24-06-2025, 09:35 PM
(This post was last modified: 24-06-2025, 09:39 PM by yodam69420. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
The chaos of the day’s events had settled into a warm afterglow, and a couple photography event was arranged under a canopy of fairy lights, the perfect stage for love’s display. Guests mingled, their silks rustling, when Ramu, the silver-haired 65-year-old charmer in his cream kurta, turned to Sakshi, her crimson saree clinging to her curves like a lover’s embrace, her jasmine braid teasing her neck.
“Arre, rani,” he purred, his voice a husky monsoon breeze, “let’s steal this night with a photo—pose as my queen, and let the world envy us!” His eyes danced with naughty intent, his hand brushing her waist, urging her toward the velvet-dbangd setup where a young cameraman adjusted his lens.
Sakshi giggled, her bindi glinting like a forbidden jewel as she swayed closer, her mangalsutra a faint reminder of her tangled past. “Oh, Ramu ji, a couple’s shot? What will they think of this old lion and his fiery flower?” Her tone was playful, her hips brushing his thigh as she teased, “Will you hold me like a bride or a mistress?”
The cameraman, a lanky fellow with a curious grin, beckoned them forward, his lens clicking as they stepped into the frame. “Beautiful! Is this a father-daughter moment?” he asked innocently, adjusting the lights.
Ramu’s laugh rumbled, rich and wicked, as he pulled Sakshi against him, his arm wrapping possessively around her waist. “Arre bhai, no father here! I’m her ardent suitor—watch me claim her pose by pose!” He winked at Sakshi, who blushed, her fingers tracing his chest as she murmured, “Prove it, ji—let’s scandalize his lens!”
The first pose began with Ramu standing behind her, his hands resting lightly on her hips, guiding her into a gentle sway. “Like this, rani—let your saree tease the light,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. She tilted her head back, her lips parting in a sultry smile, “Oh, ji, your touch sets me ablaze—click that fire!” The cameraman obliged, the shutter capturing their chemistry.
Next, Ramu turned her to face him, lifting her chin with a finger, their gazes locking in a smoldering stare. “Look at me, jaan—like I’m devouring you whole,” he growled, his other hand sliding to her lower back, pressing her closer. Sakshi’s giggle was a naughty melody, “Devour me, then—let the photo taste our sin!” Their lips hovered inches apart, the cameraman’s flash freezing the tension.
For the final pose, Ramu sat on a velvet stool, pulling Sakshi onto his lap, her saree fanning out like a crimson bloom. His hands roamed her waist, a possessive caress as he murmured, “Sit like my throne, rani—let them see who rules me.” She straddled his thigh playfully, her fingers threading through his silver hair, whispering, “Rule you, ji? I’ll ride your heart instead!” The cameraman chuckled, snapping the intimate shot, oblivious to the heat beneath their banter.
As the session ended, the cameraman grinned, “What a lively pair—you’ve lit up my reel!” Ramu laughed, slipping a tip into his hand, “Keep that spark, bhai— it’s our secret fire!” Sakshi leaned into him, her voice a sultry promise, “Our secret, ji—let’s frame this night in our bed later.” Their laughter mingled with the night’s magic, the photos a testament to their forbidden passion, the haveli’s lights casting a glow on their triumphant, naughty union.
--
The fairy lights cast a golden haze over the dispersing crowd, but within Sakshi, a fire raged, stoked by the day’s whirlwind—Ramu’s possessive touches, the grandson’s thwarted threats, and the forbidden thrill of their photo session. Her crimson saree clung to her curves like a lover’s desperate grip, the jasmine braid teasing her neck, and her mangalsutra glinted faintly, a taunting reminder of Murugan now drowned by her intense heat. She craved Ramu, her body humming with a need that pulsed like the dholki’s beat, and her mind raced to quench it.
Her eyes darted across the courtyard, landing on a shadowed corridor where the hum of the feast faded. A storeroom door, half-hidden by a velvet curtain, beckoned—a forgotten nook where no soul lingered amid the night’s chaos. With a sly smile, she slipped toward an attendant, her voice a velvet whisper as she leaned close, her fingers brushing his arm. “Bhaiya, that room—any treasures inside? I need a quiet spot to rest my feet.” The young man, flustered by her allure, handed her a rusty key with a stammer, “Ji, just old trunks—take care, memsaab!” She pocketed it, her heart racing with naughty intent, the key a ticket to her desire.
Turning back, she caught Ramu’s silver-haired figure near the biryani vats, his cream kurta a beacon of rugged charm. She sauntered toward him, her hips swaying like a monsoon temptress, her gaze locking with his in a smoldering promise. “Arre, Ramu ji,” she purred, her voice thick with longing, “this night’s fire burns me—follow me to a secret haven, where no eyes judge our hunger.” She dangled the key before him, her fingers tracing his chest, igniting a spark in his dark eyes.
Ramu’s laugh was a deep, sinful rumble, his hand capturing hers as he leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. “Oh, rani, you’re a wildfire calling me to sin—lead me, and I’ll stoke that heat till the stars blush!” His silver hair brushed her cheek, his grip possessive as she tugged him toward the corridor, her saree whispering secrets with every step. The storeroom loomed ahead, a haven of shadows where her desires would dance unchecked, the key a silent vow to the passion awaiting them beyond the curtain’s veil.
---
She unlocked the storeroom door, and they slipped inside, locking it tight behind them with a quick turn of the key. The room was stuffed with wedding things—boxes spilling silk clothes, a double bed buried under piles of gift sarees, shirts, pants, and sweet boxes, the air sweet with the smell of laddoos. Ramu stepped behind her, wrapping her in his arms, his hands cupping her boobs over the saree, his lips kissing her neck and the soft spot below her ear. “Ahh… rani,” he groaned, his voice a hungry growl, “you look so hot in this silk—I can’t wait to love you!”
Sakshi squirmed, her breath catching as she moaned, “Oh, Ramu ji, wait a little, my lion—let’s do the important stuff first!” Her voice was a teasing plea, her body pressing into his touch, the heat between them growing.
He chuckled, his hands slipping under her blouse to squeeze her boobs, his lips trailing kisses. “Wait, jaan? You’re a beauty in this saree—I’ve been dying to hold you since I saw you. Let’s finish this love first!” His fingers played with her skin, making her sigh, but she wiggled free, her tone firm yet playful.
Her words made sense, and Ramu let her go, looking around the room. Boxes were full of the bride’s dowry—pretty jewelry and silks in a separate box, the bed a messy pile of gifts with barely room to sit, the air heavy with sugary scent. Sakshi knelt, opening the jewelry box, her fingers touching the shiny designs.
After that, Ramu stacked the clothes and sweet boxes into a pile, making a small space on the bed. With a naughty smile, he pulled Sakshi down, climbing over her as she fell back, her saree spreading like a red flower. She welcomed him, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him close, her body’s warmth a sweet hug. “Rani,” he whispered, his lips brushing her chest, “your heat holds me—let me feel this deep joy.”
Their closeness was a dance they’d shared many times, each time a rush of happiness and love without a hint of shame. Her soft, round boobs, peeking from her blouse, called to him, and he buried his face between them, kissing and licking the soft valley with a lover’s hunger. A soft moan slipped from her, her head tilting back as he lifted her blouse, revealing her bare mounds—no choli to stop his touch. He grabbed her boobs, pressing gently, his lips moving to her ear, teasing the lobe with his tongue.
Her nipples grew hard under his hands, turning from tiny buds to ripe fruits, and he sucked one, his fingers pinching the other with a gentle squeeze. “Ahh… Ramu ji… ohh,” she sighed, her hands holding his face to press their lips together in a hot kiss, her tongue playing with his. His blood raced, his temples warming, his penis slowly waking as her juicy lower lip—thick like a small orange slice—drove him wild, nibbling her cheeks between kisses.
She slipped her tongue into his mouth, and he returned it, their kiss a dance of want. Then, her hand slid down, searching. “Ramu ji, where’s your joy?” she teased, her fingers exploring.
“What joy, rani?” he played dumb, lifting his hips to tease her, a grin on his lips.
“Your little friend!” she giggled, pinching his thigh.
“Friend? This is my lund, jaan—not some toy!” he laughed, pressing his penis against her thigh.
“Yes, yes, call it what you like—bring it to my flower, ji—time’s short!” she urged, her voice a sweet command.
“Call it my lund, rani, and your flower a love spot—say it right!” he challenged, his hands roaming her waist.
“Never such bold words!” she pouted, acting shy.
“Please, my sweet queen,” he coaxed, kissing her lips.
“Hmm,” she hummed, smiling softly.
“Then no love till you shout, ‘Take me, Ramu ji, with your lund in my love spot!’” he teased, starting to kiss her skin again.
Sakshi, her red saree barely containing her trembling curves, lay on the cluttered bed, her body alive with a wild longing for Ramu after their teasing play. The jasmine braid teased her neck, and her mangalsutra glimmered faintly, a forgotten chain as her eyes burned with need. Ramu, his cream kurta slightly undone, hovered over her, his silver hair a wild halo, his hands eager to explore further.
With a naughty grin, he lifted the front of her saree, folding it over her belly. “Arre, rani,” he gasped, his voice a hungry growl, “no chaddi underneath—your juicy choot is bare for me!” Her face flushed red with shy delight, and she hid her mouth behind her hands, though she made no move to cover her exposed love spot, letting him feast his eyes.
He gazed at her choot with a lover’s awe, a sight he’d always cherished. Leaning down, he kissed it tenderly, parting her folds gently to kiss her sensitive spots, his tongue teasing with slow delight. The unique scent of her filled him, drawing a deep sigh from her lips as she melted into his touch.
A few days ago, when they’d left Bangalore together, her choot had been smooth and clean-shaven, but now tiny hairs sprouted around it, adding a wild beauty. “Even with these little hairs, your choot is a treat to see and love,” he murmured, his voice thick with want, admiring how it enhanced her charm.
With full passion, he licked her choot from outside, then parted her folds to taste deeper, sucking and nibbling her sensitive pearl gently. Her body shook like an earthquake, a tremor running through her as she bent one leg, pressing his head closer with her hands gripping his silver hair. The salty taste of her love juices filled his mouth, and after a minute of this, her hips bucked like a toy on springs, her moans growing hot and wild. “Ohh… Ramu ji… lick me faster, please!” she cried, lost in the moment.
But just then, he pulled back, leaving her gasping. “Nooo… Ramu ji…” she whimpered, reaching to pull him back into her embrace. He stood instead, shedding his clothes with a swift toss, his lund springing free, hard and ready before her. Sakshi rose quickly, grabbing his penis and taking it into her mouth, pulling back the skin to lick the swollen tip, then sucking it deep like a sweet chocolate.
“Ramu ji… do it now, please!” she begged, pulling him out to look up with pleading eyes.
“What should I do, my sweet rani… tell me?” he teased, holding her face and sliding his lund back into her mouth, giving a few playful thrusts.
“Ohh… Ramu ji… you win, I lose. Okay, put your lund in my choot and love your rani hard. Happy now?” she purred in a sultry voice, untying her blouse strings and letting it fall, then shedding her saree to lie naked before him. She bent her legs up, spreading her choot wide with her hands, her shy smile inviting him.
Her choot’s inner lips still clung together like a “no entry” sign, but her five-and-a-half-foot frame lay bare and inviting. Her boobs stood firm without support, nipples swelling like small berries, her hair spilling wildly around her face like a moon in a dark night. Her full thighs framed her puffed-up choot, which she held open with both hands, her eyes sparkling with a mix of shyness and desire as she gazed at him.
The storeroom’s dim glow pulsed with a sultry heat , the air thick with the sweet scent of laddoos and the rising passion between Sakshi and Ramu. Sakshi lay sprawled on the cluttered bed, her red saree pushed aside, her naked beauty a vision that set Ramu’s heart ablaze. Her jasmine braid spilled wildly, and her mangalsutra dangled like a naughty secret, forgotten as her eyes burned with raw desire. Ramu, his cream kurta discarded, his silver hair a wild crown, drank in her form, his lund throbbing with anticipation.
He lingered, savoring the sight of her—her choot spread wide, her boobs firm and inviting, her shy smile a mix of lust and surrender. “Arre, rani,” he murmured, his voice a deep, hungry growl, “your beauty soothes my soul—do apsaras in heaven offer such bliss?” His eyes traced her curves, lost in the ecstasy of her naked form.
“What are you staring at, Ramu ji?” she teased, her voice trembling with need, her cheeks flushed like ripe roses. “You’ve seen me and this choot a hundred times—your only rani lies here, shamelessly open, begging you to come love me, quench my thirst, my rajah!” Her words dripped with desperation, her body arching toward him.
He positioned his lund at her choot’s entrance, gazing into her eyes, a playful fire dancing in his gaze. “No more delays, rani,” she urged, her voice quick with urgency, “I’ve agreed to your game—look, it’s past eight, someone could come any moment!”
Her words spurred him on. “Take it, my jaan… my sweet doll,” he rasped, rubbing his lund against her choot’s lips, parting them to reveal her warm haven. “Ramu ji… ohh… put it in now, love me quick!” she moaned, her hips lifting.
“Yes, rani, feel your rajah’s lund in your choot… hold it tight!” he groaned, clenching his teeth and thrusting deep with all his might. His lund slid past her tight grip, burying itself fully, their hairs mingling in a wild union.
“Ohh… Ram ji, I’m dying… Ramu ji, slow down, why so rough… ahh… oh maa… save me!” she cried, squirming and pushing against him. But he held her wrists firm, pulling back slightly before plunging in again with a powerful stroke.
She bit her mangalsutra between her teeth, clutching the bed sheet in her fists, her body tensing. Settling over her, his lund snug inside, he rested, catching his breath. After a moment, he stroked her hair tenderly. “How does it feel now, rani?”
“You’ll kill me like this, pouncing so hard… no bansi left to play if you take all my life at once!” she whimpered, her voice soft and teary.
“Sakshi, my love, my bansi will play in your tune as long as I breathe—why say such things?” he soothed, kissing her lips.
“Forget it, Ramu ji, can’t you go slow? You always attack like a storm, no matter who lives or dies!” she pouted.
“Don’t say that, my jaan… sorry, my sweet. Next time, I’ll enter with all the love—promise?” he coaxed, caressing her face.
“Hmm… okay, Ramu ji. But remember this promise next time?” she asked, a small smile returning.
“Okay, Sakshi… I’ll keep it for sure!” he vowed, their laughter mingling with the storeroom’s sweet air, their passion pausing in a tender truce.
The air heavy with the sweet scent of the rising heat between Sakshi and Ramu. Sakshi lay beneath him, her red saree crumpled aside, her naked body a feast of desire, her jasmine braid spilling wild, and her mangalsutra a forgotten glint as her eyes smoldered with raw need. Ramu, his cream kurta shed, his silver hair a wild crown, reveled in her beauty, his lund pulsing with eager want.
He drank in her form, her choot spread wide, her boobs firm and tempting, her shy smile a blend of lust and surrender. “Arre, rani,” he rasped, his voice a deep, hungry growl, “your beauty fills my soul—let me taste this heaven!” His eyes traced her curves, lost in the thrill of her naked allure.
“Okay, my darling baby… promise by you!” he said, kissing her cheek softly, easing his lund in and out with gentle strokes. Her choot, now slick with love, welcomed him smoothly, and he picked up the pace, driving into her like a rhythmic train. Sakshi, caught in the wave, clung to him, matching his thrusts with her own.
“Ramu ji… now drill me deep and fast with all your might!” she moaned, her voice thick with wild desire, her nails digging into his back with fierce passion.
“Yes, baby, here I come deeper into you!” he growled, lifting her legs higher and holding them in her hands, tilting her choot perfectly for his lund. With full force, he began to love her hard, turning her into a puddle of pleasure.
Wet sounds—fach-fach, fuchak—filled the air as Sakshi lost herself in ecstasy. “I love you, Ramu ji… my life, my rajah… tear my choot with your lund. It teases me so much!” she whimpered, her voice a sultry plea.
“Yes, rani, take it!” he said, pulling out to wipe his lund with her saree, then cleaning her choot inside and out before thrusting back in. The slight dryness made it tighter, heightening their thrill.
Sakshi straightened her legs, rising on her heels to swallow his lund with each thrust, syncing with his rhythm, pouring her youth into their dance. For three or four minutes, she savored the love, then…
“Ramu ji, now I’ll ride you. I’ll take my joy my way and keep the control—just lie back quietly!” she purred, kissing him deeply.
“Fine, my doll rani… come, ride your rajah!” he chuckled, sliding off to lie down, propping a sweet box under his head like a pillow.
Sakshi mounted him swiftly, pressing his lund against his belly with her choot, rubbing back and forth, massaging it with her wet love. Rivers of her juices flowed, soaking his lund, thighs, and hair in a sticky embrace.
After two or three minutes of this delight, she lifted slightly, guiding his lund to her choot’s entrance and sank down, engulfing him fully. Leaning forward, her loose hair fell over his face, creating a cozy nest as she moved her hips, locking eyes with him, loving him with wild abandon. Her boobs swung against his chest, and he grabbed them, stopping their sway to enjoy her thrusts.
Riding him with fierce passion, Sakshi delivered angled, deep strokes, driving his lund to new heights of pleasure. But soon, she tired. “Ramu ji, stop… I can’t anymore. Lay me down now!” she panted, breathless.
“Come, my sweet rani, you’ve worked so hard!” he said, kissing her tenderly, then laying her beneath him,
Sakshi lay beneath him, her red saree a crumpled heap, her naked body a vision of wild desire, her jasmine braid spilling like a dark river, and her mangalsutra a forgotten sparkle as her eyes blazed with passion. Ramu, his cream kurta discarded, his silver hair a wild crown, hovered over her, his lund eager and ready, their bodies entwined in a dance of ecstasy.
With a playful moan, Sakshi lifted her legs high, raising her choot into the air like an offering. Ramu’s eyes widened as he saw her love spot gaping wide, like a five-rupee coin, a dark, inviting tunnel beckoning him. “Arre, rani,” he growled, his voice thick with lust, “you’ve opened paradise for me!” She blushed, a shy giggle escaping as she pressed his head to her boobs, guiding his lund toward her wet haven with a naughty grin. “Take me there, Ramu ji—show me heaven!”
He thrust his lund deep, pounding with rapid strokes, and Sakshi responded with joyful cries, her body rocking with him. Soon, her hands roamed his back, pulling him close as she slammed her choot against his lund with fierce need—signals he knew well, her peak nearing. “Ramu ji… hold me tight, I’m coming!” she gasped, clinging like a vine, locking her legs around his waist as a flood of love juices gushed from her choot, a waterfall of pleasure.
At the same moment, Ramu surrendered, his lund releasing streams of hot joy inside her. They collapsed into each other’s arms, riding the waves of bliss, her choot squeezing his lund, milking every drop in a delicious rhythm that felt like a loving embrace. “Oh, rani, your choot knows how to please,” he murmured, lost in the sweet afterglow.
Oblivious to the world, they lay tangled for a while, savoring the warmth. Then Sakshi stirred, pushing him gently. “Ramu ji… look, it’s past nine-thirty—someone might come soon. Get off, wear your clothes quick!” she urged, her voice a mix of panic and play, sliding off the bed. A mix of his seed and her love dripped down her thighs, which she wiped hastily with her saree before slipping it back on, her lack of choli or chaddi making her dress-up a swift, wild transformation in under a minute.
Ramu glanced at the time—over an hour had passed in their secret lair. He dressed quickly, and together they rearranged the bed’s clothes , and stepped out, securing the room with a final click of the key. The haveli’s night hummed around them, their hearts still racing with the thrill of their stolen paradise.
The storeroom door creaked open, releasing Sakshi and Ramu into the haveli’s warm, lantern-lit corridor, their bodies still tingling with the afterglow of their passionate escape. The air carried the fading musk of attar and the sweet remnants of the walima feast, but for them, it was laced with the heady scent of their secret love. Sakshi’s crimson saree, slightly disheveled, clung to her curves like a lover’s lingering touch, her jasmine braid a wild cascade, and her mangalsutra a faint glimmer of their forbidden thrill. Ramu, his cream kurta smoothed but his silver hair tousled, exuded a rugged satisfaction, his eyes sparkling with naughty delight as they stepped into the winding-down ceremony.
The courtyard buzzed with a softer hum now, guests drifting away, the fairy lights casting a golden haze over the scattered cushions and empty sweet trays. Ismail, resplendent in his maroon sherwani, spotted them emerging from the shadows, his sharp gaze missing nothing. A knowing smirk played on his lips, his fourth wedding’s scandalous spirit recognizing the heat between them. He strode over, his voice a rich, teasing rumble. “Arre, Ramu bhai, Sakshi ji, where are you sneaking off to? The night’s young—stay, let’s share more sherbet and stories!”
Sakshi’s cheeks flushed, her lips curling into a shy yet playful smile as she adjusted her pallu, her body still humming from their storeroom bliss. “Ismail bhai,” she purred, her voice a velvet caress, “you’re too kind, but we must leave. Family obligations call us back—can’t keep them waiting, hai na?” Her eyes flickered to Ramu, a secret wink hidden in her gaze, her heart racing with the lie they’d crafted.
Ramu chuckled, a deep, naughty sound, stepping closer to her, his hand brushing her waist with a possessive touch. “Hai na, bhai jaan,” he agreed, his tone light but laced with mischief, “duty pulls us—got to rush for the late train. You know how families are!” His silver hair caught the light, and he threw Ismail a roguish grin, knowing the old man saw through their excuse.
Ismail’s laugh was a hearty boom, his eyes twinkling with understanding. “Family obligations, eh? I’ve heard that tune before, my friends! But I see the fire in your eyes—off to Agra, are we? A honeymoon suite waits, no?” He winked, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “No need to hide it from this old rogue—enjoy your love, but don’t miss my next feast!”
Sakshi giggled, her bindi glinting like a naughty star as she leaned into Ramu, her breath warm against his ear. “Oh, Ismail bhai, you’re too clever! Yes, a little getaway—our hotel room’s booked, and Agra’s Taj calls us!” She bit her lip, her body tingling at the thought of their private escape, the lie of “family obligations” a spicy cover for their honeymoon plans.
Ramu squeezed her hip, his growl low and teasing. “Rani, let’s not keep the Taj waiting—our room’s hungry for us! Ismail bhai, we’ll return with tales to match yours!” His hand slid to her lower back, guiding her toward the exit, his silver hair a beacon of their shared secret.
Ismail clapped his hands, his laughter filling the air. “Go, my lovers, paint Agra red! But come back soon—your passion lights my haveli!” He waved them off, his smirk a blessing as they slipped into the night, their hearts pounding with the thrill of their lie and the promise of a sultry escape, the haveli’s glow fading behind them as they headed for the train—and their hidden honeymoon haven
---to be continued----
“Arre, rani,” he purred, his voice a husky monsoon breeze, “let’s steal this night with a photo—pose as my queen, and let the world envy us!” His eyes danced with naughty intent, his hand brushing her waist, urging her toward the velvet-dbangd setup where a young cameraman adjusted his lens.
Sakshi giggled, her bindi glinting like a forbidden jewel as she swayed closer, her mangalsutra a faint reminder of her tangled past. “Oh, Ramu ji, a couple’s shot? What will they think of this old lion and his fiery flower?” Her tone was playful, her hips brushing his thigh as she teased, “Will you hold me like a bride or a mistress?”
The cameraman, a lanky fellow with a curious grin, beckoned them forward, his lens clicking as they stepped into the frame. “Beautiful! Is this a father-daughter moment?” he asked innocently, adjusting the lights.
Ramu’s laugh rumbled, rich and wicked, as he pulled Sakshi against him, his arm wrapping possessively around her waist. “Arre bhai, no father here! I’m her ardent suitor—watch me claim her pose by pose!” He winked at Sakshi, who blushed, her fingers tracing his chest as she murmured, “Prove it, ji—let’s scandalize his lens!”
The first pose began with Ramu standing behind her, his hands resting lightly on her hips, guiding her into a gentle sway. “Like this, rani—let your saree tease the light,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. She tilted her head back, her lips parting in a sultry smile, “Oh, ji, your touch sets me ablaze—click that fire!” The cameraman obliged, the shutter capturing their chemistry.
Next, Ramu turned her to face him, lifting her chin with a finger, their gazes locking in a smoldering stare. “Look at me, jaan—like I’m devouring you whole,” he growled, his other hand sliding to her lower back, pressing her closer. Sakshi’s giggle was a naughty melody, “Devour me, then—let the photo taste our sin!” Their lips hovered inches apart, the cameraman’s flash freezing the tension.
For the final pose, Ramu sat on a velvet stool, pulling Sakshi onto his lap, her saree fanning out like a crimson bloom. His hands roamed her waist, a possessive caress as he murmured, “Sit like my throne, rani—let them see who rules me.” She straddled his thigh playfully, her fingers threading through his silver hair, whispering, “Rule you, ji? I’ll ride your heart instead!” The cameraman chuckled, snapping the intimate shot, oblivious to the heat beneath their banter.
As the session ended, the cameraman grinned, “What a lively pair—you’ve lit up my reel!” Ramu laughed, slipping a tip into his hand, “Keep that spark, bhai— it’s our secret fire!” Sakshi leaned into him, her voice a sultry promise, “Our secret, ji—let’s frame this night in our bed later.” Their laughter mingled with the night’s magic, the photos a testament to their forbidden passion, the haveli’s lights casting a glow on their triumphant, naughty union.
--
The fairy lights cast a golden haze over the dispersing crowd, but within Sakshi, a fire raged, stoked by the day’s whirlwind—Ramu’s possessive touches, the grandson’s thwarted threats, and the forbidden thrill of their photo session. Her crimson saree clung to her curves like a lover’s desperate grip, the jasmine braid teasing her neck, and her mangalsutra glinted faintly, a taunting reminder of Murugan now drowned by her intense heat. She craved Ramu, her body humming with a need that pulsed like the dholki’s beat, and her mind raced to quench it.
Her eyes darted across the courtyard, landing on a shadowed corridor where the hum of the feast faded. A storeroom door, half-hidden by a velvet curtain, beckoned—a forgotten nook where no soul lingered amid the night’s chaos. With a sly smile, she slipped toward an attendant, her voice a velvet whisper as she leaned close, her fingers brushing his arm. “Bhaiya, that room—any treasures inside? I need a quiet spot to rest my feet.” The young man, flustered by her allure, handed her a rusty key with a stammer, “Ji, just old trunks—take care, memsaab!” She pocketed it, her heart racing with naughty intent, the key a ticket to her desire.
Turning back, she caught Ramu’s silver-haired figure near the biryani vats, his cream kurta a beacon of rugged charm. She sauntered toward him, her hips swaying like a monsoon temptress, her gaze locking with his in a smoldering promise. “Arre, Ramu ji,” she purred, her voice thick with longing, “this night’s fire burns me—follow me to a secret haven, where no eyes judge our hunger.” She dangled the key before him, her fingers tracing his chest, igniting a spark in his dark eyes.
Ramu’s laugh was a deep, sinful rumble, his hand capturing hers as he leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. “Oh, rani, you’re a wildfire calling me to sin—lead me, and I’ll stoke that heat till the stars blush!” His silver hair brushed her cheek, his grip possessive as she tugged him toward the corridor, her saree whispering secrets with every step. The storeroom loomed ahead, a haven of shadows where her desires would dance unchecked, the key a silent vow to the passion awaiting them beyond the curtain’s veil.
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She unlocked the storeroom door, and they slipped inside, locking it tight behind them with a quick turn of the key. The room was stuffed with wedding things—boxes spilling silk clothes, a double bed buried under piles of gift sarees, shirts, pants, and sweet boxes, the air sweet with the smell of laddoos. Ramu stepped behind her, wrapping her in his arms, his hands cupping her boobs over the saree, his lips kissing her neck and the soft spot below her ear. “Ahh… rani,” he groaned, his voice a hungry growl, “you look so hot in this silk—I can’t wait to love you!”
Sakshi squirmed, her breath catching as she moaned, “Oh, Ramu ji, wait a little, my lion—let’s do the important stuff first!” Her voice was a teasing plea, her body pressing into his touch, the heat between them growing.
He chuckled, his hands slipping under her blouse to squeeze her boobs, his lips trailing kisses. “Wait, jaan? You’re a beauty in this saree—I’ve been dying to hold you since I saw you. Let’s finish this love first!” His fingers played with her skin, making her sigh, but she wiggled free, her tone firm yet playful.
Her words made sense, and Ramu let her go, looking around the room. Boxes were full of the bride’s dowry—pretty jewelry and silks in a separate box, the bed a messy pile of gifts with barely room to sit, the air heavy with sugary scent. Sakshi knelt, opening the jewelry box, her fingers touching the shiny designs.
After that, Ramu stacked the clothes and sweet boxes into a pile, making a small space on the bed. With a naughty smile, he pulled Sakshi down, climbing over her as she fell back, her saree spreading like a red flower. She welcomed him, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him close, her body’s warmth a sweet hug. “Rani,” he whispered, his lips brushing her chest, “your heat holds me—let me feel this deep joy.”
Their closeness was a dance they’d shared many times, each time a rush of happiness and love without a hint of shame. Her soft, round boobs, peeking from her blouse, called to him, and he buried his face between them, kissing and licking the soft valley with a lover’s hunger. A soft moan slipped from her, her head tilting back as he lifted her blouse, revealing her bare mounds—no choli to stop his touch. He grabbed her boobs, pressing gently, his lips moving to her ear, teasing the lobe with his tongue.
Her nipples grew hard under his hands, turning from tiny buds to ripe fruits, and he sucked one, his fingers pinching the other with a gentle squeeze. “Ahh… Ramu ji… ohh,” she sighed, her hands holding his face to press their lips together in a hot kiss, her tongue playing with his. His blood raced, his temples warming, his penis slowly waking as her juicy lower lip—thick like a small orange slice—drove him wild, nibbling her cheeks between kisses.
She slipped her tongue into his mouth, and he returned it, their kiss a dance of want. Then, her hand slid down, searching. “Ramu ji, where’s your joy?” she teased, her fingers exploring.
“What joy, rani?” he played dumb, lifting his hips to tease her, a grin on his lips.
“Your little friend!” she giggled, pinching his thigh.
“Friend? This is my lund, jaan—not some toy!” he laughed, pressing his penis against her thigh.
“Yes, yes, call it what you like—bring it to my flower, ji—time’s short!” she urged, her voice a sweet command.
“Call it my lund, rani, and your flower a love spot—say it right!” he challenged, his hands roaming her waist.
“Never such bold words!” she pouted, acting shy.
“Please, my sweet queen,” he coaxed, kissing her lips.
“Hmm,” she hummed, smiling softly.
“Then no love till you shout, ‘Take me, Ramu ji, with your lund in my love spot!’” he teased, starting to kiss her skin again.
Sakshi, her red saree barely containing her trembling curves, lay on the cluttered bed, her body alive with a wild longing for Ramu after their teasing play. The jasmine braid teased her neck, and her mangalsutra glimmered faintly, a forgotten chain as her eyes burned with need. Ramu, his cream kurta slightly undone, hovered over her, his silver hair a wild halo, his hands eager to explore further.
With a naughty grin, he lifted the front of her saree, folding it over her belly. “Arre, rani,” he gasped, his voice a hungry growl, “no chaddi underneath—your juicy choot is bare for me!” Her face flushed red with shy delight, and she hid her mouth behind her hands, though she made no move to cover her exposed love spot, letting him feast his eyes.
He gazed at her choot with a lover’s awe, a sight he’d always cherished. Leaning down, he kissed it tenderly, parting her folds gently to kiss her sensitive spots, his tongue teasing with slow delight. The unique scent of her filled him, drawing a deep sigh from her lips as she melted into his touch.
A few days ago, when they’d left Bangalore together, her choot had been smooth and clean-shaven, but now tiny hairs sprouted around it, adding a wild beauty. “Even with these little hairs, your choot is a treat to see and love,” he murmured, his voice thick with want, admiring how it enhanced her charm.
With full passion, he licked her choot from outside, then parted her folds to taste deeper, sucking and nibbling her sensitive pearl gently. Her body shook like an earthquake, a tremor running through her as she bent one leg, pressing his head closer with her hands gripping his silver hair. The salty taste of her love juices filled his mouth, and after a minute of this, her hips bucked like a toy on springs, her moans growing hot and wild. “Ohh… Ramu ji… lick me faster, please!” she cried, lost in the moment.
But just then, he pulled back, leaving her gasping. “Nooo… Ramu ji…” she whimpered, reaching to pull him back into her embrace. He stood instead, shedding his clothes with a swift toss, his lund springing free, hard and ready before her. Sakshi rose quickly, grabbing his penis and taking it into her mouth, pulling back the skin to lick the swollen tip, then sucking it deep like a sweet chocolate.
“Ramu ji… do it now, please!” she begged, pulling him out to look up with pleading eyes.
“What should I do, my sweet rani… tell me?” he teased, holding her face and sliding his lund back into her mouth, giving a few playful thrusts.
“Ohh… Ramu ji… you win, I lose. Okay, put your lund in my choot and love your rani hard. Happy now?” she purred in a sultry voice, untying her blouse strings and letting it fall, then shedding her saree to lie naked before him. She bent her legs up, spreading her choot wide with her hands, her shy smile inviting him.
Her choot’s inner lips still clung together like a “no entry” sign, but her five-and-a-half-foot frame lay bare and inviting. Her boobs stood firm without support, nipples swelling like small berries, her hair spilling wildly around her face like a moon in a dark night. Her full thighs framed her puffed-up choot, which she held open with both hands, her eyes sparkling with a mix of shyness and desire as she gazed at him.
The storeroom’s dim glow pulsed with a sultry heat , the air thick with the sweet scent of laddoos and the rising passion between Sakshi and Ramu. Sakshi lay sprawled on the cluttered bed, her red saree pushed aside, her naked beauty a vision that set Ramu’s heart ablaze. Her jasmine braid spilled wildly, and her mangalsutra dangled like a naughty secret, forgotten as her eyes burned with raw desire. Ramu, his cream kurta discarded, his silver hair a wild crown, drank in her form, his lund throbbing with anticipation.
He lingered, savoring the sight of her—her choot spread wide, her boobs firm and inviting, her shy smile a mix of lust and surrender. “Arre, rani,” he murmured, his voice a deep, hungry growl, “your beauty soothes my soul—do apsaras in heaven offer such bliss?” His eyes traced her curves, lost in the ecstasy of her naked form.
“What are you staring at, Ramu ji?” she teased, her voice trembling with need, her cheeks flushed like ripe roses. “You’ve seen me and this choot a hundred times—your only rani lies here, shamelessly open, begging you to come love me, quench my thirst, my rajah!” Her words dripped with desperation, her body arching toward him.
He positioned his lund at her choot’s entrance, gazing into her eyes, a playful fire dancing in his gaze. “No more delays, rani,” she urged, her voice quick with urgency, “I’ve agreed to your game—look, it’s past eight, someone could come any moment!”
Her words spurred him on. “Take it, my jaan… my sweet doll,” he rasped, rubbing his lund against her choot’s lips, parting them to reveal her warm haven. “Ramu ji… ohh… put it in now, love me quick!” she moaned, her hips lifting.
“Yes, rani, feel your rajah’s lund in your choot… hold it tight!” he groaned, clenching his teeth and thrusting deep with all his might. His lund slid past her tight grip, burying itself fully, their hairs mingling in a wild union.
“Ohh… Ram ji, I’m dying… Ramu ji, slow down, why so rough… ahh… oh maa… save me!” she cried, squirming and pushing against him. But he held her wrists firm, pulling back slightly before plunging in again with a powerful stroke.
She bit her mangalsutra between her teeth, clutching the bed sheet in her fists, her body tensing. Settling over her, his lund snug inside, he rested, catching his breath. After a moment, he stroked her hair tenderly. “How does it feel now, rani?”
“You’ll kill me like this, pouncing so hard… no bansi left to play if you take all my life at once!” she whimpered, her voice soft and teary.
“Sakshi, my love, my bansi will play in your tune as long as I breathe—why say such things?” he soothed, kissing her lips.
“Forget it, Ramu ji, can’t you go slow? You always attack like a storm, no matter who lives or dies!” she pouted.
“Don’t say that, my jaan… sorry, my sweet. Next time, I’ll enter with all the love—promise?” he coaxed, caressing her face.
“Hmm… okay, Ramu ji. But remember this promise next time?” she asked, a small smile returning.
“Okay, Sakshi… I’ll keep it for sure!” he vowed, their laughter mingling with the storeroom’s sweet air, their passion pausing in a tender truce.
The air heavy with the sweet scent of the rising heat between Sakshi and Ramu. Sakshi lay beneath him, her red saree crumpled aside, her naked body a feast of desire, her jasmine braid spilling wild, and her mangalsutra a forgotten glint as her eyes smoldered with raw need. Ramu, his cream kurta shed, his silver hair a wild crown, reveled in her beauty, his lund pulsing with eager want.
He drank in her form, her choot spread wide, her boobs firm and tempting, her shy smile a blend of lust and surrender. “Arre, rani,” he rasped, his voice a deep, hungry growl, “your beauty fills my soul—let me taste this heaven!” His eyes traced her curves, lost in the thrill of her naked allure.
“Okay, my darling baby… promise by you!” he said, kissing her cheek softly, easing his lund in and out with gentle strokes. Her choot, now slick with love, welcomed him smoothly, and he picked up the pace, driving into her like a rhythmic train. Sakshi, caught in the wave, clung to him, matching his thrusts with her own.
“Ramu ji… now drill me deep and fast with all your might!” she moaned, her voice thick with wild desire, her nails digging into his back with fierce passion.
“Yes, baby, here I come deeper into you!” he growled, lifting her legs higher and holding them in her hands, tilting her choot perfectly for his lund. With full force, he began to love her hard, turning her into a puddle of pleasure.
Wet sounds—fach-fach, fuchak—filled the air as Sakshi lost herself in ecstasy. “I love you, Ramu ji… my life, my rajah… tear my choot with your lund. It teases me so much!” she whimpered, her voice a sultry plea.
“Yes, rani, take it!” he said, pulling out to wipe his lund with her saree, then cleaning her choot inside and out before thrusting back in. The slight dryness made it tighter, heightening their thrill.
Sakshi straightened her legs, rising on her heels to swallow his lund with each thrust, syncing with his rhythm, pouring her youth into their dance. For three or four minutes, she savored the love, then…
“Ramu ji, now I’ll ride you. I’ll take my joy my way and keep the control—just lie back quietly!” she purred, kissing him deeply.
“Fine, my doll rani… come, ride your rajah!” he chuckled, sliding off to lie down, propping a sweet box under his head like a pillow.
Sakshi mounted him swiftly, pressing his lund against his belly with her choot, rubbing back and forth, massaging it with her wet love. Rivers of her juices flowed, soaking his lund, thighs, and hair in a sticky embrace.
After two or three minutes of this delight, she lifted slightly, guiding his lund to her choot’s entrance and sank down, engulfing him fully. Leaning forward, her loose hair fell over his face, creating a cozy nest as she moved her hips, locking eyes with him, loving him with wild abandon. Her boobs swung against his chest, and he grabbed them, stopping their sway to enjoy her thrusts.
Riding him with fierce passion, Sakshi delivered angled, deep strokes, driving his lund to new heights of pleasure. But soon, she tired. “Ramu ji, stop… I can’t anymore. Lay me down now!” she panted, breathless.
“Come, my sweet rani, you’ve worked so hard!” he said, kissing her tenderly, then laying her beneath him,
Sakshi lay beneath him, her red saree a crumpled heap, her naked body a vision of wild desire, her jasmine braid spilling like a dark river, and her mangalsutra a forgotten sparkle as her eyes blazed with passion. Ramu, his cream kurta discarded, his silver hair a wild crown, hovered over her, his lund eager and ready, their bodies entwined in a dance of ecstasy.
With a playful moan, Sakshi lifted her legs high, raising her choot into the air like an offering. Ramu’s eyes widened as he saw her love spot gaping wide, like a five-rupee coin, a dark, inviting tunnel beckoning him. “Arre, rani,” he growled, his voice thick with lust, “you’ve opened paradise for me!” She blushed, a shy giggle escaping as she pressed his head to her boobs, guiding his lund toward her wet haven with a naughty grin. “Take me there, Ramu ji—show me heaven!”
He thrust his lund deep, pounding with rapid strokes, and Sakshi responded with joyful cries, her body rocking with him. Soon, her hands roamed his back, pulling him close as she slammed her choot against his lund with fierce need—signals he knew well, her peak nearing. “Ramu ji… hold me tight, I’m coming!” she gasped, clinging like a vine, locking her legs around his waist as a flood of love juices gushed from her choot, a waterfall of pleasure.
At the same moment, Ramu surrendered, his lund releasing streams of hot joy inside her. They collapsed into each other’s arms, riding the waves of bliss, her choot squeezing his lund, milking every drop in a delicious rhythm that felt like a loving embrace. “Oh, rani, your choot knows how to please,” he murmured, lost in the sweet afterglow.
Oblivious to the world, they lay tangled for a while, savoring the warmth. Then Sakshi stirred, pushing him gently. “Ramu ji… look, it’s past nine-thirty—someone might come soon. Get off, wear your clothes quick!” she urged, her voice a mix of panic and play, sliding off the bed. A mix of his seed and her love dripped down her thighs, which she wiped hastily with her saree before slipping it back on, her lack of choli or chaddi making her dress-up a swift, wild transformation in under a minute.
Ramu glanced at the time—over an hour had passed in their secret lair. He dressed quickly, and together they rearranged the bed’s clothes , and stepped out, securing the room with a final click of the key. The haveli’s night hummed around them, their hearts still racing with the thrill of their stolen paradise.
The storeroom door creaked open, releasing Sakshi and Ramu into the haveli’s warm, lantern-lit corridor, their bodies still tingling with the afterglow of their passionate escape. The air carried the fading musk of attar and the sweet remnants of the walima feast, but for them, it was laced with the heady scent of their secret love. Sakshi’s crimson saree, slightly disheveled, clung to her curves like a lover’s lingering touch, her jasmine braid a wild cascade, and her mangalsutra a faint glimmer of their forbidden thrill. Ramu, his cream kurta smoothed but his silver hair tousled, exuded a rugged satisfaction, his eyes sparkling with naughty delight as they stepped into the winding-down ceremony.
The courtyard buzzed with a softer hum now, guests drifting away, the fairy lights casting a golden haze over the scattered cushions and empty sweet trays. Ismail, resplendent in his maroon sherwani, spotted them emerging from the shadows, his sharp gaze missing nothing. A knowing smirk played on his lips, his fourth wedding’s scandalous spirit recognizing the heat between them. He strode over, his voice a rich, teasing rumble. “Arre, Ramu bhai, Sakshi ji, where are you sneaking off to? The night’s young—stay, let’s share more sherbet and stories!”
Sakshi’s cheeks flushed, her lips curling into a shy yet playful smile as she adjusted her pallu, her body still humming from their storeroom bliss. “Ismail bhai,” she purred, her voice a velvet caress, “you’re too kind, but we must leave. Family obligations call us back—can’t keep them waiting, hai na?” Her eyes flickered to Ramu, a secret wink hidden in her gaze, her heart racing with the lie they’d crafted.
Ramu chuckled, a deep, naughty sound, stepping closer to her, his hand brushing her waist with a possessive touch. “Hai na, bhai jaan,” he agreed, his tone light but laced with mischief, “duty pulls us—got to rush for the late train. You know how families are!” His silver hair caught the light, and he threw Ismail a roguish grin, knowing the old man saw through their excuse.
Ismail’s laugh was a hearty boom, his eyes twinkling with understanding. “Family obligations, eh? I’ve heard that tune before, my friends! But I see the fire in your eyes—off to Agra, are we? A honeymoon suite waits, no?” He winked, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “No need to hide it from this old rogue—enjoy your love, but don’t miss my next feast!”
Sakshi giggled, her bindi glinting like a naughty star as she leaned into Ramu, her breath warm against his ear. “Oh, Ismail bhai, you’re too clever! Yes, a little getaway—our hotel room’s booked, and Agra’s Taj calls us!” She bit her lip, her body tingling at the thought of their private escape, the lie of “family obligations” a spicy cover for their honeymoon plans.
Ramu squeezed her hip, his growl low and teasing. “Rani, let’s not keep the Taj waiting—our room’s hungry for us! Ismail bhai, we’ll return with tales to match yours!” His hand slid to her lower back, guiding her toward the exit, his silver hair a beacon of their shared secret.
Ismail clapped his hands, his laughter filling the air. “Go, my lovers, paint Agra red! But come back soon—your passion lights my haveli!” He waved them off, his smirk a blessing as they slipped into the night, their hearts pounding with the thrill of their lie and the promise of a sultry escape, the haveli’s glow fading behind them as they headed for the train—and their hidden honeymoon haven
---to be continued----
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