Asha - Itchy Neighbour Pussy

[Haran000]

Asha

Vishwakumar, son of Ravishankar and Rajeshwari, lived in the second house on the lane opposite the Sitaramanjaneya Temple in Eklaspur Village, Manthani, Peddapalli District, Telangana, India.

It was December 20, 2012. Phones buzzed with rumors: the world was ending on the 21st. Vishwakumar scoffed. "Just because it's in the Mayan calendar? We still have so much more evil to commit, more pollution to spread, more hell for our future generations to breathe. Living beings should curse humanity first, then the apocalypse. Only humans should be wiped out." ( "Except me and Kajal Nisha, of course!")

We have grocery store, a silent witness to generations, once saw my father hunched over a sewing machine, creating garments, while my mother, ever-present, meticulously attached buttons to shirts. After college, I, too, found my place within its familiar walls. When Mom was caught up in the rhythm of household chores, I’d often take her spot at the counter.

I was twenty-one then, fresh out of college, and a modern desire had taken root: a phone. My father, indulging my request, bought me a Samsung S Duos. Mornings, when the neighborhood kids were off to college, I’d be there, engrossed in Candy Crush, the glowing screen a beacon of my youthful idleness.

One Tuesday, a day when many sought solace at the temple, a familiar figure appeared on our street. It was Mounika. My heart, an untamed drum, quickened at the sight of her. She was undeniably lovely, and a recent discovery — that our families were distantly related — only fueled my quiet obsession. From then on, the grocery store transformed into a vantage point, a hopeful stage for her fleeting appearances.

A silent ritual began. Our eyes would meet, a quick exchange of glances, hers shy, followed by a faint, self-conscious smile. One day, a mischievous impulse seized me. I deliberately lifted my phone, placing it conspicuously on a box of alphenlibe candies. What else was there to do? In those days, a 20-year-old with an Android 3G phone was quite the novelty, a small badge of modern rebellion.

Mounika, her gaze falling upon me, offered a delicate smile, then glanced at the phone, her eyebrows rising in a subtle arch of surprise before she gracefully walked past the shop. As her jasmine-braided hair swayed, a dark cascade below her slender waist, my heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic prisoner.

I harbored a dramatic, secret thought: if the apocalypse were truly upon us, I’d at least manage one kiss from Mounika before the end. Perhaps, I mused, if the world crumbled, I’d finally summon the courage to speak to her, to steal that longed-for kiss.

Mounika remained an enigma of silence. After college, I’d often find myself trailing her, following her to her own college, just to catch a glimpse. She would see me, acknowledge my presence with a glance, but never utter a single word. She never even questioned my persistent shadow.

Another year slipped by, marked by this silent pursuit. Then, a new ambition ignited within me, driven by Mounika. I wanted a job. I wanted to marry her, and a mere house, a family business, wasn't enough; I needed a steady income. I had my education, and two years later, I secured a job in another town, a fresh chapter awaiting.

For three years, the grocery store was without me, and Mounika was absent from our town. I later learned she was living with her aunt in Ramagundam. Our paths finally converged again at a relative’s wedding. She was breathtaking in a pink saree, and the world around me faded into a blur. My entire being was fixated on her, every step she took, every turn of her head. I circled the entire function hall, a silent satellite in her orbit. Still, she remained silent, and a profound fear gripped me: what if I spoke to her, and the spell broke? After dinner, Mounika and her family departed.

The wedding faded into the background the moment Mounika departed. With nothing left to do, I retrieved the house keys from Dad, mounted my Hero Honda Splendor Plus, and set off for home. That’s when I saw her. Mounika, walking slowly, accompanied by her mother, aunt, and elder sister.

I didn’t dare meet her gaze with her family present. I feigned indifference, riding past them. Then, a voice called from behind, "Viswa, Viswa!"

It wasn’t Mounika. It was her mother.

I stopped the bike and looked back as she approached. "How do you know my name?" I asked, surprised.

"You're Rajeshwari's son, aren't you? Your mom just told me," she said, a smile gracing her lips.

I returned her smile. "Yes, Auntie, tell me."

"I'm not your auntie."

My heart lurched. Same caste, distant relatives, and not an auntie? My mind raced, "Oh God, oh God."

"I'm your elder sister (Akka). My grandmother's sister's daughter is your mother," she clarified, and a wave of relief washed over me.

These family relations were always a headache. So, Mounika was like my daughter in law —a younger female relative, essentially in the generation below. Phew, no worries there.

"Could you drop me off at home, please? Don't mind."

"Oh, no problem, Akka, please get on."

I drove her home, and as I turned back, Mounika was walking towards me. I met her eyes, a faint smile playing on my lips. "Viswa, stop," she said.

The bike swerved. I slammed on the brakes, stopping abruptly right in front of her. Her aunt was nowhere in sight.

"Hmm?" I nodded, prompting her.

She stood silently, fidgeting shyly with the edge of her saree.

"Tell me, what is it?" I pressed.

"Well..." She let out a small sigh.

A sudden surge of courage propelled me. I disregarded any onlookers. She had called my name for the first time, and I wasn't about to squander the opportunity. I dismounted the bike, kicked down the stand, and stood before her.

"Tell me, why did you stop me?" I asked.

"Why did you go past me without looking earlier?" she retorted, a cute pout on her face.
She was adorable. I wanted to laugh. Women, I mused, a problem if you look at them, another if you don't.

"Your mom and they were there, that's why," I explained.

"Why do you look at me like that...?" she asked, her gaze falling to the ground.

"I feel like looking at you all the time."

"Do you like me?"

"Not just like, something else."

"Something else, what?"

She still wouldn’t meet my eyes.

Struggling for words, I finally said, "I can't tell you now, but when will you talk to me again?"

"Whenever we meet," she replied, tying the end of her saree around her index finger. Her shyness was palpable, perhaps due to our conversation on the road.

"So, when will we meet again?" I pushed.

"I don't know."

Her voice held a hint of sadness.

"Hmm..." I took a deep breath, my gaze fixed on her.

"I heard you got a job?" Mounika asked.

"Yes."

"Congrats."

I took a step closer. She instinctively took a step back. I didn't understand why.

Glancing towards her house, she whispered, "Don't come close, someone from my family might see us."

My mind blank, "Can I come if no one sees?" slipped out.

Without a reply, she turned her face away, blushed, and walked home, a private smile on her lips.

Three days later, I was on the bus, returning home from work in the evening. At the crossroads bus stop, she boarded, holding a small shopping bag. She wore a yellow Punjabi dress, a red hibiscus flower tucked into her hair, and her dupatta dbangd loosely over her chest.

The seat next to me was empty. Seeing her, I seized the chance and shifted over. The seat in front of me was also vacant, yet she walked directly to me and sat down, her right shoulder pressing against mine. I turned my head, and she flashed a mischievous smile.
For five minutes, we said nothing. She looked at me, I looked at her, then we both stared straight ahead. Our eyes met again.

"Where are you coming from?" I finally asked.

"I came from a clothes shop."

"Oh, what did you buy?"

"Can't tell you."

"Why can't you tell me?"

"Stupid..."

She turned her face away, a touch of annoyance in her expression. I felt like laughing, imagining the depth of her shyness.

I leaned closer to her ear and whispered, "You can tell me, it's okay."

She was instantly startled, glaring at me. Then, she covered her face and giggled.
Taking that as an invitation, I moved even closer. She remained silent, lost in her thoughts.
I completely forgot we were on a bus. I lightly kissed her just below her ear. She froze, her fists clenching tightly around the bar of the seat in front.

An old man next to us saw it and smiled. He wasn’t from our village, so I dismissed him with a mental, "Who cares what he thinks."

"Viswa, move," Mounika whispered.

I complied. We remained silent until we reached our village. We disembarked at the bus stop, and I walked behind Mounika. It was past six, the sun dipping below the clouds. As we walked, the streetlights flickered on.

Watching her walk ahead in her yellow Punjabi dress, I was overcome with romantic thoughts.

She stopped and turned around.

"Are you coming home?" she asked.

"I will if you ask me to."

"Coward, where did you get this much courage?"

"Hey, what do you mean coward?"

"Well, you never spoke to me for so long until I spoke, isn't that cowardly?"

"That's different, how would I know you also liked me?"

"Okay, go, don't follow me like this."

"I'll come till your house."

"If my dad sees, that's it."

We continued talking, turning a corner into an alley. For some reason, it felt deserted. I seized her hand and pulled her back.

"Let go, I need to go home.”

"I need to talk to you."

"You were silent all that time on the bus, and now you want to talk? Go home."

Still holding her hand, I led her into a temple. She offered no resistance, simply followed. We went behind the temple, seeking a private spot away from the main gate.

I pressed her against a pillar in the mandap, holding the pillar with my hands, effectively trapping her.

She trembled, a shy blush spreading across her cheeks. I leaned down, looking into her eyes.

"Let me go," she whispered.

"I'll let you go if you tell me what you need to say."

"What do I need to say?"

"Don't you know?"

"I need to go, move Viswa."

"What have you studied, what do you like, what do you want to do – when will you tell me all this?"

"When we meet again.”

"When will we meet again?"

"I don't know."

I couldn't help myself. I tilted my head and kissed her left cheek.

She pushed against my chest with her hands.

"Viswa, all this is wrong before marriage," she said.

Oh, she went straight to marriage. I laughed.

"Haha... Whose marriage?"

She lowered her face.

"You said you like me?"

"Yes."

"Then?"

"Do people get married just because they like each other?"

I kissed her neck. She responded by holding onto my shoulders.

A wave of intoxication washed over me, an endless pleasure. The first touch of a woman, kissing her—it all felt new and thrilling.

"Ooh....." she murmured.

I kissed her again. She squirmed.

"Mmmm.... No," she protested weakly.

I held her face, dreamily rubbing my cheeks against hers, gazing at her.

"You're very handsome, that's why I feel like looking at you. I used to come that way just for you. It would be nice if you came behind me like that. But you're a coward who doesn't stop and talk."

I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her closer. I buried my face in her neck, continuing to kiss her.

"Ahhh...." she sighed.

"I know," I murmured, "but I was afraid of how you would react, and I didn't know if I could handle it if you said no."

She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, pulling me deeper into her embrace. Her breasts, soft and comfortable like cotton pads, pressed against my arms.

As I kissed the curve of her neck and nudged her nose, she whispered, "Ahh... Enough, I need to go."

"Uh-huh... Hmm..." I mumbled.

"Do all this if you have the courage to come to my house and tell my family."
I let go.

"No?" she asked.

"If I do that, and your family doesn't accept me and there's a problem, then I might not be able to see you at all. What if you get married to someone else?”

She hugged me again. I resumed kissing her.

"Why wouldn't my family accept you?" she wondered.

"You are very well-off. Your father would want to marry you off to someone with a big job, not a small job like mine."

She held the back of my head and gently placed my face against her neck. I pulled her dupatta aside, tossed it, and inhaled her scent, feeling increasingly unhinged as I kissed her.

"Isss.... Viswa, let's get married, then we can talk about everything."

"No, now... Umm."

I raked my teeth along her cleavage.

"Aaahh..." she gasped.

She released me and moved away. We exchanged smiles.

"I have to go, bye..." she said.

"Wait."

Running, Mounika called back, "We have a match-making meeting tomorrow, stupid..."
She ran off, laughing, leaving me in shock.

Unbeknownst to me, while I was lost in my silent chase, my family had been busy. They were looking for a bride for me, and their inquiries had led them, remarkably, to Mounika. The elders, with their quiet discussions, decided on a day for the prospective bride and groom to meet.

Finally, in 2016, we were married. Before the wedding, I had performed a series of rituals and managed to secure a transfer to town Manthani. My in-laws, in a generous gesture, also bought us a house there.

[Haran000]

Our life together began in Manthani. After the housewarming and all the ceremonies, after the last of the relatives had departed, even our elders left, leaving just the two of us in the quiet house. It was already nine at night, and the chill of winter permeated the air. Mounika was attending to some small chores, and I, eager to begin our new life, arranged the bed, telling her the rest could wait until morning. She came.


She was adorned in a red silk saree, jasmine flowers woven into her hair, their fragrance a sweet invitation. How could I resist? The moment she was within reach, I gently took her hand, pulling her onto the bed beside me.

"Wait," Mounika whispered, her voice soft, "you have duty tomorrow. I haven't made breakfast for you yet, or washed the dishes. I won't have time that early."

I pulled her closer, bringing her atop me, then gently laid her head on the pillow. I unbuttoned my shirt, carefully moved aside her saree pallu, and kissed her.

"Hmm…" she hummed softly.

Moving upwards, I kissed her neck, and she, in turn, held my face, her lips meeting mine in a tender kiss. I straddled her, and she shifted downwards, allowing me to kiss her breasts once more. I shed my baniyan, my hands finding their way to her waist, squeezing gently.
"Aahh…" a soft gasp escaped her.

"We couldn't yesterday, could we?" I murmured, my voice thick with desire.

"Yes, that's why I suggested going out; did you listen?" she teased.

"Your dad was talking to me; how could I leave him?"

"Hmm…" she murmured again, a faint sigh.

My index finger found its way into her cleavage, unhooking the first clasp. She was shy, even now, after all these years of silent longing.

"Hey, why are you still shy?" I chuckled softly. "It's been ten days since we got married, I've seen everything, haven't I?"

"Chee, go away," she whispered, covering her face with her hands. I unhooked all three clasps, removing her blouse and bra. As I leaned over her, kissing her breasts, she trembled, a soft moan escaping her lips.

I pulled off her saree, then her skirt and panties. Shedding my own pants, I climbed onto her, intertwining my thighs with hers, and entered her.

"Aaaah…" she screamed, a loud, startled cry, and hugged me tightly.

I began, kissing her neck, a prelude to our shared rhythm.

"Ah… ah… I have my period now," she whispered, her breath coming in short gasps.

"It's okay," I assured her, increasing my thrusts slightly.

"Aaah, slowly," she pleaded.

With my left hand, I held her waist, and with my right, her neck, gyrating to widen her. She spread her legs even wider, welcoming me fully. I thrust, our bodies slapping together, a fervent cadence.

"Ah… Abba… I'm about to come," she gasped, her voice strained.

"Hah… Mouni, this is all we'll do all night," I teased, my own breath ragged.

"Oh no, I can't," she protested weakly.

I lifted my hips up and down, thrusting excitedly between her thighs.

"Mmm… We have to work this hard for kids," I murmured, my voice a low growl.

She laughed, a sweet, uninhibited sound. "That's just an excuse for you."

I dug both hands into the mattress, thrusting with all my might.

"Ah ah… Mmm…" she moaned, her body arching.

As I felt myself nearing release, I grabbed her waist, collapsed on top of her, and finished. As a result of that night, we were blessed with a son, whom we named Sahith.
Our life together unfolded serenely, a tapestry woven with happiness, marked by only minor disagreements, our days filled with the joyful presence of our child. Six years passed, a testament to our contentment. I never felt any lack with Mouni; she was everything I needed.

Last month, in March, my evenings were consumed by overtime work, wrestling with accounts. Then, once again, after a long hiatus, Mouni put Sahith to sleep early. She settled him in another bedroom, on a soft mattress, then slipped into a nightgown and came to me.

We embraced, our lips finding each other in a familiar dance. I pulled off her nightgown, she removed my lungi, and I moved on top. As we were entwined, a fleeting sensation, a shadow at the window, suggested someone might be watching. I dismissed it, focusing on the moment. The little one remained asleep, undisturbed, and I didn't stop. After a long time, we found solace and intimacy in each other's arms, husband and wife.

The next day, I woke early. It was Sunday, and we were cleaning our house, the veranda already glistening. From upstairs, our neighbor, Asha, greeted my wife.

Our neighbor, Mr. Subbaraju, was the ward councilor, a man of considerable standing. He owned two rice mills, a Honda bike showroom, and extensive agricultural lands. A three-story building near the crossroads also bore his name. His wife was Anjali, and their daughter, Asha.

When we first moved here, they had maintained a certain distance. But slowly, an acquaintance blossomed, and their daughter, Asha, became a dear friend to my Mounika, a neighborly confidante.

Asha must have been twenty-six now. She had married in 2020, after weddings were permitted once more following the pandemic. Her husband, I knew, worked for a reputable software company, earning a significant salary. Their social standing was undeniably different from ours. Mr. Subbaraju, with his wealth and status, carried an understandable air of arrogance, yet it was commendable that his daughter, Asha, displayed none of it. 

She spoke to Mounika with a warmth and intimacy that was truly touching, addressing her as "Akka, Akka" (elder sister). In the evenings, she would play with our Sahith, his only friend at home. She was stunningly beautiful, almost ethereally so, as if a touch might make her fade, a clasp might bruise her delicate skin. She usually wore a t-shirt that accentuated the gentle curves of her breasts, paired with a long skirt. She was beautiful, and if a young woman her age came to my house dressed like that, how could I not look? I did look. Two or three times, she also noticed my gaze. Perhaps she had returned to her parents' house last night for the summer vacation.

In the afternoon, after we had eaten, Mounika was on a video call with her mother's side of the family. They were coaxing her to bring our grandson home for his holidays. Just then, Asha walked into our house.

She was wearing a sleeveless blue t-shirt and a flowing red maxi skirt.



"Hi, Brother-in-law?" Asha greeted me, her voice light and musical.

"Hey, hi Asha, when did you come?" I replied.

"Asha Auntie!" Sahith shrieked, running to her, enveloping her in a tight hug.

"Hey Sahith, how are you?" Asha cooed, kissing his cheek and pulling him close.

Catching sight of us, Asha explained, "Oh, I came last night. I planned to come here after eating but…"

"Oh, but?" Mounika prompted, a playful note in her voice.

"Nothing. What are you doing?" Asha quickly changed the subject.

Her abrupt change of topic sparked a flicker of suspicion within me. Could it have been her shadow at the window last night? But I quickly dismissed the thought; it couldn't be her.

"Sit down, Asha," I offered.

They talked for a while. Mounika then asked me if she could go to Eklaspur tomorrow. I agreed. She decided to leave in the evening, stay there overnight, and return by my duty time the next morning. All of this unfolded in front of Asha.

When Mounika went into the kitchen to make juice, Sahith followed, declaring his desire to watch.

After they had left, I was engrossed in watching TV when Asha looked at me, a playful arch of her eyebrows, and a smile dancing on her lips.

"Why are you smiling?" I asked.

"Oh, Brother-in-law, you're great!" she declared.

I didn't quite grasp her meaning. I looked at her, a hint of surprise in my expression.
"Why?" I asked again.

"Of course! You go drop sister off and even stay there for a night," she explained, her smile widening.

"What's so great about that?" I countered, a slight frown creasing my brow.

"My husband didn't come, I came alone," she said, her voice dropping a little.

"Oh, why didn't he come?"

"Busy, Brother-in-law, busy."

"Hmm…" I hummed, a noncommittal sound.

She bent forward to pick up the newspaper from the teapoy. The deep cleavage between her white, milky mounds caught my eye, a tempting valley. She looked up at me, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

"Brother-in-law, I think you're watching TV," she remarked.

A sudden wave of confusion washed over me. She had noticed my gaze, yet she said nothing, offered no rebuke. Was she doing it on purpose, a deliberate display?

Even after Mounika brought the juice, the dynamic remained. As she drank, Asha looked at me, and with a deliberate slowness, ran her tongue over her lips. I tried not to pay too much attention, but her lips, that exquisite beauty, possessed a power to disarm any man, to strip him of his composure.

In the evening, Mounika and I drove to Eklaspur. After our little one had fallen asleep, I pulled Mounika close, covering her with my blanket, my hand finding her waist and squeezing gently.

"Come here, Mouni," I whispered, my voice low.

"Aren't you ashamed? There are people next to us," she murmured, a hint of protest in her tone.

"It's nothing, we'll manage a bit."

"Do we have to?"

"I can't stay without you for four days."

"Okay," she relented.

Under the blanket, I lifted her saree and petticoat, pushing them between her thighs from behind. I inserted myself into her, moving slowly, all the while kissing her lips. As her breath grew heavy, and knowing no one was paying attention, I shifted back slightly and thrust hard.

"Ah… They'll wake up, are you crazy?" she gasped, her voice muffled.

I silenced her protest with my mouth, pressing my lips firmly against hers, and thrust quickly in short, fervent bursts, reaching my release.

"That's enough now. It's not good," Mounika whispered, her breath still ragged.

"Okay," I agreed, my own heart pounding.

I truly considered myself a fortunate man. Mouni and I shared such a profound understanding; she never denied my desires, not even for a day. Our life was filled with countless such moments. Absolutely we engage in sex more frequently.

The next day, I left for duty early in the morning, returning home in the evening. At night, as I was cooking Upma, Asha arrived.

Again, she wore a red top and a flowing blue full skirt, a vibrant splash of color against the evening light.

"Sister isn't here, Asha," I stated, a slight note of surprise in my voice.

"I came to talk to you," she replied, her gaze unwavering.

I wondered what she could possibly want to talk about with me.

"What is it?" I asked, my brows furrowing slightly.

Her gaze was different tonight, a strange intensity in her eyes. She twisted her body back and forth in front of me, her movements almost mesmerizing.

"Brother-in-law, how many days until sister comes back?" she asked, her voice soft, laced with an unsettling sweetness.

"She said four days, but will Sahith manage? I might have to go, it might be a week," I mused aloud, half to myself.

"Oh, really?" she purred, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

I reached for the salt container, but it was empty. I turned to see if there was a packet in the big container on the shelf behind me, and as I did, she stepped in front of me, her presence sudden and close. She looked directly into my eyes, her smile radiating an unsettling enthusiasm.

"Move, Asha," I said, a slight tremor in my voice.

"Brother-in-law, am I beautiful?" she asked, her voice a soft challenge.

"Yes, you are," I replied, a mechanical response.

"How much?"

"Very much."

"Then why doesn't my husband pay much attention to me, Brother-in-law?" she questioned, her voice laced with a subtle sadness.

I moved aside, retrieved the container, and said, "How would I know? You're asking me."

"Because he's not like you," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

I was stunned, her words echoing in my mind. What was she saying?

"What are you talking about?" I managed to stammer, my voice a little hoarse. "Why would your husband be like me?"

"I like it when you're like this, Brother-in-law," she countered, her gaze unwavering.

"Did you eat?" I asked, trying to change the subject, to bring us back to a semblance of normalcy.

"Yes, I did."

I ignored her, focusing on my cooking, stirring the Upma. She continued to stare at me, her gaze a tangible weight, until I finished. I stood silently, waiting for the Upma to cook, and she came in front of me again, standing so close that her top brushed against my chest.
A torrent of desires, long suppressed, began to bubble within me. The girl was so incredibly tempting. Why her husband paid her no attention, I couldn't fathom, nor, I decided, did I truly care. I resolved to place my hands on her shoulders and gently push her aside. But the moment my hands made contact, she twisted her body, a soft moan, "A… mmm…" escaping her lips.

I recoiled, pulling my hands away. "Asha, go," I said, my voice laced with anger. "What's with this craziness?"

"I'll stay here for a while, Brother-in-law," she said, her voice innocent, almost childlike.

"Then go and sit in front of the TV, I'm cooking here…" I said, a little louder this time, my frustration mounting.

She looked at me mockingly, a small pout on her lips, and turned away.

Then, from the living room, her voice drifted to me, singing softly, "Diwani Dipani, Samrani Dupani, the form that increases hunger in your eyes, the thread that binds, the sweetness that tastes spicy, I am yours who will always want only you."

As I heard the lyrics, various unsettling thoughts swirled in my mind. I immediately went to the living room. "Don't sing," I ordered, my voice firm.

She pouted like a child, her eyes wide and mournful. "What happened, Brother-in-law?" she asked, her voice soft.

She rose from the sofa and came closer to me, her hand finding its way to my chest. 

Something stirred within me at her touch, a dangerous flicker. I pushed her hand away.
"Asha, sister isn't here, go home," I urged, my voice tight.

"I came precisely because sister isn't here," she countered, her gaze locking with mine.

Ignoring her, I retreated to the kitchen, served myself Upma, and returned to the dining area. As I ate, she stared intently at me. I met her gaze, and her eyes, filled with such raw desire, caused my own gaze to drop, a strange reluctance to meet her intensity. Her lips were red, like succulent strawberry slices.

But I was married to Mouni, a father to a son. Why should I be looking at another girl like this? The thought, a sharp pang of guilt, pierced through me. I continued eating, my eyes fixed on my plate. After I finished and washed my hands, she came to me, offering a towel.
"Go home, Asha, it's past nine," I said, my voice firm.

"It's okay," she replied, her voice soft, unconcerned.

She took the towel from my hand and, with a deliberate slowness, attempted to wipe my mouth. I stopped her, my hand gently intercepting hers.

"Asha, it's not good for you to be here like this."

"If I like being here, why isn't it good, Brother-in-law?" she asked, her voice a soft murmur.

My pupils darted, unable to rest. She was too beautiful, her allure undeniable, and I found myself unable to tear my gaze away.

She deliberately pushed her chest forward, her eyes brimming with a brazen lust, showcasing those luscious, milky beauties. Since there was no fan, a bead of sweat, glistening on her neck, traced a path downwards, disappearing between them, and my patience, already strained, was wearing thin.

She stroked my chest with her left hand, drawing closer, and exhaled, her warm breath intoxicating on my face, sending shivers down my spine. I was becoming her puppet, a helpless pawn in her game.

"Asha, you're married too," I reminded her, my voice hoarse.

"True, but you're not next to me," she countered, her voice a soft whisper.

"Such crazy thoughts are not good," I said, a desperate plea.

My hand, however, seemed to have a will of its own. It wouldn't obey, wouldn't retreat, as if the nerves had ceased to function.

She leaned forward and kissed my chin. A subtle movement in my hand, a flicker of agency, and my fingers pressed into her waist.

"I'm a woman, and I'm asking you, Brother-in-law, won't you give in?" she whispered, her voice husky.

"How can you say that? Aren't you ashamed? Go, Asha," I pleaded, a desperate struggle within me.

"You have to sacrifice some things to get some," she replied, her voice unwavering. "I sacrificed shame for beauty, strength, and patience like yours."

The raw, primal lust within me, the man, was rapidly overwhelming my carefully constructed patience. Was this wrong? What did Mouni lack? She gave me so much. Why did I need this Asha? The questions raced through my mind, a frantic internal debate. But Asha’s beauty was simply too potent, too overwhelming. Any man, in that moment, would think, "I wish I could have one night with someone as tempting beauty as Asha." Now, that night was being offered to me, and my inherent good nature, my loyalty to Mounika, was challenging me, a painful struggle between desire and duty.

I looked at her blankly, a strange detachment washing over me. She rose on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around my shoulders, and as her lips brushed against mine, I pushed her down.

"Asha, this will cause problems," I warned, my voice strained.

"I don't care any of that, I want you…" she countered, and her lips, soft and warm, found mine again.

The wetness and warmth of her kiss, like an intoxicating drug, coursed through me. Giving in, I held her neck, returning her kiss, my lips pressing against her upper lip.

A smile played on her lips as she grabbed the collar of my shirt, her gaze unwavering, and led me directly into the bedroom. She pushed me onto the bed, then climbed onto my knees, her eyes alight with a dangerous fire.

"Do with me what you can't do with your wife," she whispered, her voice a seductive purr. "Tonight, I'll be however you want me to be."

She leaned over me, kissing my face, and I, consumed by lust, grabbed her face, returning her kisses with a fervent intensity.

"Why all this?" I asked, my voice a ragged whisper.

"You need to fulfill the void in me."

She unbuttoned my shirt, then shed her own top. Her breasts, encased in a red bra, looked like plump Kashmir apples, a forbidden fruit.

I looked at them, my eyes hungry. She rose from atop me and made me sit up. As I complied, she grabbed the back of my head, pulling it forward, pressing my face between those alluring apples.

Oh, how incredibly soft they were. I was intoxicated, my mind reeling, a dizzying spiral of desire.

They say that the taste of tamarind pickle from the neighbor's house is more appealing than the cluster beans at home. Here, butter chicken itself had come to me, laid out for my taking.

I grabbed her waist with both hands. Her body, I wondered if it was made of butter, it was so incredibly soft and smooth. I began to kiss the valley between those milky mounds. Her body was heating up, a fervent warmth radiating against my cheeks. Before my very eyes, her nipples hardened, protruding from her bra, her breasts swelling, threatening to burst free. I continued, burying my face in the sweet expanse, smelling and kissing, and then, a small, playful bite on the skin of her right breast mound.

"Aash… Abba… it hurts when you touch it with your teeth," she moaned, a soft protest.

"When they're like this, what do you use to keep them so soft…" I murmured, burying my face deeper, showering kisses on her chest.

"Mmmm… What do I use?" she purred. "They're so tender because there's no one to do this to them."

"I want to bite them…"

"Ah… do whatever you want, but a little slowly."

I held her waist, pulling her breasts to my face, continuing my fervent kisses. She reached behind her back, her fingers deftly unhooking her bra.

"Aren't you ashamed?" I asked, a flicker of doubt in my voice.

"This will stay between us, so why be ashamed?" she replied, her eyes sparkling with challenge.

I pulled off the bra, tossing it aside, then took her left nipple into my mouth, teasing it with my tongue. At the soft lept, she tensed, as if numb, her nipple hardening firmly, swaying with the playful dance of my tongue.

"Mmmm…" she groaned, a deep, throaty sound.

I squeezed her waist between my ten fingers, then bit both her nipples, alternating between them with my lips.

"Abba… not that much, I’m going crazy… fff," she gasped.

I kissed my way downwards. Her navel, a small, sweet dimple, was like a tiny sugar candy. Perhaps she tingled when I kissed it. She tightened her fingers in my hair, a soft moan escaping her lips, "Hah…"

I stuck out my tongue, poking it into her navel, rotating it in a circle.

"Ahh… Iss… Abba, it feels so good when you do that."

"Is this the first time?" I asked, my voice a little breathless.

"Yes… yes, my husband doesn't do this."

I pressed her navel to my face, poking my lips into her belly button.

"Am… Mmm… Ha, just like that."

"Mmm… Wherever I kiss, it's so sweet. I wonder how much sweeter a honeycomb would be," I mused aloud.

"Oh my, you're doing this just to my navel. What will you do with the rest?" she teased, her voice laced with anticipation.

I pulled her onto me, making her sit on my lap, kissing her lips, then continuing down to her neck.

My hardness stiffened, rubbing against her inner thighs, finding its way to her mound, and she, with a soft moan, pushed her thighs closer to me, rubbing herself against me.

The girl, I realized, could probably wait no longer. How much, I wondered, did she truly want this? I unclipped her skirt, and it fell onto my thighs, a whisper of fabric.

[Haran000]

The air crackled with unspoken desires. "Do you want me to open it?" Asha's voice was a soft whisper, a challenge veiled in an innocent question.


My response was immediate, an echo of the tension building between us. "How do you expect me to fulfill your desire without opening it?"

A soft giggle escaped her, and she took a step back, her eyes dancing with playful anticipation. As I unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, letting them fall, she mirrored my actions with a swiftness that belied her earlier shyness, her skirt and panties pooling at her feet.

She settled before me, legs folded, utterly exposed. The sight of her, unadorned, was breathtaking. I had no idea if the celestial nymphs of legend—Rambha, Urvashi, Menaka—were truly as beautiful, but in that moment, Asha's curves were a revelation, a vision that could surely ignite jealousy in even the most divine. Her form was exquisite, utterly captivating.

My gaze lingered on her thighs, gleaming like they were sculpted from the very essence of the ocean of milk. A fresh surge of desire pulsed through me. I pulled down my zipper, freeing myself from the confines of my pants, and as my lower wear dropped, a resounding thud accompanied its release. Asha gasped, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and awe at the sight of me. Noticing my gaze upon her, a blush crept up her neck, and she quickly averted her face.

I leaned forward, my fingers brushing against her thighs. A tremor ran through her. Gently, I stroked her left thigh, from knee to hip, and she shivered in response. My hand continued its descent, softly cupping her buttocks, then squeezing.

"Ahh... Mmm..." Asha's breath hitched, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Moving closer, I guided myself, inserting into her, between her legs. Her right hand reached out, her fingers tentatively stroking me. A delicious tingle shot through me. I pushed a little further, and her fingers tightened around me.

"Oh my god," she whispered, her voice laced with incredulity. "Did you pierce sister with this the other day? How did she bear it?"

"Why wouldn't she bear it?" I countered, a smirk playing on my lips.

"It doesn't even fit in my hand," she mused, her voice laced with wonder. "How did it even get inside?"

I bent down, pressing a kiss to her neck. She swayed beneath me, consumed by passion. "I'll show you how it went in," I murmured against her skin, "but first, there's something you need to show me."

"I'm shy," she demurred, a hint of playfulness in her tone.

"You said you left your shyness behind?"

As I leaned in closer, my body aligned with hers. She kneaded me with her fingers, swinging it tantalizingly before her breasts. Then, she spread her folded thigh, revealing herself fully. I lowered my head and looked. Not a single dark hair, just a glistening, honeyed haven nestled within what seemed like the petals of a red lotus.

I kissed her neck, then trailed my lips downwards, inch by inch, past her navel, until suddenly, my mouth pressed against her. She jolted, her hips arching as if struck by a sudden storm.

"Ahhh...." A guttural cry escaped her. Her fingers dug into my hair, gripping tightly. I gave another kiss. Her wetness began to dampen my lips, and at that sweet scent, my lust flared. I scbangd her with my front teeth. She pushed herself into my mouth, convulsed, and then fell back.

"Amma..." Her voice was a soft exhalation.

I moved back, kissing her right calf, and with each lingering kiss, she writhed and trembled. 

I brought her thighs together, placing my face between them, kissing them back and forth.

"Ooh... Come up, brother-in-law." Her voice was breathy, laced with impatience.

"Your thighs are like sweet corn cobs," I teased, my voice thick with desire. "I want to bite and eat them, Asha."

"Hmm... Do the main thing first, brother-in-law," she urged, her voice a low murmur. "You can chew on those later."

As I moved over her, I rested the keen edge of my heated sword between her lotus petals.

"Isss... Be careful, you might crush me." A soft warning.

"If you come and lie under me, saying 'don't crush me,' then how?"

I rubbed myself against her swollen, erect clitoris. Her clit swelled and protruded, reacting to the heat. She gripped my shoulders, biting her lip, a low moan escaping her.
"Mmmm...."

Her facial expressions fueled my lust. Again, I moved myself against her lips. They trembled so much, and I felt that tremor entering me.

"Isss mmm... Put it in, don't tease me."

"But you have to open the door for me to come inside..." I teased her for the third time.

"Ahh, okay, okay." She spread her legs wide in surrender. I leaned forward, my left hand on the bed beside her right, my right hand stroking myself.

She looked at me, leaned up, pushed my hand aside, and took hold of me herself, stroking me with soft fingers. She scratched the glans with her thumb and played with my testicles with her left hand. New shivers ran through my waist nerves. Monica had never done this.
Holding me fully with both hands, she swung me as she moved back, and I climbed on top, aiming myself at her entrance. She guided me, pulling me towards the entrance. I stepped in and pushed an inch. My glans, wet with both our juices, pushed her lips aside and went inside.

With her eyes closed, Asha whispered, "Aaah..."

I pushed forward with my thighs, letting them move on their own. Her wet muscles parted, making way for me. Her body was incredibly tight; I went in about halfway, and suddenly, "Amma... Aaa..." she screamed. I pulled back a little.

I bent down and kissed her nipple.

"Push it a little slower," she pleaded.

"Yours is getting too tight."

"It's like that when you're inside me."

I moved my hips again and pushed slowly. Her body was seething inside, giving me an exquisite itch.

"Aaah...." I moved back and forth.

"Uff... I'm shaking, brother-in-law. My husband can't even last in front of you."

Her words filled me with a surge of pride, and I intensified my movements.

"Hmm... More."

I lay on top, my thighs bumping against hers.

"Abbaa Mmmm..." she mumbled in a low voice, unconsciously lifting her hips a little.

Her wetness must have increased, making it easier to penetrate fully. As I pressed my knees into the bed and thrust, my thighs made sounds. My pubic hair pricked her smooth mound, sending shivers through her. My stiff testicles rubbed and kissed her buttocks where her body met them.

She put her hands on my buttocks and pulled me closer. I kissed her trembling lips, exulting in the moment. Placing my left hand on the bed for support, I passionately squeezed her left breast with my right hand, riding on her.

Swallowing her lip, Asha murmured, "Mmmm... You're really crushing me."

Her passion surged, her breathing quickened, and she moaned as thick juices from her mound flowed onto the bed with my thrusts. Her moans, combined with a squelching sound like a broken dam emanating from between our bodies, excited me immensely.
I lifted her right leg and increased my pace. As my balls thumped, she spread her thighs further, cooperating. I rubbed against her walls, releasing her intoxicating juice. She trembled like a tender leaf, closing her eyes and gripping my hand tightly, pushing back against me. The pressure her muscles exerted on me made me feel like she was about to reach orgasm. This fueled my arousal, and I thrust with clenched hips.

"Hahh... Aash..." My own moans escaped me. As I breathed and moved, her wetness overflowed. Myself, drenched in that wetness, was deliciously swallowing it with a "kass kass" sound.

Asha suddenly rose, grabbed my neck, pulled me on top of her, and violently, passionately, thrust her hips back, trembling. Her nails scratched my shoulders. I continued to thrust into her flowing honey.

"Aaah aa... Mmm..." she moaned.

"Mmm..." I responded. My testicles filled and swelled, creating an itch at the tip. It felt like it would burst the next moment.

"Ahh... It feels so good, what kind of fucking is this, ahh... don't stop."

"I won't."

"Ahh... Make me yours, do anything to me, I want this pleasure, mmm... let's continue, brother-in-law."

"Ah... Why do you feel this way about me?"

"When I've surrendered myself like this, what do you mean 'why'?" she retorted, her voice thick with desire. "You're satisfying my itch, aren't you?"

"Hahh... Just one?"

"How many will you do, my man?"

"As many as there are tonight."

"I'll be spoiled."

"Once you've entrusted it to me, I'll take care of it..."

I forcefully pushed myself deep into her belly. My glans trembled, squirting warm, thick semen into her depth.

"Hahh," I exhaled.

"Ahh, mmm..." she responded.

She kissed my face, then took my lips. We kissed deeply, and I continued to release all the juice, rubbing myself against her walls

"How much did you cum? It's all full."

Slowly getting up, I took out my now limp self and lay beside her. She leaned against me and hugged me. I squeezed her soft breasts, lifted my head, and sucked on her right breast. She again took hold of me and stroked the foreskin, playing with it.

"You have a strong itch," I remarked.

"If you were my husband, I wouldn't give your cock any rest, brother-in-law."

"You're this passionate? My wife would be saying 'Oh my!' by now."

"A wife and a mistress are not the same, brother-in-law."

She looked at me lustfully, went down, and licked me. Oh, what pleasure; my testicles floated in the air. I laughed.

"Why that laugh?" she asked.

"Nothing."

Asha put me in her mouth and started sucking. I came back to life in her mouth. As I held her hair and lifted buttocks to thrust, she sucked passionately. Her lips gripped the nerves of my shaft, sucking, and I saw heaven. She pulled down the skin, licked my glans, pulled it down further, licking the shaft, anointing it with her saliva.

"Are you going to make me cum like this, or let me fuck?"

"Cum like this once, brother-in-law, I'll drink your potent semen."

That surprised me. But this felt new. I got up and sat with my legs spread. She continued to suck. A "slurp, slurp" sound came from her sucking.

"Cluck, cluck," she murmured.

"Ahh... Why are you so eager?"

She took me out, came up, and kissed my chest. "Yours makes my mouth water, my cheating man."

I looked into her eyes with lust, her breasts swaying, touching me. She saw me looking, bent down, positioned my glans exactly between her breasts, and pressed them against my shaft with her hands.

I kissed her forehead. She pressed harder. Oh, my shaft swung comfortably between those soft breasts. She started swaying, her breasts accepting me. I also leaned back on the bed with my hands, lifting my hips a little, pressing myself against her chest, moving with her.

"Hah... I've never done this before."

"I'll make you do it, brother-in-law. You can make me do anything you want. Just use me like that."

"Like what?" I asked with a laugh.

"You know, like the abusive they say."

"No, nothing like that."

"How decent you are, brother-in-law. That's why I like you."

I got up, quickly turned her around, made her bend over, and spanked her hard on her buttocks.

"Ahh... Brother-in-law, why did you hit me like that?"

"You like my decency, right? Just showing it, spread your legs."

Agreeing, she spread her thighs. I held myself and pushed it into her with one thrust from behind. She swallowed me, thrusting her ass back.

"Amma... You pushed it in like that, what will happen to me?"

Without a moment's delay, I clenched her buttocks tightly and began thrusting.

"Ahh... Yes."

"Didn't you say something earlier?"

"Hah... Hmm... I will, mmm."

I increased my speed, thrusting hard. The bed was shaking along with us.

"Aaahh... My husband cums in three minutes and sleeps in a corner. Will you play for three rounds or something?"

"Only three?"

"So, how many will you do?"

"My cock won't come out of your pussy until you leave my house tonight."

"You'll kill me, brother-in-law."

"Looking at your figure, I want to fuck you without stopping."

"As you wish. My husband won't be back for a week, and until Monica sister comes, keep me."

I lay on top, thrusting like a dog from behind, taking her.

"Let's try everything in these four days."

"If you desire, this Asha will become your slave."

— 

Asha became my slave, and I became hers; we both became slaves to each other. Those four days, and then two days the following week, sometimes we met elsewhere without Monica knowing. Another time, we did it in their backyard. Sometimes, even when Monica was there, she would suck my cock. It always felt new with her; what Monica gave me seemed less in every way. Many times, I thought I was cheating on Monica, and it was enough, but my desire for Asha never diminished, and a strong illicit bond formed between us.


One day, Asha came to our house to play with Sahith. The day before, even though Asha refused, I had made her suck my cock behind their compound wall, behind the banana tree. Everything was normal, but Sahith wasn't. As soon as Asha came and greeted him, he scrunched up his face and moved away.

"What happened, darling? Won't you talk to me?" Asha asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

"You're a bad girl," Sahith declared loudly. "I won't talk to you."

"Oh, why?"

"You put Daddy's thing in your mouth, ew, bad girl..." he blurted out.

I was there, and Monica was there. I couldn't even imagine how shocked Monica was to hear that. I didn't even understand if he had seen what Asha and I did yesterday. Monica came towards me, burning with anger.

My heart sank instantly. I had no answer to the question she was about to ask. I didn't know what to do or how to face her. She came towards me, then suddenly changed direction towards Sahith.

She slapped Sahith's cheek.

"Amma..." he cried, tears welling in his eyes.

"You play games elsewhere, see all sorts of things, and then bring your father's name into it?" Monica's voice was sharp, laced with fury. "Why would Daddy be there, you foolish boy, go! No games today, do your homework," and she took him inside.

I didn't understand anything. Asha looked at me with the same surprise. I gestured for her to leave. She left, her face a mask of bewilderment.

I didn't speak until night. I knew Monica was annoyed with me. Sahith had to sleep. Once he slept, I didn't know what my situation would be. My knees were trembling. For any man, if he's caught by his mother or wife doing something wrong, cooking spatula is as good as broken.

She calmly put Sahith to sleep. I was in the hall, not knowing what to do, watching TV. She came and sat beside me. My heart was pounding.

"Mouni," I began, and before I could finish, she hit me on the nose with her right hand.

"Shame, no shame, you pervert rascal, ugh, ugh, how did you do this dirty thing?" Her voice was venomous.

I was shocked. "What?"

"Ugh, ugh, how did you do this bad thing?"

"Forgive me, Mouni," I pleaded, truly telling her, "she was the one who lured me."

"What do children know?" Monica’s voice was laced with bitter sarcasm. "Today he said it at home; if he says that outside somewhere else, what about our reputation? Ugh, ugh... And I'm still living with you, I'm foolish."

"I won't do it again," I vowed, my voice barely a whisper.

"You can flirt with her all you want, but if this matter comes out, I'll kill you and then myself."

She gave me another shock. "What?"

"It's your wish. Asha already told me. That it wasn't your fault. But she said she would keep you at a distance."

I didn't say anything, utterly defeated.

After a few days, Asha stopped coming to her maternal home. After some time, she told me to forget everything that happened between us, and I agreed. It remained a good memory for me.

The End