With some regret, we emerge from the pool. Awaiting us are small earthen jugs. Mamata lifts one up and dips her hand in. It emerges glistening. “We must anoint ourselves with this sacred oil,” she says and turning to Nilaya, she drizzles it on her naked form. She passes the jug to Ramita and then begins to rub the oil into Nilaya’s skin until her dusky body shines with it. There is a hint of jasmine and spring flowers in the air, now mixing with the aroma of our arousal.
I feel the warm liquid spill across my breasts and then Ramita’s hands gently kneading it into my skin. Her touch is almost heaven and I sigh happily. She rubs it quickly all over my body, not a bit shy as she plunges her hand between my legs, her fingers slicing through my wet cunt. A foreshadowing of orgasm sends a tremor through my body.
The jug is handed to me and I do not hesitate. I pour the anointing oil over Ramita’s voluptuous body and pass the jug on. With loving attention, I massage the oil into my friend’s skin, all modesty abandoned. I do not hesitate at all, in fact, it is with delight that I rub the oil into the thick mat of Ramita’s bush, relishing the feel of her sodden cunt flesh, so hot and alive as I run my fingers through it and rub it into her meaty breasts, massaging her fleshy tits until they glisten.
Too soon though, Nilaya steps to the wall of the chamber and from a small alcove, pulls forth folded garments. “The time approaches, my friends. The Rite of Danteshwari draws near.” Nilaya announces. We each take the offered garments. It is a Sari of diaphanous silk. Ramita helps wind the folds of transparent material around me. Unlike a traditional sari, it offers little modesty and I realize I am now wearing the garment of my dreams. We are, despite the garments, almost naked and with an easy movement, our sex can be revealed.
“It is time, my friend.” Ramita says and we embrace one last time.
“Thank you, Ramita,” I whisper, unable, unwilling to let her go and I hug her tightly. “I love you, sister.” I say impulsively.
Our embrace ends and Ramita’s eyes are shiny with tears. “Yes, we are sisters now,” she replies. “I love you too, dear Christine.” She takes my hand and leads me into a new passageway. Deeper into the hill we ascend. My heart is beating loudly. I realize I am more aroused now than ever before. My thighs are wet with my cream. My legs feel weak and I am trembling.
We emerge into a new chamber, suffused with a brilliant, soothing light. It is a huge chamber. In the center is a high platform or alter, maybe fifteen feet high. In a broad circle around it are rectangular slabs of crystalline rock. Each is topped with thick pads, sheets and pillows. There are twelve total and I realize that there are twelve of us.
Ramita lets go of my hand and walks purposefully towards one. My eyes fall on another slab and I feel compelled to go to it. Once there, I climb up into it and ease onto my back. It is perfect. It is the bed of my youth, my virginal bed, my marriage bed. It is the perfect place. I could rest here for all eternity.