1 comments/ 11947 views/ 1 favorites Far in the East By: anangaraj (a story in three parts) "Get up Sanjay ... wake up Tisha ... your tea is ready ..." I wake up from the dream with a start. Tisha, beside me, is still asleep. A smiling face. A crumpled cover. Nightshirt rolled up to expose her deep navel. A white skirt. Wheat coloured polished skin of her thighs. But it is really the navel which lies between the skirt and the nightshirt that attracts admiration. It is fresh .... like a pool just formed by the rains in a grassland ... with sloping boundaries... with fresh grasses. Early morning sunlight filters through the leaves of the banyan tree adjacent to the first floor window, painting vibrant designs on the floor and the white bedcover. Tisha moves again. "Come on ... your tea will get cold" there was another knock on the bedroom door from my step-mother. Tisha rises ... rubs her eyes. "Open the door" she commands. Tisha and I had got married in Delhi about a year back. This is Tisha's first visit to our place in the country. Everyone had warned her before the marriage. "Your husband is aged. It's true that you will not have to stay with yours, but life will be difficult with a mother in law looming somewhere in the background." But Tisha still took the chance. We had arrived to our place in the East the night before - very late and completely exhausted. Flight. Train. Bus. More than 8 hours of arduous journey. Sweat, grime and stink. Dirt and dust. Cigarette smoke from fellow passengers. We were greeted by my step-mother and Amit, my young brother. My father had died two years back. We washed and immediately after a quick dinner, flopped on to the bed for a merciful sleep. At this moment, in the verdant country side, everything seems surreal. Tisha is 25 years old and a journalist. I am 52. More than double her age. Trisha started her career with page 3 staff but soon her skills received due attention and she was handling politics. She moved from page 3 to page 1. Tisha is pretty in a non-conventional way. Muscular with a flat belly. An upturned nose. A cynical smile. Husky voice and piercing eyes – usually highlighted with kohl. She is somewhat wayward. I knew that. Two successive disastrous love affairs almost destroyed her. The first one was with a business person who had suppressed the fact that he had a family already and the second one was with an immigrant who finally settled for an American lady and flew off after a pleasurable afternoon. I am a lecturer in a college. Tisha was in my class. I am a timid person with no significant attribute – physical or otherwise - the most unlikely candidate as Tisha's husband. Tisha was in my class and usually depressed. But I never paid any heed to that. Like I do to everyone I used to egg her on for better performance. I took my work seriously and expected my students to follow suit. Tisha was arrogant and one day I turned her out of the class. I said that I would still mark her as present even if she did not attend. But I did not want a disobedient student in my class. For some strange reason, she started obeying me. And after she graduated, she sought my help for editing her copies. Our marriage was a timid affair. We soon found that we were not physically compatible. Tisha had energy to rock the night. I had little left at my age. But we love each other. And I think that I became more of a father (whom Tisha had lost) more than a husband. Moreover, Tisha had gelled into my family. She is friendly with my step mother and my brother. All three of them regularly communicate over facebook. I knew that she was particularly friendly with my brother, who was an engineer, 23 and had just received a job offer. It is summer. I am sleeping in the nude. In order to open the door for my step mother, I have to at least put on my shorts. But they are nowhere in sight. The only other way is to wrap the bed sheet around my waist. But before I can do that, Tisha opens the door, oblivious of the fact that I am on the bed stark naked – groping for my spectacles and the bed sheet. My step-mom is 50. She used to teach yoga (she still does) and got married to my father when I was 20. Amit is my step-mom's son. Her name is Rani and I call her Ranima. Mom is dark. A typical yoga instructor. Not skinny and neither plump. 5 feet 3 inches. Dark. Hair coming up to her waist. Has an infectious smile. She is wearing a white cotton sari and a cotton blouse of the same colour. A sari is a convenient cloth in summer. And can be extremely attractive if one knows how to wear it right. In her case, it exposes her midriff. She carries two cups of tea in her hands and there are biscuits on the saucers. Ranima smells of jasmine. There is a brown mole on her left abdomen. Her belly is curved. The waist is narrow at her navel and then it broadens again. My dick does not listen to my command. It rises ... involuntary movement ... My step mom's attention is drawn immediately to the rising stuff. She keeps the cups on the table and puts her hand on her mouth. Her eyes widen. She is staring at me. Not at me really. I have nothing to hide myself with. I cover myself with my palms but I know that it is useless. Ranima controls herself. "I see ... you don't wear clothes at night ..." she leaves the sentence it unfinished. I have never been in such a situation. It rises and falls. Appreciation increases excitement. I hate myself for such uncontrolled behaviour. "Oh ... sorry ... " Tisha says "I didn't notice ...". Ranima smiles. "Nothing wrong. It's really hot here". She says. "Do you also sleep like that?" Tisha asks. How can she ask such a question? "You will find out" Mom replies. She leaves the question hanging and leaves. I am extremely embarrassed and irritated. "You should check before you open the door" I say. Tisha is laughing. She comes closer and hugs me. "You are embarrassed, but your dirty mind is excited." She says. "What rubbish!" I say. "Look, it's come to life."Tisha says. I know it is rare. At my age and with my kind of work, it is uncommon. Happens once a week and needs coaxing. This time, it is spontaneous. I say that this is not my idea of fun at all. I get dressed. We have to join others for breakfast. I wait for Tisha to dress ... but she does not. She washes, brushes, gurgles, applies cream on her face, moisturiser on skin but does not change the shirt and the skirt. "Won't you change?" I ask. "What's wrong with it?" she asks. "It's short", I tell her "and transparent". It is a short plain white cotton skirt made of thin cotton that comes barely down to the middle of her thighs. She straightens the shirt and stands up. "We are family. Aren't we?" I cannot confront such simplicity. I give up and open the door. There is no reason for me to be prude. Delhi morality is unheard of in this part of the country. There is no one in the dining room. But we can hear chatter. Where are they? I look around. Rooms are deserted. The staircase is dark. Trisha shouts "where are all of you?" Amit, my brother, shouts back. "Here, in the backyard". It is autumn ... the best time at our place. The crop is cut. The monsoon dries out. The sky is clear blue with plumes of cotton-white clouds drifting without purpose. The sun shines bright and there are festivities all around. We have a large backyard strewn with trees ... no one has ever bothered to attend to it ... except for a small patch of lawn around a well just in front of the door at the back. It is like a retreat. Amit has put up a thatched shelter lined with potted plants. There is a table with some chairs and a bench. My half brother, Amit, sits on the bench scooping what looks like crumbs of bread soaked in milk from a bowl. He is everything that I am not. About 6 ft tall. Dark, lean but muscular and a pleasant smile. Lookwise - he takes after my step mom. Amit is wearing a brief pair of shorts. Tisha settles beside Amit. I sit on chair opposite to them. I follow Amit's eyes. He cannot help looking down. Sideways. I know where the white skirt ends. Tisha puts her hand on Amit's shoulder. I know that they are friendly. They exchange glances and smile. They share jokes. They feed each other. Ranima notices me. She winks. We are a happy family but I have a feeling that that some of us are happier than others. "What's happening between you two?" I ask Tisha when we return to our room. "What's happening?" she asks back. "You are acting too friendly." "We are friends". "Amit was watching you." "So?" "He was looking at your legs." "I know. I enjoyed that." "Tisha..." I almost scream. "Sanjay," Tisha is calm. "I love you. But I am physically attracted to Amit. He is so sexy! If I find happiness in the family, it is much better than finding something outside." She is calm. She places her hand around me. Draws me close. Kisses me. It is not a perfunctory kiss. She comforts me. Runs her hand through my hair. Jealousy builds in me. Tisha's story I love Sanjay. He cares for me. He has given me security. Sanjay is everything that my father was. But he is really not up to it when it comes to pleasure. I have tried to tell him about romance, its mystery, about long waiting period, about candle lights ... about the build up ... he tries but at the end, I am never satisfied. But I am not willing to leave him. Our marriage, because of my past and owing to our age difference, was a low key affair. A few friends and our families. Amit had just graduated and he and Rani stayed back at our place for some time. Both of them were good fun. Rani taught me yoga and helped me with daily chores. Soon everyone found out that I could not cook. Amit told me that I should contribute a larger sum to the home kitty on account of purchase of food from outside. He was pulling my leg by saying that even he was a better cook than me. Otherwise, he was a nice guy. While Sanjay was out, he helped me a lot with setting up the home. He went with me to the markets to buy sundry stuff – all that one needs to set up a house. He would not allow me to carry anything and really worked hard. Four of us went together for a short tour to the Taj and Fatehpur Sikri. It was monsoon. These places were not crowded. In Delhi too we spent wonderful evenings watching movies, visiting various places of interest, or just chatting at home sipping wine. There is a small balcony in our flat overlooking a road and a park, lined with trees. The day before they were to leave, Amit set up some potted orchids in the balcony. He also got a lovely rocking chair and a side table and said that I could remember him while sitting there in the evenings reading a book and a glass of wine. His eyes were moist. We had grown close. I would miss him. I hugged him. It was raining. Scattered drops of water were hitting us. The wind played with our skin and hair. We remained tightly hugged. Amit was bare chest ... and I felt his sweat. He was emanating a manly smell. I pushed my cheek against his and my lips swelled. I wanted to kiss him. When we disengaged, I was burning with desire. Amit patted my cheek and turned around. He could not stand facing me any longer. He was wearing a pair of cut offs and nothing underneath to suppress his excitement. He went to the bathroom and closed the door. I ran. This was my chance. There was a small gap where the door was hinged. It had to be mended. I bent down – only a little and placed my eyes. Amit was nude. In the confines of the bathroom under the lamp. A firm male body and a slender and upright penis. He was holding it with two hands. Resting against the wash basin. The trough of his buttocks rippling. His head was turned towards the roof. Eyes closed. He had pulled his foreskin and was thrusting forward and back with all his might. A lovely pointed penis. Not a thick one like Robin's. Not a sculpted beauty like Astor's. But a youthful slender smaller version of Amit himself ... but he came too soon. He doubled up and sat on the ground after the thick white liquid ejected out of him ... lost from the line of my sight. It was too fast. I wanted to observe his balls, all his muscles, his face, but I was lost in motion. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I had forgotten the existence of Rani. She was smiling. I turned red. I didn't know where to run. I was scared that this was the end of my relationship. But Rani was smiling "he is lovely, isn't he?" "Well... I... er..." "He is my son, after all." She said and touched my hand. "Come – let's make some tea." She never raised the subject again. That night I pestered Sanjay till he masturbated me and while having climax I closed my eyes and could see Amit throwing thick white streaks of milky gel on the floor. But Amit and I became great friends. We regularly exchanged messages through facebook and whatsapp. I sent him pdf copies of books and emails. Amit sent me songs. Occasionally he would send me a dirty joke and I would send a smiley. I longed to see him. The one year wait stoked the desire in me. Last night I was really tired. I had to go to sleep. But even then I had not failed to notice that Amit's face glowed when we arrived. He was wearing after shave so late in the night. That too, was unusual. Breakfast time – I am fired up. Normally I would not wear a short white slip outside ... but I want him to see me. I sit beside him, before Sanjay chooses his seat. The way I sit, our legs are not visible to Sanjay but Rani can see them. I want her to see. I let my thigh touch Sanjay's thigh – bristles of hair rub against my waxed leg. We eat. We laugh. I put my bare foot on Sanjay's foot and rub. Sanjay puts a spoon of his horrible dough of bread and milk into my mouth. I watch that his dick has risen. I am on his left side. I take his hand, which is hesitant and put it in between my legs and push it a little under my skirt. He is lightly brushing the inner of my thighs. I take a scoop of my khichdi and put it in his mouth as I clutch his hesitating hand and move it upwards. Barring a few days in a month, I never wear a panty at home. Amit raises his eyebrows to find the silky shaven slit – which is moist. Ranima is watching it all from the corner of her eyes. She has an encouraging smile. She forwards her leg a little and rubs my other foot. Amit cannot massage me, it will show. Instead he lightly rubs his forefinger and middle finger on my labia. I have spread my legs to facilitate him. My own smell rises like a vapour from below the table and mingles with the spicy vapour of my khichdi. Sanjay rises. Time to go. I put my hand on Amit's thigh and tell him "see you later." I follow Sanjay to our room where Sanjay confronts me. I do not know what to say – his allegations are correct. So I agree. I have to tell him that I love both the brothers but differently and I do not know how to put it. Also, I will be here for a week only. If I do not finalise the arrangements, if I cannot sleep with Amit, I will languish in Delhi. I must do something ... Amit's story I am jealous and angry. I am angry with Amit and Tisha. I am angry with myself. I am mostly angry with Tisha. She did not have to do it to me. I get out of the room as Tisha gazes and go to Ranima's room. It is in the old quarters with a red cement floor, a bedstead, large windows opening on the garden and an almirah. Everything else – some suitcases, books, a reading stand, a laptop, a mattress – are on the floor. Ranima is sitting on the floor grinding a piece of sandalwood on a stone slab to make sandal paste. She is wearing the same white saree but has taken off her blouse. The fragrance of freshly ground sandal engulfs me. And I, for the first time, get to see the firm ball of brown flesh topped with an erect dark brown nipple which freely sways as she continues to rub the wood. The sari has her left boob uncovered ... I have never imagined that a lady of her age can have such a well formed boob ... she does not make any attempt to cover it. Instead, she raises her hand to put back tufts of hair, allows the uncovered boob to rise and beckons me to sit beside her. I do so. I cannot take my eyes off. She smiles. The pure loving smile flashing the bright white teeth, which only she has got. I am settled beside her stretched leg. The other leg is tucked under her. She is now erect. Years of yoga gives her a perfect body. She puts her hand below by chin and asks me "You are unhappy – aren't you?" I cannot resist any more. The frustration and anger surfaces and I break into tears. Ranima comes closer. Puts her leg on mine and embraces me. She then kisses my cheek and wipes my tears. She holds my face with her hands and says "Sanjay, there is no feeling worse than jealousy. Even the saints and Gods cannot get over it. Calm yourself. One who manages to overcome jealousy, is truly happy. Also, what is wrong with love if you also get enough of it?" She pulls my head and puts it on her breast. The uncovered one. She lightly pats my head. Her earthy smell, her touch, the lovely flesh ... comfort me. The nipple is on my lips. I can feel it with my eyes closed. The hard tip on my lips. I put it in my mouth and suck it. Ranima tightens her embrace and removes her pallu completely. "Suck my son, it is all for you" she tells me as she cradles me with her strong hands. To be continued Far in the East Ch. 02 I sit atop Ranima. Her pallu is spread out on the floor. She is smelling of sandalwood. And jasmine. I am still sobbing. And confused. I lower my head on to her right nipple. It is like a fig now. Swollen and comforting. I put it to my mouth and suck. She slowly removes my hand which is encircling her. She brings it to the front and places it below her left breast. She holds my hand and guides me. "Rub it son, from bottom to top." I follow her command. Ranima slowly but with a lot of gentleness lays me down, with my head on her lap. She then lowers her face and asks -"do you want to kiss me?" I nod my head. Ranima smiles and shakes her head. "That will not do. You have to say loudly whether you want to kiss me or not." I attempt feebly "I want to kiss you Ranima." She laughs out "you are so shy. Of course my son, I shall kiss you". She puts her lips on mine and then starts a process. She sucks, she bites, she licks with her tongue and opens my mouth. She inserts her tongue in my mouth and plays with my tongue. She tastes of lassi. Sweet and sour. Occasionally, she takes her lips off, puts her finger in her mouth, takes saliva and rubs it on my lips. She moisturises. She tastes like a cow - I think. It continues for five minutes till she raises her head. Simultaneously, she opens the buttons of my shirt, skillfully removes it and throws it off. She tweaks my nipples and after she is finished with kissing me, looking at my face with a charming smile, enjoying my befuddlement. She once again lowers her mouth and sucks my nipples, one after another. I had never known that my nipples, a man's nipples, are so sensitive. I feel that I will burst out in pleasure. I arch my back, like a bow. Ranima ignites me. I want to forget everything and submit to her. Ranima then quickly inserts her hand into my waistband and pulls out the string that holds my pajama. She is quick and deft in drawing the string and untying the knot. In one swift movement, she takes it off and throws it away also. I am once again nude in front of Ranima. And this time I have an aching erection. Ranima stands up and holding my hand she takes me to the bedstead. She makes me sit there. "See - look at yourself - why are you jealous? People should be jealous of you, instead. You have such a nice stuff, my son. You should be proud." She inspects me. Hands on her waist. Bare chest. I wish I could draw a picture of her. The saree tied at her navel, pallu on the floor, a sweaty body. Slightly panting. Heavy but firm. -"do you want to watch me?" she asks. -"I am watching you, Ranima," I say. -"Idiot. Not like that. Do you want to watch me nude? Without any clothes?" Once again I nod my head. -"Please say loudly. What do you want?" she asks. This time I manage to say loudly "you are beautiful Ranima, please take off your clothes. I want, I really want to watch you nude?" "Do it. Take off my clothes. But do not hurry." She draws my hand to her waist where the saree is knotted. She watches as I untie the knot and then lift off the edges from her waist, there are several rounds and it has to be done slowly, till it comes off. Below the saree she is wearing a saya - a white cotton toe-length skirt tied to her waist. But just below the knot there is a triangular empty patch from where her skin is visible. I insert my fingers there and untie the knot. The saya opens but does not fall off. It sticks to her pelvis. She, like a mischievous young girl, sways her hips and the saya slowly falls to her feet. She is standing in the nude before me. Hands on hips. Broad hips. I cannot see her slit. She does not shave but her hair is trimmed. No - she does not have an hourglass figure. But she is a true mother. Like the earth. Tapering thighs, strong calf muscles. And there is a gap where both the thighs meet. And through that gap I see that the door opens and Tisha and Amit enter - both giving a gasp seeing us like that. Tisha's story I have told Sanjay that I love Amit too. I have confessed. I cannot hold back the truth any more. Sanjay has left. Now I cannot wait any more. I must finish what I had set out to do. I run out of the room and knock on Amit's door. Amit opens the door. Still wearing the shorts. A tall strapping young boy. He has beard. They are soft and pliable. He smells of deodorant all the time. Old Spice - I think. A bare chest - not broad but strong. A flat stomach. Strong, lean legs. I forget to close the door behind me. I run and hug Amit. Like in movies. Amit takes me inside. He too, does not have time. He pushes me against the study table. Our lips lock. Our bodies press against each other. After a long time I touch and feel a firm male body. I rub against it. I just want to take whatever I can - all the pleasure that it offers. Amit presses my boobs. There is just no time for foreplay. We are too pent up with longing. Our combined desires explode and the heat pervades the room. It explodes in sweat. Amit wants to rip off my sleeveless white cotton blouse. Before he can do that, I unbutton myself. And before he can reach, I pull down the skirt. I want Amit to see me. But he does not have time. He sucks me everwhere. He scratches me everywhere. Red marks develop on my arm, on my cheek and on my breast. I shall boast of these marks. I shall tell everyone with pride that these are the fruits of my passion, yes they are by Amit. I shall take his nude photo and show all my girlfriends. I pull down Amit's boxer shorts. He is travelling with a huge erection from the morning. The poor boy must be really suffering. I hold his balls. They are small and tight. And he does not shave. The hair, like his beard, is fresh, sprightly and young. I lick the skin of the balls along with the hairs. Put them in my mouth suck them and plop them out. The boy, my lover, is not circumcised. And it is with difficulty that I push back the foreskin from the pinky rose knob. Does he wince with pain? Yes, he does. I like that. He must learn to suffer at my hands. He must bear the pain of love. As I run my tongue around the red knob he pulls me up and pushes me against the table. The table is about a foot away from the wall. It screeches and hits the wall. I fall back. I could have hurt myself! The young guy does not care. He lifts me and throws me on the table, rips apart my legs and pushes in his hard staff into me. It is slender - have not I told, before? I want him to thrust into me more than he did when he was masturbating in Delhi, he betters that. He pushes in and pulls out in frenzied movement ... thadak, thadak ... I know that we are making a lot of animal noise. I know that the door is open and we have forgotten to close it. But I do not care. My entire body, which clings to my friend's chest, I am practically hanging like a large huge papaya from an overburdened tall and slender tree, is trembling with pleasure. No, I do not think I have ever had this feeling. Not with anyone else before. I have closed my eyes. I have submitted to a rod pushing into my belly over and over again with no respite. And then I come. It is like a thunderclap which never ends. It comes and comes. It is like an unending strom down my stomach, my pelvis, my slit. The muscles contract and expand in regular rhythm. The rivulet of liquid that gushes out - they are more like my urine than my juice ... they drench Amit's penis. Amit also cannot withstand such massage. He shouts and he spews out gallons of sperm into my basin. We are over. I have done it. I put my head on Amit's shoulder. I know that I cannot live without him. I do not know where and how this will end. But at this time, at this hour, I just want to sniff his sweat mingled with the odour of his cum. At this time, I want our sweats to mingle as I clutch him. I love the trickle of juice mixed with Amit's cum that is flowing down my thigh. I want to taste it but I cannot take myself off from Amit's body to do that. We are over in fifteen minutes. Then Amit carries me to the bed. We lie there still in the nude. We kiss each other. After sex kisses are the best in the world. It seems that all veils have been lifted and there is no barrier. "How is this going to end, Tisha?" Amit asks. It does not have to, I say. Let us talk to our mother and Sanjay. We have to discuss this. We cannot keep it a secret. In any case, both of them already know. Thus decided, we dress up. Meaning, I fondly pick up Amit's shorts and pull it up his legs, fondling his limp but still long penis before putting it back into civilisation. Amit first helps me with the blouse and then with the skirt. -"Why don't you wear a panty?" Amit asks. -"Would you like me to?" I ask him. -"Not really," he says. -"That's why." I reply. We hold hands and go to Rani's room. Sanjay is nowhere in sight. Rani's doors are open. As we enter - we let out a gasp. We are not prepared for this. Sanjay is sitting on the bedstead ... with amazement in his eyes, completely nude. And Rani is standing with her back to us ... not a piece of cloth on her, in front of Sanjay, gently swaying her hips. She is swaying her hips. I have never seen such shapely hips in my life. They rise line narrow hills in perfect symmetry from her waist ... what are they doing? We look at each other and do not know what to say or do. Will be concluded. Far in the East Ch. 03 Sanjay's story I watch Tisha and Amit as they gasp in horror. I am sitting, completely nude, in front of my step mother, hands on her waist, back to the door. To add to my embarrassment, I have a huge erection. My step-mother does not have a stitch of cloth on her. I feel apprehensive, vulnerable and do not know what is going to happen next. Ranima turns graciously. It is as if she knows what to expect. She smiles gently. She is not embarrassed in the least. "Come inside - why are you standing at the door?" They both step in. For the first time I find that Tisha is sheepish and speechless. She is as unprepared as I am for this exposure. Ranima opens her arms to Tisha. "Come here, my baby" she says. Tisha advances cautiously. Ranima embraces her and plants a kiss on her lips. I notice that Tisha is perspiring. Her face is flushed. And there is a patch of wetness on her shorts. I wonder what she had been doing so long. My erection subdues somewhat. I look for my clothes. Ranima senses my movement and tells me - "come on Sanjay, don't get unnecessarily embarrassed. You have a lovely body". "What are you two up to?" Tisha asks Ranima. Ranima holds Tisha's hands and sits face to face at the side of the bed. She says "Tisha, you know the answer. I was trying seduce your husband. He is almost my age and I do not have a husband. I am very capable and quite starved. I am very fond of your husband. I have always been. I would like him to fuck me - whenever he can and I can, if you have no objection." Tisha is not shocked. It is as if she knows. She just lowers her head. She said "I don't know. I too love him." Ranima implores "please Tisha, you are a woman. Surely, you can understand my plight." Saying that, she gets up. She takes a towel and wraps it around her. She then says "Of course, I understand if you do not agree. Sanjay is your husband and unless you are absolutely clear, I do not want to complicate things. If you disagree, I shall say sorry and pretend that this incident never took place. I will forget everything and lead a celibate life that I had been living so long. It is up to you." Ranima, I see, is on the verge of tears. She is holding them back with a lot of effort. But her lips quiver. Tisha lifts her head, gets up and suddenly embraces Ranima. Tisha kisses her. Lip to lip. It is a long and passionate kiss. In the process, the towel with which Ranima has wrapped herself falls off. There is a fair and a lean Tisha who is passionately kissing a dark and well built Ranima. Tisha is clothed and Ranima, completely naked. Tisha is rubbing her hands on Ranima's back. Tisha says "Ranima, I fully understand your position. Truly". She is comforting Ranima, her fair hands massaging Ranima's back. The palms come down to Ranima's waist, then further down as they rest on her buttocks. Tisha clutches the mounds and seems to enjoy playing with them. Tisha's hands are everywhere. She is rubbing herself against her boobs. They finally disengage. Then they look at each other's eyes. Tisha says "Even then, I am in a problem." "What is it?" asks Ranima. Tisha says "I love Sanjay. That is true. But it is also true that I am attracted to Amit. And I love you too. I want to sleep with all of you. In fact I want to marry Amit also. I want to be a wife to both the brothers and sleep with all of you. I don't know what to do. I understand your agony - I agree to your sleeping with Sanjay. But I must have my way too." Ranima smiles. She holds Tisha's face in both her hands, cupping her chin. She says "in that case, you want two husbands and a wife. You are really demanding!" She then asks Tisha "have you already slept with Amit?" I glance at Amit. He is looking down at the floor. "Yes, just now." Tisha confesses. "He is young and immature, but has a lovely erection." "When can we see that?" asks Ranima. "Amit, come here" she says. Amit approaches sheepishly. "Open your pants" instructs Ranima. "How can I?" Amit has turnerd red. "Why can't you? You are watching me nude. Tisha ... would you help him?" she asks. "Gladly" says Tisha and with one fast tug she pulls down Amit's pants. Amit already had an erection. He blushes. "Wow, that is a lovely one." Ranima says. "I am seeing it after a long time and I definitely like it" Ranima carefully places her left hand below Amit's testicles as if to weigh them. With her right hand she brushes the tip of his penis which is now perpendicular and is throbbing. "Tisha, I bequeath both my sons to you. Do whatever you can with them." She gives Amit's penis a long tug and then faces me. I have regained my erection now. She turns, smiles at me, holds my shoulders and then bows down to kiss me. She smells of sandalwood and her boobs, which are firm, do not sway much. She then rises and pushes me back. She puts a leg on the bed and says in a stern manner "did you think I would leave you alone?" I do not reply. I get a clear view of Ranima's slit. She has trimmed her hair. It is inviting. I put my mouth there, as near to the warmth of her womb as possible, as my penis rises against her other thigh uninhibited. She rubs it with one hand and pushes my head against herself with the other "my son, my beautiful son, my love..." she is muttering. As I lick her, there are drops of cum juice coming out of the opening. It is moist and it smells of wet grass. Tisha's story I have never been so happy in my life. I have got two husbands and I love them both. This is as best as it can get - I think. Ranima is busy with Sanjay. The room has a wonderful scent - a mixture of joss sticks, sandalwood, sweat and sex. I breathe in as the sunrays hitting me through the grilled window draws pattern on the bed and on the locked bodies of Sanjay and Ranima. I look at Amit. He is also looking at his mother and elder brother and playing with himself. I am the only one wearing clothes. I decide to be like that and kneel down behind Ranima. I must mention here that Ranima's backside is the best that I have ever seen. Years of yoga practice must have curved out the beautifully raised bowl shaped behind. It is not large but and perfectly symmetric. How can I resist it? I firmly grasp the two half bowls and rub my face against the crack. I prise it open. I find the sweet spot, slightly raised, leading to the opening. I push my tongue in. Sanjay has raised himself on the bed. His penis has become large. I have never seen growing it so large in my married life. Sanjay is beady eyed. His penis hovers dangerously close to Ranima's pussy. I clutch it and place it on the opening from below. It slides in automatically. I can now see his balls only. Ranima cannot control herself any more. She falls on her step son. In love making, a point comes when one has to give up. Ranima has reached that point. She is now sitting on Sanjay, his pole firmly inside her. Sanjay is holding her boobs. She bends forward to push a nipple inside his mouth. Sanjay must have bitten it - because she lets out a cry. But she does not give up and slaps up and down. Sanjay also raises and lowers his hip in unison. I have lost Ranima. I no longer have access to her backside. Instead I am rubbing myself against her back. Amit has helped me to take off my shorts. It is much more comfortable in the nude. I am embracing Ranima from the back and kissing her and Amit is rubbing his penis against my back. They come - almost together. First Ranima. She looks at the sky, thanks God and is making inexplicable noises. Her throbs must have been the last thing that Sanjay could resist - he also comes. As he does so he violently raises Ranima from the bed, bending at the waist and Ranima's boobs rise up and down. She falls into my arms completely fatigued. Trickles roll down her thighs. I feel moist at the back as Amit comes again. We all sit. Happy and nude. I ask Ranima "what will happen if you get pregnant?" Sanjay is on Ranima's lap and I am on Amit. Ranima tells me "we will pass her off as your child, won't we, Sanjay?" I laugh and say "she will be, in a way."