Amar died when he was getting into his working clothes just after having had his shower.
As had been his practice for more than a decade, he had woken up at a quarter to six, drove over for his daily yoga, returned at seven and spent his daily half an hour with Reena, his wife, sipping herbal tea in their well maintained garden.
He had then washed his car and watered his plants before getting into the bathroom. He was a compulsive bathroom singer and had a good voice.
He was in good shape too. About five-ten, a hundred and forty pounds and no flab: he did on-the-spot-jogging for half an hour in his bedroom daily in the evening. Save for some gray in his hair and a few wrinkles over his face, few people would say that he was fifty-three; rather, he looked five years younger.
So, it was a shock in the neighborhood when there was a loud cry from Reena, at about eight thirty in the morning. The door was broken down, the doctor was summoned, but Amar had suffered a massive heart attack and he was no more.
They had two sons: Tamas, twenty-one year old, and the younger, Anand who was twenty. The younger had been away from home, so the family had to wait till he arrived before cremating Amar.
This happened a year ago. Reena, in more than one ways, is still in some kind of shock and refuses to accept that her husband is dead. If the maidservant who works both for her and for my family is to be believed, Reena has hung large photos of Amar’s in each room and very often talks to them.
Amar and his family had moved in the neighborhood more than twenty years ago. I still remember those days (it was before my marriage) when they would visit their site daily to personally supervise the construction of their home.
At that time, Reena was in her early twenties, having had just given birth to Anand. Boy, was she a knock out! I am of the same age as she. And before my marriage (and later on too, I must confess) she was the main central character during my masturbatory fantasies.
She was not tall: barely five feet three, and at that time, around a hundred and twenty pounds. She did shed a few pounds later on, but after having crossed forty, had given up all efforts to control her weight. She now weighs around a hundred and thirty or so and there is only one word to describe her: voluptuous.
In a story I had written in the past, I had mentioned the fact that the two characteristics that Indian men in general find fascinating in women are tits and thighs.
I remember even as a student, my pals and me ogling at robustly built film actresses, particularly those who were from South India. Titanic tits and Thunder thighs was the general phrase used by us to describe a particularly well-built starlet.
Reena was all that. A few months ago, a close friend of my wife’s spent a week at our place. She too was built along the general lines as Reena was. (I now also fantasize about this friend of my wife’s). I had sneaked into the guest bathroom one evening and had studied the sizes of her under garments. She wore a 38 bra and was 40 at her hips.
Reena would be slightly more. (I later found out that she was 40 at both these places and had a 35-inch waist).
With the advent of the Internet, I browse a lot of porno sites. The Indian government, puritanical though it may sound, does not allow any local porno sites, and that means the Indian has to browse through the free web sites available (mostly American) and it is a pity that they can’t access the paid sites for streaming videos simply because there is no arrangement to pay in American currency and a lot of us guys (particularly me) refuse to have credit cards (most of these cards available have collectors that would make the mafia blush).
My favorite sites that I visited would be those pertaining to BBW’s and Big Tits. I have copied and pasted more than a thousand photographs of such women getting fucked, sucking cock or tit fucking. This is not at all surprising as most of my pals do the same thing.
Watching these photos or clips (those shitty fifteen second trailers), I would fantasize that it was Reena posing in them. I do not recollect how many times I have jerked off on my 17-inch monitor during these sessions (which were quite a lot, as my wife does not agree that we should have sex more than twice a week, sometimes, twice a fortnight).
No sir, Reena was not your petite, thin girls you get to see these days in glossy magazines advertising for garments, under clothes, lip sticks or what have you. She was a robust and extremely voluptuous woman and I am sure that most of the guys in the neighborhood wouldn’t think twice if they had a chance to get it on with her.
My chance came one day when I was driving back from work and after having parked the car in the garage, happened to look over at my neighbor’s house.
A couple of guys, dressed in white were carrying a few cardboard boxes that obviously contained a PC.
“Hi,” I called over to her. “New PC?”
“Yes,” she smiled. She had a sexy smile. She had full lips that stretched wide to reveal pearly white near perfect teeth. “My sons insist that I have one in my room. They need to use the net at nights and I can’t make them move their set to my room.”
“You browse at night?” I asked her.
“It’s cheaper and much more peaceful. What about you?”
“Same here,” I grinned back.
On the spur of the moment, I asked her for her e-mail id. Promptly, she gave me the information and took my address as well.
“Well,” she told me, laughing, “You can expect a mail from me. Lots of times I get bored and wish I could go on hammering the keys.”
I didn’t mention to her that there was a better way: just click the mouse on the sites, those numerous sites I browse through.
Exactly a week later, I got her first mail.
HI! I BET YOU THOUGHT I WOULD FORGET. I DIDN’T. FEELING LONELY AND WOULD HAVE LOVED TO CHAT.
I immediately rushed my reply.
