24-05-2026, 01:59 AM
(This post was last modified: 24-05-2026, 02:00 AM by adams_masala. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
“He’s twenty-five,” Mr. Krishnamoorthy said. “Hardly a man. And he’s very responsible. Works in that tech company. Makes good money.”
“It’s not about money,” Mrs. Ranganayaki said. “It’s about propriety. About what people will think.”
Yazhini kept her eyes on her hands. The idea of staying with Cousin Rajan made her stomach turn. He was nice enough, but he treated her like a child. Always asking if she needed help with her homework, if she wanted to watch cartoons. The thought of spending a year under his supervision, with no chance to see Selvam alone...
“I don’t want to stay with Rajan,” she said. Her voice came out smaller than she intended. “Please. There has to be another way.”
Her parents exchanged glances. Mr. Krishnamoorthy’s mustache drooped. “I’m afraid there isn’t, kanna. Not unless...”
He looked at Selvam, still standing by the window. Mrs. Ranganayaki followed his gaze. Something passed between them... a silent communication, a decision being made.
“Selvam,” Mrs. Ranganayaki said. Her voice had changed, taken on a note of pleading. “We know it’s a lot to ask. But would you consider... that is, if the visa comes through...”
“Yazhini could stay with you,” Mr. Krishnamoorthy finished. “Just until the next competition season. Three months, maybe four.”
Yazhini’s breath caught. She looked at Selvam, willing him to say yes. His back was still to them, his shoulders straight under his crisp cotton shirt. He turned slowly, his face composed.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “It’s a big responsibility. She’s young. She’ll be far from home, from everything familiar.”
“That’s exactly why we’re asking you,” Mrs. Ranganayaki said. She leaned forward, her hands clasped tightly. “We trust you, Selvam. You’ve been like family to us for twenty years. You helped raise Ashok after his mother died. You’ve always been there, always been steady.”
The irony of the situation hung in the air. Yazhini bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. If only they knew what had happened last night. What Selvam had done to her. How he’d filled her, claimed her, made her his in ways that had nothing to do with family.
“She needs guidance,” Mr. Krishnamoorthy said. “Structure. Someone to make sure she’s eating properly, going to bed on time, focusing on her studies.” He smiled, the expression softening his round face. “Someone to remind her that there’s more to life than dance competitions.”
Yazhini kept her eyes on her lap, afraid her face would give her away. The memory of Selvam above her, inside her, his cock stretching her open, made her pussy clench with want. Guidance. Structure. If only they knew what kind of guidance she really wanted from him.
“I’d be happy to have her,” Selvam said. His voice was calm, measured. The voice of a responsible adult offering help to a friend in need. “The guest room is ready. She’d have her own space, her own routine. I’d make sure she has everything she needs.”
Relief washed over Mrs. Ranganayaki’s face. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. We’ll pay for her expenses, of course. Food, clothes, whatever she needs.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Selvam said. “The internship comes with a stipend. It’s not much, but it should cover her basics.”
Yazhini looked up then, unable to keep the smile from her face. “Really? I’ll get paid?”
Selvam nodded. “Fifteen dollars an hour. Twenty hours a week. It adds up.”
Three hundred dollars a week. More money than she’d ever had. Enough for dance classes, for competition fees, for pretty clothes to wear when she went out with Selvam. For condoms, maybe. Or not. The thought of his cum inside her again, filling her, claiming her, sent a shiver down her spine.
“We should set some ground rules,” Mrs. Ranganayaki said. She turned to Yazhini, her expression serious. “You’ll call every Sunday. Without fail. You’ll keep up with your prayers, your studies. You’ll respect Selvam’s house, his time, his generosity.”
“Yes, Amma,” Yazhini said. She’d agree to anything right now. Anything to stay here, with Selvam, for a year.
“And you’ll focus on the competition,” Mr. Krishnamoorthy added. “That’s why you’re staying, remember. To prove yourself. To show those judges what you’re really capable of.”
Yazhini nodded. The competition. Right. That was the plan. Win next time, bring home the trophy, make her parents proud. But she had another plan forming, one that had nothing to do with dance and everything to do with the man standing by the window.
She would get pregnant. The thought had been forming since last night, since Selvam had filled her navel with his cum, since he’d told her how strong his seed was. How healthy. How likely to take. A year was more than enough time. She’d need to be careful at first... get him used to the idea, make him want it as much as she did. But by the time the next competition rolled around, she’d have something better than a trophy to show for her stay in America. She’d have Selvam’s baby growing inside her.
The thought made her pussy clench again. She shifted on the sofa, crossing her legs to hide her reaction. Selvam noticed... of course he noticed. His eyes dropped to the movement, then back to her face. Something passed between them... a current of understanding, of promise.
“It’s not about money,” Mrs. Ranganayaki said. “It’s about propriety. About what people will think.”
Yazhini kept her eyes on her hands. The idea of staying with Cousin Rajan made her stomach turn. He was nice enough, but he treated her like a child. Always asking if she needed help with her homework, if she wanted to watch cartoons. The thought of spending a year under his supervision, with no chance to see Selvam alone...
“I don’t want to stay with Rajan,” she said. Her voice came out smaller than she intended. “Please. There has to be another way.”
Her parents exchanged glances. Mr. Krishnamoorthy’s mustache drooped. “I’m afraid there isn’t, kanna. Not unless...”
He looked at Selvam, still standing by the window. Mrs. Ranganayaki followed his gaze. Something passed between them... a silent communication, a decision being made.
“Selvam,” Mrs. Ranganayaki said. Her voice had changed, taken on a note of pleading. “We know it’s a lot to ask. But would you consider... that is, if the visa comes through...”
“Yazhini could stay with you,” Mr. Krishnamoorthy finished. “Just until the next competition season. Three months, maybe four.”
Yazhini’s breath caught. She looked at Selvam, willing him to say yes. His back was still to them, his shoulders straight under his crisp cotton shirt. He turned slowly, his face composed.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “It’s a big responsibility. She’s young. She’ll be far from home, from everything familiar.”
“That’s exactly why we’re asking you,” Mrs. Ranganayaki said. She leaned forward, her hands clasped tightly. “We trust you, Selvam. You’ve been like family to us for twenty years. You helped raise Ashok after his mother died. You’ve always been there, always been steady.”
The irony of the situation hung in the air. Yazhini bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. If only they knew what had happened last night. What Selvam had done to her. How he’d filled her, claimed her, made her his in ways that had nothing to do with family.
“She needs guidance,” Mr. Krishnamoorthy said. “Structure. Someone to make sure she’s eating properly, going to bed on time, focusing on her studies.” He smiled, the expression softening his round face. “Someone to remind her that there’s more to life than dance competitions.”
Yazhini kept her eyes on her lap, afraid her face would give her away. The memory of Selvam above her, inside her, his cock stretching her open, made her pussy clench with want. Guidance. Structure. If only they knew what kind of guidance she really wanted from him.
“I’d be happy to have her,” Selvam said. His voice was calm, measured. The voice of a responsible adult offering help to a friend in need. “The guest room is ready. She’d have her own space, her own routine. I’d make sure she has everything she needs.”
Relief washed over Mrs. Ranganayaki’s face. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. We’ll pay for her expenses, of course. Food, clothes, whatever she needs.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Selvam said. “The internship comes with a stipend. It’s not much, but it should cover her basics.”
Yazhini looked up then, unable to keep the smile from her face. “Really? I’ll get paid?”
Selvam nodded. “Fifteen dollars an hour. Twenty hours a week. It adds up.”
Three hundred dollars a week. More money than she’d ever had. Enough for dance classes, for competition fees, for pretty clothes to wear when she went out with Selvam. For condoms, maybe. Or not. The thought of his cum inside her again, filling her, claiming her, sent a shiver down her spine.
“We should set some ground rules,” Mrs. Ranganayaki said. She turned to Yazhini, her expression serious. “You’ll call every Sunday. Without fail. You’ll keep up with your prayers, your studies. You’ll respect Selvam’s house, his time, his generosity.”
“Yes, Amma,” Yazhini said. She’d agree to anything right now. Anything to stay here, with Selvam, for a year.
“And you’ll focus on the competition,” Mr. Krishnamoorthy added. “That’s why you’re staying, remember. To prove yourself. To show those judges what you’re really capable of.”
Yazhini nodded. The competition. Right. That was the plan. Win next time, bring home the trophy, make her parents proud. But she had another plan forming, one that had nothing to do with dance and everything to do with the man standing by the window.
She would get pregnant. The thought had been forming since last night, since Selvam had filled her navel with his cum, since he’d told her how strong his seed was. How healthy. How likely to take. A year was more than enough time. She’d need to be careful at first... get him used to the idea, make him want it as much as she did. But by the time the next competition rolled around, she’d have something better than a trophy to show for her stay in America. She’d have Selvam’s baby growing inside her.
The thought made her pussy clench again. She shifted on the sofa, crossing her legs to hide her reaction. Selvam noticed... of course he noticed. His eyes dropped to the movement, then back to her face. Something passed between them... a current of understanding, of promise.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)