30-06-2019, 02:28 PM
A JAM OF TARTS
==============
8
HER LOVER, HER MASTER
--------------------------------------
She was very beautiful. Hansa had a quality that Jayant found intensely erotic. Her face, her manner, her softly musical, sibilant speech made men want to fling her to the nearest bed and fuck her passionately. Her hair was thick and glossy with auburn highlights. Her nose was fine and straight, her mouth full, wide and sensual and her teeth even and strong. She had a firm-chinned, oval face and her eyes were devastating, elongated, almond-shaped, rimmed with *kajal*. She was of medium height, fair-skinned, slender, stunningly curved.
She had a long neck, around which she wore the traditional symbol of her marital status, a black-and-gold beaded *mangalsutra*. Her husband was a drunk and, till Jayant put a stop to it, had forced her to whore for him, to keep him in liquor. Now she rarely saw him. There were plenty of other men in her life.
Her long, graceful neck led to full breasts, superbly shaped, like ripe mangoes, succulent and shapely with long nipples in dainty bright aureoles. Her belly was firm and flat and her hips flared to softly delectable buttocks that closed around a particularly dainty, puckered anus in which she especially enjoyed entertaining a thick, hard penis. Her arms and legs were smooth, slender, nicely turned, and her hands and feet were shapely and elegant.
Apart from the *mangalsutra *she wore a small silver nose-stud in one nostril, gold earrings, finger-rings, bangles, anklets, toe-rings. She had a wonderful posture: the spine dipping in a delectable hollow down its length. Her body was curved like an hourglass, sweeping from her shoulders to a narrow waist, then opening out again to her hips and buttocks.
Her beauty was complemented by her enthusiasm and aptitude for sex. Ordinarily, no man could pass her by without a second glance. She was every man's genicon. In her, fortune brought fantasy to truth: in bed, she was irresistible. There was magic in her tongue, in her teeth, in her incredible fingers, between her legs. Once aroused - which was often and easily - she could hold her lover for hours together. Even in Jayant's world of incessant debauchery, with its Olympian sexual standards, her prowess was acknowledged.
Jayant and she had been lovers since she was sixteen and he twenty. He never tired of her, nor she of him. He regularly commanded her to his bed and each time, he was filled with a sense of delight at her eagerness and ability, the way she surrendered herself to him without reserve. For her part, she loved him from the first, as all his lovers did, for his gentleness, his patience, his kindness and above all, for his awesome sexual prowess.
Hansa had taken lovers before, during and after her marriage, and borne four children, none of whom looked alike, although they all bore her unmistakable stamp. She herself could not have said with any certainty who their fathers were. But, astonishingly, four parturitions had done nothing to put surplus weight on her or to deplete her fine figure.
She smiled gently at Jayant as he stepped out of the bathroom, fresh from a shower, clad only in a thick white terry-cloth robe. His jet black hair was slicked back. His cologne was quiet, but entirely sensual. The robe was belted loosely about his waist and she knew he was naked beneath. The thought of his warm, superbly sculpted body excited her, and, involuntarily her lips parted.
His eyes smiled at her in return, bathing her in their limpid, fluid warmth, beckoning, irresistible. She wore a light printed *sari* with a *bindi* dotting the middle of her forehead. There were small gold earrings in either lobe, and except her finger-ring, anklets, bangles and *mangalsutra*, she wore no other jewelry. She had deliberately worn the *mangalsutra* although she had been sorely tempted to discard it, especially once she had found an adequate and unending source of male companionship in Jayant's household with a variety of men. But she had resisted the temptation knowing well how it excited some of her lovers to feel that they were fucking another's wife.
Now they were very close, their bodies almost touching. Silently he took her by her slim waist and drew her to him. Her back never failed to give him pleasure with its superb posture and erotically hollowed spine, the smooth skin, like satin, the hollows above the collarbone. His fingers were warm and strong on the naked flesh of her bare midriff and she felt her innermost being throb with pleasure at this merest of touches. Her breath shortened, and she leaned her forehead against his chest, fighting for control. Even after all this time, this man could make her feel like a wanton, desperate slut, craving flesh in flesh.
She slipped her long, slender fingers under the lapels of his robe and pulled it wide open, tugging open the knot, slipping the robe off his massive shoulders. Her bare feet climbed his and now she tingled in pleasure as she felt the enormous size and weight of his penis against her belly. Her magical fingers glided over the magnificent contours of his torso as, at last, she tilted her face up to his, her lips fluttering open.
His eyes held hers for a long moment and the fires of her lust danced in her eyes. Her nostrils were slightly flared and her breath was warm and sweet on his face. She slid her arms up and around his neck and arched her head, rising on her toes and he bent his head to hers. His lips met hers and she stiffened at the first, electric touch of his lips and then his tongue slid past her lips and met hers in flickering reply.
She sucked on his tongue, on his lips, met his kiss in measure. His hands were on the nape of her neck, caressing, sliding up and down her slender frame, cupping her breasts. He slid the *pallu* of her *sari* off her shoulder, unravelling it expertly. It rustled to her feet and he tugged at the draw-cord of her petticoat, letting that, too, drop. She was naked beneath that, her cunt fuzz neatly trimmed in anticipation.
One by one, he flicked open the buttons of her blouse and she wriggled out of it, finally naked in his arms, his for the asking, for the taking, to be had and possessed and enjoyed at will. She murmured softly, her eyes closed, arms taut about his shoulders as he tongued her ear and sucked and nibbled on her earlobe. Her nipples stiffened against his chest and she moaned softly when his big, strong hands cupped her breasts with infinite tenderness. Her aureoles puckered and her nipples grew longer and stiffer in his fingers, her body going hot.
She took his face in his hand and kissed him hungrily, already burning with lust. He had that effect on his women. Possessed of a rapier-like mind of considerable renown in several distinct fields of endeavour, he was also devastatingly handsome and impossibly muscled. Clean-shaven and square-jawed, with a wide, clear brow and a fine, aquiline nose he was often mistaken for a film star.
He had wide-set, deep, gentle eyes of a dark brown that could change from ice to fire in minutes. His merest look could do to women what lesser men - and his women had yet to meet one not lesser - would have spent a fortune and hours, if not months and years, to achieve. His mouth was wide and sensual without being fleshy, the teeth very strong and white and even. He had high cheekbones and slightly hollowed cheeks and a cleft in his chin.
His face was that of an outdoor man, used to long hours in merciless sun, doing manual labour - rugged and tough, with every feature honed, filled with strong sinew and deep reserves of strength and power and speed.
His body matched his features in every respect. His shoulders were immense, broad and deep and bulging with muscle. His back was a superb, deeply sweeping, swooping ripple of musculature from shoulder and arm to spine and beyond again. His neck was thick and bullish with strength. The chest was immensely deep and heavy, the pectorals like two huge slabs of rock, the cleft between them deep and ridged with veins and muscles, the taut, dark nipples pulled wide and low on either side. From his triceps, a continuous ridge of muscle flew down the immensity of his chest in a mighty W to its counterpart opposite.
His belly was flat, and like a washboard, the flesh marked with the rectangles of muscle. The waist was narrow and small, the hips high and arrogant, the buttocks taut and firm. His arms and legs were long and thick and rounded and bulging with muscle, the feet and hands big and powerful. His forearms were thick and ridged with veins, the calves and thighs stronger than oak. There was no hair on his torso anywhere; even the armpits were depilated. He took good care of his body, and used it well - in combat, in play, in work.
Above all, there was his penis. It was a thing of beauty, a joy to behold, a greater joy still for a woman to stroke and caress and lick and suck and then be fucked by. Limp, it was bigger and thicker and longer than most erections: it dangled a good ten inches in length, over an inch and a half around, before a brace of big, low, loaded balls that stored, she knew, an almost unending cornucopia of delicious jizz. When erect, it would swell to an awe-inspiring eleven-and-a half inches or more in length, over two and a half around.
It sprang from a mat of cropped black curly pubic hair. He regularly had one of his lovers shave the shaft all the way down to the base. There were good reasons for this. For one thing, there were some women with whom he performed on stage or on film who could take his cock whole, when erect. Then, the sight of his smooth, hairless penis glistening and throbbing, plunging in and out of cunts, mouths, anuses added to the eroticism. But, more important, he found it gave him greater satisfaction and allowed him to gauge his lover's responses a fraction more accurately.
It was this attention to detail, to minutiae, that set him apart from the rest and made him their leader. She loved it this way. She loved him, every bit of him, every inch of his cock. True, Kishore's was a tad bigger - but, as he himself readily admitted, Jayant was by far his superior in matters lectual.
Now Jayant smiled in pleasure as Hansa bent her head and began to suck on his nipples gently, her sharp, warm, moist tongue and fierce teeth nibbling and suckling and toying with his nipples, arousing them painfully. Meanwhile, her elegant fingers coiled about the shaft of his cock and began to caress it expertly and it swelled and thickened in her fist. She moved to the other nipple, sucking hard, letting go, sucking hard again.
Friends waiting for some comments on the longest story thread which has being updated for your. Please send your comments on the thread rather then sending Personal Message
New Stories started in Erotic Short and Long Stories Part 2
Click here for the Same
[b]1 ->You Only Live Once[/b]
[b]2 ->What Life Is All About - Slavery or Freedom ?[/b]
[b]3 ->ENTRAPPED BY LUST[/b]
==============
8
HER LOVER, HER MASTER
--------------------------------------
She was very beautiful. Hansa had a quality that Jayant found intensely erotic. Her face, her manner, her softly musical, sibilant speech made men want to fling her to the nearest bed and fuck her passionately. Her hair was thick and glossy with auburn highlights. Her nose was fine and straight, her mouth full, wide and sensual and her teeth even and strong. She had a firm-chinned, oval face and her eyes were devastating, elongated, almond-shaped, rimmed with *kajal*. She was of medium height, fair-skinned, slender, stunningly curved.
She had a long neck, around which she wore the traditional symbol of her marital status, a black-and-gold beaded *mangalsutra*. Her husband was a drunk and, till Jayant put a stop to it, had forced her to whore for him, to keep him in liquor. Now she rarely saw him. There were plenty of other men in her life.
Her long, graceful neck led to full breasts, superbly shaped, like ripe mangoes, succulent and shapely with long nipples in dainty bright aureoles. Her belly was firm and flat and her hips flared to softly delectable buttocks that closed around a particularly dainty, puckered anus in which she especially enjoyed entertaining a thick, hard penis. Her arms and legs were smooth, slender, nicely turned, and her hands and feet were shapely and elegant.
Apart from the *mangalsutra *she wore a small silver nose-stud in one nostril, gold earrings, finger-rings, bangles, anklets, toe-rings. She had a wonderful posture: the spine dipping in a delectable hollow down its length. Her body was curved like an hourglass, sweeping from her shoulders to a narrow waist, then opening out again to her hips and buttocks.
Her beauty was complemented by her enthusiasm and aptitude for sex. Ordinarily, no man could pass her by without a second glance. She was every man's genicon. In her, fortune brought fantasy to truth: in bed, she was irresistible. There was magic in her tongue, in her teeth, in her incredible fingers, between her legs. Once aroused - which was often and easily - she could hold her lover for hours together. Even in Jayant's world of incessant debauchery, with its Olympian sexual standards, her prowess was acknowledged.
Jayant and she had been lovers since she was sixteen and he twenty. He never tired of her, nor she of him. He regularly commanded her to his bed and each time, he was filled with a sense of delight at her eagerness and ability, the way she surrendered herself to him without reserve. For her part, she loved him from the first, as all his lovers did, for his gentleness, his patience, his kindness and above all, for his awesome sexual prowess.
Hansa had taken lovers before, during and after her marriage, and borne four children, none of whom looked alike, although they all bore her unmistakable stamp. She herself could not have said with any certainty who their fathers were. But, astonishingly, four parturitions had done nothing to put surplus weight on her or to deplete her fine figure.
She smiled gently at Jayant as he stepped out of the bathroom, fresh from a shower, clad only in a thick white terry-cloth robe. His jet black hair was slicked back. His cologne was quiet, but entirely sensual. The robe was belted loosely about his waist and she knew he was naked beneath. The thought of his warm, superbly sculpted body excited her, and, involuntarily her lips parted.
His eyes smiled at her in return, bathing her in their limpid, fluid warmth, beckoning, irresistible. She wore a light printed *sari* with a *bindi* dotting the middle of her forehead. There were small gold earrings in either lobe, and except her finger-ring, anklets, bangles and *mangalsutra*, she wore no other jewelry. She had deliberately worn the *mangalsutra* although she had been sorely tempted to discard it, especially once she had found an adequate and unending source of male companionship in Jayant's household with a variety of men. But she had resisted the temptation knowing well how it excited some of her lovers to feel that they were fucking another's wife.
Now they were very close, their bodies almost touching. Silently he took her by her slim waist and drew her to him. Her back never failed to give him pleasure with its superb posture and erotically hollowed spine, the smooth skin, like satin, the hollows above the collarbone. His fingers were warm and strong on the naked flesh of her bare midriff and she felt her innermost being throb with pleasure at this merest of touches. Her breath shortened, and she leaned her forehead against his chest, fighting for control. Even after all this time, this man could make her feel like a wanton, desperate slut, craving flesh in flesh.
She slipped her long, slender fingers under the lapels of his robe and pulled it wide open, tugging open the knot, slipping the robe off his massive shoulders. Her bare feet climbed his and now she tingled in pleasure as she felt the enormous size and weight of his penis against her belly. Her magical fingers glided over the magnificent contours of his torso as, at last, she tilted her face up to his, her lips fluttering open.
His eyes held hers for a long moment and the fires of her lust danced in her eyes. Her nostrils were slightly flared and her breath was warm and sweet on his face. She slid her arms up and around his neck and arched her head, rising on her toes and he bent his head to hers. His lips met hers and she stiffened at the first, electric touch of his lips and then his tongue slid past her lips and met hers in flickering reply.
She sucked on his tongue, on his lips, met his kiss in measure. His hands were on the nape of her neck, caressing, sliding up and down her slender frame, cupping her breasts. He slid the *pallu* of her *sari* off her shoulder, unravelling it expertly. It rustled to her feet and he tugged at the draw-cord of her petticoat, letting that, too, drop. She was naked beneath that, her cunt fuzz neatly trimmed in anticipation.
One by one, he flicked open the buttons of her blouse and she wriggled out of it, finally naked in his arms, his for the asking, for the taking, to be had and possessed and enjoyed at will. She murmured softly, her eyes closed, arms taut about his shoulders as he tongued her ear and sucked and nibbled on her earlobe. Her nipples stiffened against his chest and she moaned softly when his big, strong hands cupped her breasts with infinite tenderness. Her aureoles puckered and her nipples grew longer and stiffer in his fingers, her body going hot.
She took his face in his hand and kissed him hungrily, already burning with lust. He had that effect on his women. Possessed of a rapier-like mind of considerable renown in several distinct fields of endeavour, he was also devastatingly handsome and impossibly muscled. Clean-shaven and square-jawed, with a wide, clear brow and a fine, aquiline nose he was often mistaken for a film star.
He had wide-set, deep, gentle eyes of a dark brown that could change from ice to fire in minutes. His merest look could do to women what lesser men - and his women had yet to meet one not lesser - would have spent a fortune and hours, if not months and years, to achieve. His mouth was wide and sensual without being fleshy, the teeth very strong and white and even. He had high cheekbones and slightly hollowed cheeks and a cleft in his chin.
His face was that of an outdoor man, used to long hours in merciless sun, doing manual labour - rugged and tough, with every feature honed, filled with strong sinew and deep reserves of strength and power and speed.
His body matched his features in every respect. His shoulders were immense, broad and deep and bulging with muscle. His back was a superb, deeply sweeping, swooping ripple of musculature from shoulder and arm to spine and beyond again. His neck was thick and bullish with strength. The chest was immensely deep and heavy, the pectorals like two huge slabs of rock, the cleft between them deep and ridged with veins and muscles, the taut, dark nipples pulled wide and low on either side. From his triceps, a continuous ridge of muscle flew down the immensity of his chest in a mighty W to its counterpart opposite.
His belly was flat, and like a washboard, the flesh marked with the rectangles of muscle. The waist was narrow and small, the hips high and arrogant, the buttocks taut and firm. His arms and legs were long and thick and rounded and bulging with muscle, the feet and hands big and powerful. His forearms were thick and ridged with veins, the calves and thighs stronger than oak. There was no hair on his torso anywhere; even the armpits were depilated. He took good care of his body, and used it well - in combat, in play, in work.
Above all, there was his penis. It was a thing of beauty, a joy to behold, a greater joy still for a woman to stroke and caress and lick and suck and then be fucked by. Limp, it was bigger and thicker and longer than most erections: it dangled a good ten inches in length, over an inch and a half around, before a brace of big, low, loaded balls that stored, she knew, an almost unending cornucopia of delicious jizz. When erect, it would swell to an awe-inspiring eleven-and-a half inches or more in length, over two and a half around.
It sprang from a mat of cropped black curly pubic hair. He regularly had one of his lovers shave the shaft all the way down to the base. There were good reasons for this. For one thing, there were some women with whom he performed on stage or on film who could take his cock whole, when erect. Then, the sight of his smooth, hairless penis glistening and throbbing, plunging in and out of cunts, mouths, anuses added to the eroticism. But, more important, he found it gave him greater satisfaction and allowed him to gauge his lover's responses a fraction more accurately.
It was this attention to detail, to minutiae, that set him apart from the rest and made him their leader. She loved it this way. She loved him, every bit of him, every inch of his cock. True, Kishore's was a tad bigger - but, as he himself readily admitted, Jayant was by far his superior in matters lectual.
Now Jayant smiled in pleasure as Hansa bent her head and began to suck on his nipples gently, her sharp, warm, moist tongue and fierce teeth nibbling and suckling and toying with his nipples, arousing them painfully. Meanwhile, her elegant fingers coiled about the shaft of his cock and began to caress it expertly and it swelled and thickened in her fist. She moved to the other nipple, sucking hard, letting go, sucking hard again.
Friends waiting for some comments on the longest story thread which has being updated for your. Please send your comments on the thread rather then sending Personal Message
New Stories started in Erotic Short and Long Stories Part 2
Click here for the Same
[b]1 ->You Only Live Once[/b]
[b]2 ->What Life Is All About - Slavery or Freedom ?[/b]
[b]3 ->ENTRAPPED BY LUST[/b]
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