Return to Runaway

The young man in military green had come to find, only when the bus moved on to the highway, that his purse was missing. He was not sure, where could have he missed it. Not much money was left in it, but for a black and white group photo of his family. Dismissing out of his mind, the chance of a photograph proving a long lost son to his parents, he fished out some money from his hand bag and bought his tickets. He was returning after a long time to find back his family.

When he got down at his native village, it was already getting dark. The house in which he took his birth was occupied by strangers. And also he found that he himself had become a stranger to the whole village. In the twenty years of his absence, all the old known people had disappeared, it seemed. He was perplexed. But, luckily, the village folks could guide him to a known old family.

At the so called Policeman House, where he was directed to, he was greeted by a young woman, wearing a very low cut blouse exposing half of her breasts. Feeling ill at ease to look at her face, he addressed her half exposed breasts. Yet she grasped him.

- Ah, Chandru, you've returned at last! Can't you recognize me, your childhood friend Mala?

With nostalgia, he realized that in his childhood days he was called only as 'Chandru'. He ran away from home to be brought up by a patriot to make a soldier out of him. And the army people made it a practice to call him by his last name 'Mohan'; also by which he introduced himself a week back, he recalled, to the gorgeous girl residing by the railway station he alighted. And his full name was, in fact, Chandramohan.

- Thank God, Mala, I found here at last a soul, who could recognize me. Oh, the way the village has changed!

- It's quite a long time since you left this place, you know.

- And some unknown people are there in my house. What happened, Mala, to my parents and sister?

- Your parents sold your house, soon after you left and went to a tea estate in Kerala and...

- You do have their address, no?

- But...I think...dad knows their whereabouts. Right now, he is on a pilgrimage. Let Kumar my brother come; he may be a help. But, first, come and have something to eat.

Giving first something to eat...this earth has not yet dried up, after all!

Mala and her younger brother Kumar were his closest friends in his childhood days. The three of them, as a set, always play together. And Mala was a brave girl. She used to dive jump into the deep irrigation wells dug in the fields around the village. Mohan and Kumar learned their swimming only from her. But Mala had a funny habit. As soon as she jumped into a well, she would pull away her clothes; toss them off, on the steps, and swim naked. She was around twelve years old then, having tits bulged out to the size of lemons; and vulva, to the size of an 'idly' (a South Indian rice cake). And Mohan was at ten, then, and Kumar was around eight years old.

And even now, as he was eating the food Mala served, Mohan could see that she hadn't changed a bit. When she bent down, her low cut blouse exhibited him her breasts down to their dark areoles and darker nipples. And on her sit downs and stand ups, her sari moved carelessly to reveal, now and then, all of her thighs and even more. A born exhibitionist she is, he thought as he smiled within.

- And you ran away from home, because your dad beat you up.

- Yes, Mala, but that was history.

- But it was not history the sole reason why your dad beat you up. The only other soul who knows it is perhaps me.

- But... how...?

- I was there on the scene, you know. I came there to call you for a swimming. And I found you there behind your house, on your knees, with a chocolate on your palm; and your younger sister standing beside, with her skirt hiked up, panty rolled down, displaying her gleaming little triangle. I hid myself to watch what was going to further up, but your father stormed in from nowhere and the rest, of course, is history.

- It was all because of you. Chanced to look quite often at your nakedness...me...

- Don't blame me for your own inclinations. I understand very well the natural itching of a brother for his own sister. It happens, you know...

By then her brother Kumar arrived. He was in uniform: a policeman after his father. Kumar, as his sister, was very happy and proud to meet their childhood friend, who had been back as a responsible army man.

Kumar, after his dinner, had himself closed in with his sister in a nearby room. And when they emerged out, Mohan could feel something bad.

- Mala didn't tell you, in the first place, only to have you had some food. I feel worse to give you this news: your mom and dad are long been dead. Nearly six years now.

There was a long silence. Mohan tried very hard to fight down his emotions.

- How?

- An accident: a land slide in the mountains; both together...our dad had been to the funeral.

- And my sister?

- She is ok. Married, dad said, to a Malayalee. Don't worry; dad will help you finding her.

Mala and Kumar tried their best to cheer him up. Of course, as they pointed out, it was long since it happened.

And about Mala and Kumar he came to know, as they told him, that Mala was married in a large family in a southern town. Her husband was a salesman, touring most of the time, giving her no trouble. And she had a twelve year old daughter going to school, but her in-laws are so supportive that she didn't have to trouble after her, either. Kumar, on the other hand, was yet to get married.

Mohan was given to view a photo album. It was Mala's marriage album. While scanning through it, he observed, in a few photos, a familiar face: the girl he met a week back at the teashop thatched house by the railway station he alighted.

- Who is this one?

Mala came around behind him and bent as low as to load her ample breasts on his shoulder.

- Ah, yeah, that one indeed is Chandrakala, your own sister. Of course she was there at my marriage.

HORROR struck him.

- And where exactly is she, now?

- We told you, she married a local Malayalee, there in Kerala, but her exact address could be with our dad.

That night was almost sleepless to him. The face of that teashop thatched house girl was looming over, whenever he woke up from his disturbed sleep. And also he dreamed a dream again and again in which Mala exchanged in nude. Though her boobs were large with long nipples, her vulva was hairless and smooth as it was on those days she swam inside the irrigation wells.

There was chillness in the night wind that again was not to his comfort. And then, in the middle of the night, he heard murmur nearby. It knocked out his sleep completely.

- I'm afraid he may wake up.

- No chance. He had traveled a long distance, you know, tired enough to sleep a week.

- A week now we are at this; a break today...

- But we planned to do this until dad returned, you know. And I want to have positive result this time.

- For that matter, why not this one at least from your husband?

- Don't... as if nothing...

- Yet there is a husband who indeed married you.

- But here you're still unmarried. I know why you'd rejected Chandrakala.

- That was because she had a pockmarked face. Didn't I reason it so?

- But the actual reason was not her pockmarked face....

- You know it, then?

- I know it as my cunt knows your cock.

- No more argument. Have your way.

- That's my child granting stud!

Mohan was shocked by the meaning he gathered from the murmuring voices. A beam of light was coming from a crack on the door of an adjacent room; and also a sound like that of a dog drinking water. He rolled up and put his eye to the crack in the door. And there inside...

Mohan collected his bags and stealthily left that house and his native village. He traveled, this time, little longer by road to catch the train at another station than the one where he alighted a week earlier. What he overheard of Chandrakala and her pockmarked face from the conversation of Mala and Kumar proved his worst feared doubt. Yes, he was running away once again from his native place and also from his sister.

*

Same day, there in that teashop thatched house by the railway station, Kala the gorgeous girl, while sweeping the floor, did broom out a purse that was lying hidden under a wooden box. Wondering, she picked it up; opened and found, inserted in its left pouch, the small size photograph of her family.

How come? And whose purse is it? Puzzled was she at first. But slowly it dawned on her. It hit her like a boulder that the military man, whose purse it had to be, was none other than her brother, who ran away from home long back, as a boy. With horror she recollected their meetings and her intention to get pregnant by the seeds of him, her own brother.

*

It was raining. Through the rain-thicket, a train slithered to a halt in a small country station. And as the train pulled out, it had deposited on the deserted platform a lonely passenger: a tall young man in military green. The young man searched around to locate someone to enquire the way out. And there he saw the station master locked his office in no time, unfurled an umbrella and vanished into the rain. Left to lurch in the railway station, the passenger had no other choice but to listen to the rain, patiently.

When the rain thinned down, a teashop at a distance swam into view. He stepped out and arrived at the teashop only to find it shuttered down. Attached to it was a thatched house. And nobody was there in the vicinity. Puzzled, he walked around.

Behind the house, were an ancient brick-walled well and a palm leave enclosure: the bath-hut. Coming around, on the far side wall, he could locate a wooden door, bolted within. Hopefully, he knocked at the door. With a click, it swerved in. And there, in a tight blouse and low-hip mundu (dhoti) was standing a young woman of fine curvatures.

They stood spellbound, looking at one another, as in a dream. The woman regained her senses first, disappeared and appeared again, in no time, with a towel cast over her big boobs.

- I'm sorry. I thought it was my husband. Can I be a help?

- Its ok, I just arrived by this train. If you can tell me the way to the bus stand...

- No way. I mean, the bus stand is on the other side of the river. The only bridge, a low level one, has gone under water. It's raining nonstop for the past ten twelve days. No bus. No way.

- O my... where'll I go now?

There was a silence fell in between them and a delay in her decision making. For a moment, a tremor seized him as he thought that the door was going to be slammed on his face securing the doll once for all. But by then a moist wind blew her dhoti deep in between her thighs and her towel off her boobs. As crimson crept on her cheeks, she spoke.

- As of your look, are you a military man?

- Yes, I am.

- Come in, then, if you please.

He accepted her hospitality. She made him tea. Drinking hot tea, both exchanged their life stories, of course, with much withheld on either side. His name was Mohan; had to travel by that route for the first time, heading to his native, on leave. She was Kala; arrived at that town five years back with her husband from the state of Kerala. And by the by, her husband, on an important mission, was out of station.

With rain outside, night approached soon. They had dinner together and went to bed. It was a one room house. No cots; no mattresses; only mats, bed sheets and pillows, a la Indian country style. They lay down with five six feet gap in between. But both were young and in their prime.

With his profession, posted mostly at remote places, he hadn't had much chance to frequent with opposite sex. And she, married at a tender age, was without child for five long years. Emptiness craved in both, to get filled up. Neither could catch a sleep.

Full lips, big boobs, narrow waist and wide hips -- what a figure she has! He turned on his bed.

Tall, broad chest, flat stomach and strong limbs -- what a build he has! She heaved and sighed.

- No sleeping? Are you ok?

- The thing is... with my husband away and... you being a stranger...

- Same problem here... with your husband away and... you being so attractive...

- Attractive? Me?...(she had pockmarks on her face)

- I've never met a girl with a body like yours.

That made her cheeks lighted up and her thigh-junction trickled hot. She wanted to have his cock down there immediately. Yet she waited for him to make the first move. After all she was a woman and had to behave in such context.

The room was lit by an oil lamp. Like a chiseled-out statue he was lying there, on his back. A bulge was obvious in his trousers.

And she was lying there like a freshly knitted garland. The towel she brought to cover her breasts was nowhere. And her boobs were bursting the seams of her blouse. Her navel down was a deep pit where shades played hide and seek. Her thighs apart pronounced, at their summit, a mound so promising.

He lost his control. In a swift move with his body he covered her. And she willingly bloomed under him by all her organs. They kissed.

Her blouse gave way readily at the touch of his fingers and her boobs jumped into his hands. By them he seized her and sucked on at her juicy lips. She wrapped him in her long limbs and felt his hardness hitting at her gate, demanding the doors to open. In an unbearable hurry, she herself pushed down her dhoti as well as his pajamas and ho! A rock-hard robust warm thing split her in two and pervaded her depths! She gasped.

Her juicy hot cunt around his whopping cock was so unbelievably tight that he jammed his testicles against her buttocks and kept immersed his entire shaft in there, not willing to lose the delight. But his cock was not submitting. It was restless to move into action. He lifted his butts, pulled his cock all the way out and plunged in again. The race started.

The sweet mad sensation, kindled by his warring cock at her swamping cunt, brewed her entire body and seized her head in a Himalayan fervor. She groaned and moaned and clung to him for her very life. He fucked her with all his might. His cudgel was ravaging her vaginal folds. And her breasts were molested by his hands and mouth. Yet she was immensely happy to suffer so. As the tempo built up, in a yearning eagerness, her itching cunt she kept lifted up to receive his thrashings.

Never before had he a cunt so tight and hot and juicy nor a girl so worked up, fucking crazy. The feel around his cock itself was maddening, but then her writhing under him, in their fucking game, was too much to bear with. He lunged in and out.

She was at her peak long back, but soaring on and on, clamping her cunt around his thumping cock to meet his finale. And then it happened. He crushed his mouth against her lips and his balls against her butts; and deep inside her, surged a hot flood and filled her cavern. She scaled the peak once again and never had, in her life before, a feeeeeeeling-so-goooooood. And then she felt his entire body collapsed on her, slackening down to a sweating stillness. She enclosed him in her long warm limbs. And together they relaxed and went to sleep.

Next morning when Kala woke up, Mohan was already up and exercising. His muscled body, drenched in sweat, stirred up a heat in her crotch. But a shame cropped up at the same time, on remembering the previous night happenings. She covered her nakedness, washed her face and started making tea.

It was still raining. They had their tea and then went out with umbrellas to complete their morning calls. She prepared 'puttu' (a rice cake) and green pulses for their breakfast.

- I'm going to have a bath. You want me to make hot water?

- Not at all. I'll go into the rain and get myself washed.

- Nice idea. I'll go into the bath-hut and do the same.

- What's the difference?

- Come, if you want, and see.

She went out through the rain and entered the bath-hut. He too undressed and went out into the rain, only in his briefs. He drenched himself completely and enjoyed the shower a few minutes. When he entered the bath-hut, to his pleasant surprise, he found her stark naked. The bath-hut had been covered all around but no roof.

- Nobody comes this way?

- No chance. Even if so, nobody dares to push open a bath-hut.

She put her fingers into his briefs waist band and pushed it down. His cock sprang up readily. She put her arms around his neck and felt his hot hardness, down below on her abdomen. She pressed her breasts against his chest and looked up his face. Their eyes met. He could see through her black broad eyes a well of love. He shuddered.

- I love you too, he said.

- Prove me, now.

- How?

- Simple. Fuck me.

A four letter word from her mouth and a back-forth movement by her hips raised him to the boiling point. They locked their lips. His big hands roamed down to her buttocks, caught and squeezed them like he did the previous night with her boobs. When he squeezed her buttocks, her cunt lips were pulled out and that gave her a pleasing sensation. She wanted to push down his cock and fit it into her vagina, but at the same time didn't want to remove her arms from his neck, for she enjoyed drinking his ambrosial love by their soul mating kiss.

How long their kiss went like that they didn't know. But they had certainly come to know that they were in love. Love that simply needs no fucking, but invigorates to end up in extravagant fucking.

- You have nice big buttocks.

- I know your liking by the way you squeeze them.

She turned around and pressed her buttocks against him. On her front, which was under warmth till then by his embrace, the rain felt like needles. As if to console it, she took his hands and brought them over her breasts. He shifted his squeezing to her breasts. And his cock was against the small of her back, hitting.

- Your cock, I'm afraid, is going to pierce my back and come out of my navel.

So he bowed then his knees a little and pressed his cock against the crevice of her buttocks. That felt better for both.

Sheltering his cock along the crevice of her buttocks and resting her whole body on his front, he with his large hands continued kneading her boobs. Her boobs were big, but her nipples were small, as small as cardamom seeds. He took those nipples between his thumbs and middle fingers and rolled them this way and that way and made her whimper.

- I can't wait anymore. Fuck me, my bull.

- Nor can I. Bend forward, my cow.

- What?

- Don't afraid, I'm mad to have, in this cold rain, only the warmth of your cunt.

She bent forward supporting herself, holding on a bamboo cross bar of the bath-hut. He guided his stiff cock in between the glistening tight lips of her cunt and shoved. It slipped in smoothly due to her excessive secretions. As his cock head advanced through her vagina, it stretched her cervical ring and entered her womb. She let out a groan and shut her eyes in bliss. The feeling of getting filled her entire sheath and more was tremendous.

- Ah! My...tear me down, I won't care.

- Aha, what a tight juicy hot slit you have! Owning this, your husband is lucky.

- Shhh...don't remind me of that puny cock now. Let me enjoy your massive drill.

- Alright, here I go; up the hill into your cave of thrill!

Stretching his hands he held her breasts and rammed his cock in and out of her slippery sheath. He battered her cunt; the rain battered his back. It went on and on. The rain conditioned the climate and kept him cool. She didn't expect such a long fuck. Her cunt exploded again and again. Her head spun through unbearable drifts. And then suddenly he sped up his strokes and shot his hot seeds deep into her womb. Both grunted and trembled. As his flows and ebbs subsided, he pulled out his cock, straightened and turned her around and kissed her lips. She encircled his neck with her arms once again and hung on him like a child.