Ashok Rajamani

Tales

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True Love Oh Baby True Love

Lakhan knew he wasn't supposed to fall for monsters anymore. Well, not since that embarrassing incident of 1987, at least. But he couldn't help lusting after the one in front of him. The beast was, he believed, obviously male, although there was no discernable bulge. He was lusciously dark, the result of deep-chocolatey South Indian genetics, with, of course, long hours toiling in the hot Indian sun, Lakhan assumed. His face was as delicious as his build, with full lips and wide-set black eyes framed by thick charcoal eyebrows. His nine arms were muscular, sexier than the arms of any two-armed man. The horned tail was to die for. With his lengthy nose and prominent chin, both geometric in their sharpness, the beast's face was as angled as Lakhan’s was round.

Lakhan’s intense desire for his object of lust stopped abruptly when his object of lust charged towards him, his claws stabbing, his mouth drooling, growling and roaring.

Shrimping

The closest thing twenty-three year-old Parvati got to unwrapping her mother-in-law’s sari took place in the third week of her husband Niraj’s absence. She still felt weird about lusting after Niraj’s mama. But Niraj, whom she had just wed a month before, was off on a business trip. It wasn’t her fault that she found sixty-five year-old Neelama so damn sexy.

It wasn’t her fault at all.

Left alone with Neelama in Niraj’s tiny Mumbai apartment while he was away (was he gone to Okinawa? Or Oklahoma? She never did pay any attention to him) Parvati had gotten used to rubbing Neelama’s legs as she slept. That was a traditional Indian bride’s job. To massage her mother-in-law. But, finally she yielded to a desire that had been burning within the newly-proud mother-in-law-loving slutlet.

She bent her face down by the old woman’s feet, and carefully, gently, she started licking the right one. It was aged, veiny, and leathery, but Parvati wanted it more than any curried potatoes in the world. Feeling braver, she opened her mouth, and sucked the toes on that liver-spotted foot, one by one. Her tongue scraped Neelama’s toe-ring, but she didn’t mind. It was a cleaning that the jewelry needed.

Neelama, awakened by the delicious sensation, opened her eyes in shock, but then quickly shut them, determined to keep the ruse intact, all the while getting the pleasure of her feet serviced. After many minutes passed, however, she opened her eyes. Within a millisecond, Parvati moved back to her original position, rubbing the feet with her hands once again.

In sex lingo, the erotic sucking of a lover’s toes is called shrimping. Parvati would have been horrified if she heard that term. She was a staunch vegetarian.

Truth Be Damned, Cremation Beckons

“Rekha, please open the door," Nee said to her maid. Her blind date had arrived.

Nee had never told her unseen suitor how obese, and unattractive, and old she was.

Didn’t matter to her though, she was expecting Death to arrive at her door. She was 98, after all. It was time.