[Neelkantha]

Since I am still unable to post properly (by using "New Reply" option), and remain restricted from posting new updates, editing old and existing posts, or replying to other's comments, I am currently unable to respond to any comments or update the index of this story. As soon as this issue is resolved, the index will be updated immediately. I sincerely apologize to you all for the inconvenience this has caused. Until this problem is fully resolved, I will continue to post using the "Quick Reply" option. I hope the administrators will take this issue seriously and fix it as soon as possible. Thank you, ~ Neelkantha

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ananth1986 ~Would Rozina madam teach Raju or the vice versa?? that is the real question I presume.

[Neelkantha]

rajeev19 ~ I too was worried. If really Raju turns out to be a homosexual person, it would be pity for hi. Havin such luscious mami in hand homosexuality is next to grave disaster to him.

[Neelkantha]

Peeping Into Pihu’s Bedroom Through The Eye Of AI – Volume 2 – Part 3

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Stay Tuned For More…

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Peeping Into Pihu’s Bedroom Through The Eye Of AI – Volume 2 – Part 4

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Stay Tuned For More…

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Part 206 – Raju Went To Madam's House To Study

Pihu’s POV-

Raju began narrating his story to me, and I kept listening. “As the two of us stepped into Rozina Madam’s flat, a thick darkness enveloped everything around us. I couldn't see a thing. But the very next moment, a sudden burst of bright light seemed to blur my entire vision. I rubbed my eyes and glanced to my side, only to see that Madam had flipped the switch located right next to the door, instantly illuminating the entire flat. Then, turning to look at me, she said, ‘Come in. You are most welcome to my flat,’ and led me inside. Once inside, my head began to spin. I had only ever seen a flat this massive and opulent in the movies. Madam’s flat was a 3-BHK unit, complete with an open-plan kitchen area and a dining hall. I, too, was born and raised in the city, and my own home is quite spacious; yet, I could never have imagined, even in my wildest dreams, that a flat could be this vast and luxurious. The combined area of the drawing room and dining hall was large enough to serve as a playing field where one could easily play cricket or football. The drawing room was furnished with sofas, armchairs, and a center table. Mounted on the wall was a massive smart TV, I’d estimate its size to be around 75 inches, if not larger, accompanied by a Dolby sound system. That setup alone must have cost at least a one lakh rupees. The entire flat was centrally air-conditioned. Suspended from the ceiling right in the center of the drawing room hung a grand chandelier. Amidst all this, as I took in everything before my eyes, I completely lost track of just how much money all of this must have cost. Looking at Madam’s flat, one thing became abundantly clear to me: she was incredibly wealthy and affluent. Her immense wealth and high status were evident from the mere sight of her flat. After entering the drawing room, I must have been gawking around like a complete fool; noticing this, Madam smiled slightly and said, ‘Please sit down; I’ll get you some water. Oh, and yes, hand me that packet.’ As she spoke, she gestured toward the packet of food I was holding in my hand. I handed the packet I was holding to Madam. Taking the packet, Madam walked toward the open-plan kitchen situated right in front of us. A short while later, she returned with a tray holding two glasses of water. She handed one glass to me and kept the other for herself. After drinking the water, I returned the glass to Madam. Madam went back into the kitchen, set down the tray, and returned. Then, approaching me, she said, ‘Sit here. I’m going to go freshen up for a bit. Then, after having a light snack, we’ll start our studies. You brought your books and notes and such, didn't you?’ I nodded my head in affirmation. She replied, ‘Alright, have a seat. I’ll be back shortly. In the meantime, if you like, you can watch TV. The TV remote is on that table over there. I’ll be right back.’ Saying this, Madam walked toward one of the three large rooms in the apartment. I realized that it must be her bedroom. Madam entered the room and closed the door behind her. I set down my bag and sat on the sofa in the living room. It was the first time I had ever sat on a sofa with such soft, plush cushions. I turned on the TV using the remote. It felt as though I were sitting in a movie theater, watching a film on the big screen. After watching TV for a while, Madam emerged from her room. She was still wearing a saree, though now it was a simple, everyday saree suitable for home wear. She said, ‘Come and sit at the dining table. I’ll warm up our snack.’ Madam was behaving quite naturally with me, almost as if I were her own son. She appeared to be about the same age as my mother, perhaps a year or two older at most. I got the distinct impression that she was thinking of me just like she would her own son. Anyway, I turned off the TV, walked over to the dining table, and took a seat. The table itself was quite large, an eight-seater, with three chairs on each side and two at the ends. I walked over and sat down in one of the chairs. Based on everything I had seen since arriving at this flat, it was evident that they were quite wealthy. Yet, at the same time one particular thought kept nagging at me. Such a massive flat, so many amenities, such sheer opulence, yet, apart from Madam, no one else seemed to live here. For one thing, ever since I had arrived at this flat, I hadn't seen a single third person other than the two of us. And most importantly, the flat had been locked from the outside. Madam had actually unlocked the door to enter. If there had been anyone else at home, it stood to reason that she wouldn't have locked the place from the outside like that. This implied that she lived all alone in this sprawling flat. In a space where at least six to eight people could comfortably reside, Madam was living entirely by herself, and doing so amidst such wealth and luxury. I had heard that she was divorced from her husband. So, did she have no children at all? If she did, where were they? Did they not live with her? And if Madam had indeed divorced her husband, why did she live in such solitude? Why didn't she live with her own family? A multitude of questions swirled through my mind. Sitting right there at the dining table, I was lost in deep contemplation, pondering all these thoughts, when suddenly, Madam emerged from the kitchen carrying a couple of casseroles and two plates. She started to set them down on the table. Before she could do so, however, I stood up, took the items from her hands, and began placing them on the table myself. Once everything was laid out, Madam smiled, said ‘Thanks,’ and took a seat in the chair directly across from me. She then proceeded to serve the food from the casseroles onto the two plates.”

“Then, looking at me with a slight smile, she remarked, ‘You started thinking about something again, didn't you? Why do you think so much? When you get lost in thought, you become so engrossed that you don't even realize what is happening around you. I’ve noticed it many times in class, too, while studying, you’ll suddenly drift off into your own thoughts.’ What she said was true; blushing slightly, I replied, ‘No, Madam, it’s nothing like that.’ She said, ‘It’s better if it isn't. Always keep your focus fixed on your work and your immediate surroundings. Understood? Here, eat this now.’ I said, ‘Madam, I can’t possibly eat this much food.’ Looking at me, Madam asked, ‘Since when did you Bengalis start turning down food? I’ve always heard that you people are quite fond of eating!’ Laughing, I replied, ‘We certainly are, but I just can’t eat this much all at once.’ She said, ‘At least give it a try. You’re a young man, if you don’t eat heartily now, when will you? Go ahead and eat. We’ll start our studies once we’re done eating.’ Without saying another word, I simply nodded and began to eat. As we ate, Madam asked me, ‘Tell me, then, what exactly were you thinking about just now?’ I replied, ‘Nothing in particular, Madam.’ Madam spoke in a gentle voice, ‘People don’t just sit there, oblivious to the world around them, for ‘no particular reason.’ Tell me, what was on your mind?’ Blushing even more now, I confessed, ‘Please don’t take offense, Madam, but...I was actually thinking about you.’ Madam had been chatting casually while eating alongside me, but the moment I said that, she stopped eating. She paused for a brief instant to look at me, and as she did, her eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. I had noticed this before: whenever Madam was taken aback or surprised, her eyebrows would instinctively arch just like that. With a voice tinged with surprise, Madam asked me, ‘About me? What on earth were you thinking about me?’ I immediately replied, ‘Please don't get me wrong, Madam. I was just wondering how you manage to live all alone in such a spacious flat.’ Madam replied in slightly annoyed voice, ‘Why? Just because I am a woman, does that mean I cannot live alone?’ I said, ‘No. That is not what I meant.’ Madam then stopped eating completely, looked directly at me, and said in a somber voice, ‘Always remember one thing I tell you; it will serve you well in life. Never, ever depend on anyone in this life. Strive to be as self-reliant as possible. The moment you begin to depend on someone, no matter who that person is: a mother, father, husband, wife, son, daughter, or anyone else, you will develop a habit of relying on them. And when that very person eventually leaves you all alone, you will forever feel their absence. You will never be able to truly recover from that void. Therefore, never let anyone become a habit in your life. Do you understand?’ Having said this, she paused for a moment. I felt that, given she was divorced and her husband had left her all alone like this, she was likely saying these things to me because of her own experiences. Before I could offer a reply, Madam spoke again: ‘Just look at me. You probably already know that I am divorced. I am currently forty-six years old. My divorce took place ten years ago, meaning I was thirty-five or thirty-six at the time. Just imagine: through what lens does our society view a thirty-six-year-old divorced woman? Everyone began to look at me through that very same lens. But I pay absolutely no heed to any of it. I live my life entirely on my own terms.’ She paused once more after saying this. Then she continued, ‘Mine was a love marriage. We studied together in college; that is where our romance began. However, we belonged to different religions. Consequently, neither of our families gave us their consent to marry. Yet, at that time, we were so deeply immersed in our love for one another that the thought of parting ways seemed utterly impossible to us. We ran away from home and got married. My husband is a scientist. He works for the government. He has heaps of money and lives a life of luxury. He never once let me feel the lack of anything whatsoever. Whatever I asked for, he would bring it home the very next day. He loved me deeply, too. For him, spending even a single moment away from me was unthinkable. For me, too, he was everything. After our marriage, we both became estranged from our respective families; they refused to acknowledge us. But it made no difference to us. We had built our own little world together. We got married at a rather young age; we were the same age. When we tied the knot, we were both twenty-four years old. Our marriage lasted for twelve years. After twelve years, we separated. We had vowed never to let go of each other's hands for a lifetime, yet in a single instant, we were torn apart. This flat you are looking at, it belongs to him. After our divorce, he transferred the title of this flat into my name. We had been living here for about five years prior to our divorce. After the divorce, he moved out. I have often thought about selling everything here and moving away to some other place. I don't enjoy living alone in such a large house. But then I remind myself that this home was purchased with the sweat and toil of both of us. So many of our shared memories are intertwined with this house. I simply cannot bring myself to sell it just like that.’ Having said this, Madam fell silent. I had never imagined that Madam was such an emotional person on the inside. Perhaps that is precisely why she walks around wearing this facade of artificial toughness and arrogance, so that no one ever gets to see this vulnerable side of her.”

“I asked her, ‘Haven’t you contacted your family after your divorce? And do you not have any children?’ Madam looked at me and said, ‘That’s enough for today. Finish your food quickly; it’s getting late.’ I realized that if I kept asking like this, Madam wouldn’t reveal anything. She would only share details when she felt ready to do so. I quietly finished my meal. Then, we both went and sat in the drawing room. Sitting opposite each other on the sofa, Madam began to tutor me. I felt quite comfortable studying under her guidance. Madam explained everything to me with great clarity. In this manner, time passed. It struck nine o’clock at night. I said to Madam, ‘Madam, I’ll take my leave now. It’s gotten quite late. I’ll come again tomorrow.’ Madam glanced at the clock and replied, ‘Alright. From tomorrow onwards, try to come a little earlier. I’ll be back early as well, so we can get a bit more studying done. Also, do one thing: come here at 9:00 AM on Sunday. We’ll sit and study together for the entire day. Is that okay?’ I replied, ‘Okay. I’ll head out now.’ She said, ‘Wait. How are you going to get back to your hostel at this late hour?’ I said, ‘I’ll just catch an auto-rickshaw or something.’ She said, ‘Alright. Tell the watchman downstairs; he’ll help you find an auto.’ Saying, ‘Okay, Madam. Good night,’ I left her house. I was deeply impressed by Madam’s demeanor. People unfairly malign her simply because they fail to understand her. I went downstairs, caught an auto, and reached my hostel. That day marked the beginning of my private tutoring sessions with her. I would go to study in the evenings, from Monday through Saturday. And on Sundays, I would arrive at her house at 9:00 AM. I would then spend the entire day there, studying, eating, and even taking a bath. Gradually, my academic performance began to improve. My weekly tests, too, started yielding good results once again, just as they used to in the past. Madam was pleased. And I certainly was, too. I simply told everyone that I was attending private tuition classes. Two months passed in this manner. During these two months, aside from my studies, nothing particularly eventful took place. But yes, I did have a great many conversations with Madam. I had come to know a great deal about her. Her family members had refused to have any contact with her. She had given birth to a son, but he had passed away shortly after birth. Subsequently, despite their best efforts, they were unable to have any other children. It was this issue that sparked the conflicts between her and her husband. It didn't take long for minor disagreements to escalate into major disputes. Eventually, the situation reached the point of divorce. Yet, according to Madam, she still loves her husband to this day, and he, too, loves her. Hearing her story saddened me, though, for my part, everything in my life was going well. But then, one day, something happened, an event after which the relationship between Madam and me seemed to change completely. And from that very day, I began to view Madam through a different lens.” Having said this, Raju fell silent. I (Pihu) looked at him and asked, “What happened that day?” Raju began recounting his story once again: “The time I’m speaking of was when my first-semester exams of that year were drawing near. Just like any other day, I went to Madam’s house that day as well to study. While tutoring me, Madam asked, ‘How is your preparation coming along? Your exams are just around the corner, you haven't forgotten that, have you?’ I replied, ‘Madam, please don’t worry; my preparation is going well. I am absolutely going to score 70 percent in the exams this time.’ Hearing this, Madam shook her head and said, ‘No, 70 percent won't cut it. You simply must score at least 80 percent. Do you understand?’ I said, ‘I’ll try my best, Madam.’ Madam responded, ‘Trying is certainly something you have to do. But I want results, specifically, 80 percent. If you score even one percent less than that, I will stop tutoring you.’ Hearing Madam say this, I felt as though she were issuing me a challenge of sorts. And I happen to love a good challenge. I said, ‘Alright, Madam. I will definitely score at least 80 percent in these exams. But what do I get in return?’ Now, I had asked this question quite innocently. I swear, there wasn't a single improper thought in my mind. However, upon hearing the answer Madam gave to my question, I felt, for the very first time, that she was intending to convey one thing, yet saying something else entirely.” Having said this much, Raju fell silent once again. I (Pihu) asked him, “Why? What exactly did your Madam say that made you feel as though she was hinting at something else entirely?” Upon hearing my question, Raju said, “Before I answer that, let me tell you one more thing: during the two months I had been going to Madam’s house for my studies, she treated me just like a friend. Sometimes, I found it difficult to distinguish between the ‘Madam at home’ and the ‘Madam at the university.’ This was because, while tutoring me, she was always in a very normal, chilled-out, and relaxed mood. She never got angry with me, never shouted, never scolded. Whatever I asked her, she would explain to me with great patience. Yet, that very same Madam would transform into a completely different person once she went to the university. She would do all the things she never did at home, getting angry, shouting, and scolding without provocation. It felt to me as though they were two entirely different people. I began to wonder: which of these two was her true personality? The one at home? Or the one at the university? If her true nature was, in fact, the ‘university persona’, the angry one, then why did she treat me so well at home? Was it just on a whim? Or was there some underlying reason behind it? I didn’t usually dwell on these things too much, simply because things were working out for me. Madam taught me well, and my studies were showing marked improvement. So, why should I bother thinking about all this unnecessarily? But from that day on, I had no choice but to think about it.”

“Because on that day, for the very first time, I began to suspect that Madam had something else on her mind. Upon hearing my question, Madam gazed at my face for a moment raising her eyebrows a little, perhaps deep in thought. Then, she spoke softly: ‘If you score 80 percent or higher in this exam, I will give you something you could never even have imagined.’ Now, one could interpret this statement in a straightforward manner. And most people would interpret it simply, that Madam intends to give me some sort of surprise gift. However, deep down, I sensed that beneath this seemingly ordinary remark, Madam was trying to convey something else entirely, something she wasn't explicitly revealing to me. What grand thing could Madam be talking about giving me, something I had never even dared to imagine? Was there, then, a hidden subtext to her words, a subtle hint she was dropping through her conversation? Until now, throughout these past two months, I had never perceived a different side to Madam. It had never even crossed my mind that her personality might be of this nature. But then, I recalled something Alex had once said. When Alex was telling me about his mother and her boyfriend, and I was skeptical of his claims, he had shown me photographs of the two of them and made a specific observation; that is the memory that now resurfaced in my mind. He had said: ‘Raju, in this world, there is no creature more mysterious than a woman. Their physical and psychological makeup is far more complex than that of a man. Their bodies and minds are so intricately structured that their very thought processes are complex. It is nearly impossible to fathom the depths of a woman's mind. Believe it or not, the trajectory of a woman's thoughts is entirely different from the way you or I think. And understand this one thing: as a woman grows older, her attraction toward, and desire for, younger men only intensifies. This applies not merely to my mother, or to a few isolated cases, but to the vast majority of women in this world.’ But at the time, I didn't believe what Alex had said; I felt as though he was merely trying to justify his mother's actions by framing them within the context of how the world works. However, a specific remark made by Madam compelled me to seriously reconsider Alex's words. Yet, I couldn't, nor did I wish to judge Madam and her true nature based on just a single statement. To do that, I needed to keep a close watch on her, to determine whether she truly harbored some distinct feelings, or if it was all just a figment of my own imagination. From that day on, I began to view Madam through a different lens, while simultaneously keeping a watchful eye on her to see if she genuinely harbored any feelings for me that went beyond the ordinary. As I have mentioned before, Madam's demeanor at home was entirely different. She would joke and banter with me; she would cook meals for me; and we would often sit together, eating while watching TV or engaging in conversation. Aside from our study sessions, we spent a great deal of time simply talking. However, prior to that pivotal day, it had never once crossed my mind that Madam might harbor any feelings for me other than those of a mentor. Even in the days following that incident, I didn't observe anything particularly striking. Whatever changes did occur were so subtle that I felt it was perhaps best to simply overlook them. At home, Madam never wore anything other than a saree in my presence; I had never seen her in any other attire. Moreover, she typically dbangd her saree in a very modest and dignified manner. However, I did notice one specific detail: whenever Madam sat down to tutor me, she would lean forward, either toward me or toward the book, quite significantly. As a result, the pallu (lapel) of her saree would often slip aside, revealing her blouse and, beneath it, her huge and deep cleavage. Madam was a tall and voluptuous woman. I hadn't noticed it before, but now I began to realize just how curvaceous her figure truly was. Her boobs were quite large, a fact that was clearly discernible even through her blouse. Her back was quite broad, and where it emerged from her blouse, it looked truly magnificent. Her buttocks were large and voluptuous, protruding significantly, and appeared incredibly alluring, even beneath the folds of her saree. She possessed long, thick, jet-black hair that cascaded down to her waist. But what struck me most of all was the milky complexion of her skin, it was absolutely pristine white. At times, it felt as though she were not Indian at all, but rather a foreigner; I had only ever witnessed such a pale, milky complexion among fair-skinned Westerners. All in all, I found my Madam to be incredibly attractive and sexy. Now, my feelings toward Madam began to shift as well. While studying, I would secretly steal glances at her body. Although I couldn't see anything explicitly revealing, simply observing the contours of her figure, hidden beneath her saree and blouse, was enough to set my heart racing with desire. ‘Something else’ began to stir within me as well, something that, one day, caught Madam's eye. And that day proved to be the most significant day of my life.” (Contd.)

[Next Update is on Saturday (31.10.26) between 11 am to 2 pm]

[Neelkantha]

jamanuram ~ thanks buddy. Keep reading and enjoying.

[Neelkantha]

sat200322 ~ thanks buddy. Keep reading.

[Neelkantha]

ananth1986 ~ OMG!! Marriage!! How Raju of mere 20s can marry his madama of 40s???

[Neelkantha]

Part 207 – Madam’s Gaze Falls Upon Raju

Pihu’s POV-

“Gradually, the closeness between Rozina Madam and me began to grow.” Continuing his story in my (Pihu’s) presence, Raju began to say further, “After that day, I started feeling as though Madam was making an effort to get even closer to me than before. She began speaking to me much more openly than she ever had. Then, quite suddenly one day, she asked me if I had a girlfriend or anything of the sort. Seeing me blush in response, she laughed and said, ‘Oh, what is there to be so shy about?! Is having a girlfriend at your age such a bad thing? No! In fact, it’s quite common. Come on, tell me, do you have a girlfriend?’ When she heard the word ‘no’ escape my lips, she initially refused to believe it. And then, once it finally sank in that I truly didn’t have a girlfriend, she looked at me with a hint of astonishment and asked, ‘Despite being so handsome and so smart, you haven’t managed to find yourself a girlfriend?! Why is so? Any girl would like you. Is it that you don’t like any girls?!’ Hearing such high praise from Madam for the very first time felt wonderful. Blushing slightly, I replied, ‘It’s not quite like that, Madam.’ Madam said, ‘Then how is it? Tell me, I genuinely want to know why you don’t have a girlfriend.’ I said, ‘Oh, let’s just drop it, Madam.’ Madam insisted, ‘Why drop it? No, I want to know. Tell me.’ It was only then that I felt compelled to tell Madam about my college days. Upon hearing the story, Madam remarked, ‘Any girl who would reject and dump a bright young man like you must be an absolute fool.’ Hearing Madam say this, I got the feeling that she might be saying it on purpose. So, I decided to be a little bold and asked her, ‘Do you really think so, Madam, that I could actually win over any girl?’ Hearing my question, Madam laughed and replied, ‘Yes! Why wouldn’t any girl fall for you?! Just look at yourself, my boy. You are young. You’re quite handsome; you’re smart. Why wouldn't any girl like you? Of course she would! And just because one girl turned you down, that certainly doesn't mean you should give up on love entirely.’ I appreciated what Madam said, but at the same time, a question was bubbling up in my mind. So, I finally mustered the courage to ask her: ‘Madam, if you wouldn't take offense, could I ask you a question?’ Madam replied, ‘Go ahead.’ I said, ‘You’re telling me to fall in love, yet at the university, you keep all the boys and girls strictly separated from one another. Why is so?’ Hearing this question, Madam burst into hearty laughter. She said, ‘I know, none of you students like me because of these antics of mine. Do you? Behind my back, you’re constantly calling me an old hag, a grumpy old woman, a witch, a sorceress, all sorts of names. Isn't that right?’ Hearing Madam say this, I felt a flush of embarrassment, because it was absolutely true. Everyone did call her by those names, and Madam was well aware of it. Madam spoke again: ‘Look, that is my job. People go there to study. I am not against love; however, I am definitely against pursuing love at the expense of one's education. Once you’ve finished your studies and secured a job, then, by all means, go chase after your love; I wouldn't have a single objection. But boys and girls these days don't seem to understand that. They think that love is everything. Love might mean a great deal to many people, but it isn't everything. First, make something of yourself; then pursue your love life. That is my philosophy. I did exactly the same thing in my own life.’ I felt that Madam’s words were both sensible and true. Mustering my courage once more, I asked, ‘Do you really think I could win over any girl?’ Madam replied, ‘Absolutely. There isn't a shadow of a doubt about it.’ At that moment, the words just tumbled out of my mouth: ‘And...what about a woman?’ I still don't know why I chose to ask her that particular question at that particular moment. However, upon hearing it, Madam seemed slightly taken aback and paused. Her eyebrows arched slightly once again. She began to look at me over the rims of her glasses, as if she were trying to decipher the true meaning behind my inquiry. I had blurted out the question in haste, and now there was no taking it back. So I said, ‘I'm sorry, Madam; I didn't mean anything by it. I just asked on a whim.’ But Madam offered no response to this explanation either. It seemed as though my question had left her deep in thought. I couldn't tell whether she was angry with me or not. After that, Madam said nothing further regarding that topic; she simply proceeded to resume the lesson. I, too, could not muster the courage to push the matter any further. Meanwhile, I had found myself in another predicament: it was becoming increasingly difficult for me to keep all of this a secret from Alex. Moreover, three months had already passed since I had started going to Madam for private tutoring. So, one day, I finally confessed to Alex that I was taking private lessons from Madam, and I requested that he not mention it to anyone else. He asked me if “anything” had happened between us during those three months. I replied, ‘What could possibly happen?’ Alex said, ‘You know, the kind of thing that happens between a man and a woman. Sex.’ Hearing this, I exclaimed, ‘Have you lost your mind, buddy? Let alone actually doing anything, if I were to even think something like that about her, she’d probably beat me to a pulp! You don't know her like I do. The entire department lives in fear of her!’ Alex retorted, ‘So what? She is a woman, after all, isn't she? Plus, according to you, she’s been divorced for ten years. And in these ten years, neither has her husband visited her, nor has she been involved with any other man. Do you realize what that implies?’ I asked, ‘No. What does it imply actually?’ Hearing my response, Alex threw his hands up in exasperation.”

“I said Alex, ‘You can beat your head against the wall later; first, just clarify what exactly you’re trying to say to me.’ Alex replied, ‘If I don’t beat my head against the wall, what am I supposed to do? You didn’t even grasp something as simple as that?’ I said, ‘No. You tell me.’ Alex said, ‘Oh, come on! It means that for the last ten years, she hasn’t gotten fucked by anyone. And if a woman goes even a single day without getting fucked, she goes crazy, so just imagine how sexually starved your ‘Madam’ must be on the inside after going ten whole years without sex. A fire of lust must be raging inside her. She wants you to quell that burning desire, and yet here you are, spending three whole months doing nothing but studying with her!’ I said, ‘You’ve truly lost your mind, Alex. Could something like that actually happen? Look at her, and look at me! How could I possibly...??? No, no, you’re wrong.’ Alex argued, ‘Why couldn’t it happen? You possess exactly what she needs. So why can’t you give her the very thing she is currently in desperate need of?’ I said, ‘Even if I were to accept your premise, why did she wait for ten years? She could have simply had sex with someone long ago.’ Alex replied, ‘You still haven’t truly figured out who your ‘Madam’ is. Even after seeing her apartment, her lifestyle, and her attitude, did it not dawn on you that your ‘Madam’ isn’t just some random woman off the street, someone who would just let any random guy screw her simply because her husband left her? No; her pride, her arrogance would never allow her to do something like that.’ I asked, ‘If that’s the case, then why do you think her pride and so called arrogance wouldn’t stand in the way now?’ Instead of giving me a direct answer to that question, Alex said, ‘Alright, tell me this: roughly how many students are there in your department in total?’ I replied, ‘Somewhere around fifty, I’d say.’ Alex said, ‘So, out of those fifty students, why your Madam choose you? Why is she giving you private tuition, especially when she doesn't offer it to anyone else? And that too, without charging a single penny? Just think about it, buddy. What is her reason for choosing you? Is it because you’re good at your studies, or is there some other motive?’ I replied, ‘What other reason could there possibly be? If she simply wanted a man, she could have chosen anyone else, not just me. Why would she pick me specifically?’ Alex said, ‘That is exactly what I’ve been trying to explain to you all along! She must certainly have a specific, special reason for choosing you.’ I argued, ‘That’s all nonsense. There is no ulterior motive. I’m practically the same age as her son.’ Hearing this, Alex laughed and said, ‘Well, you just gave me one reason yourself right now! Remember what I told you? There are many women in this world who, as they get older, find themselves attracted not to men their own age or older, but to younger guys. That is one possible reason she chose you. The second reason is that you’re quite handsome. You’re smart, too. In one way or another, you fit her specific preferences. That is precisely why she picked you. Nothing in this world happens without a cause; there is always a reason behind everything. And take my word for it: your Madam has definitely developed a soft spot for you. Now, it’s entirely up to you whether or not you decide to take advantage of the situation. But I can tell you one thing for sure: if I were in your shoes, I would definitely have managed to win my Madam over within these three months.’ Alex’s words began to stir up a commotion in my mind. Had Madam truly agreed to tutor me solely to fulfill some hidden desire of her own? How could that be possible? Was any of this actually true, or was it just one of Alex’s wild, baseless theories, something completely unfounded and nonsensical? Nevertheless, from that moment on, I began to observe Madam with a much sharper, more critical eye. And sure enough, I actually started to notice subtle changes in her behavior. Previously, whenever she was around me, he wore nothing but a saree. One Sunday morning, at nine o'clock, I arrived at Madam's flat as usual. I rang the doorbell, but Madam did not open the door. This had never happened before; usually, she would open the door the moment the bell rang. But on that day, she finally opened the door only after I had rung the bell four times in succession. And the moment she opened the door, I was astonished by her appearance. Her hair was disheveled, and her eyes were bloodshot. It was obvious at a glance that she had just woken up. This came as yet another surprise to me, for Madam never sleeps in this late. Every day, she rises at 5:00 AM sharp, practices yoga, and then attends to her household chores. Not a single day has she ever deviated from this routine. So why had she slept in so late today? Was she unwell? I asked, ‘Madam, is everything alright? Are you feeling well?’ My question seemed to take Madam aback; she asked, ‘Why? Why would I be unwell? I am perfectly fine, absolutely fit and healthy.’ I replied, ‘No, it's just that you never sleep in this late, so I was concerned.’ Letting out a loud yawn, Madam said, ‘Yes, well, I went to bed a bit late last night. That is why I woke up late today.’ This, too, surprised me, as Madam usually goes to bed every night at 10:30 PM sharp. Anyway, I said nothing further to her and entered the house.”

“Upon entering the house, I received yet another shock. Madam was standing right in front of me, clad only in her nightie. Until this day, I had never seen Madam in any attire other than a saree. Yet here she stood today, right before my eyes, in a nightie. Seeing her dressed like that, I simply stood frozen in place. Noticing my stunned immobility, Madam grew slightly annoyed and asked, ‘What happened? Have you lost your voice? Why are you just standing there like that? Move aside; let me close the door.’ I stepped aside, and Madam shut the door. I assumed she would probably head to her bedroom to change out of her nightie and put on a saree, as she always did. But, surprising me even further, Madam asked, ‘Would you like some tea? I’m making some for myself.’ This implied that the fact she was standing before me in a nightie didn't bother her in the slightest; it hadn't even crossed her mind to put on a saree. Seeing me still standing there silently, she prodded, “Come on, tell me, are you going to have tea or not?’ I replied somehow, ‘Yes, I will.’ Madam said, ‘Alright, have a seat. I’ll go make the tea and bring it right over.’ Saying this, she turned and headed toward the kitchen. That was when my gaze fell upon her backside, or, to be more precise, her buttocks. Because she usually wore sarees, I had never been able to get a proper look at her rear before. But today, thanks to the nightie, her buttocks were clearly visible to me. They were large, perfectly rounded, and voluptuously curved, a sight that looked even more stunning beneath the sheer fabric of her nightie. And as she walked, her hips swayed in a truly seductive manner. I simply couldn't believe that I was witnessing such a sight right before my eyes, so early in the morning. I felt as though I were dreaming; surely, something like this couldn't be happening in reality. I pinched my own arm to check. It wasn't a dream. I was wide awake. And there was Madam, truly walking around right in front of me, swaying her hips just like that, while she went to make the tea. Madam began speaking to me: ‘Last night, I was watching a movie on TV. Before I knew it, it was already midnight.’ The idea that Madam could actually like a movie struck me as something entirely new. She usually dislikes every movie; in her view, all modern films are vulgar. Madam continued, ‘It was a good movie, a romantic one. I got so engrossed in watching it that the night just slipped away.’ I didn't utter a single word in response. A short while later, Madam came out with some tea and approached me to hand it over. As she bent down to offer me the tea, my gaze fell upon her, and in that instant, every hair on my body stood on end. The nightie Madam was wearing had a very deep neckline. And what I glimpsed through that wide opening left my throat completely parched. I realized that Madam wasn't wearing a bra underneath her nightie. Consequently, as she leaned forward like that, her large boobs hung downward. It was the first time I had ever seen Madam's boobs in such a manner. Seeing Madam's boobs exposed like that, I felt as though my wits had completely deserted me. Oblivious to the world around me, I simply kept staring at her boobs. I have no idea how long Madam remained bent over in front of me, nor how long I continued to stare at her boobs; I only snapped back to reality when Madam's voice reached my ears. Suddenly, I heard her say, ‘Are you going to drink your tea, or am I supposed to stand here bent over like this all day?’ I quickly averted my gaze from her hanging boobs, looked away, and, with trembling hands, accepted the teacup. Madam sat down across from me and began sipping her tea with such composure, as if absolutely nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Meanwhile, I sat there like a stone statue, the teacup still clutched in my shaky hand. Even then, the image of Madam's hanging boobs remained vivid before my eyes. Madam glanced at me once and asked, ‘What’s the matter? Are you planning to just sit there holding that cup all day? What on earth has gotten into you today? Ever since you arrived why have you been behaving so strangely ever since then?’ How could I possibly tell her that she, and she alone, was the sole reason for all of this? But just then, I realized I had another problem on my hands. I managed to start drinking my tea somehow, but that particular image kept flashing before my eyes: Madam leaning forward right in front of me, her boobs hanging visible through her nightie. All of this had already set my heart racing, but my predicament worsened when I realized that it wasn't just my heart acting up; another part of my body had also begun to stir in response to that sight. I could feel a distinct stirring inside my trousers. It was fast becoming a humiliating situation for me; I simply couldn't stop replaying that image in my mind, and the more I dwelled on it, the bigger and harder my cock grew. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep it under control, or, more importantly, to hide it from Madam's eyes. The situation was such that if Madam were to look up at me even once, she would instantly, and quite easily, realize exactly what was going on with me and my cock. And that would only compound my troubles. So, I crossed one leg over the other, attempting to use it to conceal my bulging cock. But a human being is powerless against their own destiny; whatever is written in one's fate is bound to come to pass. And that is exactly what happened to me. As she sipped her tea, Madam glanced in my direction, and her eyes came to rest right between my legs.”

“I felt as though my survival was now impossible. For Madam had clearly spotted the state of my cock, and she must have realized that this condition was entirely her doing. Now, she would likely shove me right out of her house. What a predicament I had unwittingly landed myself in! By then, the tea had ceased to go down my throat, and I was breaking out in a profuse sweat. Helplessly, I tried to use my legs to conceal my cock from her view. But by that point, what was done was done. Madam sat there with her gaze fixed squarely on my cock; her eyelids hadn't fluttered even once. Without blinking, she continued to stare unblinkingly at the throbbing bulge beneath my trousers. Her eyebrows were slightly raised, a sign that she was shocked by the sight of my cock... or perhaps by my audacity: the sheer nerve to sit right there in her home, ogling her while getting a hard-on. Yet, none of this was my fault. Whatever had transpired was merely a coincidence; it was completely beyond my control. But how could I possibly explain this to Madam? How could I tell her, ‘You weren't wearing a bra under your nightie. When you came to serve me tea and leaned forward, I saw your boobs hanging loose. And that, and that alone, is why my wretched cock is currently raging inside my pants?’ Madam’s fair face had turned a deep crimson. I could even see beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Her breathing had quickened, and her chest began to rise and fall rapidly with each labored breath. This, however, created a new complication: my eyes drifted down to Madam’s chest. Not only was she braless beneath her nightie, but now, due to her heavy breathing, her ample boobs were bouncing vigorously up and down. Upon seeing this, my cock felt as though it were about to burst right through my trousers. I somehow, using one hand, I tried to conceal my erection right through my trousers. For a moment, I thought, enough is enough; I should just get up and flee this place. But how could I possibly step outside in such a state? What would everyone think if they saw me like this? They would all simply assume I had done something wrong and was making a getaway. No, absolutely not, I couldn't possibly leave this place in this condition. Yet, I couldn't just sit there either; for she sat there, gazing with an almost intoxicated intensity at my growing erection. And right before my eyes, I could see her two large boobs heaving beneath her nightie. I don't know how long we sat there, locked in that mutual gaze. But it was Madam who regained her composure first. She somehow managed to place the teacup she was holding onto the table. She wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead with her palm, then slowly raised her head to meet my eyes. I felt as though this was the final moment of my life. I fully expected Madam to rise from her seat, deliver a stinging slap across my cheek, and then unceremoniously kick me out of her house. As if to validate my fears, Madam indeed rose from her seat. I braced myself, waiting for the inevitable slap, waiting for her to step forward and strike me. However, my prediction held true only up to the moment she stood up. After that, nothing unfolded the way I had imagined. Madam rose, looked at me, and in a dry, hushed voice, said, ‘You stay right here. I'm going to take a bath.’ With those words, she slowly made her way toward her bedroom. I was utterly bewildered. My erection had been growing visibly inside my trousers, right before Madam's eyes. She had seen it, yet she neither slapped me nor uttered a single word of reproach. She simply went straight off to take a bath! Once Madam had left, I remained seated right where I was. I didn't budge an inch from my spot. But that damn cock of mine simply refused to show any signs of shrinking back down. I sat there just like that for a while until, suddenly, I heard Madam’s voice. She was calling out to me. I somehow managed to answer her, ‘What is it, Madam?’ Madam replied, ‘Come here for a moment.’ I asked foolishly, ‘Where?’ Madam said, ‘Into my bedroom.’ Up until that day, neither she let me in her bedroom, nor had I ever once set foot inside Madam’s bedroom. There is an attached bathroom inside her bedroom, which she always uses; I, however, always used the common bathroom. The moment Madam called me into her bedroom, I rose from my seat and headed toward it. I could actually hear the sound of my own heartbeat. My legs were trembling so violently that it felt as though I might collapse at any moment while walking. Who knew what awaited me inside? With these thoughts running through my mind, I entered Madam’s bedroom for the very first time.” (Contd.)

[Next Update is on Tuesday (03.11.26) between 11 am to 2 pm]

[Neelkantha]

Ananth1986 ~ Why not both, buddy? Tempted and being tempted. Both at the same time.

[Neelkantha]

Part 208 – Raju Explained It To Madam

Pihu’s POV-

“As I headed towards Rozina Madam’s bedroom, the only thought running through my mind was: who knows what might be waiting for me inside.” As Raju recounted his story to me (Pihu), he said, “And then, another thought suddenly struck me: why was Madam calling me into her bedroom so abruptly? Did she have some ulterior motive? It didn't feel right to just walk in so suddenly. With that in mind, I stopped right outside her bedroom door. The door was shut, but it wasn't locked, I could tell because it hadn't been pulled completely tight. It was left slightly ajar. I tried to peek inside through the gap, but I couldn't see anything. Just then, I heard Madam’s voice again: ‘Where are you? Did you come in or not?’ I replied from outside the bedroom, ‘Yes, I’m here, Madam. I’m standing right outside your room; please tell me what you need.’ My response seemed to irritate Madam slightly. She spoke in a voice clearly tinged with annoyance: ‘Why are you standing outside?! Come inside; I need your help. Come quickly.’ Madam needs my help!?! What kind of help??? Before I could even ask Madam that question, she called out again: ‘Did you come inside yet?’ Without delaying any further, I stepped into her bedroom. The room was every bit as large and luxurious as I had imagined, but there was no one there. That meant she was still inside the bathroom, and calling out to me from there. Before I could do or say anything, Madam spoke again from inside the bathroom: ‘Did you come in, or are you still standing outside?’ I managed to stammer out, ‘Yes, I’m inside now, Madam. Tell me what you need.’ I heard Madam’s voice once more; she said, ‘Thank goodness you finally came in. Now, look, there should be a towel lying on my bed. Is it there?’ My gaze shifted to her bed. Sure enough, there was a towel lying on one edge of the king-sized bed. I said, ‘Yes, it’s there.’ Madam immediately called out from inside, ‘Hand it to me quickly. I forgot to bring a towel in my haste.’ Now, Madam’s this very words struck me as rather odd. It was possible that she had genuinely forgotten to take a towel with her, but why did she need to call me to fetch it? Her bathroom was located right inside the bedroom. I was sitting outside, and the door was closed. She could have easily stepped out of the bathroom and grabbed the towel herself; so why on earth did she call me to do it? I was still pondering all of this when Madam called out from inside again: ‘Are you going to stand there thinking all day, or are you going to bring me the towel?’ Her voice snapped me back to reality instantly. Without another thought, I walked over to the bed and picked up the towel. Just then, Madam’s voice rang out from behind me once more: ‘Oh, and yes, there are some clothes lying right next to the towel; hand those over as well.’ Hearing this, I assumed she was probably referring to her saree. However, as I shifted my gaze to look, I saw that her clothes were indeed lying on the bed. But what kind of clothes were these? It wasn't a saree at all; it was her bra and panties! That meant Madam was asking me to fetch her bra and panties! Oh God, what on earth is happening to me today? Madam’s voice came again: ‘Should I just come out and get my towel and clothes myself, or are you going to hand them over? I can't just stand here like this all day.’ I replied, ‘I'm handing them over.’ Saying this, I picked up the towel, bra, and panties from the bed. I then walked over to the bathroom door, stood outside, and said, ‘Here you go, Madam. Your towel and clothes.’ As soon as I said that, the bathroom door opened slightly, and Madam’s hand reached out from inside. She was standing just behind the door, extending her arm outward. Catching sight of her fair, shapely, and naked arm, I felt a stirring in my pants once again. I immediately placed the towel, bra, and panties into Madam’s outstretched hand. Madam then closed the bathroom door. In the brief one or two-second gap between handing her the towel, bra, and panties, and her closing the door, I caught a glimpse of something that made it nearly impossible for me to remain standing there. Madam was standing behind the door, and on the wall directly behind her, the one facing the door, hung a large mirror. Consequently, I could easily see her reflection from behind in that mirror. And the sight that greeted my eyes caused every drop of blood in my body to rush straight to my cock. In an instant, my cock stood erect, hard as an iron rod. I saw in the mirror that Madam was standing completely naked from head to toe. The reflection revealed her bare back and her naked ass. Never before in my life had I seen an ass that massive on anyone. I felt as though I wouldn't even be able to cup her buttocks with both of my hands. However, before I could get a proper look at her naked reflection, Madam closed the door once again. She said, ‘Alright, go sit outside for now. I'll get changed and join you.’ Replying, ‘Okay, Madam,’ I stepped out of her bedroom. Even now, I could still visualize her naked reflection in my mind. And by now, I had also figured out her sizes. Before handing her the bra and panties, I had taken note of her measurements. Her bra size was 36DD, and her panty size was XXL.”

“Like a possessed man, I stumbled out of Madam’s bedroom and, once outside, sank back into my seat. I simply couldn't process what was happening to me, what exactly had been going on since I arrived this morning? And why, all of a sudden, was Madam behaving this way toward me? Was she doing all of this on purpose? Or was it accidental? But surely, this much couldn't happen by accident, and certainly not with someone like Madam. She couldn't possibly appear before me in a nightie, and without a bra, at that, by mistake. She couldn't accidentally flash her boobs at me. She couldn't inadvertently invite me into her bedroom and ask me to hand her bra and panties. She couldn't accidentally let me catch a glimpse of her naked reflection. Absolutely not. Under no circumstances. So, there could be only one straightforward conclusion: everything that has been happening to me since I arrived this morning, or rather, everything Madam has been doing to me, is entirely intentional. And that leads to the next question: If she is doing all of this on purpose, why is she doing it? To seduce me? So, was what Alex said actually true? Is Madam really using me to fulfill her own desires? Is that the sole reason behind all these antics? If the answer is yes, then this truly is an opportunity for me, just as Alex had predicted. But what should I do now? Should I just go straight up to Madam and ask her why she’s doing all this? Would that be the right move? What if she denies it? No, no, I can’t do that. It would be far better to play the innocent fool and simply let Madam continue doing whatever she’s doing. If the fires of lust are truly burning within her, she will undoubtedly take the next step herself. Alex agreed with me, too. When I went back and recounted the entire story to Alex, he said, ‘Look buddy, so, it’s settled: I was right. The fire of lust is truly raging inside your Madam. She wants you, and only you, to be the one to quell that burning desire.’ I asked, ‘But how? What if I do something inappropriate and she gets angry?’ Hearing this, Alex laughed and said, ‘Rest assured, my friend. Your Madam could never get angry at you, not in the slightest. It’s simply out of the question. If anger were an issue, she would have thrown you out of her house the very moment you kept staring at her boobs. She wouldn't have flaunted her body before you like that. Nor would she have remained silent or calm while watching your cock swell with arousal. And she certainly wouldn't have called you into her room the very next moment to ask for her bra and panties, or shown you her naked reflection. Everything she is doing is calculated and deliberate. And she knows exactly how to ensnare a young, hot-blooded guy like you in the web of her allure.’ I replied, ‘That’s all well and good, but should I really be doing this? After all, she is my teacher. To act like this with her...’ Alex didn't let me finish my sentence. Before I could, he interjected, ‘She is a woman first, and your teacher second. And you are a man first, and her student second. When a man and a woman come together, a connection between them is inevitable, whether you want it or not. If you take my advice, listen: don't make the first move yourself. Just wait; whatever happens, your Madam will initiate it herself. Just let her do her thing. Everything else will fall into place naturally.’ Then Alex asked me, ‘Have you ever actually touched her yet?’ Shaking my head, I replied, ‘No.’ Alex said, ‘Go on now, find any excuse you can to touch her, just once. Watch her reaction.’ I said. ‘But what if she gets angry?’ Alex replied, ‘I don't think anything like that will happen. But, God forbid, if something does go wrong, you're a smart guy; just come up with an excuse and handle the situation. Just say it was an accident.’ I asked, ‘But is it really right to do something like that?’ Alex said, ‘Yes, it is. Because now you need to show her that you’re on board with what she wants. You don't want her to feel like you have no regard for her or her feelings. You have to demonstrate that you feel just as strongly about her as she does about you. Understood?’ I nodded again. He continued, ‘But keep one thing in mind: don't let your excitement make you lose your head. Your 'Madam' isn't just some random woman you can do whatever you please with. You can only make a move on her when she herself allows you to. You’ll have to wait until then. And you have to create a situation where your Madam, overcome by her own desires, voluntarily confesses her feelings to you. But tread carefully. Handle every situation with sensitivity and intelligence, my friend. Always remember this: one wrong move, or any act of haste, could be enough to completely ruin the game for you. Never let it reach that point. If you ever feel like the situation is slipping out of your control, pull yourself together immediately. Never let yourself get carried away by your emotions in front of her. Always let her take the next step. You just facilitate that step for her. You’re a smart guy; you’ll figure out the rest on your own. All the very best, buddy.’ Alex had said his piece, but I still couldn't muster the courage to actually go through with it. Nevertheless, trusting Alex's advice, I was ready to give it a try, and to do so the very next day. The next day, I got myself ready and went to Madam's house, determined that, come what may, I would definitely touch her today.”

“That evening, when I went to her house, Madam was already home. As soon as I rang the doorbell, she opened the door and let me in. The moment I stepped inside, she closed the door behind me. Just like the previous day, Madam was wearing a nightie again today. However, I couldn't tell whether she was wearing a bra underneath or not. I went over and sat down on the sofa. Madam brought tea and snacks for both of us. After serving me the tea and snacks, she started to sit down across from me, but she never actually made it to the seat. This was because, before she could settle down, I reached out, took her hand, and stopped her from sitting. It was the very first time I had ever held Madam's hand, the first time I had ever touched her. As I held her soft hand, my own hands began to tremble. My hands were shaking, certainly, but Madam's hand was trembling even more. Upon feeling the touch of my hand on her body, a palpable flutter seemed to ripple through her entire body. The instant I grasped her hand, Madam froze. She didn't sit down; instead, she looked at me. I looked back at her, too. I needed to see if there was any trace of anger or displeasure on her face or in her demeanor. But, surprisingly, even after searching intently, I found neither anger nor displeasure on her face. Instead, I saw an expression of immense curiosity. It was as if she had been taken aback by my sudden action. As usual, her eyebrows had lifted slightly, and she was peering at me through the lenses of her glasses with a look of sheer curiosity. She wasn't merely looking at me; she was scrutinizing the situation, trying to determine whether I had truly taken her hand on purpose, or if it had happened merely by accident. I did not let go of her hand. Nor did she pull her hand away from mine. We simply continued to gaze at one another. After a brief silence, I was the first to speak: ‘Madam, not there. Come and sit right here beside me.’ Once again, Madam raised her eyebrows and cast a curious glance in my direction. Then, she composed herself. And she said, ‘Alright. I’ll sit right next to you.’ Saying this, she took a seat beside me. Yet, even then, I did not let go of her hand. A little while later, I released her hand. Then, in silence, we both ate our snacks and began sipping our tea. For a while, a silence hung in the air around us; neither I nor she spoke a word. Finally, I was the one to break the silence: ‘Madam, may I ask you a question? You won't take offense, will you?’ Madam raised her eyebrows once again, casting a curious glance in my direction, and asked, ‘Why would I take offense?’ I replied, ‘Because the question pertains to your personal life, that is why. I probably shouldn't be asking this, but I’m asking it anyway. Please feel free to answer only if you feel it is appropriate to do so. If you choose not to answer, that is perfectly fine as well.’ Madam said, ‘Stop speaking in riddles and just ask your question. Only after hearing what you have to ask will I decide whether or not I should answer it. First, I want to hear your question.’ I asked her directly, ‘Do you miss your husband? I mean, it has been ten years since your divorce. You have both moved on significantly in your respective lives. But do you not still feel his absence?’ Upon hearing my question, Madam fell silent for a moment, as if she were processing the question internally. Then, after taking a moment to compose herself, she spoke softly and calmly: ‘If I were to answer 'no' to that, it would likely be a lie. Yes, I do miss him. And the reason for that is this house. This house constantly reminds me of him.’ I said, ‘But you yourself once told me that one should never let another person become a habit. You said that if we do, we will forever feel their absence keenly, and we will never be able to truly move past it. So, if that is indeed the case, why haven't you been able to move past the memories of your husband yet, despite the divorce? You are still living in the very house he gave you, and all alone, at that? Why haven't you found a new life partner?’ Madam replied, ‘I have no answer to these questions. However, I can say this much: when our divorce took place, I thought I would spend the rest of my life right here, in this very house. But now, this house has become my greatest enemy. It constantly reminds me, every single moment, of the man I once loved. The man for whose sake I turned my back on my entire family to be with him; the man I married; the man with whom I vowed to spend my entire life. Yet, that very man abandoned me and walked away, leaving me trapped within this ‘golden cage.’ Now, no matter how hard I try, I cannot seem to escape this golden cage. His memories keep holding me back. I have thought many times about leaving this place, about accepting someone else as my own, about starting my life afresh. But then...I get scared.’ I asked, ‘Scared? Scared of what?’ Madam replied, ‘Scared that he, too, might eventually abandon me and walk away, leaving me all alone once again. Scared that I would find myself utterly alone in this life all over again. I managed to pull myself together once before, somehow. But I don’t think I could do it a second time.’ Hearing Madam say this, I burst out laughing."

“Seeing me laugh, Madam asked, ‘What happened? Why are you laughing? What exactly did I say?’ I replied, ‘Forgive me, Madam, but you yourself do not follow your own teachings.’ Madam asked, ‘Why do you say that?’ I said, ‘Just look at it: on one hand, you yourself say that one shouldn’t let anyone become a habit, that one shouldn’t become dependent on anyone. Yet, on the other hand, you are doing exactly that yourself. Despite your husband having left you, you are living a stifled existence. On one hand, you say that if a girl rejects me, I shouldn’t stop loving. But on the other hand, you are stopping yourself from doing just that. Your heart yearns to love someone, yet you have shut the door to your own heart and sit alone inside. Forgive me, Madam; I am not of your age, and my life experience is far less than yours. However, it is my belief that to love means, by definition, to be dependent on someone. You can only depend on a person whom you know well, someone you trust, and, most importantly, someone you love. There is nothing wrong with being dependent on another human being, provided you love them. Once you begin to love someone, that sense of ‘dependence’ ceases to exist; what remains is simply your love for that person. And love can happen at any age, at any time, with anyone. You must not hold yourself back any longer. You have to allow yourself to love. Just do that, and the rest will take care of itself.’ After I had finished speaking and fell silent, Madam’s gaze remained fixed upon me. She did not avert her eyes from me even for a moment. She was listening intently to every single word I had spoken, and not merely listening, but contemplating them as well. Even after I had finished speaking, Madam remained silent for some time; she did not utter a single word, but simply continued to stare at me with an unwavering gaze. Then, very slowly she said, ‘Wow!!! Thank you. You may be young in years, but your thinking is remarkably mature. You are absolutely right. It is entirely my own fault; I am the one who failed to move forward in my life. I held myself back. I became afraid to love again. But I failed to realize that love is not something to be feared. Love is a priceless treasure in everyone's life. We should never stop ourselves from loving someone.’ I said, ‘Exactly so! That’s the spirit!’ Madam replied, ‘Now, I will try to break free from this suffocating existence. Perhaps to love someone again. To start my life afresh.’ We talked about so many other things that day. I felt as though I had finally succeeded in lifting the heavy burden that had weighed upon Madam’s heart for so many years. Upon hearing this, Alex said, ‘You’ve done an amazing job, my friend! Now your Madam is going to fall for you even harder. Don't worry; just stay the course. Victory will surely be yours.’ Alex’s words began to ring true. Madam opened up to me even more than before. Now, she would initiate physical contact herself. I would touch her as well, and she wouldn't say a word, nor would she get angry. In fact, she seemed to enjoy my touch. Our bond began to deepen even further. She started spending hours talking to me about love. I also noticed another change in her: she began to dress up and adorn herself every day. She would be fully ready before I even arrived. She wore beautiful sarees and applied makeup. Previously, we used to spend our Sundays strictly studying; but now, we would carve out time to watch movies on TV and simply talk. Slowly, time passed by. Alex said to me, ‘Buddy, the time has come.’ I asked, ‘For what?’ He replied, ‘To take this relationship to the next level.’ I asked, ‘How?’ Alex said, ‘Now, you are going to kiss your Madam.’ I said, ‘Have you lost your mind? If I go and do something like that, she’ll kill me!’ Alex replied, ‘She won’t do a thing. You just need to keep your nerve, and kiss her. You’ll see; she’ll go along with it.’ I asked, ‘And what if she kicks me out of her house?’ Alex said, ‘In that case, you can change my name to whatever you like, I’ll accept it. But what if she does let you kiss her?’ I asked, ‘Then what?’ Alex replied, ‘Then you’ll have to do everything I say. Whatever I tell you to do, you’ll do it without question. Is it a deal?’ Shaking Alex’s hand, I said, ‘It’s a deal. Absolutely.’” (Contd.)

[Next Update is on Thursday (05.11.26) between 11 am to 2 pm]

[Neelkantha]

ananth1986 ~ I think Alex is acting like the Sutradhar between two of them. And you are right. The both love each other deeply.

[Neelkantha]

Part 209 – Madam Unleashed Havoc Upon Raju

 

Pihu’s POV- “The next day, as I was heading to Rozina Madam’s house, I went with the intention of surprising her by giving her a kiss. But little did I know that, instead of me surprising her, I was the one in for a surprise, and a delightful one at that!” Saying this, Raju looked at me and laughed. I (Pihu) asked him, “What kind of surprise? Who gave it to you? Your Madam?” Laughing once again in response, Raju said, “You’ll only find that out by listening to the story, Mami (aunty). I wouldn’t want to spoil the fun for you by saying it away beforehand. Just keep listening to my story.” With that, Raju once again began to recount his story to me: “Just like every other evening, I arrived at Madam’s house right on time that day. In the beginning, Madam used to stay late at the university, working alone; occasionally, the two of us would travel to her home together. Sometimes she would be late in arriving, and I would sit downstairs with the watchman, waiting for her. But all of this belongs to the early days; none of that happens anymore. Nowadays, just like everyone else, Madam leaves the university on time to head home. She arrives there before I do, gets dressed up, and waits for me. Previously, Madam used to wear only sarees, especially when she was in front of me. But now, in addition to sarees, she also appears before me wearing just her nightie. Sometimes she wears a bra underneath; sometimes she doesn't. On the days she goes without a bra, she leans forward in front of me, giving me a clear and deliberate display of her boobs. And I, in turn, get to feast my eyes upon them. However, to this day, I have never seen her boobs completely bare, fully exposed from the front. Consequently, a deep desire to see her boobs completely uncovered, right before my eyes, has always lingered in my mind. Yet, I have never actually voiced this desire to her. I have no idea how she would react if she were to learn that I want to see her bare boobs. I simply cannot take that risk. Anyway, parading her boobs before me while wearing a bra-less nightie had become something of a habit for Madam. Nowadays, she spends most of her time in my presence wearing just her nightie. Occasionally, she would wear a saree. But on the days she did wear a saree, it always appeared to be quite an expensive one. In the past, she used to wear fairly ordinary sarees; but now, she has, in a sense, stopped wearing ordinary sarees altogether. Instead, she opts for sheer, translucent sarees with open-weave textures, paired with a matching blouse. She used to wear blouses with standard sleeves, but now she has started wearing sleeveless blouses. Those sarees are so incredibly thin and sheer that for me, there was never any difficulty in gazing upon her body. She dbangd her saree around herself in such a sensuous manner that every single curve of her figure stood out beautifully and distinctly beneath the fabric. She looked incredibly, almost dangerously, sexy. Just the sight of her was enough to make my cock go rock hard in instant. However, by now, I no longer even bothered to hide my erection in front of her. Instead, I would deliberately flaunt it to Madam, stroking my cock right through my trousers. Madam would notice this, yet she never said a word to me. Instead, she would simply smile shyly at the sight. I felt that just as I harbored a deep desire to see her boobs, she, too, surely harbored a craving to see my cock. Yet, just as I had never found the opportunity to see her boobs until now, she, too, had not yet had the chance to lay eyes on my cock. Amidst all this, another incident occurred, one I must recount before moving on to the main event. I had mentioned earlier that, for the first three months, I used only the common bathroom in Madam's house. However, ever since the day she called me into her bedroom to hand her towel, bra, and panties, I began using her private bathroom instead. Madam raised no objections to this. It was in this context that a particular incident took place one day. One day, I went into her bathroom to urinate. As soon as I stepped inside, my eyes fell upon the hanger on the wall. The moment I saw it, my heart seemed to stop beating for a split second. There, hanging right before me on the wall-mounted hanger, was Madam's bra. This very discovery left me utterly astonished. For never, in all this time, had I ever seen Madam leave her bra or panties lying around, be it in her bathroom or in any other corner of the house. Nor had I ever caught a glimpse of her lingerie in the days that followed that initial incident. It was only on that specific day, after all that time, that I finally got to see her bra. I thought to myself her panties were probably somewhere nearby as well. I searched thoroughly, but I couldn't find her panties in any corner of the bathroom. I was certainly disappointed, but at least I did have her bra. I took the bra, which was hanging from a hanger, into my hands. I had noticed that very day that Madam wears a size 36DD bra, though I hadn't had the opportunity to examine it closely back then. So, now, holding her bra in my hands, I began to gaze at it at my leisure. The bra was quite large in size, something that was evident just by looking at it. Yet, as I held it in my hands, only one thought crossed my mind: just how massive must Madam's boobs be to require a bra of such a large size? I observed that the cups of her bra were quite large and deep. I slipped my hand inside the cups; my entire hand, right up to the wrist, fit inside them. I had now gained a fairly good idea of the size of her boobs, even though I still hadn't had the chance to see them properly with my own eyes. However, having now laid eyes on her bra, my craving to see her actual boobs intensified even further from that day onward.”

“Now, let me get to the actual incident. That day, I arrived at Madam’s house right on time and rang the doorbell. As usual, the moment I rang the bell, Madam opened the door and let me inside. As soon as I stepped in, Madam closed the door and came to stand right in front of me. That day, try as I might, I simply could not take my eyes off Madam. She had dressed up and adorned herself beautifully before appearing before me. She was wearing a thin, sheer, pink georgette chiffon saree paired with a matching blouse. Her blouse was simultaneously deep-cut in the front, sleeveless on the sides, and backless at the rear. The blouse covered very little of her bosom, and her two large boobs were practically spilling out of it. The moment I laid eyes on her, I felt utterly mesmerized. I found myself gazing at her repeatedly, admiring her from head to toe. Madam looked so incredibly beautiful and sexy in that saree and blouse that words fail me; it is simply beyond my ability to describe in words. I felt as though a beautiful celestial nymph had descended from heaven and come to stand right before me. That pink saree dbangd over her fair skin created such a breathtakingly stunning effect, I simply cannot do it justice with my words. Moreover, her saree was so thin and sheer that every single contour of her body was clearly visible through it. To top it off, she had dbangd the saree two inches below her navel. Through that sheer fabric, I had absolutely no trouble seeing her bare fleshy belly and the deep, alluring navel situated exact right in the center of it. For a while, I simply stood there, staring at her fair, fleshy midriff. Then, my gaze drifted upward toward her blouse. Her boobs, peeking out from the blouse, were clearly on display. It crossed my mind that Madam might have accidentally put on a blouse that was too small for her size, it truly looked as though her boobs were on the verge of bursting right out of it. And emerging from that sleeveless blouse, her milky-white and shapely arms, I felt as though I had completely lost my mind upon seeing her arms. Furthermore, her broad back, revealed by that backless blouse, seemed to be beckoning me closer. Finally, my gaze settled upon her face. How could I possibly describe her countenance? Words would surely fail me in the attempt either as well. Yet, I shall try regardless. Madam usually kept her hair tied up in a bun; but on that day, she had left her silky, luxuriant tresses flowing loose. Her long, silky locks cascaded over one shoulder, partially obscuring one side of her face. She wore a gold necklace around her neck, gold bangles on her wrists, gold earrings in her ears, and a gold nose ring. On her feet, she wore anklets adorned with tiny bells, which chimed melodiously with every movement of her ankles. She also wore a gold waist-chain around her waist. All that gold seemed to shimmer and glow even brighter against her fair and luscious body. She had also applied her makeup with exquisite skill; kohl lined her eyes, and her lips were painted a lovely shade of crimson red. Moreover, a faint, delicate fragrance wafted from her body. It was difficult for me to distinguish how much of that scent came from her body spray and how much was her own natural body fragrance. All I can say is that the subtle aroma emanating from her was potent enough to leave anyone utterly intoxicated. And as that very moment I was surely intoxicated by her fully. Looking at her, it seemed as though she had dressed up and adorned herself so elaborately for the sake of a beloved one. For quite some time, Madam stood right there before me, granting me the opportunity to gaze upon her to my heart's content. Then, with a smile, she asked, ‘Is it your intention to stand here staring at me for the entire evening? If you have finished admiring me, shall we go and sit down? My legs are giving out from all this standing.’ Laughing in response, I replied, ‘What can I do, Madam? If someone as breathtakingly stunning as you stands right before me, then admiring you is simply inevitable, isn't it?’ In response, Madam smiled slightly, raised her eyebrows, and asked me, ‘Did you just call me 'stunning'?’ I replied, ‘Well, you certainly are nothing short of stunning.’ Madam asked, ‘Is that really how you feel?’ I said, ‘Why just me? Go ahead and ask any man in this world that question, you’ll get the exact same answer.’ Madam said, ‘Alright, you can offer the rest of your compliments while sitting down. There’s no need for yourself to keep standing at the door.’ I asked, ‘Are you going out somewhere? Should I take my leave, then?’ Madam had just turned to go inside, but upon hearing my question, she paused; turning back to face me, she said, ‘Not at all. I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you. Come inside like a good boy and sit down.’ Saying this, she started walking further into the room. Following close behind her, I asked, ‘Then why are you so dressed up? Seeing you so beautifully adorned, I assumed you must be heading out somewhere.’ Madam turned back toward me once again and asked, ‘So, do I look bad when I dress up?’ I replied, ‘I didn't say that.’ Madam retorted, ‘Well, you didn't actually say how I do look, either. Do you??” I said, ‘You look absolutely gorgeous today. And also...’ I stopped abruptly, leaving the sentence unfinished. Raising her eyebrows once more, this time with a look of curiosity, Madam asked me, ‘What happened? Why did you stop mid-sentence? Tell me, what were you going to say?’ I shrugged my shoulders and replied her, ‘Oh, never mind, Madam. You might get offended. And I certainly don't want to spoil your mood by making you angry.’ Madam, casting yet another curious glance in my direction through the rim of her glasses and asked, ‘Why would I get angry with you?’ I replied, ‘What I am about to say might actually make you angry. And I know that very well.’ Madam said, ‘I won't get angry. Tell me. I want to know what impression of me you hold in your heart.’ I asked, ‘Do you truly wish to hear the impression I harbor in my mind regarding you?’ Madam replied, ‘Absolutely! Tell me.’ I said, ‘Fine. Then listen. What I was trying to say is that today, you don't merely look beautiful or lovely or gorgeous or stunning; you look sexy as well.’ She likely hadn't anticipated that I would call her "sexy" so directly, right to her face. Hearing the word "sexy" escape my lips, Madam was certainly taken aback for a moment, though she quickly regained her composure. However, I noticed her fair cheeks turning crimson. Whether this flush was a sign of anger or of embarrassment became clear to me from the very next question she asked me.”

“Madam asked softly, ‘Do you really find me sexy?’ I replied, ‘The way you look today, in this outfit, the word ‘sexy’ would perhaps not be enough to describe it. And right now, I have only one word to describe you. And that is: ‘Kamadevi!’ (Goddess of lust) You look like a veritable Goddess of Love.’ Hearing these words of mine, both her cheeks turned as red as Kashmiri apples. She lowered her eyes for a moment. Then, lifting her gaze, she asked, ‘Tell me the absolute truth: do I not seem old to you?’ I replied, ‘If you choose to perceive yourself as old, you could feel aged even at twenty. However, if you consider yourself young at eighty, you will remain youthful. Now, it is entirely up to you to decide how you wish to view yourself, as old, or as young?’ Madam remarked, ‘That isn't really an answer to my question.’ I said, ‘I have, in fact, already given my answer. But if you insist on a more direct reply, then I will say this: in my eyes, you have never been old, not for a single moment.’ Madam said nothing more. Gesturing toward the sofa, she said, ‘Sit down. I’ll be right back.’ Just as she turned to leave, I reached out, took her hand in mine, and stopped her. She turned back to face me and asked, ‘What is it? Let me go.’ I replied, ‘No. Sit down here first. I want to take a good, long look at you.’ Without a word, Madam started to move toward the sofa opposite me. I stopped her once again and said, ‘Not there. Come sit here, right beside me. You took such great care to dress up and adorn yourself especially for me; surely you can grant me the opportunity to admire you. Won’t you?’ Madam came over and sat down right next to me. Then, looking at me, she said, ‘Who told you that I dressed up for your sake? I simply felt like dressing up and looking my best today, and that is why I got ready. Why on earth would I bother dressing up just for you?’ Madam spoke these words with the air of a lover teasing her beloved. I laughed and said, ‘Alright, very well. I accept that you didn't dress up for me. You dressed up solely for your own pleasure. But surely I have the right to look at you, don't I?’ I deliberately placed extra emphasis on the word "right", a nuance that made Madam turn toward me once again she looked, but said nothing. After a brief pause, she spoke: ‘When have I ever stopped you from looking at me? You are free to look as you please. I won't stop you at all.’ Having said this, she turned her face away. It seemed to me that she was trying to hide her bashfulness from me. Now, neither Madam, nor even I myself, was prepared for what I did next. I gently cupped her face in my hands, and as I turned her toward me, I said, ‘If you turn your face away from me like this, how am I supposed to behold your beauty to its fullest?’ Until today, I had only ever touched Madam's hands. Aside from her hands, I had never touched any other part of her body; yet today, it felt as though a voice deep within me was screaming: "Raju, this is your chance, the moment to claim your Madam. Do not hesitate. Make her yours. Give her that experience of ultimate ecstasy, the very bliss she has been searching for all this time.” The moment I touched her face and turned it toward mine, it felt as though Madam’s body had frozen completely, rigid as ice. I could hear the rapid beating of her heart even from where I sat. Her body was trembling ever so slightly, as if she already knew exactly what was about to unfold in near future. I gazed into her eyes and said, ‘Madam, and I say this with my hands upon you, I find you to be the most beautiful and sexy woman of all. There is likely no one else in this world as beautiful and sexy as you are. It makes no difference to me whether you are forty-six or twenty-six; to me, you will always remain just as beautiful as you appear to me right now. And please, do not mistake this for mere flirting. I do not know how to flirt, nor do I care for it. You wanted to know what I truly felt about you, didn't you? Well, this, this is exactly how I feel about you.’ This time, too, Madam said nothing. Nor did she pull her face away from my hands. She simply continued to gaze into my eyes through her spectacles, without blinking. And I, in turn, gazed into hers. Today, for the very first time, I saw but one thing reflected in her eyes... Love. Just boundless love. The very love she had hungered for. The very love she had yearned for, agonizingly, for the past ten years. The very love she had been driven mad searching for. That very love, I saw it reflected in her eyes at that moment. Gently, I removed the glasses from her eyes. Then, I brought my face in close, right up against hers. Now, the space between our faces was no more than an inch. We gazed into each other’s eyes, silently. Without a word spoken. Without even blinking. My breath caressed every contour of her face; the warmth of her breath, in turn, felt as though it were melting mine. I could wait no longer. I lowered my face further and kissed her on the forehead. Then, I looked into her eyes once more; now, they held nothing but love. Finally, I lowered my lips and pressed them against her soft, crimson lips.”

“It felt to me as though Madam had surrendered herself completely to fate. An air of "come what may" permeated her entire being. Her soft, luscious lips quivered between mine. And so, holding her lips captive between my own, I began to kiss her. This was only the second time in my life I had ever kissed anyone. The first time, I had kissed you, mami. And on that day, I was kissing a woman other than you, a woman who happened to be my teacher. Yet, in that moment, she was not merely a teacher to me; she was a woman who had been living a stifled existence for the past ten years, and I yearned to liberate her from that captivity. Slowly, tentatively, I slipped my arm around her waist; drawing her close to me, I pressed my lips against hers and began to kiss her. Madam had already closed her eyes. Yet, she neither pulled her lips nor her face away from me. Nor did she make any move to reciprocate. Whatever was to be done, I had to do it myself. And so, holding her lips firmly between mine, I began not only to kiss them but to suck on them as well. First, I ran my tongue over the crimson sheen of her lips. In an instant, I tasted her lipstick on my tongue. Mami, this was the second time, since you, that I was tasting the lipstick from a woman's lips with my tongue. Slowly, deliberately, I licked away all the lipstick from her lips. Then, I began to suck on her lips, gently at first, and then with increasing intensity with time. Holding her lips firmly between mine, I squeezed them gently, drinking in the sweet nectar of her lips. After a long while of kissing, licking, and sucking on her lips, I finally ventured to slip my tongue inside her mouth. My hand slid down from her waist, coming to rest upon her belly. At that moment, I was touching only her I had grasped it. But as I placed my hand upon her belly, I felt as though I had plunged my hand into a packet of butter, so incredibly soft and supple. I clenched the flesh of her belly tightly within my fist. This must surely have caused Madam some pain. She parted her lips to gasp, and I immediately slipped my tongue inside her mouth. Madam opened her eyes and looked at me, then closed them once again. She did not push my tongue out of her mouth, yet she made no move of her own either; just as before, she remained passive. I moved my tongue to rest against hers and began to gently suck on it. My hands, too, remained restless; they roamed wildly across Madam’s exposed belly. I slid a finger deep into her navel and began to swirl it around in slow, circular motions. I knew full well that enduring such intense stimulation all at once would be difficult for any woman, especially for one who had been deprived of such physical pleasures for the past ten years. Who knows how much pent-up sexual desire must have accumulated within her body over the last decade? And this desire was no less explosive than any gunpowder in the world. My sole mission was to ignite this internal "gunpowder" of lust within her, and that was precisely what I was setting out to do. Now, Madam, too, was gradually becoming active. She reached her hands around the back of my neck, pulled my head toward her, and began to kiss and suck on my lips with the exact same intensity with which I had been kissing and sucking on hers just moments before. At long last, the dam of her patience had burst, and waves of desire came crashing down upon her. She was slowly drowning in those very waves of lust rising from deep within herself. And, much like any drowning person reaching out for a lifeline, she grasped at whatever, or whoever, was closest to her hands, i.e. me. She gripped me tightly pressing her lips against mine, she kept on kissing me, all the while sucking on my tongue as well. All in all, she had become just as restless and eager as I was. And it was precisely this overwhelming desire that caused me to forget Alex’s advice, leading me to commit a grave error. Alex had repeatedly warned me not to make the first move myself, to let Madam take the initiative. But in that moment, Alex’s counsel had completely vanished from my mind; I had simply been swept away by my own emotions. And right there, I made a huge mistake, one that I absolutely should not have made. After spending a considerable amount of time thoroughly admiring Madam’s bare belly and deep navel, I slowly began to move my hand upward across her belly. Gradually, my hand reached her chest. My trembling palm now rested upon her soft boobs, confined beneath her blouse and bra. I was just about to grasp the pallu (lapel) of her saree and pull it away from her chest when, quite suddenly, Madam, who had been kissing me, opened her eyes once again and looked at me startling. She, too, had realized exactly what I was about to do. I had assumed that, just as I had managed to kiss her with such ease, I would be able to carry out the rest of my intentions just as effortlessly. But I was wrong. The moment I reached to lift the pallu of her saree from her chest, Madam instantly pulled her lips away from mine and disengaged her body from mine, recoiling backward. Then, pushing against my chest to shove me away, she stood up. I had not anticipated that anything like this would happen. Perhaps Madam, too, had not foreseen that I would go this far. She was likely not prepared for it. She continued to stare at me with a look of utter disbelief. It was only then that I realized what a massive mistake I had made. In the heat of the moment, I had lost my head and allowed such a golden opportunity to slip right through my fingers. I began to feel furious with myself. Yet, at that point, there was nothing I could do, even if I had wanted to. What was done, was already done. And sure enough it simple can’t be undone. At least not at that very moment.” (Contd.)

 

[Next Update is on Saturday (07.11.26) between 11 am to 2 pm]