The Unwholesome Adventures of Harita Page 6
“Here,” Damon said, sitting next to me with a soft flannel in his hand. “Let me clean you up.” Very gently he wiped me, scooping his cloth covered finger into my navel to retrieve the last, sticky drop. He smiled at me, shed his clothes and slipped onto the bed.
“I love you,” he whispered, wrapping me in his strong, warm arms and moulding my body to his. “More than you will ever know.”
“And I love you,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to the angle of his hot neck and drawing in the scent that was unique to Damon after we’d had sex—fresh sweat, musk and satisfied man.
“I’ll lock the front door on my way out,” San said, tugging his clothing straight.
“Thank you,” Damon murmured, barely glancing at his brother.
“No, thank you. Both of you.” He turned and opened the bedroom door. Light from the hallway spilt in for a brief moment before the door shut with a quiet click.
Damon held me closer and let out a deep, contented sigh.
Chapter Five
Despite my happiness, my guilt over keeping Harita a secret continued to haunt me. Until, that is, one day at the end of the monsoon season when I overheard a very private conversation.
I’d walked to visit my sister who’d been unwell with a cold and when I came back, instead of using the front door, I entered our garden from the gate at the end of the courtyard.
Stepping quietly onto the patio, I heard San’s deep voice utter my name. I hesitated, curious. As anyone would be, I was keen to know what they were talking about.
Were they planning another night of bedroom fun for me? I hoped so.
Like an undercover agent, I peered through the crack in the barely open kitchen door. San and Damon sat at the table, a pot of tea and a plate of cakes between them along with a magazine.
Ichchha magazine.
I clasped my fingers over my lips to hold back a gasp and tucked myself completely out of view. It was this week’s issue, I recognised the cover. In it, Harita had been subjected to a vibrator for hours and hours until she was so exhausted from orgasms she had passed out with pleasure.
Had the men both read the story already? Is that what was in store for me tonight?
Damon began to speak, and, straining to hear his words, I held my breath.
“No, I don’t feel guilty. I know secrets are wrong between married couples but this one benefits Kamini so much that it must surely be an enhancement to our marriage.”
The kitchen went quiet and my heart pounded so loudly I feared they would hear it. The conversation was about Damon’s fondness for reading Harita, it must be.
“But look, Damon, it is even written by a woman.” There was a rustle, as though the magazine were being flicked through. “All your ideas for sexy games come from a woman’s imagination.”
Damon’s deep, rumbling laughter filtered out of the door. “One might as well feel ashamed for studying the Kama Sutra, so no, I don’t feel guilty, and if reading and using Harita’s adventures fulfils my wife, then so be it, written by a woman or not.” He paused. “Besides, this woman writer, whoever she is, seems to have a very similar sexuality to Kamini. Things that work for Harita also work for Kamini, often spectacularly. Things I would have never thought of or dared try, she responds to very well.” He sighed and his voice softened. “I really am so lucky that our parents matched us up. I’d never dreamed of finding someone so giving and responsive in the bedroom as well as being such a delightful wife in every other aspect.”
Finally I took a breath.
“And long may your good match continue.” There was a clink of china then San spoke again. “And will you ever tell Kamini about your source for ideas?”
“Mmm, maybe one day. But for now, no, we are having too much fun to do something which might bring it to an end. I don’t want anything to change the here and now and the love and passion we feel for one another. It is all so utterly perfect.”
Quickly I stepped away. My nosy nature had just given me a wonderful gift—the gift of understanding my husband’s deepest thoughts. I moved to a wall of honeysuckle and began to hum as I picked several long stems, acting as though I’d just arrived home and paused to collect them for a dinner table vase. My heart was suddenly so much lighter. Knowing Damon thought our lives together perfect was enough to appease a guilt that had been lying heavily in my heart. It was perfect, we were perfect.
* * * *
The Unwholesome Adventures of Harita—episode 193:
I missed Madan so much when he had to go away on business. It was as if part of my soul were absent. The only consolation I had was when he came back we always had fun making up for lost time.
So sitting here now, in just my peep-hole bra and crotchless knickers, my anticipation of his imminent arrival home was growing by the minute.
The sound of a key in the front door quickened my heart rate, and I tossed my hair over my shoulders and straightened my spine against the back of the chair.
“Ah, my beautiful, Janu, you are waiting as instructed,” Madan said, striding into the bedroom in his finest business clothes. He dropped a bag on the bed and stepped up close to me. Pinching my nipples between his thumbs and index fingers, he tugged the already erect buds, twisting and squeezing.
I gasped and tilted my head for his hot, possessive kiss. There was swiftness to his movements, an urgency in his eyes. I sensed he’d missed me as much as I’d missed him.
He broke the kiss. “I’ve bought you a present.”
“Thank you.”
A muscle flexed in his cheek as he released my nipples and straightened. “Get up and lean over the back of the chair. I want your sexy bum in the air.”
Knees weak and a torrent of possibilities for the type of present he’d brought racing through my mind, I did as instructed.
I looked in the mirror at my body draped over the back of the chair at a right angle. I was biting down on my bottom lip, and my nipples pointed towards the floor.
Madan walked over to the bed, and I watched, eyes wide, as he pulled a long, smooth dildo-shaped item from his bag. It was purple and had small, outstretched arms at the base.
“What is it?” I asked, trying to keep the shake from my voice. He’d fucked me with dildos before, but something told me this was different.
“Ah, my sweet, sweet Harita. Tonight I am going to give you the ultimate treat. But first I must prepare you.”
I suppressed a moan as he swept his finger through the gaping hole in my knickers and over my slick folds. His aim was so wicked, so deadly accurate. He always gave me just what I needed.
“I have taken you here many times,” he said, smoothing two long fingers into my pussy.
Gasping, I clenched around him, greedy for more.
“And much as it pleases me, I also want to fuck you here.” He withdrew his fingers and exerted pressure over my tightly clenched anus.
“Oh, Madan, no, please,” I groaned, though I knew it would do no good. I was his, and if he wanted to invade my darkest, most intimate hole, then that was his choice.
Insistently he pushed the tip of his finger until it popped into me.
I jerked, but my gaze remained glued to his reflection. His face was set, he was concentrating hard as he looked down at his sinful penetration, his eyes narrow and his lips tight.
“Ah, yes, you want me. I can tell by the way you grip me, so don’t deny it.” He entered me farther, creating a sharp, stinging sensation as tender flesh parted.
Grasping the top rung of the chair, I locked my knees to stop from collapsing. This was my chance to use our safe word. But I didn’t want to. I was loving his depraved invasion. I wanted more, I wanted the new toy in me—now.
I didn’t have to wait long. Within a couple of minutes he replaced his finger with the cool, lubed tip of the plug and slid it in the first couple of inches.
I gasped, arching my back and scrabbling for my clit. I needed the extra stimulation to get through the pain, to cope with the hot, stingi
ng sensation tearing through my anus.
He murmured words of encouragement and thankfully allowed me to masturbate as he kept on sliding the toy into me, making allowance for my virginal channel and the increasing diameter of its girth.
Finally, with the base secured, and when I was sure I could take no more, he stepped away.
Forcing myself to continue looking into his face, for I fed off his approving gaze and words of praise, I watched him study the sight of me bent over the chair with his gift lodged deep inside me.
“Very good,” he said. “You will stay like that for one hour, then I will be back to deflower that virginal hole.”
After finishing the entire adventure I hit ‘send’, sat back and drew in a shaky breath. Beads of sweat had formed in my cleavage, and my bum cheeks were tense on the base of my office chair. Once again the feeling of excited anticipation confirmed that like Damon, I wouldn’t be sharing any secrets for many years to come. His not knowing that it was I who wrote Harita was the ultimate high. It gave me control over my submission, it provided him with increasingly daring ideas and it made our relationship all the sweeter, all the more exciting in the bedroom.
Once day I would let him in on my alter ego, when we were old and surrounded by great grandchildren. I now knew he wouldn’t be angry with me, and, knowing Damon as I did, I suspected he would find it just another reason why we were meant to be. Another confirmation of our souls being destined and our joined paths mapped out by destiny.
I glanced at the calendar by my desk. Damon was travelling away on business. I missed him terribly, and he wouldn’t be back until the eighteenth—after this edition of Ichchha magazine had hit the shelves.
I hoped, with all my heart, that when he did come home, he would bring me back a present.
About the Author
Lily Harlem lives in the UK with a workaholic hunk and a crazy cat. With a desk overlooking rolling hills, her overactive imagination has been allowed to run wild and free and she revels in using the written word as an outlet for her creativity.
Lily’s stories are made up of colourful characters exploring their sexuality and sensuality in a safe, consensual way. With the bedroom door left wide open, the reader can hang on for the ride, and Lily hopes by reading sensual romance people will be brave enough to try something new themselves–after all, life’s too short to be anything other than fully satisfied.
Email: lilyharlem@googlemail.com
Lily loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.
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