Eyl 01

The Yoni And The Lingam Ch. 05

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This not really a stand-alone story, so if you haven’t read the previous four stories in the series, I urge you to start at number one and work your way through. I don’t intend to write a precis of the previous stories every time I add to the series.

After a life changing experience, thanks to an ancient Hindu temple screen I had bought in a junk shop. I sat down soon after and made a note of the advantages and disadvantages of my situation. It seemed to me there were very few disadvantages, and if there was I would discover them sooner or later.

Shortly after I bought it, I met a woman in a dream, a woman who I will only refer to as my ‘goddess.’ She began to ‘bleed,’ from my dreams into my real life until she took solid form. In my dreams she was my wife, and as things progressed between us, she reminded me that she was indeed my wife and we had always been together and always will. I, for my part believed everything she told me.

I had no great religious belief, none at all if I’m being honest, but given all that happened with her I had to reassess what I thought I knew. There was definitely something here beyond my understanding, something beyond my every day humdrum existence.

When I was a bit younger I had looked into certain beliefs, and in my mind I had settled on Buddhism as something I might be able to live with if I had to choose. However, since none of them really appealed to me, I had settled on atheism, with agnostic leanings. Quite simply, I didn’t know, I didn’t care much either, and I was happy to leave it like that. Why Buddhism I’ve been asked, but only on the rare occasions when religion raised its ugly little head in discussions over the years?

I suppose it was the idea of reincarnation that seemed most reasonable if I was going to believe in something. Anything else didn’t make sense. The major Christian/Judaic/Islamic religions, all closely related, are based on one life. You live, you die, and are judged and go to heaven or hell. Where’s the justice in that I thought? A prince living a life of luxury and privilege in Europe, would be judged the same as a blind beggar living homeless on the streets of Calcutta. No, that can’t be right I thought, but if there is a cycle of birth and death where we live different lives and learn the lessons of these lives, then that makes more sense. Perhaps a bit simplistic in my explanation, but I’m sure you get the idea.

Now, with the withdrawal of my ‘goddess,’ from this plane of existence, I was left with her legacy and parting words of encouragement. I must use the gifts she had given me as I see fit, she had told me, without guilt or in any way feeling I was being untrue to her. I had done as she wished, but was finding it hard to reconcile my upbringing and my natural loyalty to her, with the more hedonistic life now open to me.

As the holy, ‘Keeper Of The Lingam,’ I was expected to allow women to ‘worship,’ the lingam. It was according to her, a spiritual experience for these women, even if they didn’t realise it. The ‘gifts,’ she had given me made it very easy to accomplish my ‘mission,’ for I was always aware of when a woman was receptive to me sexually, and I could act upon it if I wished. The ultimate male fantasy, but one I thought may become very wearisome after a while.

I had already tested my legacy on two women, and although very pleasurable as you may imagine, it was only when I made love to Maya, an Indian academic and scholar of all things Hindu related, including myths and legends, that I found some fulfilment and emotional satisfaction. Maya, at twenty seven, although ‘older,’ by western standards was still a virgin, but had eagerly given her virginity to me. I think she saw it as her destiny to lose her maidenhead to the sacred lingam. After our first sexual encounter, I had insisted that contraception must be used. She had a very protective Indian family, her reputation was everything, and she had an excellent academic career to protect.

Maya came back to visit a few nights later with the same results as the previous visit. We ended up in bed, and made excellent use of all her erogenous zones. Afterwards, as we lay in bed together, both of us covered in our aromatic sexual body fluids, she turned to me smiling. ‘Oh my god,’ I thought, ‘she’s so fucking beautiful. I am one lucky bastard having her in my bed.’

‘The whole temple is so excited with your gift,’ she began. ‘They can’t stop talking about it, and to show their appreciation for what you’ve done, they wish to honour you in some way. I’ve been told to ask you to come to the temple for a ceremony of thanks. Thanks for the return of the screen, and a personal blessing for you. Please say you will come. It means so much for our little temple to house the screen even if only for a while until it is sent back to Mother India.’ I kissed her, just a little affectionate kiss on her brow.

‘Yes, of course I’ll come,’ I said mock seriously, then Adana Escort added, ‘but only because you’ve asked me so nicely while holding my cock.’ She started laughing.

‘It’s not just any cock,’ she protested, ‘it’s the Sacred Lingam. Something so much better than a cock, as you call it.’

‘Well, to me it’s still just my cock, despite the fact that it keeps growing bigger and bigger. I hope it stops growing soon, otherwise no woman will be willing to take it. It scares me, never mind some poor horny woman.’ She laughed out loud, and kissed me tenderly.

‘There will always be women who want it,’ she assured me.’ I don’t think you quite realise what a wonderful gift you have been given. A woman’s sex is very, “accommodating,” you know, designed by nature to have some elasticity. No matter how big you grow, it will never be bigger than a baby’s head, and most women fantasize about having a big one, so don’t worry about your size. Women will want it, just like I did, and now that I have it, I’m going to make the most of what I have while I can,’ and she slipped further down the bed and took me in her mouth.

The following week, invited by the local temple, I parked in the car park, and was met by Maya, who conveyed me inside. The place was packed with so many happy, smiling faces who it seemed all wanted to thank me personally for returning the screen. There was some Indian sitar music playing quietly in the background, but it could hardly be heard above the hubbub of excited voices. The smell of incense permeated the air, and I had a flashback to the first time I saw my ‘goddess,’ appearing out of the shadows to greet me and take me to her bed. I grew semi-hard at the thought but dampened down my thought to concentrate on the people I was meeting.

I was taken to one end of the hall, and seated in a huge ornamental chair, almost like a throne, and garlands of flowers placed about my neck. Speeches were made in my honour, but since they were in Hindi, I understood nothing until Maya sat slightly behind me and translated. Maya had also informed me a few days before that most Hindus spoke Hindi, and that Urdu was mostly spoken in Pakistan. It was nice to know the difference in case I may have inadvertently caused offense.

Throughout the speeches I smiled and nodded, a bit like ‘Pip,’ in Dicken’s, ‘Great Expectations,’ and sweated profusely given the proximity of so many people pressed around us. Finally it was over, and Maya, led me through to a smaller room, where I could see that food had been prepared. The feasting went on for another hour or so, and the food was delicious. If I had eaten everything they offered I’m sure I would have ‘burst.’ I finally got away an hour or so later, and slept like a stuffed pig that night.

Maya invited herself round the next night, and needless to say we ended up doing the ‘dirty deed,’ until we were both literally, ‘fucked.’ We didn’t just make love though, we talked between orgasms until we recovered enough to go at it again. Maya finally said enough was enough, she was a little tender tonight, just about where you’d expect her to be tender. So, we lay there, both naked in each other’s arms, occasionally kissing and talking, and finally she raised herself on one elbow and looked at me.

‘I’ve been asked to invite you to another event, a very small event at the temple.’ I looked at her quizzically, and she laughed. ‘Don’t worry, it won’t be like the last time. We have a woman’s group who meet in one of the rooms at the temple every Thursday evening, nothing to do with our religion, it’s just a social group. We’re all professional women, doctors, lawyers, teachers, and so forth, even other academics, and they all speak excellent English,’ she laughed. ‘Please say you’ll come, they would all love to meet you,’ she pleaded.

‘Is it me they want to meet, or the lingam?’ I asked cautiously, and she laughed again. ‘I’m sure it would be a bit of both, but I don’t think they really know about that yet,’ she laughed again. Then teasing me, ‘But, if you can’t handle the thought of all these hot Indian women lusting after your body and making you the centre of attention, I can easily tell them you are a “wimp,” and have a headache or something.’ It was my turn to be amused, and laugh.

‘I’m pretty sure I could just about tolerate all these temple beauties fawning over me,’ I joked. ‘Bring them on, but Maya, being serious now. I don’t want to hurt your feelings. You mean a lot to me, and what happens if these other women want something else rather than just talk and to meet me, and from recent experience we know that’s what will happen?’

‘Thank you, sweetheart, thank you for being so considerate.’ She kissed me again, and then added with a tone that made it sound like she was explaining the obvious to a child. ‘Don’t you realise yet that you are the “Sacred Lingam,” and despite how I, or any other woman feels, you cannot be tied to one woman. Adana Escort Bayan You have a blessing to bestow, and despite how uncomfortable you may feel with that notion, it is now your destiny to accept their freely given gifts, thus raising them spiritually a little higher by raising their Kundalini?’

‘Maybe, but I’m still not comfortable with all this,’ I returned. ‘I know it’s a blessing, but why do I feel in my little, quiet, insecure moments that it could be a curse?’ She took me in her arms, held me even tighter.

‘Don’t try to analyse it too much,’ she said, ‘I know you think it may be just a series of meaningless love affairs, but remember, it isn’t meaningless to the women you bless with your love and power. You are giving them something beyond price. My friends at the temple, if they knew the truth about you, would be fully aware of the blessings you can bestow, but many women will not. Even those who are unaware will be the better for having you in their yonis. They will have been touched by something sacred which brings spirituality, even though unwittingly, into their lives. Do not withhold yourself, just do what you are destined to do.’ Somewhat embarrassed by her words of praise, I kissed her and slipped two fingers between her still slippery pussy lips, she responded by shuddering and moaning with pleasure, signalling that she was ready again.

‘Okay Maya my darling,’ I said, ‘Let’s get you up on your hands and knees so I can bless your beautiful yoni, “doggy style,” once more.’ She laughed, but her wonderful laugh quickly turned to a moan as I slid home between her pussy lips and into her wet depths.

My next visit to the temple took place the very next Thursday. Maya, efficient as ever had arranged everything, and met me in the car park before ushering me in through a side door, and into a smaller room full of women, all chattering away to each other. As I came in, the room went deadly quiet which in itself was mildly intimidating. I was also quite taken aback by the amount of women there. Maya had told me it would be about ten, but I quickly estimated it was closer to twenty.

All, eyes were on me as Maya led me to a slightly raised area about six inches higher than the floor, almost like a mini stage, and once again there was a highly decorated and carved chair which Maya indicated I should sit in. I hadn’t a clue why I was there, or what I was going to say, but as Maya introduced me, she gave me some ideas which I could perhaps talk about.

‘Ladies,’ she began, ‘tonight we are very lucky to have our dear friend and benefactor; the gentleman who found, restored, cared for, and returned the sacred screen to our temple. I’ll be speaking in English because he does not speak or understand Hindi, and it would be very rude of us to talk about him in Hindi.

There was a murmur of what I took to be approval before she continued. ‘He was using it as a headboard for his bed, completely unaware of its significance to us, but he’ll tell you all about that himself. Give him a warm welcome,’ and she stepped aside leaving me to face all these lovely women, who gave me a nice round of applause. I’ve never been afraid of public speaking, and I had read some hints about how to do it a few years before. It works like this; you tell them what you’re going to tell them, you tell them whatever it is you want to tell them, then to wind up you tell them what you’ve told them. That’s it, a simple formula really.

‘Thank you so very much ladies. Once again it’s an honour to be invited to your beautiful temple.’ They clapped again. ‘Quite honestly I haven’t got a clue why I’m here, but my dear friend Maya asked me to come and meet you all. How could I possibly refuse?’ They all looked, smiling at Maya, who was smiling too. ‘I think the easiest thing would just be to tell you how I found the screen, and then we can take it from there. Please ask as many questions as you wish, and don’t be afraid to interrupt me if you have something you want clarified.’

‘Well, I found the screen quite by accident,’ I began. ‘I was just looking in a junk shop window, when the young woman who was looking after the shop opened the door and invited me to come in and have a better look. Perhaps it was fate, or maybe destiny,’ I said, trying to make it sound more mysterious than it was, ‘but I accepted her invitation and stepped into the gloomy interior of the shop. There was genuine antiques mixed with worthless bric-a-brac, and junk. I was just having a look around the shop and chatting to the young woman when I saw something concealed behind a Victorian wardrobe. I got her to clear away some of the old furniture in front of it, and we moved two or three tables, pushed the wardrobe to one side, and there it was.

‘It was covered in dust and dirt; it had been there for years. There was a price tag on it written in pre-decimal figures. The British currency changed to the decimal system Escort Adana in the 1970’s and that let us know it had been hidden there for almost 50 years.’ There was a soft murmur of astonishment from the audience which died away as I resumed my story.

‘I bargained with the young woman, and bought it for sixty pounds. I took it home, and it sat in my hallway, propped up against the wall until one morning as I was going to the bathroom I stubbed my toe on it.’ They laughed. ‘You girls are so cruel, it was very painful,’ I said, playing it for laughs, and they obliged with another laugh. ‘It was almost as if it was saying, “come on lazy bones, clean me,’ and so after breakfast I set about cleaning it. It took a couple of hours to get the accumulated dust and dirt of half a century removed, but I knew I had to be very careful not to damage it.’

‘I used a special bees wax polish, which according to the young woman in the junk shop who sold it to me, was a special polish, a trade secret she told me. She was a delightful young woman, but I couldn’t help thinking she could have sold snow to Eskimos.’ Another ripple of laughter. ‘Anyway, it did the job. As I worked the polish into the wood the screen began to look as I thought it should. A lovely dark brown, almost black wood shining in the light, and with all the dirt removed, the carvings were much easier to see too. That’s when I decided to use it as a decorative head board.’ Maya interrupted.

‘Why a headboard? I know why because you’ve told me, but tell the rest of us too please. My friends here will find it most amusing.’

‘Well for a start it was the right size, and having bought it, I found it didn’t really fit in with any of the other décor in my flat. It was only a little bit wider than my bed, and to be honest, it looked really beautiful once I placed it there.’

‘Was there any other reason?’ Maya interjected again. I laughed myself this time.

‘Ladies, I have to admit, as a young-ish single man, I thought it may be inspirational. I remember thinking that if I was ever making love to a girlfriend or a future wife and ran out of ideas, all I would have to do was look at my headboard.’ This time they all laughed out loud, and one very pretty young woman in the front row wearing spectacles put up her hand.

‘Excuse me sir, but I have not seen this headboard you are talking about yet, what does it depict, and why is that so funny?’ Some of the others laughed again.

‘It depicts various sexual positions for a man and woman making love, and beautifully carved images of the yoni and lingam,’ I hesitated before adding, ‘I hope no one here is embarrassed by what I’ve just said. I have no wish to be offensive to anyone here or your religion.’ There was much shaking of heads and another low murmur of voices in approval. Another hand shot up in the air, and I looked at the woman who wanted to ask a question. She took that as my approval for her to speak.

‘You were using it as a head board for your bed, so why did you decide to donate it to our temple? Was there some reason for your change of mind or heart?’ I hesitated again before speaking.

‘Well,’ I began, ‘I started to have very strange dreams, and in my dreams a woman urged me to return it to India. I didn’t even have to think about it and it just seemed the right thing to do, and so I contacted the temple. Maya and her brother came round to my flat to collect it, and here we are tonight.’ The same woman spoke again.

‘Strange dreams? Are you saying the dreams were because of the screen? Who was this woman who persuaded you to return the temple screen.’ I decided to answer as honestly as I could.’

‘The woman in my dreams was no ordinary woman. I simply think of her as my “goddess,” because she was so beautiful and so perfect.’ There were gasps and more murmurs from my audience. ‘I knew somehow in my dream that this beautiful woman was my wife,’ I continued ‘because she wore the “Nath,” in my dream.’ Now they were all talking excitedly amongst themselves, so I said nothing more. The same woman spoke again, and now it was almost like a conversation between me and her.

‘This woman then, wearing the Nath, she was Indian?’ she asked.

‘Yes, most definitely Indian,’ I replied. She smiled at me.

‘Do you think your dreams and your “goddess,” were connected in some way to the temple screen?’ she continued.

‘I have no doubts whatsoever. I know she was there in my dreams because of the temple screen. She told me so herself.’ The room erupted, not in a bad way, they all seemed delighted with my story, smiling and talking to each other. Gradually the room fell silent again. The same woman spoke again.

‘This is a wonderful story you are telling us, but apart from the Nath, which anyone could dream about, what made you think she was your wife?’ she persisted.

‘Well, I know, or rather knew very little of Indian culture before I dreamed of her. I had seen pictures of Indian women wearing it, but had no idea what it signified or even that it was called the Nath until I looked it up on Google after that first dream. She was wearing one in my dream, and so I presumed she was my wife given what happened.’ Inevitably she asked.

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