To Err is Divine Ch. 01

Once I have read a graffiti that said, 'to err is human, but isn't it divine!'

It was a small family, a happy, upper middle class, urban family. Ranganath, the head of the family was a successful, practicing, forty five year old lawyer. His wife Sujatha (42) was a typical, South Indian middle class home maker more in the conservative mould. Their daughter Shanthi (23) was doing her post graduation in Arts and their son Sekhar (20) was doing his graduation in Engineering.

Shanthi was average looking, a little short at 5'1" and slim. She had a severe look about her, an introvert and was rather reserved and that didn help her looks either. She was, however, intelligent and did well in her studies but had very few friends. She mostly kept to herself.

Sekhar was quite the opposite, as often happens with siblings. He was tall at 5'10" and well built, an extrovert, outgoing and friendly. Less intelligent than his sister, he did alright with his academics, had lots of friends and hobbies and was always busy.

The siblings were not close to each other and lived in their own worlds which were poles apart. There was no friction or fights but neither was there any evidence of excessive love and affection.

The family was bound together by Sujatha. She loved all of them dearly and made their lives absolutely comfortable. As a matter of fact they constituted her whole universe and her life revolved around them. From early morning to late night, she toiled to make their lives comfortable and happy.

Ranganath, though loved his wife dearly, hardly had any time for her because he was totally busy with his professional work. Shanthi and Sekhar loved their mother but took her services and abundant affection for granted. As often happens in Indian households, the mother's selfless services are taken for granted and hardly ever praised.

Life was going on smoothly for the Ranganath Family and all was well till that fateful day. It was a Saturday in the monsoon month of August and quite early in the morning. Sujatha realized that there were not enough fresh vegetables at home. There was a persistent drizzle and the roads were practically empty at that hour.

Under the cover of her umbrella, she walked with quick steps to the small vegetable market that was just a kilometer away. Immersed in her thoughts, she rounded the bend in the road and was crossing to the other side, when the municipality truck that was driven by an apprentice hit her.

Sujatha had no chance and died on the spot.

The world suddenly became topsy turvy for the Ranganath family. It was as if the sun around which their solar system revolved had suddenly disappeared. For the next thirteen days, till all the religious rituals were completed as per the Hindu dharma, the family was in a daze, with relatives and friends helping them out at every stage. At the end of the period they were left alone to grieve the departed lady.

An old widowed aunt of Ranganath stayed back to help the family and to cook food for them. Time is the best healer. Slowly, the family limped back to normalcy and Shanthi took charge of the household. Without even realizing it, she started filling the role of her departed mother.

The relationship between the siblings underwent a dramatic change. Traumatized by the sudden death of their mother, they instantly closed their gap and sought mutual comfort and security. Shanthi had matured overnight and started mothering Sekhar, looking after all his needs just as their mother did. Sekhar, in turn, was grateful that his sister quickly filled the vacuum left by his mother. Life slowly returned to a level of normalcy, though nowhere near the happy days of the past.

Shanthi was basically a plain looking girl. She was short at 5'1". Her breasts were small, waist was slim and her behind was compact. She had a nice face that was more oval than rounded and looked nice when she smiled. But the problem was she rarely smiled. Though she was twenty three, due to strict upbringing and her own intrinsic fears, she kept away from boys and sex.

Her sexual desires were normal and occasionally she masturbated in the safe privacy of her bathroom after much deliberation and preparation. It was rarely satisfying except releasing some pressure and she remained basically a 'repressed woman.'

In the past she had always confined herself to her room and rarely went to her brother's room. But now, in her new role, she spent some time in her brother's room, tidying it up daily. She became aware of his clothes, his shoes, his books and umpteen other things. She loved the masculine feel of all those things.

One day, when Sekhar was away, she set about tidying up his room. While properly arranging his pressed clothes in his wardrobe, she came across the drawers where he kept his underwear and bunions. All of them were Jockey brand and mostly white; a few colored. Suddenly she felt the urge to take a Jockey short in her hand and feel it.

Before she realized it, her hands took possession of one of her brother's Jockey briefs and started caressing it. Her breath quickened and she felt her blood rushing. Her fingers were frantic now and they found the opening in the shorts front. Shutting her eyes tightly, she pushed her fingers into the opening, imagining what lay behind when her brother wore it.

She felt her own heat emanating between her legs and the feeling of wetness there. Involuntarily, her hands, still holding the shorts, moved to the junction of her thighs. As she pressed his shorts against her mound through all those layers of clothing, a deep sigh escaped her.

With a quick move she reached under her sari and petticoat and pushed the jockey short of her brother against her own cotton panties and started rubbing it. She was literally crying now with the pleasure and passion, in throes of an impending orgasm. Fortunately for her, no one was at home except the old lady in down stairs kitchen, the one who could hardly hear. Any case, Shanthi was past caring.

Quickly she pushed the jockey short, by now a ball, under the side of her panties and directly on to her virginal pussy. Crying with passion, she rubbed it vigorously on her wet nether lips and her clitoris, visualizing for the first time her brother's cock in her hands. Her whole body shook with a mammoth orgasm and she reeled under its intensity and fell flat on her brother's bed.

For the rest of the day, Shanthi was greatly disturbed and agitated. Her upbringing and all the morals drilled into her by her conservative mother told her in no uncertain terms that she sinned; sinned badly. It was bad enough to masturbate, but to entertain such incestuous thoughts about her younger brother was a much bigger sin, her conscience told her. The feeling of guilt welled up.

On the other hand, she had experienced the biggest orgasm of her life thus far and she could feel the aftershocks for a long time. It was such a sweet experience and pleasure that her body kept longing for an encore since then. With such clashing thoughts, Shanthi went through the day as if in a daze.

That night she tossed in her bed a long time. Finally, she succumbed to the demands of her body and did something that was unthinkable previously.

First of all she shut the door to her bedroom and bolted it from inside. She removed all her clothes and stood in front of her mirror. Earlier in the day, she had carefully washed and dried her brother's jockey short and hidden it in her wardrobe along with a white bunion of his. She was sure that her brother wouldn't miss them because he had so many of them.

Standing in front of the mirror she examined her breasts. They were small but firm and well shaped. Her aureole was the size of a rupee coin and her small nipples were soft and pink. She took her brother's bunion and held it upright in her hands, its front facing her. Slowly she brought the cotton bunion to her naked breasts and started massaging them slowly with it.

Shutting her eyes, she visualized her brother's broad and manly chest with its sparse hair rubbing against her small breasts. She felt her nipples stiffen, lengthen and harden. She started tweaking them lightly with her brother's bunion using her own thumb and forefinger. Her left hand stayed there massaging her tits by rote while her right hand moved on.

Putting her right palm on the underside of his Jockey brief's opening, she started rubbing it on her young shaven pussy. Her pink lips quivered at the touch and opened shyly at the tender and caring rub. Shanthi's breathe quickened and so did her pulse. Looking into the mirror, she slowly pushed her three fingers bunched together, through the short's opening, simulating an erect male penis.

As here bunched fingers reached the pink opening of her pussy lips, Shanthi's thoughts were full of Sekhar's young and erect cock that she had never seen. It was his cock that was now entering her virginal cunt, she thought, as she whimpered and moaned with desire. She quickly fell on to her bed on her back.

Opening her slim legs wide apart, she pushed her fingers deep into her tight, squishy cunt and wiggled them with a hunger, hither to unknown. Softly, she moaned, "Fuck me Sekhar, my dearest brother and my lover. Fuck me with your big cock, please."

She cried out loud, muffling the noise against the pillow, as her body shuddered and shook with spasms, as a massive orgasm literally flooded her young cunt. She lost all her senses for a couple of minutes and drifted into oblivion.

She got up a little later and went to the bathroom, cleaned up and then put on her nightie. When she went to bed, she felt very relaxed and satisfied. She realized that her new found fetish has greatly enhanced her pleasure and she would continue doing it. She drifted into sleep soon.

Over the next few days Shanthi changed subtly. Both her father and brother noted that she had mellowed and lost here 'severe' look. Her face became softer and thus more beautiful. Even her speech became softer and she no longer argued or spoke harshly. Both men attributed these changes to her changed role as the woman of the house.

Shanthi was very careful with her brother. She kept on telling herself that she would keep her fetish, her incestuous thoughts and her fantasies to herself and would never let her brother even suspect about them. That would be unthinkable! It is one thing to sin with her mind but an entirely different thing to sin with her body! She would never do it.

However, her fondness for her brother increased by leaps and bounds. She literally doted on him. She made sure that all his needs were met and his life at home was as comfortable as possible. She took care of everything for him; his clothes, books, food and money. So much so, he became totally dependent on her and she loved it.

From the morning till night, he would call out her name 'Shanthi' a hundred times and it was music to her ears.

Slowly and without really meaning to, she started touching him, a little more. Her hands would brush against his and every touch sent a tiny shock into her. She would shake his hand or pat his cheek or back...all innocent looking gestures, but she knew in her heart they were sexual.

And she tried to see more of his body without being obvious. Once when he changed a shirt she looked at his naked chest, broad with sparse hairs and his male nipples proud. She felt a very strong urge to touch and caress that chest with her loving hands and fingers and pull at those hairs and nipples. Those mere thoughts made her wet between her legs.

One day when she walked in, he was in his briefs about to put on his trousers. Without being obvious, she looked at his bulge and went very weak in her knees. She always knew her brother was a healthy and good looking male but now, for the first time, she realized that he was well endowed and the bulge that his manhood made was quite big indeed.

That night she went literally wild in her bed. Just closing her eyes and thinking of his big bulge she fingered herself to multiple orgasms. It was also the first time she seriously thought of getting fucked by Sekhar, morals be damned. Her mind fantasized about her brother taking her in various positions with gay abandon.

Thus her life had changed substantially in the few months that elapsed since her mother died and the main cause for this, Sekhar himself, was totally unaware of this!

One day, her uncle (father's younger brother), aunt and grandmother came visiting them. That evening the two brothers went out and the two older ladies sat with Shanthi and Sekhar. When the aunt started speaking, it became obvious that there was more to this visit than what they thought.

Without mincing words, her aunt said that they were all of the opinion that Ranganath should marry again. He was only forty five and has a lot of life before him. The home needs a woman and he needs a wife to take care of him and his children.

Shanthi quickly retorted. "I am taking good care of the home and my father and brother are happy with it. You could ask them."

"And what would they do when you get married soon and go away?" Her aunt shot back.

Her grandmother intervened and pleaded in her soft voice with mature logic. Shanthi would get married and go away soon to make her own home. Sekhar is too young now and would get married only after 7,8 years. Even then, he would probably go abroad or work elsewhere. So what happens to Ranganath?

The discussions went on and on. It was apparent that the visitors came fully prepared to convince everyone.

Shanthi did most of the questioning and reacting and Sekhar was mostly silent. He just listened and didn't say anything for a long time. Shanthi wondered why he reacted thus.

Finally he posed a single question to his grandmother.

"What does father want? Does he want to marry again?"

"He hasn't decided yet. He told us that if at all he marries again, it would be only with the total consent of his grown up children." Grandma replied.

The men returned and there was no further discussion.

Later that night, Shanthi was agitated and couldn't sleep. She went to Sekhar's room and knocked. He opened the door and let her in, not surprised really.

The sat quietly for a few moments, not sure about what to say.

"I don't like the idea of another woman taking the place of our mother." Shathi said.

"Sis, I know how you feel. I too felt that way, initially. But what grandma says also makes sense. Don't you think so?" He asked hesitantly.

"I don't know. I am confused." Shanthi started crying softly.

Sekhar put his hand around her and pulled her a little closer to comfort her.

"Don't cry sis, it is all for the good. We have each other and we are together."

Shanthi forgot all her misery. She was only conscious of one thing...their proximity. Her cheek was resting on his broad chest, his strong arm holding her and his strong bicep touching her arm. She felt the heat of his young body and his over powering masculinity and moved a little closer, her thigh touching his.

As she closed her eyes, Sekhar thought his sister was in deep thought and didn't want to disturb her. He sat quietly, even as his right hand dropped and his palm rested on the bed brushing her right thigh. For the first time ever, he became conscious about their physical proximity and realized with a shock that he liked it. As if in reflex and guilt, he moved a little away.

Shanthi sensed it too and opened her eyes. She felt that a new bond, a much stronger one, has been established between them.

"So, you feel that we should say yes to the proposal?" She asked him softly.

"Yes, sis and you could tell them on behalf of both of us. You are the big sis." He said fondly.

"Yes, I am and don't forget that." She kissed him lightly on his cheek and got up.

"Thanks, Sis." He too got up and gave her a loose hug that sent sparks down her back.

Things moved quickly after that and a couple of months later Ranganath married Smitha in a simple ceremony that was attended by his children and close relatives.

Smitha was a thirty year old woman from a respectable but poor family from a small town. Though she couldn't attend a college because her family couldn't afford it, she managed to study privately at home courtesy distant education and passed her degree in Arts.

As she was well past the average age at which a girl married in their community, her parents were more than happy when Ranganath's brother came up with the proposal.

Smitha was everything that Shanthi was not. She was taller at 5'4" and healthy looking. She had nice big breasts that bounced and stood proud; the kind that instantly attracted men. She had an attractive waist and a nice, shapely behind with big and prominent buttocks.

More than anything, it was her smiling face that was her best feature and the reason everyone called her beautiful. She had a soft, musical voice too.

Ranganath was naturally besotted with his young wife. Shanthi was very jealous of her step mom and hated her. Sekhar accepted her as his father's wife; neither liking nor hating her.

He kept an open mind.

Once Smitha came home the old lady who cooked left. Smitha took charge of the household and Shanthi surrendered the charge to her, a little reluctantly. But she was relived in a way because she could now revert back to her studies and other activities, more actively.

In one month's time, Smitha proved that she was an extremely competent and capable home maker. It was obvious to everyone that she was a gold mine. She was an excellent cook, organized and ran the home very well. She kept everyone happy.

Even Shanthi admitted to herself, grudgingly, this. But her own ego and sense of insecurity, kept her hostility towards Smitha alive.

That was not the case with Sekhar. He appreciated Smitha's efforts and contribution. He loved her cooking and praised her. He called her 'aunty' and his show of respect and affection for 'Smitha aunty' was genuine and spontaneous. Ranganath liked this very much and was happy.

Shanthi however reacted in a different way. Though she had to accept Smitha, she never acknowledged, let alone appreciated her. She was already jealous of her beauty, good looks and her culinary and other skills. But her brother Sekhar praising her and eating out of his 'Smitha Aunty's' hand was the proverbial last straw.

She decided to fight this and win back her brother and his affection. She thought hard about this and made her own plans.

That night when everyone retired to bed and all was quite, she went to Sekhar's room and knocked. He was in his pajamas and reading a book in bed.

"I am unable to sleep and feeling depressed. Can I disturb you for a while?" She asked.

"Of course, come along." He moved aside a little making room for her to sit.

Shanthi sat down to his right, her right hip brushing against his tummy/ waist.

"I am missing our mother very much and feeling lonely, I have been unable to sleep well last few nights." Her eyes welled up with tears and her voice broke.

"Oh, Sis, take it easy please. Don't cry. I know how you feel, my poor sis!" He tried to comfort her with words.

She hugged him and rested her face against his chest, tears streaming down. Her slender arms went around him. It was natural for him to try and comfort her and provide solace.

He hugged her tightly and she felt her small breasts squash against his chest. She felt a stirring and a fire starting in her loins.

"Can I sleep here for a while please, brother?" her voice was pleading.

"Of course, sis, as long as you like."

She lay down timidly next to him, turned towards him, her left cheek resting on his right arm and bicep. Her right arm rested loosely on his waist. His left hand was lying limp on his side.

"Please hold me, brother." She whispered softly.