You can call me Reshmi. It is not my real name but does that really matter?

Before you read the rest of this, understand one thing very clearly. I did what I did through necessity. The motivations of others, I cannot speak about.

The story begins four years ago in an East Punjab village south of Amritsar. I suppose I should start at the joint wedding. Not the ceremony but the participants.

I married my cousin Gian. I was 19 years old he was 20. Like all my family and caste, he was a farmer. As is our tradition, Gian’s younger sister, Amrit (18 years old too) married my brother Simeran aged 21

I had always known I was to marry Gian. Growing up in the same village, I naturally saw Gian often. As we got older, Gian would be busy with the other men in the fields and I would be with the women learning what I needed to know to be a wife and mother.

Did I want more then this? No. I can actually say that I did not.

Gian and the other village boys were ‘advanced’ as far as sex was concerned. The boys had an advantage. They had more freedom to move around; had no virginity to guard and had access to the town and the mysteries it contained. Then there was peer pressure and of course natural hormones at work. I actually doubt that any man is a virgin on his wedding night. Just an opinion…

Now please understand, I was a virgin on my wedding night but I was not an ignorant one. You learn a lot in the countryside about life, sex and death too. It happens all around you. You just breathed it in with the scent of wet earth, fruit trees and cow dung. Country girls know all about sex.

Chickens, goats, cows, cats and dogs, name it I watched them mate even before I knew what mating was. Later on, I actually saw a few couples doing stuff, Uncles and aunts etc. Naturally, they were never graphic close ups.

I remember one day at harvest time, we girls were busy helping the women sort and store the vegetables. At that, time an old woman who we all called Bhuddi-Ma (Old mother) picked up a carrot between her the tips of her thumb and her index finger. The carrot held so the narrow tip was pointed downwards.

“Look girls,” Bhuddi-Ma said with a small laugh. “Time you learned a few things”

“This is Panditjis’ pissy, his Lund (Cock) as he walks around,” The other women started to chuckle. “He is walking in the village and sees me,” Bhuddi-Ma said slowly moving her hand to mimic walking. The carrot still gently held between her finger and thumb tip.

“See girls? Panditji is not interested in my old pissy; which is called a puddhi in girls” She laughed as her eyes shone with evil enjoyment and the women all laughed and waited for Bhuddi-ma to continue.

“Oh but see” Bhuddi-ma said, “he sees his dear wife Reka” Bhuddi-Ma waved it at Panditji’s wife as Reka hid her face in her hands and laughed quietly, her shoulders shaking.

Bhuddi-Ma made the carrot jut slightly forward at an angle of 45 degrees before saying in a teasing voice “Oh dear, looks like that puddi is too old to get a proper salute”.

By now the women were almost hysterical with laughter and we girls were laughing too, although we only had a vague idea what Bhuddi-Ma was telling us about with the carrot.

“Now panditji is walking into town and he sees a young girl carrying a basket of mangoes on her head on her head.”. The carrot went to 90 degrees

“He admires her firm, full mangoes and smiles at the girl”.

“Oops!” Bhuddi-Ma exclaimed suddenly, “The poor girl has dropped her basket and bent over to collect her fallen mangoes.”

The carrot was now perpendicular, held firmly in Bhuddi-Ma’s fist.

“Yes,” a woman chimed in from the group through fits of laughter, “They all like the young ones don’t they?

“Now girls” Bhuddi-Ma said struggling to stop herself from erupting into laughter “See how Panditji helps the girl?” she started stabbing the carrot upwards, sideways and downwards before finally saying “Panditji has finished helping the poor girl, She held the carrot by her thumb and index finger tips again, letting it had limply.

Suddenly, Bhuddi –Ma put the carrot in her mouth moved it backwards and forwards a few times before biting the tip off.

The whole group was now in fits of hysterical laughter and Bhuddi-Ma looked at us unmarried girls hard and said “Remember girls…only bite the tip of carrots off… nothing else”

Now getting back to the main story…

My wedding night was not a terrifying ordeal. I had heard the women talk about men and the things they did with women almost since the time I could walk and talk. I am sure men swap gems of knowledge or plain dirty jokes too. It is being human after all.

The only advice my mother gave me was not to scream. At the time, I wondered what she meant. However, she told me having seen Gian as a baby and as a young boy that I would not be unduly challenged by his thing.

What did I expect? Umm? I had seen baby’s things and the things on bulls and donkeys. I guess I was not really surprised at Gian’s size. What did surprise me was my reaction. I enjoyed it.

The wedding festivities went on forever. The singing, dancing and drinking took until the early hours of the morning to end. Village people love a reason to have fun. I sat with my fellow bride waiting for our husbands to collect us and take us to their respective beds.

Finally, Gian and Simeran appeared both smelling of alcohol both wet with perspiration from dancing and singing.

Gian took my hand and smirked at me before he led me to his bedroom in his home.

As soon, as the bedroom door was closed and locked; he grabbed me. He pushed me roughly onto his bed and began kissing me. His kisses flowed from my lips to my breasts. He squeezed my breasts so hard that I gasped. His mouth sucked on my still covered nipples hungrily.

I felt his hand move between my legs and cup my choot , through my shalwar. He began to rub me with his hands, his fingers sinking deep in the slit of my choot and teasing my clit.

I sighed as my body felt the first ripples of pleasure. Why had I never thought of doing this myself I wondered as Gian moved his body over mine and parted my legs with his knees.

He kissed me on the mouth deeply, his tongue and whisky breath invading my mouth as he fumbled with my clothing.

I do not know when my shalwar came loose, or when Gian undressed himself. I was only aware of his tongue on mine, and his body pressing down on me… I was dazed.

I felt my hand being put by his hand on his penis; I felt it is hot length, alive and throbbing. I was fooled by my hands into believing it to be massive. How many women are also fooled by touch alone I wonder. My hand was engulfed by Gian’s and I felt him heave his hips forwards guiding his tool to my slit. It was a bizarre situation, I was guiding him into me

By now, the effects of his hot kisses and expert manipulations of my pussy had made me wet, hot and open. I wanted him in me as much as I had ever wanted anything before. I needed to feel him in me even though I had no idea what it would actually feel like to be entered.

Gian kissed me and suddenly I felt a shooting pain between my legs, and felt his cock pushing, no hammering into me. My virginity was torn with brutal thrusts that made me cry out in pain. It was awful. The worst pain I had ever felt in my life. Now I understood my mother’s advice.

The pain of him entering me, made me weep and shake my head from side to side’

Gian sank himself deeply and completely into my bleeding hole and waited for me to stop screaming. He then began to pump me, his Lund ripping at me as it made space for itself in my choot.

I tried to slide away, to push him off but Gian pinned me down. The pain began to subside. I could feel him all over inside me filling me, stretching me and stuffing me tightly. He pulsed against the walls of my choot. Sliding against the sensitive walls of my phuddi as he began to move in and out of me

“No, no, no, no,…” I had pleaded only to be ignored. Tears of pain welled up in my eyes as I wailed. Gian ignored my tears and pleas and kept fucking me energetically., grunting and moaning as he held me.

After what seemed like hours,, the pain disappeared and pleasure started to replace it;

A rippling sensation began in my body; it slowly increased and I began moaning. Gian increased his speed and rammed into me forcefully, ignoring my tears and pleas as he fucked my tight hole.

As I felt Gian sliding in and out of me, I foolishly wondered if his Lund would end up coming through my mouth. He seemed so desperate to get deep into me.

I began experiencing ripple after ripple of pleasure as the pleasure built up, I tried to hold him in place on top of me by crossing her legs over his buttocks,

Gian was now crazed with lust, his breathing ragged with snorts escaping from his nose. My ass was being lifted from the bed and than it was rammed down, again and again, with each thrust of his hips.

After what seemed hours of hammering into me I felt Gian tense and a torrent of semen shot into me, soothing my tortured hole with hot wet splashes as it lubricated the walls of my choot and filled me till I could feel cool wet trickles roll down my butt crack.

It was then as Gian moved his cock deep into me and panted and shivered with each spurt of semen into my waiting womb that I felt the dam burst like tremor of my first orgasm.

After Gian had finished, he rolled off me, fell panting on his back, onto the bed beside. After ten or so minutes, he got up and left the room.

I slowly got up from the bed and slowly made my way to the washroom where I squatted on the floor and pissed and wash my pussy before taking a long bath.

When I got back into the bedroom, my mother and mother-in-law stood with broad smiles congratulating me on becoming a woman at last; My mother held up the soiled blood stained sheet and said “You are a good girl. I am proud of you”

My mother-in-law said only “Think only of boys. May your first child be a boy”?

Amrit produced a son exactly 9 months later. I however, remained barren.

It was not for lack of trying. Gian was always after me. Only the 7 or so days every month kept him off me, almost, but a man will never take no for an answer. Well Gian never did.

Two years after our joint marriage, Amrit and I were sitting in the courtyard of the farm haveli (traditional homestead). We were watching her son and daughter (Yes, she had produced another child) as they slept blissfully under a large very old neem tree.

We had grown up together and been as close as any two sisters could have been. We shared all secrets and gossiped freely. I admit that I was always the one leading her into mischief, but then I always was the first to feel the bamboo cane whenever an elder caught us, worrying the chickens, stealing apples, swimming unattended or just lazing around when work was to be done. This was perhaps the ultimate crime.

“You know” Amrit said looking calmly at me “Ammijee (my witch of a mother-in-law) is trying to get Gian to divorce you”

I was not surprised. Amrit’s mother although my real blood aunt had never really liked me. The fact that her son and I were still without children while her sister (my mother) was a grandmother twice ate at her. In our region of the world, family is everything.

“I try Amrit. I try hard. I take all the medicines the old women suggest. I do the things your brother asks of me no matter how uncomfortable they are, and pray at the temple but…” I looked away feeling the tears burning to be released but I simply would not cry. I would not let that happen. I had shed enough tears over this matter already.

Amrit looked down at the hard packed, dry clay floor and sighed. “I know. It is so unfair. Simeran only has to do it once and I fall pregnant. It is a curse to always know each shot of semen will take-hold and blossom in you. I can’t enjoy it when I know Simeran will fill me. He is usually too hot to stop and use a condom. Birth control tablets don’t help me. I forget or something.”

She stood up and picked a fallen neem leaf off her daughter’s face, before saying “He does try and pull out but Munni (her daughter’s nickname) is proof that that is not foolproof”.

She looked at me and blushed as she added “I would love to just let go and enjoy the pleasure without fearing the consequences”.

I nodded. I was under a different compulsion. I wanted the consequences not just the pleasure. I would be lying if I said I did not enjoy sex. I usually did but not always. I did not like it when he was drunk and just used me to empty his balls.

We sat quietly watching the children sleep. Strange that my brother should be so fertile and I so sterile, we were after all siblings. Then it struck me. What if I was not the sterile one? What if Gian was?

I mulled this over in my mind thoroughly, over the next few weeks. Often after Gian had taken me roughly and filled me with what I then believed, was his useless seed. As he lay naked, sweaty and snoring beside me, his breath stinking of whisky, I wondered what would happen if another man just once came in me.

We are farming people. Breeding livestock is part of our life. A cow won’t take. Change the bull. If that doesn’t work, well mystery solved (Slaughter the cow? This is India! May the GODS forgive such a thought!)?

Our village is small but prosperous. The soil of Punjab is legendary and the Punjabi knows how to make things grow. Most farmers have tractors so the migrant worker is now not so common. They head off to the cities, or cluster around the local distillery. (My mother always curses the distillery. Apparently, before it was built, the men found it harder to get drunk).

I considered the option of mating (what else should I call it?) with a man in the village. That would be too risky. Small villages have small minds and big mouths. If I were caught…I hate to think what would happen. Then there are the complications of a lover who will not let go. Free sex is a readily sought commodity. Once found, it is exploited to the full.

That option would not do. It simply was not worth the risk…

It was spring. A lovely cool sunny day with birds singing and the distant hum of my husband’s tractor in the distance… I was sitting in my favorite spot under a large Banyan tree with my niece in my lap (I naturally adore children) watching my husband plowing the field with his new red tractor. His pride and joy. He looked so handsome in the afternoon light. He was trying to get as much work done before he and Simeran went off to the local town for an agricultural show. Agricultural show really meant an opportunity to get stinking drunk, and naturally visit the dancing girls and whores in the red light sector. Men are that way. Why complain?

It was then that I heard Amrit come up beside me with her son in her arms and tell him “See my son? Your Papajee is still working, still plowing the fields. Papajee works very hard.”

I looked up at Amrit in surprise “Did you say ‘Papajee?” I thought it was Gian”!

Amrit laughed. “NO! That’s Simeran can’t you see? Gian loaned him the tractor so they could plow the fields faster. The dancing girls with big eyes and bigger breasts are waiting to get a plowing too!” She laughed out loud at her own joke and put her son down on the ground beside me “One day he will be as horny as his father, wait and see!”

‘They look so much alike don’t they? Both 5ft 10, broad shouldered with narrow hips and classic Punjabi features.’ I thought realizing that Amrit and I too, could pass almost as twins.

We both were typical Punjabi Farm girls. Both with a long eyelashes and sparkling dark brown eyes; Both large breasted with good child bearing hips and our oval shaped faces, well structured with a wheatish complexion. The face and figure of most girls from Kabul through Lahore, Amritsar Delhi to Lucknow; Northern Plains stock or as the Vedas tell us, ‘Aryan.’ It was then that I had my idea.

“Amrit” I asked quietly but clearly “Do you love me? Do you love me as a true sister”

Amrit looked at me with a little fear in her eyes “More then that Reshmi. You know that. Oh Reshmi! I am trying to persuade Ammijee to stop pressuring Gian to divorce you…but…”

I nodded and took her had as she sat beside me on the ground. “Amrit, I need your help and your…” I struggled for the word my plan was formed but I needed her to help I needed her to.. “I need your ” deep breath “Your permission”.

Amrit looked at me, her eyes confused and scared, as she bit her lips and squeezed my hand hard in her grasp “I don’t understand Reshmi. What are you saying? Permission? Permission from me to do what?” I saw the tears that were rolling down her cheeks and felt suddenly lost and hopeless.

She would not agree.

She would never agree.

It was unthinkable.

I looked at Simeran still busy running the tractor up and down the field.

Amrit’s gaze followed mine and then as I heard her gasp and pull her hand away I knew she understood.

“Madness!” She said getting up “What you ask is madness! You’ve lost your senses! Insane! Madness!”

She grabbed her daughter from my arms and tugged her son roughly by the hand making him walk beside her as she hurried away.

I watched them hurry. The boy, crying and stumbling as his mother seemed to almost want to flee from me , I couldn’t blame her. My plan was what she said it was ‘madness’.

We didn’t speak about it for a while. The men went off to the town to drink and whore around and we made roti (flat bread) and vegetable curries…

It was perhaps a week after the men returned that I found Amrit waiting for me as I came out of the washroom after a bath.

I smiled at her and she for the first time since that day smiled back. We embraced and she sobbed.

“Gian has agreed” was all she said “He will divorce you if you do not conceive by winter”

I sighed and said “So I will be cast out into the street. I wonder what Amritsar is like?”

My fate was before me. A divorced woman would be encouraged to leave the area.

‘A woman like that’ would be sure to trap a man between her thighs. Especially when the alternative is poverty.

My Family could take care of me.

In your world maybe, but in mine, for how long.

An extra person to feed and clothe with no chance of recovering the investment, a dead weight, around their necks; I would be an unwelcome drain on resources. A few bad harvests and a few years to forget my face (Exile would still come) and then the help would stop like a stream in a desert.

I would end up in a town where men would rightly conclude that a woman of my age and background was either a widow or a divorcee. Either way, fair game. My future offered the following choices; a)starvation, b)Servitude with physical and sexual abuse as a housemaid, c)A series of lovers to keep me, until they found someone fresher or tighter. Each lover would be poorer then the last as I aged and became more unattractive, d)Finally, officially, prostitution.

I did not list ‘death’ you say. Is that necessary to list? It is a given. I would starve or become a whore. One way or another, I would be used and discarded, that was the hard truth.

Forget the Hindi films of heroic women overcoming ‘things’. This is India, 21st Century or not.

“OH Reshmi I tired. I really tired!” Amrit sobbed

“My parents?” I asked already knowing the answer. Gian would never have agreed without their consent.

Amrit said nothing only sobbed louder.

We sat the whole day together, holding hands and remembering our childhood. The things you do when you know you will be going away and not coming back. Making new memories and dusting off old ones. They would all I would be able to take with me.

Gian was subdued when he came home that night. He stank of whisky and refused to eat. I left him to brood and busied myself with odd jobs until bedtime.

That night as I prepared for bed, he came up behind me and pulled my Kameez (long shirt) up over my back and tugged my shalwar (trousers) down.

I bent forward as I had learned to do over the three years of our marriage, and prepared to be fucked I knew that this was his favorite ways of doing ‘it’.

From the back with lots of butt slaps and dirty words.

As he used me, I wondered if he ever thought of me when he used a town whore.

Probably not, he probably was as selfish in his pleasure with me as he was with them just a hole to squeeze his cock to pleasure and release. That was all I was and it seemed, that was all I was destined to be.

He came with a final savage thrust and grunt of pleasure, but he stood holding me firmly by my hips with his cock still, firmly in me. It seemed like he was desperately trying to plug me, seal me so as to prevent leakage.

Was this love?

Did he actually care enough to want to get me pregnant or was his male ego haunted by the fear that it just might be the bull and not the cow after all?…

It was pre-monsoon the heat building and the land waiting for the rain that would give or take a good harvest.

My parents and in-laws along with Most of the old people were away. A pilgrimage to a temple. The young people not needed for farm work went too to carry and fetch for them.

Gian and I had shifted into the Haveli (farmhouse in this story) of my parents

One afternoon Amrit and I were lazing around on the veranda of the haveli letting the sapping heat of a summer day pass us-by. The men were predictably ‘looking at a new tractor ‘ or in other words getting a cold beer or a hot dancing girl in town.

Amrit had been silent all day and I assumed it was just tiredness caused by the heat and the rhythmic thumbing sounds I heard coming from her bedroom next to mine at night, that were draining her.

“He came in me last night, ” Amrit said looking at the pattern of her kameez.

I said nothing. Simeran was as lusty as Gian that was obvious from the sounds coming from the bedroom every night we had been in the haveli.

The obvious sounds of sex complete with moans and groans had caused Gian to snigger and bang the wall once calling out for Simeran to have mercy on his little sister.

Simeran had shouted an obscenity back and Gian had taken that as a cue to mount and ride me in time to the sounds coming from his brother-in-laws room.

“I hope I don’t get pregnant again” She added sadly “I am tired of waddling like a duck and throwing up. She said with a sigh.

I said nothing. She had lost a child a few months earlier. A stillborn. The baby had been a girl so everyone had told her she was lucky. A stillborn son would have been a different matter.

“How would you do it?” She suddenly asked me sitting up and crossing her legs. “Do what?” I asked wondering what she meant as I fanned myself with a bamboo hand fan.

“You know…” She said looking around to see if anyone was lurking nearby.

“SEX?” I asked with a snort ” Amrit I think you and Simeran can teach me and Gian a thing or two about that” I said with a laugh

“NOOOOOOOOOOOO! Not that. You know…?” She said unhelpfully “That…”

“What are you taking about?” I asked loosing patience with her vagueness. It was too humid for guessing games.

“Get.” She looked around her as I watched her throw half closed eyes, leaning back on my cushion.

“Get Simeran to…” She said haltingly looking hard at me biting her bottom lip hard as she paused

I sat up suddenly alert. Was she saying what I hoped she was? Was she about to suggest we do the unthinkable?

“Get Simeran to what?” My heart was beating fast. I knew what she meant but I wanted her to actually say it.

“Get Simeran to bed you,” she finally said softly, looking at me hard

I leaned forward and put my head in my hands. I shivered in fear, relief or both, I cannot say. I gathered my thoughts and brought the threads of my desperate plan together in a way I hoped would convince her.

“Well, we get them drunk. And switch rooms in the night. Simeran will want sex. Hopefully you will have resisted long enough for me to replace you in bed and that is it really” I said waiting for her response.

Amrit looked at me hard. “We swap places? You mean I get into bed with my brother while you are in bed with yours?”

I nodded. It sounded so…sick.

“Why?” She asked, “Why do I get into your bed”.

“Because”, I explained, “Gian might wake up when Simeran and I are…you know?” I let it hang

“Wake up and what?” Amrit asked calmly

“Well, I will take care of him before I change places. Lots of whisky and a if he wants a fuck, well I will open my legs like a good wife and let him pound away, before we exchange places” I assured her.

Amrit had her head down listening to me.

“But if he wakes up… I heard him and you, even thought Simeran was so loud…” She said

“He won’t try anything” I reassured her, deciding to really go to work on getting Gian stone cold drunk and out for the count. Last thing I wanted was to have Gian rape his sister in the mistaken belief that she was me!

“Why Simeran? Why not another man?” Amrit asked.

“Who?” I asked? “Who can be so trusted that I can lay down under him and expect him to keep quiet afterwards? What If someone sees me somewhere I am not usually to be found?” I paused.

“Worse!” I added “What if the ‘sperm donor’ wants to keep ‘donating’ even after I am hopefully a mother. And blackmails me into being his whore?”

I picked the points off one by one on my fingertips.

“Look Simeran and Gian look so much alike even I get confused. We look alike, our parents are cousins, so are we.”

I watched her closely; trying to gauge her response then continued by saying, “The blood-lines will make sure the child looks like one of us. No question mark”.

She looked away at a herd of cattle wandering through the fields. The cattle gave me a point of reference to continue. I pointed at the cattle and said energetically “A black bull in a red cow and the calf is snow white? Question mark”. “A red bull in a red cow and the calf is red. Nothing.”

Amrit looked at me and back at the cattle now carelessly chewing on my mother-in-law’s tomato crop. Devine justice perhaps.

“Best of all. The men will not know a thing. They will be drunk in bed with their wives as far as they are concerned.” I said with a firm nod of my head.

Amrit looked at me and bit her lips savagely then nodded and said “Ok One time only. With Simeran all it takes is one shot believe me. Just make sure you keep your legs up as long as you can so his semen has a maximum chance of success”.

I leaned forward against Amrit and started to cry softly. Tears of relief and tears of shame. What was I about to do?

So there we were, Amrit and me, standing in the veranda of the farmhouse, looking at each other in terror. The dim light of the Kerosene lantern barely managed to light the veranda.

The children were in bed fast asleep and our husbands were in their respective beds sleeping.

I stood outside the door of the bedroom Simeran and Amrit were staying in. She stood outside my bedroom door looking at me.

The plan had already completed the first phase.

Gian and Simeran had drunk more then usual after dinner. Amrit and I had made sure to quietly refill their glasses as the sat on the veranda talking about crops, pests and livestock.

I had remembered an herbal powder that my father-n-law used to help him sleep. It was Desi-Elarge (home remedy). I had learned how to make it for him and put that knowledge to use now.

I drugged Gian’s food with it. Sprinkling some of the powder on his supper to make sure he slept deeply.

The plan required Amrit to swap places with me in my bed. Since Amrit was actually Gian’s sister, she was anxious that he did not fuck her by mistake. He would know nothing of the swap naturally and would simply mount the woman he would assume was his wife beside him in his bed, if he wanted to fuck.

One incestuous act was all we wanted to do. I was to have sex with my brother and conceive. Naturally, he would assume that I was Amrit.

We had waited for a moonless night. Now it was here and the sound of Gian’s heavy snoring reassured Amrit greatly.

“Well,” I said softly “Here it goes”. I opened the darkened room and stepped in. A few moments later, I heard the door to my room next door open and close and knew that Amrit was now as committed to the plan as I was.

In the darkness, I could hear Simeran breathing as he slept. I could not risk a kerosene lamp or candle; darkness was essential to the plan. Simeran had to believe that I was Amrit or things would well, get extremely messy.

I stepped carefully over to the bed and untied the nara (cord) of my shalwar (trousers) and stepped out of them, now naked from the waist down, ready to be impregnated and the plan finished.

I had applied oil just before entering the room. I was, I admit dry. The idea of sex with my brother did not appeal to me at all. It was an act of desperation, nothing more. The streets of Amritsar and beyond were waiting.

I rubbed my oiled womanhood, paying special attention to my hole as I lubricated myself.

I could not see Simeran at all. However, I felt him as I lay down beside him on the bed.

What had I thought would happen?

Well, I had not expected Simeran to remain asleep beside me. Every night since Amrit and Simeran had stayed with us, I had heard them fucking. The sounds of their bed shaking as they screwed had often inspired my own husband to fuck me.

Perhaps we had given him too much drink earlier. I lay silently wondering what to do.

I put my hand on his chest and pushed him slightly. He continued to snore far away in dreamland.

I was about to get up and leave when he suddenly turned over and embraced me..

He continued to sleep unaware that the woman he was holding was I, Reshmi not his wife, Amrit.

I moved a little but he pulled me closer, put his head on my breasts, and snored. I was half dead with fright now. Things were not going as planned.

I eased his head off my breasts and tried to untangle myself from his embrace.

He stirred and I felt him raise his head and look at me.

“What is it?” He asked sleepily.

I said nothing and tried not to move a muscle as he flopped his head back down on the bed and resumed snoring.

I was able to get up now and felt my way to the door and opened it.

I was just about to gently knock on my door when I heard a noise from the washroom at the far end of the veranda.

I tip toed to the washroom door and peeped in.

Someone had lit a candle and so the washroom was flooded in a dim light. I was therefore able to see Amrit on her hands and knees with her head hidden under a towel being vigorously fucked by my husband, her brother, Gian.

Gian was groaning and moaning in the way he usually did when he fucked me.

I was stunned. I watched as Gian held onto Amrit’s hips, as he knelt behind her and sent his Lund in and out of her choot (pussy).

I heard him grunt as he slammed into her one last time and came in her.

He stood up, wiped his cock with a towel, and staggered out the bathroom. As he left, he said in a tipsy voice “Stupid fucking time to wash your hair.”

I stepped back silently into the darkness and held my breath as Gian staggered out of the washroom and past me, into our bedroom.

The candle went out and Amrit came out and hugged herself, running her hands over her arms and sighed.

I backed away deeper into the shadows. What had I just witnessed? Gian screwing his sister or Gian screwing a woman he assumed was me.

I watched Amrit very carefully open my bedroom door and tiptoe into my room.

As the door closed slowly and quietly behind her, I went back towards Simeran’s room.

My sleeping powder had not worked. Perhaps I had been too cautious with the dosage or perhaps it had no affect on Gian.

I stood for a few minutes digesting what I had seen.

I suddenly realized that I was standing half naked on the veranda. What would happen if either man were to walk out and find me there?

I quickly went into Simeran’s room and sat down on the bed gently.

Simeran sat up behind me and roughly pulled me down on the bed beside him. His hands felt my naked thighs and he said, “You should have told me you wanted some”.

He got onto me and slipped his hips between my legs. I felt him guide his Lund to my choot hole and then press it at my entrance.

He eased forward. I was not ready.

He thrust gently but could not get in. He paused a few seconds. Then he resumed his attempts.

He thrust harder again and again. My hole resisting him, denying him free access.

He stopped and moved off me.

“What is wrong? If you don’t want a fuck tell me,” He said with annoyance.

He moved and I suddenly feared that he would light a candle or lantern and see me there. In panic, I grabbed him and pulled him back onto me.

My legs went up and around his waist as I pressed his face against my breasts and reached for his hard cock.

Taking a firm hold of Simeran’s Lund, I rubbed the tip up and down my slit a few times before I put it back at the lips of my choot.

Willing myself to relax I dug my heels into his buttocks and spurred him on.

Whether it was the feel of my slit on his sensitive cock head or the simple need to unload his spunk, I don’t know but Simeran slammed his cock into me with three or four savage thrusts until I felt his balls slap against my butt.

I bit back the urge to cry as his hot shaft chaffed at my cunt walls. The oil that I had applied to lubricate me, was not helping. It was being absorbed by my dry hole, not lubricating it, as I had hoped.

I felt Simeran’s hairless groin and balls pressed against me. It suddenly occurred to me that I had never asked Amrit if she shaved her pussy like me, was this the fatal flaw in my plan?

Gian did not shave. I could feel the difference between a shaved man and an unshaved one.

Simeran held onto my buttocks with a strong grip. I felt his fingers digging into me and then felt my anus probed, teased and finally filled with the tip of one of Simeran’s fingers. This was something Gian never did.

It felt uncomfortable to be touched that way. My attempts to dislodge his finger seemed only to encourage him. He started fucking my ass with his fingertip in time to his Lund’s pumping of my choot.

Suddenly, I felt him pull back trying to remove his cock from my hole. I held him tight in my embrace. My heels digging into his ass preventing him from withdrawing his cock, and releasing the spunk outside my thirsty womb.

Then it happened. I felt his Lund twitch and pulsate expand and explode in me. I just knew from the feel of his seed splashing into my eager womb that my plan would succeed. I held tight as he collapsed exhausted on top of me. I avoided letting him kiss me on the mouth. He was after all my brother.

I held him on me and in me to plug my hole and ensure the best chance of success. Amrit had said one shot only and I was not interested in becoming Simeran’s lover.

After a few minutes, with Simeran’s tool now deflated and slipping out of me, I released him.

I hurriedly got up as he lay on the bed beside me and left the room.

Amrit opened the door immediately after I tapped on it as arranged. We swapped places and climbed into bed beside our respective husbands.

Maybe half an hour or so later I heard the bed shaking in Simeran’s room and knew that Amrit was once more being fucked. This time her husband my brother, was doing it.

“Behenchord!” (Sisterfucker) Gian suddenly said in the darkness beside me.

“Doesn’t your brother ever stop?” he asked.

Gian got up on his knees and lifted my legs up onto his shoulders. He pulled my shalwar down (or rather up) to my ankles and aimed his cock at my cunt.

“Well, if he wants to fuck the shit out of my sister, I will do the same to his” He announced.

He entered me with relative ease. Not because I wanted him but because Simeran’s juice was still in me;

“Fuck!” Gian said, “You are really wet tonight”.

Gian pumped me until he came in my already full choot. Then he lay down and slept.

The sounds from Simeran and Amrit’s room had stopped.

I fell asleep dreaming of babies.

Next day, Amrit asked me if I had managed to be screwed by Simeran. I nodded and asked her if Gian had been any problem.

“Oh no” She said with a blush “He slept throughout”. Then she hurried away. I watched her go and thought about the night before and the lie she had just told me.

I greeted my husband and brother in the usual way. They both seemed quiet and thoughtful though. Simeran kept looking at me slyly or shyly, I could not be sure.

I caught my husband staring at Amrit’s buttocks as she bent over to pick something up off the floor. I wondered if he actually suspected something or was just horny.

Simeran seemed to keep turning up all day. He looked perplexed and looked like he was about to say something a few times, but remained silent.

His eyes followed me it seemed everywhere I went and I admit, I was very nervous.

A few days later, Amrit made me a strange offer.

“You know,” She began slowly avoiding eye contact “Simeran is very potent but maybe you need a few more shots”.

“Meaning what exactly?” I asked innocently. I was well aware of what she was saying but I wanted her to come out and say it.

“Well, maybe we should swap places again a few times just to make sure you get pregnant” She explained.

Simeran seemed to want sex twice and sometimes thrice a night off Amrit. The sound of the bed shaking and Amrit groaning seemed to never stop.

When I did not hear them, it was usually because Gian was making me buck up and down on our own bed. He too seemed to have nothing but sex on his mind.

There had been an atmosphere, a tense atmosphere for days in the haveli. After I had nodded my consent to Amrit’s offer, the atmosphere changed. It was still tense but it seemed that the tension was of a different kind.

The next time I exchanged places with Amrit, Simeran was awake in the dark waiting for me. He mounted me quickly anxious to sink his cock into me and ride me to the finish.

The sounds coming from my room convinced me that Gian had wasted no time in mounting Amrit.

Well, that was all a year ago. I now have a lovely son.

I did swap places with Amrit a few more times and Simeran did fuck me each time I lay in his bed pretending to be Amrit. Strange thing is that Simeran’s attitude towards me has changed. He looks at me with deep hot stares and seems like he still wants to say or ask me something.

It might have a lot to do with the fact that Amrit does not shave her pussy. I checked.

Simeran may have realized that I was in his bed that night and assumed it was a mistake in the dark. However, a mistake that seems to happen every moonless night? Then there was way I had grabbed him and demanded he fuck me, without saying a word that night which may have confused him a bit.

I am sure he wonders but I think the birth of my son explained it all to him.

My Parents and In-laws believe that the pilgrimage is the cause of the end of my barren curse. They would die of shock and shame if they knew the truth.

Naturally, they want more grandchildren and naturally or otherwise, Amrit is willing to loan Simeran to me. In fact, I think Amrit would willing give me Simeran on a two-year renewable lease if I asked her. Just joking but she always looks very satisfied and content after we swap places.

Do not blame Amrit for being human and liking sex without consequences.

She is a new woman. I think it has a lot to do with the baths she takes at night whenever she comes over.

I now know in my heart that Gian realized it was Amrit in the washroom that night. The candlelight would have revealed a pussy bush even if his sense of touch had failed him.

September 2018
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