we take everything we have for granted and hardly value them. Only those who are totally deprived of a thing can tell us about its true value
I am Mohan, a twenty four year old graduate engineer. I am indeed a lucky guy who had everything easy so far in my life – loving, caring, upper middle class parents, a very dear younger sister and the best of education. God has been kind by providing me with above average intelligence and reasonable good looks and physique.
To top it all, I just got a good job with a very good multinational company. The only hitch was the job was in a city located about 800kms away. My family was very unhappy to let me go but as the offer was a very good one and I was very keen, everyone agreed that it was in my best interest to take up the job.
Thus I arrived one fine day in the city of my employment. Luckily for me my mother's own youngest sister Sumana and her husband Venkat lived in that city for long and they received me as I arrived in the new place by train.
Uncle Venkat was a Senior Finance Director with a good Indian company and was around forty years of age. He was a nice person, of average looks, not very talkative but quite successful in his career. Aunt Sumana was thirty five year old with average looks. At the first look, one would call her a plain Jane. She was on the shorter side (around 5'2"), just fair and slim with no outstanding features. But she had a dazzling smile and a very kind and humane nature. They complimented well with each other.
They were a nice and popular couple. The only thing missing in their lives was they were childless even after ten years of marriage. As the years went by aunt's desire to have a child increased exponentially. She had turned increasingly religious performing poojas and patronizing Swamis but her desire was yet to be fulfilled. I often heard my mother and other elders saying that it was time aunt adopted a child.
Aunt and Uncle insisted that I stay with them as there was no dearth of accommodation in their large and independent house. I politely declined citing the long distance I would have to commute (my factory was some 30kms away) and the time required for that daily travel. They agreed with the logic of my argument and I choose to be a paying guest with a Telugu family that lived close to my factory. However, I promised uncle and aunty that I would visit them often during the weekends.
Every alternate week end I visited them. I arrived on a Friday night and went back on Sunday evening. Aunt would cook special dishes for me and I would stuff myself with all that rich food. Often we would go and see a movie or a play or a musical program. They both were very nice to me and provided me with all the comforts of their nice home. My mom was happy too that I was spending good quality time with her own sister. In short, all was well.
Early in the evening every Saturday Sumana aunty performed a special pooja (prayer). It lasted about an hour and some of the neighboring ladies attended the end of the pooja when 'aarti' was given. When aunty was busy with the pooja, I took care of answering the door bell or phone or other chores, as required. The objective of the pooja, obviously, was to seek God's blessings for a child. Well, faith is one's own personal business and everyone is entitled to his / her own pursuit of faith.
When I saw her perform that pooja the first time, I was stuck by the devotion with which she did that. First she would take a bath and then without drying her body or hair she would drape herself completely in a cotton sari and apply a big vermilion mark on her forehead. In that condition she would light the various oil lamps, sit in front of the deities cross legged and chant the 'mantras' of the pooja with her eyes closed, in a trance like state.
Though a believer in God, I was skeptical about religious orthodoxy and poojas to please gods to obtain favors. However, I respect everyone's right to practice what they believe in, as long as it doesn't inconvenience or hurt others. So, when aunty performed her pooja, I helped her any way I could, without getting involved in the process. Uncle was never at home when she performed that pooja because he was busy working at that hour.
Thus one Saturday evening aunty started performing her pooja. There was a light drizzle outside and none of the neighbors turned up yet. For want of anything better to do, I walked into the room where she was performing pooja, sat on a mat close by and started watching her. Her chanting of the mantras had a musical quality and it felt good just listening to her, though I didn't understand much of it.
It was then that my brain registered that I was looking at aunt Sumana who was draped in a pale yellow wet cotton sari. It was also the first time I looked at my aunty not as aunty but as a woman. The wet sari clung to her slender frame and showed its various features in vivid detail.
Her hair which was very wet was jet black in color and long, almost touching her waist. Her palms were together in a
namskar
gesture and because of this, her hands and forearms were uncovered. Her hands were shapely, her fingers long and tapering nicely and her nails painted light pink. Her forearms were very slender and smooth.
As the sari was hugging her chest tightly I could discern her small, perky breasts and the wet sari revealed the small tips of her nipples. I found that view of her tits quite erotic and suddenly her tits appeared sexy to me. I could also see where the sari clung to her waist and I could make out that her waist was very slender and imparted her much younger look.
As she was sitting cross legged on the floor, I could see through the wet sari her small buttocks which however were perfectly shaped and the promise of a very tight ass. Her thighs were slender too and looked quite shapely through the wet sari. I could clearly see the skin of the thighs at one or two places where only a single layer of the wet sari covered them. It was quite a sexy sight – more so for a sex starved twenty four year old guy like me.
My erotic thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the call bell ringing. A couple of neighbors arrived and I kept away from the pooja room for the rest of the evening. I felt guilty at my earlier erotic thoughts. I cursed myself for such thoughts about Sumana aunty who is my mother's own sister. This was totally wrong and nothing short of incest!! I better not repeat it, I told myself, sternly.
When the pooja was over and the aarti was completed, all the guests had left. Aunty went up to her room and the phone rang. I picked up and it was uncle on the line. He said that he would be delayed and it might be Nine by the time he returned home and wanted me to inform aunty. I said I would do so. After he disconnected I walked up to aunt's room. The door was ajar and something made me pause.
I looked through the small crack of opening. Aunty was standing in front of her dresser and was in the process of removing the wet cotton sari. The dresser was located along a wall that was perpendicular to the door, so I got a side view. Her chest was already uncovered and her small perky boobs were clearly visible along with their cute, pinkish brown nipples. Tight and compact, they looked extremely sexy to me.
As the sari dropped at her feet, she was visible to me in all her naked glory. Her skin looked smooth; blemish less and no unwanted hair anywhere. From the side, her small buttocks looked very well rounded and absolutely tight. Her thighs looked slender, smooth and well toned. Her legs were slender and attractive and her feet small and shapely. I took all this in a few seconds as she quickly put on white panties and a white bra. As she started putting on her blouse, I left quietly.
I was shaking like a leaf. I ran to my room and shut the door behind me. I realized that I had a raging hard on. I had seen my quota of nude women pictures and even a few blue movies / videos. But this was the first time that I saw a woman totally naked in flesh and blood. The fact that she was someone known and close to me...my mom's own sister, somehow made it even more exciting.
I went to the bath room and shut the door behind me. I stood in front of the commode and pulled out my hard dick. Closing my eyes, I recalled in vivid detail Sumana aunty's perky boobs, tight ass, small buttocks and her slender thighs and masturbated. I ejaculated in big spurts and as I cummed, I thought of Sumana aunty under me and receiving that cum into her tight pussy.
Over the next two weeks my lust for Sumana aunty increased many fold. Every night I would shag thinking of her naked body in my arms and the things I would do to her. I was perplexed by the way this lust increased day by day instead of reducing. A bit of soul searching made it clear that it might be due to our relationship, at least partly.
the idea of having sex with my mom's own sister was exciting indeed
My own feelings not withstanding I knew it was a real challenge. Aunt Sumana was a conservative and religious person and a woman well respected by one and all. The idea of sex outside her marriage would never occur to her. If she or uncle or even my mom would ever come to know about my evil thoughts, they would just kill me; I was sure.
So the challenge was to slowly convert aunty and win her over to my way of thinking. Sex with her should be consensual and not otherwise. To convert her, firstly I should get to know her better, understand her likes, dislikes and needs. I would then have to start winning her over, step by step. I was excited by this challenge and decided to give it my best. The prize if I succeeded, of course, was Sumana aunty herself!
When I next visited them, I started spending more time with aunty talking to her. On a Saturday she went out for an hour during the day for some shopping and I was alone at home. It occurred to me that if I looked around her room, I might find some clues to her personality. Sumana aunty had a room of her own apart from their master bed room.
I first checked the master bed room. It contained mostly his things and hardly anything of hers. What struck me as very odd were the two single beds a few feet apart from each other rather than one big double bed one would expect. So they didn't sleep together any longer, did they? Well! Well! Well! That was interesting, I thought.
I went to her room hoping to find something personal about her. Everything was neat and orderly in her room showing that she was a methodical person. I opened her wardrobe and found her clothing arranged neatly in different racks. I looked around and selected the racks containing her saris for my first search. I was looking for some personal diary like document. I was careful not to disturb the folds or the order of the saris.
I was not disappointed. I soon found a hard covered, bound note book and when I opened it randomly found diary like jottings. I looked at the last entry. It was dated over a month ago. Obviously, she doesn't write daily, but at random. I decided to read it completely that night and replace it next day. There was a small risk that she would look for it that day but the chances were very small and I should risk it, I said to myself.
That evening I hoped to see aunty naked again while she changed her dress after pooja. I was however disappointed because the door to her room was not ajar this time. I dared not push it to open while she changed, without first knocking at the door.
That night, in the privacy of my room, I read her diary from the beginning. The first entry was made about five years ago. As I read page after page, entry after entry, I realized how true the adage that truth is stranger than fiction is.
They loved each other very much and had a normal marital life. Five years ago they got themselves tested. Everything was fine with aunty and her child bearing capabilities. The problem was with uncle and his sperm count; that was low. The doctors they consulted differed in their opinions. Some said he could still impregnate her and others said the chances are less.
Around this time aunty turned to faith and religion, praying for divine intervention. Uncle just allowed the matter to drift while focusing more on his career and earning more and more success and money there and showering aunty with lots of gifts like expensive jewelry. What was of particular interest to me was, during this period his performance in bed decreased progressively. Aunty wrote that love making was becoming less frequent and even when that happened he hardly lasted a few minutes and ejaculated weakly even before she got properly excited.
