Adultery Avi's Sexual Marathon: Family, Village, College, City

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 3: The Errand

I was admitted to the village schoool, and life had been simple. But the boys in my class had begun talking about naked pictures they’d seen, and when I saw those images, I felt a strange, hot discomfort, a feeling I couldn't understand, especially when my penis would harden.

One afternoon, I was sent on an errand to Pooja bua's house. I’d always noticed a pattern with Bua: once a month, her friend's brother, Rakesh, would visit. Whenever he arrived, Bua would suddenly find a reason to get her children out of the house—a trip to the movies or a long playdate at my chacha's place.

That day was no different. Bua had already sent her children off for a movie. My chacha had given me a small wad of money to deliver to my Pooja chachi. When I got to Chachi’s door, I found the house empty. I turned to walk back, taking the shortcut past Bua’s main room.

The house was eerily silent, save for a low, rhythmic sound coming from Bua’s room. A heavy, sweet perfume—the same one Bua always wore—hung in the air near the open door. I took one step past the threshold, and the silence shattered.

I stopped dead. My lungs froze. A hot wave of nausea washed over me, and my ears began to ring with a high-pitched, insistent whine. My heart hammered against my ribs, a trapped bird desperate for escape. I felt the blood drain from my face, a cold, empty sensation replacing the warmth in my body.

What I saw I couldn’t have imagined.

Rakesh was bent over Bua, his mouth moving greedily. Bua made a strange, guttural noise that ended in a shaky moan. His hand plunged into the loose fabric of her petticoat, and I heard the quick, soft tear of a string being untied. The garment fell away, and she was completely bare. Rakesh’s clothes followed. His penis looked thick, maybe six inches long.

"Lick me, Rakesh," Bua pleaded, her voice breathy.

He ignored her, his eyes fixed on her body. He positioned himself and shoved.

A sharp, loud cry tore out of Bua's throat—a sound of immediate, dry pain. But Rakesh didn't pause. He began a fierce, piston-like movement, his expression set and remote. He didn’t stop for what felt like ten minutes. Then, with a harsh yell, he collapsed on top of Bua.

Bua pushed his shoulder. "Rakesh, why do you always go straight in? It always hurts when you don't wet me first."

Rakesh shifted his weight off her, pulling his legs up to sit on the edge of the bed. He wiped his face with the back of his hand. "Pooja, you know I can't be bothered with that. I don't like it."

Bua sat up, pulling a sheet over her chest. "But you rammed yourself into a dry pussy!"

"What's the difference?" he asked, shrugging. "It's easier this way."

"Easier for who?" Bua’s voice was strained. "It’s your old habit, I know. But I get used to it, too. What choice do I have?"

He laughed, a short, humorless sound. "I've been fucking you for six years now, and you still react like it's the first time."

Bua’s eyes flashed. "If you put your penis in a dry pussy, what am I supposed to do? Should I be enjoying myself so much that I laugh?"

Rakesh looked toward the door. "That’s why I make sure the kids are gone. I don't want to explain your noises to anyone."

Bua sighed and adjusted the sheet. "You are very clever. You only ever come here to scratch this one itch."

"What can I do?" he said, his tone turning self-pitying. "My wife doesn't cooperate with me the way you do."

"Now get up," Bua said, reaching for her petticoat. "The children will be home soon."

"Yeah, I'm getting up," he muttered, reaching for his own clothes.

They were talking about it so casually, like they were discussing the weather. This wasn't something people were supposed to do.

I backed away slowly, my entire body rigid, then turned and bolted from the house. I stopped down the street, waited for a few frantic minutes to let my breath steady, and then forced myself to return and knock on the front door, just as if I had only just arrived.

"Come in, Avi," Bua called out. She had already dressed.

She walked out of the room, leaving me alone with Rakesh. He was still standing by the bed, smoothing the wrinkles from his shirt.

He looked up. "What’s wrong, Avi? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

I clenched my fists inside my pockets. "Nothing, bhaiyya. I’m feeling a little sick."

He stepped closer, his brow furrowed. "Why? What happened?"

"Nothing, it’s just..." I trailed off, unable to form a coherent lie.

"What’s ‘just’?" he asked, the impatience suddenly back in his voice.

I'm worried about what I saw you doing. I swallowed hard. "Nothing, bhaiyya. It's nothing."

Rakesh put a hand on my shoulder. His skin felt too warm. "Come on, consider me your friend and tell me. Don't be scared."

I knew I had to distract him, to fool him completely. "Bhaiyya, the boys in my class keep showing me dirty pictures. They whisper things like, 'Look at your Pooja bua, she's so naked. Look how big your bua's breasts are.' It makes me so angry."

Rakesh slowly removed his hand from my shoulder and let out a long breath. "Look, Avi, don't let it get to you when someone says something about your bua." He paused, his gaze steady and oddly cold. "No matter what people say, she's still your bua."

"Yeah, you're right," I said, meeting his eyes and managing a weak nod.

Bua returned, holding an envelope. "Avi, here’s the money. Give it to your chacha."

"Okay, Bua. I’ll get going now. See you later, bhaiyya," I said, and left as quickly as I dared.