I let out a sigh of relief. It took another course and solved itself. Poor man my husband, he didn’t ever know how much I loved my dad and that was the only reason why I eloped with him. He didn’t even know that Anand was my father’s name.
I then slowly opened the other topic of having one more child. His face lit up.
‘I was thinking of having a girl child,’ he said.
‘When you are so sure of your germless condition, what is the alternative?’ I inquired.
‘I came to know it from a reliable source. I hope you’ve heard about the baba (religious saint) in Andhra Pradesh. It seems he is bestowing this sort of wishes. Only thing we have to stay there two three months in his ashram. It’s a spiritual way; no whoring.’
‘I agree, let’s try, nothing wrong.’
And we proceeded to Andhra Pradesh. We got appointment with the baba and had his dharsan too. They had allotted us a residential hut, where we had to cook our own meals. They took me to a clinic and a complete set of test was conducted: all scientific; nothing like spiritual.
The third day, baba called me alone. ‘Would you keep our holy secrets for ever?’ was his question.
‘I will.’
‘Swear in the name of goddess.’
‘I swear.’
‘You will be put in a dark room. God will come in the guise of a young man. Don’t try to make out his identities and don’t ever reveal your identities or address. Is that ok with you?’
‘Ok.’
‘You can go now. Don’t tell your husband anything. Come in the evening taking a perfumed bath. Cleanliness is important.’
In the evening I was sent into a dark chamber. It was so dark that I was not able to assess even the size of the room. I was blinking. Suddenly I heard a low male voice. I responded. He located me and led me to a soft bed. It was only six seven steps to the bed, but our bodies dashed with one another in the dark and it thrilled me.
Once we seated on our bed, he took my hand and placed it on a warm long hardness. I perceived immediately what it was. I ran my fingers though its length and girth. Its bulbous head smeared a sticky wetness on my palm.
‘Ithi neekosaram, ishtamaayanda?’ he said something like that in Telugu. I told him that I could follow only Hindi but to some extend Tamil. Then he repeated it in Hindi, ‘Yah tumareliye. Pasand hai? (It’s yours. Like it?)’ He said this in a husky voice.
‘It’s huge; I’m going to like it.’ I replied in the same husky tone.
‘You are also huge, at your boobs and thighs,’ he said running his hands all over my boobs and thighs. ‘Why don’t you undress?’
In no time I was naked in his hands, willingly. He pressed at my breasts and sucked at them. He squeezed my thighs and buttocks and ran his hand on my mound of Venus. I kissed allover his face and at his mouth. He had no mustache, but long hair. He was very young. His body was hard as board but his skin was soft.
‘Your pussy is bulged out like a burger,’ he said, ‘And would be great to have a mouthful.’
‘Hush,’ I interrupted, ‘Not like a swamiji at an ashram.’
‘A swamiji indeed. Premananda Swamy going to fuck Amruthananda Mayi.’
I laughed at his absurdity. But who knows, he could be a hired hand. He traced my cunt with his mouth and started eating it fervently. I started pulling at his long hairs and yielding him my drooling snatch. He seemed to be more interested in sucking at my slit, but forgot not to provoke at my clitoris. I squirmed and urged him to put his cock in to my sheath.
He laid himself on his back and pulled me over him. ‘If you want it so urgently, then take the mantle and fuck me as you like.’
I mounted on him and fed his cock into my eager cunt-hole. I rode him like an experienced jockey. Dad, in those three months I fucked him, liked to have me mostly in this position; now this young lover too is of the same taste, I ruminated.
His stiffness, moving up and down, was stretching my dripping vagina. And he was pressing and pulling at my breasts. It was like a blind man leading a blind man and falling into a pit of honey.
In less than 10 minutes I groaned and collapsed on his chest. He rolled me on my back and continued our fucking from an attacking position. I never stopped my moaning and my cunt was frothing at his forceful strokes. I was heading to my second peak when he matched his outlet and filled my pit with his seeds.
We fucked three times in that night.
Next day, to my husband’s query, I told him it was only a prayer they conduct exclusively for women. Poor husbands, willing their wives for strangers to fuck!
And I observed a gratification in the women devotees there. We women exchanged a secret smile of understanding among ourselves.
My fuck with my darkroom lover continued in different positions. But he refused to fuck my cunt on three specific days. Those were the 13, 14, and 15th days counting from the first day of my menstrual cycle. He said, if fertilization took place of the fuck on those days, then it would produce a male child. What a golden rule! (I recommend, readers, to practice it and have the baby of your choice. In ignorance of this human knowledge, if there is a verse in any religious book, to prove God, let it remain as a proof to their ignorance). On those three days he allowed me to suck at his cock and gulp down his semen. Since he was very fond of my fleshy cunt, he locked me in the 69 position and ate my pussy earnestly.
My menstrual cycle stopped the next month. But my darkroom lover didn’t stop his flooding my vagina. After 45 days elapsed my urine was tested and my pregnancy was confirmed. My husband’s happiness was beyond limit. I was happy on one side for having conceived my second child but sad on the other side that the time had come to part with my darkroom lover.
Even after confirmation of my pregnancy, they gave me one day to be with my lover. As soon as we met on that night, I leaned on his broad bare chest and started crying. He consoled me and talked long on the pain of losing me. I thanked his cock by kissing it again and again. He kissed at my cunt again and again and thanked it for receiving his seed to produce his baby. We were not satisfied at all. We fucked our soul out.
‘Being a sanyasi, I shouldn’t ask this. But give me something to keep in your memory.’
I had only my mangalsutra on my neck. Nothing else. And then I remembered that I had a ring on one of my fingers: a snake shaped one given to me by my father at the Nagnadevika temple. I removed it and gave it to him. He showed his happiness by kissing me. And I couldn’t get anything from him for he was a man of nothing.
He said, ‘I have given you the most precious thing, my child in your womb.’
And we returned from Andhra Pradesh and in ten months time I gave birth to Devika.
My husband believed that she was conceived in a spiritual way and would bring good luck one day. And it has been proved now.
My mom Manjuladevi stopped at this point and thought she had concluded her story, but Rahul raised his voice, “Auntie, you’ve not yet told us how come the gun of Anand in your holster.”
At that all others laughed. I looked at my brother. He looked back at me and our eyes were locked. I felt a tweak at the nervous center of my cunt. I lowered my head.
My mom cleared her throat again and started her narration:
My husband earned some money working in gulf countries and we could build the house we live now, and purchase some agricultural land 15 km away from our town. My husband died in an accident when I was at my 30th year. I could have remarried, but I decided against in order to bring up my beloved children.
One day I took Anand with me to have a look at our fields. He was 18 years old then. We had sugarcanes on our lands in that year. We were walking on the northern boundary of our field where Anand toed a stone and fell down. And then, to our surprise, the stone looked like a statue covered by earth and grass. Anand dug it up and, to my astonishment; I was face to face with something like Nagnadevika. It was a small size statue of a naked goddess.
Anand went into the field to wash that statue off mud. I waited, but in the mean time I felt the well-known hotness building up in my body. I went into the field in search of my son. And there, near the canal, my son was standing naked with the statue in one hand and his mammoth erection in the other hand.
As I knew why it was, I went near, took the statue from his hand and placed it down. I knelt in front of my son and took his erection into my mouth. He groaned at my action, but showed his liking by moving his thing to and fro through my lips grip. My cunt and mouth were watering in the face of my situational luck.
I noticed a patch of lush green grass on my left. The spot was well hidden by the tall sugarcanes. I got up, made myself as naked as the goddess and spread my sari on the grass patch and invited my son over there. He was staring at my big-big boobs and pleasure garden.
I pulled him towards me by his cock and wanted to know, ‘Is this your first encounter or had you have experience?’
His lips quivered but words didn’t come out. I lay on my back and stretched my thighs in an inviting gesture. He stepped in and hovered on me. I pulled him down. He fumbled his cock with my cunt. And it was a clear indication that he was at his first fuck.
I rolled him off on his back and straddled him. My favorite position, trained well by our dad. His cock stood far bigger than that of my husband and as big as of my father. The size itself delighted me. I held it and guided its huge head into my tunnel. And I slid down on it to fill up my cunt to its very depth. I gave my boobs in his hands and shoved my cunt on his cock. And I moved my buttocks up and down. His hardness, stretching through my tunnel, and its broad head hitting against my womb gate, triggered my cunt to surge in bliss.
My son, pressing and squeezing at my breasts, fucked back at my cunt from below. As my cunt seeped in its secretions his cock swam through its greasy grip. Suddenly, then, his cock head swelled and spewed out seeds to fill up my sheath. And I collapsed sweetly on him and purred like a pet animal in satisfaction.
He wanted to take the goddess to our home, but I said no. He installed it facing north, in the spot, where he had toed it. But by then we had our second urge to fuck. I led him to the same spot where we fucked first and, this time, I had him on top and trained him to plough my pleasure garden.
By the grace of the goddess, I had my cunt opened by our dad and opened to my son as well on his virgin fuck. Having had the taste of a young cock in my cunt, I didn’t allow my son to rest. It was something like my second honeymoon. And I taught my son all that I learned from my father and my darkroom lover. My son was keen on learning and satisfying me of all my wishes.
We went on a city tour one day. I wanted to see the new lighthouse, but the security man denied us permission. My son bribed him and we went up by the lift. From top, it was a grand view we get of the sea on one side and the city on the other side.
Suddenly my son said, ‘I want to fuck you, mom, at this elevation.’
A crazy idea it was and a dangerous one too. If we were spotted out, our story would stink, thanks to media world. But the idea was so sensational that my cunt started watering. I held my sari raised and swayed my hip at my son. ‘Come on my boy, fuck me then.’
But he insisted we both should do it in nude. And in no time he was naked, his big thing challenging me. I hesitated, but my cunt was itching to have his cock. So I too bared my secrets.
‘Which view you want to have, sea view or city view?’ my son asked me.
‘City view,’ I answered.
He made me to hold the handrail on the city view side. He came around and entered me from behind. And he fucked me like a bull. My boobs were hitting against the handrail and I was scared of his fucking force that I may fly over the handrail and land on my head in the pavement below.
‘How is the city view, mom?’
‘It’s stretched below at a mock able level.’
‘How do you feel this high point fuck, mom?’
‘As if I am flying! Fantastic! And how do you feel, my son?’
‘As if I am fucking a holy cow at the top of the world.’
‘It’s a crazy idea.’
‘What to do? Your motherly cunt drives me crazy. Ah, here I cum…’
And he lodged his cock deep in my cunt and discharged. I simmered with him. And our juices surged out of my cunt and flowed down along my inner thighs.
When we climbed down, there we found a young woman with the security man. Both were grinning at us in a sheepish manner.
‘Who is this?’ my son asked the security man.
‘Never mind, she’s my daughter-in-law. She’s come here to give me my lunch.’
We smiled at the woman and said, ‘Hello!’
The woman then raised her hand and it held a binoculars. We were shocked.
But the woman laughed and commented, ‘Super show.’
The security man tweaked one of her breast and said, ‘Top ideas come only to top class people.’
The woman laughed. And in a hurry we left the place and the city.
In our small town, at our own house, we lived and loved as free birds, till Devika spied on us on that rainy day.
My mom thus had completed her story and it was received with applause. Aunt Saroj went up to my brother Anand and hugged him.
“Like to have a lighthouse trip, Saroj?” Uncle Dev commented; at which all laughed.
“Silly, I am moved to know that he is our father’s son,” said aunt Saroj; at which all became quiet and smiled.
“But, on the whole, the only outsider is me,” I lamented, “who is not an outcome of this family seed.”
“Don’t talk nonsense,” Uncle Dev shouted at me. “You are our princess, our hope and our way to the Himalayan deity.”
“So the Himalayan idea is not dropped yet?” I observed.
“A Himalayan idea it is,” said uncle Dev. “And we are starting in a day or two. And Devika is to be on guard till we reach the shrine.”
The proposal was accepted in one voice.
On an auspicious day, at an auspicious time we started our pilgrimage. It was a three days journey to Haridwaar. On the way, we happened to cross our native place. Bhavana proposed a visit to the temple ruins of Nagnadevika, but my mother advised otherwise. Mom said that the deity was a real tempter and would divert us from our path and it would end up in soiling me, who was their only hope left in the family. And she assured Bhavana a visit and a sure orgy, on our return journey, at the historical remains. And it was accepted as sensible and we moved on.
At Haridwaar, we took a dip at Ganges. The flow was cold as ice. If it was so cold at that level, how cold it would be at the height of Swargadwaar, I wondered. From Haridwaar we went up to Rishikesh, where the sacred Ganges touches the ground. There on a plateau, we approached the horse traders to get us mules for the uphill journey. Uncle Dev took Anand and Rahul to assist in his negotiation.
The man they approached called on another man, an old one, who was standing a bit apart, looking away as if in trance. “Gode ke liye lok aaye hain, Anand bhai (people have come for horses, brother Anand).”
And the old man with white hair and beard turned toward us, disinterestedly. At that instant, Bhavana flew forward and threw herself on the old man and hugged at his neck.
All of us were shocked. But that was only for a fleeting second.
Aunt Saroj followed her daughter, “Papa!” She cried. Then it dawned on us: the grand old man, the name giver of my elder brother. Didn’t they call him Anand bhai? My mother joined them and uncle Dev and Rahul, followed by my brother and me.
Grandpa was crying and laughing at the same time. All local people were watching us with interest. It took quite some time to bring our emotions under control. Finally uncle Dev pulled me apart and put me in front of his father and briefed him of our mission. I could see stars in grandpa’s eyes. He lifted me off the ground and danced, I must say. He was a big man. And I was puny in his hands.
He was moved to know the love of my mom in carrying his seed to give birth to Anand. He hugged mom and Anand his first born, through his loving daughter.
“Being alive, why didn’t you come back home, dad?” aunt Saroj asked.
“Because I resolved to have a darshan of the goddess or die in the Himalayas,” he said.
With grandfather in lead, other things fell in groove. We took 14 mules, including standbys, for 8 persons and the luggage. Outright purchase and lot of money, for the traders didn’t agree to give their animals on hire to such an unheard of a place.
On the way, grandpa told us how he had come alive out of the snow burial. The place he was buried by the avalanche was a running stream and it turned out to be a miraculous warm stream, which melted away the snow to help him, breath.
In a day’s journey we reached the point where we were supposed to spot the goddess Nagnadevika in the form of a crane. Anxiety gripped me of my fidelity to bring the crane out there.
And it was grandpa who spotted the crane first. The same bird, which shitted on me, that led me to Bhavana and our family and up to this point. Spotting the bird, grandpa once again danced, lifting me off the floor.
From that point we followed the bird. It flew up along the Ganges for half a day. Then arrived at the place where our grandpa was buried by snow. A stream from left was flowing into the Ganges. From there onwards the bird started flying westward and we followed it by the warm stream. On our way, with our grandpa in lead, we sang the following song:
The gateway of heaven to where we go;
The fruit of love is there to win.
To pass the path, appalls with wind and snow,
We take with us a beau virgin.
O Swargadwaarike, show us the way!
O Nagnadevike, lead us today!
It’s pure indeed the meals we make in-door
And flavored by blood relations.
Pigs run out on streets to filths and devour;
Sermonize on regulations.
O Swargadwaarike, show us the way!
O Nagnadevike, lead us today!
Cunts and cocks from afar would come and go;
Donating claps, aids in a row.
Cunts and cocks of same-same blood mellow
The home; and love and pleasures flow.
O Swargadwaarike, show us the way!
O Nagnadevike, lead us today!
Mom and dad, train your children to make love
Family love would bring good luck.
Sons and fills, serve your parents in home-love
Recycling is richness; so, fuck!
O Swargadwaarike, show us the way!
O Nagnadevike, lead us today!
And we reached Swargadwaar on the fourth day since we left Haridwaar. We traveled not up and up, but deep and deep. Tunnel after tunnels we passed and the place was not at an elevation, but deep in the womb of the Himalayas. The numerous tunnels we passed led us finally in to a triangular open space, which resembled exactly as a womb. The warm water in two streams flowed down from the far two corners of the triangle, and join as a single stream at its center, to flow down eastward through the tunnels to the Ganges. It appeared we had traveled through a vaginal tunnel in to a womb space. That open space was with lush green grass, flower plants and fruit bearing trees, with charming birds and butterflies.
And in the centre, where the two streams flew in one, was a big flat rock crowned with a beautiful statue of a naked girl. The naked girl, standing on her right leg, had lifted her left leg and held it in her left hand, as in a dance stance, with her head tilted right and chin up in a trance. Her boobs were big and firm, waist narrow, hips flared out and thighs round and plump on long legs. Her vulva was chiseled in to a blooming rose revealing a secret slit. Ah!
Om, Bhagvati Swargadwaarike
Namosthute nagna naayike.
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