Room No. 69


This real life experience happened to me three years ago. At that time I had just started working in a shoe-making factory in Tamilnadu, as an accountant. I was twenty-four, unmarried, and had no experience in matters of sex, whatsoever. I mean, I used to think about having sex and I used to masturbate. But I had never had any real experience with a woman. For one thing, I was shy. Another, I abhorred the very thought of having sex with a prostitute. But sexual desire in me was there in plenty. I was masturbating almost every night, and I was also wondering if that was affecting my health adversely.

I was a friendly guy at my workplace. Everyone liked me because I had a good sense of humor. I was from Kerala and I was not able to speak Tamil well. But I was picking up fast. There was one other malayalee in our company, a boy of nineteen named Shiju. He ran errands and did odd jobs. He was of a poor background. He was not a talkative person. And, even though we belonged to the same state, we were not friends in the real sense. We knew each other, that’s all. From my side, I had never let him feel that I was keeping a distance from him because of our positions, me an accountant and him a mere labourer in the factory. The fact was that he was not friendly with anyone. He was an aloof sort of creature.

When Onam came I asked permission from my boss to go to Kerala. He was reluctant at first, since it was a new factory and work was going on in full swing, but seeing that I was already home-sick from being away from my hometown for a long time, he granted me a leave of five days.

So I got ready to go to Palakkad, the district to which I belonged. I was to leave by the six o’clock bus in the evening and catch the Trivandrum mail at Katpadi railway station in the middle of the night.

While I was hurriedly doing the packing, Shiju came to my room. He too had asked for leave, but the boss had declined straight away.

“What is the matter, Shiju?” I asked. “Want me to bring you something?”

“No,” he replied. But by the expression on his face I understood that he wanted something from me. It was usually money. He used to borrow small amounts from me when he had to urgently send money to his home.

He said now, “Will you do me a favor, sar?”

“Name it, Shiju,” I said benevolently.

“Sar, if I had got this leave for Onam I was planning to bring my mother here.”

“Your mother? Here? Why”

“Family problems, sar. Ever since my sister has got married my poor mother is not getting any peace of mind at home. She is not at all treated nicely. Her daughter and son-in-law want to drive her out of the house.”

“Oh. But, Shiju, where will you keep her here? In your room? It is so small and you are sharing it with someone?”

“That person is about to move. And I am sure that we will manage, sar.” He waited a few seconds. Then he said, “If sar don’t mind, can my mother accompany you when you are coming back here? She is a village woman, sar, and has not seen much of the outside world.”

I thought about it. I had no problem with that. “Where will she board the train?” I asked.

“At Palakkad Junction itself. I will convey the message to her through telephone that she is to meet you at the station.”

“All right, Shiju.”

So I went home for Onam and spent the festive occasion with my parents at their house. My elder sister and her family also came there. It was a nice experience. I forgot all about Shiju and his mother and remembered about them only when my leave was over and I was getting ready to go to Palakkad railway station.

I wondered then how I was going to recognize Shiju’s amma. She should be about forty or forty-five, I thought. But how would I recognize her. Palakkad railway station is crowded most of the time.

But still, I was able to locate Shiju’s amma without difficulty. Or, to be more exact, she spotted me.

Her daughter and son-in-law had come with her to see her off. They had together reached the railway station early in the evening, after a long bus-ride of three hours from their village. She had seen me standing on the platform and had pointed me out to the son-in-law, who had then come up to me and asked me whether I was Anandan Menon of the Duro Shoe Factory.

I asked Shiju’s mother (her name was Padma) how she was able to recognize me.

“Shiju gave me a good description of you, sar?” She replied.

I looked at her and my very first thought was that she did not at all look like Shiju. Shiju was dark and lean. She was a fair-complexioned woman and looked healthy. She seemed to be around thirty-five, but she could have been older. Her skin had a healthy shine to it and perhaps that was making her look younger. I gently asked her not to call me ‘sar’.

“Call me Nandu, Amma,” I told her. “Everyone at my home calls me Nandu.” At which she smiled, a good-natured smile. But she did not stop calling me ‘sar’, which I found somewhat embarrassing.

I noticed that all three of them were wearing mecidiyeköy escort sandalwood-paste marks on their forehead. “Oh, I see that you have been to the temple,” I said. There was a small but famous temple close to the railway station. They all nodded with a smile.

A moment later, the daughter and son-in-law left the place without even saying a proper goodbye. I guessed that they were too eager to get rid of Padma. I noticed that she was hurt by their conduct, and she did her best to hide it from me.

We sat down on a bench and did not talk much. It started raining and the platform became a crowded place.

Our train came at nine. We boarded it in the general compartment and, though it was packed, we were lucky to find a place to sit. She was reluctant to sit next to me at first and I had to ask her a couple of times to take her seat before it was occupied by someone else. She sat down and fell asleep very quickly, unknowingly resting her head on my shoulder. Maybe the bus journey in the evening had been very tiring.

I was afraid of sleeping because we would reach Katpadi somewhere in the middle of the night or in the early morning. And I did not want to miss that. I had to positively reach my workplace the next day. So I tried my best to keep awake. But I dozed off after a while and woke up only when someone cried out that the train had reached Katpadi.

I hurriedly woke up Shiju’s amma and we got down just in time.

I looked at my watch. It was five o’clock in the morning. The train was a bit late. We started to go out of the station. I was hoping to find a taxi outside. Buses would not start running until it was eight.

Imagine my dismay when I learnt from the station-master that there would be no taxi or buses plying that day because of a twenty-four hours Tamil Nadu bandh called by a political party in the wake of some communal riots in certain parts!

“Tell me, is there no way we can find a taxi?” I asked him.

“Not even if the gods ask,” he replied with a smile. I thought about it. It was a four-hour bus journey from Katpadi to my place of work. So walking that long distance was simply out of question.

“What shall we do, sar?” Shiju’s mother asked me gently in a concerned voice.

“Don’t worry, amma. We will find a way.”

I asked the station-master if we could stay in the waiting-room of the station until the bandh was over. He told me that we could, but that it was not at all safe so he would not recommend it. Then I asked him if there was a lodge nearby. He aid that there was one. But he was afraid that it would not contain any vacant rooms. The bandh had been a surprise for many people who had got down at that station.

Anyway, I and Shiju’s mother went to this lodge, a dilapidated two-storey building and met the person who worked as the receptionist. And he said that there was just one room vacant, but it was too small for two people to stay.

“There is no bigger room?” I asked. He shook his head.

He said, “But you both will be able to adjust, since you are only mother and son. It is better for you to take it, sar, since it is the last. Today everything will be shutdown and no vehicles will run. It is better to stay indoors today.”

I and Padma exchanged smiles when the receptionist called us mother and son.

I took the room. The was no other option but to take it. The receptionist gave me the key and directed us to go up a narrow flight of stairs, to the very end of a dark corridor having a row of tiny rooms. Room No.69.

Before we went to our room I used the telephone at the reception desk to call my boss and tell him about the situation. He was sympathetic and told me that he was aware of the bandh and since it was an unforeseen event he could extend my leave for one more day.

The room was no bigger than a bathroom. Infact, it was so small that it could have been easily istaken for a cupboard. Somehow a tiny bed had been squeezed into it. It had a small mirror on the wall and a tiny window with a single shutter. There was a dirty-looking wash-basin fitted under the mirror.

I looked at the room and wondered how we were going to adjust there. Shiju’s mother read my thoughts and she suddenly suggested that she could stay out in the corridor since it would be difficult for both of us to adjust in that tiny room.

In the corridor? I quickly smiled and said that there was no need of doing that, that it was alright, that somehow we should be able to manage.

We put our things under the bed.

The room did not obviously have an attached toilet or bathroom. We would have to use the combined toilets and bathrooms at the other end of the corridor.

I undid the bolts of the small window and pushed the shutter open. Immediately, I closed it again because an unbearable stench entered the room through the window.

“Ugh! It is so awful!” I exclaimed.

I peeped out through the dusty glass merter escort of the window and saw that the area below, which was actually the backyard of the lodge, was being used as a garbage dumping ground.

“The place is full of garbage. We cannot open this window. I’ll report it to the receptionist.”

I looked at her. She looked very tired.

“Amma, do you want to use the toilet?” I asked her. She shook her head.

She looked nervous and worried, a rustic woman, getting a rough taste of the outside world. I put a hand on her shoulder and gently told her that there was no need to worry. She smiled briefly.

I asked her to lie on the bed and rest while I went to the toilet to freshen up. She told me that it was okay, that she was not tired. But her face told me otherwise.

“Amma,” I told her, “Treat me like your own son. I have a mother just like you at my home in Palakkad. So don’t be shy before me, okay.” She smiled and nodded. She seemed to relax a bit now. But she told me that she would not use the bed, that she would lie on the floor.

“Why? No, amma,” I said. “You lie on the bed. I will lie on the floor.”

When she heard this tears rose up in her eyes. She said, “You are a very good man, sar. I wish my son-in-law was half as good as you. No, let me sleep on the floor. I am used to sleeping on the floor.”

I felt sad when I heard that. My eyes also welled up and I said, “Then I won’t use the cot, too. I will lie with you on the floor.”

I had said that with the best of intentions. She looked at me and it took me a second to realise what I had just blurted out. We both tried to laugh it away.

“No, I will not use the bed,” she said, smiling, with a firm shake of her head. I realized that it was futile to argue with her on this matter.

“Okay,” I said. “But use the bed now, since it is free at the moment.” She nodded, but still looked reluctant.

The receptionist appeared at the doorway and announced that if we required breakfast and lunch he could supply it from a nearby restaurant. The restaurant was shut, but its kitchen was open. So I ordered some idlis and dosas and tea. I also complained to him about the foul smell. He said that he would do something about it and left.

I took out my toilet items and sped out of the room. Just as I had expected, the bathroom was no better. It looked like it had not been cleaned for a year. I took a bath and returned fifteen minutes later.

I found that the door of our room was bolted from inside. I knocked lightly and she said from inside, “Just a moment, sar.”

When she opened the door a minute later I noticed that she had changed her clothes. She was now in a yellow sari with maroon border. The sari looked old and faded. She probably wore it at home. She was getting ready for her stay in the lodge.

She told me that the food had come. I asked her then why she did not start eating and she said that she wanted to wait until I returned.

“Shall I arrange the food for you?” she asked me.

“No,” I said with a wink. “You waited for me. I’ll do the same for you.”

She smiled and went to the bathroom for a quick freshening up, And then we had our breakfast together, sitting on the small bed.

She now started asking me questions about my family. She asked me whether I was married. I said no. She asked me about how Shiju was doing at the workplace. I answered all her questions gently. Evidently, she had grown to like me. But that was not a new thing. Everybody who got to know me liked me.

From her words I came gathered that Shiju had already told her many things about me and my work at the factory. Thus we sat talking until we had finished all the idlis and dosas. Then she got up to wash her hand.

As she stepped towards the wash-basin, turning her back to me, I saw that a bit of her sari had got trapped in the crack of her bottom. Even as I watched she brought her hand behind her and gently smoothened the folds. Then she saw me looking at her through the corner of her eye and all my blood rushed to my face. To hide my embarrassment I started looking for my chappals under the bed. After washing her hands she gathered the used banana leaves (these were used instead of plates), rolled them into a ball and tossed it out of the window.

After that we decided to sleep, since we were both tired. She took out an old bedsheet from her bag and spread it on the floor. I shut and bolted the door. She laid down on the floor.

I once again asked her to use the bed while I slept on the floor. She declined.

I laid down on the bed. It was a small bed, but it had a thick and soft mattress. I looked at her. She was lying with her back to me. Above us, a small but noisy ceiling-fan was whirring away, providing some relief from the heat. It was only seven, but it was getting hot.

“Tell me about your village,” I said to her, hoping that she would turn around and then we would make conversation mutlukent escort until we felt sleepy. She did not respond. She was already asleep.

It was true that both of us had slept on and off on the train during the night. But I think that that had actually made us more tired. I yawned and closed my eyes. Soon, I too slept.

I woke up suddenly at around eleven. The sun was high up in the sky and a bright light was coming into the room through the small window. Sunlight was falling directly on my face. The power supply had gone and the old, dirty-looking ceiling-fan had stopped working. The heat was intense. And why not? The only door and window of the room were shut. I was simply bathing in sweat.

I started to turn over on my side, and then I froze when I looked at Shiju’s mother.

She was asleep. I could hear her gentle snoring. She was still lying on her side with her back to me. Just like me, she was perspiring heavily. The faded yellow sari she was wearing had become quite disorderly. I don’t know how, but her sari and her petticoat had moved a long way up from its position at her feet, and her legs were bare almost up to the thighs. It was probably the heat. In her sleep she must have kicked at her sari.

I looked away the moment my eyes fell on her bare legs. But when I realized that she was fast asleep, I let my eyes slowly return and rest on them.

And my heart began to beat wildly.

I remembered how earlier when she had got up from the bed to go to wash-basin her sari had got caught in the crack of her ass. While she was washing her hands at the wash-basin she had stood still in a rather self-conscious manner. She was probably thinking that I was looking at her. And I was! I remembered how I had nervously glanced at her ass several times. Shiju’s mother was a shapely woman. As I said, she was healthy looking and had an attractive face which men would not mind giving a second look. But the features that stood out prominently – quite prominently – on her person were her tits and her ass. Her tits were big. Oversized, actually. But for a woman of forty they were quite firm and well rounded. And, her ass. A more shapely ass I had not set my eyes upon. It was big. Enormous, actually. But not misshapen. Far from that, the cheeks of her ass were firm and were the shapes of bubbles. I guess she had what you would call bubble-butts. Ever since I had met her my eyes had been inadvertently moving to her ass. I had watched, albeit unconsciously, how the cheeks of her great ass moved when she walked, one jerking up and the other down, and vice versa. And, at least twice, she had caught me looking at what I had been looking at. I tell you, this woman was well stacked.

And, now, I was finding myself quite unable to take my eyes off her bare legs. The way she was lying was making her large hip stand out quite prominently. I found myself slowly sidling to the edge of the bed to have a closer look. And my heart kept on beating like a bass drum in my chest. Her sari was half-way up her fat, round, milk-white thighs. I saw that her thighs were sweaty. Sweat-beads were rolling down her soft skin and trickling down on the bed-cover on which she was lying. Shiju’

s mother wore her sari in an unusual manner. She wrapped the pallu around her torso like a shawl. I had been noticing that ever since I saw her yesterday.

And she had a good reason for doing so.

She had amazingly large tits.

The first thing any man would notice about her would be her large tits. And she was in the habit of covering her torso completely with her sari in order to make their bulkiness less obvious to prying eyes. She was a big woman and this style lend her a little grace too when she walked.

In sharp contrast, now her sari was not covering even an inch of her upper body. Heavy perspiration had made her white blouse totally wet. The skin of her back was showing through the thin material of it. And she was not wearing a bra. But that was hardly surprising, because village women were not in the habit of wearing one. Her back was towards me, and even from where I was lying, I could see a significant portion of one of her big, round tits. They must be heavy. She had put them on the floor, one tit positioned on top of the other. I could see that a lot of her top tit was popping out of the neckline of her blouse.

Even as I watched, she moved her legs and torso and laid down in an almost face-down position. Her sari moved up a little more around her thighs.

Oh, god! What am I looking at!

She had large thighs which matched her bountiful ass. I looked at her bare waist. It was fairer than the rest of her and the ample flesh there was doubled up in a very sensuous manner. The folds of her flesh was making a lovely crevice there through which her sweat was trickling and rolling down her back.

How would her bare ass look? I found myself wondering.

Now I had a great longing to see her bare ass.

My cock was already erect and I was feeling uncomfortable. I put my hand into my lungi and underwear and adjusted the position of my boy. And, instead of pulling my hand out, I kept it there and began to slowly stroke my cock, keeping my eyes fixed on her sexy thighs. And I kept wondering how her enormous ass would look bare. After some time, the thought of her bare ass simply began to drive me crazy.

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