This story takes place in a small village and I hope that all the readers can follow it, even those that are not from a village or don’t know anything about village life in this part of the world.

I live with my maternal grandmother, although the house we live in technically belongs to my uncle. My aunt is not yet married and lives in the same house. She is about four or so years older than me. Women in the village get married off at a young age, so the age difference between her and me is not uncommon, although one normally thinks of aunts that are much older than four years. I have those too, mind you, but in this household, we are only four. My uncle’s wife is from another village and she is a teacher there, so she stays with her own mother and my uncle goes to visit her whenever he can—which is a lot of times.

That leaves me behind as the man of the house so to speak. My duties are to look after the farm, get the food for the animals, and tend to them in his absence. Actually I end up doing that even when he is around, but it becomes a bigger duty when he is not around. Sometimes I think that he goes to visit his wife just to get away from having to work on the farm.

My aunt helps with the farm chores as well, specially with feeding the animals and giving them water. We have buffalos, goats, chickens, ducks, and a dog. Our house is divided into two parts, one for the humans and one for the animals. At night, animals are usually herded into an enclosed and roofed area. There is a small room right next to it where my uncle usually sleeps to tend to any problems with the animals if they arise at night. He has his own bedroom that he and his wife use when she is visiting us. I say, visiting, although the house is actually hers as well.

There is another room which my grandmother and my aunt share. I have my own room where my bed is in a corner while most of the room is used to store sugar, grain, corn, and sometimes even cotton, depending on the harvest season.

I actually like it when my uncle goes to visit his wife because then I get to sleep in the room next to the animals. My room most of the time feels congested. In contrast, that room feels open and airy. There are two cots in there, one for my uncle and the other to accommodate a visitor or two. If we get more than two visitors, we simply bring in a couple more cots. It has room for four cots. Although when four cots are laid, there is only enough room for the legs. People have to walk sideways to go in and out, but it has never really bothered anyone.

My aunt also feels free when my uncle is not around, what with Pakistani brothers being protective and all, as does my grandmother. My grandmother uses the freedom to visit her friends at night where they sit and gossip. My aunt then comes and uses the other cot next to me to just be around someone of her own age. I have another bonus from my uncle’s absence. I get to read his magazines. My aunt usually takes one and thumbs through it while making small talk. I am sometimes so involved in a story that I just say “huh” at regular intervals and she thinks I am listening.

Most of the time she just falls asleep on the cot because she is so tired from her daily routine. When my grandmother comes back from her visit(s), she looks at her sleeping and just leaves her there, because she knows not to disturb her or she may not get up early enough to finish her chores for the following day. I sometime fall asleep while reading. The lantern then burns all the kerosene and goes off by itself.

Now, I said that the room is airy. It is because we have two window-like holes on the side through which air and moonlight come shining. Most of the time, when moon is at its full, the room is lit enough to keep the whole room in soft, cool light.

This may be the right time to tell you that I am over nineteen. That makes her over twenty-three. She hasn’t been married off because my uncle hasn’t found a suitable match for her. I think my uncle doesn’t want her to get married yet because he needs someone to cook and clean and do the laundry around the house. It is not fair to her, but there is nothing I can say or do about it, so I don’t complain. Neither does my aunt. She seems okay, although by reading some of the stories in those magazines, I wonder if she really is.

It was one of those nights when my uncle wasn’t around and my aunt was sleeping on the cot next to mine. The moon was not full, but was bright enough to give plenty of light. I finished the last unread page in my magazine and looked for something else to read. There was nothing available. My uncle hadn’t bought the latest issue yet, and I had read all the other ones.

I was feeling restless, so I decided to go to the open part of the house and lie down on a cot that we have there next to the woodstoves where my aunt and my grandmother do the cooking. I was enjoying looking at the clear sky and the bright stars. Every now and then a moving light would travel across the sky and I would follow it until it disappeared from my sight, wondering about the people sitting in that plane and where they may be headed or where they may be coming from.

When my grandmother came back from the neighbours house, she asked me, “What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?”

“I don’t know. I was feeling restless.”

She replied in Punjabi, which approximately translates to: “Well, that is the condition of your age.” (“Umar da taqaza aay.”)

“Yes, I guess.” I replied without really knowing what she meant, or caring.

“Where is Jameela?”

“Sleeping.”

“You should also go to sleep. Tomorrow you have to get an early start. We have to irrigate the fields.”

After she went to her bed, I stayed there a while longer, but the duty of directing water to our fields at the designated time forced me to go to bed.

When I came back to the room and opened the door, the moonlight entered and illuminated the area wherever it fell. It is funny that we have a door which normally gets closed, while the two big window holes have nothing on them. I could never figure out the use of the door, other than that my uncle didn’t have the money to put the windows in and was planning to do it sometime in the future.

Something about my feeling restless made me look at the sleeping body of my aunt. The light was shining on the lower half of her cot and I could see up to her thighs quite clearly. I had extinguished the lantern before going out, so the rest of her was in the dark.

During her turning and tossing, the flaps of her kurta (long Pakistani shirt) had moved upwards. The shalwar underneath and the legs that it contoured were displayed quite nicely.

The view seemed ... enjoyable ... for lack of a better word and I found myself staring. I had to quit once I realized that I was looking at my aunt’s thighs ... well, really her shalwar. But the image stayed in my head all the way to when I fell asleep.

The next morning before going to irrigate the fields, I found her doling out food to the animals. It was still early morning and the sun hadn’t come up yet, but the dusk had enough light to show things not only clearly but in their natural colours. I saw my aunt from behind and pictured her from the night before. My mind made a note of her profile and I had to admit that it was a pleasing profile.

Pleasing, that is, as in looks nice.

The next time she slept in the cot next to me, there was no moonlight. The light from the lantern was brighter than usual because the night was dark, so when I turned to extinguish it before falling asleep, my eyes glanced over and saw her figure very clearly. She was sleeping on her side, facing away from me. The back flap of her kamees was turned over on one corner, showing her shalwar up to the back of her thigh that was on top, while the other corner was covering the other leg to the back of her knee. Her left hand was folded under her neck while the other was stretched across the length of her right side. Her slender fingers were partially covered by the folds of her shalwar.

I remembered that the last time I saw both of her thighs; while this time I was only seeing one. I remembered how enjoyable the view was when both thighs were visible and wished that the flap was pushed upward to show both as much as the last time. Such was not the case, so I fell asleep with my wish echoing in my head.

Next morning I woke up with the morning call to prayers. I turned the lantern on to get some light and found her sleeping just the way she was before I went to sleep. Only, my wish had come through. Her shirt was pushed up, showing the folds of her shalwar around the back of both of her thighs—plus some. I could even see the beginning of the rise of her buttocks and the shalwar was caught in between her cheeks, making them quite defined. The thin material was stretched in such a way that I could see each cheek in its normal, undressed shape—well, the lower part.

I was looking at my aunt’s butt while the azaan was echoing in the air. I felt so guilty, that I practically ran out of the room as if someone had caught me stealing something.

That night though, I waited for a repeat viewing. It wasn’t to come. She was sleeping on her back; the kamees was covering her profile properly. I fell asleep somewhat disappointed, and feeling very bad due to the guilt I felt for wanting to see my aunt like that.

Moonlight was back the next time my uncle went away. I was feeling restless to the point that I couldn’t even concentrate on reading, so I went out to lie on the cot in the open part of the house. The restlessness was so much that I couldn’t enjoy the stars or the travelling lights. I came back to the room and looked at her. She was properly covered. I went back out again. Came back a few minutes later; she was still covered properly, so I went back again.

It was sometime after midnight when I came back to go to sleep and found her properly covered. I left the door open so the light could shine on the lower part of her body. I guess I had to contend myself with a properly covered view.

As I lay there, stealing a quick glance now and then over her fully covered legs, I could hear her deep breathing. I turned to my side so I could look at her continuously. I could see her shadow-covered chest rising and falling rhythmically as she drew long breaths of air into her lungs.

A thought occurred to me. She was in such a deep sleep that she probably wouldn’t know if I were to pull the flap on her front slightly up. My heart jumped at the thought as my mind sent waves of shame throughout my body. I felt warm and flustered, but I got up slowly and stood next to her.

I was breathing erratically, so I opened my mouth to take air in that way and to muffle the sound my breathing was making. I stood there for a long time, looking at her face and chest, ready to jump back onto my cot if she made the slightest move. I was able to calm down a bit during that wait, and finally, when she didn’t make any movement for a while, I reached with my trembling hands and grabbed the corners of her flap in each of my hands.

Slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, I pulled it up and back until her covered thighs were fully exposed. Then I slowly lowered the flap onto her stomach. My heart was beating so fast that I could feel it in my ears. My temples were throbbing as my mind reprimanded me louder and louder with each passing moment.

Once I laid the material on her belly and realized that she was still in deep sleep, I quickly made my exit to the cot outside to lower my blood pressure. It took an eternity. My mind was confused all the while. I couldn’t think straight—actually, I couldn’t think at all. There was nothing but noise in my mind.

When I came back after an hour or so, I was afraid to come in, thinking she knew what I had done and was going to let me have it. I peeked through the hole which was supposed to be a window. The door was still ajar and light was showing the folds of her shalwar on her thighs very clearly. I stood there looking and looking, unable to come in due to my fear and guilt.

I noticed that the folds of her shalwar were more concentrated, rather bunched, around the area between her thighs. I also noticed that part of her nala (cord) was hanging out of her shalwar and was caught in those folds between her thighs. It disappeared along the curve that went down towards her buttocks. I don’t know why but that nala seemed to be the most exciting part of that view.

I stood looking at that view, mesmerized, until the rotation of the earth took the light away from her body. It took me a long time to fall asleep.

I was a bit bolder the next time and even more during the times that followed. In the next few weeks, I found her to be such a heavy sleeper that almost anything I did, failed to wake her up. I started to push the fold as far back as I could before the other fold restricted any further lifting. Most of the time I was able to see all the way to the top of her shalwar and sometime even a little beyond where her skin became visible.

It was all very exciting. The guilt was strong initially, but once I became comfortable with what I was doing, the guilt lessened quite a lot. It was during one of those moments that I got a little lucky.

One night I found her lower fold to be pushed up behind her, making it possible for me to lift the front fold far enough to expose her bellybutton and more. I could see almost all of her stomach. So much of her skin was visible that I almost felt faint with excitement. Her nala was not only hanging between her thighs but some of it was snaking over her belly, making the view quite provocative. That’s when I became aware of my erection. Not just my erection, but how hard I was. I was so hard that I felt the skin on my butt stretch to accommodate the increase in the size of my penis.

As I lay in bed to fall asleep, I reached inside my chadar (sheet worn by men to cover the bottom half of their bodies) to push my erection down. It was so taut that I couldn’t press it down with my own strength. I knew then that I had a serious problem.

My erection was indicative of a hunger that I was feeling inside. The harder I was, the hungrier I was.

I knew that the food, so to speak, for my hunger was under the folds between her legs, where that lucky nala almost always found its way. I also knew that the food was not available for me because, well, it belonged to my aunt, who was not, in any way available to me. There was no one else immediately available in the village to help me because in a small place, specially in a strict society like ours, that kind of thing didn’t happen that easily.

The next time I looked at her folds between her thighs, I had this urge to just touch the food, but I restrained myself. I knew that she would feel my hand on her body and would surely wake up. That would mean one hell of trouble.

I also wanted to touch her stomach, which I had another lucky opportunity to see in its full glory. But, same restraint, because even a touch on her stomach would wake her up.

My condition worsened with each viewing. Many times I contemplated pulling her nala loose so I could then loosen her shalwar and take a look at the mysterious place where my hungry, thirsty dick could find some satiation. I started to get desperate.

It was my desperation that drove me one day to lift the folds from around the middle of her thighs and at least get a better idea of what that place looked like, albeit, just the contours of it.

My hands were trembling miserably when I parted the folds to better see the mound underneath. I was so nervous that I touched her thighs as I pulled the material to opposite directions. She squirmed and I almost had a heart attack.

But she didn’t wake up!

I had touched her thighs and she didn’t wake up.

Well, well, well! I could not believe my luck at how deep a sleeper she was. This was good. I was overjoyed to realize that I could get away with a touch. I had to make use of this discovery.

I made a plan in the sanity of daylight. I had to position my cot so that I would be lying in it when I were to touch her. That way, if she did wake up, which it didn’t seem like she would, she would find me sleeping and probably think that she had only dreamt the touch.

I also planned to be sleeping the other way around, with my feet towards her head and my head towards her feet. This would make my approach to her private parts easy.

One dark night, when she was fast asleep, I made my approach. I reached over and with my index finger, gently touched the area between her thighs. As I predicted, she didn’t make a move. I pulled my hand back quickly. I was so nervous that I didn’t really feel anything, except a hard surface.

After getting a hold of myself and after letting about half an hour pass to make sure she really was asleep, I reached again and gently felt the area between her thighs. Again, I only felt a hard surface but nothing that I could imagine to be what I was trying to feel. Well, my imagination was limited anyways, because I had no clue as to what I was looking for. But I knew that there is supposed to be a hole into which I can insert my penis. I expected that hole to be there and my finger to feel it.

I figured that I was at the wrong place. May be the hole was a bit lower. I knew, so I had heard, that her legs are supposed to be on my shoulders as my penis enters her hole. That meant her hole should be closer to her anus. That meant I had to look more to the east to feel it.

I dragged my finger along the path that I knew her nala had followed, pressing gently here and there to feel the difference. I finally came to the place where it felt very soft and when I pressed my finger, it actually dipped in. I had found the place where her hole may be, but I still didn’t feel a hole.

I had come a long way and I was so close. She was still asleep, although I could only hear the sound of my own blood rushing through my system. I gently felt around, up and down, for the hole. Instead, I came across a soft berry like object. That was quite intriguing. Where I was looking for a hole, I actually felt a protrusion. I pressed on it to feel its shape.

I almost died on the spot when my aunt grabbed my hand and yelled with a muffled sound, “What the hell are you doing?”

I was struck by a lightening. I had no tongue in my mouth. I was frozen where I lay.

She got up, still holding my hand, and asked, “What the hell were you doing between my legs?”

I couldn’t say anything, even though on the inside I was screaming, “Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. I wasn’t doing anything.”

She jerked my hand away with anger, got up and left to go to her place next to my grandmother.

I bolted out of the house and made my way to our fields where we have a small storage room for the tools and things. We have a cot there as well, to rest our backs during hot summer days, or when we have a lot of ploughing and harvesting to do.

I tried to sleep but the fear had taken my sleep away and I prayed for the day to never break because I was going to be crucified once she told my grandmother and my uncle what I had done.

She woke me up as I must have fallen asleep sometime during the morning hours. I was extremely nervous and couldn’t look into her eyes. She handed me a small bundle and said, “Here, you left without eating your breakfast.” She also brought the tea in a metal container. It was cold, but she brought it nevertheless.