Martha – Part I
Incest
Submit Report The day had begun as usual on a bright note with the lazy morning and sleep to hearts content. I had just come from the hostel after the board exams and sleep was the only thing of joy. My parents just couldn’t figure out as to how a person can sleep so long. What do they know about pressures of the exams? My happiness was short lived with the announcement of “you will go to Neria to hand over some money to Martha Aunt”. One good thing about my dad was that you never had to struggle for decisions making. He just made them for you and told you so. As such one saw little of him during the day as he was busy in his running around for business trips. Mother was a little better off as a Doc as she had regular Day shift. She had on call duty only once a week. The trip was kind of abrupt. I was to take an evening bus to Calicut. Then take a connecting morning bus from the bus stand to Neria and after that try my luck with local jeeps to attakkulam. That was not the name. But my folks used to always say that she was in that remote spot instead of the achakkulam. Aunt Martha and her kids had migrated to Malabar a few years back. From the time I could remember they were always on sob stories and dole. This must have been serious one. Because my dad and Mom were planning to drive out there first and meet them and give them the money. The plan was junked and here I was sitting in a KSRTC bus. It all looked like yesterday I hated Martha and her children. I hated the sarcastic call “thlakkana” that was started by Martha (aunt Martha please ) few years back. The same was parodied by her children. They were my peer group. The daughter was a year elder and the son 6 months younger. I used to call him Neerkoli in return; he used to look like a broom stick I used to call the girl kuthira. I used to taunt her in return by saying her face used to look like a horses arse. They, Martha aunt and her kids, were my mom’s kitchen garden keepers. Every Sunday after mass they would come brisk paced to our place by 9 o clock. I used to stay back for the Sunday school classes and reach after half hour. By the time they were out of the Sunday best and in to farming dress and with mom and her kitchen garden. This was till 12 by when Mom used to peel off for her Sunday visit to the hospital and it was bathing time for kids. The oil massage bath was for the boys only. The kuthira was always in the kitchen raking up the lunch. The ritual used to start with Martha aunt calling the two of us and applying oil on the body. We used to take bath in the open mostly in the nude. It was in one of those sessions she pointed out to the tight shorts and my junior which used to hang on to the left hand side with a visible bulge that she said “thlakkana”. She used to massage our heads thoroughly with oil and then apply oil on our body. There was the incha which used to be kept ready for scrubbing. The oiling of the body was a rough affair. Aunt Martha used to apply the oil and massage hard to the point , almost every time I used to wince in pain. My cousin was in no better shape. There was water boiled in a big vessel (kuttalam) and water was also collected in another big vessel. The came the order to strip, the shorts ( we used to only wear a pair of shorts) Were dumped for washing and she used to apply oil to the buttocks and the inner thighs and the pubic area. This was a part I liked as she used to be soft. Immediately after that she used to start the bath. The cousin was finished in a jiffy and he used to run off to help kuthira in the kitchen. I used to be standing with soap on my face. She always used to start like that only. Then she would stay “stand still and keep your eyes closed”. There was a small wooden stool on which she used to put her left thigh and me to bend over. She used to use the incha and scrub the whole body with splash of water and dab of soaps. As she used to bend forward and reach out to the bottom of my legs her tits were resting on my back and bouncing up and down through the clothes. They were wet and soapy and I could clearly see the black coloured tip of the tits once a while. At times she used to press them against the back while reaching out. With each round of scrubbing of the back she used to pat the bottoms. I used to get the tingling sensation when she reached the buttocks. She used to scrub them gently with her hands with out incha and she used to spread the cheeks and gently soap the family jewels from the behind. The front part used to terminate with the soaping of the inner thighs and the genitals. She used to linger for a while in the inner thighs and slowly lather. I had to sit on the stool for some time. Then stand and put one leg on the stool and then the other. She used to be sitting during the scrub and I could feel her breath in and around the inner thighs almost through the duration. She was of course continuously talking of her dead husband. How her in-laws were evil. How they were not giving her share of the property etc. I never knew one could go on talking endlessly like this. Every five minutes there was the chorus of “ you have to tell your dad to help us out”. In between the massage I used to look at her by squinting my eyes through the soap on oily face. When she was sitting and scrubbing she used to pull her mundu to above the knees and with each scrub they used to gather at the thighs. I could see the black dense pubic hair and her tits through the wet chatta. I don’t remember having seen a bra or an under pant. In the end she used to finish with washing of the genitals by peeling the skin and splashing water. It was one of those days that I found that my prick could go on a hop. She had just finished and as she peeled the foreskin of the penis and was soaping , it went on a hop and swelled in her hand. I felt embarrassed.