A Royal Impregnation

It was inconceivable that the people should know the Maharaj (King) was impotent. He could have adopted one like many kings do. But the political fragility of his rule did not permit him to make a public admission of this all too human failing.

The first thought was that the senior queen may have been infertile. It was decided then that the other lesser queens should be tried. Before doing this, the King had to send word to the Principal Queen’s father who was the powerful King of a neighboring country. Important political alliances could be upset by careless handling of such issues as which queen is to bear the crown prince.

Maharani couldn’t believe all of this. The Royal bed was the scene of many a battle but he had been on the receiving side. The Maharani engaged in sexual politics to retain her position as the Chief Queen; she wanted that not only in the legal sense but also in the marital sense. He had responded to her moves and yet, the truth was he couldn’t impregnate her. Then again on reflection she felt it was she who was more aggressive than him in bed. His penis was slender, but she knew that had nothing to do with impotence.

So when the message went to her father, it went with her own little note, telling her father she concurred that the crown prince was to be delivered by one of the junior queens. It was hard for her to give details but she made the point that she was open to other queens being considered and that it posed no threat to her primacy.

Several months of fucking later, they all knew the truth. Maharani sat in the adjoining room knowing Maharaj was busy humping a competitor queen; for competitors were what they were. Even as grunts and moans floated to her ears, Maharani flushed at the recollection of how much she had played the game in the royal bed to make him her slave. Even as each of those others worked hard to leave an everlasting impression on the king in his moment of need, she knew it was not going to happen anytime soon.

Kings have harems. Inevitable. But making sure that the best fuck he ever got was with her; now there was an art. And Maharani played it with finesse. She allowed chosen maids to surprise the Maharaj on occasion by having them wait in the wings while she was driving him mad with her cock-teasing. The king had marveled on all those occasions. Once a soft pair of hands gripped his wrists and pulled them off the maharani’s plump breasts and held him down flat on the bed. The maid who the queen had called in for this would take no orders from him. And she held him down, pinned him and held him in various poses for the Maharani to fuck.

And then there was the time he was made to sit on the lap of a nude maid who held him in his grip and the Maharani climbed on top of him and milked him dry. It didn’t take much to wear him out, but she knew his nature and realized he would still want to forage. On many an occasions, while they were intertwined in post-coital sleep, she had a maid mouth him awake, have him aroused to a new erection and sucked dry by the maid. She could well have done it herself, but the Maharani knew it was not about pleasure, but about pleasure from different women.

In this fashion, the Maharani kept the Maharaja under her thumb. He kept coming back for more and more to this woman who gave him everything a man could fantasize about. Since her energies were so focused on the politics of the situation, the Maharani found her own sexual needs languishing. The situations she invented for her husband aroused her no end. But the man was perpetually drained and didn’t have significant staying power anyway.

And then came the orders from the Rajmata that the kingdom needed a Crown Prince. The discovery which followed plunged the inner circle of the Royal Family in gloom.

So now, The Maharani (Queen) and the Rajmata (the King’s mother) sat fidgeting as the King and the Court Physician pondered the situation. The silence had been long and had become embarrassing. Finally, Rajmata decided to speak up. She knew the solution; she had known it all along, but she just didn’t want to be the one to suggest it. Yet, since the Royal Physician was making such a mess of it, she felt the need to step in.

“We send the Maharani to Gurudev’s ashram for rest and a yagna. The Crown Prince will be conceived there,” she declared.

“Mother!” thundered the Maharaja, shocked that his mother would suggest this remedy.

It was an ancient and accepted tradition. It was discreet. And there was a safety in the sharing of such delicate issues with the Gurus, Sages and ascetics who were linked with the Royal Family.

Each Royal Family had its own spiritual counselors and they received patronage from the Kingdoms. The need was mutual and the loyalty was time tested over generations. And no King messed around with a rival’s Raj Guru. Not that they would have succeeded if they had tried; the spiritual ascetics were above temptation.

They had conquered all, including sexual desire. And thus their reputation for sexual power and prowess. Their deep practice of yoga, physical fitness and energy flows in their body meant power was a given. But it was under their control. They were family men but in keeping with the traditional prescription for how a man should lead his life, the sexual phase was limited to the post – student, middle years of their lives. Thereafter, restraint was practiced and this restraint was seen as a source of power.

They lived in the Himalayas, in the foothills on the banks of mighty rivers. Some ventured further into the mountains. Others achieved spiritual heights from which they never returned.

And those that were linked with the Royal Families, every once in so many generations were called upon to fulfill this one more duty: siring the Crown Prince. It was a good bloodline to let into the Royal dynasty in any case.

All this was known and taught to the Maharaja in his days as a prince under training. But he never thought this would happen to him.

Reluctantly, he agreed to the Rajmata’s proposal, but it was all to be done quietly. It was a small team of three hand-maids, the Chief of the Royal Guards with three of his men, the Rajmata and the Maharani herself who were to go on the ‘pilgrimage’. In this retinue only the Rajmata and the Maharani knew the real purpose of the trip. The journey involved two night stopovers and they were scheduled to spend 4 to 6 weeks there, returning only after the pregnancy was confirmed.

The Chief of the Royal Guards rode ahead of the retinue, checking the path. Sometimes he sent his soldiers ahead to scan the landscape. At other times he rode to the back of the entourage to ensure there were no laggards and that all was going to perfect plan.

A young man of 20 years, he was son of the General of the Army and his family had served in exact identical fashion for several generations now. The sons of the house served in the Royal Guard, participated in various campaigns and matured; till the father stepped aside as General for his son to take his place.

And so it was with Samar Singh, an experienced soldier, who was battle hardened and brave despite his youth. He was just a year younger than his master, the Maharaja. He was tall, broad shouldered, muscles rippling and resplendent in his uniform. He rode his horse with majestic control and the customary mustache added to the authority and control he reflected.

The women certainly felt safe with him personally escorting the group. The Rajmata had a special affection for the boy who had played with her son in the growing years. She watched him through the window of the carriage, proud to see him carry himself with so much grace. She sighed. The young man did not know what was in her mind. No one new what her real plan and she just hoped she could pull it off.

The Rajmata reflected on the events of the past few months. She knew that her son was impotent. She allowed him to fuck the two junior queens just so that he would realize there was no option but to listen to her. Her son had been thrust upon the throne at a young age for the untimely death of her own husband. There had been intrigue and palace politics and the new Maharaja’s position was weak. The queens in order of seniority were chosen by her to create strong allies in the neighboring states.

The Rajmata felt responsible for establishing the Kingdom on a firm footing and therefore the sense of urgency about the Crown Prince. But she wanted a bold, brave and strong Crown Pirnce; not someone intellectual and spiritually inclined. She felt strongly that a son sired by the sage would not meet that standard. It would have someone who had a martial orientation in his blood. Someone like Samar Singh, the Chief of the Royal Guard. Trusted and capable, practically family, the young man seemed the right choice.

It was not going to be easy. Both the Maharani and Samar Singh had to agree. The Maharani was the daughter of a powerful ally; if she demurred there was not much she could do. And the loyalty which the Rajmata was relying on in the case of Samar Singh could well turn the other way with the solider refusing to sleep with his master’s wife.

The Rajmata would have to give them time to get used to the idea. She made up her mind; she would tell them tonight so they could reflect on it for the next two days. Then an auspicious hour on the third night would be chosen for the consummation. She would supervise the deed to ensure it stayed within the confines of a job to be done. She didn’t want any complications of emotion and sexual exploration. Samar Singh was not married yet, and she wanted the impregnation handled clinically. There was no place for intimacy or lingering. Her presence would ensure that.

Samar Singh was shocked. Shocked that the Rajmata should ask him to fuck the Maharani. Shocked at the way she put it across in terms which seemed lewd to him. He did not think she could use the words that she did use in asking him to fuck her. She was also explicit in telling him that there was to be no breast sucking, no caressing, no kisses and no lingering.

“I am saying this to you because you may be a virgin and you may not have experienced a woman. But the temptation to lie on the woman under you and doze will overcome you. You will not. You will leave immediately. Understood?” instructed the Maharani, looking the young soldier in the eye.

Samar Singh stared right back. Added to one kind of shock was the other shock of the fact that he now had a raging erection. He was glad this meeting was taking place while he was still in his riding breeches. If this had happened an hour or so later he would have been casually attired. Right after the royal tents had been setup, his own tent would have been up and he would have changed.

The casual clothes that he wore would not have restrained his erection to any confines. It would have stood, full and proud and the Rajmata would have noticed it straight off. In fact, right now he was frozen, staring right back at her, because he was fearful that any movement would give away his aroused state.

“I can’t do it,” he mumbled, his mind firmly on the though of lying between Maharani’s legs and sinking his shaft into her folds.

“You must. For the king and kingdom for which you are ready to lay down your life, this is a simple and quick duty,” ordered Rajmata, relieved that the youngster felt inhibited. This improved the chances of the entire situation remaining under control.

“Yes, I am ready to lay down my life, but this is different. I have never looked at Her Highness in any fashion and always have my head down in front of her. It seems like an act of treachery that I should touch her,” protested Samar Singh. His mind was dizzy at the thought of losing his virginity to the queen. His mind recalled the occasion when he had seen her chest thrust out proud and full. The breasts that made her chest so full must be large and sumptuous he thought. His cock twitched and he felt wetness.

Samar Singh knelt down; partially to ensure his physical state was not detected and in part because he felt he no longer stand.

“This has the King’s sanction. Do you think the Maharani and I are headed out for such a long pilgrimage without his knowing why?” laughed the Rajmata.

She stood up and walked to where he was kneeling and placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the muscle-hard man. Instantly, her mind wondered about how her daughter-in-law would react to the touch of a man so well endowed and sculpted with muscle. She sighed. This entire situation had a corrupting influence and she knew that. She could feel her own reaction to Samar Singh as that of a woman assessing a virile man; for that one moment, gone was the Rajmata – subject relationship.

“Son, you are a good man. I wouldn’t ask you to do something which was not of national importance. And I wouldn’t ask anyone outside our inner circle to do it either. Do you realize, if not you, someone has to make her pregnant?” she reasoned.

Samar Singh looked up at her. Her eyes were large, beautiful and full of kindness. He could not say no to her. And he did not want some one else touching the Maharani. Better him, who had the good of the kingdom above everything else in his mind.

But with the hormones raging in his bloodstream he could not think of getting the act done without touching, feeling, kissing and fondling her. In the last fifteen minutes that he had been with the Rajmata, his mind was on the Maharani’s breasts, her soft thighs and in his mind he had clutched her curvaceous ass, pulling her onto his cock as he fucked her.

“It is a lot to ask for,” he said. “I am a virgin not because I did not have opportunity. It is because I wanted my first encounter to be special and with someone special. I had many plans for this. It was neither quick nor short nor hurried. It was to be a long feast, a celebration,” he confessed.

“Yes it is a lot to ask for and that is why I am asking you,” replied the Rajmata. Samar Singh’s words had a deep impact on her. She herself was in her forties and her husband’s untimely death had left her with unfulfilled desires. Her bed felt empty but the Rajmata’s exalted position in the kingdom demanded that she conduct herself with discretion.

She caught herself imagining that she could have been that someone special and shared special moments with this young man.

“Had this occurred to me before, I could have fulfilled this need in this boy and prepared him for the fuck with Samyukta,” she reflected. She would have enjoyed the sexual bonding and she could have instructed him with great care. The heat of his sexuality and his virginity would have been tempered and the risks of emotional or sexual involvement with the Maharani would have been limited.

The Rajamata shook herself from this reverie the moment she felt warmth between her legs. She turned her back on him and said, “Don’t treat this as that special first. It is just a job that you have to do. Keep your plans for the real first.”

She did not turn back, waiting to see if he would say anything else. There was silence.

Samar Singh stayed kneeling. “As you wish,” he said at last, “But there are obviously lots or arrangements that need to be made. Has the Maharani been told?”

“Yes, she knows that this needs to be done. But she doesn’t know that I prefer you,” she said, glad that her back was to Samar Singh.

“You need her concurrence before I build this up in my mind, isn’t it?” asked Samar Singh.

The Rajmata’s response was instant and severe. “You will not build up anything for this, okay!” she hissed. Then she calmed down. She needed cooperation and promises; this was not a time to be dictatorial.

“She will do as I say. Both of you need to mentally accept this, that’s all. Other preparations relate to when we will do it. You of course, need to be bathed and specially prepared for your union with her. You know how to fuck a woman, don’t you?” she asked, mentally ruing the tasks that were involved in managing the affairs of state.

“Only theoretically, yes” responded Samar Singh, cursing this situation in which he had to share his sexual secrets with an older woman, that too her Royal Highness the Rajmata who most people did not even get to speak to.

“From where?” asked Rajmata.

“I have read parts of Vatsyayana’s Kama Sutra,” he replied.

“So you know the basics?” she pushed on. She needed to attend to all the details of this very delicate task. The young man would have to get it right first time, and impregnate the woman. She could not afford a miss, so that the couple would have to have a go at each other once again. More encounters could only lead to more complications.

“More than just the basics,” replied Samar Singh.

“Well you need nothing more than the basics. You must enter her, and slide in and out enough number of times to stimulate yourself towards an orgasm,” she instructed. And now she had to ask some very embarrassingly detailed questions. “Have you really never been with a woman?”

“No,” said Samar Singh. He did not want to volunteer any additional information after Rajmata’s sharp reply to his saying he knew more than the basics.

“Are you sure? Not even Sangram Singh’s daughter?” pushed on the Rajmata.

Samar Singh marveled at her detailed intelligence on him. Then again, all the key families had most members serving the palace in one capacity or the other, so such information might not be so difficult to obtain, after all.

“Well, just once when she was tending to a wound on my back,” he mumbled.

“Aha! What happened then?” asked Rajmata. Strangely she felt let down that the young man would have not have seen her as special if something had happened with Sangram Singh’s daughter. “Vivacious, pretty thing that lass,” she thought to herself, “I wouldn’t blame Samar for anything.”

“She let her fingers play on my body and rubbed her breasts all over my back as she leaned over me to massage,” said Samar Singh.

“That’s ok! Its not sex,” exclaimed the Rajmata. There was hope. “Hope for what?” she caught herself thinking. “You are the Rajmata and a widow. Shameful thoughts these!”

“Well, I got aroused and soon we were indulging is some rough play. I grabbed at her and caught her breast by mistake and she mischievously reached between my legs and accidentally caught my hard on. I had been lying face down and the movement against the floor below had already stimulated me. In the heat of the moment, she didn’t let go of my …….” Samar Singh couldn’t complete the sentence.

“And then what happened?” asked Rajmata, her breathing became rapid and her face flushed.

“And then my seed spurted forth, into her hand, and she ran away in embarrassment,” he ended.

“That’s it!” exclaimed Rajmata, “That spurt! That is what we need inside Samyukta!”

“I know,” said Samar Singh.

“You know? Do you masturbate?” asked Rajmata. The question was spontaneous and she regretted it. Her own body was juiced up and her sexual instincts were now in full flow. She herself was going to need to masturbate tonight; so turned on was she by the entire proceedings. Perhaps she could fuck this young virgin here and now. But the risk of Samyukta walking in was too high. Otherwise, Rajmata was delirious with sexual desire.

A long silence ensued as Samar Singh struggled to answer. Did he need to answer? He though keeping quiet would answer the question.

Rajmata turned around and put her hand on Samar’s chin and made him face her. She looked deep into his eyes, her breasts heaving in sexual tension. The movement of the bosom was not lost on Samar Singh. In this atmosphere, the woman’s beauty magically came to life in front of him. “How could I not have noticed the buxom, burlesque sexuality of Rajmata?” he wondered. “Because I am a loyal soldier of the kingdom” his brain replied.
“Do you masturbate? Answer me, it is a serious question,” Rajmata persisted.

Samar Singh felt his throat dry up. The Maharaja’s mother was perilously close to him, he could smell her perfume and even the natural aroma of her body. He nodded silently.

“Well, you will fuck Samyukta till you feel the same sensation rise up in you as you feel when you masturbate. When the crisis is upon you, you will fuck harder; not slow down to prolong the act. When you fuck harder, you will explode into orgasm and shoot forth your seed. And when you shoot, you will keep yourself embedded deep in her. Every spurt must spray into her womb. Pull back between spurts, so that you bring out greater bursts of seed. Understood?” asked the Rajmata, unconsciously licking her lips as she salivated. It was a reflexive action on her part, but the sexual message from her was clearly visible to Samar Singh.

He gaped in disbelief at her. He understood every word, but it was hopelessly unreal. As he was transfixed, Rajmata mistook it for ignorance.

“Here, let me show you,” said the Rajmata pushing on with the job of preparing the young man for the royal service. She slid her hands down his torso, leaning over him. Her hands pressed on the breast plate and armor and raced downward. She insinuated her hand between armor and the folds of his dhoti. Her fingers found the forest of pubic hair and the massively engorged head of his penis pressed back against his stomach.

Her fingertips slid around the head, marveling at the size of the knob. Her palm slid down the underside of his cock; she noted the thickness and found herself worrying for her daughter-in-law. Thankfully it was not unreasonably long, though she found herself wondering whether a longer cock would have ensured the drenching of the womb.

Samar Singh collapsed to the floor with the convulsions that wracked him as he felt the smooth silken fingers probe the contours of his manhood. The woman he had seen during his growing years as the Rajmata now loomed over his supine body. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were lidded heavy. Suddenly, the slut in her was on full display.

Samar Singh gasped as she loosened the folds of his dhoti, unraveling the long garment so that he now lay unpackaged with his trappings spread under him. Her globe-like breasts hung above him, inviting him to grab her but he didn’t dare do that.

“This,” whispered Rajmata, “is what I want you to use.” Her fingers traveled up and down the thick weapon, feeling its heat. The trunk of his cock was dry but the head was smeared with a slimy cap of precum. She ran her thumb over the head, smearing her own thumb with the juices and spreading them on the ram. She was going to simulate a fuck with her fist and show him how to hold back between spurts and how to thrust in during the spurting. She needed to prepare the cock to take the rough fisting that was to come without hurting this darling boy.

“This is the act of fucking,” she murmured, her mouth slurring with the saliva pooling there reflexively. “My fist is Samyukta’s cunt. When my fist rises up, that is when your cock is at the mouth of her lips. Yes?” she asked, wanting to ensure her student understood the mechanics of the lesson.

Samar Singh shuddered, “Y-y-y-esssss” he managed, as the bejeweled hand rode up the cock, the bottom of her clenched fist letting the head slip out.

“You will be this wet, and she may well add to your wetness. That will not be good for the task at hand. We need you to be aroused quickly and orgasm even faster. So you may have to dry your cock. But just now, I will not, because I don’t want to hurt you,” she explained. “In fact, these must go” she said and deftly removed the several rings she wore on her fingers.

She now gripped his cock hard in her fist and Samar Singh growled. Without the bands of the rings and with the extra pressure she was driving him mad with lust. Rajmata relaxed her fist on the Chief of Guard’s cock. “A cunt is never as tight as one can make one’s fist. The trick to a quick cum is knowing the extra sensitive zone on your head” she went, marveling at her own sexual expertise.

She rotated her thumb on the head and looked into his eyes to see where the reaction was most. Samar Singh had his fists clenched and was thumping the carpet in frustration. Suddenly he pulled up his knees, shuddering. “Aaaaaaaaah!” he growled in his throat. He would have liked to scream at the pleasure those soft silken fingers were showering him with; but his team would enter the tent in the blink of an eye if he did that.

“There!” said the Rajmata triumphantly. “That is where the zone is. It is this you must manipulate to rub the lips of her cunt as you fuck. Now, lets show you how.”

She pushed her bangles up from her wrist so they wouldn’t jangle and attract attention. More importantly, they might fall on or scrape the wonderful specimen of manhood she was enjoying handling. The equipment was crucial for the mission at hand and in the corner of her mind she noted that here was an asset that merited careful handling… “Listen carefully,” she instructed her student.

“When my fist is up and off your cock, you are outside Samyukta,” she said, noting the copious fluid. No chance of hurting with this much of ooze, she thought to herself.

“When I slide my fist down, that is you thrusting forward, and the cock entering the cunt. Remember, it is you who will be thrusting and the cunt that is not moving,” she clarified. “How can I be so sure?” she wondered. “Won’t Samyukta twitch, throb, convulse and thrust up?”

“Now this,” she said as her fist rode down the cock, pulling the sheath back, “is what happens when you plunge into her. Do you feel the caressing and stimulation in your cock?”

“Unh!” grunted Samar Singh in response.

“Do you? Answer me! You have to observe, not lose yourself in pleasure,” she insisted, demanding the impossible of him.

Samar Singh nodded, his mind spinning. This was unreal. And what if someone walked in? He had told his deputy that he would back in a jiffy to set up their own tents. Or worse, if Samyukta walked in on the sight of the Chief of Guards being fisted by the Rajmata? Yet, he desperately hoped the Rajmata would not have the same fears and stop. He didn’t want this to stop. Right now he wanted to push the woman back and impale her like a beast falling on its prey. He thrust his hips back and forward seeking his own pleasure, against her command.

His eyes moved over her kind if now-sluttish face and down that wonderful neck where he could see her pulse down to her heaving bosom. He wanted to maul those large succulent breasts. Now!

But all he did was nod back.

“That stimulation is what you must latch on to very early during the fuck. Don’t forget, she is the queen and your intercourse with her must not extend beyond the bare minimum. Now here is the trick; when you pull back you must drag your cock head along the wall of her cunt so that most sensitive zone – this,” she said, moving her hand off and tapping the zone on his bulb, “is stimulated as well.”

Samar Singh jumped when she tapped him there, groaning loudly as he realized this woman was a veteran. God knows what all she had been doing in the royal quarters. But she had in a few minutes zeroed in on the exact strokes he masturbated himself with.

“So fuck in,” she mumbled as she slid her fist down the cock down to the coarse forest of pubic hair, “and pull out” she said as she loving caressed the cock sliding her fist up, pulling at the foreskin. Streaks of viscous precum ran from cock to fist as she completed the stroke with a flourish. She carefully caught the slop in her fist; it would be useful in increasing the speed and finishing this important and infinitely pleasurable job. What a pity. She should have thought of all this before. There would have been no need for a hurried encounter on the floor of a camp tent, fraught with the danger of discovery.

“Fuck in,” she slammed her fist down. Samar Singh gasped at the sudden vigor and his hand involuntarily grabbed her arm.

“Pull out,” she squeezed his cock as she milked it. “In. Out. In. Out. In. out!” her eyes were transfixed on the sight of his deeply colored cock and the surging of its head as she said ‘in’. That bulbous monster belonged inside her, she thought to herself obscenely as she fisted the cock with a vigorous series of strokes. She barely noticed Samar Singh grab her breast through the silk blouse. His thumb desperately sought out the nipple so he could know the lay of the land.

“Ah! Yes. Unh. Haaah!” he howled with each thrust, eyes fixed on the luxuriously long fingers, the royal fist and his wildly responsive animal of a cock.

Rajmata Priyamvada was lost in the world of milking this young man’s cock. For a few moments the lesson being taught was forgotten. Saliva dripped from her mouth onto the mess below where fist and cock were sliding in and out. When his invading thumb unfurled her nipple, she shuddered.

“Wait, Samar,” she gasped. “Look here!” she pleaded. Gratefully, his hand claimed the breast, kneading and stroking, since the Rajmata did not stop him.

“When you are deep in her, do you see how your cockhead swells?” she asked. Her eyes were transfixed. She was in a trance as she fucked him with her fist.

Samar nodded moaning in ecstasy.

“Your skin is pulled back, the head is swollen; if you spurt when your cock is like this at its depth inside her, the job will be done. So tell me, are you sufficiently aroused to cum?” she asked.

In reply he gripped her wrist and moved her hand at a fast pace, rapidly. Rajmata rested her other hand on the ground for support. His cock was dangerously near her face. Her hair fell forward. She swept it back quickly for she needed him to see the spurt and learn the lesson well.

“Now!” he blabbered, as he felt his orgasm coming up.

Rajmata noted that the speed and vigor of the fisting meant Samyukta would have to be fucked with the same energy if the encounter was to be short yet effective. She found herself wondering if Samyukta had ever been pounded so well and effectively. And if not, then would she not be like a lioness tasting blood? Would she not, in fact, feel the same way that Rajmata was feeling right now, that Samar Singh was to be enjoyed in toto?

“Keep your eyes here!,” she ordered him.

Samar Singh’s body convulsed.

“This is when you must fuck extra hard, not slow down,” her fist moved up and down in rapid strokes.

“Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” wailed Samar Singh. When he masturbated this was when he slowed down to prolong the pleasure. But the Rajmata expertly ran her thumb over the zone between strokes.

He squeezed his buttocks as he felt his entire being summoned to the experience.

“Cum for me, my laadla,” crooned the Rajmata, at her sluttish worst and recalling the familiarity of his growing years at the same time. (Laadla: an endearment for a beloved son.)

“Here!” she exclaimed in victory. “Note how my fist is down at your every convulsion!”

Just as she said this both she and Samar Singh lost momentary control and a few random jerks ensued. He gripped her and pulled her to himself. His face was buried in her bosom and his hips thrust into her hard. But the Rajmata took the situation back.

“Now,” she exhorted him. Her fingers read the pulsating pillar in her grip.

“Watch,” she ordered him as she fisted him down expecting a shot from his cock which she sensed was ready to explode. The cock was tremulous; the seed seemed to pause. She quickly slid up and back down. “Fuck like that to make it burst; don’t allow it to recede,” she said quickly, using the opportunity to make a point.

She fisted down and watched, hoping this was it. Samar Singh released his buttocks and his entire cock seemed to melt in that instance. Fluids held back seemed to gather and flow through.

“Take what now is Samyukta’s!” hollered the subjugated soldier as he let go.

The spurt was huge and caught Rajmata unawares. It splattered on her neck. The fact that her fist was at the base of his cock and the cock was unsheathed so that, like a slingshot it released its load with force; the shot hit her with a splatter.

“That! That!,” gasped the sexual virtuoso of a woman. But she could not complete the intended sentence. The flailing and thrusting was rapid. The scene had moved on.

Her fist rose. “You must pull back so that the next shot is as vigorous,” she explained and rammed her fist back in time for the next spurt. This was more copious and less forceful.

“Now, one more!” goaded the Rajmata. The spurt became more heavy as the force dwindled.

“Now, a trick,” she smiled, thinking of who, when and how she had learned of this one. “If you want to build up this melting spew into one last shot, clench your buttocks. Clench!” she said forcefully, bringing him to reality from the stupor of orgasmic delight.

“Now, rapid jabs in and out to raise the stimulation,” she fisted the head alone. “Nod to me when you feel that you are ready to burst but for the clenching,” she looked intently at his face. She noticed he was sweating. She realized that she too was sweating. And that first gob that had hit her on her throat was now racing down. The slopes of her bosom made sure the stream of cum ran down her cleavage. It soaked the silk bodice within.

He nodded. “Now! Maaaaaaaaaaa!” he screamed.

She ran her fist down fully, completely, unsheathing the wonderfully stimulated, conquered, tortured, milked cock. Samar Singh sucked in his stomach, his loins shuddered and he spurted a shot comparable with the very first one. It did not have as much volume as that first; it tried to reach out for the rose-tinted and flushed neck of the Rajmata and fell back to the amalgam of fist and cock below.

Samar Singh twisted and turned. The head of his cock was now extra sensitive. The pleasure was unbearable. The breast in his hand was massaged and twisted and pummeled. Soon enough he buried his head in it and bit at the nipple.

Her own cunt was a soppy mess and she didn’t need this mouthing of her nipple. It was going to be a long night for her as these fires ignited in her would need putting out. She would have stopped him but her hand was soaked and coated in this cum. She looked at the milky white mess and its abundance. The pressure was now gone. The cock now spewed in helpless weak dribbles. But it seemed never ending.

“Good,” thought the Rajmata, “this surfeit of semen will help.” She would make her daughter-in-law stay lying back, knees pulled up so that all this goodness would find its way seeping into the womb.

“The temptation to maximize pleasure is great. But the time for that is not when you are spurting in her womb. I need those full-blooded shots into her womb. Your reward in pleasure is now,” she said. Her fingers closing around the head of the cock and squeezing the rapidly receding bulb in and out. Samar Singh spasmed and shuddered, luxuriating in the sheer pleasure that the Rajamata was bestowing on him. He sobbed into her breast, milking her through the flimsy, now-wet silk, as she milked him.

As the heat of the moment receded, sanity began to make a comeback.

“This pleasure is for you only today,” confessed a more sober Rajmata. “Please realize that on that day you will be with the Maharani. You cannot seek your own pleasure with her. That would be improper.”

Samar Singh nodded. His mouth was on her nipple. The blouse soaked with his saliva revealed the treasure of her flesh to him. As sanity returned he let the nipple slip reluctantly out of his lips. He was grateful for the continuing ministrations of her fingers. Smalls jerks and spasms continued to wrack him as he felt a great sleep wash over him. The tiredness of the day’s riding came rushing on.

Rajmata tousled his hair and smiled.

“So, now you know what to do. And now I know my choice is correct,” said the Rajmata matter of factly. She wiped her cum smothered hand on the dhoti which lay on crumpled now below him. There was a lot of cum and that pleased her no end.

She threw the cloth of the dhoti across his body. –it was so strange; what seemed beautiful and joyous in the ardor of the moment was now embarrassing.

Samar Singh’s eyes roamed the woman’s body. The nipple poked out in attention visible through the wet silk of the blouse. The streak of semen now semi-dry, drew a line from her throat to the cleavage, though it was still moist where it had touched her gold chains. Suddenly, his hand, which was no longer mauling squeezing the breast could feel its fullness and weight.

“She must be a goddess in bed,” wondered Samar Singh. The Rajmata looked radiant-pink in the flushed aftermath of the intense time together.

She gently removed his hand from her breast and covered her bosom with the drapes of her duppatta. She blushed; this storm of sexual emotion was an old fire that had lain dormant for a while. She stared at the supine form of Samar Singh. She been able to see the strength of his physique over the years; more so these last couple of days since this new plan had occurred to her. And now she had seen his endowment at close quarters.

They sat there immersed in thoughts of the possibilities of each other for a while. Rajmata realised that they needed to move. She now had to talk to her daughter-in-law. She looked in his eyes and could see similarities in his thoughts. As her eyes wandered down his body for the n-th time, she noticed a twitching bulge develop beneath and a tent forming where his groin was.

She simply had to move. This time she may not be able to resist him; and there was no assurance that he would be able to control himself anymore.

Both of them arranged their clothes. She used the end of her dupatta to wipe the stains from her throat, neck and chest. He tied his dhoti as best as he could, tucking away his fresh erection.

As they arrived at an acceptable state of clothing, Maharani Samyukta swept into her mother-in-law’s chamber attired in a relaxed, evening dress.

She was taken aback to see both of them there. Their proximity would be normal between any two persons. But considering that one of them was the Rajmata, it was close. They also seemed disheveled; her immediate thought was neither had changed while she had freshened up and changed.

“Come, beti,” invited the Queen Mother pre-empting any questions from the Queen of the Kingdom. “You have come in at just the right time.”

“She has no idea how well timed her entry is,” thought Samar Singh to himself as he bowed and backed out of the Royal tents on still-quivering legs.
The Rajmata (Queen Mother) sat behind the thin veil of a curtain and watched as her daughter-in-law, the Maharani spread herself out under the looming figure of Samar Singh, the Chief of the Royal Guard.

Samar Singh, just twenty years old and a virgin had been drafted by the Rajmata (Queen Mother) to impregnate Maharani Samyukta. The lad was a battle-scarred veteran of many a battle, but a complete novice at what he was about to do. His forearms and chest had cuts and nicks but his back was free of marks of any woman having clawed him in the desperation of her orgasmic burst.

“This has to go well,” thought the 46 year old widowed Rajmata, grimly. “It has to be clinical, quick and she must become pregnant in just this one encounter.”

The King was impotent and this was the time tested fix for the problem; spiriting the Queen away to the Himalayan ashram of a sage. What was different was that instead of the sage being prevailed upon to beget the kingdom a successor, the Chief of Guards had been asked by the Rajmata to do the deed. Her logic was simple; the seed and graft with a warrior clan would produce a better heir than the product of an intellectual with soft hands. She wanted to stabilize the reign of her young son, whose own succession had been shaky.

The choice of Samar Singh over the sage was her very own, very private decision. The sages were preferred for they were ascetic, unattached and there was no scope for any complications. Complications could arise from the biological father resurfacing; emotional bonding between the Queen and the impregnator; political machinations and so on. For all these reasons, from time immemorial, Indian Kingdoms had preferred to have the problem solved by approaching sages and ascetics who were well disposed towards their particular kingdom. Royalty and the Spiritual gurus knew each other for generations. While the sages were not celibate, they followed a prescribed way of life which never crossed paths with the rest of the world. And thus the insurance against complications.

The Rajmata sighed. Samar Singh had grown up in front of her. He was the King’s playmate of childhood days. His father was the General of the Army; the head of their family had been so for generations. So would Samar Singh, after his father’s time, become the General.

It had not taken much time to convince the lad of his duty towards kingdom in impregnating the Maharani. The Rajmata expected no less from the loyal soldier; he came from a clan and family that had served the Royal Family well. But the quick acceptance of the proposal sowed the seed of doubt in her mind; would Samar Singh be as clinical as she had instructed him to be? Would he avoid caresses, touching and lingering kisses? Would he avoid the prolonging of pleasure? Finally, she had decided to be a silent spectator to the deed, ensuring that neither soldier nor the queen would be sidetracked by lust.

It was indeed corrupting and she reflected on the wisdom of the ages in entrusting this delicate task to the spiritually inclined ascetics. She found herself wondering whether she had erred; even her own son did not know she had different plans.

The ascetics were reputed to do the same deed differently. Her mind wandered back to the account rendered by one of the elderly maids in her own mother’s palace. That lady had been part of an entourage in another principality, where the queen had been dispatched to get an heir after that king had been discovered impotent. These things were done very quietly with just a handful in the know, for the impotence of a king was political dynamite. If a king was to be a strong ruler, how could he be impotent? The psychology of the masses of those who were ruled was such. And so, there was no direct knowledge; just the grapevine and the gossip circles.

The Rajmata had been a young princess at the time, being educated at her mother’s place in the art of statecraft. It was during one of those sessions that the salacious bit on the impregnation by a sage had been disclosed.

He sat in deep meditation, she was told. They married and had sex only for procreation, never for pleasure. They measured their spiritual powers by restraint and by capturing the vitality of their own living being through yoga and the forsaking of every thing material.

It was not that they repressed desire; they never allowed it to overcome them. They felt it come to them as their bodies are of flesh. But in their yogic state, they observe their own reaction and behavior as an outsider might observe them. As they watched themselves, they developed the power to control themselves. It was not about repression and avoidance. It was about acknowledgement and harnessing.

That power, sexuality being the most potent of the powers, when harnessed, led to spiritual awareness, growth and sublimation.

Some engaged in tantric sex as the path to sublimation. They drifted on the darker side of spirituality. At that fringe, there were those who used powers to perform magic and use their power to manipulate, destroy and command.

But the yogis at the ashrams were not on The Dark Side. The kingdoms wouldn’t patronize such an ashram. The oldest ashrams had already conquered and therefore could not be attracted by material blandishments. They had age-old alliances with specific kingdoms. And for these yogis, sexuality was something they commanded; it did not command them. That is why sending a queen to a sage was acceptable. But it was fascinating to hear of how it was done.

And that old maid had told them.

“He sat cross-legged, deep in meditation. It was an appointed time so when we entered his space we were surprised to see him in meditation. On hindsight, it was silly to have expected a bed or something like that,” she recalled, with all the wisdom and nuance of a woman that had experienced the world.

“Our Queen was a fragile, delicate beauty. She was overwhelmed by his presence, but also by the complexity of the task at hand; she was expected to subject herself to him and be impregnated. She was quivering with tension and knew not how to progress.”

“The ladies of the ashram held her and led her up to where the yogi sat. The Queen had her hands folded in supplication to the spiritual master. The women gently slid the well-tucked cloth around her waist and the several yards of cloth wrapped around her unraveled. It didn’t quite fall to the ground, but we all dropped our eyes instinctively. We had seen her nude so often while bathing, massaging and soothing her. But that day, it didn’t seem right.”

“Her bodice remained where it was, her breasts held in the restraining confines of the band of cloth around her chest. The lady did not know what to expect. The yogi remained seated with eyes shut. They moved her forward so that she was now directly in front of him, up close. His head was at the level of her groin. The two women on either side of the queen continued to walk towards the yogi, crossing him, still gently holding the Queen in their grip.”

“The only way the queen could have continued to retain her balance was to spread her legs. She instinctively understood what was expected of her. Her hands continued to be folded in prayer and she now closed her eyes. Her ankles grazed his knees because he was sitting cross legged and his knees jutted out. She came to stand over him, feeling the stray whiskers of his long beard tickle the insides of her thighs. If they had walked further, her groin would have been at his forehead. But they didn’t walk.”

“She was now trembling. She did not know what was expected of her. She felt the cool breeze of those Himalayan climbs caress her most private parts. Her eyes were full of tears. Her face was red. She was ready to turn and flee. She might well have any moment then, when they gently pressed her shoulders down, willing her to sit.”

“She bent her knees to comply and come down to the level of where he was sitting. As far as she could make out he was still sitting unmoved. Scared as she was she quickly opened a narrow slit in her eyelids to see what he was doing. He was doing nothing.”

“We were all transfixed; no one had been asked to leave, no one had been told any rules of engagement. It was as if we were not there. My body was burning as with head bowed, but eyes straining upward I could see that she was straddling him and standing in front of him. The space was lit only with dim diya lamps (small oil lamps). The light and shade contrast in illumination was dramatic, even if dim. And I saw our Queen bend her legs and lower her body. We could see the legs spread dramatically. I am sure if he had opened his eyes, he would have seen her gaping yoni (cunt). But his eyes were shut.”

“What was to happen next? What use an open and waiting yoni in front of a meditating and austere ascetic? She continued to lower her body. The two women on either side supported her to help keep balance. One hand was on the small of her back and the other between her shoulder blades. Suddenly, the hand which was passively on the small of her back, gently pushed forward.”

“She gasped loudly as her pubic hair caressed the outline of a bobbing lingam (penis) and the gates of her yoni scraped the monster. Arising from between his legs was a lance of flesh, bobbing and bouncing at an upward pointing angle. Instinctively, she drew up her knees, and her bottom descended into the receptacle of his lap. Equally involuntary was her guttural groan when the lingam speared her. It was if she had fallen on a sword and it had pierced her being.”

“In one fluid movement, her ass had snugly fit into his lap. It was another matter that the snug fit had placed her at a point where her yoni was splayed open and his lingam had stabbed into her as far as her womb. There was no obstruction from his thighs, while he still sat cross-legged. Her legs were raised and crossed his waist. The hands which were folded in supplication were now clutching at his shoulders. They were no longer needed to be folded to indicate her reverence for him; she had subjected herself in the most primeval way.”

“She held on to the powerful shoulders waiting for a thrust which never came. Her wet lips were parted in expectation of a kiss that was never planted. Her breasts ached for the pressing of his chest which never happened. Her yoni walls, held open thus, spread apart by the impossibly large lingam, watered, the way an eye might water if it has not blinked. She felt herself pour out in an unexpected but inevitable sexual response. She felt herself running like a stream, down past their point of coitus, the fluid tickling her ass as it dripped off into a puddle below them.”

“The Queen told us everything. She recounted this experience over and over again. She never got over it. She had never been fucked by a man so virile. She had never felt so massively plowed upon. And she had never felt so much with no movement. And no man had ever controlled himself in this fashion. She confessed in her bedchamber afterwards to us to having conquered many, before and after marriage. But none had ever been like this. Indeed, she even confessed that this one experience had left her a hungering soul, searching for the experience once more. The yogi would’nt turn and look at her. And no man ever felt that way again. But that was not for the want of her trying.”

“She could not stop repeating what happened to those of us who were in her inner circle. And none of us could ever after be touched by a man without comparing and imagining what our queen had experienced with the yogi.”

“Even though he did nothing, it felt as if his lingam had swollen in proportions after it had entered her. She felt a hum, a vibration in the monster embedded in her. It was if that pillar of flesh was talking to the sheath that encapsulated it. She quivered, trembling on the brink of what she thought might be an orgasm! Impossible! He had not moved; it could not be an orgasm.”

“As the vibration built up inside her, she wiggled her hips. She wanted. Scraping. Riding. She wanted to be mauled. She didn’t want to melt away in orgasm. She wanted it to be torrential. Her sexual instincts told her to heave and fuck the cock in her; that was how torrential orgasms were experienced. Ride. Touch. Scrape. Grind. Pound. But no, move as she might, she could not get him to fuck back.”

“She was now desperate. She wriggled her legs free of the hands of the women who held her apart and propped her up. She locked her legs around his back. Her arms went around him and her hands wrapped around his neck. She hoisted herself up, giving up the depth of his penetration for control over his lingam. Her yoni was trained. She knew how to fuck. She did’nt want conversation between yoni and lingam; she wanted a duel. She wanted to fuck. She wanted to conquer him. “

“She ground down with her hips on the cock below. She bounced up and down in loud grunts and squeals. She was oblivious to the surroundings and to those of us who were there to lend gravitas to a serious matter of State. She only knew the lingam in her and the pleasure it promised her. She worked and twisted her yoni on it seeking pleasure and seeking the conquest of the unconquerable.”

“She was delighted when his hands gripped her bottom, fingers digging deep into the flesh of her ass. She felt conquest within reach. But her delight gave way to despair as he held her firm, rendering her unable to move. ‘Feel. Experience. Watch,” he commanded her, his eyes opening at last. The power in them was visible, obvious and she felt unable to disobey.”

“Her face went red as a beetroot with shame and embarrassment. The object of her veneration had become the object of her lust. When he opened his eyes he was talking to the lustful woman in her. She half expected to be reproached. But all he had said to her was to experience. It was as if he sanctioned her the pleasure, but by different menas. He closed his eyes again.”

“She whimpered as her impending orgasm dwindled. And then gasped as she felt the lingam grow; yet again. She smiled as she felt the fullness, she allowed herself a gratified laugh. She could not care less for either the yogi or the spectators. Her own desperate desire was the only thing that mattered. She could not take any more deprivation.”

“She was glad it was growing. The pressure on her inside made up for the lack of movement. She was also glad it was growing only after entering her. The thought of taking in something as large as it felt now was scary. She glued her pubis to his groin, ensuring that if she could not move, at least she could swallow him whole.”

“Once again the lingam started humming and vibrating in the fullness of its flesh. It was engorged like a balloon at its apex, there was no way it could take in more; yet energy continued to pour into the cock. Every cell in the pillar of flesh was energized and it radiated outward from its base to the cockhead. To the queen, it felt like rippling movements in the cock. It was as if every cell at every point on the cock was caressing and talking to every cell on the wall of her cunt. She closed her eyes, mind focusing on the conversation between yoni and lingam.”

“She says she could feel him inside her womb. It was as if a million hands were beating upon a million drums on the walls of her yoni. The surface of the drums, skins stretched taut, were vibrating, and resonating to the hands that were beating on them. Those skins perhaps were akin to the throbbing tunnel of flesh which was firmly holding the lingam. Except that this drum was beating back on the hands that were thumping it. She smiled as she felt her yoni vibrate back in return.”

“It was if the two were vibrating to each other. The lingam’s vibrations responded to the yoni’s counter beat. The lingam resonated to that stimulus. The rhythms of cock and cunt danced with each other. There was no movement, but at the level of the cells there was complete rejoicing, jostling, caressing and grinding.”

“She laughed as she felt satisfaction from watching the performance. His energy radiated from his lingam into her. She was caught up in his momentum and responded from somewhere deep within. At some point, both bodies of flesh started to vibrate on the same frequency and the resonances merged.”

“Suddenly, it was no longer two drums beating against one another. The skins were moving together. When one curved outward, the other curved inward. And when one curved inward the other curved outward. The curves and sinuations of both drums were matched. They ceased to be two; there was only one.”

“The crescendo began when instead of beating as two, they merged as one. Vibrations, instead of canceling out, rose to a crescendo. Their energy fields merged. There was an explosion. She felt a deep stab of heat, shock and release as the waves of the explosion radiated beyond the amalgam of yoni and lingam. She always maintained that it was not two explosions. It hit her being. She flailed. Her nervous system was staggered by the electric release of charge let into her system. In the high voltage shock that ensued, all control was lost. Her nails dug in, drawing blood. Her head lolled about, thrown back. Saliva brimmed at her wet and open lips. Eyes rolled about in her head. Her hips jerked and convulsed, the wet masses of flesh sliding ineffectually.”

“He did not stir, nor talk, nor blink. She blabbered. She called out to god, to her mother and to him and pleaded to be fucked. She banged against him aimlessly. She sobbed, tears running down her cheeks. She screamed and hollered, her voice carrying to the bachelor quarters at the far end of the ashram and the mountains beyond. Her hips ground down on him and she moaned and babbled like an insane woman. She beat her body against his chest till her physical energy was drained. And when she could do no more she fell back.”

“Her bottom was in his lap and she lay on the floor in front of him. Her legs were splayed open, heels on the floor behind him, knees up. His cock, once jutting upward, was now pulled downward embedded as it continued to be in the body lying on the floor in front. The energy from his lingam continued to flow to her. She lay, drained, occasionally twitching or thrashing as waves continued to lash her. From the flood of semen in her, from the openness of her own womb to him, and from the stab of heat she just knew that the mission was accomplished. She had been impregnated.”

“Experiencing the yogic power of another was such; the woman lay in front of him drained from having released as much energy as he had for a brief moment. He could continue, she could not. That surge from her to match him came from drawing on resources she did not know existed. And now came the exhaustion. Even as she luxuriated in the tremors and aftershocks of the main orgasm, she passed out. The yogi sat there impassively. When the erection receded and slipped out of her, she slid to the floor. We silently gathered our satiated and consummated queen in our arms and withdrew, leaving the sage to his meditation,” the old maid had concluded.

The Rajmata had often wondered in her princess years if she would ever experience a similarly sublime form of sex. But her own husband had no problems impregnating her and the Kingdom had exploded in ten days of feasting and rejoicing in the news from the palace. And yet their son now had this problem and she had chosen for her own daughter-in-law a less exotic method. Such was the reality of palace politics.

The gasp that shook the Rajmata from her reverie was not from those distant memories. It was from her daughter-in-law, who had just discovered that the Chief of Royal Guards was a good deal thicker in his endowment than the Maharaja.

That gasp was the signal for the Rajmata to assert her authority over the deed that was being undertaken. No gasps, no exploration, no desires. It was her job to make sure that he just made her pregnant and walked away with no lingering feelings or plans.
Setting her jaw with determination, she turned her attention back to the fully clothed couple who had strict instructions from her on how to go about this with clinical precision.
There was something about the crisp air of the Himalayan foothills that added to the excitement building up in the Maharani’s imagination. She had been told of the nomination of the Chief of the Royal Guard, Samar Singh for the all important task for which they had traveled to the ashram of the sage. That task involved being fucked by the tall, broad and muscular youngster, for the goal was to become pregnant and bear the Crown Prince for the Kingdom, keeping the King’s impotence a state secret.

When her mother-in-law, the Rajmata told her this just a couple of days ago, she had been taken aback but not shocked. She was not shocked because the solution to the problem of the Maharaja’s impotence had been discussed and she knew she was going to be fucked by someone, with official sanction. The original decision involved subjecting herself to an ascetic, a sage, who would complete the deed in an antiseptic manner. The Rajmata suggested Samar Singh, an idea all her own and to which no one except the three of them were party.

While it surprised the Maharani, it promised her lot more than an encounter with a sage. Her eyes devoured the young soldier ever since. She noticed his build, his muscles, the ripple of sinews down his body and a distinct sackful of a bulge where his cock might be. She wondered if it was just a fold in his garment or really his cock, but she had no way of knowing. She had no way of knowing that her mother-in-law, in the course of instructing Samar Singh had masturbated him. She had been teaching him how to thrust himself in a way that would maximize his load-shots of cum. The idea was to drench the womb of the Maharani.

What the Maharani did not also know was that during that encounter he had held the Rajmata’s succulent breast and gnawed at it. Those memories and the thoughts around fucking the Maharani found him in an almost permanent state of erection. The young virgin lad found his sexual urges completely unleashed. The jacking off he had received was deeply satisfying but it had merely whetted his appetite for a mature, sexually liberating fuck.

So yes, it was his powerful loin that she was eyeing. Without concrete evidence she nevertheless decided it was a large cock he concealed. What had driven her even wilder was the restraint the Rajmata imposed on them. He was the Chief of the Royal Guard, and she the Maharani. The Rajmata had called upon his loyalty to ask him to do the job with clinical focus. Likewise she had instructed her daughter-in-law that no affection or pleasure-seeking was to be encouraged. And so the daughter-in-law spent a lot of time imagining how it would be to fuck him wild. But there was no hope; she could not see the ever-loyal Samar Singh overstepping his brief.

And the Rajmata was going to be watching from behind a lace screen to ensure that things went according to script; no less, no more.

And so as she lay in wait for Samar Singh to come over her, she was conscious of her mother-in-law overseeing this from beyond the silk screen. She could hear the river rushing in the distance and that sound of the rapid surge seemed to match the rush of blood in her system. The tent was dimly lit with oil lit lamps, and the landscape outside was a pale milky white with the collective glow of a star studded sky above.

In this glorious setting, the man who was going to fuck her with consent, but who was not her lover, and who was to not touch her with an ounce of feeling, loomed over her. He was fully clothed as was she. The instructions were for him to just let his cock slip out from the folds of his dhoti and for her to lift her skirt. It was only to be cock and cunt. He was expected to hold himself poised over her, his chest completely off her chest. She was to spread her legs wide so the soft inside of her thighs would not graze and inflame against the rough, hairy legs pushing into her.

When she reached out to take his cock in her slender hand it was truly by instinct. The projectile needed guidance and she meant to reach for it in a clinical sort of way. Her gasp was involuntary and was triggered by the sheer dimension of the tool of impregnation. It vastly exceeded the Maharaja’s cock in girth and she immediately wanted to devour it with her throbbing, open, wet and waiting cunt.

The alert Rajmata heard the gasp and saw her daughter-in-law’s hand disappear between their bodies.

“Samyukta!” she called sharply.

Maharani Samyukta reflexively relaxed her grip on the throbbing monster but didn’t quite let go. Her palm held and weighed his penis, the thumb roaming over the trunk, feeling is texture and contours.

It was Samar Singh’s turn to gasp. The woman below him was radiantly beautiful in the glow of the lamps. Her breasts were heaving and she seemed a rosy pink in her arousal. He felt his throat dry and he despaired at the impossibility of his Royal mission in treating this as a job. He wanted to plunge in, maraud, pound, impale and hammer her cunt into jelly.

Instead, he carefully reached between their bodies and took charge of his cock. He slid her fingers off, noticing that she was willingly taking the juice of his precum onto her fingers. As he pushed her hand aside, her fingers gripped his briefly, that one touch communicating the desperation of her sexual desire.

“Maharani Sahiba,” murmured Samar Singh, loud enough for the Rajamata to hear and note that he not forgotten who he was with.

The use of her Royal title had the required effect on Maharani Samyukta and she placed both her hands on the pillow beside her head as instructed by Rajmata. The Rajamata, who had tensed up at the turn of events slowly let go of her breath. As she relaxed, she felt the puddle of fluid in her own insides from the voyeuristic excitement of what she was going to witness. She knew Samar Singh to be well endowed and had secretly worried whether Samyukta would feel pain and therefore push away the young man. She also knew that while his thickness would guarantee pleasurable feelings, his length was just right and no pain would result. Replaying these scenarios and the heavy breathing in the tent caused her to shift uncomfortably in her seat. Unknown to her, a spot had started to form where she sat.

Samyukta looked up at Samar Singh, deep into his eyes. She spread her legs wide, and her lissome body moved in a wave. It was if her body was inviting him in, in breach of her restraining covenants. He could not be sure as her fists and jaw clenched. In reality, she was readying herself to receive pleasure from that stout cock and to grit herself to suppress her own reactions.

She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her whole body as she felt the cockhead nose apart her pussylips. The Chief of Royal Guards felt the Maharani’s pubic hair prickly on his silky soft, wet penis head and he braced himself to assault. He met resistance in part because the petals of her portal were clenched as well and in part because the battering ram was just wider than the gate it was assaulting.

As a duty bound solider, he plowed on, unmindful of pain or injury that might result. As a novice he was in fact, unsure whether he was at the key entry point. Here was a battle for which no maps and guideposts or advance spotters were available. It was one-on-one combat and it was between him and the combatant.

The resistance was only external and physical. No sooner had the outer reaches been breached, the entire passage gave way. A surge of lubrication, loyal to the invader, rushed forward to welcome the thick ram. Samar Singh groaned a loud groan of acknowledgement as Maharani Samyukta’s warm, wet and welcoming passage sucked him in like a sponge, allowing him to sink in to his hilt.

“Ouch! AAAh! Yessssss!” went the Maharani, in quick succession.

He had lost his virginity at last. The bubbly warmth that held him enthralled him. He shuddered and quaked as the chemistry between cock and cunt took over. He allowed himself that moment to register the enormity of the sensations that were swamping him, before reminding himself of his mission.

It was not a moment too soon as he heard the Rajamata hiss, “Now slide in and out as I taught you!”

Samyukta, who was herself lost in the stretch her cunt felt and who was acclimatizing to the throbbing new life that she wished would pound her, was shocked at the implication of her mother-in-law’s statement.

Had the Rajmata tasted of this wonderfully filling cock? Had that lecherous woman enjoyed this virile stud and yet was denying her pleasure? Her mind was in a whirl over the implications of that possibility. She felt her cunt belch in excitement at the thought and a gush of womanly precum engulfed the pulsating cock.

Samar Singh sucked in his breath loudly with a throaty scream as he felt the surge from Samyukta flood in.

The Rajmata had warned him of this; it would prolong pleasure and extend the time. He had been ordered to dry himself so that stimulation was maximised and orgasm was quick. He pulled out of Samyukta and grabbed his cock in the cloth of his dhoti. As he held it to dry it, he felt he would almost cum, he also felt the cock swell to proportions he had never experienced.

Samyukta could not be blamed for the staggering shock of pleasure that Samar Singh’s re-entry delivered to the pit of her stomach.

“Unh!” she grunted, her fingers grabbing the ends of her pillow and twisting and clawing at the mass. She would gladly draw bloodlines on his back but she was not to touch him. Her hips jerked and thrust back at him, seeking pleasurable releases.

Orders, orders, orders. He had been ordered to slide in and out of this woman. It was his duty. He decided to get control of the devil that now possessed his body.

“I,” he said to himself, pulling out, “Have been ordered,” shove in; “To give it to her, in, pull out and pound in and out. And in. and out. And in, and…..”

Mechanically he pounded her in and out. He forgot himself, where he was and his surroundings. He just pulled out and pounded in. in the mechanics he forgot that as her juices drenched his cock he needed to dry out.

He also momentarily forgot that there was a woman at the receiving end of that pounding. The more mindless he made it, the more vigorous it became. She felt her pussy walls inflame, she felt juices pour out to quench her fires. Far from it, she felt the lubrication trigger a throbbing of her cunt wall. She wanted, ached for, an involved plundering, not a dispassionate pounding. She wished she could spread her legs wider, or hook them over his shoulders opening her insides to his ravishment. Her breasts felt imprisoned and confined, her breathing constricted and ragged.

Unknown to her, her body responded with fuck-backs. Her chest started to heave in the excitement, in other words Samyukta the Maharani was reduced to a pleasure seeking slut.

The loyal soldier who was riding her was blind to this; and she had the Queen Mother who appeared to have tasted this lad overseeing that restraint was indeed exercised.

Samyukta’s body was on fire. Samar Singh was fucking her and at the very least she hoped it would last. One hand grabbed the hand of the solider where she felt the Rajmata could not spot it. Her other hand roamed to her throat and desperate to touch her breasts for relief she rubbed her own neck in frustration.

Everything that had happened thus far was acceptable to the Rajmata. She knew that a few strokes would be needed before Samar Singh would feel the onset of orgasm. This was particularly so if both of them were wet with excitement, which she wouldn’t rule out. She had a sense of timing on Samar Singh’s stroke play, she thought there were still a few minutes before she would feel the need for intervention again.

Rajmata could not have known what Samar Singh had felt. He had felt the Maharani fuck back. It was when he had pulled back and was focused on the sensations at his cockhead that she had slid back over the ultra sensitive head. He noticed it but kept his eyes shut. He allowed the interplay of cock and cunt as some pleasure was going to be needed to spurt his seed. What he did not anticipate was the feverish clutch of Samyukta’s hand on his own hand.

With the tactical instincts of a good solider, he immediately noticed that she had done this with the hand which the Rajmata could not notice. He opened his eyes to look at the sexually charged woman under him. Their eyes met. He could see she was feverish with sexual desire. Her skin was reddened hot. She turned her head and kissed his hand with a brush of her lips.

Samar Singh had been lecherously admiring this beauty the last two days. Her curvaceous hips, the legs long enough to wrap him in, and above all those plump full breasts. Her lips touching his hand drove him wild and he felt his orgasm rushing forward. No! He could not end here; he had barely felt her. Her eyes, her lips and her body language were screaming for him. How could he not respond? He glanced towards the Rajmata who was watching them intently. He convulsed as the stroking and fucking continued.

With his eyes firmly on the watching dowager from beyond the veil, Samar Singh leaned back, kneeling on the floor and taking the weight of the body off his hands. As he leaned back, his engorged penis slid out, threatening to leave Maharani Samyukta completely.

Rajmata could see that the orgasm had not happened; had he lost his seed in a melting moment, or was it something else? She gesticulated to him wildly. But Samar Singh only stared back at her. As his penis slid back it was on the brink of slipping out. Samyukta was maddened by the idea. She tried to reach out to Samar Singh’s arms to try and stop him but he was too far away.

Maharani Samyukta was still fully clothed as instructed. Her midriff was bare, but that was only because her traditional attire was a ghaghra-choli (skirt-blouse).

Eyes still firmly on Rajmata, Samar Singh’s hand slid under the Maharani and held her through the cloth of the skirt. His strong muscular frame allowed him to lift her with ease by her hips. He brought her up and pulled her back onto his cock so that he filled her back again with a satisfying stretch.. His hands had still not touched her bare skin.

Samyukta was still on the floor but now she was hoisted up at her hip to the level of his hip. The inside of her thighs were in touch with his hips and the back of her thighs lay on his thighs. That was the first skin-on-skin contact between soldier and queen. The angle his cock to press against the roof of her vaginal canal. She gave out a low moan and struggled with a feeling that she might urinate. That sensation came from his cock caressing some tender spots in the area. He was stationary, but his cock seemed to throb on its own. And that pulsation was a drum beat.. She wanted him to touch her more.

“Ye kya kar rahe ho!” shouted the Rajmata standing up. (What are you doing?)

Samar Singh froze, his gaze alternated between the woman in his lap and the agitated woman beyond the veil. The inflamed desire of the woman impaled on his cock was at dramatic odds with the instructions from the Rajmata. He was hoping the dowager, who he knew from his own encounter with her was not a sexual illiterate would relent. Could she not see the state of her daughter-in-law? Could she not relate to his helplessness and need to respond to the Maharani? Were her rules so sacrosanct? Why not a completion of the pleasure loop since he was to go as far as impregnation?

The Rajmata was toying with the idea of rushing forward, but she was hesitant; the mission had not been completed.

Samyukta wanted to hold back the burst fearing it was urine. She wanted Samar Singh to fuck her with vigor. The dam in her burst and she was glad to discover it was some form of an orgasm. She shuddered and thrashed around as the orgasm wracked her body. Bolts of lightning shot through her breasts electrifying her nipples. They stood up, rock hard in the confines of the silken blouse.

The ache in her breasts was unbearable and while she luxuriated in the violent orgasm she did not touch Samar Singh; her mother-in-law was watching. Her nails dug into Samar Singh’s wrist drawing red claw marks. The other hand reached for him, then she paused. She pulled back and touched her own breast, restrained at first. Then the ache became worse and she squeezed herself from the side of the breast.

Samar Singh was overcome by the movements of the clutching cunt and clawing hands. His cock threatened to release its tormented load. He was not ready for that. He pulled himself out so that he could not release into her. Simultaneously, on impulse he leaned forward and held the top of her blouse. She nodded encouraging him on. Those breasts were now swollen and threatening to burst out of their confines. He thought of her lips and sucking them in. and he though of letting her nipples fuck his mouth; could he extract an orgasm from just that, as Vatsyayan promised in the kama sutra?

With one deft and loud rip, he pulled apart the blouse down the front. Hooks snapped and her nipple hard breasts spilled out. The last hook held fast and the two fruit shaped dumplings stayed like fruit in an overfull bowl.

She waited for him to logically progress and grab her breasts. He did not and just gaped at the delectable mounds of flesh. In desperation she held herself, squeezing her breasts from the broad mass slowly outward to the tips, as if milking pleasure from them. The nipples were now aching and paradoxically, the only relief could come if she hurt herself. She pinched, twisted and pulled on them. Stretching the teats out towards him, as if offering him the flow, she moaned a long painful ‘aaaaah!’.

“Samyukta! Ruk jao!” hissed the Rajmata. (Samyukta! Stop!)

Samyukta released her breasts, only to scoop them again and squeeze outward, and pull on the nipples again, hurting the nubs of flesh. And again, and again, in defiance of her watching mother-in-law and in a challenge to the soldier who refused to succumb.

The relief washed over her as one more, milder, orgasm trembled through her frame. the skirt below her drenched in the musky fluid with an aroma that wafted up to his nostrils. She looked up and smiled at him. She had broken the shackles of restraint by mauling of her own tits, by coaxing out one more orgasm, and by the shameless pursuit of her own pleasure. It was a triumph for her. She now turned to helping Samar Singh throw off those restraints. She knew the loyal soldier could not do what she had dared. He needed help.

She reached out for his hands, taking his hands in hers. Her soft fingers felt out the calluses and rough surface of his palms. They would feel wonderful on her. She pulled the hands towards her breasts, but he held himself back as they hovered over them.

“Kya baat hai, Samar Singh ji?” she asked. (What is the matter, Samar Singh?) The use of the respectful suffix ‘ji’ sounded incongruous to Samar Singh coming from a half naked woman lying in front of him. The nipples had lost their turgidity due to the relief from Samyukta’s efforts. The breasts looked divinely appetizing, mounds of pleasure topped by delectable grape like protrusions.

“Rajmata,” he croaked, his throat dry with desire, his brow damp with sweat.

“Jab tak hum ek do ek doosre ko sukh aur santusht nahi karte, tab tak aap mujhe achchi tarah bhar nahi payenge,” she said interleaving their fingers. He shuddered at the masterful interplay which massaged him. (“Till we satisfy each other fully, we cannot pursuer this mission properly.”)

“Yeh tum kya keh rahi ho beti!” protested the Rajmata. (What are you saying!)

“Mai sahi keh rahi hoon, maa. Aap mujh par bharosa rakhiye, apko apna pota mil jayega,” she replied, her eyes drinking in the mad ferocity in Samar Singh’s eyes. (I am right. Trust me. I will deliver you your grandson.)
ekin…” started Samar Singh in false protest, his dripping cock betraying the true state. (But…)

“Lekin kuch nahi. Ye mera adesh hai. Samar Singhji, aap Maharani Samyukta Devi ko naa nahi keh sakte!” she commanded him. (No buts. These are my orders. Samar Singhji, you cannot refuse Maharani Samyukta Devi).

Perhaps that was the justification he awaited. Samar Singh moved slowly, his hands claiming both breasts. In his full, rough and large hands they seemed like having arrived at their destination. Samyukta sighed. Circling the nipples he left them free, building them back into upward pointing knobs. He kneaded her with vigor, moving the mounds of flesh in large circles.

Samyukta nodded eagerly in acceptance and encouragement. “Haan, Samar Singh ji. Pyaar ki jiye mujhe. Jo karma hai kariye. Tab tak hi hamara dhyan goad bharne par nahi ja sakta. Na mera, na apka. Le jiye mujhe. Unhe chhodo. Un par dhyan mat dena. Who nahi samjhengi. Na meri halat na aapki.” (Yes, Samar Singh ji. Make love to me. Do what you have to do. till then, we cannot pay attention to what we have to do; not me, not you. And don’t pay attention to her, she cannot understand your situation nor mine.)

By the time the soft small hands with slender fingers reached for his sticky damp cock, his mind was made up. Samyukta held the instrument lovingly. It felt full and swollen as ever. It was half dried and stained with her and his juices. As her hand slid up and down, the stickiness gave way to a new wetness. That wetness belonged in her cunt. With the lubrication she could contemplate impaling herself on the monster. Her eyes looked at him beseechingly.

Samar Singh’s powerful hands went under the skirt and cupped her ass and he lifted her back up onto his thighs. As he speared his cock into her cunt, her legs locked behind his back, crossing at the ankles. Samyukta threw her head back and moved her cunt on a plane parallel to the ground below, sliding back and forth and on the slab of flesh.

Her anklets tinkled in rhythm and slowly increased as in tempo as she rode him with a vengeance.

“Maharani Sahebaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! “he cried out as he gave in to his desire. He now wanted to ravage her with the full strength of his passion. But not here, not in front of the older woman.

“Samar Singh ji! Take me, yes! You deserve this and more. You don’t have to prove your loyalty to anyone. Or in any other way. Just take me, naaaaaah!” she sobbed.

Both were perspiring now despite the chill of the evening and their faces touched, smearing each other. Samyukta sighed loudly in contentment as he matched her thrust for thrust, with comparable vigor. It was like he was riding his steed. The filling from the broad slab of flesh and raking she was getting was soul filling. The Maharaj was no match for his guard, she thought, irreverently.

She leaned back, allowing the cockhead to get all the impact of Samar’s thrusting. And then she leaned forward grazing her clit on the sliding slick rod.

“I,” he gasped, “am on the brink. Oh! Ah! Samyuktaaaaaaaaaa!i don’t want this to end! No! No! No! No!” he begged. Each ‘no’ came after both had slammed into each other. Each ‘ no’ was a convulsion. Each ‘no’ was one thrust closer to his meltdown.

Now it was inevitable. Maharani Samyukta consoled her lover. She ran her fingers through this hair and said, “Sh! Shh! It’s okay,” she soothed him, her heels holding them close together. Samar Singh slid a hand between them, and gripped her breast. He twisted and mauled the flesh, sending Samyukta to a high as well.

“Lie back! Lie back!” urged the Rajmata, glad that she was around to ensure that the main goal was not lost. She need the seed drenching the womb and staying there, whereas if Samyukta was prone over the man, there would be a maximum outflow.

Samyukta leaned back, putting her hands to the floor behind. The magnificent breasts jiggled and Samar Singh just needed to mouth those beauties. His hand slid down from the breasts to her stomach. He placed his palm on the stomach, and below there was his penis throbbing pulsating inside her, seeking to place life in there. He slid a hand lower and going past the waistline of the skirt, he came to the forest of pubic hair and found the clit.

When he touched and stroked it, Samyukta sucked in her breath and trembled. She fell back and he fell on her. Samyukta wrapped her legs around him and hammered Samar Singh’s buttocks.

“Fill her,” exulted the mother-in-law.

Samar Singh held those breasts in his merciless grip and supported his body on the Queen below.

“Take!” he screamed, “Here it comes! My darling! My Samyukta! My Queen! Yaaaaaaaaaah!”

“Yes, yes, yes, fill me, my love” sobbed Samyukta, tears streaming from her eyes. Her hands ran through Samar’s hair, stroking his back. She felt very emotional about the desire this encounter had unleashed. The restrictions and the inability of Samar Singh to feast on her seemed unfair. She wanted to give him more, get more, take more, surrender more to this truly stud of a man.

The first shot surged out of Samar Singh and Samyukta wept out aloud, “Maaa! He has filled me. Oh god! Oh my God!”

Samar Singh had only the faintest recollection of the Rajmata’s instructions on maximizing the spurts. After the first shot, during which he was deeply embedded in her, he collapsed on her. For one thing it was his first fuck and then the setting and the beauty of this woman was completely overwhelming. He lay on her, his body resting, her breasts crushed between them and his body jerking and convulsing. His semen spurted in several shots, some hard, others weak, some long and flowing, others were minor dribbles.

Samyukta stroked her soldier-lover. She owed him more. She smiled to herself, feeling his copious cum spread inside her. The job was done, but there was lot more to finish.

She kissed his ear, nibbling at it. She whispered into his ear soothing baby-talk and rocked her hips cradling his body into her own.

As the jerking settled down, both felt a pat on the shoulder; it was the Rajmata. It was the signal for them to separate.

“Mai aungi,” Maharani Samyukta whispered into Samar Singh’s ear. (I will come to you.) The young lad, a virgin no more, hoisted himself off his Queen. His top, though still on was drenched as was the Maharani’s body, slick with his sweat. Or was it her’s? Perhaps both.

As he lifted himself off, she held him with her heels and smiled at him knowingly. His weapon had barely lost any volume, in fact it was hard as ever.

“My God!” she whispered as the pillar caressed her on its way out. “Ummmmm!” she moaned as she felt a thrill from the touching.

The Rajmata delicately covered her daughter-in-law’s breasts pulling together the ripped front panels of the blouse.

Samar Singh propped himself up and drew himself out.

“Really,” whispered Samyukta.

“What?” asked the Rajmata.

The Maharani shamelessly slid her hand down and with forefinger and middle finger measured the thickness of Samar Singh’s unflagging erection as it slid through her finger.

“See! He is hard and thick as ever,” she remarked, her voice full of admiration.

“Ab aap jao!” ordered the Rajmata sharply to Samar Singh as her eyes fixated on the cum coated slab sliding out of her daughter-in-law’s cunt. “Lucky bitch,” she caught herself thinking of her son’s wife. Even as Samar Singh responded to the order, both women abandoned all discretion and eyes latched on to the hard, unrelenting cock as it swung to and fro.

Maharani Samyukta allowed her fingers to linger and the cock to gently slip from her hand. Rajmata stared, wondering about the boy’s ‘availability’ later that night. As they watched transfixed, Samar Singh gathered himself. He left the tent with the dhoti hastily wrapped around his waist. As was the custom, he walked away from them backing out of the tent, never turning his back to them.

Mother-in-law and daughter-in-law enjoyed the scene of the tenting of cloth between his legs to the very last moment.

It was now the Queen Mother’s job to be custodian and caretaker of the carrier of the kingdom’s heir; if the impregnation was successful. Something about the virile and energetic performance she witnessed told her it was a success.
She was not sure what woke her up, but something disturbed the Rajmata later that night. It had been a crazy night. She had spent an hour earlier that evening supervising her daughter-in-law’s impregnation by the Chief of Royal Guards. It had gone reasonably as per plan but both the young lad and the queen had been overcome by lust.

The Rajmata could appreciate the feelings of both, but she had given them strict instructions. In a sense, both had disobeyed her even if it was only the heat of the moment. She could do nothing to stop him from manhandling the royal breasts. She could do nothing to stop the Maharani from beating her heels on the soldier’s ass as he lay embedded in her.

“Well, could I have stopped her cunt from gushing? Or him from being extra hard for her!” she thought to herself. There were limits to intervention in such situations. Still, things appeared to have gone reasonably well. Both loyal solider and daughter-in-law had responded to their sponsor and pulled themselves back when she ordered them to do so once the deed was done.

After lust had receded, Samar Singh had responded with sanity and obeyed her orders. She gave him no time to linger with the Maharani.

But the images of his sweating body and the rock hard erection even after the fuck, lingered in her mind. Maharani Samyukta’s wild response made her jealous; she imagined how that broad weapon of assault must have felt inside her daughter-in-law for that woman to behave with so much wanton display of pleasure. All these images lingered and the Rajmata allowed her own hand to snake down and stroke her own folds to a decidedly unsatisfying, but make-do orgasm. And sleep washed over her tired body.

But this storm woke her up, for the entire tent was shaking. After lying there a while and wondering about masturbating once more she realized this shaking was not accompanied by a roaring wind. There were sounds, tinkling, but most of all, the shaking itself was steady, to a rhythm.

She moved out of her section of the tent to the adjoining section where her daughter-in-law was asleep to see if everything was all right.

She spotted them at the far end of the tent, in the private area meant for the Maharani’s dressing.

Rajmata could see the hands under woman’s buttocks holding her up, but the vision of the conjoined couple was covered by the darkness of night. Samar Singh walked, staggering away from the Rajmata, his back to her, looking to escape to a different corner of the tent with his booty. The jiggles from his stumbling walk were pleasurable but Samyukta needed a hammering after this tortuous wait for pleasure. She hoisted herself on his shoulder and drove down on his rigid cock. The knobby irregular contours touched every spot. She changed angles and banged down.

She laughed out as the pleasure washed over her. Her breasts rubbed up and down on his bare chest. At last the two lovers had found each other nude. Skin grazed skin and hands were free to reach anywhere for anything.

Maharani Samyukta had crept into his tent and lain alongside him. With focus, her hand had straight reached for his groin and found his erection. It seemed never to have wilted in all the hours that had passed. Samar Singh had tossed about in his bed thinking of his wonderful Maharani, her beautiful breasts, that suckable cunt, the curves. The erection just wouldn’t go away and he didn’t want to masturbate. What had she meant when she said she would come to him? Was that tonight? If yes, he didn’t want to squander the chance by masturbating. As he lay thinking of all this he fell asleep.

He awoke to find his asset a captive in the small hand of Her Highness. She whispered in his ear. “If we are going to take care of this,” she said as she fondled the monstrous cock, ” it has to be in my tent. I don’t want Rajmata sounding general alarm because I am missing.”

Unable and unwilling to protest, Samar Singh pushed her hand away to get up. But Samyukta pulled aside his dhoti and covered his cock with her mouth.

“Maharani!” protested Samar Singh, “What is this? How can you do this?”

“Samyukta,” she replied, “not Maharani. You want your fill – only Samyukta can provide it.”

Her head sank back to the task. She covered him with saliva and fucked his cock with her lips. Samar Singh watched in unbridled lust as his Queen’s hair fell over, covering the sight of her puffed up cheeks sucking in his cock.

As she slowly pulled herself off, long streaks of his precum ran from her lips to his cock. She made loud smacking noises and grabbed his cock in her fist. Now she walked, forcing him to follow her closely.

The Queen was behaving like a slut.

When they reached her tent, she leaned up to kiss him on his lips and slid hands under his top. He tasted himself on her lips and as she pulled off his dhoti, he undid the cord of her skirt and let it slip to the floor.

Samyukta raised one leg over his hip as she opened her mouth to suck him in. He dueled back with his tongue. Samyukta’s top was a blouse just knotted under her breasts and he undid that, leaving the blouse on her shoulder. Tenderly, his fingertips teased the breasts.

Soon, he had to raise his hands over his head so she could slip off his shirt over the top off his head. Now they were nude for each other as nature had meant them to be.

As Samar Singh’s hand went under Samyukta, she hefted herself up and was soon perched on his hips. She opened herself and snagged his cockhead between her lips. She wiggled her hips and sank down. His cook was painfully hard and she chuckled. “You’re large, you animal.” she said only half jokingly.

Maharani Samyukta had discovered the pleasure seeking slut in herself. No sooner had her cunt juiced up enough to accommodate the invasion she commenced bouncing up and down on the cock.

The warrior in Samar Singh was not willing to passively let the woman take him. But she was going like a wild beast with no stopping.

His strong powerful hands lifted her off and he pulled her up till the head was just inside her dripping tunnel. He paused there, to send her a signal that she could not move without his consent. She wiggled and grunted. “Chhodo, kya kar rahen hain aap,” she wailed. (Leave me, what are you doing?)

“Ab aap kuch nahi karengi. Ab job hi karma hai mujhe hi karma hai, Maharani Samyukta,” he said in a full strong voice, for the first time speaking authoritatively while using her name. (Now you will do nothing. Whatever has to be done will be done by me.)

Holding her firm, he let her weight drive her down, dropping her on his cock.

“Unhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, haieeeeeeeeeeeee!” she screamed.

Encouraged by that signal of pleasure, he manipulated Samyukta and pounded her down. For a few minutes, she could just as well been a clenched fist fucking his cock. There was only her cunt and his cock. Her cunt was now less slippery with the fluid flows being less viscous than before. It made her feel raw and more sensations transmitted from his flesh to hers.

“Hai! Haan. Aise. Yoon. Bilkul. Fuck me. Fuckk. Fuckkkkkkk! She blabbered.

He felt her nipples run on his chest and now wanted to suck on them. He simply had to have her. Those heaving, jutting breasts were asking to be milked, nibbled, and eaten. He bent his head, moving his hands further up her back. That way, she could lean back without being nervous of falling over and he could bury his face in her chest.

Samyukta’s arms reached out and found the tent pole in one hand and a tethering cord of the tent in another hand. She hoisted herself upward. She now propped herself up so she could counter attack him. She fucked downward, lifting herself off using her newfound supports. What she had not realized was the ropes and tent pole were transmitting the rhythm of their fucking to all of the tent. The Rajmata was now watching from one corner of the tent.

Samar Singh’s lips found their target in the breasts and he sucked in the juts of flesh, sliding them in and out. Samyukta wiggled her hips as Samar’s fucking slowed. The breasts slid in and out of his mouth coated in saliva.

“Chodo, chodo!” she screamed frantically, to make sure he knew he had slowed down. The use of the coarse words shocked Samar Singh. (Fuck me! Fuck me!)

It also shocked the Rajmata. Her doubts on whether to masturbate evaporated as jealous lust gripped her own body. She felt her breasts inflame as she saw Samar Singh consume her daughter-in-law’s breasts. And now when she heard her beg in the rawest words to be fucked she felt intensely jealous. Her pussy which had been dormant for years since her husband’s demise was now submissive jelly.

Bent to her breasts and savoring both, Samar Singh could not simultaneously fuck with his hips effectively. The desperate Maharani hoisted herself up further using the tent pole and the ropes. “Unhhhh. Haaah. Choddddoooooo!” she implored as she took her pleasure from the pole inside her.

As Samyukta hitched herself forward to drive her own body downward, Queen and Soldier embraced each other fully. Over her shoulder, Samar Singh’s eyes locked with those of the shocked Queen mother. Her plan seemed to have gone horribly wrong. She now was at the mercy of her daughter-in-law whose sexual chemistry was in a spiraling meltdown.

The alternative was to intervene and physically stop things. But the Rajmata’s own confidence was low because of her intense arousal at the unfolding saga of lust . Her protestations were at a superficial level. Her own cunt was slippery with juices. She did not have the guts to go near Samar Singh in this state. It was perhaps the single biggest factor holding her back.

With eyes on the Rajmata, Samar Singh’s hand roamed the Queen’s bare sexy back. He stroked and caressed every cell in his lover’s body, awakening the body even more fully to the possibilities of a complete meltdown. Samyukta held his head now. Fully over him, and luxuriating in his upward thrusts, she joined him with downward thrusts. His strong, powerful hands held her up and pulled apart her asscheeks spreading her cunt as wide as it would go. It also helped him in plunging her down on his marauding cock.

“Aaaaaaaaaah!” shuddered Maharani Samyukta from the plundering.

The Rajmata imagined the thick monster that she had held and fondled plundering her hapless daughter-in-law. “Beta, dekh ke!” she blurted out spontaneously. (Son. Careful).

Samyukta’s head whipped around in shock as she realized they had been discovered. Her eyes met those of her mother-in-law. She let her heels drop as if to get off Samar Singh. Her cunt had different ideas as it slid on the slimy, messy sheath within her. The change in angle of her legs merely served to slant her clit downward. The cock reamed it and Samyukta broke out into a sob.

She felt trapped between her mother-in-law’s accusing gaze and the uncontrollable fluttering in her womb.

Samar Singh continued to fuck his queen with energy. The Rajmata had only asked him to be careful; she had not admonished him. As the Maharani seemed to slide lower, he placed her on the dresser table. The Queen was now seated, her cunt wide open and the Soldier was laboring between her legs. In the mirror of the dresser, Samar Singh saw the Rajmata. There was no expression of shock or disapproval. Samar Singh could only see jealousy and envy in her eyes.

Maharani Samyukta was glad for being seated on the dresser. It covered her from her mother-in-law, her earlier position being of an ass splayed wide open and she riding and heaving as if Samar Singh was a pony. She gratefully opened her legs wide again and brought them around Samar Singh’s ass. Her hands gripped his shoulder blades as she fucked him back. This had been her idea to reward the loyal soldier; no half-measures would do. She did not look over his shoulder at the Rajmata who was standing behind him.

The Rajmata felt guilty. She inferred her son, the Maharaja’s fucking, was not in the same league Chief of his guards. She herself had introduced her daughter-in-law to a real stud to have her impregnated. The Rajmata herself had responded to Samar Singh’s well proportioned cock. In her imagination she had visualized how much intensity a cock of that pleasurable thickness would create in her cunt. How could she blame the younger woman, who had actually had that cock ream her? Was it fair to expect a completely clinical fuck? If anything, her attempt to make the first fuck clinical was what had led to this explosion of lust and the second fuck she was now witnessing.

She moved close to the heaving, moaning couple. She wanted to assuage her guilt. But she also thought an officially sanctioned lust-fuck would help eliminate the mystery and chemistry that had led to this explosive lust.

She moved alongside the couple. Maharani Samyukta refused to acknowledge the woman alongside. Her fingernails were raking Samar Singh’s sweaty, rock hard chest as she pleasured this man. Samar Singh looked at the Rajmata and back at the Maharani, not missing a beat as he fucked hard, searching for a finish.

Rajmata placed a hand on both their shoulders. He felt hard and animal, his muscles clenching as he continued to fuck. She felt soft, sensuous and plundered as her hands felt Samyukta fluttering and clutching at the being inside her now.

“Karo. Khatam karo. Get over this and put this behind you,” she whispered, hands stroking both of them lovingly. Cut loose further, Samyukta grabbed Samar Singh’s face in both her hands. She kissed him, her tongue pushing his lips apart. Samar Singh shuddered as he felt the wet snake caress his mouth. It felt luxurious. Her tongue probed him and she screamed into his mouth, it was as if she wanted to fuck him with her tongue the way he was with his cock.

The Rajmata herself was now a quivering mass of flesh. She would have to use that rounded handle of her hairbrush with vigor and now. Her eyes took in the sight of Samyukta’s lovely breasts flapping as she fucked. Of them being crushed when the couple ground into each other, smearing themselves on one another. She felt herself on the brink of melting herself and she decided to move off.

It was her turn to be shocked as she felt Samar Singh’s clammy hand grip her wrist stopping from leaving. She turned around and saw he had one hand holding her, even as his other was busy holding the queen for a fuck. Samyukta missed his grip on her. She searched out the missing hand and when she found it was leading away, she opened her eyes to see what Samar Singh was trying to do.

Samyukta saw that the soldier was holding back the Queen Mother. “Samar Singh ji!” she hissed in anger.

She pushed herself back, the entire dresser shaking. Samyukta looked down, between them, the juice-coated sheath embedded in her. She let her hand between the two of them and ringed her index finger thumb around his shaft. As Samar Singh continued to heave he felt his foreskin pulled back. He yelped. His hand left the Rajmata’s wrist and flew to control Samyukta’s hand before she hurt him with her brutal manipulation of his cock.

As his foreskin rode back the cockhead bulged. Samyukta gasped as she felt the knot in her womb. She had his attention back. Jaw set with determination she slid back and forth. The hand around his cock wouldn’t leave him. The young man shuddered and thrashed.

The Rajmata had her back to them as she had been stopped in her tracks. She heard things from the clatter to the floor. She heard Samar Singh gasp and call out to Samyukta. “Samyuktaaaaaaaaah! I love you! Mujhe le lo! Bhar do mujhe. Fuckkkk meeeeeee!” he wailed. (Samyukta! I love you! Take me! Fill me! Fuck me!).

“Yes my love!” laughed Samyukta in delight. “I am open. I am yours. I am waiting. Fill me!”

Both the lovers hugged each other tight. Groins mashed together. Pubic hair meshed together. Flesh pressed upon hot flesh. Her nipples dug into his hard chest. Lips were locked. Ass muscles clenched and released as fucking continued relentlessly.

She wound her legs around his, pressing hard till their bones felt one another. From there, with a guttural sound she pulsated and melted upon his cock. He came like a woman. There was no spurt. There were a series of orgasms and he straightaway knew what a woman must feel. He felt himself searing hot, melt into her. He trembled as the spasms rocked him. There were no jerks of release. He just spread into her. Her womb trembled in response.

They both laughed. He looked down, eyes taking in her breasts, sweaty- perhaps his sweat more than hers? Further down the drenched mess of their union, where cock and cunt still pulsated. Back to her face, where glistening eyes danced. They belonged. Once again they embraced each other, fucking as the orgasmic waves gave way to vibrating bodies.

So long as he was hard, she wanted to continue to receive his strokes. So long as he was hard he wanted to prolong the pleasure. He didn’t feel himself losing hardness. He lifted her off, holding her on his hips. She gasped in surprise and pleasure as cock and cunt found new angles.

He held her there, embedded and slowly knelt down. As he lay her back, he moved over her, ensuring that his cock never left its sanctuary. Once they lay on the soft carpet, he shifted to his left. As they moved to lie alongside each other, he lifted left leg high over so his cock never left her.

It seemed his erection for Samyukta would never subside. The soldier and the queen were both exhausted from the intensity of their serial encounters. Unwilling to let go of his erection she pulled him in, over her gaping open cunt. Leg over him, both soldier and queen drifted to sleep, leaving his flesh, throbbing, pulsating, still inside her. He would slip out whenever. It was not their concern.

The Rajmata, desperate for relief, left for her own bed. She needed a bigger release than what she had had earlier. She wondered whether she had uncorked something which was unmanageable. In Samyukta and Samar Singh, yes. But also in herself?
She lay on the stone slab, watching the oil drip from the jar suspended over her. Maharani Samyukta was in paradise. The herbal treatment and care in the sage’s ashram was exhilarating. She was well attended in her own palace too. But the entire ambiance and change in setting in the ashram brought a whole new level of relaxation to her.

She felt that the enhanced experience was in good measure attributable to Samar Singh’s treatment of her. The sexual encounters had been vigorous and she had been fucked in a very physically energetic fashion. Her limbs were delightfully sore and her cunt felt stretched to new dimensions. She ached in parts of her body and felt thrills in places she did not know existed.

And the masseuse, who had been working her body and massaging oil into her, had expert fingers. The hands of the woman found the knots and the tension spots and relieved them. Samyukta felt her body alive and once again aching for the attentions of her new found man. The masseuse was playing her body like a flute and she could have indulged in some sexual relief with her. But she knew Samar Singh was leaving. This could be her last chance with the stud, whereas the masseuse could indulge her any other time.

The Rajmata had watched her daughter-in-law and the Chief of Guards fuck beyond the call of duty. She now had no doubts that the impregnation would have happened. The young man had drenched her more than once in his cum. The Rajmata’s own passions were inflamed and she would have thought nothing of satiating herself with the man young enough to be her son.

But in the cold light of day, she got hold of herself and commanded Samar Singh to head back to the Kingdom, leaving behind the contingent of guards. They were due to stay at the ashram till the confirmation of the pregnancy. She would send word for him so he could escort them back. But for now, he was no longer needed here.

Samar Singh knew why. All night he and Samyukta had slept in a huddle on the floor of the tent. The Maharani had woken sometime in the wee hours and this time she had reached behind her and found him spooned against her. His cock was semi-erect and had acknowledged her searching fingers. Samyukta did not turn around. She fisted him to a fullness and raising her leg, let him slip in from behind. When they finished her cunt was sore. They were noisy and wild and once again the Rajmata was disturbed from her sleep.

Both of them had violated the principles laid down by the Rajmata for the project. It was inevitable that he would be sent away. Samar Singh was now busy packing his things, when the Maharani’s closest maid, a confidante arrived.

“Maharani Sahiba wants to see you before you leave,” she informed him.

“Where is she?” he asked. He had looked for her and could not find her and the Rajmata was cold to him and would not tell.

“She is in the hut at the other end, where herbal treatment is done,” said the maid, blushing. Her mistress was playing with fire, she knew. The Maharani herself was on fire and she knew that too. “Samar Singh ji must be a real stud for my lady to be so far gone,” she thought to herself.

Samyukta lay there, her body bare. The masseuse’s expert hands had relieved her of all physical tension but set her body afire with sexual tension. That man had opened up a new dimension to her personality; she couldn’t get enough of him. Yes, he was young and strong. But it was more than that. She couldn’t care what it was. She was unhappy he was going but she could not have done anything about it. They should have been discreet around the Rajmata. The Rajmata, having started this, was now being strict about adhering to the intent and code of conduct she had laid down.

Her body throbbed for the rough hands of the soldier to massage her in the exact same places where the soft but firm hands of the masseuse had. And Maharani Samyukta couldn’t wait.

He entered the hut was stunned to see Samyukta lying nude on the slab. Her body glistened with oil. Her breasts were like floats on her chest, gravity making them flatten against her body. One nipple was sidefacing while the other breast was straight with nipple pointing skyward; both were erect. His Maharani was magnificent and aroused. His cock jerked in salute. Ever since her his erection rarely fully subsided. The only relief was the warm nest of her cunt. Otherwise, the hardness now ached him.

She sensed he had entered. She turned to her side, raising one leg with bent knee. She was unmindful of the yawning gap it caused between her legs and the fact that her pussy was visible to Samar Singh. She wanted that. “Samar Singhji, the masseuse has left an incomplete job,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with excitement.

Samyukta weighed up one breast in her hand, caressing her nipple. She shivered. She beckoned him to come near.

“Maharani Sahiba,” he whispered.

“I know how to make you call me Samyuktaaaaaaaaaaaaaa,” she responded, her hand searching under his dhoti.

She did not grip his cock. Her soft hands merely flitted on the flesh like a butterfly, feathery kisses from her fingertips to the cock. He groaned. “Massage me!” she ordered him, lying back and spreading her legs as wide as she could.

He stared at the lust — filled woman. He was supposed to be leaving soon and they were not to be seeing each other. And here he was drinking in her beauty. Samar Singh reached for her ankles, leaning with his weight on them. As he looked up her body he could see the gaping open lips, her breasts thrust upward and the Maharani looking down at him.

With eyes focusing on the slit between her legs, and imagining his mouth glued to her cunt, Samar Singh rubbed her ankles. They were coated in oil and soon his fingers were slippery too. As he leaned forward his hands slid and he found himself at her knees. He moved forward to get closer. Now he was kneeling on the slab between her legs. He ran his thumbs up her thigh. Samyukta shuddered as he expertly triggered all the hotspots on her thighs. She raised her knees slightly opening out to him, her cunt now aching for his touch.

Both thumbs reached her hips and Samar Singh pushed the flesh together, pushing the flesh together and up, making a mound. At the centre of the mound lay her slit, and at the bottom lay her bubbling clit, now engorged and throbbing. He moved his hands apart, and her pussy lips separated again. He now pulled her thigh flesh apart, making the cunt stretch without his direct touch.

Samyukta groaned, “Samar Singhji!”

Again he pushed the flesh together. Cunt lips kissed each other and the clit was caught in between. When he rotated the balls of his thumbs the clit was caught in a grinding motion. Her pussy belched and a fluid started to flow. This time when his thumbs moved apart, the gaping lips were glistening. Yes! He was having the effect he wanted to have on her! Samar Singh felt himself reddening at his own sense of satisfaction. His cock was now engorged to its peak level.

Samyukta realized that Samar Singh while inexperienced was instinctive. Her clit was being massaged and rotated. When the thumbs came together, the clit was pressed from both sides. When he pulled her apart her clit was stretched. How delightful! But why, why did he not stroke the aching flesh directly? Her hand grabbed his to try and force the issue. She held his fingers and stroked her cunt with his hand.

Samar Singh pulled back and resumed the teasing rotation of the clit. Samyukta now felt a tingling in her nipples as the manipulation touched new spots. Samar Singh leaned back and forward as he rotated the flesh. Now his face was near her pussy, and now it was near her breasts. But he never touched her. When his face came close to her breasts his cock touched the inside of her thighs. Samyukta felt lines of electricity shoot from her clit to her nipples.

Her hands flew to her breasts but she was slapped away by Samar Singh. “Those belong to me!” he barked. She twisted and turned her head in desperation. She wanted to be touched but he wouldn’t. She wanted to touch herself but he would not let her. He was torturing her.

Samar Singh now caressed her torso, hands gliding up from pussy to the base of her breasts. He nudged the pussy and took a smear of her cunt juice and painted her body with it, mixing it into the oil. By the time he reached her breasts his hands were coated with oil. He then dragged the oil down, drenching her pubes in the lubricant. Samyukta shuddered. Each time he came so close to her breasts she was sure he was going to touch her; and then he receded.

Till suddenly, both his hands clasped the breasts. She moaned and thrust her hips and breasts forward, hoping for any further contact with him. Samar Singh kneaded the oil into the globes, the ball of his thumb rolling the flesh. Samyukta shuddered and her nipples glistened with oil as they stood as tall as they could. This time, when Samar Singh withdrew and his nails drew a line to her pussy, the line was along the path of pleasure.

The Queen flowed shamelessly. Her cunt melted into a stream of juice which the soldier watched with pride. He had made her his slave and he enjoyed seeing her helpless with pleasure. Instinctively he dropped his head to the pussy and a broad tongue lapped at the wide open lips.

Maharani Samyukta gripped his head in her hands. He was not to be let go of. She forced his face to stay there and fucked at him with her hips. Samar Singh lapped up the juices but his own saliva flowed and added to the mess between her legs. Then his tongue pointed up and focused on the clit.

She screamed. It was so loud that it seemed to reverberate and echo from the mountains around. She couldn’t have cared less. She screamed again and again. “Samar Singh jeeeeeeeeeee!” she yelled, leaving no one in doubt about the protagonists in this drama of lust.

Samar Singh experimented. He lashed her this way and then that way. He noted what made her jerk the most. And then he gently stroked her incessantly so that she kept jerking with every stroke.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Aha. Hai. Ahaaaaa! Haaaaaah!” went the Maharani as the jerking movements blended with each other to become convulsions. Her hands pulled and twisted his ears and she bucked and thrashed. Samar Singh struggled to keep his tongue on the right spot. But soon enough, it didn’t matter. Samyukta was over the cliff and into the abyss.

“YaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaH!” she hollered as her body took over. Samar Singh reached up and held her breasts, mauling and pinching as he tried to hold her body down. Samyukta threw herself at his face. His fingers tortured her nipples and she noted in the haze of pleasure in her mind that that too was pleasure. She beat her body against his head and smeared her cunt on his face. Samar Singh buried himself in his Maharani’s service.

So when the gushing started he could not have moved. She was not in control of her body, it just flowed. She couldn’t stop anything. Her body just beat the slab of stone below her and then his face. Like a pendulum she swung from one to the other. She twisted, turned, thumped and dug her nails in. He lapped and slobbered and tongued and drank.

She felt a strong surge in her breasts and it seemed liquid shot up her nipples. She was surprised when nothing came out but her nubbins quaked as if they had yielded as much juice as her cunt.

“You own me! You own me! You own me!” she babbled. “I am yours! Take! Give! Fuckkkkkkkk” she wailed. As her bubbling cunt continued its flailing she decided to quell it with his cock. Where was that monster which fit so snugly in her womb? Samyukta sat up and reached down to grab his cock. Her hand found the target, swollen and wet. She poured oil on it, anointing. Lovingly, she slid her hand up and down the pillar of flesh.

Samar Singh groaned, “Maharani Sahibaa! Mujhe andar le lo!” (Take me in.)

She kneeled between his legs. As she planted kisses on it, the cock bobbed. Samar Singh reached under her and shoved his fingers into her cunt. It was no use; the channel was wide open and soaked. He knew only his cock could stretch her further.

They were both slippery with oil. Samar Singh wondered if he could grip her well enough to fuck her as hard as she deserved. Her ass, jutting up gave him an idea. He moved behind her positioning himself to plunder her from behind. Maharani Samyukta took the position of a bitch, on all fours, her hands grippin the edge of the slab so she could brace herself for an assault.

Samar Singh held his cock and prodded her between the thighs. Samyukta shuddered as she felt the probing cockhead search her cunt. It touched in all sorts of places. But she really panicked when he seemed headed for the wrong orifice. In urgent haste, she reached under and with forefinger and thumb pulled the cock lower, to where its target lay.

“Now push!” she urged him, when the head was well positioned. Samar Singh rocked forward and found him sinking to the hilt. His stomach slapped on her ass and Samyukta grunted.

Samar Singh gripped her hips, willing her to hold still for a pounding. Samyukta spread her knees apart to invite him in. Samar Singh hammered in. the slimy juices, the oil, and their perspiring bodies made it a slippery and messy affair. But the cock grated along Samyuukta’s channel touching her in the most sensitive of spots. “hah! Hah! Hah!” she went in ecstasy.

She slid on the oily surface below. His hands struggled to hold her in place. He himself felt his knees slide backward. And then it occurred to him; her breasts were perfect handles to hold and pull her body backward onto his cock.

Her breasts, hanging loose, jiggled with every thrust. They swung like pendulums and she watched herself with crazed lust. “Look at how the Maharani is being plundered! Look at her breasts swinging around. And see that massive flagpole reaming her!” she marveled.

Just as her nipples started to ache, with impeccable timing, Samar Singh leaned forward and held both pots of flesh in his hands. He gripped her hard, willfully hurting her. Holding on to the breasts as a handle, the fucking became ever more vigorous. Loud slapping sounds emanated as flesh beat on flesh. Samyukta decided to fuck back; she did so artfully, sliding her cunt opening over the cockhead and doing little else. She compensated for Samar Singh’s force with the subtlety of her angling. As the tender and ultra sensitive head of flesh felt her “o” sliding over it, he shuddered.

The breasts too were slippery with oil and her sweat. It only made him grip them fiercely, pinching, mauling and twisting. It was a battle royale, and Samyukta was apparently getting the better of it with the expert movement of her sheath over his weapon.

“Stop” he commanded her, not wanting a conclusion so soon. She responded with a magnificently timed thrust. Samar Singh gagged and lost control of his neck muscles. His head flailed as saliva dripped. Samyukta was ruthless. Her crescendo was approaching and her cunt was raw from the assault of the last two days. They had to finish together. She swayed her hips, teasing and cajoling an orgasm out of him.

Samar Singh exploded into her. As his seed poured into her, it flowed back, dripping to the slab below. Samyukta watched his hands clenching her breasts, fingers white. Her nipples felt raw from his clutching but pleasurably so. She was his to be plundered and she wanted him to leave body marks on her. Perhaps her breasts would carry delicious bruises of his attention to them. She looked beyond and saw his thighs quivering. She thrust back artfully, making his cock quail in submission.

He was now supine over her, his monstrous appellation now a throbbing, reducing jut of flesh. She went at the head, giving him waves and waves of pleasure. As the spasms washed over him, Samar Singh felt his eyes droop. He was beside himself. He had drooled all over her back. He had spilled deep into her. His cock was subjugated. It continued to be semi hard; but he was spent for now.

The aftershocks of his orgasm receded to mild tremors. He slid off her back and lay on the floor next to his Queen. A hand idly held her breast as he felt sleep wash over him. The queen was hardly in a position to appreciate the ministrations of hands on her breasts; she was watching in horror as her mother-in-law once again appeared at the scene of their copulation.

She looked below and noted her cunt was still dripping. This was certainly not the position the queen mother had wanted to guarantee impregnation.

The Rajmata gave a curt wave with her head to instruct the Maharani to be gone. These two had become animals in lust and clearly she could do no more to stop them. She was glad she had asked Samar Singh to leave that day. Enough fucking had happened in the last 48 hours. And the Rajmata knew he was a big cummer. Surely the Maharani would be found pregnant. There was no need to wait and watch.

Clearly, the Maharani could just not keep herself off that cock. As her daughter-in-law gathered her unraveled robes and left, the Rajmata focused on the young man who was in slumber on the slab.

Or more precisely, on his cock.
For two days she had seen that cock retain its hardness despite the marauding fucks she had witnessed. And now there it was, glistening with oil and Samyukta’s juices. It was nearly completely erect, though a slight droop could be detected.

“This is my last chance,” she thought. After this it was back to the palace and its limitations, not to mention the duties of state that awaited her.

The strong young man was on his back and his cock was pointing upward. With a little help she could make him ramrod hard again, she felt. The Rajmata raised her skirts as she straddled the supine body. She waggled her way up to his hips and her pussy was agape over his cock.

She sank down and with a long, shivering sigh; she sank down on her son’s childhood companion, the Chief of Royal Guards. The youngster deserved her; she smiled to herself as she wiggled her hips to take in all of the girth. She slid down easily. Partly the oil, partly her daughter-in-law’s juices and in part Samar Singh’s cum. The mix of lubricants sent a thrill down her spine.

“I am going to show this youngster what fucking is!” she thought to herself as she prepared for a soul satisfying ride.

She unknotted her blouse and let her jugs of flesh hang free for him to feast on if he so desired.

With her hands resting o n his chest, the Rajmata propped herself up at an angle from which she could pound his cock to complete submission. As she poised herself to break into a rhythmic fucking, she felt blood racing through her body as every cell came alive. She waited; eyes closed, cock embedded deep in her womb and her womanliness clasping his manliness. She savored the moment. It had been years since she had felt a full, pulsating cock ensconced in her cunt. He was full, round and packed her to the hilt.

Her head was thrown back and she was perfectly still, outwardly. Her breasts, with the blouse hanging open were like mountains rising from the smooth and gentle vale of her chest. Her hands were on his chest, nipples gently held between thumb and forefinger and nails touching his skin. Her own skin was radiant from the flush of blood flowing with a new energy. She felt connected to a new energy source. It came from him, but it now lay within her.

Everything looked completely still; but if one looked in the right places nothing actually was. Her lips were quivering ever so slightly as if silently nibbling at the feast within. Her nipples were humming with a vibrating impulse as her breasts responded to the cool mountain air and the nipples expectantly swelled to invite eating. Her lower tummy was gently fluttering from the pulsations emanating from deep in her womb. Her thighs were taut with tension and the muscles there were stretched with an ache to move. She was like a dew drop at the end of leaf, heavy and ready to fall, but just clinging on at the very edge. If it let go, it was a long flowing journey to an endless bottom.

The Rajmata now got ready to rouse the Chief of Guards from his slumber and start that journey of letting go. She raised her hips, leaning forward just a bit to get the angle right from where she could piston him in and out. She gasped as the cock responded. It had been nearly completely hard when she swallowed him in her folds. Raising herself off gave it some space for blood to rush back in and complete his erection to full strength. “Yes! This is it! See where all he touches me!” she smiled, her eyes still closed. She wanted to keep them closed for all the things she could see.

Rajmata was only lightly touching his body as it was. She was over him but her weight was not resting on him. But where they were touching, it was deep and magnetic: cock embedded in an accepting and grateful cunt.

She moved down and up in small thrusts back and forward. The fluttering tummy and womb started to flutter with greater frequency. She felt the pillar move all along her channel giving her relief from years of aching disuse. It felt so much better that any similarly shaped object she had used. There was vibrancy, heat and a pulse in the cock which she could feel very clearly as she rode down him. She wiggled her hips to examine his contours more closely with her pussy. The cock had served as a tight plug for her flowing juices. Now with the pussy twisting around it, the juices escaped, flowing down the sides and flooding the forest of his pubic hair.

She laughed gently. The heaving of her insides in the laughing thrust down her pubic bone and his cock felt a crimping movement. Involuntarily, Samar Singh’s body jumped up in defense. His hands sprang up and held the sides of her torso and clasped the sides of her breasts from both sides. Samar Singh stirred in a daze, wondering if the Maharani was on him again. But his hands told him her breasts would have been so easy to touch. Samyukta had smaller breasts and his thumb could reach the nipple if he was holding the torso but that’s all.

Here, his hands could feel a full mound of flesh. His eyes opened and in shock he recognized the Rajmata. He tried to scramble up. Rajmata let her body weight down on him, pinning him down but in that movement also slamming down on the cock. The rapid push back of his foreskin caused him some fleeting pain but that was nothing compared to the panic he felt.

He tried to push her off but she shifted her hands from his chest to his arms, pinning him down. That caused her hips to lift so he tried to push her off by the torso. “Rajmata ji, nahi!” he pleaded. (No!)

She stayed firm. Even as she felt his cock lose some of its hardness she pumped herself on it as much as she could, as rapidly as she could. It pleasured her no end and she was also hoping it would retain his erection. Samar Singh was stunned to hear his Queen Mother moaning and grunting. Her breasts heaved and flopped about, heavy as they were. In his attempt to grab her body and control her, he touched them several times, and liked the silky, full sumptuous feel they had. His eyes stared at the nipples, long and brown, eminently suckable.

A loud “Ahhh!” and “Huh!” from the woman atop him brought out of his admiring reverie. Rajmata was reaping the rewards of her focused fucking. She had been hit by her first, if minor, orgasm after several years of unsatisfactory releases of pleasure. Her mind was whirring with the certainty that she was going to feast on this lad daily upon her return to the Kingdom. It was doable. After all, discretion had been negotiated upfront in the matter of impregnating Samyukta. It was just a question of extending that.

“Me! Me! Me! Me!” she mumbled involuntarily. She was thinking of she wanted to keep this sexual being to her own self. Her daughter-in-law was not entitled. She had enough of various things. This new toy was to be hers and hers alone.

“What?” asked Samar Singh, trying to wriggle out from under every time she raised her hips. She shook her head in the negative. It could have been a response to his question or a response to his attempts to move.

“go on, take them!” she invited him, thrusting her breasts at him. They were sagging and heavy but with her on top of him, it just seemed they were gravitating towards him.

“Mai yeh nahi kar sakta!” he pleaded. (I cannot do this!)

“Karna hoga, varna mai tumhare dost, Maharaja sey shikayat karungi, ke tumne Maharani Samkyukta ko hadd sey zyada choda,” she said breathlessly as she rode the bronco to pleasure. (You will have to else I will tell the King you fucked the Queen beyond the limit set for you.)

Samar Singh grunted with pleasure as his cock responded magnificently and against his wishes to the fucking. She was good, she knew how. Finally, experience was irreplaceable. She cork-screwed down on him, pleasuring herself immeasurably, no doubt, but carrying him with her.

“This is not fair,” he complained, his eyes firmly on her body, which was now riven with the sweat from her efforts. Those breasts were irresistible, but here was a woman who was his friend’s mother. After all, her son the King and he had grown up together. There were days when this woman who was fucking him now had fed them both as they came back from play. And now she was feeding on him. He felt his body shudder as she wreaked pleasure on him.

“Neither is this fair,” she replied grabbing her own breasts. She held them gently if firmly, in her hands. She lifted them and held them up as large melons served on a plate. “Neither is it fair for you to deny a woman her sexuality.”

“You are beautiful and sexy. I don’t deny that,” he replied, holding her hands that held her breasts. “But…”

“But nothing,” she snapped. “You cannot resist rutting like an animal with Samyukta. And now your mind is able to control your cock. Are you insulting me?” she looked down into his eyes. She was threatening, cajoling, pleading and exciting him, all at once.

Samar Singh took charge of those lovely breasts. “Isn’t this what you want?” he asked attempting to thrust himself upward. Her weight prevented that. He pushed up, holding both monstrous mounds of flesh firmly in his hands. He pushed up extending his arms, lifting her off him. The tight grip on her breasts to do this pleasured her immensely. She laughed down at him and brought her knees to rest, making his task easier.

With the body held up above him, he thrust upward, stabbing her with his cock. “Yes!” she gasped. The cock she had so fondly held in her hands was now jabbing upwards into her slobbering flesh. He reamed her, with a sawing motion raking the wide open petals of her lips. Her slimy wet channel responded to the persistent pistoning of the cock. She was fully held up in his strong hands. Her own arms hung down uselessly as she was unable to reach any part of him. She covered his hands with her own, caressing his fingers.

Her body was suspended in air, held up by his hands gripping her breasts and her knees balancing the rest of her. Her body was held open, and like a glacier melting to the warmth of the summer sun, her body melted to the warmth of his assault. It started as increased wetness and became a running flow. The Rajmata’s eyes were now shut, her face a picture of concentration. Her mind was focused on the inner being in her which was being awakened.

In the back of her mind, it registered that her juices were now co-mingling with the juices of her daughter-in-law. She had resisted the temptation to feast on this young flesh till now. And now that she was riding high on the intoxicating fucking, she could not imagine why she resisted. Her nipples were wrenched and pulled and she felt being pushed over the cliff of orgasm; but she was unable to obtain release.

Her face screwed up in a contortion of effort. Her mind focused hard on the raging climax and she tried hard to unclench her throbbing cunt. As she tried to let go her pelvic muscles, she felt a rush of fluids which caused her to clench her muscles right back. The orgasm evaded her. She screwed up her face even tighter, scaring the young man beneath her.

He thought the breasts were aching and relaxed his lift on her body. She slumped forward on to him, her hair covering both of them completely the soft, fragrant hair felt beautiful on his face. He allowed it to tickle and tease his skin.

But the Rajmata was a complete contrast; no subtlety for her- she wanted more and she wanted completion. Her elbows and knees quickly became the supporting struts on which to suspend her asking and aching body. “Samar beta!” she gasped, ” Jaldi chodo mujhe. Zor se. Abhi!” (Son fuck me quickly. Hard. Now!)

To him, the whole zone of the sexual battle was a slushy, squishy mess with no feelings to his cock. All his feelings were from watching her sexual release and the tortuous path to orgasm. He fucked upward and the thumping of his ass on the stone slab below only became louder. There was, apart from the oil on his body, also the wet patch on which he rested. This was the dripping from Maharani Samyukta’s cunt, over which he now lay.

The Rajmata’s massive breasts were pressed against his chest. He held her and felt the back of her blouse hinder his contact with her skin. He wanted to touch and feel the mature warm flesh. It felt exciting. Damn the cloth of the blouse. He slid his hand under but it was too tight. It was open in the front but the arms were tight. This woman was full and buxom in her clothes. He wanted to feed on those lovely luscious breasts.

For her, the only space that existed was deep inside her where Samar Singh was reaming her cunt with military rigor. Her lips were at his ears cajoling him and encouraging him on. “Haan, beta, aise hi. Rani Ma ko chodo. Sukh do unhe. Unki sej ka sunpana khatam kar do,” she pleaded into his ear. (yes, son, exactly like this. Fuck the Queen Mother. Put an end to the silence in her bedchamber.)

The wet lips on his earlobe maddened him but two things which she babbled in her passion scared him. One, the reference to him still as ‘son’ and the other the reference to her bedchamber.

“Aaj job hi kar rahen hai aap, yeh aaj tak hi rehne dijiye!” he murmured, caressing her head. (What you are doing today should left at this!).

“No! I can’t live without this fucking, you stud!” she slid her wet lips in and out of his ear and kissed his neck. “Roj chodo mujhe!” (Fuck me everyday!)

“Par app toh mujhe bhej rahen hai aaj,” he reminded her. (But you are sending me away today). His hands searched out the side of her breasts and he felt the full mass of flesh and rubbed at it, insinuating his hand in between desperate to find her nipple.

“Kyonki bahu sey tumhara kaam ho gaya hai. Ab main tumhe apne liye rakhna chahti hoon,” she said breathlessly as she fucked down hard on his cock. All this talk was making her release even tougher. (Because you are done with the daughter-in-law. Now I want to keep you to myself).

“Saas ko bahu sey jalan hai!” he teased her. (The mother-in-law is jealous of the daughter-in-law?)

She lifted her head to look at him, her face burning red at the shameless reference to relationships. She had chosen to fuck the man who her daughter-in-law had been fucking just immediately before. She had given in to lust at a level she had not imagined. She did not want to face that reality. She wanted to raise herself off fully. She could not let him get away with this.

Samar Singh found the gap between their bodies the moment Rajmata raised her head. His hand found the nipple he wanted. He raised his head and sucked it in fully. Rajmata was pushing away at him when his other hand closed around her ass holding her to him. The nipple in his mouth was chewed and sucked upon by him. She found pools of pleasure rippling through her. “Samar Singh!” she called out in pleasure.

He looked upward only to see her eyes closed and head thrown back. He resumed humping her while trying to gobble more and more of her breast, stuffing it into his mouth. The soft large mammaries slapped him in the face as he slobbered over them. She gripped his ears as her resistance meekly gave way to desire for release. The clutching of her ass and the chewing and sucking of her nipples added to the reaming of the cock. She seemed ready to go over the cliff. Somehow, the idea of fucking this young man who had followed her sexual direction to the daughter-in-law excited her. And keeping him in the palace as her own toy excited her even more. She could now afford to titillate herself because a solution had been found.

“Beta, Hunh! Ah! Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” she exulted in relief as her orgasm burst. It was a torrent and she was open and gushing. He felt his balls tickle to the running stream down between his legs. She uselessly plunged downward; useless because she was agape and no sensation were conveyed. She gripped his ears and slapped his face with her breasts, rubbing them on him so that her nipples were pleasured. Samar Singh was a mere tool of pleasure for the next few minutes as she ravaged him and pounded and flailed and beat the floor with her fists. Orgasms gushed out in a long stream and the elder woman babbled incoherently.

Samar Singh just hung on to her as she took her pleasure. He clutched at her, biting sucking and kissing whatever of her flesh was at hand. Sometimes it was her breast, then her shoulder, now her chin, then her neck.

As she threw herself around and at him, he tried to hold on. the older woman on top had her eyes closed and was in shameless pursuit of her pleasure. He watched closely as she sat back to have waves ripple through her cunt walls., then forward to have him lave her breasts. Then clinging on to his neck so she could slide up and down in quick jabs. And then finally a long breathless kiss and she squeezed her cunt and gripped as hard as the slippery mess would permit.

When she unclenched her ass muscles a final release gushed out. They both realized, he was undiminished in his hardness.

It was his turn now and the Rajmata prepared herself for his assault. “Yes!” she thought to herself. “This is what I want. And only a man this young can do for me now!”

She raised her body off him. In the normalcy of post orgasmic state the ache in her limbs was palpable. It was a testimony to lack of sexual exercise.

She lay back, her blouse hanging back with her breasts reddened, wet with his saliva. There were bite marks and finger marks from the mauling she had taken from him. But he too had been mauled by her. His cock, while hard was throbbing from the pounding and his body felt sore from the Rajmata’s fucking which he had not felt in Samyukta’s youthful vigor. Momentarily, Samar Singh felt happy that he could feast on this woman .she clearly knew more and could teach him a lot more in bed.

For now, he positioned himself on his knees, kneeling down between her legs. He looked at the mother of his childhood friend the king. She lay there open to him. Her heavy breasts responded to gravity and slung in each direction. The nipples were like his cock; never short on erection. She was wet with their combined sweat and smeared with oil from him. Her ornaments were minimal but they contoured her body beautifully. She looked very different and Samar Singh could guess that this was how a well-fucked woman looked. The people would know she was getting some from somewhere if they saw how radiant she suddenly looked.

He held his cock in his hands to guide himself to her cunt, when, to his dismay the cock released its charge. It was a strange orgasm which lacked the shooting strength of the bursts that Samyu7kta had taken from him. It seemed he was ready on edge and the touch of his own hand had caused the spill. Gobs of cum mushroomed from his cock and dripped over his fist. Large dollops landed on the Rajmata’s flabby stomach and quickly ran down towards her wet, wide-open cunt. Dollop after dollop welled up and soon Rajmata had a mess of cum on her body. She stared in fascination as Samar Singh groaned in frustration.

She reached up and her hand joined his. She gripped the thick bar of flesh hard. He deserved his pleasure and she meant to maximize it for him. Her hand slid back and forth and Samar Singh shuddered in small tremors. The spewing continued with both their hands collecting the semen from him. His pleasure was full and complete from feeling her authoritative hand masturbating him to complete the sense of relief.

For the want of a better place to wipe her hands ,Rajmata smeared his cum on her body drying out her own hand. Tenderly she felt her breasts, pulling on the nipples. She felt like offering them to this boy, to feed and nourish himself.

Samar Sing collapsed on her, his hand holding her breast. His face lay on the other breasts and the tired soldier dozed off.

The Rajmata rocked him gently, nursing him. The youngster had performed commendably. And gone well beyond the call of duty.
Suddenly, the Rajmata felt better able to handle the complex affairs of state facing her son’s kingdom.

“Nothing like sexual prowess to restore confidence,” she thought to herself, justifying her own little adventure by linking it to the national cause. She felt some amalgam flow from her pussy which she was sure would defy categorization.

He felt heavy as she tried to push him off. But she had to get up and leave. Her body felt alive and she felt powerful. A million things were buzzing in her head on what the kingdom needed next.

The Rajmata was in charge once again.

(Visited 12 times, 1 visits today)