Adultery Indian Wife & Construction Guys

[reema4uhoney]

The Holi Special–Comforting Gazala

 
Sajid merely readjusted his dhoti to ensure nothing was showing and left, when I sorted myself out and stood up, my Choli was propped up only by the string at the neck, the string around the waist was open where Sajid had undone the string, his hands claiming my breasts and toying with them as he fucked me. I could feel cool air on my breasts as the blouse now just loosely fell over my chest like a sheet, open on both sides. And as I straightened up I saw Sajid’s first wife Gazala, who seemed to have spotted her husband with me and watched us fuck. She had waited for her husband Sajid to leave before entering my room, presumably to comfort me.

I, at that moment, burst into tears. No explanation was possible for the tears. As I looked at Gazala, Gazala, through eyes loaded with tears, there was nothing for her to say or convey. As tears streamed down my cheeks, juices were running down the inside of my thighs, I’d only just stood up after the coupling with Sajid. It had been a wet fuck in which my own pussy had flowed like a stream. Here I was, standing in front of Gazala who had discovered the sexual relationship I’d with her husband. I quickly tucked my Ghagra between my legs to stop the mixed fluids from dripping to the floor, and allowed the cloth to soak up the mess between my legs. It was a spontaneous action on my part and Gazala, who had just stood rooted to the spot looking at me, let her eyes travel down my body to the vale between my legs.

“She is beautiful…” Gazala noted, seeing me in a completely different light. She was not shocked, as Sajid was married to two other ladies. She had seen Sajid fucking her other wives many times. Gazala now gazed upon me, taking in the sight of me, well-fucked, ravaged and plundered and marveled at how obvious that ravaging was in every aspect of how I now looked. My hair was mussed up, my blouse was partially undone and the breasts, barely concealed beneath the loose cloth, were heaving, perhaps still from the exertion of the fucking. My face flushed with the orgasm while the lips seemed dry but quivering. There were red marks on my torso from where her husband Sajid had gripped me. And my Ghagra was bunched between my legs, in a brazen testimony to the soppy mess that lay within. I turned beet red when I realized the overt signal I’d sent in tucking my Ghagra into my crotch, in sheer embarrassment I took a few steps forward and buried my face in Gazala’s ample bosom to hide myself.

Gazala put her arms around me only to discover the bare expanse of my back, the skin silken and seductive.
“No wonder…Sajid couldn’t hold himself back…” Gazala reasoned, as her hands caressed my back. I was wracked with sobs, there was relief that Gazala’s arms were around me; it represented acceptance in some form. Once she had held me like this, clearly there was no censuring to come.

“Shh….Stop crying…” Gazala soothed. She gently rocked me in her arms as her hand continued to roam my back. Gazala found the skin soft and silky and imagined that her own husband’s hands must have roamed that same back. Gazala closed her eyes and savored the texture of the skin and her hands continued their exploration. The skin was bare everywhere she searched with no evidence of any garment anywhere. Her hand reached downward and came upon the waist of the Ghagra and that represented one boundary. The other hand caressed all the way up to the back of my neck and she found the other chord of the Choli tied there, so that was the other boundary. She caressed the neck and I shuddered involuntarily. As she investigated the sides, she came upon the soft bulge of the side of my breast. I gasped as I felt Gazala’s fingers go beyond soothing; there was something exploratory to the touch. I was being felt and caressed, Gazala marveled at the tender and delectable skin and flesh she encountered. Her hand went between us and she put her palm on my stomach and then slid lower to the womb. This was where her husband had implanted his own seed, she reflected.

I sucked in my breath at being touched in such intimate fashion by another woman, this was the first time ever that another woman had touched me and that too in a way which I thought only a man might. My body went taut, the Ghagra which was tucked in firmly between my legs fell away and I once again felt a surge of fluid inside me as I felt sexuality in the touch of the other woman. But I was not sure; perhaps it was me who was feeling sexual because of my recent encounter. Or perhaps it was the warm and loving feeling which was coming across from Gazala which was having a sexual impact on me. My mind was in a whirl, I didn’t think Gazala could have anything sexual in her mind about me. In the meanwhile, Gazala continued with her loving curiosity about me. I’d her sympathy and her affections, she liked me. She knew the kind of randy man her own husband was and could not make up her mind on whether Sajid had forced himself on this me. Right now, Gazala just wanted to be with me. She too felt the Ghagra between my legs fall away. In a flash, the hand which was on my womb went lower to investigate the cause for me having tucked my Ghagra in, in the first place.

Gazala’s hand encountered a damp, hot patch between my legs, she wanted to feel the full extent of the mess and she opened her palm and placed it against the crotch. The entire area seemed heated and molten. She moved her palm to feel the extent of that zone. The movement caused the fabric of the Ghagra to graze my crotch, providing friction to Gazala’s touch. I shuddered as Gazala’s hand caressed my crotch, my pussy lips were still splayed open from the arousal and the pounding from Sajid. It was therefore easy for the hand, palm and fingers to make out the contours of the pussy. As Gazala probed, she felt a fresh gush of fluid pour out. I was now jelly; whether Gazala intended it or not. I pressed myself into Gazala’s bosom and she responded with her other hand which was still on the torso. She claimed my breast for herself, delicately feeling the warm flesh and its turgid nipple. Gazala had never touched a woman before, but she knew exactly how she wanted to be touched. She did nothing more than touching me in a way that she herself would have wanted to be touched. And so when the breast was held tenderly, like a pouch of milk, and then kneaded and pulled like the udder of a cow, I found myself wishing I could reward Gazala with a release of milk.

Gazala’s instinctive touch opened me to offer myself, I ground myself into her open and milking hand; simultaneously, my pussy ground against the palm between my legs to provide relief from the instantaneous build up of erotic tension. I clung onto Gazala, like a leaf in a storm; but the fluttering in my inner being was a storm in itself. I sighed in contentment at being held by this large maternal bosom and at being caressed by tender understanding hands. Only a woman can know how a woman wants to be loved, I realized. That realization surprised me. I nuzzled the bosom in which my head was buried, my nose seeking out the contours of Gazala’s nipples, straining through the cloth. No thoughts of restraint even occurred to Gazala. Sexual feelings for another woman, the way I and she were touching each other, none of these made any impact. The only thing she knew was, we were feeling each other and had feelings for each other.

When my nose and lips nuzzled at her nipples, Gazala felt more maternal than ever. Even as her hands continued to caress, probe and investigate my contours, she thrust her large overfull breasts into my face. I needed skin, my face needed to touch Gazala’s flesh and skin. Frantically I searched Gazala’s blouse for the hooks. Gazala was wearing a cloth bodice rather than a bra. The nipples, aroused like never before in her lifetime, were clearly protruding through the cloth of the bodice. Gazala noticed the sexuality of this for the first time, and found it odd that the only other time she remembered her nipples sensitiveness was when her son was born. Those breasts were full and bulging and the bodice was full and bursting. There was no way to reach and open those hooks unless Gazala was left alone to pull in herself and maneuver those hooks. But stepping apart was impossible for either woman. Gazala wanted to feel and suss me out who had captivated her husband. I’d my insides boiling with lust at the tender touch of Gazala. In a fleeting moment of mindless passion, I gripped the bodice from the neckline and ripped downward.
All the hooks gave way and Gazala’s breasts spilled out, I didn’t wait a moment to bury my face in her breasts, feeling them with my face; the heat on my face seemed to complement the pleasant coolness it encountered on Gazala’s breasts. As I buried myself, Gazala found the knot of the top of my Choli and pulled it open so that the one layer covering my breasts fell away. She pulled up my face, kissing me on the cheeks and allowing my breasts to crush against her large ponderous breasts. Nipples toggled one another and prodded each other into erect nubs. I was now frantic with lust, I searched for Gazala’s lips and kissed them squarely; Gazala was surprised, she’d never ever been kissed on her lips before. Her own husband, in those early days of their marriage had used his lips on her breasts and shoulder and while fucking her he propped himself on his arms so their lips could never really meet. My lips felt warm and luscious on her lips and Gazala found herself responding. The maternal warmth was slowly evaporating into a puzzling new kind of feeling in the pit of her stomach. She found herself consumed by lust as my lips played on her lips, as my hands kneaded her breasts and pulled at her nipples feverishly, and as my hips seemed to hump into her hips.

Gazala wanted now to love me and smother me, her hands searched under the Ghagra as she searched for ways to return the pleasure. Both of us were now grappling with each other’s breasts and loins, lips locked in a long searching kiss.

“Reema…where are you? Everyone is looking for you?” Sajid called me from downstairs.

I made loud smacking kisses as I separated myself from Gazala “Coming in few minutes…changing into my old kurta pajama…” I yelled back. Sajid had seen me in that kurta pajama before, he had a picture of me dressed appetizing in white kurta pajama, as the material was not quite opaque and my undergarments would be well outlined, and as soon as the water would splashed on me nothing would be left to imagination. Gazala moved away from me, her bodice hanging loose on her shoulders, her breasts exposed completely. She had to take care of being discreet especially as new feelings were surging in her and it was clear to her that neither of them was in any condition to walk away. As I watched her shut the window and move to the door, I undid the cord of my Ghagra and allowed the Ghagra to slip off my shapely hip to the floor around my feet. The garment now circled me and I stood in the middle completely nude, the lines of now drying fluids running down my thighs absolutely clearly visible. I looked at Gazala’s body with a new perspective. Gazala had sagging flesh but a well rounded bottom. Her breasts were large and sagging under their own enormous weight but were warm and inviting to me.

Gazala turned around after she’d bolted the door and leaned back on the wood, her body sagging with the weight of lust. Her dupatta was trailing on the floor, her blouse was open her Ghagra was still tethered around her waist. Her hand reached between her legs as she felt the surge of heat there and rubbed herself. I instinctively knew it was up to me to satiate Gazala. Gazala might have been older but her experiences were limited, I was younger but had been taken in every possible way and some of the encounters were a revelation to her. Sajid, had uncovered desires in me which I myself did not know existed. He then proceeded to mark me as his own by satiating me in ways my husband Yash’s didn’t even know of. And one of those was the dramatic way in which he had lapped at my pussy. My raging loins wanted filling, the pulsating cock of a man. I could well imagine Gazala, now with her fingers searching her own pussy, needing the same. But I knew there was only one way for one woman to satiate another. I moved towards Gazala and kneeled in front of her.

I kissed her stomach, Gazala put her hand on my head; her own head was thrown back as the softness of my face on her stomach thrilled her. I slid my hands under her Ghagra and cupped her ass; I quickly lifted her Ghagra over my head and was now inside the folds of her Ghagra, in the folds of flesh. It seemed wholly appropriate to cover myself and hide within those Ghagra, a sanctuary of lust and loving attention, a sanctuary from the meaningless demands of the world outside.

I lifted the folds of Gazala’s paunch as my mouth searched for the pussy, I tongue and kissed all the flesh I could find; stomach, underbelly, thighs, insides of the thigh and the hairy crotch itself. Gazala frantically reached for me; she needed to grip me, hold me, touch me and maul my tits. Her Ghagra was in the way, she quickly undid the string and the Ghagra loosened and my head appeared. As Gazala’s knees buckled under the sexual onslaught, she slid lower, her legs spread obscenely. She clutched at my slender shoulders and tried to reach under to grab my breast. She could touch the slopes of my breasts but not pull up the mass to find the nipples which she so desperately wanted to suckle at that moment. In the meanwhile, I was greatly assisted by the spreading of the legs. The acrid odor of the cunt hit me and I held my breath as I lapped at her pussy. I knew the acid smells would give way to the aromas of nectar if I just persisted. There was a tangle of pubic hair in Gazala’s pussy and wisps and strands of hair came away in my lips. I kept clearing my lips of the strands and soon came upon a wet smear. I pointed out my tongue and dipped in, past the forest of hair towards the smear. Gazala reached down and held herself apart with both hands to help me in the quest for her cunt. Gazala bit her lip and gasped in wonder at my adventurous assault.

Gazala pussy was now throbbing and she wanted the fullness of a man. Yet somehow my tonguing seemed to make her feel better, the vacantness between her legs seemed to expand with every lick and she wondered how to fill herself. The paradox of having me between her legs making her pussy lips unfold and expand, and the need for a hot pillar of flesh to fill that vacantness was maddening. And when my unexpected two-finger stab into her cunt hit her, it was so well timed that Gazala groaned loudly “Ooohhh….yesss…..”

Gazala goaded me, her hips thrusting, and the door behind her creaking with the fucking motion of her hips. My fingers had found the target and released the flood gates. Using my fingers as a guide I followed with my tongue to search out that spot which Sajid had found on me. I would find it and mercilessly tongue it the way Sajid had tongued me. If I found that satiating so too would Gazala would be satiated, I thought to myself. And then my own pussy twitched and my mind wandered to the huge orgasm and waves of convulsing that Sajid had triggered in me. I was about to uncork the nature of lust and pleasure in Gazala now; I was determined to. The sequence of events was odd. I had triggered a new adventurism in Sajid. The sexual lessons from those encounters were now being carried by me to his wife, Gazala. In some ways I’d become a bridge between the man and his wife. These thoughts ran through me while I continued with the mechanics of drawing the response from Gazala but only till she actually responded. The response came when the tongue tip had dealt with the forest of hair and actually found the lips of her waiting, throbbing pussy; Gazala sobbed. This was the pleasure which had eluded her so long! The tongue then traced the contour of her lips finding the top and then began the focused thrashing, a provocative call to Gazala’s body to reveal the clitoris. The fingers which fucked in rhythm were by this time squelching with the juices pouring out of her.

“Ooohhhh….yeeesssss….Reeemmmmaaaa….aaaaahhhhh….” Gazala sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks as she realized that she was climbing into a new zone of sexual liberation and release. She collapsed to the floor and quickly stretched herself out, knees akimbo and legs apart. One hand was on her own breast, twisting, teasing and kneading herself, the other hand on my head, stroking, caressing and goading me on. Her head flailed, her breathing was raspy and every now and then she raised her hips offering herself to my lips and head, thumping back with a groan as I took the offering in its fullness. I in the meantime was spread on the floor, my bare body on the cold tiles, my breasts mashed against the floor, my ass jutting up as I buried her head in Gazala’s crotch. I tongued and lapped her ceaselessly, my fingers fucking her energetically. The noises from my efforts were loud, and wet. Sounds of slurping, licking and gobbling filled the air. As Gazala melted in the assault, a huge wave started to build up in her. She needed to grip something to break through to the orgasm waiting on the other side. There was a restraint, an unreasonable holding back. Something had to give way inside her for her to reach that peak. She felt she would lose control of her bodily functions if she did not direct that energy. Her pussy felt like she might pee. That would break this dizzying bout of pleasure which she did not want interrupted.

With one hand Gazala found the leg of a writing table while her other hand continued to be on my head, urging me on, making sure I missed no beat. As she strained, she pulled the table with a force that moved the furniture with a loud scbanging noise. The lamp on the desktop crashed to the floor, but Gazala’s thrashing had only begun. Neither of us bothered with the noise or the consequences of what we were doing or attracting. Gazala’s large fleshy thighs were quivering and she was banging them together on the sides of my head. Her hand pulled the table as close as it could be pulled and she wound her hand around the angles of the furniture to grip it ever tighter as she humped.
“Hnnnnnnnnhh….” Gazala grunted as her clit exploded.

“Reeemmmaaaa….Aaaahhhh….yyyyeeeesssss….” Gazala babbled, I heard the sounds of the thumping of Gazala’s buttocks as they slapped against the floor. The waves rose to a crescendo that touched a new peak and then broke and washed over Gazala’s body. The orgasm was upon her coursing through every single cell in her body; the straining and thrusting had successfully pushed her over the brink. That brink was difficult for her to breach because her entire prior sexual experience had hovered along that boundary, with no assistance to make the breach. But my ceaseless, merciless, tonguing, the fingers massaging her cunt walls, and in the back of Gazala’s mind her realization that this was what Sajid had initiated me into, took her over the cliff. Once the peak was crossed, the waves cascaded down. Her throated opened as she screamed her release. A hot flush hit her breasts as her nipples seemed to catch fire. Her stomach convulsed and the thighs fluttered. Her insides opened up. She poured out, thick viscous releases flooding my lips and chin and onto the floor below. Her whole body shook and shuddered and her breasts demanded to be held. Her jaw hung open and spittle drooled out one end of her mouth. She was not in control of any of her bodily responses as she felt her entire being give way; there was only one event at that time, her sexual release. And her body was one single entity; her breasts, her pussy, her clit, her womb, her spine, her brain, her nipples were all compressed into one tiny point which became a single blubbering mass of convulsing flesh. It was this loss of her bodily control that caused her to fart loudly which made me quickly came up for air.

I replaced my finger instead of my tongue and stroked the clit and rode down to the recesses of Gazala’s cunt and cavernous womb. As the fingers emerged they brought out the fluids which then smeared the clit, providing the lubrication that allowed me to manipulate, maul and manhandle that sliver of flesh without hurting my new-found lover. And so back and forth went my hand from clit to womb and womb to clit, squeezing out every frisson of pleasure Gazala deserved. Gazala clutched me as her body responded to the sliding and slipping finger treatment, the jerking and convulsing continuing for a long time. As she poured, so did her tears. She wept, she laughed and it was a joyous celebration of her release. Those fluids washed away a lifetime of sexual neglect and Gazala felt a thrill as every part of her body vibrated and hummed with the effects of her orgasm. She clutched me tightly, stroking my body, thanking me for helping her discover her own sexuality. She herself shuddered and quivered in spasms as the orgasm levered down to smaller and smaller waves. The waves melded into one long humming of every cell in her body. She now felt liberated and released from the constraints of her physical body. She slumped, completely spent but very alive.

I threw one leg over Gazala, my hands still firmly plunged into her pussy; our breasts touched as both of us clung to each other. I snuggled down into her bosom, strangely calmed by her release; as if it was my own orgasm. Gazala caressed my head and let the hand go down in a long downward sweeping stroke, on the nape of my neck, down my seductive broad expansive back and down to my ass cheeks, kneading them. And back up again all the way. My crotch was now pressed against Gazala’s thigh and I ground into her and sighed. Both of us felt completely relaxed and unwound in the comfort of each other’s arms and would have stayed that way for long languorous hours, had not the sounds of Holi being celebrated in full flow caught our attention.

“Dear…we need to go downstairs….” Gazala reminded.

“Hmmmm….” I sighed in deep contentment, I snuggled closer to the comforting bosom, idly flicking the nipple not willing to let go.

“Come…let me help you get dressed…” Gazala said knowing that there would be ever more lovingness in that act which in itself would persuade me to move. Both of us sat up; Gazala pulled up her knees and watched as I stood up, her eyes on my breasts, hips, torso and ass.

“Just go and bring your clothes…I’ll dress you today…” Gazala instructed. I nodded and unmindful of being nude, unmindful of Gazala ogling my curves and my body went over to the suitcase which was by this time sprawled on the floor, its contents tipped out. This had happened when Sajid had taken me from behind as I was bending over into the suitcase. I’d collapsed from the pounding and the resultant orgasm, into the suitcase, tipping everything over. I selected the white kurta top and the pajama to go with it. As I turned around I found Gazala tucking her breasts into what was left of her blouse and gathering her dupatta. As we stepped towards each other, Gazala gathered me around and swept the dupatta around her so both of us were as if cocooned in the same protective world. She squeezed me in her arms, bosoms pressed together.

“Raise your hands…” she instructed me, eyes boring into my eyes, breath upon my breath. Gazala now gently allowed the kurta to slip over my head and let the body of the garment sheath my bare body. I shivered as I felt the sensuousness of the cloth caressing my nipples and belly and the flap at the back on my buttocks. Once again, I felt goose pimples and the erection of my nipples; Gazala knelt and held my panties open for me to step into. I held one of her shoulder for balance and raised my leg to slip it into one leg of the panty. The aroma of a dried mix of Sajid’s deposits and my secretions filled Gazala’s nostrils. She let the back of her hand rub my pussy, feeling my recently shaven pussy hair prickly on her hand. She must ask me for assistance in such matters she thought to herself.  She slid the panties up the legs, marveling every bit of the distance, leaving no opportunity to touch my legs, my thighs and my hips. I spread my legs and wiggled my bottom to allow the panties to be worn comfortably and snugly. Gazala caressed my ass as she ran the nylon up and over my ass to the waist level.

“What about your bra? Are you going to give everyone a chance to look at you?” Gazala asked looking into my eyes as she came to my face level.  I blushed furiously, I raised my hands again for my kurta to be removed to wear a bra underneath; but Gazala did not remove the kurta, instead she made me step into my pajama and got busy with tying the string around the waist which holds up the pajama. Her hands touched my stomach and I shivered at every touch, my nipples were now engorged and erect.  Gazala turned me to face the mirror and got busy with combing my hair. Our eyes met in the mirror. So much was unspoken, but a lot was said. My fully aroused state, the kurta without the bra underneath, my nipples jutting out, and the touching and caressing from Gazala were all evident in the flushed face in the mirror.


Gazala combed out my hair and tied it in a bun and while doing so said to me “Don’t want your hair mussed up and spoilt in one day of Holi….this will keep you neat….” She looked in the mirror at me, now ready to let me go back into the wild celebration now in full flow around the house. Her hands came up and she briefly hugged me from behind, holding my palms just at the tip of those ready to be gobbled nipples.



End of the Holi Special- Chapter 2