Burka by Didi
Bano's family had recently come to Bihar from Kerala. Bano was attending a local school. While going to or returning from school she heard street urchins singing in unison, "Orhat hain sar par, kahat hain burka." She did not understand its meaning. She could guess that it had something to do with her burka, and that it was something nasty. This couplet is a common joke in eastern UP and Bihar. There is a pun on the word 'Burka'. The word 'Bur kaa' means belonging to 'bur'. 'Bur' means cunt (or Pooru in Malayalam).
As soon as her chest started developing the two buds and there was a faint growth of golden fur around her 'bur', her mother had introduced her to the burka.
In the beginning she did not understand the meaning of these lines. But her older friends, giggling, had explained it to her. When she was told the meaning the first time, she blushed but told her friends, "Chirikkalle (don't laugh)." At the same, her bur also not only blushed, but became wet also. She deftly withdrew her right arm inside the arm of the burka and pushed it inside her salwaar. The burka concealed her movement. She felt the lips of the Pooru (cunt). This was her first touch of the mound. After that it became her practice. It gave her a peculiar pleasure. Now, as soon as she would see a handsome boy or man, she would remember the limerick, as if he was saying it to her, and push her hand inside the salwaar. And, once when she went on rubbing her finger within the folds of the Pooru, she accidentally discovered her Kandh. She shivered with pleasure. She could not walk. She hailed a cycle Rickshaw and sat in it. Now she was playing her finger in and out. She was touching the Kandh with her thumb and pushing the finger in, out, in, out. She had a shattering climax before she reached home.
She could not talk about these things to anyone directly. She gathered knowledge in bits and pieces from older girls, married and unmarried. But she had probably more experience in playing with the Pooru (cunt) then any of her older friends. When once she tried to take Saila, who was older, into confidence, she was aghast, "Tujh pe Allah ki maar (God's curse be on you)," she said and ran away. So, she learnt to keep things to herself - all her experiences and all her pleasures.
By the time she passed the eight standard, her widowed mother, Zeenat, was looking for a good match for her. Zeenat was widowed when Bano was three and she was seventeen. Now Bano, was seventeen and Zeenat thirty or so. Bano had blossomed into a stunning beauty. Her male cousins, all, leaked on her. She was known as "Namkeen Bano (salty Bano)." She secretly enjoyed her praise. She had often seen her body in parts in the small mirror that they had in the bathroom. Her bush was now thicker and had turned black. The cunt lips used to open when she indulged in her daily ritual of the finger game, pink and wet. She had even tasted her finger. It was saltish. It had a peculiar smell also. Her orgasms were always shattering.
Her mother was no less beautiful. Sometimes they would take a bath together and she saw pride in her mother's eyes. Often Zeenat caught Bano looking at her. Sometimes Bano wandered if her mother had sexual feelings. She was not old. She must be in need of satisfaction.
One day Zeenat informed her that the next month Bano was to be married. The groom, Munawwar, she was told was a catch. He was about seven or eight years older to her. He was educated, rich, and well placed. Zeenat knew the family well from Kozhikode, back in Kerala, and used to visit them. His father was like Zeenat's father. She was happy that he had accepted her proposal.
Zeenat's relatives and friends tried to educate her about the "Golden night." She herself was looking forward to it. She was eager to find out the next step of her finger game. She was told that the groom's family had agreed to let Bano continue her studies. She would also not have to wear the Burka all the time. A married woman is safer!
Marriage was simple. She went to her husband's home. The fateful night came. Strangely, she was not feeling especially shy. Her face was open, slightly made up. Munawwar came into the room. They talked. He was sweet and caring. But, he looked much older than her. He asked her if she was excited. She fluttered her eyes and said yes and added that she was afraid also. He very lovingly disrobed her. She was curious. She did not show any resistance. As soon as he saw her naked body, he was stunned. Allah had chiseled her in leisure (Tumhen Allah ne fursat mein taraashaa hai!), he said, admiring her. Perfect curves, beautiful curves, sensuous merging of big and small, narrow and wide. The rise of breasts was balanced by the swelling of buttocks. She was gazing at his clothes.. He asked her, without disturbing his gaze, "You take of my clothes." Now she felt nervous. This was her first touch of a male body. But, soon curiosity pushed aside any hesitation that she might have had. Slowly she took off his kurtaa, then the vest. Now she placed her hand on his naaraa (pajaamaa string). All this while Munawwar was lovingly playing with her body. Now he would place a kiss on her nipple, which was round, not very high and was placed on a puffed up aureole. The nipple bud was unusually pink, shaped like an opening bud, but the aureole was chocolate. The breast was shaped like half apple, not yet mature. The torso narrowed to the waist, which flared out. The back rose in beautiful buttocks. Supported by shapely and strong thigh, calves, and feet.
She gasped when the pajaamaa dropped down. He had no undies on. She saw a pole, thick like her wrist, sticking out and looking up towards her face. She had heard this was called Kunna (prick), or Lund here in the North. It was awful, but also beautiful. She went on looking at it, wide eyed. Then, she could never explain it to herself why she did it, she took it in her hand. She bent and placed a light kiss on it. Later she argued within herself that may be it was Munawwar's affectionate behaviour that gave her the courage to throw all shyness to winds and do it. But she did it. She could not tell whether the wetness that she felt was from her lips or from the slit at its top. She had never seen such a thing before - proud, yet lovely! It was topped by a lovely, graceful cap, round at the tip, sloping down, slightly rising up at the bottom. At the back there was a twin cushion. The whole thing was growing from a bush.
Bano looked towards Munawwar, as if asking him, "What next." He gently led her towards the bed. He kissed her profusely, first gently and then not so gently. She liked ir when he tried to open her lips with the tip of his tongue. She greeted it with the tip of her own tongue. Then his tongue was everywhere inside her mouth. In the meanwhile Munawwar was adjusting his body in between her thighs. She was readily accommodating him within them. She felt his Kunna rubbing slowly on the lips of her Pooru. The Pooru lips were opening on their own. She could not stop herself and said, "Kootgara (friend-boy), do not hesitate. You are not hurting my Koch Pooru (small cunt)." He slipped his hands under her Kundh (buttocks) and gave a slight push. His Kunna slipped into the wet Pooru easily. Bano felt some pain and uneasiness, but these melted into the pleasure that she was feeling. Now Munawwar was moving in and out, in and out. Suddenly she felt a new sensation. When Munawwar moved in, the junction of his Kunna and the lower abdomen rubbed on something at the top of her Pooru. That moment was exquisite. Now he was in, rub, exquisite pleasure. Moved out, a short interval from pleasure. Moved in, rub, pleasure. It seemed like a game! But it was fantastic. The very first fuck, and she came with him.
But beneath this satisfaction she had a lurking feeling, it was strange, but it was there - that this man was very senior to her, that this man was not for her. He was very considerate, was always giving pleasure to her. She was no match for him. She was depriving him. Yet, there grew a bond between them the very first night. Next day he did not go to work.
After break-fast she dragged him for another show. As if it was the morning special show, but of a classic exotic movie, not a pornographic one. Her innocence, her simplicity, earnestness was disarming. And Munawwar found himself agreeing with without realizing what he was getting into.
She told him that she thought he was wasting himself with her. It might take her a year or even more to match his ardour and drive. Her mother was the person suitable for him. She was prepared to accept her mother as his co-wife. If not officially, then within the confines of the four walls of the house. She had confidence, she said, that Zeenat would be able to satisfy him fully. Bano herself would love to join in. It was up to him to make the first move.
Munawwar was stunned. How correctly this girl had read the situation. He had seen Zeenat many times. These two looked like sisters. She had looked after herself well. He decided to take some time and decide it with an open mind.
Next day he went to call on Zeenat. Today he was looking at her like a woman. Her body, her gait, her mannerism today had a new significance. She offered him tea. Served him with ease and grace. Not once did she try to show him motherly affection. They were of almost equal age. She was treating him as an equal. Without giving it a second thought he caught her hand and pulled her towards him. She was surprised, but she did not show any anger. He put his lips on hers and his hands went to her bosom. It took him a few seconds to realise that Bano was right. Now he was feeling natural arousal. He was erect, oozing, and eager. In a trice he unclothed her. Here was a mature Bano. A Bano brimming with lust and ardour. Zeenat only said, "I have not met a man for more than the age of Bano." When he entered her she was as much virginal as Bano was on the first night. Both of them had a shattering climax. Zeenat said, "I am not feeling guilty. But I do not want to deprive Bano of what rightfully belongs to her. Today was enough. We must not repeat it."
Munawwar said, "It was Bano's idea originally. We must sit and talk."
After a few days they migrated to the Middle East. A husband with his two wives.
Unusual? Well, it is based on a true incident. Direct brickbats or appreciation to email@example.com
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