0 comments/ 17927 views/ 0 favorites Devi By: jjsharshaw Fall of 1976. Senior year of high school. Four words: French Club Christmas Party Three more words: Rene Michelle Devlin I spent all evening making lewd innuendo - hey it was the French Club - toward any girl who would put up with it. I paid special attention ot Mlle. Devlin, "Devi" to her coterie. In addition to French Club, Mlle. Devlin was in Drama Club, Debate and lettered as a manager for the Track team. Tall, willowy, flat chested. Mysterious. Intellectual, as in, way, way out of my class. Bohemian. She talked in a breathy whisper, the unfortunate result of a car accident that damaged her vocal chords. Unfortunate or not, it added to her mystique. That is to say, it added to her mysterious sex appeal. This particular night, despite an abundance of illicit cognac to go with the escargot, I was getting nowhere. Fast. I may as well have been a Visigoth for all the attention (well, positive attention) I was getting from Mlle. Devlin or any other girl that night. So. I surrendered. The roast pork in cognac was good. The bread and cheeses wonderful. The escargot was, well, they're slugs in shells baked in garlic butter for cryin' out loud. Come spring, me and my buddies would be pouring beer and salt on the slugs that come out in the evenings and watching them melt like the wicked witch of the West in "The Wizard of Oz." Snails. The French. A mystery of the ages. I was taking French to get the girls. But I digress. The party concluded. Somehow I wound up being chauffer for some of the less fortunate underclassmen. Shortly after 10, three sophomores, a freshman and Mlle. Devlin and I bundled into my parents 1972 Toyota stationwagon. The freshman was last out beside Mlle. Devlin. It was just "Devi" and me. But I had surrendered earlier. Given up all hope. I was going to take her home - right after I got gas. Back in the day, they actually paid people to pump your gas. I was just getting ready to roll the window down and pay the attendant when Devi handed me a business card and sat back in her seat with the sangfroid of a true French woman in possession and control of her world. The card simply read: Keep in practice. Kiss me. Well, I was 100 percent American boy who couldn't even begin to control his own hormones. I was stunned. I looked her square in the face. She smiled a coy smile and then did a "Groucho" with her eye- brows. "Are you serious?!" "Yes. Let's get going. Christ, I thought we'd never get rid of the damned underclassmen." Soon we were in a dark corner of one of the parking lots of a nearby park, bucket seats reclined. Mid December in the midwest. Cold. Very cold. And there we were, bundled like polar bears in our coats and gloves in a 1972 Toyota. Bucket seats in full recline. I didn't give a damn. I could have died right then and there, blissfull in the sight of Rene Michelle Devlin, wrapped in heavy winter coat, wool muffler and mittens smiling at me. Smiling at ME! She leaned over me and kissed me. Slowly. I savored each second of contact. Her mouth was so warm and wet. She sucked my tongue, slowly, sensually, her lips cloying. This was Heaven. I was certain. It is however, at this point, I must confess that I was completely unpracticed in the situation in which I found myself. Devi wasn't. Several times she stopped us. "You know," she said in a husky whisper, "there is more than one way to kiss besides sucking tongues." Before I had to embarrass myself with an answer she took my face in her hands and ran her tongue along my jaw line and up behind my ear. I felt that one all the way to my crotch. "Oh God. That was nice." She responded by gently biting me at the base of the neck and sucking. Simultaneously I felt my cock swell and my head get light. Her tongue lightly touched the skin she had trapped between her teeth. I closed my eyes and sucked air as every nerve in my body reverberated with her mouth and teeth and tongue. I felt like I had to do something. Awkwardly, my hands moved past her now open overcoat and under her sweater, up the smooth skin of her long torso. I had just touched her bra when she gently bit again and I stopped to enjoy the sensation. Before I recovered, her hand was on top of mine at the edge of her bra. Without breaking the rhythm of her kisses she moved my hand to the snap of her jeans. Inexperienced or not, I knew what to do. *Eagerly* I unsnapped the snap and pulled down the zipper. My palm slid flat along her flat belly, fingers sliding under her panties. She raised her leg and my fingers met her silky sex hairs. Another little movement and my middle finger found her moist cleft. Her hips twitched and she sought my mouth. Things got intense. I had no idea what the hell I was doing. Really. Yeah sure, get in her pants but then what? But Devi did. Her hip movements were very purposeful. Sometimes long and slow and other times short and quick. All to regulate the speed and depth of my finger along her slit. She carressed my face and sucked my tongue with somewhat the same intensity and speed as she moved her hips against my hand. Suddenly her body tensed. I felt little ripples carress my finger in her slit. Something happened. She laid her head on my chest, her breathing was fast and erratic. "Oh, God, look at the time. I need to get home," she panted. I didn't see her look at her watch and I knew she couldn't see the dashboard clock. "Uh, Okay. Sure, Devi." She brought the seat upright, quickly fixed the fit of her jeans and brought her coat around her. I started the Toyota and drove her home. It didn't hit me til the next morning. She had used me. She got off. I didn't. I'd like to bitterly complain I was used. I'd like to say how used I felt. Our trist, our rendezvous was never spoken of between us. There was no encore. I didn't brag to my buddies - not that I had anything to brag about. She didn't speak of it to her coterie. Looking back, as I often have, on that night, I always gain a deeper appreciation for the marvels of the female of the species. Specifically for the beauty, brains and sangfroid of Mlle. Devlin. And, as Bill Withers once sang, "If it feels this good being used, then you can keep on using me, until you use me up." Devi dipti boudi is also my didi. and there's nothing mysterious about it. diptidi grew up in our locality, just like any other middle class bengali girl, and did what they are supposed to do in the late-90's. college, coaching classes, and a little bit of line drawing ( line mara ). the typical MCB woman was afraid to test her skills in nude sketches, coz she knew the globalization glue which would hold the pages together, was yet to make an entry in the market. quite almost. however honest you be in your try, some girls are always hard to imagine as being horny, and i can't give you a better example than diptidi. as she unpretentiously performed the role of a loving sister, who never forgot tieing a rakhi, and always provided her companionship in hide-and-seek. now, a tiny amount of technicalities here, just to emphasize my point. all students of computer science and electronics have undoubtedly heard of the TTL and RTL, the transistor-transistor-logic and the register-transistor-logic, which drive the integrated circuits and - because of them i am able to write and you are able to read. fine. so far so good. have you heard of CCL? what on earth is this logic? if you ask me, then i am afraid my dear reader, that you are not following me properly. diptidi remained my caring sister, who never became any guy's girlfriend, as she never understood - or shall i say never got an opportunity to comprehend properly the final part of a logic called CCL. college, coaching classes, and line drawing. why? is it just bcoz she, rather her parents chose to confine their daughter, first in kamala girls school and then in south kolkata girls college? or for this very reason that she was always shy, shy to show her assets to this brave new world, and they burnt in shame forever - behind the clumsy pleats of her dupatta. the answer - best left to time. and time flew like an arrow. a cupid's arrow. she was 21, i was 18, and he was 26 - also an architect. great! here cometh the nasty love triangle with an emotional overdose. and i have enough reason to believe that you guys won't be mistaking this stuff for something like that. coz nothing happened like that. all that happened is that, my cousin suryada's parents were searching for a suitable girl for their engineer son, and the girl they zeroed in on - she happened to be diptidi. wow! future had never been so predictable - right? it was march, 1997. i just managed to do away with the boring uchcha-madhyamik, and was enjoying my freedom as there was no tomorrow. i couldn't attend diptidi's wedding and also the bou-bhat, coz they coincided with the board exams. i was feeling a bit guilty about it, and was toying with the idea for a surprise visit to my mama's house. also, i was, equally offended with her attitude - as i expected a phone call from my loving sister. and a phone call, did come, from suryada - barely a fortnight after the dol. mama-mami would be returning tomorrow from a south india package tour, suryada was also leaving calcutta a day prior to it for a company project, and diptidi would be literally alone for a night. so - basically you are worried for your beautiful wife and want me to do a nightwatchman's job, the invitation for lunch and dinner is just a lame excuse, i joked. and a hearty laughter came out of the receiver. the first reaction that i witnessed in diptidi's face, after she opened the door, it was of pure disbelief. her pupils dilated, and the lips parted, while she searched for a little time and for what to say - bhai! tui! why? your hubby didn't tell anything, i asked her in a confusing tone. as she prepared to make a prompt reply, suryada appeared suddenly and said, surprised! diptidi's eyes answered my question that i asked her a while ago. after greeted with mishti and nonta; i noticed a newly-found grace in dipditi, as the dash of the vermilion on the sinthi, and the shankha-pola on her hands - all were proudly pronouncing sweet marital love. the shy college girl had transformed into a coy bengali bride, and once again that bride took the road widely travelled, as she slowly arose from a dulcet dream named honeymoon and found herself receptive to the role of a housewife. somehow it appeared to me that a short note was missing in the rhythm divine, as there was unacceptable silence between my hosts, although they were quite appropriate in their try - to foil it with the niceties of the lunch. what's wrong suryada, you guys fought or something? i tried breaking the ice and chose to ask him casually, as my relation with his wife always hovered around the boundaries. pakamo koris na bhai! she shouted in sham anger at my precocity. i was never such frank with diptidi, nor she was with me, and we never discussed about love.....boyfriends and girlfriends.....blah blah blah. suryada managed to offer a suitable explanation of her stern reply and said, your didi's behaving like a child since this morning and don't want me to catch the evening flight to delhi. o i envy you, lucky chap, you've got a wife who's just not good-looking but caring too! i didn't waste the opportunity to ease the situation and teased him further, or is it just you who don't want to leave your wonderful wife, sundori bouke fele jete ichhe korchhe na? bhai abar! diptidi shouted as before but was caught with a brimming smile this time. yup fella! happy to see ya boyfriend pal? now it seemed to be suryada's turn, for he said this to his wife, awfully imitating an am-accent - and pointing towards me. i waved suryada and diptidi, as they hurriedly got in the maruti 800 and left for dumdum, now rechristened as NSCB international airport. i decided to take a short nap as i had a great adda a few hours ago that burnt the calories, and the mutton in my tummy contributed to an increase in my gross weight, compelling my brain to redirect the blood-stream from the said orgain to the stomach. i wake up with a soft touch on my forehead, and as my eyes instinctively searched for the source, they found the embroidered pallav of a jamini silk saree. freshen up, bhai, diptidi said - tea's ready. i treated my sleepy eyes with an ample amount of water, while each lone droplet gushed from the faucet, taking due advantage of my persistence of vision - and realistically portrayed an illusionary picture of continuity. as i leaned back on the sofa and sipped the hot cuppa, my central nervous system slowly limps back to normal, and noticed that diptidi was coming from the kitchen. the military time format displayed by the digital clock on the centre table said, it was 1900 hours, and attracted my undivided attention towards it with a simple sharp beep. my eyes were not at all prepared to see my host's firmly built upper arms, generously fair and smooth, and that added to the beauty of the sleeveless PD sleep-in she was wearing. try some - she sat and leaned forward on the single-seater, raising her hand a little, and offered me medium-fried papads with pudina. and also a partial glimpse of her right armpit, that specialized in harvesting shrubs, which were strictly for unrestricted viewing pleasure only. my mind matched my eyes, you know in terms of what, as it was again a pleasant surprise for me; this time calculating how diptidi managed to distribute evenly the time i spent in the washroom, between two equally challenging jobs ( from a 18 year old male viewpoint ) of changing her clothes and frying the papads. i enjoyed the former, but not the latter, of the two things in her offering - as the protective brother was watching my actions. suddenly a strong blast of cool breeze came through the window, as a prelude to the thunderstorm, which started thereafter with rain and lighting. my eyes measured the curves as the polka-dots spread, forming an meaningful impression for the retinae, while my sis turned sis folded her bare naked arms in a parallel fashion demonstrated exclusively by swami vivekananda. tor sheet korchhe na bhai? diptidi asked. i knew the mercury was dropping fast. it was clear from her expression. but my earlobes were feverishly hot, may be the pro-bro described erstwhile, had twisted my ears - as a mild punishment. i chose not to answer her as i was already afraid of my pilferage, what if she knows about it? but diptidi mistook my silence for something else and sat beside me, giving me a tight bear hug while her breasts remained static between us, and asked with the same tone that she used everytime after a bro-sis quarrel - biyer pore tor khonj niyni bole rag korechhis? now dear reader, before i answer her question i should tell you something very clearly, and that's it was her breasts that were touching me -and not her boobs. i do not rate myself as a genius, who can make you understand both visually and verbally the difference between boobs and breasts, however big or small it may be - i mean the way they differ linguistically. all i can say with my limited wit is that the difference is what differs a woman from a girl, the way the stan differs from the mai, and i am really helpless coz i am unable to clarify further. if you are still clueless, then i am afraid, this story is too good to deserve your honest attention - and so is the narrator. nah! i couldn't say more; as my hypothalamus - the part in the human brain which silently controls basic emotions like fear, hunger, and sex - it was perturbed with an unique problem. and busy solving it. should it allow synaptic connections to grow further, so that my experience with the tangible truth and also with its forbidden fruits, results in a permanent memory imprint for faster retrieval at later times. or should it let it dissolve, the way the ripples dissolve in the pond, when the village boy throws a piece of stone in the water talking to his sweetheart. as it might be statistically possible but practically near impossible, to anticipate the intricate actions and repercussions of human memory for a 18 year old teen, he simply decided leaving the problem as it is and asked his sister to switch on the tv. and there was no better way for that helpless boy to escape from the reality, as the pungent smell of female sweat was still chasing him, only to remind of the nameless wild flowers we all mercilessly crush under our feet each day with the atavismic progression of city-centric civilization. the phosphorus glowed on the convex glass, the heroin danced in a white saree as the rain continued to pour, both inside and outside the ibox - and a idiot watched the freak show of life, with all its idiosyncrasies and unfulfilled promises, only to embrace the present continuous as the caring sister unknowingly pushed the careless brother on the ridge of a deep gorge of wildest fantasies. while the night grew from a tender child to the naughty lass, and we already had our daily dose of silver world and tinsel-town, with broken communication as diptidi and i remained mere spectators of the blatant display of carefully fabricated lies - i refused to receive anymore and pressed one of the preset buttons of the remote, which instantly beamed the infra-red ray to offer me the much-needed freedom, as the logo on the top right corner said it was star. the theme music had already started, so the visuals, and the timex-triathlon watch on my wrist noddingly showed - it was the time to watch the baywatch! bhai, please bandho kor, this was the first thing diptidi said after an hour long silence. why? i am no more a kid, i protested. i was quite not happy with the idea of switching of the tv right at that moment as she requested, coz someone who appeared for the first official exam to get into the colleges, had enough reasons to believe in the freedom of speech and vision - which promotes his status to that of a person popularly known as the adult, and who is free to say and view everything and anything, yet again considering the much abused 18 year old bengali vision as a reference frame. you know a 16 year old in the US has his own car, mobile, and boozing and voting rights? i started presenting diptidi with reasons so that they advocate for my valid candidacy to watch adult contents. so - it seems that my little brother has grown up and already learned lots of new facts, she announced. she didn't speak for a while, and when she resumed with the above statement after a short pause, for the very first time i noticed a transient sign of mischieviousness playing in her eyes - that was quick enough to replace the innocent look for a while, and even quicker enough to disappear, and of course without leaving any trail. ok now, let me see how big you have grown, get up my little brother! diptidi's voice was credible enough to make her believe, as if she wasn't believing my competent claims, but was not really in close proximity of my belief to believe her - for i believed in my heart of hearts that she was asking for something else and for something more. i had no other option left for my choice, and felt like clicking the annoying windows dialogue box, you love it or not - you need to choose ok to continue. so was me, as the fragile wooden bridge on which i was walking, had broken to pieces in behind. and there was only one way to stop diptidi to stop pinching me, while she used her larynx along with the nicely manicured nails for the aforesaid task, i followed that gandhian path of ahimsa by standing up. her fingers landed on my scapulas and started to come down in a slow uniform motion, rigorously testing how strong my arm muscles had become, and continued their journey to a fastly beating chest - which feared for the worst with every passing second. they stopped for a moment on my nipples, which were already beginning to show their appropriate reflexes under the cotton panjabi i was wearing, and successfully sent a tingling sensation somewhere down the spine. while her fingers were gradually becoming comfortable with my flesh as they reached the back, and cajoled me to withstand sibling love with much discomfort and without any necessary blood-linkage, the two full moons larking in the night sky coaxed my ocular lenses to shift their gaze from the polka-dots to them and then again to the tiny black mole flanked by those cosmic objects. obviously surprised i was, as i only rote-learned and answered the questions that came only a few weeks ago in my geo-exam, about the two satellites of mars - phobos and dimos. but seeing them with naked eyes was sure to be deemed as "it's different". the difference didn't call for verbose explanation, and as soon as you will finish reading this story and start to playact the whole stuff with your pard, the not-so-fuzzy line of demarcation between viewing and reading about the moons of mars will be visible to you - and also how the active roleplaying differs from passive reading. and i offer an unconditional apology if i did something that i shouldn't, for my job is not to educate the educated, but to guide you where diptidi had left her little brother. the hands which tied rakhis were working in unison now, just twice as good before, and creeping around my waist like a pair of cobras caught in coitus. ah, i guess you still don't possess a waist that could help you get sexy girls like me, right bhai? she commented only to make things complicated for both of us, if it not already. as she asked for justification, i couldn't pin-point the topic, let alone exhibiting justice to her query. was she asking if it was right to brand herself sexy, or regarding the openness that she never showed before, or was she quite not sure about the amount of cues needed for a brother to get seduced by his sister - and wanting to know whether i want more? it was just her part, and i had not yet started to tell you about mine my dear reader, as she had already placed the ball in my court - was it right for me to ask her to be my sexy girlfriend for that night only and for anything and everything but tieing the rakhi? shouldn't it be right for the poor brother, as he failed to get any girl for his poorer waist, to place a demand as illustrated above to his loving sister? and shoudn't it be right for the caring sister to make her brother happy, however justified or unjustified his demands may chose to be? so confusing! right? the sole non-confusing component of the whole issue remained, that it left no room for confusion, about the existance of the issue itself. i didn't bother to think more, as her sweaty palms had started doing justice to themselves, and bothered with the bounce of a pair of undulating surfaces below my waist. i knew it would be unjustified to discourage ( if not to encourage ) the housewife from her handicraft, as the working area had always been a hot favourite, hip and happening - for people who believe in the game of heart called love. and i didn't want to be known as a heartless guy, who else will, except a few trigger-happy homo sapiens who test their pseudo-masculanity in bombing hundreds and thousands of cities with missiles carrying nuclear warheads. as diptidi justifiedly spent the available time, carefully measuring with her frolicking fingers, how deep the fissure was between the two globes -that she examined a while ago and happy now with their bounce, the little brother of this brother was giggling between the thighs underneath my elastic boxer shorts, and i was playing the pro-bro this time so that his giggle shouldn't grow into a lengthy laughter. her hands; now satisfied after making a complete round of my inner thighs, with one stray incident of gently brushing against my lil-bro, they chose to end my ordeal that seemed to be infinite - in a very seriocomic way by a sudden pull, of one of the two strings in my pajama, and within a finite amount of time. hey! you're doing a strip search or what? i was quick enough to save my modesty from being outraged, and caught the closest corner of my dropping pajama, using a skillset that is not necessarily influenced by our good old gangulydada - and expressed my juvenile surprise with a joshila anger. and diptidi was equally quick to provide me with a seemingly justified explanation of her unjustified act! i still don't believe that you've grown up now and i need to see whether you're body has developed properly or not, she chuckled. i guess, you don't have any qualms for just what you said, diptidi started laughing and resumed her reasoning soon - you told to me a lot about the US teens and may be you also dream of going there, but shoudn't you think, you should make yourself comfortable with the airport formalities beforehand? now, who else except our aforementioned dada, will wait in the ground - after seeing the delivery ended in a sixer? enough is enough, i think i can't appreciate your sense of humour anymore, as it's going over the head now - i made myself sure so that it sound harsh to her ears. i'm going to take some rest diptidi, as soon as i started to walk for the pavilion with those parting words, i noticed the reincarnation of that innocent child - who get easily seduced by the dropping of a raindrop, chirping of the koyel, and the gurgle of a stream. and her eyes were about to glisten, as the little girl was playing pranks with her kid brother for long, and all on a sudden he decided to act like a responsible adult - but she didn't know the reason why she received such a harsh scold? as i closed my strained eyes in the bed, i heard diptidi switching off the tv, and leaving for the kitchen - only to put on the noisy exhaust. yet, i was left with silence, as the time ticked away - and without my knowledge. Devi Dear Readers, Originally, I naively posted this story in Loving Wives (those of you who are familiar with the category will understand what I mean). I've asked to have it moved here, because while it isn't a typical romance, it is still a love story. I hope you will enjoy it. You will find a list of the Hindi words used in the story along with their meanings at the end. Subdued_Passion --------------------------------------------------- DEVI She sat in the darkness, eyes unfocussed and blank staring at nothing. She sat in the darkness not because it soothed her with its quiet. No. She sat engulfed in darkness because she hadn't even noticed that the day had changed to night. It had been hours since the men had returned from 'the place'. She couldn't bring herself to call it what it was because she couldn't yet accept any of it as being real. She couldn't, wouldn't focus on anything that was happening because it wasn't real, not to her, not yet. She wasn't ready, but the chanting of the priests was a reminder that was hard to ignore. They were praying for a soul that had already escaped this world while hers lay trapped, fluttering around like a caged bird desperate for release. She wished she could just pay them and send them off. But, this was ritual and it had to be done every day for the next twelve days or the gods would not be pleased. But, how could the gods be pleased to make her suffer like this. No, she wasn't ready and it felt like the darkness was swallowing her. She felt cold, except in her mind, where it was bright and where she could still bask in the warmth of his smile. Him! The thought pierced through the heart as much as any earthly dagger could. She had nowhere else to go but further inside, within herself, the only place HE could be found anymore. ----- The marriage feast was a grand display. Munishiji's only son was getting married and no expense was spared. The maharaj ran the rasoi no different than any great wartime general. The guests barely sampled one delicacy when the servers arrived with even more tempting treats. Joy seemed to overflow throughout the household much like the bellies of the guests. But somewhere in the midst of all this gaiety a solitary spirit felt like it was experiencing a slow death even while the body that housed it forced its lips into a smile. This is it. The day has come. It has happened. So, why can you just not accept it? You knew this day would come. You've been prepared all your life for this. You knew what your future held, so why can't you just accept it? Because I'd rather die. The realisation startled Devi enough to jerk her head up a bit which in turn was enough to cause her ghunghat to slip off her head by an inch. Only an inch, but it was enough to afford her a glimpse of the sleeve of his sherwani. She noticed the zardozi embroidery on the cuff- it looked nice. It wasn't garish like she had come to expect most wedding suits to be. She looked at the hand that emerged partially from the sleeve. It looked like, well... a hand. There wasn't anything significant or noteworthy. It wasn't more hairy or sunburnt than any other man. It didn't have scars or any other identifying marks on it. There was absolutely nothing special about this hand, except, well... except that this was her husband's hand. Husband. The word seemed to almost detonate inside her head. Her shoulders felt with the impact. And then, almost as if the hand had a mind of its own, it approached her. Had it seen her watching it? That's silly. It's just a hand. And then, a slight squeeze. The hand had taken a hold of her own and given it a light squeeze. It was such a little gesture but it comforted her. She couldn't understand why, but suddenly it felt like things were not as desperate as she imagined them to be. Encouraged by the speck of hope, she tilted her head slightly and looked up. He must've been watching her the entire time and waiting for her to look up. Or maybe she was moving in slow motion. Because, no sooner did she lift up her gaze that she was met with a smile. And there it was, bright and warm and welcoming. He looked... happy. Genuinely happy. She couldn't understand how they could feel so differently about the same situation but looking at the way he was looking at her, she couldn't help but smile back; not the kind of smile she had flashed at every enthusiastic guest that had shaken her hand in congratulations that day. No. This smile was different because now she had hope. ----- "Devi?" "Devi beta..." "Don't," she interrupted her mother before she could complete whatever commands she had come to issue this time. "Just don't call me that." She felt powerless over her own life. A goddess should have more control over her own destiny, she thought to herself. Why my parents would name me goddess if they never planned to allow me to manage the reins of my own life, was a question she often asked herself. Devi's mother didn't ask what she meant. She didn't need to. This wasn't the first she'd seen Devi act out in this manner. She knew her daughter harboured some kind of silly hope that she would always be with her parents and Devi's father would have likely allowed it too if not for their recent misfortunes. Devi's parents hadn't let on how much of a financial setback they had really suffered. Munishiji proposal to have his son marry Devi had come at an opportune moment as a connection with his family would help Devi's father establish a credit line within the business community which in turn would help them get back on their feet again. An even greater boon was that the would-be-groom was already well known within their circles as a respectable man. Her mother knew that she had dreams that were different from the other girls in her community but she also knew that as stubborn as her daughter could be she was also a string woman who could adapt to any challenging situation. And marriage was no challenge. Millions of people have done it before us, she told herself. Devi will find happiness, eventually, as it has been arranged. ----- The sunlight crept in through the partially closed curtains. Shadows flung to the corners of the room as the sunbeams bathed her bared legs. She felt their warmth on her legs but that was not why she was awake. She had taken to sleeping without her clothes. It was just more... convenient that way. She knew it was naughty and it would be considered scandalous if it was ever found out. So she made sure that she was dressed before any of the maids entered the room in the morning with her cup of chai. Fortunately she still had time, which was good because she could feel a warm tingle beginning to rise from her womanly core. He was there beside her. Asleep. His breathing sounded even and rhythmic, listening to it could be very calming. But, not right now. Not when what she wanted, was to be thoroughly roused. She turned from her side of the bed, the right side- he let her choose her side of the bed, just like so many other things that he let her choose for herself- to face him. He lay on his back. She watched his chest rise and fall with the rhythm of his breathing. He wasn't the image of masculinity young women fantasized about when they think of their future husbands. He wasn't muscular and swarthy with a thick coat of hair on his chest. He wasn't any of those things but, he was hers. And with him, she could be herself. She felt herself grow moist at the thought. Enough dawdling. It's time to play. She lowered the sheet to expose his manhood. She looked at it possessively. This is the organ that would facilitate their union, how they would be joined and achieve mutual bliss. This was her lingam to worship as she pleased. But first she needed to gain its attention. She gave the sheet a hard yank and tossed it off the bed. He stirred a little probably missing the warmth. No problem, I'll have you warm soon enough. She climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, yet making sure that she didn't lower herself on to him. His hips were so much narrower than his chest that from this angle he did look rather broad of chest and well built. She sighed longingly. Time to wake up husband. Devi planted her palms on the bed on either side of him and lowered her mouth to his left nipple, which she gave a generous lick. He didn't move but she felt his cock twitch and almost make contact with her nether lips. She lowered her mouth to his right nipple and gave it the same treatment as its twin. She stayed still in that position for a minute. Her breasts pressed against his belly and her own nipples hardening with excitement. Slowly, while staying low, she dragged her breasts up his chest till only their nipples were touching each other. She could feel the heat rising from his cock now. So you're going to pretend to be asleep, husband? Okay, have it your way then. She lowered herself so that her wet slit could make contact with his hard cock. And then she began to roll her hips forward and backward, rubbing her wet slit along his cock, while the stimulation left her wetter still. She had been a virgin till her marriage. She had read books which had explained things in pornographic details. But she'd never imagined that the things described could be like... This! She continued the sawing motion, making sure the head of his cock bumped against her clit as the, now familiar, pressure build within her core. She hastened her movements lost in the pursuit of her own pleasure. Wantonly she reached up to her nipples and pinched them while her hips continued their frenzied action. So close, I'm there. Almost... "Ah ah ah uh ungh ungh aaaaaaaah!" She shouted as she shattered. Through heavy lidded eyes Devi's saw that her husband had given up all pretence of sleep as he watched her, wide eyed. She looked into his eyes and smiled while reaching down to touch herself. She raised her hips so he could watch her collect her come with her index finger before she proceeded to suck on it like she was feasting on the nectar of the gods. "Devi," he groaned. Devi had surprised herself as much as she had her husband. She enjoyed these moments of exploration which seemed to add to both their pleasures. "Yes husband?" "Don't you, yes husband me, you imp. You know what you're doing to me." "I do?" She asked innocently while reaching for his balls and giving them a gentle squeeze. "Aaaah!" He moaned. Done now with playing, she decided it was time to please him. She dragged herself lower down his body while he eyed her expectantly. She knew how much he loved when she did this. She licked her lips and lowered her mouth to engulf the head of his cock. She never broke eye contact with him during moments like these. She was making love to him and she didn't plan to miss out on any of his responses. He clenched his fists at his sides. She knew he wanted to grab a hold of her head to position her, but he wouldn't do that. He wouldn't try to control her, not in any way. She was free, as in all other things since she married him, she was free to move as she pleased. Devi continued to suck on the spongy head of the cock while letting her spittle dribble down its length. She couldn't imagine something like this to be a pretty sight, but, the expression on her husband's face said otherwise. Slowly she rubbed her fingers along the exposed length of his shaft while continuing the sucking motion with her mouth. She knew he wouldn't last long, if she sucked too fast so she paced herself. When she could resist it no longer she swirled her tongue along the ridge before sticking the pointy end of her tongue into his pee-hole making him jump up in bed. She giggled as swallowed his cock a little further into her mouth. And the way his cock repeatedly twitched told her that he liked that. She made a mental note of it for the next time they would play. Finally feeling that she had teased him long enough, Devi began bobbing her head up and down her husband's cock in earnest, while stroking the base of it with her fingers. He had told her that his cock was pretty average in size compared to other men but she found that hard to believe because in her little hands it always felt so... thick, she thought to herself. She watched as her husband fisted the sheet beneath him and closed his eyes. He was close. "Unghungh unghungh ungh ungh ungh..." "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah." When he finally calmed down and opened his eyes, Devi looked at him and very quietly said. "I love you." ----- It was the seventh day and like all the days so far, Devi could hear the chanting of the priests in the courtyard. It was the first day that she had allowed the maids into their bedroom; just her bedroom now. She even drank the tea they left her. Everyone had worried about her when she had refused to take any meals after his death. She had no idea how she had survived for so many days without eating or drinking. She had no recollection of any of the events of the last week of her life. The only memory that had now taken firmly root in her mind was of her reading the letter, his letter, addressed to her- the few words written neatly on a simple parchment of paper still danced before her eyes. My Dear Devi, This is going to be your first birthday since we started our married life together and I thought I ought to mark the occasion by doing something special for you. Even though you've never actually said it, I've gleaned from our conversations that you would have liked to become an engineer but was never given the choice to do so. As your birthday gift I'd like to be able to give you that choice. I have started a savings account in your name with enough money for you to pursue an engineering degree if you choose to do so. I know our families will find it hard to accept this. But I believe I will be able to persuade them if you continue to perform your wifely "duties" with the same enthusiasm as you have so far. Your loving husband, ........................ She wasn't aware she was crying till she noticed that some of the errant teardrops had stained the paper and blotted out his name. She wept heartily, the tears spilling forth like water from a damn that had finally burst, releasing all the hurt and pain it had held within it till then; once again he had given her hope. She approached the window. A mild breeze played with the curtains. The sunrays seemed to be unaware of the sad atmosphere within the household as they bounced into the room dissipating the gloom. She stretched her hand out forward, towards the light. She could feel the warmth of the sun. She stood like that for a moment as if considering something and then stepped out of the shadows. ---x-x-x--- Thank you for reading. As always, I look forward to your feedback. Please find below a translation for the Hindi terms used in the story. Devi- goddess Sherwani- long coat like garment, worn by men Maharaj- title given to a head cook Rasoi- kitchen Ghunghat- a headscarf worn to veil the face Zardozi- type of embroidery usually done with gold string Chai- tea Lingam- phallus; usually a phallic object worshipped by women as a symbol of Lord Shiva Deviance Leslie's heartbeat quickened as she saw the hand of the clock move closer to the top of the hour. Master would be here soon. She wiggled her ass once more to feel the chain tease her inner thighs. The chain was connected the clamps on her labia, a feeling Leslie had come to love. His instructions for today had been fairly innocuous. He wanted her naked, except for collar heels, and labia clamps. This time, though, he wanted her to wear the pink collar with the 10 rings. She was to be kneeling, with legs spread as far as possible, hands clasped behind her back. At precisely 6 pm, Master entered -- noisily. Sounded like he was moving furniture, but she resisted the urge to turn around to see what he had brought in. He spoke to her, and she answered. Then she heard the clatter of wood, as the sound of 2x4s being stacked. Leslie furrowed her brows, trying desperately to discern what Master was doing in her foyer. Her eyes widened as she heard the sound of a drill. She knew he was putting something together, and could hear the sound of screws being tightened. Finally the drill stopped and she heard Master say. "There." It was all she could do not to look. She tried to calm her ragged breathing and wait for Master's instructions. He walked over and knelt behind her and began to run his fingertips across her back. He knew how much his mere touch set her ablaze. She focused on the tightness in her knees as he continued to tease her back. He licked around one earlobe, breathing into her ear. She shuddered, and her breathing quickened. She licked he lips and held her breath, willing her body not to respond past the breaking point. Master chuckled at her struggle and withdrew. Then he walked around to stand in front of her. He put his hand under her chin and tilted her head back to look at him. "How is my little pet today?" "Great, Master," she said, breathing becoming more ragged as she looked in his eyes. He offered her his hand to help her to her feet. "Are you ready for a little fun?" he said with a wicked grin. "Yes, Master," Leslie answered, her mind racing, trying to anticipate what was in store for her. He turned her around to see his masterpiece. It was sort of a table, little more than knee-high, but in the shape of an upside-down Y with a long bar across the base. She could see rings and straps in strategic places all over the table and legs. She furrowed her brows again, and looked at him with mild trepidation. "Trust me?" was all he said. She nodded and he led her to the contraption. He had her put her knees on the legs of the Y and lean forward on her elbows. Her ass was in the air as he strapped her ankles down. "Dripping wet, I see," he said with a chuckle. Leslie could only nod, then squeaked out a "Yes, Master." He then moved to the front and strapped her wrists to the crosspiece. Her tits swung heavily below where the table narrowed to just a few inches wide between them. He took the clamps off, and Leslie groaned as the blood rushed back to her labia. He teased her nipples to hardness as they dangled free. Her skin was on fire. He attached a clamp to one nipple, then around the centerpiece of the table and attached the other. Should Leslie try to rise up, she would pull off the clamps. To make things more interesting, he attached a D-ring to the chain and added a small weight. The pull on her nipples was a mixture of pain and pleasure. As if to punctuate her predicament, Master gave the weight a small push, creating a pendulum effect. Her first instinct was to pull back, but she knew that would be a mistake. Then he ran small ropes from her collar to the sides of the table, then yet another from the collar to the back of the table, forcing her to hold her head still. Master sensed her nervousness, and ran his hand gently across her back and ass. "Not afraid, are you?" "No, Sir, not afraid." "No, what?" "No, Master." "Better." "Thank you, Master." "Look at you," he whispered in her ear. "Your pussy and ass totally exposed, your tits clamped. What a lovely slut you are." "Thank you, Master" "Whose slut are you? He flicked a nipple. Leslie moaned. "Your slut, Master." "You're also my cock whore, right? He flicked the other nipple. "Yes, Master. "Say it." "I'm your cock whore, Master." She sensed him turn away and wondered what was coming next. She couldn't really turn her head to see so she tried to calm her breathing. THWACK! Leslie gasped as the crop landed on her upturned ass and struggled to stay as still as possible. Master trailed the edge of the crop along the backs of her thighs. THWACK! Another blow and Leslie bit her lip and clenched her fists. She knew she couldn't take much more. She wanted to impress her Master by taking his teasing, but she knew the inevitable was coming. Her body would betray her mind and she would be forced to beg for mercy. But she would hold out as long as possible. A few more blows from the crop stoked the fire, but when he fingered her clit, it sent her to the breaking point. She clenched her fists and curled her toes. Finally, she opened her mouth to ask permission to cum, but before she could make a sound, Master moved away. She exploded her pent-up breath. She was hung so far out over the edge, she thought she might faint. Yet in her stubbornness, she felt a small victory. She had survived round one. She knew her victory would be short-lived, but she smiled a little. She liked impressing Master with her self-control. She struggled to relax for a moment and prepare herself for the next onslaught of sensation. Moments later, Master returned, teasing her ass with his fingertips. She felt him dip a finger into the cleft of her ass. Instinctively, she arched her back, knowing Master loved that. "Good girl." he said, as he continued teasing her asshole with his finger. Then she felt the cold wetness of lube and the hardness of the butt plug. She wondered which plug he was using -- the usual #2, or was he going for the huge #3? She couldn't tell, so she just had to trust him. At the beginning of their relationship, she had been reluctant to put anything in her ass, but Master encouraged her by starting with a #1 plug that was no bigger than the average finger. It was tapered, and with a little lube she had quickly learned to like it. She had found the #2 plug even better, as it was big enough for her sphincter to hold it in. He had given her the cock-sized #3, but hadn't asked her to put it in all the way yet. Was that coming now? She relaxed and allowed him to push the plug farther into her ass. She felt no pain, only pleasure, so she knew it was the #2. Her ass had become accustomed to its size, and her pussy flooded anew as he buried it all the way until her ass gripped it. He began to fuck her ass with the plug with one hand, and with the other, spanked her ass and legs with the crop. She was headed toward the abyss again, when he put the crop between her thighs and spanked back and forth. When he lightly spanked her clit, she finally broke. "Master, please may I cum?" "Are you sure you deserve to?" "If I please you, Master." Leslie struggled to keep her voice above a whisper as he continued to spank her clit and fuck her ass. "That's a good answer, slut, but I haven't heard you beg." "Please, Master, your slut needs to cum. Please let me cum." "Cum for me." Before he even finished the sentence, she began to buck. He fucked her harder with the plug, and dropped the crop and began rubbing her clit hard with the other hand. In her orgasmic high, she almost jerked back, but remembered the clamps on her nipples, and gripped the table tightly. She rode the waves of pleasure, grunting and moaning for what seemed like forever while he assaulted her ass and clit. Finally, the shudders began to subside. "Thank you, Master. "You're welcome, slut." He had removed his hand from her clit, but kept fucking her ass with the plug, although slower now. After a few more strokes, she felt him remove it. Moments later, she felt it enter her ass once more. However this time, she felt her ass stretch. It was the #3 plug. He sensed her tense up. "Just relax. I won't harm you." She forced herself to relax her ass muscles as his hand returned to her clit. Her pussy certainly was enjoying the attention, as her juices covered his fingers. "She likes it." "Yes, Master" Leslie had to admit that the larger plug felt good. She trusted Master to know how far to go with it. He had learned to read her breathing, and knew without her having to say a word when something hurt. He picked up the pace, and Leslie estimated the large plug was about halfway in, but not to its widest point yet. So far it felt delicious, so Leslie arched her back more and willed herself to take as much as she could. "Are you my little ass slut? His voice went straight to her pussy. "Yes, Master." "Say it." "I'm your little ass slut." "Do you want to be fucked in the ass? "Yes, Master, I want to be fucked in the ass." He smiled as she picked up on his desire to have her articulate her sluttiness. "Do you want my cock in your ass? "Ohhh yes, Master, I need your cock in my ass!" Leslie lost all track of everything and felt another orgasm building. "Beg me to fuck your ass." "Master, please fuck my ass. Fuck my slutty ass. Make me your ass whore." She couldn't take any more. The dirty talk had pushed her to the brink. "Master, may I cum?" "Who wants to cum?' "Your ass slut, Master." "Cum, slut!" Leslie screamed as Master rammed the plug to the hilt. The pain was overwhelmed by the power of her orgasm. Master worked her clit and held the plug in her ass until the spasms began to subside. "Are you ok?" he asked. "Yes, Master." Her ass hurt a little, but she knew the plug had not done any damage. He twisted the base and it popped out, sending little ripples of pleasure through her pussy again. She was breathing heavily, and struggled to regain her equanimity. "Did you like the big plug?" Leslie chucked. "Yes, Master, I did." "And you didn't think you liked anything in your ass." "You know best, Master." Leslie was exhausted, and her whole body trembled as she came down from her orgasmic high. He moved around in front of her and removed the nipple clamps one at a time. Leslie groaned at the pain as the blood rushed back in. Master leaned over and gently massaged first one nipple and then the other with his lips and tongue, easing the pain and replacing it with pleasure. Then he looked at her. "Thirsty?" he asked. She licked her lips and waited for him to hold the water glass so she could drink. As he stood before her, she saw his stiff cock bobbing out of his boxer briefs. As usual, nothing escaped his notice, and he saw her eyes light up. "Do you want my cock, slut? "Yes, Master. Please may I suck your cock? His answer was to grab a handful of her hair and pull her head toward his waiting hard-on. She stuck out her tongue and lapped up the copious precum glistening there. Master produced a lot of precum and it was so tasty. She wanted to tease him and go slowly, but he was having none of that. He grabbed another handful of hair and began to thrust in her mouth. At this angle, Leslie found she could take his cock farther into her throat. She moaned around his cock and felt her pussy begin to tingle again. Master had asked if she had ever cum while sucking cock. She hadn't, but felt like she could. She felt like such a slut -- bound to a table, her ass and cunt in the air, and her mouth being used by Master's cock. She slurped and worked her tongue on the underside of his cock, loving the feeling of his hands pulling her hair. She allowed him to fuck her mouth roughly, waiting eagerly to taste his precious cum. She was jerked out of her reverie when Master let go of her hair and pulled his cock out of her mouth. She looked up at him with questioning eyes, which made him smile. "You've been such a good slut today. Would you like me to fuck your pussy? "Yes, Master, please fuck my pussy!" "Whose pussy is it? "Your pussy, Master. Please fuck me. I need your cock so bad." "Wonderful little slut. And so you shall have it." Master walked around to the back of the table, grabbed Leslie's hips and slammed his cock all the way in. "DO. NOT. CUM." He grunted, punctuating each word with a thrust. Leslie gripped the table, willing her body not to give in to the relentless assault of his cock. He pulled on her nipples, and finally she could take it no more. "Please, Master, may I cum?" The words tumbled out on top of each other. "You may," he grunted. She unleashed groans from deep in her core, and it seemed they would never stop. Soon, she felt him tense up, and he grunted as he exploded with her, bodies slamming against each other. It was impossible to tell where one orgasm began and another one ended, and he collapsed on her back as finally, their pleasure began to subside. He reached around to fondle her still-sensitive nipples as he rained kisses on her back. Then he pulled out, and gently unbuckled the shackles on her legs and removed her high heels. He moved to the front and unbuckled her wrists and helped her to her feet, holding her until she could steady herself. "Are you ok?" He searched her face to make sure she was all right. She managed a wide grin. "I'm wonderful, Master. Did I please you today?" He kissed the top of her head. "Yes, my little slut, you pleased me." Deviant Behavior The opening salvoes foretold the coming battle between what is acceptable behavior and what is deviant. I know full well what is acceptable and what is deviant. I am an academic doctor and teach students to weigh what is acceptable against what is unacceptable when making decisions. In my private life, however, I find myself leaning to the deviant. What were the opening salvoes and why did have such a foretelling? I have never shrunk from the enjoyment of sex. Over the years, I've experimented with straight sex, tried gay a couple times, got into groups, and generally committed multiple forms of debauchery. Yet, I was always able to separate my personal habits from my public professional persona until a recent encounter that surprised me. I was about to break the ultimate rule of teacher/student ethics. One of my students is an extremely petite female, 19 years old. She is short, about five feet one inch and probably weighs a staggering 95 pounds. She is a distance runner; her body is lean and tight. Her body has cute female curves that look more like a tween girl going through puberty than an adult. Her small frame supports tiny breasts that I guess were not more that 28A cups. Her tiny waist couldn't be larger than 22. Her hips held well-formed globes of tight young butt. She had runner?s legs, slender and limber while being firm and shapely. She sat in the front row directly in front of the podium. Her eyes followed me as I worked the classroom. She was a good note taker as well. Now that the weather is warming from the cold winter, Maggie is wearing more spring-like clothing that gets more revealing as temperatures rise. Try as I might, I cannot keep my gaze on the class. Today, she showed up in class in her running shorts and warm-up jersey. I swear she intentionally showed glimpses of her white cotton panty at the juncture of you're going to hell if you keep looking. Hell, I looked. I have to admit the truth; I am not a unique specimen of the male gender. I'm in my late forties and my athletic physique disappeared years ago. The most exercise I get is walking across a parking lot, unless curling a beer can is considered exercise. I'm not fat but my body curves outward at the waist and inward at the chest. If I have one redeeming quality, I have a strong libido. Even my ex wife is still a friend with benefits. After class today, Maggie stayed behind with a couple questions about the difference between what is acceptable behavior with in different parameters. "Give me an example of what you mean, Maggie," I enquired. She referred to a diagram I drew on the dry writer. "You said that within these lines is behavior society finds acceptable and what occurs outside the lines is usually considered deviant. What if two adults consent to something that society considers acceptable, how can it be deviant?" "Maggie, you are being too vague. What exactly are you asking?" I feared her answer and anticipated it nonetheless. "Say, a student and a teacher get involved with each other. If they are both adult, what' the issue? Why is that deviant?" "I think you are linking deviant with unethical. If they are both consenting adults and there is no harm done, it wouldn't be deviant. However, the biggie is the ethical nature of their relationship. As long as one is a student and the other is a university professor, there is violation of acceptable ethical behavior. When violating acceptable ethical behavior even within the parameters of what others consider acceptable, it creates an atmosphere in which other students may conclude that one student gets better treatment. If the people involved were not teacher and student, well then, their relationship might be acceptable to society." "So," Maggie continued, "suppose that you have a student who wants more from a professor than an education, that would be unethical and deviant?" "Yes, that's the down and dirty, Maggie." I thought she would leave it there as she spun to leave. Then she turned back. "So, Paul," she used my first name rather than my professional title, "was it deviant for me to give you some panty shots during class? I know you looked." "Maggie, I won't go down this road with you. As long as you are a student here and I am an employee, neither of us will know the answer to your question." The term ended as late spring warmth heated the atmosphere. The piles of winter clothing gave way to far less covering and classroom distractions everywhere. Maggie kept her distance and kept her shows of sexuality to a minimum. With the last classes done and summer break on the horizon, Maggie came up after the last class period with a simple message, "I'm transferring to LaPlatte next semester. I'm not a student here any longer." Her message was a simple continuation of the conversation we had a few weeks ago and I interpreted it just as she meant it. "Show me your transfer paperwork and acceptance." I was ready to take a risk never taken before. Indeed, Maggie had transferred. "Is this move part of the discussion we had about deviant versus acceptable behavior, Maggie?" I was rather certain the answer would be the affirmative and Maggie confirmed it was. "Maggie, I am 43 and you are 19. You are young and fit and I am neither of those. What do you hope to gain from any kind of relationship with me?" I knew I could satisfy her sexually, that wasn't even on the radar. I wanted her to tell me what she wanted "Do you think I don't know the age difference? The one thing I want is to know how a man makes love. My ex boyfriend was my first and even though he tried to satisfy me, he didn't. I've never had an orgasm." It seemed she was talking to a counselor about a medical problem rather than sizing up a new lover. "Maggie, you should talk with your guy and tell him what you want, what makes you feel good, what gets you off. I'm sure there is a lucky guy waiting for you to appear. I'm more like a father than a guy appearing to take you away." Maggie edged closer and whispered, "Paul, I know what I want and it is you. And, I think you want me." She emphasized her point by stroking my arm and brushing her hand overtly over my crotch. "I'm not your student any longer." No, she wasn't my student any longer and her runner?s body made me aware that she was made to go the distance. My inhibitions were slipping away and her stroke of my arm and my crotch took me over edge. We set a date for Friday evening and all weekend if it happened. I prepared for the date thinking that a simple supper at a local pub would set something of a mood that we could follow up on at my cabin. Maggie dashed those plans when she arrived. "Paul, I can't wait to find out what making love is supposed to feel like. Touch me, please." She was pleading for sex and knowing she had only one boyfriend before me made me worry. I scooped her into my arms and kissed her forcefully. The strength of my grip on her and depth of the kiss alarmed me, this could be rape. But Maggie had a surprise for me, her loose fitting clothing fell from her body to expose herself completely naked. Her small breasts were capped by cute little nipples no larger than a period at the end of a sentence. They were stiff and swollen. I gazed at her body in complete awe. If I didn't know her age, she could pass for 13 not 19. Her body was firm as I expected a runner?s body to be. Her stomach sported the makings of strong abs and her hips had a natural flare that emphasized her tight butt cheeks. What got me was her cute little camel toe covered by thin silky blond hair. Yes, I took an instant rise. Maggie began to undress me, "The rumor is, Paul, you can really satisfy a woman and I can't wait." When my cock in its semi erect state came into view, Maggie gasped and cupped her hands around it. "Its thick and long." Maggie was very inexperienced, unsure of herself. "Maggie, slow down, take it easy. Build up to it slowly. Take your time to enjoy." I took her hand to lead her to the couch. We sat and I asked her to tell me about the sex she had with her boyfriend and why she didn't enjoy it with him. As she told the story, it became clear that she was the dominant partner and he didn't know how to control himself let alone control her. That was the starting point. "Maggie, sex isn't just getting jumping a bone. There is foreplay, kissing, touching, and embracing. I don't think you know your body and how exciting it can be." I began sensual touches of her face, tracing around her cheeks and chin, down her neck and over her shoulders. Then we kissed; I had to push her away. "Gentle, slow." I could tell she didn't like being dominated. "The pleasure comes from the anticipation." I started again with slow touches with just my fingertips. I only stroked her face neck and arms surprised to see she was learning her lessons. "Sensual, not sexual." I noticed Maggie beginning to respond to my touch with more aroused breathing. Her breasts stiffened and her legs parted slightly. I moved my touch to her chest being careful not to touch her breasts. For long minutes I gently stroked her arms, neck, and chest until the moment was right. Maggie's breathing was coming in a mix of long and short breaths and her hips moved involuntarily. Her eyes were closed as my fingers moved over her body. With a surprise move, I pinched her tiny nipples and she screamed in orgasm, she gushed her feminine nectar. It was fun watching her have her first orgasm and she calmed from the experience, I reminded her, "Slow and sensual." "No one told me it felt so good. Teach me more, please Paul." She leaned back into the cushions as I began stroking her with my fingertips again. This time, her breasts were part of the touching. "Maggie, what do you want next," I whispered then waited for her reply. "Teach me to touch a man," she whispered her reply. "Touch me like I touched you, don't be shy but be slow, slow and sensual, make it meaningful." Maggie learned her lesson well and her hands and fingers glided over my body. It felt as though she was reading me through her fingers. I was a page of braille as she read me. Her hands crept closer to my cock never touching it. I began applying my touches to her as she touched me. As her fingers reached closer to my cock, my fingers played in her silky pubic hair. Maggie was again breathing heavily; I let my fingers skim over sensitive lips of her labia. She was leaking her juices and was wet. She moaned in delight as I touched her in her most intimate place. I laid my whole hand over her entire labia and just lightly pressed. Now Maggie moaned deeper and rolled her hips hard against my hand. Her moistness made it easy to rub up and down. She opened her legs wider and her little pussy lips opened to me. It was clear that my next move would be to begin fingering her without penetration. When I touched her little hooded clit, she came again. This time, I did not relax and as she rocked against my fingers and palm, I inserted a finger in her tight pussy. She tightened every muscle in her body as she came a third time. Maggie was totally spent from three orgasms, two of which came back to back. She fell limp as I broke my contact with her. "Relax and rest Maggie, round two starts in a little while." Maggie recovered quickly; her youth and fitness served her well. I moved closer to her as she stirred. There was lust and passion in her eyes, her youthful body was turned on and she began reacting to me being closer. "I didn't think girls could cum by just touching. I guess I'm more naive than I thought." I smiled as she spoke then replied, "Are you ready to explore some more?" I didn't wait for Maggie to answer as I leaned in giving her an open mouth kiss that she returned with fiery passion. Now it was my lips and tongue teasing her body. I kissed her face, neck, shoulders, and down to her breasts. A whole breast filled my mouth as my tongue laved on her nipple; she reacted with a loud gasp. I gave her other breast equal attention. Maggie's fingers wrapped around my cock gently as she slowly stroked me. "That's it Maggie," I sighed, "slow and gentle." I didn't want her to remove her hand from my cock; however, I did want to taste her font of youth. I eased off the couch to take a position between her legs, "Have you ever had oral?" Maggie made it clear that she tried it but her boyfriend made it feel uncomfortable. I kissed up one leg almost to the point of no return, stopped, and moved to the other leg doing the same. Maggie responded with her hips gyrating and her breath coming in pants and sighs. I kissed around her outer labia and above the juncture of her hooded little clit. Maggie pushed her sweet honey pot in my face telling me she wanted more. With her offering given, I swiped my tongue along her opening passage and across her clit. She shook as her nerves felt the pleasure being issued on her near virgin pussy. As she began moaning more loudly and as she neared another orgasm, I replaced my tongue with my cock. I gave a careful push and she took my cock into her. She registered pain as I penetrated. I stopped pushing. "A little more, Paul. Please." Pain no longer registered, I saw heat and desire, I saw a demand to be made love to. I pushed deeper. "More! Please, more." I pushed hard, one stroke and buried myself to the hilt. Maggie screamed at the sudden and deep thrust. Her eyes opened wide with surprise and pain registered again. I held myself at full length until Maggie adjusted to my size in her. "Are you okay, Maggie," there was honest concern in my tone. "Oh god, Paul, I'm more than okay." The shocked look faded from her face and became a look completeness. "Take it slow but take me," she begged. Just as Maggie asked, I slowly withdrew a bit then pushed back. I paused at the end of the stroke before withdrawing further and sliding back. Each action was met by her reaction of sighing. As seconds passed, the speed of my motion increased until Maggie begged me to lie on the floor. Now she mounted me and took control of our sex. She rode me hard working my cock like a practiced older woman. Her moaning was constant as she vocalized our sex. As hard as she had already orgasmed, she was building a release that would explode like a bomb in her young pussy. She drove herself hard down on my cock and rocked against me. Her cries went silent, she inhaled deeply, and her release gushed. Her orgasm was so complete; she squirted her cum all over us. I knew I could hold off my own cum but with Maggie at this crescendo, I felt my cum boil over and splash deep into her waiting vagina. I squirted my cum in long hot blasts and she felt my contractions, she collapsed across my chest. The power of our combined cum caused her to slip into a faint. I held her body against mine and kept our union tight while Maggie regained awareness of her world. Opening her eyes, she finally found her voice, "Enough." I slid my hands down to cup her tight little butt cheeks while I pressed up with my hips. "Enough what, Maggie?" Her eyes opened full wide as she felt my hips press into her, my cock deep in her pussy. "I have to rest, I can't take more," she said this as her own reflexes began a new rhythmic dance with my cock. "Maggie, your words don't match your action. Are we done or do you want more?" After the hard pace we just concluded, I knew we could spend the rest of the night in a long slow lovemaking. I matched her movements as she continued the slow ride. Maggie's breasts felt warm on my chest and her nipples were still swollen. I looked in her eyes seeing satisfaction in a way I'd never seen it before. I placed my mouth to hers in a kiss that stifled whatever she was about say. "More," is what I think she said through the kiss. Maggie's ability to recover was surely due to her skills as a runner but now she was barely at a walk as we continued our long session of pure lust driven sex. I didn't care if I had another orgasm; Maggie's body was the only feeling I had. She lay atop me slowly moving her pussy against my cock. I felt her spasmodic gripping and releasing of my cock in her pussy. We eased against each other in slow purposeful movements. For many minutes, more than I could count, we gyrated on the floor. Maggie clenched and released my cock as she became more aware of her enjoyment. I was aware of her enjoyment also and urged her with whispers of how sweet her body feels. I used my hands to caress her back and her butt as she increased the pace she set. Maggie stopped abruptly and dislodged my cock. She took a position on her hands and knees presenting me her pussy and her delicate virgin ass hole. I moved to position myself behind her and eased my cock back into her warm nest. "Fuck me," Maggie demanded. With my cue given, I began thrusting into her with hard stabbing thrusts that I knew had to be painful, yet she met each thrust with an equally hard push. She voiced her mix of pain and lust with groans until she pulled away again. Now she lay on her back, legs spread wide and lifted high. I hooked my arms behind her knees to raise her little pussy high form the floor. My cock thrust hard and deep in one maddening stroke and the pain registered on her face. Maggie was a pure devil now, accepting the pain of my harsh thrusts. I knew she would be sore for days following this fuck and I did not relent. My blood was boiling and my nuts were ready to blow another deposit into waiting vagina. When my orgasm finally came, Maggie went limp from her own. I had to give her some mercy. With ease, I raised myself from atop her body and saw her youthfulness spent in a heap. She was well and totally fucked. Maggie was sweat soaked, cum soaked, and sore from head to toe. I knew a warm bath was in store to help her ease the pain in her hips from the pounding she just received. "Maggie, lay there. I'll draw a warm bath for you to soak in. Its up to you what happens later." She was unable to reply and I left to draw the bath. I put some essential oils in the tub and made the water warm. I returned to find Maggie slightly recovered. I bent deep at the knees to lift her and carry her to the tub. It wasn't a dead weight lift but there wasn't much life in her body. Maggie mumbled, "toilet." I sat Maggie on the toilet and politely left her, "I'll stay close, Maggie. Call when you want me to help more." I heard the toilet flush and the whine of Maggie trying to rise on her own. She did call my name and ask for help. "Paul, please help me." It wasn't in a voice of need that she called. It sounded like a call of wanting me to help. I smiled at the view in the bathroom, there was a 19-year-old woman struggling with the tub rail trying to lift a foot over the edge. I stepped beside her and helped lift weak sore legs into the tub. When we were able to get her reclined against the back of the tub, I began the task of bathing the teen beauty in my tub. I would shower after getting her out and into bed. Warm water began rejuvenating Maggie's well-sexed body. I wondered if there would be more sex tonight. Maggie's body, especially her crotch, showed the signs of sexual satisfaction. Her labia were red and swollen; she was sore to the touch and reacted with a cry when she washed her pussy. "I'm sore from your cock, Paul." Maggie smiled at me as she made that statement; I knew she had never been fucked like that before. "It is okay if we don't do anything more tonight, Maggie." I left it at that. Maggie was refreshed and clean as she left the tub. I showed her to the bedroom telling her to have a rest and go to sleep if she felt like it. "I'm going to shower now and come to bed with you." Returning to my bedroom, I found Maggie in a dream-like trance. Her eyes were open and fixed on a spot in space, she breathed in a steady pattern, and seemed to repeat some kind of incantation. It dawned on me she was deep in meditation.