19-12-2018, 12:55 PM
Part - 57
I lay there immobile, my eyes partly open, as I looked at the ravaged Alka bhabhi, who lay there like a rag doll. She had scarcely moved from the position that he had left her in. She lay on her back, immobile, her saree in disarray, the blouse ripped open, the bra pushed up, her mouth watering milk laden 34-D breasts spread across her slender chest, her saree and petticoat pushed up to her pelvis, and her milky white thighs wide open.
Seeing her lying there, the silence punctuated only by the tick of the clock on the wall, and her ragged breathing, I wondered for a moment if she'd fainted. That's when I saw her stir slowly, as she slowly raised her bruised hands towards her face. Covering her face with both her hands, I watched as she squeezed her thighs together, and a huge sob wracked her body.
Pulling her hands away from her face, I saw her clutch her pillow, and open her mouth wide open, to emit a prolonged silent scream of frustration. Finally, she thrust the palm of her hand into her mouth, to stifle the cries that threatened to escape her lips, even as her body was wracked by her sobs.
Watching this 27-year old lovely housewife, cry her heart out, lying on the floor at an arm's length from me, I felt my heart go out to her. I so badly wanted to reach out to her, and take her in my arms to comfort her. I feel my body becoming hot, seething as I was with rage, as well as the extreme arousal at what I'd just witnessed.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, her sobbing seemed to subside, and she painfully pushed herself to sit up on the mattress. I saw her look at my apparent sleeping form for a notably long period, before she hung her head in what seemed like self pity. I saw her angrily wipe the tears off her cheeks, as she slowly pushed herself to her feet, adjusting the pallu of her saree across her shoulders.
I watched, my heart torn apart at seeing her anguish, as she gingerly walked out of the bedroom towards the toilet in the passage. I let out a long breath only when I heard the door of the toilet close behind her. In the silence of the night, I could plainly hear the sounds of water splashing inside the toilet, and I figured that she was probably washing herself clean of the traces of her inhuman husband, who had come inside her.
I hoped in my heart that she'd had the good sense to have had the operation done after her second baby, which would prevent her from getting pregnant ever again. As I imagined the lovely Alka bhabhi, sitting on the toilet seat, and washing her vagina with water, I found myself twist on the bed, my cock throbbing painfully.
Moving quickly, I reached under my lungi, and quickly took off my underwear, which had not only become distinctly uncomfortable, but were also almost soaked with all the pre-cum that had oozed out of my cock, right from when I had been in the movie hall with Amisha and Gunjan. I had just about thrust my discarded underwear under the mattress on the cot on which I lay, when I heard the door of the toilet opening.
I lay on my side quickly, facing the side where Alka bhabhi would lie down, clutching the pillow under my head, and bending my leg at the knee, so that my erect cock under the lungi would not be visible easily. I watched through the slit of my eye, as Alka bhabhi came back into the room slowly. As she sat down with a soft sigh on the mattress, right next to where I lay, I saw that she had still not hooked up her blouse, even though she'd pulled her bra cups down to cover her bulging breasts.
As I watched on, I saw her reach behind her back, and fiddle with the strap of her bra. As she withdrew her hand from her back, I saw the straps of her tight stretched bra, spring open from the back, causing her heavy milky white breasts to settle down in the cups of her bra, under their own weight. I presumed she had done that to soothe her sore torso that would have got chapped by the strap grinding against her soft skin, when her husband had savagely mauled her humongous breasts.
She reached out for something lying next to the mattress, and realized that it was her white panties which her husband had so ruthlessly yanked off her legs. She held it in her hand for a moment, as if contemplating on whether to wear it or not, before letting out a little sigh, and thrusting it under her pillow. Patting her pillow into shape, she gingerly lay down on the mattress, a prolonged sigh of fatigue escaping her lips.
I watched her as she lay there, her bosom heaving with her breathing, her left arm dbangd across her forehead, partly covering her eyes, and her right hand folded across her belly. As she lay there, I saw that while she had one of her legs stretched out straight on the mattress, she had pulled up the other one, bending them at the knee, with the sole of her feet resting on the mattress.
My mouth was parched, and my throat was dry. I badly wanted to take a sip of water from the bottle placed next to the bed I lay on; but couldn't do so now, as that would mean giving myself away. As Alka bhabhi lay there, well within the reach of my arm, I watched the way her heavy swollen milk-laden breasts rose and fell rhythmically on her slender torso.
Despite the fact that she was lying flat on her back, her large fleshy breasts did not hang shapelessly on either side of her torso. Instead, they sat like a milk bag on the chest, bulging outwards on either side like a ripe papaya. I was sorely tempted to reach out and just touch her breasts, but after what she had been subject to tonight, I could not get myself to touch her, let alone indulge in any sexual act with her.
As I lay watching her, wondering when I would be able to give my aching cock some relief, and also quench my thirst, I heard her emit a barely audible moan. Her right hand, which lay across her belly, slid upwards towards her swollen breasts, and even as I watched, the fingers of her hand slowly slid under the loosened cup of her bra.
It took me a moment to realize what this immensely desirable 27-year old housewife was doing, lying right next to me on the floor. As I watched, my breath catching in my throat, Alka bhabhi slowly pushed her fingers under the loosened cups of her bra, and began to gently caress her swollen breasts under it.
She still had left arm dbangd across her forehead, partly covering her face, as she gently cupped one of her ripe milk-filled breasts under her bra, and squeezed it gently. I saw her bent leg sway from side to side, as her the fingers of her right hand began to caress and squeeze her own aching breasts.
I had heard that lactating women often had to resort to squeezing the milk out of their swollen breasts, especially if the pressure of the milk became too much for them to bear. But it was unlikely that would be the reason, since she had not only breastfed her baby some time ago, but her breasts had also been savagely squeezed and sucked upon by her drunken animal of a husband.
So as I watched the subtle movements of her hand under her bra, I concluded that she was in fact doing nothing but pleasuring herself in this manner. I was sorely tempted to reach out to touch her, and was almost about to did that, when I froze.
Before my disbelieving eyes, I saw Alka bhabhi pull her arm hand away from her forehead. Reaching down with her left hand, she began to pull up her saree and the petticoat underneath, slowly baring her milky white thighs to my burning eyes. I swallowed involuntarily and licked my parched lips, as she gradually pulled her saree and petticoat all the way up, bringing her sparsely haired vagina to my view.
I could not believe what I was seeing, and found myself biting my lips just to check if I was awake, or simply dreaming. As I bit on my lips painfully, I winced, and watched mesmerized, as the lovely 27-year old lactating mother of two, having pulled up her saree and petticoat above her waist, reached between her legs with her right hand, and began to caress her sparely haired moist vagina with the palm for her hand.
I watched, dry mouthed, as she squeezed and opened her thighs once or twice, even as she began to caress the inflamed lips of her thick vagina with the fingers of her right hand with increasing vigor.
Her head was twisting from side to side, even as a soft muffled groan escaped her lip, as she pulled up both her legs and ostensibly slid two of her fingers into what seemed like an inflamed sopping wet cunt! I blinked my eyes rapidly a couple of times, trying to convince myself that what I was seeing was happening for real.
As my heart thudded in my chest, watching the delectable Alka bhabhi pleasuring herself with her milky white fingers, I realized that this was the classic case of an unsatisfied housewife, whose husband would use her mercilessly for his own pleasure, but pay scarcely any attention to her needs.
I debated for a moment about what I should do now, before coming to a conclusion quickly. I glanced at her one more time, and shook my head in amazement, as she lay there, her head thrown back, her eyes closed, and her fingers between her thighs, trying to pleasure herself with her own hands!
Since I was lying on my left side, I reached out silently with my right hand, and gingerly placed my hand on the back of her right hand, which by now was beginning to caress and finger her aroused cunt with increasing vigor. She froze when my hand touched hers, and something like a little yelp escaped her lips.
"Bhabhiii..." I whispered to her, my voice so hoarse and thick from having held my breath for so long, that it sounded strange to my own years. Her eyes flew open in shock, and her mouth fell open, as my hand made contact with hers. Every conceivable emotion, ranging from shock, shame, fear, and hurt, to absolute humiliation, flashed across her face, as she jerked her hand away from between her legs, and covered her mouth to prevent herself from crying out.
As the realization that I might have actually seen everything that had transpired there in the room till that very moment, hit her, she let out a little anguished whispered cry of "Noooo..." as she buried her face in her hands in absolute shame.
I lay there immobile, my eyes partly open, as I looked at the ravaged Alka bhabhi, who lay there like a rag doll. She had scarcely moved from the position that he had left her in. She lay on her back, immobile, her saree in disarray, the blouse ripped open, the bra pushed up, her mouth watering milk laden 34-D breasts spread across her slender chest, her saree and petticoat pushed up to her pelvis, and her milky white thighs wide open.
Seeing her lying there, the silence punctuated only by the tick of the clock on the wall, and her ragged breathing, I wondered for a moment if she'd fainted. That's when I saw her stir slowly, as she slowly raised her bruised hands towards her face. Covering her face with both her hands, I watched as she squeezed her thighs together, and a huge sob wracked her body.
Pulling her hands away from her face, I saw her clutch her pillow, and open her mouth wide open, to emit a prolonged silent scream of frustration. Finally, she thrust the palm of her hand into her mouth, to stifle the cries that threatened to escape her lips, even as her body was wracked by her sobs.
Watching this 27-year old lovely housewife, cry her heart out, lying on the floor at an arm's length from me, I felt my heart go out to her. I so badly wanted to reach out to her, and take her in my arms to comfort her. I feel my body becoming hot, seething as I was with rage, as well as the extreme arousal at what I'd just witnessed.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, her sobbing seemed to subside, and she painfully pushed herself to sit up on the mattress. I saw her look at my apparent sleeping form for a notably long period, before she hung her head in what seemed like self pity. I saw her angrily wipe the tears off her cheeks, as she slowly pushed herself to her feet, adjusting the pallu of her saree across her shoulders.
I watched, my heart torn apart at seeing her anguish, as she gingerly walked out of the bedroom towards the toilet in the passage. I let out a long breath only when I heard the door of the toilet close behind her. In the silence of the night, I could plainly hear the sounds of water splashing inside the toilet, and I figured that she was probably washing herself clean of the traces of her inhuman husband, who had come inside her.
I hoped in my heart that she'd had the good sense to have had the operation done after her second baby, which would prevent her from getting pregnant ever again. As I imagined the lovely Alka bhabhi, sitting on the toilet seat, and washing her vagina with water, I found myself twist on the bed, my cock throbbing painfully.
Moving quickly, I reached under my lungi, and quickly took off my underwear, which had not only become distinctly uncomfortable, but were also almost soaked with all the pre-cum that had oozed out of my cock, right from when I had been in the movie hall with Amisha and Gunjan. I had just about thrust my discarded underwear under the mattress on the cot on which I lay, when I heard the door of the toilet opening.
I lay on my side quickly, facing the side where Alka bhabhi would lie down, clutching the pillow under my head, and bending my leg at the knee, so that my erect cock under the lungi would not be visible easily. I watched through the slit of my eye, as Alka bhabhi came back into the room slowly. As she sat down with a soft sigh on the mattress, right next to where I lay, I saw that she had still not hooked up her blouse, even though she'd pulled her bra cups down to cover her bulging breasts.
As I watched on, I saw her reach behind her back, and fiddle with the strap of her bra. As she withdrew her hand from her back, I saw the straps of her tight stretched bra, spring open from the back, causing her heavy milky white breasts to settle down in the cups of her bra, under their own weight. I presumed she had done that to soothe her sore torso that would have got chapped by the strap grinding against her soft skin, when her husband had savagely mauled her humongous breasts.
She reached out for something lying next to the mattress, and realized that it was her white panties which her husband had so ruthlessly yanked off her legs. She held it in her hand for a moment, as if contemplating on whether to wear it or not, before letting out a little sigh, and thrusting it under her pillow. Patting her pillow into shape, she gingerly lay down on the mattress, a prolonged sigh of fatigue escaping her lips.
I watched her as she lay there, her bosom heaving with her breathing, her left arm dbangd across her forehead, partly covering her eyes, and her right hand folded across her belly. As she lay there, I saw that while she had one of her legs stretched out straight on the mattress, she had pulled up the other one, bending them at the knee, with the sole of her feet resting on the mattress.
My mouth was parched, and my throat was dry. I badly wanted to take a sip of water from the bottle placed next to the bed I lay on; but couldn't do so now, as that would mean giving myself away. As Alka bhabhi lay there, well within the reach of my arm, I watched the way her heavy swollen milk-laden breasts rose and fell rhythmically on her slender torso.
Despite the fact that she was lying flat on her back, her large fleshy breasts did not hang shapelessly on either side of her torso. Instead, they sat like a milk bag on the chest, bulging outwards on either side like a ripe papaya. I was sorely tempted to reach out and just touch her breasts, but after what she had been subject to tonight, I could not get myself to touch her, let alone indulge in any sexual act with her.
As I lay watching her, wondering when I would be able to give my aching cock some relief, and also quench my thirst, I heard her emit a barely audible moan. Her right hand, which lay across her belly, slid upwards towards her swollen breasts, and even as I watched, the fingers of her hand slowly slid under the loosened cup of her bra.
It took me a moment to realize what this immensely desirable 27-year old housewife was doing, lying right next to me on the floor. As I watched, my breath catching in my throat, Alka bhabhi slowly pushed her fingers under the loosened cups of her bra, and began to gently caress her swollen breasts under it.
She still had left arm dbangd across her forehead, partly covering her face, as she gently cupped one of her ripe milk-filled breasts under her bra, and squeezed it gently. I saw her bent leg sway from side to side, as her the fingers of her right hand began to caress and squeeze her own aching breasts.
I had heard that lactating women often had to resort to squeezing the milk out of their swollen breasts, especially if the pressure of the milk became too much for them to bear. But it was unlikely that would be the reason, since she had not only breastfed her baby some time ago, but her breasts had also been savagely squeezed and sucked upon by her drunken animal of a husband.
So as I watched the subtle movements of her hand under her bra, I concluded that she was in fact doing nothing but pleasuring herself in this manner. I was sorely tempted to reach out to touch her, and was almost about to did that, when I froze.
Before my disbelieving eyes, I saw Alka bhabhi pull her arm hand away from her forehead. Reaching down with her left hand, she began to pull up her saree and the petticoat underneath, slowly baring her milky white thighs to my burning eyes. I swallowed involuntarily and licked my parched lips, as she gradually pulled her saree and petticoat all the way up, bringing her sparsely haired vagina to my view.
I could not believe what I was seeing, and found myself biting my lips just to check if I was awake, or simply dreaming. As I bit on my lips painfully, I winced, and watched mesmerized, as the lovely 27-year old lactating mother of two, having pulled up her saree and petticoat above her waist, reached between her legs with her right hand, and began to caress her sparely haired moist vagina with the palm for her hand.
I watched, dry mouthed, as she squeezed and opened her thighs once or twice, even as she began to caress the inflamed lips of her thick vagina with the fingers of her right hand with increasing vigor.
Her head was twisting from side to side, even as a soft muffled groan escaped her lip, as she pulled up both her legs and ostensibly slid two of her fingers into what seemed like an inflamed sopping wet cunt! I blinked my eyes rapidly a couple of times, trying to convince myself that what I was seeing was happening for real.
As my heart thudded in my chest, watching the delectable Alka bhabhi pleasuring herself with her milky white fingers, I realized that this was the classic case of an unsatisfied housewife, whose husband would use her mercilessly for his own pleasure, but pay scarcely any attention to her needs.
I debated for a moment about what I should do now, before coming to a conclusion quickly. I glanced at her one more time, and shook my head in amazement, as she lay there, her head thrown back, her eyes closed, and her fingers between her thighs, trying to pleasure herself with her own hands!
Since I was lying on my left side, I reached out silently with my right hand, and gingerly placed my hand on the back of her right hand, which by now was beginning to caress and finger her aroused cunt with increasing vigor. She froze when my hand touched hers, and something like a little yelp escaped her lips.
"Bhabhiii..." I whispered to her, my voice so hoarse and thick from having held my breath for so long, that it sounded strange to my own years. Her eyes flew open in shock, and her mouth fell open, as my hand made contact with hers. Every conceivable emotion, ranging from shock, shame, fear, and hurt, to absolute humiliation, flashed across her face, as she jerked her hand away from between her legs, and covered her mouth to prevent herself from crying out.
As the realization that I might have actually seen everything that had transpired there in the room till that very moment, hit her, she let out a little anguished whispered cry of "Noooo..." as she buried her face in her hands in absolute shame.
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