My name is Aditi, except my daddy everyone else calls me Adi. I am nine months pregnant. The doctors say that I will deliver my boy any day. Yes I know... they told me it is a boy.
Damn this pregnancy, I am convinced that it will kill me. I became so huge that everyone said I was going to have twins but the doctors established that it was only a boy thank God for that.
A month back I had some spotting and was rushed to the hospital. After ten days the doctors sent me home, though I was still feeling miserable, to die. They insisted that I am okay and advised me complete bed rest. You know how these doctors are nowadays you can't believe them anymore.
Let me tell you something in confidence, they prefer that their patients die at home rather than in the hospital because nobody would know that they have lost a patient or two. This is how they maintain their reputation.
Omigosh! I am bored to death. I have no one to keep me company except for the idiot box and this computer. Even the stupid cable guy is conspiring against me. He has stopped showing the programs I like. Probably he also knows that I am going to die. I have four maids but now when I need them they are not here.
Ouch! The little rascal is kicking me. Akaash (I have already named him. Akaash means sky. I hope you like the name? If not who cares) is impatient to see the world and why not after all it is a man's world. He would in all probability want to meet his parents also. This is where my problem starts because I myself don't know who his real father is.
No, no it is not what you are thinking. I am happily married and have been since over a year. When I conceived him four virile young men, including my husband, were fucking me day and night for two weeks. Confusing isn't it?
Before my end comes let me try and explain how all this came about. Perry Mason always advises his clients that the best way to narrate a story is to start from the beginning but I am not going to do that just because some stupid lawyer said so.
Let me tell you what I will do. I will begin from a year after, then go back to the beginning and then proceed from where I left off. Got it? I suppose not. Let me explain...omigosh even I find it confusing.
Best is, I start writing; you just sit back and try to make some sense out of it. Agreed?
Good! Tighten your seat belt; we are ready to take off.
Few years ago on a cold January afternoon Sarita and I were sitting in my room. She was checking her e-mail and I was glancing through a fashion magazine.
Sarit and I loved surfing. Together we surfed the net for hours. We loved visiting pornographic sites specially the ones that showed naked men. We looked at the huge cocks and discussed as to how it would feel to have one of those big ones up our cunts.
We also frequented many chat rooms. Chatting with people using false identities. To get cheap thrills we enjoyed using vulgar words, which we couldn't do in our daily life. We also got in the habit of using these words when we were alone.
Sarit was a member of many sites, which posted erotic stories. Some of them even sent them in her mail. We would read the erotic stories together, get horny and masturbate like hell.
'Adi come let us surf the net' Sarit asked me.
'You go ahead I am not in the mood' I replied, 'besides I must return this magazine to the library later this evening'.
'Okay if that is what you want' Sarit replied making a face.
This is how it happened that she was checking her mail and I was reading a magazine.
'Adi have you read this story?' Sarit asked me.
'No what is it about?' I asked absentmindedly.
'It is about a young girl who was deflowered by her jija (Brother in law - sister's husband)' Sarit giggled.
'Hmm' I responded without looking up from my magazine.
'Look, here is a story written by a boy about how he fucked his sister's best friend on Holi' she said.
(Holi is an important Hindu festival. In the west Holi is better known as the Festival of Colors. On Holi people visit friends and relatives, put dry color and colored water on each other. It is celebrated in spring each year. Many believe it heralds the onset of summer)'
'So' I replied still engrossed in my magazine.
'Adi you are not paying attention' she said snatching the magazine.
'Of course I am listening to you' I replied retrieving my magazine.
'Okay tell me what I said?' she asked. The truth was that I had not heard a word. Sarit's favorite topics were boys and sex so I took an educated guess.
'You said something about a boy fucking a girl' I replied hoping to score a bull's eye.
'No I did not' she complained, 'I told you, 'you were not listening'.
'Sorry Sarit tell me again' I said closing the magazine, 'I'm all ears'. She repeated what she had said.
'Why are you telling me all this?' I asked puzzled.
'Kyonki meri pyaari Adi teri choot bhi tau tere jiju ne Holi a mauke pe phardi thi (Because, my dear Adi, your jiju (Jija = jiju = sister's husband) also deflowered you on the occasion of Holi' she said giggling.
'Why this sudden interest in what jiju and I did last Holi' I inquired raising one eyebrow.
'Don't you understand your story has both the ingredients first saali (wife's sister) -jija angle and the festival of Holi. You should also write your story and post it on the net' Sarit suggested.
'Hai nahin! Main sharam se mar jauingi (Omigosh no! I will die of shame)' I replied blushing.
