29-04-2021, 04:55 PM
As Friday evening drew closer, all three members of the household felt a growing degree of excitement and anxiety that they tried to conceal from the other.
Bhola simply looked forward to another romp with his bhabhi. He had shaved himself completely early in the evening and rid himself of all bodily hair everywhere. Having lost his virginity the previous week, he felt he was now qualified to aspire for a graduation. To do so, he was ready to work hard; most certainly he was very hard most of the week. His prayer to the gods of Jharkhand was to not let Chetan rain on his parade.
Shobha felt she had all the ingredients with her to write a cookbook for sex - a sex-hungry virile male drooling over her and ready to bend at her command, an indulgent husband who had finally consented to consent, a luxurious household for her to play out her fantasies and an absolute promise of privacy for the key cast thanks to the lockdown. However, while she had the ingredients, her anxiety came from realizing she didn't quite know the recipe to put it all together.
Chetan felt like the theatre-going audience who knows how the play is going to end, but is more curious about the start and the middle. He was uncertain whether the ticket he was holding was for just watching the play, or whether he was expected to jump on to the stage and join the rest of the cast.
Shobha invited Bhola to join the couple for dinner at the table. Actually, Bhola looked quite dashing. He was wearing one of Chetan's old hand-me-down short that Shobha had surreptitiously passed on to him. A few years back, driven more by ambition and neglecting the reflection in the mirror in the changing room, Chetan had bought an expensive black silk slim-fit shirt. Realization dawned later that he was neither slim not fit, and the never-used black shirt found its way to the bottom of a pile. It now flattered Bhola's broad and flat chest, even as its previous owner pretended to not recognize his former possession and instead dug his spoon deeper into another round of kheer.
Shobha put her long legs to good advantage during the dinner. She alternated between teasing both men, playing footsie. She twisted and stretched her bare foot under the table, and scratched the shin of both men - alternately, of course. The men responded, by turns, rubbing her leg back, not knowing that she was serving both of them as sincerely under the table as she was serving them food on the table. Shobha then raised the game - and her foot - higher and probed the crotch of both men by turns. Chetan noticed that by the time dinner ended, Bhola was in much better cheer - little did he know that his wife had a hand, or more appropriately a foot in it.
The threesome then shifted to the wide common balcony that adjoined the living room and the master bedroom and settled down for drinks. Night had settled over the Bangalore skies and it was uncharacteristically warm for an April evening in the city. Chetan setup his portable battery operated Bose blutooth speaker and played some old hindi songs. After about ten minutes of chit chat about Bhola and his family, and his plans, Shobha got up suddenly and announced, "It's hot here. Mein Bunty ko check karke and aur change karke aati hoon"
She disappeared into the bedroom through the sliding door, with two pairs of male eyes lazily following her sexy swinging ass until she drew back the curtains to the bedroom behind her. Both men became aware of each others subject of attention at the same time and felt mildly ambarassed as they caught each others eye.
Bhola felt embarassed but it was not just because saheb had caught him checking out his wife's ass. That ass brought back fond memories of the previous weekend. He remembered bhabhi on her knees, on his bed, alone with him in his room, naked and him holding her by her hair, yanking back her head while his cock was buried and pumping into bhabhi’s pussy. The sight of Shobha’s swinging and retreating ass brought back vivid memories of that episode and he was scared that saheb would read his wicked thoughts.
Chetan felt embarrassed that he had joined his servant in checking out his wife's ass, but he also felt that strange kinship that men experience when they have a common object of lust. Never mind that the common object of lust was his own wife. It reminded about how way back in college the back bencher boys in his class shared gleeful looks at each other after checking out the shapely back of the English teacher. The pretty young teacher, writing on the board was unaware that the boys at the back bench were backslapping the winner who had correctly bet on the color of the bra she would be wearing that day.
Chetan recovered faster. He was lazily lounging on the cushioned armchair, his feet up against the balcony railing, cigarette in one hand and scotch in the other.
"Apni bhabi pe badi nazar rakhte ho, kyon Bhola". (You keep a good eye on your madam, don't you?). Chetan had grown up in Delhi where throwing in a snide remark was a fine art.
Bhola saw the the pitch was not conducive for strokeplay and played with a straight bat, "Bhabhi bhi bahut achi hain, aur hamara bahut acha kyhayal rakhti hain. Hamare kaam pe unki nazar rehti hai" (Bhabhi is a very nice person. She takes good care of me. She keeps an eye on my work)
I bet she takes good care of you, thought Chetan drawing in a deep puff and releasing it lazily. And yes, she does have an eye on you, my friend!
"Toh abhi bhabhi ko ghoor nahin rahe the?", he asked in an easy drawl making sure his tone was friendly and not accusative. (So you weren’t staring at your bhabhi just now?)
Bhola realized this this was an easy delivery, and took his chances, "Saheb, mein kahan ghoor raha tha! Mein to dekh raha tha ki bhabhi kahin andhere mein phisal na jaaye.", (Saheb, I wasnt staring. I wanted to make sure she doesnt trip in the dark room) and ended with a flourish at the last moment, "Ghoor toh aap rahe the, saheb!" (You were the one staring at her, saheb!)
Chetan guffawed loudly, and raised a high five which Bhola joined with a smile.
The ice had been broken between the two men. They went back to being back bench college boys staring at the sexy english college teacher's low cut blouse and back, and commenting on the colour of her bra.
Having thus seen the tendency for the batsman to occasionally step out of the crease, Chetan flighted the next delivery. "Waise tumhari bhabhi kaafi hot hai na?!" (Isnt your bhahbi quite hot?!). It more more a comment rather than a taunt.
Bhola felt emboldened. He leaned forward closer to Chetan and whispered conspiratorially, "Ek baat bolein aap se, saheb. Bhabhi ki body bahut must hai. Aap bade lucky hain!".
Chetan could have stumped the batsman and sent him back to the pavilion. But he had no desire to end the innings so quickly. It was more fun to let this batsman continue stroke play at the crease and figure out his technique. He smiled, clinked glasses with Bhola and did a bottoms up. Bhola refilled both glasses dutifully
Bhola then took a large sip. He wasn't used to the high quality stuff and his throat burnt and he felt momentarily woozy. That brought courage and he felt compelled to raise the quality of the conversation.
"Vaise maan na padega saheb, bhabhi must toh hai. Ek dum kadak maal" (I have to say bhabhi is hot! Super hot!), and then realized he had a good chance of clearing the ropes, "Us din aapne bhabhi ko accha choda saheb, ek dum must. Dekh ke bada maza aaya" (That day, you fucked her read hard, saheb. Had a ball watching it!)
Chetan watched him carefully. He blew a puff, and offered his cigarette to Bhola and said softly, "Toh aaj phir wahi program ho jaaye?!" (Shall we have the same program again tonight?)
Bhola readily grabbed the cigarette offered by saheb a bit too hastily. Sharing a cigarette seemed like a nice invitation to bond. Shared your cigarette today and perhaps you may share your biwi too, he thought. Of course, saheb didnt know that the biwi had already been shared. But Bhola was hungry for more.
Bhola drew a deep puff on Chetan's ciragette and passed it back, "Shubha kaam mein deyri kyon, saheb!" and then went on to ask for more, "Lekin ek shikayat hai aapse saheb" (But I have a complaint saheb)
Chetan knew the fellow was pushing the envelope but he didnt mind. This was getting him excited too.
"Bolo Bhola, kya shikayat hai?" (Tell me, Bhola, what complaint do you have?)
"Saheb, hum bhooke khade hain. Kabhi kuch hamare liye bhi chod dijiye. Hamari setting karoge toh hum dua denge aapko!" (Saheb, I stay hungry. Sometime do leave something for me. If you can fix something for me, you will have my gratitude!)
"Sabr rakho Bhola. Sabr ka fal meetha hota hai!" (Be patient, Bhola. Patience will give you sweet fruits!)
The two men laughed uproariously, and clinked glasses again.
Still laughing and his belly jiggling, Chetan laid back on his armchair and drew a large sip and closed his eyes, "Sewa karoge toh mewa milega!" (Work hard, and you will get the reward), and laughed again loudly at his own wit. He was still laughing when he realized he was laughing alone and no longer had Bhola's attention.
He opened his eyes, and noticed that Bhola was staring to his right at their bedroom french window sliding door. Chetan followed his gaze.
Bhola simply looked forward to another romp with his bhabhi. He had shaved himself completely early in the evening and rid himself of all bodily hair everywhere. Having lost his virginity the previous week, he felt he was now qualified to aspire for a graduation. To do so, he was ready to work hard; most certainly he was very hard most of the week. His prayer to the gods of Jharkhand was to not let Chetan rain on his parade.
Shobha felt she had all the ingredients with her to write a cookbook for sex - a sex-hungry virile male drooling over her and ready to bend at her command, an indulgent husband who had finally consented to consent, a luxurious household for her to play out her fantasies and an absolute promise of privacy for the key cast thanks to the lockdown. However, while she had the ingredients, her anxiety came from realizing she didn't quite know the recipe to put it all together.
Chetan felt like the theatre-going audience who knows how the play is going to end, but is more curious about the start and the middle. He was uncertain whether the ticket he was holding was for just watching the play, or whether he was expected to jump on to the stage and join the rest of the cast.
Shobha invited Bhola to join the couple for dinner at the table. Actually, Bhola looked quite dashing. He was wearing one of Chetan's old hand-me-down short that Shobha had surreptitiously passed on to him. A few years back, driven more by ambition and neglecting the reflection in the mirror in the changing room, Chetan had bought an expensive black silk slim-fit shirt. Realization dawned later that he was neither slim not fit, and the never-used black shirt found its way to the bottom of a pile. It now flattered Bhola's broad and flat chest, even as its previous owner pretended to not recognize his former possession and instead dug his spoon deeper into another round of kheer.
Shobha put her long legs to good advantage during the dinner. She alternated between teasing both men, playing footsie. She twisted and stretched her bare foot under the table, and scratched the shin of both men - alternately, of course. The men responded, by turns, rubbing her leg back, not knowing that she was serving both of them as sincerely under the table as she was serving them food on the table. Shobha then raised the game - and her foot - higher and probed the crotch of both men by turns. Chetan noticed that by the time dinner ended, Bhola was in much better cheer - little did he know that his wife had a hand, or more appropriately a foot in it.
The threesome then shifted to the wide common balcony that adjoined the living room and the master bedroom and settled down for drinks. Night had settled over the Bangalore skies and it was uncharacteristically warm for an April evening in the city. Chetan setup his portable battery operated Bose blutooth speaker and played some old hindi songs. After about ten minutes of chit chat about Bhola and his family, and his plans, Shobha got up suddenly and announced, "It's hot here. Mein Bunty ko check karke and aur change karke aati hoon"
She disappeared into the bedroom through the sliding door, with two pairs of male eyes lazily following her sexy swinging ass until she drew back the curtains to the bedroom behind her. Both men became aware of each others subject of attention at the same time and felt mildly ambarassed as they caught each others eye.
Bhola felt embarassed but it was not just because saheb had caught him checking out his wife's ass. That ass brought back fond memories of the previous weekend. He remembered bhabhi on her knees, on his bed, alone with him in his room, naked and him holding her by her hair, yanking back her head while his cock was buried and pumping into bhabhi’s pussy. The sight of Shobha’s swinging and retreating ass brought back vivid memories of that episode and he was scared that saheb would read his wicked thoughts.
Chetan felt embarrassed that he had joined his servant in checking out his wife's ass, but he also felt that strange kinship that men experience when they have a common object of lust. Never mind that the common object of lust was his own wife. It reminded about how way back in college the back bencher boys in his class shared gleeful looks at each other after checking out the shapely back of the English teacher. The pretty young teacher, writing on the board was unaware that the boys at the back bench were backslapping the winner who had correctly bet on the color of the bra she would be wearing that day.
Chetan recovered faster. He was lazily lounging on the cushioned armchair, his feet up against the balcony railing, cigarette in one hand and scotch in the other.
"Apni bhabi pe badi nazar rakhte ho, kyon Bhola". (You keep a good eye on your madam, don't you?). Chetan had grown up in Delhi where throwing in a snide remark was a fine art.
Bhola saw the the pitch was not conducive for strokeplay and played with a straight bat, "Bhabhi bhi bahut achi hain, aur hamara bahut acha kyhayal rakhti hain. Hamare kaam pe unki nazar rehti hai" (Bhabhi is a very nice person. She takes good care of me. She keeps an eye on my work)
I bet she takes good care of you, thought Chetan drawing in a deep puff and releasing it lazily. And yes, she does have an eye on you, my friend!
"Toh abhi bhabhi ko ghoor nahin rahe the?", he asked in an easy drawl making sure his tone was friendly and not accusative. (So you weren’t staring at your bhabhi just now?)
Bhola realized this this was an easy delivery, and took his chances, "Saheb, mein kahan ghoor raha tha! Mein to dekh raha tha ki bhabhi kahin andhere mein phisal na jaaye.", (Saheb, I wasnt staring. I wanted to make sure she doesnt trip in the dark room) and ended with a flourish at the last moment, "Ghoor toh aap rahe the, saheb!" (You were the one staring at her, saheb!)
Chetan guffawed loudly, and raised a high five which Bhola joined with a smile.
The ice had been broken between the two men. They went back to being back bench college boys staring at the sexy english college teacher's low cut blouse and back, and commenting on the colour of her bra.
Having thus seen the tendency for the batsman to occasionally step out of the crease, Chetan flighted the next delivery. "Waise tumhari bhabhi kaafi hot hai na?!" (Isnt your bhahbi quite hot?!). It more more a comment rather than a taunt.
Bhola felt emboldened. He leaned forward closer to Chetan and whispered conspiratorially, "Ek baat bolein aap se, saheb. Bhabhi ki body bahut must hai. Aap bade lucky hain!".
Chetan could have stumped the batsman and sent him back to the pavilion. But he had no desire to end the innings so quickly. It was more fun to let this batsman continue stroke play at the crease and figure out his technique. He smiled, clinked glasses with Bhola and did a bottoms up. Bhola refilled both glasses dutifully
Bhola then took a large sip. He wasn't used to the high quality stuff and his throat burnt and he felt momentarily woozy. That brought courage and he felt compelled to raise the quality of the conversation.
"Vaise maan na padega saheb, bhabhi must toh hai. Ek dum kadak maal" (I have to say bhabhi is hot! Super hot!), and then realized he had a good chance of clearing the ropes, "Us din aapne bhabhi ko accha choda saheb, ek dum must. Dekh ke bada maza aaya" (That day, you fucked her read hard, saheb. Had a ball watching it!)
Chetan watched him carefully. He blew a puff, and offered his cigarette to Bhola and said softly, "Toh aaj phir wahi program ho jaaye?!" (Shall we have the same program again tonight?)
Bhola readily grabbed the cigarette offered by saheb a bit too hastily. Sharing a cigarette seemed like a nice invitation to bond. Shared your cigarette today and perhaps you may share your biwi too, he thought. Of course, saheb didnt know that the biwi had already been shared. But Bhola was hungry for more.
Bhola drew a deep puff on Chetan's ciragette and passed it back, "Shubha kaam mein deyri kyon, saheb!" and then went on to ask for more, "Lekin ek shikayat hai aapse saheb" (But I have a complaint saheb)
Chetan knew the fellow was pushing the envelope but he didnt mind. This was getting him excited too.
"Bolo Bhola, kya shikayat hai?" (Tell me, Bhola, what complaint do you have?)
"Saheb, hum bhooke khade hain. Kabhi kuch hamare liye bhi chod dijiye. Hamari setting karoge toh hum dua denge aapko!" (Saheb, I stay hungry. Sometime do leave something for me. If you can fix something for me, you will have my gratitude!)
"Sabr rakho Bhola. Sabr ka fal meetha hota hai!" (Be patient, Bhola. Patience will give you sweet fruits!)
The two men laughed uproariously, and clinked glasses again.
Still laughing and his belly jiggling, Chetan laid back on his armchair and drew a large sip and closed his eyes, "Sewa karoge toh mewa milega!" (Work hard, and you will get the reward), and laughed again loudly at his own wit. He was still laughing when he realized he was laughing alone and no longer had Bhola's attention.
He opened his eyes, and noticed that Bhola was staring to his right at their bedroom french window sliding door. Chetan followed his gaze.
Ravi Shikha
** I am fascinated by erotica as a genre in fiction. It is my ambition to publish my works of erotica as e-books on Amazon.in and Kindle. You will find me there too under this pen name. For the price of a coffee on Amazon, or for free on Kindle Unlimited, you can read my ebooks.
** I am fascinated by erotica as a genre in fiction. It is my ambition to publish my works of erotica as e-books on Amazon.in and Kindle. You will find me there too under this pen name. For the price of a coffee on Amazon, or for free on Kindle Unlimited, you can read my ebooks.
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