My Indian Summer Pt 03

(This is a work of fiction and all characters are above the age of consent. It is a contemporary story drawing from the current situation with two characters and I attempt to alternate between their perspectives. This is a continuation of my earlier work, "My Indian Summer".

The story starts off with a young lad going to meet his newly widowed aunt who has a farm in the hills and finds himself falling in love with her. He professes his love for her and proposes too, she asks him for 10 days time to think it over, And a phone call to his mother reveals that a lockdown has been imposed as a pandemic is on the loose. Over the next few days they discover hidden facets of each other and end up in bed together as she guides him in the ways of love)

The story continues...

15 Stormy Nights.

She.

He had dropped me into the icy cold water of the stream, without so much as a warning, and as my head went under the surface, I panicked. Even though the water was hardly waist high, I was terrified as I didn't know how to swim. Somehow I managed to get my head above water, searching for something to latch on to, my hands flailing around, grasping at straws. I managed to grab hold of something, and as my nails dug in, I heard a scream. I managed to steady myself, uttering a stream of curses, as the panic subsided and anger took over.

I saw that I was holding on to his engorged pecker, now almost blue, the blood supply being drained off and deep indentations, where my nails had dug into the tender flesh. He had a pained look on his face, I don't know whether it was from seeing my state, witnessing my anger, hearing my filthy abuses, or being in great physical discomfort himself. Maybe a combination of all of these. To give him immediate relief, I let go of his dick, enclosing my arms around his thighs, and proffering an apology for my intemperance, as I panicked not knowing how to swim.

He looked genuinely contrite, saying he deserved what he got, and it was entirely his fault for letting me go without warning. He volunteered to remedy this, by teaching me how to swim at the earliest. As we dried ourselves and went within the house, I found myself strangely pensive. The dunking, and the feeling of panic it induced in me, had got me thinking.

For too long I had been running away from my fears, refusing to face up to them, as if ignoring them would make them disappear. Out of sight, does not mean out of mind, on the contrary the more you try to avoid something, the more you think of it, and the stronger you make it. There was something else which had been nagging me since the last six months, which I resolved to overcome this very afternoon.

I asked him, whether he would accompany me to a place, I didn't want to go alone. I knew that if I asked him to come with me to the ends of the earth he would, without giving it a second thought. And that with him besides me, I would be able to face up to my demons, my doubts and insecurities, that had plagued me for far too long, and emerge a stronger, better person. I hugged him tight in gratitude for acquiescing to my strange request, without bombarding me with even a single question, hoping that some of his strength and goodness would rub off on me.

As I walked down that long corridor, the feelings and memories too painful to face up to, started resurfacing, and I gripped his hand tight, almost vice like, but he didn't utter a word, just coming closer to offer me support. As we arrived at the door, I felt a strong urge to turn back and flee, to venture this far and no further. But the look of adoration with which he gazed at me, infused me with a strength I didn't know I had, I knew if I backed out now, I wouldn't be able to look myself in the face, let alone him.

Sensing my confusion and hesitation, he pushed open the doors, jammed from not being opened for months. We ventured together into that room, past a threshold that I had drawn in my mind, the shackles broken once and for all. As he cleaned the cobwebs and opened the drapes, the sunlight streamed in not only in the room but in my mind as well.

I was liberated, free at last of the last vestiges of pain. I basked in the eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, and a surge of memories came flooding back in, this time devoid of any pain, and tears of unalloyed joy streamed down my face. I felt the connection which had been broken, reestablished once more, my creative juices flowing. I had got my mojo back.

As he uncovered the treasures that lay under the sheets, he was spellbound by the talent and the creativity, that had lain hidden for so long. The sensory overdose and the wellspring of joy, that emanated from being amidst my creations again, were intoxicating. I felt the room spinning around me, only anchored by his strong presence.

He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, and my eyes glazed over with a surfeit of love that needed expression. He sneezed, from the dust floating around, and changed the mood, making it lighthearted and had me floating on cloud 9. As we uncovered the rest of the sheets, it was like meeting up with lost friends after ages.

As I got acquainted with them again, he asked me if it was all my work. I answered in the affirmative only to see him, almost worship me in obeisance, asking me what other gifts I had which were hidden from the world at large. I said I was quite bare to his gaze, and was an open book.

I felt my fingers itch to hold a brush in them. I had a eureka moment and asked him to model for me, to which he acquiesced immediately, a little uncomfortable when he heard it would be a reclining nude. I tried to put him at ease, saying that I would leave him a garment, but the scales dropped as he realized that I was only toying with him, as I wrapped a stole around his neck.

He was distinctly uncomfortable, as he lay back on the silk sheets and the bolsters, his erection at full tilt, front and center. I realized that I was witnessing a stirring in my loins too looking at him, and every now and then had to dab my thighs with a washcloth to prevent a puddle forming on the studio floor. He was squirming from one side to the next, and I had to go up to him and adjust his pose, taking the opportunity to tease him some more, as my tits dangled provocatively, nuzzling his face, and I brushed his dick with my fingers, making an undercurrent of pleasure surge through him.

I finished adjusting his pose and straightened up, deliberately giving him a view of my wet vulva, close up, and a dose of my musky aroma, as I wanted him hard and wet throughout. And it worked, as a wet spot started forming at the tip of his penis, glistening in the rays of light streaming in through the picture windows. The next couple of hours ticked by fast as I worked hard to finish up before he wilted, mixing business with pleasure, deliberately touching myself with the accompaniment of sighs and moans, whenever I felt his interest was drooping, as I concluded the still life to my satisfaction.

He was curious to view my labour of love, and I beckoned him over adding a few last minute flourishes. I didn't know quite what he would make of it, whether he would be scandalized or appreciative of my efforts. As he set his gaze on the finished canvas, he was awestruck to feast his eyes on my masterpiece. For it was a larger than life rendition of his erection, every shade and nuance perfectly captured from the pulsating veins to the wrinkles, the sunlight focussing on the mushroom tip, reflecting over a shiny layer of precum, emerging from the tip, so real that he reached out to grasp it, almost feeling it vibrate in his fingers.

He said that I had outdone myself and offered to buy it, price no bar. It was not, for sale, priceless to me, and was for my own personal pleasure, warranting a place in my boudoir. He joked about being paid his dues, as a model not wanting to model gratis for staying upright for those couple of hours was a lot of hard work. I got his drift, taking his hand and placing it on my wet pussy, stroking his raging boner, and said I would ensure that his hard work wouldn't go unrewarded, as I licked my lips suggestively, leaving no doubt as to my dishonourable intentions.

The sun was setting and the sky was filled with a multitude of shades. I dragged him out to the patio, sitting in his lap, relaxing after a satisfying and productive afternoon of work which seemed to be such a pleasure that i regretted ever setting down my brush. As the sun disappeared behind the hills, his penis started to make an appearance between my thighs, as our lips met for a long drawn out kiss.

But the rain gods didn't want us to tarry for too long, and as large drops splattered from above, we dashed inside again to avoid getting soaked to our skins. The rain was now coming down in sheets, accompanied by gale force winds, rumbles of thunder and flashes of lightning a storm wreaking havoc outside while a different kind of storm was raging on in our hearts.

We got busy during the next few minutes securing the latches on the windows, making sure that it didn't ingress in. After a quick check to make sure, we relaxed in the lounge. He spoke at length about his life dreams and aspirations, and I was touched by his simplicity and earnestness.

My heart leapt with joy on hearing him exclaim, that living on a farm was a lifelong dream, as I didn't want to tie him down in any way. He had some great ideas that we could implement in the hamlet, and the way he put them across displayed a passion for his work and a genuine desire to be of service.

It had been quite a hectic day, and I quickly rustled up a simple dinner, while he put together a salad that had me licking his fingers as he fed me. I had baked my famous apple pie for dessert, and the aroma of it was irresistible. So even though he asked for a small slice, he eventually ended up eating three, and was groaning at the end berating himself for his gluttony. I ruffled his hair, saying he was a growing lad, he needed to eat up to maintain his strength, it was a tough life working on the farm, and pleasure even tougher. I wondered why I had added that last phrase in, he grinned at my suggestion, as I bit my lip for not being prudent.

We returned upstairs, to retire to bed. At the door of my room, he hesitated, wanting to come in, but not wishing to appear too forward. I solved the dilemma for him, requesting him to sleep with me tonight, as I was frightened of the storm. What I conveniently left unsaid was that, it wasn't the turmoil outside, but the havoc that raged within, as every moment spent with him, sucked me deeper into it's grip, from which there seemed no way out.

I set the tone by humming an old favourite, as we sat in the alcove near the open window, as the wind carpeted our skin with a fine mist, "Yeh raat bheegi bheegi, yeh mast fizayen, utha dheere dheere, woh chand pyara pyara." (These wet nights, and the refreshing winds, keep us awake in the enchanting moonlight.) He replied, " Yeh raaten, yeh mausam, nadi ka kinara, yeh chanchal hawa, kaha do dilo ne, ke milkar, kabhi hum na hoge juda." (These nights, in this season, next to the riverbank and the swirling winds, two hearts merged into one never to drift apart.)

Soon we had a regular medley going back and forth, " Barsaat mein, tum se mile hum sajan wa," (In the rains we two hearts met.) "Yeh hawa, ye raat, ye chandni, teri ek ada pe nisar hain" (The wind, the night and the rain, are beholden to just one of your charms.) "Bheegi bheegi raton mein, aisa lagta hai." (In these wet nights, I feel like this.) "Jab chali thandi hawa, jab uthi kali ghata, Mujhko ae jaan-e-wafa, tum yaad aayein." (When the cool wind blew, when the dark clouds rose, that was the time, oh love of my life, I remembered you.)

As we sung the last stanza of this song, an involuntary shudder passed through my being. I grasped him close to my bosom unable to hold back any longer. The magic of the rains descended on my heart making it moist. We kissed in the moonlight, for what seemed like an eternity. He looked at me tenderly, as I led him to the bed.

I told him that his question that afternoon, had motivated me to deliver the third lecture of the series, concentrating on ways to relieve the sexual urge without resorting to intercourse. It was not just an open and shut case of wham, bam thank you mam, but getting your partner ready was just as important, if not more than the main event. It got the juices flowing, and when it happened, it was the most natural thing in the world.

I asked him to point out the signs of arousal to me . He pointed at my tits which were stiff, and at the lubrication that was flowing out of my snatch. I said that besides these obvious signs, there were others as well. I drew him closer to my mound, and I pointed out how the labia were puffy and the clitoris engorged as well. I asked him to take a deep whiff so that he could literally smell my desire, the cues were not just verbal. There were a host of others, like an increase in body temperature, a jump in the pulse and heart rate, the shallow breathing, and a heightened tactile sensitivity.

He was impressed, and really piqued his interest. I described the visual signs of arousal in a male, most noticeably the erection, and the stiffening of the nipples. I challenged him to make me cum without even touching me, using just an orchid that was in the flowerpot.

He looked nonplussed, gave it to me and said it was simply not possible. I said, "let me try, and you will see what I mean." I started by recounting my most erotic fantasy, and the things I'd like him to do to me, interjecting them with, sighs, moans and groans that got his pulse racing, a blush spreading across his features, nipples hardening, and his penis, which had almost gone to sleep, rear up against the forces of gravity.

I then used the flower to caress his body, paying particular attention to his erogenous zones, that had him leaking precum. He couldn't figure out what was happening to him, as I next traced it all over my own, emitting guttural sounds to stimulate him. I raised my full breasts to my lips, and suckled on them. I next spread my thighs and digitally stimulated myself, as he couldn't believe his eyes. I now went in for the kill, dipping the orchid within my recesses and slowly removed it. It glistened with my nectar, like morning dew. I licked my lips suggestively, darting my tongue out for just a taste of my juices, eliciting a groan that rose up deep within me.

He was now sweating profusely, as I turned up my charm, caressing him with the same flower, now slightly wet and sticky as it travelled down his body. I brought my mouth close to him, blowing out, caressing his body with my cool breath, making him shiver from the pleasure. As I reached his underarms I took in a deep whiff, moaning as I exhaled it back onto him. He was now near the edge, asking me to not torture him any more.

As the orchid traced the path from the navel to his prick, now tumescent with his juices, I stimulated the sound of an orgasm. As the flower reached the tip of his penis, my mouth hovered close, resisting the temptation to take a lick. I called his name out loud, and crated suction just above his orifice, and was met with gobs of white sticky ropes spurting out, coating my face and chest. I fell back exhausted, and badly in need of relief myself.

The experience was mind blowing, he said, looking at me with a newfound respect, not fully comprehending how I managed to make him come. He was eager to practice it with me, and soon with my constantly relayed instructions, he had me moaning, this time for real. My hips bucked up, as he caressed my body with the orchid, slowly but surely activating all my pleasure receptors.

Meanwhile, his hot breath warmed up my flesh, as my hands trembled, wishing to follow the path of the flower. He adapted his technique, intentionally bypassed all my pleasure points completely, instead focussing on the area surrounding them. He started with my face, moving the orchid down from my forehead to my eyes. As soon as he reached my nose, he bypassed the lips altogether, tracing a circle around them as they waited expectantly for a caress that never came. Similarly, when he reached my bosom, he moved the flower in concentric circles around each breast, edging in closer on each round, till he just reached the boundary of my areola, and then, nothing.

By now I had figured out what his modus operandi was, but the student had surpassed the teacher, and there was nothing I could do. I was frustrated as I got increasingly turned on, craving a touch, but none arrived. At my navel too, the same concentric circles leading nowhere, had me cursing under my breath. Now he was near my core, my whole body broke into a sweat, as the same tactics repeated again, caressing the inner thighs, not venturing past those invisible boundaries that I presumed he had drawn up.

Just when my frustration had started to peak and I seriously considered rubbing one out myself, I felt a gentle tickle on my clit, when I was least expecting it. A veritable fountain rose up from within me, in response reaching his lips nearly a foot away, surprising even myself. I had never experienced anything even remotely close to this, as a series of smaller orgasms surged through my loins, beyond my control and understanding. I just lay back, let the forces of love take over, and do their bit, enjoying the ride.

Despite the icy cold wind blowing in from the adjacent window, my whole body was afire, drenched in sweat. I felt as if I was floating out of my body, looking down on a version of myself. I let the tension drain out of me, completely relaxed. He looked towards me, seeking validation and feedback of his performance. I said that I had never even come remotely close to what I experienced now, and had a lot to learn under his tutelage. He asked my permission to drain me of my juices, and I was happy to lay back as he licked away all my nectar. I beckoned him towards me, kissing him, to taste my own juices, fermented to perfection.

As my heat dissipated, the cool wind made me shiver, and I grabbed a couple of quilts from under the bed, covering my self with them and inviting him in. He gladly accepted, and I derived much warmth and pleasure from his body as he from mine as we clung to each other tight, feeling skin on skin. I let my hand drift to his erection, stroking it casually as his pole rose vertically, tenting the quilt.

All that action had made him thirsty, even after the three servings of desert, and he shyly asked me if he could have his nightcap. My breasts were full, so I just pulled his head down towards them, as he drained them out. As I commenced my hand job on his hard on, I spread my thighs simultaneously to make room for his marauding fingers, as they flicked my clit. As we reached the peak, there was a flash of lighting, literally sparks flying everywhere and the lights went out.

I had this habit of sleeping with the lights on, and being in pitch darkness terrified me, driving me closer into his arms. He could sense my discomfort and hummed an old number, "Raat kali mere khwab me aayee, aur gale ka haar bani." (The night blossom came to me in my dream, and became the garland around my neck .) I retorted, "Raat akeli hain, Bhuj gaye diye." (The night is young and the lamps are extinguished,) and burst out laughing as I held him close to my chest.

I asked him if he wanted to spoon. The darling literally had to be spoon-fed as I guided him how to get comfortable, turning away from him, asking him to nestle close to me and wedge his prick into my butt crack whilst his hands roamed around my front. I drifted into a comfortable sleep, cosy in his arms, calm and peaceful, while the storm raged outside into the night.

16 Love is an accident waiting to happen.