Her hands toyed with the fabric on her lap. The material was cold and damp, almost sodden. She did not need to lift her underwear to her nose to smell...its aroma but she did so anyway. Stained and damp lace touched the end of her nose as she inhaled deeply.Iona had given enough hand and blow jobs to recognise the smell of fresh and stale sperm. The smell from the material in front of her face was very strong. She took another sniff.Her gaze moved from the contents of her hands to the family. Nothing went too exciting except I saw my sister eying a group of male workers who were taking bath in the river and after the completion of their bath.They walked out to the banks and got changed to their lungies (saree- like cloth for men in the northern India, usually worn over boxers as alternative to trousers) and vest and had taken off their boxer in order to dry them and they walked through the plantation, passed the place my sister was sitting, even stared at her but neither of them. More

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