My story is unique. Yes I do mean that the like of it could not have occurred before. Well, that is a bold statement. One can never be certain for however bizarre an occurrence quite often one finds that many previous examples are on record. Mine may be too but it is so unlikely that I thrust my neck out and insist that it is unique.
My name is Kamalee. I was just twenty when from very conservative rural South India I suddenly catapulted into the thick of life in the United States. It happened this way. I am from a small town a few miles from the very tip of the Indian peninsula. I belong to a well to do agricultural family. Our mother tongue is Tamil. I am the only child of my father's second wife. He married her after his first wife of 20 years died. His only child by his first wife was also a daughter. The age difference between us is 22 years. When I was 4 years old both my father and mother died within a few days of each other during an influenza epidemic. I do not have any recollection of them. My sister who was childless brought me up. I look upon her as my mother.
When I was 19 an offer for marriage came from a distant relative from a nearby town. He was Elango working as a software engineer in the US. My sister was not happy sending me away to the other side of the globe but friends and relatives assured her that it was the norm for these days. I was duly married and found myself in California. To maintain anonymity I am not naming the town we lived in or live in now. Yes, parts of my life have to be secret.
I settled down soon enough. The early days of married life were idyllic as they ought to be and it continued but with less intensity for the rest of the year. We went to India at the end of the year and there I saw my gynecologist and another specialist in a nearby city of Madurai to find out why I had not conceived. My tubes were slightly constricted but the specialist assured me that it is possible for me to conceive. She wanted me to try for another year before resorting to technology for inducing conception. We returned and resumed life which now was somewhat boring. There were not many Indian were we lived and none at all were Tamil speaking. My husband and I are vegetarians and that is the reason we do not have close friends from among the local people. It is awkward to take food with you when invited for a dinner. The alternative of returning home practically hungry was not an option either. We do not drink alcohol which makes us even more difficult as guests.
Our sex life by now had reached a low point. When he got the desire I would oblige and then we both will face away from each other and sleep. One morning I came to know that my husband was thinking of ways and means of reviving it. He had left early that day for a conference and I was doing the bed. I found a magazine placed open and face down on his pillow. This was not unusual for at times he reads in bed but what was intriguing was it was not the magazines he usually reads but a colourful one titled For Men Only. More intriguing was the marking he had done with bright red highlighter on the open page. I did the bed and then sat on the sofa to find out what it was all about.
This magazine like all men's magazines had a scantily clad girl on the cover and a frontally naked woman in the centerfold on the inside. The circled item was on the classified advt. page which in men magazine is all about man seeking the company of women. The item that had attracted the attention of my husband read as follows: 'Indian couple in the U.S. in their twenties seeks Indian couples preferable Tamil speaking for friendship and intimacy. The name they had chosen for the email was kaadhalindeepam. Very suggestive indeed for it is a Tamil word meaning love's flame. It appeared as if they wanted to let the readers know their definition of intimacy. I decided to broach the topic when my husband returns and see his reaction.
That my husband should even be thinking of intimacy with couples calling themselves 'Love's Flame' amused me greatly. Was I amused or was I excited? Amused no doubt but excited too. I analyzed myself and came to the sobering conclusion that like my husband I was not averse to sexual adventure. For a married young woman from a very conservative culture to get excited about meeting another couple with the intent of intimacy may seem strange. It is not. All men think of some woman other than their wives in their sexual fantasies. Women do too. No man maybe other than during the early days of the honeymoon has a picture of his wife when he is working up to a climax. Women again are no different.
I could feel my body tingling. I usually dress up for the evening but this day I took extra care to make myself sexually attractive. I wore a low necked blouse with no bra and slung a soft sari as low down on the waist as was conveniently possible. I did not wear a skirt. I was already feeling moistness about the vulva. I needed an orgasm. Like all married women I know how to get it when I want it.
Even after five years four of which he spent in the cold Northern parts of the US Elango still followed the evening bath habit that is the rule in hot, humid, and sweaty South India. After parking the car he usually went for a change and bath and came for tiffin and coffee in fresh crisp loose shirt called jibba and dhoti. He did so that day also. He saw me and gave a wolf whistle.
"What's happening," he said. With a loop of the forefinger and a tilt of the head I indicated that I'll tell him after tiffin. In the best Tamil tradition I served hot vadai with coconut chutney followed by Madras filter coffee. He ate with deep concentration as he usually does. After that we moved to the sofa. Lying prominently on the table was the latest issue of For Men Only. He looked at the magazine and then slowly turned and looked at me. I smiled so broadly that I could have cracked my cheeks.
"That I should have driven you to seek the sight of nude women in magazines makes me feel guilty of not doing my duties as a wife," I said and as I spoke I allowed the pallav of the sari to drop. I had already unbuttoned the blouse which was now wide open with my breasts of which I was proud in full display. My sari unloosened and dropped. I stood before him smiling and unashamed. He dropped on his knees and buried his head in my vulva. I kneaded his scalp with the fingertips of one hand and holding the arm rests of the sofa with the other I gently let myself down.
I was now lying on the carpet with my thighs spread out. Soon I was convulsed with orgasm. Holding him by his arm pits I drew him up. I caught hold of his enraged penis and inserted it into my vagina. It did not take us long to climax. He ejaculated at the very moment I was shaking with orgasm. We rested with his body still on mine.
"Hope we have not stained the carpet," he said after a while.
"Hope we have," I said. "When Love's Flame visits us it would be an excellent conversation starter."
"So you know. What do you think of it?"
"Even if nothing else happens," I said "we will get to know a Tamil speaking couple."
"If something else happens?"
"If we are together in it what is there to bother." When this conversation was taking place the tip of Elango's shriveled penis was still between the lips of my vulva resting at the opening of my vagina. The decision was made that auspiciously.
2
We were back to honeymoon intensity for the week. If the mere possibility of sexual adventure can bring on such a quantum change what would be the result when we are in the thick of it.
Love's Flames were quick with their replies. They give us the choice of three towns for the first encounter. They were all car driving distances from where we stay. They were living close by. Maybe they are our neighbours; an interesting thought. One Saturday morning we were off ready for adventure. I was excited but surprisingly not one bit nervous.
My heart rate quickened as we parked the car and made for the hotel lounge where they were waiting. The two Indians were so distinctive in a place full of Caucasians that we did not have to search for a lady in a purple top. We liked each other at first sight. Suma and Damu were from a place at the other end of the State of Tamilnadu from where we came. Suma was about my height and build but about a year older. She could easily pass for my elder sister. Damu was Elango's age but leaner and an inch taller. Like Elango he was also a software engineer and like me Suma was a full time home maker. They were childless too.
It was not long before we were chatting like longtime friends. Our tastes in movies, Hollywood, Bollywood (Hindi movies), Kollywood (Tamil movies), music and politics were similar. In a short while we became close friends. We had lunch and went round the big shopping mall the town was famous for and after tea we parted. We were to meet the Saturday after next in an amusement park equidistant from our homes.
"You like him," Elango asked me when we were on the highway.
"I do," I said, "and do you like Suma?
"I do," he said, "I got the feeling that there was something that made them take what to South Indians must be a very unusual step of seeking intimacy from other couples. Swinging is unknown in our parts." For the first time the term swinging appeared in our conversation.
"I also got the feeling they were having a problem. As for swinging it is true that as a life style it is quite unknown where we come from but I am sure quite a lot of swinging action is taking place unofficially there. After all we are the Kama Sudra people."
Two days later one morning I was relaxing after Elango had left for work when I had a call from Suma. She told me about her family back home and her life here. Hers was an arranged match too and her first experience like mine was after the wedding, which among the middle classes in India is the norm (in those days anyway). Her childlessness was bothering her more than it did me because guilt feelings that at times make her quite miserable are added on. She conceived a month after her marriage and not wanting motherhood so early she had an abortion. Blocked tubes resulted from a complication of it. But she had a greater problem.
"I never had an orgasm worth mentioning," she said, "not what can be called an orgasm. Some nerve tingling that's all. Even while masturbating it is not much. What about you?" I told her that it took a while for me to experience it.
"Suma, could we speak frankly about sex?" I said.
"Of course," she with vehemence, "the whole point of our getting to know each other is that. As frankly and bluntly as needed. Even using the four letter word but not casually. We would use it only on important occasions. When we use that word it must hit us with its force."
"Agreed," I said, "especially about the four letter word. As for orgasm I got my first orgasm when Elango licked me. Does your husband lick you?"
"He does but I have never got it. Maybe something is missing in his technique. I hope that there is nothing wrong with the way my nerves are wired." We lingered long in this subject and then we talked of other things. The call lasted an hour and a half.
2
The amusement park that we visited was a large one with rides of all types. There were five different roller coasters that addicts could enjoy to their heart's content. For water enthusiasts there were water rides aplenty, and of course the merry-go-rounds and the shows common to amusement parks. The men joined the long line for tickets and Suma and I found seats in a shady corner.
"I do not go anywhere near roller coasters," I said. "You?'
"I love them. The way to go is scream till you become hoarse. Damu doesn't like it either."
