Adultery Avi's Sexual Marathon: Family, Village, College, City

[lee.jae.han]

Disclaimer: This story was originally written by someone else. I’m only translating it using LLM tools for wider audience. Apologies in advance for any mistakes, consistencies or inaccuracies in the translation. 


Main , Meri Family Aur Mera Gaon (original)
Author - 123fuckeravi 


will use this page for index as it is mega story.]


Character sheet:

Dadaji


├── Eldest Son (Avi’s Father) ── Married (both deceased)

│  └── Avi (20)

├── Second Son (Chacha) ── Married 3 times

│  ├── Suman (Badi Chachi, 32)

│  ├── Seema (Majeli Chachi, 29)

│  └── Meena (Chhoti Chachi, 27)

├── Pooja (Badi Bua, 42)

│  ├── Sweta (22)

│  ├── Sital (21)

│  └── Raj (18)

├── Neha (Bua, 40)

│  ├── Komal (19)

│  └── Kavita (18)

└── Neeta (Bua, 40)

  ├── Leena (18)

  └── Rajesh (18)

[lee.jae.han]

Index Page 2

[lee.jae.han]

Index Page 3

[lee.jae.han]

Index Page 4

[lee.jae.han]

Index Page 5

[lee.jae.han]

Index Page 6

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 1: A New Beginning in the Village (Avi)

My name is Avi. I was just a child when a road accident stole my mother and father, leaving me an orphan. My father was the eldest of his five siblings: three sisters and one younger brother, my chacha.

My Chacha has a complicated history. He married three times, not for passion, but in a desperate, frustrated search for a son. His first wife, Suman (Badi Chachi, 32), and his second, Seema (Majeli Chachi, 29), never had children. That’s why he took a third wife, Meena (Chhoti Chachi, 27).

My three paternal chachis (buas) live nearby. Pooja (Badi Bua, 42) married young—before she was eighteen, which means she married even before my father. She has two older daughters, Sweta (22) and Sital (21), and a younger son, Raj (18). Then there are the twins, Neha (40) and Neeta (40). Neha Bua has two daughters, Komal (19) and Kavita (18). And Neeta Bua has twins herself, Leena (18) and Rajesh (18).

All my cousins are younger than me, Avi (20), except for Badi Bua’s two daughters.

After the accident, my Dadaji brought me to the village to live with my Chacha and his wives. Badi Chachi was the one who insisted on it. She must have seen me as the son she was always denied, a desperate way to fill the empty space in her life.

A lot of time has passed since my parents died. I’m twenty now. The accident was a huge, life-shattering shock. It took me three years to claw my way out of that suffocating sadness.

For those three years, I existed in a fog. I had no appetite; food tasted like dust. Thirst was a feeling I simply ignored. I didn’t speak to anyone, didn't leave the house to play, and certainly didn't look at a scho*l book. Every moment was a dull, aching replay of my parents' faces.

Neha Bua was the only one who seemed to hate my sadness. She didn't offer comfort; she offered pain. When she was near me, she’d often grab my ear, her grip surprisingly sharp, and yank hard. "Stop this moping, boy!" she'd hiss, her voice low and dangerous. "You're a burden on everyone."

But they say you cannot cry forever for someone who is gone. Suman Chachi was the steady force that pulled me back. One evening, she simply sat beside me and held my hand, saying nothing, until I finally looked up and saw the raw, quiet worry in her eyes. It was that silent plea that broke the spell. I decided, right there, to start my new life.

It was difficult to fill that three-year chasm. But I didn't lose heart. Suman Chachi enrolled me in the village scho*l. I was much older than the other boys, my twenty years standing out amongst the small, energetic children. It made me feel utterly alone in the classroom; I had no friends, no one who understood the lingering echoes of my grief.

This was the beginning of everything.

------------

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 2: The Women Who Raised Me (Avi and Suman Chachi)

My Suman Chachi loves me with a boundless, fierce affection. She is the reason I never truly felt the absence of my mother. All three of my chachis— Suman, Seema, and meena—treat me as their own, an arrangement that makes me the center of a warm, comforting world.

But that warmth often meets a sharp chill. My chacha is a man of loud words and quick tempers. He doesn't just scold the women; he snaps orders, a hand constantly gesturing, dismissing their opinions before they can finish speaking. They always flinch, a tiny, private movement, before dutifully turning back to their work. This tension is a permanent shadow in the house.

Our family is large, and our living situation reflects it. My three buas are married to men who work in Dubai and only return for one month each year. Our chacha’s house is the hub: he and my Chhoti Chachi share the first bedroom; Seema Chachi and Suman Chachi share the second; and the third, the smallest, is mine.

The only room that changed was Dadaji's. Originally, he was in the old storeroom, which the chachis had lovingly scrubbed, plastered, and converted into a clean space for him when he fell ill.

I tried to ignore the slow decline of the man who loved me most. Dadaji adored me. Perhaps it was because my Badi Bua, Pooja, had two daughters before I was born, making me the eldest boy, the first grandson. He always had a special story just for me.

But watching him grow weaker, seeing the glazed look in his eyes, was a weight I carried every day. Today, my chachis finally made the difficult decision.

The smell of fresh antiseptic was strong in the air. I stood frozen in the doorway, watching them gently lift Dadaji onto a makeshift stretcher. My chest felt tight, a band of cold steel wrapped around my ribs. A tiny, panicked thrumming started in my ears, and I could barely draw a breath. He looked smaller than I had ever seen him.

They carried him out, placing him in the waiting vehicle. The engine started, rumbled, and then silence fell over the house again—a heavy, complete silence that swallowed every comforting sound. Dadaji was gone. He had been moved to the ashram for his treatment.

I knew it was for the best, that the constant care he needed was exhausting the chachis, but standing in the doorway of his empty room—the faint, lingering smell of his medicated oil hanging in the air—I felt a huge, lonely space open up in the family. His treatment is ongoing, but truthfully, his condition hasn't improved much.

-------

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 3: The Errand and the Forbidden Sight (Avi and Pooja Bua)

Life in my village schoool  had been simple. Recently, the boys in my class had begun talking about naked pictures they’d seen, and when I saw those images, I felt a strange, hot discomfort, a feeling I couldn't understand, especially when my penis would harden.

One afternoon, I was sent on an errand to Pooja bua's house. I’d always noticed a pattern with Bua: once a month, her friend's brother, Rakesh, would visit. Whenever he arrived, Bua would suddenly find a reason to get her children out of the house—a trip to the movies or a long playdate at my chacha's place.

That day was no different. Bua had already sent her children off for a movie. My chacha had given me a small wad of money to deliver to my Pooja chachi. When I got to Chachi’s door, I found the house empty. I turned to walk back, taking the shortcut past Bua’s main room.

The house was eerily silent, save for a low, rhythmic sound coming from Bua’s room. A heavy, sweet perfume—the same one Bua always wore—hung in the air near the open door. I took one step past the threshold, and the silence shattered.

I stopped dead. My lungs froze. A hot wave of nausea washed over me, and my ears began to ring with a high-pitched, insistent whine. My heart hammered against my ribs, a trapped bird desperate for escape. I felt the blood drain from my face, a cold, empty sensation replacing the warmth in my body.

What I saw I couldn’t have imagined.

Rakesh was bent over Bua, his mouth moving greedily. Bua made a strange, guttural noise that ended in a shaky moan. His hand plunged into the loose fabric of her petticoat, and I heard the quick, soft tear of a string being untied. The garment fell away, and she was completely bare. Rakesh’s clothes followed. His penis looked thick, maybe six inches long.

"Lick me, Rakesh," Bua pleaded, her voice breathy.

He ignored her, his eyes fixed on her body. He positioned himself and shoved.

A sharp, loud cry tore out of Bua's throat—a sound of immediate, dry pain. But Rakesh didn't pause. He began a fierce, piston-like movement, his expression set and remote. He didn’t stop for what felt like ten minutes. Then, with a harsh yell, he collapsed on top of Bua.

Bua pushed his shoulder. "Rakesh, why do you always go straight in? It always hurts when you don't wet me first."

Rakesh shifted his weight off her, pulling his legs up to sit on the edge of the bed. He wiped his face with the back of his hand. "Pooja, you know I can't be bothered with that. I don't like it."

Bua sat up, pulling a sheet over her chest. "But you rammed yourself into a dry pussy!"

"What's the difference?" he asked, shrugging. "It's easier this way."

"Easier for who?" Bua’s voice was strained. "It’s your old habit, I know. But I get used to it, too. What choice do I have?"

He laughed, a short, humorless sound. "I've been fucking you for six years now, and you still react like it's the first time."

Bua’s eyes flashed. "If you put your penis in a dry pussy, what am I supposed to do? Should I be enjoying myself so much that I laugh?"

Rakesh looked toward the door. "That’s why I make sure the kids are gone. I don't want to explain your noises to anyone."

Bua sighed and adjusted the sheet. "You are very clever. You only ever come here to scratch this one itch."

"What can I do?" he said, his tone turning self-pitying. "My wife doesn't cooperate with me the way you do."

"Now get up," Bua said, reaching for her petticoat. "The children will be home soon."

"Yeah, I'm getting up," he muttered, reaching for his own clothes.

They were talking about it so casually, like they were discussing the weather. This wasn't something people were supposed to do.

I backed away slowly, my entire body rigid, then turned and bolted from the house. I stopped down the street, waited for a few frantic minutes to let my breath steady, and then forced myself to return and knock on the front door, just as if I had only just arrived.

"Come in, Avi," Bua called out. She had already dressed.

She walked out of the room, leaving me alone with Rakesh. He was still standing by the bed, smoothing the wrinkles from his shirt.

He looked up. "What’s wrong, Avi? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

I clenched my fists inside my pockets. "Nothing, bhaiyya. I’m feeling a little sick."

He stepped closer, his brow furrowed. "Why? What happened?"

"Nothing, it’s just..." I trailed off, unable to form a coherent lie.

"What’s ‘just’?" he asked, the impatience suddenly back in his voice.

I'm worried about what I saw you doing. I swallowed hard. "Nothing, bhaiyya. It's nothing."

Rakesh put a hand on my shoulder. His skin felt too warm. "Come on, consider me your friend and tell me. Don't be scared."

I knew I had to distract him, to fool him completely. "Bhaiyya, the boys in my class keep showing me dirty pictures. They whisper things like, 'Look at your Pooja bua, she's so naked. Look how big your bua's breasts are.' It makes me so angry."

Rakesh slowly removed his hand from my shoulder and let out a long breath. "Look, Avi, don't let it get to you when someone says something about your bua." He paused, his gaze steady and oddly cold. "No matter what people say, she's still your bua."

"Yeah, you're right," I said, meeting his eyes and managing a weak nod.

Bua returned, holding an envelope. "Avi, here’s the money. Give it to your chacha."

"Okay, Bua. I’ll get going now. See you later, bhaiyya," I said, and left as quickly as I dared.

----

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 4: The Report That Changed Everything ( Meena Chachi and Her Nurse Friend)

I came home, my head still swimming with the unsettling image of Pooja Bua and Rakesh. I just want to go to my room and be alone. I handed Chhoti Chachi the money and retreated to the dim quiet of my room, intending to sleep, but the soft, urgent voices of Chachi and her friend, a nurse named Riya, drifted clearly through the thin wall. I couldn't help but strain to listen.

"Riya, did you do my work?" Chhoti Chachi’s voice was tense, barely a whisper.

"Yes, I brought your report," Riya replied.

What report are they talking about? I shifted, pressing my ear closer to the wall, trying to become part of the plaster.

"Show me! What does it say?" Chachi urged, the anticipation a low thrum in her voice.

Riya hesitated, the silence stretching. "It’s just that..."

"What's 'it's just that'? Just give it to me!" Chachi’s impatience cracked through her composure.

Riya’s voice softened even more. "Here."

A paper rustled. "I can’t understand any of this, yaar," Chachi said, a sigh of frustration escaping.

Riya paused, choosing her words. "It says that..."

"Yes, tell me!" Chachi insisted.

"All your tests are positive," Riya stated simply.

Chachi’s breath caught. "And Avi's Chacha's?" A thread of desperate hope was woven into the question.

"His are negative," Riya replied.

"Meaning?" Chachi whispered.

"It means your husband's sperm count is very low, and what sperm he does have are weak," Riya explained. She lowered her voice further, though I still caught every word. "In other words, your husband can never make you a mother."

Chacha can't have kids? That's why he married three times? But he always blamed my Chachis. A wave of utter confusion and sharp pity washed over me. I felt a cold knot tighten in my stomach, the world suddenly tilting.

"What are you saying?" Chachi exclaimed, her shock echoing the silence in the room. "How can that be?"

"That’s the truth on the paper," Riya said.

"No, my husband is active. He sleeps with me for fifteen minutes, and I get wet two or three times!" Chachi pleaded, clinging to the physical evidence of their life.

"That's all fine," Riya said firmly. "But you don't become a father just by having sex for a long time. It depends on the sperm."

Chachi was trembling. "So what should I do now? Avi's Chacha will destroy me. He’ll never stop blaming me!"

"Do one thing," Riya suggested, her tone pragmatic. "Have a baby with someone else's sperm."

"Chacha won't agree to that," Chachi said immediately.

"Then don't tell him. Come to the hospital with me," Riya pushed. "I'll handle the procedure. No one will ever find out."

"But this is wrong," Chachi said, her voice heavy with conflict and guilt.

"There's nothing wrong with this. It happens in the city every day," Riya reassured her.

Chachi inhaled slowly. "No, yaar, I can't do this." Sadness weighed down the air.

Riya let out an exasperated sound. "Okay, don't. It doesn't affect me."

"Don't be angry," Chachi pleaded.

"I’m not angry," Riya replied, though the sharpness in her voice betrayed her.

Chachi sighed, changing the subject abruptly. "Okay, forget about that. How are your husband and kids?"

"Oh, I almost forgot to tell you in the rush of the report," Riya said, her voice brightening slightly. "My husband has been transferred. We are leaving the city this Sunday."

"What? You're leaving me, too?" Chachi’s voice broke, the sorrow of being abandoned by her only ally palpable.

"I have to go, Meena," Riya said, her expression softening. "I’ll be in touch."

"Okay," Chachi whispered. "Just promise you'll call."

"I promise." I heard the soft padding of Riya’s footsteps as she walked away. "Bye."

Chachi looked heartbroken. She was holding on to the hope of this report, and now it's all gone.

The room was silent, then a small, dry, rustling noise—the sound of the report being crumpled. A moment later, I heard the faint shhh of a match. Chachi was alone, talking to herself.

"Riya, you’ve solved a big problem for me," she whispered into the empty air. "I'll become a mother soon, but I don't know who the father will be. It would be good if he was from this house. If that happens, then Suman Didi and Seema Didi will also become mothers. Now I just have to find a father for my future child."

-----

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 5: The Storehouse and the Secret (Mona, Her Boyfriend, Her Brother)


Around four in the evening, I woke up with a start. A strange, damp, sticky stain had soaked through my pajama bottoms. I pulled them off and saw the thick, wet mark on my underwear. *What is this?* I quickly peeled them off, tossing them into a corner, and put on fresh clothes before heading out to the cricket ground.

We were deep in a game when a massive hit sent our only ball soaring over the boundary and into the forbidden territory: the old, abandoned storehouse. Everyone else gave up and walked home, but the ball was mine, and I wasn't letting it go. I was determined to find a way in.

It was nearly six, and the sun was dipping toward the horizon, casting long, bruised shadows. I walked the perimeter of the storehouse. After a few minutes, I found a window set high in the back wall, slightly ajar. I pushed it open and slipped inside.

The air inside was heavy, still, and suffocatingly thick with the smell of rotted grain and damp earth. My eyes struggled to adjust to the gloom. Just as the darkness began to soften into shapes, I heard a scbang of shoes, and the shadow of three figures climbed in through the same window. They were all wearing our college uniforms.

*Who are they? What are they doing here?* I flattened myself behind a crumbling pile of dusty, wooden boxes, my heart suddenly thumping a frantic rhythm.

The three—two boys and one girl—sat down on the gritty floor. The faint, dusty light from the window was just enough to silhouette them. The girl sat between the boys, who immediately began grabbing at her chest, their hands kneading and squeezing the soft flesh.

The first boy said, his voice husky. “Your mangoes are great.”

The second boy grinned into the shadows. “Yeah, her mangoes and her melons are both ready.”

The girl shifted against them, her breath catching in her throat. Her voice was strained. “Are you just going to talk? Or are you going to do something?”

The first boy dipped his head close, his voice a low promise. “Your lips are so sweet. I could suck on them all day.”

The second boy tugged impatiently at her uniform. “Hurry up and take off your clothes. I can’t control myself.”

The girl’s voice was shaky with effort. “I’m taking them off. I can’t control myself either. Ever since you two got me addicted to this, my pussy has been itching.”

The first boy commanded, his voice growing rough. “Suck my lunď.”

The second boy’s hands worked furiously under her shirt. “I’ll make your boobs even bigger.”

The girl moaned, a low sound swallowed by the dust. “Aaha... this is so much fun.”

The first boy pulled back slightly. “Dude, switch with me. I’ll take your place now.”

The other boy replied, their bodies scrambling in the dark. “Come on, hurry.”

The girl complained, her voice suddenly sharper, her body already writhing against the dust. “Why are you so focused on sucking? Just put it in my pussy already.”

The first boy pulled her uniform skirt up roughly, tearing the fabric. He positioned himself between her legs, spreading them wide with his knees, and then, without further warning, thrust. His body blocked the dim, dusty light as he drove his lunď deep into her chooť. A sharp, swallowed gasp escaped her lips, quickly turning into a moan of friction. He gripped her hips, driving his rhythm deep and fast.

At the exact same moment, the other boy slid his thick penis into her mouth. She immediately choked, a desperate, wet sound, as she was forced to accommodate the sudden, deep fullness. The sounds of their bodies—the wet, heavy *slap* of skin against skin and the muffled *gasp* from her mouth—filled the gloom. They moved together, a blur of panting effort.

They switched, a clumsy scramble in the dark. The second boy took the position behind her, pushing his lunď into her chooť with a determined plunge. The first boy, breathing heavily, forced his penis back into her mouth, silencing her again. They repeated the frantic, desperate rhythm, using her body as a shared focal point for their escalating need.

---

My own penis, without any conscious command, had grown painfully hard. I pulled it out of my pants, the coarse fabric of my shirt brushing against the skin. On a strange, compelling impulse, I started moving my hand up and down, copying the frantic, wet rhythm I was seeing in the shadows. A new, strange feeling, hot and delicious, shot through me, making my spine arch. The more I moved my hand, the better the sensation became, pulling my focus entirely into the tight circle of my palm.

---

The boys’ pace quickened until they were both panting heavily, their sounds echoing, thick and raw, in the close space. The girl began to whimper, a continuous, high-pitched plea for release. Suddenly, a jolt—a feeling of intense, blinding pleasure shot through me. Something warm and thick erupted from my penis. My entire body went limp, all my muscles dissolving instantly. A sensation of intense release and lightness replaced the crushing tension, leaving me dizzy and shivering in the corner.

The first boy’s voice was ragged, laced with satisfaction. “That was great today, man.”

The other boy laughed sharply, adjusting his pants. “Yeah, fucking your sister is so much fun.”

The girl sighed deeply, her voice exhausted. “I’m exhausted. You’ve been using me for a year now. Let’s meet here again tomorrow.”

The three of them scrambled back out the window. I waited until the air settled before following them. I needed to see the girl’s face.

I saw the two boys standing casually by a large neem tree. The girl then stepped out from behind its thick trunk. My blood ran cold. It was Mona, a girl from my own class. I recognized the boys: one was her own brother, who had failed the same grade for two years. The other was her childhood fiancé, also a two-time failure.

I walked home, my head spinning with the dust and the shocking images. Mona? Her own brother? I ate dinner, but the food was tasteless, like chewing on cotton. I went to bed, but sleep wouldn't come. My mind endlessly replayed the two secrets I had uncovered in two days: my Bua with her lover and Mona with her brother and fiancé. For the first time, I understood the true, visceral meaning of "lunď" and "ganď" and "chooť." A new, hot desire sparked in my gut. *I want to do that, too.* But I had no idea how, or with whom.

----

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 6: The Tutoring Offer and the Sports Room Secret (Avi and Madam/Mona)

The next morning, I arrived at college early. At seven, the results were handed out. My mind was still haunted by the images from the storehouse the evening before, but the paper in my hand made me smile. I scored 70 out of 100 in Math, topping the class in that subject, while my sister Komal topped the entire college overall.

During lunch break, I was on the cricket field when my Math Madam, smiling, called me over.

Madam gestured me closer, her expression warm. “Avi beta, your marks are so good.”

“Yes, Madam. It’s all thanks to you.” I could feel my cheeks heat up with pride and embarrassment.

She shook her head gently. “I didn’t do anything. This is the result of your own hard work.”

“But the old teacher made me scared of Math,” I confessed. “You teach in such a simple and good way.”

“Every teacher has a different style,” she replied with a shrug. “Some students like my way, and others prefer the old sir’s.”

“Even so, I got good marks only because of you.”

She laughed, a quick, light sound. “Don’t praise me too much. I’m only here for six months. There’s only one month left, and then you’ll have to go back to the old sir.”

My heart sank into my gut, a sudden, cold weight. My chest tightened instantly. “But why can’t you stay here forever, Madam?”

“I can’t, Avi. This is part of an experiment,” she explained, her face settling into a professional seriousness. “Your sir is teaching at my college, and I’m teaching here. It’s an opportunity for a new experience for both of us.”

“So you’re really leaving?” My voice was small.

She softened her voice. “Yes, I have to go. My husband and son are in the city. I’m all alone here.”

“You’ll always be my best teacher, Madam.”

She changed the subject, tapping the results paper. “The principal told me you can top the class overall if you work a little harder in Math.”

“I’m already working very hard,” I said, a defensive note creeping into my tone.

She folded her arms, challenging me. “It’s not enough. You have to study more and practice even more.”

“Okay, Madam. I will work hard.”

She lowered her voice, leaning closer. “The principal suggested I teach you after college, too. Are you willing to come study with me?”

My breath hitched. The cold weight in my gut vanished, replaced by a sudden, hot excitement. “Yes, of course, Madam! I’ll come to your house this afternoon.”

“Good.” She looked past me, then back. “The principal wanted me to teach you at college, but I’ll convince him otherwise. Come at three this afternoon. And remember to study your other subjects as well.”

“Okay, Madam. I’ll come to your house.”

She glanced at her watch. “Look at that, lunch break is over. Go back to your class.”

“Thanks, Madam.”

---

Back in the classroom, my focus immediately bled from the math problems. Mona’s image—her fair skin, her naked body—burned in my mind, a hot, distracting presence. I was lost in the memory when the bell finally shrieked. The History teacher was a no-show, so we were dismissed to the field.

I started playing, then stopped, scanning for Mona and her boyfriend. No luck. I began searching the perimeter, anticipation tightening my gut. Soon, I spotted Mona’s brother outside the sports room door, leaning against the frame. The door was securely locked from the inside.

*I knew instantly: they were inside.* A shiver of dark excitement ran through me, starting cold and quickly heating my blood. I crept up to the building, found a crack in the dusty window frame, and peered in.

It wasn't just Mona and her boyfriend. The Principal, fully clothed, sat heavily in a chair, dominating the small, echoing room.

---

## Update 6 A: The Principal's Price and the Forced Submission (Avi and Mona/Principal)

Mona was on her knees before the Principal, completely naked. Her boyfriend stood by, chest heaving, his eyes fixed on the scene.

Mona leaned forward, her voice tight with panic. She glanced at the door, then back at the Principal’s stern face. She pressed her palms together in a silent plea. She needed to please him quickly.

Mona reached up and placed both her full, soft breasts directly into the Principal’s large hands. She pushed them toward his mouth, her head tilted, silent appeal in her eyes.

The Principal’s stern expression softened slightly. His large hands closed around the soft flesh, gripping them thoughtfully. He began to knead them, his thumb sweeping slowly across the areolae. Mona closed her eyes, letting out a low, shaky breath. The Principal leaned forward and took one nipple between his lips, drawing a long, wet pull. Mona arched her back, a soft, involuntary moan escaping her throat, which she instantly muffled with a trembling hand. The Principal continued his leisurely sucking, alternating between the two breasts, savoring the soft flesh and the low whimpers he coaxed from her. He spent several long, indulgent moments, manipulating her breasts, his breathing slow and measured.

Finally, he lifted his head, a small, satisfied smile on his face. He gently pushed her breasts aside. He lowered his voice, his tone deep with expectation, and indicated his lap with a gesture.

Mona understood. She lowered the Principal’s trouser zipper slowly. The loud *zzzzip* of the heavy metal broke the sensual silence, a sharp, intrusive sound. The Principal’s penis sprang out, thick and rigid, slick with pre-ejaculate. Mona paused for a breath, then slowly took the hard penis into her mouth, her lips closing tight around the shaft. She began to suck with a deliberate, dedicated rhythm, her throat working methodically.

The Principal leaned back in his chair, his hands gripping the arms, his head tilted back. A low groan rumbled in his chest, a sound of pure satisfaction. He reached down, his fingers burying themselves in Mona’s hair, guiding her head, urging her deeper. Mona accepted the control, sucking faster, her eyes closed in concentration.

She pulled back slightly, drawing the head of his penis against the roof of her mouth, licking the tip with her tongue. Then, without instruction, Mona dropped her head lower. She began to pull the slack from his scrotum, taking his heavy balls into her mouth and rolling them against her tongue. She began to suck them with full, deliberate force, coating them completely in saliva. The wet, rhythmic slurping noise was audible over the silence of the room, slick and thick with their combined efforts. Saliva dripped from the corner of her mouth, running down her chin and pooling briefly on his penis before she swallowed and returned her attention to the engorged balls. The Principal’s grip on the chair tightened, his knuckles white.

The boyfriend fidgeted nervously by the door. He spoke up, a sharp hiss of impatience. “Mona, finish it! Don’t waste time!” he commanded, rubbing his face with a sweaty hand.

Mona’s sucking continued, muffled and intense, dedicated to the Principal’s rising pleasure, but she didn’t look up, ignoring the boyfriend’s distraction. The Principal simply shook his head slightly, a silent command for the boyfriend to wait. His focus was entirely on Mona’s mouth and the pleasure she was delivering.

---

The Principal finally pulled her head away, his movements now firm but controlled. He rose from the chair. He looked down at her and gestured sharply at the dusty floor.

Mona immediately dropped onto her hands and knees. Her naked body shook slightly. She looked back at him, head bowed.

The Principal positioned himself behind her. He grabbed her hips, drove his penis into her chooť.

Mona immediately let out a high-pitched scream of shock and pain. My entire body went rigid against the window pane. The sound was like a razor blade slicing through the quiet air. My heart hammered against my ribs, convinced the entire college must have heard it. Her hands instantly flew to her mouth, stifling the noise against the dusty floor.

The Principal’s eyes snapped to the locked door, his face draining of color with the sheer terror of exposure. He instantly stopped the rhythmic fuck. He grabbed Mona’s hair and held her head up, his voice low and frantic. “Boy!” he hissed at the boyfriend. “Boy, get your penis out!”

The boyfriend fumbled with his belt, fear and confusion in his eyes. He pulled his lunď out.

The Principal pulled his penis out of her chooť with a heavy *schlick* sound. He shoved Mona’s head forward and pointed at the boyfriend's erection. “Put it in her mouth! Now!” he commanded, his voice a desperate, harsh whisper. “Push it in!”

The boyfriend shoved his penis toward Mona’s face. Mona’s eyes, still wide from the sharp initial scream, fixed on the approaching lunď. Her body remained still, the shock of the scream quickly transforming into a deep, desperate submission. Her mouth accepted the familar boyfriend's lunď. The Principal immediately slapped his palm over her mouth, muffling the ragged sound of her breathing.

The Principal positioned himself behind her again, driving his penis back into her chooť with desperate speed. He held his hand firmly over her mouth and cheek, muffling any sound as he began his frantic rhythm, the heavy, wet sounds echoing as he slammed his hips into her.

The boyfriend spoke up, his voice cracking with urgency, his lunď still deep in Mona's mouth. “Sir, we’ll pass, right? The grades are set?”

The Principal ignored him, his focus purely on the intense rhythm. He held Mona’s head steady, driving her down onto the boyfriend filling her mouth. The combined, overwhelming sensation fed his frantic climax.

The Principal suddenly gasped, his body tensing with the rush of climax. He pulled his penis out of her chooť quickly, his movements jerky. He stepped away, his breath ragged, struggling to adjust his pants. He looked down at Mona.

Mona instantly obeyed the next unspoken command. Her mouth released the boyfriend’s lunď. Her tongue went to work, licking and sucking the Principal’s penis clean of the fresh cum and the fluids from her chooť. Her tongue worked meticulously, driven by the need to complete the service. She swallowed hard, cleaning the shaft completely, coating it in fresh saliva.

The Principal let out a deep, satisfied sigh as she finished. He gently cupped her face in his hands, wiping the saliva and tears from her chin with his thumb. He leaned down and placed a slow, wet kiss directly on her lips.

He murmured against her mouth, his voice hoarse but congratulatory. “The grades are done. You held up your end, my dear. Get dressed.”

He pulled away, grabbed his briefcase, and rushed out, slamming the door behind him.
Mona’s brother immediately slipped inside, locking the door.

Mona rubbed her chest, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, her body trembling with spent energy and shock.

Mona said, her voice weak. “Our work is done.”

Mona’s brother shot back, already unzipping his pants, his face dark with sudden hunger. “Done where? We have to fuck you too.”

The boyfriend said, eyes dark with arousal. “Yeah, man. I got so horny watching that.”

Mona insisted, pulling her clothes back on quickly. “Not now. Let’s do it at the storehouse in the evening. It’s too risky here.”

The boyfriend sighed, zipping his pants. “Alright, fine.”

Mona’s brother said, grabbing her arm. “Let’s go.”

The three of them left the room. I slipped away, my head buzzing with the dark, thrilling image of Mona’s forced silence and pain. I felt like a silent witness to a terrible secret, and the satisfaction was intoxicating.

-----

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 7: The Chachis' Secret Conspiracy (Avi and Suman/Meena/Seema Chachi)


Suman Chachi, the eldest, served me a hearty lunch, her hands moving with practiced care. After eating, I eagerly pulled out my report card, proud to share it with all three of my aunts. Meena Chachi scanned it, her smile warm and genuine.


“Chachi, starting today, I’ll be studying at my Math Madam’s house,” I announced, chest puffed with excitement.

Meena Chachi’s eyes flicked up, a curious glint in them I couldn’t quite place. “That’s good.”

Suman Chachi glanced up from the report card, her brow furrowing slightly. “Will she charge you money, or is she teaching for free?”

“No, Chachi, the principal asked her to teach me, so it’s free,” I replied confidently.

Seema Chachi reached over, pinching my cheek with a fond grin. “My son is so sweet. No one could ever take money from him.”

I pulled back, laughing softly. “Chachi, stop teasing me.”

Suman Chachi’s voice softened as she turned to Seema. “Why are you bothering Avi?”

With a playful pout, Seema Chachi protested, “Didi, I’m not bothering him. I’m just praising my son.”

Meena Chachi let out a quiet chuckle. “I know what your praise means.”

Raising her voice in mock exasperation, Suman Chachi said, “Now both of you stop fighting.”

“Okay, Didi,” they replied in unison, their smiles wide and mischievous.

Stretching, I yawned. “Chachi, I’m going to sleep. Please wake me up in the afternoon.”

Suman Chachi nodded gently. “Yes, go to sleep. I’ll wake you.”

I headed to my room and lay down, my mind buzzing with thoughts of the stern Principal and the gentle Math Madam who’d be tutoring me. Sleep tugged at me, but before I could drift off, muffled voices seeped through the thin wall. Curiosity sharpened my senses, and I pressed my ear against the plaster, every nerve on edge.

Seema Chachi’s voice broke the quiet first. “Meena, your friend Riya came yesterday, right?”

“Yes, she did,” Meena Chachi answered, her tone oddly flat.

“Did she bring the report?” Seema pressed.

Meena’s response was curt. “Yes, she brought the report.”

Leaning forward, Suman Chachi’s voice carried eager suspense. “What did it say?”

“Yeah, yeah, tell us quickly!” Seema Chachi added, her impatience palpable.

Flatly, Meena Chachi said, “I burned the report.”

A heavy silence blanketed the house. My heart thudded, a dull, frantic rhythm echoing the tension next door.

Suman Chachi’s voice trembled with shock. “What are you saying? You burned it?”

Seema Chachi leapt to her feet, her voice sharp with disbelief. “Meena, what did you do? I collected those samples with so much difficulty, and you burned them? Are you insane?”

Her tone detached, Meena Chachi replied, “Yes, I burned it. Because it felt right.”

Confusion laced Suman Chachi’s words. “What do you mean?”

“I read the report and then burned it,” Meena said simply.

Gripping Meena’s arm, Seema Chachi demanded, “You read it? Tell us what it said!”

Suman Chachi’s voice cracked with desperate hope. “Tell us, Meena. Can I ever become a mother or not?”

“Tell us, Meena!” Seema urged, her anticipation tight.

Taking a steadying breath, Meena Chachi said, “Yes. All three of us can become mothers.”

A collective gasp filled the room, shaky and raw.

Suman Chachi whispered, her voice breaking. “Are you telling the truth, Meena?”

“Yes, I am,” Meena replied firmly.

Seema Chachi’s laugh was high-pitched, almost hysterical. “Meena, you have no idea what good news this is!”

But her laughter stopped abruptly, her tone shifting. “She’s lying.”

“What?” Suman Chachi asked, confusion clouding her voice.

Glaring at Meena, Seema repeated, “She’s lying.”

Leaning forward, Meena Chachi insisted, “No, Didi, I’m telling the truth.”

Seema folded her arms, her voice sharp. “If you’re telling the truth, then why haven’t we become mothers yet?”

Meena raised a hand, her expression calm but resolute. “Didi, listen to my full story.”

Trying to mediate, Suman Chachi said, “Okay, okay, tell us, Meena.”

Meena’s face hardened, her voice low and serious. “We can become mothers, but Avi’s uncle can never become a father.”

Shock rippled through the room. My face paled, my breath catching. Suman Chachi sank to the floor, the words hitting her like a physical blow.

Seema Chachi’s voice shook. “What are you saying, Meena? If we can become mothers, then Avi’s uncle will become a father, right?”

Meena’s tone was unyielding. “Avi’s uncle can never become a father.”

Silent tears slid down Suman Chachi’s face as she covered it with her hands. “Then how can we become mothers?”

A slow, calculating smile spread across Seema Chachi’s face. “Meena, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Still lost in despair, Suman Chachi sobbed, “What’s going on in your mind, Seema?”

Impatiently, Seema said, “Meena is saying that even though Avi’s uncle can’t become a father, we can.” She turned to Meena. “Right, Meena?”

“Yes,” Meena confirmed with a curt nod.

“So?” Suman Chachi asked, her voice small.

Lowering her voice, Seema explained, “Meena is saying that even if Avi’s uncle can’t be the father, we can still have a baby.”

Suman Chachi snapped, disgust lacing her words. “What are saying, Seema? Are you crazy?”

Seema’s eyes burned with intensity. “No, Didi, I’m not crazy. You’re not understanding the opportunity.”

Meena’s voice turned blunt, almost brutal. “Didi, we can become mothers if we have sex with someone else.”

Suman Chachi’s eyes widened, her hands dropping from her face. “What are you spouting, Meena? You’ve really lost your mind.”

Seema insisted, “Didi, just listen to what Meena has to say.”

Defeated, Suman Chachi sighed. “Okay, fine. What do you want to say that justifies this?”

Leaning closer, Meena’s tone grew conspiratorial. “Look, Didi. Avi’s uncle can never be a father. If we don’t do something soon, he might marry again. The fact that he’s infertile is something only the three of us know. He doesn’t.”

Suman Chachi pointed out, “And your friend Riya. She knows, right?”

“Yes, she knows,” Meena replied. “But she’s leaving this city this Sunday for a place far away. She said she’ll never come back.”

Her voice trembling, Suman Chachi said, “But I still don’t understand what you want to do.”

Meena’s plan took shape as she spoke. “Look, Didi. We’ll become mothers by having sex with someone else, but as far as the world is concerned, Avi’s uncle will be the father.”

Seema’s eyes gleamed with calculation. “How will that happen?”

“Yes, how will that happen?” Suman Chachi echoed, leaning closer despite her fear.

Meena explained, “We’ll find a man who can get us pregnant. And then he’ll leave this village, so we don’t have any problems in the future.”

Suman Chachi trembled, the thought of betrayal overwhelming. “But…”

Cutting in, Seema’s voice was sharp. “I think Meena’s idea is right.”

Trying to soothe her, Meena said, “Didi, don’t worry. I’ll handle everything.”

Suman Chachi’s sense of duty lingered. “But what about Avi’s uncle?”

Impatiently, Meena replied, “Didi, don’t think about it so much. Just say yes and leave it all to me.”

“I don’t know,” Suman Chachi said, her voice heavy with despair. “I can’t betray Avi’s uncle.”

Seema’s tone hardened. “Didi, when Avi’s uncle married again and again, didn’t you feel bad? Will you feel good if he marries a fourth time? Do you want to lose your position in this house?” She turned to Meena, resolute. “Meena, do whatever you need to do to make us mothers. Don’t worry about Didi. When she becomes a mother, she won’t feel bad about this anymore.”

Determination settled in Meena’s voice. “Okay. I’ll get to work. I’ll find a powerful father for my children.”

Finally giving in, Suman Chachi’s tone was defeated. “Okay, do whatever you two think is right. But be careful with whatever you do.”

Seema exhaled, relief evident. “Now that’s what I’m talking about, Didi.”

Bowing her head, Suman Chachi murmured, “Okay, you two go and rest. I’m going to wake up Avi.”

*They were going to find a man. A powerful father for their children. They were going to deceive Chacha.* I lay frozen, the secret pressing down like a stone on my chest. My palms grew slick with cold sweat. A dark curiosity surged, drowning out the guilt. My breath came shallow and fast, leaving me dizzy. I stayed there, intensely alert, enveloped by the silence of their conspiracy.

---

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 8: The Rubber Band Theory and the Bitter Taste (Avi and Madam)

In the heat of the afternoon, I walked toward Madam's house. She lived alone, since her husband and son were away in the city. Madam was stunningly beautiful. Her figure was full, her breasts like ripe mangoes—a thought that made my mind snag every time I saw her. I guessed her age to be around 35, and I truly had no words left to describe the magnetism she possessed.

I knocked on her gate. After a short pause, the door opened. She stood there wearing a nightgown, a garment that did little to hide the shape of her body. Her breasts seemed to settle just a little lower than they had in her starched saree, and I was completely, shamelessly captivated. I stared, my mind going utterly blank, until the sound of my name, sharp and low, made me jump.

Madam hissed. “Avi.”

I snapped out of the daze, a sudden, hot flush of embarrassment spreading across my face. *I mentally cursed myself. Ever since I had seen that first fucking yesterday, my entire perspective on women had changed.*

She welcomed me inside with a relaxed posture and walked into the kitchen to get me some water. I stood frozen, fighting the intense urge to look at her again.

Madam returned with a glass of water, which I drank quickly, trying to regain my composure. I reached into my bag to take out my textbooks, a mechanical gesture of normalcy, but she stopped me with a simple hand gesture.

Madam shook her head, her voice soft but final. “Avi, you can put your books back in your bag.”

My brow furrowed in genuine confusion. “But Madam, how will I study if my books are in my bag?”

She tilted her head, a hint of melancholy entering her expression. “I’m sorry, Avi, but I get bored being alone at home. That’s why I called you here.”

I insisted, holding onto the excuse for my presence. “But what about my studies?”

She stepped closer, her voice dropping lower. “You can study at home.”

“But you said you would teach me Math...”

Madam pressed her lips together. “Listen, Avi. You’re a smart boy. You can study on your own. My real reason for calling you was to have some company.”

I trailed off, the words feeling empty even to me. “But my studies...”

She asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Why are you so obsessed with studies? Wait, I’ll show you something.”

She reached up and pulled a black rubber band from her hair, letting her thick, dark hair spill over her shoulders. “Look, Avi, I have a rubber band. Imagine this is you.”

She pulled the band taut between her fingers, stretching it thin and vibrating. “See how long it has become? If I pull it any more, it will break.”

She released the tension slightly, her eyes holding mine. “Your life is the same. You have a limit. If you cross it, you’ll have problems. I’m not saying crossing your limits is always a bad thing; sometimes you can gain something from it. But most of the time, you lose something.”

She finished, her voice softening. “You’re a bright boy. It’s up to you how much you learn. I’m not saying you don’t have the ability to learn. You just need to bring it out yourself. This isn’t just about math, is it?”

“I think I understand, a little bit,” I said, her lecture feeling less about college and more about the boundaries I was currently testing in my head.

She smiled fully now. “Good. So from now on, you come to my house every afternoon to talk to me.”

“Okay, Madam, I will come,” I replied, the decision feeling far heavier than a simple agreement to visit.

She chuckled, gesturing toward the kitchen. “This lecture has made my throat dry. I’ll go make some coffee.”

“Okay, Madam.”

She came back a few minutes later, holding a steaming mug. “Thank you, Madam.” I stared at the dark liquid, unsure of what to do.

She asked, raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you drinking it?”

I admitted, feeling small. “I’ve never had coffee before, Madam.”

Madam placed the mug firmly in my hands. “Avi, you have to do something for the first time in your life. It will be a little difficult at first, but you’ll learn to enjoy it.”

I took a sip. The first taste was a shock—bitter and strangely intense—but after a few more sips, a sharp warmth spread through me, and I began to enjoy the unfamiliar taste. *This wasn’t just about coffee.*

---

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 9: The Family Question and the Shared Secret (Avi and Madam)

The warmth of the black coffee still lingered, a slightly bitter, sophisticated burn in my throat. Madam watched me from across the low table, her expression still unreadable, like a mask perfectly set.

Madam tilted her head, her hands folded neatly in front of her. “So Avi, how was the coffee?”

“It was good,” I admitted, the unusual taste still new on my tongue.

“I told you that you would like it,” she said, a faint, proprietary smile touching her lips.

“Yes.”

She leaned forward, her elbows on the low table, invading the small space between us. Her eyes seemed to pin me in place. “Avi, can I ask you something personal?”

I was surprised by the directness of her gaze. “Yes, why not?” I replied.

She kept her voice deliberately casual, but her tone was inquisitive. “Who all lives in your house right now?”

I listed them off, counting on my fingers. “My uncle, my chachis, my Dadaji—though he’s staying in an ashram now because he’s sick—and me.”

Her voice suddenly hushed, and her eyes briefly held a gentle, practiced sadness. “And your parents?”

“They’re no longer in this world,” I spoke the familiar, hollow words, which always felt like I was reciting a very old fact.

She sighed, the sympathy washing over me. “I’m sorry, Avi.”

I shrugged off the expected pity. “It’s okay.”

She shifted slightly, changing the topic completely. “I once saw you in the market with two women,” she said, her eyes tracking something unseen on the far wall.

“Yes, they were my chachis.”

She raised an elegant eyebrow, a silent question in the gesture. “You have two chachis?”

“No, I have three. My uncle married three times,” I explained simply, giving her the full account.

She lowered her gaze to her hands, thinking. “Why did he marry three times?”

“Suman Chachi and Seema Chachi couldn’t have children,” I explained simply, repeating the known family reason. “So my uncle married a third time.”

“So your third Chachi has a child, then?” she asked, her voice calm but persistent.

“No, none of my chachis have any children,” I clarified.

I noticed a tiny, subtle flicker in her eyes then, a strange, knowing spark that vanished instantly before I could place it. It was a look of understanding, maybe even connection, to the quiet life of my house.

“So your chachis must love you very much, then,” she said, her voice warm, but the previous question—the silent observation of a household with no children—hung heavy in the air.

“Yes, all my chachis love me very much,” I confirmed, feeling a wave of familiar comfort and pride in their affection.

I shifted in my seat, suddenly uncomfortable with the intense focus on my family life. “What about your family, Madam?”

She looked away for a long moment, tracing the rim of her coffee cup with a perfectly manicured finger, seemingly weighing her words. “My family? I have a husband and a son.”

I prodded gently. “They both live in the city, I guess?”

“Yes,” she said, finally meeting my gaze. “They live in the city. I’ll be joining them in about a month.” She seemed content with the thought.

I glanced toward the window, where the afternoon light was turning a deep, golden color. “What’s the time, Madam?” I asked, seizing on the distraction.

She looked at her wrist. “4:30 p.m. Why, do you have somewhere you need to rush off to?” she asked, surprised by my urgency.

“Yes, I have to go to the ground to play cricket,” I said, grabbing the perfect, plausible excuse.

She stood up abruptly. “Okay, go. But come back tomorrow.” She paused at the door, her gaze becoming serious, almost conspiratorial. “And if anyone asks, especially your uncle or your chachis, just tell them you were studying hard for your exams.”

“Okay, Madam,” I agreed quickly, nodding to solidify the new shared lie.

I left her house and went straight home to drop off my small bag, but my mind was already racing ahead. The cricket ground was my stated destination, but my true goal was clear and intoxicating: I was waiting for Mona to show up at the storehouse. The thought of her presence pulled me forward with an undeniable urgency. My heart pounded a dull, thick beat against my ribs, a visceral reaction to the anticipation of seeing her again. The blood throbbed hot in my ears, making me dizzy with impatience.

-----

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 10: The Stolen Book and the Dinner Invitation

By evening, everyone had left the cricket ground. But I stayed, my eyes glued to the darkening street, waiting for Mona. Soon enough, she, her brother, and her boyfriend appeared and walked toward the storehouse.

I followed them quickly, anticipation pounding in my chest, but her brother stood right in front of the window, completely blocking my view. I couldn't go inside or even peek. I will hide inside the storehouse tomorrow before they come, I vowed, and with that, I backed away, disappointed.

Suddenly, the dusty storehouse door creaked open. The three figures inside froze, then scattered, running out the window and taking off toward their houses. It must have been the owner. My chance to watch was gone. I walked home, my shoulders slumped in defeat, ate dinner, and went to bed.

As I walked toward my room, I heard my Chachis talking. I paused near the wall.

"Meena, is there any progress?" Seema Chachi  asked, her voice tight with eagerness.

"It's only been one day, Didi," Meena Chachi  replied. "This has to be done slowly, deliberately."

"Yes, Meena, think carefully before you decide," Suman Chachi (the eldest) cautioned.

"Find someone good and handsome," Seema Chachi added, the request sounding bold.

"Yes, yes," Meena Chachi agreed. "I'll think about it and make a good plan."

"What do you mean?" Suman Chachi asked, her confusion apparent.

"Didi, after all these years, if we suddenly become mothers, people will get suspicious. It has to look natural."

"Oh," Suman Chachi said, her voice now full of worry. "I didn't think of that."

"But Meena, how will you manage that?" Seema Chachi pressed.

"Leave it to me. I'll do something so no one ever suspects anything."

"Whatever you do, just do it quickly," Suman Chachi sighed, giving in to impatience.

"Not quickly, Didi. It has to be done slowly."

"Okay, let's go to sleep," Suman Chachi concluded, ending the dangerous conversation.

---

The next day, nothing special happened at schoool. I got a harsh warning for not doing my homework, but that was it.

In the afternoon, I went to Madam's house again. Today, she was in a bright, relaxed mood.

"Will you drink something, Avi?" she asked, walking past me.

"A cup of coffee," I said, the words surprising even myself.

She stopped and laughed. "What's this? Yesterday you refused, and today you're asking for it yourself."

"You said I'd enjoy it after the first time, Madam," I replied, a smirk touching my lips. "And you were right."

"Okay, sit down. I'll make coffee."

I sat on the sofa. As she went inside, my eyes were immediately drawn to the single bed. Tucked underneath it, just as it had been the day before, was a book covered in newspaper. The wind from the ceiling fan had flipped a few pages, revealing clear pictures of naked women. My heart hammered in my chest. I looked around the empty room and reached for it. Just as my fingers brushed the newspaper cover, I heard her stirring in the kitchen.

I quickly slipped the book into my bag.

Madam returned with the steaming coffee, and we settled into conversation.

"Avi, your village is so lovely," she said.

"Yes, Madam, it's nice and sweet."

"The people are a bit strange, though," she said, her voice dropping conspiratorially.

"Strange, how?"

"They just stare at me whenever I go outside," she said.

"Madam, if you go out in that dress," I said, a cheeky tease entering my voice as I looked at her casual wear, "people will stare."

She shook her head, a hint of frustration in her eyes. "No, I mean when I'm wearing a sari on the way to schoool. They stare."

"Madam, you're the most beautiful woman in this village," I said honestly. "That's why they stare."

"Can I ask you something else?" she pressed, ignoring my compliment.

"Of course."

"Whose house is that yellow one near the shop?"

"That's Mona's house," I said. "She's a girl from our schoool."

"I saw a boy there, too."

"That's probably her brother. He's failed the same class for two years."

"Why are you asking all these questions, Madam?" I asked, a sense of unease creeping up on me. Her probing felt too similar to the secrets I was carrying.

"Oh, no reason," she said quickly, forcing a nervous laugh. "It's just that whenever I go to schoool, he keeps staring at me, and his eyes... they scare me."

"Madam, he and his sister Mona are both bad," I said, the words slipping out, fueled by my witnessing their actions.

"Bad? What do you mean?"

"They're just bad," I repeated, not wanting to say more, unable to trust myself. "Let's not talk about it. I have to go now. It's getting late."

"Bye, Madam. See you tomorrow."

"Bye," she said, her expression suddenly warm. "And make sure you come tomorrow. We'll have dinner together."

I left, the weight of the coffee, the stolen book, and the promise of dinner all pressing down on me. I knew the line between student and confidant was disappearing fast.

---

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 11: The Intimate Discovery (Avi and Chachi)

I went home after college and headed straight to the field to play. But Mona, her brother, and her boyfriend didn't show up. *Perhaps they were scared off by the storehouse owner, or maybe they found a new, secret place.* I played for a while, feeling restless, then went home.

After dinner, I retreated to my room. With no homework to distract me, I opened my bag to put away my books and saw the item I had stolen: the newspaper-covered book from Madam’s house. A pang of guilt hit me—sharp and quick, a fear of being discovered—but my curiosity was already too strong to be denied.

I pulled it out and peeled back the newspaper cover. The book’s pages, slick and glossy, felt heavy in my hands. The photographs inside were an absolute shock. These weren’t the grainy, distant pictures the boys at college whispered about; these were clear, sharp images of naked girls and older women.

I leaned closer, my breath catching in my throat, the paper faintly smelling of perfume and old ink. The scenes were explicit and bold: women eagerly sucking breasts, others licking chooť, and still others sucking lunď. It was a blueprint of the acts I had glimpsed in the storehouse and overheard from Bua. My body immediately responded. The more I looked at the images, the more my own penis became heavy, painfully hard. A wave of heat washed over me, a strange combination of illicit shame and overwhelming fascination.

I flipped to the final page, and a sudden, bold inscription written in elegant handwriting stopped me cold, the words burning into my vision: "My husband's penis is 6 inches long."

The note turned my attention inward, making me intensely curious about my own body. *I needed to know.* I took a ruler out of my college bag, my hands trembling slightly. I tried to measure while dressed, but it was impossible to get an accurate reading.

I pulled off my pants and underwear, the cool air hitting my skin. I positioned the ruler against my body. It was a difficult, awkward task, requiring precision and focus, but I managed to mark the length with a small pencil line on the wood. I quickly dressed again, my heart pounding against my ribs, and then checked the mark against the numbers. A mix of pride and anxiety flooded me. I finally knew my penis’s length.

Just as the significance of the number was sinking in, I heard Chachi's voice from outside my door, her footsteps pausing right outside the thin wood.

Chachi called out, her voice gentle but firm. “Avi, it’s late. Go to sleep. You have college tomorrow.”

I froze, the ruler still in my hand. My heart leaped into my throat and started jackhammering against my collarbone. A knot of pure terror tightened in my stomach. The fear of being caught with the evidence—the book, the ruler—was terrifying. I shoved them both under my bed, scrambled under the sheet, and lay perfectly still, forcing my breathing to be slow and even. The powerful weight of my secrets—the Chachis' plan, the storehouse scene, the Principal's corruption, and now, the stolen book and my own new knowledge—was almost too much to bear.


-----

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 12: The Missing Book (Avi and Madam)

The next day at college was a blur of boredom and anxiety. I got the usual harsh words for neglecting my homework, but the real, urgent task lay ahead. I went straight home, my stomach a tight knot of worry. *I have to return the book.* I gave my Chachi a quick excuse, telling her I'd eat less because Madam had invited me to dinner.

I arrived at Madam's house. Today, she was wearing a beautiful red sari, which framed her figure stunningly. She truly looked angelic, but the usual confident glow on her face was gone, replaced by a subtle tension around her mouth. She served us both—a plate of delicious, fragrant food for me, and one for herself. The meal was wonderful, the spices warming my mouth, but the fear of being exposed made it hard to swallow the rice. After we ate, I quickly retreated to the sofa, waiting for my chance to escape.

Madam set her plate down and turned to me, her voice softer than usual. “How was the food?”

“It was very good, Madam.”

She folded her hands in her lap, her eyes suddenly serious, piercing mine. “Can I ask you something, Avi?”

“Yes, of course,” I managed, though my voice sounded hollow and thin in my own ears.

She leaned in slightly. “Did you take a book from here?”

A cold, sickening wave of fear washed over me, instantly draining the heat from my body. My heart slammed against my ribs like a trapped fist. I stiffened, fighting the urge to spring off the sofa and run. “No, Madam,” I said, my voice betraying me by coming out too loud and defensive. “I didn’t take any book. If I needed one, I would have asked you.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, her eyes searching my face, lingering on my own frantic gaze. “Maybe I misplaced it.”

“Was it a special book?” I pressed, my voice shaky despite my effort to appear calm. I clung desperately to the lie.

“Not really,” she said, giving a small, dismissive shrug. “But I read it every night.”

“Was it a storybook?” I pressed further, my throat tight. “I have some storybooks. I can bring them for you.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” she said, finally breaking eye contact and looking down at her hands. “I’ll get it when I go back to the city.”

I felt a sudden, huge flood of relief wash over my tense body, making my shoulders slump. But a thought immediately sliced through it, freezing the relief in place: *She’s testing me. She’s sure the book is with me. No one else comes here. She knows I lied.*

“Would you like some coffee?” she asked, her voice returning to its normal, warm tone, as if the entire interrogation had never happened.

“Yes, why not?”

After drinking the familiar, comforting bitterness of the coffee, I left for home. On the way, the anxiety returned full force, coiling tight beneath my skin. The dinner invitation, the coffee, the compliments—all of it felt like an elaborate mask over the dangerous knowledge she held. I had been caught in a lie by the only person who offered me comfort and education. *Now, Madam held a dangerous secret over me.*

---

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 13: The Jealousy, the Compliment, and the Unexpected Summons (Avi and Family)

After coming home, I told the Chachis I was going to the ground to play. Once again, Mona and her group didn't show up. *Maybe they were scared, or maybe they had found a new place.* I played for a while, then returned home. With no homework to distract me, I joined the Chachis in the main room.

Meena Chachi smiled softly, folding the laundry in her lap. “How are your studies going, Avi?”

“They’re going well, Chachi.”

Seema Chachi nudged Meena with her elbow, a sly look in her eye. She leaned toward me. “How is your Madam?”

Meena Chachi immediately turned and lightly slapped Seema’s shoulder. “What are you asking, Didi? He’s a child! Just ask how she teaches him.”

Seema Chachi rubbed her arm and laughed loudly, delighted by the reaction. “What? I just asked how his Madam is and how she teaches him.”

“Madam teaches well,” I confirmed quickly, wanting to shut down that line of talk.

Seema Chachi pressed, unable to contain her curiosity, her eyes wide. “Why did your Madam invite you for dinner yesterday?”

I shrugged, frustrated by the focus on the event. “How would I know? Maybe she was lonely.”

Meena Chachi sighed, shaking her head at Seema. “Didi, why are you bothering Avi?”

Seema Chachi waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, fine, forget it. Avi, how was the food, at least?”

“It was very good, Chachi.”

Meena Chachi crossed her arms, a playful pout on her face. “The food we make is better.”

I countered immediately, smiling to reassure her. “No, Chachi. It was a little less good than yours. Yours is the best.”

Seema Chachi asked, her face splitting into a satisfied smile. “Are you telling the truth?”

“Yes, Chachi.”

Just then, my Chacha walked in from the yard, wiping his hands on a towel. He gave us a tired look. “What are you three talking about?”

“Nothing, Chacha,” I replied smoothly. “We were just talking about studies.”

He scoffed, dropping the towel onto a chair. “I don’t know anything about studying. You should ask your Chachis.”

“Yes, Chacha. My Chachis always help me with my studies,” I said, catching the grateful glances they shared.

He yawned loudly, stretching his arms. “Okay, it’s time to sleep. We have to get up early for the fields.”

“Good night, Chacha.”

“Avi, wait a minute,” Suman Chachi (the eldest) called out from the kitchen doorway, her voice suddenly nervous, making me stop halfway to my room.

“Yes, Chachi?”

“Your Neha Bua has called you over. Go to her house tomorrow evening.”

I nodded, feeling a flicker of apprehension settle in my gut, remembering how easily Neha Bua would scold and hit me. “Yes, Chachi. I’ll go.”

She repeated the command, rubbing her hands together anxiously. “Remember to go. And... nothing, just go to sleep.”

“Good night, Chachi.”

I walked to my room, the domestic ease replaced by the cold unease of the upcoming visit. *Neha Bua never calls me unless she wants something, or wants to be cruel.* My stomach cinched into a tight knot, already anticipating her sharp words.

---

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 14: The Book Returned and Neha Bua's Summons (Avi and Madam/Komal/Neha Bua)

The next day, my stomach was a knot of anxiety. I had two stressful tasks: I had to return the stolen book, and then I had to face Neha Bua, the only person in the family who openly resented me. The dread was so consuming I couldn't even eat properly before leaving the house; every bite felt like sand.

In the afternoon, I went to Madam’s house. Today, her mood was much lighter than yesterday’s sharp interrogation. She was dressed in a simple sari, her face softer and more relaxed.

Madam looked at my tense shoulders, her eyes immediately focusing on my discomfort. “Avi, what’s wrong?” she asked. “You seem upset.”

“Nothing, Madam. I just didn’t sleep well last night,” I replied, trying to keep my voice flat.

“Wait, I’ll make you a hot cup of coffee,” she decided, already heading toward the kitchen.

“Okay.”

As soon as her footsteps faded, I moved with lightning speed. I pulled the book from my bag, slid it back under the bed precisely where I had found it, and shoved the empty bag back into the corner. A cold sweat broke out on my back, but a powerful, cleansing wave of relief washed over me. *The danger is gone.*

Madam returned, holding the steaming mug. “Here’s the coffee,” she said. “Tell me, what’s going on that has you so worried?”

“Nothing much,” I lied, wrapping my hands around the warm ceramic. “I just study all the time.”

She observed me over the rim of her mug, her gaze sharp. “You don’t seem like a student of your age, Avi.”

“That’s because I had to repeat a class after my parents died,” I explained, the familiar tragedy now serving as a quick, accepted excuse for my maturity. “There was a three-year gap. Otherwise, I would be graduating now.”

I stood up abruptly, eager to leave before she could ask any more probing questions. “Madam, I have to go. I’ll come again tomorrow.”

She looked up, surprised. “So soon?”

“I have to go do something important,” I insisted.

“What do you have to do?” she pressed.

“I have to go to my Bua’s house,” I said, using the family errand as a final shield.

“Okay, then,” she said, accepting the excuse with a nod. “Come tomorrow.”

“Bye,” I said, walking quickly out the gate.

*It’s good I put the book back,* I thought, a wave of finality settling over me. *Now I’ll go to Bua’s house.*

I walked the short distance to Neha Bua’s house. I knocked on her gate, and Komal—Neha Bua’s daughter—opened it. She saw me and immediately turned and went inside without saying a single word, leaving the door open. I followed her in and sat down on the sofa, feeling the coldness of her slight.

Komal and I were the same age and in the same class, a fact I knew was due to my three-year gap and the village custom of girls having late college admissions. *This complicated family structure always makes everything awkward.* Neha Bua’s younger daughter, Kavita, and her other daughter, Leena, were also in the same class. Leena’s twin brother, Rajesh, was in their grade but lived and studied at a boarding college. My Pooja Bua’s daughters, Sweta and Sital, also studied in the city and lived at their paternal aunt’s house. Even Pooja Bua’s son, Raj, had a gap in his studies, like me, due to an earlier accident. *Our large family was a complex web of shared classes, age gaps, and local logistics, but the point was that Neha Bua was still cold.*

I waited for Neha Bua, my muscles tight as I wondered exactly why she had summoned me.

---