22-10-2025, 01:05 AM
(This post was last modified: 24-10-2025, 12:59 PM by lee.jae.han. Edited 2 times in total. Edited 2 times in total.)
## Update 28: The Last Chapter: The Forbidden Question (Avi and Madam)
The day after Meena Chachi's visit, my mind was still racing from the close call, and I felt desperate for the next lesson. I didn't see Mona or her sex drama today, which was a minor disappointment, but my excitement for Madam was much stronger. I knew Meena Chachi was also busy trying to find a man in the village.
On Tuesday, the moment I arrived, Madam didn't waste time on coffee. She just smiled—a wide, knowing smile that promised roughness—and locked the door. She wore a deep red nightgown that caught the afternoon light, and her walk showed me exactly where the lesson was heading.
She came to me and put a hand on my chest, her fingers warm through my shirt. Her eyes dropped to my straining pants. “The lesson today is about getting better at the hardest chapter, Avi,” she murmured, her voice thick. “The one you started on Saturday.”
I nodded fast, my throat too tight to speak. I felt worried, remembering my pain and her bleeding, but the memory of that deep, strong pleasure was a much bigger draw.
Madam led me to the bed, and we both stripped down, pulling the sheets back. She went to a cabinet and got a small bottle of oil. She came back and had me lie on my back in the missionary position, her eyes giving the command.
“For this chapter, we must start softly,” she instructed, her hands already working. “The ganď is tight and unforgiving. You must learn to go slow first, and only then, go rough.”
She took the oil and began to cover my lunď, smoothing the warm, thick fluid across the head and shaft. The feeling was electric, her hands focused and expert. While she worked, a knot of confusion tightened in my chest. I had to ask the question.
I swallowed hard, pulling my eyes up to meet hers. “Madam... why here? When the chooť is already there for us, why do we need to put it in the ganď? Why does it hurt so much if it's supposed to be better?”
Madam's hands paused, her gaze serious. She ran a thumb gently over the head of my lunď. “That’s a good question, Avi. The chooť is soft, a place for children. But the ganď...” she paused, letting out a slow, heavy breath, her eyes distant with a deep, private memory. “The ganď is the forbidden pleasure. It is so tight because a lunď never uses it. It clamps around you completely. It takes all of you in and doesn't let go.”
She continued, her voice dropping to a low, intense tone. “When a large, strong lunď like yours pushes in, it is intense pain at first, yes. But that pain is the price of the depth. It forces me to lose control before I gain the deepest pleasure. It stretches me, Avi, and when it’s fully inside, the tightness gives a woman a pleasure that is complete. It makes me feel completely filled, completely dominated by your strength. It is the place for true, rough sex, and that is why I love it.” She finished with a fierce, possessive grip on my lund.
She then fully reclined, positioning her body beneath mine, her legs spread and bent at the knee, taking the missionary position entirely. She began to generously lubricate her own ganď, using her fingers to work the thick oil deep into the tight opening, preparing her body for the difficult stretch. I saw her jaw tighten, a visible wince across her face as she prepared her body.
She lifted her hips slightly, a silent command for me to adjust. She reached down, took my lunď firmly in her hand, and guided it to her entrance. She aligned me, then began to press down, instructing my entry inch by inch. I pushed tentatively, remembering the sharp resistance from Saturday.
“Stop,” she hissed, gripping my hips to check my speed. Her eyes squeezed shut, and a single tear tracked a slow line down her temple, quickly wiped away with the heel of her hand before I could see it clearly. “You’re too fast. You must breathe, Avi. You must slide in, not force through.”
I paused, fighting the urge to thrust. The friction was already making me tremble. I tried again, slower. I felt the initial, burning resistance, but this time, it was a slow, stretching pressure. I pushed a bit deeper.
Suddenly, she cried out, her back arching against the bed, her hands flying to the pillow to muffle the sound. “Aah! It’s still too fast! Get out!” Her body went rigid against the sheets, every muscle tense with shock. Her breath came in ragged, painful gasps. I could see sweat break out across her forehead.
I immediately pulled out, the head of my lunď throbbing painfully. I collapsed back on the bed, breathing hard. A hot wave of shame washed over my neck and face. My pulse pounded heavy and thick in my ears. The pain in my own penis felt like a sharp ache.
She gasped for air, forcing a shaky, encouraging smile. “It’s alright. It’s a difficult chapter. We must train you. You want rough sex? Then you must learn control first.”
She kept my lunď pressed against her entrance but held my hips firm. She began to grind back and forth, using the strong muscles of her ganď to contract and relax against my pulsing head, teaching me to wait through the tension.
“Hold back! Wait for me to open,” she panted, her voice tight. Her eyes remained locked on mine, a silent plea for gentleness mixed with a strong command to hold my nerve. “You must learn to wait for the pain to pass before the pleasure can begin.”
After several long minutes of intense, friction-filled training, her breathing finally became shallow and ragged. She relaxed her hips, pressing her weight down slightly. She pressed her cheek to mine and whispered into my ear, her breath hot. “Now. Slow. Use the oil. Find the sweet spot.”
I pressed forward again. The stretched muscles accepted the slow, determined push. I felt the familiar, shocking depth of the ganď, a profound tightness that clamped around my lunď with massive pressure. This time, there was no sharp tear, only the slow, overwhelming feeling of friction and fullness.
I began to move. The ganď was different from the chooť—it was a tight, hot tunnel that erased all feeling except the pure, concentrated force of penetration. The friction was immediate and total.
My breath caught; this wasn't just fun, it was addictive. The deep, complete insertion gave a massive, sustained sensation that the wider chooť simply couldn't match. Each thrust felt like a powerful blow of pleasure that centered in my groin and exploded through my entire body. I instantly understood why this was the final, most prized chapter.
I moved faster, completely forgetting my earlier mistake, pushed only by the strong, tight heat. I thrust harder, giving Madam the rough power she wanted. She met my force with her own hips, groaning loudly into the empty room. I watched her face twist, the first pain turning into pure, wild pleasure as my body gave her the deep, demanding pressure she needed.
The huge pressure of the ganď made me reach my climax much faster than before. The feeling was blinding, a rush that blurred my vision. My whole body locked up, and a big, powerful burst of cum shot deep inside her ganď.
I collapsed onto her, panting, the oil slick against my skin. The tightness of her ganď was already trying to contract around my deflating lunď.
She stroked my hair, her voice weak with satisfaction, yet colored with a deep, lasting exhaustion. “See? You didn't give up. The ganď is the best pleasure, Avi. It makes you a man. And now... you are addicted.”
I knew she was right. The deep, agonizing pressure, the sheer force of the pleasure—I wanted it again, immediately. My body, exhausted but newly awake, understood that for me, maximum pleasure existed only in the forbidden, challenging embrace of the ganď.
----
## Update 28 A: The Dual Penetration Finale and Madam's Secret Letter (Avi and Madam)
Then, over the next few days—on Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday—I had spectacular sex with Madam. It became our established routine. We explored the "chapters" she had promised, perfecting the techniques she had taught me. Sometimes I had vaginal sex with Madam, and sometimes, pushing past the pain of the initial encounter, I had anal sex, mastering the rhythm and power she desired. Each session was a focused, intense lesson, solidifying my skills and her pleasure.
Then the day came that I can never forget. It was Sunday. I went to Madam's house in the afternoon, full of anticipation, but as soon as I entered, I saw her surrounded by boxes and packed luggage.
"Madam, what is all this?" I asked, confused and instantly alarmed.
"I'm going back home," she said, her voice sounding final.
"But you were going next month, at the end of the term," I protested, my heart sinking with a terrible dread.
"My son is sick, and he needs me. And anyway, I had to go someday. So I'm leaving this evening," she explained, her reason concrete and unavoidable.
"But Madam..." I started to plead, my mind blanking on any reason she should stay.
She cut me off gently, her expression changing to one of knowing seduction. "I know you've gotten addicted to sex, Avi. Now you can find another prey to practice your skills on. And today, for the last time, have sex with me and give me a teacher's fee—the biggest pleasure you can offer."
The sudden news that she was leaving shattered the sadness, replacing it with a furious, final heat. I took off Madam's nightgown. She was already naked underneath. I started kneading and pressing her full breasts, then slowly started licking her nipples with my tongue. I took her breast fully into my mouth and started sucking it, rotating between the left breast and the right. Simultaneously, I started fingering Madam's vagina, stimulating her in every way I had learned. We dropped the pretense of modesty and moved our bodies into the 69 position, ready for mutual pleasure.
We settled quickly: my face buried in the warm center of Madam's chooť, and her head positioned over my hard lunď. The moment her wet mouth enclosed me, the atmosphere thickened with pure need. Madam started sucking my lunď with a terrifying, total intensity, like a madwoman frantic to pull out every last bit of sensation before she left. She knew this was her final taste. Her tongue coiled around the tip, sending shivers through me, while her lips moved quickly and deeply along the shaft. The suction was deep, and the wet heat of her mouth never stopped. The only sound was the soft lapping as she worked furiously.
My lunď swelled in her mouth, aching, responding to the powerful rhythm that screamed its final goodbye. At the same time, my face was pressed against her. I breathed in the deep, musky scent of Madam's chooť, a perfume I knew I'd never smell again. I plunged my tongue deep into her folds, kissing her with slow, consuming passion, determined to remember every texture. I explored completely, my tongue tracing the sensitive, swollen flesh, flicking her clitoris, and then diving deep into the heat she was building. Her juices were salty and sweet with excitement, and I drank them in like a starving man, trying to forever etch the flavor into my mind. The soft whimpers that escaped her throat whenever I hit a perfect spot were the only sound louder than my own frantic breathing.
I used my hands to pull her hips closer, driving my tongue harder and deeper, intent on pushing her pleasure past the breaking point. The feeling of giving her pleasure while she gave it back created an electrifying rush. The speed of her sucking increased when my tongue pressed harder on her chooť. Our bodies worked with desperate, perfect timing—a rising mix of wet sounds and quick, rough breaths. The tension became almost unbearable, a delicious, aching knot forming deep in my gut, perfectly matched by the mounting energy from her body. We pushed each other right to the edge, knowing our mutual climax was seconds away. We were both totally aroused, panting, and slick with desire. The moment was perfect. With a final, shared sigh, we broke apart, ready for the final, full penetration.
We broke apart, our bodies already hot and trembling from the 69 position. Madam quickly moved, getting onto her hands and knees and presenting herself to me. Her chooť was facing me, wet and waiting.
I didn't hesitate. I drove my entire lunď into her chooť with one powerful, sudden thrust. The force of it made Madam let out a sharp, guttural scream—it was a sound of extreme pleasure mixed with the brief pain of the sudden entry. I paused for a moment, holding myself deep inside her, wanting to savor the intensity of this final session. Then, I began to thrust, settling into a deep, rhythmic pace. I drove hard, pushing my hips forward fully with every movement. Madam's chooť was tight and hot around me, gripping my lunď with a strength that made me groan. I held this pace for a while, fucking her hard, knowing that time was running out.
Then, I pulled my lunď out, slick and dripping. I quickly adjusted her body, moving behind her and guiding my lunď toward her ganď. I had to give her the best pleasure possible, and that meant using everything. My powerful lunď went into her ganď, stretching her tight opening. I started a fierce, demanding pace there, fucking her from behind.
I began rotating between her two holes for maximum, prolonged pleasure. I would fuck her ganď for a few minutes with strong, deep thrusts, driving her forward onto her hands. Then, I would pull out and immediately shove my lunď into her chooť, changing the angle and the sensation for both of us. This switching—chooť, then ganď, then chooť again—was driving both of us mad. Madam was gasping, yelling muffled commands into her hands, completely lost in the frantic rhythm. My lunď felt incredible, gripped tightly in both holes in turn.
This intense, frantic sex went on for about forty minutes. I kept up the brutal pace, pushing my body and hers to the limit. Finally, I felt the unmistakable rush building. I pulled my lunď out of her ganď and jammed it back into her chooť, burying myself as deep as possible. With one final, shuddering release, I poured all my semen into Madam's chooť, finishing the session and collapsing onto her back, breathing hard.
As soon as the release finished, the intensity broke, and I felt a strange paranoia—it felt like someone was watching us. I quickly went to the window, my heart pounding, but no one was there. I noticed Madam's dupatta (scarf) dbangd over a chair near the window, slightly moved by the wind. I felt an immediate sense of relief, realizing it must have been the movement of the fabric that caught my eye.
"I had so much fun today, Avi," Madam said, sighing deeply with exhausted satisfaction.
"Yes, I had fun too," I whispered, utterly spent.
"I'll go and freshen up," she said, heading to the bathroom.
After Madam came back, I started helping her pack the remaining small items. After an hour, Madam's husband came to collect her. After they talked for a while, Madam left, stepping out of the house and into the waiting car. I stood there, watching her go, a profound sense of loss settling over me. Tears were rolling down my eyes, but I knew this had to happen someday. As she was leaving, Madam told me to lock the house and give the keys to the Principal.
I walked to the door to lock it, but I couldn't just leave. I wanted to go inside one last time to remember the extraordinary sex we had shared in that room.
I went to the bed where we had spent so many hours learning and loving. Madam's teaching book was on the bed, and next to it, I found a small, folded letter.
I picked it up and read:
"Avi, the happiness you gave me in seven (actually eight) days, I'll remember for seven lifetimes. I'll never be able to forget you. After my husband, you gave me a happiness that has no value. Don't ever forget what I taught you. And yes, don't ever remember me. Forget me like a dream. Otherwise, you won't be able to live with the pain of my absence. Burn this letter after you read it. I can't write anymore. Your Madam."
The letter confirmed the finality of her departure, the depth of her passion, and the danger of the secret they shared. I took the letter to the stove and watched the paper curl and blacken, destroying the last physical evidence of our secret life. I locked the house and walked away, carrying the keys and the indelible memory of my Madam.
-----
The day after Meena Chachi's visit, my mind was still racing from the close call, and I felt desperate for the next lesson. I didn't see Mona or her sex drama today, which was a minor disappointment, but my excitement for Madam was much stronger. I knew Meena Chachi was also busy trying to find a man in the village.
On Tuesday, the moment I arrived, Madam didn't waste time on coffee. She just smiled—a wide, knowing smile that promised roughness—and locked the door. She wore a deep red nightgown that caught the afternoon light, and her walk showed me exactly where the lesson was heading.
She came to me and put a hand on my chest, her fingers warm through my shirt. Her eyes dropped to my straining pants. “The lesson today is about getting better at the hardest chapter, Avi,” she murmured, her voice thick. “The one you started on Saturday.”
I nodded fast, my throat too tight to speak. I felt worried, remembering my pain and her bleeding, but the memory of that deep, strong pleasure was a much bigger draw.
Madam led me to the bed, and we both stripped down, pulling the sheets back. She went to a cabinet and got a small bottle of oil. She came back and had me lie on my back in the missionary position, her eyes giving the command.
“For this chapter, we must start softly,” she instructed, her hands already working. “The ganď is tight and unforgiving. You must learn to go slow first, and only then, go rough.”
She took the oil and began to cover my lunď, smoothing the warm, thick fluid across the head and shaft. The feeling was electric, her hands focused and expert. While she worked, a knot of confusion tightened in my chest. I had to ask the question.
I swallowed hard, pulling my eyes up to meet hers. “Madam... why here? When the chooť is already there for us, why do we need to put it in the ganď? Why does it hurt so much if it's supposed to be better?”
Madam's hands paused, her gaze serious. She ran a thumb gently over the head of my lunď. “That’s a good question, Avi. The chooť is soft, a place for children. But the ganď...” she paused, letting out a slow, heavy breath, her eyes distant with a deep, private memory. “The ganď is the forbidden pleasure. It is so tight because a lunď never uses it. It clamps around you completely. It takes all of you in and doesn't let go.”
She continued, her voice dropping to a low, intense tone. “When a large, strong lunď like yours pushes in, it is intense pain at first, yes. But that pain is the price of the depth. It forces me to lose control before I gain the deepest pleasure. It stretches me, Avi, and when it’s fully inside, the tightness gives a woman a pleasure that is complete. It makes me feel completely filled, completely dominated by your strength. It is the place for true, rough sex, and that is why I love it.” She finished with a fierce, possessive grip on my lund.
She then fully reclined, positioning her body beneath mine, her legs spread and bent at the knee, taking the missionary position entirely. She began to generously lubricate her own ganď, using her fingers to work the thick oil deep into the tight opening, preparing her body for the difficult stretch. I saw her jaw tighten, a visible wince across her face as she prepared her body.
She lifted her hips slightly, a silent command for me to adjust. She reached down, took my lunď firmly in her hand, and guided it to her entrance. She aligned me, then began to press down, instructing my entry inch by inch. I pushed tentatively, remembering the sharp resistance from Saturday.
“Stop,” she hissed, gripping my hips to check my speed. Her eyes squeezed shut, and a single tear tracked a slow line down her temple, quickly wiped away with the heel of her hand before I could see it clearly. “You’re too fast. You must breathe, Avi. You must slide in, not force through.”
I paused, fighting the urge to thrust. The friction was already making me tremble. I tried again, slower. I felt the initial, burning resistance, but this time, it was a slow, stretching pressure. I pushed a bit deeper.
Suddenly, she cried out, her back arching against the bed, her hands flying to the pillow to muffle the sound. “Aah! It’s still too fast! Get out!” Her body went rigid against the sheets, every muscle tense with shock. Her breath came in ragged, painful gasps. I could see sweat break out across her forehead.
I immediately pulled out, the head of my lunď throbbing painfully. I collapsed back on the bed, breathing hard. A hot wave of shame washed over my neck and face. My pulse pounded heavy and thick in my ears. The pain in my own penis felt like a sharp ache.
She gasped for air, forcing a shaky, encouraging smile. “It’s alright. It’s a difficult chapter. We must train you. You want rough sex? Then you must learn control first.”
She kept my lunď pressed against her entrance but held my hips firm. She began to grind back and forth, using the strong muscles of her ganď to contract and relax against my pulsing head, teaching me to wait through the tension.
“Hold back! Wait for me to open,” she panted, her voice tight. Her eyes remained locked on mine, a silent plea for gentleness mixed with a strong command to hold my nerve. “You must learn to wait for the pain to pass before the pleasure can begin.”
After several long minutes of intense, friction-filled training, her breathing finally became shallow and ragged. She relaxed her hips, pressing her weight down slightly. She pressed her cheek to mine and whispered into my ear, her breath hot. “Now. Slow. Use the oil. Find the sweet spot.”
I pressed forward again. The stretched muscles accepted the slow, determined push. I felt the familiar, shocking depth of the ganď, a profound tightness that clamped around my lunď with massive pressure. This time, there was no sharp tear, only the slow, overwhelming feeling of friction and fullness.
I began to move. The ganď was different from the chooť—it was a tight, hot tunnel that erased all feeling except the pure, concentrated force of penetration. The friction was immediate and total.
My breath caught; this wasn't just fun, it was addictive. The deep, complete insertion gave a massive, sustained sensation that the wider chooť simply couldn't match. Each thrust felt like a powerful blow of pleasure that centered in my groin and exploded through my entire body. I instantly understood why this was the final, most prized chapter.
I moved faster, completely forgetting my earlier mistake, pushed only by the strong, tight heat. I thrust harder, giving Madam the rough power she wanted. She met my force with her own hips, groaning loudly into the empty room. I watched her face twist, the first pain turning into pure, wild pleasure as my body gave her the deep, demanding pressure she needed.
The huge pressure of the ganď made me reach my climax much faster than before. The feeling was blinding, a rush that blurred my vision. My whole body locked up, and a big, powerful burst of cum shot deep inside her ganď.
I collapsed onto her, panting, the oil slick against my skin. The tightness of her ganď was already trying to contract around my deflating lunď.
She stroked my hair, her voice weak with satisfaction, yet colored with a deep, lasting exhaustion. “See? You didn't give up. The ganď is the best pleasure, Avi. It makes you a man. And now... you are addicted.”
I knew she was right. The deep, agonizing pressure, the sheer force of the pleasure—I wanted it again, immediately. My body, exhausted but newly awake, understood that for me, maximum pleasure existed only in the forbidden, challenging embrace of the ganď.
----
## Update 28 A: The Dual Penetration Finale and Madam's Secret Letter (Avi and Madam)
Then, over the next few days—on Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday—I had spectacular sex with Madam. It became our established routine. We explored the "chapters" she had promised, perfecting the techniques she had taught me. Sometimes I had vaginal sex with Madam, and sometimes, pushing past the pain of the initial encounter, I had anal sex, mastering the rhythm and power she desired. Each session was a focused, intense lesson, solidifying my skills and her pleasure.
Then the day came that I can never forget. It was Sunday. I went to Madam's house in the afternoon, full of anticipation, but as soon as I entered, I saw her surrounded by boxes and packed luggage.
"Madam, what is all this?" I asked, confused and instantly alarmed.
"I'm going back home," she said, her voice sounding final.
"But you were going next month, at the end of the term," I protested, my heart sinking with a terrible dread.
"My son is sick, and he needs me. And anyway, I had to go someday. So I'm leaving this evening," she explained, her reason concrete and unavoidable.
"But Madam..." I started to plead, my mind blanking on any reason she should stay.
She cut me off gently, her expression changing to one of knowing seduction. "I know you've gotten addicted to sex, Avi. Now you can find another prey to practice your skills on. And today, for the last time, have sex with me and give me a teacher's fee—the biggest pleasure you can offer."
The sudden news that she was leaving shattered the sadness, replacing it with a furious, final heat. I took off Madam's nightgown. She was already naked underneath. I started kneading and pressing her full breasts, then slowly started licking her nipples with my tongue. I took her breast fully into my mouth and started sucking it, rotating between the left breast and the right. Simultaneously, I started fingering Madam's vagina, stimulating her in every way I had learned. We dropped the pretense of modesty and moved our bodies into the 69 position, ready for mutual pleasure.
We settled quickly: my face buried in the warm center of Madam's chooť, and her head positioned over my hard lunď. The moment her wet mouth enclosed me, the atmosphere thickened with pure need. Madam started sucking my lunď with a terrifying, total intensity, like a madwoman frantic to pull out every last bit of sensation before she left. She knew this was her final taste. Her tongue coiled around the tip, sending shivers through me, while her lips moved quickly and deeply along the shaft. The suction was deep, and the wet heat of her mouth never stopped. The only sound was the soft lapping as she worked furiously.
My lunď swelled in her mouth, aching, responding to the powerful rhythm that screamed its final goodbye. At the same time, my face was pressed against her. I breathed in the deep, musky scent of Madam's chooť, a perfume I knew I'd never smell again. I plunged my tongue deep into her folds, kissing her with slow, consuming passion, determined to remember every texture. I explored completely, my tongue tracing the sensitive, swollen flesh, flicking her clitoris, and then diving deep into the heat she was building. Her juices were salty and sweet with excitement, and I drank them in like a starving man, trying to forever etch the flavor into my mind. The soft whimpers that escaped her throat whenever I hit a perfect spot were the only sound louder than my own frantic breathing.
I used my hands to pull her hips closer, driving my tongue harder and deeper, intent on pushing her pleasure past the breaking point. The feeling of giving her pleasure while she gave it back created an electrifying rush. The speed of her sucking increased when my tongue pressed harder on her chooť. Our bodies worked with desperate, perfect timing—a rising mix of wet sounds and quick, rough breaths. The tension became almost unbearable, a delicious, aching knot forming deep in my gut, perfectly matched by the mounting energy from her body. We pushed each other right to the edge, knowing our mutual climax was seconds away. We were both totally aroused, panting, and slick with desire. The moment was perfect. With a final, shared sigh, we broke apart, ready for the final, full penetration.
We broke apart, our bodies already hot and trembling from the 69 position. Madam quickly moved, getting onto her hands and knees and presenting herself to me. Her chooť was facing me, wet and waiting.
I didn't hesitate. I drove my entire lunď into her chooť with one powerful, sudden thrust. The force of it made Madam let out a sharp, guttural scream—it was a sound of extreme pleasure mixed with the brief pain of the sudden entry. I paused for a moment, holding myself deep inside her, wanting to savor the intensity of this final session. Then, I began to thrust, settling into a deep, rhythmic pace. I drove hard, pushing my hips forward fully with every movement. Madam's chooť was tight and hot around me, gripping my lunď with a strength that made me groan. I held this pace for a while, fucking her hard, knowing that time was running out.
Then, I pulled my lunď out, slick and dripping. I quickly adjusted her body, moving behind her and guiding my lunď toward her ganď. I had to give her the best pleasure possible, and that meant using everything. My powerful lunď went into her ganď, stretching her tight opening. I started a fierce, demanding pace there, fucking her from behind.
I began rotating between her two holes for maximum, prolonged pleasure. I would fuck her ganď for a few minutes with strong, deep thrusts, driving her forward onto her hands. Then, I would pull out and immediately shove my lunď into her chooť, changing the angle and the sensation for both of us. This switching—chooť, then ganď, then chooť again—was driving both of us mad. Madam was gasping, yelling muffled commands into her hands, completely lost in the frantic rhythm. My lunď felt incredible, gripped tightly in both holes in turn.
This intense, frantic sex went on for about forty minutes. I kept up the brutal pace, pushing my body and hers to the limit. Finally, I felt the unmistakable rush building. I pulled my lunď out of her ganď and jammed it back into her chooť, burying myself as deep as possible. With one final, shuddering release, I poured all my semen into Madam's chooť, finishing the session and collapsing onto her back, breathing hard.
As soon as the release finished, the intensity broke, and I felt a strange paranoia—it felt like someone was watching us. I quickly went to the window, my heart pounding, but no one was there. I noticed Madam's dupatta (scarf) dbangd over a chair near the window, slightly moved by the wind. I felt an immediate sense of relief, realizing it must have been the movement of the fabric that caught my eye.
"I had so much fun today, Avi," Madam said, sighing deeply with exhausted satisfaction.
"Yes, I had fun too," I whispered, utterly spent.
"I'll go and freshen up," she said, heading to the bathroom.
After Madam came back, I started helping her pack the remaining small items. After an hour, Madam's husband came to collect her. After they talked for a while, Madam left, stepping out of the house and into the waiting car. I stood there, watching her go, a profound sense of loss settling over me. Tears were rolling down my eyes, but I knew this had to happen someday. As she was leaving, Madam told me to lock the house and give the keys to the Principal.
I walked to the door to lock it, but I couldn't just leave. I wanted to go inside one last time to remember the extraordinary sex we had shared in that room.
I went to the bed where we had spent so many hours learning and loving. Madam's teaching book was on the bed, and next to it, I found a small, folded letter.
I picked it up and read:
"Avi, the happiness you gave me in seven (actually eight) days, I'll remember for seven lifetimes. I'll never be able to forget you. After my husband, you gave me a happiness that has no value. Don't ever forget what I taught you. And yes, don't ever remember me. Forget me like a dream. Otherwise, you won't be able to live with the pain of my absence. Burn this letter after you read it. I can't write anymore. Your Madam."
The letter confirmed the finality of her departure, the depth of her passion, and the danger of the secret they shared. I took the letter to the stove and watched the paper curl and blacken, destroying the last physical evidence of our secret life. I locked the house and walked away, carrying the keys and the indelible memory of my Madam.
-----
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