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Vasu was riding his two-wheeler down Mount Road at unaccustomed speed. The eight lane highway was one of the few roads in Madras were one need not crawl at peak hours. He was returning home after a day spent in maintaining accounts for his firm dealing in hardware. His thoughts were on his relationship with his wife that has changed drastically lately. He waited for three weeks for the problem to go away. It did not. The time was ripe to sort it out.
His problem started at a party three weeks ago. The events at the party affected his wife Amulu in many ways. Though Vasu and his wife were orthodox Hindus they had acquired a taste for hard drinks, and when opportunity offered they invited themselves to parties to have some innocent fun with other like them who wanted to keep their weakness a secret. In the party they attended last there was another young couple. The young man very quickly drank himself into slumber, but his wife, an attractive woman, was filling her glass with whisky, but after a few sips was surreptitiously pouring it away into a flowerpot. She was flirting outrageously with a very tall and handsome single man. This man was also emptying his tumbler into another flowerpot when he thought no one was looking his way.
Vasu, who was seated on the sofa opposite, was noticing this. He had an explanation for the young lady’s action. She was apparently filling her glass to keep company, but was careful to keep herself alert for driving back home. Vasu had no difficulty in placing the young man either. He knew that type. He was a predator. He came to parties not to drink but to make love to women whose husbands were no longer aware of what is going on round them. The women themselves were partly drunk and would be only too eager to have it with a man as handsome and charming as that young man.
Both Vasu and his wife drank enough to need to stretch out on the carpet to sleep it off. When they were fit enough to make their way home Vasu vaguely noted that the young couple and the young man had already left. The newspaper the next morning contained bad news—on his way back from the party the young man was involved in an accident and was in hospital in a critical condition.
Amulu wept copiously. At first Vasu did not mind it. Amulu always wept when she read of traffic accidents even if the person involved was not known to her for it reminded her of a brother who had an accident some years ago. But this time it continued day after day. When Vasu suggested, in an effort to console his wife that the slut must have spoiled the young man’s concentration, Amulu flew into a rage. He had never seen his wife lose herself in anger to this extent before. A few days later Vasu again referred to that woman as a slut Amulu again raved irrationally. Vasu could not explain her strange reaction.
But stranger still was Amulu’s attitude to sex. She, who was so reticent in matters concerning sex, was now flagrantly, and often immodestly demanding sex. She surpassed herself on the first Friday after the party. Friday was her weekly oil bath day. As always she asked her husband to rub oil on her head. Then she did something unusual. She removed all her clothes and asked him to rub oil on all parts of her body as she sat on a low stool in the middle of the drawing room. She went further. She asked him to give her the bath and while doing so she playfully poured water on him and thereby she made him have a bath too, with each rubbing soap on the other. All this of course carried Vasu to cloud nine. Till that day he used to complain that she never turned him on by taking any initiative for sex. After the bath they wiped each other and then walked to the bedroom and had sex which, given the novel foreplay they had, was very good. This became a Friday routine.
She has become fashionable in her dress too. Her large diamond nose rings were gone and in their place she now wore gold dots. Her hair was no long done in an old fashioned chignon but was now an elegant ponytail. She wrapped saris in the modern way with the blouse way up the chest, and the sari pleats way down to expose the umbilicus. But the most important change, the one that was bothering her husband more than any other, was the sadness that always pervaded in the background. Vasu could feel it. She was quite gay when he was about, but when he was away in office she seemed to be weeping. Her eyes would be red and often swollen. Once when he woke up in the night he found her sobbing. Vasu could not say what the cause was. He could not imagine that the accident to that young man could have so lasting an effect on his wife. He could think of no other reason for her misery.
Vasu pressed the bell. The door opened and Amulu was standing nattily dressed with her face wreathed in a smile of expansive dimension. Vasu looked into her eyes. They were red. Vasu decided to confront her that evening itself.
She hugged him and kissed him and led him to the washbasin to freshen himself for evening tiffin çankaya escort which nowadays was sumptuous, and to his taste. Always a trencherman, Vasu did full justice to the snacks. He withdrew to the drawing room sofa allowing Amulu time to clear the table and join him. Vasu looked forwards to the treat that would soon follow.
Amulu came to the sofa in skirts and blouse. She had no bra on and from experience Vasu knew that she wore no knickers either. She sat by his side as he undid the blouse and removed it altogether. He played with her breasts, sagging but large with prominent tits. He sucked it. He undid the skirt tape and pulled down the skirt. He went on his knees and kissed her pussy. He opened it out and kissed the clit. Amulu was spreading her thighs and gently shampooing him. She undid his dhoti and caught hold of his cock in a gentle grip and kneaded it.
“Darling you must tell me why you are weeping when I am away?” he said. Amulu looked into his eyes.
“I expected you to ask me earlier,” she said almost as a complaint.
“I thought it would go away, but it has not. Now I must know for I have to do whatever I can to remove the cause.”
“Yes, dear, I know I must tell you. I have to tell you even though the consequences to us would be bad. But I will risk it for if I do not I may burst. Give me some moments to get my thoughts into proper order.”
“As much as you want, but you are frightening me.”
“What happened was quite frightening.” She came close to him and hugged him. Both were tense but that did not prevent them form enjoying the touch of their bare bodies.
“You must have thought of some reason for my sadness.”
“Of course I have.”
“That party and the accident?”
“Yes. In fact I could not think of any other. But the young man is now out of danger. Why should it affect you?”
“I weep because I feel I am responsible for that young man’s troubles.”
“You? How was that possible? You were hugging me and both of us were asleep.”
“When you went to sleep I was hugging you, and when you woke up I was hugging you, but in between plenty happened.”
“Yes, plenty. You may remember that I was passing critical comments about that lady for sitting so close to that young man and rubbing her thighs against his. Really I was envying her. I was annoyed that the man who was so much like the man of my fantasies should be with that woman rather than with me. Then I slept. I woke up. You were soundly asleep. The young lady and her husband had gone, but this young man was on the sofa snoozing. I was looking intently at him in admiration when he opened his eyes. For a long while our eyes were in contact. I smiled and he smiled. I must have slept off. I woke up again. I do not remember if the young man was still there. I went to the toilet. When I came out the young man was standing at the passage. He smiled this time, and I smiled back.
“Where is you friend,” I asked.
“She left with her husband.”
“Was he in a position to walk,” I asked.
“He tottered with her support. Your man?”
“The same I suppose,” I said.
“If you are OK we will sit behind that sofa and have a chat,” he said.
“OK,” I said.
We sat on the carpet behind the sofa. My body language must have broadcast desire loudly for he, without any ceremony, kissed me. I did not respond. He kissed me again and I kissed him too. He then unhooked my blouse and then my bra and fondled me. I liked that. I wanted more. I pulled up my sari and then I lay back. I was so hot with desire that I was without any shame. I lifted my legs and spread out. He pulled down his pants. His cock was big, about nine inches long. He came up and I caught his cock. It was hot to touch. I guided it in. It slipped in easily; I was wet with my juices. He was filling me. I liked it very much. He pumped once and then once again. It as then that you intervened.”
“Yes, you. You were breathing noisily. Suddenly it stopped. I waited and waited. It did not resume. I panicked. I pulled his cock out, rearranged my dress and ran to the toilet. I came out and lay by your side. You had meanwhile gone back to sleep. Feeling of frustration was intense in me. I came so close by yet the pleasure had eluded me. I was angry with you for having spoilt me from realising my dream. It is still there, the frustration, not the anger. I waited for a while, but I must have snoozed too. When I woke up the young man was gone. I waited for him to reappear. He did not for her was gone. He can never be the same again.” Amulu sobbed without any control.
“Don’t weep my darling. There is no use weeping,” he said, with great tenderness.
“I pulled it out. It was stretching me so divinely and I pulled it out. He tried to resist, but I pulled it out. I cannot get over it, I just can’t.” She sobbed more, and he held her tight and consoled her. He carried her down from the sofa to the carpet. They hugged and çayyolu escort kissed, but Amulu was still sobbing. But she put up her legs ready to receive him and he entered her.
“Darling you are so big today,” she said in the middle of her sobs.
“Yes, darling I am more aroused for sex than I have ever been before.” They had the first orgasm together and then she had one more, but she was sobbing her heart out all the while. They lay exhausted.
As he lay by her side Vasu was not sure if he was sane. For a man whose wife had just told him that she had sex with another man his response was bizarre. Is that the time to make passionate love, he asked himself. She was lying with eyes closed with a faint smile about her lips. What he felt for the self-confessed adulteress was an indescribable love. He gathered her in his arms and kissed her and she responded.
“I cannot be normal again till I finish that act,” she said. “It is eating into me.”
“But the ink is hardly dry on the one you had just now.”
“I want that one completed.”
“Don’t be funny Amulu. That is just not possible now. You may have to wait a year or more.”
“It is possible. Find me another like him,” she said smugly and looked into his eyes.
“I find a man for you?”
“Yes you, for I cannot, and I cannot ask anyone else.” His head was reeling, but it surprised him that he did not react at all to this atrocious request.
And they slept where they lay on the carpet. When he woke up Vasu heard birds chirping. It was early dawn. Amulu lay by his side soundly asleep. She had the repose of a baby and not of a woman who had once been unfaithful to her husband and wanted to continue to be unfaithful to him. He felt tender towards her. He kissed her gently. This time he did not try to understand his attitude. He accepted it.
He was warming milk for coffee when Amulu joined him. They hugged and kissed.
“You go to your newspaper. I will bring your coffee,” she said. She brought him the coffee and then sat by his side.
“Are we mad?” she asked. Vasu laughed.
“I suppose so. I cannot explain our actions in any other way. You confess that you have had sex with another man and in response I hug you and kiss you and make love to you with a passion I had never felt before. You have the supreme gall to ask me to get you a man to fuck you and I am not shocked. If I write this as a story no reader will accept this as even remotely possible. The less experienced ones will dash off abusive comments, and the more experienced ones would not consider it worth a comment. Maybe there would be a mature one who would know that sex is not only strange but stranger than one can imagine.”
“How do you explain it?”
“I was thinking about it this morning. It is my hypothesis that humans like computers come with many programmes in their system many of which the owners are not aware that they possess. Again like in computer, the system authority does not install all of them. When the need arises or when circumstances demand it these programmes get themselves installed. Both of us have now got one such strange programme installed and running. If you have a better explanation let me know what that is.” He turned towards Amulu. She was not interested in computers and programmes. She was daydreaming with eyes vacant and eyelids drooping.
He dressed for office. Amulu was now asleep. When he was ready to leave he woke her up and told her that he was having breakfast in a restaurant and left.
His favourite restaurant was half full. He found a vacant seat in a two-seater table. The other seat was vacant. He had hardly placed his order when a tall young man requested to know if the vacant seat was taken.
“I don’t think it is. Please help yourself.” The young man placed a leather bag on the floor by his chair and sat down. He was about twenty-five years old with a baby face. He was tall, and well built, and handsome with large bright eyes and the bearing of a person from an educated middle class family. His bag had the logo of a well-known brand of washing machine embossed on it. He placed his order and both waited. The waiter soon came with the plates. It appeared that both had ordered for thayir vadai. They looked at each other and smiled.
“Your favourite?” asked Vasu.
“Yes,” said the young man. They ate in silence for a while.
“You are I suppose maintenance engineer of your company,” he said pointing to the logo on the bag. “I am Vasu an accountant.”
“I am Sundar. Yes, I am maintenance engineer for the washing machine company.”
“Could you come home and examine my machine and offer an opinion on what is the matter with it,” said Vasu naming the brand. “The company people have not been successful in clearing the problem.”
“I have no objection to see the machine, but I would not be able to get spares if one were needed.”
“Opinion is all I need. My house is nearby. This is my card. I will call ankara escort my wife and tell her that you are coming. Please mention your fee and she will pay it.” The young man took the card and put it in his pocket.
“Go straight, turn right and first turning to the left. ‘Gold Leaf Apartments’, third floor, flat number twenty-on,” said Vasu and he took leave of him. He called his wife on the cell phone.
“I am sending a young man. He is a washing machine company service engineer. Not our brand. Tell him that our washing machine makes a noise that the supplier is not able to rectify it. He is a young handsome fellow. Rest of it is up to you. Ready for adventure?”
“I am scared darling.”
“Well good luck.” There was a bemused smile on his face. Another man in the parking lot was speaking on a cell phone. Was he also telling his wife that he is sending a man home to have sex with her? ‘Anything is possible,’ said Vasu to himself, ‘in this mad, mad world.’
He reached office and was jerked back roughly into what to an accountant was the ultimate reality—an Income Tax raid. Income Tax officers were waiting for him in the office. Vasu had no time to think of home. It was six in the evening before he could just manage a brief call home to tell Amulu that he would be coming home only the next morning. He had to spend the night juggling his books frantically if his firm was to avoid criminal action for tax evasion.
The next morning he could be back home only at nine. On look and Vasu knew that Amulu had got what she wanted. She hugged him.
“I love you darling,” she said.
“Plenty happened. Today, in case you have forgotten, is oil bath day. I will tell you when you rub me with oil and bathe me.
In a short time of a month Amulu developed the oil bath routine into an elaborate ritual. First she spread a plastic sheet on the drawing room floor and on it she placed a low stool. Then she carried in the warm scented oil in a sliver bowl with she held with both hands as if she was bringing holy oil to offer to the deity. This she placed on the sheet. She disappeared for a while, but when she reappeared she would be wrapped in a towel that she would ceremoniously whisk off to display herself smooth and naked to her husband. Then she would sit on the stool and her husband would start proceedings. The oil shampoo was first in the list.
Vasu poured oil from the bowl into his cupped palm and gently spread it on his wife’s scalp. Then as he rubbed it in with his fingertips Amulu started her story.
“I was scared and excited at the same time. I changed to a nightie. I took the semi-transparent one but I discarded it for the one with buttons on the front. I loosened two buttons and waited. The ring came sooner than expected. I opened the door. I must compliment you on your choice. It was just what the doctor ordered.
‘Washing machine engineer?’ I said.
‘Yes, madam,’ he responded.
‘Please come in.’ I led him to the washing machine, and for the first time the smallness of the room about which I have long been complaining appealed to me.
‘You want to test?’ I asked. He nodded. I threw a bed sheet in and he started the machine.
‘The noise appears during the start of the second cycle,’ I said. I switched on the room light. ‘The sound comes from low down,’ I said and bent low. My breasts must now have been fully visible to him. I bent down lower and as I was doing that I released one more button of my nightie. I could see my chest almost bare. I looked up. He was staring cross-eyed at my chest region. His facial muscles were twitching. Vasu, you have stopped shampooing.”
“Sorry darling.” He resumed, but did not perform with zeal. “Continue.”
“Our eyes met. I smiled, and his effort to respond resulted in a grimace.
‘You have seen breasts haven’t you?’
‘As a baby certainly,’ he said, ‘but not too many afterwards.’ He laughed. Suddenly his nervousness left him. I undid two more buttons and let him have an unimpeded view.
‘We’ll go out. This place is cramped,’ I said. ‘When did you last see a naked women, in the flesh?’
‘Adult woman? Never in my twenty-five years.’ I tut-tutted.
‘That’s bad. Time to end the drought,’ I said and then I slowly and deliberately removed my nightie.
‘Do you like it?’
‘Wonderful; absolutely wonderful.’
‘Do you know what a pussy is like?’
‘Yes, but only pictures.’ I sat on sofa and lifted up my legs and spread them out. ‘Come closer. You can touch me.’ I offered one breast. He gently touched it. ‘Knead it,’ I said. He played with it. ‘Touch my pussy,’ I said. He rubbed it gently with his fingers. ‘You know its parts?’
‘I do auntie,’ he said somewhat to my surprise. I did not expect to be called auntie.
‘Then name them,’ I said as if I was an anatomy tutor.”
Vasu had finished oiling the scalp and back and was now on the front of her chest. He was using both hands one on each breast. They were large, and as he worked on them he produced slapping noises.
“Sundar named the major labia, as he ran his fingers over them. He did the same to the leafy inner labia and then he spread them out and placed a finger on the clitoris.
‘What do you do to the clit?’ I said.
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