back in her room, she bubbled and chatted again, with only monosyllables added from my end. She certainly noticed that I was yet acting a bit formal, but pretended not to notice it. When we entered bed for our afternoon nap, I kept a distance of couple of inches from her. This was owing to my chaffed feeling at her dress- she was wearing knee length summer frock and the dress offered no lateral opening at her belly level, which meant a break in our week long ritual.
She realized my gruffness once again and very affectionately pulled me part atop her, and held me to her bosom. I tried to make my body stiff, but the warmth of her form basically melted me again- nothing to say that it was feeling good too. She was star fished, I was laying face down over her, in the form of a crude horizontal bear hug, my hand encircling her wais, her arm rounded over my back, and my face resting peacefully over her generous bosoms, rising and falling slowly with her breath. Nothing could be more serene and innocent, notwithstanding the fact that she had caught hold of my palm and placed it on her tummy.
I reluctantly stroked her belly over the material of the frock. True, it was quiet thin cotton, and I could feel her skin and all, but it was not the same as the earlier thing. My effort was therefore only half hearted. In fact, piqued and rather out of asperity, few minutes later I was deliberately stroking only her dress material, not touching her body at all.
“Abhi! Its not feeling good at all” she complained after some 10 minutes.
I, who was waiting for any such question to vent my feeling, snapped immediately
“I don’t know how to do it over all the clothes…”
Mausmi Di thought for a moment, and then in one elegant movement she raised her buttocks and pulled her frock from her thighs to her mid riff. This made me forget to stroke her belly, before what else I could see. From the curves of her belly, over the roundness of her thighs, to the curl of her feet, the unobstructed view of her silky, whitish, and unblemished skin had me transfixed for several very long moments. But where my eyes rested finally was not any stretch of her skin, but the only part in this gracious expanse that had any piece of cloth over it- her light blue panties.
It was not that I had not seen her panties before. She used to wear shorter-than-knee skirts all the time and so, whenever she sat half lotus, straddled over me, knelt, or squatted, I used to get a fair and much direct sneak peak of her panties.
However, this was different than a sneak peak- it’s was an open invitation. And so I gazed on them, enraptured by the gentle mound at their end, their lovely sides and by what that they covered. I dared not touch them, but that was the only intentions my hands, as I slowly started fondling her belly, closer to her waist than usual.
2 minutes. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. Her eyes closed, her head lolled to a side, and then very slowly and cautiously I slid my fingers inside the waist band of her panties. She did not stir, and I pushed my hand more, almost to the second knuckles, when she gently caught it, pulled outside, placed it directly over her the crotch of her panty and said softly
“touch it from over”.
I was too glad to obey. The fabric there was slightly damp and moist. I caressed her crotch with my two fingers and felt folds of flesh giving away to my touch. Probed further and experienced the slit of her vagina, which was all wet and watery then. I have told at these instances my instincts work very well, and so I increased the pressure of my fingers, pushed the material of her panties inside her slit and starting rubbing it laterally. She bucked up her hips and embraced me so tight that I smothered between her breasts
I couldn’t see now what I was doing, but kept doing it any way for several minutes, until an idea struck me.
“Mausmi di,” I whispered, extracting my head with not less difficulty, “would u see what I have brought today?”
She took a couple of moments to respond. Her face was all red, and shiny with sweat. Her breathing ragged. And her eyes half closed, half open, as if in trance. I had to repeat my question to get it across to her at which she nodded in affirmation.
I leaned back to take out the sleazy book from the covers of my school books. When I turned, she was still in the same posture, her frock lifted to her midriff, her white body gleaming from the slivers of light filtering through windows. I snuggled close to her, and shoved the book right under chin.
She jerked her head, and straightened up slightly to peer at the contents of what I had given her. I also joined my head with her to see the pictures, placing my hand on her belly again.
From the first page itself, the book had clear, in fact lurid pictures of guys and girls copulating, with everything in sharpest of the details,.. whether their genitals, or their faces.
Mausmi di gasped. Her hands trembled and so did the book, as she stared wide eyed at the vividly colorful and detailed images. Her hand was trembling so much that she had actually difficulty in turning the leafs of the book even.
I had to help her to get to the next page, which showed two girls. One was sitting on a deep sofa… her legs sprawled on its arms, the other was squatting between her legs, with her fingers stuffed deep inside the vagina of the first girl. The face of first girl was arranged in such features as if she was the happiest one in the world.
The third page had a man added to the scene, who was sucking the breasts of the first girl. And in the fourth, she was sitting on his lap with his penis thrust inside her vagina. Mausmi Di’s eyes were riveted on the images, and her heavy bosom was rising up and down, as we slowly browsed through the pictures.
Something else had slowly started to browse too- my hand on her belly- I was again slowly gliding it down. On her tummy, over her navel, on her waist and then as surreptitiously as possible I pushed it inside the waistband of her panties, and held breath.
All the while, I hadn’t shifted from my position. Our eyes were still glued on the picture, though mine were now squinting to see her reaction as I pushed my hand further inside her panties. Nothing- no reaction from her. I was now brushing through her pubic hair. Still no reaction. My fingers descended further, on the slope of her pubic mound and they had their first direct rub with her outer vaginal lips. Still no reaction. It was all wet and soapy there- I curled my finger and plunged it slightly inside her vagina, and it went in with a soft squelch.
Yes. Now there was a reaction. Her eyes stayed on the book, her expression as they were earlier, but her lags had spread a bit.
The next page of the book had a picture of a guy fingering a girl, and on seeing this Mausmi di let out a barely audible sigh… yet audible nonetheless and bucked her up hips. I don’t know whether I took it as a cue or not.. but I let my middle finger completely slip inside her. She did not say anything.. didn’t even turn to look at me, but simply spread her legs more. I half took out my finger and plunged it again, and then plunged it again and again, and at every stroke her thighs moved further from each other, until her legs were spread in a Y fork.
She did not say anything to me, as I continued to explore her depths and wetness, and apparently she was still looking at the images, though I had noticed her eyes closing for several seconds intermittently. I was feeling a strange excitement flowing through myself, until a moment came when I lowered my head to rest it on her cleavage, pushing and pulling my middle finger in and out of her vagina, that was wetter than all the dark clouds in sky outside.
I must have closed my eyes, and ears as well, because the next thing I heard was
“Mausmi, here is your glass of milk. Take it before it gets cool”
I completely froze for a moment. And thought “My God! I am gone”. Mausmi’s mom had come inside the room, and by the sound of her voice, she was standing just at the head of bed. I opened my eyes, and yes, there she was, hardly a foot from us- bent over the side table and stirring a glass of milk. The door before us was open ajar. I mean there is no chance how she couldn’t have seen what we had been doing.
After a couple of minutes, she straightened, and without so much as casting a look at us, turned back, and went out. Just before she was closing the door, she looked straight at us, -Mausmi di with her frock all folded up and her legs spread wide with my hands thrust in her panty, she caught my eyes and …. Winked. And then she was gone.
End of Part I
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