The early afternoon Punjabi sun beat down mercilessly as I made the mile walk back from my Aunt's house, where I had been to deliver a message from my dear Mother, but the discomfort was driven from my mind by what I had witnessed.
I had not delivered Mother's message, because the scene that had greeted my disbelieving eyes had been too astonishing for me to comprehend.
"Oh Rahul." The voice of her sister came to me before I had even reached her door. "How wonderfully your splendid weapon splits me."
What I saw and heard when I looked through a gap in the partly open door could not possibly be, but it was.
My Aunt - who often chided my Mother for her immodesty when she chose not to wear the salwar, or loose trousers, under her sari when at home - was lying on her bed, as naked as the day she was born. Even more shocking to my innocent eyes was that lying upon her, feeding greedily on her most excellent breasts, as he drove his hard maleness into the secret treasure between her slender thighs, was none other than her very own brother, Rahul, who was also of course, brother to my Mother, and an always welcome and frequent visitor to our home.
Her voice came to me again. "Harder Rahul, my Brother. If only you knew how my lonely nights are filled with dreams of your potent manhood. I wake every morning praying that you will come to me and fill me as you are now."
I stood transfixed, as unable to move as a stone statue, as her legs rose to wrap around his driving hips, affording me an unforgettable view of his member, already coated with her creamy secretions as it thrust tirelessly in and out of her eager and glistening opening.
The next words my Aunt spoke burned into my brain. "When you visit her, do you thrill Indira as much as you thrill me?"
Uncle Rahul paused in his exertions. "Let us not speak of our sister when we are together, my sweet one."
"Forgive me Rahul, I know it is not for me to ask such things, but the thought of you pleasuring her as superbly as you pleasure me excites me. When I am waiting for you, I like to think of you pushing in and out of her, just as you are now pushing in and out of me."
"Hush," he said a little crossly. "When I am inside you nothing but your warmth exists for me, so do not speak so. Now we must hurry, so we can enjoy each other again and again before your husband comes home."
Prompted into fevered response, my Aunt arched up to meet him. "Thrust faster then, I am almost there."
Mesmerised, I watched their frantic coupling, until he gasped, his whole body shaking as his seed spilled into her. I could feel my hardness straining against my dhoti as he withdrew and rose to reveal his thick cream seeping from her thoroughly serviced entrance. Now that they had momentarily finished pleasuring each other, I jumped with fright when Uncle turned towards the door. My heart leapt into my mouth with the certainty that I was about to be discovered, but he merely stooped to move his clothing from beside the bed and knelt between her widespread thighs, lowering his mouth to her slippery crevice. Nonetheless I decided it would be prudent to leave before I was seen, and I turned away toward the path leading home.
Although still in shock at finding my Aunt and Uncle shamelessly enjoying each other in the most forbidden manner, I found my cheeks burning with shame that I had not only become aroused, but I had wished that it was I between her willingly parted limbs. One thing I had not been ashamed of however, was that when Uncle Rahul turned towards the door with his still hard member bobbing, I saw that whilst he was taller and heavier, I was at the very least his match in both length and girth.
As I walked my thoughts turned to what they had said about my Mother. I refused to believe that she could behave as shamelessly as her sister, despite what my Aunt had suggested. Surely I would have known, and besides my Uncle had refused to confirm it. At the same time, it concerned me that he had not denied it.
The closer I came to my home, the more my over active imagination tormented me, and my mind was in a turmoil of uncertainty. Living as we did in such a cramped space with but one room, the only privacy consisted of curtains around our meagre individual sleeping spaces. Since I had returned home at the finish of my schooling at the age of eighteen years, it was not unusual to come across my Mother in various states of undress, but I did not consider it seemly to allow my gaze to linger. For this very reason, the sight of Mother's bosoms neither excited or disturbed me, and I scarcely even glanced between her thighs. Until now.
I tried to dismiss the thoughts now running through my head, but the seed of suspicion that my Aunt had sown had already begun to grow. With Father away for long periods, pedalling a taxicab in the city, Mother certainly had ample time and opportunity to ease her loneliness. Of course it would be far from easy to avoid becoming the subject of village gossip, so although it was one of the most forbidden of acts, who better to turn to than her own brother, who could not betray her without betraying himself?
Halfway home I began to run, hoping that the pounding of my feet would pound out the unwanted images that invaded my thoughts. I arrived just in time to witness the familiar sight of my Mother standing beside her bed as she wound her sari. As was her habit in the heat of summer, she had chosen to leave her midriff bare, and had not yet arranged the cloth over her bosom, and I stared at her firm breasts, for the first time seeing her as a woman. A very desirable woman. It seemed odd that she was only now dressing, so late in the day, since she had risen from her bed before I left to deliver her message to my Aunt.
There was almost certainly a perfectly innocent explanation, but the demons my Aunt's words had planted in my mind were whispering otherwise. That perhaps my Mother had despatched me on my errand so that she could 'entertain' a 'visitor,' and had not had time to dress properly before I returned. I knew deep down that this could not be so, but my member stirred inside my dhoti as I recalled how my Aunt had looked last time I saw her. In my imagination it was not my Aunt who lay panting as her well plundered treasure oozed with male seed, but my Mother. In my imagination it was not my Uncle Rahul who had just withdrawn his spent manhood, but myself.
My cheeks burned with guilt as I shook my head, trying to banish the wicked thoughts as I caught one final glimpse of my Mother's superb dark tipped breasts before she finished dressing. Draping the fabric loosely across the wonderful globes and over her shoulder, she turned to me with a smile, which quickly became a look of concern when she mistook my suddenly trembling legs as a sign of distress.
"Oh my poor boy," she exclaimed. "Your poor legs must ache terribly from such a long walk in this dreadful heat," she said, with infinite tenderness.
