https://xossipy.com/ Wed, 02 Sep 2026 00:35:55 +0000 MyBB https://xossipy.com/thread-75137.html Tue, 01 Sep 2026 10:44:19 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75137.html Delhi ki garmi us din bhi normal se zyada thi. Mayur Vihar Phase-1 ke us 3 BHK flat mein AC ki awaaz chal rahi thi, kitchen se zeera-jeera wali daal ki khushboo aa rahi thi, aur Saima kitchen counter ke paas khadi thi — 29 saal, do bacchon ki maa, lekin dekhne mein abhi bhi aisi ke log pehli nazar mein umar ka andaza nahi laga paate.

Kaale lambe baal loose the, halka makeup, slim-waist pe cream colour ka kurta jo body pe chipka hua tha, neeche tight black jeggings. Figure aisa tha jo kapde chhupaate nahi, dikhate the. Chest heavy, kamar patli, heaps round. Rehan aksar kehta tha “tu ghar pe bhi aise kapde kyun pehenti hai”, Saima hans ke jawab deti — “apne ghar mein apni marzi.”

Doorbell baji.

Rehan ne darwaza khola. Bahar Jamil khada tha — ek suitcase, ek backpack, aur woh body jo Rehan ke dimaag mein “relative” ke box mein fit nahi karti thi. Chhada hua seena, moti gardan, tight T-shirt ke neeche veins, baazu aise jaise gym se seedha aaya ho. Height Rehan se 3-4 inch zyada. Chehra seedha, beard trim, aankhein thodi patli — lekin muskurahat itni simple thi ke Rehan turant bol padha:

“Arre bhai, aagaye? Andar aao, kitni garmi hai bahar.”

Jamil ne haath milaya. Grip tight thi.

“Rehan bhai, takleef nahi deni thi. Bas 10-12 din ka kaam hai dilli mein. Hotel mehnga pad raha tha.”

“Kaun si takleef? Saima se baat ho chuki hai. Teesra room khali hi pada hai. Bacche college jaate hain, ghar bada hai. Rahiye aaram se.”

Saima peeche se aayi. Jamil ne usko dekha — ek second zyada. Itna nahi ke Rehan notice kare, lekin itna zaroor ke Saima ke andar ek ajeeb si chubhan hui.

“Adaab,” Saima ne kaha, aankh nicha karke.

“Adaab bhabhi.” Jamil ki awaaz bhaari thi, lekin andaaz namr. “Aapne itni mehman-nawazi kar di.”

Rehan hans pada. “Arre yeh koi mehman nahi, ghar ka hi hai. Saima, chai bana de. Main iska bag room mein rakh aata hoon.”

Jamil ke liye jo room diya gaya tha woh balcony wala tha. Window se colony ki gali dikhti thi, saamne dusre flats ke kitchen. Rehan sochta raha — kitna seedha aadmi hai. Family mein sab kehte the Jamil thoda kam bolta hai, ..,. hai, kisi se jhagra nahi karta. Rehan ko yahi pasand tha. Dilli mein aadmi kam milte hain jo ghar aake seedhe rehte hain.

Lekin Jamil jab akela room mein aaya, suitcase khola, pehle phone silent kiya. Phir usne dheere se darwaza band kiya aur balcony ki side se living area ki jhalak li.

Saima kitchen mein thi. Kurta upar uthate hue usne upar wala shelf liya. Jeggings kamar pe tight. Peeth ki line saaf dikh rahi thi. Jamil ne kuch second dekha, phir muskuraaya — woh muskurahat jo Rehan ne kabhi nahi dekhi thi.

*Seedha?*  
Andar se uske dimaag mein sirf ek baat thi: *Yeh ghar, yeh aurat, yeh pati jo mujhe bhola samajh raha hai.*

Raat ka khana simple tha — roti, chicken qorma, salad. Bacche pehle so gaye the, unka room band. Dining table pe teeno baithe. Rehan office ki complaint kar raha tha — “yaar yeh dilli ki job khati hai aadmi ko. Roz 10-7, traffic, boss.”

Jamil sun raha tha, beech-beech mein “haan bhai” karta. Saima chupchaap serve karti. Kabhi-kabhi uth ke kitchen jaati. Jab woh uthti, Jamil ki nazar ek pal uske hips pe rukti, phir plate pe aa jaati. Rehan ko kuch nahi dikha.

Khana ke baad Rehan TV on karta. Saima bartan dhone chali. Jamil ne help ke liye kitchen ki taraf kadam badhaya.

“Main kar loongi,” Saima ne kaha, thoda tez.

“Koi baat nahi bhabhi, haath mil jaaye toh jaldi ho jata hai.”

Woh sink ke paas khada ho gaya. Kitchen chhota tha. Do log hon toh kandhe takraate hain. Saima ke baaju se Jamil ka baazu laga. Uske body se halki cologne + garmi ki smell aa rahi thi. Saima ne ek second saans roki, phir bartan tez-tez manjane lagi.

“Aapke bacche kitne pyaare hain,” Jamil ne quietly kaha. “Aur aap… ghar sambhal rahi ho, shakal se thakawati nahi lagti.”

Saima ne muh nahi ghumaaya. “Shukriya.”

“Rehan bhai lucky hain.”

Yeh line simple thi. Itni simple ke gila nahi kar sakti thi. Lekin Saima ke kaan mein woh line thodi der tak ghunti rahi.

Raat ko 12 bajke Rehan so gaya. Usne Saima ko bhi side pe kheench liya, ek kiss ki, haath uski kamar tak gaya, phir thakaan mein so gaya. Normal. Roz ka.

Saima 10 minute aankh band karke padi rahi. Phir uth ke bathroom gayi. Wahan usne aaine mein khud ko dekha.

Night dress aaj wahi thi jo Rehan ko pasand thi — maroon satin, patli straps, neeche thigh tak. Andar matching panty. Figure aaine mein clearly kat raha tha. 29 saal, do delivery ke baad bhi pet tight, chest heavy. Usne khud se kaha — *kuch soch mat. Relative hai. Rehan ka bharosa hai.*

Wapas aayi toh living room ke through jaana pada. Teesre room ka darwaza halka sa khula tha. Andar light nahi thi. Sirf phone ki screen ki glow.

Jamil bed pe baitha tha, seedha. Usne Saima ko night dress mein dekha — ek lamha lamba. Saima ne pace tez ki, apne room mein ghusi, darwaza band kiya.

Us raat neend late aayi.

Doosre din subah Rehan office nikal gaya 8:40 pe. Bacche college van se. Ghar mein Saima aur Jamil.

Saima soch rahi thi Jamil bhi nikal jaayega kaam pe. Lekin Jamil kitchen mein chai bana raha tha, sirf lower pe, upar black vest. Body poori nazar aa rahi thi — chest, pet ke upar lines, baazu.

“Bhabhi, aapke liye bhi nikaal doon?”

Saima ne dupatta sambhala. Aaj usne socha tha normal suit pehnungi, lekin subah jaldi mein peach colour ka short kurta aur white tight pant pehan li thi. Ghar ka kapda. Ghar mein hi toh thi.

“Main bana leti,” usne kaha.

“Ho gayi hai.” Jamil ne cup extend kiya. Ungliyon ka touch cup ke edge pe hua. Chhota sa. Galti jaisa.

Saima cup leke sofa pe baith gayi. Jamil saamne wale single seater pe. TV off tha. Sirf AC.

“Aapka kaam kahan hai dilli mein?” Saima ne baat ghumayi.

“Okhla side. Kuch documents, kuch log milne hain. Aaj shaam ko nikalunga. Subah… socha rest kar loon.”

Woh Saima ko dekh raha tha jaise baat sun raha ho. Lekin uski nazar kabhi uske gale pe jaati, kabhi kurta ke neckline pe, kabhi uske pair jo sofa pe fold the.

Saima ko ehsaas ho raha tha. Usne pair neeche utaar liye.

Dupahar ko Saima apne room mein kapde change kar rahi thi. Door poora band nahi kiya tha — ghar mein aadat thi, Rehan ke time pe bhi kabhi-kabhi adhkhula rehta. Usne kurta utara, bra adjust ki. Tab usne feeling li ke koi nazar hai.

Corridor ke sheeshe mein, halki si reflection.

Jamil bathroom se laut raha tha. Ruka. Ek second, do second. Phir pair tez karke apne room chala gaya.

Saima ke haath kaam karna bhool gaye. Dil tez tha. Gussa bhi aaya — *kameena, dekh raha tha.*  
Saath mein ek aur feeling aayi jise usne turant daba diya.

Shaam ko Rehan aaya, normal. “Jamil kaise hai? Takleef to nahi de raha?”

Saima kitchen mein thi, dinner pe. “Nahi. Bahut seedha hai.”

Rehan prasann ho gaya. “Maine kaha tha na. Family ka hai. Tension mat lo.”

Raat ko khane ke baad Rehan call pe lag gaya, balcony mein. Saima bartan. Jamil is baar help ke liye nahi aaya. Living room mein TV lagaye baitha tha.

Jab Saima bartan khatam karke nikalti, Jamil ne remote se volume kam kiya.

“Bhabhi, ek baat poochun?”

Saima ruki.

“Rehan bhai roz itne late aate hain. Aap akeli nahi ghabraati yahan?”

“Dilli hai. Aadat ho gayi.”

Jamil ne dheere se kaha, “Agar kabhi kuch kaam ho, market, bottle, kuch bhi… main hoon na.”

Line care ki thi. Andar se ownership ki.

Saima ne sirf itna kaha, “Theek hai.” Aur nikal gayi.

Teejri raat.

Bacche soye. Rehan 12 baje so gaya, thak ke. Saima ko neend nahi aa rahi thi. Woh uth ke paani lene gayi.

Kitchen dark tha, sirf chimney light. Usne glass liya. Peeth ke peeche se awaaz aayi.

“Neend nahi aa rahi?”

Saima palati. Jamil fridge ke paas, sirf lower, vest nahi. Body pe paseena nahi, bas garmi. Woh kareeb aa gaya, lekin touch nahi kiya.

“Aap tension mein ho,” usne dheemi awaaz mein kaha. “Chehre pe dikhta hai.”

“Kuch nahi hai.”

“Hai. Aur aap chhupa rahi ho Rehan bhai se. Woh samajhte hain main seedha hoon.”

Saima ka glass hath mein kamp gaya.

Jamil ne aage ek kadam liya. Ab distance kam thi. Uske seeney ki garmi Saima tak aa rahi thi.

“Main seedha nahi hoon, Saima.” Pehli baar usne bhabhi nahi, naam liya. “Lekin ghar mein tab tak seedha rahoonga jab tak tum khud na bolo. Ya jab tak tumhara pati so raha ho.”

Saima bol nahi paayi. Woh peeche hatti, counter se back lag gayi.

Jamil ne haath nahi lagaya. Sirf itna kaha:

“Kal subah Rehan bhai nikalenge. Bacche college. Uske baad ghar mein do log honge. Soch lena.”

Phir woh palat ke apne room chala gaya. Darwaza is baar poora band kiya.

Saima kitchen mein 2 minute khadi rahi. Satin night dress mein saans tez thi. Gale pe paseena. Uski panty already thodi si geeli thi — gusse se, darr se, ya us cheez se jiska naam woh nahi lena chahti thi.

Usne glass rakh diya. Apne room gayi. Rehan ke bagal mein leti. Rehan ne neend mein haath daal diya uske pet pe.

Saima ki aankh chhat pe thi.

Kal subah ghar khali hone wala tha.

Aur teesre room mein jo aadmi so raha tha, Rehan usko abhi bhi seedha samajh raha tha.

---]]> Delhi ki garmi us din bhi normal se zyada thi. Mayur Vihar Phase-1 ke us 3 BHK flat mein AC ki awaaz chal rahi thi, kitchen se zeera-jeera wali daal ki khushboo aa rahi thi, aur Saima kitchen counter ke paas khadi thi — 29 saal, do bacchon ki maa, lekin dekhne mein abhi bhi aisi ke log pehli nazar mein umar ka andaza nahi laga paate.

Kaale lambe baal loose the, halka makeup, slim-waist pe cream colour ka kurta jo body pe chipka hua tha, neeche tight black jeggings. Figure aisa tha jo kapde chhupaate nahi, dikhate the. Chest heavy, kamar patli, heaps round. Rehan aksar kehta tha “tu ghar pe bhi aise kapde kyun pehenti hai”, Saima hans ke jawab deti — “apne ghar mein apni marzi.”

Doorbell baji.

Rehan ne darwaza khola. Bahar Jamil khada tha — ek suitcase, ek backpack, aur woh body jo Rehan ke dimaag mein “relative” ke box mein fit nahi karti thi. Chhada hua seena, moti gardan, tight T-shirt ke neeche veins, baazu aise jaise gym se seedha aaya ho. Height Rehan se 3-4 inch zyada. Chehra seedha, beard trim, aankhein thodi patli — lekin muskurahat itni simple thi ke Rehan turant bol padha:

“Arre bhai, aagaye? Andar aao, kitni garmi hai bahar.”

Jamil ne haath milaya. Grip tight thi.

“Rehan bhai, takleef nahi deni thi. Bas 10-12 din ka kaam hai dilli mein. Hotel mehnga pad raha tha.”

“Kaun si takleef? Saima se baat ho chuki hai. Teesra room khali hi pada hai. Bacche college jaate hain, ghar bada hai. Rahiye aaram se.”

Saima peeche se aayi. Jamil ne usko dekha — ek second zyada. Itna nahi ke Rehan notice kare, lekin itna zaroor ke Saima ke andar ek ajeeb si chubhan hui.

“Adaab,” Saima ne kaha, aankh nicha karke.

“Adaab bhabhi.” Jamil ki awaaz bhaari thi, lekin andaaz namr. “Aapne itni mehman-nawazi kar di.”

Rehan hans pada. “Arre yeh koi mehman nahi, ghar ka hi hai. Saima, chai bana de. Main iska bag room mein rakh aata hoon.”

Jamil ke liye jo room diya gaya tha woh balcony wala tha. Window se colony ki gali dikhti thi, saamne dusre flats ke kitchen. Rehan sochta raha — kitna seedha aadmi hai. Family mein sab kehte the Jamil thoda kam bolta hai, ..,. hai, kisi se jhagra nahi karta. Rehan ko yahi pasand tha. Dilli mein aadmi kam milte hain jo ghar aake seedhe rehte hain.

Lekin Jamil jab akela room mein aaya, suitcase khola, pehle phone silent kiya. Phir usne dheere se darwaza band kiya aur balcony ki side se living area ki jhalak li.

Saima kitchen mein thi. Kurta upar uthate hue usne upar wala shelf liya. Jeggings kamar pe tight. Peeth ki line saaf dikh rahi thi. Jamil ne kuch second dekha, phir muskuraaya — woh muskurahat jo Rehan ne kabhi nahi dekhi thi.

*Seedha?*  
Andar se uske dimaag mein sirf ek baat thi: *Yeh ghar, yeh aurat, yeh pati jo mujhe bhola samajh raha hai.*

Raat ka khana simple tha — roti, chicken qorma, salad. Bacche pehle so gaye the, unka room band. Dining table pe teeno baithe. Rehan office ki complaint kar raha tha — “yaar yeh dilli ki job khati hai aadmi ko. Roz 10-7, traffic, boss.”

Jamil sun raha tha, beech-beech mein “haan bhai” karta. Saima chupchaap serve karti. Kabhi-kabhi uth ke kitchen jaati. Jab woh uthti, Jamil ki nazar ek pal uske hips pe rukti, phir plate pe aa jaati. Rehan ko kuch nahi dikha.

Khana ke baad Rehan TV on karta. Saima bartan dhone chali. Jamil ne help ke liye kitchen ki taraf kadam badhaya.

“Main kar loongi,” Saima ne kaha, thoda tez.

“Koi baat nahi bhabhi, haath mil jaaye toh jaldi ho jata hai.”

Woh sink ke paas khada ho gaya. Kitchen chhota tha. Do log hon toh kandhe takraate hain. Saima ke baaju se Jamil ka baazu laga. Uske body se halki cologne + garmi ki smell aa rahi thi. Saima ne ek second saans roki, phir bartan tez-tez manjane lagi.

“Aapke bacche kitne pyaare hain,” Jamil ne quietly kaha. “Aur aap… ghar sambhal rahi ho, shakal se thakawati nahi lagti.”

Saima ne muh nahi ghumaaya. “Shukriya.”

“Rehan bhai lucky hain.”

Yeh line simple thi. Itni simple ke gila nahi kar sakti thi. Lekin Saima ke kaan mein woh line thodi der tak ghunti rahi.

Raat ko 12 bajke Rehan so gaya. Usne Saima ko bhi side pe kheench liya, ek kiss ki, haath uski kamar tak gaya, phir thakaan mein so gaya. Normal. Roz ka.

Saima 10 minute aankh band karke padi rahi. Phir uth ke bathroom gayi. Wahan usne aaine mein khud ko dekha.

Night dress aaj wahi thi jo Rehan ko pasand thi — maroon satin, patli straps, neeche thigh tak. Andar matching panty. Figure aaine mein clearly kat raha tha. 29 saal, do delivery ke baad bhi pet tight, chest heavy. Usne khud se kaha — *kuch soch mat. Relative hai. Rehan ka bharosa hai.*

Wapas aayi toh living room ke through jaana pada. Teesre room ka darwaza halka sa khula tha. Andar light nahi thi. Sirf phone ki screen ki glow.

Jamil bed pe baitha tha, seedha. Usne Saima ko night dress mein dekha — ek lamha lamba. Saima ne pace tez ki, apne room mein ghusi, darwaza band kiya.

Us raat neend late aayi.

Doosre din subah Rehan office nikal gaya 8:40 pe. Bacche college van se. Ghar mein Saima aur Jamil.

Saima soch rahi thi Jamil bhi nikal jaayega kaam pe. Lekin Jamil kitchen mein chai bana raha tha, sirf lower pe, upar black vest. Body poori nazar aa rahi thi — chest, pet ke upar lines, baazu.

“Bhabhi, aapke liye bhi nikaal doon?”

Saima ne dupatta sambhala. Aaj usne socha tha normal suit pehnungi, lekin subah jaldi mein peach colour ka short kurta aur white tight pant pehan li thi. Ghar ka kapda. Ghar mein hi toh thi.

“Main bana leti,” usne kaha.

“Ho gayi hai.” Jamil ne cup extend kiya. Ungliyon ka touch cup ke edge pe hua. Chhota sa. Galti jaisa.

Saima cup leke sofa pe baith gayi. Jamil saamne wale single seater pe. TV off tha. Sirf AC.

“Aapka kaam kahan hai dilli mein?” Saima ne baat ghumayi.

“Okhla side. Kuch documents, kuch log milne hain. Aaj shaam ko nikalunga. Subah… socha rest kar loon.”

Woh Saima ko dekh raha tha jaise baat sun raha ho. Lekin uski nazar kabhi uske gale pe jaati, kabhi kurta ke neckline pe, kabhi uske pair jo sofa pe fold the.

Saima ko ehsaas ho raha tha. Usne pair neeche utaar liye.

Dupahar ko Saima apne room mein kapde change kar rahi thi. Door poora band nahi kiya tha — ghar mein aadat thi, Rehan ke time pe bhi kabhi-kabhi adhkhula rehta. Usne kurta utara, bra adjust ki. Tab usne feeling li ke koi nazar hai.

Corridor ke sheeshe mein, halki si reflection.

Jamil bathroom se laut raha tha. Ruka. Ek second, do second. Phir pair tez karke apne room chala gaya.

Saima ke haath kaam karna bhool gaye. Dil tez tha. Gussa bhi aaya — *kameena, dekh raha tha.*  
Saath mein ek aur feeling aayi jise usne turant daba diya.

Shaam ko Rehan aaya, normal. “Jamil kaise hai? Takleef to nahi de raha?”

Saima kitchen mein thi, dinner pe. “Nahi. Bahut seedha hai.”

Rehan prasann ho gaya. “Maine kaha tha na. Family ka hai. Tension mat lo.”

Raat ko khane ke baad Rehan call pe lag gaya, balcony mein. Saima bartan. Jamil is baar help ke liye nahi aaya. Living room mein TV lagaye baitha tha.

Jab Saima bartan khatam karke nikalti, Jamil ne remote se volume kam kiya.

“Bhabhi, ek baat poochun?”

Saima ruki.

“Rehan bhai roz itne late aate hain. Aap akeli nahi ghabraati yahan?”

“Dilli hai. Aadat ho gayi.”

Jamil ne dheere se kaha, “Agar kabhi kuch kaam ho, market, bottle, kuch bhi… main hoon na.”

Line care ki thi. Andar se ownership ki.

Saima ne sirf itna kaha, “Theek hai.” Aur nikal gayi.

Teejri raat.

Bacche soye. Rehan 12 baje so gaya, thak ke. Saima ko neend nahi aa rahi thi. Woh uth ke paani lene gayi.

Kitchen dark tha, sirf chimney light. Usne glass liya. Peeth ke peeche se awaaz aayi.

“Neend nahi aa rahi?”

Saima palati. Jamil fridge ke paas, sirf lower, vest nahi. Body pe paseena nahi, bas garmi. Woh kareeb aa gaya, lekin touch nahi kiya.

“Aap tension mein ho,” usne dheemi awaaz mein kaha. “Chehre pe dikhta hai.”

“Kuch nahi hai.”

“Hai. Aur aap chhupa rahi ho Rehan bhai se. Woh samajhte hain main seedha hoon.”

Saima ka glass hath mein kamp gaya.

Jamil ne aage ek kadam liya. Ab distance kam thi. Uske seeney ki garmi Saima tak aa rahi thi.

“Main seedha nahi hoon, Saima.” Pehli baar usne bhabhi nahi, naam liya. “Lekin ghar mein tab tak seedha rahoonga jab tak tum khud na bolo. Ya jab tak tumhara pati so raha ho.”

Saima bol nahi paayi. Woh peeche hatti, counter se back lag gayi.

Jamil ne haath nahi lagaya. Sirf itna kaha:

“Kal subah Rehan bhai nikalenge. Bacche college. Uske baad ghar mein do log honge. Soch lena.”

Phir woh palat ke apne room chala gaya. Darwaza is baar poora band kiya.

Saima kitchen mein 2 minute khadi rahi. Satin night dress mein saans tez thi. Gale pe paseena. Uski panty already thodi si geeli thi — gusse se, darr se, ya us cheez se jiska naam woh nahi lena chahti thi.

Usne glass rakh diya. Apne room gayi. Rehan ke bagal mein leti. Rehan ne neend mein haath daal diya uske pet pe.

Saima ki aankh chhat pe thi.

Kal subah ghar khali hone wala tha.

Aur teesre room mein jo aadmi so raha tha, Rehan usko abhi bhi seedha samajh raha tha.

---]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75136.html Tue, 01 Sep 2026 10:05:52 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75136.html The Delhi sun hammered the pavement into a shimmering haze, the June heat turning the air into a thick, suffocating blanket. In a cramped apartment in a middle-class colony, Mily Chowdhury wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead with the edge of her cotton saree. 

The fabric clung to her fair skin, damp and translucent in patches. Beside her, four-year-old Arushi whimpered, her small face flushed red from the humidity. "Mamma, I'm thirsty," Arushi whispered, tugging at Mily's pallu. Mily looked at the empty water filter and then at the living room, where Amit lay sprawled across the sofa. A half-empty bottle of cheap country liquor sat on the floor, the pungent, sour smell of fermented grain filling the room. Amit’s chest rose and fell in a heavy, rhythmic stupor. He hadn't worked in four months, his job at the logistics firm vanished along with his ambition, swallowed by a bottle. "Just a moment, shona," Mily murmured, her voice cracking. She checked the kitchen canister. The flour was gone. The oil was a golden smear at the bottom of the bottle. 

Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She had no money left, and Amit would only wake up to demand more drinks or scream about the unfairness of the world. Mily glanced at her left ankle, where a thin silver anklet glinted against her skin. It was a wedding gift, one of the few things she still owned that felt like it belonged to a different, happier version of herself. She looked at Arushi’s sunken cheeks and felt a surge of desperation that tasted like copper in her mouth. 

She stepped out into the hallway, the heat hitting her like a physical blow. Across the narrow corridor lived Sid. He was fifty-two, a man of substantial means and an appetite for things that didn't belong to him. Mily had felt his eyes on her for years—the way he lingered on the curve of her waist when she hung laundry, the way his gaze tracked the movement of her breasts beneath her saree. Mily paused at his door, her hand trembling. She smoothed her saree over her hips, trying to look composed despite the panic. 

She knocked softly. The door swung open almost instantly, as if he had been waiting. Sid stood there, wearing a thin sleeveless undershirt and loose trousers. His skin was tanned and weathered, his eyes narrow and predatory. A smirk played on his lips as he looked her up and down, his gaze pausing on the swell of her 34B breasts. "Mily," he said, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. "It's far too hot for a visit. Why are you out here in the sun?" "Sid-da," Mily began, her voice trembling. "I... I was wondering if you could help me. Just a small loan. For Arushi." Sid leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. He didn't look at her face; he looked at the way the sweat made her saree cling to her thighs. "A loan, is it? Amit still drinking his life away?" Mily looked down, her cheeks flushing. "He's... he's not well. I just need enough for groceries and some milk for the baby. I'll pay you back, I promise." Sid stepped back, opening the door wider. 

The blast of cold air from the air conditioner inside felt like a miracle. "Come in, Mily. It's too hot to talk in the hall. Let's discuss how you plan to pay me back." Mily hesitated, a primal instinct screaming at her to turn around. But the image of Arushi’s thirsty face flashed in her mind. She stepped inside, the cool air hitting her damp skin and sending a shiver through her. Sid closed the door behind her with a soft click. The sound echoed in the quiet apartment. "Sit," he commanded, gesturing toward the sofa. Mily sat on the edge of the cushion, her hands clenched in her lap. The silence stretched, heavy and oppressive. Sid didn't sit. 

He circled her, his footsteps slow and deliberate. "You're a beautiful woman, Mily," he whispered, stopping behind her. He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, his thumb brushing against the skin of her neck. "Such a waste, staying in that house with a drunkard. You deserve someone who can provide. Someone who knows how to appreciate a woman like you." "Please, Sid-da," Mily pleaded, leaning away from his touch. "I just need the money. I don't want anything else." Sid's hand slid down from her shoulder, grazing the side of her breast. Mily gasped, jumping to her feet. "I can't... I can't do this. Please just tell me if you can lend me the money." Sid's expression shifted. The facade of the helpful neighbor vanished, replaced by a raw, naked hunger. He stepped forward, his bulk crowding her into the corner of the room. "Lend? Mily, I don't lend money to people who have nothing to give in return. You know exactly why I'm helping you." "I'll find another way," Mily said, turning to the door. 

Sid was faster. He grabbed her arm in a grip of iron, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. With a sudden, violent jerk, he hauled her toward the bedroom. "Let me go! Sid, stop it! Please!" Mily screamed, her voice muffled as he shoved her into the room and slammed the door. He threw her onto the large, king-sized bed. Mily scrambled backward, her saree bunching up around her waist, exposing her pale, shapely legs. She tried to crawl away, but Sid was already over her, his weight pinning her down. "Stop fighting, Mily," he hissed, his breath smelling of coffee and tobacco. "Think of the girl. Think of Arushi. You want her to go hungry? You want her to cry all night because her father is a useless drunk?" Mily froze, tears spilling over her eyelids. 

The mention of her daughter felt like a knife to the gut. She stopped struggling, her body shaking with silent sobs. Sid chuckled, a dark, guttural sound. He reached down and grabbed her left ankle, pulling her leg toward his face. The silver anklet jingled, a cheerful sound that contrasted sharply with the horror of the moment. "I've wanted to do this since the day you moved in," he whispered. He didn't waste time. He leaned down and wrapped his lips around her big toe, sucking it with a wet, slurping sound. Mily let out a choked cry, her toes curling instinctively. "No... please, don't," she whimpered. Sid ignored her. 

He moved from toe to toe, his tongue swirling around the nail beds, his mouth creating a wet, squelching noise that filled the quiet room. He sucked her toes deeply, his teeth grazing her skin, while his other hand wandered upward, gripping her thigh and squeezing the soft flesh. "You're so soft, Mily. So fucking fair," he groaned against her skin. 

He pushed her legs wider, the fabric of her saree sliding away to reveal her underwear. With one swift motion, he ripped the thin lace aside, exposing her pussy to the cool air of the room. Mily tried to close her legs, but he pinned them open with his elbows, forcing her to remain exposed. Sid dove down, his face burying itself in her heat. "No! Sid, please!" He didn't listen. His tongue flicked violently against her clit, a sharp, wet sensation that made Mily's hips jerk. He began to eat her pussy with a ravenous intensity, his tongue swirling and probing, sucking her clit into his mouth. The sound was visceral—a rhythmic, wet slicking as he licked her from the bottom of her opening up to her hood. Mily’s breath came in ragged gasps. Despite her horror, the intensity of the stimulation began to trigger a traitorous response in her body. Her walls pulsed, and a slick, clear lubricant began to flow, mixing with his saliva. "You like it, don't you?" Sid mumbled against her wetness, his voice muffled. "Your little pussy is soaking for me." "I hate you," Mily sobbed, though her voice lacked conviction as a wave of unwanted pleasure crashed over her. 

Sid pulled back, looking up at her with a triumphant grin. He stood up and quickly stripped off his trousers and underwear. His cock sprang free, thick and angry, pulsing with a vein that ran along the side. He didn't use a condom. He didn't use lube. He simply grabbed her hips and shoved himself inside her in one violent, singular thrust. "Ahhh!" Mily screamed, her back arching off the bed. The sudden intrusion felt like being split open. She felt the dry friction of his skin against hers, the sheer force of his entry stretching her tight walls to their limit. Sid didn't pause to let her adjust. He began to pump into her with a brutal, rhythmic intensity. 

Each thrust sent a wet, slapping sound echoing through the room—the sound of his balls hitting her buttocks with a rhythmic thud. "Look at me, Mily!" he commanded, his voice straining. "Look at me while I take what I want!" Mily turned her head away, her nails digging into the bedsheets. She closed her eyes, imagining Arushi's face, trying to detach her mind from the agony and the burgeoning, unwanted heat in her belly. "Please... stop... it hurts," she whimpered. "It'll feel better in a second," Sid gasped. 

He shifted his weight, grabbing her legs and hoisting them high, dbanging them over his shoulders. The new angle allowed him to go deeper. With every plunge, he hit her cervix, a blunt force that made Mily gasp for air. The friction increased, the sound of their bodies interacting becoming a squelching, wet mess of fluids. "You're so tight," Sid groaned, his pace accelerating. "Fucking tight... like a virgin." Mily's resistance began to crumble under the sheer physical onslaught. The pain shifted into a heavy, throbbing pressure. As he continued to hammer into her, her body responded with a series of involuntary spasms. 

Her nails left the sheets and found the bare skin of Sid's back. She dug them in deep, drawing lines of blood as she let out a loud, echoing moan. "Yes! Moan for me!" Sid roared. He increased the speed, his thrusts becoming short and frantic. Mily felt the tension building in her lower abdomen, a coil tightening until it snapped. She screamed, her entire body shuddering as she reached a forced, violent orgasm, her internal muscles clamping tight around his shaft. Sid let out a guttural shout, his body stiffening. He shoved himself as deep as he could go, pinning her against the mattress, and erupted. Mily felt the hot, thick jets of his cum splashing against her cervix, filling her up with a warmth that felt like a brand. He collapsed on top of her for a moment, his heavy breathing the only sound in the room. Then, he pulled out with a wet, popping sound, leaving Mily shivering and leaking on the sheets. "That was just the start," he whispered, his voice devoid of warmth. Mily tried to pull the remnants of her saree over herself, but he pushed her back down. "I said we were negotiating, Mily. I'm not done with you." 

He flipped her over, forcing her onto her hands and knees. Mily sobbed, the sound muffled by the pillow. She felt him enter her again from behind, the penetration raw and sudden. He gripped her hair, pulling her head back as he drove into her. "Think of the milk, Mily! Think of the food!" he taunted with every thrust. 

The repetition was grueling. He bangd her again and again, switching positions with a cold, methodical cruelty. He returned her to the missionary position, his weight crushing her, his skin slick with sweat that smelled of salt and exertion. Each time, he finished inside her. Each time, Mily felt a piece of herself wither away. She stopped fighting after the third time. She simply lay there, her eyes vacant, her nails digging into his back out of a desperate need for something to hold onto. She moaned not out of pleasure, but out of a shattered, broken surrender. By the time Sid finally pulled away for the last time, Mily was a ruin. 

Her thighs were shaking, her pussy was swollen and raw, and her fair skin was mottled with bruises and red marks. She lay in a pool of sweat and semen, the cool air of the AC now feeling like ice against her skin. Sid stood up and walked to the dresser. He pulled out a wad of cash—several thousand rupees—and tossed it onto the bed beside her. The notes landed with a soft thud on her damp thigh. "There," he said, his voice returning to that casual, neighborly tone. "That should keep your daughter fed for a while." Mily didn't move. She stared at the ceiling, the white plaster blurring through her tears. "Get dressed and get out," Sid added. "And remember, Mily... if you run out again, you know where I live." Mily slowly sat up. 

Every movement was a struggle; her lower body felt heavy and sore, the fluid from his repeated climaxes leaking out of her and staining the sheets. She gathered her torn saree, wrapping it around her bruised body with trembling hands. She didn't look at him. She reached out and clutched the money, the paper crinkling in her grip. As she walked toward the door, her left anklet gave a final, lonely jingle. She stepped out of the air-conditioned sanctuary and back into the oppressive Delhi heat. The sun was still hammering the earth, the air still thick and suffocating. Mily walked down the corridor, her gait unsteady, her legs feeling like lead. When she entered her own apartment, the smell of cheap liquor greeted her. Amit was still asleep, a thin line of drool escaping his lips. Arushi looked up from the floor, her eyes brightening. "Mamma! Did you get the milk?" Mily looked at the money clutched in her hand, then at her daughter’s innocent face. She sank to the floor, pulling the little girl into a tight, crushing embrace. She sobbed silently into Arushi’s hair, the sound lost in the hum of the city, her heart shattered into a thousand jagged pieces. "Yes, shona," Mily whispered, her voice a ghost of itself. "Mamma got the milk."

 
 ]]> The Delhi sun hammered the pavement into a shimmering haze, the June heat turning the air into a thick, suffocating blanket. In a cramped apartment in a middle-class colony, Mily Chowdhury wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead with the edge of her cotton saree. 

The fabric clung to her fair skin, damp and translucent in patches. Beside her, four-year-old Arushi whimpered, her small face flushed red from the humidity. "Mamma, I'm thirsty," Arushi whispered, tugging at Mily's pallu. Mily looked at the empty water filter and then at the living room, where Amit lay sprawled across the sofa. A half-empty bottle of cheap country liquor sat on the floor, the pungent, sour smell of fermented grain filling the room. Amit’s chest rose and fell in a heavy, rhythmic stupor. He hadn't worked in four months, his job at the logistics firm vanished along with his ambition, swallowed by a bottle. "Just a moment, shona," Mily murmured, her voice cracking. She checked the kitchen canister. The flour was gone. The oil was a golden smear at the bottom of the bottle. 

Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She had no money left, and Amit would only wake up to demand more drinks or scream about the unfairness of the world. Mily glanced at her left ankle, where a thin silver anklet glinted against her skin. It was a wedding gift, one of the few things she still owned that felt like it belonged to a different, happier version of herself. She looked at Arushi’s sunken cheeks and felt a surge of desperation that tasted like copper in her mouth. 

She stepped out into the hallway, the heat hitting her like a physical blow. Across the narrow corridor lived Sid. He was fifty-two, a man of substantial means and an appetite for things that didn't belong to him. Mily had felt his eyes on her for years—the way he lingered on the curve of her waist when she hung laundry, the way his gaze tracked the movement of her breasts beneath her saree. Mily paused at his door, her hand trembling. She smoothed her saree over her hips, trying to look composed despite the panic. 

She knocked softly. The door swung open almost instantly, as if he had been waiting. Sid stood there, wearing a thin sleeveless undershirt and loose trousers. His skin was tanned and weathered, his eyes narrow and predatory. A smirk played on his lips as he looked her up and down, his gaze pausing on the swell of her 34B breasts. "Mily," he said, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. "It's far too hot for a visit. Why are you out here in the sun?" "Sid-da," Mily began, her voice trembling. "I... I was wondering if you could help me. Just a small loan. For Arushi." Sid leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. He didn't look at her face; he looked at the way the sweat made her saree cling to her thighs. "A loan, is it? Amit still drinking his life away?" Mily looked down, her cheeks flushing. "He's... he's not well. I just need enough for groceries and some milk for the baby. I'll pay you back, I promise." Sid stepped back, opening the door wider. 

The blast of cold air from the air conditioner inside felt like a miracle. "Come in, Mily. It's too hot to talk in the hall. Let's discuss how you plan to pay me back." Mily hesitated, a primal instinct screaming at her to turn around. But the image of Arushi’s thirsty face flashed in her mind. She stepped inside, the cool air hitting her damp skin and sending a shiver through her. Sid closed the door behind her with a soft click. The sound echoed in the quiet apartment. "Sit," he commanded, gesturing toward the sofa. Mily sat on the edge of the cushion, her hands clenched in her lap. The silence stretched, heavy and oppressive. Sid didn't sit. 

He circled her, his footsteps slow and deliberate. "You're a beautiful woman, Mily," he whispered, stopping behind her. He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, his thumb brushing against the skin of her neck. "Such a waste, staying in that house with a drunkard. You deserve someone who can provide. Someone who knows how to appreciate a woman like you." "Please, Sid-da," Mily pleaded, leaning away from his touch. "I just need the money. I don't want anything else." Sid's hand slid down from her shoulder, grazing the side of her breast. Mily gasped, jumping to her feet. "I can't... I can't do this. Please just tell me if you can lend me the money." Sid's expression shifted. The facade of the helpful neighbor vanished, replaced by a raw, naked hunger. He stepped forward, his bulk crowding her into the corner of the room. "Lend? Mily, I don't lend money to people who have nothing to give in return. You know exactly why I'm helping you." "I'll find another way," Mily said, turning to the door. 

Sid was faster. He grabbed her arm in a grip of iron, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. With a sudden, violent jerk, he hauled her toward the bedroom. "Let me go! Sid, stop it! Please!" Mily screamed, her voice muffled as he shoved her into the room and slammed the door. He threw her onto the large, king-sized bed. Mily scrambled backward, her saree bunching up around her waist, exposing her pale, shapely legs. She tried to crawl away, but Sid was already over her, his weight pinning her down. "Stop fighting, Mily," he hissed, his breath smelling of coffee and tobacco. "Think of the girl. Think of Arushi. You want her to go hungry? You want her to cry all night because her father is a useless drunk?" Mily froze, tears spilling over her eyelids. 

The mention of her daughter felt like a knife to the gut. She stopped struggling, her body shaking with silent sobs. Sid chuckled, a dark, guttural sound. He reached down and grabbed her left ankle, pulling her leg toward his face. The silver anklet jingled, a cheerful sound that contrasted sharply with the horror of the moment. "I've wanted to do this since the day you moved in," he whispered. He didn't waste time. He leaned down and wrapped his lips around her big toe, sucking it with a wet, slurping sound. Mily let out a choked cry, her toes curling instinctively. "No... please, don't," she whimpered. Sid ignored her. 

He moved from toe to toe, his tongue swirling around the nail beds, his mouth creating a wet, squelching noise that filled the quiet room. He sucked her toes deeply, his teeth grazing her skin, while his other hand wandered upward, gripping her thigh and squeezing the soft flesh. "You're so soft, Mily. So fucking fair," he groaned against her skin. 

He pushed her legs wider, the fabric of her saree sliding away to reveal her underwear. With one swift motion, he ripped the thin lace aside, exposing her pussy to the cool air of the room. Mily tried to close her legs, but he pinned them open with his elbows, forcing her to remain exposed. Sid dove down, his face burying itself in her heat. "No! Sid, please!" He didn't listen. His tongue flicked violently against her clit, a sharp, wet sensation that made Mily's hips jerk. He began to eat her pussy with a ravenous intensity, his tongue swirling and probing, sucking her clit into his mouth. The sound was visceral—a rhythmic, wet slicking as he licked her from the bottom of her opening up to her hood. Mily’s breath came in ragged gasps. Despite her horror, the intensity of the stimulation began to trigger a traitorous response in her body. Her walls pulsed, and a slick, clear lubricant began to flow, mixing with his saliva. "You like it, don't you?" Sid mumbled against her wetness, his voice muffled. "Your little pussy is soaking for me." "I hate you," Mily sobbed, though her voice lacked conviction as a wave of unwanted pleasure crashed over her. 

Sid pulled back, looking up at her with a triumphant grin. He stood up and quickly stripped off his trousers and underwear. His cock sprang free, thick and angry, pulsing with a vein that ran along the side. He didn't use a condom. He didn't use lube. He simply grabbed her hips and shoved himself inside her in one violent, singular thrust. "Ahhh!" Mily screamed, her back arching off the bed. The sudden intrusion felt like being split open. She felt the dry friction of his skin against hers, the sheer force of his entry stretching her tight walls to their limit. Sid didn't pause to let her adjust. He began to pump into her with a brutal, rhythmic intensity. 

Each thrust sent a wet, slapping sound echoing through the room—the sound of his balls hitting her buttocks with a rhythmic thud. "Look at me, Mily!" he commanded, his voice straining. "Look at me while I take what I want!" Mily turned her head away, her nails digging into the bedsheets. She closed her eyes, imagining Arushi's face, trying to detach her mind from the agony and the burgeoning, unwanted heat in her belly. "Please... stop... it hurts," she whimpered. "It'll feel better in a second," Sid gasped. 

He shifted his weight, grabbing her legs and hoisting them high, dbanging them over his shoulders. The new angle allowed him to go deeper. With every plunge, he hit her cervix, a blunt force that made Mily gasp for air. The friction increased, the sound of their bodies interacting becoming a squelching, wet mess of fluids. "You're so tight," Sid groaned, his pace accelerating. "Fucking tight... like a virgin." Mily's resistance began to crumble under the sheer physical onslaught. The pain shifted into a heavy, throbbing pressure. As he continued to hammer into her, her body responded with a series of involuntary spasms. 

Her nails left the sheets and found the bare skin of Sid's back. She dug them in deep, drawing lines of blood as she let out a loud, echoing moan. "Yes! Moan for me!" Sid roared. He increased the speed, his thrusts becoming short and frantic. Mily felt the tension building in her lower abdomen, a coil tightening until it snapped. She screamed, her entire body shuddering as she reached a forced, violent orgasm, her internal muscles clamping tight around his shaft. Sid let out a guttural shout, his body stiffening. He shoved himself as deep as he could go, pinning her against the mattress, and erupted. Mily felt the hot, thick jets of his cum splashing against her cervix, filling her up with a warmth that felt like a brand. He collapsed on top of her for a moment, his heavy breathing the only sound in the room. Then, he pulled out with a wet, popping sound, leaving Mily shivering and leaking on the sheets. "That was just the start," he whispered, his voice devoid of warmth. Mily tried to pull the remnants of her saree over herself, but he pushed her back down. "I said we were negotiating, Mily. I'm not done with you." 

He flipped her over, forcing her onto her hands and knees. Mily sobbed, the sound muffled by the pillow. She felt him enter her again from behind, the penetration raw and sudden. He gripped her hair, pulling her head back as he drove into her. "Think of the milk, Mily! Think of the food!" he taunted with every thrust. 

The repetition was grueling. He bangd her again and again, switching positions with a cold, methodical cruelty. He returned her to the missionary position, his weight crushing her, his skin slick with sweat that smelled of salt and exertion. Each time, he finished inside her. Each time, Mily felt a piece of herself wither away. She stopped fighting after the third time. She simply lay there, her eyes vacant, her nails digging into his back out of a desperate need for something to hold onto. She moaned not out of pleasure, but out of a shattered, broken surrender. By the time Sid finally pulled away for the last time, Mily was a ruin. 

Her thighs were shaking, her pussy was swollen and raw, and her fair skin was mottled with bruises and red marks. She lay in a pool of sweat and semen, the cool air of the AC now feeling like ice against her skin. Sid stood up and walked to the dresser. He pulled out a wad of cash—several thousand rupees—and tossed it onto the bed beside her. The notes landed with a soft thud on her damp thigh. "There," he said, his voice returning to that casual, neighborly tone. "That should keep your daughter fed for a while." Mily didn't move. She stared at the ceiling, the white plaster blurring through her tears. "Get dressed and get out," Sid added. "And remember, Mily... if you run out again, you know where I live." Mily slowly sat up. 

Every movement was a struggle; her lower body felt heavy and sore, the fluid from his repeated climaxes leaking out of her and staining the sheets. She gathered her torn saree, wrapping it around her bruised body with trembling hands. She didn't look at him. She reached out and clutched the money, the paper crinkling in her grip. As she walked toward the door, her left anklet gave a final, lonely jingle. She stepped out of the air-conditioned sanctuary and back into the oppressive Delhi heat. The sun was still hammering the earth, the air still thick and suffocating. Mily walked down the corridor, her gait unsteady, her legs feeling like lead. When she entered her own apartment, the smell of cheap liquor greeted her. Amit was still asleep, a thin line of drool escaping his lips. Arushi looked up from the floor, her eyes brightening. "Mamma! Did you get the milk?" Mily looked at the money clutched in her hand, then at her daughter’s innocent face. She sank to the floor, pulling the little girl into a tight, crushing embrace. She sobbed silently into Arushi’s hair, the sound lost in the hum of the city, her heart shattered into a thousand jagged pieces. "Yes, shona," Mily whispered, her voice a ghost of itself. "Mamma got the milk."

 
 ]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75133.html Tue, 01 Sep 2026 07:38:00 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75133.html
Story preview :
This a story about a maid getting a revenge on her transforming her into cock hungry slut  

Character:
Swathi : lady of the house
Age : 28

Ajay : swathi's husband
Age : 29

Rani : maid 
Age : 25

Babu : servant 
Age :65

So these are the characters of the story rightnow but new character will be added as story goes on

Enjoy reading]]>
Story preview :
This a story about a maid getting a revenge on her transforming her into cock hungry slut  

Character:
Swathi : lady of the house
Age : 28

Ajay : swathi's husband
Age : 29

Rani : maid 
Age : 25

Babu : servant 
Age :65

So these are the characters of the story rightnow but new character will be added as story goes on

Enjoy reading]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75121.html Mon, 31 Aug 2026 10:40:40 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75121.html BDSM
Femdom
generated by

rakeshkumar
Husband returns home unannounced to find his 24-year-old wife on all fours, being strapon-fucked by a 74-year-old silver-haired lesbian she calls "Didi.
Chapter


1

Chapter 1: The First Lesson


The key turned in the lock with a sound that felt heavier than it should have.

Raj stood in the doorway of his own flat, still clutching his carry-on, still wearing the stale air of a fourteen-hour flight from Frankfurt. The Mumbai humidity had already begun its work on his collar. Three weeks in Düsseldorf, three weeks of PowerPoint decks and conference rooms that all smelled the same, and now—finally—Thursday evening at home, unannounced.

He'd wanted to surprise Priya.

The flat was dim. Not dark exactly, but lit in that careless way of someone who hadn't expected company. The living room lamps were off. A tbangzoid of light fell from the bedroom doorway down the corridor, and from inside came sounds that his jet-lagged brain took a long, stupid moment to parse.

A creak. Not the building settling. Rhythm.

A voice. Priya's voice, but wrong—higher, looser, words dissolving into breaths.

And another voice. Deeper. Older. A voice like gravel wrapped in silk.

Raj set down his carry-on. The wheels made a soft click against the tile, and he winced, but the sounds from the bedroom didn't pause. Didn't even stutter.

He walked.

The corridor had never felt longer. Wedding photos lined the wall—Priya in red and gold, laughing at something his mother had said, his own face stiff with the effort of looking like a man who understood what marriage meant. Two years ago. Two years and already he was walking toward his own cuckolding like a man in a trance.

The bedroom door stood half open. Raj positioned himself in the shadow of the hallway and looked through the gap, and what he saw made his hand find the wall for balance.

Priya was on the bed. Naked. On her hands and knees.

And behind her, kneeling with the patient authority of someone who had done this for decades, was a woman Raj had never seen before. She was old— truly old—her hair a stark silver crop, her skin mapped with the lines of seventy-four years of living. Her breasts, heavy and low, swayed slightly with each movement of her hips. But it was what was strapped around those hips that stopped Raj's breath.

Black leather harness. Matte black silicone. Substantial.

The old woman—the word old felt inadequate, wrong, she was something else, something ancient and assured—gripped Priya's hips with speckled hands and thrust forward in a motion that was almost lazy. Almost bored. Like she'd been doing it for an hour already and had no intention of stopping.

"There," the woman murmured. Her voice held the rasp of a lifelong smoker. "Right there, beti. Feel it?"

Priya's response was not a word. It was a sound that Raj had never heard his wife make in two years of marriage. A sound that started somewhere in her chest and emerged as a whimper with vowels in it.

"Yes, Didi. Yes."

Didi. The honorific landed on Raj like a slap. Respect. Affection. Intimacy. His wife was calling this stranger elder sister while being fucked by her.

The old woman—Didi—chuckled. One hand left Priya's hip and traveled up the arch of her spine, fingers walking vertebra by vertebra like beads on a mala. "Such a good girl. You were so tense when I arrived. So worried about him." The word dripped with dismissal. "And now look at you."

Priya's head dropped lower between her shoulders. Her black hair, usually pinned up in the tight bun she wore to the accounting firm, spilled across the bedsheets in a fan of dark silk. Her back glistened. Her thighs trembled.

Raj's wife was being taken apart by a septuagenarian with a strap-on, and he couldn't move.

Couldn't speak.

Couldn't look away.

His cock—traitorous, animal thing—pressed against his trousers. He hated himself for it. He didn't stop it.

---

The old woman slowed her thrusts. Drew the silicone out with excruciating patience until only the tip remained inside Priya, then paused. Priya made a sound of protest, pushing backward, trying to reclaim what had been taken.

"Greedy," Didi said. Not unkindly. "You said you wanted to learn patience today. Remember?"

"This was an hour ago." Priya's voice cracked with frustration. "Didi, please."

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me."

The old woman's laugh was smoke and honey. "In a moment. First, tell me why you called me."

The question hung in the humid bedroom air. Raj watched his wife's shoulders rise and fall with ragged breathing. The strap-on glistened in the lamplight—with Priya's wetness, he realized. His wife was soaked enough to shine silicone.

"Because I needed..." Priya started, then stopped. Her hands fisted the sheets. "Because Raj doesn't—"

"Look at me when you speak."

Priya turned her head. Her face, visible now through the door gap, was flushed. Not with embarrassment—with something rawer. Her kohl-rimmed eyes were glassy, her lips parted, and there was a single tear track drying on her cheek. Not from sadness. From intensity. From the kind of release that Raj had never given her, had never even seen her approach.

"Raj doesn't see me," Priya said. Her voice steadied as she spoke. "He's a good man. He's kind. He works hard. But he fucks like he's checking a box. Ten minutes. Lights off. Missionary. Maybe I come, maybe I don't—usually I don't—and then he rolls over and I listen to him snore and I touch myself in the bathroom after."

Each word was a small knife. Raj's hand, still braced against the wall, began to tremble.

"And what do you need, beti?" The old woman's hand stroked Priya's flank with impossible gentleness. The contrast—that hand, that harness—made Raj's head spin.

"I need to be taken." Priya's voice broke on the word. "I need someone who knows my body better than I do. I need to not have to think for an hour, Didi. I need to be..." She searched for the word.

"Unmade," the old woman supplied.

"Yes. Unmade. I need to be unmade and then put back together by someone who knows how."

"And your husband?"

"Doesn't know how. Doesn't want to learn. I've hinted. I've asked. He gets defensive. He thinks wanting more means I think he's not enough." A bitter laugh escaped her. "He is enough. He's just... the wrong shape of enough."

The old woman nodded slowly. Her silver hair caught the lamplight. "And I am the right shape?"

"Every Thursday for two months now, Didi." Priya's voice softened. "You know you are."

Every Thursday. Raj did the math backward and realized, with a sickness that settled in his stomach like cold biryani, that the first Thursday had been the day after he left for Düsseldorf. His wife had waited less than twenty-four hours.

But the sickness was complicated. Because alongside it—beneath it, tangled in it—was something else. Something that watched Priya's expression of naked honesty and felt, for the first time, that he was seeing his wife as she actually was.

---

The old woman began to move again. Not thrusting—just a slow, circular grind of her hips that made the base of the strap-on press against something in Priya that Raj didn't know existed.

Priya's mouth fell open. Her eyes lost focus.

"There," Didi murmured. "That's the spot your husband has never found, isn't it?"

"Never." The word was barely a breath.

"Because he fucks with his cock, not with his attention."

"Yes."

"Because he sees your body as something to enter, not something to inhabit."

"Yes." A sob hid beneath the word.

"Because he has never once asked you what you actually want in bed."

Priya didn't answer. She didn't need to. The silence was a testament.

Raj's fingers found the doorframe and gripped it. He wanted to burst in. Wanted to shout. Wanted to demand explanations and apologies and for this ancient woman to leave his house. But he also wanted—and this was the part that confounded him—to keep watching. To learn. Because everything the old woman was saying was true, and he had never heard it spoken aloud before.

The old woman withdrew the strap-on entirely. Priya whimpered at the emptiness. Didi unhooked the harness—competent, practiced fingers working the buckles—and set it aside on the bed. The silicone was wet enough to darken the sheets where it lay.

"Turn over," Didi said.

Priya obeyed like a woman whose will had been politely confiscated. She rolled onto her back, legs falling open without shame, arms stretching above her head to grip the headboard slats. Her breasts—small and brown, nipples dark and tight—rose and fell with her breathing. The thatch of hair between her legs was a mess. Her inner thighs shone.

The old woman knelt between those thighs and simply looked.

"Beautiful," she pronounced. Not a compliment. An assessment. "Do you know how rare it is, Priya, to find a woman your age who knows what she wants? Most of them are still performing. Performing for husbands, for boyfriends, for the imaginary audience in their heads. But you—" She reached out and traced one finger along Priya's collarbone. "You stopped performing the moment you called me."

"I stopped performing," Priya agreed, "the moment you told me to kneel."

The old woman smiled. Her teeth were her own, slightly yellowed, perfectly aligned. "Then kneel now. But facing me this time."

---

Raj watched his wife rise to her knees and shuffle forward until she was inches from the old woman's body. Didi was still wearing the harness—empty now, the O-ring hanging at her pubic bone like a question mark—but she made no move to reattach the dildo. Instead, she took Priya's face in both hands.

Thumbs traced cheekbones. Priya's eyes fluttered closed.

"Look at me," Didi commanded.

Priya's eyes opened.

"You've been a good student, beti. Patient. Attentive. Willing to unlearn the bad habits men taught you."

"Thank you, Didi."

"I'm not finished." The old woman's grip on Priya's face tightened—not painfully, but with unmistakable authority. "Today I want to give you something new. Something you haven't earned yet, but that I think you're ready for."

Excitement flickered across Priya's features. "What?"

"Your husband."

The word arrived like a grenade.

Priya went rigid. "What?"

"He's home early. His flight landed three hours ago—I checked. He's been in the doorway for the last ten minutes."

The silence that followed was the loudest thing Raj had ever heard.

He should have moved. Should have said something. Should have done literally anything other than stand frozen in the corridor shadows while two women—his wife and her lover—turned their heads in unison toward the door.

"Oh god," Priya whispered. The flush drained from her face, replaced by something gray. "Raj—"

"Don't panic," Didi said. Her voice was utterly calm, as if discovering a husband's voyeurism was a routine part of her Thursday afternoons. "Invite him in."

"Are you insane?"

"Invite. Him. In."

The command left no room for argument. Raj saw his wife's throat bob as she swallowed. Then, in a voice smaller than he'd ever heard her use:

"Raj? I know you're there. Please... please come in."

---

His legs carried him forward without conscious decision. The door swung open fully. The bedroom light—warm, amber, intimate—fell on his face, and he blinked against it like a man emerging from a cave.

The scene resolved in full sensory detail now that he was inside it. The smell first: sex and sandalwood and something muskier, older. The sight: Priya on her knees, naked, face still bearing the imprint of the old woman's fingers. The sound: a ceiling fan clicking its lazy rotation, and beneath it, Priya's breathing, fast and shallow with terror.

And the old woman. Didi. She turned to face him fully, and Raj understood for the first time what his wife meant by the wrong shape of enough.

This woman was not beautiful in any conventional sense. Her body was a body that had lived—breasts that had hung low for decades, a belly that had softened and rounded, arms that were thin but not frail. Her face was a landscape of wrinkles, each line earned, nothing erased or hidden. And yet. There was something in her eyes—dark, assessing, utterly without shame—that made Raj feel like a boy caught cheating on an exam.

"So," she said. "The husband."

"Who are you?" His voice came out hoarser than he'd intended.

"Savita. But you can call me Didi, as your wife does." She gestured toward the bed, a hostess offering a seat to a guest. "You've been traveling. Sit before you fall."

Raj didn't sit. "What the fuck is happening here?"

"What's happening," Savita said, settling back on her heels with the ease of someone who had been naked in front of strangers for longer than Raj had been alive, "is that your wife has been paying me to give her what you cannot. Or will not. The distinction matters, but I suspect the result is the same."

"I love my wife."

"I'm sure you do." The agreement was unimpressed. "Love and sex are cousins, not siblings. You can love someone without ever learning to fuck them properly. And you, Raj—" She tilted her head, examining him. "You have never learned."

"You don't know anything about me."

"I know that your wife has been seeing me every Thursday for two months. I know that the first time I touched her, she cried for forty minutes straight. I know that you've never made her come with your mouth. I know that she's been faking orgasms since your wedding night. I know—"

"Enough." Priya's voice cut through. She had pulled a sheet up to her chest, a belated gesture of modesty that struck Raj as almost comically too late. "Savita, enough. Raj, I—" She stopped. Swallowed. Started again. "I should have told you. I should have asked. I should have—"

"Asked," Raj repeated. "Asked what? Asked permission to cheat on me with a seventy-four-year-old lesbian?"

"The age is not the point," Savita murmured.

"The point," Priya said, and her voice was steadier now, "is that I've been dying, Raj. Inside our marriage. Inside our bed. You're a good man. You bring me chai in the morning and you remember my mother's birthday and you never raise your voice. But in bed—" She met his eyes. "In bed, you treat me like a problem to solve in ten minutes or less."

The accusation hung between them.

Raj thought about denying it. The words rose to his lips—that's not true, I give you pleasure, I've always— but they died there. Because he couldn't actually remember the last time he'd asked Priya what she wanted. Couldn't remember the last time he'd lingered between her legs rather than rushing toward his own finish. Couldn't remember ever seeing the expression she'd worn tonight—that expression of utter dissolution—directed at him.

"You could have talked to me," he said finally.

"I tried." Exhaustion crept into Priya's voice. "A hundred times. You'd nod and say you understood and nothing would change. So I stopped trying. And I started looking."

"For her."

"For someone. Anyone. I found Didi through a forum. Married women. Unsatisfied. Looking for..." She trailed off.

"Looking for what?"

Savita answered for her. "Looking for someone who would pay attention. Women my age, we've spent decades learning what younger women are just beginning to suspect: that good sex isn't about bodies, it's about presence. Your wife wanted presence. I provided it."

"You fucked my wife."

"I made love to your wife. I fingered her until she forgot her own name. I held her while she sobbed out years of sexual frustration. And yes, occasionally, I strapped on a dildo and gave her the kind of deep, sustained fucking that you have apparently never bothered to attempt." Savita's tone was clinical. Detached. Like a doctor discussing treatment. "And I would do it again."

Raj took a step forward. Not aggressive—he wasn't an aggressive man, that was perhaps part of the problem—but something in his posture made Priya flinch.

"Don't," she said. "Don't yell. Don't storm out. Don't do any of the things I know you want to do. Just... stay. For one minute. Please."

He stopped.

"Ask me why," Priya said. "Ask me why I chose her instead of a man. Instead of leaving you. Instead of any of the other options I had."

Raj's jaw tightened. "Why?"

"Because I don't want to leave you. I love you. I love our life together. I love the chai and the birthday reminders and the way you read the newspaper out loud even when I'm not listening. I don't want a divorce. I want..." She looked at Savita, then back at Raj. "I want you to understand what I need. And I didn't know how to show you until now."

"Show me," Raj repeated flatly. "What does that mean?"

Priya's gaze dropped to the empty harness still strapped around Savita's hips. Then rose again to meet her husband's eyes.

"Watch," she said. "Watch what she does to me. Watch what I actually need. And then—" She took a breath that seemed to require her whole body. "Then decide if you can be the one to give it to me. Or if you'd rather she keep coming on Thursdays."

The proposition landed like a physical weight in the room.

Raj should have laughed. Should have walked out. Should have called his brother and said you won't believe what Priya has been doing and turned this into an anecdote to process over Kingfishers. But instead he found himself looking at the bed. At his wife's face, which held terror and hope in equal measure. At the old woman's face, which held nothing but calm curiosity.

And his cock, still hard, still pressing against his zipper, answered before his brain could.

"You want me to sit here and watch her fuck you."

"I want you to learn," Priya said. "Finally. I want you to learn what I've been begging you to learn since our wedding night."

Savita reached for the harness's O-ring. Her fingers, knobbed with arthritis, worked with surprising dexterity as she reattached the silicone. The click of the snap finding its seat was the loudest sound in the room.

"Well, Raj?" The old woman's eyes found his. "Will you stay?"

He didn't answer.

But he didn't leave.

And when Savita gestured to the armchair in the corner of the bedroom—the armchair where Priya sat every morning to put on her bangles, the armchair he'd bought her for their first anniversary—Raj walked to it and sat down.

Priya exhaled. A tremor ran through her shoulders—relief? terror? anticipation?—and she let the sheet fall away from her body.

"Good girl," Savita murmured. "Now lie back. And let's show your husband what he's been missing."

---

Priya lay back against the pillows. Her legs parted. The lamplight caught the shine between them, and Raj watched his wife's chest rise and fall with quickening breath as the old woman positioned herself.

Savita didn't enter her immediately. Didn't even touch her at first. Just knelt between Priya's thighs and looked—really looked—at the body spread before her. The gaze was so intent, so unhurried, that Raj felt like an intruder witnessing something sacred.

"Do you see?" Savita spoke without turning. Her words were directed at Raj. "Do you see how she's already wet? How her labia are swollen? How her clitoris is visibly erect?"

Raj swallowed. He'd never looked at his wife's vulva that closely. Never cataloged its states, its changes, its language. He'd touched it, entered it, but never read it.

"I asked you a question."

"Yes," he managed.

"Yes, you see?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now watch what happens when touch isn't a means to an end."

Savita's fingers—two of them, the nails trimmed short and practical—brushed the inside of Priya's thigh. Not her sex. Just the thigh. The touch was featherlight, barely there, and yet Priya's entire body responded. Her hips lifted slightly. A sound escaped her mouth that was half-sigh.]]> BDSM
Femdom
generated by

rakeshkumar
Husband returns home unannounced to find his 24-year-old wife on all fours, being strapon-fucked by a 74-year-old silver-haired lesbian she calls "Didi.
Chapter


1

Chapter 1: The First Lesson


The key turned in the lock with a sound that felt heavier than it should have.

Raj stood in the doorway of his own flat, still clutching his carry-on, still wearing the stale air of a fourteen-hour flight from Frankfurt. The Mumbai humidity had already begun its work on his collar. Three weeks in Düsseldorf, three weeks of PowerPoint decks and conference rooms that all smelled the same, and now—finally—Thursday evening at home, unannounced.

He'd wanted to surprise Priya.

The flat was dim. Not dark exactly, but lit in that careless way of someone who hadn't expected company. The living room lamps were off. A tbangzoid of light fell from the bedroom doorway down the corridor, and from inside came sounds that his jet-lagged brain took a long, stupid moment to parse.

A creak. Not the building settling. Rhythm.

A voice. Priya's voice, but wrong—higher, looser, words dissolving into breaths.

And another voice. Deeper. Older. A voice like gravel wrapped in silk.

Raj set down his carry-on. The wheels made a soft click against the tile, and he winced, but the sounds from the bedroom didn't pause. Didn't even stutter.

He walked.

The corridor had never felt longer. Wedding photos lined the wall—Priya in red and gold, laughing at something his mother had said, his own face stiff with the effort of looking like a man who understood what marriage meant. Two years ago. Two years and already he was walking toward his own cuckolding like a man in a trance.

The bedroom door stood half open. Raj positioned himself in the shadow of the hallway and looked through the gap, and what he saw made his hand find the wall for balance.

Priya was on the bed. Naked. On her hands and knees.

And behind her, kneeling with the patient authority of someone who had done this for decades, was a woman Raj had never seen before. She was old— truly old—her hair a stark silver crop, her skin mapped with the lines of seventy-four years of living. Her breasts, heavy and low, swayed slightly with each movement of her hips. But it was what was strapped around those hips that stopped Raj's breath.

Black leather harness. Matte black silicone. Substantial.

The old woman—the word old felt inadequate, wrong, she was something else, something ancient and assured—gripped Priya's hips with speckled hands and thrust forward in a motion that was almost lazy. Almost bored. Like she'd been doing it for an hour already and had no intention of stopping.

"There," the woman murmured. Her voice held the rasp of a lifelong smoker. "Right there, beti. Feel it?"

Priya's response was not a word. It was a sound that Raj had never heard his wife make in two years of marriage. A sound that started somewhere in her chest and emerged as a whimper with vowels in it.

"Yes, Didi. Yes."

Didi. The honorific landed on Raj like a slap. Respect. Affection. Intimacy. His wife was calling this stranger elder sister while being fucked by her.

The old woman—Didi—chuckled. One hand left Priya's hip and traveled up the arch of her spine, fingers walking vertebra by vertebra like beads on a mala. "Such a good girl. You were so tense when I arrived. So worried about him." The word dripped with dismissal. "And now look at you."

Priya's head dropped lower between her shoulders. Her black hair, usually pinned up in the tight bun she wore to the accounting firm, spilled across the bedsheets in a fan of dark silk. Her back glistened. Her thighs trembled.

Raj's wife was being taken apart by a septuagenarian with a strap-on, and he couldn't move.

Couldn't speak.

Couldn't look away.

His cock—traitorous, animal thing—pressed against his trousers. He hated himself for it. He didn't stop it.

---

The old woman slowed her thrusts. Drew the silicone out with excruciating patience until only the tip remained inside Priya, then paused. Priya made a sound of protest, pushing backward, trying to reclaim what had been taken.

"Greedy," Didi said. Not unkindly. "You said you wanted to learn patience today. Remember?"

"This was an hour ago." Priya's voice cracked with frustration. "Didi, please."

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me."

The old woman's laugh was smoke and honey. "In a moment. First, tell me why you called me."

The question hung in the humid bedroom air. Raj watched his wife's shoulders rise and fall with ragged breathing. The strap-on glistened in the lamplight—with Priya's wetness, he realized. His wife was soaked enough to shine silicone.

"Because I needed..." Priya started, then stopped. Her hands fisted the sheets. "Because Raj doesn't—"

"Look at me when you speak."

Priya turned her head. Her face, visible now through the door gap, was flushed. Not with embarrassment—with something rawer. Her kohl-rimmed eyes were glassy, her lips parted, and there was a single tear track drying on her cheek. Not from sadness. From intensity. From the kind of release that Raj had never given her, had never even seen her approach.

"Raj doesn't see me," Priya said. Her voice steadied as she spoke. "He's a good man. He's kind. He works hard. But he fucks like he's checking a box. Ten minutes. Lights off. Missionary. Maybe I come, maybe I don't—usually I don't—and then he rolls over and I listen to him snore and I touch myself in the bathroom after."

Each word was a small knife. Raj's hand, still braced against the wall, began to tremble.

"And what do you need, beti?" The old woman's hand stroked Priya's flank with impossible gentleness. The contrast—that hand, that harness—made Raj's head spin.

"I need to be taken." Priya's voice broke on the word. "I need someone who knows my body better than I do. I need to not have to think for an hour, Didi. I need to be..." She searched for the word.

"Unmade," the old woman supplied.

"Yes. Unmade. I need to be unmade and then put back together by someone who knows how."

"And your husband?"

"Doesn't know how. Doesn't want to learn. I've hinted. I've asked. He gets defensive. He thinks wanting more means I think he's not enough." A bitter laugh escaped her. "He is enough. He's just... the wrong shape of enough."

The old woman nodded slowly. Her silver hair caught the lamplight. "And I am the right shape?"

"Every Thursday for two months now, Didi." Priya's voice softened. "You know you are."

Every Thursday. Raj did the math backward and realized, with a sickness that settled in his stomach like cold biryani, that the first Thursday had been the day after he left for Düsseldorf. His wife had waited less than twenty-four hours.

But the sickness was complicated. Because alongside it—beneath it, tangled in it—was something else. Something that watched Priya's expression of naked honesty and felt, for the first time, that he was seeing his wife as she actually was.

---

The old woman began to move again. Not thrusting—just a slow, circular grind of her hips that made the base of the strap-on press against something in Priya that Raj didn't know existed.

Priya's mouth fell open. Her eyes lost focus.

"There," Didi murmured. "That's the spot your husband has never found, isn't it?"

"Never." The word was barely a breath.

"Because he fucks with his cock, not with his attention."

"Yes."

"Because he sees your body as something to enter, not something to inhabit."

"Yes." A sob hid beneath the word.

"Because he has never once asked you what you actually want in bed."

Priya didn't answer. She didn't need to. The silence was a testament.

Raj's fingers found the doorframe and gripped it. He wanted to burst in. Wanted to shout. Wanted to demand explanations and apologies and for this ancient woman to leave his house. But he also wanted—and this was the part that confounded him—to keep watching. To learn. Because everything the old woman was saying was true, and he had never heard it spoken aloud before.

The old woman withdrew the strap-on entirely. Priya whimpered at the emptiness. Didi unhooked the harness—competent, practiced fingers working the buckles—and set it aside on the bed. The silicone was wet enough to darken the sheets where it lay.

"Turn over," Didi said.

Priya obeyed like a woman whose will had been politely confiscated. She rolled onto her back, legs falling open without shame, arms stretching above her head to grip the headboard slats. Her breasts—small and brown, nipples dark and tight—rose and fell with her breathing. The thatch of hair between her legs was a mess. Her inner thighs shone.

The old woman knelt between those thighs and simply looked.

"Beautiful," she pronounced. Not a compliment. An assessment. "Do you know how rare it is, Priya, to find a woman your age who knows what she wants? Most of them are still performing. Performing for husbands, for boyfriends, for the imaginary audience in their heads. But you—" She reached out and traced one finger along Priya's collarbone. "You stopped performing the moment you called me."

"I stopped performing," Priya agreed, "the moment you told me to kneel."

The old woman smiled. Her teeth were her own, slightly yellowed, perfectly aligned. "Then kneel now. But facing me this time."

---

Raj watched his wife rise to her knees and shuffle forward until she was inches from the old woman's body. Didi was still wearing the harness—empty now, the O-ring hanging at her pubic bone like a question mark—but she made no move to reattach the dildo. Instead, she took Priya's face in both hands.

Thumbs traced cheekbones. Priya's eyes fluttered closed.

"Look at me," Didi commanded.

Priya's eyes opened.

"You've been a good student, beti. Patient. Attentive. Willing to unlearn the bad habits men taught you."

"Thank you, Didi."

"I'm not finished." The old woman's grip on Priya's face tightened—not painfully, but with unmistakable authority. "Today I want to give you something new. Something you haven't earned yet, but that I think you're ready for."

Excitement flickered across Priya's features. "What?"

"Your husband."

The word arrived like a grenade.

Priya went rigid. "What?"

"He's home early. His flight landed three hours ago—I checked. He's been in the doorway for the last ten minutes."

The silence that followed was the loudest thing Raj had ever heard.

He should have moved. Should have said something. Should have done literally anything other than stand frozen in the corridor shadows while two women—his wife and her lover—turned their heads in unison toward the door.

"Oh god," Priya whispered. The flush drained from her face, replaced by something gray. "Raj—"

"Don't panic," Didi said. Her voice was utterly calm, as if discovering a husband's voyeurism was a routine part of her Thursday afternoons. "Invite him in."

"Are you insane?"

"Invite. Him. In."

The command left no room for argument. Raj saw his wife's throat bob as she swallowed. Then, in a voice smaller than he'd ever heard her use:

"Raj? I know you're there. Please... please come in."

---

His legs carried him forward without conscious decision. The door swung open fully. The bedroom light—warm, amber, intimate—fell on his face, and he blinked against it like a man emerging from a cave.

The scene resolved in full sensory detail now that he was inside it. The smell first: sex and sandalwood and something muskier, older. The sight: Priya on her knees, naked, face still bearing the imprint of the old woman's fingers. The sound: a ceiling fan clicking its lazy rotation, and beneath it, Priya's breathing, fast and shallow with terror.

And the old woman. Didi. She turned to face him fully, and Raj understood for the first time what his wife meant by the wrong shape of enough.

This woman was not beautiful in any conventional sense. Her body was a body that had lived—breasts that had hung low for decades, a belly that had softened and rounded, arms that were thin but not frail. Her face was a landscape of wrinkles, each line earned, nothing erased or hidden. And yet. There was something in her eyes—dark, assessing, utterly without shame—that made Raj feel like a boy caught cheating on an exam.

"So," she said. "The husband."

"Who are you?" His voice came out hoarser than he'd intended.

"Savita. But you can call me Didi, as your wife does." She gestured toward the bed, a hostess offering a seat to a guest. "You've been traveling. Sit before you fall."

Raj didn't sit. "What the fuck is happening here?"

"What's happening," Savita said, settling back on her heels with the ease of someone who had been naked in front of strangers for longer than Raj had been alive, "is that your wife has been paying me to give her what you cannot. Or will not. The distinction matters, but I suspect the result is the same."

"I love my wife."

"I'm sure you do." The agreement was unimpressed. "Love and sex are cousins, not siblings. You can love someone without ever learning to fuck them properly. And you, Raj—" She tilted her head, examining him. "You have never learned."

"You don't know anything about me."

"I know that your wife has been seeing me every Thursday for two months. I know that the first time I touched her, she cried for forty minutes straight. I know that you've never made her come with your mouth. I know that she's been faking orgasms since your wedding night. I know—"

"Enough." Priya's voice cut through. She had pulled a sheet up to her chest, a belated gesture of modesty that struck Raj as almost comically too late. "Savita, enough. Raj, I—" She stopped. Swallowed. Started again. "I should have told you. I should have asked. I should have—"

"Asked," Raj repeated. "Asked what? Asked permission to cheat on me with a seventy-four-year-old lesbian?"

"The age is not the point," Savita murmured.

"The point," Priya said, and her voice was steadier now, "is that I've been dying, Raj. Inside our marriage. Inside our bed. You're a good man. You bring me chai in the morning and you remember my mother's birthday and you never raise your voice. But in bed—" She met his eyes. "In bed, you treat me like a problem to solve in ten minutes or less."

The accusation hung between them.

Raj thought about denying it. The words rose to his lips—that's not true, I give you pleasure, I've always— but they died there. Because he couldn't actually remember the last time he'd asked Priya what she wanted. Couldn't remember the last time he'd lingered between her legs rather than rushing toward his own finish. Couldn't remember ever seeing the expression she'd worn tonight—that expression of utter dissolution—directed at him.

"You could have talked to me," he said finally.

"I tried." Exhaustion crept into Priya's voice. "A hundred times. You'd nod and say you understood and nothing would change. So I stopped trying. And I started looking."

"For her."

"For someone. Anyone. I found Didi through a forum. Married women. Unsatisfied. Looking for..." She trailed off.

"Looking for what?"

Savita answered for her. "Looking for someone who would pay attention. Women my age, we've spent decades learning what younger women are just beginning to suspect: that good sex isn't about bodies, it's about presence. Your wife wanted presence. I provided it."

"You fucked my wife."

"I made love to your wife. I fingered her until she forgot her own name. I held her while she sobbed out years of sexual frustration. And yes, occasionally, I strapped on a dildo and gave her the kind of deep, sustained fucking that you have apparently never bothered to attempt." Savita's tone was clinical. Detached. Like a doctor discussing treatment. "And I would do it again."

Raj took a step forward. Not aggressive—he wasn't an aggressive man, that was perhaps part of the problem—but something in his posture made Priya flinch.

"Don't," she said. "Don't yell. Don't storm out. Don't do any of the things I know you want to do. Just... stay. For one minute. Please."

He stopped.

"Ask me why," Priya said. "Ask me why I chose her instead of a man. Instead of leaving you. Instead of any of the other options I had."

Raj's jaw tightened. "Why?"

"Because I don't want to leave you. I love you. I love our life together. I love the chai and the birthday reminders and the way you read the newspaper out loud even when I'm not listening. I don't want a divorce. I want..." She looked at Savita, then back at Raj. "I want you to understand what I need. And I didn't know how to show you until now."

"Show me," Raj repeated flatly. "What does that mean?"

Priya's gaze dropped to the empty harness still strapped around Savita's hips. Then rose again to meet her husband's eyes.

"Watch," she said. "Watch what she does to me. Watch what I actually need. And then—" She took a breath that seemed to require her whole body. "Then decide if you can be the one to give it to me. Or if you'd rather she keep coming on Thursdays."

The proposition landed like a physical weight in the room.

Raj should have laughed. Should have walked out. Should have called his brother and said you won't believe what Priya has been doing and turned this into an anecdote to process over Kingfishers. But instead he found himself looking at the bed. At his wife's face, which held terror and hope in equal measure. At the old woman's face, which held nothing but calm curiosity.

And his cock, still hard, still pressing against his zipper, answered before his brain could.

"You want me to sit here and watch her fuck you."

"I want you to learn," Priya said. "Finally. I want you to learn what I've been begging you to learn since our wedding night."

Savita reached for the harness's O-ring. Her fingers, knobbed with arthritis, worked with surprising dexterity as she reattached the silicone. The click of the snap finding its seat was the loudest sound in the room.

"Well, Raj?" The old woman's eyes found his. "Will you stay?"

He didn't answer.

But he didn't leave.

And when Savita gestured to the armchair in the corner of the bedroom—the armchair where Priya sat every morning to put on her bangles, the armchair he'd bought her for their first anniversary—Raj walked to it and sat down.

Priya exhaled. A tremor ran through her shoulders—relief? terror? anticipation?—and she let the sheet fall away from her body.

"Good girl," Savita murmured. "Now lie back. And let's show your husband what he's been missing."

---

Priya lay back against the pillows. Her legs parted. The lamplight caught the shine between them, and Raj watched his wife's chest rise and fall with quickening breath as the old woman positioned herself.

Savita didn't enter her immediately. Didn't even touch her at first. Just knelt between Priya's thighs and looked—really looked—at the body spread before her. The gaze was so intent, so unhurried, that Raj felt like an intruder witnessing something sacred.

"Do you see?" Savita spoke without turning. Her words were directed at Raj. "Do you see how she's already wet? How her labia are swollen? How her clitoris is visibly erect?"

Raj swallowed. He'd never looked at his wife's vulva that closely. Never cataloged its states, its changes, its language. He'd touched it, entered it, but never read it.

"I asked you a question."

"Yes," he managed.

"Yes, you see?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now watch what happens when touch isn't a means to an end."

Savita's fingers—two of them, the nails trimmed short and practical—brushed the inside of Priya's thigh. Not her sex. Just the thigh. The touch was featherlight, barely there, and yet Priya's entire body responded. Her hips lifted slightly. A sound escaped her mouth that was half-sigh.]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75117.html Sun, 30 Aug 2026 19:53:44 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75117.html Allowing Nephew to Marry My Wife leads To Marriage with My Two sons And Her Sister Two sons

hello this is my new story and the story synopsis is A wife is living in the house with her husband two sons and nephew son wife of husband's sister they both died while leaving huge property.

Hi these are charcters

1:Rakesh (1st legal husband)

2:Janaki (wife of 1 legal huband and illegal wife of nephew her sons and her sister sons and be kept as a mistress for her black servant)

3:Gopal (nephew 23 years 1st secret husband of Janaki)

4:Ravi (1st son 22 years and 2nd secret husband of Janaki)

5:Rahul (2nd son 21 years and 3rd secret husband of Janaki)

6:Divya (big sister of Janaki with sons)

7:Deeraj (Son of Divaya 20 years and 4th secret husband of Janaki)

8:Ajay (son of Divya 19 years and 5th secret husband of Janaki)

9:Rajan (son of khanna servant of the house age 18 and Janaki is his mistress keep)

This is the family photo of janaki

Rakesh I am It was early in the morning, I was getting late to oversee my new Apartment construction for our family.

As I was at the Dining Table, waiting for my Dosa, my wife was still in the Kitchen, “Janaki…. Janaki….,” though I called, she was not even answering.

 

As I went to check on her in the Kitchen, the stove was on with the Tawa on top, and my wife was thinking about something and was slowly stirring the Dosa batter in the vessel.

“Janaki?!” as I exclaimed and went near her, “Ehmmm?” she exclaimed and turned towards me.

“Are you okay, baby?” as I exclaimed and gave her a hug, since she was not wearing her Bra and Panties inside her thin White Nightie.

[img=240x180][/img]

when I hugged her I could feel like I was hugging her naked.  It has been more than six months since I had made love to my wife.

Because I was spending all my time at my Apartment construction site and I never could really spend time with my wife and my two sons and nephew.

Though the guilt of not spending enough time with my family was there inside me.

The fact that I was working hard for my family and the future of my two sons and Nephew was making me forget the guilt.

My wife Janaki, who was a Dentist turned homemaker, who closed the Dental Clinic just to take care of our sons, and nephew clearly understood why I could not spend enough time with them.

she was taking care of all the needs of my sons and nephew.  Starting from waking up in the morning, preparing Breakfast for us, sending me off to the Construction site, and dropping our two sons and nephew in their colleges in the car and picking our sons from college, to helping them do their homeworks and put them to bed, she was busy the whole day.

To add to her busy schedule, she found out about my eldest’s son Ravi Hockey Talent and joined him at one of the finest Hockey Coaching Academy, and began dropping him off at the Hockey Coaching Academy early in the morning and waited there until his Hockey Practice was over and then picked him up from there in the Car.

My teenage son Ravi, who had grown 6’5 already, had become a fast bowler and used to take a lot of wickets, which made my wife so proud.

My first son Ravi and my wife used to proudly show me all the Man of the Match trophies and Medals he used to win. 

Every morning during Breakfast, while serving Dosas for us, her only talk was about our first Son Ravi’s match performance.

When she told us that he was going to play under 25 for the State side, I was totally happy and even promised that I would definitely come to watch the Under 25 matches he was going to play for the State.

But he not interested in cricket and was interest in the making money and he invested in the stock market secretly and made crores and bought some lands secretly with out telling anyone at home.

Though I was busy with my Apartment construction, I was waiting for my wife and my son Ravi to inform me about the Date of the under 25 Match he was going to play representing the State.

Since I had missed all my son’s matches as a result of being busy with my Apartment Construction, I somehow wanted to go to the Hockey Academy and watch my son’s match practice so that he would not feel that I don’t care about him.

One day, when we ran out of material supplies and had an off day, I decided to go to the Hockey Academy to watch my son’s match.

By the time I went to the Hockey Academy, the match was already over and my son was celebrating among his friends.

When I stopped a guy was putting his head down and going home with his bag, “who won the match?” casually, “they won, that Bastard Ravi took all our wickets,” as he said, “hey mind your words, I am his Dad,” as I said in an angry tone, he apologized and left the place.

Letting my son celebrate with his friends, as I went to the Office Room to check on my wife, to my shock, my nephew was hugging my wife who was in her Purple Chiffon Saree and Matching Purple Blouse.

With tears rolling all over the nephew eyes, and hugging and feeling my wife up nicely, “Ravi, made me so proud, Sir.  Full credit should go to this Super Mom, madam,” the nephew exclaimed, still hugging my wife and looking at an elderly man.

 

“She drops him here daily and waits here until the Practice is over and provides him all the financial support and moral support.

It is because of this Super Mom, her son Ravi won the Match for us, madam.  I am so thankful to her.

As the nephew exclaimed in an emotional tone and began hugging my wife tight, this time feeling her up nicely and resting his hands over my wife’s ass cheeks.

The nephew eyes were all over my wife’s ass and was licking his lips.

My wife exclaimed, gently breaking the hug, but not completely as his nephew’s hands were still over my wife’s ass cheeks over her Saree.

Ignoring his hands which were over her ass cheeks he took his hands off my wife’s ass and brought it up and held my wife by her waist.

The way the nephew was holding her by her waist, had started making her feel comfortable, “you both need to be applauded.

 

Alright I am going to meet the State Hockey Council heads today and recommend Ravi’s name and they will definitely add him to the State Team and if he performs well at the State Level, he will soo represent India and make our country proud,” as the coach was saying and my wife was delightfully looking at him and listening to news that our son was going to play for the State and soon for the Country.

the Nephew eyes were all over my wife’s boobs over her Purple Saree and her Purple Blouse Pallu, and began taking his hands off my wife’s waist gently and began moving it up.

Began taking his hands further up and began grabbing my wife by her underarms, brushing her boobs, for a moment she tried to ignore the Nephew's hands grabbing her by her underarms, she was clearly feeling uncomfortable.

“I will make sure Ravi’s name is on the State Team List,” as the coach man said, “Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah…. We did it, Janaki..!”

The Nephew exclaimed and all of a sudden began grabbing my wife by her ass cheeks and began lifting her and began circling her around.  “I am so happy..!!” 

As the nephew exclaimed of cousin winning and selected in selections and dropped her down and she was trying to stand straight after being circled around, “all because of you, Janaki,” as the nephew exclaimed and all of a sudden began grabbing my wife by her ass cheeks over her Purple Chiffon Saree and began pulling her towards him and began kissing her lips, right in front of the old me, she pushed the Nephew aside and slapped him and left the place.

Strangely, instead of getting angry at the Nephew for hugging my wife, feeling my wife up nicely, and smooching my wife’s lips, I started feeling horny and excited.

By the time my wife and my son Ravi and Nephew had left the place, I took my car and reached home.

The moment my eldest son Ravi saw me at home, he came towards me and hugged me, “Dad, I am gonna play for the State Team and after that I am gonna play for India..!”

As he exclaimed, “My God… I am so proud of you, Son,” I exclaimed.  As I looked at my wife, she was looking upset, “hey, our son is going to play for the State team and you are looking upset?” I said looked at my wife.

“Yeah, Dad, I don’t know what happened, she has been upset and did not speak a word to me,” as my elder son exclaimed, my second son began coming out of the house, “Your elder Brother is going to play for the State Team,” as my elder son exclaimed out of happiness and began hugging my second son and began jumping out of happiness and also My nephew also hugged my sons.

 

As my wife was still looking upset, “what happened, baby?  Look how happy our boys are, come on cheer up,” as I exclaimed, “Ram, I need to take a shower,” she said and went inside.

]]> Allowing Nephew to Marry My Wife leads To Marriage with My Two sons And Her Sister Two sons

hello this is my new story and the story synopsis is A wife is living in the house with her husband two sons and nephew son wife of husband's sister they both died while leaving huge property.

Hi these are charcters

1:Rakesh (1st legal husband)

2:Janaki (wife of 1 legal huband and illegal wife of nephew her sons and her sister sons and be kept as a mistress for her black servant)

3:Gopal (nephew 23 years 1st secret husband of Janaki)

4:Ravi (1st son 22 years and 2nd secret husband of Janaki)

5:Rahul (2nd son 21 years and 3rd secret husband of Janaki)

6:Divya (big sister of Janaki with sons)

7:Deeraj (Son of Divaya 20 years and 4th secret husband of Janaki)

8:Ajay (son of Divya 19 years and 5th secret husband of Janaki)

9:Rajan (son of khanna servant of the house age 18 and Janaki is his mistress keep)

This is the family photo of janaki

Rakesh I am It was early in the morning, I was getting late to oversee my new Apartment construction for our family.

As I was at the Dining Table, waiting for my Dosa, my wife was still in the Kitchen, “Janaki…. Janaki….,” though I called, she was not even answering.

 

As I went to check on her in the Kitchen, the stove was on with the Tawa on top, and my wife was thinking about something and was slowly stirring the Dosa batter in the vessel.

“Janaki?!” as I exclaimed and went near her, “Ehmmm?” she exclaimed and turned towards me.

“Are you okay, baby?” as I exclaimed and gave her a hug, since she was not wearing her Bra and Panties inside her thin White Nightie.

[img=240x180][/img]

when I hugged her I could feel like I was hugging her naked.  It has been more than six months since I had made love to my wife.

Because I was spending all my time at my Apartment construction site and I never could really spend time with my wife and my two sons and nephew.

Though the guilt of not spending enough time with my family was there inside me.

The fact that I was working hard for my family and the future of my two sons and Nephew was making me forget the guilt.

My wife Janaki, who was a Dentist turned homemaker, who closed the Dental Clinic just to take care of our sons, and nephew clearly understood why I could not spend enough time with them.

she was taking care of all the needs of my sons and nephew.  Starting from waking up in the morning, preparing Breakfast for us, sending me off to the Construction site, and dropping our two sons and nephew in their colleges in the car and picking our sons from college, to helping them do their homeworks and put them to bed, she was busy the whole day.

To add to her busy schedule, she found out about my eldest’s son Ravi Hockey Talent and joined him at one of the finest Hockey Coaching Academy, and began dropping him off at the Hockey Coaching Academy early in the morning and waited there until his Hockey Practice was over and then picked him up from there in the Car.

My teenage son Ravi, who had grown 6’5 already, had become a fast bowler and used to take a lot of wickets, which made my wife so proud.

My first son Ravi and my wife used to proudly show me all the Man of the Match trophies and Medals he used to win. 

Every morning during Breakfast, while serving Dosas for us, her only talk was about our first Son Ravi’s match performance.

When she told us that he was going to play under 25 for the State side, I was totally happy and even promised that I would definitely come to watch the Under 25 matches he was going to play for the State.

But he not interested in cricket and was interest in the making money and he invested in the stock market secretly and made crores and bought some lands secretly with out telling anyone at home.

Though I was busy with my Apartment construction, I was waiting for my wife and my son Ravi to inform me about the Date of the under 25 Match he was going to play representing the State.

Since I had missed all my son’s matches as a result of being busy with my Apartment Construction, I somehow wanted to go to the Hockey Academy and watch my son’s match practice so that he would not feel that I don’t care about him.

One day, when we ran out of material supplies and had an off day, I decided to go to the Hockey Academy to watch my son’s match.

By the time I went to the Hockey Academy, the match was already over and my son was celebrating among his friends.

When I stopped a guy was putting his head down and going home with his bag, “who won the match?” casually, “they won, that Bastard Ravi took all our wickets,” as he said, “hey mind your words, I am his Dad,” as I said in an angry tone, he apologized and left the place.

Letting my son celebrate with his friends, as I went to the Office Room to check on my wife, to my shock, my nephew was hugging my wife who was in her Purple Chiffon Saree and Matching Purple Blouse.

With tears rolling all over the nephew eyes, and hugging and feeling my wife up nicely, “Ravi, made me so proud, Sir.  Full credit should go to this Super Mom, madam,” the nephew exclaimed, still hugging my wife and looking at an elderly man.

 

“She drops him here daily and waits here until the Practice is over and provides him all the financial support and moral support.

It is because of this Super Mom, her son Ravi won the Match for us, madam.  I am so thankful to her.

As the nephew exclaimed in an emotional tone and began hugging my wife tight, this time feeling her up nicely and resting his hands over my wife’s ass cheeks.

The nephew eyes were all over my wife’s ass and was licking his lips.

My wife exclaimed, gently breaking the hug, but not completely as his nephew’s hands were still over my wife’s ass cheeks over her Saree.

Ignoring his hands which were over her ass cheeks he took his hands off my wife’s ass and brought it up and held my wife by her waist.

The way the nephew was holding her by her waist, had started making her feel comfortable, “you both need to be applauded.

 

Alright I am going to meet the State Hockey Council heads today and recommend Ravi’s name and they will definitely add him to the State Team and if he performs well at the State Level, he will soo represent India and make our country proud,” as the coach was saying and my wife was delightfully looking at him and listening to news that our son was going to play for the State and soon for the Country.

the Nephew eyes were all over my wife’s boobs over her Purple Saree and her Purple Blouse Pallu, and began taking his hands off my wife’s waist gently and began moving it up.

Began taking his hands further up and began grabbing my wife by her underarms, brushing her boobs, for a moment she tried to ignore the Nephew's hands grabbing her by her underarms, she was clearly feeling uncomfortable.

“I will make sure Ravi’s name is on the State Team List,” as the coach man said, “Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah…. We did it, Janaki..!”

The Nephew exclaimed and all of a sudden began grabbing my wife by her ass cheeks and began lifting her and began circling her around.  “I am so happy..!!” 

As the nephew exclaimed of cousin winning and selected in selections and dropped her down and she was trying to stand straight after being circled around, “all because of you, Janaki,” as the nephew exclaimed and all of a sudden began grabbing my wife by her ass cheeks over her Purple Chiffon Saree and began pulling her towards him and began kissing her lips, right in front of the old me, she pushed the Nephew aside and slapped him and left the place.

Strangely, instead of getting angry at the Nephew for hugging my wife, feeling my wife up nicely, and smooching my wife’s lips, I started feeling horny and excited.

By the time my wife and my son Ravi and Nephew had left the place, I took my car and reached home.

The moment my eldest son Ravi saw me at home, he came towards me and hugged me, “Dad, I am gonna play for the State Team and after that I am gonna play for India..!”

As he exclaimed, “My God… I am so proud of you, Son,” I exclaimed.  As I looked at my wife, she was looking upset, “hey, our son is going to play for the State team and you are looking upset?” I said looked at my wife.

“Yeah, Dad, I don’t know what happened, she has been upset and did not speak a word to me,” as my elder son exclaimed, my second son began coming out of the house, “Your elder Brother is going to play for the State Team,” as my elder son exclaimed out of happiness and began hugging my second son and began jumping out of happiness and also My nephew also hugged my sons.

 

As my wife was still looking upset, “what happened, baby?  Look how happy our boys are, come on cheer up,” as I exclaimed, “Ram, I need to take a shower,” she said and went inside.

]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75104.html Sat, 29 Aug 2026 19:59:11 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75104.html Wife Of 5 Husbands With in The family

Hi guys this my new story of short story about becoming wife of 5 husbands

Heroine:Lakshmi(wife)

heros:1.varun(husband)

         2.vishwanath(father in law)husband

         3.krishnamurthi(father)husband

         4.vasu(small brother in law)husband

         5.abhay(brother)husband

There are Two sisters for my husband and they are married

]]> Wife Of 5 Husbands With in The family

Hi guys this my new story of short story about becoming wife of 5 husbands

Heroine:Lakshmi(wife)

heros:1.varun(husband)

         2.vishwanath(father in law)husband

         3.krishnamurthi(father)husband

         4.vasu(small brother in law)husband

         5.abhay(brother)husband

There are Two sisters for my husband and they are married

]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75100.html Sat, 29 Aug 2026 17:23:37 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75100.html Suman’s parents were overjoyed when their daughter married into a wealthy family in the city. Although Suman didn’t want to leave her parents and go far away, the radiant faces of her parents were enough for her to accept the marriage.

The wedding went well; her in-laws and her husband welcomed her wholeheartedly too. This eased her heart, but what Suman failed to realize was that under all the warmth, there was something much darker and perverted.
One evening, Suman’s father-in-law, Ashok, and his friend Naresh were playing chess. Suman approached them.
“Naresh Ji, will you have tea or coffee?” Suman asked.
Naresh smiled. “Bahu Rani, just bring tea.”
“And you, Sasur Ji?” Suman asked.
Ashok looked at Suman’s face- her fair cheeks, red lipstick, a small bindi on her forehead, and her navel peeking from her saari and he was completely mesmerized by her. Naresh laughed.
“Hey Ashok, your daughter-in-law is asking something,” Naresh said.
“Haha, Bahu, one cup of tea,” Ashok said.
Suman smiled. “Okay, I’ll bring it right away.”
Suman started walking toward the kitchen. From behind, Ashok stared at her swaying waist and tight ass.
In the kitchen, Brijlal, an old servant of the house, was cooking food.
“Oh beta, you’ve come. What did they say?” Brijlal asked.
“Brijlal Ji, they want tea. Let me make it,” Suman said.
“No problem, beta. I’ll make it.”
“No, no, Brijlal Ji. You already do so much work around the house. I’ll make the tea,” Suman insisted.
“Beta, you’re like my own daughter. You’ve just gotten married. You should rest.” Brijlal said.
Suman smiled to herself and thought. “The people here are so loving and kind.”
Brijlal checked the container for sugar, and it was empty. “Beta, can you please get the sugar from the top shelf? My hands don’t reach that high,” Brijlal asked.
“Of course,” Suman replied with a bright smile.
When Suman raised her hand, her saree stretched a little, exposing her waist folds. Brijlal couldn’t stop staring at it and had a big grin on his face. Brijlal thought, “Uff, Bahu should wear a more revealing saari.”
In the living room, Naresh said, “You’ve brought a really hot daughter-in-law.”
Naresh moved closer to Ashok.
“So, how long are you just going to keep staring at her? Women like her aren’t just for looking, you know?” Naresh said.
“No need to tell me. Tomorrow my son is leaving for a one-week business trip,” Ashok said.
“Oh wow, then there’s no problem at all,” Naresh said.
“Yes, but I’ll have to make a plan,” Ashok said.
Naresh thought for a few seconds. “I have an idea. I know a chemist nearby. If I talk to him, I can arrange some good sedatives.”
“And what do you want in return?” Ashok asked.
Naresh laughed. “What can I say? After witnessing bahu’s beauty, even I can’t control myself. So, I thought if I could also get something…”
Ashok smiled. “Alright, come tomorrow night.”
The next day, Suman’s husband left for his trip. Naresh brought the sedative to Ashok, who mixed it into Suman’s food.
After some time, while Naresh and Ashok were playing chess, they saw Suman walking toward her room. “Hey Bahu, where are you going? Come here for a bit,” Ashok called out.
Suman came over. “Sasur Ji, I was feeling a little sleepy.”
“Just for a bit,” Ashok said.
“Yes, Bahu, come sit here,” Naresh added.
Suman sat down next to Ashok, but soon her eyes grew heavy, and she fell asleep. “Bahu? Hey Bahu?” Ashok tried to shake her awake, but she was in a deep sleep.
“Wow, she looks so beautiful while sleeping. Hey Ashok, you fed the medicine to your wife too, right?” Naresh asked.
“Yes, don’t worry. She’s sleeping like a log,” Ashok replied.
Both Ashok and Naresh looked at the sleeping Suman. Ashok gently touched her lips.
“So soft,” Ashok whispered.
Then Ashok held her face and smashed her lips against his.
“Mmmhhh… Ah…”
Naresh chuckled, watching Ashok so excited.
“Her lips are so sweet,” Ashok said.
He pulled down her pallu and started squeezing her breasts through her blouse.
“Ashok, control yourself a bit. We have plenty of time,” Naresh said.
They laid Suman on the sofa and started removing her clothes one by one.
Her saari, blouse, petticoat, bra, and at the end, her white panty. Suman lay nude, wearing only her wedding bangles and anklet.
Her gold bangles on her fair skin looked so alluring that both Naresh and Ashok started drooling. Ashok couldn’t hold back anymore. He moved between her legs and sniffed her pussy.
“Ah, so this is how she smells. Uff, so intoxicating.”
Ashok lifted both her legs and began licking her. Pressing his tongue against her clit and swirling it to every corner of her pussy. Her pussy was completely drenched. Naresh made Suman grab his dick and started stroking it.
“Aahh… what soft hands… aah…”
Her white hands on her black dick just made Naresh hornier. He bent down and kissed her red lips. He savored her lips so much; her whole lipstick was gone, and he didn’t stop just at her mouth. He licked her cheeks, nose, and forehead, covering her entire face in his drool.
After making Suman’s pussy completely wet, Ashok placed his cock at her entrance.
“Aahh, Bahu, you’ve made me wait so long,” Ashok groaned.
With one hard thrust, Ashok pushed his entire cock inside Suman’s pussy.
Her legs quivered for a moment.
“Uff, it’s so tight,” Ashok grunted.
He lifted both her legs and started fucking her relentlessly. Because of this, Suman began moaning even in her sleep.
“Mmmn… Aahh…” Suman started moaning in her sleep state.
Hearing her sweet, lewd moans, Naresh couldn’t control himself either and pushed his cock in her mouth. “Ahh… so hot and wet…” Naresh groaned.
Naresh grabbed her face and started thrusting her mouth; meanwhile, Ashok was claiming her pussy like he was her owner.
Ashok spat on his hand and rubbed it on the light bush above her pussy and played with it, making wet curls of her ungroomed bush. Noticing how much Ashok was enjoying, Naresh pulled out his cock.
“Ahh, let me fuck her pussy too,” Naresh said.
Ashok smiled and pulled his cock out. “Yeah, I was thinking of trying something else too.”
Ashok smirked and pressed his finger against her asshole. They noticed someone was approaching them. It was Brijlal, with boner in his pajamas.
Ashok laughed. “You’ve also come to enjoy?” Ashok asked.
“Sir, I…” Brijlal stammered.
“Come on, join us. I’m in a good mood today,” Ashok said.
A big smile appeared on Brijlal’s face. “Thank you, Sir!”
Brijlal rushed over and jumped on Suman like a dog. Then he started sucking her breasts and rapidly thrusting his cock into her pussy.
“Ah- Ah- Ah- Ah-… Uffff…” Brijlal groaned.
Brijlal licked her breasts and fucked her fiercely like a rabbit in heat.
“Look at this horny bastard,” Ashok chuckled.
Naresh laughed.
“Aah Bahu… Aahh Bahu…” Brijlal moaned.
Brijlal buried his face in her breasts and started rubbing his face against them. His thrusts were so strong that they made Suman regain consciousness.
“B-Brijlal J-Ji?” Suman gasped.
Brijlal got scared and pulled back.
“Looks like the sedative’s effect is wearing off. Then I guess I will take my leave for now.” Naresh said.
“Yeah,” Ashok replied.
Ashok picked Suman up and looked at Brijlal, said, “If you are done, then go do some work.”
“Y-Yes, Sir,” Brijlal said and hurried away.
Ashok then carried Suman to her bedroom. Though Suman wasn’t fully conscious, she understood what the three of them were doing to her.
Ashok laid her on the bed.
“W-Why? Why did you do this, Sasur Ji?” she whispered.
Ashok moved closer. “Bahu, remember the day I came to your house to arrange my son’s marriage? The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one I wanted. The one I desire. The one I want to belong to me.”
“T-This is wrong, Y-You used me-” Suman said with all of her strength.
Ashok smirked, “And what’s wrong with it? You think a wealthy family like ours marries a village girl out of kindness?”
Ashok brushed his knee against her pussy. “Ahh.” Suman moaned.
“My son has many girlfriends, so he doesn’t care who I tell him to marry. Though he never guessed the reason I wanted him to marry you.”
Ashok held her face.
“Such a pretty face, such an enticing figure would have been wasted in that village. I hope you will keep this a secret from your mother-in-law. Otherwise,”
Ashok smiled, “I guess I don’t need to tell you the consequences.”
Suddenly, Suman remembered her parents’ faces, their sacrifices, their burdens, and their smiling faces. Suman averted her eyes, but Ashok pulled her face close. All night long, he used her body in every way imaginable, savoring every inch of her skin.
The only sounds that escaped the room were Suman’s moans, which she couldn’t suppress no matter how hard she tried. In the morning, Ashok finally left her room, leaving Suman utterly exhausted, tainted with his lust.
Suman’s mind was blank; at first, it flooded with guilt and sadness, but slowly, it became complicated. Suman covered her eyes in disbelief. She didn’t want to imagine why her body was reacting to his touch in that way.
A thought came to her mind. “Am I a whore now?” She shook her head deliberately to shrug off that thought. She got up and went to take a bath.
“W-what is going to happen now? Is this my new reality? I-I can’t go back to my parents, not after everything they did for me.” She thought. After bathing, when Suman went to the kitchen, she saw Brijlal was cleaning. He flinched at the sight of her.
“B-Bahu, p-please forgive me. I don’t know what came over me yesterday—” Brijlal stammered. Suman looked down with a slight frown on her face.
“You said I was like your own daughter. Then how could you do this to me?”
“Bahu, I—” he started.
Ashok came there laughing. “Because he is nothing but a pervert.”
“S-Sir…” Brijlal trembled.
“Don’t look at me, go do your work,” Ashok ordered.
“Y-Yes, Sir,” Brijlal said and scurried away
As soon as Brijlal left, Ashok grabbed Suman’s butt and said, “You look very beautiful in this purple saree today, Bahu.” He came close to her ear and whispered, “Don’t worry, this saree will only stay on till the evening.”
He squeezed her butt and left with a grin on his face.
Suman felt uneasy. She kept wondering what was going to happen.
In the evening, Suman’s mother-in-law went to the temple. After she left, while Suman was cleaning the dining table, someone hugged her from behind.
When Suman looked behind, it was Naresh.
“Naresh Ji! What are you doing?!” Suman exclaimed.
Naresh smiled. “Bahu, after yesterday I just couldn’t control myself. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
Naresh humped her and placed a bag on the table. “Here, wear this quickly and come to Ashok’s room.” Naresh whispered, “Don’t be late, else we would have to come to you.” Naresh then went to Ashok’s room.
When Suman opened the bag, there was a box with a note on it. The note read: “For Our Beloved Bahu.” Suman gulped and hesitatingly opened the box; her nervousness spiked when she saw bright crimson red lingerie inside it.
She slowly pulled it out from the box.
It was a lewd, thin piece of cloth, transparent in the breast region and just a string at the crotch. Suman averted her eyes in shame, imagining herself wearing that.
“N-No, no, how can I wear this?! T-this is…”
From Ashok’s room, a voice came, “Bahu, are you coming, or should we come?” Suman was nervous; she looked at the lingerie and took a deep breath.
A few minutes later, Suman entered Ashok’s room wearing that crude dress.
Ashok and Naresh were grinning while pervertedly glaring at that salacious image of hers from top to bottom. Her wavy black hair resting on her shoulder, her eyes averting from shame, her lips quivering slightly from nervousness, her stiff nipples exposed from the garment.
Her navel and slim figure heightening the sensuality of the lingerie, and her crotch hiding behind just a thin string of fabric. All of these just made both of them hornier. “Come, Bahu. Come to us,” Ashok said with his hard dick pointing at Suman.
Suman slowly walked over. And as she came close to them, Ashok pulled her onto the bed. Suman was now sitting between Ashok and Naresh. “Ahh, Bahu, don’t make me wait anymore,” Naresh said eagerly.
Ashok pushed Suman’s head from behind, making her bow to Naresh’s cock. “Bahu, I guess after last night, I taught you well how to suck a cock. Now show him what you have learned.” Ashok said with a smirk.
Naresh held his cock and pushed it to make it kiss her lips. Ashok moved the string in front of her pussy aside and inserted his finger.
“Aah-”
“What are you waiting for?” Ashok asked while fingering her.
Suman then glanced at Naresh’s cock and slowly put it in her mouth.
“Ufff so lewd!” Naresh exclaimed.
“Mmmfh,” Suman mumbled.
“Just taking it in?” Ashok said sternly. Ashok inserted two fingers inside her pussy and gave it a big jolt, which made Suman’s hips tremble. Suman then started sucking Naresh’s cock back and forth.
“Oh so much better than yesterday!” Naresh exclaimed. Ashok spanked her ass.
“Faster, Faster!” Ashok said with each spank. Suman increased her pace, engulfing Naresh’s cock, drenching it in her saliva. From all the spanking and fingering, Suman’s pussy was soaked.
“Going to fuck her pussy now?” Naresh asked.
“No, I have something better in my mind,” Ashok said while smirking. He pressed his finger on Suman’s asshole. A current ran through her body. She tried to move her hand to stop Ashok from touching her asshole.
But Ashok just wet his fingers by rubbing them on her pussy juices and started fingering her asshole.
“Mmffh!” Suman’s whole body quivered. She released Naresh’s cock from her mouth and trembled as Ashok drilled his middle finger in her asshole.
“Oh, so Bahu likes it in butt? Such a pervert.” Naresh said while smiling.
“Yeah, Nice slut I got,” Ashok said in a mocking tone.
Naresh caressed Suman’s head as she was moaning and shaking from the pleasure. After loosening her hole, Ashok grabbed Suman’s hair and pulled her back, while placing his cock beneath her butt.
“No- Ahh Wait- mmmhh,” Suman moaned. Feeling Ashok’s throbbing cock entering her anus made Suman roll her eyes with her mouth wide open.
“Ahhhh!—” Suman shrieked.
As his cock was completely inside her, Suman felt her asshole being numb.
Every single movement, every single breath made her twitch. That numbness didn’t stay longer as Ashok held Suman’s thigh and started pounding her butthole.
Ashok groaned, “Uff so tight.” Naresh was hard at watching the innocent bahu getting rammed in her asshole and moaning loudly. As Ashok was holding Suman’s inner thighs wide, her pussy was spread toward Naresh. Naresh smirked and went near her.
Suman was a complete mess, with her drool dripping from her mouth as she was panting hard. Ashok stopped her thrusts. Naresh tapped his cock on her pussy.
“Oh, Bahu, won’t you give some pleasure to this old man too?” Naresh said with a lustful smile. With Ashok’s dick pulsating inside her rear and Naresh’s dick knocking at her front. Suman had already lost any sense of guilt and shame.
Without a second thought in her mind, she moved both of her hands toward her crotch and spread her pussy lips to welcome Naresh’s cock with gratitude.
“Ughhh-” Suman forgot to breathe as his cock entered her pussy.
With two meat rods in both of her holes, her legs started shaking. She held Naresh’s shoulder tightly to maintain her balance, but the pleasure was overwhelming.
“Bahu? What are you doing? Is this how you would please your father-in-law?” Ashok said with a condescending smile. As if Suman’s body started moving on its own. Her hips slowly lifted up and then ground downwards, feeling every inch of their cocks.
“Ahhhh!” Suman moaned while increasing the pace of her bounce. She frantically started jumping on their cocks, her body just wanted them to go deeper and deeper inside her. As the door was a bit open, Brijlal was peeping at the whole perverse going on, while stroking his dick.
“Ohh, Bahu, you are so fucking sexy!” Naresh said while grabbing her face and smashing his lips on hers. He ferociously licked the drool dripping from her mouth while tearing her lingerie from the front. “Bahu, please show me your tongue,” Naresh asked excitedly.
Suman pulled her tongue out, and he started sucking it. From behind, Ashok tore the rest of the lingerie and threw it away. He then moved his finger to her front. He started stimulating her belly button while fucking her ass aggressively.
“I know all your sweet spots,” Ashok said while fingering her navel. Naresh glanced at Suman’s juicy breasts. He squeezed them and gobbled one in his mouth. He swirled his tongue around her nipples, nibbling them, licking them, and relishing the mass and softness.
Suman straightened her back to let them embrace her more. As she was moaning like a nympho, her gaze landed upon the mirror near the almirah, which reflected the three of them.
The girl from the small village who came to the city with high hopes for her marriage and new life was now sandwiched between her father-in-law and his friend, completely naked, discovering a strange depravity blooming inside her.
Suman wasn’t disgusted at that image at all. Instead, now she wondered.
“Was this her true self all along?” Ashok whispered in her ear from the back.
“This is the real you.” Those words made Suman’s holes clench harder.
Ashok held her waist, and Naresh held her tits firmly before shoving their dicks deep inside her. “Oh!” Suman wailed as they unloaded their cum in both of her holes. Her entire body quivered from the orgasm, and she collapsed on the bed,
White thick semen rushed from her ass and pussy.
Suman was panting hard while still twitching constantly. Suman lay straight and glanced at Ashok and Naresh, who seemed eager to play with her again.
They smiled. “No need to think anymore, Bahu. You must have understood by now,” Ashok said.
“Yes, what your body really wants,” Naresh added. Ashok looked at the door. “Hey Brijlal!”
Brijlal got startled. “Sorry, S-Sir!” Ashok chuckled and looked at Suman, “Seems like just a hand won’t be enough for him.” Brijlal thought, “He is not kicking me out, so does this mean I can join?”
Brijlal gulped and seemed scared, but as Ashok was not shouting at him, he slowly entered the room. Gazing at the exhausted naked Suman, Brijlal got excited and immediately stripped his clothes.
When Suman saw Ashok and Naresh, Brijlal was advancing toward her with a horny smile on their faces. A shiver of forbidden anticipation ran through her as she imagined what was about to happen.
With nothing left inside her to resist- neither guilt nor hesitation- a faint, shameless smile slowly bloomed across her lips, surrendering to the reality she could no longer deny.]]> Suman’s parents were overjoyed when their daughter married into a wealthy family in the city. Although Suman didn’t want to leave her parents and go far away, the radiant faces of her parents were enough for her to accept the marriage.

The wedding went well; her in-laws and her husband welcomed her wholeheartedly too. This eased her heart, but what Suman failed to realize was that under all the warmth, there was something much darker and perverted.
One evening, Suman’s father-in-law, Ashok, and his friend Naresh were playing chess. Suman approached them.
“Naresh Ji, will you have tea or coffee?” Suman asked.
Naresh smiled. “Bahu Rani, just bring tea.”
“And you, Sasur Ji?” Suman asked.
Ashok looked at Suman’s face- her fair cheeks, red lipstick, a small bindi on her forehead, and her navel peeking from her saari and he was completely mesmerized by her. Naresh laughed.
“Hey Ashok, your daughter-in-law is asking something,” Naresh said.
“Haha, Bahu, one cup of tea,” Ashok said.
Suman smiled. “Okay, I’ll bring it right away.”
Suman started walking toward the kitchen. From behind, Ashok stared at her swaying waist and tight ass.
In the kitchen, Brijlal, an old servant of the house, was cooking food.
“Oh beta, you’ve come. What did they say?” Brijlal asked.
“Brijlal Ji, they want tea. Let me make it,” Suman said.
“No problem, beta. I’ll make it.”
“No, no, Brijlal Ji. You already do so much work around the house. I’ll make the tea,” Suman insisted.
“Beta, you’re like my own daughter. You’ve just gotten married. You should rest.” Brijlal said.
Suman smiled to herself and thought. “The people here are so loving and kind.”
Brijlal checked the container for sugar, and it was empty. “Beta, can you please get the sugar from the top shelf? My hands don’t reach that high,” Brijlal asked.
“Of course,” Suman replied with a bright smile.
When Suman raised her hand, her saree stretched a little, exposing her waist folds. Brijlal couldn’t stop staring at it and had a big grin on his face. Brijlal thought, “Uff, Bahu should wear a more revealing saari.”
In the living room, Naresh said, “You’ve brought a really hot daughter-in-law.”
Naresh moved closer to Ashok.
“So, how long are you just going to keep staring at her? Women like her aren’t just for looking, you know?” Naresh said.
“No need to tell me. Tomorrow my son is leaving for a one-week business trip,” Ashok said.
“Oh wow, then there’s no problem at all,” Naresh said.
“Yes, but I’ll have to make a plan,” Ashok said.
Naresh thought for a few seconds. “I have an idea. I know a chemist nearby. If I talk to him, I can arrange some good sedatives.”
“And what do you want in return?” Ashok asked.
Naresh laughed. “What can I say? After witnessing bahu’s beauty, even I can’t control myself. So, I thought if I could also get something…”
Ashok smiled. “Alright, come tomorrow night.”
The next day, Suman’s husband left for his trip. Naresh brought the sedative to Ashok, who mixed it into Suman’s food.
After some time, while Naresh and Ashok were playing chess, they saw Suman walking toward her room. “Hey Bahu, where are you going? Come here for a bit,” Ashok called out.
Suman came over. “Sasur Ji, I was feeling a little sleepy.”
“Just for a bit,” Ashok said.
“Yes, Bahu, come sit here,” Naresh added.
Suman sat down next to Ashok, but soon her eyes grew heavy, and she fell asleep. “Bahu? Hey Bahu?” Ashok tried to shake her awake, but she was in a deep sleep.
“Wow, she looks so beautiful while sleeping. Hey Ashok, you fed the medicine to your wife too, right?” Naresh asked.
“Yes, don’t worry. She’s sleeping like a log,” Ashok replied.
Both Ashok and Naresh looked at the sleeping Suman. Ashok gently touched her lips.
“So soft,” Ashok whispered.
Then Ashok held her face and smashed her lips against his.
“Mmmhhh… Ah…”
Naresh chuckled, watching Ashok so excited.
“Her lips are so sweet,” Ashok said.
He pulled down her pallu and started squeezing her breasts through her blouse.
“Ashok, control yourself a bit. We have plenty of time,” Naresh said.
They laid Suman on the sofa and started removing her clothes one by one.
Her saari, blouse, petticoat, bra, and at the end, her white panty. Suman lay nude, wearing only her wedding bangles and anklet.
Her gold bangles on her fair skin looked so alluring that both Naresh and Ashok started drooling. Ashok couldn’t hold back anymore. He moved between her legs and sniffed her pussy.
“Ah, so this is how she smells. Uff, so intoxicating.”
Ashok lifted both her legs and began licking her. Pressing his tongue against her clit and swirling it to every corner of her pussy. Her pussy was completely drenched. Naresh made Suman grab his dick and started stroking it.
“Aahh… what soft hands… aah…”
Her white hands on her black dick just made Naresh hornier. He bent down and kissed her red lips. He savored her lips so much; her whole lipstick was gone, and he didn’t stop just at her mouth. He licked her cheeks, nose, and forehead, covering her entire face in his drool.
After making Suman’s pussy completely wet, Ashok placed his cock at her entrance.
“Aahh, Bahu, you’ve made me wait so long,” Ashok groaned.
With one hard thrust, Ashok pushed his entire cock inside Suman’s pussy.
Her legs quivered for a moment.
“Uff, it’s so tight,” Ashok grunted.
He lifted both her legs and started fucking her relentlessly. Because of this, Suman began moaning even in her sleep.
“Mmmn… Aahh…” Suman started moaning in her sleep state.
Hearing her sweet, lewd moans, Naresh couldn’t control himself either and pushed his cock in her mouth. “Ahh… so hot and wet…” Naresh groaned.
Naresh grabbed her face and started thrusting her mouth; meanwhile, Ashok was claiming her pussy like he was her owner.
Ashok spat on his hand and rubbed it on the light bush above her pussy and played with it, making wet curls of her ungroomed bush. Noticing how much Ashok was enjoying, Naresh pulled out his cock.
“Ahh, let me fuck her pussy too,” Naresh said.
Ashok smiled and pulled his cock out. “Yeah, I was thinking of trying something else too.”
Ashok smirked and pressed his finger against her asshole. They noticed someone was approaching them. It was Brijlal, with boner in his pajamas.
Ashok laughed. “You’ve also come to enjoy?” Ashok asked.
“Sir, I…” Brijlal stammered.
“Come on, join us. I’m in a good mood today,” Ashok said.
A big smile appeared on Brijlal’s face. “Thank you, Sir!”
Brijlal rushed over and jumped on Suman like a dog. Then he started sucking her breasts and rapidly thrusting his cock into her pussy.
“Ah- Ah- Ah- Ah-… Uffff…” Brijlal groaned.
Brijlal licked her breasts and fucked her fiercely like a rabbit in heat.
“Look at this horny bastard,” Ashok chuckled.
Naresh laughed.
“Aah Bahu… Aahh Bahu…” Brijlal moaned.
Brijlal buried his face in her breasts and started rubbing his face against them. His thrusts were so strong that they made Suman regain consciousness.
“B-Brijlal J-Ji?” Suman gasped.
Brijlal got scared and pulled back.
“Looks like the sedative’s effect is wearing off. Then I guess I will take my leave for now.” Naresh said.
“Yeah,” Ashok replied.
Ashok picked Suman up and looked at Brijlal, said, “If you are done, then go do some work.”
“Y-Yes, Sir,” Brijlal said and hurried away.
Ashok then carried Suman to her bedroom. Though Suman wasn’t fully conscious, she understood what the three of them were doing to her.
Ashok laid her on the bed.
“W-Why? Why did you do this, Sasur Ji?” she whispered.
Ashok moved closer. “Bahu, remember the day I came to your house to arrange my son’s marriage? The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one I wanted. The one I desire. The one I want to belong to me.”
“T-This is wrong, Y-You used me-” Suman said with all of her strength.
Ashok smirked, “And what’s wrong with it? You think a wealthy family like ours marries a village girl out of kindness?”
Ashok brushed his knee against her pussy. “Ahh.” Suman moaned.
“My son has many girlfriends, so he doesn’t care who I tell him to marry. Though he never guessed the reason I wanted him to marry you.”
Ashok held her face.
“Such a pretty face, such an enticing figure would have been wasted in that village. I hope you will keep this a secret from your mother-in-law. Otherwise,”
Ashok smiled, “I guess I don’t need to tell you the consequences.”
Suddenly, Suman remembered her parents’ faces, their sacrifices, their burdens, and their smiling faces. Suman averted her eyes, but Ashok pulled her face close. All night long, he used her body in every way imaginable, savoring every inch of her skin.
The only sounds that escaped the room were Suman’s moans, which she couldn’t suppress no matter how hard she tried. In the morning, Ashok finally left her room, leaving Suman utterly exhausted, tainted with his lust.
Suman’s mind was blank; at first, it flooded with guilt and sadness, but slowly, it became complicated. Suman covered her eyes in disbelief. She didn’t want to imagine why her body was reacting to his touch in that way.
A thought came to her mind. “Am I a whore now?” She shook her head deliberately to shrug off that thought. She got up and went to take a bath.
“W-what is going to happen now? Is this my new reality? I-I can’t go back to my parents, not after everything they did for me.” She thought. After bathing, when Suman went to the kitchen, she saw Brijlal was cleaning. He flinched at the sight of her.
“B-Bahu, p-please forgive me. I don’t know what came over me yesterday—” Brijlal stammered. Suman looked down with a slight frown on her face.
“You said I was like your own daughter. Then how could you do this to me?”
“Bahu, I—” he started.
Ashok came there laughing. “Because he is nothing but a pervert.”
“S-Sir…” Brijlal trembled.
“Don’t look at me, go do your work,” Ashok ordered.
“Y-Yes, Sir,” Brijlal said and scurried away
As soon as Brijlal left, Ashok grabbed Suman’s butt and said, “You look very beautiful in this purple saree today, Bahu.” He came close to her ear and whispered, “Don’t worry, this saree will only stay on till the evening.”
He squeezed her butt and left with a grin on his face.
Suman felt uneasy. She kept wondering what was going to happen.
In the evening, Suman’s mother-in-law went to the temple. After she left, while Suman was cleaning the dining table, someone hugged her from behind.
When Suman looked behind, it was Naresh.
“Naresh Ji! What are you doing?!” Suman exclaimed.
Naresh smiled. “Bahu, after yesterday I just couldn’t control myself. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
Naresh humped her and placed a bag on the table. “Here, wear this quickly and come to Ashok’s room.” Naresh whispered, “Don’t be late, else we would have to come to you.” Naresh then went to Ashok’s room.
When Suman opened the bag, there was a box with a note on it. The note read: “For Our Beloved Bahu.” Suman gulped and hesitatingly opened the box; her nervousness spiked when she saw bright crimson red lingerie inside it.
She slowly pulled it out from the box.
It was a lewd, thin piece of cloth, transparent in the breast region and just a string at the crotch. Suman averted her eyes in shame, imagining herself wearing that.
“N-No, no, how can I wear this?! T-this is…”
From Ashok’s room, a voice came, “Bahu, are you coming, or should we come?” Suman was nervous; she looked at the lingerie and took a deep breath.
A few minutes later, Suman entered Ashok’s room wearing that crude dress.
Ashok and Naresh were grinning while pervertedly glaring at that salacious image of hers from top to bottom. Her wavy black hair resting on her shoulder, her eyes averting from shame, her lips quivering slightly from nervousness, her stiff nipples exposed from the garment.
Her navel and slim figure heightening the sensuality of the lingerie, and her crotch hiding behind just a thin string of fabric. All of these just made both of them hornier. “Come, Bahu. Come to us,” Ashok said with his hard dick pointing at Suman.
Suman slowly walked over. And as she came close to them, Ashok pulled her onto the bed. Suman was now sitting between Ashok and Naresh. “Ahh, Bahu, don’t make me wait anymore,” Naresh said eagerly.
Ashok pushed Suman’s head from behind, making her bow to Naresh’s cock. “Bahu, I guess after last night, I taught you well how to suck a cock. Now show him what you have learned.” Ashok said with a smirk.
Naresh held his cock and pushed it to make it kiss her lips. Ashok moved the string in front of her pussy aside and inserted his finger.
“Aah-”
“What are you waiting for?” Ashok asked while fingering her.
Suman then glanced at Naresh’s cock and slowly put it in her mouth.
“Ufff so lewd!” Naresh exclaimed.
“Mmmfh,” Suman mumbled.
“Just taking it in?” Ashok said sternly. Ashok inserted two fingers inside her pussy and gave it a big jolt, which made Suman’s hips tremble. Suman then started sucking Naresh’s cock back and forth.
“Oh so much better than yesterday!” Naresh exclaimed. Ashok spanked her ass.
“Faster, Faster!” Ashok said with each spank. Suman increased her pace, engulfing Naresh’s cock, drenching it in her saliva. From all the spanking and fingering, Suman’s pussy was soaked.
“Going to fuck her pussy now?” Naresh asked.
“No, I have something better in my mind,” Ashok said while smirking. He pressed his finger on Suman’s asshole. A current ran through her body. She tried to move her hand to stop Ashok from touching her asshole.
But Ashok just wet his fingers by rubbing them on her pussy juices and started fingering her asshole.
“Mmffh!” Suman’s whole body quivered. She released Naresh’s cock from her mouth and trembled as Ashok drilled his middle finger in her asshole.
“Oh, so Bahu likes it in butt? Such a pervert.” Naresh said while smiling.
“Yeah, Nice slut I got,” Ashok said in a mocking tone.
Naresh caressed Suman’s head as she was moaning and shaking from the pleasure. After loosening her hole, Ashok grabbed Suman’s hair and pulled her back, while placing his cock beneath her butt.
“No- Ahh Wait- mmmhh,” Suman moaned. Feeling Ashok’s throbbing cock entering her anus made Suman roll her eyes with her mouth wide open.
“Ahhhh!—” Suman shrieked.
As his cock was completely inside her, Suman felt her asshole being numb.
Every single movement, every single breath made her twitch. That numbness didn’t stay longer as Ashok held Suman’s thigh and started pounding her butthole.
Ashok groaned, “Uff so tight.” Naresh was hard at watching the innocent bahu getting rammed in her asshole and moaning loudly. As Ashok was holding Suman’s inner thighs wide, her pussy was spread toward Naresh. Naresh smirked and went near her.
Suman was a complete mess, with her drool dripping from her mouth as she was panting hard. Ashok stopped her thrusts. Naresh tapped his cock on her pussy.
“Oh, Bahu, won’t you give some pleasure to this old man too?” Naresh said with a lustful smile. With Ashok’s dick pulsating inside her rear and Naresh’s dick knocking at her front. Suman had already lost any sense of guilt and shame.
Without a second thought in her mind, she moved both of her hands toward her crotch and spread her pussy lips to welcome Naresh’s cock with gratitude.
“Ughhh-” Suman forgot to breathe as his cock entered her pussy.
With two meat rods in both of her holes, her legs started shaking. She held Naresh’s shoulder tightly to maintain her balance, but the pleasure was overwhelming.
“Bahu? What are you doing? Is this how you would please your father-in-law?” Ashok said with a condescending smile. As if Suman’s body started moving on its own. Her hips slowly lifted up and then ground downwards, feeling every inch of their cocks.
“Ahhhh!” Suman moaned while increasing the pace of her bounce. She frantically started jumping on their cocks, her body just wanted them to go deeper and deeper inside her. As the door was a bit open, Brijlal was peeping at the whole perverse going on, while stroking his dick.
“Ohh, Bahu, you are so fucking sexy!” Naresh said while grabbing her face and smashing his lips on hers. He ferociously licked the drool dripping from her mouth while tearing her lingerie from the front. “Bahu, please show me your tongue,” Naresh asked excitedly.
Suman pulled her tongue out, and he started sucking it. From behind, Ashok tore the rest of the lingerie and threw it away. He then moved his finger to her front. He started stimulating her belly button while fucking her ass aggressively.
“I know all your sweet spots,” Ashok said while fingering her navel. Naresh glanced at Suman’s juicy breasts. He squeezed them and gobbled one in his mouth. He swirled his tongue around her nipples, nibbling them, licking them, and relishing the mass and softness.
Suman straightened her back to let them embrace her more. As she was moaning like a nympho, her gaze landed upon the mirror near the almirah, which reflected the three of them.
The girl from the small village who came to the city with high hopes for her marriage and new life was now sandwiched between her father-in-law and his friend, completely naked, discovering a strange depravity blooming inside her.
Suman wasn’t disgusted at that image at all. Instead, now she wondered.
“Was this her true self all along?” Ashok whispered in her ear from the back.
“This is the real you.” Those words made Suman’s holes clench harder.
Ashok held her waist, and Naresh held her tits firmly before shoving their dicks deep inside her. “Oh!” Suman wailed as they unloaded their cum in both of her holes. Her entire body quivered from the orgasm, and she collapsed on the bed,
White thick semen rushed from her ass and pussy.
Suman was panting hard while still twitching constantly. Suman lay straight and glanced at Ashok and Naresh, who seemed eager to play with her again.
They smiled. “No need to think anymore, Bahu. You must have understood by now,” Ashok said.
“Yes, what your body really wants,” Naresh added. Ashok looked at the door. “Hey Brijlal!”
Brijlal got startled. “Sorry, S-Sir!” Ashok chuckled and looked at Suman, “Seems like just a hand won’t be enough for him.” Brijlal thought, “He is not kicking me out, so does this mean I can join?”
Brijlal gulped and seemed scared, but as Ashok was not shouting at him, he slowly entered the room. Gazing at the exhausted naked Suman, Brijlal got excited and immediately stripped his clothes.
When Suman saw Ashok and Naresh, Brijlal was advancing toward her with a horny smile on their faces. A shiver of forbidden anticipation ran through her as she imagined what was about to happen.
With nothing left inside her to resist- neither guilt nor hesitation- a faint, shameless smile slowly bloomed across her lips, surrendering to the reality she could no longer deny.]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75096.html Sat, 29 Aug 2026 15:02:53 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75096.html

THE ASTROLOGER AND MY WIFE

By Novelist Casanova 

I am Shiva Shankar.
In Bangalore, that name meant something. I was a successful advocate — high-profile cases, politicians, businessmen, men who needed a lawyer who could walk into a security officer station and make the inspector stand up. Money had come. Then more money. A large house, cars, a name that juniors repeated in court corridors. I had built all of it myself.
My cousins had wanted the same life.

They used to sit in my house years ago and talk about becoming advocates like me, buying land like me, living like me. They copied my words, my clothes, even the way I spoke to people. But they did not have the stomach for the work. One by one they sold the properties their fathers had left them — first a site, then a house, then the last piece of land — just to keep up appearances. By the time they understood they would never become me, there was nothing left to sell.
Santosh was one of them.

He had been the loudest. Always talking about deals, always acting bigger than he was. Then came the accident on the Hosur road. A lorry hit their car from the side. Santosh’s chest was crushed. His broker Venkatesh was thrown out and almost cut in half. Both died on the spot. I had gone to Bangalore that morning, stood in the hospital, and looked at what was left of a cousin who had spent his whole life trying to become me and failed.

I came back with that image still in my head.
Successful. Wealthy. Respected.
The cousins who wanted to be like me had sold their properties. Santosh was dead.
I thought nothing could touch what I had built.
I was wrong.


Then there was Sudha.
I had married my wife when she was very young. There were fifteen years between us. When I first saw her, she was barely out of college — tall for a girl from her side, fair, with long thick black hair that fell down her back. She had large dark eyes, a straight sharp nose, and full lips. Even then my wife’s body had already taken the shape that would stay with me for the rest of my life — full, heavy breasts, a narrow waist, and wide hips that made every saree sit differently on her than on other women.
Years had only added to that.
After marriage and after our son, my wife’s breasts had grown heavier. Her hips had widened. Her waist had remained narrow. When my wife walked through our house in a saree, the cloth followed the exact line of her body. Men in the court compound, drivers, even my own juniors, looked at her longer than they should have. I used to feel proud of that. My wife was mine. I had taken her young, and I had kept her.
My wife knew how possessive I was.

Because of that, she made sure she wore her saree modestly whenever she stepped outside. The pallu was always properly over her chest. The blouse was never low. The petticoat sat high enough. She did not give other men an extra reason to stare. At home my wife was mine to pull onto my lap and undress. Outside she kept herself covered the way a respectable advocate’s wife should, because she knew I would not tolerate another man’s eyes staying on her body.
My wife was always clean and fresh.

She bathed twice a day. Her hair smelled of jasmine. Her body smelled of soap and a light oil she put after her bath. Even after cooking, even after a long day, my wife stayed neat — saree properly pinned, blouse clean, mangalsutra in place. She prayed every morning in front of the small pooja shelf. She kept a tilak on her forehead. She believed in God, in fasting, in temples, and in astrology. If someone mentioned a good time or a bad time, she listened. If an astrologer said something about Rajesh’s future, she took it seriously. That part of her was real. My wife was a religious woman.
I loved hugging my wife when she was naked.

After her bath, before she put on her nighty, I would pull her naked body against me with nothing between us. Her full, heavy breasts pressed into my chest. Her nipples rubbed against me. My arms went around her narrow waist and then lower, over the wide curve of her ass, holding both cheeks in my hands. Her stomach was soft against mine. Her pussy was warm against my thigh. I used to stay like that for a long time — just hugging my naked wife, smelling the soap on her, feeling every part of her naked body against me. That hug made me feel that my wife belonged only to me. No saree, no blouse, no panties. Just my wife, clean, fresh, and completely naked in my arms.
That was the best time for me to enjoy fucking my wife.
After the bath, when my wife was still naked and warm and smelling of soap, I would keep hugging her for a while and then take her to the bed. I would lay her down, spread her thighs, and push my cock into her clean pussy while her body was still wet from the bath. I used to fuck my wife slowly at first, feeling how soft and fresh she was, then harder, holding her heavy breasts, kissing her mouth, keeping her naked under me until I finished inside her. No saree in the way. No panties to pull aside. Just my naked wife, freshly bathed, taking my cock. That was the time I enjoyed my wife the most.
Whenever I was alone with my wife at home, I made her sit on my lap on the sofa in the living room while we watched TV.

I would pull my wife down onto me. Her wide ass settled over my cock through my pants. I lifted her saree and petticoat together up to her waist, then slid my hand inside her panties. My fingers would find her pussy at once — warm, soft, already beginning to wet. I rubbed her clit slowly at first, then pushed one finger inside her and opened her while the television kept playing in front of us.
“Shiva… not here…” my wife would whisper, but she never got off my lap.
I kept her there — her back against my chest, my hand inside her panties, two fingers now moving in and out of her pussy. I could feel how wet my wife was getting. The front of her panties would turn damp against my palm. I played with her clit in tight circles until her thighs started shaking on either side of my legs.
“Stay still. Watch the TV.”
She tried. Her breathing would break. Her full breasts would rise and fall under her blouse. I never stopped until I made my wife cum. I liked feeling her pussy clench hard around my fingers, liked the way she held my wrist and bit her lip so she would not moan too loud. I would keep my hand inside her panties even after she finished, feeling the wetness I had pulled out of her, sometimes lifting my fingers to look at how shiny they were before putting them back on her clit.
I did this whenever I wanted.

After Rajesh left for college, I would call my wife to the living room, make her sit on my lap on the sofa, lift her saree and petticoat, put my hand inside her panties, play with her pussy, and make her cum. After that I would often fuck my wife right there on the sofa — pulling her panties aside and pushing my cock into the same wet pussy my fingers had just opened. Her full breasts filled my hands. Her tight pussy took my cock the same way it had when she was newly married. I never got tired of it.
I was possessive.

I did not like other men standing too close to my wife. I did not like the way some of my clients smiled when she brought tea. I used to watch their eyes drop to her breasts and her hips, and I used to pull my wife closer in front of them on purpose — a hand on her waist, a look that told them she belonged to me. At night I would fuck my wife harder after those moments, reminding both of us that no one else would ever have her.
My wife was the kind of woman other men imagined and never got.

At home she was quiet, disciplined, respectful, clean, and religious. She touched my feet during festivals. She kept the house running. She still blushed when I made her sit on my lap on the sofa and put my hand inside her panties. To the outside world she was the respectable wife of Advocate Shiva Shankar. To me she was the girl I had married too young, whose body I used whenever I wanted.
Fifteen years younger.
Still the most beautiful woman I had ever put my hands on.
That was my wife.

My wife wanted our son to become a successful advocate like me.
From the day Rajesh started college, that was the only future she kept in her mind. She would sit with my son in the evenings and ask what he had studied that day. She made sure his notes were complete. If he had a presentation, she listened to him practise. If he needed books, she told me to buy them the same day. She did not want him to struggle the way some of my cousins had struggled. She wanted him to walk into court with the same confidence I had.

She loved my son in a way that showed in small things.
She woke up early and kept his breakfast ready before he left. She packed his bag. She reminded him about class timings. When he came home tired, she sat with him and let him talk. She never raised her voice at him. In her eyes, my son was not just our boy. He was the one who would one day carry my name forward.
She gave him every kind of education help she could.
Tuition when he needed it. Extra notes from seniors. Quiet in the house when he was studying. She even stopped the television in the living room if he said he had an important portion to finish. She believed that if he worked hard, God would help him, and that if we supported him completely, he would pass and become an advocate like his father.

My son had just written his final year exams.
The papers were over. The waiting had started. Every morning my wife asked if the results would come that day. Every evening she sat near the pooja shelf and prayed for him. She kept telling me that he had written well, that he would pass in all subjects, that soon he would enroll and stand beside me in court. The whole house was waiting for those results.
That was my wife’s biggest hope.
Not jewellery. Not more property. Not another car.
She wanted my son to become what I had become.
And she was ready to do anything for that.


Recently one of my friends invited me and my wife for his sister’s wedding. We decided to attend.
I got ready first. I wore my black suit and a white shirt, fixed the collar, and sat on the edge of the bed waiting. From the bathroom I heard the shower stop. A few minutes later she came out with a white towel wrapped around her naked body. Water was still running down her shoulders and over the upper curve of her breasts. Her long black hair was wet and sticking to her neck. She looked fresh, clean, and soft in a way that immediately made my chest tighten.
She stood in front of the cupboard and opened it.
First she loosened the towel and let it fall to the floor.
For a few seconds my wife stood completely naked in front of me. Her full, heavy breasts were uncovered. Her nipples were still tight from the bath. Her narrow waist, her wide hips, her ass, her pussy — everything was open to my eyes. A strong wave of heat went through me. My cock hardened at once inside my pants, and for a moment I could only stare.
I got up from the bed, naughty and playful, already restless.
I pulled her against me and put both hands on her ass, squeezing her ass cheeks, hugging her body to mine so her pussy rested against my thigh. I kissed her mouth and did not let her go. She made a small surprised sound against my lips, then laughed softly under her breath.
My wife said,
“Shiva, no… we really have to leave now, we’ll get late for the wedding.”
I answered against her mouth,
“Stay like this for a little longer. You’re still naked and I can’t just look at you and walk out. Come to the bed.”
I kept hugging her and would not let her pick up her clothes. I kissed her neck, then the top of her breasts, while my cock stayed against her stomach through my pants. She shivered slightly when my mouth touched her neck, and her hands came up to my chest, half pushing, half hugging me back.
My wife said,
“After the reception, Shiva. I promise. If we start now we will definitely get late.”
I kept hugging her and said,
“Just a few minutes, please. I don’t think I can control myself after seeing you like this.”
I refused to let her dress. Every time she reached for her white panties, I pulled her back into my arms and hugged her again. She laughed again, a little breathless now, and tried to twist away, her wet hair brushing against my face.
My wife said,
“You’re being so naughty today. Leave me now, I have to get dressed properly.”
I hugged her waist and answered,
“No. After I fuck you. Just stay naked a little longer for me.”
She pulled harder this time and slipped out of my hands. I felt a sharp frustration as she escaped, and I tried to catch her again, but she had already picked up her white panties. She bent a little, stepped into her panties quickly, and pulled her panties up over her hips until her panties sat against her pussy. Then she took her white bra, slipped her arms through her bra straps, settled her bra cups over her full, heavy breasts, and fastened her bra hooks behind her back. I watched every movement, still hard, still unwilling to let the moment end.

Before she could pick up her red petticoat, I came up behind her.
I was fully hard and horny. I wrapped both arms around her from behind and hugged her tightly against my chest. My right hand went straight down, slid inside the front of her white panties, and closed over her pussy. My fingers spread over the soft, smooth lips of her pussy. There was no hair. Her pussy was completely clean shaved. The soft warmth of her pussy under my palm made my cock throb.
I spoke against her ear,
“So soft… completely clean and so smooth. I love the way you keep it.”
My wife blushed deeply. A faint pink rose on her cheeks and neck. She did not push my hand away at once. She stayed inside my hug, her back against my white shirt, breathing a little faster while my fingers kept gently holding her pussy inside her panties.
My wife said in a low, shy voice,
“I keep it like this just for you, so you can enjoy whenever you want.”
I could feel her stomach tighten under my arm as I kept my right hand inside her panties, cupping her clean-shaved pussy, and kissed the side of her neck. She tilted her head slightly, giving me more space without fully meaning to.
I asked her,
“How do you manage to keep it so smooth every single time?”
She turned her face a little toward me, still shy, still smiling, her eyes soft, and answered,
“I do it carefully after my bath, only for you. You really like it this way, don’t you?”
I said,
“I love it. More than you know.”
I slowly took my hand out of her panties, turned her around to face me, and hugged her fully. She was only in her white bra and white panties. Her full breasts pressed against my chest through the bra. My hands went around her bare waist and down over her ass as I hugged her tightly, my hard cock against her lower stomach through my pants. For a moment I just breathed her in — the soap on her shoulders, the jasmine in her hair, the warmth of her body against mine.
She hugged me back.

Her arms went around my neck. She rested her face against my shoulder for a moment, and I felt her body soften against mine before she spoke near my ear.
My wife said,
“Wait until we come back home, hmm? I know you want me right now, but I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours. After the function, when we come back, you can take me properly. I’ll be here only for you.”
The softness in her voice settled something in me, but it also made me want her more. I hugged her tighter and said,
“Promise me.”
My wife whispered,
“I promise,”
and kissed the side of my neck once. The small kiss sent another rush of heat through me.
I did not leave it there.
I turned her around again, pulled her white panties down from behind over her ass and thighs, and gently bent her forward. She held the edge of the cupboard, her breath catching. Her round ass was fully in front of me. I spread her ass cheeks with both hands and looked at her asshole.
It was clean. Completely shaved. Soft and pink.
A thick, possessive hunger rose in me.
I leaned closer and sniffed her asshole.
The smell was clean and warm — a faint mix of fresh soap from her bath, the natural musk of her ass, and a soft, intimate scent that belonged only to her body. There was nothing dirty in it. It was private, feminine, and it went straight to my cock.
I said,
“Even here… so clean.”
I leaned in and kissed her asshole once, slow and deliberate, pressing my lips against the soft ring of her asshole. My wife shivered hard. Her thighs tensed. A small broken moan left her throat.
“Shiva… ahh…”
I kissed her asshole again, then parted my lips and tasted it.
My tongue pressed against the soft, clean surface of her asshole. The taste was mild and warm — clean skin, a light soapy freshness from her bath, and underneath it a soft, intimate musk that made my cock throb harder. I licked once more, slow and open-mouthed, tasting her asshole properly.
My wife’s reaction was immediate.
Her fingers gripped the cupboard tightly. Her ass cheeks clenched under my hands. Her thighs shook. Another moan, longer this time, slipped out of her mouth as she tried to keep her voice down.
“Shiva… please… ahh… what are you doing…”
I kept my mouth on her asshole a moment longer, tasting her again, and in that moment I decided clearly in my mind —
I have to enjoy my wife’s asshole.
Not just kiss it. Not just look at it. One day I would take it properly.
I kissed her asshole once more, then spoke against it.
“Let me fuck your ass tonight.”
My wife stayed bent over for a moment, breathing faster, her fingers still gripping the cupboard, her ass still slightly trembling from my mouth. Then she answered clearly and firmly, though her voice still carried the shyness and the heat of what I had just done.
“Not tonight, Shiva. Tonight you can take only my pussy when we come back home. My ass is not for today.”
The way she said it stayed in my mind. Tonight she was giving me her pussy. Her ass would come another day.
I pulled her white panties back up over her ass and hips. She was still blushing deeply when she picked up her red petticoat, her hands a little unsteady. She drew her petticoat up over her panties and tied the string at her waist. When she reached for her red blouse, I took it from the cupboard first and held it away from her, still not fully ready to let the moment end.
My wife looked at me and said,
“Shiva… please give me the blouse now.”
I smiled and answered,
“Wear it after we come back.”
She pulled the blouse from my hand with a small, flustered smile, put her blouse on over her bra, and checked the fit of her blouse around her breasts.
Finally she took out her red silk saree.
I stood close behind my wife while she tucked one end of her saree into her petticoat, made the pleats, and brought the pallu of her saree over her left shoulder. She pinned her pallu properly so that her pallu covered her chest. Her saree sat modestly on her body — her pallu in place, her blouse not low, her petticoat hidden underneath. Even then she looked stunning. Her saree followed the line of her full breasts, her narrow waist, and her wide hips. She put on her gold bangles, checked her mangalsutra, and turned towards me with the same small naughty smile, though her cheeks were still faintly pink.
My wife said,
“After the function, Shiva. Now come, let’s go before we get late.”
That was my wife.
Clean, fresh, modestly dressed in her red silk saree, her red blouse and her red petticoat, her white bra and her white panties underneath — ready to attend a wedding as the respectable wife of Advocate Shiva Shankar.
I had not been able to stop her from wearing her saree.
But even in that modest saree, I could not stop looking at my wife. The hunger was still sitting heavy in my body.
Tonight she had promised me her pussy.
And after tasting her asshole, I had already decided — one day I would enjoy my wife’s asshole completely.


At around 6 PM I took my wife in my car.
She sat beside me in her red silk saree, red blouse and red petticoat, her pallu properly over her chest. The smell of jasmine from her hair filled the car. I kept looking at her while driving. The same body I had just hugged, the same pussy I had held inside her panties, the same asshole I had kissed and tasted, was now sitting modestly next to me, dressed for a wedding.
I was still horny.
Every few seconds my eyes left the road and went to her. Her full breasts under the red blouse. Her narrow waist. Her wide hips under the red silk saree. And again and again my mind went back to her asshole — clean, shaved, soft, the smell of soap and warm musk, the taste of it on my tongue. My cock stayed hard inside my pants.
My wife noticed.
“Shiva, focus on the road,” she said softly. “You’ll meet with an accident if you keep looking at me like that.”
I slowed the car a little at a signal, turned my face toward her, and held her jaw gently with my left hand. My thumb brushed her cheek.
“I love you,” I said.
Her eyes softened at once. She smiled, a little shy, a little loving. Then she reached across with her left hand and closed her fingers over my cock through my pants. She held it firmly, feeling how hard I was, and spoke in a low voice.
“Don’t worry. After the wedding we will go home. I’ll take care of it. You know I will.”
She leaned in and kissed my cheek once, soft and warm, while her hand still rested over my cock. Then she slowly took her hand back and sat properly again, adjusting her pallu.
I turned back to the road, still hard, still thinking of her asshole, but the promise of later sat in my mind as we continued toward the hall.
When we reached, the reception had already started.
My friend came forward and welcomed us with a wide smile. He took us toward the stage where the bride and groom were standing and introduced us to them. A photographer began taking pictures of us with the wedding couple. My wife stood beside me, smiling politely, her hands folded in front of her, still looking clean, fresh, and modest in her red silk saree.
That was when I noticed the videographer.
He was not covering the couple the way he should have. His camera kept turning toward my wife. On the large screen behind the stage, her face appeared first. Then the camera slowly moved down — over her neck, over the way her red blouse sat on her full breasts, over her narrow waist, over the curve of her hips under the red silk saree. He was zooming in on every part of my wife’s body.
Everyone in the hall could see it.
It was only a small gathering, but they were all high-profile people — businessmen, advocates, a couple of politicians, families with money. I saw men looking at the screen. Some smiled. Some kept staring. They were openly enjoying the way my wife looked on the big display while she stood there innocently posing for the photographer with me and the wedding couple, not understanding what the videographer was doing.
A hot anger rose in my chest.

Jealousy followed it at once.
I did not show it on my face. I kept standing straight in my black suit, smiling for the still photographs, but inside I was burning. My wife’s body — the same body that belonged only to me, the same pussy and ass I had touched less than an hour ago — was being shown to every man in that hall without her even realising it.
When the pictures were done, we started leaving the stage.
I shook hands with the groom and then with the bride. My wife also stepped forward to wish them. She smiled politely and raised her hand for a simple handshake with the groom.

What happened next shocked me.
The groom looked at my wife, and for a clear second his eyes changed. He was completely horny. Instead of a normal handshake, he suddenly wrapped both arms around my wife’s waist and pulled her into a complete embrace. His chest pressed hard against her full breasts through her red blouse and red silk saree. His arms locked around her waist tightly. I could see the lust on his face as he held her.
While hugging her, he said near her ear,
“Thank you so much for coming… it means a lot.”
His voice was thick. He kept my wife in his complete embrace a moment longer than anyone should have allowed, openly enjoying the feel of her body against him.
My wife hugged him back.
She did not suspect anything. The groom was only as old as her younger brother, and to her it felt like a normal, respectful greeting at a wedding. She placed her arms around him politely and hugged him in return, still smiling innocently, not realising that he was holding her out of pure lust.
Even the bride froze.

I saw the bride’s face change at once — shock first, then jealousy. Her eyes filled and she looked as if she was about to cry.
After a few seconds my wife broke the embrace, stepped back, and lowered her eyes with a small, polite smile. Without thinking anything wrong, she turned and began following me down from the stage.

As my wife stepped down the stage steps, the red silk saree moved with her hips. From behind, the shape of her ass was clear under the saree, and her pantyline sat visibly over each ass cheek on the saree with every step.
My friend was standing near the steps. His eyes went straight to my wife’s ass. He openly ogled the curve of her ass and her pantyline over her ass cheeks on the saree, not even trying to hide it.
The videographer noticed too.

His camera dropped lower and focused fully on my wife’s ass as she went down the steps. On the huge screen behind the stage, her ass filled the frame — the round shape under the red silk saree, her pantyline sitting clearly over each ass cheek on the saree with every step. All the men in the hall were watching the screen. I saw several of them shift in their seats. Some had clear boners pushing against their pants. A few men in dhotis adjusted themselves, their cocks hard while they stared at my wife’s ass and her pantyline on the big screen.
My wife kept walking down innocently, still thinking the groom’s hug had only been a normal wedding greeting, not knowing that every man in that hall was looking at her ass.
I walked ahead of her, my jaw tight.
Outside I still looked calm.
Inside I was angry, jealous, and fully aware that other men had already started looking at my wife the way only I was supposed to look at her.


My friend guided us toward the dinner area in the basement.
We went down the steps and entered the basement dining hall. The buffet was arranged along one side. High-profile guests were already standing in small groups with plates in their hands. My friend walked ahead of us, but I noticed at once that he was paying more attention to my wife than to me. His eyes kept going to her face, then down over her red silk saree, then back to her face again as he spoke.
“Please, both of you take dinner. Everything is fresh.”
We joined the buffet line.
Even the serving men behind the counters were ogling my wife. Their eyes moved over her full breasts under the red blouse, her waist, and the way the red silk saree sat on her hips. They were supposed to be serving food, but most of them were looking at her more than at the plates.
We reached the dessert section.
One man was serving gulab jamun. He looked at my wife longer than the others. When she stopped in front of him, he picked up one soft gulab jamun with a spoon and held it out toward her with a smile.
“Madam, please taste this and tell me how it is.”
My wife, still polite and innocent, asked,
“Can you give me a spoon?”
He shook his head and said,
“No need for spoon, madam. Take it in your hand only. It tastes better that way.”
My wife hesitated for a second, then took the gulab jamun in her fingers. She brought it to her mouth and took a small bite.
That was when the videographer came down to the basement.
He had left the stage area above and followed us down with his camera. He moved closer and raised it straight toward my wife’s face. On the huge screen connected in the basement hall, her mouth filled the frame — her soft lips closing around the gulab jamun, her white teeth taking a bite, the sweet syrup touching her tongue, the way her mouth moved as she chewed. He kept the camera locked on her lips, her teeth, and the half-eaten gulab jamun inside her mouth.

Around twenty men in the basement hall turned to the big screen.
They stopped talking and watched. Some smiled. Some just stared. A few older men stood with their mouths slightly open, actual drool collecting at the corners of their lips as they watched my wife’s mouth on the screen — her lips, her teeth, the gulab jamun, and the soft movement of her chewing. They were openly enjoying the sight like a feast.
My wife still did not understand.
She swallowed and answered the serving man with a soft smile,
“It’s good.”
He immediately held out a paper towel toward her. While she took the paper towel to wipe her fingers, he took back the half-bitten gulab jamun from her hand and quickly placed a fresh whole one on her plate. My wife thanked him and moved ahead with her plate, still not suspecting anything — not the serving man, not the videographer who had come down to the basement for her, not the men watching her mouth on the big screen.
I was standing right behind her, getting my own plate served.
The moment my wife walked away, the same man looked down at the half-bitten gulab jamun in his hand — the exact portion where her mouth had touched. He put that same bitten piece into his own mouth, closed his eyes, and chewed slowly, openly enjoying the taste of my wife’s saliva mixed with the sweet syrup.
I saw everything.

A sharp anger rose in my chest again. First the videographer on stage. Then the groom. Then her ass on the big screen. Now even in the basement her mouth was being fed to every man in that hall, and a serving man was tasting her saliva.
I took my plate and followed her without saying a word, my jaw tight, while that man still stood there with a small satisfied smile on his face.


We sat down with our plates and had dinner.
My wife ate quietly, still polite, still unaware of how many eyes had already been on her that evening. I sat beside her, but the food had no taste. The videographer, the groom’s hug, her pantyline on the screen, the serving man tasting her saliva — all of it kept turning in my head.
After dinner we went for ice cream.
We were standing near the dessert corner with cups in our hands when four men began to gather around us. They did not arrive together. One came first. Then another. Then the third and fourth joined, until the four of them had slowly closed in. All high-profile guests — money, position, clean clothes, careful smiles. But I could read them at once. They were horny.

One of them took the lead and kept my wife busy with quiet conversation.
He stood a little closer than necessary and spoke softly, asking about the saree, about whether she attended such functions often, about how long we had been married, about whether she liked Bangalore. My wife answered each question with simple honesty, smiling politely, seeing nothing wrong in his tone.
While he held her attention, the other three looked at her freely.
Their eyes moved without hurry — from her face to her neck, from her neck to her full breasts under the red blouse, then down over her waist and the fall of the red silk saree on her hips. They took her in from head to down as if she was standing there only for them.
“You look very graceful in this saree,” the first man said. “Do you always dress like this for weddings?”
“Thank you. This is just a normal saree,” my wife replied.
While she spoke, the second man’s gaze stayed on her chest. The third studied her waist. The fourth watched her hips.
“Your husband is well known, of course,” the first man continued. “But anyone would notice you in a hall like this.”
“You are being too kind,” my wife said softly.
Again the other three used the moment. Their eyes travelled over her breasts, her stomach, her hips, and the soft dbang of her saree without the slightest attempt to hide it.
I stood beside her and answered for both of us, polite on the surface, burning underneath.
“We don’t come to many functions. Work keeps us busy.”
“She prefers staying simple. That is her nature.”
“We came only for the function. After this we will be heading home.”
The first man kept the conversation going. The other three kept looking. My wife remained untouched by any of it, still eating her ice cream, still believing these were only well-mannered guests.

Behind her, the catering boys had stopped pretending to work.
Several of them were staring at her ass. The red silk saree showed the round shape of it clearly from behind, and her pantyline sat visibly over each ass cheek on the saree. One boy had gone further. He stood half-hidden behind a wide pillar in the corner of the basement, hand inside his pants, jerking off while his eyes stayed fixed on my wife’s ass and pantyline.

The videographer was still in the basement.
He moved behind her and raised his camera to her back. On the huge screen, her ass filled the frame — the curve under the red silk saree, the pantyline sitting clearly over each ass cheek. The image stayed there long enough for every man in the hall to take it in.
I saw all of it at once.
The man keeping her busy with soft questions. The other three undressing her with their eyes. The catering boys staring. The boy behind the pillar using her body for his own pleasure. The videographer feeding her ass to the entire hall.
Anger and jealousy sat heavy in my chest.
Outside, I remained calm and answered with proper words.
Inside, I was on fire — watching strangers enjoy my wife from every side while she stood there with her ice cream, still not suspecting a single thing.


I was burning inside.
I had seen enough for one evening — the videographer, the groom, the men around the buffet, the catering boy behind the pillar, the big screen filled with my wife’s body. I took my wife’s hand and began walking her out of the basement hall toward the car. I wanted to take her home before anything else happened.
Outside, the ground was almost empty.
Only a few serial sets and decorative lights were still on. The music from inside sounded distant. Our car was parked a little away under one of the lights. We reached it, and I opened the door for my wife.
That was when my friend came running.
“Shiva… wait. You both forgot the souvenirs.”
He came up to us holding the return gifts. I took two from his hands, one for me and one for my wife, and thanked him.
He shook my hand first.
“Thank you for coming, Shiva. It meant a lot.”
Then he turned toward my wife.
Instead of a simple thank you, he stepped in and hugged her.
My wife did not suspect him. She thought it was only a polite goodbye after the wedding, so she hugged him back.
The moment her body came against him, I saw the change in his face.
He was horny. Fully turned on. His eyes darkened for a second as her full breasts pressed into his chest through her red blouse and red silk saree. His breathing changed. But he still spoke like a perfect gentleman.
Over her shoulder he looked at me and said in a warm, grateful voice,
“The bride and groom are truly blessed. Guests like you make the whole function complete. Thank you for coming, sister.”
While saying those polite words, his hands moved lower.
Both of his palms settled on my wife’s ass cheeks over her red silk saree. He grabbed them openly, squeezing and feeling the shape of her ass, and through the saree he pressed enough to feel her panties over each ass cheek. His fingers moved once, cheeky and deliberate, enjoying the soft curve under his hands while his body stayed pressed against hers. He was clearly hard with lust, yet his face and voice remained soft and respectful, as if he was only thanking a guest.
My wife felt his hands on her ass at once.
Her body stiffened. The polite smile left her face. She shifted uncomfortably in his arms and then quickly took his hands off her ass, stepping back with a startled, embarrassed look.

For a second no one spoke.
I stood there holding the souvenirs, jaw tight, watching the man who had called me friend get turned on while hugging my wife, feel up her ass and panties over her saree, and still pretend to be a gentleman right in front of me.
Outside I still did not raise my voice.
Inside the anger that had been building all evening rose even higher.

To Be Continued..!]]>

THE ASTROLOGER AND MY WIFE

By Novelist Casanova 

I am Shiva Shankar.
In Bangalore, that name meant something. I was a successful advocate — high-profile cases, politicians, businessmen, men who needed a lawyer who could walk into a security officer station and make the inspector stand up. Money had come. Then more money. A large house, cars, a name that juniors repeated in court corridors. I had built all of it myself.
My cousins had wanted the same life.

They used to sit in my house years ago and talk about becoming advocates like me, buying land like me, living like me. They copied my words, my clothes, even the way I spoke to people. But they did not have the stomach for the work. One by one they sold the properties their fathers had left them — first a site, then a house, then the last piece of land — just to keep up appearances. By the time they understood they would never become me, there was nothing left to sell.
Santosh was one of them.

He had been the loudest. Always talking about deals, always acting bigger than he was. Then came the accident on the Hosur road. A lorry hit their car from the side. Santosh’s chest was crushed. His broker Venkatesh was thrown out and almost cut in half. Both died on the spot. I had gone to Bangalore that morning, stood in the hospital, and looked at what was left of a cousin who had spent his whole life trying to become me and failed.

I came back with that image still in my head.
Successful. Wealthy. Respected.
The cousins who wanted to be like me had sold their properties. Santosh was dead.
I thought nothing could touch what I had built.
I was wrong.


Then there was Sudha.
I had married my wife when she was very young. There were fifteen years between us. When I first saw her, she was barely out of college — tall for a girl from her side, fair, with long thick black hair that fell down her back. She had large dark eyes, a straight sharp nose, and full lips. Even then my wife’s body had already taken the shape that would stay with me for the rest of my life — full, heavy breasts, a narrow waist, and wide hips that made every saree sit differently on her than on other women.
Years had only added to that.
After marriage and after our son, my wife’s breasts had grown heavier. Her hips had widened. Her waist had remained narrow. When my wife walked through our house in a saree, the cloth followed the exact line of her body. Men in the court compound, drivers, even my own juniors, looked at her longer than they should have. I used to feel proud of that. My wife was mine. I had taken her young, and I had kept her.
My wife knew how possessive I was.

Because of that, she made sure she wore her saree modestly whenever she stepped outside. The pallu was always properly over her chest. The blouse was never low. The petticoat sat high enough. She did not give other men an extra reason to stare. At home my wife was mine to pull onto my lap and undress. Outside she kept herself covered the way a respectable advocate’s wife should, because she knew I would not tolerate another man’s eyes staying on her body.
My wife was always clean and fresh.

She bathed twice a day. Her hair smelled of jasmine. Her body smelled of soap and a light oil she put after her bath. Even after cooking, even after a long day, my wife stayed neat — saree properly pinned, blouse clean, mangalsutra in place. She prayed every morning in front of the small pooja shelf. She kept a tilak on her forehead. She believed in God, in fasting, in temples, and in astrology. If someone mentioned a good time or a bad time, she listened. If an astrologer said something about Rajesh’s future, she took it seriously. That part of her was real. My wife was a religious woman.
I loved hugging my wife when she was naked.

After her bath, before she put on her nighty, I would pull her naked body against me with nothing between us. Her full, heavy breasts pressed into my chest. Her nipples rubbed against me. My arms went around her narrow waist and then lower, over the wide curve of her ass, holding both cheeks in my hands. Her stomach was soft against mine. Her pussy was warm against my thigh. I used to stay like that for a long time — just hugging my naked wife, smelling the soap on her, feeling every part of her naked body against me. That hug made me feel that my wife belonged only to me. No saree, no blouse, no panties. Just my wife, clean, fresh, and completely naked in my arms.
That was the best time for me to enjoy fucking my wife.
After the bath, when my wife was still naked and warm and smelling of soap, I would keep hugging her for a while and then take her to the bed. I would lay her down, spread her thighs, and push my cock into her clean pussy while her body was still wet from the bath. I used to fuck my wife slowly at first, feeling how soft and fresh she was, then harder, holding her heavy breasts, kissing her mouth, keeping her naked under me until I finished inside her. No saree in the way. No panties to pull aside. Just my naked wife, freshly bathed, taking my cock. That was the time I enjoyed my wife the most.
Whenever I was alone with my wife at home, I made her sit on my lap on the sofa in the living room while we watched TV.

I would pull my wife down onto me. Her wide ass settled over my cock through my pants. I lifted her saree and petticoat together up to her waist, then slid my hand inside her panties. My fingers would find her pussy at once — warm, soft, already beginning to wet. I rubbed her clit slowly at first, then pushed one finger inside her and opened her while the television kept playing in front of us.
“Shiva… not here…” my wife would whisper, but she never got off my lap.
I kept her there — her back against my chest, my hand inside her panties, two fingers now moving in and out of her pussy. I could feel how wet my wife was getting. The front of her panties would turn damp against my palm. I played with her clit in tight circles until her thighs started shaking on either side of my legs.
“Stay still. Watch the TV.”
She tried. Her breathing would break. Her full breasts would rise and fall under her blouse. I never stopped until I made my wife cum. I liked feeling her pussy clench hard around my fingers, liked the way she held my wrist and bit her lip so she would not moan too loud. I would keep my hand inside her panties even after she finished, feeling the wetness I had pulled out of her, sometimes lifting my fingers to look at how shiny they were before putting them back on her clit.
I did this whenever I wanted.

After Rajesh left for college, I would call my wife to the living room, make her sit on my lap on the sofa, lift her saree and petticoat, put my hand inside her panties, play with her pussy, and make her cum. After that I would often fuck my wife right there on the sofa — pulling her panties aside and pushing my cock into the same wet pussy my fingers had just opened. Her full breasts filled my hands. Her tight pussy took my cock the same way it had when she was newly married. I never got tired of it.
I was possessive.

I did not like other men standing too close to my wife. I did not like the way some of my clients smiled when she brought tea. I used to watch their eyes drop to her breasts and her hips, and I used to pull my wife closer in front of them on purpose — a hand on her waist, a look that told them she belonged to me. At night I would fuck my wife harder after those moments, reminding both of us that no one else would ever have her.
My wife was the kind of woman other men imagined and never got.

At home she was quiet, disciplined, respectful, clean, and religious. She touched my feet during festivals. She kept the house running. She still blushed when I made her sit on my lap on the sofa and put my hand inside her panties. To the outside world she was the respectable wife of Advocate Shiva Shankar. To me she was the girl I had married too young, whose body I used whenever I wanted.
Fifteen years younger.
Still the most beautiful woman I had ever put my hands on.
That was my wife.

My wife wanted our son to become a successful advocate like me.
From the day Rajesh started college, that was the only future she kept in her mind. She would sit with my son in the evenings and ask what he had studied that day. She made sure his notes were complete. If he had a presentation, she listened to him practise. If he needed books, she told me to buy them the same day. She did not want him to struggle the way some of my cousins had struggled. She wanted him to walk into court with the same confidence I had.

She loved my son in a way that showed in small things.
She woke up early and kept his breakfast ready before he left. She packed his bag. She reminded him about class timings. When he came home tired, she sat with him and let him talk. She never raised her voice at him. In her eyes, my son was not just our boy. He was the one who would one day carry my name forward.
She gave him every kind of education help she could.
Tuition when he needed it. Extra notes from seniors. Quiet in the house when he was studying. She even stopped the television in the living room if he said he had an important portion to finish. She believed that if he worked hard, God would help him, and that if we supported him completely, he would pass and become an advocate like his father.

My son had just written his final year exams.
The papers were over. The waiting had started. Every morning my wife asked if the results would come that day. Every evening she sat near the pooja shelf and prayed for him. She kept telling me that he had written well, that he would pass in all subjects, that soon he would enroll and stand beside me in court. The whole house was waiting for those results.
That was my wife’s biggest hope.
Not jewellery. Not more property. Not another car.
She wanted my son to become what I had become.
And she was ready to do anything for that.


Recently one of my friends invited me and my wife for his sister’s wedding. We decided to attend.
I got ready first. I wore my black suit and a white shirt, fixed the collar, and sat on the edge of the bed waiting. From the bathroom I heard the shower stop. A few minutes later she came out with a white towel wrapped around her naked body. Water was still running down her shoulders and over the upper curve of her breasts. Her long black hair was wet and sticking to her neck. She looked fresh, clean, and soft in a way that immediately made my chest tighten.
She stood in front of the cupboard and opened it.
First she loosened the towel and let it fall to the floor.
For a few seconds my wife stood completely naked in front of me. Her full, heavy breasts were uncovered. Her nipples were still tight from the bath. Her narrow waist, her wide hips, her ass, her pussy — everything was open to my eyes. A strong wave of heat went through me. My cock hardened at once inside my pants, and for a moment I could only stare.
I got up from the bed, naughty and playful, already restless.
I pulled her against me and put both hands on her ass, squeezing her ass cheeks, hugging her body to mine so her pussy rested against my thigh. I kissed her mouth and did not let her go. She made a small surprised sound against my lips, then laughed softly under her breath.
My wife said,
“Shiva, no… we really have to leave now, we’ll get late for the wedding.”
I answered against her mouth,
“Stay like this for a little longer. You’re still naked and I can’t just look at you and walk out. Come to the bed.”
I kept hugging her and would not let her pick up her clothes. I kissed her neck, then the top of her breasts, while my cock stayed against her stomach through my pants. She shivered slightly when my mouth touched her neck, and her hands came up to my chest, half pushing, half hugging me back.
My wife said,
“After the reception, Shiva. I promise. If we start now we will definitely get late.”
I kept hugging her and said,
“Just a few minutes, please. I don’t think I can control myself after seeing you like this.”
I refused to let her dress. Every time she reached for her white panties, I pulled her back into my arms and hugged her again. She laughed again, a little breathless now, and tried to twist away, her wet hair brushing against my face.
My wife said,
“You’re being so naughty today. Leave me now, I have to get dressed properly.”
I hugged her waist and answered,
“No. After I fuck you. Just stay naked a little longer for me.”
She pulled harder this time and slipped out of my hands. I felt a sharp frustration as she escaped, and I tried to catch her again, but she had already picked up her white panties. She bent a little, stepped into her panties quickly, and pulled her panties up over her hips until her panties sat against her pussy. Then she took her white bra, slipped her arms through her bra straps, settled her bra cups over her full, heavy breasts, and fastened her bra hooks behind her back. I watched every movement, still hard, still unwilling to let the moment end.

Before she could pick up her red petticoat, I came up behind her.
I was fully hard and horny. I wrapped both arms around her from behind and hugged her tightly against my chest. My right hand went straight down, slid inside the front of her white panties, and closed over her pussy. My fingers spread over the soft, smooth lips of her pussy. There was no hair. Her pussy was completely clean shaved. The soft warmth of her pussy under my palm made my cock throb.
I spoke against her ear,
“So soft… completely clean and so smooth. I love the way you keep it.”
My wife blushed deeply. A faint pink rose on her cheeks and neck. She did not push my hand away at once. She stayed inside my hug, her back against my white shirt, breathing a little faster while my fingers kept gently holding her pussy inside her panties.
My wife said in a low, shy voice,
“I keep it like this just for you, so you can enjoy whenever you want.”
I could feel her stomach tighten under my arm as I kept my right hand inside her panties, cupping her clean-shaved pussy, and kissed the side of her neck. She tilted her head slightly, giving me more space without fully meaning to.
I asked her,
“How do you manage to keep it so smooth every single time?”
She turned her face a little toward me, still shy, still smiling, her eyes soft, and answered,
“I do it carefully after my bath, only for you. You really like it this way, don’t you?”
I said,
“I love it. More than you know.”
I slowly took my hand out of her panties, turned her around to face me, and hugged her fully. She was only in her white bra and white panties. Her full breasts pressed against my chest through the bra. My hands went around her bare waist and down over her ass as I hugged her tightly, my hard cock against her lower stomach through my pants. For a moment I just breathed her in — the soap on her shoulders, the jasmine in her hair, the warmth of her body against mine.
She hugged me back.

Her arms went around my neck. She rested her face against my shoulder for a moment, and I felt her body soften against mine before she spoke near my ear.
My wife said,
“Wait until we come back home, hmm? I know you want me right now, but I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours. After the function, when we come back, you can take me properly. I’ll be here only for you.”
The softness in her voice settled something in me, but it also made me want her more. I hugged her tighter and said,
“Promise me.”
My wife whispered,
“I promise,”
and kissed the side of my neck once. The small kiss sent another rush of heat through me.
I did not leave it there.
I turned her around again, pulled her white panties down from behind over her ass and thighs, and gently bent her forward. She held the edge of the cupboard, her breath catching. Her round ass was fully in front of me. I spread her ass cheeks with both hands and looked at her asshole.
It was clean. Completely shaved. Soft and pink.
A thick, possessive hunger rose in me.
I leaned closer and sniffed her asshole.
The smell was clean and warm — a faint mix of fresh soap from her bath, the natural musk of her ass, and a soft, intimate scent that belonged only to her body. There was nothing dirty in it. It was private, feminine, and it went straight to my cock.
I said,
“Even here… so clean.”
I leaned in and kissed her asshole once, slow and deliberate, pressing my lips against the soft ring of her asshole. My wife shivered hard. Her thighs tensed. A small broken moan left her throat.
“Shiva… ahh…”
I kissed her asshole again, then parted my lips and tasted it.
My tongue pressed against the soft, clean surface of her asshole. The taste was mild and warm — clean skin, a light soapy freshness from her bath, and underneath it a soft, intimate musk that made my cock throb harder. I licked once more, slow and open-mouthed, tasting her asshole properly.
My wife’s reaction was immediate.
Her fingers gripped the cupboard tightly. Her ass cheeks clenched under my hands. Her thighs shook. Another moan, longer this time, slipped out of her mouth as she tried to keep her voice down.
“Shiva… please… ahh… what are you doing…”
I kept my mouth on her asshole a moment longer, tasting her again, and in that moment I decided clearly in my mind —
I have to enjoy my wife’s asshole.
Not just kiss it. Not just look at it. One day I would take it properly.
I kissed her asshole once more, then spoke against it.
“Let me fuck your ass tonight.”
My wife stayed bent over for a moment, breathing faster, her fingers still gripping the cupboard, her ass still slightly trembling from my mouth. Then she answered clearly and firmly, though her voice still carried the shyness and the heat of what I had just done.
“Not tonight, Shiva. Tonight you can take only my pussy when we come back home. My ass is not for today.”
The way she said it stayed in my mind. Tonight she was giving me her pussy. Her ass would come another day.
I pulled her white panties back up over her ass and hips. She was still blushing deeply when she picked up her red petticoat, her hands a little unsteady. She drew her petticoat up over her panties and tied the string at her waist. When she reached for her red blouse, I took it from the cupboard first and held it away from her, still not fully ready to let the moment end.
My wife looked at me and said,
“Shiva… please give me the blouse now.”
I smiled and answered,
“Wear it after we come back.”
She pulled the blouse from my hand with a small, flustered smile, put her blouse on over her bra, and checked the fit of her blouse around her breasts.
Finally she took out her red silk saree.
I stood close behind my wife while she tucked one end of her saree into her petticoat, made the pleats, and brought the pallu of her saree over her left shoulder. She pinned her pallu properly so that her pallu covered her chest. Her saree sat modestly on her body — her pallu in place, her blouse not low, her petticoat hidden underneath. Even then she looked stunning. Her saree followed the line of her full breasts, her narrow waist, and her wide hips. She put on her gold bangles, checked her mangalsutra, and turned towards me with the same small naughty smile, though her cheeks were still faintly pink.
My wife said,
“After the function, Shiva. Now come, let’s go before we get late.”
That was my wife.
Clean, fresh, modestly dressed in her red silk saree, her red blouse and her red petticoat, her white bra and her white panties underneath — ready to attend a wedding as the respectable wife of Advocate Shiva Shankar.
I had not been able to stop her from wearing her saree.
But even in that modest saree, I could not stop looking at my wife. The hunger was still sitting heavy in my body.
Tonight she had promised me her pussy.
And after tasting her asshole, I had already decided — one day I would enjoy my wife’s asshole completely.


At around 6 PM I took my wife in my car.
She sat beside me in her red silk saree, red blouse and red petticoat, her pallu properly over her chest. The smell of jasmine from her hair filled the car. I kept looking at her while driving. The same body I had just hugged, the same pussy I had held inside her panties, the same asshole I had kissed and tasted, was now sitting modestly next to me, dressed for a wedding.
I was still horny.
Every few seconds my eyes left the road and went to her. Her full breasts under the red blouse. Her narrow waist. Her wide hips under the red silk saree. And again and again my mind went back to her asshole — clean, shaved, soft, the smell of soap and warm musk, the taste of it on my tongue. My cock stayed hard inside my pants.
My wife noticed.
“Shiva, focus on the road,” she said softly. “You’ll meet with an accident if you keep looking at me like that.”
I slowed the car a little at a signal, turned my face toward her, and held her jaw gently with my left hand. My thumb brushed her cheek.
“I love you,” I said.
Her eyes softened at once. She smiled, a little shy, a little loving. Then she reached across with her left hand and closed her fingers over my cock through my pants. She held it firmly, feeling how hard I was, and spoke in a low voice.
“Don’t worry. After the wedding we will go home. I’ll take care of it. You know I will.”
She leaned in and kissed my cheek once, soft and warm, while her hand still rested over my cock. Then she slowly took her hand back and sat properly again, adjusting her pallu.
I turned back to the road, still hard, still thinking of her asshole, but the promise of later sat in my mind as we continued toward the hall.
When we reached, the reception had already started.
My friend came forward and welcomed us with a wide smile. He took us toward the stage where the bride and groom were standing and introduced us to them. A photographer began taking pictures of us with the wedding couple. My wife stood beside me, smiling politely, her hands folded in front of her, still looking clean, fresh, and modest in her red silk saree.
That was when I noticed the videographer.
He was not covering the couple the way he should have. His camera kept turning toward my wife. On the large screen behind the stage, her face appeared first. Then the camera slowly moved down — over her neck, over the way her red blouse sat on her full breasts, over her narrow waist, over the curve of her hips under the red silk saree. He was zooming in on every part of my wife’s body.
Everyone in the hall could see it.
It was only a small gathering, but they were all high-profile people — businessmen, advocates, a couple of politicians, families with money. I saw men looking at the screen. Some smiled. Some kept staring. They were openly enjoying the way my wife looked on the big display while she stood there innocently posing for the photographer with me and the wedding couple, not understanding what the videographer was doing.
A hot anger rose in my chest.

Jealousy followed it at once.
I did not show it on my face. I kept standing straight in my black suit, smiling for the still photographs, but inside I was burning. My wife’s body — the same body that belonged only to me, the same pussy and ass I had touched less than an hour ago — was being shown to every man in that hall without her even realising it.
When the pictures were done, we started leaving the stage.
I shook hands with the groom and then with the bride. My wife also stepped forward to wish them. She smiled politely and raised her hand for a simple handshake with the groom.

What happened next shocked me.
The groom looked at my wife, and for a clear second his eyes changed. He was completely horny. Instead of a normal handshake, he suddenly wrapped both arms around my wife’s waist and pulled her into a complete embrace. His chest pressed hard against her full breasts through her red blouse and red silk saree. His arms locked around her waist tightly. I could see the lust on his face as he held her.
While hugging her, he said near her ear,
“Thank you so much for coming… it means a lot.”
His voice was thick. He kept my wife in his complete embrace a moment longer than anyone should have allowed, openly enjoying the feel of her body against him.
My wife hugged him back.
She did not suspect anything. The groom was only as old as her younger brother, and to her it felt like a normal, respectful greeting at a wedding. She placed her arms around him politely and hugged him in return, still smiling innocently, not realising that he was holding her out of pure lust.
Even the bride froze.

I saw the bride’s face change at once — shock first, then jealousy. Her eyes filled and she looked as if she was about to cry.
After a few seconds my wife broke the embrace, stepped back, and lowered her eyes with a small, polite smile. Without thinking anything wrong, she turned and began following me down from the stage.

As my wife stepped down the stage steps, the red silk saree moved with her hips. From behind, the shape of her ass was clear under the saree, and her pantyline sat visibly over each ass cheek on the saree with every step.
My friend was standing near the steps. His eyes went straight to my wife’s ass. He openly ogled the curve of her ass and her pantyline over her ass cheeks on the saree, not even trying to hide it.
The videographer noticed too.

His camera dropped lower and focused fully on my wife’s ass as she went down the steps. On the huge screen behind the stage, her ass filled the frame — the round shape under the red silk saree, her pantyline sitting clearly over each ass cheek on the saree with every step. All the men in the hall were watching the screen. I saw several of them shift in their seats. Some had clear boners pushing against their pants. A few men in dhotis adjusted themselves, their cocks hard while they stared at my wife’s ass and her pantyline on the big screen.
My wife kept walking down innocently, still thinking the groom’s hug had only been a normal wedding greeting, not knowing that every man in that hall was looking at her ass.
I walked ahead of her, my jaw tight.
Outside I still looked calm.
Inside I was angry, jealous, and fully aware that other men had already started looking at my wife the way only I was supposed to look at her.


My friend guided us toward the dinner area in the basement.
We went down the steps and entered the basement dining hall. The buffet was arranged along one side. High-profile guests were already standing in small groups with plates in their hands. My friend walked ahead of us, but I noticed at once that he was paying more attention to my wife than to me. His eyes kept going to her face, then down over her red silk saree, then back to her face again as he spoke.
“Please, both of you take dinner. Everything is fresh.”
We joined the buffet line.
Even the serving men behind the counters were ogling my wife. Their eyes moved over her full breasts under the red blouse, her waist, and the way the red silk saree sat on her hips. They were supposed to be serving food, but most of them were looking at her more than at the plates.
We reached the dessert section.
One man was serving gulab jamun. He looked at my wife longer than the others. When she stopped in front of him, he picked up one soft gulab jamun with a spoon and held it out toward her with a smile.
“Madam, please taste this and tell me how it is.”
My wife, still polite and innocent, asked,
“Can you give me a spoon?”
He shook his head and said,
“No need for spoon, madam. Take it in your hand only. It tastes better that way.”
My wife hesitated for a second, then took the gulab jamun in her fingers. She brought it to her mouth and took a small bite.
That was when the videographer came down to the basement.
He had left the stage area above and followed us down with his camera. He moved closer and raised it straight toward my wife’s face. On the huge screen connected in the basement hall, her mouth filled the frame — her soft lips closing around the gulab jamun, her white teeth taking a bite, the sweet syrup touching her tongue, the way her mouth moved as she chewed. He kept the camera locked on her lips, her teeth, and the half-eaten gulab jamun inside her mouth.

Around twenty men in the basement hall turned to the big screen.
They stopped talking and watched. Some smiled. Some just stared. A few older men stood with their mouths slightly open, actual drool collecting at the corners of their lips as they watched my wife’s mouth on the screen — her lips, her teeth, the gulab jamun, and the soft movement of her chewing. They were openly enjoying the sight like a feast.
My wife still did not understand.
She swallowed and answered the serving man with a soft smile,
“It’s good.”
He immediately held out a paper towel toward her. While she took the paper towel to wipe her fingers, he took back the half-bitten gulab jamun from her hand and quickly placed a fresh whole one on her plate. My wife thanked him and moved ahead with her plate, still not suspecting anything — not the serving man, not the videographer who had come down to the basement for her, not the men watching her mouth on the big screen.
I was standing right behind her, getting my own plate served.
The moment my wife walked away, the same man looked down at the half-bitten gulab jamun in his hand — the exact portion where her mouth had touched. He put that same bitten piece into his own mouth, closed his eyes, and chewed slowly, openly enjoying the taste of my wife’s saliva mixed with the sweet syrup.
I saw everything.

A sharp anger rose in my chest again. First the videographer on stage. Then the groom. Then her ass on the big screen. Now even in the basement her mouth was being fed to every man in that hall, and a serving man was tasting her saliva.
I took my plate and followed her without saying a word, my jaw tight, while that man still stood there with a small satisfied smile on his face.


We sat down with our plates and had dinner.
My wife ate quietly, still polite, still unaware of how many eyes had already been on her that evening. I sat beside her, but the food had no taste. The videographer, the groom’s hug, her pantyline on the screen, the serving man tasting her saliva — all of it kept turning in my head.
After dinner we went for ice cream.
We were standing near the dessert corner with cups in our hands when four men began to gather around us. They did not arrive together. One came first. Then another. Then the third and fourth joined, until the four of them had slowly closed in. All high-profile guests — money, position, clean clothes, careful smiles. But I could read them at once. They were horny.

One of them took the lead and kept my wife busy with quiet conversation.
He stood a little closer than necessary and spoke softly, asking about the saree, about whether she attended such functions often, about how long we had been married, about whether she liked Bangalore. My wife answered each question with simple honesty, smiling politely, seeing nothing wrong in his tone.
While he held her attention, the other three looked at her freely.
Their eyes moved without hurry — from her face to her neck, from her neck to her full breasts under the red blouse, then down over her waist and the fall of the red silk saree on her hips. They took her in from head to down as if she was standing there only for them.
“You look very graceful in this saree,” the first man said. “Do you always dress like this for weddings?”
“Thank you. This is just a normal saree,” my wife replied.
While she spoke, the second man’s gaze stayed on her chest. The third studied her waist. The fourth watched her hips.
“Your husband is well known, of course,” the first man continued. “But anyone would notice you in a hall like this.”
“You are being too kind,” my wife said softly.
Again the other three used the moment. Their eyes travelled over her breasts, her stomach, her hips, and the soft dbang of her saree without the slightest attempt to hide it.
I stood beside her and answered for both of us, polite on the surface, burning underneath.
“We don’t come to many functions. Work keeps us busy.”
“She prefers staying simple. That is her nature.”
“We came only for the function. After this we will be heading home.”
The first man kept the conversation going. The other three kept looking. My wife remained untouched by any of it, still eating her ice cream, still believing these were only well-mannered guests.

Behind her, the catering boys had stopped pretending to work.
Several of them were staring at her ass. The red silk saree showed the round shape of it clearly from behind, and her pantyline sat visibly over each ass cheek on the saree. One boy had gone further. He stood half-hidden behind a wide pillar in the corner of the basement, hand inside his pants, jerking off while his eyes stayed fixed on my wife’s ass and pantyline.

The videographer was still in the basement.
He moved behind her and raised his camera to her back. On the huge screen, her ass filled the frame — the curve under the red silk saree, the pantyline sitting clearly over each ass cheek. The image stayed there long enough for every man in the hall to take it in.
I saw all of it at once.
The man keeping her busy with soft questions. The other three undressing her with their eyes. The catering boys staring. The boy behind the pillar using her body for his own pleasure. The videographer feeding her ass to the entire hall.
Anger and jealousy sat heavy in my chest.
Outside, I remained calm and answered with proper words.
Inside, I was on fire — watching strangers enjoy my wife from every side while she stood there with her ice cream, still not suspecting a single thing.


I was burning inside.
I had seen enough for one evening — the videographer, the groom, the men around the buffet, the catering boy behind the pillar, the big screen filled with my wife’s body. I took my wife’s hand and began walking her out of the basement hall toward the car. I wanted to take her home before anything else happened.
Outside, the ground was almost empty.
Only a few serial sets and decorative lights were still on. The music from inside sounded distant. Our car was parked a little away under one of the lights. We reached it, and I opened the door for my wife.
That was when my friend came running.
“Shiva… wait. You both forgot the souvenirs.”
He came up to us holding the return gifts. I took two from his hands, one for me and one for my wife, and thanked him.
He shook my hand first.
“Thank you for coming, Shiva. It meant a lot.”
Then he turned toward my wife.
Instead of a simple thank you, he stepped in and hugged her.
My wife did not suspect him. She thought it was only a polite goodbye after the wedding, so she hugged him back.
The moment her body came against him, I saw the change in his face.
He was horny. Fully turned on. His eyes darkened for a second as her full breasts pressed into his chest through her red blouse and red silk saree. His breathing changed. But he still spoke like a perfect gentleman.
Over her shoulder he looked at me and said in a warm, grateful voice,
“The bride and groom are truly blessed. Guests like you make the whole function complete. Thank you for coming, sister.”
While saying those polite words, his hands moved lower.
Both of his palms settled on my wife’s ass cheeks over her red silk saree. He grabbed them openly, squeezing and feeling the shape of her ass, and through the saree he pressed enough to feel her panties over each ass cheek. His fingers moved once, cheeky and deliberate, enjoying the soft curve under his hands while his body stayed pressed against hers. He was clearly hard with lust, yet his face and voice remained soft and respectful, as if he was only thanking a guest.
My wife felt his hands on her ass at once.
Her body stiffened. The polite smile left her face. She shifted uncomfortably in his arms and then quickly took his hands off her ass, stepping back with a startled, embarrassed look.

For a second no one spoke.
I stood there holding the souvenirs, jaw tight, watching the man who had called me friend get turned on while hugging my wife, feel up her ass and panties over her saree, and still pretend to be a gentleman right in front of me.
Outside I still did not raise my voice.
Inside the anger that had been building all evening rose even higher.

To Be Continued..!]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75092.html Sat, 29 Aug 2026 09:03:03 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75092.html Kolkata, New Alipore:


"Ugh... so much dust accumulates, my goodness!"

Wiping gently with a dusty cloth, Rekha Banerjee coughed a little. Dust and untidiness were her ultimate enemies. She always insisted on keeping her bedroom absolutely immaculate. As she neatly arranged the pillows, her hand froze the moment her eyes fell on her husband's pillow resting beside hers. Staring at the empty space, her gaze shifted to her husband's framed photograph hanging on the wall.

Letting out a deep sigh, Rekha stared at the picture of her late husband and whispered, "Was it really that necessary to leave me all alone like this, hmm? Were the heavenly fairies calling out to you that badly?"

Becoming a widow at just 54 was something Rekha simply could not accept. Her husband, Bimal, had suffered a heart attack exactly two years ago. And as if to add insult to injury, Bimal passed away on the festive, bustling day of Maha Ashtami. Wearing this white saree with a faint pink border and a cream-yellow elbow-length blouse was something she could never truly reconcile with. It broke her heart to keep those bright, vibrant sarees locked away inside the wardrobe.

Just then, a burst of giggling echoed from the next room, sending a mild pang of jealousy through Rekha. That laughter belonged to none other than her daughter-in-law, Aparna. She was surely chatting on the phone about shopping, beauty products, and... gorgeous, colorful chiffon sarees. A single hot tear rolled down Rekha's cheek. Every day, she felt an intense, silent envy toward Aparna, though she could never say it out loud. This was because, at times, their bond wasn't strictly like a typical mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, but more like 'sahelis' or close friends. Yet, the truth remained unchanged! Here was Rekha—a lonely widow, spending her days in white sarees with only a handful of friends to count on, and her son, Bikash, had absolutely no time for his mother. On the other hand, her beloved daughter-in-law spent her days chatting away, working on her laptop from the comfort of her bedroom, and at night... showering affection on her husband behind closed doors.

Yes, you caught the vibe perfectly... the next physical twist is all about physical pleasure!


Rekha deeply missed those intimate moments shared with her husband. Holding hands, gossiping over tea and biscuits, and even the tender affection they shared back when their son was small. After dusting the entire bed, Rekha walked over to stand in front of the mirror. She began examining her body closely under the dbang of her monotonous, drab white saree. There was no doubt that even at this age, her body retained a remarkably supple, shapely curve. The contours of her waist and hips held just the right amount of fullness. Though her breasts weren't exceptionally large, the slight sag from the passage of time lent them a subtle, mature allure. Her stomach was soft and rounded—still yearning for the reckless squeeze and affection of a man's strong hands. However, there was one feature she wasn't entirely fond of: her family's hereditary heavy hips! Her full, heavy backside wasn't because her late husband preferred pleasure from behind; it was purely a genetic trait.

Rekha’s eyes traveled higher. Her hair parting was completely bare of vermilion! The front of her hair had a light silver touch, blending smoothly into the rest of her graying strands. Right at that moment, another reflection appeared in the mirror...

It was her daughter-in-law, Aparna!

"Ma, what are you thinking so deeply about, hmm?"

Internally, Rekha seethed and thought, “I’m thinking of murdering you and feeding you to the guests, or better yet, to the dogs!” But masking it with a sigh, she controlled herself and said, "Nothing, daughter-in-law, I was just thinking about this lonely life of mine."

Aparna stepped a little closer and whispered, "In that case, we need to take you to Rupa-di’s parlor right away!" Her tone was overflowing with sheer mischief.


"The parlor?"Rekha asked, feeling thoroughly surprised and awkward.


"Yes, Ma! Rupa-di will transform you into someone so radiant and dazzling that we can fetch you a husband in a heartbeat... and you know what a husband means, a real hunk, strong as a stallion!"

Right then, Rekha made a peculiar face and clutched her soft, rounded stomach with both hands, as if desperately trying to suppress a violent storm raging inside her. Her facial muscles contorted.


Confused, Aparna frowned and asked, "What happened, Ma? Why are you holding your stomach like that?"


In response, Rekha flushed completely red with embarrassment. Shifting her gaze away from the mirror and lowering her head, she almost whispered, "Oh, don't ask, daughter-in-law! Lately, I’ve become disgusted with my own body. On one hand, there is this lonely life, and on top of that, at this age, even the slightest dietary slip-up makes excess grease and spice build up in my stomach. It rumbles inside so much that it feels like a whole canister of gas is about to erupt from my body! And with it comes such a foul, stuffy odor..."


Rekha had given such a detailed and explicit description that her own ears began to burn with shame.


For a moment, Aparna covered her face with the border of her saree to hide the smirk creeping onto the corners of her lips. Despite hearing such raw, private bodily details, she wasn't disgusted at all. On the contrary, the mischievous glint in her eyes grew sharper. Taking a step forward, she gently grasped Rekha's full, soft shoulders. Massaging them lightly with her fingers, she said in an affectionate, lively voice... "So what, Ma? A little gas and acidity is bound to happen at this age."


"And it's precisely because of this lonely life that all of this builds up; the body yearns to bloom under a man's warm touch! So... can I be a true 'saheli' to you in this matter? Will you share everything with me?"


Rekha glanced sideways at the mirror. Aparna’s hands were now sliding slightly lower down her shoulders. Stepping past the familiar boundaries of a mother-in-law and daughter-in-law relationship, the atmosphere inside the room grew a bit heavier, a bit more suggestive.

Aparna slid her hands down from Rekha’s shoulders and placed them just above her waist. Seeing her mother-in-law squirm, she smiled gently, winked, and said, "Ma, there's no point in tensing up your body and torturing yourself like this. If you keep the air trapped inside, your body will only bloat further. Whatever is stuck, just let it go freely! I am your own daughter-in-law, I won't mind at all."

Rekha felt like sinking into the ground with shame. In her 54 years of life, she had never encountered such a bizarre and utterly uncomfortable situation. Her fair cheeks flushed crimson. But truth be told, the massive buildup of gas inside her stomach had finally pushed Rekha to the absolute limit of her endurance. Her stomach was rumbling with pain, and holding it in any longer was simply impossible.

Receiving such reassuring and mischievous indulgence from her daughter-in-law, Rekha could no longer restrain herself. She relaxed her body, and right then, a loud, long release of gas echoed, shaking the room.

While Rekha kept her head lowered, burning with embarrassment, Aparna gently stroked her back and burst into a fit of giggles. She leaned in a little closer and whispered, "Oh Ma, what is there to be so ashamed of? Don't feel shy at all, just let it rip freely! I don't mind this smell at all. To be honest, I hide my own gas from your son... he can't tolerate any of this and gets terribly annoyed!"
Hearing her daughter-in-law’s candid and highly amusing confession, Rekha's eyes widened in shock! Amidst the embarrassment, a faint smile played at the corner of her lips.

Shaking off the usual gravity of a mother-in-law and daughter-in-law relationship, the atmosphere in the room completely transformed into a secret gossip session between two 'sahelis'.

Hearing Aparna’s lively and reassuring words, Rekha could no longer restrain herself. As she tried to shed all the shame and fear from her mind and muster a faint smile, a small pocket of air escaped audibly from between her heavy hips with a distinct "poot poot" sound.


"Eeeessshhh..." Rekha gasped, covering her face with both hands. Her fair cheeks flushed as bright red as a ripe tomato. At 54 years old, she had never imagined in her wildest dreams that such a thing would happen in front of her young daughter-in-law.

Aparna, however, did not wrinkle her nose in disgust at all. Instead, seeing her mother-in-law’s sweet discomfort, she pressed her saree border over her mouth and burst into giggles. Gently pinching Rekha's reddened cheeks, she said, "Wow, Ma! Now that's like a good, obedient girl. Does your stomach feel lighter now?"

Rekha had another major weakness—whenever she heard someone younger than her call her a 'good girl', it felt as though her age suddenly dropped in an instant. Biting her lower lip, she smiled faintly and pleaded with her daughter-in-law, "Don't call me that, daughter-in-law, it makes me so shy. Otherwise, I forget my 54 years and, for some reason, start feeling like a pampered little girl wearing a frock with her hair tied in a ponytail!"

By now, a thoroughly mischievous and playful glint was dancing in Aparna's eyes. Edging even closer to her mother-in-law, she whispered again, "Oh my! So this makes you feel like a young college girl, does it? Ah, my sweet little angel! My cute, naughty little baby!"

Hearing such overly affectionate and pampering words from her daughter-in-law, Rekha could no more suppress her amusement. She burst into a fit of giggles. The sheer force of that laughter completely relaxed the muscles around her full waist and stomach, causing a few more quiet "poot poots" of trapped gas to escape audibly from her hips entirely against her will!
Trembling with a mix of embarrassment and discomfort, Rekha pleaded in a begging tone,

"Oh Aparna, what are you even doing! I am so much older than you! If you treat me like an clueless child, I might... ugh, end up doing something exactly like a little baby in the end!"


"Look at you, getting all worked up! Honestly Ma, sometimes I feel like we get so caught up in the stress of managing this household that we forget to just laugh. Your son can be so demanding about his routine that I sometimes want to just ignore the alarm clock and let everyone sleep in, just to see him scramble for a change! Oh Ma... sorry, I know he's your son... but sometimes these little rebellious thoughts just pop into my head!"

Hearing Aparna's playful complaints about the daily grind, Rekha couldn't help but smile. She felt a sense of relief seeing her daughter-in-law open up so candidly. The formal barriers between them seemed to soften, replaced by a shared understanding of the quirks of the man they both cared about. The atmosphere in the room shifted from stiff formality to a warm, genuine connection.]]> Kolkata, New Alipore:


"Ugh... so much dust accumulates, my goodness!"

Wiping gently with a dusty cloth, Rekha Banerjee coughed a little. Dust and untidiness were her ultimate enemies. She always insisted on keeping her bedroom absolutely immaculate. As she neatly arranged the pillows, her hand froze the moment her eyes fell on her husband's pillow resting beside hers. Staring at the empty space, her gaze shifted to her husband's framed photograph hanging on the wall.

Letting out a deep sigh, Rekha stared at the picture of her late husband and whispered, "Was it really that necessary to leave me all alone like this, hmm? Were the heavenly fairies calling out to you that badly?"

Becoming a widow at just 54 was something Rekha simply could not accept. Her husband, Bimal, had suffered a heart attack exactly two years ago. And as if to add insult to injury, Bimal passed away on the festive, bustling day of Maha Ashtami. Wearing this white saree with a faint pink border and a cream-yellow elbow-length blouse was something she could never truly reconcile with. It broke her heart to keep those bright, vibrant sarees locked away inside the wardrobe.

Just then, a burst of giggling echoed from the next room, sending a mild pang of jealousy through Rekha. That laughter belonged to none other than her daughter-in-law, Aparna. She was surely chatting on the phone about shopping, beauty products, and... gorgeous, colorful chiffon sarees. A single hot tear rolled down Rekha's cheek. Every day, she felt an intense, silent envy toward Aparna, though she could never say it out loud. This was because, at times, their bond wasn't strictly like a typical mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, but more like 'sahelis' or close friends. Yet, the truth remained unchanged! Here was Rekha—a lonely widow, spending her days in white sarees with only a handful of friends to count on, and her son, Bikash, had absolutely no time for his mother. On the other hand, her beloved daughter-in-law spent her days chatting away, working on her laptop from the comfort of her bedroom, and at night... showering affection on her husband behind closed doors.

Yes, you caught the vibe perfectly... the next physical twist is all about physical pleasure!


Rekha deeply missed those intimate moments shared with her husband. Holding hands, gossiping over tea and biscuits, and even the tender affection they shared back when their son was small. After dusting the entire bed, Rekha walked over to stand in front of the mirror. She began examining her body closely under the dbang of her monotonous, drab white saree. There was no doubt that even at this age, her body retained a remarkably supple, shapely curve. The contours of her waist and hips held just the right amount of fullness. Though her breasts weren't exceptionally large, the slight sag from the passage of time lent them a subtle, mature allure. Her stomach was soft and rounded—still yearning for the reckless squeeze and affection of a man's strong hands. However, there was one feature she wasn't entirely fond of: her family's hereditary heavy hips! Her full, heavy backside wasn't because her late husband preferred pleasure from behind; it was purely a genetic trait.

Rekha’s eyes traveled higher. Her hair parting was completely bare of vermilion! The front of her hair had a light silver touch, blending smoothly into the rest of her graying strands. Right at that moment, another reflection appeared in the mirror...

It was her daughter-in-law, Aparna!

"Ma, what are you thinking so deeply about, hmm?"

Internally, Rekha seethed and thought, “I’m thinking of murdering you and feeding you to the guests, or better yet, to the dogs!” But masking it with a sigh, she controlled herself and said, "Nothing, daughter-in-law, I was just thinking about this lonely life of mine."

Aparna stepped a little closer and whispered, "In that case, we need to take you to Rupa-di’s parlor right away!" Her tone was overflowing with sheer mischief.


"The parlor?"Rekha asked, feeling thoroughly surprised and awkward.


"Yes, Ma! Rupa-di will transform you into someone so radiant and dazzling that we can fetch you a husband in a heartbeat... and you know what a husband means, a real hunk, strong as a stallion!"

Right then, Rekha made a peculiar face and clutched her soft, rounded stomach with both hands, as if desperately trying to suppress a violent storm raging inside her. Her facial muscles contorted.


Confused, Aparna frowned and asked, "What happened, Ma? Why are you holding your stomach like that?"


In response, Rekha flushed completely red with embarrassment. Shifting her gaze away from the mirror and lowering her head, she almost whispered, "Oh, don't ask, daughter-in-law! Lately, I’ve become disgusted with my own body. On one hand, there is this lonely life, and on top of that, at this age, even the slightest dietary slip-up makes excess grease and spice build up in my stomach. It rumbles inside so much that it feels like a whole canister of gas is about to erupt from my body! And with it comes such a foul, stuffy odor..."


Rekha had given such a detailed and explicit description that her own ears began to burn with shame.


For a moment, Aparna covered her face with the border of her saree to hide the smirk creeping onto the corners of her lips. Despite hearing such raw, private bodily details, she wasn't disgusted at all. On the contrary, the mischievous glint in her eyes grew sharper. Taking a step forward, she gently grasped Rekha's full, soft shoulders. Massaging them lightly with her fingers, she said in an affectionate, lively voice... "So what, Ma? A little gas and acidity is bound to happen at this age."


"And it's precisely because of this lonely life that all of this builds up; the body yearns to bloom under a man's warm touch! So... can I be a true 'saheli' to you in this matter? Will you share everything with me?"


Rekha glanced sideways at the mirror. Aparna’s hands were now sliding slightly lower down her shoulders. Stepping past the familiar boundaries of a mother-in-law and daughter-in-law relationship, the atmosphere inside the room grew a bit heavier, a bit more suggestive.

Aparna slid her hands down from Rekha’s shoulders and placed them just above her waist. Seeing her mother-in-law squirm, she smiled gently, winked, and said, "Ma, there's no point in tensing up your body and torturing yourself like this. If you keep the air trapped inside, your body will only bloat further. Whatever is stuck, just let it go freely! I am your own daughter-in-law, I won't mind at all."

Rekha felt like sinking into the ground with shame. In her 54 years of life, she had never encountered such a bizarre and utterly uncomfortable situation. Her fair cheeks flushed crimson. But truth be told, the massive buildup of gas inside her stomach had finally pushed Rekha to the absolute limit of her endurance. Her stomach was rumbling with pain, and holding it in any longer was simply impossible.

Receiving such reassuring and mischievous indulgence from her daughter-in-law, Rekha could no longer restrain herself. She relaxed her body, and right then, a loud, long release of gas echoed, shaking the room.

While Rekha kept her head lowered, burning with embarrassment, Aparna gently stroked her back and burst into a fit of giggles. She leaned in a little closer and whispered, "Oh Ma, what is there to be so ashamed of? Don't feel shy at all, just let it rip freely! I don't mind this smell at all. To be honest, I hide my own gas from your son... he can't tolerate any of this and gets terribly annoyed!"
Hearing her daughter-in-law’s candid and highly amusing confession, Rekha's eyes widened in shock! Amidst the embarrassment, a faint smile played at the corner of her lips.

Shaking off the usual gravity of a mother-in-law and daughter-in-law relationship, the atmosphere in the room completely transformed into a secret gossip session between two 'sahelis'.

Hearing Aparna’s lively and reassuring words, Rekha could no longer restrain herself. As she tried to shed all the shame and fear from her mind and muster a faint smile, a small pocket of air escaped audibly from between her heavy hips with a distinct "poot poot" sound.


"Eeeessshhh..." Rekha gasped, covering her face with both hands. Her fair cheeks flushed as bright red as a ripe tomato. At 54 years old, she had never imagined in her wildest dreams that such a thing would happen in front of her young daughter-in-law.

Aparna, however, did not wrinkle her nose in disgust at all. Instead, seeing her mother-in-law’s sweet discomfort, she pressed her saree border over her mouth and burst into giggles. Gently pinching Rekha's reddened cheeks, she said, "Wow, Ma! Now that's like a good, obedient girl. Does your stomach feel lighter now?"

Rekha had another major weakness—whenever she heard someone younger than her call her a 'good girl', it felt as though her age suddenly dropped in an instant. Biting her lower lip, she smiled faintly and pleaded with her daughter-in-law, "Don't call me that, daughter-in-law, it makes me so shy. Otherwise, I forget my 54 years and, for some reason, start feeling like a pampered little girl wearing a frock with her hair tied in a ponytail!"

By now, a thoroughly mischievous and playful glint was dancing in Aparna's eyes. Edging even closer to her mother-in-law, she whispered again, "Oh my! So this makes you feel like a young college girl, does it? Ah, my sweet little angel! My cute, naughty little baby!"

Hearing such overly affectionate and pampering words from her daughter-in-law, Rekha could no more suppress her amusement. She burst into a fit of giggles. The sheer force of that laughter completely relaxed the muscles around her full waist and stomach, causing a few more quiet "poot poots" of trapped gas to escape audibly from her hips entirely against her will!
Trembling with a mix of embarrassment and discomfort, Rekha pleaded in a begging tone,

"Oh Aparna, what are you even doing! I am so much older than you! If you treat me like an clueless child, I might... ugh, end up doing something exactly like a little baby in the end!"


"Look at you, getting all worked up! Honestly Ma, sometimes I feel like we get so caught up in the stress of managing this household that we forget to just laugh. Your son can be so demanding about his routine that I sometimes want to just ignore the alarm clock and let everyone sleep in, just to see him scramble for a change! Oh Ma... sorry, I know he's your son... but sometimes these little rebellious thoughts just pop into my head!"

Hearing Aparna's playful complaints about the daily grind, Rekha couldn't help but smile. She felt a sense of relief seeing her daughter-in-law open up so candidly. The formal barriers between them seemed to soften, replaced by a shared understanding of the quirks of the man they both cared about. The atmosphere in the room shifted from stiff formality to a warm, genuine connection.]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75081.html Fri, 28 Aug 2026 09:41:43 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75081.html I hope you like content and subject..

So let's start with introduction..

38-year-old separated corporate mom, arranged marriage, 2 kids , living independently, husband’s affairs led to 5-year separation, no divorce yet.

Her body figure..
fair-to-medium Indian skin tone, long highlighted brown hair, consistent smile with good teeth, average height ~5'6–5'7", healthy weight,  She carries herself with quiet confidence — warm but not overtly seductive. Body is consistently hourglass/curvy across outfits.

36-30-38 (Bust-Waist-Hips), Cup size 36C (bordering 36D).

Let's start to the story..


Before going ahead..let me see how many intrested in this bold erotic story..]]> I hope you like content and subject..

So let's start with introduction..

38-year-old separated corporate mom, arranged marriage, 2 kids , living independently, husband’s affairs led to 5-year separation, no divorce yet.

Her body figure..
fair-to-medium Indian skin tone, long highlighted brown hair, consistent smile with good teeth, average height ~5'6–5'7", healthy weight,  She carries herself with quiet confidence — warm but not overtly seductive. Body is consistently hourglass/curvy across outfits.

36-30-38 (Bust-Waist-Hips), Cup size 36C (bordering 36D).

Let's start to the story..


Before going ahead..let me see how many intrested in this bold erotic story..]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75078.html Thu, 27 Aug 2026 21:51:50 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75078.html
1. Hot kinky mummy chud gai sabse!
2. Sexy Mummy ka doodh naye pati ne piya!



The apartment was quiet in the early hours, the kind of thick, humid silence that settled over the building when the rest of the city still slept. I stood in the doorway of the kitchen and watched my mother move barefoot across the cool tiles, the slim full-length nighty clinging to every deliberate curve of her thirty-three-year-old body.

The thin fabric stretched tight across the heavy, milk-swollen weight of her breasts, the dark points of her nipples pressing clearly against the material whenever she reached up for a cup. Her waist dipped in sharply before flaring into the full, soft hips that swayed with each slow step. She was traditional in every quiet way that mattered—shy, soft-spoken, still carrying the modest habits of a woman who had once sold far more than just her body and now lived only to protect the quiet life she had built for the two of us.

My name is Kabir. I was eighteen. I loved her with a fierce, protective hunger that never left me. There had never been a father. I was the only man in this house, the one who held her when the old memories pressed too close, the one who made sure the money from those earlier years kept us comfortable. And every morning I watched the same slow, private struggle as her body reminded her of what it still produced.

Milk. Thick, warm, insistent. She had fed me with it once, long ago, when I was born into the life she had since abandoned. She had also offered that same milk to the men who paid for it, letting them drink from her while she looked away in quiet shame. The profession was gone. The lactation was not. Even now the soft undersides of her breasts felt heavy, the fabric of the nighty already showing faint, darker patches where a few drops had escaped in the night.

A low, masculine voice carried through the open balcony door from the flat next to ours.

The new neighbour moved in on a quiet Thursday afternoon. I watched from our balcony as the movers carried boxes into the house next door. He was impossible to miss—tall, broad-shouldered, dark skin gleaming under the afternoon sun, thick black hair covering his arms and chest where his shirt was open. A heavy beard framed a strong face. He looked like a man who could break things without trying. From the way he paused once to check the direction before continuing. Beside him, a small toddler clutched his leg, quiet and wide-eyed. The little boy is Rayan, quiet most of the time, with the same dark eyes as his father.

No woman came with them.

Later that evening, my mother stood at the kitchen window in her soft cotton nighty. The fabric clung to the full, heavy curve of her breasts and the narrow dip of her waist before flaring over her hips. At thirty-three, she still looked like the woman men used to pay to see, only quieter now. Softer. The past was a locked room she never opened. Only I held the key.


“He’s alone with the baby,” she murmured, fingers resting on the glass. “Poor thing.”


I came up behind her, close enough to smell the mild coconut oil in her hair. “You don’t have to worry about them, Ma.”
She gave a small, shy smile without turning. “I know. Still…


That night I heard her in the bathroom. The quiet, frustrated sound she made when her breasts were too full. Even after all these years of leaving the prostitution industry, her body still produced milk. Habit, biology, whatever it was—it never stopped. Sometimes she used the pump. Sometimes she simply pressed a towel against herself and waited for the ache to ease.


The neighbour’s name was Karim. Builder. Worked mostly from his phone. The first real conversation happened three days later when the power went out in the afternoon and both our houses lost electricity.


I found my mother already at the shared boundary wall, speaking softly. She wore a pale yellow saree, the pallu dbangd carefully over her chest. Karim stood on the other side, the toddler balanced on one powerful arm. Up close he was even larger. The hair on his forearms looked almost coarse. His voice, when he answered her, was deep and surprisingly gentle.


“No problem, madam. Generator will start in ten minutes. Please don’t worry.”


My mother’s eyes flicked once to the child, then away. “If you need anything for the baby… just ask us.


“I manage,” he said. Not rude. Just final. Then his gaze dropped, just for a second, to the damp patch darkening the front of her saree where milk had leaked through the thin blouse. He looked away immediately, respectful, but the knowledge sat between them like heat.


That night my mother was quieter than usual. She changed into a soft black nighty after dinner and sat on the edge of my bed while I pretended to study. The fabric was almost sheer under the lamp. Her breasts sat heavy and full, the dark outlines of her nipples visible when she leaned forward.


“He seems kind,” she said eventually.

“He looks scary.” I said.


“Kind people can look scary.” She reached out and brushed my hair back from my forehead the way she had since I was small.


“You protect me too much.”

I caught her wrist gently. “Someone has to.”
Her pulse jumped under my fingers. She didn’t pull away at once. For a moment the room felt smaller. Then she stood, the nighty shifting over the full shape of her hips, and left with a soft “Good night, beta.”

Continues....]]>
1. Hot kinky mummy chud gai sabse!
2. Sexy Mummy ka doodh naye pati ne piya!



The apartment was quiet in the early hours, the kind of thick, humid silence that settled over the building when the rest of the city still slept. I stood in the doorway of the kitchen and watched my mother move barefoot across the cool tiles, the slim full-length nighty clinging to every deliberate curve of her thirty-three-year-old body.

The thin fabric stretched tight across the heavy, milk-swollen weight of her breasts, the dark points of her nipples pressing clearly against the material whenever she reached up for a cup. Her waist dipped in sharply before flaring into the full, soft hips that swayed with each slow step. She was traditional in every quiet way that mattered—shy, soft-spoken, still carrying the modest habits of a woman who had once sold far more than just her body and now lived only to protect the quiet life she had built for the two of us.

My name is Kabir. I was eighteen. I loved her with a fierce, protective hunger that never left me. There had never been a father. I was the only man in this house, the one who held her when the old memories pressed too close, the one who made sure the money from those earlier years kept us comfortable. And every morning I watched the same slow, private struggle as her body reminded her of what it still produced.

Milk. Thick, warm, insistent. She had fed me with it once, long ago, when I was born into the life she had since abandoned. She had also offered that same milk to the men who paid for it, letting them drink from her while she looked away in quiet shame. The profession was gone. The lactation was not. Even now the soft undersides of her breasts felt heavy, the fabric of the nighty already showing faint, darker patches where a few drops had escaped in the night.

A low, masculine voice carried through the open balcony door from the flat next to ours.

The new neighbour moved in on a quiet Thursday afternoon. I watched from our balcony as the movers carried boxes into the house next door. He was impossible to miss—tall, broad-shouldered, dark skin gleaming under the afternoon sun, thick black hair covering his arms and chest where his shirt was open. A heavy beard framed a strong face. He looked like a man who could break things without trying. From the way he paused once to check the direction before continuing. Beside him, a small toddler clutched his leg, quiet and wide-eyed. The little boy is Rayan, quiet most of the time, with the same dark eyes as his father.

No woman came with them.

Later that evening, my mother stood at the kitchen window in her soft cotton nighty. The fabric clung to the full, heavy curve of her breasts and the narrow dip of her waist before flaring over her hips. At thirty-three, she still looked like the woman men used to pay to see, only quieter now. Softer. The past was a locked room she never opened. Only I held the key.


“He’s alone with the baby,” she murmured, fingers resting on the glass. “Poor thing.”


I came up behind her, close enough to smell the mild coconut oil in her hair. “You don’t have to worry about them, Ma.”
She gave a small, shy smile without turning. “I know. Still…


That night I heard her in the bathroom. The quiet, frustrated sound she made when her breasts were too full. Even after all these years of leaving the prostitution industry, her body still produced milk. Habit, biology, whatever it was—it never stopped. Sometimes she used the pump. Sometimes she simply pressed a towel against herself and waited for the ache to ease.


The neighbour’s name was Karim. Builder. Worked mostly from his phone. The first real conversation happened three days later when the power went out in the afternoon and both our houses lost electricity.


I found my mother already at the shared boundary wall, speaking softly. She wore a pale yellow saree, the pallu dbangd carefully over her chest. Karim stood on the other side, the toddler balanced on one powerful arm. Up close he was even larger. The hair on his forearms looked almost coarse. His voice, when he answered her, was deep and surprisingly gentle.


“No problem, madam. Generator will start in ten minutes. Please don’t worry.”


My mother’s eyes flicked once to the child, then away. “If you need anything for the baby… just ask us.


“I manage,” he said. Not rude. Just final. Then his gaze dropped, just for a second, to the damp patch darkening the front of her saree where milk had leaked through the thin blouse. He looked away immediately, respectful, but the knowledge sat between them like heat.


That night my mother was quieter than usual. She changed into a soft black nighty after dinner and sat on the edge of my bed while I pretended to study. The fabric was almost sheer under the lamp. Her breasts sat heavy and full, the dark outlines of her nipples visible when she leaned forward.


“He seems kind,” she said eventually.

“He looks scary.” I said.


“Kind people can look scary.” She reached out and brushed my hair back from my forehead the way she had since I was small.


“You protect me too much.”

I caught her wrist gently. “Someone has to.”
Her pulse jumped under my fingers. She didn’t pull away at once. For a moment the room felt smaller. Then she stood, the nighty shifting over the full shape of her hips, and left with a soft “Good night, beta.”

Continues....]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75068.html Thu, 27 Aug 2026 10:26:40 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75068.html This is my very first attempts to erotica.
This story although is a fiction but the characters are from real life.
Me and my wife often discuss this as our fantasy.

What happens when a couple find their fantasy of bringing a third turns into reality.

The Invitation: PART 1
It is a 4 chapter story followed by Part 2. 


Please leave encouragement if you liked the story.]]> This is my very first attempts to erotica.
This story although is a fiction but the characters are from real life.
Me and my wife often discuss this as our fantasy.

What happens when a couple find their fantasy of bringing a third turns into reality.

The Invitation: PART 1
It is a 4 chapter story followed by Part 2. 


Please leave encouragement if you liked the story.]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75058.html Wed, 26 Aug 2026 06:18:45 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75058.html
He'd been looking forward to this. A month of freedom in the city, close to his new college, staying with family. Kiran had left for his overseas assignment just two days ago, and Anu had insisted—practically begged—that Abhi come stay with them rather than struggle in some cramped hostel. It had seemed like perfect timing.

He hadn't seen Anu in three, maybe four years. Not since he was fifteen, still a gangly kid with a cracking voice. She'd been his favorite during those childhood summers—patient, kind, always ready with a smile and a story. She'd gotten married shortly after, and he'd missed the wedding because of his board exams. Life had moved on.

But nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared him for the woman who opened the door.

"Abhi! You're finally here!"

For a moment, he couldn't speak. Couldn't move. Could barely breathe.

Anu stood in the doorway, backlit by the soft glow of the apartment's interior, and she was... transformed. This wasn't the young woman he vaguely remembered from years ago. This was something else entirely.

She wore a simple outfit—a light cotton shirt, pale blue, with short sleeves that ended just above her elbows, and a knee-length skirt in soft cream. Modest by any standard. Conservative, even. But on her body, in this heat, with the thin fabric clinging ever so slightly to her curves...

"Abhi? Are you okay? Come in, come in! You must be exhausted from the journey."

He managed to nod, to step inside, to mumble something about the heat and the traffic. But his eyes—his treacherous, hungry eyes—couldn't stop cataloging every detail.

Her face had matured, the softness of youth giving way to elegant bone structure. High cheekbones, a delicate jawline, lips that were full and naturally pink. Her skin was fair—not pale, but luminous, with a warmth that seemed to glow in the diffused light. A few strands of dark hair had escaped from the loose bun at the nape of her neck, curling slightly against her temple where a faint sheen of perspiration made her skin glisten.

But it was her body that made his mouth go dry.

The shirt—God, that innocent cotton shirt—dbangd over breasts that were full and perfectly shaped, the fabric pulling just slightly across her chest when she moved. He could see the gentle swell, the way they rose and fell with her breathing. The top two buttons were undone—a concession to the heat, nothing more—but it revealed the graceful column of her throat and the barest hint of her collarbone.

"Let me get you some water. You look flushed. This heat is terrible, isn't it?"

She turned toward the kitchen, and Abhi's gaze dropped helplessly to her hips, to the curve of her waist where the shirt tucked loosely into the skirt. The skirt itself ended just below her knees, and when she walked—when she moved with that unconscious feminine grace—he caught glimpses of her calves. Smooth, fair, perfectly shaped. The kind of legs that seemed impossibly soft, that made his fingers itch with the need to touch, to trace the line from ankle to knee and beyond.

*Jesus Christ.*

He'd hit puberty years ago, had experienced his share of teenage fantasies and fumbling encounters with girls his age. But this—this was different. This was a woman. A real woman, with curves and softness and a presence that filled the room and made his teenage hormones roar to life with an intensity that shocked him.

"Here, drink this. You must be so tired."

She handed him a glass of cold water, and their fingers brushed. Just for a second. Just the briefest contact of skin on skin. But he felt it like an electric shock, felt it travel up his arm and straight to his groin.

She didn't notice. Of course she didn't. To her, he was still that kid from years ago. Still the little cousin who used to follow her around during summer holidays. She probably saw the thin mustache he'd been so proud of growing and thought it made him look even younger, more boyish.

But he wasn't a boy anymore. And she... she was everything he'd never known he wanted.

"I've set up the guest room for you," she was saying, leading him down the hallway. "It's small, but it has its own AC, and the college is just a fifteen-minute bus ride from here. Kiran made sure everything was ready before he left."

Kiran. Her husband. The man who got to see her like this every day, who got to touch her, to hold her, to—

Abhi forced the thought away, but it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

The apartment was modest but comfortable, and as Anu showed him around, he found himself watching her constantly. The way she moved through the space with easy familiarity. The way she bent slightly to adjust a curtain, and the shirt rode up just a fraction, revealing a sliver of her lower back above the skirt's waistband. The way she reached up to point out where the extra towels were kept, and her breasts lifted with the motion, straining against the thin cotton.

"Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat."

"No, I'm fine. Thank you, Anu didi."

The honorific felt wrong in his mouth now. Too formal. Too distant. But what else could he call her?

She smiled at him—that same warm, sisterly smile—and something twisted in his chest. She had no idea. No idea what she looked like, what she was doing to him just by existing in the same space.

"Well, you settle in and rest. I'll be in the living room if you need anything."

She left him alone in the guest room, and Abhi sat heavily on the bed, his heart pounding. He could still smell her—something floral and clean, mixed with the faint scent of her skin warmed by the summer heat.]]>
He'd been looking forward to this. A month of freedom in the city, close to his new college, staying with family. Kiran had left for his overseas assignment just two days ago, and Anu had insisted—practically begged—that Abhi come stay with them rather than struggle in some cramped hostel. It had seemed like perfect timing.

He hadn't seen Anu in three, maybe four years. Not since he was fifteen, still a gangly kid with a cracking voice. She'd been his favorite during those childhood summers—patient, kind, always ready with a smile and a story. She'd gotten married shortly after, and he'd missed the wedding because of his board exams. Life had moved on.

But nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared him for the woman who opened the door.

"Abhi! You're finally here!"

For a moment, he couldn't speak. Couldn't move. Could barely breathe.

Anu stood in the doorway, backlit by the soft glow of the apartment's interior, and she was... transformed. This wasn't the young woman he vaguely remembered from years ago. This was something else entirely.

She wore a simple outfit—a light cotton shirt, pale blue, with short sleeves that ended just above her elbows, and a knee-length skirt in soft cream. Modest by any standard. Conservative, even. But on her body, in this heat, with the thin fabric clinging ever so slightly to her curves...

"Abhi? Are you okay? Come in, come in! You must be exhausted from the journey."

He managed to nod, to step inside, to mumble something about the heat and the traffic. But his eyes—his treacherous, hungry eyes—couldn't stop cataloging every detail.

Her face had matured, the softness of youth giving way to elegant bone structure. High cheekbones, a delicate jawline, lips that were full and naturally pink. Her skin was fair—not pale, but luminous, with a warmth that seemed to glow in the diffused light. A few strands of dark hair had escaped from the loose bun at the nape of her neck, curling slightly against her temple where a faint sheen of perspiration made her skin glisten.

But it was her body that made his mouth go dry.

The shirt—God, that innocent cotton shirt—dbangd over breasts that were full and perfectly shaped, the fabric pulling just slightly across her chest when she moved. He could see the gentle swell, the way they rose and fell with her breathing. The top two buttons were undone—a concession to the heat, nothing more—but it revealed the graceful column of her throat and the barest hint of her collarbone.

"Let me get you some water. You look flushed. This heat is terrible, isn't it?"

She turned toward the kitchen, and Abhi's gaze dropped helplessly to her hips, to the curve of her waist where the shirt tucked loosely into the skirt. The skirt itself ended just below her knees, and when she walked—when she moved with that unconscious feminine grace—he caught glimpses of her calves. Smooth, fair, perfectly shaped. The kind of legs that seemed impossibly soft, that made his fingers itch with the need to touch, to trace the line from ankle to knee and beyond.

*Jesus Christ.*

He'd hit puberty years ago, had experienced his share of teenage fantasies and fumbling encounters with girls his age. But this—this was different. This was a woman. A real woman, with curves and softness and a presence that filled the room and made his teenage hormones roar to life with an intensity that shocked him.

"Here, drink this. You must be so tired."

She handed him a glass of cold water, and their fingers brushed. Just for a second. Just the briefest contact of skin on skin. But he felt it like an electric shock, felt it travel up his arm and straight to his groin.

She didn't notice. Of course she didn't. To her, he was still that kid from years ago. Still the little cousin who used to follow her around during summer holidays. She probably saw the thin mustache he'd been so proud of growing and thought it made him look even younger, more boyish.

But he wasn't a boy anymore. And she... she was everything he'd never known he wanted.

"I've set up the guest room for you," she was saying, leading him down the hallway. "It's small, but it has its own AC, and the college is just a fifteen-minute bus ride from here. Kiran made sure everything was ready before he left."

Kiran. Her husband. The man who got to see her like this every day, who got to touch her, to hold her, to—

Abhi forced the thought away, but it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

The apartment was modest but comfortable, and as Anu showed him around, he found himself watching her constantly. The way she moved through the space with easy familiarity. The way she bent slightly to adjust a curtain, and the shirt rode up just a fraction, revealing a sliver of her lower back above the skirt's waistband. The way she reached up to point out where the extra towels were kept, and her breasts lifted with the motion, straining against the thin cotton.

"Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat."

"No, I'm fine. Thank you, Anu didi."

The honorific felt wrong in his mouth now. Too formal. Too distant. But what else could he call her?

She smiled at him—that same warm, sisterly smile—and something twisted in his chest. She had no idea. No idea what she looked like, what she was doing to him just by existing in the same space.

"Well, you settle in and rest. I'll be in the living room if you need anything."

She left him alone in the guest room, and Abhi sat heavily on the bed, his heart pounding. He could still smell her—something floral and clean, mixed with the faint scent of her skin warmed by the summer heat.]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75054.html Tue, 25 Aug 2026 10:47:05 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75054.html A Mother Son Marriage Story

Hi I am Rathode my age is 20 and this is the story about me and my mom (the heroine of this story)
My family is normal family as like every family in our country consisting of myself dad,mom and my sis .
My dad Ramegowda is about 56 ,my mom Vijaya is 42 and my sis Pooja is18 and my age is 20 at that time , lot of years as been over after the great ultimate thing is happened in my life, so here we head to start, I am going to narrate this as a novel.
Its a rainy day Rathode is still in is bed his father is going to dheradhun to see is daughter where she is studying ,ever month ramegowda visits pooja to know how she is studying and how well is she ,vijaya also visits with him but not every time ,ramegowda calls his son to drop him to the railway station his son drops him to station as vijaya says bye to ramegowda.
As a collage lecturer he as very good name in the society he is formers son he as native called kamana halli it is same native to vijaya also after they got married they leave there village and settled in city there marriage is arrange one.
Usually when ramegowda visits its takes 4 days to him to come again as lot of travel as to be made ,after about 2 hours vijaya got a unbearable sensation and pain in her suddenly she calls her son rathode runs towards the room where she is lying
Rathode- what happens mom
Vijaya-rathu I don’t know but I can’t take this any please take me to doctor
Suddenly rathode took the car and taken her to hospital
Doctor-this is a complicated situation my boy by the by is she is your..
Rathode- mother sir
Doctor-where is your father
Rathode- he is out of station we will be back in few days
Doc- ok look this one is serious she will gonna have ovary cancer this symptoms is look like that only
But u need not to vary, due to this her egg in ovary is not generating so a severe pain of pleasure she is experiencing now
Rat- what
Doc- I know this is embarrassing .This pains remains permanently but if she mate it will lost in 3 days but it again starts next month in same time same date but the sex she had must be continuous for 3 days by do not wasting time
Vijaya herd this all conversation and she said but my husband is not here and I have severe pain
Doc-write if she did not do it now it also dangerous for her life
Rathode- what to do
Doc – call him
Vijay – if we call him it take 2 days for him to reach
Doc – if u both agree i’ll suggest one thing
Vijaya- what’s that doctor
Doc-u both do it there is nothing harm in that think about it
Vijaya and rathode get shocked and they leave the hospital
Vijaya called her mom rangamma(68) and said every thing happened( rangama knew that his son in law is not good to her daughter she married her for a man who doesn’t cares his wife but he cares society he help every one who need helps but neglects family rangama thinks this is the best way do through this her daughter can enjoy life because ranagama also an incestuous who fucks her son)
Rangama says this is the greatest opportunity that god gave to someone who really works hard I know this disease its comes very rarely when it comes it gives immense pleasure when we mate its pleasure is 1000 times greater than simple mating but u have to mate with ur son only go on daughter do it
Vijaya decided to get fuck from his son as she is not going to tolerate the pain she is experiencing and she asked rathode about it
Rathode says yes
So its all setup for mon son mating in the rainy day with no one in house
Vijaya- son I don’t think I can control it please come with me to my room
Rathode is dumbstruck he always want to love is mom now he had a chance in front of him when he heard that moment he noticed his mom shape
Ha what a shape he thought himself she is like angel vijaya got very good shaped boobs she is not too slim not too fat she is a perfect indian mother with proper flesh in proper parts she just resembles hema malini in her forties
Few minutes back before he heard the most precious thing in the world for him he got a call, the doctor calls rathode and said to him that he is a incest lover he always want to do this with mother but he never got chance to do so he likes to help some one who needed that and he said he sawed a hidden lust of him to his mother that’s why he suggested him
And he also said this not a disease it’s common for some of ladies but it rarly appears, when some one fucks when this type of heat generated they will get more pleasure from normal one finally he says use this moment and fuck her she will be yours
He just remember the word what doctor said and again remembers the what his grand mother told him
My child I know what happened there, your mom suffered a lot in her life your father never a good husband he is a great person but when it comes to his wife he always neglected her I don’t know why but, now as your father away that makes u as a man of the house if u not give what your mom needs now then her life may go to end please give her what she wanted and feel her like woman not as son look at her once she is gorgeous lady , u know child making with mom is always a dream of son now that chance is in front of u make use of it incest is one great pleasure that everybody can’t enjoy
About this disease this gives u a chance its keep on appearing every month you need to satisfy your mom this 3 days with out wasting a time as this disease demands continuous fuck your mom will always hungry for sex ,only a son can cool down the heat of mom women completely satisfies when the son fucks no other person can give her that pleasure go on my child take her and make her happy
Now rathode came back to present he remembers all this in a fraction of second
He enters a room and looks towards his mom ,his mom is lying in bed she looked like she is suffering from heat inside her pussy ,he just sat in long king sized bed where is father and mother sleeps
His mom feels bad about what she going to happen now she betraying her husband , she never have any feelings to her husband but still she did not want to do this like every other lady in india but if she didn’t do it now it is impossible for her to leave for next seconds also
Vijaya-rathu its not like we are husband and wife u doing just to save my life , just do it no more extra activities
Rathu- extra activities what’s that mom
Vijaya- hmm means..Means u know kissing romancing r not allowed she said shyly
Rathode dick rises suddenly by hearing her he notices his mom is in nighty and her long whitish legs and her 34 size of boobs , vijaya also notices the bulge of her son in his boxers
Rathode- sure mom I don’t have any intention I just want u to safe
Vijaya- come above me and switch off the light I don’t want to u to see me like this
Rathode switch offs the light and he climbs the king sized bed where is mom lying getting to fucked by him
Rothode- what’s next
Vijaya- remove your boxers and come on me
Vijaya rises her nighty she had no panties and she asked her son to put his thing inside her
Rathode taking worlds most pleasure he is near the gate where he comes to this world , he put his dick inside her he feels the warm inside her
Vijaya- start it now
Rathode- yes mom
Rathode start to and fro motion they both start to feel enormous pleasure of the world that only comes from mother son sex , accidentally he hold her breast which he can’t resist
Vijaya- no rathu no u can’t feel my body just do this thing that’s all
They did there first sex with out any romance but they really feel the joy of exoiticity ,sweats running down from their body they exhausted ,they lying side by side in king size bed ,after 10 min vijaya again starts sensation in her pussy she asked another round from rathode ,he remembers what is grand mothers said as she needed continuously he again shifted her top
The glory of mom and son continuously all three days in there bed only the only came outside the room when they needed food ,toilet and for bath
Vijaya came outside from room and again looks back and thinks that the the room where mom son sleeps will never looks like this but we had done she drinks water she again feels sensation with a naughty smile she returns to room where is naked son lying and she closes the door ,the sound of has has ufffff uff comes out of the room ,mom and son become so close that now they don’t wear any dress they are fully naked ,a three days brings mother and son so close then what happens when it repeats every month ?
Three days if full fucking between mother and son is coming to end as his father ramegowda called them that he arriving to station in 2 hours
When they revived call rathode is one top of his mother humping and pumping is pulp mother
They came to real world and see there house it’s one hell every clothes is splited somewhere vijaya never become so careless in house works if ramegowda see this what will he think they got separated and stated to clean house , ramegowda again call his son and call him to pick up him from railway station rathode wents to pick him up
Vijaya get satisfied from her son and started think what they had done after cleaning house
Ramegowda and his son enters house suddenly he smell something that creates only through sex jucies but he neglects that ,vijaya asks how is pooja how is she studying ,he tells about their daughter family get into little talk.
A month as passed again the date is coming nearer to vijaya ,they behaved like normal son and mother but they want each other so badly again at the same date ramegowda goes to see her daughter buy this time he ask her wife to come with him but she denied and tell him that she as lot of work to do in her office (i forgot to mention before she works in canara bank)
As usual rathode drops his father when he comes home his mother is not in hall he enters master bedroom the same old bed which they fucked like wild animals one month back ,as he enters his mom is already in bed lying naked
He suddenly got hard on and jumped to bed she grabbed her son and they quickly did there first time ,when they start again rathode asks mom can I press your boobs
Vijaya- yes my son its all yours
Rathode happy that is mon as agreed and he like the changes in her ,he grabs her melons and started fuck her like pro ,the sound of flesh touching each other plop plop……Is all over the house and again rathode asks that
Rathode- mom can I kiss u
Vijaya- stupid do whatever ,i decided to enjoy completely
Rathode- mom r u shore
Vijaya – yes my son we are having sez then why can’t we enjoy the sex thoroughly come son take to heaven
Rathode started to fuck is mom holding her bobs and giving a french kiss that lasted for 10 min
After there second session
Vijaya- ur dick is twice then your father and thicker to
First time his mom talking with him about his cock
Rathode- thanks mom your boobs also so good they r so amazing
Vijaya- you naughty you already get hard on again come fuck me again
Rathode take her mom in missionary position and the sound of ha uff hmm comes from there room
Now both the mom son taken off every barrier they had got now no one is there to stop them
Again the three days of huge fucking starts this time they came outside the room only for food ,even they bath jointly
Making adult jokes fucking eating,fucking eating,fucking eating is the only thing they did
They both taken leave from collage and bank so that they can fuck when they were middle of the fuck ramegowda calls they took the phone and started to while they fucking
Ramegowda – how are you son
Rathode – fine dad
Ramegowda- i’ll come back soon take care of your mother
Rathode- as dad I am taking good care of her
Suddenly a loud moan as left from vijaya
Ramegowda- what happened son
Rathode- nothing dad mom felled down that’s all
Ramegoeda- give her a phone
Vijaya- what honey
Ramegowda- what happened
Vijiya- nothing I felled down our son is outing ointment over there
Rathode is licking vijayas pussy he us ointmenting her pussy
Ramegowda- then he is taking care of u so much
Vijaya- yes he takes care more than you
Ramegowda- ok i’ll call you later bye
As they put phone aside they again started to fuck like wild animals in heat
Again the three days of glory comes to an end but both mom son not ready to leave each other but they have to
Same as like ramegowda calls rathode ,rathode picks him and normal life carries on
Both mom and son are eagerly waiting for next month to come but the fate written is something different this time ramegowda refused to go as he tired of going every month
Both mother son got tensed as their way to happiness is closed ,this is there third month but they don’t know how to accomplish there goal ,a goal which mother and son had is to fuck like wild animals continuously 3 days
They know that soon vijaya will got her sensation if she got she will never bear it all she needed is a wild fuck
Suddenly vijayas mother calls to her daughter and asks her about the life she is experiencing
Vijaya express her every feeling and she is so happy that she getting fully fulfilled by her son and she never had such a thrill and pleasure in her entire life
Rangamma- then u already started your this month turn haaa ( smiling teasingly)
Vijaya- no mother this time I don’t know what happens but I needed badly
Rangamma- what happened my girl
Vijaya- mom my husband is no going to see my daughter this time ,u know when I get sensation I can’t control so I am so worry about this
Rangamma- hoo this is so bad
Vijaya- so I thought of getting with my husband itself but he is not good as my son more importantly he can’t satisfy me 3 days continuously ,and he will get suspicious that his wife never be this much horny in his life time
Rangamma- don’t even think about doing with your husband ,he is waste doing with the son gives immense pleasure , only a son can satisfies mom , the perfect pair for a woman in all this world is her son
Vijaya- if I can’t do with my husband then the only option is getting kill my self
Rangamma- no by girl I have a very good idea
Vijaya- what’s that mom please tell me
Rangamma-so desperate to hear huh
Vijaya- mom please
Rangamma- ok I’ll say your husband that we have festival in our village and so for the preparation I need vijaya ,you take rathode with u and come here I’ll arrange every thing for you two here you can fuck whole day and night here
Vijaya- (blushingly) mom is it going to happens
Rangamma- yes my child give the receiver to rathode
Vijaya- ok
Rathode- yes grandmaa
Rangamma- come with ur mom u will going to surely enjoy this
Rathode- yes grandmaa sure I’ll I too need it
Rangamma- hoo then u like to be with your mother
Rathode- yes grandmaa
Rangamma- I always need my girl to happy ,take her good care
Rathode- surly grandmaa
Rangamma calls her son in law tells him to send vijaya , but ramegowda also wants to come with them
Both mother and son become so sad that her husband is also coming with her ,but suddenly phone start to gets ringing ramegowda attends the call
It’s the call form his collage that heas attend the board meeting so ramegowda chose to remain there only
Now there is no limit for both mother and son happiness they bent there bedrooms and start jumps in there rooms.
Both vijaya and rathode are so happy to go their native village to achieve their ultimate satisfaction

Vijaya starts to pack their laugage, as you all know that village name is kamanahalli it is a beautiful village with lots of greenery , its is typical south indian style of village ,rangamma had their own big house and big court yard ,and they also have very big amount of farm land and a cattle’s hut behind their house.

The mother son comes in front of the house in there car rangamma greets both of them and she show there room to get fresh , the house is really big with 5 big rooms , for both mother and son same room was givened ,rathode blushes as he enters the room because its the same where is parents gonna take when they visit there native and I was not allowed here that time because grandmother always stops me to go there and use to sleep with my sis and grand mother in another room but, now this room is my room that to I am going to sleep with my mom

This thought made him exited ,a chill of hot blood circulated all around is body

During dinner

Rangamma- so how is your dinner

Rathode- fine grandmaa

Rangamma- this food helps to remain strong for long time(teasingly)

Vijaya- mom please….

Rangamma- sorry sorry my grandson doesn’t needed any extra pill or catalyser you is really a good in bed as you said write

Vijaya- mom you never gonna stop teasing us

Rangamma- ok ok baba i’ll not going to do

All family finishes thier dinner vijaya already getting sensation so she is so disparate to get fuck from her son ,both mom son enters the room and rangamma made good arrangement in the room to make then horny and she left them both to enjoy three night and she went her room which is in ↓ stairs.

As vijaya enters the room rathode feels so exited

Vijaya- sonny I need you very badly

Rathode- me too mom

Vijaya jumps to bed where her son lying rathode hugs her and kisses her very passionately her , as they broke the kiss rathode looks her mother ,how beautiful she is her pulpy body make her even beautiful her enormous boobs made her look sexily as she breaths her bed breast goes up and down , the blouse can’t hold her breast now her boobs becomes so firm and her nipples started to erect

Rathode- mom you look very sexy I am luky that I got you as my mom cum lover

( first time he is addressing her as sexy )

Vijaya- I never heard this from anyone my son you really like my body

Rathode- yes this body is my world

Vijaya- hoo sonny love me love me till this worlds ends come on son let’s forget that we are mother and son for a while and your dad is no more my man, you r the only man in my life now,i want you to make me forget your dad

Rathode- I wish you could be my wife

Vijaya- I to son

Rathode removes the pallu she had wore and started unbuttoning her blouse while hugging her suddenly the both lovley mellons came outside started to bounce she did not wear any bra and panties inside , by seeing the big tits hanging nakedly in front of him is mouth get waters suddenly he grabed and started squeeze both the pairs of breast

Vijaya started to moune as her taking ,liking biting her nipples ,now vijaya removes her petticoat now she is totally naked in front of son ,he suddenly get rid of all clothes he weared and make her rest in her back

Now rathode concentrate on her navel and starts licking around her belly now he went between her pussy the love hole which is he all dream about ,rathode stops near the gate of heaven which he enters to this world

Rathode- mom can I lick your pussy

Vijaya- son I am all yours now as my man you can take any of my part

Rathode-thanku mom I always want to do this

Rathode went near her pussy and smeels her aroma and slitly started to lick her,vijaya starts to moaun loudly , by hearing that voice rangamma gives a smile to herself and again start concentrate towards to try to sleep but she is exited because her daughter and grand son making love on upstairs

Now rathode comes on top of her holding the dick with his hand

Rathode- mom I now going to insert this little boy of mine to your loving sexy hole and I will dig out the pleasure and love from that hole r you ready now

Vijaya- it got lot of gold inside go dig it

Rathode slowly insert his love weapon to the love land of his mom and start fucking action , the cot get jerking the sound of wet fleshes clashing each other fills all over the room its is also audible to rathodes grandma room

Already 1 hour as over as they started to fucking but still they didn’t become weak they both continue to fuck like rabbits , they are in deep love of sex only one think is now in there mind that both if them her a man and woman which two force of nature that god as created to do this work ,mom son dad daughter all this are made from mankind , if some one as to enjoy sex to his ultimate they need to inter course with his mom , and mom with his son only

Sweats raining down from there body like flowing river the chilling whether of village make them lot more horny , its almost 2 hours both are in their end

Its long session for both of them as he started to release his sperm in her hole both get satisfied and both of then lye each other in her their arm

Vijaya – that’s amazing I never expected one day i’ll experience this much of pleasure in sex thanks my son

Rathode- no ,i need to thanks you mom your my queen

Vijaya- am to old to become queen my king

Rathode- queen will be always a queen if she becomes 100 years also, yong girls r nothing compared to u

Vijaya- thanks sonny love u

Rathode- me to mom

Again rathode dick starts to get raised and vijaya smiles to her son they both closed the blanket above them now again the sounds of love starts come outside from their room

When the woke up in the morning stains of love making is all over the bedsheet ,vijaya gives a kiss to rathode and his dick and went outside to fresh up ,rangamma again start to tease her daughter

Rangamma- I couldn’t sleep do you know y

Vijaya- no I don’t know

Rangamma- it’s because of your voices coming from your room, I just passed all night thinking about what you peoples doing in the room, enjoyed lot has

Vijaya- mom embarrass me mon

Rangamma- go take coffee to your son

Vijaya- hmm ok give the cup

Vijaya holds the coffee wearing a fresh sari and she just had a bath and her hairs are wet,she open the doors of room

Vijaya- baby take the coffee

Rathode- thanks mom, and you look sexy today

Vijaya- who maid me sexy my little boy

Rathode- I love you mom

Rathode places his hand on her right breast and squeezed lightly and give her a mouth kiss holding coffee in his mouth and release in to her

Rathode-hour was the coffee mom

Vijaya- its taste really good

Rathode removed her sarry pallu and start to kiss her all body ,in moment of fraction second both mom and son both naked in bed started to humping and pumping in bed , the senary is so exotic that for evey stroke vijaya starts moauning holding rathodes back and scratching his back, both her having sex like hungry tiger and tigress

Its already noon now rangamma takes lunch with her in to the room, room is not bolted she heard the sounds of intense fucking and she just leans inside and saw that her daughter and her grandson enjoying the life so much , she get inside and put lucnch and water without disturbing them and when she went out she knocked the door and said ” lunch”

Both mom son suddenly came into senses and get seoerated and when they saw there room rangamma is not there but fold is there , they both understand what happened just now and started to loaf looking to each other what position they r in her mom /grandmom enters the room

It’s now evining sun orange rays falling on windows of room where mother and son still having sex,rangamma calls them as she needs to talk with them, both mom and son adjust there dress and came out of the room , sudden exposer of rays of sun make them to close their eye and went down to talk with rangamma

Rangamma- son can I ask you something

Rathode- yes you can

Rangamma- some thiefs are trying to still the mangoes in the farm , if some one stays in night they do not dare to come over there so can you please stay this night , next day we r seeling mangoes so we have to protect today can you do this for me

Rathode- ( looking into his mims eyes) if mom says ok i’ll grandmaa

Vijaya- but mom you know my problem I can’t spend night without rathode

Rangamma- I know ,our form as got one big form sheed where cot, bed everything is there for spending night I just want you to go there , and enjoy the moment , its also helps to protect mangoes ,

Rathode- than its ok grandmaa

Rangamma- you know some thing that is where I regularly fucked my son when he is alive

Vijaya- you haven’t said that to me mom, is my elder brother and you really did that

Rangamma- yes ,but now he is not here

Vijay- you understand the pain mom when son/lover lost, but when you both started

Rangamma- you know that your dad is had paralysis attack after your marriage your brother and me become so close, that one day in form hut he just approached me and that when we started our love

Rathode- so that’s why you wanted me and mom to unite , you already know how much pleasure we can have if you make love with our mom or son

Rangamma- yes my child

Rathode- how was he dead

Rangamma- your grandpaa and your uncle dead in accident

Rathode- sorry grandmaa

Rangamma- don’t be , now you both get ready to go to form field

Both vijaya and rathode finishes the dinner and they head towards the field,the form hut is so beutifull as they entered the they feel sexy feeling thinking that this is the room where rangamma & her son enjoy the whole life

Vijaya spread her sarri and biting her lower lips inviting her son towards her rathode went towards her and suddenly grabs her waist and pressing her buttocks while kissing her passionately ,both settled in cot and rathode pull the blouse of vijaya with his teeth’s and make her naked on top and bit his nipple while fondling other breast from his hands vijaya gives a sudden sound of ouch as he pulls half of her breast to his mouth

Rathode get seperated and he removes his dress and he about go towards the love hole a voice came from outside ,rathode went out check if some in s there r not ,he found no one and he again came inside the but vijaya is in her same where rathode left her , he jumps in to cot and removes her petticoat now she is fully naked , rathode went towards her lips giving a mouth watering kiss

Rathode- mom its better have sex outside as some of thief’s may come

Vijaya- take me where ever but just satisfy me I can’t able to hold now

Rathode pick her up holding both her hands and legs in his arm and giving her kiss he taken her to middle of form and he bring some mattress and a latin to there, when he puts the light of latin her ravishing body looks very sexily she is showing her back to rathode , he went and grab her put her in mattress he starts to lick her pussy , as he licking her pussy she starts moan loudly , she got her freedom to moan loudly as they r in outside the village now rathode enters her pussy holding both her hands above the head closing her fingers to his and his to her,as he thrusting each stoke vijayas boobs bouncing seductively he first time notices that her mangalya thread also jumping in response of his stroke both mom and son lost in the world of heaven

After about 1 and half hour he ejucates inside her kissing each other feeling the cold breeze of wind , for both of them sex in outside is new ,vijaya experiences different varieties of sex that she could not imagined she never knew sex is so beautiful she kissed her son and held him in his hands after about half an hour they again started.

Both mom and son enjoyed there visit to native now it’s time for them to go there home where ramegowda waiting for is son and wife ,both greeted rangamma and they ready to start to go there home

Rangamma- rathode keep my daughter happy in return she will keep you happy, firstly birth of you keep your self healthy don’t stay too late in night(smiling )

Rathode – ok grandmaa bye

Vijaya- bye maa

Both left there house and car starts to move towards the city

Ramegowda waiting near the door because this is the day both mother and son need to come , ramegowdas us not visible from outside as the tree comes in front of the house covers him but he can see outside from there

As he his waiting for both mom and son , car came near the house and stops there slowly but no one comes out car suddenly start to shake ,a loud loafing sound came from the car suddenly vijaya came outside from car adjusting her saree and rubbing her lips from her hands( like some one kisses and they wipe that ) with a little naughty smile on face

Ramegowda for a moment thought vijaya is doing something with some one, now rathode came outside combing his hairs, ramegowda get shocked but he refuse to belive that and he went near them to greet them

20 days got over ramegowda observes the change in behavior of his wife and his son , they become more closer than ever they always stays jointly in house without leaving single moment , he also experience the some moments that when vijaya is in bathroom rathode is also not in home and some times when he woke up in middle night he doesn’t found his wife , and one think it make him more suspect that his wife is not asking for sex now a days
Finally again the date is nearer to vijaya again she already felt some sensation , rathode asks his dad about visiting his sis , but ramegowda rejects to go there as pooja needs some space so I am not going this time I’ll visit next time
Both vijaya and rathode experiencing their life time pleasure while ramegowda’s doubt gradually become strong day by day, ramegowda need to find what’s going on inside the house.

Ramegowda never doubted about his son but he had strong feeling that his wife is cheating on him. In order to find answer to this he changed his mind and he said to vijaya that he is going to visit pooja hostel hostel.

Suddenly, this matter spread to rathode, there is no limit for his joyness , Both mother and son exited and they know that for the next three days their home will be heaven for them.

The day which mother and son anticipated is today, as usually Ramegowda asked rathode to drop him in railway station, vijaya says good bye to her husband ,rathode and his father went railway station and rathode sent him with a smile as train started to move rathode had a lusty and curious smile in his face and he took his bike went to home as fast as he can where his mother waiting for him in their bed.

Ramegowda who is on the train also had a smile in his face because he is going to find the answers which is running on his mind, ramegowda remembers the arrangement he had done to find out what his wife doing when he is not in home.

Ramegowda had a friend in private spy agency he requested him for the hidden high clarity camera ,His friend asked him why he need this ramegowda convinces him that his house regularly robbed by thief so he need this camera to find out who is that.

Ramegowda fixed cameras in every places of his home and he directly connected it with his laptop, now ramegowda has everything to find out what’s going on in the house, if vijaya really cheating on me or this is just an imagination said by ramegowda. He does not wish to open the laptop in train he waited till he reached next station and he booked a room over there.

He reached to hotel and he fresh up himself and open the laptop he connected to the software which is required to start the cameras which were placed in safe area of his house , he first switch on the outer house camera he didn’t find anything unusual , next he put on the hall camera there is sawed the clothes split everywhere and heard the moaning sound from somewhere , now switched on the bedroom house there he find vijaya lying on her back holding some other guy in her hands and wrapping him in her legs , the guy who is on top of her is lot more younger and he thrusting her very rapidly .

Ramegowda went to trance he never expected this he always wanted this doubt to be wrong but now it is in front of him and he now started observe the words they are saying.

Vijaya- ohh my son fuck me

Rathode- mom when dad said he will not go, I thought this time we are not gonna make it

Vijaya- yes my son me too but god remained with our side , now stop talking and start fucking

Ramegowda is now fallen from the seat he had seated , he never thought that the guy who had relationship with his wife is his own son, rathode now took her enormous breast in her mouth and sucking her , the whole bed shaking , he heard the sound of wet flesh pounding and creating “ pock pock pock “ sound , the entire room his filled with sound of this with moaning of vijaya and rathode .

Ramegowda feel very disappointed and now he is not going to take much more so he take off the signal and stopped the video , ramegowda Started to think about the incidence that happened in house , he realized that why rathode was invisible at the times vijaya took her bath , why vijaya suddenly out of his sight during night , why vijaya not asking him sex , all her wishes and needs are fulfilled by her son .

Ramegowda became sexually arouses by seeing them , and he started think why vijaya made sex with our son , how can a son fucks his mother , who made the first proposal , how did this happen between them , lots of things going in the mind of ramegowda

He now took his laptop and connected to software and played the video , now room is empty he switched on the hall camera to find where they are , both mom and son are in sofa rathode sitting in sofa and vijaya riding him like teenager , rathode is now held her breast and sucking her nipple and beating her slightly on her ass , whenever rathode beats her she moaned largely asking him more , now he grabbed her ass and started to make up and down , he took her down gave a mouthwatering tongue to tongue kissing.

Ramegowda’s prick started rise he never saw this type of hyper sex this is really amazing he thought by himself , suddenly a room service boy enters to the room , ramegowda cut the connection and went towards to that boy and requested him to do not disturb him and he made some order to eat .

Ramegwda is eager to open the laptop and he again put on the connection and started watching video , this time hall is empty ,he again turned on the camera of room , there both mom and son lying one above the other in 69 position , ramegowda feels this as a awkward initially but when he start to see them he thought he missed his entire life without doing anything, he looks towards to her wife what an amazing figure she had the perfect 34DD boobs his son making her moan after moan while ramegowda achived is intense orgasm of his life , he look towards to the clock its already noon he put laptop aside and he started eat the food he had ordered , now the time is exactly 3 noon , ramegowda again took is laptop and what he sawed is nothing ever he imagined , rathode arranged all food items on above the vijaya and he took every piece of food with his mouth while taking banana from her face he kissed her juicy lips and when he went her navel side he took tasted honey I that , now when he went to her pussy he took gbangs , ramegowda went mad by seeing this,

Now the time is already 10 o clock they still playing erotic sex games and fucking and foundling each other ramegowda eyes never went aside even for a single second , ramegowda went to toilet and after that when he returned he didn’t see them , he searched every camera and he never found them, he is so much disappointed finally he saw another camera which is placed in terrace of his house , praying to god he turn that camera on and he get relief that he found both his wife and son , both were on terrace having mattress on floor , both are nude in terrace without thinking about the society , they are in their world ,vijaya started suck the sex tool of her son , rathode deploys huge amount of cum on her mouth , now rathode takes his mom in missionary position and started to and fro motion , the moon light which is falling on her body makes her so sexy,

Rathode squeezed her enormous breast and giving her a lip kiss , each and every thrust of rathode matches to every thrust of vijaya, ramegowda never sawed his wife so much aroused and giving perfect thrust to his son,he took his penny out and started hand job ,now the time his 12;00 midnight but there is no indication from both mother and son that they would stop, they keep on fucking like rabbits in terrace , after rathode deploys his sperm on his mature sexy mom he took her in his broad arms and started play with her breast they pulled bed sheet above the chest and started sleep like newly married couple.

Ramegowda already slept in his room , when he wake up the connection is still on, and he suddenly checks if they are in terrace , he had fear that someone may caught them, but they are not in terrace , he switched to room camera they are also not there , he checked whether they are in bathroom , yes his calculations is wright they already having there bath , while bathing rathode made his mom to lean against wall and hold her one legs in his hand while other and squeezing her breast and thrusting his little boy into love tunnel of her mom, and they kissed like there is no tomorrow as shower keep on falling on their body making their body wet , ramegowda never known that bath can be also taken like this .

Ramegowda decided ask them how this relationship starts between them ,whenever he opens the laptop he always saw their fucking sometime in kitchen in doggy style , in the garden , in the hall wrapping like snake to each other and in the bathroom.

While time they are fucking each other extending their full power, still vijaya not satisfied rathode made every effort to make his mom to satisfies, three days got over ramegowda decided to go back home, this time he doesn’t ask his son to pick him up .

As ramegowda enters near the door he heard the moaning of his wife and he became exited how much energy they both got, they still romancing and having sex like bitches in heat, O MY GOD what a pleasure they both experiencing

Ramegowda pressed the calling button suddenly both vijaya and rathode get separated ,rathode came down saw in the window “ it is dad” he said to is mom,both mom and son dressed and cleaned the mess created by them not completely but they did some of it

Ramegowda knows that why both mom and son taking so much of time, vijaya came down and opened the door with a weird smile on her face ,as ramegowda enters the house smell of sex juice came into his noses ,it felt like drug to him and he saw the mess done by both mom and son

Sudden entry of ramegowda put both mom and son in uncomfortable zone, ramegowda asked them how they are both said they are doing good, everyone went to their work ,house suddenly had pin drop silence

Everything went normal ramegowda enjoys the mom son show, when vijaya in bathroom rathode goes there behind him ramegowda goes and peep inside , by seeing them having sex ramegowda does his hand job, during midnights when vijaya is not there in room ramegowda goes near to his son room and peeps there also, ramegowda never misses chance seen them having sex with each other .
Again time for her sensation is nearer , but ramegowda gives them a shock by saying that he knows what they both did whenever he is not here.]]> A Mother Son Marriage Story

Hi I am Rathode my age is 20 and this is the story about me and my mom (the heroine of this story)
My family is normal family as like every family in our country consisting of myself dad,mom and my sis .
My dad Ramegowda is about 56 ,my mom Vijaya is 42 and my sis Pooja is18 and my age is 20 at that time , lot of years as been over after the great ultimate thing is happened in my life, so here we head to start, I am going to narrate this as a novel.
Its a rainy day Rathode is still in is bed his father is going to dheradhun to see is daughter where she is studying ,ever month ramegowda visits pooja to know how she is studying and how well is she ,vijaya also visits with him but not every time ,ramegowda calls his son to drop him to the railway station his son drops him to station as vijaya says bye to ramegowda.
As a collage lecturer he as very good name in the society he is formers son he as native called kamana halli it is same native to vijaya also after they got married they leave there village and settled in city there marriage is arrange one.
Usually when ramegowda visits its takes 4 days to him to come again as lot of travel as to be made ,after about 2 hours vijaya got a unbearable sensation and pain in her suddenly she calls her son rathode runs towards the room where she is lying
Rathode- what happens mom
Vijaya-rathu I don’t know but I can’t take this any please take me to doctor
Suddenly rathode took the car and taken her to hospital
Doctor-this is a complicated situation my boy by the by is she is your..
Rathode- mother sir
Doctor-where is your father
Rathode- he is out of station we will be back in few days
Doc- ok look this one is serious she will gonna have ovary cancer this symptoms is look like that only
But u need not to vary, due to this her egg in ovary is not generating so a severe pain of pleasure she is experiencing now
Rat- what
Doc- I know this is embarrassing .This pains remains permanently but if she mate it will lost in 3 days but it again starts next month in same time same date but the sex she had must be continuous for 3 days by do not wasting time
Vijaya herd this all conversation and she said but my husband is not here and I have severe pain
Doc-write if she did not do it now it also dangerous for her life
Rathode- what to do
Doc – call him
Vijay – if we call him it take 2 days for him to reach
Doc – if u both agree i’ll suggest one thing
Vijaya- what’s that doctor
Doc-u both do it there is nothing harm in that think about it
Vijaya and rathode get shocked and they leave the hospital
Vijaya called her mom rangamma(68) and said every thing happened( rangama knew that his son in law is not good to her daughter she married her for a man who doesn’t cares his wife but he cares society he help every one who need helps but neglects family rangama thinks this is the best way do through this her daughter can enjoy life because ranagama also an incestuous who fucks her son)
Rangama says this is the greatest opportunity that god gave to someone who really works hard I know this disease its comes very rarely when it comes it gives immense pleasure when we mate its pleasure is 1000 times greater than simple mating but u have to mate with ur son only go on daughter do it
Vijaya decided to get fuck from his son as she is not going to tolerate the pain she is experiencing and she asked rathode about it
Rathode says yes
So its all setup for mon son mating in the rainy day with no one in house
Vijaya- son I don’t think I can control it please come with me to my room
Rathode is dumbstruck he always want to love is mom now he had a chance in front of him when he heard that moment he noticed his mom shape
Ha what a shape he thought himself she is like angel vijaya got very good shaped boobs she is not too slim not too fat she is a perfect indian mother with proper flesh in proper parts she just resembles hema malini in her forties
Few minutes back before he heard the most precious thing in the world for him he got a call, the doctor calls rathode and said to him that he is a incest lover he always want to do this with mother but he never got chance to do so he likes to help some one who needed that and he said he sawed a hidden lust of him to his mother that’s why he suggested him
And he also said this not a disease it’s common for some of ladies but it rarly appears, when some one fucks when this type of heat generated they will get more pleasure from normal one finally he says use this moment and fuck her she will be yours
He just remember the word what doctor said and again remembers the what his grand mother told him
My child I know what happened there, your mom suffered a lot in her life your father never a good husband he is a great person but when it comes to his wife he always neglected her I don’t know why but, now as your father away that makes u as a man of the house if u not give what your mom needs now then her life may go to end please give her what she wanted and feel her like woman not as son look at her once she is gorgeous lady , u know child making with mom is always a dream of son now that chance is in front of u make use of it incest is one great pleasure that everybody can’t enjoy
About this disease this gives u a chance its keep on appearing every month you need to satisfy your mom this 3 days with out wasting a time as this disease demands continuous fuck your mom will always hungry for sex ,only a son can cool down the heat of mom women completely satisfies when the son fucks no other person can give her that pleasure go on my child take her and make her happy
Now rathode came back to present he remembers all this in a fraction of second
He enters a room and looks towards his mom ,his mom is lying in bed she looked like she is suffering from heat inside her pussy ,he just sat in long king sized bed where is father and mother sleeps
His mom feels bad about what she going to happen now she betraying her husband , she never have any feelings to her husband but still she did not want to do this like every other lady in india but if she didn’t do it now it is impossible for her to leave for next seconds also
Vijaya-rathu its not like we are husband and wife u doing just to save my life , just do it no more extra activities
Rathu- extra activities what’s that mom
Vijaya- hmm means..Means u know kissing romancing r not allowed she said shyly
Rathode dick rises suddenly by hearing her he notices his mom is in nighty and her long whitish legs and her 34 size of boobs , vijaya also notices the bulge of her son in his boxers
Rathode- sure mom I don’t have any intention I just want u to safe
Vijaya- come above me and switch off the light I don’t want to u to see me like this
Rathode switch offs the light and he climbs the king sized bed where is mom lying getting to fucked by him
Rothode- what’s next
Vijaya- remove your boxers and come on me
Vijaya rises her nighty she had no panties and she asked her son to put his thing inside her
Rathode taking worlds most pleasure he is near the gate where he comes to this world , he put his dick inside her he feels the warm inside her
Vijaya- start it now
Rathode- yes mom
Rathode start to and fro motion they both start to feel enormous pleasure of the world that only comes from mother son sex , accidentally he hold her breast which he can’t resist
Vijaya- no rathu no u can’t feel my body just do this thing that’s all
They did there first sex with out any romance but they really feel the joy of exoiticity ,sweats running down from their body they exhausted ,they lying side by side in king size bed ,after 10 min vijaya again starts sensation in her pussy she asked another round from rathode ,he remembers what is grand mothers said as she needed continuously he again shifted her top
The glory of mom and son continuously all three days in there bed only the only came outside the room when they needed food ,toilet and for bath
Vijaya came outside from room and again looks back and thinks that the the room where mom son sleeps will never looks like this but we had done she drinks water she again feels sensation with a naughty smile she returns to room where is naked son lying and she closes the door ,the sound of has has ufffff uff comes out of the room ,mom and son become so close that now they don’t wear any dress they are fully naked ,a three days brings mother and son so close then what happens when it repeats every month ?
Three days if full fucking between mother and son is coming to end as his father ramegowda called them that he arriving to station in 2 hours
When they revived call rathode is one top of his mother humping and pumping is pulp mother
They came to real world and see there house it’s one hell every clothes is splited somewhere vijaya never become so careless in house works if ramegowda see this what will he think they got separated and stated to clean house , ramegowda again call his son and call him to pick up him from railway station rathode wents to pick him up
Vijaya get satisfied from her son and started think what they had done after cleaning house
Ramegowda and his son enters house suddenly he smell something that creates only through sex jucies but he neglects that ,vijaya asks how is pooja how is she studying ,he tells about their daughter family get into little talk.
A month as passed again the date is coming nearer to vijaya ,they behaved like normal son and mother but they want each other so badly again at the same date ramegowda goes to see her daughter buy this time he ask her wife to come with him but she denied and tell him that she as lot of work to do in her office (i forgot to mention before she works in canara bank)
As usual rathode drops his father when he comes home his mother is not in hall he enters master bedroom the same old bed which they fucked like wild animals one month back ,as he enters his mom is already in bed lying naked
He suddenly got hard on and jumped to bed she grabbed her son and they quickly did there first time ,when they start again rathode asks mom can I press your boobs
Vijaya- yes my son its all yours
Rathode happy that is mon as agreed and he like the changes in her ,he grabs her melons and started fuck her like pro ,the sound of flesh touching each other plop plop……Is all over the house and again rathode asks that
Rathode- mom can I kiss u
Vijaya- stupid do whatever ,i decided to enjoy completely
Rathode- mom r u shore
Vijaya – yes my son we are having sez then why can’t we enjoy the sex thoroughly come son take to heaven
Rathode started to fuck is mom holding her bobs and giving a french kiss that lasted for 10 min
After there second session
Vijaya- ur dick is twice then your father and thicker to
First time his mom talking with him about his cock
Rathode- thanks mom your boobs also so good they r so amazing
Vijaya- you naughty you already get hard on again come fuck me again
Rathode take her mom in missionary position and the sound of ha uff hmm comes from there room
Now both the mom son taken off every barrier they had got now no one is there to stop them
Again the three days of huge fucking starts this time they came outside the room only for food ,even they bath jointly
Making adult jokes fucking eating,fucking eating,fucking eating is the only thing they did
They both taken leave from collage and bank so that they can fuck when they were middle of the fuck ramegowda calls they took the phone and started to while they fucking
Ramegowda – how are you son
Rathode – fine dad
Ramegowda- i’ll come back soon take care of your mother
Rathode- as dad I am taking good care of her
Suddenly a loud moan as left from vijaya
Ramegowda- what happened son
Rathode- nothing dad mom felled down that’s all
Ramegoeda- give her a phone
Vijaya- what honey
Ramegowda- what happened
Vijiya- nothing I felled down our son is outing ointment over there
Rathode is licking vijayas pussy he us ointmenting her pussy
Ramegowda- then he is taking care of u so much
Vijaya- yes he takes care more than you
Ramegowda- ok i’ll call you later bye
As they put phone aside they again started to fuck like wild animals in heat
Again the three days of glory comes to an end but both mom son not ready to leave each other but they have to
Same as like ramegowda calls rathode ,rathode picks him and normal life carries on
Both mom and son are eagerly waiting for next month to come but the fate written is something different this time ramegowda refused to go as he tired of going every month
Both mother son got tensed as their way to happiness is closed ,this is there third month but they don’t know how to accomplish there goal ,a goal which mother and son had is to fuck like wild animals continuously 3 days
They know that soon vijaya will got her sensation if she got she will never bear it all she needed is a wild fuck
Suddenly vijayas mother calls to her daughter and asks her about the life she is experiencing
Vijaya express her every feeling and she is so happy that she getting fully fulfilled by her son and she never had such a thrill and pleasure in her entire life
Rangamma- then u already started your this month turn haaa ( smiling teasingly)
Vijaya- no mother this time I don’t know what happens but I needed badly
Rangamma- what happened my girl
Vijaya- mom my husband is no going to see my daughter this time ,u know when I get sensation I can’t control so I am so worry about this
Rangamma- hoo this is so bad
Vijaya- so I thought of getting with my husband itself but he is not good as my son more importantly he can’t satisfy me 3 days continuously ,and he will get suspicious that his wife never be this much horny in his life time
Rangamma- don’t even think about doing with your husband ,he is waste doing with the son gives immense pleasure , only a son can satisfies mom , the perfect pair for a woman in all this world is her son
Vijaya- if I can’t do with my husband then the only option is getting kill my self
Rangamma- no by girl I have a very good idea
Vijaya- what’s that mom please tell me
Rangamma-so desperate to hear huh
Vijaya- mom please
Rangamma- ok I’ll say your husband that we have festival in our village and so for the preparation I need vijaya ,you take rathode with u and come here I’ll arrange every thing for you two here you can fuck whole day and night here
Vijaya- (blushingly) mom is it going to happens
Rangamma- yes my child give the receiver to rathode
Vijaya- ok
Rathode- yes grandmaa
Rangamma- come with ur mom u will going to surely enjoy this
Rathode- yes grandmaa sure I’ll I too need it
Rangamma- hoo then u like to be with your mother
Rathode- yes grandmaa
Rangamma- I always need my girl to happy ,take her good care
Rathode- surly grandmaa
Rangamma calls her son in law tells him to send vijaya , but ramegowda also wants to come with them
Both mother and son become so sad that her husband is also coming with her ,but suddenly phone start to gets ringing ramegowda attends the call
It’s the call form his collage that heas attend the board meeting so ramegowda chose to remain there only
Now there is no limit for both mother and son happiness they bent there bedrooms and start jumps in there rooms.
Both vijaya and rathode are so happy to go their native village to achieve their ultimate satisfaction

Vijaya starts to pack their laugage, as you all know that village name is kamanahalli it is a beautiful village with lots of greenery , its is typical south indian style of village ,rangamma had their own big house and big court yard ,and they also have very big amount of farm land and a cattle’s hut behind their house.

The mother son comes in front of the house in there car rangamma greets both of them and she show there room to get fresh , the house is really big with 5 big rooms , for both mother and son same room was givened ,rathode blushes as he enters the room because its the same where is parents gonna take when they visit there native and I was not allowed here that time because grandmother always stops me to go there and use to sleep with my sis and grand mother in another room but, now this room is my room that to I am going to sleep with my mom

This thought made him exited ,a chill of hot blood circulated all around is body

During dinner

Rangamma- so how is your dinner

Rathode- fine grandmaa

Rangamma- this food helps to remain strong for long time(teasingly)

Vijaya- mom please….

Rangamma- sorry sorry my grandson doesn’t needed any extra pill or catalyser you is really a good in bed as you said write

Vijaya- mom you never gonna stop teasing us

Rangamma- ok ok baba i’ll not going to do

All family finishes thier dinner vijaya already getting sensation so she is so disparate to get fuck from her son ,both mom son enters the room and rangamma made good arrangement in the room to make then horny and she left them both to enjoy three night and she went her room which is in ↓ stairs.

As vijaya enters the room rathode feels so exited

Vijaya- sonny I need you very badly

Rathode- me too mom

Vijaya jumps to bed where her son lying rathode hugs her and kisses her very passionately her , as they broke the kiss rathode looks her mother ,how beautiful she is her pulpy body make her even beautiful her enormous boobs made her look sexily as she breaths her bed breast goes up and down , the blouse can’t hold her breast now her boobs becomes so firm and her nipples started to erect

Rathode- mom you look very sexy I am luky that I got you as my mom cum lover

( first time he is addressing her as sexy )

Vijaya- I never heard this from anyone my son you really like my body

Rathode- yes this body is my world

Vijaya- hoo sonny love me love me till this worlds ends come on son let’s forget that we are mother and son for a while and your dad is no more my man, you r the only man in my life now,i want you to make me forget your dad

Rathode- I wish you could be my wife

Vijaya- I to son

Rathode removes the pallu she had wore and started unbuttoning her blouse while hugging her suddenly the both lovley mellons came outside started to bounce she did not wear any bra and panties inside , by seeing the big tits hanging nakedly in front of him is mouth get waters suddenly he grabed and started squeeze both the pairs of breast

Vijaya started to moune as her taking ,liking biting her nipples ,now vijaya removes her petticoat now she is totally naked in front of son ,he suddenly get rid of all clothes he weared and make her rest in her back

Now rathode concentrate on her navel and starts licking around her belly now he went between her pussy the love hole which is he all dream about ,rathode stops near the gate of heaven which he enters to this world

Rathode- mom can I lick your pussy

Vijaya- son I am all yours now as my man you can take any of my part

Rathode-thanku mom I always want to do this

Rathode went near her pussy and smeels her aroma and slitly started to lick her,vijaya starts to moaun loudly , by hearing that voice rangamma gives a smile to herself and again start concentrate towards to try to sleep but she is exited because her daughter and grand son making love on upstairs

Now rathode comes on top of her holding the dick with his hand

Rathode- mom I now going to insert this little boy of mine to your loving sexy hole and I will dig out the pleasure and love from that hole r you ready now

Vijaya- it got lot of gold inside go dig it

Rathode slowly insert his love weapon to the love land of his mom and start fucking action , the cot get jerking the sound of wet fleshes clashing each other fills all over the room its is also audible to rathodes grandma room

Already 1 hour as over as they started to fucking but still they didn’t become weak they both continue to fuck like rabbits , they are in deep love of sex only one think is now in there mind that both if them her a man and woman which two force of nature that god as created to do this work ,mom son dad daughter all this are made from mankind , if some one as to enjoy sex to his ultimate they need to inter course with his mom , and mom with his son only

Sweats raining down from there body like flowing river the chilling whether of village make them lot more horny , its almost 2 hours both are in their end

Its long session for both of them as he started to release his sperm in her hole both get satisfied and both of then lye each other in her their arm

Vijaya – that’s amazing I never expected one day i’ll experience this much of pleasure in sex thanks my son

Rathode- no ,i need to thanks you mom your my queen

Vijaya- am to old to become queen my king

Rathode- queen will be always a queen if she becomes 100 years also, yong girls r nothing compared to u

Vijaya- thanks sonny love u

Rathode- me to mom

Again rathode dick starts to get raised and vijaya smiles to her son they both closed the blanket above them now again the sounds of love starts come outside from their room

When the woke up in the morning stains of love making is all over the bedsheet ,vijaya gives a kiss to rathode and his dick and went outside to fresh up ,rangamma again start to tease her daughter

Rangamma- I couldn’t sleep do you know y

Vijaya- no I don’t know

Rangamma- it’s because of your voices coming from your room, I just passed all night thinking about what you peoples doing in the room, enjoyed lot has

Vijaya- mom embarrass me mon

Rangamma- go take coffee to your son

Vijaya- hmm ok give the cup

Vijaya holds the coffee wearing a fresh sari and she just had a bath and her hairs are wet,she open the doors of room

Vijaya- baby take the coffee

Rathode- thanks mom, and you look sexy today

Vijaya- who maid me sexy my little boy

Rathode- I love you mom

Rathode places his hand on her right breast and squeezed lightly and give her a mouth kiss holding coffee in his mouth and release in to her

Rathode-hour was the coffee mom

Vijaya- its taste really good

Rathode removed her sarry pallu and start to kiss her all body ,in moment of fraction second both mom and son both naked in bed started to humping and pumping in bed , the senary is so exotic that for evey stroke vijaya starts moauning holding rathodes back and scratching his back, both her having sex like hungry tiger and tigress

Its already noon now rangamma takes lunch with her in to the room, room is not bolted she heard the sounds of intense fucking and she just leans inside and saw that her daughter and her grandson enjoying the life so much , she get inside and put lucnch and water without disturbing them and when she went out she knocked the door and said ” lunch”

Both mom son suddenly came into senses and get seoerated and when they saw there room rangamma is not there but fold is there , they both understand what happened just now and started to loaf looking to each other what position they r in her mom /grandmom enters the room

It’s now evining sun orange rays falling on windows of room where mother and son still having sex,rangamma calls them as she needs to talk with them, both mom and son adjust there dress and came out of the room , sudden exposer of rays of sun make them to close their eye and went down to talk with rangamma

Rangamma- son can I ask you something

Rathode- yes you can

Rangamma- some thiefs are trying to still the mangoes in the farm , if some one stays in night they do not dare to come over there so can you please stay this night , next day we r seeling mangoes so we have to protect today can you do this for me

Rathode- ( looking into his mims eyes) if mom says ok i’ll grandmaa

Vijaya- but mom you know my problem I can’t spend night without rathode

Rangamma- I know ,our form as got one big form sheed where cot, bed everything is there for spending night I just want you to go there , and enjoy the moment , its also helps to protect mangoes ,

Rathode- than its ok grandmaa

Rangamma- you know some thing that is where I regularly fucked my son when he is alive

Vijaya- you haven’t said that to me mom, is my elder brother and you really did that

Rangamma- yes ,but now he is not here

Vijay- you understand the pain mom when son/lover lost, but when you both started

Rangamma- you know that your dad is had paralysis attack after your marriage your brother and me become so close, that one day in form hut he just approached me and that when we started our love

Rathode- so that’s why you wanted me and mom to unite , you already know how much pleasure we can have if you make love with our mom or son

Rangamma- yes my child

Rathode- how was he dead

Rangamma- your grandpaa and your uncle dead in accident

Rathode- sorry grandmaa

Rangamma- don’t be , now you both get ready to go to form field

Both vijaya and rathode finishes the dinner and they head towards the field,the form hut is so beutifull as they entered the they feel sexy feeling thinking that this is the room where rangamma & her son enjoy the whole life

Vijaya spread her sarri and biting her lower lips inviting her son towards her rathode went towards her and suddenly grabs her waist and pressing her buttocks while kissing her passionately ,both settled in cot and rathode pull the blouse of vijaya with his teeth’s and make her naked on top and bit his nipple while fondling other breast from his hands vijaya gives a sudden sound of ouch as he pulls half of her breast to his mouth

Rathode get seperated and he removes his dress and he about go towards the love hole a voice came from outside ,rathode went out check if some in s there r not ,he found no one and he again came inside the but vijaya is in her same where rathode left her , he jumps in to cot and removes her petticoat now she is fully naked , rathode went towards her lips giving a mouth watering kiss

Rathode- mom its better have sex outside as some of thief’s may come

Vijaya- take me where ever but just satisfy me I can’t able to hold now

Rathode pick her up holding both her hands and legs in his arm and giving her kiss he taken her to middle of form and he bring some mattress and a latin to there, when he puts the light of latin her ravishing body looks very sexily she is showing her back to rathode , he went and grab her put her in mattress he starts to lick her pussy , as he licking her pussy she starts moan loudly , she got her freedom to moan loudly as they r in outside the village now rathode enters her pussy holding both her hands above the head closing her fingers to his and his to her,as he thrusting each stoke vijayas boobs bouncing seductively he first time notices that her mangalya thread also jumping in response of his stroke both mom and son lost in the world of heaven

After about 1 and half hour he ejucates inside her kissing each other feeling the cold breeze of wind , for both of them sex in outside is new ,vijaya experiences different varieties of sex that she could not imagined she never knew sex is so beautiful she kissed her son and held him in his hands after about half an hour they again started.

Both mom and son enjoyed there visit to native now it’s time for them to go there home where ramegowda waiting for is son and wife ,both greeted rangamma and they ready to start to go there home

Rangamma- rathode keep my daughter happy in return she will keep you happy, firstly birth of you keep your self healthy don’t stay too late in night(smiling )

Rathode – ok grandmaa bye

Vijaya- bye maa

Both left there house and car starts to move towards the city

Ramegowda waiting near the door because this is the day both mother and son need to come , ramegowdas us not visible from outside as the tree comes in front of the house covers him but he can see outside from there

As he his waiting for both mom and son , car came near the house and stops there slowly but no one comes out car suddenly start to shake ,a loud loafing sound came from the car suddenly vijaya came outside from car adjusting her saree and rubbing her lips from her hands( like some one kisses and they wipe that ) with a little naughty smile on face

Ramegowda for a moment thought vijaya is doing something with some one, now rathode came outside combing his hairs, ramegowda get shocked but he refuse to belive that and he went near them to greet them

20 days got over ramegowda observes the change in behavior of his wife and his son , they become more closer than ever they always stays jointly in house without leaving single moment , he also experience the some moments that when vijaya is in bathroom rathode is also not in home and some times when he woke up in middle night he doesn’t found his wife , and one think it make him more suspect that his wife is not asking for sex now a days
Finally again the date is nearer to vijaya again she already felt some sensation , rathode asks his dad about visiting his sis , but ramegowda rejects to go there as pooja needs some space so I am not going this time I’ll visit next time
Both vijaya and rathode experiencing their life time pleasure while ramegowda’s doubt gradually become strong day by day, ramegowda need to find what’s going on inside the house.

Ramegowda never doubted about his son but he had strong feeling that his wife is cheating on him. In order to find answer to this he changed his mind and he said to vijaya that he is going to visit pooja hostel hostel.

Suddenly, this matter spread to rathode, there is no limit for his joyness , Both mother and son exited and they know that for the next three days their home will be heaven for them.

The day which mother and son anticipated is today, as usually Ramegowda asked rathode to drop him in railway station, vijaya says good bye to her husband ,rathode and his father went railway station and rathode sent him with a smile as train started to move rathode had a lusty and curious smile in his face and he took his bike went to home as fast as he can where his mother waiting for him in their bed.

Ramegowda who is on the train also had a smile in his face because he is going to find the answers which is running on his mind, ramegowda remembers the arrangement he had done to find out what his wife doing when he is not in home.

Ramegowda had a friend in private spy agency he requested him for the hidden high clarity camera ,His friend asked him why he need this ramegowda convinces him that his house regularly robbed by thief so he need this camera to find out who is that.

Ramegowda fixed cameras in every places of his home and he directly connected it with his laptop, now ramegowda has everything to find out what’s going on in the house, if vijaya really cheating on me or this is just an imagination said by ramegowda. He does not wish to open the laptop in train he waited till he reached next station and he booked a room over there.

He reached to hotel and he fresh up himself and open the laptop he connected to the software which is required to start the cameras which were placed in safe area of his house , he first switch on the outer house camera he didn’t find anything unusual , next he put on the hall camera there is sawed the clothes split everywhere and heard the moaning sound from somewhere , now switched on the bedroom house there he find vijaya lying on her back holding some other guy in her hands and wrapping him in her legs , the guy who is on top of her is lot more younger and he thrusting her very rapidly .

Ramegowda went to trance he never expected this he always wanted this doubt to be wrong but now it is in front of him and he now started observe the words they are saying.

Vijaya- ohh my son fuck me

Rathode- mom when dad said he will not go, I thought this time we are not gonna make it

Vijaya- yes my son me too but god remained with our side , now stop talking and start fucking

Ramegowda is now fallen from the seat he had seated , he never thought that the guy who had relationship with his wife is his own son, rathode now took her enormous breast in her mouth and sucking her , the whole bed shaking , he heard the sound of wet flesh pounding and creating “ pock pock pock “ sound , the entire room his filled with sound of this with moaning of vijaya and rathode .

Ramegowda feel very disappointed and now he is not going to take much more so he take off the signal and stopped the video , ramegowda Started to think about the incidence that happened in house , he realized that why rathode was invisible at the times vijaya took her bath , why vijaya suddenly out of his sight during night , why vijaya not asking him sex , all her wishes and needs are fulfilled by her son .

Ramegowda became sexually arouses by seeing them , and he started think why vijaya made sex with our son , how can a son fucks his mother , who made the first proposal , how did this happen between them , lots of things going in the mind of ramegowda

He now took his laptop and connected to software and played the video , now room is empty he switched on the hall camera to find where they are , both mom and son are in sofa rathode sitting in sofa and vijaya riding him like teenager , rathode is now held her breast and sucking her nipple and beating her slightly on her ass , whenever rathode beats her she moaned largely asking him more , now he grabbed her ass and started to make up and down , he took her down gave a mouthwatering tongue to tongue kissing.

Ramegowda’s prick started rise he never saw this type of hyper sex this is really amazing he thought by himself , suddenly a room service boy enters to the room , ramegowda cut the connection and went towards to that boy and requested him to do not disturb him and he made some order to eat .

Ramegwda is eager to open the laptop and he again put on the connection and started watching video , this time hall is empty ,he again turned on the camera of room , there both mom and son lying one above the other in 69 position , ramegowda feels this as a awkward initially but when he start to see them he thought he missed his entire life without doing anything, he looks towards to her wife what an amazing figure she had the perfect 34DD boobs his son making her moan after moan while ramegowda achived is intense orgasm of his life , he look towards to the clock its already noon he put laptop aside and he started eat the food he had ordered , now the time is exactly 3 noon , ramegowda again took is laptop and what he sawed is nothing ever he imagined , rathode arranged all food items on above the vijaya and he took every piece of food with his mouth while taking banana from her face he kissed her juicy lips and when he went her navel side he took tasted honey I that , now when he went to her pussy he took gbangs , ramegowda went mad by seeing this,

Now the time is already 10 o clock they still playing erotic sex games and fucking and foundling each other ramegowda eyes never went aside even for a single second , ramegowda went to toilet and after that when he returned he didn’t see them , he searched every camera and he never found them, he is so much disappointed finally he saw another camera which is placed in terrace of his house , praying to god he turn that camera on and he get relief that he found both his wife and son , both were on terrace having mattress on floor , both are nude in terrace without thinking about the society , they are in their world ,vijaya started suck the sex tool of her son , rathode deploys huge amount of cum on her mouth , now rathode takes his mom in missionary position and started to and fro motion , the moon light which is falling on her body makes her so sexy,

Rathode squeezed her enormous breast and giving her a lip kiss , each and every thrust of rathode matches to every thrust of vijaya, ramegowda never sawed his wife so much aroused and giving perfect thrust to his son,he took his penny out and started hand job ,now the time his 12;00 midnight but there is no indication from both mother and son that they would stop, they keep on fucking like rabbits in terrace , after rathode deploys his sperm on his mature sexy mom he took her in his broad arms and started play with her breast they pulled bed sheet above the chest and started sleep like newly married couple.

Ramegowda already slept in his room , when he wake up the connection is still on, and he suddenly checks if they are in terrace , he had fear that someone may caught them, but they are not in terrace , he switched to room camera they are also not there , he checked whether they are in bathroom , yes his calculations is wright they already having there bath , while bathing rathode made his mom to lean against wall and hold her one legs in his hand while other and squeezing her breast and thrusting his little boy into love tunnel of her mom, and they kissed like there is no tomorrow as shower keep on falling on their body making their body wet , ramegowda never known that bath can be also taken like this .

Ramegowda decided ask them how this relationship starts between them ,whenever he opens the laptop he always saw their fucking sometime in kitchen in doggy style , in the garden , in the hall wrapping like snake to each other and in the bathroom.

While time they are fucking each other extending their full power, still vijaya not satisfied rathode made every effort to make his mom to satisfies, three days got over ramegowda decided to go back home, this time he doesn’t ask his son to pick him up .

As ramegowda enters near the door he heard the moaning of his wife and he became exited how much energy they both got, they still romancing and having sex like bitches in heat, O MY GOD what a pleasure they both experiencing

Ramegowda pressed the calling button suddenly both vijaya and rathode get separated ,rathode came down saw in the window “ it is dad” he said to is mom,both mom and son dressed and cleaned the mess created by them not completely but they did some of it

Ramegowda knows that why both mom and son taking so much of time, vijaya came down and opened the door with a weird smile on her face ,as ramegowda enters the house smell of sex juice came into his noses ,it felt like drug to him and he saw the mess done by both mom and son

Sudden entry of ramegowda put both mom and son in uncomfortable zone, ramegowda asked them how they are both said they are doing good, everyone went to their work ,house suddenly had pin drop silence

Everything went normal ramegowda enjoys the mom son show, when vijaya in bathroom rathode goes there behind him ramegowda goes and peep inside , by seeing them having sex ramegowda does his hand job, during midnights when vijaya is not there in room ramegowda goes near to his son room and peeps there also, ramegowda never misses chance seen them having sex with each other .
Again time for her sensation is nearer , but ramegowda gives them a shock by saying that he knows what they both did whenever he is not here.]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75050.html Mon, 24 Aug 2026 16:26:26 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75050.html Aap logon ne sahi pada hun dono ki age same hai .
Shazia meri mama ki beti hai aur meri bhaiya ki sali bhi aur mera bachpan ka pyar bhi.
Mai ek long story likhne ka rha hoon jisme kafi sari incident meri niji zindagi se hai, 
Is kahani ko kisi aur ki zindagi na jode aur ye story kisi samaj, dharm, samudaye se na joda jaye.
To story ko kuch saal piche leke jate hai saal 2017. 
2017 mai mere bhaiya Arif ki shadi hui thi meri bhabhi Sophia se.]]> Aap logon ne sahi pada hun dono ki age same hai .
Shazia meri mama ki beti hai aur meri bhaiya ki sali bhi aur mera bachpan ka pyar bhi.
Mai ek long story likhne ka rha hoon jisme kafi sari incident meri niji zindagi se hai, 
Is kahani ko kisi aur ki zindagi na jode aur ye story kisi samaj, dharm, samudaye se na joda jaye.
To story ko kuch saal piche leke jate hai saal 2017. 
2017 mai mere bhaiya Arif ki shadi hui thi meri bhabhi Sophia se.]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75042.html Sun, 23 Aug 2026 19:01:22 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75042.html
She shut the door. The latch clicked too loud in the sudden quiet.
Her suitcase sat just inside, one wheel still wet from the short dash across the veranda. Rohan had left it there when the phone call from his boss came—sharp, urgent, no room for argument. Train. Flight. Something that could not wait. He had kissed her forehead the way he always did when he was already halfway gone, promised to call once he reached the city, and driven off while the rain was still only a steady drum. He had not walked her through the rooms. He had not shown her which bed was hers.
She could still hear the last exchange on the veranda, half-caught through the open door. Vikram’s voice, low and flat: “Make sure she behaves here.” Rohan had made some noncommittal sound. Then the engine had started.
Behave.

The word sat in her chest like a swallowed stone.

Deepali pushed her wet hair back from her face. The city clothes clung—thin blouse gone translucent at the shoulders, jeans dark with rain at the hems. She had dressed for the drive, not for this place. The fabric stuck to the full curve of her breasts, to the soft give of her waist, to the pronounced swell of her ass. She felt the weight of her own body under the damp cloth and hated that she noticed it.
Footsteps crossed the hall behind her. Heavy, unhurried.
Vikram stopped a few paces away. Six-one, broad through the shoulders, the kind of build that looked like it had been cut by work rather than any gym. Dark hair damp at the edges. He did not smile. He never had, not in any of the family gatherings she could remember. His eyes moved once—down the length of her, quick, then away toward the staircase as if the sight of her city clothes was something he preferred not to register twice.
Without a word he bent, took the suitcase handle from where it stood, and started up the stairs. The floorboards complained under the combined weight.
“
Your room is upstairs. Second door on the left.” His voice was curt, scbangd of anything like welcome. “Bathroom is the one at the end of the corridor. Only one. Use it when you need it. Don’t knock on my door unless the house is on fire.”

He set the suitcase down just inside the doorway of the second room, then pointed with his chin toward a door farther down the ground-floor hall. “That’s mine.”
Then he turned and walked away. An echo followed him and died somewhere in the high ceiling.

Deepali stood in the doorway of the room and felt the old, familiar dislike rise sharp and clean. She had seen that look before—at Diwali, at the one wedding they had both attended, the quiet tightening around his mouth whenever her neckline dipped or her laugh carried too far. Backward. Controlling. Judgmental. The kind of man who measured women by how little space they took up. And now he lived here alone in this damp, echoing shell and she was the imposition forced into it. Even the brief help with the suitcase had carried no kindness—only the same cold practicality.
The room was large and spare. High ceiling. One narrow bed with a thin mattress and a faded cotton sheet. A wooden almirah that smelled of mothballs and old varnish. A single window looking out into the black mass of the jungle. No curtains, only wooden shutters that did not quite meet. The air inside was cooler than the hall but still thick, humid enough that her blouse refused to dry.


She sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress gave with a soft sigh. Outside, the rain shifted into a heavier gear, a solid wall of water. Thunder rolled somewhere far off, low and continuous.
Her phone had one bar. She typed a message to Rohan—You left me here like luggage—then deleted it without sending. Anger without an audience was useless. She was here because the security officer had said isolation, because the city had become a map of threats, because she had refused her father’s house and this was the only other option Rohan could arrange on short notice. None of that made the abrupt departure feel less like abandonment.


She stood and peeled the wet blouse off. The fabric stuck to her skin and came away with a soft sound. Her bra was damp too. She unhooked it, let the weight of her breasts settle free, and felt the humid air touch every inch of newly exposed skin. The jeans followed, then the underwear. She stood naked in the middle of the room for a moment, listening to the rain, and the house seemed to listen back. Too many empty rooms. Too many soft echoes that did not quite match the weather.
She pulled on a loose cotton nightshirt from the suitcase—something soft, something that still felt like her—and went looking for the bathroom.
The corridor was darker than the room. One bare bulb farther down threw a weak circle of yellow light. The bathroom door stood ajar. Inside: a concrete floor, a bucket, a plastic mug, a cold-water tap that ran brown for a few seconds before clearing. No shower. She washed quickly, the water tepid and smelling faintly of iron. When she stepped back into the corridor the single bulb flickered once.
Somewhere below, a door closed. Vikram, moving through his own routines, indifferent to the fact that another person now shared the shell of the house.

Evening settled without ceremony. The rain did not stop. Deepali found the kitchen by following the faint smell of kerosene and spices. A single plate had been left on the table—dal, rice, a piece of something fried. No note. She ate standing up, the food lukewarm and heavily salted. The silence between the rain and the old wood was dense enough to press against her ears.

She did not see Vikram again. Once she thought she heard him in the courtyard, the scbang of a metal bucket, but when she looked out the window there was only the continuous silver of falling water and the black wall of trees.


By the time she returned upstairs the light had gone completely. She left the door of her room open a few inches—habit, or some small refusal to be fully closed in—and lay down on the thin mattress. The nightshirt clung in places where her skin was still damp. Her body felt restless, too warm in the humidity, the full weight of her breasts and the soft press of her thighs against each other an unwanted reminder of how physical she was, how visible, even here where no one was supposed to look.
Sleep would not come.

She turned onto her side. The sheet was rough. Rain continued its steady assault on the roof. Somewhere in the house a board creaked, then another, the sounds traveling oddly through the damp structure. She told herself it was the wood settling. She told herself many things.
The cold arrived without warning.
A patch of air, no larger than the space above her chest, dropped several degrees in an instant. Not a draft from the window—the shutters were closed. Not the ordinary night chill of a hill station. This was sharp, localized, wrong inside the heavy humidity that still coated the rest of the room. It touched the skin of her throat and the upper slope of her breasts where the nightshirt had slipped, and every nerve there tightened as if the cold itself had fingers.

At the same moment the distinct, unmistakable sensation of being watched settled over her. Not from the door. From the darker corner near the almirah, or perhaps from the space just above the bed. She could not name the direction, only the pressure of attention on her skin, on the rise and fall of her breathing, on the restless shift of her hips against the mattress.

She sat up fast. The cold vanished. The watching sensation cut off as cleanly as a switch.The room was exactly as it had been: rain, humidity, the faint smell of wet wood and her own damp hair. Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound beyond the weather.Deepali’s pulse stayed high. She pulled the nightshirt higher on her shoulders and sat with her back against the wall, knees drawn up. Her skin still prickled where the cold had touched it. The restlessness in her body had sharpened into something edged and alert. Anger at Rohan for leaving. Anger at Vikram for the word “behave,” for the way his eyes had flicked once over her city clothes and then dismissed her, for the silent judgment that had always been there. Anger at the house itself for feeling larger and emptier and somehow aware.
She listened.


Far down the corridor, or perhaps on the floor below, a floorboard gave under weight. Slow. Deliberate. Then silence again.
Vikram was somewhere in the house. Awake or asleep, it did not matter. The knowledge of his presence—his height, the solid bulk of him, the curt refusal of any softness—settled into the same restless space as the cold air and the watching. She hated that her body registered him at all. She hated the isolation more.
The rain did not ease. The old house breathed around her in soft, damp sounds that never quite matched the weather. Deepali stayed upright against the wall, eyes open in the dark, skin still sensitive, the charged quiet stretching between her room and his with no promise of sleep]]>
She shut the door. The latch clicked too loud in the sudden quiet.
Her suitcase sat just inside, one wheel still wet from the short dash across the veranda. Rohan had left it there when the phone call from his boss came—sharp, urgent, no room for argument. Train. Flight. Something that could not wait. He had kissed her forehead the way he always did when he was already halfway gone, promised to call once he reached the city, and driven off while the rain was still only a steady drum. He had not walked her through the rooms. He had not shown her which bed was hers.
She could still hear the last exchange on the veranda, half-caught through the open door. Vikram’s voice, low and flat: “Make sure she behaves here.” Rohan had made some noncommittal sound. Then the engine had started.
Behave.

The word sat in her chest like a swallowed stone.

Deepali pushed her wet hair back from her face. The city clothes clung—thin blouse gone translucent at the shoulders, jeans dark with rain at the hems. She had dressed for the drive, not for this place. The fabric stuck to the full curve of her breasts, to the soft give of her waist, to the pronounced swell of her ass. She felt the weight of her own body under the damp cloth and hated that she noticed it.
Footsteps crossed the hall behind her. Heavy, unhurried.
Vikram stopped a few paces away. Six-one, broad through the shoulders, the kind of build that looked like it had been cut by work rather than any gym. Dark hair damp at the edges. He did not smile. He never had, not in any of the family gatherings she could remember. His eyes moved once—down the length of her, quick, then away toward the staircase as if the sight of her city clothes was something he preferred not to register twice.
Without a word he bent, took the suitcase handle from where it stood, and started up the stairs. The floorboards complained under the combined weight.
“
Your room is upstairs. Second door on the left.” His voice was curt, scbangd of anything like welcome. “Bathroom is the one at the end of the corridor. Only one. Use it when you need it. Don’t knock on my door unless the house is on fire.”

He set the suitcase down just inside the doorway of the second room, then pointed with his chin toward a door farther down the ground-floor hall. “That’s mine.”
Then he turned and walked away. An echo followed him and died somewhere in the high ceiling.

Deepali stood in the doorway of the room and felt the old, familiar dislike rise sharp and clean. She had seen that look before—at Diwali, at the one wedding they had both attended, the quiet tightening around his mouth whenever her neckline dipped or her laugh carried too far. Backward. Controlling. Judgmental. The kind of man who measured women by how little space they took up. And now he lived here alone in this damp, echoing shell and she was the imposition forced into it. Even the brief help with the suitcase had carried no kindness—only the same cold practicality.
The room was large and spare. High ceiling. One narrow bed with a thin mattress and a faded cotton sheet. A wooden almirah that smelled of mothballs and old varnish. A single window looking out into the black mass of the jungle. No curtains, only wooden shutters that did not quite meet. The air inside was cooler than the hall but still thick, humid enough that her blouse refused to dry.


She sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress gave with a soft sigh. Outside, the rain shifted into a heavier gear, a solid wall of water. Thunder rolled somewhere far off, low and continuous.
Her phone had one bar. She typed a message to Rohan—You left me here like luggage—then deleted it without sending. Anger without an audience was useless. She was here because the security officer had said isolation, because the city had become a map of threats, because she had refused her father’s house and this was the only other option Rohan could arrange on short notice. None of that made the abrupt departure feel less like abandonment.


She stood and peeled the wet blouse off. The fabric stuck to her skin and came away with a soft sound. Her bra was damp too. She unhooked it, let the weight of her breasts settle free, and felt the humid air touch every inch of newly exposed skin. The jeans followed, then the underwear. She stood naked in the middle of the room for a moment, listening to the rain, and the house seemed to listen back. Too many empty rooms. Too many soft echoes that did not quite match the weather.
She pulled on a loose cotton nightshirt from the suitcase—something soft, something that still felt like her—and went looking for the bathroom.
The corridor was darker than the room. One bare bulb farther down threw a weak circle of yellow light. The bathroom door stood ajar. Inside: a concrete floor, a bucket, a plastic mug, a cold-water tap that ran brown for a few seconds before clearing. No shower. She washed quickly, the water tepid and smelling faintly of iron. When she stepped back into the corridor the single bulb flickered once.
Somewhere below, a door closed. Vikram, moving through his own routines, indifferent to the fact that another person now shared the shell of the house.

Evening settled without ceremony. The rain did not stop. Deepali found the kitchen by following the faint smell of kerosene and spices. A single plate had been left on the table—dal, rice, a piece of something fried. No note. She ate standing up, the food lukewarm and heavily salted. The silence between the rain and the old wood was dense enough to press against her ears.

She did not see Vikram again. Once she thought she heard him in the courtyard, the scbang of a metal bucket, but when she looked out the window there was only the continuous silver of falling water and the black wall of trees.


By the time she returned upstairs the light had gone completely. She left the door of her room open a few inches—habit, or some small refusal to be fully closed in—and lay down on the thin mattress. The nightshirt clung in places where her skin was still damp. Her body felt restless, too warm in the humidity, the full weight of her breasts and the soft press of her thighs against each other an unwanted reminder of how physical she was, how visible, even here where no one was supposed to look.
Sleep would not come.

She turned onto her side. The sheet was rough. Rain continued its steady assault on the roof. Somewhere in the house a board creaked, then another, the sounds traveling oddly through the damp structure. She told herself it was the wood settling. She told herself many things.
The cold arrived without warning.
A patch of air, no larger than the space above her chest, dropped several degrees in an instant. Not a draft from the window—the shutters were closed. Not the ordinary night chill of a hill station. This was sharp, localized, wrong inside the heavy humidity that still coated the rest of the room. It touched the skin of her throat and the upper slope of her breasts where the nightshirt had slipped, and every nerve there tightened as if the cold itself had fingers.

At the same moment the distinct, unmistakable sensation of being watched settled over her. Not from the door. From the darker corner near the almirah, or perhaps from the space just above the bed. She could not name the direction, only the pressure of attention on her skin, on the rise and fall of her breathing, on the restless shift of her hips against the mattress.

She sat up fast. The cold vanished. The watching sensation cut off as cleanly as a switch.The room was exactly as it had been: rain, humidity, the faint smell of wet wood and her own damp hair. Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound beyond the weather.Deepali’s pulse stayed high. She pulled the nightshirt higher on her shoulders and sat with her back against the wall, knees drawn up. Her skin still prickled where the cold had touched it. The restlessness in her body had sharpened into something edged and alert. Anger at Rohan for leaving. Anger at Vikram for the word “behave,” for the way his eyes had flicked once over her city clothes and then dismissed her, for the silent judgment that had always been there. Anger at the house itself for feeling larger and emptier and somehow aware.
She listened.


Far down the corridor, or perhaps on the floor below, a floorboard gave under weight. Slow. Deliberate. Then silence again.
Vikram was somewhere in the house. Awake or asleep, it did not matter. The knowledge of his presence—his height, the solid bulk of him, the curt refusal of any softness—settled into the same restless space as the cold air and the watching. She hated that her body registered him at all. She hated the isolation more.
The rain did not ease. The old house breathed around her in soft, damp sounds that never quite matched the weather. Deepali stayed upright against the wall, eyes open in the dark, skin still sensitive, the charged quiet stretching between her room and his with no promise of sleep]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75026.html Sat, 22 Aug 2026 16:53:02 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75026.html https://xossipy.com/thread-75025.html Sat, 22 Aug 2026 13:40:59 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75025.html This is Ayaan 29 M from Hyderabad Moderator of Kamasutra Groups.Here I am narrating you all a true, hot and sexy sex encounter with my sister in Delhi.Ever since childhood, my younger sister Riya and I have been the best of friends. She is three years younger than me, but I have often thought that she was the more mature one. We spent many hours together as kids talking about our impressions and confusions in life, watching sunsets at sea, and playing board games during the long winter months. As we grew into teenagers, we realized that we deeply loved each other in every way except for one - because of course, that was strictly taboo.What I could never bring myself to admit to anyone, sometimes not even to myself, was that, as our bodies matured through puberty, I began to feel a deep sexual lust for my gorgeous, wonderful sister. I began dreaming about her naked body, about waking up with her nuzzled next to me, both of us naked and aroused. I couldn't find the courage to tell her about any of this, so it remained my personal dirty secret.I was nineteen before I convinced myself to test the waters, so to speak, with my sister. I had come to realize that the fact that it was incest. I was thinking about just made it more exciting and erotic. I started by realizing that I could stand on the electric meter and look directly into the bathroom window, which was directly above the toilet, and kitty corner to the bathtub / shower combo with the smoked glass doors. I chose to do so only on cold late autumn evenings that year, reasoning that, with the window slightly fogged but still clear enough to see through, and with it being around 25 degrees after sunset (never underestimate a teenager with an erection) I would get a great show with a minimal chance of getting caught. My plan was disastrous my first two tries.....I would wait until my sister announced that she was going to take a shower (meaning that the bathroom would be unavailable for at least an hour) and make an excuse to go to my room, which was on 1st floor, seperated from the rest of the house by the kitchen and a dining room. I would then sneak out behind the house to the bathroom window. The first time I slipped off the meter piping because of the frost and landed on the dog. I sprinted to my room. The second time I caught my mom peeing. Uh, no... Not what I meant to do. The third try: BINGO! There stood my eighteen year old sister, already fully developed. She was the first naked woman I had ever seen, not counting dirty magazines. She was standing in front of the mirror in just her white cotton panties. She was playing with her 36 C breasts, admiring them with a smile, alternately playing with her dark hair. She slid a hand into her panties and began to softly rub her dark, full bush. Then she turned away from me, took off her panties, spread her legs slightly, and began doing toe touches - each time she touched her toes I got a full view of her ass, asshole, and full, puffy, unshaven cunt lips. What unbelievable luck. She then took her shower, and I couldn't"t see a thing. She got out, and by the time the window cleared up a little, my jaw dropped from the sight before me. My sister had put down towels on the floor and was on all fours, her back to me and her ass high in the air, her right index and forefingers pumping in and out of her vagina! I stood watching, transfixed on the sight before me, my seven incher as hard as a pipe in my pants.

Suddenly she shoved a clean rag into her mouth and screamed into it in ecstacy, as clear fluid began dripping freely from her pussy. My sister was a squirter! Holy shit! She scooped up some of her come, still dripping from her engorged pussy, and stuck her fingers in her mouth after slowly removing the rag that had obviously stifled quite the orgasmic scream. Riya slowly Got up, facing the window, wiped her hands on a towell, and with a look of complete shock and horror On her face, she looked directly into my eyes. When I knew I was "busted" outside the bathroom window that night, I had simply gone back downstairs and waited for her to come storming down the stairs, having no choice but to confront the situation. She didn't come down - in fact nothing was ever said about the incident. I even got bolder - on several occasions going into her room at night and feeling her up, even rubbing her crotch until she got wet. It was until recently that I realized that she was probably awake every time I did that.I always figured I"d get to sleep with my sister someday, but in those years, it became an unrealized but not forgotten dream. That all changed after the whole family moved to Mumbai.Due to study we were forced to stay together in a rented flat. The first few nights we were acting like a newly married couple, making a game out of it, calling each other "honey" with mischevious smiles as we unpacked boxes,even though nothing overtly incestuous had ever really happened between us. The fourth night, we both found out that we had both always wanted so much more......sister, who had become a knockout 24 year old goddess, slid across the seat, nuzzling up next to me and putting her hand firmly on my thigh. She looked at me with a mixture of lust and insobriety and said bluntly, "If you weren"t my brother, we could be making out right now."That was it. I had a decade-old hard-on for my sister, and she had just rolled out the red carpet. I put my arm around her and held her tightly, looking intently into her eyes. "I won"t tell if you don"t," I said in my best bedroom voice.We kissed. As our lips locked together in pent up lust, or tongues twined together, exploring each others" mouth. As her hand moved up my thigh to the hard bulge in my jeans, I brought my free hand up to her right breast and began massaging it through her sweater. It had begun to rain, and I noticed absently that the car windows were fogging up from our heavy breathing. My sister wiggled out of her sweater, her boobs swaying unrestrained beneath a thin white blouse that had been mostly unbuttoned beneath the sweater. I reached between the thin material and felt my sister"s firm,large, supple breasts, her nipples sticking out like gumdrops. As I buried my face in her cleavage, expertly and lovingly sucking her nipples, my sister moaned.
Ohhhhhh, Yeahh, honey, suck my tits.....mmmmmm....you"ve always wanted your baby sister, haven"t you? Mmmmm.... Tonight you can have all of me baby...." With that I felt her hand pull at my belt. She obviously had practice taking down a mans" pants, because before I even knew what was happening next, my jeans were around my ankles, and my stiff seven inch aching cock was in my sister"s hot wet mouth, my underwear pulled aside.Riya"s hand running up and down my hairy legs, her bare boobs exposed and resting on my left thigh as she expertly sucked my cock. "Uhhhhh, oh Riyaaa....." I moaned. "Fuck baby that feels so good.....uhhhh....I"ve wanted you for so long..." my voice trailed off as I fell into pure love and ecstasy with my sister. Only the sound of the movie and my dick slopping in and out of my sister"s wet mouth filled the car. Suddenly she lovingly squeezed my balls and it was all over. I convulsed as a shot streams of pearly come into Riya"s mouth. She swallowed, but a lot of it dripped down her chin. As she sat up, smiling at me, my come was dripping from her chin onto her boobs. "I"ve wanted to do that forever, bro," she said contentedly. She pointed at the credits rolling across the movie screen, barely visible through the fogged windshield. There was another feature, but somehow I didn't think we"d pay much attention to it. "Do you want to stay here," Sarah asked me in mock innocence, "or would you rather go home and fuck your little sister"s lights out?" I answered by barely composing myself and zipping my pants up. She threw her sweater back on over her disheveled and unbuttoned blouse, started the car, waited for the windshield to clear a bit, and we were headed home. My mind was reeling as we drove home in silence. It was an uncomfortable silence though, more of a long contented moment between us, with the expectation of more to come. Occassionally she reached over and squeezed my thigh and let her hand run over my crotch. It could have been my imagination, but I thought she was driving a bit faster than she normally did. The car pulled into our driveway, Riya turned off the car and turned to me, and in a low lusty voice I"d never heard her use before, she said, "I love you, big brother, and I want you so bad, I always have. Let"s go - I"m going to fuck your brains out tonight sweetie." With that, we were both inside the front door. In front of my eyes, my sister, my beautiful, sweet and mostly innocent sister became a bitch in heat, as the saying goes; I had honestly never seen anything like it. The energy between us was more than lust, more than sex, it was a desperate animal instinct. An absolute need for unbridled sex borne of our love for each other. It was almost magical.She fumbled with the lock to the front door with one hand, grabbing my shirt with the other. She turned me around and playfully threw me against the front door. She took my shirt in both hands and pulled hard, literally ripping it from my body. It fell haplessly to the floor as she wrapped her arms around my neck, her hands caressing my bare shoulders, her full breasts mashed into my chest, her mouth locked onto mine as our tongues twined together. 
pussy juices for the first time. She began to get very wet again, her juices running out of her pussy and onto my tongue and chin, some of it pooling in the sheets between her legs. Her moaning became louder, her breathing more erratic. "Oh, yeah, that"s it, baby........fuck yeah, oh, don"t stop mmmmm...nobody every ate me like this.....fucking lick your sister"s clit honey.......fucked!!!!!" I really went to town on her hard little clit then, which took some talent to get to, because of her full cunt lips and her beautiful full untrimmed bush.Her hips began to buck against my face, slowly at first, then violently. "Ahhhhhhh FUCK!" she screamed loudly. "That"s it! Oh yeah, oh yeah, don"t stop brother honey, oh baby, I"m fucking coming...." then she screamed so loud I thought the neighbors would call the security officer. With that scream, cunt juice literally squirted out of my sister"s pussy, right into my face. She settled down a bit after that, the sheets already soaked in sweat and come. My sister was a firecracker! My cock was so hard it hurt. She looked me in the eyes and said huskily, "Baby, if you don"t fuck your sweet sister"s pussy right this second with your big beautiful dick, I will not be responsible for my actions."I didn't have to be told twice. Saying nothing, but smiling lovingly with my eyes locked to hers, I positioned myself over her and slowly slid my hard penis into my sister"s vagina. Her pussy lips felt as if they were pulling and sucking on my cock as I began pumping slowly in and out, my arms propping me up over her in a missionary position. I was in sheer bliss, the feeling of her very wet pussy contaracting around my shaft was the most exquisite feeling I"d ever felt. I fucked her slowly at first, her hands grasping by biceps as she pushed back slightly to meet my thrusts. This continued for several minutes, before I began humping increasingly faster, my dick aching with pleasure inside her. I never wanted this to end. No sex I had ever had even came close to how intense this was. The physical sensations were incredible, but they were being driven by a profound but forbidden love. It was at that moment, while I started to fuck my sister even harder, that I realized that I not only loved her very much, but I was falling deeply in love with her as well, the kind of falling in love that only happens once in your life. I looked into her eyes, and her smile and the pleasure in her face and the intimacy in her eyes told me she felt the same way about me. I didn't even think of hesitating as I said, "I"m so in love with you, Riya." She was so lost in pleasure it was difficult for her to speak, but she managed to stammer...."mmmm I"ve been in love with you for years, sweetie, I just could never.....mhhhh" with that she was beyond speech. I picked up the pace even more, and began powerful, fast and even thrusts in and out of her pussy. Suddenly, I felt that same feeling at the base of my balls, and I knew that this time there was no going back. I hadn"t put on a rubber, so I stopped, and started to pull out. "NO!" my sister cried suddenly. "Don"t you dare stop! I want you to come in me, honey...I want you to....uhhh" as I resumed thrusting heatedly. I could tell I was moments away from coming deep inside my sister"s pussy. "Oh yeah, baby, I"m gonna come sweet baby....oh......" I said, still thrusting powerfully, as time seemed to slow down. The moment was that incredible. My sister"s cunt muscles suddenly contracted hard around my shaft, like a velvet vise. Ahhhh fuck that"s it baby!" Riya screamed. "I"m gonna come on your cock, big brother.....oh yeah.... Come inside your baby sister honey.....make your sister pregnant baby.... Her whole body began to spasm in orgasm, her pussy muscles pulsating and contracting hard around me as I began to shoot my come deep inside of her at the same instant. I felt her juices gushing down my shaft and out of her pussy as wave after wave of orgasm ripped through each of our bodies simultaneously, my dick shooting streams of come into her womanhood. We were both moaning, bucking, and screaming on her bed for what had to be minutes. Finally, I collapsed on top of her; the bed was completely soaked in come and sweat, and the whole room smelled like sex. We locked in a passionate embrace, french kissing deeply. We fell asleep in each others" arms, my cock soft but still inside of her. We woke up late the next morning that way. We gazed into each others" eyes for a long while."Did you mean it when you said you were in love with me last night?" she said tenderly. "Yes," I said. "I am crazy about you,Riya." She started to cry, but they were tears of joy. "I"ve waited forever for this," she said. "I am totally in love with you and always have been." We kissed and held each other, and we were about to get it on again when there was a knock at the bedroom door. I hope you will like it.]]> This is Ayaan 29 M from Hyderabad Moderator of Kamasutra Groups.Here I am narrating you all a true, hot and sexy sex encounter with my sister in Delhi.Ever since childhood, my younger sister Riya and I have been the best of friends. She is three years younger than me, but I have often thought that she was the more mature one. We spent many hours together as kids talking about our impressions and confusions in life, watching sunsets at sea, and playing board games during the long winter months. As we grew into teenagers, we realized that we deeply loved each other in every way except for one - because of course, that was strictly taboo.What I could never bring myself to admit to anyone, sometimes not even to myself, was that, as our bodies matured through puberty, I began to feel a deep sexual lust for my gorgeous, wonderful sister. I began dreaming about her naked body, about waking up with her nuzzled next to me, both of us naked and aroused. I couldn't find the courage to tell her about any of this, so it remained my personal dirty secret.I was nineteen before I convinced myself to test the waters, so to speak, with my sister. I had come to realize that the fact that it was incest. I was thinking about just made it more exciting and erotic. I started by realizing that I could stand on the electric meter and look directly into the bathroom window, which was directly above the toilet, and kitty corner to the bathtub / shower combo with the smoked glass doors. I chose to do so only on cold late autumn evenings that year, reasoning that, with the window slightly fogged but still clear enough to see through, and with it being around 25 degrees after sunset (never underestimate a teenager with an erection) I would get a great show with a minimal chance of getting caught. My plan was disastrous my first two tries.....I would wait until my sister announced that she was going to take a shower (meaning that the bathroom would be unavailable for at least an hour) and make an excuse to go to my room, which was on 1st floor, seperated from the rest of the house by the kitchen and a dining room. I would then sneak out behind the house to the bathroom window. The first time I slipped off the meter piping because of the frost and landed on the dog. I sprinted to my room. The second time I caught my mom peeing. Uh, no... Not what I meant to do. The third try: BINGO! There stood my eighteen year old sister, already fully developed. She was the first naked woman I had ever seen, not counting dirty magazines. She was standing in front of the mirror in just her white cotton panties. She was playing with her 36 C breasts, admiring them with a smile, alternately playing with her dark hair. She slid a hand into her panties and began to softly rub her dark, full bush. Then she turned away from me, took off her panties, spread her legs slightly, and began doing toe touches - each time she touched her toes I got a full view of her ass, asshole, and full, puffy, unshaven cunt lips. What unbelievable luck. She then took her shower, and I couldn't"t see a thing. She got out, and by the time the window cleared up a little, my jaw dropped from the sight before me. My sister had put down towels on the floor and was on all fours, her back to me and her ass high in the air, her right index and forefingers pumping in and out of her vagina! I stood watching, transfixed on the sight before me, my seven incher as hard as a pipe in my pants.

Suddenly she shoved a clean rag into her mouth and screamed into it in ecstacy, as clear fluid began dripping freely from her pussy. My sister was a squirter! Holy shit! She scooped up some of her come, still dripping from her engorged pussy, and stuck her fingers in her mouth after slowly removing the rag that had obviously stifled quite the orgasmic scream. Riya slowly Got up, facing the window, wiped her hands on a towell, and with a look of complete shock and horror On her face, she looked directly into my eyes. When I knew I was "busted" outside the bathroom window that night, I had simply gone back downstairs and waited for her to come storming down the stairs, having no choice but to confront the situation. She didn't come down - in fact nothing was ever said about the incident. I even got bolder - on several occasions going into her room at night and feeling her up, even rubbing her crotch until she got wet. It was until recently that I realized that she was probably awake every time I did that.I always figured I"d get to sleep with my sister someday, but in those years, it became an unrealized but not forgotten dream. That all changed after the whole family moved to Mumbai.Due to study we were forced to stay together in a rented flat. The first few nights we were acting like a newly married couple, making a game out of it, calling each other "honey" with mischevious smiles as we unpacked boxes,even though nothing overtly incestuous had ever really happened between us. The fourth night, we both found out that we had both always wanted so much more......sister, who had become a knockout 24 year old goddess, slid across the seat, nuzzling up next to me and putting her hand firmly on my thigh. She looked at me with a mixture of lust and insobriety and said bluntly, "If you weren"t my brother, we could be making out right now."That was it. I had a decade-old hard-on for my sister, and she had just rolled out the red carpet. I put my arm around her and held her tightly, looking intently into her eyes. "I won"t tell if you don"t," I said in my best bedroom voice.We kissed. As our lips locked together in pent up lust, or tongues twined together, exploring each others" mouth. As her hand moved up my thigh to the hard bulge in my jeans, I brought my free hand up to her right breast and began massaging it through her sweater. It had begun to rain, and I noticed absently that the car windows were fogging up from our heavy breathing. My sister wiggled out of her sweater, her boobs swaying unrestrained beneath a thin white blouse that had been mostly unbuttoned beneath the sweater. I reached between the thin material and felt my sister"s firm,large, supple breasts, her nipples sticking out like gumdrops. As I buried my face in her cleavage, expertly and lovingly sucking her nipples, my sister moaned.
Ohhhhhh, Yeahh, honey, suck my tits.....mmmmmm....you"ve always wanted your baby sister, haven"t you? Mmmmm.... Tonight you can have all of me baby...." With that I felt her hand pull at my belt. She obviously had practice taking down a mans" pants, because before I even knew what was happening next, my jeans were around my ankles, and my stiff seven inch aching cock was in my sister"s hot wet mouth, my underwear pulled aside.Riya"s hand running up and down my hairy legs, her bare boobs exposed and resting on my left thigh as she expertly sucked my cock. "Uhhhhh, oh Riyaaa....." I moaned. "Fuck baby that feels so good.....uhhhh....I"ve wanted you for so long..." my voice trailed off as I fell into pure love and ecstasy with my sister. Only the sound of the movie and my dick slopping in and out of my sister"s wet mouth filled the car. Suddenly she lovingly squeezed my balls and it was all over. I convulsed as a shot streams of pearly come into Riya"s mouth. She swallowed, but a lot of it dripped down her chin. As she sat up, smiling at me, my come was dripping from her chin onto her boobs. "I"ve wanted to do that forever, bro," she said contentedly. She pointed at the credits rolling across the movie screen, barely visible through the fogged windshield. There was another feature, but somehow I didn't think we"d pay much attention to it. "Do you want to stay here," Sarah asked me in mock innocence, "or would you rather go home and fuck your little sister"s lights out?" I answered by barely composing myself and zipping my pants up. She threw her sweater back on over her disheveled and unbuttoned blouse, started the car, waited for the windshield to clear a bit, and we were headed home. My mind was reeling as we drove home in silence. It was an uncomfortable silence though, more of a long contented moment between us, with the expectation of more to come. Occassionally she reached over and squeezed my thigh and let her hand run over my crotch. It could have been my imagination, but I thought she was driving a bit faster than she normally did. The car pulled into our driveway, Riya turned off the car and turned to me, and in a low lusty voice I"d never heard her use before, she said, "I love you, big brother, and I want you so bad, I always have. Let"s go - I"m going to fuck your brains out tonight sweetie." With that, we were both inside the front door. In front of my eyes, my sister, my beautiful, sweet and mostly innocent sister became a bitch in heat, as the saying goes; I had honestly never seen anything like it. The energy between us was more than lust, more than sex, it was a desperate animal instinct. An absolute need for unbridled sex borne of our love for each other. It was almost magical.She fumbled with the lock to the front door with one hand, grabbing my shirt with the other. She turned me around and playfully threw me against the front door. She took my shirt in both hands and pulled hard, literally ripping it from my body. It fell haplessly to the floor as she wrapped her arms around my neck, her hands caressing my bare shoulders, her full breasts mashed into my chest, her mouth locked onto mine as our tongues twined together. 
pussy juices for the first time. She began to get very wet again, her juices running out of her pussy and onto my tongue and chin, some of it pooling in the sheets between her legs. Her moaning became louder, her breathing more erratic. "Oh, yeah, that"s it, baby........fuck yeah, oh, don"t stop mmmmm...nobody every ate me like this.....fucking lick your sister"s clit honey.......fucked!!!!!" I really went to town on her hard little clit then, which took some talent to get to, because of her full cunt lips and her beautiful full untrimmed bush.Her hips began to buck against my face, slowly at first, then violently. "Ahhhhhhh FUCK!" she screamed loudly. "That"s it! Oh yeah, oh yeah, don"t stop brother honey, oh baby, I"m fucking coming...." then she screamed so loud I thought the neighbors would call the security officer. With that scream, cunt juice literally squirted out of my sister"s pussy, right into my face. She settled down a bit after that, the sheets already soaked in sweat and come. My sister was a firecracker! My cock was so hard it hurt. She looked me in the eyes and said huskily, "Baby, if you don"t fuck your sweet sister"s pussy right this second with your big beautiful dick, I will not be responsible for my actions."I didn't have to be told twice. Saying nothing, but smiling lovingly with my eyes locked to hers, I positioned myself over her and slowly slid my hard penis into my sister"s vagina. Her pussy lips felt as if they were pulling and sucking on my cock as I began pumping slowly in and out, my arms propping me up over her in a missionary position. I was in sheer bliss, the feeling of her very wet pussy contaracting around my shaft was the most exquisite feeling I"d ever felt. I fucked her slowly at first, her hands grasping by biceps as she pushed back slightly to meet my thrusts. This continued for several minutes, before I began humping increasingly faster, my dick aching with pleasure inside her. I never wanted this to end. No sex I had ever had even came close to how intense this was. The physical sensations were incredible, but they were being driven by a profound but forbidden love. It was at that moment, while I started to fuck my sister even harder, that I realized that I not only loved her very much, but I was falling deeply in love with her as well, the kind of falling in love that only happens once in your life. I looked into her eyes, and her smile and the pleasure in her face and the intimacy in her eyes told me she felt the same way about me. I didn't even think of hesitating as I said, "I"m so in love with you, Riya." She was so lost in pleasure it was difficult for her to speak, but she managed to stammer...."mmmm I"ve been in love with you for years, sweetie, I just could never.....mhhhh" with that she was beyond speech. I picked up the pace even more, and began powerful, fast and even thrusts in and out of her pussy. Suddenly, I felt that same feeling at the base of my balls, and I knew that this time there was no going back. I hadn"t put on a rubber, so I stopped, and started to pull out. "NO!" my sister cried suddenly. "Don"t you dare stop! I want you to come in me, honey...I want you to....uhhh" as I resumed thrusting heatedly. I could tell I was moments away from coming deep inside my sister"s pussy. "Oh yeah, baby, I"m gonna come sweet baby....oh......" I said, still thrusting powerfully, as time seemed to slow down. The moment was that incredible. My sister"s cunt muscles suddenly contracted hard around my shaft, like a velvet vise. Ahhhh fuck that"s it baby!" Riya screamed. "I"m gonna come on your cock, big brother.....oh yeah.... Come inside your baby sister honey.....make your sister pregnant baby.... Her whole body began to spasm in orgasm, her pussy muscles pulsating and contracting hard around me as I began to shoot my come deep inside of her at the same instant. I felt her juices gushing down my shaft and out of her pussy as wave after wave of orgasm ripped through each of our bodies simultaneously, my dick shooting streams of come into her womanhood. We were both moaning, bucking, and screaming on her bed for what had to be minutes. Finally, I collapsed on top of her; the bed was completely soaked in come and sweat, and the whole room smelled like sex. We locked in a passionate embrace, french kissing deeply. We fell asleep in each others" arms, my cock soft but still inside of her. We woke up late the next morning that way. We gazed into each others" eyes for a long while."Did you mean it when you said you were in love with me last night?" she said tenderly. "Yes," I said. "I am crazy about you,Riya." She started to cry, but they were tears of joy. "I"ve waited forever for this," she said. "I am totally in love with you and always have been." We kissed and held each other, and we were about to get it on again when there was a knock at the bedroom door. I hope you will like it.]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75021.html Sat, 22 Aug 2026 06:57:34 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75021.html

August 15th 

by 

Novelist Casanova 

I am Sudha.
I stood a little taller than most women in the village, with a fair, smooth complexion and long, thick black hair that I usually tied in a neat plait or loose bun. My eyes were large and dark, framed by naturally arched brows. I had a straight, sharp nose and full lips. My body had filled out after marriage — full, heavy breasts, a narrow waist, and wide hips that the saree always followed closely when I walked. Even at this age, men in the village still glanced at me longer than necessary.
I was the principal of Sudha Memorial college.
The college stood in a small remote village in Tamil Nadu, built years ago by my late father. He had raised it with one clear purpose — to give proper education to the underprivileged children from the neighbouring villages who otherwise had no chance. After he died, the responsibility had fallen on me. Every morning I unlocked these same doors, checked the registers, and made sure the children from the poorer homes got at least a few hours of learning.
It was 5 PM on the evening of 14th August.
The District Education Office had already issued a circular based on the heavy rain warning from the India Meteorological Department. Tomorrow, Independence Day, was declared a holiday because of the expected continuous downpour. I had announced the same to the students and teachers in the morning assembly. The classrooms were already empty. Only the sound of the ceiling fan and the occasional crow outside filled the compound.
I was wearing my red saree with a matching red blouse. Underneath the saree I had worn my red petticoat. Over my breasts sat my white bra, and between my legs I wore my white panties. The red saree was neatly pleated and pinned at the shoulder. The blouse fitted close around my full breasts. My mangalsutra rested against my neck as usual.
My phone vibrated on the desk.
I unlocked it. My husband was already home, waiting for me.
Husband:
I’m already hard thinking about you. Come home soon. I want that red saree on the floor tonight.
I felt my cheeks warm. A small smile pulled at my lips as I typed back.
Me:
I’m still in the office… don’t talk like that now.
Husband:
Why not? I’m lying naked on the bed. My cock is already stiff. I’m stroking it slowly thinking about your heavy breasts.
My face grew hotter. I bit my lower lip and glanced at the closed office door.
Me:
You’re impossible… I’m still at college.
Husband:
I don’t care. When you walk in, I’m going to pull your saree down to your waist and suck your nipples through the blouse until they get hard. Then I’ll open the blouse and take your bare breasts in my mouth.
I pressed my thighs together under the desk, blushing harder.
Me:
Stop messaging like this… my face is getting red.
Husband:
Good. I want it red. Tell me what you’re wearing under the saree.
Me:
My usual… white bra and white panties.
Husband:
I’m going to remove both with my teeth tonight. First I’ll push your red blouse up and suck your nipples until you start breathing fast. Then I’ll pull your petticoat up and press my mouth between your legs over those white panties.
A soft, embarrassed breath left me. I shifted slightly in the chair.
Me:
You’re so shameless…
Husband:
You like it. I’m going to drag those white panties down your thighs slowly and look at your pussy before I do anything. I want to see how wet you are when you reach home.
I felt heat spreading between my legs. My fingers hesitated over the phone.
Me:
I’m in the principal’s office…
Husband:
And I’m stroking my cock thinking about spreading your legs on this bed. I’m going to eat your pussy until your thighs start shaking. I won’t stop even when you try to push my head away. I’ll keep licking until you drip on my face.
My breathing had become uneven. I pressed my thighs tighter.
Husband:
After that I’ll turn you over, keep your red saree on, pull it up to your waist and push my cock into you from behind. I’ll hold your heavy breasts while I fuck you deep. I want to hear the sound of my body hitting your ass.
A quiet sound escaped my throat. I covered my mouth with one hand.
Me:
You’re making it very difficult to sit here…
Husband:
Good. Stay there a little longer and keep reading. I want you to feel it. Tonight I’m going to fuck you slowly first, then hard. I’ll make you tell me how wet you got sitting in that chair reading my messages.
I sat there staring at the screen, face burning. Between my legs I could already feel my white panties starting to stick lightly to my pussy.
Husband:
Don’t put the phone down yet. Tell me the truth. Are you getting wet?
I stayed silent for a few seconds, the ceiling fan turning slowly above me. Finally I typed.
Me:
…Yes.


I locked the phone and placed it face down on the desk. My cheeks were still warm, and between my legs the slight wetness in my white panties had not gone away. I took a slow breath, straightened my red saree, and called out.
“Narasimhan… come inside.”
He entered the office a few moments later, holding the attendance register against his side.
Narasimhan was only five years younger than me. He was a rustic man with dark skin, a rough face, and uneven features that most people would call ugly. His hair was thick and slightly unkempt. Years of outdoor work had left his hands hard and his body lean but not attractive. He lived alone in the small tiled house behind the college building, the same quarters my father had given him when he first joined as the attender.
He stood in front of my desk and waited.
I kept my voice steady and practical.
“Tomorrow is Independence Day. Even though the college is closed because of the heavy rain warning, I will still hoist the flag. Be here by 7:30 in the morning. Clean the area around the flagpole properly before I arrive. Keep the flag ready. Only you and I will be there.”
Narasimhan nodded slowly.
“Yes, Madam. But the rain is going to be very heavy. The ground will become muddy, and the flag will get completely wet.”
I looked at him directly.
“That does not matter. We have hoisted the flag every year since my father started this college. We will do it tomorrow as well. Just be ready on time.”
He gave a short nod.
“I will be ready, Madam. I stay just behind the college, so I can come early and clean everything.”
“Good,” I said. “You can go now.”
Narasimhan turned and left the office, closing the door quietly behind him. I sat back in my chair for a moment, still feeling the faint warmth between my thighs from the messages my husband had sent. Outside, the empty college compound remained silent.


I locked the principal’s office door and tested the handle once to make sure it was properly shut. The corridor outside was already dark. I switched off the last tube light near the entrance and stepped into the open college compound. The evening sky had turned a deep grey. The air felt heavy and still, carrying the clear smell of coming rain. A few dry leaves moved slowly across the ground with the weak breeze.
My red Honda Activa stood under the small asbestos shed near the main gate, exactly where I had parked it in the morning. I walked towards it, the pleats of my red saree shifting against my legs with each step. The blouse felt slightly warm against my full breasts after sitting in the office for so long. My white bra held them firmly in place, and I could still feel the faint dampness in my white panties from the messages earlier.
I unlocked the Activa, lifted the side stand, and sat on the seat. The red saree spread around me as I settled. I adjusted the front pleats carefully so they would not get caught in the chain, then pulled the loose end of the saree firmly over my left shoulder and tucked it once at the waist. I turned the key, pressed the starter, and the engine came to life with a low, steady sound.
I rode out through the college gate and onto the narrow village road. The wind immediately pressed against my body. The red saree clung lightly to my stomach and thighs. My heavy breasts shifted slightly inside the blouse with the movement of the scooter. I kept both feet firmly on the footboard and held the handle with a steady grip. The road was mostly empty. A few streetlights had already come on, casting dull yellow patches on the tar.
As I rode past the small row of houses, the saree kept fluttering at the edges. I felt the petticoat underneath moving softly against my legs. The white panties remained snug between my thighs, still carrying that slight wetness from earlier. I did not stop anywhere. The short ride home took only a few minutes, but every turn of the road made the red blouse press and release against my breasts, reminding me that I was still fully dressed exactly as I had been in the office.


I slowed the Activa as I reached our house and turned into the small compound. The gate was already open. I rode in carefully, stopped near the side wall, and switched off the engine. For a moment I sat on the seat without moving, both feet flat on the ground, listening to the quiet of the evening. The sky above the house had grown darker. The first light smell of rain hung in the air.
I put the side stand down and got off the scooter. The red saree settled around my legs again as I stood. I locked the Activa, removed the key, and walked towards the front door. My slippers made soft sounds on the cement floor of the veranda. The door was unlocked, as usual when my husband was already home. I pushed it open and stepped inside.
The house felt still. I closed the door behind me and bent down to remove my slippers, placing them neatly near the wall. The red saree shifted as I bent, the blouse pulling slightly across my full breasts. I straightened and stood for a second in the small living room, listening.
There was no sound of the boys. No television, no running footsteps, no voices from the other rooms. I walked a few steps further and called out once in a normal voice.
“Boys?”
No reply came. I understood immediately. My three sons were still outside, playing somewhere in the neighbourhood lanes as they did most evenings. They would return only when it became fully dark or when they got hungry. For now the house remained quiet. Only my husband was inside.
I adjusted the end of my red saree over my shoulder once more and walked deeper into the house, still wearing everything exactly as I had worn in the college — red saree, red blouse, red petticoat, white bra and white panties.


I walked straight into the kitchen without going to the bedroom to change. The lights were already on. The small kitchen felt warm from the residual heat of the afternoon. I had not removed even a single piece of clothing. My red saree was still dbangd exactly as it had been in the college office, the pleats neat at the waist, the loose end resting over my left shoulder. The matching red blouse continued to fit closely around my full breasts. Underneath, my red petticoat hung against my legs, and my white bra and white panties remained in place.
I washed my hands under the tap, rubbing the soap slowly between my palms and between my fingers before rinsing them. Water droplets clung briefly to my wrists before I wiped them on the edge of a towel. I opened the vegetable basket and took out onions, tomatoes and green chillies. Placing the wooden chopping board on the counter, I began slicing the onions first. The knife moved in steady, practiced motions. Each time I leaned forward slightly, the red blouse pressed against my heavy breasts, and I could feel the soft weight of them shifting inside my white bra.
I heated the pan on the stove and poured a little oil. While waiting for it to warm, I continued chopping. The red saree stayed properly in place, but the movement of my arms made the fabric at my waist shift gently against my stomach and hips. My white panties felt slightly warm between my legs from the earlier messages and the scooter ride. I did not stop to adjust anything. I kept working — adding the onions to the pan, stirring them as they began to soften, then reaching for the tomatoes.
The smell of the hot oil and onions slowly filled the kitchen. I stood there in my full college clothes, red saree still pinned and dbangd, preparing dinner as if it were any other evening, the faint memory of my husband’s messages still present somewhere under the ordinary movements of my hands.


I heard soft footsteps behind me while I was still stirring the onions in the pan. My husband had come into the kitchen. He did not speak at first. He simply walked up and stopped very close behind me. I felt the warmth of his body before he even touched me.
His hands settled on my waist over my red saree. The saree wrinkled slightly under his fingers as he held me. He stepped closer until his chest pressed lightly against my back.
“You took so long,” he said in a low voice, close to my ear. “I’ve been hard since those messages.”
I kept stirring, though my hand had slowed.
“I had to give instructions for tomorrow,” I replied quietly. “The boys are still outside.”
“I know.” His right hand slid upward and cupped my heavy breast over my red blouse. He squeezed it firmly. “I’ve been thinking about these since you left. Did you get wet reading my messages?”
I swallowed.
“A little… don’t start now. I’m cooking.”
He ignored that. His thumb moved across my nipple through my red blouse and white bra until it hardened.
“Only a little?” he asked, pressing his cock against my ass through my red saree. “Your voice is already changing.”
I tried to keep my tone normal.
“The onions will burn.”
“Let them.” His other hand began gathering my red saree and red petticoat upward along my thigh. “I want to feel you first.”
My red saree and red petticoat rose higher. Cool air touched my exposed thigh. He kept lifting until both my red saree and red petticoat were bunched around my waist. His fingers found the edge of my white panties and simply pulled them to one side.
“You’re already sticky,” he muttered, rubbing the head of his cock slowly along my pussy lips. “You were wet in the office, weren’t you?”
I gripped the kitchen counter with my free hand. My voice came out lower than before.
“Don’t talk like that… they might come back any time.”
“Then I’ll be quick,” he said, still rubbing himself against me. “But I’m going to fuck you right here. Keep holding the counter.”
I felt the thick head of his cock press more firmly between my pussy lips. He did not push inside yet. He only held himself there, breathing against my neck, one hand still squeezing my breast over my red blouse while the onions continued to sizzle quietly in the pan.


He pushed the thick head of his cock between my pussy lips and slowly forced himself inside me. I was already so wet that he slid in easier than I expected. I felt every inch stretching my pussy open as he sank deeper, until his lower stomach pressed tightly against my bare ass. A shaky breath left my mouth. My fingers tightened hard on the kitchen counter.
“Ah…”
He was fully inside me now. My pussy clenched around his cock on its own. One of his hands squeezed my heavy breast roughly over my red blouse and white bra, pinching my nipple through the layers. The other hand gripped my hip, holding my red saree and red petticoat high around my waist. My white panties stayed pulled to the side, completely useless.
He pulled back and thrust in again, harder this time.
“Fuck… you’re dripping,” he groaned against my neck.
I bit my lip but could not stop the soft moan that followed. My pussy was soaked. Each time he pushed his cock deep into me, wet sounds filled the kitchen. I pushed my ass back against him without thinking, wanting him deeper. My full breasts swung heavily inside my white bra with every thrust. The red blouse strained across them.
He started fucking me in a steady, strong rhythm. His cock slid in and out of my wet pussy with short, powerful strokes. The slap of his body against my ass grew louder. I could feel my pussy lips gripping him every time he pulled back. My legs were already trembling.
“Yes… keep going,” I whispered, my voice thick with need.
He groaned and fucked me faster. One hand left my breast and reached down between my legs, finding my swollen clit. He rubbed it firmly in circles while his cock kept driving deep into my pussy. The double sensation made my mouth open. A longer moan slipped out before I could stop it.
“You’re so fucking wet for me,” he muttered. “Your pussy is sucking my cock.”
I was. I could feel how slippery I had become. My white panties were completely shifted aside, and my pussy was openly taking every hard thrust. I pushed back harder to meet him, my heavy breasts bouncing inside the blouse with the force. The red saree remained bunched at my waist, exposing everything from behind.
He rubbed my clit faster and thrust deeper. My thighs started shaking. The pleasure built quickly and sharply. I gripped the counter so hard my knuckles turned light. Another moan broke from my throat, louder this time.
“Don’t stop… fuck me…”
He obeyed. He held my hip tightly and pounded into my wet pussy with strong, deep strokes, his fingers still working my clit, while I stood bent over the kitchen counter in my red saree, moaning under my breath, completely lost in how good his cock felt inside me.


His cock was driving deep into my wet pussy with short, powerful thrusts. Every stroke made a clear wet sound. My white panties remained pulled to the side, and my red saree and red petticoat stayed bunched tightly around my waist. I was bent over the kitchen counter, both hands gripping the edge, my full breasts swinging heavily inside my white bra and red blouse with every impact of his body against my ass.
“I’m close,” he growled against my neck, fucking me harder.
I was already there. My pussy kept clenching around his cock on its own. The pressure in my lower stomach built fast and sharp. His fingers rubbed my swollen clit in tight, firm circles while his cock kept thrusting deep. My legs started shaking badly.
Suddenly I heard faint voices outside the compound wall — children’s voices, laughing and calling to each other. My heart jumped.
“Wait… the boys…” I whispered urgently, trying to straighten up.
He did not stop. He held my hip tighter and kept pounding his cock into me.
“They’re still far,” he muttered. “Just take it.”
The risk made everything sharper. My pussy gripped his cock harder with every stroke. A broken moan left my mouth as the pleasure suddenly peaked, mixed with fear.
“Ahh… ahh… I’m coming… hurry…”
My whole body tensed. My pussy began pulsing strongly around his cock as I came, the orgasm rolling through me in waves while I kept listening for the front gate. I pushed my ass back and held the counter for support, moaning through clenched teeth so I would not be too loud.
“Ahh… nnnh… ahh…”
He groaned deeply and buried his cock as deep as he could.
“Fuck… take it… I’m coming inside you…”
I felt his cock throb hard inside my pussy. Thick, hot cum began shooting into me in strong spurts. His cock kept grinding against my ass while it emptied itself, filling me completely. He moaned roughly with every spurt, trying to keep his voice low.
“Ugh… ahh… fuck…”
Outside, the children’s voices seemed a little closer. Panic mixed with the last waves of my orgasm. My pussy continued to flutter weakly around his cock as the final pulses of his cum spilled into me. Slow, sticky trails of his cum began to leak out around his cock and onto my white panties that were still shifted to the side.
“Pull out… quickly…” I whispered, breathing hard.
He slowly pulled his cock out. I immediately pushed my red saree and red petticoat down, trying to cover myself. My white panties were still wet and sticky with his cum. I stood upright on slightly trembling legs, face flushed, heart beating fast, listening carefully for the sound of the front door while the forgotten onions continued to burn lightly in the pan.


I quickly adjusted my red saree and washed my hands. The onions had burned slightly, so I had to start that part of the dinner again. By the time the food was ready, I heard the boys returning. Their voices and footsteps filled the house as they came in, laughing and arguing about their game. I served dinner quietly — rice, the freshly made side dishes, and some curd. We all sat together and ate. My husband spoke normally with the boys as if nothing had happened in the kitchen earlier. I kept my eyes on my plate, still feeling the sticky wetness of his cum inside my white panties under the red saree.
After dinner the boys went to their room. I cleared the plates and wiped the kitchen counter. My body still carried the smell of sex and sweat under the red saree. I went to the bathroom, locked the door, and removed everything — my red saree, red blouse, red petticoat, white bra and the stained white panties. I stood under the shower and let the warm water run over my full breasts, stomach and between my legs. I washed his cum away slowly, cleaning my pussy with my fingers until no stickiness remained. The water felt soothing after the rough kitchen fucking.
When I came out I dried myself and changed into a simple cotton nighty. It was loose and comfortable, reaching mid-thigh. I did not wear any bra or panties under it. My hair was still slightly damp when I switched off the lights and went to our bedroom.
My husband was already in bed. He looked tired. The moment I lay down beside him, he turned toward me, pulled me closer, and placed his arm heavily over my waist. Within a minute his breathing became deep and even. He had fallen asleep.
I lay still on my back. His arm stayed across my stomach, and part of his upper body rested against my side and chest. The weight of him was warm and familiar. I could feel his slow breathing against my shoulder. The nighty had ridden up a little, but I did not adjust it. I simply stayed under his arm, listening to the quiet house, and slowly closed my eyes.


to be continued  ]]>

August 15th 

by 

Novelist Casanova 

I am Sudha.
I stood a little taller than most women in the village, with a fair, smooth complexion and long, thick black hair that I usually tied in a neat plait or loose bun. My eyes were large and dark, framed by naturally arched brows. I had a straight, sharp nose and full lips. My body had filled out after marriage — full, heavy breasts, a narrow waist, and wide hips that the saree always followed closely when I walked. Even at this age, men in the village still glanced at me longer than necessary.
I was the principal of Sudha Memorial college.
The college stood in a small remote village in Tamil Nadu, built years ago by my late father. He had raised it with one clear purpose — to give proper education to the underprivileged children from the neighbouring villages who otherwise had no chance. After he died, the responsibility had fallen on me. Every morning I unlocked these same doors, checked the registers, and made sure the children from the poorer homes got at least a few hours of learning.
It was 5 PM on the evening of 14th August.
The District Education Office had already issued a circular based on the heavy rain warning from the India Meteorological Department. Tomorrow, Independence Day, was declared a holiday because of the expected continuous downpour. I had announced the same to the students and teachers in the morning assembly. The classrooms were already empty. Only the sound of the ceiling fan and the occasional crow outside filled the compound.
I was wearing my red saree with a matching red blouse. Underneath the saree I had worn my red petticoat. Over my breasts sat my white bra, and between my legs I wore my white panties. The red saree was neatly pleated and pinned at the shoulder. The blouse fitted close around my full breasts. My mangalsutra rested against my neck as usual.
My phone vibrated on the desk.
I unlocked it. My husband was already home, waiting for me.
Husband:
I’m already hard thinking about you. Come home soon. I want that red saree on the floor tonight.
I felt my cheeks warm. A small smile pulled at my lips as I typed back.
Me:
I’m still in the office… don’t talk like that now.
Husband:
Why not? I’m lying naked on the bed. My cock is already stiff. I’m stroking it slowly thinking about your heavy breasts.
My face grew hotter. I bit my lower lip and glanced at the closed office door.
Me:
You’re impossible… I’m still at college.
Husband:
I don’t care. When you walk in, I’m going to pull your saree down to your waist and suck your nipples through the blouse until they get hard. Then I’ll open the blouse and take your bare breasts in my mouth.
I pressed my thighs together under the desk, blushing harder.
Me:
Stop messaging like this… my face is getting red.
Husband:
Good. I want it red. Tell me what you’re wearing under the saree.
Me:
My usual… white bra and white panties.
Husband:
I’m going to remove both with my teeth tonight. First I’ll push your red blouse up and suck your nipples until you start breathing fast. Then I’ll pull your petticoat up and press my mouth between your legs over those white panties.
A soft, embarrassed breath left me. I shifted slightly in the chair.
Me:
You’re so shameless…
Husband:
You like it. I’m going to drag those white panties down your thighs slowly and look at your pussy before I do anything. I want to see how wet you are when you reach home.
I felt heat spreading between my legs. My fingers hesitated over the phone.
Me:
I’m in the principal’s office…
Husband:
And I’m stroking my cock thinking about spreading your legs on this bed. I’m going to eat your pussy until your thighs start shaking. I won’t stop even when you try to push my head away. I’ll keep licking until you drip on my face.
My breathing had become uneven. I pressed my thighs tighter.
Husband:
After that I’ll turn you over, keep your red saree on, pull it up to your waist and push my cock into you from behind. I’ll hold your heavy breasts while I fuck you deep. I want to hear the sound of my body hitting your ass.
A quiet sound escaped my throat. I covered my mouth with one hand.
Me:
You’re making it very difficult to sit here…
Husband:
Good. Stay there a little longer and keep reading. I want you to feel it. Tonight I’m going to fuck you slowly first, then hard. I’ll make you tell me how wet you got sitting in that chair reading my messages.
I sat there staring at the screen, face burning. Between my legs I could already feel my white panties starting to stick lightly to my pussy.
Husband:
Don’t put the phone down yet. Tell me the truth. Are you getting wet?
I stayed silent for a few seconds, the ceiling fan turning slowly above me. Finally I typed.
Me:
…Yes.


I locked the phone and placed it face down on the desk. My cheeks were still warm, and between my legs the slight wetness in my white panties had not gone away. I took a slow breath, straightened my red saree, and called out.
“Narasimhan… come inside.”
He entered the office a few moments later, holding the attendance register against his side.
Narasimhan was only five years younger than me. He was a rustic man with dark skin, a rough face, and uneven features that most people would call ugly. His hair was thick and slightly unkempt. Years of outdoor work had left his hands hard and his body lean but not attractive. He lived alone in the small tiled house behind the college building, the same quarters my father had given him when he first joined as the attender.
He stood in front of my desk and waited.
I kept my voice steady and practical.
“Tomorrow is Independence Day. Even though the college is closed because of the heavy rain warning, I will still hoist the flag. Be here by 7:30 in the morning. Clean the area around the flagpole properly before I arrive. Keep the flag ready. Only you and I will be there.”
Narasimhan nodded slowly.
“Yes, Madam. But the rain is going to be very heavy. The ground will become muddy, and the flag will get completely wet.”
I looked at him directly.
“That does not matter. We have hoisted the flag every year since my father started this college. We will do it tomorrow as well. Just be ready on time.”
He gave a short nod.
“I will be ready, Madam. I stay just behind the college, so I can come early and clean everything.”
“Good,” I said. “You can go now.”
Narasimhan turned and left the office, closing the door quietly behind him. I sat back in my chair for a moment, still feeling the faint warmth between my thighs from the messages my husband had sent. Outside, the empty college compound remained silent.


I locked the principal’s office door and tested the handle once to make sure it was properly shut. The corridor outside was already dark. I switched off the last tube light near the entrance and stepped into the open college compound. The evening sky had turned a deep grey. The air felt heavy and still, carrying the clear smell of coming rain. A few dry leaves moved slowly across the ground with the weak breeze.
My red Honda Activa stood under the small asbestos shed near the main gate, exactly where I had parked it in the morning. I walked towards it, the pleats of my red saree shifting against my legs with each step. The blouse felt slightly warm against my full breasts after sitting in the office for so long. My white bra held them firmly in place, and I could still feel the faint dampness in my white panties from the messages earlier.
I unlocked the Activa, lifted the side stand, and sat on the seat. The red saree spread around me as I settled. I adjusted the front pleats carefully so they would not get caught in the chain, then pulled the loose end of the saree firmly over my left shoulder and tucked it once at the waist. I turned the key, pressed the starter, and the engine came to life with a low, steady sound.
I rode out through the college gate and onto the narrow village road. The wind immediately pressed against my body. The red saree clung lightly to my stomach and thighs. My heavy breasts shifted slightly inside the blouse with the movement of the scooter. I kept both feet firmly on the footboard and held the handle with a steady grip. The road was mostly empty. A few streetlights had already come on, casting dull yellow patches on the tar.
As I rode past the small row of houses, the saree kept fluttering at the edges. I felt the petticoat underneath moving softly against my legs. The white panties remained snug between my thighs, still carrying that slight wetness from earlier. I did not stop anywhere. The short ride home took only a few minutes, but every turn of the road made the red blouse press and release against my breasts, reminding me that I was still fully dressed exactly as I had been in the office.


I slowed the Activa as I reached our house and turned into the small compound. The gate was already open. I rode in carefully, stopped near the side wall, and switched off the engine. For a moment I sat on the seat without moving, both feet flat on the ground, listening to the quiet of the evening. The sky above the house had grown darker. The first light smell of rain hung in the air.
I put the side stand down and got off the scooter. The red saree settled around my legs again as I stood. I locked the Activa, removed the key, and walked towards the front door. My slippers made soft sounds on the cement floor of the veranda. The door was unlocked, as usual when my husband was already home. I pushed it open and stepped inside.
The house felt still. I closed the door behind me and bent down to remove my slippers, placing them neatly near the wall. The red saree shifted as I bent, the blouse pulling slightly across my full breasts. I straightened and stood for a second in the small living room, listening.
There was no sound of the boys. No television, no running footsteps, no voices from the other rooms. I walked a few steps further and called out once in a normal voice.
“Boys?”
No reply came. I understood immediately. My three sons were still outside, playing somewhere in the neighbourhood lanes as they did most evenings. They would return only when it became fully dark or when they got hungry. For now the house remained quiet. Only my husband was inside.
I adjusted the end of my red saree over my shoulder once more and walked deeper into the house, still wearing everything exactly as I had worn in the college — red saree, red blouse, red petticoat, white bra and white panties.


I walked straight into the kitchen without going to the bedroom to change. The lights were already on. The small kitchen felt warm from the residual heat of the afternoon. I had not removed even a single piece of clothing. My red saree was still dbangd exactly as it had been in the college office, the pleats neat at the waist, the loose end resting over my left shoulder. The matching red blouse continued to fit closely around my full breasts. Underneath, my red petticoat hung against my legs, and my white bra and white panties remained in place.
I washed my hands under the tap, rubbing the soap slowly between my palms and between my fingers before rinsing them. Water droplets clung briefly to my wrists before I wiped them on the edge of a towel. I opened the vegetable basket and took out onions, tomatoes and green chillies. Placing the wooden chopping board on the counter, I began slicing the onions first. The knife moved in steady, practiced motions. Each time I leaned forward slightly, the red blouse pressed against my heavy breasts, and I could feel the soft weight of them shifting inside my white bra.
I heated the pan on the stove and poured a little oil. While waiting for it to warm, I continued chopping. The red saree stayed properly in place, but the movement of my arms made the fabric at my waist shift gently against my stomach and hips. My white panties felt slightly warm between my legs from the earlier messages and the scooter ride. I did not stop to adjust anything. I kept working — adding the onions to the pan, stirring them as they began to soften, then reaching for the tomatoes.
The smell of the hot oil and onions slowly filled the kitchen. I stood there in my full college clothes, red saree still pinned and dbangd, preparing dinner as if it were any other evening, the faint memory of my husband’s messages still present somewhere under the ordinary movements of my hands.


I heard soft footsteps behind me while I was still stirring the onions in the pan. My husband had come into the kitchen. He did not speak at first. He simply walked up and stopped very close behind me. I felt the warmth of his body before he even touched me.
His hands settled on my waist over my red saree. The saree wrinkled slightly under his fingers as he held me. He stepped closer until his chest pressed lightly against my back.
“You took so long,” he said in a low voice, close to my ear. “I’ve been hard since those messages.”
I kept stirring, though my hand had slowed.
“I had to give instructions for tomorrow,” I replied quietly. “The boys are still outside.”
“I know.” His right hand slid upward and cupped my heavy breast over my red blouse. He squeezed it firmly. “I’ve been thinking about these since you left. Did you get wet reading my messages?”
I swallowed.
“A little… don’t start now. I’m cooking.”
He ignored that. His thumb moved across my nipple through my red blouse and white bra until it hardened.
“Only a little?” he asked, pressing his cock against my ass through my red saree. “Your voice is already changing.”
I tried to keep my tone normal.
“The onions will burn.”
“Let them.” His other hand began gathering my red saree and red petticoat upward along my thigh. “I want to feel you first.”
My red saree and red petticoat rose higher. Cool air touched my exposed thigh. He kept lifting until both my red saree and red petticoat were bunched around my waist. His fingers found the edge of my white panties and simply pulled them to one side.
“You’re already sticky,” he muttered, rubbing the head of his cock slowly along my pussy lips. “You were wet in the office, weren’t you?”
I gripped the kitchen counter with my free hand. My voice came out lower than before.
“Don’t talk like that… they might come back any time.”
“Then I’ll be quick,” he said, still rubbing himself against me. “But I’m going to fuck you right here. Keep holding the counter.”
I felt the thick head of his cock press more firmly between my pussy lips. He did not push inside yet. He only held himself there, breathing against my neck, one hand still squeezing my breast over my red blouse while the onions continued to sizzle quietly in the pan.


He pushed the thick head of his cock between my pussy lips and slowly forced himself inside me. I was already so wet that he slid in easier than I expected. I felt every inch stretching my pussy open as he sank deeper, until his lower stomach pressed tightly against my bare ass. A shaky breath left my mouth. My fingers tightened hard on the kitchen counter.
“Ah…”
He was fully inside me now. My pussy clenched around his cock on its own. One of his hands squeezed my heavy breast roughly over my red blouse and white bra, pinching my nipple through the layers. The other hand gripped my hip, holding my red saree and red petticoat high around my waist. My white panties stayed pulled to the side, completely useless.
He pulled back and thrust in again, harder this time.
“Fuck… you’re dripping,” he groaned against my neck.
I bit my lip but could not stop the soft moan that followed. My pussy was soaked. Each time he pushed his cock deep into me, wet sounds filled the kitchen. I pushed my ass back against him without thinking, wanting him deeper. My full breasts swung heavily inside my white bra with every thrust. The red blouse strained across them.
He started fucking me in a steady, strong rhythm. His cock slid in and out of my wet pussy with short, powerful strokes. The slap of his body against my ass grew louder. I could feel my pussy lips gripping him every time he pulled back. My legs were already trembling.
“Yes… keep going,” I whispered, my voice thick with need.
He groaned and fucked me faster. One hand left my breast and reached down between my legs, finding my swollen clit. He rubbed it firmly in circles while his cock kept driving deep into my pussy. The double sensation made my mouth open. A longer moan slipped out before I could stop it.
“You’re so fucking wet for me,” he muttered. “Your pussy is sucking my cock.”
I was. I could feel how slippery I had become. My white panties were completely shifted aside, and my pussy was openly taking every hard thrust. I pushed back harder to meet him, my heavy breasts bouncing inside the blouse with the force. The red saree remained bunched at my waist, exposing everything from behind.
He rubbed my clit faster and thrust deeper. My thighs started shaking. The pleasure built quickly and sharply. I gripped the counter so hard my knuckles turned light. Another moan broke from my throat, louder this time.
“Don’t stop… fuck me…”
He obeyed. He held my hip tightly and pounded into my wet pussy with strong, deep strokes, his fingers still working my clit, while I stood bent over the kitchen counter in my red saree, moaning under my breath, completely lost in how good his cock felt inside me.


His cock was driving deep into my wet pussy with short, powerful thrusts. Every stroke made a clear wet sound. My white panties remained pulled to the side, and my red saree and red petticoat stayed bunched tightly around my waist. I was bent over the kitchen counter, both hands gripping the edge, my full breasts swinging heavily inside my white bra and red blouse with every impact of his body against my ass.
“I’m close,” he growled against my neck, fucking me harder.
I was already there. My pussy kept clenching around his cock on its own. The pressure in my lower stomach built fast and sharp. His fingers rubbed my swollen clit in tight, firm circles while his cock kept thrusting deep. My legs started shaking badly.
Suddenly I heard faint voices outside the compound wall — children’s voices, laughing and calling to each other. My heart jumped.
“Wait… the boys…” I whispered urgently, trying to straighten up.
He did not stop. He held my hip tighter and kept pounding his cock into me.
“They’re still far,” he muttered. “Just take it.”
The risk made everything sharper. My pussy gripped his cock harder with every stroke. A broken moan left my mouth as the pleasure suddenly peaked, mixed with fear.
“Ahh… ahh… I’m coming… hurry…”
My whole body tensed. My pussy began pulsing strongly around his cock as I came, the orgasm rolling through me in waves while I kept listening for the front gate. I pushed my ass back and held the counter for support, moaning through clenched teeth so I would not be too loud.
“Ahh… nnnh… ahh…”
He groaned deeply and buried his cock as deep as he could.
“Fuck… take it… I’m coming inside you…”
I felt his cock throb hard inside my pussy. Thick, hot cum began shooting into me in strong spurts. His cock kept grinding against my ass while it emptied itself, filling me completely. He moaned roughly with every spurt, trying to keep his voice low.
“Ugh… ahh… fuck…”
Outside, the children’s voices seemed a little closer. Panic mixed with the last waves of my orgasm. My pussy continued to flutter weakly around his cock as the final pulses of his cum spilled into me. Slow, sticky trails of his cum began to leak out around his cock and onto my white panties that were still shifted to the side.
“Pull out… quickly…” I whispered, breathing hard.
He slowly pulled his cock out. I immediately pushed my red saree and red petticoat down, trying to cover myself. My white panties were still wet and sticky with his cum. I stood upright on slightly trembling legs, face flushed, heart beating fast, listening carefully for the sound of the front door while the forgotten onions continued to burn lightly in the pan.


I quickly adjusted my red saree and washed my hands. The onions had burned slightly, so I had to start that part of the dinner again. By the time the food was ready, I heard the boys returning. Their voices and footsteps filled the house as they came in, laughing and arguing about their game. I served dinner quietly — rice, the freshly made side dishes, and some curd. We all sat together and ate. My husband spoke normally with the boys as if nothing had happened in the kitchen earlier. I kept my eyes on my plate, still feeling the sticky wetness of his cum inside my white panties under the red saree.
After dinner the boys went to their room. I cleared the plates and wiped the kitchen counter. My body still carried the smell of sex and sweat under the red saree. I went to the bathroom, locked the door, and removed everything — my red saree, red blouse, red petticoat, white bra and the stained white panties. I stood under the shower and let the warm water run over my full breasts, stomach and between my legs. I washed his cum away slowly, cleaning my pussy with my fingers until no stickiness remained. The water felt soothing after the rough kitchen fucking.
When I came out I dried myself and changed into a simple cotton nighty. It was loose and comfortable, reaching mid-thigh. I did not wear any bra or panties under it. My hair was still slightly damp when I switched off the lights and went to our bedroom.
My husband was already in bed. He looked tired. The moment I lay down beside him, he turned toward me, pulled me closer, and placed his arm heavily over my waist. Within a minute his breathing became deep and even. He had fallen asleep.
I lay still on my back. His arm stayed across my stomach, and part of his upper body rested against my side and chest. The weight of him was warm and familiar. I could feel his slow breathing against my shoulder. The nighty had ridden up a little, but I did not adjust it. I simply stayed under his arm, listening to the quiet house, and slowly closed my eyes.


to be continued  ]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75020.html Sat, 22 Aug 2026 06:06:09 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75020.html

The Goddess

Synopsis:
In a remote Tamil forest village, three beautiful married women — Sudha, Sathyavathi and Malliga — live quiet, devoted lives until a ruthless sand-smuggling gang arrives.
The men of the village are too weak to stop them.
The women are not.
What begins as forced kisses, rough hands under sarees, and public claiming slowly turns into something darker and far more intimate. The three women are used, marked, and left aching. When the gang finally steals the sacred idol of their Goddess, Sudha and her friends make a dangerous decision.
They will seduce the very men who violated them.
They will lead them into the caves.
And they will push them off the cliff.
But desire is never simple.
In the heat of revenge, bodies betray minds. Pleasure mixes with hatred. And one of the women finds herself falling for the man she is supposed to destroy.
A raw, erotic, and violent story of lust, sacrifice, and the dangerous price of saving what is sacred.
They did it for the Goddess.
They lost parts of themselves along the way.]]>

The Goddess

Synopsis:
In a remote Tamil forest village, three beautiful married women — Sudha, Sathyavathi and Malliga — live quiet, devoted lives until a ruthless sand-smuggling gang arrives.
The men of the village are too weak to stop them.
The women are not.
What begins as forced kisses, rough hands under sarees, and public claiming slowly turns into something darker and far more intimate. The three women are used, marked, and left aching. When the gang finally steals the sacred idol of their Goddess, Sudha and her friends make a dangerous decision.
They will seduce the very men who violated them.
They will lead them into the caves.
And they will push them off the cliff.
But desire is never simple.
In the heat of revenge, bodies betray minds. Pleasure mixes with hatred. And one of the women finds herself falling for the man she is supposed to destroy.
A raw, erotic, and violent story of lust, sacrifice, and the dangerous price of saving what is sacred.
They did it for the Goddess.
They lost parts of themselves along the way.]]>