22-08-2026, 10:24 AM
We were also clean.
Not just washed in the river, but carefully, completely clean in every place a man might look or touch. We kept our pussies clean-shaved, completely smooth and naked, no hair left on the soft lips or the mound above them. We kept our assholes clean-shaved as well, the skin around them left smooth and naked so that nothing interrupted the deep cleft between our ass cheeks. We shaved our armpits too, leaving them soft and open. This was not only for our husbands. It was our village tradition, followed by every married woman and every young girl who had begun to bleed. The older women had taught us when we were still small. Keep everything smooth. Keep everything fresh. A woman’s body should feel clean under her own fingers and under a man’s hands.
We followed the tradition without fail.
After every river bath we checked ourselves slowly. We stood on the stones or in the privacy of our courtyards and ran our fingers over the naked mound of our pussy, feeling the soft, hairless skin, tracing the outer lips to make sure no new hair had begun to push through. We spread our ass cheeks with both hands and felt the smooth, naked skin around our assholes, confirming that the cleft stayed clean and open. We lifted each arm in turn and ran our fingers over the soft, naked armpits. When the hair began to return we sat with a small mirror and a blade, or we helped one another after the children were asleep, one woman holding the mirror while the other shaved carefully between her friend’s open thighs or along the curve of her ass. The result was always the same — completely naked pussy lips that showed their full shape under wet panties, a naked asshole that stayed neat even when our ass cheeks spread, soft naked armpits that never collected sweat the way unshaved ones did.
Because we stayed clean-shaved, everything about our bodies felt different when we moved. The panties sat directly against our naked pussy lips with nothing between them. Every step made the soft panel of the panties rub slowly over the smooth, hairless skin, a constant light friction that kept us aware of ourselves. When the cool river water touched us it touched naked skin at once — flowing straight over our shaved pussy, slipping into the naked cleft of our ass, sliding across our naked armpits when we lifted our arms. When we walked the long forest path the same soft friction continued between our thighs. When we bent to pick something up or to tie the petticoat the naked shape of our pussy and the clean line of our ass remained clear under the clothes.
We knew the men who watched us at the river could see it clearly. When we stepped out of the water with the petticoat still tied high, they saw the completely naked pussy, smooth and glistening. When we turned they saw the naked cleft between our ass cheeks. When we lifted our arms to adjust the knot they saw the soft naked armpits. The smoothness made them stare harder. The nakedness made them stroke faster. We felt their eyes on every clean, hairless part of us and we did not hide.
We kept ourselves this way every day, not only for the nights our husbands reached for us and slid their fingers or their cocks over the smooth skin, but because the village had always done it. Fresh. Smooth. Completely naked in the places that mattered. Our pussies, our assholes, our armpits — all of it stayed clean-shaved and ready, a quiet tradition that made our bodies even more open, even more tempting, to the eyes that followed us wherever we went.
Other than these shows at the river, the long looks we allowed in the town, and the occasional soft kisses or brief hugs that happened here and there when no one important was watching, we were loyal to our husbands.
We never let another man’s cock inside us. We never let another man’s fingers stay long enough between our thighs to open us. We never took another man into our mouths. The heat we created outside — the way we let the village men watch us strip and bathe naked in the clean river, the way we dressed slowly for their eyes, the way shopkeepers and outsiders stared at the heavy shape of our breasts and the wide stretch of our hips — all of that stayed outside the house. Inside our homes we belonged only to our husbands.
At home we made sure we gave them the maximum pleasure.
When the children were finally asleep and the door was closed, we changed. We stood in front of our husbands and removed the saree ourselves, letting it fall in a slow heap at our feet. We unhooked the blouse and slid it off our shoulders, watching their eyes drop to our breasts still held by the bra. We reached behind and unhooked the bra, peeling the cups away so our heavy breasts came free and full into the open air of the room. We pushed the petticoat down over our hips, then hooked our thumbs into the waistband of our panties and slid them down over our ass cheeks and thighs until we could step out of them. We stood completely naked in front of them — heavy breasts, clean-shaved pussy, smooth ass cheeks, soft naked armpits — and let them look for as long as they wanted before we moved closer.
We used everything we had. We knelt between their legs and took their cocks in our hands first, stroking the full length slowly, feeling them harden against our palms. Then we leaned down and took them into our mouths. We sucked them deep, letting our tongues press and slide along the underside, our lips tight around the cock, our heavy breasts hanging down and brushing against their thighs with every movement of our heads. We looked up at them while we sucked, knowing they liked to watch our mouths stretched around their cocks. When they were fully hard and wet from our mouths we climbed onto them. We positioned our clean-shaved pussies over the head of their cocks and lowered ourselves slowly, inch by inch, feeling every bit of them open our naked pussy lips and push inside until we were sitting fully on them, filled completely.
We moved for them. We rose and fell in long, deep strokes, our breasts swaying heavily with each movement. We ground our shaved mounds against them in slow circles so they felt the smooth, hairless skin rubbing against their bodies. When they wanted us from behind we went onto our hands and knees without being asked, arching our backs so our ass cheeks opened and our naked pussy pushed back toward them, open and ready. We let them grip our hips and fuck us as hard and as deep as they needed. The sound of their bodies meeting ours filled the small room. We moaned for them — soft at first, then louder when they hit the right place inside us — and we tightened our pussies around their cocks whenever we felt them swell and get closer.
We took their cum wherever they wanted it. Inside our pussies, so that it filled us and leaked slowly down our thighs when we finally stayed still. Across our heavy breasts, so that we could feel the warm streaks on our nipples and the upper curves. On our tongues and lips, so that we could swallow or show them what they had given us. Even after they finished we did not pull away at once. We stayed close, letting them keep their hands on our breasts or between our thighs, letting them feel the wetness they had left on our clean-shaved pussy, letting them catch their breath against our necks while our bodies remained open and available.
The shows we gave other men stopped at the riverbank and the market lanes. The small kisses and hugs that sometimes happened outside stayed unfinished and light. At home, with our husbands, we held nothing back. Our mouths, our heavy breasts, our clean-shaved pussies, our tight holes, our full attention — all of it belonged to them. We made certain they felt it every single time, until they had taken everything they needed from us and lay satisfied beside our naked bodies.
Not just washed in the river, but carefully, completely clean in every place a man might look or touch. We kept our pussies clean-shaved, completely smooth and naked, no hair left on the soft lips or the mound above them. We kept our assholes clean-shaved as well, the skin around them left smooth and naked so that nothing interrupted the deep cleft between our ass cheeks. We shaved our armpits too, leaving them soft and open. This was not only for our husbands. It was our village tradition, followed by every married woman and every young girl who had begun to bleed. The older women had taught us when we were still small. Keep everything smooth. Keep everything fresh. A woman’s body should feel clean under her own fingers and under a man’s hands.
We followed the tradition without fail.
After every river bath we checked ourselves slowly. We stood on the stones or in the privacy of our courtyards and ran our fingers over the naked mound of our pussy, feeling the soft, hairless skin, tracing the outer lips to make sure no new hair had begun to push through. We spread our ass cheeks with both hands and felt the smooth, naked skin around our assholes, confirming that the cleft stayed clean and open. We lifted each arm in turn and ran our fingers over the soft, naked armpits. When the hair began to return we sat with a small mirror and a blade, or we helped one another after the children were asleep, one woman holding the mirror while the other shaved carefully between her friend’s open thighs or along the curve of her ass. The result was always the same — completely naked pussy lips that showed their full shape under wet panties, a naked asshole that stayed neat even when our ass cheeks spread, soft naked armpits that never collected sweat the way unshaved ones did.
Because we stayed clean-shaved, everything about our bodies felt different when we moved. The panties sat directly against our naked pussy lips with nothing between them. Every step made the soft panel of the panties rub slowly over the smooth, hairless skin, a constant light friction that kept us aware of ourselves. When the cool river water touched us it touched naked skin at once — flowing straight over our shaved pussy, slipping into the naked cleft of our ass, sliding across our naked armpits when we lifted our arms. When we walked the long forest path the same soft friction continued between our thighs. When we bent to pick something up or to tie the petticoat the naked shape of our pussy and the clean line of our ass remained clear under the clothes.
We knew the men who watched us at the river could see it clearly. When we stepped out of the water with the petticoat still tied high, they saw the completely naked pussy, smooth and glistening. When we turned they saw the naked cleft between our ass cheeks. When we lifted our arms to adjust the knot they saw the soft naked armpits. The smoothness made them stare harder. The nakedness made them stroke faster. We felt their eyes on every clean, hairless part of us and we did not hide.
We kept ourselves this way every day, not only for the nights our husbands reached for us and slid their fingers or their cocks over the smooth skin, but because the village had always done it. Fresh. Smooth. Completely naked in the places that mattered. Our pussies, our assholes, our armpits — all of it stayed clean-shaved and ready, a quiet tradition that made our bodies even more open, even more tempting, to the eyes that followed us wherever we went.
Other than these shows at the river, the long looks we allowed in the town, and the occasional soft kisses or brief hugs that happened here and there when no one important was watching, we were loyal to our husbands.
We never let another man’s cock inside us. We never let another man’s fingers stay long enough between our thighs to open us. We never took another man into our mouths. The heat we created outside — the way we let the village men watch us strip and bathe naked in the clean river, the way we dressed slowly for their eyes, the way shopkeepers and outsiders stared at the heavy shape of our breasts and the wide stretch of our hips — all of that stayed outside the house. Inside our homes we belonged only to our husbands.
At home we made sure we gave them the maximum pleasure.
When the children were finally asleep and the door was closed, we changed. We stood in front of our husbands and removed the saree ourselves, letting it fall in a slow heap at our feet. We unhooked the blouse and slid it off our shoulders, watching their eyes drop to our breasts still held by the bra. We reached behind and unhooked the bra, peeling the cups away so our heavy breasts came free and full into the open air of the room. We pushed the petticoat down over our hips, then hooked our thumbs into the waistband of our panties and slid them down over our ass cheeks and thighs until we could step out of them. We stood completely naked in front of them — heavy breasts, clean-shaved pussy, smooth ass cheeks, soft naked armpits — and let them look for as long as they wanted before we moved closer.
We used everything we had. We knelt between their legs and took their cocks in our hands first, stroking the full length slowly, feeling them harden against our palms. Then we leaned down and took them into our mouths. We sucked them deep, letting our tongues press and slide along the underside, our lips tight around the cock, our heavy breasts hanging down and brushing against their thighs with every movement of our heads. We looked up at them while we sucked, knowing they liked to watch our mouths stretched around their cocks. When they were fully hard and wet from our mouths we climbed onto them. We positioned our clean-shaved pussies over the head of their cocks and lowered ourselves slowly, inch by inch, feeling every bit of them open our naked pussy lips and push inside until we were sitting fully on them, filled completely.
We moved for them. We rose and fell in long, deep strokes, our breasts swaying heavily with each movement. We ground our shaved mounds against them in slow circles so they felt the smooth, hairless skin rubbing against their bodies. When they wanted us from behind we went onto our hands and knees without being asked, arching our backs so our ass cheeks opened and our naked pussy pushed back toward them, open and ready. We let them grip our hips and fuck us as hard and as deep as they needed. The sound of their bodies meeting ours filled the small room. We moaned for them — soft at first, then louder when they hit the right place inside us — and we tightened our pussies around their cocks whenever we felt them swell and get closer.
We took their cum wherever they wanted it. Inside our pussies, so that it filled us and leaked slowly down our thighs when we finally stayed still. Across our heavy breasts, so that we could feel the warm streaks on our nipples and the upper curves. On our tongues and lips, so that we could swallow or show them what they had given us. Even after they finished we did not pull away at once. We stayed close, letting them keep their hands on our breasts or between our thighs, letting them feel the wetness they had left on our clean-shaved pussy, letting them catch their breath against our necks while our bodies remained open and available.
The shows we gave other men stopped at the riverbank and the market lanes. The small kisses and hugs that sometimes happened outside stayed unfinished and light. At home, with our husbands, we held nothing back. Our mouths, our heavy breasts, our clean-shaved pussies, our tight holes, our full attention — all of it belonged to them. We made certain they felt it every single time, until they had taken everything they needed from us and lay satisfied beside our naked bodies.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)