A little while later, even before Sonam could recover from the sadness that filled her mind, she saw her husband turn around to face the other side and fall asleep. She could hear his soft snoring too, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. At first, Sonam cried alone – not because her husband would be leaving the day following the next, but because she had expected so much that night after her long absence. And yet, it just fizzled out once again to leave her deprived and dissatisfied. After all, they had abstained from any copulation for a few months prior to child birth and later, during her postnatal convalescence. Also, Nihal her husband, had come away from her father’s place the very next day after Varun was born, depriving each of them of any form of sexual relief even when actual copulation was not possible. At this moment, she was truly unfulfilled, and the lust that grew in her could not be quickly doused.
She stared at her husband’s back helplessly, her mind still filled with carnal desires and the uneasy thought of facing many months more without her husband and a man, no matter how inept he was in sex. People thought that only men craved for sex, little realizing that even women had strong desires which they kept hidden, she pondered in her present stage of craving. She felt so deprived! So lonely!
Nonetheless, her thoughts were quickly broken when Varun suddenly started to cry. Yes, it was now time for him to suckle milk from his mother’s breasts and Sonam got up hurriedly. She came near the crib and, uttering sweet words to her baby, picked him up and took her to bed. She had parted the soft nightie in the front and held the right cup of her bra and lowered it to free her breasts. Holding her breast near the areola, she pushed her oozing nipple inside the baby’s greedy mouth. Sounds of the baby’s suckling, even if these were soft, could be heard.
Sonam was content, she just brushed Varun’s tiny head and the little hair on it and softly sang a lullaby. Sonam looked so very appealing, the perfect picture of a mother suckling her child, a live image of DaVinci’s eternal masterpiece ‘Litta Madonna’. She had wished that even Nihal would possibly want to suckle a breast and the thought had excited her, but now she knew that was an impossible wish. Her husband was completely indifferent to these things, she felt.
Shortly, with both her baby and husband asleep, Sonam also started feeling sleepy. By now, her physical desires had somewhat subsided but not entirely gone. She shrugged her shoulders, realizing that it would be best to retire for the night and catch up on sleep.
But first, she went to the attached toilet. It was really a very modern bathroom, carved in beautiful marble and a bathtub big enough to accommodate a couple. The flooring, plumbing material and appliances, soaps and fragrances were by Sonam’s own standards, exquisite. Inwardly, she was happy and could not help but admire the patriarch – for it was he who would have planned and arranged this extravaganza. Inwardly,
Sonam was very happy, for she guessed that the patriarch must have kept his affectionate ‘bahu’ in mind when the bathroom was being readied for the young couple. It was always a nice feeling to find oneself loved in her ‘sasural’ (in-laws house) and worthy of getting attention.
Inside the toilet, Sonam knew that her husband was now asleep and there was full privacy in the room. She didn’t bother to shut the door of the toilet. Nimbly, she lifted her nightie that revealed the curly bush covering her crotch. Her public hair was jet black and somewhat thick and, even at a distance, anyone would be able to make out the triangular dark area. She sat on the commode, her shapely legs on both sides, as she started to relieve herself.
For no specific reason, just then Sonam was swept in an unexplained uneasiness. She imagined she was being watched, that her actions inside the bathroom were privy to someone’s eyes and she was overcome with a sense of shame and apprehension. But logic and reason came to her aid. How could anyone possibly watch her here. This was as enclosed and secluded that it had privacy written all over it. Her initial fear quickly left, for she knew no one would have the courage to dare do anything mischievous when the patriarch was there.
The only thing that embarrassed her now was the noise that usually accompanied in such situations. She would pee after very long intervals when her bladder was stretched to its limit and relief came about at the expense of embarrassing hissing sounds. She had an uncanny feeling and wished that she had shut the door of the toilet, because she was embarrassed when this happened in the presence of her husband too. But it was too late now, as she had already commenced emptying her bladder.
Once she had finished and had washed that area of her body she went and lay down on the bed beside her husband. Her thoughts went back to her physical needs and involuntarily, a hand went towards her vulva as she ran a finger along the slit. She liked her finger at the place, rubbing her vagina softly at first before she had inserted a finger into the wetness. She consoled herself, her need was far from satisfied. She was starving for the male phallus as she moaned and moaned. She forgot that her moans were no longer soft and that it revealed the needs of a horny housewife. Her wild imaginations took her to a different world, and she thought of the pleasures of sex that a virile and only a strong man could give her.
Without warning, a known face of a man who was just over fifty years with his rugged, rustic, broad shouldered, dark complexioned and dhoti clad manly figure, loomed in her thoughts. She wasn’t even aware that she was whispering a name, a name that fired her imagination – ‘Babuji, Babuji …,’ her voice certainly loud in the end till she came out of her stupor. Oh my god, what was she thinking. How shameful! She quickly admonished herself for having these wicked thoughts. How could she ever have this thought, she wondered annoyed at herself. She turned to see if her husband was asleep or had awakened by her incessant chants and moaning and was relieved when she found that he was still snoring away. Thank God!
But Sonam felt terribly ashamed to have had this crazy thought cross her mind. How could she? And how would she ever face the man the next day when she knew that this wild, horny, lustful imagination revolved around him and her?
At what point she fell asleep she didn’t know, but when she awoke it was almost morning. She quickly came to the cot and picked up Varun lovingly in her bosom. On the bed, she parted the soft nightie once again and fed the nipple to her baby who hungrily suckled her milk. Soon Varun was asleep in bed and she turned and saw her husband sleeping peacefully. She kissed him on his lips.
“Get up, get up … it’s already morning,” Sonam said.
“Aw, Sonam, let me sleep sometime more,” Nihal appealed lazily.
But soon they were up and getting ready. During her bath Sonam recollected the events of the previous night and blushed when she remembered how she had thought about someone else. But, like previously, she quickly pushed the thought away.
Yet, downstairs at breakfast, she could hardly look at the patriarch. Somehow, she had a sense of guilt creeping in although she did nothing at all except unmindfully thinking of him. But now, at the dining table, she stole glances at the patriarch. She saw his wide wrists holding up the large tumbler of milk, the wide shoulders holding up the unbuttoned kurta, and his partly visible chest with the thick mix of black and grey hair.
Even as she sat, there could be no doubt that her father-in-law was a stretch taller than the rest. So rugged and manly, Sonam thought once again. Suddenly, Balwant looked at Sonam. She blushed and quickly looked away. Quickly, she finished her light breakfast before she got up and went to attend to Varun.
The rest of the day was busily spent. Nihal had many things to purchase and he and Sonam took the patriarch’s permission and went to do the marketing. They had lunch outside, with the patriarch’s permission of course. He had some reservations, however, because that was the last day Nihal would be having lunch at home before he left the next day. Nonetheless, when Sonam softly said, “Babuji, please allow us. This will be the last time I will have lunch outside with him before he returns and that too I don’t know when.”
Possibly, only it was only because Sonam had appealed to him that the rigid man agreed. Sonam felt happy when the patriarch gave permission and was instantly grateful to him. Sonam realized that she was slowly taking a liking towards this man instead of her earlier fear and indifference. Anyway, when she and Nihal returned in the evening they were very tired and quickly completed whatever packing was left before coming down to dinner.
Dinner was not a very enjoyable one for any of the members of the household. Everyone, starting from the patriarch to all the family members and the house staff, felt sad at the imminent departure of Nihal. Nihal and Sonam sat beside one another, trying to make the most out of the last dinner before departure. The patriarch, surprisingly, came and sat beside her instead of sitting on the one next to Nihal. She took it as a gesture of his love and affection, possibly sympathising with her sadness at Nihal’s imminent departure the next morning.
Back in their bedroom after dinner, with the door bolted, Nihal and Sonam kissed one another very deeply and passionately. Nihal ran his hand over his wife’s soft buttocks, squeezing them a bit as he pushed in his tongue into her mouth. Sonam was overjoyed at this display of love and passion and responded by sucking his tongue. Soon, their tongues swirled against one another and saliva trickled down the corner of their lips.
“I love you Sonam, I really do,” Nihal said emotionally, “and I shall miss you very much.”
Sonam too cried out, “I love you too my darling. Oh! How I shall miss you. Take me to you soon if you can … and if Babuji allows it.”
“I want to drink your milk tonight honey. Your breasts are so full. They must be seeking relief,” Nihal said, “Oh! I will miss this lovely pair.”
They were quickly undressing, each helping the other, till both were fully naked. Nihal ran a hand on the thick bush of Sonam, playing with the lustrous curly hair.
“Mmmmm … so lovely,” he said. They were both standing very near to the connecting door between the two bedrooms, forgetting that there was another occupant, immobile and but attentive in the next room.
Soon, they were on the bed with Nihal resting his head on Sonam’s lap while she bent down and holding the end of her right breast pushed in the nipple into his mouth.
“Hungry baby … take mother’s milk,” she said laughingly as she squeezed her breast herself. Milk rushed into her husband’s mouth and he made erotic noises, suckling whatever was offered. His phallus was already on the rise, and Sonam let her hand hold it so that it didn’t sway any more. She squeezed it a few times before running her thumb on the tip. Nihal was squirming crazily, it was too much of an excitement for him. He suckled roughly on the nipples, moving his mouth from one to the other, pressed the breasts to push out more milk and repeated his ‘oooohs’ and ‘aaahs’ in succession.
“Sonam … I must have my cock in you this instant … or I’ll again cum like yesterday,” he said desperately.
Sonam was the obedient wife, trying to help and satisfy her husband. She quickly lay on her back, almost ready for copulation. As Nihal came over her, she held his manhood and guided it to her wet pussy. In moments, her pussy had swallowed the modest cock and Nihal proceeded to bang his shaft into it. They gripped one another, kissing and biting each other’s lips. Sonam was waiting for this union for a long time and she dug in her nails on her husband’s back.
“Take this … and this ..and this, my sexy wife,” he was uttering loudly and Sonam feared that the words were floating into the next room. But she didn’t have to fear for long.
Nihal couldn’t wait any more and, in his frenzy, he started to ejaculate inside her. Little spurts hit the walls of Sonam’s pussy and she, although disappointed at this quick ejaculation, basked in the pleasure of her husband’s cum filling her. They breathed heavily when they were spent.
“You realize that this place of mine that you love so much will cry for the next six months at least, if not more? I don’t know how I’ll bear it. Such a long wait! It would be so painful to stay without you,” Sonam cried.
Nihal didn’t have any words to comfort or reassure her. There could be no substitute for a woman’s husband and she would have to bear the vacuum till they were together again.
“I know dearest, I know. I can’t promise but I’ll surely try to be here after six months. Please bear with me and keep yourself busy with Varun. And I am sure Papa, Uncle Anurudh and Aunt Anjali will take good care of you,” he said to comfort her. “And besides, you’ll always have Matasari to help you with Varun.”
“Yes, you are right. Varun gets up frequently at night and keeps me awake. Matasari can attend to him during the night,” Sonam said while agreeing with Nihal.
“Rather, I will suggest that after you last breast feed Varun at night, let Matasari attend while Varun sleeps in the cot. The cot will be in her room. In the morning she’ll bring back Varun to you. In that way you can sleep undisturbed.” Said Nihal. Then, after some thought, he said, “I’ll tell Papa about this and then he can get this arrangement done.”
The next afternoon Nihal left. Sonam silently cried and Anjali came and comforted her. Everyone felt sad, even the patriarch who usually showed little emotion outwardly. The maids and servants too couldn’t hide their sadness.
Towards the evening Matasari came to her room and cradled Varun in her arms, rocking him and uttering sweet nothings.
“Madam, the Master wants that after Varun has been fed at night, he should sleep in my room, so that you can sleep undisturbed. The servants will come and take the cot upstairs to my room. I’ll bring back the baby by 6.00 AM before his morning breast feed,” Matasari said in a while.
Sonam realised that Nihal must have spoken to Babuji. She knew that it would be useless opposing and kept quiet, hoping that the arrangements would be reversed after a few days. After fifteen minutes the servants came and took away the cot.
Before dinner Sonam dressed nicely, a magenta colored chiffon sari and a sleeveless blouse to go with it because Nihal always insisted on sleeveless blouses. Her petticoat was similarly of magenta color, but she wore white lingerie, an exotic pair that Nihal had selected for her. She became a typical bahu, by covering her head with her pallu (end of the saree used as a stole). The mangalsutra (a necklace that symbolizes marriage and is worn by a bride till her husband’s death) around the neck, however, was clearly visible as she came down for dinner. As she entered the dining room, everyone looked at her
admiringly. The look on the patriarch’s face was even more pronounced as he gaped for a few moments before recovering.
“Come Bahu,” he said, patting the chair beside him, “your place at the dining table is here.”
Sonam came and demurely sat down beside the patriarch. She would have been happier and felt easier if she could sit beside Anjali.
“Are you feeling sad Bahu?” the patriarch asked.
“A little, Babuji,” Sonam said softly. What a question! She could already feel a lump in her throat, but she stifled her cry.
“You’ll be okay in a couple of days, I am sure of that. You will surely overcome and feel different and happier,” Balwant, the patriarch said.
The patriarch pampered Sonam, entreating her to take more of sabji (vegetables), or roti (thin, round, Indian wheat bread) or sweets, pointing to the plates that were laid out on the table. But Sonam was a frugal eater, conscious of her figure. She declined politely.
“For our grandchild, you must eat. Take this sweet … you must,” he smiled and insisted, but when he extended his hand it touched the delicate softness of Sonam’s, who had extended her hand to prevent him from adding more on her plate.
Then, at one stage, he put his arm on the backrest of Sonam’s chair and once or twice, his arm grazed Sonam’s shoulders. Just when Sonam got up after meals he also got up, almost simultaneously, and his chest touched Sonam’s soft breasts. Everything seemed unintentional and purely by accident and no one might have seen it also. But Sonam felt a trigger on her sensual nerves, her face flushed in uneasiness. The patriarch, however, remained indifferent and no one, not even Sonam, was the wiser.
After dinner the entire family watched TV for a while before the patriarch said that it was time for all to retire and insisting on immediate compliance. Besides, as he said in finality, Varun would have to be fed by his mother.
In the privacy of her room Sonam fed her breast milk to Varun. Just when he had finished and fell asleep, Matasari had come to take him to her room. Sonam felt bad but handed over her baby to Matasari for the night, telling her to get him back at 6.00 in the morning.
Alone in her room Sonam sat on the bed thinking of Nihal. Then, with a shrug of her shoulders, she got up and changed into her nightie. Having done so, she sat in front of the mirror, and started brushing her silky hair. Her shapely legs crossed over each other, partly covered in the soft fabric of her nightie and partly exposed. The young Sonam looked at herself in the mirror not knowing that a silent admirer was just few feet away in the next room, his mouth drooling in need and lust.
Despite the lust that had engulfed him, Balwant was pained to see the incompetence of his son. Such a sexy wife, such a woman full of desires, a woman far from satiated and crying for attention and there was his progeny, blissfully sleeping without a care! He wished he could punish his son, give him a hiding like he did when he was a lad. He cursed and swore.
Just at that moment he saw Sonam getting up from bed and walk up to the crib, lift her baby and return to the bed. Soon she was breastfeeding her hungry son.
Balwant watched his bahu feed Varun, shifting his head now and then to get a better view. The light brown engorged nipple sent a shiver through Balwant. He involuntarily rolled his tongue over his lips wondering how it would be to taste this engorgement that continued unabated. He visualized the nipples between his lips, squeezing them to extract the white ‘honey’ that he sought. Oh god! If only he could lie on her lap and suckle from the juicy grapes that were so beautifully carved and giving her bust such an awesome shape.
Sonam, unaware, continued feeding and staring at her son. There was so much love in her face as her fingers stroked the infant’s head. She was so caring, expressing her love for the child that was born out of her womb. She shifted Varun from one breast to another, exposing the one that had been fed upon without cover. The shapely breast was in full display with the nipples standing proudly on them. The patriarch gaped, the sight making him more restless than before. But, he had moored himself at the spot.
He watched Sonam finish feeding and then patted Varun on his back for a customary burp.
Soon, she was getting ready for the night, changing into her usual nightwear. As she parted with every item of her apparel, each moment only helped to excite the middle aged man. In the final stage, she had unhooked her bra and finally slid her panties down her legs and stood out of it. For a moment, she was stark naked.