From Fire to Frying Pan

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Roger first met Auntie on the way to the Laundromat one Saturday morning. The large overfilled cloth bag he was dragging along got stuck between banister railings, and Auntie who was coming from the other side of the corridor pulling an equally large bag administered a deft kick to release the bag.

“Thanks Auntie,” said Roger.

“Welcome,” said Auntie.

“I am Roger.”

“I am Auntie,” said Auntie and both laughed.

‘I don’t think we have met before?” said Auntie.

“No Auntie. We have been here only for five days.”

“I have been longer but not by much; just five months.”

“Minnesota winters I was told are terrible. How did you find it Auntie?”

“Well, I come from Indiana which is not warm by any means. It is cold here. Where are you from?”


“Like this place?”

“No Auntie. I hate it. Though it is early summer it is colder than the coldest day in L.A. I have no friends here, and this Mankato has no amusements to offer a young person.”

“You can come to my room and listen to music, lots of it.”

“Movies, Auntie?”

“Not much of that, but board games in my room, and pool game in the basement should do nicely.”

“Thank you Auntie. I was almost turning crazy mooning about by myself.”

The Laundromat room was empty on that working day, and between them they both used all the six washers and dryers in the Laundromat, and while waiting for the machines to do the job they talked. Roger came as Rajkumar from India when he was two, and by the time he was in pre-school he had become Roger. His dad was a doctor and his mother a nurse. Auntie was twelve when she came with her parents from India. She had never been back to the country of her birth. She was in the health business too, a physiotherapist.

“Which part of India, Roger, your complexion is exceptional, not Indian, not Western but something in-between.”

“I believe we are from a coastal town South of Goa,” said Roger rubbing his cheeks with both his hands as if testing the quality of his complexion. His friends have remarked about this it too, but they compared it to a woman’s. It annoyed Roger, but not now. He was pleased that Auntie admired it. “My father says my complexion must have come from some distant unknown Arab ancestor,” he continued. “He says that for thousands of years Arabs came in their dhows and traded along the coast, and some great-great grand mother must have fallen to the charms of one of them.” Auntie found this Arab connection funny. She laughed. Work over they trudged back, this time carrying the bags slung on their backs.

“Room 235,” said Auntie as they parted company at the corridor fork, “feel free to walk in without bothering to call first.”

Roger went to his room, threw cloth bag on the carpet, and lay down. He liked Auntie. Thrilled rather. She was not young, double his age—thirty-nine or forty. There was no need to know her age of course. A woman is as young as she looks and Auntie was young looking indeed. And she admires his complexion and maybe more. Though he was twenty he had not much luck attracting women so far, and he was pleased with the new experience.

Filling three washers, emptying them and transferring the clothes to three dryers and removing the lot, and bundling them, and carrying the heavy bundle up one flight of stairs was back breaking work. Roger was tired. He slept.

Auntie was never far from his thoughts the next three days. He did not have the courage to visit her though. He went along the corridor of her flat hoping to meet her. He took clothes to the Laundromat once but no auntie appeared.


On Wednesday Auntie called.



“Out of sight out of mind, Roger?”

“No Auntie. I was thinking of you all the time.”

“I am pleased to hear that Roger. Why didn’t you drop in?” Roger held on to the phone not knowing what to say.

“Hello, are you there?”

“I am Auntie. Well to be frank, I was rather shy.” Auntie burst out laughing.

“Now come here straightaway,” she said amidst laughter, “Wednesday is my off-day. We can go down to the playroom for a game of pool. You play pool?”

“I do Auntie. I am supposed to be good at it.”

“Then come.”

The walls of her flat were full of decoration mostly Indian (subcontinent) artefacts. Auntie was in shorts, very short shorts and loose shirt. Soon they were in the basement playing pool. There was no one in the hall on this working day. Even on holidays the flat occupants, mostly senior citizens, retirees from a factory that had kept the local economy buoyant half a century ago, rarely used the games room.

Auntie was good at the game but Roger, an expert under normal circumstances, was far from normal that day, and the reason was Auntie herself. Auntie exposed thighs, were magnificent. That was disturbance enough. There was more. She had a loose fitting shirt on with unfastened top buttons, and, as he found out soon enough, she had no bra on. The result was that whenever she bent down to play Roger saw most of her breasts and they casino siteleri were large and splendid. Roger trembled with excitement, and pocketing those balls with any accuracy in such a state was not possible. To make matters worse his brain was working overtime draining away whatever power of concentration remained.

‘These breasts are certainly not virginal,’ he said to himself, ‘No, nor are they breasts that have suckled. Divorcee or may be a widow. Or is she just a woman who has had a good time?’ Roger lost every frame. It has never happened to him before, and what is more never had he so hugely enjoyed losing.

“Jolly game,” he said. They were back in her room. Auntie changed to a turtleneck T-shirt.

“Let’s play draughts,” she said. The turtleneck sweater provided no distraction but Roger lost badly nevertheless; Auntie was a skilled player. He did not say ‘Jolly game’ at the end of it.

“Why are you keeping your neck stiff?” asked Auntie with a professional air.

“I sprained my neck doing dumbbell exercises this morning Auntie.”

“I’ll make you OK,” said Auntie and immediately proceeded to do so. She made him take off his shirt and lie face down on the divan. The skin of his body was the shade of ivory, and devoid of hair. Auntie ran her hands over it feeling its smoothness. That done she went on with the task of releasing the muscles of their stiffness. She pressed the muscle at the base of the neck and the back. She pulled, and she kneaded, and she drummed; it was painful at first but soon Roger was finding it pleasurable. She knew exactly where it pained, and her soft but firm hands did the rest.

“Stiffness anywhere else Roger?”

Roger blushed.

“No Auntie.”

“Session over, you can get up now.”

“Not possible Auntie. I don’t know what you did but I can’t move a single muscle,” said Roger who was feeling sleepy. Thereupon Auntie lay on him, put her arms round him, and held him tight till her breasts squeezed on his back, and then she lifted him up bodily and placed him on the carpet.

“You won’t fall if I let go?”

“I most surely will,” said Roger and pretended to fall.

“Naughty boy,” said Auntie, and hugging him from behind she kissed him on the back of his ear and let him go. Roger lay on the sofa, eyes half closed, in a state of hypnotic relaxation. Auntie sat besides kneading his palms. It was clear that she was sexually excited, and so was Roger. But Roger was a virgin and a shy one; he did not know what he had to do to keep the ball rolling.

“Come on Saturday evening at four,” said auntie. She knew that to get her guest back she must fix the date and time. Roger shook his head dreamily for the effect of the hug and the kiss still lingered. He liked the way she touched him, softly and sensuously. The weight of her body on him, and the memory of the kiss made him dizzy. Was she trying to seduce him? This was not his first experience of seduction, but this was the first time a woman was doing that. In L.A. big gay boys had tried to, but thanks to his friend Park Loo, they left him in peace. When she hugged and kissed him from behind he should have turned round and hugged and kissed her in right earnest. Roger decided that next time he would make a move whatever the consequences.


Saturday afternoon. Roger was at the door. He tapped and Auntie asked him to come in and latch the door. She was in the kitchen and soon came out with two large glasses full to the brim with iced tea that was Roger’s favourite drink. On the magazine rack Roger saw a Playboy magazine. His hands were itching to grab it, but he resisted the urge. They had tea but Roger, with the best effort, was not able to resist stealing glances at the magazine. The lynx-eyed Auntie noted it. He went up to the rack, took the magazine, and handed it to her guest.

“Down with false modesty, Roger,” she said severely. “No man should feel anything but proud to turn the pages of this worthy publication.” Roger accepted it gingerly. He turned to page one.

“Centre page, young man,” she ordered. Roger obeyed. He turned the magazine sideways and looked at the magnificent naked woman on the centre page.

“Like it?”

“Rather,” he replied hoarsely.

“When you have done with that I will give you two more form my collection.”

“Thanks,” said Roger. Auntie left him undisturbed for a while as he turned the pages of the magazine.

“Any girl friends back in L.A.?”

Roger shook his head mournfully.

“Ever kissed a girl passionately?” again Roger shook his head.

“Before teenage is over you must have, Roger.”

“Unfortunately Auntie my teenage period was over six months ago.”

Roger thought it was time for him to ask some questions of his own.

“Are you married, Auntie?”

“Never,” said vehemently. They listened to some pop and then Roger got up for his mother was due at five.

“You take the magazine,” said auntie. Roger took a hurried step away from the table on which the magazine lay as if it was poison.

“If mother sees it I am done for,” he said.

“And canlı casino if your father sees it he may confiscate it,” she said, and both laughed.

“Next Wednesday at nine, and remember I have plans to amuse you,” said Auntie as she saw her guest off at the door. Roger hardly slept the next few days. Wednesday is my day he said to himself. I will take the plunge and face the consequences.


The day of days, the Wednesday Auntie said she had plans to amuse him, was upon Roger. It was quarter to nine when Roger made his way down to Auntie’s flat grimly determined. Roger went up and down the corridor waiting for the hour to strike and when it did in some distant clock he knocked the door of flat 235. The door gave way to the force of his gentle knock. Auntie’s called from an inner room and invited him in. Roger went straight to the table and so immersed himself in the centre page of a brand new Playboy magazine that he did not notice Auntie come in.

“So you value those images more than the real thing,” she said winking with both eyes.

“Sorry Auntie,” said Roger. “Very sorry.”

“Have you ever seen a naked lady, in the flesh that is?”


“Some cousin perhaps?”



“No,” he said hurriedly. He seemed to find that suggestion shocking.

“Want to see one?” She looked steadily at him; he returned the gaze without flinching. He nodded.

“I am going for a bath. Exactly ten minutes from now come to the bathroom and tap.” She turned round and disappeared. Roger settled on the sofa and panted. He felt his erect organ tenting his loose pants. After the previous Wednesday’s experience when his tight jeans had squeezed his organ almost out of shape he had decided on this loose pair. Never had he watched the slow moving of a clock’s needle with greater intensity. At three minutes to zero hour he moved to the door and waited, and exactly to the second he tapped.

“Wait a moment, Roger,” said Auntie’s voice. He waited.

“Now open the door.”

Auntie held a blue Turkish towel wrapped round her below her armpits. She stood facing the mirror.

“Close the door.” He did so. And then she turned round, and as she did so she unwrapped the towel and threw it down. Roger stood in front trembling as if she were an apparition. She had a wonderful body: broad hips, large breasts that did not sag as much as Roger thought they did, and that dark lovely pussy.

“Are you OK?” Roger nodded.

“Come closer.” He took a step forward.

“Closer still.” He took another step forward.

“You may touch me.” With the whole expanse of her body to choose from Roger went for her left breast. With just three fingers he touched the breast and soon his middle finger was pushing the nipple in.

Suddenly all activity ceased. Roger slumped down and squatted on the bath mat. The reason was plainly visible—he had ejaculated. He sat, thighs spread, ruefully looking at the stain that was spreading in the crotch of his pants. He looked up at Auntie with eyes wide open in a vacant stare. A sob escaped him.

“I have spilled. I tried so desperately hard not to, but I spilled. I am not able to hold it. I am not a man,” he wailed.

All the motherly instinct in Auntie now gushed forth. She crouched down and cradled his head on her chest.

“It is not unmanly to spill,” she said. Roger disengaged himself rather roughly. “Don’t touch me Auntie, I’m unclean.”

“Arrant nonsense,” said Auntie, “You are not unclean.”

“My friend in LA says that a man who can’t hold his juice is no man at all. That’s what he said, and I agree. I deserve it for my sins.” Roger wailed more loudly.

“Your friend is absolutely wrong. Now wash and we will see what we can do to set it right. Now be a good man. Get into the tub. I’ll wash you.”

“No Auntie, please. If you have another bathroom I’ll wash and remove the stain in my pants there.”

“Don’t be silly. Get in.” She said it so authoritatively that he got into the tub in a hurry.

“Hold me lest you slide,” she said as she got to work on him. He held on to her naked body as she worked on his flaccid organ . Then she wiped him and holding him by the hand took him to the kitchen and made him sit on the high breakfast chair. Both were in the nude.

“Auntie I want to cover myself.”

“If you do not to spill again do as I ask you to do. Watch me as I go about my job in the nude. Once you get accustomed to the sight of a nude woman’s body you will be able to hold. Anyway your jeans will have to go into the washer. You have to wait till it dries.” She went and set up the washer and put the jeans in.

“Now Roger darling tell all about your sins.” Roger looked at her and then he examined his fingernails minutely as if he had stored his sins there. That over he looked intently at Auntie, and then at his limp organ.

“Please give me a towel to wrap myself,” he pleaded.



“No.” He sighed.

“I masturbate a lot,” he said.

“Nothing wrong in that,” responded Auntie.

“My friends say it is bad.”

“Masturbating kaçak casino a lot has no particular bad effects,” she repeated. Roger seemed not encouraged. He inspected his nails once again and sighed.

“I think mostly of my mother while masturbating,” he said. He looked up expecting Auntie to be shocked, but she was not.

“During my masturbating days my father used to be the central figure in my fantasies,” she said coolly.

“With girls, maybe it is not that bad, but my friends say that I must be a wicked, wicked person.”

“Why Mom with all the women of the world to choose from?

“I am unable to relate to any woman I have not known.”

“Classmates and friends.”

“Auntie, I have no close girl friends. I am the shy type. I do not have the personality to attract women. Please Auntie at least let me wrap a towel round me.”

“No, Roger. Why no girl friends, Roger. Such a handsome fellow like you should be hot property.”

“Boys call be Lakshmi after the goddess’ idol in a temple near our school, and girls probably do the same. The Big Boys were interested in me, the gay guys. This is where my friend, Park Loo, a big Korean-American back in L.A. came to my rescue. He became my guide too in matters concerning sex.”

“Why do you take him for an authority on the subject of sex.”

“Because he is one, Auntie. He has a cousin with whom he has a relationship. He has her at least once a week.”

“Boys are famous for bragging.”

“He is not a boy Auntie. Fully-grown man really, and he is not bragging. I will tell you the facts. He hides a camcorder and records everything he does to her. He has replayed it to me. He has the camera in different positions on different days and has some zoom shots too. He sells them and makes good money.”

“You mean you have seen it.”

“Yes Auntie,” said Roger and became sad. “That’s where my troubles started. The second time Park Loo was showing me the recording it happened. The camcorder window was open and both of us saw the replay. The first time he just showed me as she undressed, but this time he let me see everything. He undressed her totally, and he undressed and they did it Auntie. They were wriggling when Park started sniffing. ‘I smell semen,’ he said. He looked at my crotch and sure enough he saw the stain. I had spilled. I don’t know what is so funny about it but he bent double with laughter. In the midst of it he said that I could never … he used the four-letter word. He said that as soon as I go close to a woman I will spill and that will be the end. I did not believe it Auntie, but today he has been proved right.” Tears flowed as he said that. Auntie did not come to him to console him.

“Must be a vicious fellow, this friend of your, Roger.”

“He is not that bad, Auntie.”

“He secretly videos his girl friend and cousin in the most intimate moments, and not only replays it to his friends but sells them. Can any man go lower?”

“He’s going to marry her, Auntie, and he says he is going into business with her as his partner. Live-show business.”

“She knows then?”

“Not so far Auntie but soon she will know. He says she is a sport and is sure to be a willing partner for it would be their livelihood. The idea is for the two to take a room in a motel and then talk to couples staying there and find out if they like to watch an exclusive live-show for a fee. He says he will only talk to couples. He says he can make a thousand grand a night for having fun.”

“Your friend has achieved the impossible—he has shocked me. I will tell you one thing Roger. If you ever get back to L.A. stay miles away from that fellow. He will land you in jail.”

“He is my friend auntie. He protected me from a lot of gay rowdies. No danger Auntie, and my inability to hold juice will protect me.” The drier alarm bell went off. Auntie took the pants out and put in on a hanger. Roger looked lovingly at his pants. He darted a glance at auntie. He knew she would not like it if he said he wanted them.

Auntie brought him a glass of his favourite cold tea. She pulled another high chair in front of him and climbed up. She sat with feet on the bar and thighs spread. Roger became silent. He was intently looking at her pussy.

“You shave Auntie?”

“I do”

“Do most women shave Auntie?”

“Many do.”

“Yours is lovely, auntie.” She spread it a little more for her young visitor to have his fill. But that was a wrong move. Roger got up. His cock was showing signs of coming to life. He took his shirt that was lying on the sofa and put it on. He then put on his pants.

“Sorry Auntie,” he said in a tearful voice, “Please let me go. If I see you as you are for some more time I am sure I would spill again. If that happens I will most surely kill myself. Please Auntie, sorry Auntie.” He opened the door. Auntie did not move. He went out and gently closed the door.

“Damn,” she said aloud and flopped on the sofa. ‘In his foolishness will he harm himself?’ she asked herself. She consoled herself with the thought that she can do nothing about it anyway. She expected him on Saturday. He did not appear. He did not come on Wednesday. She called but got no response. She made enquiries of the caretaker of the flats. He said that the Indian family had moved back to L.A. three days ago.

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