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The Secret of my Girlfriend’s Mother

I first saw Rashmika Dasgupta when I was a college senior working in the final semester class registration line and she was a junior signing up for classes. When our eyes met, hers softened into a delicious, sensual twinkle. There was a quiet, yet unmistakable, explosion in my brain. It was love at first sight.

Our first date and first kiss were that night. We were together every available moment for a week. We spent, spending the time learning about each other, and letting our love ripen.

“There’s a Freshers party tonight. Let’s go,” I said to her on Friday afternoon.

“Which hostel?”

“Nehru Hostel.”

“I hear their parties are drunken orgies,” she replied.

Her expression made me twitch. She pressed against me and wrapped her arms tightly around my waist.

“You don’t have to get me drunk, Vishal. Lead me to your bed and tell me what you want me to do,” she said.

Within the hour, we made love for the first time. She was a virgin, which surprised me. When I commented on her eager surrender, she said, “I’ve never been in love before.”

I proposed a week later. She blessed the event with her tears and happily accepted. At Navratri, I took her home to meet my parents, who wholeheartedly approved of her. When we returned to school, she moved into my apartment, although her dormitory room was paid for the semester.

“Oh, Vishal,” she whispered as she lay naked in my arms one night, “I can hardly wait until Diwali. I’ve told my parents everything about you. They’re dying to meet you.”

“I hope I’ll pass inspection,” I replied.

“You will, jaanu.”

On October 28th, we hopped into my second hand Alto for the three-hour drive to her parents’ house. It took five hours, because we. We stopped at a little, to fuck like rabbits in the car, since the Diwali Holidays might not give us time alone.

Her parents lived in a comfortable, British bunglowr-style home on a quiet, tree-lined street. We pulled into their driveway about three in the afternoon. Rashmika jumped out of the car, hurriedly pulling me after her. The front door swung open and my heart stopped.

“Mom, this is Vishal. Vishal, this is my mom, Ambika Dasgupta,” Rashmika said.

Ambika had a soft, questioning expression as we exchanged polite hellos. The world swirled and I floated in unreality as we unloaded the car. Rashmika’s younger sister, Anumati, bubbled happily around us, sharing in her sibling’s joy. Palash , her younger brother, shook my hand like a man and struggled with the bags.

“Are you all right, honey?” Rashmika asked solicitously when we had a moment alone.

“Just fine. Why?”

“You act like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m a little tired. I guess it’s the trip and finally meeting your mom and all.”

“Why don’t you take a short nap? Dad’ll be home in another hour.”

“That sounds great.”

She pushed me back on her bed and took off my shoes, gave me a kiss, and quietly closed the door as she left.

Memories of Diwali seven years ago overwhelmed me.


Darshan was the first and I was the last of our Dad’s four children. Dad divorced Darshan’s mom and married mine, so we weren’t raised together until his Mom died. Darshan and Jayanti, his full sister, came to live with us then. He was sixteen and I was seven at the time. I adored him as only a little brother can adore a big brother. He was home for Navratri. Dinner was over and we were visiting before the game started.

“What do you want for Diwali, Vishal?” Darshan said as he sprawled on my bed, thumbing through my Debonair.

“To get laid,” I answered.

“I’m glad I’m not eighteen again. Still a virgin, huh?”

“Yes,” I replied with a deep sigh.

“The first one’s always the hardest. Okay, I’ll get you laid for Diwali, but… ” His voice changed and his eyes got hard. “… if you ever tell anyone about it or about her, I’ll cut your nuts off.”

“Oh, jeez, Darshan, do you mean it?”

“About cutting your nuts off?”

“No, Darshan. About getting me laid.”

“Yeah, Vishal. I mean it.”

Darshan called me three days later. “What are you doing this Saturday, Vishal?”

“Hanging out. Why?”

“I want to give you your Diwali present. Vishal? Are you still there?”

“Yes,” I squeaked.

“Tell your mother we’ll be spending Saturday together. I’ll call her later to confirm it. The story is we’re going Diwali shopping, and we’ll actually do some before I take you home.”

“Darshan… Darshan, how can I ever thank you?”

He laughed and said, “You’ll have a good time, Vishal. See you Saturday. Don’t beat off between now and then.”

He picked me up at seven thirty Saturday morning. We went to Oberoi Mall, had breakfast and talked about things, except we didn’t talk about what I wanted to talk about. He waited until we got back in the car for that.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Vishal. We’re going to the Hotel Decent. A lady friend of mine’s going to spend the day there with you. She’s not a hooker. She’s a housewife who’s married and has two kids. She’s never done anything like this before, so she’ll be nervous at first just like you are. Just be cool.”

“She’s someone else’s wife?”

“Yes. We’ve been having an affair.”

“Why’s she doing this?”

“She likes the idea of being a young man’s first woman. I’ll introduce you to her and then leave. Treat her right, Vishal. She’s a very good woman.”

“What’s her name?”

“Ambika. You don’t need to know anything else about her. She’ll need to leave at three. You just wait in the room. I’ll be back to pick you up.”

I thought I’d never stop shaking as Darshan pulled into the motel and stopped in front of room 123. When he knocked on the door, the shaking stopped and a feeling of euphoria, warm and tingling, flooded through me. She cracked the door, saw it was Darshan and let us in.

“Hi, Ambika,” Darshan said, as he gave her a quick kiss. “This is Vishal, my little brother. Vishal, this is Ambika. You two have fun.” Darshan stepped back, closed the door behind him and was gone.

The silence was deafening as we stood there, two quaking strangers. When her eyes cut up to me, she blushed brightly and looked away again. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

About five six with black hair that touched her shoulders, she wore a long sleeved white blouse and ankle length denim skirt. Her face was pretty, her eyes big and brown, her lips medium fullness. When she backed away and sat on the edge of the bed, she glanced at me apprehensively. She took a very deep breath and slowly exhaled. Then she looked directly at me. Her eyes were soft and warm with a hint of a twinkle.

“I hear I’m your Diwali present,” she said. I nodded. “And I’m your first, Vishal?” she asked. Her voice was warm with a gentle shyness.

“Yes,” I croaked.

“You’re my first, too, in a way. I’ve never been a first before.”

“Oh,” I said.

The conversation died and watched each other. When she smiled, she was even prettier.

“Have you kissed a girl?”

“Sort of.”

“Why don’t we start there?”


When I didn’t move, she grinned. “It’d be easier to kiss if we were next to each other. Why don’t you sit here?”

She patted the bed by her. Moving without conscious direction, I sat by her. She moved those few inches to rest her thigh against mine. It was hot and soft through our clothes.

When she wrapped her left hand around my right, her fingers seemed alive with electricity and the sparkle of the wedding band on her ring finger blinded me. Her palm was moist. The fingers of her right hand were on my cheek, and gently she turned my head toward hers. Her lips were on mine.

“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” she said when my response to her kiss was catatonic.

A tear slipped down my cheek, but I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. I wanted to scream with joy and throw her on her back. I wanted to do so much. It was like my brain was the engine and my body the transmission, but the clutch was out. Like a burning fire, her fingers slid from my cheek down my body to rest on my cock. He was sound asleep. She sighed and pulled away, sitting with her hands folded in her lap.

“Don’t you like me?” she whispered.

“I like you very much. I think you’re beautiful,” I replied, but I still made no move toward her.

She walked to the chair facing the bed and sat down.

“Have you ever seen a woman undress?”

I shook my head.

“Watch me,” she said.

She wore loafers with low heels. Legs crossed, she extended the toes of her right foot and slipped her shoe off. I watched another shoe slip to the floor. She began unbuttoning her blouse. I realize now, years later, she was being provocative to stimulate me to action. When it was happening, I still didn’t move. When she pulled off her pantyhose and dropped them on the floor, she was left in a bra and panties, standing, watching me. She looked exasperated.

“Let’s try this,” she said as she took my hand and pulled me to my feet.

She started undressing me. She did it in a tantalizing way, letting her fingers and her mouth caress me. Every nerve was alive when she finished, but my cock lay fallow even though my brain was a whirling dervish.

She pushed me back on the bed and knelt on the floor between my legs. When she kissed my ankle just below the bone, tingles shot up my leg and I quivered all over. She nibbled above the ankle, then worked her way up my leg. Her fingers were caressing me as she went. Each nibble, each touch, was a wake up call. By the time, she reached my crotch, my cock was a roman candle ready to explode.

“You have a beautiful cock,” she whispered as she wrapped her fingers around the shaft. Her eyes held mine as she lowered her lips to the tip. Her tongue flicked the opening as her lips wrapped around the head.

The roman candle exploded and I saw fireworks. Her eyes rounded and her cheeks hollowed as she choked and swallowed. A drop oozed out of the corner of her mouth; her tongue captured it and pulled it back.

“That was a surprise. Do you feel better?”

“Wow. Do I ever,” I replied.

“We’ve got a lot of time. What do you want to do?” she said.

“I want to look at you,” I said.

“All right,” she said with a gentle laugh.

“Can I finish undressing you?”

“Of course,” she replied. She stood and turned her back to me so that I could unfasten her bra. My hands were shaking so badly I thought I’d never get that snap undone.

She slipped off her bra and turned to face me. I tugged her panties over her hips. She wiggled, which slid them down her legs, and stepped out of them. She walked away, turned and posed as I drank her in with my eyes.

She crawled on the bed and lay back on her side with her head propped on one arm, in a typical Debonair pose. That pose burned into my brain, but it’s her face I remember most, with her twinkling eyes and the tiny, sexy half smile.

“Come lay down with me, Vishal,” she said lovingly, patting the bed.

She extended a hand to me. When I took it, she gently pulled me until I lay beside her. She kissed my palm and guided my hand to her breast.

“Gently,” she said. “Women like it rough sometimes, but usually you have to work up to it. Like that. You’ve got a nice touch, Vishal. Go ahead. Let your hands wander. That feels good.”

It felt more than good to me.

“Suck my nipples. Ohhh. Like that. Watch my face, Vishal, and my body. Watch for signs you’re arousing me.”

“Am I?”

“You sure are. Am I arousing you?” She laughed as her hand wrapped around my cock. “I can feel that I am. Do you want to try intercourse?”


“Fucking. Do you want to fuck me, Vishal?”

“Yes,” I gurgled.

“Let me show you. Get between my legs. Wait. Lubricate it with my juice. Like this. Yes, Vishal. Oh, Vishal, you feel so good in me. That’s it, Vishal. Harder. Oh, God, yes.”

We were in that room for six hours. Darshan had the foresight to leave a supply of sodas and sandwiches. Except for eating, we spent the entire time in bed as she taught me about sex and women and love. When I crashed into exhausted slumber, she dressed to leave. I awakened when she kissed me goodbye.

“I enjoyed it, Vishal. You’re going to make some lucky woman a wonderful husband.”

“Thanks, Ambika.”

“You’re welcome.”

She kissed me one last time and was gone.

Darshan woke me up again about five thirty.

“How did you like her?”

“Fabulous”Fantastic. Simply fabulousAbsolutely fantastic,” I replied.

“How many times did you get off?”

“Six and one was in her mouth.”

“She’s one hell of a woman, isn’t she?” he said.

“Boy, is she ever.”

“She called me and said you were one hell of a man,” he said.

For the first time, I felt like a man. A man ten feet tall.


I wasn’t asleep when the door softly opened. She smiled as she sat down on the bed and covered my hand with hers.

“Hi, Vishal.”

“Hi, Ambika.”

“We need to talk. I sent Ranjan and the girls to the store. Palash ‘s outside playing. We’ve got some time.”

I didn’t know what to say. Apparently neither did she. She blushed and looked away before she finally spoke.

“Do you love her, Vishal?”

“With all my heart.”

“That’s the way it should be, not just now but always.”

“I wonder if one reason I fell for Rashmika from the start immediately was because she looks looked like the first woman in my life.”

“We need to talk about that,” she said, obviously embarrassed.

“Not unless you want to.”

“I do. You see, there’s something you need to know.”

She stood and walked away. I watched her pace until she sat down on the bed by me again.

“Vishal, Ranjan was unfaithful to me. And, I, oh, God, I decided to get even. I went to a pickup bar and met Darshan.”

She laughed self-consciously.

“Darshan’s a good lover. I did enjoy him. And I enjoyed you. You’re what made me go back to Ranjan. Your sweetness, the newness, reminded me of our early years.”

“I’ll never say a word to anyone, Ambika, and don’t worry about Darshan. He’s moved to Kolkata. I haven’t seen him in three years.”

“It’s not that. Ranjan knows I cheated on him like I know he cheated on me. Our marriage will never be the same, but it’s still a damn good marriage and, in some ways, it’s stronger. We’re together for the long haul. Let our mistake be a lesson to you, Vishal. Don’t ever cheat on Rashmika.”

“I won’t.”

“But if she cheats on you, forgive her. Forgive and forget. I’ll tell her the same thing.”

“You’ll tell her everything?”

“No. Just the forgive and forget part. I don’t want her to know her mother was her husband’s first.”

There was something in her eyes that made me wonder.

“You haven’t told me everything, have you?” I asked.

“No, I haven’t. Ranjan knows this, too. He knew from the moment he first saw Palash .”

“What are you saying?” I asked as the hair stood up on the back of my neck.

“What did you look like when you were six, Vishal?” she asked.

“Mom! Where are you, Mom?” Palash called from downstairs.

Ambika stood gracefully and smoothed down her skirt.

“So you see, I was your Diwali present that day, but you gave me a present, too. I’ve got to go. My present’s calling me.”