Madhuri Dixit and Hussain Saheb Sex Story

[hotaks]

This country had hardly ever witnessed as brilliant a painter as MF Hussain. As famous he is for his brilliant paintings just as much (in)famy has he earnerd for his love of women and fast cars. The story about his connection with his muses is just as titillating as far as the imagination goes. Here let us narrate to you about his relations with his favorite and first muse Ms. Madhuri Dixit. We've sourced information from Hussain saab's personal words, diaries, the testimony of his near and dear ones and of course the most essential ingredient, imagination, as Rushdie puts it when you're writing on a historical perspective, there'll be gasps which must be filed in with imagination and imagination alone.

Just like any other artists, Hussain had a weakness for and adoration for beautiful women, who, in their beauty represented the pure beauty of nature. Hussain had had the company of quite a few pretty women before he noticed the young Madhuri in "Hum aapke hain kaun". She really caught onto his imagination. He had watched the movie umpteenth times, as he himself admits, before he finally had a chance to meet her in an Mumbai studio.

After the first meeting another one followed and another and they were really close. She inspired his imagination to such an extent that he decided to make a movie on her. Yes! A movie not featuring her, but rather on her, solely for her.

On the sets of "Gaja gamini" they came even closer. His eccentric irregular habits and his child like enthusiasm so characteristic of artists brought them even together.

It was a perfect union. People talk so much about age not being an obstacle in love, but how many actually witness it! They were together not only on mental planes but also physical. Now the incidents I'm going to narrate might be a little too obscene our intimate to some. This is part fiction, part reality and part metaphysical. Reader discretion is required. It is n serrated from Hussain saab's view.

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I can not forget the first day Madhuri ji visited my house. I call myself a nomads but ironically I do possess a house. Our friendship wasn't yet very old but out was already very strong. Oh how can I forget it! She was accompanied by her cousin and she stayed but a few minutes. But those few moments are forever printed in my memory. She was dressed in a beautiful red saree cleverly exposing her midriff. There was not much make up on her but sol she looked like an angel sent from the heaven. This short interview was followed by a more prolonged and more promising second visit. Eventually we were close enough that she would sometimes stay in my house.

One such night, it was an August night, it was raining like cats and dogs and she had decided to stay with me rather than return in this torrential rain. And since there was so much closeness between us that the door of her room, there was one totally dedicated for her, adjacent to my own bedroom, was always open.

I opened the for of her room and entered it silently. She was in a white salwar and kurta. The simplicity and the white color magnified her eternal beauty manifold. She was sitting near the window watching the rain pitter patter against the window panes, totally engrossed. I went up to her and put one of my hands on her shoulders. She immediately knew it was me and tilted her head and put it over my hand. I caressed her head with my other hand, feeling the softness of her hair. It was in a bun. I untied it to let her long silky hair be free and tingle my fingers. It was now that she turned to face me. There was a meaningful smile on her face. Indeed God has made the fairer sex really mystical. This same smile can mean so many different things depending on people and context.

She then stood up facing me, we were so close I could feel her hot breaths over me. We were looking each other in eyes, the eyes speaking for themselves. Indeed Ghalib was so correct when he said the most expressive language is that of the eyes. Still looking she then came closer, even closer. She then put her fore finger to my lips. All my shaky lips could utter were 'Madhuri'