30-06-2019, 03:24 PM
Jayant cupped Falu's lovely face in both hands and smiled gently. She was utterly delectable, totally irresistible. Her nose was pert, the face sweetly rounded, always alive with joy and laughter, the rosebud lips soft and inviting. Her teeth were perfectly even and very white. Her eyes were a deep brown, gentle, and her voice was gentle and soft.
He bent his head and kissed her tenderly, his lips fluttering against hers. Her lips flowered under his and slowly, tentatively, her tongue flickered into his mouth. He drew his hands down her body. She was very sexy. Her hair was short, hanging just below her shoulders, now bound behind her head with a broad clip in a high pony-tail.
Her breasts were full and firm, not the detestable cones that marred so many woman, but full and firm and ripe so that they filled her clothing and strained at every seam. She had stubby nipples in dense, bright aureoles. The belly was firm and flat, and her buttocks were slim, almost boyish, but firm and neatly curved, leading to shapely legs. Her arms and legs were slender and smooth, the fingers and toes square and strong.
Her skin was smooth and fair and flawless, with the texture of cream, or a ripe gbang, soft, silken, firm, with no trace of the fine downy hair that blemished so many women. Jayant loved the feel of her flesh, cool and smooth and alive to his every touch.
She wore a gold wedding band on one finger, a gold necklace and a long *mangalsutra*, signifying her marital status. It dangled low, of gold and black beads with a twin-cupped pendant that rested against her naked midriff. Her lobes bore delicate earrings, and she had a small *bindi* on her forehead.
She was clad in a *sari* of some light synthetic material. Falu wore *sari*'s like no one else: without an inner petticoat and slung high on her hips and dipping precariously under her belly and back so that it was just above her pubis and buttocks, she had discovered a way of wearing it without any supporting underclothing.
As a result, the garment clung to her every curve and unraveled at the slightest tug. Her blouses were provocatively cut, scooped deep and wide to reveal a tantalising cleavage, the lower hem very high so that it ran hard under her breasts, which jutted out on all sides like heavy, over-ripe melons. The blouse was very taut and her breasts strained at the confines, threatening to burst free.
Their kiss deepened, and he cupped her breasts, sliding his hands under her *pallu*. Her breasts grew heavy and he felt her nipples jump erect. He slid two fingers into her cleavage.
"It's been an age, Flo," he murmured, teasing her lips with his tongue.
"Mm. You've been too busy to even think of me."
"Not true. I've been thinking of fucking you constantly."
"That sounds like heaven. Fuck me constantly."
"Idiot."
"Seriously, I'd love it if you did."
"I'd love to do, too, but I can't. So let's just enjoy what we can, shall we?"
"Mm. Yummy."
Since her early teens, Falu had been fucked by more men than she could remember. Her husband, his brothers, other relatives, their servants, guests, visitors, cooks, drivers, peons, cleaners, sweepers, strangers - she slept with them all. She was a whore for Jayant and her clients included some of the richest and most powerful men in the country.
But he was different, without equal. They went back a long time, to a dark age when he had single-handedly rescued her from a purgatory with her depraved guardian and taken her through the gates of a paradise that he created from nothing. He was intelligent, India's finest legal mind, immensely wealthy, a connoisseur of art and music, food and fine wine, and he had the best women at his beck and call.
He was sexually unrivaled. None of her lovers even came close. Devilishly handsome, his face was clean-shaven, square-jawed and utterly masculine. He had a strong nose, dark, deep-set eyes, a shock of thick black hair. His neck was thick and bullish. His cheeks were slightly hollowed, tough and rugged, the face that of man used to much labour and hardness. His voice was rich, velvet baritone, and his eyes were a deep brown, ever gentle.
His body was stunning, that of a master body-builder but without the crudity. The heavy neck led smoothly to sprawling shoulders, heavy with muscle. His back was deeply curved by musculature and his spine narrowed inward. His chest was immensely broad and square, cut in a heavy W that swept from one armpit to the other, with a deep cleft in between.
His nipples were small and pinches and pulled taut and low on either side. His belly was hard and flat, divided into strong rectangular patches of muscle. His biceps were enormous bulges and his forearms were ridged with thick veins. His torso slashed in a savage V from the shoulder to high, narrow hips above taut, firm buttocks that led to long legs, strong as tree-trunks. His hands and feet were large and strong. His torso was completely hairless and even his armpits were depilated.
But best of all was his penis - an astonishing, impossible, incredible mass of cartilage and flesh, it hung ten inches long limp - and limp was not a word frequently associated with it. Even in that state it was larger and thicker and harder than most erections. Fully aroused, it was all of eleven and one-half inches long, nearly three inches thick ridged by heavy veins, as big as man's forearm.
He was careful to keep it smoothly shorn down to the hilt; not only did it look better in celluloid close-up, but it facilitated smooth entries into human orifices, especially anuses. His balls were heavy and low and brimming with hot, creamy jizz. He had the staying power of a bull, and could come repeatedly without tiring. It was the equipment of a rampant stallion in heat.
Falu knew only one man with a larger cock, Kishore, Jayant's chief lieutenant, whose penis was fully a foot long and three inches thick. He had fucked her often, even in her ass with it, but even he acknowledged that Jayant was by far his superior in the art of fucking a woman.
Jayant was an untiring lover with an innate ability to sense his lover's moods and needs and the ability to adjust to them instantly. He maintained that his greatest pleasure sprang from the giving of the greatest pleasure. Few women could match him.
The only one who did, effortlessly and time after time, was his wife, Sunnu, Falu's sister. With her, sex took on awesome dimensions, and their fucking was that of the gods.
Falu knew that Jayant and Sunnu would fuck incessantly for a week till, in the end, both were drained and exhausted. Their love and lust was so intense that it threatened to consume their beings, and they seldom fucked except by careful design. Instead, both contented their natural sexual urges by fucking outside their marriage. Falu was glad for it.
Falu closed her eyes and pictured Jayant's cock. It would be dark and thick, too thick to take fully in her mouth, too thick even to encircle fully in her fingers. It would be long and strong, pulsating, dark, thick-veined. She could almost feel it now, touching her cunt-lips, gently prising them open, then spreading them wider and wider to receive its immensity, then piercing through, touching her very soul.
She ached for it, for that beautiful enormity to invade her flesh and plough into her body mercilessly, tormenting her and driving her to fits of passion that no one else could. She knew and loved every inch of his body and his cock, every vein, every curve and contour; and she knew his cock with her mouth, her face, her breasts, her cunt, her anus, her entire being.
He drew her closer and her body warmed at the touch of his hands on her naked midriff. His head bent to hers and her eyes fluttered shut, her lips parting slowly under his. His lips met hers, brushed them, then slowly he drew the lower one between his and sucked on it. His tongue invaded her mouth slowly, gliding between her lips and flicking against her own and she groaned deep in her throat as her excitement mounted.
His hands slid up over her short, tight blouse to cup her breasts. As he squeezed the fleshy mounds gently, marveling at their superb contours, relishing the feel and weight and shape of them filling his hands, they grew hot and hard and swelled, her nipples stiffening quickly. His lips slid down over her mouth, down the line of her neck and throat and he slid the *pallu* of her *sari* of her shoulder.
His lips and tongue trickled into the deep valley between her breasts, and his hands and fingers stroked her bare belly, caressing it just above her pubis, gently sliding around to her buttocks, back again to her thighs. He flicked open the buttons of her blouse and opened the top two.
He bent his head and his tongue explored the deep vale between her breasts. Falu trembled in excitement. His hot breath seared on her nipple through the thin material of the blouse and she shuddered in excitement, arching her head. Her nipple quivered between his lips. He tugged at it gently with his teeth, rolled it between them. She gasped as the fires leapt to her groin. He moved to the other breast, kneading the first in his fingers.
Falu unbuttoned his loose shirt with trembling fingers. She pulled it off and, moaning softly, caressed his sculpted chest. His hands slid down her smooth back and he tugged at her *sari*. It unravelled and fell to her feet with the softest of whispers. She was naked under it and his hands slid over her firm, flat buttocks and slender thighs. She trembled and bent her head to his chest,
licking his nipple. He sighed softly.
He bent his head and kissed her tenderly, his lips fluttering against hers. Her lips flowered under his and slowly, tentatively, her tongue flickered into his mouth. He drew his hands down her body. She was very sexy. Her hair was short, hanging just below her shoulders, now bound behind her head with a broad clip in a high pony-tail.
Her breasts were full and firm, not the detestable cones that marred so many woman, but full and firm and ripe so that they filled her clothing and strained at every seam. She had stubby nipples in dense, bright aureoles. The belly was firm and flat, and her buttocks were slim, almost boyish, but firm and neatly curved, leading to shapely legs. Her arms and legs were slender and smooth, the fingers and toes square and strong.
Her skin was smooth and fair and flawless, with the texture of cream, or a ripe gbang, soft, silken, firm, with no trace of the fine downy hair that blemished so many women. Jayant loved the feel of her flesh, cool and smooth and alive to his every touch.
She wore a gold wedding band on one finger, a gold necklace and a long *mangalsutra*, signifying her marital status. It dangled low, of gold and black beads with a twin-cupped pendant that rested against her naked midriff. Her lobes bore delicate earrings, and she had a small *bindi* on her forehead.
She was clad in a *sari* of some light synthetic material. Falu wore *sari*'s like no one else: without an inner petticoat and slung high on her hips and dipping precariously under her belly and back so that it was just above her pubis and buttocks, she had discovered a way of wearing it without any supporting underclothing.
As a result, the garment clung to her every curve and unraveled at the slightest tug. Her blouses were provocatively cut, scooped deep and wide to reveal a tantalising cleavage, the lower hem very high so that it ran hard under her breasts, which jutted out on all sides like heavy, over-ripe melons. The blouse was very taut and her breasts strained at the confines, threatening to burst free.
Their kiss deepened, and he cupped her breasts, sliding his hands under her *pallu*. Her breasts grew heavy and he felt her nipples jump erect. He slid two fingers into her cleavage.
"It's been an age, Flo," he murmured, teasing her lips with his tongue.
"Mm. You've been too busy to even think of me."
"Not true. I've been thinking of fucking you constantly."
"That sounds like heaven. Fuck me constantly."
"Idiot."
"Seriously, I'd love it if you did."
"I'd love to do, too, but I can't. So let's just enjoy what we can, shall we?"
"Mm. Yummy."
Since her early teens, Falu had been fucked by more men than she could remember. Her husband, his brothers, other relatives, their servants, guests, visitors, cooks, drivers, peons, cleaners, sweepers, strangers - she slept with them all. She was a whore for Jayant and her clients included some of the richest and most powerful men in the country.
But he was different, without equal. They went back a long time, to a dark age when he had single-handedly rescued her from a purgatory with her depraved guardian and taken her through the gates of a paradise that he created from nothing. He was intelligent, India's finest legal mind, immensely wealthy, a connoisseur of art and music, food and fine wine, and he had the best women at his beck and call.
He was sexually unrivaled. None of her lovers even came close. Devilishly handsome, his face was clean-shaven, square-jawed and utterly masculine. He had a strong nose, dark, deep-set eyes, a shock of thick black hair. His neck was thick and bullish. His cheeks were slightly hollowed, tough and rugged, the face that of man used to much labour and hardness. His voice was rich, velvet baritone, and his eyes were a deep brown, ever gentle.
His body was stunning, that of a master body-builder but without the crudity. The heavy neck led smoothly to sprawling shoulders, heavy with muscle. His back was deeply curved by musculature and his spine narrowed inward. His chest was immensely broad and square, cut in a heavy W that swept from one armpit to the other, with a deep cleft in between.
His nipples were small and pinches and pulled taut and low on either side. His belly was hard and flat, divided into strong rectangular patches of muscle. His biceps were enormous bulges and his forearms were ridged with thick veins. His torso slashed in a savage V from the shoulder to high, narrow hips above taut, firm buttocks that led to long legs, strong as tree-trunks. His hands and feet were large and strong. His torso was completely hairless and even his armpits were depilated.
But best of all was his penis - an astonishing, impossible, incredible mass of cartilage and flesh, it hung ten inches long limp - and limp was not a word frequently associated with it. Even in that state it was larger and thicker and harder than most erections. Fully aroused, it was all of eleven and one-half inches long, nearly three inches thick ridged by heavy veins, as big as man's forearm.
He was careful to keep it smoothly shorn down to the hilt; not only did it look better in celluloid close-up, but it facilitated smooth entries into human orifices, especially anuses. His balls were heavy and low and brimming with hot, creamy jizz. He had the staying power of a bull, and could come repeatedly without tiring. It was the equipment of a rampant stallion in heat.
Falu knew only one man with a larger cock, Kishore, Jayant's chief lieutenant, whose penis was fully a foot long and three inches thick. He had fucked her often, even in her ass with it, but even he acknowledged that Jayant was by far his superior in the art of fucking a woman.
Jayant was an untiring lover with an innate ability to sense his lover's moods and needs and the ability to adjust to them instantly. He maintained that his greatest pleasure sprang from the giving of the greatest pleasure. Few women could match him.
The only one who did, effortlessly and time after time, was his wife, Sunnu, Falu's sister. With her, sex took on awesome dimensions, and their fucking was that of the gods.
Falu knew that Jayant and Sunnu would fuck incessantly for a week till, in the end, both were drained and exhausted. Their love and lust was so intense that it threatened to consume their beings, and they seldom fucked except by careful design. Instead, both contented their natural sexual urges by fucking outside their marriage. Falu was glad for it.
Falu closed her eyes and pictured Jayant's cock. It would be dark and thick, too thick to take fully in her mouth, too thick even to encircle fully in her fingers. It would be long and strong, pulsating, dark, thick-veined. She could almost feel it now, touching her cunt-lips, gently prising them open, then spreading them wider and wider to receive its immensity, then piercing through, touching her very soul.
She ached for it, for that beautiful enormity to invade her flesh and plough into her body mercilessly, tormenting her and driving her to fits of passion that no one else could. She knew and loved every inch of his body and his cock, every vein, every curve and contour; and she knew his cock with her mouth, her face, her breasts, her cunt, her anus, her entire being.
He drew her closer and her body warmed at the touch of his hands on her naked midriff. His head bent to hers and her eyes fluttered shut, her lips parting slowly under his. His lips met hers, brushed them, then slowly he drew the lower one between his and sucked on it. His tongue invaded her mouth slowly, gliding between her lips and flicking against her own and she groaned deep in her throat as her excitement mounted.
His hands slid up over her short, tight blouse to cup her breasts. As he squeezed the fleshy mounds gently, marveling at their superb contours, relishing the feel and weight and shape of them filling his hands, they grew hot and hard and swelled, her nipples stiffening quickly. His lips slid down over her mouth, down the line of her neck and throat and he slid the *pallu* of her *sari* of her shoulder.
His lips and tongue trickled into the deep valley between her breasts, and his hands and fingers stroked her bare belly, caressing it just above her pubis, gently sliding around to her buttocks, back again to her thighs. He flicked open the buttons of her blouse and opened the top two.
He bent his head and his tongue explored the deep vale between her breasts. Falu trembled in excitement. His hot breath seared on her nipple through the thin material of the blouse and she shuddered in excitement, arching her head. Her nipple quivered between his lips. He tugged at it gently with his teeth, rolled it between them. She gasped as the fires leapt to her groin. He moved to the other breast, kneading the first in his fingers.
Falu unbuttoned his loose shirt with trembling fingers. She pulled it off and, moaning softly, caressed his sculpted chest. His hands slid down her smooth back and he tugged at her *sari*. It unravelled and fell to her feet with the softest of whispers. She was naked under it and his hands slid over her firm, flat buttocks and slender thighs. She trembled and bent her head to his chest,
licking his nipple. He sighed softly.
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