Adultery A Thakur and His Bahu by misterwho

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Thinking all these lust-filled thoughts she wended her way through the corridors, stairways and rooms of the sprawling haveli, through to the room which was the Thakur's lair. It was here the old warhorse retreated to for his siestas and his quiet times of day. The mid-afternoon lassi was a ritual for Thakur. Different people brought it to him every day. He would always look forward to one of the maids bringing it rather than any of the man servants, though he never made this obvious and took things as they came. The maids had all some form of tacit agreement with him. Even those who were "out of bounds" were at least worth eyeing. And then there were those who acquiesced to his overtures. And still others who hankered to feel his manliness and his vigor.

There were all sorts. And Thakur was prudent enough to rein in his desire and channel it discreetly. This allowed him unlimited pleasure, access to a bevy of village beauties married or otherwise and did not provoke any resistance from any quarter. And that included the Thakurain who had never failed to guess from the look of a maid emerging from the Thakur's quarters what might have been going on. She also knew which maid fell in which category.

The Thakur lay on his easy chair in his lair. It was a well planned and suitably equipped den. It had a view of the road and fields approaching the haveli so the Thakur had unrestricted knowledge of the coming and going of various folk. There was a TV, a DVD player and an assortment of movies from local dialect, Hindi mainstream and some porn flicks which he kept to the rear of the stack. There was also his bed with a mosquito net and four posts to suspend the net from and the usual assortment of paraphernalia associated with dressing and personal grooming.

Thakur was mildly drowsy and knew that lassi was on its way. He had heard the commotion of the arrival of his son and daughter-in-law and while he had met Pritam he could not spot Binita. The first half of his usual day was anyway loaded with work around the farm and other business interests. The afternoon was reserved for some rest while the evening went in hookah sessions and general gossip and meetings with friends and lackeys.

With the mild drowsiness was also a mild arousal from the anticipation and guessing game around who the bearer of the lassi would be. He hoped to God it wouldn't be a manservant. And he didn't dare wish it to be the new bahurani, his Binita. The thought of Binita sent his pulse racing and he shifted to make his instant hard-on less obvious.

He had wondered about Binita these last few days. She must have been getting fucked several times a day. Thakur had no clue of his son's endowment and capabilities. Yet, he found himself jealous of his son's free and assured time with Binita. His Binita. He shifted uncomfortably as his cock swelled to its full proportions and the heaviness hung, inadequately supported by his loose undergarment.

As he stretched out his legs and let his palm graze his cock he sensed someone's presence. Surely it was the bearer of the lassi. The Thakur turned and lo and behold, his Binita, lassi in hand.

The hard on was now firm and raging, Binita's presence confirming the legitimacy of his arousal. His mind protested; the desire was illegitimate. He tried to focus his mind on the transaction at hand. She was here to just deliver the lassi and that was all he was going to do. He tried to ignore the damp patch around the midriff of her kurta. He tried to put out of his mind memories of the way she had spread herself around him when he was bathing. He looked at her proud, well encased breasts and tried to ignore how they had looked when he had feasted upon them under the mango tree that first time.

The more he tried to put out of his mind, the more came to him. There were so many things to ignore. Their fingers touched briefly as she handed him the glass. Her nostrils were flared and her face was red from the sighting of her Babuji. Her eyes bored into his eyes. A corner of her mind recorded that amongst the many folds of his dhoti there was likely to be hidden his well engorged beast of a cock.

Binita felt her juices pouring out shamelessly. She stood rooted to the spot. Thakur Hari Singh lifted the glass to his lips. His mouth opened and he extended his tongue so he could lick the cream off, as he put the glass to his lips. His eyes were riveted to hers. His tongue lapped at the cream with a long flourish that reminded Binita of the tonguing her nipples had received on an earlier occasion. She felt them jump now as if they had been touched by that memory.

She watched as his lips closed around the rim of the tumbler and he sucked in the frothy butter milked. If he had been milking her breasts his lips should have formed an 'O' she noted. No, here his mouth was open and taking in even as his tongue lapping; O God! Was that really possible? She was creaming down there and could he really take a large sip of her? She wondered. She had heard of it, read of it. But nothing in her experiences mirrored it.