04-10-2026, 11:13 PM
I trembled as I felt his hand on my shoulder. The idea of rubbing oil all over my near naked father-in-law not just embarrassed me; but to my shame, it also aroused me. And why wouldn’t it arouse me? I had clearly seen the man displaying his extraordinary physical prowess, all the while showing his incredible body.
I looked around to check if anyone had seen us. After making sure the coast was clear, I got up and went inside.
When I entered the bathroom, Baba was already sitting on the small stool, and I thanked God he hadn’t taken off his langote. I pulled up the gown above my knees and tied it in a knot around my waist. That way I kept it from getting wet and it also allowed some room to move freely.
I then poured a generous quantity of warm oil, which I had fetched from the kitchen on one hand before rubbing it on both of my hands. Starting from his shoulders, I applied and rubbed in the warm oil using deep strokes. I then went down to his arms. I had seen his muscles from a distance and now I could feel them with my hand.
His muscles were hard, his skin was soft, yet firm. I knelt down before taking another fistful of oil. Baba sat up straight and pushed his chest out, giving me room to oil his torso. Just like his shoulders and arms, his chest was muscular and well defined. His stomach was almost flat with just a bit of fat, which was okay, considering his age. His muscles and the thick patch of hair on his torso felt different, but good.
“Hmmmm… your hands are soft, but you know how to do a deep massage, Shalu…” Baba said appreciatively.
“Hehe… thanks Baba… I used to do this to Rahul quite often but now apply oil to him only on Diwali morning,” I replied.
I tried to maintain a sense of composure, but inside I was burning. My body felt hot, I had goosebumps already and my pussy was throbbing and leaking. I looked in the mirror behind him and saw my cheeks had turned red from a flush of blood.
After I finished oiling his torso, I stood up and went behind him. I then took the bowl of oil and started pouring the oil directly onto his back. It needed a good quantity, as he was large. I then started rubbing his back, pushing my fingers deep into his skin.
“Ummm… that’s good… that’s the spot…” he moaned.
I slowly rubbed the oil all over his back, focusing on his shoulders and arms and then sliding down to his back. I spent a few minutes massaging his back.
“Done Baba… now you can have a bath.” I said as I stood up.
“We are not done. What about my legs?” he said with a mischievous smile.
“Can’t you do it by yourself?” I pleaded.
“Bet is a bet. I won, and you lost. Now be a gracious loser and finish what you started,” he said tersely.
Son and father are both so competitive, I thought. Rahul too loved a challenge and would enjoy making me work after winning. “Okay Baba,” I replied.
“How about you sit on the stool and I will stand. That way, you can massage my legs easily,” he said before standing up.
Baba then held my hand and guided me to the stool. I sat on the stool and he stood in front of me, barely half a foot away. His langote covered crotch was right in front of me. I looked up at him and he gestured to me with his raised eyebrows to continue.
With a palm full of oil, I started massaging his feet, slowly moving up his legs. They were remarkably muscular and his calves were firm because of years of regular exercise and the physical nature of his work. I spent some time massaging his calves and shins. I looked up at him now and then and he looked back at me with a smile – a rather triumphant smile.
The house was empty and I, a 35 year old married woman, was massaging my 60 year old father-in-law’s legs, in his bathroom. My father-in-law had just a thin loin cloth covering his crotch, whereas I had a flimsy cotton nighty on with my legs showing as I had pulled by my gown up to my knees for ease of movement.
“I am sorry, I have a very hairy body,” he said, looking down at me.
“Why are you sorry, Baba?” I asked curiously.
“Young girls like you find hairy men repulsive, don’t they?” he asked.
“Haha… the media has brainwashed our generation with hairless men, so…” I said, shrugging.
“But a hairy body is a sign of high testosterone,” he said.
“Yes… I have heard that…” I replied, trying to gauge the direction of the conversation.
By now my hands were roaming freely on his thighs, massaging them with oil. I was careful not to let my hands wander close to his crotch. I had stolen a few glances, and his erection was obvious. Unlike last night, he was not only a few inches away from me and this time, he wasn’t wearing a lungi. I could clearly make out his erect phallus under the thin cloth of the langote.
“And men with high testosterone also have a high libido,” he said suggestively.
“Ah… so that’s why Rahul has a hairy body too… no wonder he wouldn’t keep his hands to himself,” I replied teasingly, steering the conversation in a completely different direction.
“Ah… yes… yes… that may be the reason,” Baba said, stumbling for words, clearly taken aback.
“Can you turn on the hot water tap, Baba?” I asked, continuing the massage. He turned on the tap and the hot water started pouring into the bucket next to us.
A couple of minutes passed in silence as I continued massaging his thighs and legs and he kept watching me. I kept stealing glances at his tightly bound erection, unsure if he knew I was. This time his penis was forming a tent in his langote, but rather than straight up, it pushed back against his groin. It looked like a cucumber stuffed sideways under the langote. But the cloth was thick, which is why I could only make out its contour and couldn’t see it properly.
I had to resist a powerful urge to touch it. My hands wandered near it, with the tip of my fingers brushing against the lower end of the langote. Every time my hands reached near, I could see his erection strain against the langote, as if trying to burst out. I could feel goosebumps rise on his body and on mine too.
‘It looks as long as Rahul’s, but… is it really that thick?’ I wondered. Maybe the cloth was adding to the appearance of its unusual girth, I thought.
The bucket was now full and overflowing with warm water. I stopped the massage and stood up. “Baba… why don’t you sit on the stool? I will give you a bath today,” I said, pointing to the stool.
Baba looked surprised at my words. He looked at the stool and then at me for a second. “Shalu… the bet was only for an oil massage,” he said.
“Yeah… but I thought I might as well do this, too. Your son doesn’t have the time to get pampered by his wife; I thought maybe you’ll like some pampering in his place,” I replied.
“Hahaha… Unlike my son, I won’t leave chances of being pampered by a pretty lady like you,” he said and enthusiastically sat on the stool.
I stood in front of him with a mug of hot water and poured it on his head. Some of the water splashed on me, making my gown a little wet. After pouring a couple of mugs of water on his head, I took a dollop of shampoo in my hand and started applying it.
“You still have very nice hair, Baba. It’s so thick and smooth. What’s your hair care routine?” I asked him as my soapy fingers ran through his luscious hair.
“Hair care routine? What’s that? It’s just genetics, Beta,” he replied with a chuckle.
“You’re blessed in so many ways,” I said.
“Really… what am I blessed with?” he asked.
“A nice head of hair, a great body, and a great co…” I abruptly stopped before I blurred it out foolishly.
“A great what? What was the last thing?” He probed naughtily.
“A great family… a great family…” I replied and started giggling, and so did Baba.
“Ya, God has been kind to me, but he has been generous to you,” he replied.
“Generous? Ya, I mean I am married into a wealthy family and my husband is a senior bureaucrat,” I replied before I poured a couple of mugs of warm water on his head, washing the shampoo away.
“Yes, but I didn’t mean it that way,” he said.
“Then what?” I asked naively.
“Buddhu… God has been generous to you. He has given you a very beautiful face and a great body,” he replied.
“Great body?? I don’t think that’s true,” I replied dismissively. I sat on my haunches and started applying soap on his body. I was now face to face with him as my hand roamed freely on his body, soaping it.
“Don’t be so modest, Shalu. You know you have a great body,” he replied.
Even though I tried sounding modest, Baba was right. God had been generous to me. I am five and a half feet tall, taller than most Indian women. My Indian genes have given me a head full of thick, luscious hair which flows down to my back. I wasn’t fair like a kashmiri or a pahadi girl, but my slightly dark complexion added to my radiant, expressive eyes and a sharp nose. I have full, pink lips, which my husband loves to kiss and munch on.
In college, I was known as the skinny girl with big tits. My 32C breasts looked large for my petite frame, but after marriage and motherhood, my body filled up in the right places. My breasts grew to 34C. I went from wearing a size 28 pant to size 36. Fortunately, my stomach stayed relatively flat, and the growth happened mostly in my butt and thighs. Hair was always sparse on my body, even in the pubic area, and I made sure to remove it regularly, making my skin smooth, unblemished, and flawless. I had become what my husband teasingly called a MILF.
“It’s not Rahul’s high testosterone levels to blame, you know?” he said, breaking the silence.
“Huh…what?” I fumbled as he broke my chain of thought.
“There is more than one reason why Rahul can’t keep his hands off you,” he said.
“Accha? And what is it?” I asked.
“With a woman like you around him, it would be near impossible for men to resist the temptation, and that includes me,” he replied shamelessly.
I looked at him with my eyebrows raised. He looked at me and winked. My soap coated hands were on his chest as we continued staring at each other.
“You’re such a flirt, Baba…” I said with a giggle and playfully threw a handful of water on his face. He turned his face away laughing and then started splashing water on me, too. We splashed water on each other, laughing and giggling like teenagers. He grabbed the mug and was about to pour the water on me when I pushed him away and tried running out of the bathroom. He tried grabbing my hand and pulling me back, but my soapy, slippery hands slipped out of his grip and I ran to the door.
“Hey… we are still not done here,” he called out.
I stopped at the bathroom door and looked back at him. He was covered in soap with just the wet, flimsy langote around his hip. I giggled looking at him and said, “Resist the temptation,” and walked out.
When I walked into my room, I thought Baba would follow, but luckily, he didn’t. He quietly finished his bath and got ready to go out. Baba knew he was treading a thin line and pushing it too far too early was unwise. He called me from the courtyard and told me he was going out for work and would be back by evening.
I was extremely aroused and turned on. He was flirting with me openly, and I responded to his advances. I feared falling to the temptation myself, having spent the entire morning with my stud father-in-law, watching his body closely and then touching his body during the bath. I spent the whole time aroused and dripping wet.
I was going to masturbate and relieve my arousal, but before I could, I heard the horn of the bus. Aai and the rest of the family were back. I quickly changed my clothes and went down to meet them. I spent some time with them and then went for a bath before proceeding with the rest of the day.
The rest of the day was uneventful. Baba came back by sunset and joined the family. We exchanged glances and smiles occasionally but kept our distance.
I looked around to check if anyone had seen us. After making sure the coast was clear, I got up and went inside.
When I entered the bathroom, Baba was already sitting on the small stool, and I thanked God he hadn’t taken off his langote. I pulled up the gown above my knees and tied it in a knot around my waist. That way I kept it from getting wet and it also allowed some room to move freely.
I then poured a generous quantity of warm oil, which I had fetched from the kitchen on one hand before rubbing it on both of my hands. Starting from his shoulders, I applied and rubbed in the warm oil using deep strokes. I then went down to his arms. I had seen his muscles from a distance and now I could feel them with my hand.
His muscles were hard, his skin was soft, yet firm. I knelt down before taking another fistful of oil. Baba sat up straight and pushed his chest out, giving me room to oil his torso. Just like his shoulders and arms, his chest was muscular and well defined. His stomach was almost flat with just a bit of fat, which was okay, considering his age. His muscles and the thick patch of hair on his torso felt different, but good.
“Hmmmm… your hands are soft, but you know how to do a deep massage, Shalu…” Baba said appreciatively.
“Hehe… thanks Baba… I used to do this to Rahul quite often but now apply oil to him only on Diwali morning,” I replied.
I tried to maintain a sense of composure, but inside I was burning. My body felt hot, I had goosebumps already and my pussy was throbbing and leaking. I looked in the mirror behind him and saw my cheeks had turned red from a flush of blood.
After I finished oiling his torso, I stood up and went behind him. I then took the bowl of oil and started pouring the oil directly onto his back. It needed a good quantity, as he was large. I then started rubbing his back, pushing my fingers deep into his skin.
“Ummm… that’s good… that’s the spot…” he moaned.
I slowly rubbed the oil all over his back, focusing on his shoulders and arms and then sliding down to his back. I spent a few minutes massaging his back.
“Done Baba… now you can have a bath.” I said as I stood up.
“We are not done. What about my legs?” he said with a mischievous smile.
“Can’t you do it by yourself?” I pleaded.
“Bet is a bet. I won, and you lost. Now be a gracious loser and finish what you started,” he said tersely.
Son and father are both so competitive, I thought. Rahul too loved a challenge and would enjoy making me work after winning. “Okay Baba,” I replied.
“How about you sit on the stool and I will stand. That way, you can massage my legs easily,” he said before standing up.
Baba then held my hand and guided me to the stool. I sat on the stool and he stood in front of me, barely half a foot away. His langote covered crotch was right in front of me. I looked up at him and he gestured to me with his raised eyebrows to continue.
With a palm full of oil, I started massaging his feet, slowly moving up his legs. They were remarkably muscular and his calves were firm because of years of regular exercise and the physical nature of his work. I spent some time massaging his calves and shins. I looked up at him now and then and he looked back at me with a smile – a rather triumphant smile.
The house was empty and I, a 35 year old married woman, was massaging my 60 year old father-in-law’s legs, in his bathroom. My father-in-law had just a thin loin cloth covering his crotch, whereas I had a flimsy cotton nighty on with my legs showing as I had pulled by my gown up to my knees for ease of movement.
“I am sorry, I have a very hairy body,” he said, looking down at me.
“Why are you sorry, Baba?” I asked curiously.
“Young girls like you find hairy men repulsive, don’t they?” he asked.
“Haha… the media has brainwashed our generation with hairless men, so…” I said, shrugging.
“But a hairy body is a sign of high testosterone,” he said.
“Yes… I have heard that…” I replied, trying to gauge the direction of the conversation.
By now my hands were roaming freely on his thighs, massaging them with oil. I was careful not to let my hands wander close to his crotch. I had stolen a few glances, and his erection was obvious. Unlike last night, he was not only a few inches away from me and this time, he wasn’t wearing a lungi. I could clearly make out his erect phallus under the thin cloth of the langote.
“And men with high testosterone also have a high libido,” he said suggestively.
“Ah… so that’s why Rahul has a hairy body too… no wonder he wouldn’t keep his hands to himself,” I replied teasingly, steering the conversation in a completely different direction.
“Ah… yes… yes… that may be the reason,” Baba said, stumbling for words, clearly taken aback.
“Can you turn on the hot water tap, Baba?” I asked, continuing the massage. He turned on the tap and the hot water started pouring into the bucket next to us.
A couple of minutes passed in silence as I continued massaging his thighs and legs and he kept watching me. I kept stealing glances at his tightly bound erection, unsure if he knew I was. This time his penis was forming a tent in his langote, but rather than straight up, it pushed back against his groin. It looked like a cucumber stuffed sideways under the langote. But the cloth was thick, which is why I could only make out its contour and couldn’t see it properly.
I had to resist a powerful urge to touch it. My hands wandered near it, with the tip of my fingers brushing against the lower end of the langote. Every time my hands reached near, I could see his erection strain against the langote, as if trying to burst out. I could feel goosebumps rise on his body and on mine too.
‘It looks as long as Rahul’s, but… is it really that thick?’ I wondered. Maybe the cloth was adding to the appearance of its unusual girth, I thought.
The bucket was now full and overflowing with warm water. I stopped the massage and stood up. “Baba… why don’t you sit on the stool? I will give you a bath today,” I said, pointing to the stool.
Baba looked surprised at my words. He looked at the stool and then at me for a second. “Shalu… the bet was only for an oil massage,” he said.
“Yeah… but I thought I might as well do this, too. Your son doesn’t have the time to get pampered by his wife; I thought maybe you’ll like some pampering in his place,” I replied.
“Hahaha… Unlike my son, I won’t leave chances of being pampered by a pretty lady like you,” he said and enthusiastically sat on the stool.
I stood in front of him with a mug of hot water and poured it on his head. Some of the water splashed on me, making my gown a little wet. After pouring a couple of mugs of water on his head, I took a dollop of shampoo in my hand and started applying it.
“You still have very nice hair, Baba. It’s so thick and smooth. What’s your hair care routine?” I asked him as my soapy fingers ran through his luscious hair.
“Hair care routine? What’s that? It’s just genetics, Beta,” he replied with a chuckle.
“You’re blessed in so many ways,” I said.
“Really… what am I blessed with?” he asked.
“A nice head of hair, a great body, and a great co…” I abruptly stopped before I blurred it out foolishly.
“A great what? What was the last thing?” He probed naughtily.
“A great family… a great family…” I replied and started giggling, and so did Baba.
“Ya, God has been kind to me, but he has been generous to you,” he replied.
“Generous? Ya, I mean I am married into a wealthy family and my husband is a senior bureaucrat,” I replied before I poured a couple of mugs of warm water on his head, washing the shampoo away.
“Yes, but I didn’t mean it that way,” he said.
“Then what?” I asked naively.
“Buddhu… God has been generous to you. He has given you a very beautiful face and a great body,” he replied.
“Great body?? I don’t think that’s true,” I replied dismissively. I sat on my haunches and started applying soap on his body. I was now face to face with him as my hand roamed freely on his body, soaping it.
“Don’t be so modest, Shalu. You know you have a great body,” he replied.
Even though I tried sounding modest, Baba was right. God had been generous to me. I am five and a half feet tall, taller than most Indian women. My Indian genes have given me a head full of thick, luscious hair which flows down to my back. I wasn’t fair like a kashmiri or a pahadi girl, but my slightly dark complexion added to my radiant, expressive eyes and a sharp nose. I have full, pink lips, which my husband loves to kiss and munch on.
In college, I was known as the skinny girl with big tits. My 32C breasts looked large for my petite frame, but after marriage and motherhood, my body filled up in the right places. My breasts grew to 34C. I went from wearing a size 28 pant to size 36. Fortunately, my stomach stayed relatively flat, and the growth happened mostly in my butt and thighs. Hair was always sparse on my body, even in the pubic area, and I made sure to remove it regularly, making my skin smooth, unblemished, and flawless. I had become what my husband teasingly called a MILF.
“It’s not Rahul’s high testosterone levels to blame, you know?” he said, breaking the silence.
“Huh…what?” I fumbled as he broke my chain of thought.
“There is more than one reason why Rahul can’t keep his hands off you,” he said.
“Accha? And what is it?” I asked.
“With a woman like you around him, it would be near impossible for men to resist the temptation, and that includes me,” he replied shamelessly.
I looked at him with my eyebrows raised. He looked at me and winked. My soap coated hands were on his chest as we continued staring at each other.
“You’re such a flirt, Baba…” I said with a giggle and playfully threw a handful of water on his face. He turned his face away laughing and then started splashing water on me, too. We splashed water on each other, laughing and giggling like teenagers. He grabbed the mug and was about to pour the water on me when I pushed him away and tried running out of the bathroom. He tried grabbing my hand and pulling me back, but my soapy, slippery hands slipped out of his grip and I ran to the door.
“Hey… we are still not done here,” he called out.
I stopped at the bathroom door and looked back at him. He was covered in soap with just the wet, flimsy langote around his hip. I giggled looking at him and said, “Resist the temptation,” and walked out.
When I walked into my room, I thought Baba would follow, but luckily, he didn’t. He quietly finished his bath and got ready to go out. Baba knew he was treading a thin line and pushing it too far too early was unwise. He called me from the courtyard and told me he was going out for work and would be back by evening.
I was extremely aroused and turned on. He was flirting with me openly, and I responded to his advances. I feared falling to the temptation myself, having spent the entire morning with my stud father-in-law, watching his body closely and then touching his body during the bath. I spent the whole time aroused and dripping wet.
I was going to masturbate and relieve my arousal, but before I could, I heard the horn of the bus. Aai and the rest of the family were back. I quickly changed my clothes and went down to meet them. I spent some time with them and then went for a bath before proceeding with the rest of the day.
The rest of the day was uneventful. Baba came back by sunset and joined the family. We exchanged glances and smiles occasionally but kept our distance.
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