Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
dipti boudi is also my didi.
and there’s nothing mysterious about it.
diptidi grew up in our locality, just like any other middle class bengali girl, and did what they are supposed to do in the late-90’s. college, coaching classes, and a little bit of line drawing ( line mara ). the typical MCB woman was afraid to test her skills in nude sketches, coz she knew the globalization glue which would hold the pages together, was yet to make an entry in the market.
however honest you be in your try, some girls are always hard to imagine as being horny, and i can’t give you a better example than diptidi. as she unpretentiously performed the role of a loving sister, who never forgot tieing a rakhi, and always provided her companionship in hide-and-seek.
now, a tiny amount of technicalities here, just to emphasize my point.
all students of computer science and electronics have undoubtedly heard of the TTL and RTL, the transistor-transistor-logic and the register-transistor-logic, which drive the integrated circuits and – because of them i am able to write and you are able to read.
fine. so far so good. have you heard of CCL?
what on earth is this logic?
if you ask me, then i am afraid my dear reader, that you are not following me properly.
diptidi remained my caring sister, who never became any guy’s girlfriend, as she never understood – or shall i say never got an opportunity to comprehend properly the final part of a logic called CCL.
college, coaching classes, and line drawing.
is it just bcoz she, rather her parents chose to confine their daughter, first in kamala girls school and then in south kolkata girls college?
or for this very reason that she was always shy, shy to show her assets to this brave new world, and they burnt in shame forever – behind the clumsy pleats of her dupatta.
the answer – best left to time.
and time flew like an arrow.
a cupid’s arrow.
she was 21, i was 18, and he was 26 – also an architect.
here cometh the nasty love triangle with an emotional overdose.
and i have enough reason to believe that you guys won’t be mistaking this stuff for something like that.
coz nothing happened like that.
all that happened is that, my cousin suryada’s parents were searching for a suitable girl for their engineer son, and the girl they zeroed in on – she happened to be diptidi.
wow! future had never been so predictable – right?
it was march, 1997. i just managed to do away with the boring uchcha-madhyamik, and was enjoying my freedom as there was no tomorrow. i couldn’t attend diptidi’s wedding and also the bou-bhat, coz they coincided with the board exams. i was feeling a bit guilty about it, and was toying with the idea for a surprise visit to my mama’s house. also, i was, equally offended with her attitude – as i expected a phone call from my loving sister.
and a phone call, did come, from suryada – barely a fortnight after the dol.
mama-mami would be returning tomorrow from a south india package tour, suryada was also leaving calcutta a day prior to it for a company project, and diptidi would be literally alone for a night.
so – basically you are worried for your beautiful wife and want me to do a nightwatchman’s job, the invitation for lunch and dinner is just a lame excuse, i joked.
and a hearty laughter came out of the receiver.
the first reaction that i witnessed in diptidi’s face, after she opened the door, it was of pure disbelief.
her pupils dilated, and the lips parted, while she searched for a little time and for what to say – bhai! tui!
why? your hubby didn’t tell anything, i asked her in a confusing tone.
as she prepared to make a prompt reply, suryada appeared suddenly and said, surprised!
diptidi’s eyes answered my question that i asked her a while ago.
after greeted with mishti and nonta; i noticed a newly-found grace in dipditi, as the dash of the vermilion on the sinthi, and the shankha-pola on her hands – all were proudly pronouncing sweet marital love.
the shy college girl had transformed into a coy bengali bride, and once again that bride took the road widely travelled, as she slowly arose from a dulcet dream named honeymoon and found herself receptive to the role of a housewife.
somehow it appeared to me that a short note was missing in the rhythm divine, as there was unacceptable silence between my hosts, although they were quite appropriate in their try – to foil it with the niceties of the lunch.
what’s wrong suryada, you guys fought or something? i tried breaking the ice and chose to ask him casually, as my relation with his wife always hovered around the boundaries.
pakamo koris na bhai! she shouted in sham anger at my precocity.
i was never such frank with diptidi, nor she was with me, and we never discussed about love…..boyfriends and girlfriends…..blah blah blah.
suryada managed poker oyna to offer a suitable explanation of her stern reply and said, your didi’s behaving like a child since this morning and don’t want me to catch the evening flight to delhi.
o i envy you, lucky chap, you’ve got a wife who’s just not good-looking but caring too!
i didn’t waste the opportunity to ease the situation and teased him further, or is it just you who don’t want to leave your wonderful wife, sundori bouke fele jete ichhe korchhe na?
bhai abar! diptidi shouted as before but was caught with a brimming smile this time.
yup fella! happy to see ya boyfriend pal? now it seemed to be suryada’s turn, for he said this to his wife, awfully imitating an am-accent – and pointing towards me.
i waved suryada and diptidi, as they hurriedly got in the maruti 800 and left for dumdum, now rechristened as NSCB international airport.
i decided to take a short nap as i had a great adda a few hours ago that burnt the calories, and the mutton in my tummy contributed to an increase in my gross weight, compelling my brain to redirect the blood-stream from the said orgain to the stomach.
i wake up with a soft touch on my forehead, and as my eyes instinctively searched for the source, they found the embroidered pallav of a jamini silk saree.
freshen up, bhai, diptidi said – tea’s ready.
i treated my sleepy eyes with an ample amount of water, while each lone droplet gushed from the faucet, taking due advantage of my persistence of vision – and realistically portrayed an illusionary picture of continuity.
as i leaned back on the sofa and sipped the hot cuppa, my central nervous system slowly limps back to normal, and noticed that diptidi was coming from the kitchen.
the military time format displayed by the digital clock on the centre table said, it was 1900 hours, and attracted my undivided attention towards it with a simple sharp beep.
my eyes were not at all prepared to see my host’s firmly built upper arms, generously fair and smooth, and that added to the beauty of the sleeveless PD sleep-in she was wearing.
try some – she sat and leaned forward on the single-seater, raising her hand a little, and offered me medium-fried papads with pudina.
and also a partial glimpse of her right armpit, that specialized in harvesting shrubs, which were strictly for unrestricted viewing pleasure only.
my mind matched my eyes, you know in terms of what, as it was again a pleasant surprise for me; this time calculating how diptidi managed to distribute evenly the time i spent in the washroom, between two equally challenging jobs ( from a 18 year old male viewpoint ) of changing her clothes and frying the papads.
i enjoyed the former, but not the latter, of the two things in her offering – as the protective brother was watching my actions.
suddenly a strong blast of cool breeze came through the window, as a prelude to the thunderstorm, which started thereafter with rain and lighting.
my eyes measured the curves as the polka-dots spread, forming an meaningful impression for the retinae, while my sis turned sis-in-law folded her bare naked arms in a parallel fashion demonstrated exclusively by swami vivekananda.
tor sheet korchhe na bhai? diptidi asked.
i knew the mercury was dropping fast. it was clear from her expression.
but my earlobes were feverishly hot, may be the pro-bro described erstwhile, had twisted my ears – as a mild punishment.
i chose not to answer her as i was already afraid of my pilferage, what if she knows about it?
but diptidi mistook my silence for something else and sat beside me, giving me a tight bear hug while her breasts remained static between us, and asked with the same tone that she used everytime after a bro-sis quarrel – biyer pore tor khonj niyni bole rag korechhis?
now dear reader, before i answer her question i should tell you something very clearly, and that’s it was her breasts that were touching me -and not her boobs. i do not rate myself as a genius, who can make you understand both visually and verbally the difference between boobs and breasts, however big or small it may be – i mean the way they differ linguistically. all i can say with my limited wit is that the difference is what differs a woman from a girl, the way the stan differs from the mai, and i am really helpless coz i am unable to clarify further. if you are still clueless, then i am afraid, this story is too good to deserve your honest attention – and so is the narrator.
nah! i couldn’t say more; as my hypothalamus – the part in the human brain which silently controls basic emotions like fear, hunger, and sex – it was perturbed with an unique problem.
and busy solving it.
should it allow synaptic connections to grow further, so that my experience with the tangible truth and also with its forbidden fruits, results in a permanent memory imprint for faster retrieval at later times.
or should it let it dissolve, the canlı poker oyna way the ripples dissolve in the pond, when the village boy throws a piece of stone in the water talking to his sweetheart.
as it might be statistically possible but practically near impossible, to anticipate the intricate actions and repercussions of human memory for a 18 year old teen, he simply decided leaving the problem as it is and asked his sister to switch on the tv.
and there was no better way for that helpless boy to escape from the reality, as the pungent smell of female sweat was still chasing him, only to remind of the nameless wild flowers we all mercilessly crush under our feet each day with the atavismic progression of city-centric civilization.
the phosphorus glowed on the convex glass, the heroin danced in a white saree as the rain continued to pour, both inside and outside the ibox – and a idiot watched the freak show of life, with all its idiosyncrasies and unfulfilled promises, only to embrace the present continuous as the caring sister unknowingly pushed the careless brother on the ridge of a deep gorge of wildest fantasies.
while the night grew from a tender child to the naughty lass, and we already had our daily dose of silver world and tinsel-town, with broken communication as diptidi and i remained mere spectators of the blatant display of carefully fabricated lies – i refused to receive anymore and pressed one of the preset buttons of the remote, which instantly beamed the infra-red ray to offer me the much-needed freedom, as the logo on the top right corner said it was star.
the theme music had already started, so the visuals, and the timex-triathlon watch on my wrist noddingly showed – it was the time to watch the baywatch!
bhai, please bandho kor, this was the first thing diptidi said after an hour long silence.
why? i am no more a kid, i protested.
i was quite not happy with the idea of switching of the tv right at that moment as she requested, coz someone who appeared for the first official exam to get into the colleges, had enough reasons to believe in the freedom of speech and vision – which promotes his status to that of a person popularly known as the adult, and who is free to say and view everything and anything, yet again considering the much abused 18 year old bengali vision as a reference frame.
you know a 16 year old in the US has his own car, mobile, and boozing and voting rights? i started presenting diptidi with reasons so that they advocate for my valid candidacy to watch adult contents.
so – it seems that my little brother has grown up and already learned lots of new facts, she announced.
she didn’t speak for a while, and when she resumed with the above statement after a short pause, for the very first time i noticed a transient sign of mischieviousness playing in her eyes – that was quick enough
to replace the innocent look for a while, and even quicker enough to disappear, and of course without leaving any trail.
ok now, let me see how big you have grown, get up my little brother!
diptidi’s voice was credible enough to make her believe, as if she wasn’t believing my competent claims, but was not really in close proximity of my belief to believe her – for i believed in my heart of hearts that she was asking for something else and for something more.
i had no other option left for my choice, and felt like clicking the annoying windows dialogue box, you love it or not – you need to choose ok to continue.
so was me, as the fragile wooden bridge on which i was walking, had broken to pieces in behind.
and there was only one way to stop diptidi to stop pinching me, while she used her larynx along with the nicely manicured nails for the aforesaid task, i followed that gandhian path of ahimsa by standing up.
her fingers landed on my scapulas and started to come down in a slow uniform motion, rigorously testing how strong my arm muscles had become, and continued their journey to a fastly beating chest – which feared for the worst with every passing second.
they stopped for a moment on my nipples, which were already beginning to show their appropriate reflexes under the cotton panjabi i was wearing, and successfully sent a tingling sensation somewhere down the spine.
while her fingers were gradually becoming comfortable with my flesh as they reached the back, and cajoled me to withstand sibling love with much discomfort and without any necessary blood-linkage, the two full moons larking in the night sky coaxed my ocular lenses to shift their gaze from the polka-dots to them and then again to the tiny black mole flanked by those cosmic objects.
obviously surprised i was, as i only rote-learned and answered the questions that came only a few weeks ago in my geo-exam, about the two satellites of mars – phobos and dimos.
but seeing them with naked eyes was sure to be deemed as “it’s different”.
the difference didn’t call for verbose explanation, and as soon as internet casino you will finish reading this story and start to playact the whole stuff with your pard, the not-so-fuzzy line of demarcation between viewing and
reading about the moons of mars will be visible to you – and also how the active roleplaying differs from passive reading.
and i offer an unconditional apology if i did something that i shouldn’t, for my job is not to educate the educated, but to guide you where diptidi had left her little brother.
the hands which tied rakhis were working in unison now, just twice as good before, and creeping around my waist like a pair of cobras caught in coitus.
ah, i guess you still don’t possess a waist that could help you get sexy girls like me, right bhai?
she commented only to make things complicated for both of us, if it not already.
as she asked for justification, i couldn’t pin-point the topic, let alone exhibiting justice to her query.
was she asking if it was right to brand herself sexy, or regarding the openness that she never showed before, or was she quite not sure about the amount of cues needed for a brother to get seduced by his sister – and wanting to know whether i want more?
it was just her part, and i had not yet started to tell you about mine my dear reader, as she had already placed the ball in my court – was it right for me to ask her to be my sexy girlfriend for that night only and for anything and everything but tieing the rakhi?
shouldn’t it be right for the poor brother, as he failed to get any girl for his poorer waist, to place a demand as illustrated above to his loving sister?
and shoudn’t it be right for the caring sister to make her brother happy, however justified or unjustified his demands may chose to be?
the sole non-confusing component of the whole issue remained, that it left no room for confusion, about the existance of the issue itself.
i didn’t bother to think more, as her sweaty palms had started doing justice to themselves, and bothered with the bounce of a pair of undulating surfaces below my waist.
i knew it would be unjustified to discourage ( if not to encourage ) the housewife from her handicraft, as the working area had always been a hot favourite, hip and happening – for people who believe in the game of heart called love.
and i didn’t want to be known as a heartless guy, who else will, except a few trigger-happy homo sapiens who test their pseudo-masculanity in bombing hundreds and thousands of cities with missiles carrying nuclear warheads.
as diptidi justifiedly spent the available time, carefully measuring with her frolicking fingers, how deep the fissure was between the two globes -that she examined a while ago and happy now with their bounce, the little brother of this brother was giggling between the thighs underneath my elastic boxer shorts, and i was playing the pro-bro this time so that his giggle shouldn’t grow into a lengthy laughter.
her hands; now satisfied after making a complete round of my inner thighs, with one stray incident of gently brushing against my lil-bro, they chose to end my ordeal that seemed to be infinite – in a very seriocomic way by a sudden pull, of one of the two strings in my pajama, and within a finite amount of time.
hey! you’re doing a strip search or what?
i was quick enough to save my modesty from being outraged, and caught the closest corner of my dropping pajama, using a skillset that is not necessarily influenced by our good old gangulydada – and expressed my juvenile surprise with a joshila anger.
and diptidi was equally quick to provide me with a seemingly justified explanation of her unjustified act!
i still don’t believe that you’ve grown up now and i need to see whether you’re body has developed properly or not, she chuckled.
i guess, you don’t have any qualms for just what you said, diptidi started laughing and resumed her reasoning soon – you told to me a lot about the US teens and may be you also dream of going there, but shoudn’t you think, you should make yourself comfortable with the airport formalities beforehand?
now, who else except our aforementioned dada, will wait in the ground – after seeing the delivery ended in a sixer?
enough is enough, i think i can’t appreciate your sense of humour anymore, as it’s going over the head now – i made myself sure so that it sound harsh to her ears.
i’m going to take some rest diptidi, as soon as i started to walk for the pavilion with those parting words, i noticed the reincarnation of that innocent child – who get easily seduced by the dropping of a raindrop, chirping of the koyel, and the gurgle of a stream.
and her eyes were about to glisten, as the little girl was playing pranks with her kid brother for long, and all on a sudden he decided to act like a responsible adult – but she didn’t know the reason why she received such a harsh scold?
as i closed my strained eyes in the bed, i heard diptidi switching off the tv, and leaving for the kitchen – only to put on the noisy exhaust.
yet, i was left with silence, as the time ticked away – and without my knowledge.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32