Across Rooftops The Initiation

Sheila smiled inwardly. She was smiling because unknown to Sham, he had called on her at the quietest time in her house. It had meant things in the past – a male interlude at the quiet time. But that was a different world.

She had been pleasuring herself on her private garden on the rooftop. Unknown to her, a nineteen year old in the neighbourhood had spotted and watched in fascination as she used the water hose and her hands to caress herself.

Mad with lust at that sight, Sham had gone to his room and masturbated furiously. Unsatiated even though he had cum, he quickly made a plan to acquaint himself with the lady he had spotted. And here he was at her doorstep.

"Yes?" she asked looking at young man and taking quick note of his sturdy physique. She vaguely remembered having seen him in the neighbourhood. But suddenly, the seductress of some experience knew that she was looking at something different. No matter what his reply might be, she instantly knew that there was something else on here. It seemed to her like lust, but she could not be sure. Was it her lack of undergarments? She quickly glanced down at her breasts to see if her nipples were well and truly tamed. Nothing seemed obvious and the intricate black pattern on the white background should be good at hiding any folds or creases.

She looked back up at the young man at her doorstep.

"Aunty," he blurted, "I also want to start a nice garden like you have on your roof. Can you give me some advice?"

"Where do you live and what makes you think I can help?" she asked.

"We live just in the next street and I have seen the plants around your house. My mother said to ask you how to go about it," he said, trying to hide his nervousness. Beads of sweat had broken out on his upper lip.

She noticed it. It could have been nervousness but she now remembered this boy cycling around the block on his sports bike; it could also be physical exertion. The idea of a young male in physical exertion caused her body to twitch.

"Your mother? What's her name?" she asked, now seriously thinking of undergarments, as her nipples showed signs of springing to life.

"Mrs. Sundar, aunty," he replied breathlessly, wondering whether this aunty was going to check with his mom. "We live in C -104," he added, to reassure that he was really from around here.

"Come in," said Sheila. She was going to have to make him sit down and wait while she changed into proper clothes. Her body was not in control despite the wonderful release she had just a little while ago. And this was a small community and neighbourhood. She would just have to keep herself in check.

Sham sat on the sofa and watched as the aunty moved up stairs. His eyes were on her ass which swayed bewitchingly as Sheila moved upstairs. When she came down she was wearing a saree and it was tied under her navel, which is how she always tied it. The boy watched the flesh of her stomach and his eyes roamed up to her breasts. He tried to think of how she had looked massaging her own breasts. Her lips looked so luscious, even though her mouth was so wide, it stopped short being a bit too wide.

"Come," she called him, startling him out of his reverie.

"Huh!" he replied dumbly, eyes fixated on her breasts.

"You wanted to see my garden," she said, her eyes sparkling with laughter as she noted where his eyes were. She did not bother to pull the saree top to cover her breasts from his gaze as most Indian women are wont to do. She had, since the beginning of her womanhood, enjoyed it when a man gazed at her appreciatively, and she was not about to change now.

"Yes aunty," he gushed, completely captivated by those lustrous eyes. She was a goddess!

"Come," she beckoned, walking ahead of him to the second floor. She entered her living area on that floor, which included her bed. The young man hesitated.

"Just come," she urged him. "There is only one way to access the terrace," she told him. Sham followed, his eyes drifting to the saree which Sheila had now kicked aside into a heap. "That was the one she was wearing!" he thought dizzily. Sheila noticed him looking at the heap of clothes and instantly thought it was her bra which had caught his attention. "Typical young male!" she thought to herself.

"See, this is my little garden," she invited him, walking over the patch where she lain supine just a while ago, in a post-orgasmic trance. Then the thought struck her. "How could you know this garden existed?" she asked turning suddenly. Sham had been following her and when she turned suddenly abruptly found himself face to face, very close, to this woman.

"I live there," he pointed to towards the tank of his house which he could now see. It seemed remarkably close from here and he thought himself lucky at not being found out.

"Where?" asked Sheila, peering.

"That one, the pale blue tank," replied Sham, not realising that he was giving away his activities of the past hour or so.

Realisation dawned on Sheila. From that tank if he could see her garden he must have also seen her. She smiled to herself. She turned back to Sham and asked, "Is that all you saw?"

Sham turned a deep shade of beet red. He felt his ears burning. "Yes aunty," he lied, completely unconvincing, his head down.

She lifted his chin and said, "Look at me when I am talking to you," her eyes dancing once again, amused at his embarrassment. She knew in one instant that he seen a lot more of her than she had intended. She was glad she dressed completely before bringing him up. She reflected on that moment when she had hefted her breasts into the bra cups, lightly stroking her nipples as she had done so. Right now, wearing a caftan, her nipples would have jutted out like beacons to his attention. "Yes aunty," murmured Sham, the complete picture of obedience now.

"It is not about gardening, is it?" she asked. Her eyes wandered on his broad chest as she imagined her long fingernails dragging on his virgin flesh.

"It is," he replied in a choked voice.

"Come in," said Sheila, not one bit fooled. She was not going to waste her time explaining plants and shrubs when all his young hormones were interested in was her body. Never one to look down upon lust as a feeling, Sheila accepted that if this boy had seen her in that state, unbridled lust was a natural outcome. And she had never been apologetic about lust, either her's or that of her lover of the moment.

A low, steady fire lit up in her inside as she felt the attentions of a young man after a long, long time. For a woman who whetted her sexual appetite fully, every day of the year for over twenty years now, two years in the new format qualified as terribly long.

The reason for the long gap was the need for absolute discretion. She was a little unsure on how that could be achieved with this young man now in her bedroom. But she found herself thinking of the need for a solution. It was a first for her after she had moved into this new lifestyle. She had sworn to avoid exposing her children to any of this. Now she found herself working out methods to have her way and preserve discretion.

She noted the large bulge in his jeans and felt the thrill of discovery and conquest anew. It was a process she had been through quite a few times before and she knew the satisfaction it brought. The fire in her loins was now a raging blaze.

"Let's sit here and talk," she said in a relaxed, unhurried voice. It came to her instinctively. No matter how volatile she was on the inside it never intruded on her social skills. At many parties on many nights she had gone through the entire motions of playing hostess perfectly, even as her panties had become a wet, soppy mess thinking of a rendezvous in the offing.

She sat him on a divan along one wall as she sank into her favourite beanbag. She thought of other times when she had sat in exactly this spot but with legs spread apart – one on this table here and the other there on that bed. She knew she could not do that with this guy; too young, too inexperienced, it would probably startle him.

Instead, she just clasped her hands behind her head and looked at him. The pose lifted her breasts and held them up high at him, leaving her body open and vulnerable to his all-consuming gaze. He gulped, his throat completely dry. He saw the saree bunched and run along her cleavage while on either side the cloth proved inadequate to cover her breasts. Half of each breast, large mounds, was open to his gaze and what lay beneath the cloth in the centre heaved with her every breath. Her knees were akimbo and her legs were spread apart. But because a saree is wound around the body and the hem is low at the ankle, nothing was exposed to Sham.

But she felt open and she liked it that way.

"So, what did you see?" she asked him.

"The garden," he insisted.

"And me in that garden?" she asked.

Sham felt his face suffused with heat and pent up emotion. He could not talk.

"What is your name?" she asked, feeling a bit sorry for him. Poor chap was feeling terrible only because social mores held that such feelings of lust were inappropriate. "Rubbish," she thought to herself for the millionth time in her life. This was nature at work.

"Sham," he whispered.

"So, Sham. Did you see me in my garden?" she persisted.

"Yes," he nodded.

"Was that just now? A little while ago?" she asked. He again nodded in the affirmative. That established the facts. Without him having to spell it out, she knew that he had seen her pleasuring herself with the hose and her hand.

"So what brought you here? What did you come here for?" she asked moving to the next step of laying out the situation.

"To see you," he blurted out.

Sheila relaxed completely now. She had made him open up adequately and from here she knew exactly what was going to happen.

"Does anyone know that you have come here to see me?" she asked. He shook his head to indicate 'no'.

"Your mother?" she ventured. Again no.

"And will anyone come to know?" she asked, indirectly seeking assurance. He stared at her not knowing the import of this question.

"Sham," she said softly, "You can see me and talk to me and be here, so long as no one knows and no one comes to know."

"Surely, aunty" blurted out Sham, his volume rising as he felt a burden lift from his shoulder.

"Promise?" she pushed him. "Because if you promise me that, I can be free with you."

What did that mean? His ears buzzed as he felt blood rushing in him. "Promise aunty!" he exclaimed.

"Good. What did you want to see me about?" asked Sheila stretching her legs out and bringing her toes tantalizingly close to his legs. He simply gawked back at her.

"Or was it that you wanted to see me? About nothing. Just see me?" she said mischievously, laughter in her voice.

Silence. Awkward silence from him. For her it was a silence loaded with possibility. Sheila seized the moment.

She wiggled her bottom out of the beanbag and got onto her knees. She was now in front of him as he sat on the divan and she was kneeling in front. As he looked down on her, the saree was an irritating obstruction, obscuring her cleavage and bulging breasts from his view. In front of her face was the dangerously large bulge in his jeans.

Sheila felt her throat dry even as the channel between her legs turned slick. She had been without this too long and now she was nearing the point of no return. A little more, and all her resolve of the last few years was about to go up in the smoke of her pent up lust. It was just that first move, for both him and for her. For her, it was to know that she could control this situation while indulging herself. And from him she knew she could not expect control. He would be quick at first and that would hardly meet her needs. But she had all the time. If it worked, she could have him again and that second, third and later rounds would probably do the trick.

Between the two of them, she knew that it was up to her. The boy had walked up to her house; an act of courage in itself. It was time for to reward his courage. "And perhaps reward my own self-control," she thought as she moved on her knees to between his legs.

She held his face in her hands. "You can see as much of me as you want. But no one must know anything of it. Understood?" she murmured, her voice at its seductive best as she looked deep into his eyes. His face was burning in her hands and his erection was impossibly painful.

He nodded. Her hand moved to his shoulders and she quietly appreciated the strong, young man.

"What do you want to see?" she asked. He said nothing, but his eyes gave it away as he glanced down at her breasts.

She slowly slid the saree top off her shoulder and it dropped down. Her blouse was now exposed to his eyes. Her breasts felt as hopelessly constricted in the bra she had so carefully worn. They seemed to have swollen under his gaze and she was uncomfortable. Uncomfortable with the tightness in her chest and uncomfortable that they were restrained.

"Is that enough?" she asked impishly, her fingers toying with the top hook. She undid the first and the breasts bulged out, pushing apart the blouse. Sheila ran her fingers on her own flesh, lightly touching herself but for his benefit. Sham's eyes bulged out as he drank in the intoxicating sight at such close quarters. "Your first time, isn't it?" she whispered. He nodded.

"I am talking about seeing a woman's breasts," she said softly, teasing him in her usual understated manner. The second hook snapped open and more of the breasts pushed out, releasing the pressure in her chest. The remaining two hooks would bring her no relief, and opening them would bring him more tension as the objects of his desire came out into the open.

Sheila unhooked her front-opening bra now, letting both blouse and bra hang open and loose. Large, dusky brown breasts tumbled out and stood, holding their own. Her nipples partly obscured, were longish thumbs of flesh, quivering and erect. Sheila looked at his intense concentration. She took his hands in her own hands and brought them to her breasts. He tried to grab at her but she asked him to leave his hands and fingers in her control.

"Let me teach you how," she murmured. "There is no hurry and you will have as much of this as you want today," she assured him, hoping to control his haste. Sham was wild with desire and bending his elbow pressed his penis downward from some immediate relief. She noticed and smiled.

She pulled his hands to her breasts and taught him to lift the volume of flesh ever so gently. His fingers were snared in her fingers. She weighed herself, feeling the volume and letting him feel her at the same time. Fingers found his fingers and brought them to pull at her nipples. Sheila stared down as she manipulated her own breasts, using his fingers as probes. Her mouth was hanging open as her own desires built up. She was terribly unsure if she could continue to be measured and methodical in tutoring him. Her own needs seemed to have soared to uncontrollable heights.

Sham was fascinated by how they felt; full and delectable. His fingers moved on the nipples in the gentle manner she had initiated. He wanted to hold them more closely when she whispered to him to once again let go.

He let his fingers go limp and she dragged them back and forth on her breasts luxuriating in the touch of a man's hands at long last. She shuddered as tremors of pleasure commenced. Sheila now let him play on her breasts for himself and turned her attention to him. He was wearing only a light cotton shirt and her hands roamed the broad chest. Quickly her fingers noticed the nipples, small stubs and few wisps of hair. Her hands trembled as she undid the first two buttons and she cried out a small cry as Sham pinched her nipple.

"Sorry, aunty" apologised Sham. She shook her head, unable to speak from her arousal. She pulled at his shirt, buttons popping in the process. She put her arms around him and buried her face in his chest, smooth with just a few wisps of hair on it. It felt and good, his body. And Sham felt those incredible breasts cushiony on his torso as she clung to him.

He kissed the top of her head as she nibbled at his nipples. She kissed him several times on his chest from one nipple to another and then back and everything in between, asking, "Do you want to see more of aunty?" Each word was punctuated with a sucking kiss on his chest.

He clung to her, his hands roaming her back, encouraging her to continue kissing him. Roughly, all at once, he sought to push her head lower, to kiss him on the torso, maybe lower. She obliged, making him wet with her kisses and filling the room with sucking and slurping noises as she kissed him everywhere.

Sham thrust his hips upward and his head back hoping she would touch his penis and give it some relief from its tortured imprisonment. Sheila looked up at the body flung back. She placed her palm on the middle of his chest and gently pushed him down, flat on his back on the divan. She unbuttoned the jeans and Sham hastily raised his hips to help her pull it off. She pulled both jeans and jocks in one motion, the specimen of manhood springing to attention.

Sheila's eyes focused on it. Sham was looking down at himself and at the woman hovering between his legs. She looked beyond the throbbing, waving monster and their eyes met. Sheila's mouth was hanging open. She touched him lightly with her fingernails, long and well manicured. The penis leapt in acknowledgement. She grabbed at the flailing member and brought her lips to kiss at it. She smelt the stale odour of his dried semen.

"You just masturbated, didn't you?" she asked matter-of-factly. He nodded dumbly, wondering if this signalled the end. She must feel insulted or upset he thought.

"You imagined you were fucking me?" she asked, her mouth still hovering around the jerking flesh, stealing kisses at it. It was not a pleasant odour but then Sheila knew more about how nothing mattered in moments of lust. She looked up at the boy for an answer.

"No," he replied weakly.

"Then? Then what were you thinking of?" she asked.

"I replayed how you looked when you were playing with the hose," he confessed.

Sheila looked at him, taking her eyes off his penis. Now he was opening up to her on how he had seen her. She knew that in a while, this shy, inhibited, young man could well be calling her names and doing things to her that defied description in acceptable language. Sex, the great leveller. Once unleashed nothing was taboo.

Making on 'O' of her wide lips, Sheila sucked in just the top, the head of his penis and like a lick of an ice-cream scoop proceeded to take a dollop of his precum. She moved up, dragging her lips on his groin, smearing the fluid she had on her lips on his body. She knew it to be a necessary sexual act that a male would love but she often found semen to be brackish or overly salty or pungent. The man's reaction was worth the effort but not for the taste.

She wiggled her way up and now sat astride him, his penis just ahead of her pussy.

"I am flattered you could not control yourself thinking of me," she said, looking down at him as his eyes darted from her face to her breasts and back. And forth. Again and again. She was looking resplendent and her mouth was wet. She had a large vermilion red dot on her forehead. Her hair was around her face, long, messed up and making her look ravishing. Her blouse and bra hung open and there were those breasts he wanted to feed on.

As she wiggled forward they jiggled and bounced. He really wanted to touch and feel them. Suck and bite on them. But also her lips. Her cheeks.

But she was the one in charge and that is how Sheila liked it. She unwound the saree from around her hips and discarded it. She undid the cord of her petticoat, her eyes all the time on the boy lying under her. He was clutching the sheets in his fist. She was doing everything and he seemed closer and closer to his goal of experiencing a woman fully. He wanted to make no mistake in his moves. It was only when she reached for his hands and brought them to her breasts that he kneaded them. He was gentle and squeezed them like he was milking them as he had taught her before.