Ayyesha shouted to her mother "I'm going over to see Salman Chacha!" as she went out the back door.
She heard her mother yell back "Be nice to him."
Ayyesha sighed. What her mother really meant was "Don't tease your Uncle". Her mother didn't understand! Ayyesha didn't tease Salman Chacha to be mean. It was just how they treated each other. Ever since she'd been a little girl she'd teased him about his receding hairline, or how his shirt and pants didn't match, or how slow he was when they walked. It didn't matter what it was, she just stood there with her hands on her hips and frowned, saying something critical about him. Then he'd get this special helpless look on his face, and then he would look like he was going to cry. If anyone else saw him, it might look like she had said something that had just CRUSHED him, breaking his spirit FOREVER!
But Ayyesha knew what came next. First he growled, soft and low in his throat. That growl got louder and louder as she pretended fright. Then he'd jump at her, catch her, and tickle her, all the time growling about how he was tired of her being mean to him and that he was going to punish her severely. All the time she was shrieking with laughter.
The alternative was that each time she said something he'd look hurt and say "That's one ... you'll pay." If he ever got to three or four, he'd jump up, grab her and the rest was the same.
But if there were other people around, Salman Chacha didn't do any of those things. He just mouthed "That's one" to her. She knew then that, as soon as they were alone, he'd grab her and exact his revenge.
Ayyesha grew older, but that didn't affect their game. One day, when she was eighteen, she'd left her bra off because it was too small and hurt. Salman Chacha had noticed and, when he grabbed her and tickled her, he dug his fingers into her breast flesh, poking and squeezing.
Ayyesha squealed and slapped his hands, yelling "SALMAN CHACHA!! Those are my BOOBS! You can't touch my boobs!"
He had frozen, then, holding her shoulders, had pushed her away from him at arm’s length. He looked her up and down and said "Mashallah you HAVE grown boobs!" He took one finger and poked her right breast, right about where the nipple was. "And pretty nice boobs at that!"
Ayyesha slapped his hand away again. "Don't touch them ... you CAN'T touch them." she said firmly.
He held up both of his hands, his fingers dished, as if to cover both breasts.
"What do you mean? I DID touch them. I ALREADY touched them. Maybe you'll give your elders some RESPECT now that you have ... BOOBS!"
When he said the word 'boobs' he reached out and cupped, then squeezed both her tender young breasts. Then he was tickling her again and she was squirming and shrieking like she always had.
Ever since then, whenever he tickled her, he fondled her breasts. She didn't mind, really. He never did anything else and he never overdid it. In fact, after a while she started to crave the feel of his big man hands on her sensitive breasts. She stopped wearing bras altogether whenever she was around him. She knew he could tell, and that it encouraged him to play with them a little. Lately he'd taken to squeezing her nipples in quick little nips that sent chills through her and made her wish he'd squeeze them harder, or longer or something.
All in all, it had felt nice. Really nice. In fact, that's what had caused her to think of her mother. Ayyesha's father had died years ago, and her mother had never remarried. They were not conservative in these matters. She was pretty, and smart and guys should have been beating down her door, but she never dated. Ayyesha was sure she was lonely and unhappy, but she hadn't been able to figure out how to convince her mother to begin seeing men again. So, Ayyesha had decided to involve Salman Chacha. He was her mother's brother, after all, and should know enough about his sister to be able to give Ayyesha some advice.
So, when she got to his house that day, she passed up the chance to be rude and get tickled. She had more important things to do.
"Salman Chacha?" she yelled as she went in through the back door.
"In the bathroom" he yelled back.
Ayyesha went to the door, which was only half closed. She stood where she couldn't see him, of course.
"Salman Chacha? I need to talk to you."
"What's up?" came his deep voice from the bathroom. She heard the splash of water in the bowl and realized he was peeing. "Did some pimple faced boy knock you up or something?" he called out.
Ayyesha almost didn't understand what he'd said. This was because she'd decided to peek and had edged one eye around the open door until she could see what was going on. She wasn't prepared for what she saw. Salman Chacha's penis was about seven or eight inches long, long enough that he had his whole hand around it, holding it while he pissed in the bowl.
If you'd have asked her, Ayyesha would have said she knew about erections and all that stuff.
But Salman Chacha's penis WASN'T erect! In other words, when it DID get stiff, it would be a MONSTER, pure and simple.
Then the content of what he'd said hit her.
"SALMAN CHACHA!" she screeched. "I can't believe you said that," she said as she backed up.
He had started putting his big cock away in his pants and she didn't want to get caught peeking. Just as she got to safety the door opened and there was her Uncle.
"Why can't you believe I said that?" he smiled. "I figure all the boys at school are dreaming about knocking you up." He said it so matter-of-factly that it gave her pause.
"No they aren't" she said, as if she had just gotten the joke. But her Uncle didn't look like it had been a joke. "Are they?" she finished weakly.
"Of course they are" said her Uncle. "They're boys and you're gorgeous. That's what boys think about when they see a good looking woman."
He said that in an awfully serious vein too. Ayyesha felt her neck begin to flush. Her handsome Uncle had just called her gorgeous and good looking!
"Now, what's the big emergency?" he said as he herded her toward the living room.
So Ayyesha sat down next to him on the couch and told him all about how her mother was lonely, and young and pretty and that she needed a man, and how she thought he could help. When she finished he sat there quiet for a minute.
"Let me get this straight. You want me to help you get your mother laid." he said.
Ayyesha blushed beet red. "NO! I mean, well not exactly. I mean ... that's not what I meant. Or at least that's not what I was thinking. Couldn't she just go on dates or something? Get to know some guys? Stuff like that? I mean you and I have LOTS of fun, and I want her to have some fun too."
Her Uncle looked straight at her. "Sweetie" he said. "Adult relationships aren't quite the same as what you and I do."
As he said this he very deliberately reached out to the where her left nipple was poking out through her T shirt and squeezed it gently. It was different than when he did it tickling her. She felt a flash of pain/pleasure shoot from that nipple to her belly.
She slapped at his hand. "Stop that. Behave yourself!" she scolded. "That's different" she went on. "We're just playing."
His hand came up and slid down her hair on the side of her face.
"That's what I mean, pumpkin" he said. "We just play, but when adults get together, they don't want to play, they want to have real love ... to make love. At least they do eventually. And if both of them don't get to that place in the relationship at the same time, well ... it gets difficult to continue the relationship. And the problem is that guys get there pretty quick. Probably quicker than your mother would. She's been out of the game for a long time, Ayyesha."
"But, I don't understand" moaned Ayyesha. "I mean you and I love each other and you don't want to get into MY pants."
She said it and then saw a guarded look flash across his face. He didn't say anything.
"Salman Chacha?" she said.
He still didn't respond. Ayyesha felt more blood rushing to her neck and face. "Do you?" she asked.
Finally he spoke. "Look pumpkin. Like I said. Guys who see beautiful women and are interested in them just think that way. And both you and your mother are stunners. It doesn't mean anything in particular. It's just the way we're wired."
Ayyesha sat, stunned. Her Uncle LUSTED after her! She felt weak for a second. He thought she and her mother were beautiful! She AND HER MOTHER! Ayyesha thought furiously about the inferences being made. A very strange feeling came over her.
Surely he wasn't serious.
But she had to know. She had to find out. And she could think of only one way to find out. Without thinking about it any further, Ayyesha turned to her Uncle, grasped his face in both her hands, and kissed him on the lips. She'd only made out one time in her whole life, with Rahul Modi, and he'd taught her to French kiss. Rahul Modi can do anything. She'd thought it was pretty hot then, and she used her limited experience of that kiss now, slipping her tongue into her astounded Uncle's mouth. He didn't try to pull away, so she kept kissing him until she found she couldn't breathe. She broke the kiss and immediately darted her right hand to the front of his pants, where that mammoth peter of his should be.
It was there, all right. No problem finding it. It was punching the front of his pants out at least four inches. He was hard as a rock.
It was clear, perfectly plain to see, that her Salman Chacha wanted to have sex with her. He had been telling the truth. And the odd thing was that the fact that he wanted to have sex with her didn't bother her at all like she would have thought it would.
"Ayyeshhhaaa" he said in that voice that would normally have said she was in trouble. But Ayyesha suddenly knew that she had power, and she wasn't frightened in the least.
"Well" she panted as she caught her breath.
She heard her mother yell back "Be nice to him."
Ayyesha sighed. What her mother really meant was "Don't tease your Uncle". Her mother didn't understand! Ayyesha didn't tease Salman Chacha to be mean. It was just how they treated each other. Ever since she'd been a little girl she'd teased him about his receding hairline, or how his shirt and pants didn't match, or how slow he was when they walked. It didn't matter what it was, she just stood there with her hands on her hips and frowned, saying something critical about him. Then he'd get this special helpless look on his face, and then he would look like he was going to cry. If anyone else saw him, it might look like she had said something that had just CRUSHED him, breaking his spirit FOREVER!
But Ayyesha knew what came next. First he growled, soft and low in his throat. That growl got louder and louder as she pretended fright. Then he'd jump at her, catch her, and tickle her, all the time growling about how he was tired of her being mean to him and that he was going to punish her severely. All the time she was shrieking with laughter.
The alternative was that each time she said something he'd look hurt and say "That's one ... you'll pay." If he ever got to three or four, he'd jump up, grab her and the rest was the same.
But if there were other people around, Salman Chacha didn't do any of those things. He just mouthed "That's one" to her. She knew then that, as soon as they were alone, he'd grab her and exact his revenge.
Ayyesha grew older, but that didn't affect their game. One day, when she was eighteen, she'd left her bra off because it was too small and hurt. Salman Chacha had noticed and, when he grabbed her and tickled her, he dug his fingers into her breast flesh, poking and squeezing.
Ayyesha squealed and slapped his hands, yelling "SALMAN CHACHA!! Those are my BOOBS! You can't touch my boobs!"
He had frozen, then, holding her shoulders, had pushed her away from him at arm’s length. He looked her up and down and said "Mashallah you HAVE grown boobs!" He took one finger and poked her right breast, right about where the nipple was. "And pretty nice boobs at that!"
Ayyesha slapped his hand away again. "Don't touch them ... you CAN'T touch them." she said firmly.
He held up both of his hands, his fingers dished, as if to cover both breasts.
"What do you mean? I DID touch them. I ALREADY touched them. Maybe you'll give your elders some RESPECT now that you have ... BOOBS!"
When he said the word 'boobs' he reached out and cupped, then squeezed both her tender young breasts. Then he was tickling her again and she was squirming and shrieking like she always had.
Ever since then, whenever he tickled her, he fondled her breasts. She didn't mind, really. He never did anything else and he never overdid it. In fact, after a while she started to crave the feel of his big man hands on her sensitive breasts. She stopped wearing bras altogether whenever she was around him. She knew he could tell, and that it encouraged him to play with them a little. Lately he'd taken to squeezing her nipples in quick little nips that sent chills through her and made her wish he'd squeeze them harder, or longer or something.
All in all, it had felt nice. Really nice. In fact, that's what had caused her to think of her mother. Ayyesha's father had died years ago, and her mother had never remarried. They were not conservative in these matters. She was pretty, and smart and guys should have been beating down her door, but she never dated. Ayyesha was sure she was lonely and unhappy, but she hadn't been able to figure out how to convince her mother to begin seeing men again. So, Ayyesha had decided to involve Salman Chacha. He was her mother's brother, after all, and should know enough about his sister to be able to give Ayyesha some advice.
So, when she got to his house that day, she passed up the chance to be rude and get tickled. She had more important things to do.
"Salman Chacha?" she yelled as she went in through the back door.
"In the bathroom" he yelled back.
Ayyesha went to the door, which was only half closed. She stood where she couldn't see him, of course.
"Salman Chacha? I need to talk to you."
"What's up?" came his deep voice from the bathroom. She heard the splash of water in the bowl and realized he was peeing. "Did some pimple faced boy knock you up or something?" he called out.
Ayyesha almost didn't understand what he'd said. This was because she'd decided to peek and had edged one eye around the open door until she could see what was going on. She wasn't prepared for what she saw. Salman Chacha's penis was about seven or eight inches long, long enough that he had his whole hand around it, holding it while he pissed in the bowl.
If you'd have asked her, Ayyesha would have said she knew about erections and all that stuff.
But Salman Chacha's penis WASN'T erect! In other words, when it DID get stiff, it would be a MONSTER, pure and simple.
Then the content of what he'd said hit her.
"SALMAN CHACHA!" she screeched. "I can't believe you said that," she said as she backed up.
He had started putting his big cock away in his pants and she didn't want to get caught peeking. Just as she got to safety the door opened and there was her Uncle.
"Why can't you believe I said that?" he smiled. "I figure all the boys at school are dreaming about knocking you up." He said it so matter-of-factly that it gave her pause.
"No they aren't" she said, as if she had just gotten the joke. But her Uncle didn't look like it had been a joke. "Are they?" she finished weakly.
"Of course they are" said her Uncle. "They're boys and you're gorgeous. That's what boys think about when they see a good looking woman."
He said that in an awfully serious vein too. Ayyesha felt her neck begin to flush. Her handsome Uncle had just called her gorgeous and good looking!
"Now, what's the big emergency?" he said as he herded her toward the living room.
So Ayyesha sat down next to him on the couch and told him all about how her mother was lonely, and young and pretty and that she needed a man, and how she thought he could help. When she finished he sat there quiet for a minute.
"Let me get this straight. You want me to help you get your mother laid." he said.
Ayyesha blushed beet red. "NO! I mean, well not exactly. I mean ... that's not what I meant. Or at least that's not what I was thinking. Couldn't she just go on dates or something? Get to know some guys? Stuff like that? I mean you and I have LOTS of fun, and I want her to have some fun too."
Her Uncle looked straight at her. "Sweetie" he said. "Adult relationships aren't quite the same as what you and I do."
As he said this he very deliberately reached out to the where her left nipple was poking out through her T shirt and squeezed it gently. It was different than when he did it tickling her. She felt a flash of pain/pleasure shoot from that nipple to her belly.
She slapped at his hand. "Stop that. Behave yourself!" she scolded. "That's different" she went on. "We're just playing."
His hand came up and slid down her hair on the side of her face.
"That's what I mean, pumpkin" he said. "We just play, but when adults get together, they don't want to play, they want to have real love ... to make love. At least they do eventually. And if both of them don't get to that place in the relationship at the same time, well ... it gets difficult to continue the relationship. And the problem is that guys get there pretty quick. Probably quicker than your mother would. She's been out of the game for a long time, Ayyesha."
"But, I don't understand" moaned Ayyesha. "I mean you and I love each other and you don't want to get into MY pants."
She said it and then saw a guarded look flash across his face. He didn't say anything.
"Salman Chacha?" she said.
He still didn't respond. Ayyesha felt more blood rushing to her neck and face. "Do you?" she asked.
Finally he spoke. "Look pumpkin. Like I said. Guys who see beautiful women and are interested in them just think that way. And both you and your mother are stunners. It doesn't mean anything in particular. It's just the way we're wired."
Ayyesha sat, stunned. Her Uncle LUSTED after her! She felt weak for a second. He thought she and her mother were beautiful! She AND HER MOTHER! Ayyesha thought furiously about the inferences being made. A very strange feeling came over her.
Surely he wasn't serious.
But she had to know. She had to find out. And she could think of only one way to find out. Without thinking about it any further, Ayyesha turned to her Uncle, grasped his face in both her hands, and kissed him on the lips. She'd only made out one time in her whole life, with Rahul Modi, and he'd taught her to French kiss. Rahul Modi can do anything. She'd thought it was pretty hot then, and she used her limited experience of that kiss now, slipping her tongue into her astounded Uncle's mouth. He didn't try to pull away, so she kept kissing him until she found she couldn't breathe. She broke the kiss and immediately darted her right hand to the front of his pants, where that mammoth peter of his should be.
It was there, all right. No problem finding it. It was punching the front of his pants out at least four inches. He was hard as a rock.
It was clear, perfectly plain to see, that her Salman Chacha wanted to have sex with her. He had been telling the truth. And the odd thing was that the fact that he wanted to have sex with her didn't bother her at all like she would have thought it would.
"Ayyeshhhaaa" he said in that voice that would normally have said she was in trouble. But Ayyesha suddenly knew that she had power, and she wasn't frightened in the least.
"Well" she panted as she caught her breath.