Echoes of Anu – Part 7 (Vulnerable Vows)

Hello, Everyone; this is Anu Shain, 30 years old (34D and 5’6 tall) from a Marathi and Telugu background, living abroad for a decade now. I want to share another story with ISS readers.

This story happened after my previous story, Echoes of Anu – Part 6 (Secret Schemes); this story happened in the year 2012. When my cousin Meenu arrives, she opens up about her troubled marriage and past. Geet, our maid, and I share an intimate bond, and together, we help Meenu find herself.

Continued..!

I lay on the divan, laptop on my lap, scrolling through Arjun’s club photos. Then came Vikram’s feed. A warmth rose in me, mixed with a pinch of guilt.

In the distance, I heard Mom scrubbing silver lamps. Geet was clinking utensils in the kitchen, My thumb hovered over Vikram’s profile. Should I? Click. I opened our last chat. Blank.

Mom peeked from the pooja room, eyes narrowing. I barely noticed, still staring at my laptop. But in seconds, she was by my side, saree rustling.

Mom: “Anu! What is this you’re wearing?” I blinked, clueless, looking down at my pale lavender semi-transparent nightgown. She leaned closer pointing at my pussy, her voice low but sharp.

Mom: “Why no panties? And did you shave your pussy hair again? Why?” My face flushed. I stood up quickly, pulling the gown tighter.

Me: “Ma, please. It’s normal now. Everyone does it. It’s just… comfort.” Ma’s hand shot up, fingers ready to tug my hair, but the sudden screech of tyres outside snapped her attention. We both turned. A white sedan eased into the driveway.

The car door opened, and there she was. Meenu. Tall, graceful, 36D-sized, wrapped in a soft cream kurta and shawl, gold studs glinting. Her smile was tired but warm, her eyes carrying something heavier.

Ma: “Meenu! My bacchi!” They hugged tightly. Meenu carried poise, always had, her eyes lingered on my semi-transparent nightgown.

Everyone adored Meenu. The golden cousin. The one who studied in Delhi married an NRI and now has a baby boy. Amma gushed over her, and Geet hurried to make nimbu paani.

Meenu: “Anu, look at you! All grown up, hmm?” Her hands rolled on my shoulder. I smiled and hugged her lightly.

Me: “And you look… glowing.” Her perfume smelled expensive.

Ma: “Motherhood, ya. It changes everything.” She sat like she owned the sofa. I sat across, folding my legs to avoid pulling at my gown.

Meenu: “How’s Kaka? And you all? It’s been so long.”

Me: “Dad’s in Delhi. We’re fine, just the usual.” I couldn’t remove my eyes off her body; she looked like a perfect Milf after the baby was born.

Meenu: “I came for Shweta’s wedding. My husband and Kabir went to see the match in Mumbai.” Before I could even react, Ma jumped in.

Ma: “Then you stay here tonight! Teach Anu how to behave, this girl shaved her pussy hair and walks around like it’s a fashion show!” I nearly dropped my glass.

Me: “Ma!” Meenu chuckled softly, amused but judging. The awkward moment melted into laughter, Ma shaking her head and muttering prayers.

After a few minutes of chat, Meenu followed me to my room; I slipped away to my wardrobe, pulling out a new mustard kurta I hadn’t worn yet.

Me: “Try this. It’ll suit you.” She changed right there, casually unhooking and stepping out with ease; her naked curvy body was amazing to watch; her boobs were bigger than mine, and I couldn’t look away.

Meenu: “Hmm. You’ve always been figuring things out.” She smiled, but something in her eyes flickered. Meenu’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it, face tightening.

Meenu: “Just need to take this, okay?” She walked to the balcony. I sat on the bed, but the window and curtains were lit. Her voice drifted in.

Meenu: “Ma, I can’t keep pretending. He’s not even trying medication anymore. Even with the pills he can’t fuck me more than a minute. You know… we had IVF, thank god for Kabir.” Then softer.

Meenu slid the balcony door open and paused. She noticed I’m leaning towards the window, ear dropping, her eyes locked on mine.

She didn’t say anything. Just stared, frustrated, vulnerable. I opened my mouth but no words came. She walked past me, tucking her huge boobs in my small kurta top.

A few hours later, Geet called out gently from the kitchen.

Geet: “Didi… khana ready hai. Come eat.” I stood slowly.

Ma had already eaten and gone to bed. Meenu was at the table, quietly serving herself dal. I joined her. Quiet too. The air between us is heavier than ever.

As I opened my mouth, Meenu slid a small box across the table.

Meenu: “Try these. Swiss. I brought them for Kaka and you, I remember you both like eating chocolate after dinner.” I blinked, then smiled softly, picking one.

Me: “Thanks… these are looking really good.” She nodded. Later, we headed to my room.

Meenu: “Smells like childhood here.” We had fluffed the pillows and folded the quilt.

Me: “I know.” We lay down on my bed. Silent again. But this time, it didn’t feel heavy.

Me: “Meenu didi… can I ask you something?” She turned her head slightly.

Me: “Was there ever… someone before Jijaji?” A pause. Too long. The air felt thinner.

Meenu: “Yes.” Her voice was barely a whisper. Her eyes flicked shut, then open again. A single tear traced down.

Meenu: “Delhi. Final year. His name was Raghav. He made me feel seen. Wanted. Real. But he wasn’t… right. Or maybe the timing wasn’t.” I move closer. I just listened, propped on one elbow, watching Meenu trace patterns on the bedsheet.

Me: “Did you and Raghav ever… You know, get in bed? Like… sex.. lose your virginity?” She hesitated, breath catching just for a second.

Meenu: “No. I didn’t cross that line with him, kissed a few times and let him touch my boobs and pussy.” The silence returned.

Me: “And… with jijaji? I mean… You don’t have to say, but…”
Meenu looked away, eyes glistening in the soft glow.

Meenu: “He… has issues. Erectile dysfunction. He can’t insert his dick completely in my pussy, and it’s very soft too. He refuses to talk about it. Acts like intimacy isn’t needed in marriage. Like I’m wrong for wanting sex.” I shifted closer, heart aching.

Me: “But Meenu didi… maybe there are other ways, right? Like… oral or something.” Meenu shook her head, a bitter smile flickering.

Meenu: “Anu… he’s not interested. Not in touch. Not even a kiss in four years. Can you imagine? Four years without being held like a woman, without even feeling wanted for sexual pleasure?”

I didn’t plan it. I just… leaned in, eyes fixed on the pillow, heart pounding louder than sense. My lips brushed Meenu’s dried lips. Soft, kiss her, unsure.

Just the ache of wanting her to feel seen. Needed. She froze. But she didn’t pull away. Her lips started to suck mine, Then.

Geet: “Didi… doodh” The door creaked. Meenu and I snapped apart like startled birds.

Geet stood frozen, tray in hand with milk, eyes wide. The silence exploded in my ears. Geet quickly looked down and placed the milk on the side table.

I didn’t dare look at Meenu. I looked at Geet, our eyes locking, and I gave a small nod. A sign. She hesitated, then gently closed the door behind her. I shifted, moving aside on the bed. My heart was still racing.

Me: “Come… sit here, Geet.” She sat beside me slowly, like someone stepping onto sacred ground, her eyes flicking between me and Meenu.

I gently held Geet’s hand, her skin warm and familiar. She didn’t flinch, just waited.

Me: “Geet… Meenu didi is going through something hard. Her husband… there’s no sex in her life.” Meenu’s voice rose, sharp.

Meenu: “Anu! Why are you telling her? She’s our maid!” I turned to her, firm but soft.

Me: “She’s not just a maid. She’s family. She knows me better than anyone. She knows I’m… not straight; she saw me with Priya on this bed a few times.” Geet looked down, respectful as ever. But her grip on my hand tightened slightly, reassuring.

Me: “You don’t have to be ashamed here, Meenu didi. Not with us.” Meenu looked away, lips trembling.

Meenu: “Anu… when did you know? About… being into women too?” I took a breath, still holding Geet’s hand like a tether.

Me: “I think I always knew. But the college made it clear. It’s not about gender, it’s about the pleasure. Touch. Kink. Energy.” She frowned slightly, unsure.

Meenu: “But… how does it even work? I mean, between two women… pleasure?” I blinked. I thought she’d understand, being from Australia, from a more open world.

Me: “It works like it does with anyone, when there’s a desire match, when there’s curiosity. Fingers. Mouth. Words. Skin. It’s not mechanical. It’s a lot of sexual and emotional, Meenu didi.” She nodded slowly.

Geet: “I thought village girls like me were naïve… but Didi, even you didn’t know?” Meenu stiffened. Her pride pricked.

Me: “Geet.” My voice was low but sharp. Geet immediately bowed her head.

Geet: “Maaf kardo, Didi… I didn’t mean it like that.” I reached for Geet’s lips, lifting her chin gently to my lips. A soft kiss on her lips, tender, intentional. I felt Meenu’s gaze and felt her breath hitch.

Me: “This… this is what I mean, Meenu didi. It’s not about labels. It’s about presence. About making someone feel… seen.” Geet squeezed my fingers once, tasting her own lips, blushing. I glanced at Geet, a quiet signal passing between us, unspoken.

I reached for Meenu’s head, my fingers brushing her hair gently. She didn’t pull back; she made up her mind to open new doors.

Me: “You don’t have to be alone in this, Meenu didi.” She looked at me, eyes glossy with emotions she hadn’t named yet.

Then, Geet leaned in, just slightly, and pressed a soft kiss on Meenu’s lips, no mischief, just comfort, thrill. Meenu didn’t flinch, they both enjoyed the kiss.

Meenu’s fingers trembled slightly in mine. Her eyes dropped to my lips, unsure, searching. That looks… I knew it. That longing to feel wanted, to feel alive.

I leaned in slowly, Our lips met, soft, hesitant, like we were both holding a secret too delicate to speak aloud. No rush. Just warmth.

Geet sat still, silent but present. The air felt thick like the room itself was holding its breath.

The kiss lingered even after it ended, its warmth still pressed on our lips, sucking each other lips. Meenu didi stayed close, eyes lowered, breathing uneven.

I turned slightly, reaching for Geet. My arm wrapped around her back gently, like drawing her into a shelter we were quietly building.

Geet shifted slightly, her body tense beneath my arm. I could feel it, her hesitation, the way she held herself back.
Her eyes flicked between me and Meenu like she didn’t belong.

I looked at her, really looked. No words, just a soft, steady gaze. Then I turned to Meenu, silently asking if she wanted Geet. She blinked, unsure.

I reached up, slowly pulling my bra, letting it fall in soft waves around my shoulders. Then, I slipped off my panties, and I’m naked between two hot women.

Geet understood. She started to undress, She stepped closer, her fingers lightly brushing a strand of my hair from my face. Her touch was trembling but brave.

Meenu sat still, uncertain. But then…Her hands moved slowly. She removed her kurta and then unfastened her pants.

I reached out, my fingers gently threading through Meenu’s nipples, smoothing it back as I rubbed slow, soothing circles on her boobs. Her eyes fluttered closed, a quiet shiver running through her.

Meenu: “Anu…” It was barely a whisper, half-question, half-relief. Beside her, Geet leaned in; she traced the curve of Meenu’s waist and touched Meenu’s pussy.
Meenu: “I never… felt this… like this…” Neither of us rushed her.

I leaned in, lips brushing softly against Meenu’s nipples while I squeezed those huge boobs. Her skin was warm beneath my mouth.

Geet followed, down Meenu’s pussy. She pressed a gentle kiss to her pussy, lingering. Meenu let out a soft breath, caught between surprise and surrender.

Her hands gripped the bedsheet, grounding herself in the unfamiliar warmth of affection. Meenu’s breath slowed, her body finally easing into the quiet closeness.

Geet moved with instinct, her tongue growing softer in Meenu’s pussy. Meenu turned toward me, clinging gently, as if she’d waited years to be embraced like this. Not pitied. Not judged. A desire to feel… wanted sex badly.

Meenu: “I didn’t know I was missing this…” Meenu’s fingers lightly curled around my boobs.

Geet sat near Meenu’s pussy , quiet and licking, her tongue rolling like the fan above us. I pulled Meenu closer, our boobs touched, brushing.

Meenu’s silence wasn’t hesitation anymore, it was surrender. Being seen. Being held. To feeling.
I held her boobs tighter with my mouth, anchoring her to the moment. Beside me, Geet licking her pussy faster, her fingertips brushing Meenu’s pussy walls.

Geet met my eyes briefly, and I nodded. We weren’t doing this for thrill or rebellion. This was about Meenu. Her aching heart. Her silent years.

So, we kept going forward, and Geet went more deeper, her tongue completely drilling Meenu’s pussy, just there, where she needed us to be.

After a scream from Meenu, we stopped, and she got her orgasm. Meenu didn’t need to be overwhelmed.

Meenu: “I must look ridiculous…” Geet chuckled, flopping back on the bed.

Geet: “No, didi. You look sexy.” I smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Meenu’s face.

Meenu lay still, eyes tracing the ceiling, but her mind was far from the room. There was a shift in her, subtle, but real. The way her fingers rested calmly on the sheet, how her boobs rose with slower breaths… like a part of her had finally stopped fighting.

Meenu: “I don’t know what comes next. But… I don’t want to go back the same.”

Me: “You don’t have to. Start again, on your terms.”

Meenu nodded, a soft smile curving. Not healed, but finally… open.

To be continued…