The Mark of Danteshwari

Well, now for some completely different! I have always enjoyed stories from our fellow writers from India, especially those who have approached incest from almost a mystical/religious aspect. It has long been on my mind to create a story in homage and appreciation to our Indian writers. Finally, here it is. I hope it is enjoyed and that I haven't trampled on anyone's faith. I'm sure it is rife with geographical and theological errors and I pray I haven't offended anyone. I look forward to everyone's comments. Enjoy!

Oh, and as always, this is a work of fiction. All characters exist only in my imagination and any coincidence is purely accidental.

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BEHOLD — YOU ARE THE CHOSEN OF DANTESHWARI. EMBRACE THE BLESSINGS AND THE REBIRTH SHE OFFERS YOU NOW. OPEN YOUR HEART AND NOW LOVE FOR ALL ETERNITY. ACCEPT THE SACRED GIFTS OF LOVE AND FAMILY AND BE AS ONE. YOU ARE THE BLESSED OF DANTESHWARI!

The words are spoken by a voice so beautiful, it almost makes one weep with joy to hear it. I am in a warm, safe place. Mist seems to roil around me, but there is a presence — someone standing before me. I am in a prone position and I suddenly realize that I am terribly aroused. Between my legs, I am moist and feverish. It is all I can do to not fling my pelvis upwards, seeking something to bring me relief. I am wearing a gauzy material wrapped around me, but allowing me to reveal my nakedness beneath and to show my sex, flowered and glistening, ready for love.

A shadowy body moves in the mist. I suddenly see a cock, long and thick, beautiful to behold. I look up, but I do not see a face. Still, I want him — I want it. I offer myself up to him, thrusting my pubic mound forward, suddenly aching to have him. I squint, seeking his face as that lovely cock comes closer and closer. Scant inches away I can feel his need, his desire, his heat mixing with mine to become a fiery blaze. The words come again, "ACCEPT THE SACRED GIFTS OF LOVE AND FAMILY AND BE AS ONE. YOU ARE THE BLESSED OF DANTESHWARI!" I can almost feel the head of the cock beginning to brush my slick labia and…

I sit upright in my bed, my heart is pounding and I can scarcely breathe. "Noooo," I sigh. I look around and I can see Joseph asleep under the sheet next to me. It is a hot night and I can feel the humid air wrap around me like a thick, sodden blanket. I can hear animal and insect noises coming from the forest. I realize that I am very horny. The ache between my legs is almost unbearable. That was such a weird dream! I have never had such an erotic dream — so intense and so real!

I turn and cuddle up to my husband. I kiss the nape of his neck and as I whisper, "Joseph, love me. I need you to love me," I drape my arm over his body and slip my fingers into his underwear. I wrap my hand around his cock and stroke it gently. "Wake up and love me, honey."

My husband swims up out of sleep and makes a 'Hurumph' noise and pushes my arm away from him. "Darling, please — I want you to make love to me," I say, hating to hear the pleading in my voice.

"Christine, it's the middle of the night," My husband growls in a sleepy voice. "You're too old for such foolishness. I've got to be up early for goodness sakes." He scoots away from me and burrows his head deeper in the pillows. For a moment, I want to argue with him, but I open and then close my mouth. I try and ignore the hurt I feel and I quietly slip out of bed and pad quietly out of the room and down to the bathroom.

There is a window in there that I have often found myself standing at in the early hours just before sunrise. When the dawn comes, the sun begins to illuminate the forest — jungle really, that surrounds our village. It is beautiful and it is at that those moments than I am truly glad to be in India.

Joseph and I are missionaries. We've been in India for almost fifteen years. We have lived and worked in this small village in the Bastar District in the state of Chhattisgavh. For Joseph, it is his calling — his work, although I don't he's ever been truly happy here. He has had little success in converting the local peoples, although they tolerate his efforts very politely and patiently. Our son, Jeff has lived here since he was three years old. It is really the only world he has ever known and he tells me he wants to live here forever, despite the attractions and bright lights of America that he knows of from our periodic visits home.

I run a school here. There has been some friction between Joseph and me for a long time in that while his church has languished, my school has thrived. Over the years, I know that I've helped pave the way for many a child from our village to lead a better life.

And over the years, I have come to love India. In truth, although I sometimes get homesick for the United States, like my son, I too believe I could live out my life here. There is something magical and powerful about this land — something ancient and majestic that calls out to me, that has captured my heart. I was raised a Christian and still believe in God, but I quickly became enraptured in this place where religious toleration is so vital to much of its culture. Its easy acceptance of polytheism has entranced me — there is room for my God, but room for so much else as well.

My life would be a very good one except that my marriage to Joseph has turned to ashes over the years we have lived here. My husband was once a passionate lover and we enjoyed each other's company for many years, but as India seemed to awaken and expand my reality, Joseph seems to have shrunk in body and in spirit. I cannot honestly recall the last time we made love — honest, true passionate love.

Still, as barren as that part of my life is, I feel fortunate. I have a wonderful, healthy son who has a good heart, I have my school and I have made many friends here in the village. My roots have sunk deep here. The villagers take me as one of their own, accepting this blonde, forty-six year old woman as if I were born here.

As I watch the dawn approach, my mind again turns to my erotic dream and to that perfectly formed cock. Just picturing it in my mind makes me wet between my legs. Standing beside the window, I slip my fingers through the waistband of my panties and into my furry bush, finding my slippery labia lips and spreading them apart.

As I have done many times in the years since Joseph misplaced his ardor, I begin to masturbate, imagining that long, thick penis inside me, fucking me, making me moan! I plunge fingers in and out of my pussy, clinging to the window sill with my other hand. As the heat of pleasure grows between my legs, I let my imagination build a body around that hard penis. It is muscular, a young man's body, strong — capable of taking control of me, mastering me, making me — yes, making me orgasm!

I try and stifle my cries of pleasure as I begin to tremble, two fingers plunged deep in my pussy while my thumb feathers over my engorged clitoris, fanning the flames and taking me over the edge. I close my eyes, seeing myself kissing that young man's chest, licking his nipples as he makes me cum, filling me with his fiery seed. He seems so familiar.

I come abruptly out of my fantasy as I hear the jangling of my son's old fashioned alarm clock. The quiet time is over. Day has begun. I am trembling as I climb into our shower, flickers of pleasure running through me as my orgasm tries to outlast its stay.

Even a quick, cool dousing doesn't end my naughty thoughts. Masturbating has done nothing to quell my desire for a man's cock — for my dream lover's cock. All through breakfast and as Jeff and I walk to school, my dream stays with me. As I teach English and Science to my young students, my mind wanders back to my dream and that lovely, long penis. By the time I get home and begin to cook dinner, my panties are a sodden mess. When I climb into bed, Joseph already asleep and snoring away, I find myself hoping against hope to have the dream again. Wouldn't that be wonderful, I think to myself, knowing full well that it won't happen.

I discover that sometimes wishes come true. I discover that sometimes a fulfilled wish is a curse.

BEHOLD — YOU ARE THE CHOSEN OF DANTESHWARI. EMBRACE THE BLESSINGS AND THE REBIRTH SHE OFFERS YOU NOW. OPEN YOUR HEART AND NOW LOVE FOR ALL ETERNITY. ACCEPT THE SACRED GIFTS OF LOVE AND FAMILY AND BE AS ONE. YOU ARE THE BLESSED OF DANTESHWARI!"

The words are spoken by a feminine voice that seems so powerful and lovely and erotic, it would arouse anyone, male or female. Again, I am in a warm, safe place. Mist roils around me, but I sense a presence — he is standing before me. I am prone and terrible aroused. I need to spread my legs and find a way to soothe the fire between my legs, but I am paralyzed. I cannot move. Something moves in the mists. I see him, face still in shadow. I see his cock, so huge and swollen and suddenly I can move. The silky material of my sari falls away as I open my thighs, revealing my wet cunt, labia flowered in a thick mat of brownish-blonde pubic hair. I want him — I want his cock. I offer myself up to him, thrusting my pubic mound upwards until my wet, slick flesh brushes the crown of his penis, submitting myself to him. Her voice speaks again. "ACCEPT THE SACRED GIFTS OF LOVE AND FAMILY AND BE AS ONE. YOU ARE THE BLESSED OF DANTESHWAR!" It is time. My body strains to reach him, to envelope his erect dick. I need it as I have never needed something before. I feel his cock begin to sink into my flesh and…

I am awake, sitting up in bed, my straining arms reaching out…to nothing. "Nooo, please, God, noooo — bring it back!" I whimper. My entire body is trembling with need. My nipples are erect, pressing against the cotton of my nightdress, my panties are soaking wet. I am sweating — not because the night is hot and humid, but because of my arousal. I know that it is fuck sweat that trickles down between my heaving breasts.

I glance at Joseph, stirring and mumbling, "Will you settle down, woman? Go to sleep," before drifting back into slumber. I slip from the bed and strip the sticky, wet clothes from my body, letting the night dress and panties fall to the floor. I move quietly down the hall to the bathroom and closing the door, I turn on the light. With shaky hands, I get a drink of water and then consider my image in the mirror.

The eyes of a mad woman look back at me. I have now had the dream for thirty nights in a row — a month of being so close to having my dream lover, to being fulfilled, but always in the end, interrupted. I masturbate every morning, but it does not sate my desire — my hunger, I am still in need of satisfaction. I want, no, need that cock. I know that in my heart. Until my dream lover can complete our act of love, I am left bereft and aching.

For the first time in my life, I fear I am losing my mind. This dream occupies my thoughts night and day. Each night I pray for the dream to continue to completion or to vanish and never plague me again. I do not know how much longer I can continue. I cannot make heads or tails of this.

I gaze into the mirror at myself and wonder why I can't make my husband love me. I don't think I'm unattractive — at least for a forty-six year old woman. Hard work and the heat of this region have kept the weight off me. As I look at my reflection, I have to smile. I have a 40DD-28-36 figure that works well for my height of five foot, eight inches. I have a little pooch to my stomach left over from having my son, but otherwise, my body is pretty firm. My breasts sag a little from gravity, but are still full and attractive. Blonde hair, blue eyes and tanned skin make me attractive, I think. I have great legs, well muscled and smooth. I don't why I am unattractive to my husband. I often think he construes religious virtue with celibacy.

Now I wonder if his neglect has manifested into some sort of mid life crisis for me — that I am now slipping into madness with these dreams. As I stare at myself, again, my fingers find their way into my pussy, rubbing and thrusting hungrily into my wetness. My free hand cups one of my heavy breasts, stroking and pinching my hard nipple. I can almost feel my dream lover — his hands on me, his cock inside me, his mouth on my breast. In the mirror, I imagine him standing in front of me, fucking me as my legs are wrapped around his waist. I feel his mouth on my breast, sucking and biting my hard nipples, biting them as I run my hands through his blonde hair…

I open my eyes. "Blond hair?" I whisper aloud. I wobble — a little off balance, my head swimming with need. I haven't seen my dream lover's face. I wonder where I got the blonde hair from. I stand there in a daze for I don't know how long. Then I hear Jeff's clock go off and it is time for the real day to begin.

I shower and get ready to go to school. I fix Jeff breakfast and can't help but smile as he comes bounding into the kitchen. He is a good son. He quickly gobbles up the simple food I've prepared and I watch him fondly. Jeff has become a man, I realize. He stands six foot tall and is handsome. His lean, well muscled body is on exhibit as he wears a lungi, a traditional Indian garment that wraps around his waist, leaving his torso exposed. The Indian sun has bronzed his body and has bleached his blonde hair to a bright white.

Suddenly, without warning, I am envisioning his body as the one in my dream. My heart begins to pound even as I feel a tingle in my cunt…warm wetness spreading between my legs. As Jeff takes his plate to the sink, my eyes are drawn down to his crotch, where even through the comfortable, loose cloth of his lungi there is a discernable bulge and I envision the cock of my dream lover hanging between my son's strong thighs.

I gasp and shake my head, trying to clear my mind of the disturbing visions I am suddenly entertaining.

"Mom? Mother, are you all right?" Jeff is suddenly standing beside me, his strong hand on my shoulder, looking down at me, his face full of concern.

"Uh — Um, yes, I um, I'm sorry, honey. I just didn't sleep too well last night."

"Yeah, I think I heard you tossing and turning a lot, Mom. Is there anything I can do?" Jeff rubs the tight muscles in my shoulder and I grunt happily.

"That feels good, son," I murmur in reply, smiling up at him. Then I glance downward. His crotch is level with my face and there is definitely a bulge in his lungi — a very distinctive and large presence! I scoot away from the table — images of my dream lover's cock exploding into my mind.

I look up nervously as I stand. My son is staring at me intently, eyes full of concern and it seems something else. Maybe it's my imagination, but it feels like he's looking at me appreciatively, the way his father used to look at me back in college! Or maybe, I am going crazy! I can feel myself blushing and I turn away, taking my dishes to the sink and trying to act normally. "We better get off to school, Jeff. It wouldn't do for the teacher or her son to be late."

Jeff looks at his watch and nods in agreement. "Oh wow, it is almost time for school and I told Bimal I would meet him before classes!" He looks at me expectantly. "Are you sure you are alright, Mother?"

I smile at his formality, so much more common here than in America. He hears it so much here, he often calls me that instead of Mom. "I'm fine, honey, go on, meet your friend." And like a whirlwind, Jeff grabs his backpack and is out the door. I keep the smile on my face until he is gone and then I slip to the floor and sob. What is happening to me? Am I going stark raving mad? My sex fantasies now mixing with thoughts of my son — am I going insane? My mind flashes back to my masturbation fantasy in the bathroom. My fantasy lover's hair was the exact blonde color as my son's!

I wail like a baby until I hear Joseph stirring in the bedroom. How do I explain my madness to him? I can't, so I wipe my eyes and struggle to pull myself together. I come from hardy Alabama stock. I can soldier on.

I am only five minutes late to school. My students greet me and we begin the day's Science lesson. The day passes slowly and I struggle and fail to keep the horrible thoughts out of my mind. Images of my dream lover come and go. I envision myself being brutally fucked by him, unable to see his face until at the moment of orgasm my eyes open wide as I cum and then I can see his face — my son's face, Jeff's face twisted in a deliriously happy expression as he cums inside me. My students sense my distraction, my troubled spirit and bless their little hearts, they are as good as gold.

I maintain my composure until classes are over and they run out to play or go home. I break down and begin crying, increasingly more intense until I am almost hysterical. Suddenly, my door opens and in walks another teacher — my best friend, Ramita. She teaches Mathematics at the school and her son, Bimal is Jeff's best friend.

"Christine, I would like to go over the plans for the tests next…" Ramita's voice trails off as she sees me sobbing at my desk. In an instant, Ramita is by my side, kneeling and taking me by the hands. "Oh, Christine! Whatever is wrong, my dear? What can I do to help?"

I fall into my friend's arms and just cry. Ramita's arms wrap around me, comforting me and making me feel safer just for her presence. I cry for a long time before it peters out with sniffles. Ramita finally lets me go, her sari wet with my tears. She pulls over a chair and sits close to me, taking my hands and softly asking, "Christine, how can I help you? Should I go summon Joseph?"

This makes me want to cry again. "I can't talk to Joseph, he thinks I'm awful as it is!" I say in a halting, gasping voice. I tighten my grip on her hands. "Ramita, I think I'm losing my mind."

Ramita cocks her head and she looks at me curiously with her deep brown eyes. "Losing your mind? Christine, you are the most level headed person I know. Surely whatever is troubling you, we can deal with it, yes?" She reaches over and hugs me. In my constant state of arousal, I am more aware than ever over her physical presence, especially as her massive bosom presses against my own smaller breasts. I feel a fresh spurt of wetness within my lust filled cunt. I am embarrassed and appalled at my sexual response. "Tell me what is wrong, Christine and I will help you," she whispers in my ear.

Suddenly the words just begin to gush out of me. "It's these dreams, Ramita! I've been having these crazy sex dreams every night and I can't get them out of my head and I'm thinking crazy stuff all the time — seeing this man's cock and I'm constantly horny, um, I mean I'm aroused thinking about sex all the time and thinking all these unnatural thoughts about…about…" I can't bring myself to say anything about Jeff and the terrible images in my head. Ramita is looking at me oddly and I think she's thinking I've gone mad too. "Every night, it's the same thing. A faceless man about to fu-fuck me and then that lovely voice telling me I'm the chosen of Danteshwari and I see his…"

I trail off as Ramita lets go of me and shoves her chair backwards, an utterly stunned expression on her face. I'm thinking that I've scared her when she hisses, "You hear someone speaking that you are the chosen of Danteshwari? Tell me the exact words, Christine! Tell me now!"

Startled out of my tears by her shocked expression, I begin to utter the words that over the course of thirty nights have become imprinted indelibly on my brain. "Behold — you are the chosen ones of Danteshwari. Embrace the blessings and the rebirth she offers you now…" At this point, Ramita joins in and we speak them together, "Open your heart and know love for all eternity. Accept the sacred gifts of love and family and be as one." I am the one shocked now and I am staring silently as Ramita finishes the words.

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