Your erotic stories

Man spilling blood in honourable, woman spilling blood is unclean, what logic is that?

I am Rohan. I am nineteen. I am in the second year of my bachelor degree course in engineering in a college near the extreme southern tip of India. My family consists of my father, a retired accountant from the revenue department, my mother, a housewife, and my elder sister. Her name is Sarala, but as I am younger I cannot call her by name. I call her Akka, which in the Tamil language means elder sister. She is 23 years old. After graduation she is at home waiting for marriage.

My story is strange, but I have a niggling suspicion that it is not as unusual as it may seem at first sight. My problem is my sex life—I do not have any. I believe that in Western countries by the time boys or girls graduate from school they have had sexual experiences. Incidentally I used to wonder why leaving school in those countries should amount to graduation whereas in India one graduates only when one acquires a degree like B.A. or B.E. or any other. If they have sex before leaving school I concede that they have the right to call themselves graduates. The chances are that when I acquire my B.E. degree two years from now I may not be a graduate in the Western sense. My case is the common lot of most young men of the middle class in India.

The rich know how to look after themselves. They have their parties where liquor flows freely, and men and women dance and have a good time. They give their children cars with lots of pocket money and leave them more or less to themselves. The poor live in such densely populated localities with several families occupying one room that sleeping floors are crowded. It is easy to have sex in such surroundings. It is the middle classes that have bound themselves hand and foot with stifling rules and prohibitions.

For my part I do the only thing I can do, I fantasise. The object of my fantasies is my sister. My sister is four years and three months my senior in age. She is pretty. Her breasts are big and shapely, and her hips are wide. Her features are such that someone like her must have modelled for the sculptures in our local temple, which incidentally is a famous one. Her nose is straight and sharp, and her eyes large with long lashes. From my seat at the computer I can see her when she is watching TV without her knowledge. At times her face will be serious, and at times she will smile a gentle smile. Her smile is the sweetest I have ever known. I would strip her in my mind. The sari is the first to go followed by the blouse and the skirt. I always teased myself by allowing my sister to be in the bra and knickers for a while. Then off went the bra. The pair of knickers I imagined her wearing is always a bright red one with tiny white dots on it. I have seen all her under garments drying in the clothesline. For some reason the red one is my favourite. Once I remove that I can visualise her naked body in various poses. The pose I like best is the one in which she sits on the kitchen stool with one knee over the other with me watching her from floor level. The partly hidden slit in her vulva always triggers a desire to masturbate that I have never been able to resist.

I have of course never seen her breasts and vulva or even her thighs. But from my extensive knowledge of female external anatomy gleaned from porn sites in the Internet I can fill in the blanks. I know she shaves her pubic hair for once she forgot to take her razor with her when she left the bathroom. Though I had shaved that morning I applied soap to my face and ran the razor on my chin. It was exciting to use the razor that had removed the public hair of my sister. I masturbated there and then.

Now I come to something that is my fancy. The phenomenon of menstruation excites me. I do not know why. I have surfed the Internet for information and I think I know a lot about it. When my sister has her periods I get really sexually aroused. On the first day she visits to the bathroom frequently spending more time than usual. What really makes my penis get hard is the sight of the thin bulge of the cord she wears low down her hips. She must be using it to anchor the pad. I believe that the modern way is to wear internal protection. I have seen advertisements that claim that by wearing such devices women can even swim. My sister either must be old fashioned, or for some other reason prefers external protection.

The orthodox Indian attitude to menstruation infuriates me. For example one classmate tells me that during the periods his sisters cannot enter the kitchen or the puja room because menstruating women are unclean. My family is only partly orthodox for my sister enters the kitchen during her periods, but not the puja room. Not only Hindus but Christians also hold similar views. Sam, my playmate in high school, has told me that his sister refrains from going to the alter to receive communion (which I understand is a ritual in church) when she has her periods. All religions while differing in almost everything else agree that women are inferior to men. One of the tools they use to bludgeon woman to submission is their monthly period.

From the study menstruation in the Internet I know that on the first day of the period along with blood surface cells of the uterine lining form part of the discharge. From day two onwards, for the next two or three days, only blood flow. No one considers blood as anything but pure. Why should women be unclean when they discharge blood? Eradicating the notion that woman are unclean during their periods is an essential step in the campaign for gender equality. I am surprised that even militant feminists have not so far taken up cudgels against this belief.

2

My father after retirement took up a job as accountant to a cloth merchant. Unlike in government service he has to work hard, six days in a week from nine to seven. My mother and her many friends indulge in many activities mostly concerning temple visiting and listening to religious discourses. Afternoon hours she is rarely at home. I usually leave for college at about eight and return in the evening anytime between two and seven. Thus my sister is alone at home on most afternoons. My Akka is waiting for marriage. That is what most girls of the middle class do in small towns like ours. I larger towns and cities many take up jobs till they get married. Her horoscope is with many marriage brokers, and my mother’s religious activities centres round seeking God’s help for securing a good match for her. To those who do not know our customs I must point out that getting proper match for girls is a major, and very worrisome task for parents.

One afternoon I was home early. I sat at the computer scrolling through my extensive collection of porn images. I had placed my computer in a corner facing away from the wall to ensure secrecy. My sister is usually upstairs after lunch reading novels. Suddenly I got the feeling that I was not alone in the room. I looked back, and there was my sister looking intently at the monitor. I tired desperately to minimise the screen. My hand however was too unsteady to align the cursor.

“No need for that,” said Akka, “I have been watching for a while. You must be sick Rohan. Disgusting.” My feeling changed suddenly from embarrassment to annoyance.

“How do you think you and I were born? By this same disgusting process,” I said. She snorted. “And you are waiting for the day when you can do this same disgusting thing. I too am in the same boat, but for you it is months away whereas I will get my chance may be ten years from now.” Suddenly feeling of self-pity smothered me. “Ten years, and you are making a fuss about my watching these photos of others enjoying themselves.”

“Those sluts are not enjoying themselves.” My sister spoke casually. I was now quite angry.

“Don’t call them sluts. They give relief to men like me. They are philanthropists.”

“Don’t talk rot,” said Akka.

“Do you know that your brother is sex starved? Do you know that though he is nineteen he has not so much as touched a woman lovingly? Do you know that in Western countries boys and girls before they leave school have had sex? What of you? You are sex starved too. When I open the novels you read the pages that open out are all about this same disgusting thing. You must be reading it again and again, and surely you are masturbating.”

“Rohan you are going too far.”

“Sorry Akka. Now excuse me. I have to go to my room. After watching all these pictures I need to get relief. Sorry that I have to talk in this way before my Akka, but I am so full of my sorrows that I am unable to contain myself. Masturbating is not going to serve me long. Sooner or later I am going to pay money and get relief.” I turned off my computer and walked unhurriedly to my room upstairs. I closed the door, shot the bolt, and lay on my bed face down. The mood to masturbate had vanished in the skirmish with my sister.

I heard a tap. I knew it could only be my Akka. I opened the door. Akka came in. We both sat on the cot.

“Rohan please do not go to public women. You may get AIDS. I simply can’t bear to see my only brother wither away. Don’t do something foolish like that boy Suri either.” Suri was a young man who lived in the corner house in our street. Sensational happenings in his home are evergreen hot topics of conversation in our neighbourhood. This Suri had sex with his servant maid. The husband of the woman, with a bunch of his relatives, came one Saturday morning, and standing in front of the house loudly demanded ‘justice’. The father of the boy paid good money to square it up. That was not all. Soon after, Suri’s unmarried sister, who is a few years older than my sister, became pregnant by an electrician who was rewiring the house. They got her aborted, but the family had to leave town.

The case of Suri and his sister was a topic on which I had spent a lot of thought, and had come to some conclusions. I was eager to air those views.

“Suri had a need and his sister had a need, and both were identical. They should have satisfied it among themselves.” I expected to shock my sister, and I did.

“You are suggesting incest,” she said quite aghast, jumping up from the cot and facing me with arms on her hips. “Watching pornography has softened your brain.”

“I think incest is any day better than having sex with a married house maid, or an electrician who has come to rewire. You may not know it Akka but brother sister intimacy is common. It has to be in our society where sex starved boys and girls are in the same house. It is safer, much safer than the two seeking sex elsewhere—clean, and without complications.

“Enough, Rohan. You are sick, that’s all I have to say. Now you close the door and do whatever you planned to do. At least in moderation it is not harmful. You can enjoy your models to your heart’s content.”

“Want to know who my model is?” I was in an aggressive mood.

“Must be one of those sluts.”

“I told you once before that they are not sluts. Anyway want to know?”

“OK, tell me.”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“You are sick enough to need treatment.”

“No. It has to be you. You are the only young woman I see in three dimensions. You are pretty too, much prettier than any I see in two dimension.” Akka smiled. “I like your figure, and you may not know it but when I see that cord you wear during your periods bulge your back I am almost at bursting point.”

“You fellow. Do you keep note of that too.” She was not angry, just amused.

“I used to wonder why you are not modern.”

“Modern? What do you mean?”

“I am happy you are not modern, but why don’t you use internal protection?”

“May be I find external protection more comfortable. But it is dirty talk, Rohan.”

“You have touched upon another point that I feel strongly about. It is not dirty. It is after all blood. Man spilling blood in honourable, but woman spilling blood is unclean, what logic is that?”

“Religions say so.”

“I know they do. All religions proclaim the inferiority of women. This monthly period is one of the tools they use to keep you women down Akka, darling. So far I have been seeing you in my mind’s eye while masturbating, if you are kind to your brother why not I see you in person while I do it.”

“Rohan, you are going too far. It is horrible.”

“Akka darling, you just sit there fully clothed, just as you are.”

“And watch you as you do your stuff?”

“What’s wrong with that Akka? You have after all given me bath several times when I was younger. It is the same penis you have once washed. May be it was big too when you did that.”

“What wrong with you Rohan. Have you taken leave of your senses?”

“Far from it Akka, darling. For the first time I am talking practical sense. It will all be over in minutes. Please Akka, please.” Akka stood hesitating. I had to act or else I would lose the moment. I dropped my dhoti, and for the first time after I had grown up my sister saw my penis. She did not go away. If she had it would have be disaster for me. She just stood with no expression on her face, and that surprised me. Yes, she was excited too, and as sex starved as I was.

My penis was turgid with all the talk. I had to harden it. I closed my eyes and imagined my sister as she stood before me. I stripped her naked in my mind’s eye; she was wearing that cord round her waist. I have seen that cord once lying on her dressing table. It was a pink one. I have seen the soft surgical gauze she uses lying on her cot when she was cutting it and folding it. I knew just how broad the folded pieces were. It was so narrow that it could not have covered anything more than the slit. I had no idea how she attached it to the cord. In my imagination I used safety pins one in front and the other at the back. That is how she stood, naked but for this tiny bit of gauze covering her vulva and that magical cord low down on her waist. I was now erect. I opened my eyes. My sister was not looking at me. Her eyes were on my penis.

“Akka why not just touch it?” She came forward and putting her hand out she touched my penis with the tip of her fingers. “Come closer and grip it Akka.” She did so. I placed my hand over her hand and I moved them up and down the shaft. “Come closer Akka,” I said. My voice sounded different. Both our hands were moving up and down with the foreskin rolling over the glans of my penis. Akka’s was close enough for her thighs to touch my thighs. Faster and faster we went till I was on the verge of ejaculating.

“Akka, I may soil your hand,” I said, but she minded not. And then I ejaculated in spurts into the towel that I had placed on my lap. I held her arm tightly with my free hand to steady me in my orgasm. Both our hands were soiled. But she held it firm till the last drops flowed out. It was then that I had a reaction. The enormity of my act of making my sister masturbate me hit forcibly; resting my head on her shoulder I wailed.

“Excuse me Akka, I have done a terrible thing,” I said as I sobbed. And she, as only an elder sister can, wrapped her other hand round my head and kissed me on all parts of my face.

“No darling you have not done anything to fell sorry about. Come we’ll go and wash.” I stood up, one hand still holding my sister’s hand on my now shrivelled penis, and the other on her shoulder. My dhoti was on the floor. I made a motion of trying to pick it up, but my sister by a gesture indicated that there was no need for that. We moved to the bathroom. Akka washed her hand and my hand, and then she washed my penis and groin and thighs as if I was a baby. She then washed my face and taking a towel wiped my face dry and they dried my thigh and penis. I was still bare below the waist. She led me to the room and taking a dhoti out of my dresser she tied it around my waist.

“Lie down and rest. I’ll fetch you some milk.” She was soon back with a tumbler full of warm milk. I drank the lot in rapid gulps, and then I slept. When I went down mother and sister were in the kitchen. It was late in the evening. Akka looked up and our eyes met. She smiled lovingly.

3

The next two days mother was at home in the afternoons. On the third day I came early from college. I let myself in with my spare key. I changed to dhoti and shirt and came to Akka’s room. She was reclining on her cot and reading a novel. She looked up when I entered,

“I was worried about you. I feared that you might lose focus on your studies,” she said.

“On the contrary I was able to concentrate better,” I said.

“Did you take down notes during the lectures,” she asked.

“I have. I’ll show you my note book,” I said. I went to my room and fetched the notebook. She opened it, and I pointed out the pages written that day. I, as usual, had noted the date and time of each lecture.

“Satisfied?” She nodded. “Have I earned my reward?” I said, and laughed somewhat nervously. She smiled and made room for me next to her on the bed. I lay down and rested my head on the pillow. Her head was next to mine. I could feel her hair brushing against my cheek. I lifted my head, turned, and kissed her on the lips. She held the back of my head and pressed. We kissed passionately. My hand went to her breast. I wondered if she would object. She did not. I undid the hooks of her blouse. She helpfully turned round when I tried to reach for the bra clasp. I was trembling as I uncovered her breasts. For the first time I saw her magnificent breasts, defiant even when she was lying on her back. The areola was a smooth mound and the nipples were flat. I ran my finger over the smoothness, and then I touched the nipples and the gently pressed them both into the soft breast tissue. When they sprung back they were turgid. I looked up. Our eyes met. She smiled her sweetest smile. She was not blushing. Even at that moment I felt how our middleclassness has so cruelly deprived us of our sexual needs in the prime of our sexual lives. I was thankful that my sister and I have found a solution.

With my lips I reached for the nipple nearest to me. She placed a hand under her breast and pushed it forward. Her nipple felt soft between my lips. She was reclining, almost sitting up, and my head was on her lap. I was suckling her as if I was her baby. My lips were not strong enough to hold her nipple. I covered my teeth with indrawn lips and bit on the nipple. Now I had the purchase to grip the nipple. She moaned. Thus encouraged I bit more firmly. I did not know then that babies bit on the nipple rather than suck at them. Milk poured into their mouths when the stimulation of the bite releases hormones that squeeze the milk from the breast. I also did not know that milk is not stored in the breast. As the baby suckled the glands of the breast produce fresh milk.

Akka now shifted my head to the other nipple. As I was settling on the nipple her hand went to my crotch. She removed my dhoti and held my penis with one hand. She worked on it the way I had taught her. She did it expertly. Once again I warned her that I was about to ejaculate, and once again she did not mind soiling her hands. As I spurted she held on till it was all over. My head was still on her lap pressed on her breasts. She lifted my head.

“Why are you weeping?” she asked. I did not reply. I do not know why but tears poured out like torrents. Her breasts were wet. I tried to wipe it off but Akka wanted it to remain.

“Come we’ll wash. Mother will be back soon.” Again she washed me as if I was a baby. I put on my dhoti, kissed my sister, a chaste brotherly kiss on the cheek, and went to my room.

“I do not need milk, Akka,” I said speaking for the first time. “I will come down later for coffee.”

That evening I had an important piece of shopping to do. I took a bus and went to a nearby town. I could not possibly purchase what I wanted to in my town. In this small town it is possible that someone known to my family might see me and report the purchase to my father. No mystery purchase, just condoms. I went into a shop near the bus station. I waited outside for the crowd to subside somewhat. It was a popular shop for the crowd, mostly young women, never seemed to thin. I walked to the next street. There were no customers in one of the shops. This is what I was looking for; but I was in error. If the shopkeeper had been busy he would not have had so much time to devote to me. In my hesitation I purchased a tube of toothpaste and one cake of soap before summoning sufficient courage to ask for condoms.

“A packet of ‘Moods’,” I said. ‘Moods’ was the brand name of a condom advertised on TV. In a flash the shopkeeper gleaned my entire sexual history.

“One?”

“One packet.”

“One packet contains just one. New to this place?”

“Yes, I am from… I named a town that was in another direction from my town.”

“Please take my advice. Buy a dozen. In which case you need have to travel miles to buy this stuff every time you find the need for it.”

“OK,” I said. I have never felt so silly in my life. I paid and left hurriedly. I went into the nearest coffee shop. I needed to sit, and I needed a stimulant. I never could have imagined that such a simple task as purchasing condom can suck out so much energy. In my room I opened one packet, and after making the penis erect I rolled it on.

The next two days a distant aunt was visiting. The third day mother was at home. The next day I came early from college. I had lunch. After lunch mother left for a movie with two of her friends. No action drama or romance but a rerun of some old black and white mythological that all three seniors had first seen on its first run decades ago when they were maidens. I was in my room till two, and then went to my sister’s room. She was as usual relining on her bed and reading.

“I want you to see my exam result,” I said.

“What exam?”

“Terminal exam in which I have come second. Please note that I am in the leader board in my class at present.”

“That’s good. Show me the paper.” She riffled through the papers. “You missed just one question. How many had all corrects?”

“Two. With your encouragement I hope to do better next time,” I said. She smiled.

“That is guaranteed,” she said.

“Thank you,” I said and bent over her and kissed her on the forehead. Akka put her hand up and entwining her fingers into my hair pulled my head down and kissed me on the lips. I held her cheeks with both hands and kissed her. We bit each other’s lips and then for the first time we played with our tongues. I lay by her side, and then I lay over her bearing my weight mostly on my elbows and knees. We were of course full clothed. We kissed and when I pressed her pelvis; she responded. It was a faint upward thrust but it sent a thrill through my spine. I boldly exposed her breasts and sucked her nipples. The time was ripe for me to make the next move. I rolled over to her side and placed a hand over her vulva and pressed. She did not object; rather she moved her pelvis this way and that. I was now certain that Akka was ready to go all the way. I pulled up her sari and skirt but not fully. She was not wearing her knickers. I surmised it was in anticipation of my visit; a thrilling thought. She lay placidly. I paused to gain courage, and in one bold move I exposed her vulva. But from where I lay by her side I could not see it. She now held my body and pulled me over herself.

“Have you a condom?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said removing the packet from my pocket.

“Put on the condom,” she said. I removed my shirt and dhoti and sat up and rolled the condom over my penis. I was now on top, my erect and clothed penis posed over my darling sister vulva. She did not spread her thighs. I did that. Akka now held my penis and inserted it into her vagina. I hardly had a glimpse of her vulva during all this. I pressed and it went in. The truth that I was having sex with my sister now flooded into my consciousness. I moved my pelvis up and down and Akka responded. And then I ejaculated. It came in spurts and during each spurt I pressed her vulva. Once she applied counter pressure, but for the rest she did not react. I lay on top for a while. Once again I was sobbing. It was weird the way I gave vent to emotions after every ejaculation. My sister held my head and kissed me all over my face.

“Don’t weep darling,” she said, “I need you as much as you need me.”

“I have taken your virginity, Akka, is that not an inexcusable crime?”

“I do not think much of the value that we Indians place on virginity. I won’t waste any tears on the loss of virginity. You told me that considering women unclean during their periods was a one of the tools men use to degrade women. Well, the great value amounting to sanctity that men grant to virginity in women is another of the tools.” My sister was right. It is undoubtedly another ploy to enslave women.

“Come we’ll wash.” I quietly followed as she led me to the bathroom. It was then that I saw a smear of blood on her skirt. I pointed it out to her. She viewed it matter-of-factly.

“Now don’t start another spell of sobbing,” she said.

She pulled off the condom, threw it into the toilet bowl and flushed it. She then washed herself and me in what has become our ritual. We came back to the bed and lay hugging each other in silence. I must have snoozed for Akka woke me up and said that it was time I go back to my room and continue my sleep. When I woke late that evening I was a happy man.

The next day at my request Akka allowed me to examine her vulva. I lay face down between her legs with my head at her crotch. Now that I was seeing an adult vulva at close quarters I aver that it is one of the beautiful sights of nature. I said so.

“Why are women ashamed of their genitals?” I asked.

“Ashamed?”

“Yes, Akka, they are. They cover themselves as much out of modesty as shame. Is it because women think it is ugly?”

“May be there is something in what you say. But are you not going too far in describing it as one of the beauties of nature.”

“No, I am not,” I said firmly, and proceeded to kiss the labia major, and then the labia minor, and then the hood of the clitoris, and then after exposing the clitoris, the clitoris itself. And then I licked, and she responded by spreading her legs and lifting her feet up in the air. We speeded up, and then when I licked in gentle swipes she had an orgasm for the first time. She pulled me up. I inserted. When I ejaculation she had one more orgasm. Once again I was unable to control an urge to weep.

We had it whenever chance offered and that became very infrequent because the season for religious discourses was now over. The idyll ended suddenly. I received orders for two months practical training in Surat, a thousand miles to the North, and had to leave in two days.

I reviewed my attitude towards my sister. What stood out was that in spite of all that had happened in these three weeks there was no change in our sister brother relationship. Even when we were having sex she was very much my elder sister. She continued to chide me when needed, and continued to put in a word on my behalf when father or mother were after me for something I did or did not do. I continued to pray that she would get a good man soon and be happily married. I am not any more bothered that I have taken her virginity. I am sure that her future husband was not likely to be one who has not had sexual experience. I strongly believe that Indian men wanting virgins as brides while they pride themselves in having had premarital sex is an attitude that has to go. I have promised myself that on the night of my marriage I will not be searching the sheets for blood smear.

When on the morning after I got the order for my training Akka saw me she smiled enigmatically, and she pointed to her hips. I could see the bulge of the cord. She was having her periods. I was excited. For the first time after I ‘knew’ her she was menstruating. The rest of the morning the very sight of her made me hard. I stripped her in my mind’s eye, and with that cord and the gauze bit in front she looked gorgeous. But will I get a chance to see her that way for real? Not that day anyway for mother was at home. But the next day she was attending a marriage in a neighbouring town. I hardly slept that night.

4

I will never forget this day in this life or any of my future lives. I came home early. I was to take a bus to Chennai en route to Surat early next morning. I had some packing to do. I let myself in using my spare key. I changed, and took the familiar path to sister’s room. She was as usual reading, a magazine this time.

“Packing done,” she said.

“Partly,” I said.

“Mother has got many eats that she thinks you need,” she said. I told her than I have packed all that stuff.

I sat on the space between her and the edge of the bed. She did not make room for me as she always did.

“Not today, Rohan,” she said.

“Why, do you feel unclean?” I asked.

“I try not to after you impassioned speech, but old habits linger.”

“Then today it the day to wipe the slate clean.” I said, and kissed her on the forehead, and when I tried to kiss on the lips she turned away, but I followed her and we kissed, first just a peck, and then we hugged and kissed with our usual passion. I undid the blouse hooks. She held my hand, but did not prevent me from removing the hooks one by one and expose the bra. I gently tried to turn her. At first she resisted, but then she turned. I undid the clasp and turned her round. I pulled the bra cups away to expose her breasts.

“Please Akka, remove your blouse and bra. I have never seen you bare bodied,” I said. She seemed to consider my request. Then she removed her blouse and then her bra. It was a lovely sight. Her beast appeared larger. They were warmer too. The areolar bulges were even more prominent, and the nipples turgid. I held the breast nearest me softly with two hands and brought my lips to the nipple. I touched the tip with the tip of my tongue. I could feel my sister shiver. Yes, the nipple had heightened sensitivity during the periods. I applied my open mouth to cover the whole of the areola, and then I puckered my lips, sucked, and slowly withdrew. My lips ran over the smooth areola and then my lips grasped the nipple. I teased the captive nipple with my tongue tip, and as I was doing that I plucked the nipple and realised it. The whole body of my sister shuddered, and she made a clicking noise of one enjoying the sensation. I repeated again and again, and then she held my head and brought it to the other breast. She was now wriggling her pelvis. I took the hint. My hand went to her sari pleats; I untucked it.

“Don’t,” she said but so softly that I knew she meant ‘yes’. Hitherto I always lifted her sari and skirt but today I undid the skirt tape and pulled them down. But to remove it she had to lift her pelvis up. I tugged, she said ‘don’t’ and did not budge. I tugged again, she said ‘don’t’ again and stayed put, and when I tugged again she lifted up her pelvis and in one move I pulled off her sari and skirt. For the first time, but for that glorious piece of gauze, Akka was fully naked in my presence. The bit of cloth that covered her nakedness was no more than an inch and a half wide, and as I had imagined she had secured it with safety pins. I stood in front of her. It was a magnificent sight.

“Don’t Rohan, you are shaming me,” she said coquettishly. I went forward and placed my hands on her knees and then gradually worked up to her thighs and then up and up to the groins.

“Don’t,” she said, but I could see her spreading her thighs ever so slightly. I planted myself with my knees in the space between her legs. There was no mistaking my intentions. I was confident about what I had in my mind to do. I was clean; I had to be for blood is a good medium for bacteria. I had no cough, no sinusitis, and no caries in the teeth, and I was frequently using antiseptic mouthwashes for the past two days. I was not taking any chances with my sister’s health. I undid the safety pin and drew back the gauze. It was blood stained on the inside. I unhooked the elastic round the groin and removed it altogether. My sister was lying in front totally naked. Her vulva was shining from a recent shave. The labia major seemed redder from increased blood flow, and the leaves of the labia minor were leaves still, but thicker leaves. The clitoral hood swollen, and when I spread out the inner leaves a turgid clitoris peeped out. Every part felt warmer too. There was blood staining as was to be expected.

“Don’t,” she said aloud, but she was spreading her thighs. I went forward and using the fingers of both hands I parted the inner leaves to bring the clitoris forwards. I kissed the clitoris. She shuddered and made the clicking noise with which I was now familiar. I now licked the clitoris.

“Don’t,” she said, but this time she spread fully with thighs almost touching the mattress and feet in the air. Now I did what I have been dreaming about for some years. I licked the outer surface of her vulva clean of all the blood staining it. I did it systematically in the manner I have seen cats lick milk off bowls. My tongue was long and pointed. I could have gone into the vagina too but I did not because it was unsafe for my Akka. That task over I applied myself to the clitoris. There is no doubt that the clitoris and labia minora are extremely sensitive during the periods. I am convinced too that not taking advantage of it to let women enjoy the enhanced pleasure during their periods is a sin. Both of us were as high as it was possible to go. Her vibrations increased in frequency and intensity, and when I slowed down and swiped she exploded in massive orgasms that made her scream.

“Come up quickly,” she ordered. I was on top of her and she inserted. I was not using condom. On the second day of periods when the bleeding is still active the chances of pregnancy are mathematically remote. She did not ask, and in the state she was in she would not have bothered to ask even if she had noticed it. Her first coincided with mine, and then she had one, and then again, and then again. We lay exhausted.

“Come we’ll wash,” she said finally. This time I was not sobbing. I washed, and then I washed her this time using soap, and then I wiped her, and then I took a bit fresh gauze and refastened the elastic cord and pinned the gauze before and behind.

“Come out when I call,” I said. I stood out and when I gave the call she walked out naked but for the tiny cover over her vulva. I will never forget the sight of her body, tall and splendidly shaped, with those large and shapely breasts, moving across the floor in graceful steps towards me. It was more than I could bear. I ran forwards and embraced her and we kissed as we have never kissed before.

Some may feel queasy or more when they read this episode. To them I have to say that this is one more instance of man’s double standards where it concerns women. The men who feel nauseated are the very ones who desire oral sex, and are disappointed if the woman does not swallow the whole lot. They are the ones that fantasise about the Japanese game of bukkake. Again many may view with scepticism my experience that the hormonal and other changes during menstruation enhance the pleasures of women in every aspect of the sex act. Please withhold comments till you try it. I ask for nothing more.

I left early next morning. It was six weeks before I came home again. It was to attend my sister’s wedding. The young man who was marrying her was on a month’s leave from the U.S. He was in a hurry to get back with his wife. They left two days after the wedding. To honour my sister I worked hard and came out with such high marks in the examinations that I got a very good job. I enjoyed my bachelor life with moderation. My sister came home after five years with her year old daughter. The Almighty had answered my mother’s prayers for Akka was a picture of contentment. Her visit was to attend my marriage.

5

I live in Chennai. My wife, though from a liberal and educated middleclass family, had ingrained in her all the notions of female inferiority. It took a lot of persuasion to make her accept that women are not unclean during their periods. It took more work to convince her that sex during menstruation is not only permissible but also desirable from the woman’s point of view. I was confident that if only she would allow me to apply my lips to her turgid areola and nipple on the second day of her menstruation she was sure to become an ardent enthusiast of sex during periods. Finally one day I got the green light. With great hesitation she presented her breast to me. I cupped her areola with my lips and applied gentle suction as I withdrew my head slowly, drawing my lips across the areola till my lips were gripping the nipple. I teased her captive nipple with my tongue, and as I was doing that I plucked the nipple as I released it. She made a sound that was between a click and a moan. She held my head as if fearing that I may leave off. We worked on both breasts till she, needing more, was pushing my head towards her pelvis. I stripped her naked and settling between her thighs I cat licked her clean, and then I licked her clitoris. She had a massive orgasm, then she loudly demanded that I insert, and then she got her first in rhythm with my ejaculation, and then she had several more. We lay in a huddle exhausted. This became a monthly routine, and our sex life is stronger than ever before.

I am back home after a hard day in office. Rita runs forward and hugs me.

“Darling bad news and good news,” she says.

“Tell me the good news first.”

“No, the bad news first. For 24 hours you stay away from me.”

“The good news?”

“You know it,” she says and hugs me tighter.