Confession Of An Aunty

I love boobs. I cannot resist them; just the thought of two round, warm and magnificent breasts in my two hands. How I would slowly move my hands just slightly touching her breast, just the way a sculptor would feel his newly made smooth marble statue, as if it were some very delicate thing. In fact it is. I have pressed it hard enough to make her scream, in pain. Not those masochistic orgasmic pains, I am talking about pain, plain simple and very painful, and pain. Just as much as I enjoy boobs I enjoy the company of older woman. I often tend to be more attracted to the older ones. The older ones have a certain look in their faces. Like a sign of intellect. I like old women just as much I love poetry. I write them and me often show off my works by placing them in such order in my house that people read them as if by chance. Chance makes things so sweet. One day I had placed it on top of a table desperate to get that piece of poetry read by someone. My mom had guests over, and a friend of hers, though quite younger was unnaturally pleased with my rhymes. She had that same look in her eyes, the sign of intellect. I wondered how it would be to sleep with her. I quickly imagined her naked in my bed, covering her decent breasts with a silk white bed sheet. Yes, it would be great to fuck her.

I did actually fuck her. It was an interesting night that first time. She would come to stay in our house as her husband is abroad. She cannot bear a child as far as I know or it’s her husband. My mother had gone out of Kathmandu for a while. My mother had left early in the morning and I couldn’t sleep. I knew that she would be sleeping. I already told you about my weakness, boobs. I thought that to be a good time to do some boob grabbing. I walked to her room, she was asleep. “Aunty,” I called out a little louder than normal. She made no sign of being awake. I tore a page from a magazine to test if she was in a deep sleep or not. She didn’t move. I threw that paper on her; it landed right behind her ears. She didn’t move. I got close to her. I knelled down and I snick my hands under the quilt. I felt her body, oh what bliss. I felt the embroideries of her kurta. She looked amazing on a kurta and without that shawl she would compel you to masturbate. I felt her hips first and moved my hands slowly towards her stomach. I felt all the curves and led my hands towards her breasts. I pressed a little and she moved. She looked at me with those sleepy eyes and an expression of shock was clear. She looked at me with the big eyes for a while and she slowly fell asleep shutting her eyes slowly. I stared at her in amazement and a little shocked myself. I begged that she would think all these as a dream when she wakes up. She then moved, she slipped to the other side of the bed. I slowly kissed her lips and she kissed me back. I got on top of her and continued kissing. She was a sloppy kisser and she had her hands on my belt. I lost my virginity.

Now I felt as if my life would begin. I didn’t tell anyone about this and not even her. She didn’t speak either as if nothing had happened. I once got a call from her and from that day I have been frequently visiting her for the sake of boobs. At first we only had sex all the time. I used to tell my mother that I am at a friend’s house and stay with her. We used to play cards till night, not strip poker. Stripping was of no use to us. Frequent fucking had made us shameless but, I still closed the door while pissing and taking a dump. She would do the same. She was a lovely woman. She looked amazing while naked. I always wondered how her husband would fuck her. Wondering takes ones thought to different depths and so it did to me. I wondered who satisfied her more; me or her husband. She always told my name. At times at night one of us would get up and kiss till we end up fucking. Most of the time it was me and she didn’t mind at all. My mom would sometimes call her while we were sexing and as soon as she put down her phone my phone would ring revealing my mother’s phone number.

Sometimes late at night we would talk about different matters. I liked that as much as sex actually. The way she would sit down besides her bed leaning her arms on it reminded me time and again how smooth her skin was. I told her that she had the color of honey, a luminous gold skin tone. I would put my hands on her shoulders while she watched the television, her head between my legs as I sat on a sofa couch. I would lean a little forward and put my hands on her breasts and we would have sex again. Just one night while we were talking, I rolled a joint explaining to her how marijuana is harmless. She sat before me; I realized that today we are again going to talk serious. Her look was different when she put her hands on my knees to tell me something. I looked at her and waited for her to say whatever she wanted to tell me.

“I have something to confess.” she told me.
“Tell me “I said deeply interested.
“Do you know Damsee?.”She asked looking at the ground.
“Dog, downstairs,” I leaned on the wall.
“Yes, it’s something you may not want to listen about.”
“Are you sure that I tell you? You are the only one with whom I think I can share this thought, and no one else.”
“What?” I asked wondering if menopause would come at her age.
She put her hands on her knees and looked at me.
“I used to bring that dog over, the owner downstairs didn’t mind, actually he suggested me to keep his dog at night as I am alone.”
“I have seen that dog with a tampon pad in its mouth. The dog is filthy.” I said.
“I used to make one of those sock balls and play fetch with him. He would be much exited when he saw me taking out a sock for play. I wear socks and sleep at night, are you sure you want to hear the rest of it?” She said
I kind of had a bad feeling and wondered if she had sex with that dog.
“Tell me, go on.” I told her.
“The dog came to my bed and started to nibble at my feet, socks. He knew that it was the same type of thing he plays fetch with. I had this feeling that he would bite my fingers so I pulled those socks off and put it under my pillow.
“Oh, please tell me you didn’t have sex with that dog.”
“ I did.”

I looked at her to see a sign of mischief or a twist on her lips to imply that she was joking, but no. She was dead serious and I could see it in her face. I didn’t know myself if I wanted to hear more of it or not. The whole situation, tragic and disgusting as it was, made me laugh. I fuck my mom’s friend whom I call “aunty” and she has had sex with a dog and may be the dog fucks her often. I have dogs `fucking` girls in porn but I thought who couldn’t train dogs to do what not. But, I guess dogs have in them and ancient people knew about it. “Don’t be a dog” an old phrase implied mostly to village perverts who go inserting their penises into a goat’s rear end. I was now excited.

“I am ready to listen to anything now” I said with a smile on my face a hint of enlightenment in my mind.
“Damsee started to lick my feet. I tried ignoring it. Ticklish as it was it was also turning me on. I then spread my legs.”
“Tell it to me in detail.” I said.
She looked at me and let out air as if in relief. I don’t know why.
“I spread my legs and brought the dog towards me, his paws right between my arm; his face a little above my breasts. I then gently began to stroke his penis with my hand, till it begins to get hard. Damsee got exited I took out the sock from under the pillow and put it on Damsee’s front paws so that he doesn’t scratch me. He was restless already. I start the whole thing again. I lead his penis to my vagina, gently stroking it with my hands. I let it in me. Now, let me tell you one thing about having sex with dogs, they are not the same as men. Dogs I feel are more sexually active then men, even you. They will have sex with you whenever you want and whenever you want. They don’t tell their friends and I feel they are more of a female’s best friend rather than a man’s.”

“I wonder if ancient cave women had sex with their dogs. I mean they are naked and dogs do lick. It must be.”
“Let me tell you, you know nothing.” She interrupted
“It continuously started to hump me, I felt really good inside. It’s not that I enjoy sex with dogs only, but dogs have a different game of theirs. You know, have you seen dogs attached, like after they have sex. You must have seen then on streets obviously. They get stuck for a reason. A dog’s dick gets swollen on the top forming a knot-­‐like shape. That happens when they are super aroused and it makes sure that the dog’s sperm doesn’t spill out in excitement.”
“Don’t tell me you got stuck!” I said alarmingly.
“Why definitely yes, I could’ve have avoided it. I was nervous at first but as the dog’s sperm entered inside of me, I felt good. Dogs are said to have a warmer body temperature than that of humans so Damsee’s sperm felt so warm and good. I could feel his knot swell inside of me I could feel it. It also touched my clitoris and then I was out of control. I caught hold of him and he gently let loose of his body over me and started to move his hips. That was a satisfaction no man give.”
“How long did you stuck?” I asked in amazement.

“It’s mostly for 13 minutes and then his dick gets soft. Before you ask let me tell you that I have had sex with Damsee lots of times and now when his owner tries to get near to me he barks at him. He never did that before he told me. I would always just smile.”
“Where is Damsee? I haven’t seen him these days.” I said all immersed into a story listening mood. I lighted the joint I just made and blow a smoke around avoiding puffing on her face. “That is what I have told you all these things about. You think I would just confess my love affair with a dog to you, without worrying that you may think of me to be a mad woman? The owner he has a crush on me. In fact he had it from the time I moved here. He often tries to look at me from the window. Once at night I let him in with Damsee and I felt that he knew about me and that dog. He sat on the sofa, I offered him coffee. He said that a beer would be fine. I told him that I don’t keep beer in my house. He said nothing. Damsee ran up to me all happy and he saw him sniffing my vagina and getting hyperactive. Damsee used to make a squeaking sound when he wanted sex. He wanted that always. He made several squeaking sounds. The owner got up and walked to me. He started to kiss me holding me tightly with his hands. I tried to push him forward but he was too strong for me. Damsee was growling from behind and as I was wondering when he would attack Damsee bit on the upper part of his hip. He left hold of me and fell on the floor.

Blood on his hands and sweating all over, he shouted “you can fuck a dog you bitch and you cannot even fringing kiss me?!” I sat crying on the floor. He took hold of Damsee’s belt and took him out of my apartment. I could hear him dragging those poor whining dogs downstairs with no mercy.” She starts to cry. “He killed Damsee?”
“Yes, out of jealousy” she said sobbing.
“ Don’t cry you little bitch” I told her shouting at the top of my voice. It is not out of jealousy that he killed your doggie love. It’s sheer anger. You know one thing about jealousy, that it is created out of beauty. A mind that is not jealous doesn’t have the power to see beauty. Jealousy is the first sign that you have spotted something beautiful, something marvelous, and something you cannot have. That is jealousy. The story you told me has no beauty in it so, how can jealousy be born out of it? You cry right now, dry your tears and it is better if you die.” I said these words and got up. I picked up my t-­‐shirt that was lying on that bed. She sat there sobbing. My phone rang and it was my mom. I picked it up.
“Hello” I said trying to sound normal. Just then she jumped at my feet and shouted.
“Please save me! That man will kill me too.” She shouted.
“What? Is that Sunita?” my mother asked in surprise.

I cut the phone and kicked her away from me. I put on my flippers and begin to walk downstairs. I was convinced that it is sick world and as I got out of the main gate and started walking to my bike, I heard a cry. Like that of a Dog. The dog was nearby somewhere. I didn’t bother. A little ahead on the ground I see a newspaper with what happened to look like blood all over it. I went closer to it trying to find out what it was. It looked like a dog’s dick cut off, wrapped in newspaper and thrown. The blood had dried to brown. All that talk about being angry instead of jealous, I was actually wrong. The thing smells of jealousy. Where was the beauty that gave rise to such jealousy? I have enough time to wonder.