19-01-2026, 07:49 PM
Sitting uncomfortably on the narrow upper berth mattress, legs folded tight, I felt the sharp discomfort deep between my legs. As a result of hurrying up the ladder and the helper’s hands groping my ass cheeks hard over the white saree, my maroon colour panties had got caught uncomfortable between my ass crack and my pussy lips, the maroon colour panties twisted and pulled tight into my pussy, rubbing painfully against my clit and pussy lips with every small shift.
No matter how hard I tried to adjust my maroon colour panties by pushing my hand under the white saree from the side, I could not reach properly or fix the twisted maroon colour panties without lifting everything. The only way to adjust my maroon colour panties was to lift my white saree along with my white petticoat and pull the maroon colour panties back into place over my ass cheeks and pussy lips.
Since I could not travel this uncomfortable for eight long hours to Chennai, with my pussy lips pinched and irritated inside the twisted maroon colour panties, I decided to lift my white saree and white petticoat and adjust my maroon colour panties right there. The thin curtains were closed around my berth, blocking the aisle, so I felt safe enough to do it quick and quiet.
I leaned back against the berth wall, grabbed the hem of my white saree and white petticoat together, and began lifting them slow up my thighs. The white saree and white petticoat rose higher, exposing my feet with silver anklets, my ankles, my smooth knees, my full thighs, and my inner thighs all the way up. My maroon colour panties came into view, hugging my pussy lips tight, the twisted maroon colour panties outlining my pussy lips clearly in the dim berth light.
Just as I reached to pull the maroon colour panties free, the helper came back and pulled the curtains aside without knocking. "Water bottle, madam," he said, holding out the plastic bottle.
His eyes widened huge as he got full view of my feet with anklets, my ankles, my knees, my thighs, my inner thighs, and my pussy over my maroon colour panties, the twisted maroon colour panties outlining my pussy lips clearly in the dim berth light.
To my shock, the ugly guy who was peeing in the bush while watching us at the stop was sitting in the opposite double berth, staring straight at my exposed thighs and pussy over my maroon colour panties. Next to him sat another ugly guy wearing an Indian cricket team t-shirt and black pants, his eyes also locked on my feet anklets, ankles, knees, thighs, inner thighs, and my pussy over my maroon colour panties. Both men got a full long view of my half-naked lower body, their ugly faces lighting up with filthy hunger.
I gasped, shame burning hot in my chest, boobs heaving fast inside my purple blouse, nipples erect and hard over the purple blouse. I pulled my white saree along with my white petticoat down fast over my thighs and pussy, covering everything again, grabbed the water bottle from his hand rough, and shoved the curtains closed hard, blocking out the aisle, the helper, the staring passenger below.
My heart hammered loud, mangalsutra swinging between my boobs, pussy lips still pinched uncomfortable inside the twisted maroon colour panties, but now the discomfort mixed with deep shame and a secret wet warmth I hated feeling. The three men’s eyes stayed burned in my mind, their stares on my pussy over my maroon colour panties, my thighs, my anklets. I sat frozen, white saree bunched tight around my waist, unable to adjust my maroon colour panties anymore, the bus rolling deeper into the night, carrying me toward Chennai with this new filthy secret pulsing between my legs.
After a long moment sitting frozen in shame, heart still pounding loud from the three men staring at my pussy over my maroon colour panties, I pushed the thin curtain aside gently, peeking out slow to make sure no one was watching the aisle. The dim blue lights showed empty space, no eyes turned my way. I pulled the curtain closed again fast, sealing myself in the small berth.
Now alone, I leaned back, grabbed the hem of my white saree and white petticoat once more, lifted them up my thighs quick, and reached down to adjust my maroon colour panties. The twisted panties had caught deep between my ass crack and pussy lips, pinching my clit and pussy lips painfully. I pulled the maroon colour panties out from my ass crack, slid the front smooth over my pussy lips, tugged the sides up over my hips until they sat snug again, hugging my ass cheeks and pussy lips properly. Relief washed through me as the discomfort eased, my pussy still warm and slightly wet from the earlier shame and touches.
As I tried to relax, lowered my white saree and white petticoat back over my thighs, smoothed the pallu over my boobs, that’s when I realized I had left my cellphone in the kit bag, and that bag was locked in the luggage compartment below. I so badly wanted my cellphone because the berth felt boring already, the long eight-hour ride stretching ahead with nothing but dark highway and my own thoughts. The cellphone was my only time pass, my music, my messages from my husband, pictures of my three sons.
I opened the curtain again, looked toward the driver’s cabin at the front of the bus. Luckily the helper saw me peeking out, his eyes lighting up fast. I gestured him to come with a small wave of my hand.
He came readily toward my upper berth, climbing the short ladder steps halfway so his face was level with mine. I actually felt shy to even look into his eyes and talk, because he had seen my feet with anklets, my ankles, my knees, my thighs, my inner thighs, and my pussy over my maroon colour panties clearly. My cheeks burned hot, boobs rising and falling fast inside my purple blouse, nipples still erect over the blouse.
Gathering courage, I lowered my eyes and asked soft, "Can you make the bus stop for a moment so I can pick up my cellphone from my bag in the luggage?"
He shook his head polite, but the way he said "No madam, cannot stop now," was slow, eyes dropping to my boobs and deep navel visible over the low saree dbang, giving me hope that if I was more nice to him, he would help.
In the moment of being nice to him, I went too nice. I reached out and held his hand gently, fingers wrapping around his rough palm. "Please," I said, voice soft and pleading.
He looked at my hand holding his, then at my face, getting bolder fast. "Sure ma'am," he said, lifted my hand to his lips, kissed my hand slow and wet, tongue flicking once against my skin.
He turned and walked toward the driver’s cabin over the door, spoke low to the driver for a while. After some minutes the bus slowed, pulled to the side of the highway, and stopped with a hiss of brakes.
I sat waiting in my berth, mangalsutra heavy between my boobs, pussy lips tingling inside my freshly adjusted maroon colour panties from the touch of his lips on my hand, from the promise of getting my cellphone, from the dangerous game I had just started playing with this helper who had already seen too much of my body. The bus stood quiet in the night, engine idling, and I felt my heart beat deep with nervousness, shame, and that hidden naughty warmth only growing stronger.
The bus stood still on the dark highway shoulder, engine idling low, red tail lights glowing faint in the night. The helper climbed back up the steps quick, reached my upper berth, and whispered close to my ear, "You must make it quick, madam. Driver will not wait long."
I nodded fast, heart racing, "Yes, thank you."
As I swung my legs over the edge to get down the ladder, he grabbed me by my underarms from below, fingers digging firm under my boobs over the purple blouse. He helped me get down, but while I was descending the narrow steps, he pulled me onto him sudden and hard. My boobs crushed against his chest over my purple blouse, nipples erect and rubbing through the blouse against his shirt. He wrapped my arms around his neck, hugged me tight, body pressed full against mine, and murmured, "I have got you, madam. Do not worry."
He began taking me into his complete embrace, squeezing my boobs harder against his chest, his arms locked around my waist over the white saree, hips grinding slow once against my hips. I was in shock for a moment, breath caught in my throat. He was the second man in my life hugging me this way, other than my husband. I did not know how to react, body frozen, mangalsutra trapped between my boobs and his chest. But deep inside, shame and confusion mixed with something darker—I felt like I had given myself to him already, surrendered my loyal Tamil wife body to this stranger’s hold.
As I tried to break the hug, pushing lightly at his shoulders, he held tighter. "It’s okay madam, I will carry you," he said, voice thick with lust.
He hugged me even harder, lifted me off the last step, carried me down the aisle toward the door near the driver. My boobs stayed crushed against him, nipples hard and sensitive over the purple blouse, pussy lips tingling inside my maroon colour panties from the forbidden closeness. The two ugly men sat in their double berth, watching every second of the embrace, eyes hungry on my ass cheeks over the white saree, my thighs dangling as he carried me.
When he reached the door, he lowered me slow to the steps. I got down first, white saree rustling against my thighs, pallu slightly slipped to show more of my deep navel. I walked to the side luggage compartment, adjusted my saree and blouse with shaky hands, tugging the pallu back over my shoulder, smoothing the pleats low on my hips.
The helper stood behind me, opening the compartment door, but his eyes never left my body. He ogled my boobs shamelessly even after hugging me so much, staring at the way my boobs rose and fell with my quick breaths, nipples poking hard over the purple blouse. His cock looked thick and erect again in his short shorts, head of cock pushing against the shorts.
The side luggage compartment stood open under the bus. Dim highway lights cast long shadows. I knelt down to search inside my kit bag for the cellphone charger cable. My fingers fumbled through the spare clothes and the dozen dirty panties and bras I had packed. All of them were worn for one full week. They still carried the strong smell of my pussy lips and sweat from under my boobs. The charger cable got caught in one of the dirty panties, tangled in the crotch where the pussy marks were strongest. While pulling the charger cable hard to free it, the panties came out along with it and fell to the ground.
The helper saw it immediately. He bent down quick. He picked up my dirty panties from the dirt. He brought them close to his nose and started sniffing deep. He inhaled the strong scent of my pussy lips and week-old wetness shamelessly. His eyes closed in pleasure.
I got so embarrassed. My face burned hot. My boobs heaved fast inside my purple blouse. My nipples stood erect over the blouse. "Give me my panties back," I whispered urgent. My voice shook.
He looked at me with a filthy grin. Then he quickly ran inside the bus with my dirty panties clutched in his hand. He disappeared up the steps.
At the same moment, the bus driver began honking loud and yelling from the cabin. "Madam! Get back inside fast! We are leaving now!"
In a hurry, I picked up a small hand bag which had money. I put my cellphone, my charger cable, and my earphone inside it quick. I zipped the small hand bag closed. I hurried up the steps without even looking down. My white saree rustled against my thighs. My maroon colour panties hugged my pussy lips tight. They were still wet from earlier touches and shame. As I tried to climb the ladder to my upper berth, the guy in the lower berth opened his curtain sudden. His mouth came exactly near my deep navel. His lips landed firm on my exposed deep navel. He kissed it deep and slow. His tongue slid out to lick the center of my deep navel in a hot wet circle. He tasted my sweat and skin. The kiss lingered erotic and possessive. His breath stayed warm against my waist. His lips sucked gently once before pulling back. He pretended it was an accident as the bus jerked. Nobody other than my husband had ever kissed my deep navel like that. The stranger's tongue on my deep navel sent a forbidden shiver straight to my pussy lips. My clit throbbed hard inside my maroon colour panties. My pussy grew wetter with unwanted heat. I ignored it. I pretended not to feel the deep erotic pull. I pulled myself up fast and settled on my berth mattress.
As I was about to close the curtain full, I noted through the small gap. The helper stood near the driver’s cabin door. He was holding my dirty panties up. He showed it to the driver. Both men sniffed the crotch together. They inhaled the smell of my pussy lips deep. They laughed low and filthy.
It felt so embarrassing. Shame flooded my whole body. My mangalsutra hung heavy between my boobs. My pussy throbbed wet inside my maroon colour panties from the humiliation and the stranger's tongue on my deep navel. I yanked the curtain closed hard. I sat curled in the dark berth. My knees pressed to my chest. My white saree bunched around my hips. My deep navel still tingled hot and wet from the lower berth guy’s deep kiss. The bus lurched forward again. The engine roared. It carried me away from the stop. But the filthy memory of my dirty panties in their hands and the stranger's tongue circling my deep navel stayed. They sniffed and shared it like a trophy. The image burned in my mind. My clit swelled against the maroon colour panties. My pussy lips grew juicy with unwanted heat. Guilt and arousal twisted together deep inside my loyal Tamil wife soul. The night highway swallowed the bus whole.
No matter how hard I tried to adjust my maroon colour panties by pushing my hand under the white saree from the side, I could not reach properly or fix the twisted maroon colour panties without lifting everything. The only way to adjust my maroon colour panties was to lift my white saree along with my white petticoat and pull the maroon colour panties back into place over my ass cheeks and pussy lips.
Since I could not travel this uncomfortable for eight long hours to Chennai, with my pussy lips pinched and irritated inside the twisted maroon colour panties, I decided to lift my white saree and white petticoat and adjust my maroon colour panties right there. The thin curtains were closed around my berth, blocking the aisle, so I felt safe enough to do it quick and quiet.
I leaned back against the berth wall, grabbed the hem of my white saree and white petticoat together, and began lifting them slow up my thighs. The white saree and white petticoat rose higher, exposing my feet with silver anklets, my ankles, my smooth knees, my full thighs, and my inner thighs all the way up. My maroon colour panties came into view, hugging my pussy lips tight, the twisted maroon colour panties outlining my pussy lips clearly in the dim berth light.
Just as I reached to pull the maroon colour panties free, the helper came back and pulled the curtains aside without knocking. "Water bottle, madam," he said, holding out the plastic bottle.
His eyes widened huge as he got full view of my feet with anklets, my ankles, my knees, my thighs, my inner thighs, and my pussy over my maroon colour panties, the twisted maroon colour panties outlining my pussy lips clearly in the dim berth light.
To my shock, the ugly guy who was peeing in the bush while watching us at the stop was sitting in the opposite double berth, staring straight at my exposed thighs and pussy over my maroon colour panties. Next to him sat another ugly guy wearing an Indian cricket team t-shirt and black pants, his eyes also locked on my feet anklets, ankles, knees, thighs, inner thighs, and my pussy over my maroon colour panties. Both men got a full long view of my half-naked lower body, their ugly faces lighting up with filthy hunger.
I gasped, shame burning hot in my chest, boobs heaving fast inside my purple blouse, nipples erect and hard over the purple blouse. I pulled my white saree along with my white petticoat down fast over my thighs and pussy, covering everything again, grabbed the water bottle from his hand rough, and shoved the curtains closed hard, blocking out the aisle, the helper, the staring passenger below.
My heart hammered loud, mangalsutra swinging between my boobs, pussy lips still pinched uncomfortable inside the twisted maroon colour panties, but now the discomfort mixed with deep shame and a secret wet warmth I hated feeling. The three men’s eyes stayed burned in my mind, their stares on my pussy over my maroon colour panties, my thighs, my anklets. I sat frozen, white saree bunched tight around my waist, unable to adjust my maroon colour panties anymore, the bus rolling deeper into the night, carrying me toward Chennai with this new filthy secret pulsing between my legs.
After a long moment sitting frozen in shame, heart still pounding loud from the three men staring at my pussy over my maroon colour panties, I pushed the thin curtain aside gently, peeking out slow to make sure no one was watching the aisle. The dim blue lights showed empty space, no eyes turned my way. I pulled the curtain closed again fast, sealing myself in the small berth.
Now alone, I leaned back, grabbed the hem of my white saree and white petticoat once more, lifted them up my thighs quick, and reached down to adjust my maroon colour panties. The twisted panties had caught deep between my ass crack and pussy lips, pinching my clit and pussy lips painfully. I pulled the maroon colour panties out from my ass crack, slid the front smooth over my pussy lips, tugged the sides up over my hips until they sat snug again, hugging my ass cheeks and pussy lips properly. Relief washed through me as the discomfort eased, my pussy still warm and slightly wet from the earlier shame and touches.
As I tried to relax, lowered my white saree and white petticoat back over my thighs, smoothed the pallu over my boobs, that’s when I realized I had left my cellphone in the kit bag, and that bag was locked in the luggage compartment below. I so badly wanted my cellphone because the berth felt boring already, the long eight-hour ride stretching ahead with nothing but dark highway and my own thoughts. The cellphone was my only time pass, my music, my messages from my husband, pictures of my three sons.
I opened the curtain again, looked toward the driver’s cabin at the front of the bus. Luckily the helper saw me peeking out, his eyes lighting up fast. I gestured him to come with a small wave of my hand.
He came readily toward my upper berth, climbing the short ladder steps halfway so his face was level with mine. I actually felt shy to even look into his eyes and talk, because he had seen my feet with anklets, my ankles, my knees, my thighs, my inner thighs, and my pussy over my maroon colour panties clearly. My cheeks burned hot, boobs rising and falling fast inside my purple blouse, nipples still erect over the blouse.
Gathering courage, I lowered my eyes and asked soft, "Can you make the bus stop for a moment so I can pick up my cellphone from my bag in the luggage?"
He shook his head polite, but the way he said "No madam, cannot stop now," was slow, eyes dropping to my boobs and deep navel visible over the low saree dbang, giving me hope that if I was more nice to him, he would help.
In the moment of being nice to him, I went too nice. I reached out and held his hand gently, fingers wrapping around his rough palm. "Please," I said, voice soft and pleading.
He looked at my hand holding his, then at my face, getting bolder fast. "Sure ma'am," he said, lifted my hand to his lips, kissed my hand slow and wet, tongue flicking once against my skin.
He turned and walked toward the driver’s cabin over the door, spoke low to the driver for a while. After some minutes the bus slowed, pulled to the side of the highway, and stopped with a hiss of brakes.
I sat waiting in my berth, mangalsutra heavy between my boobs, pussy lips tingling inside my freshly adjusted maroon colour panties from the touch of his lips on my hand, from the promise of getting my cellphone, from the dangerous game I had just started playing with this helper who had already seen too much of my body. The bus stood quiet in the night, engine idling, and I felt my heart beat deep with nervousness, shame, and that hidden naughty warmth only growing stronger.
The bus stood still on the dark highway shoulder, engine idling low, red tail lights glowing faint in the night. The helper climbed back up the steps quick, reached my upper berth, and whispered close to my ear, "You must make it quick, madam. Driver will not wait long."
I nodded fast, heart racing, "Yes, thank you."
As I swung my legs over the edge to get down the ladder, he grabbed me by my underarms from below, fingers digging firm under my boobs over the purple blouse. He helped me get down, but while I was descending the narrow steps, he pulled me onto him sudden and hard. My boobs crushed against his chest over my purple blouse, nipples erect and rubbing through the blouse against his shirt. He wrapped my arms around his neck, hugged me tight, body pressed full against mine, and murmured, "I have got you, madam. Do not worry."
He began taking me into his complete embrace, squeezing my boobs harder against his chest, his arms locked around my waist over the white saree, hips grinding slow once against my hips. I was in shock for a moment, breath caught in my throat. He was the second man in my life hugging me this way, other than my husband. I did not know how to react, body frozen, mangalsutra trapped between my boobs and his chest. But deep inside, shame and confusion mixed with something darker—I felt like I had given myself to him already, surrendered my loyal Tamil wife body to this stranger’s hold.
As I tried to break the hug, pushing lightly at his shoulders, he held tighter. "It’s okay madam, I will carry you," he said, voice thick with lust.
He hugged me even harder, lifted me off the last step, carried me down the aisle toward the door near the driver. My boobs stayed crushed against him, nipples hard and sensitive over the purple blouse, pussy lips tingling inside my maroon colour panties from the forbidden closeness. The two ugly men sat in their double berth, watching every second of the embrace, eyes hungry on my ass cheeks over the white saree, my thighs dangling as he carried me.
When he reached the door, he lowered me slow to the steps. I got down first, white saree rustling against my thighs, pallu slightly slipped to show more of my deep navel. I walked to the side luggage compartment, adjusted my saree and blouse with shaky hands, tugging the pallu back over my shoulder, smoothing the pleats low on my hips.
The helper stood behind me, opening the compartment door, but his eyes never left my body. He ogled my boobs shamelessly even after hugging me so much, staring at the way my boobs rose and fell with my quick breaths, nipples poking hard over the purple blouse. His cock looked thick and erect again in his short shorts, head of cock pushing against the shorts.
The side luggage compartment stood open under the bus. Dim highway lights cast long shadows. I knelt down to search inside my kit bag for the cellphone charger cable. My fingers fumbled through the spare clothes and the dozen dirty panties and bras I had packed. All of them were worn for one full week. They still carried the strong smell of my pussy lips and sweat from under my boobs. The charger cable got caught in one of the dirty panties, tangled in the crotch where the pussy marks were strongest. While pulling the charger cable hard to free it, the panties came out along with it and fell to the ground.
The helper saw it immediately. He bent down quick. He picked up my dirty panties from the dirt. He brought them close to his nose and started sniffing deep. He inhaled the strong scent of my pussy lips and week-old wetness shamelessly. His eyes closed in pleasure.
I got so embarrassed. My face burned hot. My boobs heaved fast inside my purple blouse. My nipples stood erect over the blouse. "Give me my panties back," I whispered urgent. My voice shook.
He looked at me with a filthy grin. Then he quickly ran inside the bus with my dirty panties clutched in his hand. He disappeared up the steps.
At the same moment, the bus driver began honking loud and yelling from the cabin. "Madam! Get back inside fast! We are leaving now!"
In a hurry, I picked up a small hand bag which had money. I put my cellphone, my charger cable, and my earphone inside it quick. I zipped the small hand bag closed. I hurried up the steps without even looking down. My white saree rustled against my thighs. My maroon colour panties hugged my pussy lips tight. They were still wet from earlier touches and shame. As I tried to climb the ladder to my upper berth, the guy in the lower berth opened his curtain sudden. His mouth came exactly near my deep navel. His lips landed firm on my exposed deep navel. He kissed it deep and slow. His tongue slid out to lick the center of my deep navel in a hot wet circle. He tasted my sweat and skin. The kiss lingered erotic and possessive. His breath stayed warm against my waist. His lips sucked gently once before pulling back. He pretended it was an accident as the bus jerked. Nobody other than my husband had ever kissed my deep navel like that. The stranger's tongue on my deep navel sent a forbidden shiver straight to my pussy lips. My clit throbbed hard inside my maroon colour panties. My pussy grew wetter with unwanted heat. I ignored it. I pretended not to feel the deep erotic pull. I pulled myself up fast and settled on my berth mattress.
As I was about to close the curtain full, I noted through the small gap. The helper stood near the driver’s cabin door. He was holding my dirty panties up. He showed it to the driver. Both men sniffed the crotch together. They inhaled the smell of my pussy lips deep. They laughed low and filthy.
It felt so embarrassing. Shame flooded my whole body. My mangalsutra hung heavy between my boobs. My pussy throbbed wet inside my maroon colour panties from the humiliation and the stranger's tongue on my deep navel. I yanked the curtain closed hard. I sat curled in the dark berth. My knees pressed to my chest. My white saree bunched around my hips. My deep navel still tingled hot and wet from the lower berth guy’s deep kiss. The bus lurched forward again. The engine roared. It carried me away from the stop. But the filthy memory of my dirty panties in their hands and the stranger's tongue circling my deep navel stayed. They sniffed and shared it like a trophy. The image burned in my mind. My clit swelled against the maroon colour panties. My pussy lips grew juicy with unwanted heat. Guilt and arousal twisted together deep inside my loyal Tamil wife soul. The night highway swallowed the bus whole.
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