Indian Wife Nandini

It was 3:15. He pulled a CD from his backpack and inserted the disc. Al Green’s voice began to fill the room. He lay back on a pillow, putting his hands behind his head and waited. The bawdy nature of his correspondence with his friend brought a smile to his face. The memory of the down right lusty phone conversations stirred him even more. He heard a card being inserted into the door, the clock read 3:20. ‘Well, I see you’ve made yourself comfortable,’ was her wry opening line as she walked into the room. She tossed her coat and bags on the couch, kicked off her shoes and slid onto the bed. ‘No, wait,’ he said. He stood up and held his hands out for her. She knew what he was thinking and quickly folded herself in his waiting arms. They swayed together like they had so many years ago as Al Green pleaded for his special someone to please, ‘Call me…’ It was the awkward college box step where rhythm and aesthetics were secondary to the molding together of body parts. His left hand ran. They’ve shared one other thing, too, they’re both misandrists, men haters, and I was a boy. That was no problem when I was an infant and young lad. They simply treated my like a daughter. I was dressed in ribbons and bows and my toys were dolls.When I began school they did buy me boy’s clothing but, except on days when I had gym class I wore girls panties under my jeans and when I got home they changed my clothing.They both played with me, rubbing my genitals, they joked that I had the biggest clitoris they’d ever seen when I’d get a little hard on.Then came the onset of puberty, I was twelve when I discovered self-gratification. Mommy found my stained sheets and she knew so she decided to take me in hand, in the most literal sense.I slept in a night gown with no panties on, just like Mommy and Kitty. I was asleep but I was having the most vivid dream I’d ever had, it was sexual but undefined, it just felt wonderful but when I awakened, it was no dream.Mommy had my nightie over.
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