Indian Aunty Tales: Cool as a Cucumber – Part 2 – or how the Revathi gave in and gave it up!

 

the story so far..…………. Indian Aunty Tales: Cool as a Cucumber – Part 1…

A vision of mother floated above her… blurred, smiling but unmovingl… her head hurt as Revathi slowly opened her eyes. She saw amma’s (mother) picture still hanging on the wall where she last remembered it. And MS’ Subbalakshmi’s rich melodious voice continued to drone on….

Her vagina felt sore like a fist had been pushed in ….yes … dear Balan had told her and shown her pics of a good fist fuck. No thank you – if he was going to spend time “loosening her up” as he called it, she wasn’t interested. Anyway they were divorced now …. hell with him.

Her eyes wandered over to the clock on the wall… my god – she had slept for fifteen minutes.. she tried sitting up.  And that is when it all came flooding back to her… her grinding the cucumber for fun, the walk to the kitchen, the fall and the punch of…

and oh my god! that little green monster was still stuck in her! god! No wonder she felt full, satisfied and sore – like a long open wound in her had been sealed with finality!

Determined not to slip again, she slowly got on all fours and …with the green cucumber twisting and turning inside her…. crawled across the floor – making her even more wet and horny. squish…chik…squish…chik….the sounds were like that made by a vinyl panty and skirt! Balan had got her do that once. He had thought it was sexy! Idiot!

She reached across the hallway to a dry patch,  and stood up, her legs and buttocks forced apart by the stubby solid mass wedged deep insider her bruised cunt.

She felt brave, like a warrior…. maybe this is how the sardar (Sikh) taxi drivers who intimidated her felt all the time …maybe this is what penis envy was all about!

Now how the hell was she going to get this thing out?

She had to calm down and think. Take stock of the situation and work things out … she could try squatting… Indian style… and maybe …it would just fall out… worth a try…

She stood with feet a little apart and did a sudden forceful downward squat …  her butt racing in an arc towards her heels…  the cucumber made first contact and slammed hard against her insides….and again that dull pain – broad, firm and at the very center of her being…! oh what a curse!

She manage to crawl and get on to her bed. Reaching over to the bedside table, she retrieved the mirror Balan’s mother had given her as a wedding gift. Lying on her back, she spread her legs wide and lowered the mirror to where she could took a good look!

The cucumber’s tip, stuck out of her cunt, like a green tortoise head coming out its dark shell. She looked at it – it looked back at her. She looked at it again.. and it looked back … again….

By now- she was in a panic and beginning to cry! Not so because of her predicament… but because of the one person in the whole world she knew she would have to call, the one person who was uniquely gifted and equipped to handle a situation like this.

Balan!

Damn his corrupt soul – that boy was he going to have a field day with this! Damn him! And with that she crawled on all fours to the living room, reached for the cell phone, sat on the edge of the sofa with her ‘penis’ sticking out and dialed Balan’s number!

………………………

Balan had had a good life all through – which to him meant – booze, women and the means by which to have sex with them – anytime, anyway, anywhere and best of all naughty, unexpected, consensual sex that relied on the element of surprise. And being a manager at a five star hotel in Gurgaon, gave him a steady supply of all of the above – and more.

Although, life had not been good to him lately. Hotels were changing, the new generation was more professional and women nowadays did not like being played with in the same way they did in the 80’s. Indian women today were more self assured and just about everyone of them had a boyfriend or two, not like the old days where he was the one act in town. 

What was new though, and something he was still figuring – were the number of lesbians who were joining his staff. Don’t get him wrong, while he was women-oriented as he put it, he just about respected everyone else’s sexual choice between any combination of consenting adults.

So at first when he heard Shashwati (“Shash”), the salad chef, was a ‘lesbo’ (lesbian) he had had angled for some three way action between her and her purported girlfriend, a stunning model. But this was like no Swedish lesbian movie he had seen (which usually ended up with a black guy joining the action) ……… for neither did Shash open up to him, nor it turned out she was actually available. She actually loved this other girl. What an idea! No wonder all her salads ended up looking like breasts and pussies…  he got a hard on just walking past the salad counter!

The phone rang and he could scarce believe the name displayed … he let it ring a few times! Revath, she! the she-goddess of southern womanhood, the patron saint of all that was chaste, Sister Revathi, the Nunamma (“nun mother”) …. she … the pure, the chaste would condescend to call him!

“Hello…Rave!” he muttered with all the hospitality training he could bring to bear. He could scarce recognize the voice that replied at the other end…  that of someone who seemed familiar, yet scared, and unsure… worse yet… a Revathi who said “Balan… I need your help…don’t laugh, I am stuck, I mean… it is stuck!”.

And with that Revathi described incoherently, how her faithfully following a naturopath’s prescription for UTI had left her with this…this cucumber wedged deep insider her “private area” as she put it. She ended again with “Balan … I need your help – fast! you work 5 minutes away from our home… please come now!”.

He did not know whether to smile or cry… or laugh. Was this funny – especially after she had made such a fuss when he had shocked her by suddenly inserting a pickling cucumber in her unsuspecting cunt! Anyway … all that was in the past! For sure this confused frustrated girl was a poor liar!

Balan may have been a rogue, but he was definitely a gentleman of  the hour. Without hesitation he picked up the phone and summoned Shash to his office in a tone at once commanding, yet gentle – she had never heard him use it before.

She rushed in to his office, the same damn office where he had tried making advances which she had summarily rebuffed. “Shash… I have a friend, who is in trouble, and she needs your help. And needs it now… get your salad preparation stuff and come to the back entrance… I’ll pick you up there. Please yaar (friend) – trust me… she really needs your help!”

She looked at him in the eye …carefully… something told her this was real… and besides the friend was a she, she was helping her kind. She left to get her salad set, thinking it was some “curry in a hurry” for a wedding party!

Balan picked up the phone and called Dr. Gupta … “Hello Dr. Gupta…you remember me…

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

Revathi heard the furious knocking on the door, and stepping her way carefully across the room, opened the kundis ( tower bolts ) and let Balan in… followed by a woman… who looked like a nurse, with a white cap and gown. “This is Shash” said Balan. “Thank god!” thought Revathi, “the man had gained some common sense after all these years! So unlike him” .

“Revathi – we better examine you right away, please lie down on the table” said Balan. Revathi complied uncharacteristically… slowly getting on the chair….then laying on the table face up, sliding her buttocks backwards….awaiting the inevitable loss of decency. Balan was almost gentle with her when he suggested he raise the kaftan and slowly gathered it at her midriff.

Revathi could swear she saw a glint in the nurse’s eye as she spread her legs wide and apart. They looked at the little green monster inside Revathi… and it looked back at them.  She could swear Shash looked hungry.

Shash and Balan burst out laughing… and Revathi burst out crying! All this was too much for her.“Get a hold of yourself” shouted Shash and with that she let loose a sharp stinging slap on her right buttock! “We need to scoop some out, and then ease you up…so it will slide out. I need you to be steady and not move. Balan – we better hold her down, one move and it could hurt, do you have anything to keep her steady while I work on this?”

Balan raced to the bedroom, stood up on the bed and reached on the shelves built into the wall. If memory served him right, that wire the carpenters had left must still be there! Bingo! He was right .. and grabbing the twisted red and white electric cord, he raced back.

If they did not move fast enough… well they had to… else Revathi could not pee! Every second mattered!

“Revathi dear” Balan looked at her lovingly. “Shash needs to operate on the cucumber, and take pieces out so it will slide out. So I will need to tie you down so you don’t make a move while she is working, ok?”

She looked back at him and nodded… trust written all over her doleful eyes.
Balan expertly fashioned some knots he had learned while studying Kinbaku, the art of Japanese bondage. In no time at all, electric cord criss-crossed Revathi’s breasts and hands and tightly held them to the legs of the table. He then stretched her legs apart gently, till she felt they could stretch no more… and tied them her ankles and thighs to the other two legs of the table.

He stepped back to look at his work… Shash looked at him with new found admiration. “We need to get her stimulated Balan, you both were married were you not? She asked? Balan… please get her aroused. I need her cunt all nice and wet so I can slide it out!”.

“Oh no – you should have told me first Shash dear, she has her kaftan on and the one place that Rave is sensitive is her nipples. I am just going to tear the Kaftan (nightgown) off!” And sooner than Shash could protest, Balan had reached for a pair of scissors on the side table and started tearing her lovely ‘single woman’ kaftan to shreds. The remaining pieces he deftly slid out from under the electric cord that now tightly criss-crossed across her breasts.

He loudly proclaimed to no one in particular – “Shash – if there is one thing that turns Rave on it is getting rough with here breasts! ….right Rave?” and without waiting for a response,  he first started nibbling on her right nipple – it was all puckered up under the stress.

Revathi moaned and tried to move her butt, but the cords held steady.

Shash place a thumb on Rave’s clitoris slowly rubbing it. “Steady, don’t move” she commanded Revathi and picked up the small cutting knife she used to slice ginger into wafer thin slices.  This was not going to be easy…it would test her skills. With that she slowly sliced the rounded part of the cucumber that was sticking out, taking care to avoid the stretched labia.

The vagina was still dry… so she pinched the clit once more.. hard…Revathi screamed and then bit her tongue and then stayed silent.

By now Balan was busy tugging at Rave’s defenseless breasts with his teeth…her breast stretched way up lost in his mouth. Then he slowly let them slide out, flowing through tightly clenched teeth, biting deeper at the nipple and letting it stretch its way out … all the while mercilessly twirling the nipple on the other breast between thumb and forefinger.  He loved it – and Rave moaned. Then he switched over ….gorging the second breast fully and slowly letting it grind its way out of his mouth.

Meanwhile, with some deft cutting, Shash had gotten the cucumber to have a flat face now, so much for that. She then used a plastic coring knife and slowly went to work, scooping out the insides of the cucumber…. working her way in bit by patient bit…taking care to leave a thick wall so Revathi would not get hurt. She could see the labia relax a little, as the hollowed out tip of the cucumber folded in a bit. She kept scraping away for a few centimeters more till she felt it was no longer safe to do so.

Then with one finger inside the hollowed part of the cucumber and two on the outside, she snapped the cucumber lip in two.  Revathi screamed … her labia could take no more of this torture… god what had she done to deserve this! Shash triumphantly pulled out a piece of cucumber and held it up. She quickly proceeded to snap some more pieces from inside, as Revathi moaned – and came again. and again.

Balan kept working her breasts, while Shash kept slowly snapping pieces of cucumber and pulling them out. And then Revathi came once more… moaning loudly, drenching Shash’s hands. Balan looked up in surprise, mouth agape – this was Rave he had never known.

Bu that was as far as they could go. The rest of the cucumber loosened up and slipped further inward! Shash realized the limits of her training and her technique. Damn it! …none of her catering training at Aurangabad had prepared her for this! For it was soon becoming obvious, that the rest of that little green fiend remain stuck inside with no easy grip to pull it out!  “Fuck” Shash exclaimed loudly, “fuck this damn cucumber!”

And just then there was a gentle knock on the front door… Balan, Shash and Revathi all froze, their heads turned towards the door. “Hello please to come” said a timid voice and with that a trim, short, older gentleman, with thick glasses pushed the door open and stepped right in… into the unholy scene!

It was Dr. Krishnan! See …in their rush to attend to Revathi, Balan and Shash had forgotten to bolt the door close.

The good doctor stood there…mouth moving like a goldfish. Nothing, nothing could possibly explain the vile scene before him. Not even MS Subbalakshmi’s, god bless her soul, rich melodious could begin to attempt to explain this …!

……… TO BE CONTINUED………….

Indian Aunty Tales: Cool as a Cucumber – Part 1… or how Revathi was ravaged by a Cucumis sativus

Revathi had always been one tough woman. Independent minded, strong willed, and a challenge for any man who dared say hello. She was 45, had been married once but had since been divorced – he, Balan, had neither been loyal nor dutiful.

Her parents had never approved of him and once she figured out he was into kinky sex of every kind, she never wanted to be with him again. Having oral sex was one thing, but subjecting her backside to the whims of odd shaped pieces of  adrak (ginger) was quite something else… “figging”, he had called it and said it was very popular in Britain.

Then there were other things… like his insistence she wear a sari and blouse without any bra or panty – after a loud argument he let her wear the petticoat when she showed how it held up her sari. With just a nice woolen shawl for cover over her bra-less blouse and sari, they went to dinner parties and dances.

Once, Santokh Singh, her husband’s colleague had brushed against her buttocks in the dance floor – and she could swear he noticed the absence of panty lines….

Yes, Balan had been a bad man and unfaithful, but he knew how make her feel good, guilty and godless… Of course no man since had ever dare intrude her dry un-lubricated existence. Neither had she made any advances, nor did she feel the need to. She had this sneaky suspicion that her South Indian diet did more for her intellect than for her libido… perhaps she should try eating more chapatis. parathas and naans!

The last few weeks though were aggravating. Her urinary tract infection (UTI) had re-surfaced. The Delhi heat was doing nothing to make it easier. The A/C (air conditioner) she had kept since her married days was falling apart and no matter how much cold water, ice cubes and sandal wood paste she applied her vagina and urethra burned with a fire of their own. She squirmed the whole day in the office and felt a deep urge rub herself against the corner of the table, but dared not.

She had even gone to Dr. Gupta, her doctor of many years. As always he was dismissive and uninterested, asking her to stand near his chair, raise her sari and pull her panties down as he thrust his fingers in for an exam. He gave her some antibiotics and a cream. Nothing worked, it still burned and Dr. Gupta was still uninterested.

And then she remembered Balan and the cucumber. It was wrong and she hated doing that to a cucumber….but it had felt cool and where was the harm… besides it was all vegetarian.

It had been a quiet Saturday afternoon and the maid was noisily washing clothes in the bathroom when Balan approached her at the lunch table. He showed her a cucumber and calmly asked her… “inside you?” and winked. Before she could recover from the shock, the audacity of the very suggestion, he had raised her saree and rudely shoved in an unsuspecting fruit into her unsuspecting cunt.

And then for what seemed like hours he had played with the cucumber inside her – right there over the dining table, right next to all the carefully home-prepared food which was getting cold! And the maid was still working in the back of the house.

Though it had hurt, as the rough warty outside of the pickling cucumber rubbed against her tender pussy, it left her feeling full, satisfied, rigorously explored and hungry for more. Then just when she was just about to come, he pulled it out, ignoring her completely. He proceeded to carefully peel the cucumber, it as she lay agonizing, and then inserted it again – this time gently and lovingly.

It had felt cool, magical and utterly sinful – she climaxed  again… right there in the dining room with the food getting cold. That was when she realized for the first time, where the phrase ‘cool as a cucumber’ came from… but no matter what she could not get over it – somehow it seemed wrong – even though it felt good. She even felt sorry for the cucumber…

Anyway, if she were to do it now no one would know, no one would care and no one would guess… and while mother may not have approved, she was long gone, peacefully to heaven… bless her pure soul. There was a problem though. The rough pickling cucumber Balan had used was small, making up in spirit what it lacked in style. However it was not available this part of town and she would have to make do with the guy around the corner = the telawala! (vegetable cart seller) 

When she first approached him, the telawala had looked at her, almost slyly and said … pick any you like maam? whatever your pasand (“fancy”). And he turrned around, spat on the ground, looked up again  – and leered at her. She knew, he knew, what she knew she did not want him to know.

 

She selected two cucumbers, almost randomly, feigning disinterest, until her hand came to rest on a third – it seemed long yet stubby and at first glance, too suggestive a shape. It even had a yellow cleft at one end – from some old injury – the tip of a fruity phallus. She picked it up, wrapping her right hand around it almost as if

She mumbled something about how everything was getting expensive, and without meeting his eye handed him a hundred rupee and started walking away. “your change madam….  your change” he yelled after her. She knew, he somehow knew….and without undue haste, yet a little bit of hurry, she fled the short distance home. Rushing in, she dropped the bag, turned around and locked the kundi (tower bolts) close…  now safe, in the fortress like confines of her home.

 

When laid on the bright orange table mat from Cottage Emporium, the three cucumbers looked innocent, almost coy. Except the one in the center with a cleft – it seemed almost to wink at her, cock its head at a jaunty angle and say… fuck me baby, fuck with me. She could wait no longer.

 

She stripped her sweaty clothes of and stood legs apart in front of the A/C, the cool air blasting her vagina.  She put on the kaftan (gown), the one with the spaghetti straps, she had got stitched a month after her divorce.

She could swear the tailor had taken extra interest in her measurements that time, as she stood in the dark of his little store. And she had let him – holding her bra cups against her breasts, she slid the straps off so he could measure things right – after all she was paying good money for the kaftan and -  she was newly single again. She made sure the hems stopped at mid-thigh, right below those vaccination marks she had gotten as a kid. She hated those marks – made her feel ugly, even though her ex could never quit pinching, biting and kneading her there.

She reached across the dress and clicked Play. Her favorite MS Subbalakshmi (MS to her fans) CD played in the background, the rich golden voice calming her down, easing her senses.

She held her small green friend in one hand and rubbed it with coconut oil, the one that came in those weird blue plastic bottles with the lids so hard to open. Anytime she squeezed its curved ends…. the cucumber slithered back and forth, in her hands, alive, ready to do her bidding.

Using a vegetable peeler her sister had got her from Singapore, she peeled the skin off the naughty end of the cucumber  – the one with the cleft. Now it really did look like a green penis.

Standing straight up, she raised the kaftan and placed one leg on the study chair. Hooking her right forefinger she pulled her pink panties aside just enough to squirt some cool coconut oil straight on her vagina. It worked like magic, she could feel it – her dry scorched pubic hair glistened a shiny glossy black, the wrinkled folds of her long neglected vagina now feeling all relaxed and juicy.

Oil dripped down the thigh, running all the way down her leg, forming a little pool on the mosaic floor. She would clean it up later…. for now… she was happy nestling the cool, shaved end of the cucumber against her oily vagina.

It had been a long time, since she had felt anything push against her pussy – and that is when she realized it was big, too big – the cucumber that is. She had lost all sense of size over the years, or perhaps it was lack of use – no matter which, her vagina seemed unequal to the task of swallowing a humble cucumber.

Surprised and disappointed, Revati retreated to what she knew best – her vast fund of GK (general knowledge), gathered over many a summer afternoon in middle class Mylapore. She had been preparing very hard for, and “hoping against hope” she would get selected for the Bournvita Quiz contest. She never did, instead that stupid Sindhi girl had been shortlisted – they looked just like Punju women but were lot more hairy and more studious. Anyway – her fund of GK had told her two things – that pythons could open their mouths and swallow whole deer and that the female vagina could expand to issue forth one, two or even more healthy babies, let alone a solitary elongated fruit (yes cucumbers were fruit!)

The cucumber Balan had used years ago had been short and warty – pickling cucumbers he called them – but go get those you had to go to the other market a few kilometers away. The tehlawala (vegetable cart seller) around the corner only carried these big ones – che! if she was only back in RK Puram!

The fat green mass felt cool and for a moment and the burning due to her UTI seemed to fade into the background. And she was in love with this special one… almost cock like, erect, confident yet playful and mischievous. There was no way she was going to step down to his smaller cousins.

Never mind… she would only play with him on the outside – and determined woman that she was, she proceeded to slide, prod, rotate and tease her clitoris and labia  – sometime rough and fast so the hairs bit into her soft skin, and sometimes steady nice and slow, so the hairs could slide out again.

Images of Mr. Dandapani – her physics teacher from school floated in front of her head. He was strict yet gentle, and did not hestitate to spank hard on the backsides of student’s who kept repeating their mistakes – especially that dumb good looking punju girl – Thithlee Bajaj. And Dandapani had those nice bright eyes and those hairy ears!

mmmm…. fitch! vish! fitch vish….the rhythm of the oiled cucumber kept picking up pace as she let its stubby rounded extremity slide up and down her vagina, her labia lazily caressing it on either side.

Soon Dandapani faded, and in came visions of a shirtless Akshay Kumar…Mother would not approve a North Indian boy but it was ok this once. Revathi was on a roll now, breaking all taboos, and masturbating to a Bollywood film star did not seem all that risky a thing to do. At most it might lead her fingers astray.

fitch! vish! fitch vish fitch! vish! fitch vish…. the rhythm continued to pick pace. and her body moved… tight chubby thighs slapping in unison with the right hand, firmly holding the gyrating cucumber. Her panty seams occasionally got caught, tugged and released in the relentless movement, naughtily biting into her labia…

and then she started coming…. the first hints of an orgasm, searching and hungry, waves of contractions and releases unleashed themselves, as her vagina showered years and years of liquid love on her green suitor…..

Revathi was never used to screaming loudly, or even moaning in passion – she often just breathed heavily, like an old pair of bellows flagging a stump of red hot iron…. She had once read, of course as part of acquiring GK, that the human female, unique among all primate females, experience sexual orgasm – oh why was she like this!

And this time was no different… she breathed heavily….

Smooth, stubby and oily thought it was, the cucumber had left her normally deject clitoris sitting taut and shiny.…like one of those gaudy red buttons she bough at Moore Market (Madras) years and years ago before it burned down….

fitch! vish! fitch vish fitch! vish! fitch vish….She breathed heavily and readied herself for the climax…. love juices raced after the coconut oil on her inner thigh….

She sighed to the heavens…. biting her lip and with a loud gasp, arched back. as the final joy sent shivers down her spine…… then she flopped forward in guilt, relief and release… as the shameful moment was painfully over.

….MS Subbalakshmi droned on… what a golden voice, she hoped the gods had not noticed.

The gods indeed had noticed, as Revathi felt the world around her give way, spinning in slow motion…. her right leg slipping forward, giving way… her left leg slipping outwards ….the cucumber held firmly in her hand now rested against the solid wood edge of the chair, as if awaiting the inevitable.

She succumbed the cumulative effect of coconut oil and vaginal juices on a smooth mosaic floor… who would have guessed..

Gravity ruled……… as her fast descending vagina impaled itself on the humble cucumber…… its green mass plunging in quietly and forcefully, dragging the crotch area and the cheap elastic of her panties with it…in one smooth punch.……. a dull pain enveloped her lower stomach as the cucumber firmly and fully sunk in, minimized only by the burning sensation where the panty lining had been pulled in….

She screamed in ecstasy and pain, falling on her back, feet spread wide apart, the cucumber protruding like a grafted penis on some ancient god! She twisted and lay there on the floor, slowly folding herself into a foetal position, feeling the full bulge of the cucumber inside her… her panty pulled down and uncomfortably tight around her waist…Where the hell was that idiot Balan when she needed him!!!%^%^%$##@##

For the first time in her life… Revathi felt fucked! fully, wholly and royally fucked! And was loving every painful, twisted burning minute of it.

Revathi moaned softly once and then loudly… not in anguish or distress… but in the full pink health of a woman whose hunger had finally been sated. The animal inside her was awake and needed more…

She held the cucumber with both hands and tried pulling out… it hurt terribly, her labia stretched around the fruit like foreskin. With nothing left to lose she yanked the green stump from side to side, up and down, groaning in agony at the havoc being wreaked inside her pussy… her full buttocks slipping and sliding on the floor… Balan should have been here… he would have known what to do…. but never mind… she knew what she liked and she was gonna do it!

She continued to gyrate the cucumber like an Aattu Kal (grindstone used in South India) till her insides felt like pulp… and then she came again… moaning loudly…. oh the shame! MS droned on …

Rolling to her side Revati slowly stood up…. and took stock of the situation. How was she going to get the cucumber out? Heaven’s what if it remained stuck there till Monday, and she had to work all the day with it inside her saree! And with that she headed towards the kitchen….

When for the second time that day – gravity struck.

Revathi slipped hard and fell hard, this time  landing, so the few protruding centimeters of the hapless cucumber were now fully, firmly, and painfully pushed into her cunt!

She felt it hit her cervix, the pain unbearable, the sense of violation and joy – indescribable…. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! she screamed….. and then she blacked out….

….. to be continued

Copyright 2009, All Rights Reserved – Tales by Kamayogi

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