Adultery Sahana: My, Once Shy, Bengali Wife by Dhaka1989

[sarit11]

Subhas-kaka was in the meantime up at massaging the back of Sahana’s knees, questioning whether to venture upwards under the skirt. I paused the recording and I without any hesitation pulled the hem of the skirt upwards till in reached under her butt region, exposing her entire legs. I noticed Sahana had opened her eyes and trying to look back at what we were doing. He, Subhas, as her thighs were uncovered, started going up her thighs, massaging it. Then I pressed the play button.

Salam: Dhur! Forget your daughter-water. Forget age, how is she like your daughter? Did you look at Sahana’s figure?
Tarek: One look at that figure I would forget who she is. Oh god… that figure. ..
Salam: Listen Tarek, once I went up to her flat to hand her the electricity bill. You know what that slut was wearing . A skirt tight leggings and a T-shirt. The leggings you could see her entire leg’s shape and inside T-shirt I was sure she was not wearing a bra.

Tarek: Really?
Salam: Really. And you could make out the nipples if you looked at her breasts hard enough. And oh boy she gave me ample time to look at her breasts. She was reading the bill while I was standing outside while the door was open.
Tarek: You lucky bastard.
Subhas: Stop this discussion, guys.
Tarek: Shut up Subhas-da!
Salam: Damn, she was hot. Her tits, under that T-shirt looked marvelous.
Tarek: They are like juicy mangoes.
The reference Tarek made to Sahana’s tits being akin to juicy mangoes—the best comparison in my opnion—suddenly made Sahana giggle. She found it funny and so did I. This made the environment a little lighter and even Subhas laughed too.
Subhas: How can you describe her like that? She is a respectable woman.
Salam: Oho! Subhas, you see her a lot as you go up to her flat. Tell me honestly, do you not think, her tits are like juicy mangoes?
I paused the recording. I wanted to play a little game. ‘Sahana, could you please get up?’ I asked her and she did get up and faced us, with a comfused look on her face, while Subhas pulled his hand back. ‘Now Subhas-kaka, tell me, are they correct?’

‘Correct about what Ali-bhai?’ he said. Even he had a confused look on his face.
‘Her chest,’ I said, pointing at her breasts covered by her top, ‘are they like juicy mangoes?’
Sahana immediately started blushing, becoming scarlet on her cheeks. ‘What the hell are you saying Ali? Stop it,’ she said, slapping me on my shoulders. From the look on her eyes, I could tell it was playful. She really did not mind.
‘How can I say such things about Didi, Ali-bhai? I feel embarrassed,’ he said, looking downwards.
Then I saw a playfull smile flicker across Sahana’s lips. ‘I am a bit self conscious about my doodh (translation: milk, tits),’ she said, looking at her tits, touching them lightly and pulling gently at her top, grazing the material of her top over her nipples. I never expected her to use words like ‘doodh’, which literally meant milk and was an informal and street term for tits, and rather use a more formal term for it or allude to it. But, I knew that Sahana had come a long way and enjoyed teasing and making Subhas uncomfortable. ‘Forget Ali, he is my husband, he will say anything to make me happy. But Kaka, you are an honest man, do you think my chest, my ‘doodh(s)’ are like juicy mangoes, like they are saying?’ She asked with her doe-eyes at him.

‘Didi… Didi,’ Subhas-kaka as usual hesitated, but he was now staring at her boobs.
‘Subhas-kaka, you can stare at it, but can’t talk about it, why?’ I asked, mocking him. He had an awkward half-smile.
‘Ali is right,’ Sahana said, ‘Kaka, you can call my ass apples, but when it comes to my “doodh”, you swallow your tongue. You can tell us.’ She looked at me and I all I saw was a mischief. This was probably the first time she was talking about her body to anyone else other than me, so openly.
I got tempted and reached for her mammaries and she playfully slapped my hands away.
‘Didi…’ he finally said, ‘how can I say? Your those… ‘
‘My what?’ she asked, teasing him.
‘Your chest, your doodh, are like juicy mangoes,’ he replied, ‘that Tarek and Salam, total lecher bastards they might be, but are not wrong.’
‘Really?’ she enquired, looking down at her boobs.
‘Yes Didi, they are like mangoes,’ he said, laughing, ‘you are like a fruit basket now, apples down there and mangoes up there.’ We all laughed at that, at last he was relaxing.

I reminded them that they had a massage to finish and Sahana again laid down on her stomach and Subhas rolled her skirt hem up himself until it reached her butt cheeks and started massaging her thighs. I was surprised he had no hesitation this time. Then I pressed play to listen to the rest of the recording.