It’s A Man’s World Ch. 01

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My name is Aditi, except my daddy everyone else calls me Adi. I am nine months pregnant. The doctors say that I will deliver my boy any day. Yes I know… they told me it is a boy.

Damn this pregnancy, I am convinced that it will kill me. I became so huge that everyone said I was going to have twins but the doctors established that it was only a boy thank God for that.

A month back I had some spotting and was rushed to the hospital. After ten days the doctors sent me home, though I was still feeling miserable, to die. They insisted that I am okay and advised me complete bed rest. You know how these doctors are nowadays you can’t believe them anymore.

Let me tell you something in confidence, they prefer that their patients die at home rather than in the hospital because nobody would know that they have lost a patient or two. This is how they maintain their reputation.

Omigosh! I am bored to death. I have no one to keep me company except for the idiot box and this computer. Even the stupid cable guy is conspiring against me. He has stopped showing the programs I like. Probably he also knows that I am going to die. I have four maids but now when I need them they are not here.

Ouch! The little rascal is kicking me. Akaash (I have already named him. Akaash means sky. I hope you like the name? If not who cares) is impatient to see the world and why not after all it is a man’s world. He would in all probability want to meet his parents also. This is where my problem starts because I myself don’t know who his real father is.

No, no it is not what you are thinking. I am happily married and have been since over a year. When I conceived him four virile young men, including my husband, were fucking me day and night for two weeks. Confusing isn’t it?

Before my end comes let me try and explain how all this came about. Perry Mason always advises his clients that the best way to narrate a story is to start from the beginning but I am not going to do that just because some stupid lawyer said so.

Let me tell you what I will do. I will begin from a year after, then go back to the beginning and then proceed from where I left off. Got it? I suppose not. Let me explain…omigosh even I find it confusing.

Best is, I start writing; you just sit back and try to make some sense out of it. Agreed?

Good! Tighten your seat belt; we are ready to take off.

Few years ago on a cold January afternoon Sarita and I were sitting in my room. She was checking her e-mail and I was glancing through a fashion magazine.

Sarit and I loved surfing. Together we surfed the net for hours. We loved visiting pornographic sites specially the ones that showed naked men. We looked at the huge cocks and discussed as to how it would feel to have one of those big ones up our cunts.

We also frequented many chat rooms. Chatting with people using false identities. To get cheap thrills we enjoyed using vulgar words, which we couldn’t do in our daily life. We also got in the habit of using these words when we were alone.

Sarit was a member of many sites, which posted erotic stories. Some of them even sent them in her mail. We would read the erotic stories together, get horny and masturbate like hell.

‘Adi come let us surf the net’ Sarit asked me.

‘You go ahead I am not in the mood’ I replied, ‘besides I must return this magazine to the library later this evening’.

‘Okay if that is what you want’ Sarit replied making a face.

This is how it happened that she was checking her mail and I was reading a magazine.

‘Adi have you read this story?’ Sarit asked me.

‘No what is it about?’ I asked absentmindedly.

‘It is about a young girl who was deflowered by her jija (Brother in law – sister’s husband)’ Sarit giggled.

‘Hmm’ I responded without looking up from my magazine.

‘Look, here is a story written by a boy about how he fucked his sister’s best friend on Holi’ she said.

(Holi is an important Hindu festival. In the west Holi is better known as the Festival of Colors. On Holi people visit friends and relatives, put dry color and colored water on each other. It is celebrated in spring each year. Many believe it heralds the onset of summer)’

‘So’ I replied still engrossed in my magazine.

‘Adi you are not paying attention’ she said snatching the magazine.

‘Of course I am listening to you’ I replied retrieving my magazine.

‘Okay tell me what I said?’ she asked. The truth was that I had not heard a word. Sarit’s favorite topics were boys and sex so I took an educated guess.

‘You said something about a boy fucking a girl’ I replied hoping to score a bull’s eye.

‘No I did not’ she complained, ‘I told you, ‘you were not listening’.

‘Sorry Sarit tell me again’ I said closing the magazine, ‘I’m all ears’. She repeated what she had said.

‘Why are you telling me all this?’ I asked puzzled.

‘Kyonki meri pyaari Adi teri choot bhi tau tere jiju ne casino şirketleri Holi a mauke pe phardi thi (Because, my dear Adi, your jiju (Jija = jiju = sister’s husband) also deflowered you on the occasion of Holi’ she said giggling.

‘Why this sudden interest in what jiju and I did last Holi’ I inquired raising one eyebrow.

‘Don’t you understand your story has both the ingredients first saali (wife’s sister) -jija angle and the festival of Holi. You should also write your story and post it on the net’ Sarit suggested.

‘Hai nahin! Main sharam se mar jauingi (Omigosh no! I will die of shame)’ I replied blushing.

‘There is nothing to be embarrassed about. No one will know who you are’ she replied then sitting up straight in her chair, pointing her big twin peaks at me added in her best pucca sahib accent, ‘net is anonymous you know’.

‘Lagta hai tu pagal ho gayi hai (It seems you have gone mad)’ I replied laughing.

‘Nahin main pagal nahin hoon (No I am not insane). Just think about it’ she said then changing the subject added, ‘I hear jiju is coming for a visit on this Holi also’.

‘Oh yes he is coming’ I sighed.

‘How does it feel?’ she asked.

‘Jiju ke aane ke baare main soch soch kar mere dil main kuch kuch hota hai (Just thinking about jiju’s visit makes my heart go pitter patter)’ I replied truthfully.

‘Arre pagali main tere dil ke baare main nahin poonch rahi hoon, bata teri pyari choot ka kya haal hai (Stupid girl I am not asking about your heart, tell me how does your dear cunt feel)’ she giggled poking my crotch with her finger.

‘Oh meri choot ka bura haal hai? Jab se suna hai jiju aa rahain hain, woh nadi ki terah beh rahi hai rukne ka naam hi nahin leti (Oh my cunt is in a terrible state? Since I have heard about jiju’s coming it is flowing like a river. It would just not stop)’ I giggled.

‘Don’t worry jiju will put a cork in it and stop the flow’ she laughed.

‘I hope so. I am looking forward to it’ I sighed clasping the magazine to my breasts.

‘Sarit I have heard that your jijaji is also visiting you folks this Holi. My advice is that you let him plug your cunt. You will love it’ I suggested grinning.

‘Na baba na main jaissi hoon achchi hoon (No thanks I am fine as I am)’ she replied, ‘waisse bhi mere jijaji aisse nahin hain. Woh ek gentleman hain aur mujhe ek lady ki terah treat karte hain (Anyway my jijaji is not like that. He is a gentleman and treats me like a lady)’.

‘You mean to say that your jijaji is a gentleman and my jiju is a rogue?’ I retorted throwing the magazine at her.

‘Remember you said it, I didn’t’ she laughed ducking my missile, ‘Sorry Adi I must run, I promised to help mama clean the store today’.

‘Achcha mera jiju badmash hai? Main tujhe dikhati hoon (So my jiju is a rogue? I will show you)’ I muttered to myself after Sarit had left, ‘agar maine iss Holi per teri choot main tere gentleman jijaji se daat nahin lagwayi tau mera naam Aditi nahin (if, on this Holi. I don’t get your cunt plugged by your gentleman jijaji then my name is not Aditi)’.

Frankly I had no intention of telling you in detail about jiju and me but now that Sarit has blown the whistle I might as well tell you how it happened. But before proceeding any further let me give you some background about our families and us for better understanding.

Sarita is my best friend. We grew up together. There are no secrets between us. We confide everything in each other including our most personal things. We are so close that many a times we take a shower together, kissing, hugging and touching each other. No we have no lesbian tendencies but do it just for fun. Sarit is a couple of months younger to me. Our thinking, tastes and reaction to most issues is about the same except that in a tense situation Sarit gets nervous very quickly. Another difference is our looks.

Sarit is 5′ 6″ tall, fair and slim with short bobbed hair. She is pretty but not a head turner. You can’t say this about her boobs. They have turned many a heads. Omigosh, they are big. Sorry big is not the right word: they are huge, like two mini Mount Everest peaks. I always tease her by saying, ‘Sarit be sure to marry a mountain climber. An ordinary man will never be able to climb on top of you on your wedding night and you will remain a virgin all your life’.

In contrast I, Aditi am no taller than 5′ 3″, with wheatish complexion, slim and have long black hair. My boobs are small. When I tease Sarit about the size of her boobs she retaliates by calling my boobs miserable looking pimples or mosquito bites.

Another fact that brought us so close to each other was that our fathers are also great friends. They had been class fellows in school and college. In other words they did all things that boys do together. After their education they started their own businesses. They invested in land in the same colony and built their houses around the same time. I would not be surprised if the architect casino firmaları and the contractor were also the same. Sarit’s house is about seven minutes walk away from mine.

We are five members in my family, my parents Ravi and Seema Razdan, my elder sister Madhu, my thirteen-year-old younger brother Hemant (Hemu) and I. Our two-storied house is built on a 500 sq. yard plot. Drawing room, dining room, kitchen and a guest room along with stores etc. are situated on the ground floor and three bedrooms with attached bathroom, one for the parents, one for us sisters and one for Hemu, are on the first floor.

About five years ago my father developed some problem in his knees, making it difficult for him to climb stairs. As a result my parents shifted to the guestroom on the ground floor and we three children enjoyed the luxury of not having to share a room.

Sarit’s father being more affluent constructed a palatial house on a 1000 sq. yard plot. There are only four members in Sarit’s family, her parents Romesh and Lila Singh, an elder sister, Rashmi and her.

Three years ago my sister Madhu married Mohan. Four months later Rashmi also got married to Abhishek (Abhi). Like Sarit and me both Madhu didi (Didi= respectful term used to address an elder sister) and Rashmi didi were of nearly the same age, class fellows and great friends.

Are you guys still with me? Please raise your hand if something is not clear. No hands! Good now let me get on with the story. In case I have forgotten something I shall elaborate during the flight.

Two days before last Holi jiju and Madhu didi came to visit us and moved into Madhu didi’s room on the first floor. Didi was seven months pregnant. Their plan was that after spending his one-month vacation jiju would return leaving didi behind for the delivery and return three months later to take her and the baby home.

It was a special Holi. No, no not because what happened between jiju and me but because daddy was the president of the “Residents Welfare Society” of our colony. Elaborate arrangements had been made as many guests were expected. Several tubs were rented and filled with water of different colors. A halwayi (a person who specializes in cooking sweets and snacks) was hired to prepare sweets and other snacks. Our servant, Bhola was in charge of making thandayi and bhang.

(The Concise Oxford Dictionary defines Bhang as an Indian hemp used as narcotic and intoxicant. It can be smoked, chewed, eaten and drunk).

NOTE: Traditionally bhang mixed in thandayi is served on Holi. Some people go to the extent of mixing bhang in sweets and other snacks also. Thandayi, a cooling drink, is made of grounded dry fruits predominantly almonds, herbs and select spices blended with cold milk or water.

It was a fine sunny day. The sun was shining bright in the sky. It was not hot but warm enough to make playing with water a pleasure. We all assembled in the lawn of the house. After greeting each other and rubbing dry color on each other the elders including didi sat in the verandah while Hemu, jiju and I waited for the revelers to arrive. Hemu started the ball rolling by shooting a jet of colored water from his ‘pichkari’ (a large syringe like contraption) on jiju.

‘Wait you young scoundrel’ jiju said and ran after him. Catching him jiju dumped him in a tub full of colored water.

‘Jiju what about didi?’ Hemu suggested with a naughty smile as he climbed out of the tub. I tried to escape them but jiju was faster. Effortlessly he picked me up in his arms and dunked me in the tub. When I stepped out of the tub my drenched clothes were sticking to my body revealing it’s each curve and bulge. As I was squeezing the excess water from my wet clothes I noticed jiju staring at me with a strange gleam in his eyes.

I forgot all about it as group of visitors arrived. The elders moved to greet my parents while the younger crowd joined us. I noticed that each time the revelers came, jiju concentrated more on me rather on them. Many a times I felt his hand squeezing my boobs and his hard cock pressing against my butt. At first I ignored it thinking that it was unintentional but when this happened again and again, I realized that jiju was doing it on purpose.

‘Jiju stop it’ I said when it happened the next time. Jiju just laughed. When he squeezed my tits again I said, ‘Jiju please stop it otherwise I will tell mummy’.

‘Stop what?’ he laughed.

‘Mere mamme dabane bund karo (Stop squeezing my boobs)’ I replied looking him in the eyes.

‘Main tere mamme kahan daba raha hoon main tau sirf ek hee mamma daba raha hoon kyonki tu mere adhi gharwali hai (I am not squeezing your boobs. I am pressing only one of them because you are my half wife only)’ he replied.

Reflecting briefly, I realized that what he had said was right he had manhandled the same breast each time.

‘Ek mamma ya do mujhe pasand nahin hai iss liye aur mat kijiye (One boob or both I don’t like it so please stop)’ I told güvenilir casino him.

‘No I will not I am only exercising my right’ he replied.

‘Kaun sa huq? Aap ko ye huq kissne diya (What right? Who gave you this right?)’ I asked getting annoyed.

‘Your parents. Remember you are my saali (wife’s sister). They say that saali aadhi gharwali (Literally translated it means: Wife’s sister is husband’s half wife). I am only following their diktat’ he replied with a grin.

‘Main aadhi gharwali ke chukker ko nahin maanti iss liye please aur mat kijiye (I don’t subscribe to this “half wife” stuff so please stop)’ I told him.

Revelers kept coming and going. Jiju did not desist. Whenever he got a chance he continued to squeeze my boob and press his hardness against my ass.

‘The only way to make him stop was to make a scene’ I thought, ‘but it was not in didi’s interest, she being seven months pregnant’. I therefore decided to ignore his childish game. Another reason was that I did not find his touch unpleasant.

Sarit and her parents arrived followed by a large group. We got busy playing Holi with them and entertaining them. Jiju continued to exercise his so-called “right”. As the crowd thinned Sarit took me aside.

‘Adi I see you are having a great time with your jiju’ she giggled.

‘You saw what he is doing?’ I asked grimacing, ‘I have asked him to stop but he says it his “right” because I am his saali, aadhi gharwali (sister in law, half wife)’.

‘Why don’t you tell auntie or better just scream murder when he does it the next time’ Sarit suggested.

‘I thought of it but it might have an adverse effect on didi. Her health is more important to me’ I replied, ‘so I have decided to ignore his innocent game’. I did not tell her that I enjoyed his touch and his hard on pressing against my ass made my choot wet.

‘Dhyan rakhna kahin woh khel khel main tujhe aadhi se poori gharwali na bana le (Be careful that in this little game from his half wife you become his full wife’ Sarit laughed.

‘No way’ I replied, ‘you think I am stupid’.

‘Who knows?’ Sarit giggled.

Before I could give her a befitting reply more guests arrived and I got busy looking after them. In the meanwhile Sarit left with her parents. After couple of hours jiju and I sat down to relax.

‘I am thirsty’ I said, ‘I am going to have some thandayi. Will you join me?’.

‘Yes’ jiju replied and shouted, ‘HEMU’.

Hemu adored his jiju actually we all did, and came running. ‘Yes jiju’ he panted.

‘Hemu please ask Bhola to bring us a glass of thandayi’ jiju said then turning to me asked, ‘I am going to try some bhang what about you?’

‘No thanks I will stick to plain thandayi’ I replied, ‘Hemu one glass with bhang for jiju and the other without bhang for me’.

‘Yes didi’ Hemu replied.

With jiju playing his little games I was suspicious and just to make sure that Hemu had understood the instructions correctly I made him to repeat them. Couple of minutes later he returned with two glasses. ‘Bhola has had too much bhang, so I have brought them’ he said.

‘One without bhang for didi and one with bhang for jiju’ he said handing the respective glasses to us. I was so thirsty that I nearly downed the whole glass in one gulp.

‘Adi more guests have come’ jiju said getting up.

‘I’ll just join you’ I replied and draining the glass ran after him.

‘Omigosh I am thirsty’ I said after seeing the new guests off, ‘jiju will you like another glass?’

‘Yes thank you I will’ he replied finishing his glass. ‘Hemu please one more round of the same’ I requested my brother.

‘Hemu tell Bhola to put some more bhang in my glass. I could hardly taste it in the first one’ jiju told Hemu.

Just then mummy arrived on the scene. ‘Adi it is getting late and we are going to get ready. Mohanji (Mohan = jiju’s name and ji added for respect. Sons in law in a Hindu family are highly respected) and you can look after the guests though I doubt if any more will come. Hemu you also go and have your bath’ mummy said pulling a protesting Hemu, who was giving us our drink, behind her.

Jiju and I finished our second glass. While we were seeing off some visitors’ mummy shouted from the verandah, ‘Adi we are ready now you and Mohanji also go and have your bath’.

‘One minute’ Jiju said and picking me up dumped me in a tub half full of colored water and started to knead my tit with one hand and rub me between my legs with the other. I struggled and shouted for help.

My mother heard me but had no inkling as to what jiju was up to. She watched us from the verandah with an indulgent smile on her lips thinking I was shouting because jiju had dumped me in the tub. He, being stronger than me, continued with his evil intentions.

After five minutes jiju released me. ‘Jiju you are a very, very bad man’ I told him wringing the excess water from my clothes.

‘Adi let us get ready now’ he said laughing.

When we reached the stairs my legs suddenly felt weak and I nearly fell.

‘Careful’ jiju said putting his arm round me to support me. His hand cupped my boob. He continued to press my boob while helping me up the stairs.

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