It’s hard to describe what it’s like to be born & bred in the US with Indian parents. Its almost like living two lives. No, it is like living two lives! There’s your life living in the American community and your life with your parents, family and the Indian culture. So you can understand the overwhelming culture shock you get when you go back to the country of your parents origin. It feels like you’ve stepped onto another planet. It d oesn’t help the fact that its boiling hot and you have countless hordes of relatives you never knew existed.
Obviously it’s easier to bond with relatives you’ve met on previous trips to India when you were little. Generally we go to India every 5-7 years. I n that time period, a lot of things change and there seems to be a lot of catching up to do. So we only come to India quicker on important occasions, mostly for weddings. Anyway this is the story of my experience of when I was 16 and visiting India for my mum’s cousins (aunt) wedding. You see my mum’s side of the family live quite far from Delhi where my dad’s relatives live. After a hectic flight from the US and the train journey from hell we finally reached our destination. A little town in India not very big but still bustling with the usual Indian fervour. Of course we were picked up from the station by a warm bunch of relatives happy to see that we had arrived safely and excited about the upcoming wedding. To tell you the truth it was a bit of a shock to see even the relatives I had seen before they had changed a lot.
People had grown up got married become fathers or mothers had jobs etc. However, none so more had changed than my aunt Geeta, I last saw her when I was 11 she was a quiet girl aged about 1 3. I remembered how we used to play at the back of her bungalow in India. She was short a bit podgy, just starting to have acne and had long black ponytails. She was now completely different. She was 18, taller about 5ft 5 had long flowing shiny black hai r that went down to her elbows, a fair complexion a gorgeous face, not unlike Juhi Chawli, light green eyes, a great body. I’m estimating her measurements from memory and wedding photos. Her measurements where 36C-26-38. In other words a lovely curvaceous Indian figure. When I saw her it knocked my socks off! This surely couldn’t be the same roly-poly aunt I used to play chase with when I was ten. She was wearing a normal Indian pink salwar kharta, daytime casual wear similar to pyjamas with a long top with a shawl to cover the top half.
‘Hello Raj’ she said smiling. All I could do was let out an unintelligible warble. At the time I was thinking I couldn’t believe how lucky her fiance was, to get a cracker like her. As far as I could tell she was getting married to this dark pockmark faced accountant aged about 28 living in Calcutta. Anyway to cut the rest of the story short the next two weeks were hectic. People where running around left right and centre preparing for the coming wedding with rituals and schedules and fittings and arrangements the list was endless. Needless to say things got interesting for me on the eve of the wedding.
The start of the day was as had been for the last two weeks, the hustle and bustle of last minute preparations. Today was probably the hottest day it had been since we had arrived in India. The heat was getting me down so I opted to stay home whilst half of the family mostly my aunts parents and closest relatives including my own family went out to the bazaars. The other half, due to the sweltering heat, were staying indoors, mostly the oldest members of the household.
The house, my aunt’s family stayed in was a bit strange because it had two sections. One section, the large section, had a big communal living room, with at least 5-6 single beds where people came to sleep, eat, play, etc and had a joint combined kitchen and bathroom. The other section was much smaller the size of an average US kitchen with the same but much smaller living room and joint kitchen bathroom arrangement. An internal wall separated these two sections. So, the only way you could go from one to the other was the outside landing, connecting the two entrances together. Anyway the hustle and bustle continued and I was getting bored and frankly a bi t irritated. I decided to go next door to the small room for some peace. Besides it was getting onto the afternoon and everyone was taking a mid-afternoon nap. Meaning there was no place left to sit. I closed the wooden doors and wooden window shutters to stop the strong sunlight streaming into the room and lay down on the rope-wood combo made bed (khat). I closed my eyes not that I could sleep. After several minutes a light rapping noise was coming from the door. I lifted myself onto my elbows and asked who it was, in Hindi. Slowly the doors opened and Geeta came in whispering “its me”, in Hindi. It was a pleasant surprise, since I had not been able to talk to her at all since we had arrived. I tell you her mother was worse than Attila the Hun, always guarding her from anyone, even me! She sat at the foot of the bed. My heart almost jumping into my throat when I could feel her warmth nestling against my leg. Why are you whispering I asked nervously. I don’t want to wake the others she said. Its nice to see you, I’ve hardly had much of a chance to talk to you. Do you remember me at all she asked? We began to reminisce for the next ten minutes. You know I don’t really feel like your aunt more a friend, call me Geeta she said smiling I agreed with her.
Its a shame we haven’t really got to know each other I wanted to ask you what its like in the US. She had hundreds of questions. I was just plane mesmerised. Looking at her from top to bottom while she talked. God she was gorgeous. She was wearing a gold colour salwar kharta , Indian slippers (chapal) and her long her was tied up in a ponytail. Her hands were covered in mehndi patterns. She hardly had any make up on and she still looked amazing. You come here to escape from it all she said. Yes I said still transfixed. I do it all the time it’s quiet and much cooler here. She seemed a bit nervous. Which wasn’t really surprising since the next day was going to be the biggest day of her life. Hold on a minute she said. I’ve got a surprise for you no ones seen this yet.
What what surprise I said dazedly. Before I could say anything more she had disappeared into the kitchen with a big box she had taken from the cupboard next to the bed. She locked the door. To tell you the truth I don’t know what she was up to. I don’ t know whether it was waiting for her or the heat but it didn’t take long for me to drift off to sleep. I must have been a sleep for at least an hour before being woken up by a rattling from the adjacent kitchen door bolt. I got up with a jolt kind of shock really. At first I thought I was seeing a vision. Geeta was standing there in her red traditional Indian wedding saree, in full make up, her pout red lips quivering, fresh flowers in her hair, naturally left open and flowing. Her intoxicating perfume waf ting through the room. The embroidery and golden jewellery sparkling. My mouth was wide open. To tell you the truth I’ve never had many hard-ons looking at a fully dressed woman. Lots of hard ons looking at women in bikinis or just plain naked but not man y fully clothed. But looking at Geeta gave me an almighty stiffy. Even her parents had not seen her completely decked out in her wedding gear. So I was really lucky. What do you think she said wearily? I.. I you look gorgeous I said. I don’t know why but she began to cry. I didn’t take me long to get over to her to console her. I wrapped my arms around her waist. The feeling of her waist flesh pressed against my hands made my dick strain against the cloth of my shorts. She slowly brushed her cheek against mine before her head finally rested on my shoulder. Her hands and arms tight round my chest. She sobbed quietly. I tried to comfort her, gently rocking us both from side to side. We stood embraced like that for what seemed like ages, I didn’t mind. God she smelt fantastic! I could feel her heaving breasts through the thin material of her blouse and saree rubbing against my chest. I wanted her badly. Her sobbing had now died down and she slowly began to pull away. Her face again rubbing against my cheek before she paused within an inch between our lips.
We looked deep into each other’s eyes. And it just happened, we kissed each other passionately. She later tried to pull away gently whispering No, No. But both of our kisses became more and more intense. Her refusals getting weaker and weaker until there were no more nos. There was just kiss after hungry kiss. My hardon was now seriously painful. I turned her round so her back was towards the bed whilst still kissing her my hands now delving into the back folds of her saree cupping her smooth curvaceous arse pushing her hips closer to mine. It didn’t surprise me that she wasn’ t wearing any panties. Her hands were following the smalls of my back lifting out my T-shirt from my shorts so she could get contact with my skin. My hands were now running along her waist slowly pushing her onto the bed. She’d managed to get my T-shirt off. Her saree had fallen from her shoulder revealing her breasts bulging from her tight red saree blouse. My hands were eager to grab those melons and I did. Our kissing was deeply passionate making gigantic stirrings in my loins. I was now resting on top of her. She pulled up her legs allowing me to lift up her red saree and petticoat. I pulled back from her to see her love mound. It was very hairy and plump. She ha d never shaved her bikini line, all though her legs were smoothly waxed. I couldn’t help but stare at it the thin line of her quim matted with curly pubic black hair. It is a sight I will never forget. That was it I pulled my shorts down quick smart.
Obviously it’s easier to bond with relatives you’ve met on previous trips to India when you were little. Generally we go to India every 5-7 years. I n that time period, a lot of things change and there seems to be a lot of catching up to do. So we only come to India quicker on important occasions, mostly for weddings. Anyway this is the story of my experience of when I was 16 and visiting India for my mum’s cousins (aunt) wedding. You see my mum’s side of the family live quite far from Delhi where my dad’s relatives live. After a hectic flight from the US and the train journey from hell we finally reached our destination. A little town in India not very big but still bustling with the usual Indian fervour. Of course we were picked up from the station by a warm bunch of relatives happy to see that we had arrived safely and excited about the upcoming wedding. To tell you the truth it was a bit of a shock to see even the relatives I had seen before they had changed a lot.
People had grown up got married become fathers or mothers had jobs etc. However, none so more had changed than my aunt Geeta, I last saw her when I was 11 she was a quiet girl aged about 1 3. I remembered how we used to play at the back of her bungalow in India. She was short a bit podgy, just starting to have acne and had long black ponytails. She was now completely different. She was 18, taller about 5ft 5 had long flowing shiny black hai r that went down to her elbows, a fair complexion a gorgeous face, not unlike Juhi Chawli, light green eyes, a great body. I’m estimating her measurements from memory and wedding photos. Her measurements where 36C-26-38. In other words a lovely curvaceous Indian figure. When I saw her it knocked my socks off! This surely couldn’t be the same roly-poly aunt I used to play chase with when I was ten. She was wearing a normal Indian pink salwar kharta, daytime casual wear similar to pyjamas with a long top with a shawl to cover the top half.
‘Hello Raj’ she said smiling. All I could do was let out an unintelligible warble. At the time I was thinking I couldn’t believe how lucky her fiance was, to get a cracker like her. As far as I could tell she was getting married to this dark pockmark faced accountant aged about 28 living in Calcutta. Anyway to cut the rest of the story short the next two weeks were hectic. People where running around left right and centre preparing for the coming wedding with rituals and schedules and fittings and arrangements the list was endless. Needless to say things got interesting for me on the eve of the wedding.
The start of the day was as had been for the last two weeks, the hustle and bustle of last minute preparations. Today was probably the hottest day it had been since we had arrived in India. The heat was getting me down so I opted to stay home whilst half of the family mostly my aunts parents and closest relatives including my own family went out to the bazaars. The other half, due to the sweltering heat, were staying indoors, mostly the oldest members of the household.
The house, my aunt’s family stayed in was a bit strange because it had two sections. One section, the large section, had a big communal living room, with at least 5-6 single beds where people came to sleep, eat, play, etc and had a joint combined kitchen and bathroom. The other section was much smaller the size of an average US kitchen with the same but much smaller living room and joint kitchen bathroom arrangement. An internal wall separated these two sections. So, the only way you could go from one to the other was the outside landing, connecting the two entrances together. Anyway the hustle and bustle continued and I was getting bored and frankly a bi t irritated. I decided to go next door to the small room for some peace. Besides it was getting onto the afternoon and everyone was taking a mid-afternoon nap. Meaning there was no place left to sit. I closed the wooden doors and wooden window shutters to stop the strong sunlight streaming into the room and lay down on the rope-wood combo made bed (khat). I closed my eyes not that I could sleep. After several minutes a light rapping noise was coming from the door. I lifted myself onto my elbows and asked who it was, in Hindi. Slowly the doors opened and Geeta came in whispering “its me”, in Hindi. It was a pleasant surprise, since I had not been able to talk to her at all since we had arrived. I tell you her mother was worse than Attila the Hun, always guarding her from anyone, even me! She sat at the foot of the bed. My heart almost jumping into my throat when I could feel her warmth nestling against my leg. Why are you whispering I asked nervously. I don’t want to wake the others she said. Its nice to see you, I’ve hardly had much of a chance to talk to you. Do you remember me at all she asked? We began to reminisce for the next ten minutes. You know I don’t really feel like your aunt more a friend, call me Geeta she said smiling I agreed with her.
Its a shame we haven’t really got to know each other I wanted to ask you what its like in the US. She had hundreds of questions. I was just plane mesmerised. Looking at her from top to bottom while she talked. God she was gorgeous. She was wearing a gold colour salwar kharta , Indian slippers (chapal) and her long her was tied up in a ponytail. Her hands were covered in mehndi patterns. She hardly had any make up on and she still looked amazing. You come here to escape from it all she said. Yes I said still transfixed. I do it all the time it’s quiet and much cooler here. She seemed a bit nervous. Which wasn’t really surprising since the next day was going to be the biggest day of her life. Hold on a minute she said. I’ve got a surprise for you no ones seen this yet.
What what surprise I said dazedly. Before I could say anything more she had disappeared into the kitchen with a big box she had taken from the cupboard next to the bed. She locked the door. To tell you the truth I don’t know what she was up to. I don’ t know whether it was waiting for her or the heat but it didn’t take long for me to drift off to sleep. I must have been a sleep for at least an hour before being woken up by a rattling from the adjacent kitchen door bolt. I got up with a jolt kind of shock really. At first I thought I was seeing a vision. Geeta was standing there in her red traditional Indian wedding saree, in full make up, her pout red lips quivering, fresh flowers in her hair, naturally left open and flowing. Her intoxicating perfume waf ting through the room. The embroidery and golden jewellery sparkling. My mouth was wide open. To tell you the truth I’ve never had many hard-ons looking at a fully dressed woman. Lots of hard ons looking at women in bikinis or just plain naked but not man y fully clothed. But looking at Geeta gave me an almighty stiffy. Even her parents had not seen her completely decked out in her wedding gear. So I was really lucky. What do you think she said wearily? I.. I you look gorgeous I said. I don’t know why but she began to cry. I didn’t take me long to get over to her to console her. I wrapped my arms around her waist. The feeling of her waist flesh pressed against my hands made my dick strain against the cloth of my shorts. She slowly brushed her cheek against mine before her head finally rested on my shoulder. Her hands and arms tight round my chest. She sobbed quietly. I tried to comfort her, gently rocking us both from side to side. We stood embraced like that for what seemed like ages, I didn’t mind. God she smelt fantastic! I could feel her heaving breasts through the thin material of her blouse and saree rubbing against my chest. I wanted her badly. Her sobbing had now died down and she slowly began to pull away. Her face again rubbing against my cheek before she paused within an inch between our lips.
We looked deep into each other’s eyes. And it just happened, we kissed each other passionately. She later tried to pull away gently whispering No, No. But both of our kisses became more and more intense. Her refusals getting weaker and weaker until there were no more nos. There was just kiss after hungry kiss. My hardon was now seriously painful. I turned her round so her back was towards the bed whilst still kissing her my hands now delving into the back folds of her saree cupping her smooth curvaceous arse pushing her hips closer to mine. It didn’t surprise me that she wasn’ t wearing any panties. Her hands were following the smalls of my back lifting out my T-shirt from my shorts so she could get contact with my skin. My hands were now running along her waist slowly pushing her onto the bed. She’d managed to get my T-shirt off. Her saree had fallen from her shoulder revealing her breasts bulging from her tight red saree blouse. My hands were eager to grab those melons and I did. Our kissing was deeply passionate making gigantic stirrings in my loins. I was now resting on top of her. She pulled up her legs allowing me to lift up her red saree and petticoat. I pulled back from her to see her love mound. It was very hairy and plump. She ha d never shaved her bikini line, all though her legs were smoothly waxed. I couldn’t help but stare at it the thin line of her quim matted with curly pubic black hair. It is a sight I will never forget. That was it I pulled my shorts down quick smart.