Adultery Avi's Sexual Marathon: Family, Village, College, City

[lee.jae.han]

Disclaimer: This story was originally written by someone else. I’m only translating it using LLM tools for wider audience. Apologies in advance for any mistakes, consistencies or inaccuracies in the translation. 


Main , Meri Family Aur Mera Gaon (original)
Author - 123fuckeravi 


will use this page for index as it is mega story.]

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## Update 1: A New Beginning in the Village

My name is Avi. I was just a child when a road accident stole my mother and father, leaving me an orphan. My father was the eldest of his five siblings: three sisters and one younger brother, my chacha.

My Chacha has a complicated history. He married three times, not for passion, but in a desperate, frustrated search for a son. His first wife, Suman (Badi Chachi, 32), and his second, Seema (Majeli Chachi, 29), never had children. That’s why he took a third wife, Meena (Chhoti Chachi, 27).

My three paternal chachis (buas) live nearby. Pooja (Badi Bua, 42) married young—before she was eighteen, which means she married even before my father. She has two older daughters, Sweta (22) and Sital (21), and a younger son, Raj (18). Then there are the twins, Neha (40) and Neeta (40). Neha Bua has two daughters, Komal (19) and Kavita (18). And Neeta Bua has twins herself, Leena (18) and Rajesh (18).

All my cousins are younger than me, Avi (20), except for Badi Bua’s two daughters.

After the accident, my Dadaji brought me to the village to live with my Chacha and his wives. Badi Chachi was the one who insisted on it. She must have seen me as the son she was always denied, a desperate way to fill the empty space in her life.

A lot of time has passed since my parents died. I’m twenty now. The accident was a huge, life-shattering shock. It took me three years to claw my way out of that suffocating sadness.

For those three years, I existed in a fog. I had no appetite; food tasted like dust. Thirst was a feeling I simply ignored. I didn’t speak to anyone, didn't leave the house to play, and certainly didn't look at a scho*l book. Every moment was a dull, aching replay of my parents' faces.

Neha Bua was the only one who seemed to hate my sadness. She didn't offer comfort; she offered pain. When she was near me, she’d often grab my ear, her grip surprisingly sharp, and yank hard. "Stop this moping, boy!" she'd hiss, her voice low and dangerous. "You're a burden on everyone."

But they say you cannot cry forever for someone who is gone. Suman Chachi was the steady force that pulled me back. One evening, she simply sat beside me and held my hand, saying nothing, until I finally looked up and saw the raw, quiet worry in her eyes. It was that silent plea that broke the spell. I decided, right there, to start my new life.

It was difficult to fill that three-year chasm. But I didn't lose heart. Suman Chachi enrolled me in the village scho*l. I was much older than the other boys, my twenty years standing out amongst the small, energetic children. It made me feel utterly alone in the classroom; I had no friends, no one who understood the lingering echoes of my grief.

This was the beginning of everything.

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 2: The Women Who Raised Me

My Suman Chachi loves me with a boundless, fierce affection. She is the reason I never truly felt the absence of my mother. All three of my chachis— Suman, Seema, and meena—treat me as their own, an arrangement that makes me the center of a warm, comforting world.

But that warmth often meets a sharp chill. My chacha is a man of loud words and quick tempers. He doesn't just scold the women; he snaps orders, a hand constantly gesturing, dismissing their opinions before they can finish speaking. They always flinch, a tiny, private movement, before dutifully turning back to their work. This tension is a permanent shadow in the house.

Our family is large, and our living situation reflects it. My three buas are married to men who work in Dubai and only return for one month each year. Our chacha’s house is the hub: he and my Chhoti Chachi share the first bedroom; Seema Chachi and Suman Chachi share the second; and the third, the smallest, is mine.

The only room that changed was Dadaji's. Originally, he was in the old storeroom, which the chachis had lovingly scrubbed, plastered, and converted into a clean space for him when he fell ill.

I tried to ignore the slow decline of the man who loved me most. Dadaji adored me. Perhaps it was because my Badi Bua, Pooja, had two daughters before I was born, making me the eldest boy, the first grandson. He always had a special story just for me.

But watching him grow weaker, seeing the glazed look in his eyes, was a weight I carried every day. Today, my chachis finally made the difficult decision.

The smell of fresh antiseptic was strong in the air. I stood frozen in the doorway, watching them gently lift Dadaji onto a makeshift stretcher. My chest felt tight, a band of cold steel wrapped around my ribs. A tiny, panicked thrumming started in my ears, and I could barely draw a breath. He looked smaller than I had ever seen him.

They carried him out, placing him in the waiting vehicle. The engine started, rumbled, and then silence fell over the house again—a heavy, complete silence that swallowed every comforting sound. Dadaji was gone. He had been moved to the ashram for his treatment.

I knew it was for the best, that the constant care he needed was exhausting the chachis, but standing in the doorway of his empty room—the faint, lingering smell of his medicated oil hanging in the air—I felt a huge, lonely space open up in the family. His treatment is ongoing, but truthfully, his condition hasn't improved much.

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 3: The Errand

I was admitted to the village schoool, and life had been simple. But the boys in my class had begun talking about naked pictures they’d seen, and when I saw those images, I felt a strange, hot discomfort, a feeling I couldn't understand, especially when my penis would harden.

One afternoon, I was sent on an errand to Pooja bua's house. I’d always noticed a pattern with Bua: once a month, her friend's brother, Rakesh, would visit. Whenever he arrived, Bua would suddenly find a reason to get her children out of the house—a trip to the movies or a long playdate at my chacha's place.

That day was no different. Bua had already sent her children off for a movie. My chacha had given me a small wad of money to deliver to my Pooja chachi. When I got to Chachi’s door, I found the house empty. I turned to walk back, taking the shortcut past Bua’s main room.

The house was eerily silent, save for a low, rhythmic sound coming from Bua’s room. A heavy, sweet perfume—the same one Bua always wore—hung in the air near the open door. I took one step past the threshold, and the silence shattered.

I stopped dead. My lungs froze. A hot wave of nausea washed over me, and my ears began to ring with a high-pitched, insistent whine. My heart hammered against my ribs, a trapped bird desperate for escape. I felt the blood drain from my face, a cold, empty sensation replacing the warmth in my body.

What I saw I couldn’t have imagined.

Rakesh was bent over Bua, his mouth moving greedily. Bua made a strange, guttural noise that ended in a shaky moan. His hand plunged into the loose fabric of her petticoat, and I heard the quick, soft tear of a string being untied. The garment fell away, and she was completely bare. Rakesh’s clothes followed. His penis looked thick, maybe six inches long.

"Lick me, Rakesh," Bua pleaded, her voice breathy.

He ignored her, his eyes fixed on her body. He positioned himself and shoved.

A sharp, loud cry tore out of Bua's throat—a sound of immediate, dry pain. But Rakesh didn't pause. He began a fierce, piston-like movement, his expression set and remote. He didn’t stop for what felt like ten minutes. Then, with a harsh yell, he collapsed on top of Bua.

Bua pushed his shoulder. "Rakesh, why do you always go straight in? It always hurts when you don't wet me first."

Rakesh shifted his weight off her, pulling his legs up to sit on the edge of the bed. He wiped his face with the back of his hand. "Pooja, you know I can't be bothered with that. I don't like it."

Bua sat up, pulling a sheet over her chest. "But you rammed yourself into a dry pussy!"

"What's the difference?" he asked, shrugging. "It's easier this way."

"Easier for who?" Bua’s voice was strained. "It’s your old habit, I know. But I get used to it, too. What choice do I have?"

He laughed, a short, humorless sound. "I've been fucking you for six years now, and you still react like it's the first time."

Bua’s eyes flashed. "If you put your penis in a dry pussy, what am I supposed to do? Should I be enjoying myself so much that I laugh?"

Rakesh looked toward the door. "That’s why I make sure the kids are gone. I don't want to explain your noises to anyone."

Bua sighed and adjusted the sheet. "You are very clever. You only ever come here to scratch this one itch."

"What can I do?" he said, his tone turning self-pitying. "My wife doesn't cooperate with me the way you do."

"Now get up," Bua said, reaching for her petticoat. "The children will be home soon."

"Yeah, I'm getting up," he muttered, reaching for his own clothes.

They were talking about it so casually, like they were discussing the weather. This wasn't something people were supposed to do.

I backed away slowly, my entire body rigid, then turned and bolted from the house. I stopped down the street, waited for a few frantic minutes to let my breath steady, and then forced myself to return and knock on the front door, just as if I had only just arrived.

"Come in, Avi," Bua called out. She had already dressed.

She walked out of the room, leaving me alone with Rakesh. He was still standing by the bed, smoothing the wrinkles from his shirt.

He looked up. "What’s wrong, Avi? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

I clenched my fists inside my pockets. "Nothing, bhaiyya. I’m feeling a little sick."

He stepped closer, his brow furrowed. "Why? What happened?"

"Nothing, it’s just..." I trailed off, unable to form a coherent lie.

"What’s ‘just’?" he asked, the impatience suddenly back in his voice.

I'm worried about what I saw you doing. I swallowed hard. "Nothing, bhaiyya. It's nothing."

Rakesh put a hand on my shoulder. His skin felt too warm. "Come on, consider me your friend and tell me. Don't be scared."

I knew I had to distract him, to fool him completely. "Bhaiyya, the boys in my class keep showing me dirty pictures. They whisper things like, 'Look at your Pooja bua, she's so naked. Look how big your bua's breasts are.' It makes me so angry."

Rakesh slowly removed his hand from my shoulder and let out a long breath. "Look, Avi, don't let it get to you when someone says something about your bua." He paused, his gaze steady and oddly cold. "No matter what people say, she's still your bua."

"Yeah, you're right," I said, meeting his eyes and managing a weak nod.

Bua returned, holding an envelope. "Avi, here’s the money. Give it to your chacha."

"Okay, Bua. I’ll get going now. See you later, bhaiyya," I said, and left as quickly as I dared.

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 4: The Secret Behind the Wall

I came home, my head still swimming with the unsettling image of Pooja Bua and Rakesh. I just want to go to my room and be alone. I handed Chhoti Chachi the money and retreated to the dim quiet of my room, intending to sleep, but the soft, urgent voices of Chachi and her friend, a nurse named Riya, drifted clearly through the thin wall. I couldn't help but strain to listen.

"Riya, did you do my work?" Chhoti Chachi’s voice was tense, barely a whisper.

"Yes, I brought your report," Riya replied.

What report are they talking about? I shifted, pressing my ear closer to the wall, trying to become part of the plaster.

"Show me! What does it say?" Chachi urged, the anticipation a low thrum in her voice.

Riya hesitated, the silence stretching. "It’s just that..."

"What's 'it's just that'? Just give it to me!" Chachi’s impatience cracked through her composure.

Riya’s voice softened even more. "Here."

A paper rustled. "I can’t understand any of this, yaar," Chachi said, a sigh of frustration escaping.

Riya paused, choosing her words. "It says that..."

"Yes, tell me!" Chachi insisted.

"All your tests are positive," Riya stated simply.

Chachi’s breath caught. "And Avi's Chacha's?" A thread of desperate hope was woven into the question.

"His are negative," Riya replied.

"Meaning?" Chachi whispered.

"It means your husband's sperm count is very low, and what sperm he does have are weak," Riya explained. She lowered her voice further, though I still caught every word. "In other words, your husband can never make you a mother."

Chacha can't have kids? That's why he married three times? But he always blamed my Chachis. A wave of utter confusion and sharp pity washed over me. I felt a cold knot tighten in my stomach, the world suddenly tilting.

"What are you saying?" Chachi exclaimed, her shock echoing the silence in the room. "How can that be?"

"That’s the truth on the paper," Riya said.

"No, my husband is active. He sleeps with me for fifteen minutes, and I get wet two or three times!" Chachi pleaded, clinging to the physical evidence of their life.

"That's all fine," Riya said firmly. "But you don't become a father just by having sex for a long time. It depends on the sperm."

Chachi was trembling. "So what should I do now? Avi's Chacha will destroy me. He’ll never stop blaming me!"

"Do one thing," Riya suggested, her tone pragmatic. "Have a baby with someone else's sperm."

"Chacha won't agree to that," Chachi said immediately.

"Then don't tell him. Come to the hospital with me," Riya pushed. "I'll handle the procedure. No one will ever find out."

"But this is wrong," Chachi said, her voice heavy with conflict and guilt.

"There's nothing wrong with this. It happens in the city every day," Riya reassured her.

Chachi inhaled slowly. "No, yaar, I can't do this." Sadness weighed down the air.

Riya let out an exasperated sound. "Okay, don't. It doesn't affect me."

"Don't be angry," Chachi pleaded.

"I’m not angry," Riya replied, though the sharpness in her voice betrayed her.

Chachi sighed, changing the subject abruptly. "Okay, forget about that. How are your husband and kids?"

"Oh, I almost forgot to tell you in the rush of the report," Riya said, her voice brightening slightly. "My husband has been transferred. We are leaving the city this Sunday."

"What? You're leaving me, too?" Chachi’s voice broke, the sorrow of being abandoned by her only ally palpable.

"I have to go, Meena," Riya said, her expression softening. "I’ll be in touch."

"Okay," Chachi whispered. "Just promise you'll call."

"I promise." I heard the soft padding of Riya’s footsteps as she walked away. "Bye."

Chachi looked heartbroken. She was holding on to the hope of this report, and now it's all gone.

The room was silent, then a small, dry, rustling noise—the sound of the report being crumpled. A moment later, I heard the faint shhh of a match. Chachi was alone, talking to herself.

"Riya, you’ve solved a big problem for me," she whispered into the empty air. "I'll become a mother soon, but I don't know who the father will be. It would be good if he was from this house. If that happens, then Suman Didi and Seema Didi will also become mothers. Now I just have to find a father for my future child."

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 5: The Storehouse and the Secret


Around four in the evening, I woke up with a start. A strange, damp, sticky stain had soaked through my pajama bottoms. I pulled them off and saw the thick, wet mark on my underwear. What is this? I quickly peeled them off, tossing them into a corner, and put on fresh clothes before heading out to the cricket ground.

We were deep in a game when a massive hit sent our only ball soaring over the boundary and into the forbidden territory: the old, abandoned storehouse. Everyone else gave up and walked home, but the ball was mine, and I wasn't letting it go. I was determined to find a way in.

It was nearly six, and the sun was dipping toward the horizon, casting long, bruised shadows. I walked the perimeter of the storehouse. After a few minutes, I found a window set high in the back wall, slightly ajar. I pushed it open and slipped inside.

The air inside was heavy, still, and suffocatingly thick with the smell of rotted grain and damp earth. My eyes struggled to adjust to the gloom. Just as the darkness began to soften into shapes, I heard a scbang of shoes, and the shadow of three figures climbed in through the same window. They were all wearing our scho*l uniforms.

Who are they? What are they doing here? I flattened myself behind a crumbling pile of dusty, wooden boxes.

The three—two boys and one girl—sat down on the gritty floor. The faint, dusty light from the window was just enough to silhouette them. The girl sat between the boys, who immediately began grabbing at her chest, their hands kneading and squeezing.

"Your mangoes are great," the first boy said, his voice husky.

The second boy grinned into the shadows. "Yeah, her mangoes and her melons are both ready."

The girl shifted against them, her breath catching in her throat. "Are you just going to talk? Or are you going to do something?"

"Your lips are so sweet." The first boy dipped his head, his voice a low promise. "I could suck on them all day."

The second boy tugged impatiently at her uniform. "Hurry up and take off your clothes. I can't control myself."

"I’m taking them off." Her voice was shaky with effort. "I can't control myself either. Ever since you two got me addicted to this, my pussy has been itching."

"Suck on my penis," the first boy commanded.

"I’ll make your boobs even bigger." The second boy’s hands worked furiously under her shirt.

"Aaha... this is so much fun," the girl moaned, a low sound swallowed by the dust.

The first boy pulled back slightly. "Dude, switch with me. I'll take your place now."

"Come on, hurry," the other boy replied, their bodies scrambling in the dark.

"Why are you so focused on sucking?" the girl complained, her voice suddenly sharper. "Just put it in my pussy already."

A few minutes later, the first boy’s body blocked the dim light as he thrust into her. At the same moment, the other boy slid his penis into her mouth. They moved together, a blur of panting effort in the gloom. They switched positions, repeating the acts with a frantic, desperate rhythm.

My own penis, without any conscious command, had grown painfully hard. I pulled it out of my pants, the coarse fabric of my shirt brushing against the skin. On a strange, compelling impulse, I started moving my hand up and down, copying the rhythm I was seeing. A new, strange feeling, hot and delicious, shot through me. The more I moved my hand, the better the sensation became.

The boys’ pace quickened until they were both panting heavily, their sounds echoing in the close space. Suddenly, a jolt—a feeling of intense, blinding pleasure shot through me. Something warm and thick erupted from my penis. My entire body went limp, a sensation of intense release and lightness replacing the tension.

"That was great today, man." The first boy’s voice was ragged.

The other boy laughed sharply. "Yeah, fucking your sister is so much fun."

"I'm exhausted." The girl sighed deeply. "You've been using me for a year now. Let's meet here again tomorrow."

The three of them scrambled back out the window. I waited until the air settled before following them. I needed to see the girl’s face.

I saw the two boys standing casually by a large neem tree. The girl then stepped out from behind its thick trunk. My blood ran cold. It was Mona, a girl from my own class. I recognized the boys: one was her own brother, who had failed the same grade for two years. The other was her childhood fiancé, also a two-time failure.

I walked home, my head spinning with the dust and the shocking images. Mona? Her own brother? I ate dinner, but the food was tasteless. I went to bed, but sleep wouldn't come. My mind endlessly replayed the two secrets I had uncovered in two days: my Bua with her lover and Mona with her brother and fiancé. For the first time, I understood the true, visceral meaning of "penis" and "fucking." A new, hot desire sparked in my gut. I want to do that, too. But I had no idea how, or with whom.

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 6: The Math Madam and the Principal's Secret


The next morning, I arrived at schoool early. At seven, the results were handed out. My mind was still haunted by the images from the storehouse the evening before, but the paper in my hand made me smile. I scored 70 out of 100 in Math, topping the class in that subject, while my sister Komal topped the entire schoool overall.

During lunch break, I was on the cricket field when my Math Madam, smiling, called me over.

"Avi beta, your marks are so good," she said, her expression warm.

"Yes, Madam. It's all thanks to you." I could feel my cheeks heat up.

She shook her head gently. "I didn't do anything. This is the result of your own hard work."

"But the old teacher made me scared of Math," I confessed. "You teach in such a simple and good way."

"Every teacher has a different style," she replied. "Some students like my way, and others prefer the old sir's."

"Even so, I got good marks only because of you."

She laughed, a quick, light sound. "Don't praise me too much. I'm only here for six months. There's only one month left, and then you'll have to go back to the old sir."

My heart sank into my gut, a sudden, cold weight. "But why can't you stay here forever, Madam?"

"I can't, Avi. This is part of an experiment," she explained. "Your sir is teaching at my schoool, and I'm teaching here. It’s an opportunity for a new experience for both of us."

"So you're really leaving?"

She softened her voice. "Yes, I have to go. My husband and son are in the city. I'm all alone here."

"You'll always be my best teacher, Madam."

She changed the subject, tapping the results paper. "The principal told me you can top the class overall if you work a little harder in Math."

"I'm already working very hard," I said, a defensive note creeping into my tone.

"It's not enough." She folded her arms. "You have to study more and practice even more."

"Okay, Madam. I will work hard."

She lowered her voice. "The principal suggested I teach you after schoool, too. Are you willing to come study with me?"

My breath hitched. "Yes, of course, Madam! I’ll come to your house this afternoon."

"Good." She looked past me. "The principal wanted me to teach you at schoool, but I'll convince him otherwise. Come at three this afternoon. And remember to study your other subjects as well."

"Okay, Madam. I'll come to your house."

She glanced at her watch. "Look at that, lunch break is over. Go back to your class."

"Thanks, Madam."


*******


Back in the classroom, my focus immediately bled from the math problems. Mona's image—her fair skin, her naked body—burned in my mind, a hot, distracting presence. I was lost in the memory when the bell finally shrieked. The History teacher was a no-show, so we were dismissed to the field.

I started playing, then stopped, scanning for Mona and her boyfriend. No luck. I began searching the perimeter, anticipation tightening my gut. Soon, I spotted Mona's brother outside the sports room door, leaning against the frame. The door was securely locked from the inside.

I knew instantly: they were inside. A shiver of dark excitement ran through me. I crept up to the building, found a crack in the dusty window frame, and peered in.

It wasn't just Mona and her boyfriend. The Principal, fully clothed, sat heavily in a chair, dominating the small, echoing room.

Mona was on her knees before him, completely naked. Her boyfriend stood by, chest heaving, his eyes fixed on the scene.

Mona leaned forward, her voice tight with panic. She glanced at the door, then back at the Principal's stern face. She pressed her palms together. She needed to please him quickly.

Mona reached up and placed both her full, soft breasts directly into his hands. She pushed them toward his mouth, her head tilted, silent appeal in her eyes.

The Principal's stern expression softened slightly. His large hands closed around the soft flesh, gripping them thoughtfully. He began to knead them, his thumb sweeping slowly across the areolae. Mona closed her eyes, letting out a low, shaky breath. The Principal leaned forward and took one nipple between his lips, drawing a long, wet pull. Mona arched her back, a soft, involuntary moan escaping her throat, which she instantly muffled with a trembling hand. The Principal continued his leisurely sucking, alternating between the two breasts, savoring the soft flesh and the low whimpers he coaxed from her. He spent several long, indulgent moments, manipulating her breasts, his breathing slow and measured.

Finally, he lifted his head, a small, satisfied smile on his face. He gently pushed her breasts aside. He lowered his voice, his tone deep with expectation. He indicated his lap with a gesture.

Mona understood. She lowered the Principal's trouser zipper slowly. The loud *zzzzip* of the heavy metal broke the sensual silence, a sharp, intrusive sound. The Principal's penis sprang out, thick and rigid, slick with pre-ejaculate. Mona paused for a breath, then slowly took the hard penis into her mouth, her lips closing tight around the shaft. She began to suck with a deliberate, dedicated rhythm, her throat working methodically.

The Principal leaned back in his chair, his hands gripping the arms, his head tilted back. A low groan rumbled in his chest, a sound of pure satisfaction. He reached down, his fingers burying themselves in Mona's hair, guiding her head, urging her deeper. Mona accepted the control, sucking faster, her eyes closed in concentration.

She pulled back slightly, drawing the head of his penis against the roof of her mouth, licking the tip with her tongue. Then, without instruction, Mona dropped her head lower. She began to pull the slack from his scrotum, taking his heavy balls into her mouth and rolling them against her tongue. She began to suck them with full, deliberate force, coating them completely in saliva. The wet, rhythmic slurping noise was audible over the silence of the room, slick and thick with their combined efforts. Saliva dripped from the corner of her mouth, running down her chin and pooling briefly on his penis before she swallowed and returned her attention to the engorged balls. The Principal's grip on the chair tightened, his knuckles white.

The boyfriend fidgeted nervously by the door. He spoke up, a sharp hiss of impatience. "Mona, finish it! Don't waste time!" he commanded, rubbing his face with a sweaty hand.

Mona's sucking continued, muffled and intense, dedicated to the Principal's rising pleasure, but she didn't look up, ignoring the boyfriend's distraction. The Principal simply shook his head slightly, a silent command for the boyfriend to wait. His focus was entirely on Mona's mouth and the pleasure she was delivering.

The Principal finally pulled her head away, his movements now firm but controlled. He rose from the chair. He looked down at her. He gestured at the floor.

Mona immediately dropped onto her hands and knees in the dusty room. Her naked body shook slightly. She looked back at him, head bowed.

The Principal positioned himself behind her. He grabbed her hips, drove his penis into her chooť.

Mona immediately let out a high-pitched scream of shock and pain. Her hands instantly flew to her mouth, stifling the noise against the dusty floor.

The Principal's eyes snapped to the locked door, his face draining of color with the sheer terror of exposure. He instantly stopped the rhythmic mar. He grabbed Mona's hair and held her head up, his voice low and frantic. "Boy!" he hissed at the boyfriend. "Boy, get your penis out!"

The boyfriend fumbled with his belt, fear and confusion in his eyes. He pulled his penis out.

"Put it in her mouth! Now!" the Principal commanded, his voice a desperate, harsh whisper. "Push it in!"

The boyfriend shoved his penis toward Mona's face. Mona's eyes, still wide from the sharp initial scream, fixed on the approaching lunď. Her body remained still, the shock of the scream quickly transforming into a deep, desperate submission. The Principal's penis was still buried deep in her chooť. Her mouth, already stretched by one penis, accepted the second. The demanding, humiliating pressure was intense, but she focused on the profound, overwhelming fullness, the two thick penises in her mouth serving as both a gag and an intoxicating sensory input.

With the other hand, the Principal released her hair and slapped his palm over her mouth, muffling the ragged sound of her breathing. He began his mar again, thrusting into her chooť with desperate speed, the heavy, wet sounds echoing as he slammed his hips into her.

The boyfriend spoke up, his voice cracking with urgency. "Sir, we'll pass, right? The grades are set?"

The Principal ignored him, his focus purely on the intense rhythm. He held Mona's head steady, driving her down onto the her boyfriend filling her mouth. The combined, overwhelming sensation fed his frantic climax.

The Principal suddenly gasped, his body tensing with the rush of climax. He pulled his penis out of her chooť quickly, his movements jerky. He stepped away, his breath ragged, struggling to adjust his pants. He looked down at Mona.

Mona, her mouth stretched and full, was still immobilized by the lunď.

The Principal motioned sharply with his head toward the boyfriend's lunď in her mouth. The boyfriend, interpreting the command, immediately pulled his lunď out of Mona's mouth, stepping back a pace.

Mona was left with only the Principal's penis in her mouth. She instantly obeyed the next unspoken command. Her tongue went to work, licking and sucking the Principal's penis clean of the fresh cum and the fluids from her chooť. Her tongue worked meticulously, driven by the need to complete the service. She swallowed hard, cleaning the shaft completely, coating it in fresh saliva.

The Principal let out a deep, satisfied sigh as she finished. He gently cupped her face in his hands, wiping the saliva and tears from her chin with his thumb. He leaned down and placed a slow, wet kiss directly on her lips.

"The grades are done," he murmured against her mouth, his voice hoarse but congratulatory. He gave her cheek a final, proud squeeze. "You held up your end, my dear. Get dressed."

He pulled away, grabbed his briefcase, and rushed out, slamming the door behind him.
Mona's brother immediately slipped inside, locking the door.

Mona rubbed her chest, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, her body trembling with spent energy and shock.

"Our work is done," Mona said, her voice weak.

"Done where?" her brother shot back, already unzipping his pants, his face dark with sudden hunger. "We have to fuck you too."

"Yeah, man," the boyfriend said, eyes dark with arousal. "I got so horny watching that."

"Not now," Mona insisted, pulling her clothes back on quickly. "Let's do it at the storehouse in the evening. It's too risky here."

"Alright, fine," the boyfriend sighed, zipping his pants.

"Let's go," her brother said, grabbing her arm.

The three of them left the room. I slipped away, my head buzzing with the dark, thrilling image of Mona's forced silence and pain. I felt like a silent witness to a terrible secret, and the satisfaction was intoxicating.

---

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 7: The Secret Conspiracy

At home, Suman Chachi  fed me lunch. After eating, I proudly showed all three of them my report card. Meena Chachi  looked it over, her smile genuine.

"Chachi, from today, I'm going to study at my Math Madam's house," I announced.

"That's good" Meena Chachi replied, her eyes briefly meeting mine with a spark I couldn't quite interpret.

Suman Chachi looked up from the card. "Will she charge you money, or is she teaching for free?"

"No, Chachi, the principal told her to teach me, so she won't take any money."

Seema Chachi  reached out and affectionately squeezed my cheek. "My son is so sweet. No one could ever take money from him."

"Chachi, stop teasing me," I said, a genuine smile on my face.

"Seema, why are you bothering Avi?" Suman Chachi asked, her tone gentle.

"Didi, I'm not bothering him," Seema Chachi said, her affection turning playful. "I'm just praising my son."

"I know what your praise means," Meena Chachi said, a quiet laugh escaping her.

"Now both of you stop fighting," Suman Chachi said, raising her voice in mock frustration.

"Okay, Didi," they both replied in unison.

"Chachi, I'm going to sleep," I said. "Please wake me up in the afternoon."

"Yes, go to sleep. I'll wake you up."

I went to my room. I lay down, my mind spinning with the conflicting images of the Principal and the promise of tutoring with my gentle Math Madam. Before I could fall asleep, I heard their voices, muffled but clear, through the thin wall. I pressed my ear to the plaster.

"Meena, your friend Riya came yesterday, right?" Seema Chachi’s voice was the first to cut through the quiet.

"Yes, she did," Meena Chachi replied, a dull note in her voice.

"Did she bring the report?"

"Yes, she brought the report."

Suman Chachi leaned forward, her voice laced with eager suspense. "What did it say?"

"Yeah, yeah, tell us quickly!" Seema Chachi demanded, her impatience radiating.

"I burned the report," Meena Chachi said flatly.

A sudden, sharp silence fell over the house. Avi's heart began a frantic, dull thump against his ribs.

"What are you saying? You burned it?" Suman Chachi finally asked, her voice heavy with shock.

"Meena, what did you do?" Seema Chachi exclaimed, jumping to her feet. "I collected those samples with so much difficulty, and you burned them? Are you insane?"

"Yes, I burned it," Meena Chachi said, her tone utterly detached. "Because it felt right."

"What do you mean?" Suman Chachi asked, confused by the cryptic answer.

"I read the report and then burned it."

"You read it?" Seema Chachi rushed to her side. "Tell us what it said!"

"Tell us, Meena," Suman Chachi urged, her voice trembling with hope. "Can I ever become a mother or not?"

"Tell us, Meena!" Seema Chachi insisted, her voice tight with anticipation.

Meena Chachi took a long, steadying breath. "Yes. All three of us can become mothers."

The air left the room in a collective, shaky gasp.

"Are you telling the truth, Meena?" Suman Chachi whispered, her voice cracking with the sheer emotional weight of the news.

"Yes, I am," Meena Chachi replied.

"Meena, you have no idea what good news this is!" Seema Chachi started to laugh, a slightly hysterical sound.

"She's lying," Seema Chachi suddenly stopped laughing, her voice cutting through the happy moment.

"What?" Suman Chachi asked, confused by the abrupt shift.

"She's lying," Seema Chachi repeated, glaring at Meena.

"No, Didi, I'm telling the truth," Meena Chachi insisted.

"If you're telling the truth, then why haven't we become mothers yet?" Seema Chachi shot back, folding her arms across her chest.

"Didi, listen to my full story," Meena Chachi said, holding up a hand.

"Okay, okay, tell us, Meena," Suman Chachi urged, trying to mediate.

Meena Chachi looked at them both, her face hard. "We can become mothers, but Avi's uncle can never become a father."

A wave of shock rippled through the room. Suman Chachi sank onto the floor.

"What are you saying, Meena?" Seema Chachi exclaimed. "If we can become mothers, then Avi's uncle will become a father, right?"

"Avi's uncle can never become a father," Meena Chachi repeated firmly.

Suman Chachi covered her face and started crying, silent tears sliding between her fingers. "Then how can we become mothers?"

Seema Chachi stared at Meena, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Meena, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"What's going on in your mind, Seema?" Suman Chachi sobbed.

"Meena is thinking that even though Avi's uncle can't become a father, we can." Seema Chachi turned to Meena. "Right, Meena?"

"Yes," Meena Chachi confirmed.

"So?" Suman Chachi asked, still lost in her despair.

"Meena is saying that even if Avi's uncle can't be the father, we can still have a baby," Seema Chachi said impatiently.

"What are you saying, Seema? Are you crazy?" Suman Chachi snapped, her voice laced with disgust.

"No, Didi, I'm not crazy," Seema Chachi said, her eyes intense. "You're not understanding the opportunity."

"Didi, we can become mothers if we have sex with someone else," Meena Chachi said, brutally blunt.

"What are you spouting, Meena?" Suman Chachi said, pulling her hands away from her face, her eyes wide with shock. "You've really lost your mind."

"Didi, just listen to what Meena has to say," Seema Chachi insisted.

"Okay, fine," Suman Chachi said, defeated. "What do you want to say that justifies this?"

"Look, Didi," Meena Chachi began, leaning closer. "Avi's uncle can never be a father. If we don't do something soon, he might marry again. The fact that he's infertile is something only the three of us know. He doesn't."

"And your friend Riya," Suman Chachi pointed out. "She knows, right?"

"Yes, she knows," Meena Chachi replied. "But she's leaving this city this Sunday and going to a city that's very far away. She said she'll never come back."

"But I still don't understand what you want to do," Suman Chachi said, her voice trembling.

"Look, Didi," Meena Chachi said, her plan forming in her mind as she spoke. "We will become mothers by having sex with someone else, but as far as the world is concerned, Avi's uncle will be the father."

"How will that happen?" Seema Chachi asked, a spark of calculation in her eyes.

"Yes, how will that happen?" Suman Chachi repeated, leaning closer despite her fear.

"We'll find a man who can get us pregnant," Meena Chachi explained. "And then he'll leave this village, so we don't have any problems in the future."

"But..." Suman Chachi started, the thought of the betrayal making her tremble.

"I think Meena's idea is right," Seema Chachi cut in, looking at her older sister.

"Didi, don't worry," Meena Chachi said, trying to soothe Suman. "I'll handle everything."

"But what about Avi's uncle?" Suman Chachi said, still caught on her sense of duty.

"Didi, don't think about it so much," Meena Chachi said impatiently. "Just say yes and leave it all to me."

"I don't know," Suman Chachi said, her voice filled with despair. "I can't betray Avi's uncle."

"Didi," Seema Chachi said, her voice sharp and uncompromising. "When Avi's uncle married again and again, didn't you feel bad? Will you feel good if he marries a fourth time? Do you want to lose your position in this house?"

She turned to Meena Chachi, her eyes resolute. "Meena, do whatever you need to do to make us mothers. Don't worry about Didi. When she becomes a mother, she won't feel bad about this anymore."

"Okay," Meena Chachi said, her voice determined. "I'll get to work. I'll find a powerful father for my children."

"Okay, do whatever you two think is right," Suman Chachi said, finally giving in, her tone utterly defeated. "But be careful with whatever you do."

"Now that's what I'm talking about, Didi," Seema Chachi said, releasing a breath she seemed to have been holding.

"Okay, you two go and rest," Suman Chachi said, her head bowed. "I'm going to wake up Avi."

They were going to find a man. A powerful father for their children. They were going to deceive Chacha. Avi lay there, silent, the secret so heavy it felt like a crushing weight on his chest, yet part of him, the dark, curious part, was intensely alert.

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 8: The Rubber Band Theory

In the heat of the afternoon, I walked toward Madam's house. She lived alone, since her husband and son were away in the city. Madam was stunningly beautiful. Her figure was full, her breasts like ripe mangoes—a thought that made my mind snag every time I saw her. I guessed her age to be around 35, and I truly had no words left to describe the magnetism she possessed.

I knocked on her gate. After a short pause, the door opened. She stood there wearing a nightgown, a garment that did little to hide the shape of her body. Her breasts seemed to settle just a little lower than they had in her starched saree, and I was completely, shamelessly captivated. I stared, my mind going blank, until the sound of my name, sharp and low, made me jump.

"Avi."

I snapped out of the daze, a sudden, hot flush of embarrassment spreading across my face. I mentally cursed myself. Ever since I had seen that first fucking yesterday, my entire perspective on women had changed.

She welcomed me inside, her posture relaxed, and walked into the kitchen to get me some water. I stood frozen, fighting the intense urge to look at her again.

Madam returned with a glass of water, which I drank quickly, trying to regain my composure. I reached into my bag to take out my textbooks, a mechanical gesture of normalcy, but she stopped me with a simple hand gesture.

"Avi, you can put your books back in your bag," she said, her voice soft but final.

My brow furrowed in genuine confusion. "But Madam, how will I study if my books are in my bag?"

She tilted her head, a hint of melancholy entering her expression. "I'm sorry, Avi, but I get bored being alone at home. That’s why I called you here."

"But what about my studies?" I insisted, holding onto the excuse for my presence.

"You can study at home," she replied, stepping closer.

"But you said you would teach me Math..."

"Listen, Avi," she said, her voice dropping lower. "You're a smart boy. You can study on your own. My real reason for calling you was to have some company."

"But my studies..." I trailed off, the words feeling empty even to me.

"Why are you so obsessed with studies?" she asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Wait, I'll show you something."

She reached up and pulled a black rubber band from her hair, letting her thick, dark hair spill over her shoulders. "Look, Avi, I have a rubber band. Imagine this is you."

She pulled the band taut between her fingers, stretching it thin and vibrating. "See how long it has become? If I pull it any more, it will break."

She released the tension slightly, her eyes holding mine. "Your life is the same. You have a limit. If you cross it, you'll have problems. I'm not saying crossing your limits is always a bad thing; sometimes you can gain something from it. But most of the time, you lose something."

"You're a bright boy," she finished. "It's up to you how much you learn. I'm not saying you don't have the ability to learn. You just need to bring it out yourself. This isn't just about math, is it?"

"I think I understand, a little bit," I said, her lecture feeling less about schoool and more about the boundaries I was currently testing in my head.

"Good," she said, smiling fully now. "So from now on, you come to my house every afternoon to talk to me."

"Okay, Madam, I will come," I replied, the decision feeling far heavier than a simple agreement to visit.

"This lecture has made my throat dry," she said, gesturing toward the kitchen. "I'll go make some coffee."

"Okay, Madam."

She came back a few minutes later, holding a steaming mug. "Thank you, Madam." I stared at the dark liquid, unsure of what to do.

"What's wrong?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why aren't you drinking it?"

"I've never had coffee before, Madam," I admitted, feeling small.

"Avi, you have to do something for the first time in your life," she said, placing the mug firmly in my hands. "It will be a little difficult at first, but you'll learn to enjoy it."

I took a sip. The first taste was a shock—bitter and strangely intense—but after a few more sips, a sharp warmth spread through me, and I began to enjoy the unfamiliar taste. This wasn't just about coffee.

---

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 9: The Conversation and the Question


The warmth of the black coffee still lingered, a slightly bitter, sophisticated burn in my throat. Madam watched me from across the low table, her expression still unreadable, like a mask perfectly set.

"So Avi, how was the coffee?" she asked, her hands folded neatly in front of her.

"It was good," I admitted, the unusual taste still new on my tongue.

"I told you that you would like it," she said, a faint, proprietary smile touching her lips.

"Yes."

She leaned forward, her elbows on the low table, invading the small space between us. "Avi, can I ask you something personal?" Her eyes seemed to pin me in place.

"Yes, why not?" I replied, surprised by the directness.

She kept her voice deliberately casual, but her tone was inquisitive. "Who all lives in your house right now?"

"My uncle, my chachis, my Dadaji—though he's staying in an ashram now because he's sick—and me," I listed them off, counting on my fingers.

"And your parents?" she asked softly, her voice suddenly hushed. Her eyes briefly held a gentle, practiced sadness, a look I was used to seeing.

"They're no longer in this world," I spoke the familiar, hollow words, which always felt like I was reciting a very old fact.

"I'm sorry, Avi." She sighed, the sympathy washing over me.

"It's okay," I replied, shrugging off the expected pity.

She shifted slightly, changing the topic completely. "I once saw you in the market with two women," she said, her eyes tracking something unseen on the far wall.

"Yes, they were my chachis."

"You have two chachis?" she inquired, tilting her head slightly.

"No, I have three. My uncle married three times."

She raised an elegant eyebrow, a silent question in the gesture. "Why did he marry three times?"

"Suman Chachi and Seema Chachi couldn't have children," I explained simply, repeating the known family reason. "So my uncle married a third time."

"So your third chachi (Meena Chachi) has a child, then?" she asked, her voice calm but persistent.

"No, none of my chachis have any children," I clarified.

I noticed a tiny, subtle flicker in her eyes then, a strange, knowing spark that vanished instantly before I could place it. It was a look of understanding, maybe even... connection?

"So your chachis must love you very much, then," she said, her voice warm, but the previous question—the silent observation of a household with no children—hung heavy in the air.

"Yes, all my chachis love me very much," I confirmed, feeling a wave of familiar comfort and pride in their affection.

I shifted in my seat, suddenly uncomfortable with the intense focus on my family life. "What about your family, Madam?"

She looked away for a long moment, tracing the rim of her coffee cup with a perfectly manicured finger, seemingly weighing her words. "My family? I have a husband and a son."

"They both live in the city, I guess?" I prodded gently.

"Yes," she said, finally meeting my gaze. "They live in the city. I'll be joining them in about a month." She seemed content with the thought.

I glanced toward the window, where the afternoon light was turning a deep, golden color. "What's the time, Madam?" I asked, seizing on the distraction.

"4:30 p.m. Why, do you have somewhere you need to rush off to?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes, I have to go to the ground to play cricket," I said, grabbing the perfect, plausible excuse.

"Okay, go," she replied, standing up abruptly. "But come back tomorrow." She paused at the door, her gaze becoming serious, almost conspiratorial. "And if anyone asks, especially your uncle or your chachis, just tell them you were studying hard for your exams."

"Okay, Madam," I agreed quickly.

I left her house and went straight home to drop off my small bag, but my mind was already racing ahead. The cricket ground was my stated destination, but my true goal was clear and intoxicating: I was waiting for Mona to show up at the storehouse. The thought of her presence pulled me forward with an undeniable urgency. My heart pounded a dull, thick beat against my ribs, a visceral reaction to the anticipation of seeing her again. The blood throbbed hot in my ears, making me dizzy with impatience. 

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 10: The Stolen Book and the Dinner Invitation

By evening, everyone had left the cricket ground. But I stayed, my eyes glued to the darkening street, waiting for Mona. Soon enough, she, her brother, and her boyfriend appeared and walked toward the storehouse.

I followed them quickly, anticipation pounding in my chest, but her brother stood right in front of the window, completely blocking my view. I couldn't go inside or even peek. I will hide inside the storehouse tomorrow before they come, I vowed, and with that, I backed away, disappointed.

Suddenly, the dusty storehouse door creaked open. The three figures inside froze, then scattered, running out the window and taking off toward their houses. It must have been the owner. My chance to watch was gone. I walked home, my shoulders slumped in defeat, ate dinner, and went to bed.

As I walked toward my room, I heard my Chachis talking. I paused near the wall.

"Meena, is there any progress?" Seema Chachi  asked, her voice tight with eagerness.

"It's only been one day, Didi," Meena Chachi  replied. "This has to be done slowly, deliberately."

"Yes, Meena, think carefully before you decide," Suman Chachi (the eldest) cautioned.

"Find someone good and handsome," Seema Chachi added, the request sounding bold.

"Yes, yes," Meena Chachi agreed. "I'll think about it and make a good plan."

"What do you mean?" Suman Chachi asked, her confusion apparent.

"Didi, after all these years, if we suddenly become mothers, people will get suspicious. It has to look natural."

"Oh," Suman Chachi said, her voice now full of worry. "I didn't think of that."

"But Meena, how will you manage that?" Seema Chachi pressed.

"Leave it to me. I'll do something so no one ever suspects anything."

"Whatever you do, just do it quickly," Suman Chachi sighed, giving in to impatience.

"Not quickly, Didi. It has to be done slowly."

"Okay, let's go to sleep," Suman Chachi concluded, ending the dangerous conversation.

---

The next day, nothing special happened at schoool. I got a harsh warning for not doing my homework, but that was it.

In the afternoon, I went to Madam's house again. Today, she was in a bright, relaxed mood.

"Will you drink something, Avi?" she asked, walking past me.

"A cup of coffee," I said, the words surprising even myself.

She stopped and laughed. "What's this? Yesterday you refused, and today you're asking for it yourself."

"You said I'd enjoy it after the first time, Madam," I replied, a smirk touching my lips. "And you were right."

"Okay, sit down. I'll make coffee."

I sat on the sofa. As she went inside, my eyes were immediately drawn to the single bed. Tucked underneath it, just as it had been the day before, was a book covered in newspaper. The wind from the ceiling fan had flipped a few pages, revealing clear pictures of naked women. My heart hammered in my chest. I looked around the empty room and reached for it. Just as my fingers brushed the newspaper cover, I heard her stirring in the kitchen.

I quickly slipped the book into my bag.

Madam returned with the steaming coffee, and we settled into conversation.

"Avi, your village is so lovely," she said.

"Yes, Madam, it's nice and sweet."

"The people are a bit strange, though," she said, her voice dropping conspiratorially.

"Strange, how?"

"They just stare at me whenever I go outside," she said.

"Madam, if you go out in that dress," I said, a cheeky tease entering my voice as I looked at her casual wear, "people will stare."

She shook her head, a hint of frustration in her eyes. "No, I mean when I'm wearing a sari on the way to schoool. They stare."

"Madam, you're the most beautiful woman in this village," I said honestly. "That's why they stare."

"Can I ask you something else?" she pressed, ignoring my compliment.

"Of course."

"Whose house is that yellow one near the shop?"

"That's Mona's house," I said. "She's a girl from our schoool."

"I saw a boy there, too."

"That's probably her brother. He's failed the same class for two years."

"Why are you asking all these questions, Madam?" I asked, a sense of unease creeping up on me. Her probing felt too similar to the secrets I was carrying.

"Oh, no reason," she said quickly, forcing a nervous laugh. "It's just that whenever I go to schoool, he keeps staring at me, and his eyes... they scare me."

"Madam, he and his sister Mona are both bad," I said, the words slipping out, fueled by my witnessing their actions.

"Bad? What do you mean?"

"They're just bad," I repeated, not wanting to say more, unable to trust myself. "Let's not talk about it. I have to go now. It's getting late."

"Bye, Madam. See you tomorrow."

"Bye," she said, her expression suddenly warm. "And make sure you come tomorrow. We'll have dinner together."

I left, the weight of the coffee, the stolen book, and the promise of dinner all pressing down on me. I knew the line between student and confidant was disappearing fast.

---

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 11: The Intimate Discovery

I went home after schoool and headed straight to the field to play. But Mona, her brother, and her boyfriend didn't show up. Perhaps they were scared off by the storehouse owner, or maybe they found a new, secret place. I played for a while, feeling restless, then went home.

After dinner, I retreated to my room. With no homework to distract me, I opened my bag to put away my books and saw the item I had stolen: the newspaper-covered book from Madam’s house. A pang of guilt hit me—sharp and quick, a fear of being discovered—but my curiosity was already too strong to be denied.

I pulled it out and peeled back the newspaper cover. The book's pages, slick and glossy, felt heavy in my hands. The photographs inside were an absolute shock. These weren't the grainy, distant pictures the boys at schoool whispered about; these were clear, sharp images of naked girls and older women.

I leaned closer, my breath catching in my throat. The scenes were explicit and bold: women eagerly sucking breasts, others licking pussy, and still others sucking penis. It was a blueprint of the acts I had glimpsed in the storehouse and overheard from Bua. My body immediately responded. The more I looked at the images, the more my own penis became heavy, painfully hard. I felt a wave of heat wash over me, a strange combination of illicit shame and overwhelming fascination.

I flipped to the final page, and a sudden, bold inscription written in elegant handwriting stopped me cold: "My husband's penis is 6 inches long." 

The note turned my attention inward, making me intensely curious about my own body. I needed to know. I took a ruler out of my schoool bag, my hands trembling slightly. I tried to measure while dressed, but it was impossible to get an accurate reading.

I pulled off my pants and underwear, the cool air hitting my skin. I positioned the ruler against my body. It was a difficult, awkward task, requiring precision and focus, but I managed to mark the length with a small pencil line on the wood. I quickly dressed again, my heart pounding against my ribs, and then checked the mark against the numbers. A mix of pride and anxiety flooded me. I finally knew my penis’s length.

Just as the significance of the number was sinking in, I heard Chachi's voice from outside my door.

"Avi, it's late. Go to sleep. You have schoool tomorrow."

I froze, the ruler still in my hand, my heart leaping into my throat. The fear of being caught with the evidence—the book, the ruler—was terrifying. I shoved them both under my bed, scrambled under the sheet, and lay perfectly still, forcing my breathing to be slow and even. The powerful weight of my secrets—the Chachis' plan, the storehouse scene, the Principal's corruption, and now, the stolen book and my own new knowledge—was almost too much to bear.

---

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 12: The Missing Book

The next day at schoool was a blur of boredom and anxiety. I got the usual harsh words for neglecting my homework, but the real task lay ahead. I went straight home, my stomach a tight knot of worry. I have to return the book. I gave my Chachi a quick excuse, telling her I'd eat less because Madam had invited me to dinner.

I arrived at Madam's house. Today, she was wearing a beautiful red sari, which framed her figure stunningly. She truly looked angelic, but the usual confident glow on her face was gone, replaced by a subtle tension. She served us both—a plate of delicious, fragrant food for me, and one for herself. The meal was wonderful, but the fear of being exposed made it hard to swallow. After we ate, I quickly retreated to the sofa, waiting for my chance to escape.

"How was the food?" she asked, her voice softer than usual.

"It was very good, Madam."

She set her plate down and turned to me, her eyes suddenly serious, piercing mine. "Can I ask you something, Avi?"

"Yes, of course," I managed, though my voice sounded hollow in my own ears.

"Did you take a book from here?"

A cold, sickening wave of fear washed over me, draining the heat from my body. My heart slammed against my ribs. I stiffened, fighting the urge to run. "No, Madam," I said, my voice betraying me by coming out too loud and defensive. "I didn't take any book. If I needed one, I would have asked you."

"Okay," she said slowly, her eyes searching my face, lingering on my own frantic gaze. "Maybe I misplaced it."

"Was it a special book?" I asked, my voice shaky despite my effort to appear calm.

"Not really," she said, giving a small, dismissive shrug. "But I read it every night."

"Was it a storybook?" I pressed, desperately clinging to the lie. "I have some storybooks. I can bring them for you."

"No, don't worry about it," she said, finally breaking eye contact. "I'll get it when I go back to the city."

I felt a sudden, huge flood of relief, but a thought immediately sliced through it, freezing the relief in place: She's testing me. She's sure the book is with me. No one else comes here. She knows I lied.

"Would you like some coffee?" she asked, her voice returning to its normal, warm tone, as if the entire interrogation had never happened.

"Yes, why not?"

After drinking the familiar, comforting bitterness of the coffee, I left for home. On the way, the anxiety returned full force. The dinner invitation, the coffee, the compliments—all of it felt like an elaborate mask over the dangerous knowledge she held. I had been caught in a lie by the only person who offered me comfort and education. Now, she held a dangerous secret over me.

---

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 13: The Domestic Quiet and Neha Bua's Call

After coming home, I told the Chachis I was going to the ground to play. Once again, Mona and her group didn't show up. Maybe they were scared, or maybe they had found a new place. I played for a while, then returned home. With no homework to distract me, I joined the Chachis.

Meena Chachi  smiled softly. "How are your studies going, Avi?"

"They're going well, Chachi."

Seema Chachi  nudged Meena with her elbow, a sly look in her eye. "How is your Madam?"

Meena Chachi immediately turned and lightly slapped Seema's shoulder. "What are you asking, Didi? He's a child! Just ask how she teaches him."

Seema Chachi rubbed her arm and laughed. "What? I just asked how his Madam is and how she teaches him."

"Madam teaches well," I confirmed quickly.

"Why did your Madam invite you for dinner yesterday?" Seema Chachi pressed, unable to contain her curiosity.

I shrugged, frustrated. "How would I know? Maybe she was lonely."

Meena Chachi sighed, shaking her head at Seema. "Didi, why are you bothering Avi?"

"Oh, fine, forget it," Seema Chachi conceded, waving a dismissive hand. "Avi, how was the food, at least?"

"It was very good, Chachi."

Meena Chachi crossed her arms, a playful pout on her face. "The food we make is better."

"No, Chachi," I countered immediately, smiling. "It was a little less good than yours. Yours is the best."

"Are you telling the truth?" Seema Chachi asked, her face splitting into a satisfied smile.

"Yes, Chachi."

Just then, my Chacha walked in, wiping his hands on a towel. "What are you three talking about?"

"Nothing, Chacha," I replied smoothly. "We were just talking about studies."

He scoffed, dropping the towel onto a chair. "I don't know anything about studying. You should ask your Chachis."

"Yes, Chacha. My Chachis always help me with my studies," I said, catching the grateful glances they shared.

"Okay, it's time to sleep," he said, yawning loudly. "We have to get up early for the fields."

"Good night, Chacha."

"Avi, wait a minute," Suman Chachi (the eldest) called out from the kitchen doorway, her voice suddenly nervous.

"Yes, Chachi?"

"Your Neha Bua has called you over. Go to her house tomorrow evening."

I nodded, feeling a flicker of apprehension, remembering how easily Neha Bua would scold and hit me. "Yes, Chachi. I'll go."

"Remember to go," she repeated, rubbing her hands together anxiously. "And... nothing, just go to sleep."

"Good night, Chachi."

I walked to my room, the domestic ease replaced by the unease of the upcoming visit. Neha Bua never called me unless she wanted something, or wanted to be cruel.

---

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 14: The Book Returned and Neha Bua's Call

The next day, my stomach was a knot of anxiety. I had two stressful tasks: I had to return the stolen book, and then I had to face Neha Bua, the only person in the family who openly resented me. The dread was so consuming I couldn't even eat properly before leaving the house.

In the afternoon, I went to Madam's house. Today, her mood was much lighter than yesterday's interrogation, and she was dressed in a simple sari, her face softer and more relaxed.

"Avi, what's wrong?" she asked immediately, noticing my tense shoulders. "You seem upset."

"Nothing, Madam. I just didn't sleep well last night."

"Wait, I'll make you a hot cup of coffee," she said, already heading toward the kitchen.

"Okay."

As soon as she was out of sight, I moved with lightning speed. I pulled the book from my bag, slid it back under the bed precisely where I had found it, and shoved the bag back into the corner. A cold sweat broke out on my back, but I felt a powerful, cleansing wave of relief wash over me. The danger is gone.

"Here's the coffee," she said, returning with the mug. "Tell me, what's going on that has you so worried?"

"Nothing much. I just study all the time."

She observed me over the rim of her mug. "You don't seem like a student of your age, Avi."

"That's because I had to repeat a class after my parents died," I explained, the familiar tragedy now serving as a quick excuse for my maturity. "There was a three-year gap. Otherwise, I would be graduating now."

I stood up abruptly, eager to leave before she could ask any more probing questions. "Madam, I have to go. I'll come again tomorrow."

"So soon?" she asked, surprised.

"I have to go do something important," I insisted.

"What do you have to do?"

"I have to go to my Bua's house."

"Okay, then," she said, accepting the excuse. "Come tomorrow."

"Bye," I said, walking quickly out the gate.

It's good I put the book back, I thought, a wave of finality settling over me. Now I'll go to Bua's house.

I walked the short distance to Neha Bua's house. I knocked on her gate, and Komal—Neha Bua's daughter—opened it. She saw me and immediately turned and went inside without saying a single word. I followed her in and sat down on the sofa.

Komal and I were the same age and in the same class. This was due to my three-year gap and the local custom of village girls often having late schoool admissions. Neha Bua's younger daughter, Kavita, and her other daughter, Leena, were also in the same class. Leena’s twin brother, Rajesh, was in their grade but lived and studied at a boarding schoool. 

My Pooja Bua's daughters, Sweta and Sital, also studied in the city and lived at their paternal aunt’s (their father's sister's) house. Even Pooja Bua's son, Raj, had a gap in his studies, like me, due to an earlier accident. Our large family was a complex web of shared classes, age gaps, and local logistics.

I waited for Neha Bua, wondering exactly why she had summoned me.