index


Message-ID: <29971asstr$987923402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Sharmila Sanyal" <anu_g42@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} RV: My Story (Part 18) by Sharmila Sanyal
Date: Sun, 22 Apr 2001 03:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d



_________________________________________________________________
Get your FREE download of MSN Explorer at http://explorer.msn.com


<1st attachment, "Mysto18r.txt" begin>

I am immensely grateful for the encouragement, critique and
corrections I receive from the readers. Take, for example,
my naive hypothesis about the cliched reference to 'Gouri
Sen'. Well, as pointed out by one of the readers, I was
utterly ignorant about the origin of the phrase that I
myself have used so often. One of the more informed readers
has pointed out that, at the turn of the last century, there
indeed lived a wealthy and over-zealous philanthropic
'landlord' in Kolkata (erstwhile Calcutta), so named, who
could not turn away anybody in need. Thereof was coined the
popular locution: "Need money? There's always Gouri Sen!"
(loosely translated). Of course, since presently I am not
privy to a comprehensive history of the city , I will accept
this legend at its face value.
Furthermore, this revision is a direct result of a quick
feedback from my unofficial - but indispensible - proof-
reader/editor Sir PJ, and a quick note about a spelling
mistake from another reader from half way around the globe


Please visit my ftp site at ASSTR. Please write at
<anu_g42@hotmail.com> with comments and corrections.


WARNING:  Do not proceed beyond this "warning"  if you are
not a mature person and/or are  offended by explicit written
descriptions of sexual encounters.


My Story (Part 18)

	A few months later it was the Puja festival  and Sanju
came over for a couple of weeks after the Lakshmi Puja and,
from the very first day, he was behaving like an infant
waiting for the candy he was promised. Who could, in good
conscience, blame a boy his age when, with the memories of
our intimacy, it was hard for 'yours truly' too. Believe me
I tried my utmost not to think about it!

	It would be virtually impossible for us to get that
close in our house. Sanju and I both were certainly past the
age when we would have been able to to share the same room
at night . . . and, assuredly by no specific design, the two
of us never found ourselves 'alone' in the house.

	I tried my best not to appear too eager, for I did not
want to give Sanju reason to believe that I was looking
forward to some hanky panky myself as much as he was.

	Debi dropped by one day during that week and later
confessed to me -- albeit in her usual raillery -- that
Sanju indeed had grown into an attractive young man and that
she wouldn't mind sharing him with me. Her visit -- a very
social one at that -- and our ensuing discussions revolving
around my cousin did little to help curb the want.

	By the fifth day, when we had no opportunity to be
alone, I suggested to my Mom quite boldly, that I would take
Sanju out. While my guilty mind was aware of the excuse, to
anybody of a sane mind it was a very simple and natural
gesture. That's what cousins did. So we were off to the
local 'park' that evening.

"So, Sanju, what have you been up to?" I asked like a big
sister.

"Nothing," he answered.

"Nothing?" I said, a bit interrogatively, I must confess, as
we walked side by side through the sea of people out to take
in the revelry of this very Bengali autumn festival.
Although most of the cloth-and-bamboo structures for the
Puja were taken down, a few, more elaborate constructions,
remained, as they usually do, to afford the less enthused
locals a chance to view the incredible artistry, if they so
chose. Blaring loudspeakers with blended, indecipherable,
Bollywood film songs poured in from every direction, while
occasional pieces from Tagore or Nazrul tried to sneak in
from some remote streets. The cacophony helped us steer our
conversation towards the intended earthly direction without
the risk of being overheard.

"Read any good books lately?" I asked.

"Yeah, Shankar's latest . . . didn't like it, though," he
said.

"I am not asking about Shankar or Tagore, Sanju . . ." I
looked sideways at his face and smiled impishly.

"Shona-di!" - his voice showing the shock mixed with with
excitement.

"What?"

"People will hear," his voice showed genuine concern. Being
from a small town, he was lost in the circus. Looking at the
crowds, he had reservations about venturing out on an
evening like this.

"Don't worry, kiddo," I had to assure him, "nobody hears us
in this noise." I delivered a short lecture about the
advantage of the immensity of the crowd and its inherent
boon in imparting virtual anonymity. "So, did you read any
new ones?" I insisted.

"Yeah . . . " Sanju said with a grin, "and one of them was
about a brother and a sister . . ."

"Oh yeah?" I pictured Sanju reading and masturbating. I
started to flow. I wasn't even sure where we were going and
what we were going to do once we reached there. "I want to
listen to the story," I almost had to shout as we passed a
'mandap' and its two huge speakers.

Sanju waited for the auditory assault to wane and started to
narrate the story. I stopped him. "Not now, I can hardly
hear a word," I said and looked at him. I caught him peering
down my the blouse I was wearing over my long knee-length
skirt. "Sanju!" I widened my eyes at him in mock censure.

"Sorry, Shona-di." he smiled with  unabashed lust in his
eyes, "couldn't help it."

"Look at other girls," I continued to be flippant too,
"there are better ones around in this crowd."

"No, none as beautiful." I was impressed at his directness,
and, admittedly, quite pleased by his admiration -- however
unctuous it might have been.

	We reached the local park. Ordinarily it would be the
site of a Puja 'mandap', but a few years back, the puja
committee had a fight early on and decided not to have any
at all. They never went back to using that park again. As I
understand it, the park is no more either. A high-rise
apartment building stands there instead.


	  We sat down under a tree, facing away from the
street. There were a few other couples that had already
staked out spots in more secluded spots. From where we sat,
we could see a couple oblivious to the world and locked in a
tight embrace.

"My God!" Sanju exclaimed in a low voice.

"Why . . . they have every right to be here," I said.

"No, not them . . . them," and he gestured  towards the
other side.

"Oh! Eeeeeshhhh!" it was my turn to inhale deeply. About
fifty feet directly to Sanju's left, against a low-cut
hedge, a man was lying flat on his back while a woman was on
top of him. Doubled over,  she was straddling his waist. It
was hard to tell if he had his pants on, but I could easily
see that the woman's sari was riding high around her waist,
leaving her legs bare. We could make out a slow rhythmic
movement from the duo. I had never seen a live show like
that and, as embarrassing as it was to have to watch, it
immediately lit a full blown fire between my legs. The
couple was very well hidden from the street and the spot was
rather poorly lit to figure out too much, but the silhouette
of the couple in that unmistakable coital pose would have
been enough to light my fire anyway. It did, only to be
rudely doused by somebody sweeping a powerful flashlight
across and over the bushes. My heart stopped as the beam of
the light momentarily swept over the couple we were watching
intently. I was embarrassed for the woman as the light
fleetingly transformed the suggestive silhouette into a real
couple engaged in sex! From what I could see, the man was
fully clothed. It wasn't hard to imagine the arrangement.

"Ooooof!" Sanju exclaimed under his breath.

"Let's get out of here, Sanju," I said as I stood up. The
flashlight could have belonged to a constable or a
prankster, and I wasn't about to find out for myself.

"But . . ." Sanju was obviously in two minds and I believe,
owing to his excitement, leaning a little towards being
bold.

"No, no . . . you don't understand, we'll have to leave," I
felt my voice shake in utter panic.

"Oh OK . . ." he gave in. I suppose some of his blood
managed to sneak back into his brain.

	Without a  word, we exited the park the way we
entered. My heart was racing and I looked straight ahead to
avoid making eye contact with anybody that we might come
face to face. All my bravado under the supposed anonymity
had evaporated with one flash of a beam of light. I was
still sexually aroused, but I felt cold with apprehension.

"Shona-di!" Sanju said calmly, "will you relax please!" His
voice sounded calm coming from behind. I guess I was almost
running and he was trying to keep up with me without
appearing to be running. I didn't slow down my pace till I
reached the street. A few passers by glanced at me and then
at my cousin behind me and frowned. I suppose they wondered
about the breathless look on my face exiting the park.

"Lets go home, Sanju!" I deliberately raised my voice as I
realised that some young men were about to come to my aid. I
most certainly didn't fit the crowd of revellers on the
street.

"Let's .." Sanju took the cue from me and announced equally
aloud for the benefit of those that had been staring at us,
"It's too crowded out here, Shona-di!" That extra bit,
though unnecessary, helped, and people left us alone.

	I grabbed Sanju's hand and virtually dragged him
through the throng and towards our house. As my palpitation
subsided, I admitted to myself that the mere thought of
getting caught with Sanju in the park was what spooked me.
Consequently, I had to admit that I had the raunchiest
intentions . . . and that had me back in my aroused state
again.

"Hurry up, Sanju, lets go home!" I said impatiently and
increased the pace of my walk, wading -- as it were --
against the sea of people.

"I thought . . . I thought . . ." the disappointment in his
voice was so obvious that I couldn't pass up the opportunity
to torment him some more.

"What?" I said, "You didn't think . . . Oh my God, Sanju!
Were you expecting . . .?"

"Never mind, Shona-di," he looked away and snatched his hand
away from me.

"Angry, are we?" I grabbed his hand again as we kept on
moving. I am sure by our demeanor we looked like two lovers
in the midst of a quarrel. "I'm sorry."

"You are terrible, you know," he tried to sound cold, but
the tremor in his voice gave his frustration away.

"OK . . . OK . . . lets go home first . . ." I said in a
manner akin to that of a parent promising candy to her
toddler. Well, in a manner of speaking . . .

	As we reached home, I was dripping with anticipation.
I felt the crotch of my panties sticking to the entrance to
my soppy cave. Impulsively, I had clipped my hair that
morning while I was in the bathroom. I felt terribly sexy
thinking about it.

	As we went up to our floor, I saw my parents dressed
up to go out. "We are going out for some quick shopping,
Sharmi," Baba said, "We didn't think you two will be back so
soon."

"Too crowded," I said, "Sanju didn't like the melee."

"OK, we'll be back in a couple of hours," Ma said as they
descended the stairs, "I told Abha to start the rice around
half-past eight."

We went to the balcony and saw them leave the house.

	That was it! My heart started pounding at the thought
of being all by ourselves.

	We were really not alone in the house, for my uncles
and aunts were there downstairs, but, we were alone, save
Abha, on our floor. I turned and looked at Sanju, and saw a
very knowing smile there.

"What?" I said to him, smiling back.

"Nothing," he said, "just thinking that we are all by
ourselves now."

"So?" I played along. I was burning up even as I stepped
back into the drawing room from the balcony! With Sanju at
my heels, I reached the stairs.

"So?" he echoed, and followed me as I continued on up the
stairs . . . up.

	I spotted Abha-maashi, our live-in maid,  busy in the
kitchen as I continued up the stairs. "We will be on the
roof, Abha-maashi." Slightly hard of hearing, she did not
respond. I wondered if she knew that we were home. Still, I
couldn't take any chances and considered the roof a much
safer place.

	I closed and bolted the door to the roof behind us.
The night sky was aglow from the festive lightings that
draped the city. We could see each other clearly in that
light that reflected off the smog.

"So, what did you think of the show in the park?" I asked.

"Hot!"

"How hot? Did you get hard?" I couldn't help it.

"I did . . . I am . . ." he looked into my eyes and said.

"Let's see?" I said, and touched him there . . . at the fly.
I felt his bulge and felt it pulsate at my touch. Sanju
stood there in front of me looking down at my hand. "Wow," I
looked up at his eyes and said, "it's moving!"

He said nothing.


+++++ (End Part 18)

To be Continued . . .

Puja Festival: This is essentially a month-long (two lunar
cycles) autumn festival beginning with the worship of the
'Durga' form (Shiva's consort) of the Divine Mother. She is
the ten-armed deity who vanquishes 'the bad' (or
'suffering') [du'h (Sansk.) = a prefix meaning
bad/difficult/evil, etc.]. The festival ends with the much
known 'Deepaavali' or the 'festival of lights' that
coincides with the worship of 'Kaalee' in Bengal. There are
countless other folklores and mythologies associated with
the festival that are beyond the scope of this narration.


<1st attachment end>


----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format.  The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations.         |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+