I am Alamu. I am twenty years old. I have a strange story to tell. My life to all external appearances is a humdrum one, but I have done something that is quite astounding, possible unique. I will come to that presently. I live with my husband and mother-in-law in a small town in South India near the tip of the peninsula. I do not remember my father; he died when I was three. My mother passed away when I was seven. I have only vague recollections of her. My maternal grandmother brought me up. She was over sixty at that time my mother passed away. I have experienced only grandmotherly love, which is different from motherly love. Each is good in its own way. They complement each other. But as a grown up woman I have had a taste of mother's love. Strangely enough it is from my mother-in-law. This is strange, for in our culture the relationship between daughter-in-law and mother-in-law is mostly strained. My Athai (Tamil for mother-in-law) is like my mother to me, and often we are more like friends.
I was very good in my studies. May be if my parents had been alive I would have ended up as a doctor or computer engineer, but not having had that advantage I did graduate study in social sciences. I was a gold medal winner with scholarship to do further studies, but a marriage offer came up and an aunt (who after my grandmother's death had taken charge of me) persuaded me to marry. I did, and I do not regret it one bit for my married life is as happy as could be.
I will describe my sexual life for it is relevant to the story I am about to relate. I am married for a little more than a year and a half, but that does not prevent me from thinking that I have found the key to a happy married life. I must be very immodest, even a bit arrogant, to assume that I know so much and so early about something that learned people have been grappling with little success for years. I will tell you what I consider the key. Unless a woman learns to enjoy sex with her husband happiness in marriage is not a possibility.
My husband's name is Krishna. In our culture I cannot call him by name. I call him Athan. Though Athan means maternal uncle's son a woman can call her husband Athan even if he is not a blood relation. Athan likes to see me go about my household work in the nude. I am pretty certain that all men would love it once they get a taste of it. Unfortunately in our house that is possible only in the bedroom. My husband and I found the pleasures of nudity quite accidentally. I was in the nude one day ready for love making when the telephone rang. I took the call and I had to rummage the desk drawer to give the caller the particulars she required. I was doing that when I noticed my husband looking at me with excitement. I was reading out the particulars over the phone when something was nudging between my legs. I looked down. It was Athan, face upwards, trying to insert his head between my legs. I was amused. I parted my legs as I continued reading. Soon his lips were on my vulva. I placed one foot on a chair, and he gripped my buttocks and started licking my clitoris in right earnest. Luckily I completed the task before I had orgasm. The listener is bound to have suspected that something was happening at the other end, but she could not have guessed what it was in a million tries. From then on whenever we were in a mood for it I would go nude and carry on my job of writing or reading or arranging the room or whatever. Athan never allowed me to complete what I set out to do. He would start sucking or licking till I had to call a halt to my task. These episodes always ended in hot lovemaking with powerful orgasms.
One evening I had to talk to my husband on a matter that was in my thoughts for some time. I had to get him into a proper mood. I know how to do that. I carried a silver tumbler with milk to the bedroom. My husband was reclining on the bed. He received the tumbler and drank with relish. Both my mother-in-law and I do not believe in the modern craze of 2 percent, half and half, and other forms of milk. It has to be whole milk, and one of us has to be there at the gate watching the milkman as he milked his cow. The milk has to boil, and then only is it fit for use. Whole milk from one cow (a rare privilege in the modern world) has a special taste. No doubt my husband drinks with relish. He drank half and gave the tumbler to me to drink the rest.
"Have a little more," I said. He took one more sip and gave it back. This time I drank the lot. Wife drinking what the husband leaves from his tumbler of milk is a First Night ritual. We have continued that custom every day for a year and a half. The ritual of course does not stop with milk drinking.
"Your choice today," I said. My husband pondered, and then gave his order as if I was a waitress in a restaurant.
"Licking." He paused, and then continued, "with you on top." Sixty-nine with woman on top is as different from sixty-nine with woman below as North is from South. I arranged pillows for him to rest his head at the right height and angle. This is very important. The reputation of sixty-nine promising a lot and delivering little is owing to couples neglecting this detail.
"Undress me," I said. He did.
"Undress me," he said. I did. It is a game we play. I examined his penis. I held it and ran my fingers up and down the shaft. I held the glans with my fingers bunched on the ledge and gave the shaft a gentle pull.
"Is it up to your expectations?" he asked.
"It's good. Now position yourself." When he was ready I climbed up, went on knees and elbows, and reversed rather like a car. He tapped my buttocks as if they were combo drums, gently of course. When he stopped drumming I knew the positioning was good. He knows my vulva like the palm of his hand, but that does not prevent him from inspecting it with awe every time he has the chance. I of course could not see him but I could feel his breath as he reconnoitred. Then he nipped the labia minora and then licked the secretions I was pouring in my excitement. Then he touched my clitoris with the tip of his pointed tongue. I shuddered. It is always my response to the first touch—a shudder that shakes my whole body.
Meanwhile I was playing with his penis: Stroking it, licking the drops of clear fluid that oozed at the tip, and then taking the glans into my mouth. We had both agreed that till our first child appeared not one drop of his semen should go anywhere but into the vagina. But that did not prevent me from taking his penis into my mouth and chewing on it. And then suddenly his licking intensified. Athan says that licking is different when the clitoris is above. The inner leaves open out like the petals of the lotus and the clitoris thrusts out like the stamen. He says that his upper lip now comes into play and not the lower lip as when I am on my back. Also he gets more of the clitoris to play with. He held the clitoris with his lips and licked. My buttocks were moving back and forth, almost vibrating, and then he stopped for a moment; when he restarted he swiped. I cascaded in an intense orgasm. He bit on my clitoris still I was screaming a muffled scream. I waited for the thrill to subside and turned round and lay on my back, feet in air. I guided his penis into my soaking wet vagina. Soon he ejaculated, and I had orgasm at about the same time. Then I had some more.
"Cup me," I said. He cupped his hand on my vulva and pressed, and I had some aftershocks. We rested for a while. We went to wash. He washed me with a softness and delicacy that is an experience in itself. I then washed him and we lay and snuggled.
"Athan darling, I have something important to discuss with you," I said.
"Go ahead," he said.
2
I do not believe any wife has ever proposed to her husband what I intended to. I was convinced that I was doing the right thing, but it was so bizarre that most would think it horrific. Few would believe it. I had pondered about this for weeks and now I was going to plunge ahead.
"I want to talk about Athai," I said.
"What of her?"
"She is lonely."
"You keep her company isn't it?"
"I mean persons of her age."
"She is very friendly with many neighbour women."
"Yes of course she has many friends with whom she goes to temples and even movies."
"Then what?" Man's incapacity to grasp even the basics of woman's wants can be exasperating. I tried a different approach.
"She's young for her age."
"What do you mean young for her age?"
"She is only thirty-eight."
"She married early. That is why she has a daughter-in-law when she is so young." "Many women nowadays marry when they are in their thirties." My husband
finally understood what I was driving at. He became thoughtful.
"Do you think she misses that?"
"Of course."
