I say it never happened as Bardhini

The idea of a Chacha and bhatiji romantically involved has always been considered taboo. No doubt, it is morally and ethically wrong. But is it possible for a circumstance to exist in which at least part of it is right? It’s ok to get angry when you hear about a Chacha touching his bhatiji inappropriately, but can there be a moment when it’s not inappropriate, when the touch falls between two loving adults, driven by passion contrived of genuine love? I’ve often wondered if I’m alone in my feelings, if others experience this. When you really think about it, how can a Chacha NOT eventually fall in love with his bhatiji? For years my life has been filled with guilt and shame, trying to understand why I feel the way I do. As Chachas, we can’t tell you what’s really running through our heads. We can’t admit the reason we react in ways that don’t seem logical. Bhatiji’s, you’re about to discover why, and what happens when the confession finally comes out. You’re about to read how my bhatiji and I fell in love. Incest played no part.

Personally, at 40, I can feel my age in my bones, but when I think about myself, I feel like I’m still eighteen. High school seems like yesterday, and the years have flown by. Those eighteen year old girls on the page, or on the screen are women that I would give my right arm to climb in bed with just for the opportunity to caress that perfect skin, and those perky breasts. I’m not a lecherous old man. I mentally feel as youthful as they look, just with a little more maturity and experience under my belt. Ahhh, if I only knew then what I know now… Don’t get me wrong, I’m happily married, and deeply love my wife. In every aspect, she is my better half, and I would never dream of betraying her. She has always been absolutely everything I could want in a woman… mostly. Of course we all have our quirks, and things we’d change in a second about ourselves mostly, but also certain things we would change about the people we chose. No one is perfect, and I’ve never felt that I “settled” for my wife. All things considered, I’m the luckiest husband in the world and I know it beyond the shadow of a doubt. When I met my wife, I fell in love instantly though she was my cousin sister and my brother in law was never known to family. Sonu had just graduated High School and was starting college in hopes of becoming a nurse. She still lived with her parents, and worked a part time job at a local mom and pop grocery store. That’s where I met her. She’s the girl that was ringing up my bag of chips, and my six-pack of beer, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

Of course, I asked her out, and of course, she accepted, and that’s how our relationship began. But there’s one more factor that I need to include at this point, the reason she still lived with her parents. Sonu was a single mom raising a three year old as her husband is not known to anyone in family. Bardhini was the most perfect little girl, with brown hair, and big brown eyes, and I think I fell in love instantly. There were so many times while we were dating that I was ready to call it quits, but I couldn’t walk away from Bardhini. She had latched on to my heart, and there was no way I could give up this little girl. She was my bhatiji. I’m glad I stuck around, because years down the road, marrying Sonu was the best thing I ever did. I don’t have the first regret. Of course, when you walk into a relationship that involves a child, you’re in trouble from day one. Most couples get married, build a life together, and then have kids. By the time they have kids, they’ve already got a secure job, and have gotten a handle on their expenses. They’ve got their bills under control, and now they have to buckle down and scrimp and save because there’s a baby on the way. It’s not that way when you’re twenty, married, and already have a child in school. There are a lot of expenses, and you’re still at the bottom of the food chain trying to fight your way up. It’s a tough fight, but you manage and always look ahead. As hard as we fought to make it, again, I don’t have the first regret. Every second was worth the struggle.

Bardhini has always been my pride and joy. She has always been my bhatiji, and that “step” word has never been attached to our relationship. I helped her with her homework every night. I coached her soccer and softball teams. I did everything I possibly could to give my bhatiji every advantage in life. Without a doubt, my bhatiji has always been the center of my universe, having a place in my heart that equals the love I feel for my wife. I love them both deeply, equally, so totally consuming that I couldn’t imagine life without them. The difference is, one is my wife, the other is my bhatiji, their respective roles have never blurred in my mind until the past couple of years. Here is the conflict of being a Chacha. I have always loved seeing the nude female body. It’s gentle texture, and smooth curves create perfect form. There is nothing more beautiful than a nude woman. Of course, there’s also the sexual aspect. Men need sex. Scientifically, it is nature to reproduce, and those eighteen-year-old women in the porn movies are begging for you to fuck them, psychologically meeting the primal need for reproduction. Sex sells, and all men are buying. We’re addicted to naked women and sex. A Chacha loves his bhatiji. He watches over her, and protects her from harm. She will always be his “little girl”, and it is his job to preserve her innocence. One day, when she’s sixteen, you come home from work, and as you turn the corner to go to your bedroom, she walks out of the bathroom naked, not realizing you’re home. You both panic and scream, and laugh at your mutual embarrassment later. She’s your “little girl”, but the man takes notice of her body. That’s when a Chacha realizes his bhatiji is becoming a woman.

At eighteen, the Chacha opens the latest copy of Rasvanti, and find’s himself throwing it away when a voice in his head says, “Your bhatiji is that age!” He loves the women inside, but they now make him feel like a pervert. The Chacha instinct takes over, and you continue to love your little girl, but you find yourself in conflict because the women in the magazine are what you lust for. You lust for girls your bhatiji’s age. The women in the magazine are fantasy. Your bhatiji is your bhatiji. There is separation. You want the women in the magazine, and your bhatiji is the one thing that proves you have a soft, nurturing bone in your body. She is your one, beloved weakness. Unfortunately, when she walks around the house in her bra and panties, you force yourself to yell at her to put some clothes on. She sees nothing wrong with it, never knowing the conflict you’re feeling inside because your “little girl” suddenly looks like your fantasy woman in Rasvanti. The Chacha loves his bhatiji, and finds him having to protect her from the man that craves sex, and admires the perfect form. You suddenly find yourself catching a glimpse down her shirt when she bends over, and then feeling guilty because you just checked out your bhatiji. “Protective Chacha” vs. “Male Nature” is not a battle that should be fought, yet it happens, and it happens over your bhatiji. You are your own worst enemy.

At twenty, you get past the conflict. Those women in the magazine are now younger than your bhatiji, and you’ve come to accept that your bhatiji is a woman in her own right. She has her own life; her own interests, her own destiny ahead of her that she has to follow without you. You are now there for support as she finds herself, and tries to carve out her own little niche in life. You’ve come to accept your personal demons and fight to remain the “Chacha” more than the “man”. Things go well until the day you get online, and find out that your “little girl” has a sex drive of her own. You sit down with a cold beer in hand, alone because they’ve gone shopping. You open up your browser, and type in WWW., and the auto fill function pops up a link to a porn site that you’ve never heard of. You type in the next letter of the site, and see the drop down box filled with entry after entry of pages that your bhatiji has been looking at. She is a grown woman. Of course she has a sex drive, and I know she’s not a virgin. She’s had a string of Sneha that I couldn’t stand, and I’ve picked up on things here and there that have let me know she’s done a lot of experimenting. That’s her right, because even though I’m the Chacha who wants to protect his little girl, she’s not a little girl anymore. Today though, I discovered a woman’s sexual desires. I discovered what turns her on. Today I realized how much the lines had blurred, and why this personal conflict is so hard. I’ve been a loving husband and Chacha. Having sexual thoughts about my bhatiji has been my personal demon that has eaten me alive for five years. The perverse, horny animal has walked into her bedroom when no one is home, and imagined her lying there naked. I’ve skimmed through the box of photos under her desk, and found a couple of nearly naked pictures that I drool over, and then kick myself because I know it’s not right. Despite the fact that I despise incest, I catch myself clicking into a site I stumble across, knowing that there are stories about Chachas and bhatijis engaging in the very sexual acts I fantasize about. I listen to her talk, or watch her actions, and think about how perfect she is. Today, I finally figured out why my demon exists.

We’ve all heard that boys marry women like their mothers, and girls marry men like their dads. Why is that? They’ve been raised with certain morals and characteristics, and see aspects of their parents that they love and respect. When they find someone that has those same characteristics, it’s normal to side with familiarity. It’s normal to side with things that you know and trust. But look at the other side of that picture, because that’s where my demon lives. I raised my bhatiji to be the best that she could be. I instilled in her all my morals and beliefs. Her personality is a mixture of her mother and me, the best attributes of both of us. In short, because of how I raised my bhatiji, she has become what I perceive to be the perfect woman, and I’ve been in love with her all her life. I’m deeply in love with my wife, but if I weren’t allowed to have sex with her, nothing could satisfy the hunger. Fantasies would develop, and I would find myself doing things that go against my nature, like standing at the foot of her bed imagining her naked. I am deeply in love with my bhatiji, and I’m not allowed to express those feelings even though the foundation of the relationship is there. We are two adults who love each other unconditionally. The greatest moments of my life have all included her, and I couldn’t live without her. We are devoted to each other completely, though her devotion to me is a bhatiji to her Chacha, not a woman to a man. That is the reason for my demon. I found the one person on earth who could make me want to leave my wife. She’s my bhatiji.

Suddenly, Bardhini is my step. There is no biological relation. Incest is only in the mind here. The feelings remain, but she’s no longer the “flesh and blood” relation that I have always treated her as, that I always wished would have been had I met my wife three years earlier. I now understand why I was so crushed when she moved in with her boyfriend. She had left me for another man, one that wasn’t good enough for my bhatiji, one that had taken my perfect woman away from me. I survived because my wife was there, and while the hunger slowly dwindled, it was always present. When she moved in again, the hunger returned, and I found myself fighting the anger that she had been unfaithful. Understanding it doesn’t make it right, or reasonable. The shame still resonates inside me. Of course, until now I couldn’t understand my feelings. I fought the shame, feeling like a criminal that should be behind bars. Now I understand, and it all makes sense. The hunger still exists. The shame still exists. But now the demon has a face, and a name, and I find that it’s a demon that resides within us all. It is taboo, but it is also natural. Undoubtedly it is wrong, but that doesn’t change nature. Something has to give, and it has to give soon. Sonu and I decided to take vacation in Panchagani and rented a cottage for the week. Bardhini, and her friend Sneha were between Sneha and decided to tag along, taking the time to work on their tans and catch up on some reading. Unlike a lot of kids with their parents, Bardhini looked at us as friends as much as her family. Yeah, I’m her Chacha, but it had reached the point in our relationship that we felt comfortable yelling “fuck you” down the hall at each other, knowing that it was all in fun. We were all adults, and because Sonu had been very young when she had her, the age gap wasn’t that great. Bardhini had even dated a man for a couple of months that was only three years younger than me. We had reached the point that “Chacha/bhatiji” was only a footnote in a bigger story.

It was Thursday night, and a cool breeze blew in from the ocean. Sneha was sunburned, and was lying in bed hoping the aloe would take away the pain. Sonu had already turned in for the night. I was sitting on the patio watching the greenery roll in when a beer was sat on the table next to me. Bardhini had come out and brought me one, and we sat there, drinking and talking for a couple of hours. She put her feet up in my lap, and I watched the ocean breeze blow through her hair. She had this incredible radiant glow from the candles on the table that made her look as beautiful as any angel I had ever imagined.

“What?” she asked softly as she noticed my stare.

“Nothing.” I answered, “I was just thinking about how beautiful you are.”

“You’re pretty hot yourself.” She smiled, holding out her beer in a toast.

“Yeah, right.” I laughed.

“Seriously, I’ve loved a guy about your age. You’re pretty hot for an old guy.” She joked.

“Don’t remind me.” I answered, “I still have a hard time with that one.”

“Ok,” she snapped, pointing at me as she leaned forward in her chair, “You know that was a mistake. I knew DamoVij was in his twenties, but I didn’t know it was ‘late thirties’ until we’d already started loving. I honestly thought he was about 20 or 21.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I said, “Cover your ass.”

Bardhini leaned back, squinting her eyes at me to let me know she was irritated. She kicked her foot against my leg. “Asshole.” She said with a light smile.

“Hey!” I snapped, “Men are dogs. All of ’em. Your loving Chacha included.”

“Nah,” she said, “Not you. I’d love to find one like you someday.”

“Yeah, I’m a dog too.” I said, “I’m just as bad as the rest of them.”

“How do you figure that?” Bardhini laughed as she took another swig of her beer.

“All men are horny bastards.” I said, “None of us have an ounce of integrity when it comes to women. Right now, you could yank up your shirt, and even being your Chacha, I would be compelled to look. Don’t trust any of us!”

Bardhini laughed, and her eyes got wide as she started teasingly sliding her shirt up her stomach.

“QUIT!” I demanded, holding my hand out to cover the view.

“Looook Chacha.” She mocked me, but I continued to refuse to look.

I finally heard her laugh and pick her beer up again, and I put my hand back down.

“See?” she said, “You have integrity!”

“You didn’t actually do it.” I said.

“Doesn’t matter. You fought the temptation.” She answered.

“It doesn’t mean I didn’t want to look either.” I snapped.

“I’ll show them to you.” She joked.

“Please don’t.” I asked.

“Lighten up, they’re just a pair of breasts!” she laughed.

“They’re your breasts.” I said.

“Are you afraid you’re going to get turned by looking at your bhatiji’s breasts?” she asked.

“Uh, YEAH!” I answered, “I’m a guy, and those are breasts.”

“Are you serious?” she asked.

“Breasts are nice.” I answered, “I enjoy looking at them. I’m a guy, and therefore also a horny bastard.”

I sipped my beer and looked out at the ocean, slightly irritated at the mocking I had just received. She had no way of knowing how I felt, and I certainly couldn’t tell her. I had to play the part of the sexually repressed older man, hiding the demon that wanted to look at the very least, but do a hell of a lot more to her.

“What’s wrong?” Bardhini asked as she pushed her foot into my leg.

“Nothing.” I said quietly, not realizing how much of my feelings I was exposing.

“Seriously, what’s the matter?” she pushed.

“Nothing.” I said again.

“Tell me, or I’m going to show you my boobs.” She laughed.

“That’s the problem.” I answered.

“How are my boobs the problem?” she asked, a little irritated.

I guess this was a discussion I needed to have with her. I contemplated very hard how I should approach it, and there’s really no right way to do it. I know I shouldn’t, but at least it will get her “boobs” off the discussion table.

“You said you wanted to find a man like me. Why?” I asked, “What is it in me that you want in a man?”

“Everything.” She answered lovingly, “You are capable of such love and compassion. You’ve always been there for me, loving me unconditionally. I look at all the hell I put you through when I was a teenager, and you stood by me. You and Mom have the perfect marriage, and I want to find that someday. I want what the two of you have.

As the man, I’ve always respected you. I’ve always appreciated you. I’ve always wanted to be a better person, because I never want to disappoint you.

Remember those love letters you used to write me? Lot’s of guys have written me love letters, but none of them compared to yours. Everybody else, I’d read them and think ‘How sweet’. Yours? I’m in tears before I reach the end of the first page. No one has ever touched me the way that you do.”

“You know that I feel the same way about you.” I said.

“I know.” She replied.

“Here’s the problem.” I started, feeling the downward spiral about to begin, “Forget that it’s ‘us’. You’ve got two people who have loved each other deeply for almost twenty years. No blood relation, and the idea of being together has never crossed their minds, but they love each other unconditionally. One day, you suddenly realize the other person is everything you could ever ask for, everything you’ve ever wanted in a partner. You’ve always wanted someone just like that person, and there they are. What do you do?”

Bardhini realized where I was going, and carefully removed her feet from my lap. Thinking carefully, she allowed her common sense to take charge. Quietly, uncomfortably, she contemplated her response. “You realize that it’s wrong.” She said, “You understand that it’s not supposed to happen.”

“You’re right.” I answered, “But does denying the feelings make them go away?”

She didn’t answer.

“You are my bhatiji,” I said, “and I would NEVER harm you. I love you more than life itself. A few years ago, I had to accept that my little girl had grown up. I couldn’t protect you anymore, and I had to let you go. The problem with doing that is that you turned into the exact woman I would want. Does the Chacha want his bhatiji? No. Does the man want the perfect woman? Yeah.”

“You’ve got Mom.” She said, “I could never do anything with my Chacha, and I could never hurt Mom. That’s wrong.”

“I feel the same way.” I answered, looking back to the mountains, and watching the greenery, “That doesn’t change the feelings that the man in me has for the woman you’ve become. Why do you think I always yell at you to put on clothes when you’re running around the house half-naked? My family were nudists. Nudity doesn’t faze me. It’s because as a man, I want to see more, and I know it’s wrong because I’m your Chacha.

Unconditional love is unconditional love. There are no limits. When I married your mom, I married you too. I made that commitment, and I NEVER expected this would ever happen. I make love to your mother. I don’t make love to you. That’s the only difference. The love is the same, and when I was forced to look at you as an equal… as a woman, the desire was there. It wasn’t something I wanted, but I am a man.

Now I find myself drinking with the one person, who under very different circumstances, could ever make me contemplate leaving my wife, and she’s offering to show me her boobs.”

“I’m sorry.” She said, not quite sure of what to say.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” I said, “Remember your cousin Mark? You wanted him SOOO bad, and there was no way you could have him. You knew not to even try, but that didn’t change the feelings. It’s the same thing here. You know how much I love you. Now you know I want you, and it’s devastating to be sitting her admitting it. I joke quite a bit, but I would never seriously make a move on you. I love you too much to even contemplate it.

I’ve lived with this conflict for a long time. Your Chacha has always kept the ‘horny dog’ at bay, and I’ll continue to do so. I’ll always love my bhatiji, but I’ll also think she’s hot as hell. Just don’t offer to flash me anymore, because one day, I’ll look.”

After the confession that I had just made, I was too ashamed to look at Bardhini. I fought back tears, refusing to break down in front of my bhatiji, but she knew what I was fighting.

“Chacha,” she said, “I remember how I felt about Mark. I mostly understand the feelings you’re having. I never expected my Chacha would feel that way about me, but I can relate to it.

I have to admit, I thought about you a few times when I was growing up, but I imagine most bhatijis do at some point. We both know nothing can ever happen…”

“I wasn’t asking.” I said.

“I know.” She answered calmly, “It does change things, somewhat, but we’re ok. You’re still my Chacha, and I still love you. I just need to remember that my Chacha is human too.”

I finally worked up the nerve to look at my bhatiji, and found her looking back at me, a loving but sympathetic look in her eyes.

“So, does this mean that I don’t get to be ‘Super Chacha’ anymore?” I grinned.

“You’ll always be ‘Super Chacha’.” she answered softly, “I just know to keep the kryptonite covered better.”

“Still want to show me your boobs?” I joked.

She answered by raising her shirt just above her navel, and quickly pulling it back down with a smile.

“I love you.” I said.

“I love you too.” She answered, “Even if you are a horny dog.”

“Hey, I warned you.” I said, “Don’t trust any of us.”

I was honestly surprised when Bardhini came over and hugged me goodnight, kissing me on the cheek.

“Night Chacha.” She said, “And I still think you’re pretty hot.”

“Good night Baby.” I answered, “You too.”

“Quit.” She laughed, comfortably.

That was the last that was said about the matter while we were on vacation. Bardhini and I acted as if the conversation had never occurred, and while I’m sure it was as much on her mind as it was on mine, our relationship seemed as normal as far as I could tell. We still yelled “fuck you” to each other down the hall, though her expression afterward seemed a little more reserved.

A couple of months passed, and things had returned to normal. Everything seemed fine, and life continued. Bardhini quit running around the house half-naked, and I appreciated the gesture, even though I also missed it tremendously. The monster appeared to be subdued, and I guess confessing my desires went a long way to helping me get it under control. I guess it’s true that the truth sets you free. I felt better.

It had been a rough couple of weeks at work, and I decided to take the day off to unwind. Sonu was at work in her college, and Bardhini had classes, and I decided to hit the gym. I had a good workout, and came home sweaty, ready for a shower. I was surprised to find Bardhini’s car in the driveway. Her classes weren’t supposed to be over for another couple of hours.

“Bardhini, I’m home.” I yelled as I walked in the door, warning her in case she was undressed.

I got no answer, and looked down the hall, seeing her door closed. I assumed she was sleeping, and decided to be quiet.

I opened the fridge and pulled one of the last three beers. I knew there had been six that morning, so Bardhini must be drinking. For her to drink that early in the morning, I knew something must be wrong. Most likely man troubles, I wasn’t about to approach the subject. That was Sonu’s job, and I stayed clear of that mess. Good Chachas ask, but smart Chachas keep their mouth shut.

I walked past her closed door, loudly enough for her to hear me, but quietly enough that I wouldn’t wake her if she was asleep. I stepped into my office and closed the door behind me, and sat at my desk to check my email. As I was logging on, I heard a gentle knock at my door, and Bardhini opened it before I could even answer. She stood there in a bathrobe, a beer in her hand.

“Hey.” I said, “Everything ok?”

“No.” she answered somberly.

“Anything you want to talk about?” I asked.

Bardhini hesitated, but nervously stepped inside, and sat in the chair next to my desk, tucking her feet underneath her in the seat. Her robe slid open slightly, uncovering her leg almost all the way up. She saw me looking, but made no attempt to cover it.

“You’re a bastard.” She said calmly.

“What did I do?” I asked.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what happened on vacation.” She answered.

I felt my heart begin to sink into my stomach. “I’m sorry.” I said, “I thought we were past that.”

“I can’t get past it.” She answered, “You were right about everything. I think about you now, and I find myself WANTING to expose myself to you. I go to bed every night, and I can’t sleep because I’m thinking about you.”

“In a good way, I hope.” I said, attempting to diffuse the tension.

“No, not in a good way.” She said seriously, “We both know it’s wrong, but I’ve gone through a half a dozen batteries in my fucking vibrator in the last week!”

“I don’t need to know that.” I said, a serious tone to my voice.

“I heard you and Mom having sex a couple of nights ago, and I was outside your door with my ear against it.” She said, “I was dripping wet, imagining it, and I got jealous thinking about it.”

“At least I know you understand how I feel.” I said.

“I know we can’t,” she said, “but this is driving me fucking crazy.”

“It’ll pass.” I said.

“I don’t know how.” She answered, “I don’t know if I want it to pass. I’ve been reading your letters over and over, and I want that love.”

“You have that love.” I said.

“You know what I mean.” She answered.

We stared at each other for a couple of minutes, sipping our beer at the same time, as if in a Mexican standoff, neither knowing what to say, knowing that nothing should be said. Neither of us wanted to walk away, and neither of us wanted to let it move forward. Bardhini looked at me angrily, her thumb tapping against the arm of the chair, filled with nervous energy. She stared at me for a few more seconds, trying to fight the urge to open her mouth.

“You want to see my boobs?” she asked angrily, her voice quivering. Before I could answer, she pulled open the top of her robe, and put her hands down, leaving herself exposed to me. “Look at them.” She demanded.

“Bardhini, close your robe.” I said, straining to keep eye contact with her.

“Chacha,” she began, still not closing her robe, “I’m pissed because I want you. I know we can’t, but this is killing me. Half of me doesn’t want to hurt Mom, but the other half wants to steal you away from her. Believe me, I understand EXACTLY how you feel.”

“So where do we go from here?” I asked, figuring she would find the same wisdom I knew her to have, and learn to live with it.

“I want to do it.” She said, “I want us to have something.”

“We can’t. It’s wrong.” I said, “its incest.”

“No,” she answered, “You are not my biological Chacha. There is no blood relation. Yes, it’s wrong because you raised me, and you’re married to my mother. But this is not an abuse because of that ‘authority figure’ shit. I am fully aware of what the situation is, and I want it. You can be my Chacha 90% of the time, but I want some time when you’re not my Chacha. I want some time that I can climb in bed with the man that I’ve been in love with all my life. I want to make love to the man who is in love with me.”

I couldn’t argue. I felt the same way. We both knew it was wrong, but it had become a driving force in both our lives. This wasn’t a little girl trying to make Chacha happy. This wasn’t a bhatiji living out an incest fantasy. This was a woman in love with a man. I stared at her, her exposed breasts not even relevant. She stared back at me, her thumb still tapping the arm of the chair nervously. She finally stood from the chair and walked toward me.

“I’m making the first move.” She said as she straddled my lap, and leaned close, grabbing my face and kissing me deeply. I couldn’t help but give in as I felt her lips touch mine. My hands reached for her hips, the soft fabric of her robe like velvet in my hands, the heat underneath, warm and inviting. I slid my hands up her back as I gave in to her kiss, and held her close. She reached down, pulling the string to her robe, allowing it to slide open before letting it drop to the floor completely. Suddenly, I found myself sitting there, my bhatiji naked in my lap, kissing me with a passion I’ve never experienced. My fingers wandered across her back, feeling her perfect skin as I allowed them to slide further down. Her ass was so smooth, so perfect, I wanted to throw her to the desk right then, but I could not do that to my bhatiji. Bardhini began pulling off my shirt, and for the first time, I really saw her perfect breasts. Small, firm, perky, her pale areolas were nearly invisible against the rest of her skin. Her nipples were hard, and they beckoned me to suck them, but I had to resist for at least a moment. I grabbed her hands and stopped her for a second. “Stand up.” I said, “If I’m going to make love to my bhatiji, then there is something I need to do.”

Bardhini climbed from my lap, and stood between my legs. I held her hands out, and looked at her body. Turning her around, I studied her back, allowing my eyes to wander. Placing my hands on her hips, I studied her ass, and for the first time, allowed my fingers to caress it, the nicest I had ever been to that part of her body.

“I have looked at this butt so many times.” I said, “In all these years, I’ve spanked it very few times. Sometimes I was angry, other times it was because I had no other choice.”

“No, you can’t spank me.” She laughed.

“Shut up.” I said, “I have no intention of spanking you.”

I pulled Bardhini close, placing my lips in the small of her back. Light, gentle kisses, I worked my way down, gently kissing every place that I had ever spanked, feeling the incredible softness of her skin against my lips, and underneath my fingers.

“That feels good.” She said softly.

“I’m apologizing to your butt for all the times I busted it.” I answered. Bardhini turned around, smiling at me, and stepped close. “You used to give me a lot of ‘red bellies’ too.” She said, bringing her stomach close to my mouth. I couldn’t help but smile, and lovingly placed my lips against her stomach, feeling her quiver at my touch as she watched her Chacha kissing her body.

“You accidentally punched me in the boob a few years back.” She said.

“Which one?” I asked, enjoying the gentle humor.

“I don’t remember. You better get them both.” She answered.

I allowed my mouth to wander up to her breasts, and found myself tasting that which I had fought so hard to avoid even looking at until now. Her nipple slid between my lips, and she breathed deeply, a shuddering breath as I sucked gently, and slid my fingers over her body. Her body quivered at my touch, her breath mixed with soft moans as I nibbled, and kissed, and sucked with such a gentle passion, knowing that I wanted to do much more, but remembering that she was my bhatiji, and this was our first time. Bardhini began to push my head down as she moved to my desk, and began to sit on the edge.

“I don’t think I’ve ever hurt that.” I joked.

“No,” she moaned, “I did. You have to kiss it and make it better.”

I watched as my bhatiji spread her legs, and pushed my head between them. Smooth, shaved, tight, she had the most perfect pussy I had ever seen.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked as I kissed my way down.

“Chacha, shut up and lick it!” she demanded.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I yelled, stopping immediately.

“WHAT?!” she cried, “Don’t stop now!”

“Chacha, shut up and lick it?” I repeated, “If we’re going to do this, you can’t call me Chacha.”

Bardhini snorted as she laughed, and sat up, not believing I was serious. She dropped to her knees and climbed between my legs so that she could be eye to eye with me. “When I call you Chacha, it’s not an incest thing, and it’s not an authority thing.” She said, “When I think about how much I love you, and what you mean to me, ‘Chacha’ is the one word that sums it up in my heart. I can have Sneha. I can have husbands. I can only have one Chacha, and to call you anything less would cheapen what I’m feeling.”

I looked into my bhatiji’s eyes, past her grin to the soul inside, and nearly melted. The heartfelt feeling, and the truth of it as she believed it was incredible. That single word in the English language, spoken by millions every day, suddenly, it belonged to me alone. Suddenly, it transcended any meaning it had ever had before now.

“Are we ok now?” she asked.

“Uh,.. yeah.” I answered, hoping that the pounding I felt in my chest now wouldn’t turn into a heart attack.

“Good.” She said as she climbed back to my desk, spreading her legs, and pointing between them. “Chacha… shut up and lick it!”

I rolled my chair around, and Bardhini put her feet over my shoulders on the back of the chair, pulling me, and the chair closer. I looked her in the eyes, and slowly slid my fingers along the insides of her legs, inching slowly upward. I was getting to tease the woman for once, making her ache as I slowly worked my way up. She was breathing harder and faster, soaking in the attention, and I could see the frustration in her eyes. Of course, she couldn’t let me get the best of her.

“When is Chacha going to lick his little girl’s kitty?” she asked in a pleading, innocent little voice. I answered her with a stare and a cocked eyebrow that she had seen several times throughout her life.

“QUIT THAT!” she said, smacking me on the forehead, “Don’t you dare stop now! I was just fucking with you!”

Without saying a word, I began kissing the inside of her thigh, watching her looking down at me with that hungry look as I kissed closer and closer to her “kitty”. I paused as I reached the top of her leg, staring at her mercilessly as I placed my mouth a single inch away from the very place she had begged for. Her breath quickened in anticipation, and I blew lightly against her lips, causing her body to shudder as she waited to feel my tongue. Silently, gently, lovingly, and with every lustful bone in my body, I slid the tip of my tongue between my bhatiji’s lips, and began swirling it around her clit. Her mouth opened, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she collapsed onto the desk, clenching my head between her legs as I licked her clit. I slid my hands up her body and squeezed her breasts as I licked her pussy, and listened to her moan as she came hard, nearly screaming. Her fingers ran through my hair as she struggled to look down at me, each time she looked at her Chacha between her legs, another orgasm rushing through her body.

“Oh my God! Don’t stop!” she begged, “Please don’t fucking.. stop… Chacha!” she repeated, this time her words breaking up as she felt herself cumming again. I stayed between my bhatiji’s legs for as long as she wanted me there, savoring her incredible taste, feeling her hot cum as it dripped down my chin, experiencing to the fullest the pussy I was never meant to have. Her lips were like soft peaches, her taste more incredible than anything I had ever been lucky enough to have in my mouth. Her fingers in my hair the most delicate I had ever felt, and the sound of her voice as she came,… was pure bliss. My bhatiji came off the desk, grabbing for my hands, and pulling me from the chair. She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me deeply, her leg climbing up mine hungrily as she tried to devour me.

“Chacha,” she panted heavily, “I want you to fuck me now.” She begged. We maneuvered down the hall to her room, Bardhini finally climbing up my body and wrapping her legs around me so that I could carry her to her bed without losing our kiss. We were like hungry animals as she ripped my shorts down my legs, never looking down because it would require her lips to leave mine. Her hand grasped my hard cock, and she gasped as she wrapped her fingers around it for the first time, the sheer excitement that she was about to have the cock that SHE was never supposed to have.

We fell to the bed, and she climbed on top, slipping my cock inside her quickly. Her pussy wrapped around my cock like a warm, tight glove, feeling better than anything I had ever experienced. “Oh, God that feels good!” she gasped as she began sliding up and down my shaft, taking as much as she could get. Her hands grabbed my chest, and she leaned forward, looking hungrily into my eyes as she rode me faster and harder. I had never seen a more beautiful sight as I looked up into my bhatiji’s ravenous eyes, her hair swaying with every thrust, her breasts bouncing daintily as she sunk down on my cock each time. My fingers explored her body as she continued to ride me, stroking, caressing, squeezing; experiencing my perfect bhatiji’s body as she gave me such intensely amazing pleasure. Her whimpers and moans were the most erotic thing I had ever heard, and watching her ride me after so many years of just imagining it, I didn’t know how much longer I could last. I rolled her over and climbed on top of her, slipping my cock back inside. With every thrust, her eyes closed a little more, and her mouth opened just slightly as she savored the feelings running through her body. What I saw before my eyes was greater than anything I had ever imagined, and I could not believe that this was happening. The tension was building, and I couldn’t possibly last much longer.

“Baby, I’m going to cum.” I moaned.

“Oh, fuck yes, Chacha!” she moaned, “Please cum! I want it! Please cum for me!”

I quickly pulled out of my bhatiji and stroked my shaft. I watched my cum explode from my cock, shooting all over her incredible body. Stream after stream, I came so hard it hurt, nearly cumming again as I saw my bhatiji lying naked in her bed, covered in my cum, an incredible look of pure lust in her eyes as she watched me explode. Bardhini shivered as her orgasm finally began to fade, and I admired the sight before me. There lay my bhatiji, a sexually driven woman, sweaty, and weak, drained of all energy, sliding her fingers through my cum, smearing it into her skin as she looked at me with the most loving look a Chacha could possibly hope to see.

“Ok for an old man?” I asked.

“Everything I could want in a man.” She answered, “No complaints, no regrets.” She smiled, “You?”

“The horny dog is definitely satisfied.” I said. “What about the loving Chacha?” she asked.

“Still a loving Chacha, deeply in love with his bhatiji.” I answered.

I laid down beside my bhatiji in her bed, our bodies limp. She laid her head on my chest and threw her arm over, just as she had done a million times before. This time was different. This time had new meaning.

“Any chance you can pencil in some time with your mistress this weekend?” she asked.

“As much as it pains me to say this,” I said, “I’m afraid you’ll have to ask your mother.”

The cottage in Panchagani never happened. I never told her how I really feel. We never made love, and we have not betrayed my wife. My bhatiji’s name is not Bardhini. Everything else is real. My thoughts, my feelings, and my desires… that is real. I continue to protect my innocent from the beast within, loving my bhatiji, and hiding my private hell. She doesn’t know, but she’ll recognize her Chacha’s heart if this story finds her screen. With that risk, I can only hope she’ll understand. I expect nothing, even though the man inside me hopes that if she’s here, reading this, that she feels the same for me. I am a Chacha, secretly confessing his desires to his bhatiji. I know that if she reads this, she will recognize the man she calls “Chacha” in all the words above. She will see past the altered details to the man who wrote them, yet never know for sure. I can never admit to my desires, yet I wanted you to know. Confession is good for the soul, even if you never know it’s me. Maybe down the road, I’ll open my email and find an anonymous feedback waiting. I’ll open it up, and find a heartfelt letter from a bhatiji to her Chacha, every bit as anonymous as the confession I just made. I’ll read with love every detail of the things I hoped to hear my bhatiji say to me, and as I reach the bottom, I’ll find it signed with a single first name, my own bhatiji’s name. I have loved you all your life. You are the very best of everything that I could ever dream of. I helped to raise what I consider to be the greatest woman on Earth. How could I not fall in love with the perfect woman?

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