Fiction: The boy and the cream roll

 The small, dingy shop stood rooted as a lone sight between the paddy, green field and muddy cultivation in the faraway outskirt town cut off from the humdrum of life. A barely visible but elongated trench found its way and covered by thick, long grasses that could be only visible by sharp eyes as farmers and cultivators routinely plodded their tiring soles.

A little boy walked barefoot battling the scorching sun on days and on a rainy morning with the water hitting the face like arrows to stand for hours in front of the shop.  He wore a wry expression and eyes bobbed at the cheap pastry and samoosa but never asked the shop owner for a single piece of the fried, thick dough coated with white cream. The black eyes furtively scanned the plowed fields and as luck would have it, a truck carrying horde of workers decked in lungi sitting atop the huge gunny sack screeched on the mud and dust sprinkling on the face of the little boy. He never wiped his face and was elated with joy. The goodies lying in the shop and flies hovering above them occupied his tiny mind.  Perhaps, poverty and a growling stomach taught him never to approach the shop owner or the thought of running away with a delicacy to crave the stomach to bliss eluded him. 

One sunny afternoon, the eyes of the tiny boy gleamed at the white buffalo, slowly trotting its way in the far away field, surrounded by green leaves and trees. A cheap salwar kameez was thrown in the stable where the horse tied inside looked at the cloth and struggling to tear it apart with the hock. A rough hand flitted past the white and soiled bra, hands caressing and cupped his mouth within an inch of the female boob.  Moaning was lost to the world of cultivation and the wind wafting in intermittent burst. 

The man cupped his lip and smacked the young village women on her mouth. She loosened the string on his pajama and hand pressed beneath the cloth. He became hard inside and pushed inside her, caressing the unchartered zone with his finger. She slouched on the grass, eyes open and mouth closed, longing for more as he penetrated her and hands tightly held to the surface with her body unmoved. She felt the force inside. 

The fair village bell moaned with pleasure, eyes wearing a stillness and calmness, savoring the moment and feeling delicious as her long nails scratched his stiff skin on the back.  She quickly wrapped her salwar and the man quickly pulled his pajama suit, walking at a looming distance to not raise suspicion on the vast field. The young boy smiled and eyes darted in their direction as they sprinted towards the road.  

The couple walked past the teen, who wore dark patch under his eyes and the girl brusquely stopped, pulling something beneath her pallu. The little boy grabbed the cream roll and crunched the top of the cake with his teeth, winked at her. He ran away as fast as he could on his naked feet, leaving the couple at a looming distance who disappeared in the truck pocked with field workers.