Thakur and His Bahu

The marriage preparations were abruptly stopped. As usual, there was no provocation for it beyond a sharp exchange of words, and egos were bruised on all sides. The boy’s father, Thakur Hari Singh, flew into a rage when his plans for the young couple’s future were challenged by the girl in front of her father and other family elders.

But what really set the stage for what happened next was the way in which the disagreement became a war of words. In the typical swaggering style of a feudal lord, the Thakur had pronounced that he would wait for exactly 9 months to become a grandfather and that his newly married son should set about propagating the clan forthwith.

This announcement was made at a gathering of the two extended families. Binita, the bride-to-be was expected to sit in on the proceedings only to know what was expected of her and not to respond, react or offer comment. But her father had not brought her up in that manner, even though socially they were from a family that would be expected to be subservient to the Thakur. To her father, the escape from the social inferiority lay in higher education. He sent his daughter Binita to the best of colleges in the town and later to a larger city in a hostel. Now, at the age of twenty, she was among the best educated from the village.

Her reaction to being treated as a commodity in marriage was predictable. She stood up as the Thakur concluded his desire to become a grandfather, and with eyes blazing with anger, she proclaimed loudly, “I have no intention of motherhood for the first five years. I am going to work and so is Pritam. We are going to build our own base before we build a family.”

As she said this, her tension rose and her breathing became pronounced and ragged. Her face flushed red and her head was turned up in defiance. Now she slowly realized that the deafening silence that enveloped the gathering was shock at her defiance of the ultimate authority in their village. Yet, she held her head high, glaring at her father-in-law to-be.

“Hey, girl!” the Thakur bellowed, “How dare you refer to your fiancé by name? And who are you to decide what will happen and what will not in my household?”

“Ask your son,” she replied acidly. “When he was chasing me around to marry him, it was he who said I should call him by name and think and do as I please!”

Binita’s father could see the situation slipping out of control and rose with folded hands and bowed head to try mediating the two extreme positions. “Thakur sahib, the girl wishes to work for a few years and it would not be possible if she were to get pregnant. However, once she marries into your family it is your choice and you can discuss it amongst yourselves,” he suggested.

“I do not see the need to discuss!” raged the Thakur. “In our family we do not discuss the obvious. Is there anything you are hiding from me about this girl of yours that you are supporting her? Is she capable of bearing children or not? Or are the women in your family not complete women?”

The reference to the womanhood of his clan brought Binita’s father’s entire family to its feet. And from there it was downhill all the way. Heated words were exchanged, things which were not meant were said, and in about half an hour, just after sunset, when preliminary celebrations should have started, Binita and her family were back in their modest home, pondering next moves.

At the Thakur residence, Hari Singh was taking his son to task for going around publicly with a girl he was not yet betrothed to. Undoubtedly that was what had given the girl the courage to stand up to him.

And Binita, sitting on the roof of her home, was indignant over the aspersion cast on her womanhood. That man needed to be taught a lesson. As she reflected on her choices she realized that there was nothing any one would dare do against the Thakur. Whatever needed to be done would have to be done by her. And what better lesson to teach him than to make him accept the superiority of her womanhood.

Under the cover of darkness, Binita made her way to the Thakur’s mansion. She was let in by the guards who recognised her and she found her way through the maze of corridors and rooms, through to the back yard. There, under the mango trees, near the cowsheds, sat the Thakur, surrounded by a few of his cronies, smoking a hookah.

The animated conversation fell to a hush as the men saw Binita make her way towards them. She stood there, looking at Hari Singh, her chest heaving from the exertion of her walk and the tension of the moment. By the light of the lamps, her curves were accentuated and her tight choli (blouse) showed her breasts to her advantage. Her ghagra (skirt) with its mirror work glinted by the light of the lamps. Those dark angry eyes flashed at him, and it took the Thakur a while to realize he was looking at his prospective daughter-in-law and not just any woman for him to lust after.

He signaled his men to leave them alone.

“What have you come for now?” he asked, thinking that she might possibly want to apologize for her behavior earlier in the evening.

“I have come here to tell you that having a moustache as large as yours does not guarantee the masculinity of your clan. So you should watch it before you talk about our womanhood,” she said with a taunting smile.

The woman he had chosen to be his son’s wife looked bewitching with that saucy, taunting smile. The warm glow of lamps, the hide and seek of shadow and light, just made her seem all the more haunting. The challenge was not only in her words but also in her body language. He felt aroused and his male chauvinist instinct was to respond with a demonstration of his manhood.

He covered up his loss of control with a show of anger. He got up from the low slung cot made of rope, and strode forward towards Binita, his arm outstretched as if to strike her across the face.

For the first time, Binita took note of his tall stride, his muscular arms, his broad shoulders and sinewy body as the man overshadowed her. She felt panic inside her, but was not about to show it and continued to play her game of nerves.

“Violence? Is that what you use to hide your impotence?” she asked laughingly, knowing the relaxed smile on her face would infuriate him.

He grabbed her throat and pushed her back till she her back came up against the trunk of the mango tree. As he touched her, he was taken aback by the softness of her skin. His grip on her throat relaxed from a stranglehold to an open hand just pushing her back. Something about his animal vigor in that shove struck a chord in Binita. She noticed the strong hands with rough calloused fingers. She allowed herself to be pushed back, bracing herself for a fall and then she came to rest against the tree trunk with a hard whack.

They were now in the shade of the tree and away from the circle of light and the seating area where the Thakur had sat with his hookah. As their eyes grew accustomed to the lesser lighting, both the man and the maiden took in each other with their eyes. The lighting here was pale with the glow from the lamps reaching only partly, and the tube light from the pump house providing another ray of faint glow.

And yet, her eyes sparkled. She knew she had him where she wanted him. Hari Singh’s hand completely relaxed as he realized what the girl was up to. He was now touching her on her neck, just above her bosom and his thumb ran over her chin.

“I wish I could ask you to demonstrate your womanhood in identical fashion,” he muttered.

Her hand gripped his wrist as she tried to move his hand from her body, but she merely ended up captivated with the strength of his body. “Maybe you will not ask me to demonstrate my womanhood because you would then be exposed totally,” she said spontaneously, and instantly regretted what she said. She knew that you could go only so far with a Thakur without arousing the worst ire in him.

And she was right. Blinded with rage, Hari Singh gripped the top of her choli (blouse) and pulled down and in one swift ripping motion the front of her blouse tore, and hung down, held only by the strong band of cloth that went around the lower border of the blouse. Her breasts, brown, young, firm and proud, stood there bathed in the pale light fully exposed, heaving up and down from the anger she felt.

She reached with her left hand to slap him but Hari Singh was too quick for her and fended her off. Binita lunged lower and grabbed at his crotch and was successful this time, getting a full hand of his semi aroused cock. It had been that way ever since she walked up to his charpoy. Now she knew more about his manhood than she wanted to know. In seconds, Hari Singh’s cock filled with blood and he had a full blown erection. It was years since he had been grabbed so authoritatively by a young woman and his body was instantaneous in its response to the stimulus.

The situation was erotic. His cock was in the grip of a young woman, whose breasts were exposed and heaving and he and she were both under the low branches of a mango tree, outside the circle of direct light, even though they could very well be spotted by anyone looking on. Her grip relaxed and immediately the cock swelled to its largest ever dimensions in recent times. As she felt it fill out more, she instinctively closed in on it again. It had the effect of pumping the cock. The Thakur groaned and involuntarily pumped his hips as the fist provided him with relief.

The girl stared down at her hand. She had in her grip a handful of the Thakur’s garment and in it was wrapped an obscenely large cock. Her pussy juiced up even as she realized the enormity of the situation she had let herself in for. She let of the cock and rested back on the trunk of the tree, both hands behind her, gripping the trunk. The hands behind her back only served to thrust out her proud and heaving breasts some more.

She looked into the Thakur’s face who looked right back. And then his eyes wandered down to the breasts, succulent and topped by magnificent nipples. All bathed in pales shades for the lack of full lighting. Her eyes flickered, her throat dried up and her lips parted ever so slightly. She didn’t move; she didn’t dare to move.

Hari Singh’s hands came up to gently rest on the breasts, cupping them lightly, as if weighing the precious booty. Binita gasped, her body shivered and she gripped the trunk of the tree behind her ever more tightly. Her chest was now thrust out and up, and her awareness and control of the situation melted away.

The rough, coarse hands of the Thakur held the breasts and the thumbs flicked the nipples. “So this is the woman who my son was to marry,” he whispered.

Binita nodded. Then, realizing that her might-have-been father-in-law was taking the original discussion further, she let her hand drop back to his dhoti (sarong-like lower garment.) Her hand found a way in and she touched the bare skin of his thigh. Navigating from there she felt around for that monster of a cock. From her position her hand could not claim it. She shifted the position of her wrist; with the palm facing upward she was able to take the shaft in her hand the way she would hold a bat. Her fingertips touched his balls and the palm of her hand had the trunk of his cock. The head touched her wrist.

“And this is the specimen of manhood your clan has to offer,” she whispered in reply. She ran her thumb along the length of the cock, back to front, and then she encountered wetness, followed by the head. As her thumb rounded the head of his cock, Hari Singh shuddered. His hands gripped the breasts firmly in his hands as a reflex action. The pinching effect on her nipples hurt her and she winced, but bolts of pain felt so pleasurable!

She gripped his cock and masturbated him, stroking forward and back, gently but firmly. Hari Singh kneaded the breasts and soon his hands ran down the sides of her body and he was stroking the roll of flesh at her bare hips. Binita shifted from one foot to another as she felt her pussy start to flow.

“Babuji!” she whispered her first acknowledgement that day of his seniority as she referred to him as she would refer to her father-in-law.

Thakur leaned over her, his head hunched over her head as his hips jerked and pumped as the fisting caused ripples of sensations through this body. He slowly lifted up the skirts and bunched them in his hands, pulling up more and more, baring his son’s fiancé’s strong legs. His hands went under and cupped her ass. She was wearing nothing under her skirts and with both hands he gripped her ass, lightly lifting her, testing her weight to see if he could lift her completely.

She rested back on the trunk and made it easier by bending her knees. Instinctively, this young woman who had no previous sexual experience worth mentioning lifted her legs.

She pulled at his garment, undoing it to the point his cock was bare and exposed. He lifted her level up to where his cock was nosing at her pussy. The wetness between them was obvious as cock and cunt kissed. Binita held on to her Babuji’s shoulders to hoist herself. Hari Singh maneuvered his hips to try and snag his cockhead in her crotch.

And as the manhood that she had so challenged touched her, Binita knew that she was going to be torn asunder by the monster. She grunted and squealed as she tried to spread herself more. The cockhead nosed apart the wet but inexperienced cunt. Hari Singh’s strong hands held her in his grip. He brought her over the cock and wiggled her. It had the effect of smearing her cunt on his cock head. But he held her there, like a threat. He was unsure of what to do next.

Through the haze of intense excitement, she too realized that this was the father of the man she was to marry. She could not fuck him. At least, she ought not to.

“Babuji?” she asked.

“What shall we do beti?” he asked, addressing her in the fashion a man would address his daughter-in-law (beti).

“Let go of me!” she whispered, as she hoisted herself up further, and with wet lips spoke into his ear.

“And your challenge?” he asked.

“I have been answered, I think,” she replied, “and have also shown you how womanly I am.”

“What kind of man and woman could control themselves in this situation?” he asked her, his head bending to lip her nipples. He brushed his proud moustache against her skin and lips ran over the sweet, fruit-like offerings.

“A father-in-law and a daughter-in-law?” she asked, reaching between them and painting her furrow with the dripping wet cock.

“Should I let you marry my son?” he asked, tasting the salt of the day’s sweat on her breasts. He continued licking at her and tonguing her nipples. Those breasts felt so full, so ripe and so tasty!

She looked down at the man devouring her and felt shots of electricity race to her cunt from her nipples. The question of marriage lay unresolved.

Binita reached up for the lower branches of the mango tree and pulled herself up. Hari Singh felt his large powerful hands lose control of her as her weight rose off him. She hovered over his cock now, completely in charge of her own body, ready to resolve the issue of her marriage by conquering him.

The new raised position of her body allowed him to suck in more of her breasts and she was wet now with his saliva. His fingers, free from holding up her weight, pulled at her cuntlips from either direction. The moment Binita felt the cockhead at her gateway, she let her body down and impaled the waiting monstrosity that his cock was.

It was a brave thing to do, for a virgin cunt to slam down on such a weapon of a cock. But ignorance is bliss and the deed was done. The pain was unbearable as her cunt seared open to the hot cock plunging up. Her weight carried her on and she could not stop herself. The cunt sank fully and he was up in her womb, twitching and pulsating before she could even register the fuck.

Hari Singh howled with pleasure as he felt the velvet sleeve of the virgin cunt grip his cock. Sensations ripped through his being and he briefly felt her hymen resist even as he tore into her. Now more of her weight transferred to his hands and he held her as she quivered and shuddered on her crucifix. The insides of her thighs tensed to an unbearable point of pain in reflex. She let her body settle and relax, shivering and shuddering.

As she whimpered he held her steady, knowing she must be in pain. Her virginity was torn apart in brutal fashion. She clung to him. Tears welled up in her eyes and as the sensations gave way to pleasure, she actually wanted to feel all of that again. It seemed impossible, why would anyone want to feel that brutal pain and stretching again? But nature took over and her instincts made her want more. Once again, her weight transferred to her hands and his hands were freer now to manipulate her body again. Hari Singh ripped off what was left of her blouse and let it drop to the bed of leaves below.

As she lifted herself up, her body stretched out magnificently. He saw the ripple of well toned arms as her hands stretched upward. The arms led to the round of her shoulders. Her muscles were taut with the stress of lifting up her body and flowed into her breasts which were stretched and pouting upward as her body was one long stretch of flesh from torso to fingertips.

Light played games on the curves, the hills and valleys of her breasts, shoulder, stomach and thighs. Her body glistened and Hari Singh marveled at the woman’s young taut and flexible body.

She sank down on his cock for the second time, this time with more assurance and she felt a surge of fluid flow out of her. Hari Singh felt his own pubic hair soak and the fluid race down his balls and thighs. It could have been blood or it could have been her juices. He did not have any way of knowing and he did not care.

His hands cupped her ass and gratefully accepted her weight, while her flesh opened out fully once again and settled down around his aching cock.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” she hissed as her cunt distended and filled up to the neck of her womb. She laughed and threw her head back, her eyes closed, savoring the massaging of flesh on flesh.

Now she lifted and dropped herself again. And again, and again. “Take that, Babuji! Take that you animal! Take that, father of my man!” she repeated over and over again with every thrust and parry of her body down on his waiting cock.

As she lifted and dropped herself, the branches of the mango tree sagged and bowed. Her thrusts were met by the rustle of leaves as she humped him. The branches shook and the leaves told their own tale with every thrust down of Hari Singh’s daughter-in-law down on her father-in-law’s cock.

Hari Singh gave himself up to the intense pleasure of being sheathed by a tight virgin cunt. His cock was broad and head round and was well gripped by most of the pussies he had encountered. But this was a near-first and the tightness was maddening.

He gripped her asscheeks and decided that he must drive the pleasure process for a few thrusts. He lifted her up, higher, aided by her own efforts, and when she least expected it, let her down with no support on her way down. The thrusting of the cock into her cunt was more powerful than ever and Binita started to sob in pleasure.

Her back was raw from the abrasions from the tree trunk. Her thighs aching from the impossibly wide stretch. Her muscles were sore from the sudden and brutal exercise. But her cunt wanted more. And more she took. And gave.

The fucking became more and more violent as each tried to undo the other. Soon the grunts and cries, and the rustling of leaves was joined by the thumping sound of mangoes hitting the ground. Young mangoes were being dislodged by the vigorous shaking of branches and the fruit were landing on the bed of leaves below with thumps.
The wild couple tried to slow down their tempo and bring some rhythm to try save the mangoes, and more importantly, to avoid attracting attention. But the sexual chemistry was too violent to tame.

And soon they had attention.

“Who is that stealing our mangoes?” called out Hari Singh’s wife.

Both of them froze. Binita let go of the branches and put her arms around Hari Singh’s shoulders and hoisted herself on, but in the process she was almost entirely off his cock. Her legs were no longer spread out as she had managed before. Therefore she clung on to his shoulder and tried to avoid slipping down on his cock. She was sure she would be torn apart if she did not spread herself out and she didn’t want to risk that.

She tried to let her legs down but Hari Singh would have none of it. He gripped her thighs hard and kept her around his hips. There was a struggle of him wanting to plunge back into her hut throbbing pussy and she wanting to avoid getting plundered open.

As she tried to keep off and he tried to thrust up into her, he looked towards the house only to see his wife peering towards the mango tree. He walked with girl wrapped around him away from the house, beyond the mango tree, towards the cowshed at the back. With each step was a shuffle of feet and leaves gave away his movements. With each step was the bouncing of her body and the cunt nosed, rode, or sank, to varying extents at varying times on his bobbing cock.

The wife walked towards the mango trees, “Who is there?”

“Haaaah!” came a low scream from Binita as in one his steps Hari Singh speared her fully. He felt good when he sank in fully, for he could hardly bear the waiting. For the next few steps he was nestled in her and the progress to the shed was slower. But it was more pleasurable as they jiggled and fucked with every move. Binita’s eyes were on the moving form of her mother-in-law and she quickly whispered to her Babuji, “Take us away quickly, we will fuck later, elsewhere. Stop now!”

The urgency in her voice was not lost on Hari Singh, he lifted her off his cock and staggered towards the cowshed. As soon as they were in, he rested his aching arms by letting her lean on a buffalo. Binita let her arms rest and spread herself back on the buffalo, her ass still in Hari Singh’s hands. Immediately, the Thakur fucked her hard and fast giving himself relief from the build up caused by the interruption at the mango grove.

The squelching sounds and the whimpering from the fucking filled the shed and the buffalo shuffled its feet under the powerful thrusts from Thakur. Binita grabbed Hari Singh’s shoulders as she lost balance. Once again she was wrapped around his hips fucking him hard.

Nothing, it seemed nothing, could hold them back from fucking. They just had to try to tame one another and intense lust had gripped them.

Now they heard footsteps outside the cowshed. There was only one way for Thakur to prevent his wife from entering the shed. He carried Binita to the door of the shed so that she leaned on the door, making it difficult, if not impossible for anyone to push it in and enter.

It also allowed him to continue to fucking her, for he felt he would go mad if the thrusting were to stop. He just had to have that hot, wet, bubbling cunt ride him. Now, as he thrust, the thump of her body against the metal door became the drumbeat of their lust. Their fucking tapped its rhythm on the metal. Binita’s fingers were over the top of the door as she reached up and behind to steady herself.

“Thakur! You animal!” she hissed.

“You whore!” he snarled at her, fucking her up twice harder for good measure.

“Who is that?” came up a voice from real close.

“It’s me! Go away from here!” replied the Thakur gruffly.

The wife recognised the voice of the man who no one dared defy and stopped short. Those fingers which she spotted on the top of the door were not a man’s. The feet which she could see at the foot of the door were pointing towards the door and were here husband’s.

The door itself was bending as if pressure were being applied on it and with each bend, came a thump. The thumps came in a rhythm she had once been accustomed to, though not lately, leaving her in no doubt as to what was going on. What she did not, and could not know, was who.

But that was not such a big matter for she knew her husband fucked at will. Discreet, and resigned over the years to the ways of his feudal lordship she moved off, and maintained a watch from afar.

As the footsteps receded, both Thakur and Binita needed to rest their limbs and he allowed her to slide down, all along the metal door. Her descending body yanked his cock downwards till it eventually slid out, and sprang up when released, smearing itself on her belly. Then as she slid further, it nestled against her breasts. Hari Singh held her by her armpits, luxuriating in the warmth of the valley of her breasts. And then her face was in his groin.

She stared in fascination at the magnificent specimen of maleness. “This is worth losing my virginity for,” she thought to herself. And she did something she had seen the porn movies that the girls at the college hostel had once brought. She kissed the cock, tasting herself and him, but of course, not knowing which flavor was male and which female. She opened her lips and allowed him to sink into the wet warm recess of her mouth. Thakur put his hand on her pretty head of beautiful hair and fucked her face. “God! This woman knows it all. This has been worth the debauchery!” he thought to himself. “I must have her in my house.”

Binita’s hand closed over the cylinder of flesh as she pumped in and out of her mouth and then suddenly she let go. She sank to the straw on the floor of the cowshed and now was kneeling to make a thick enough bed of hay for them to lie on and fuck. As she knelt and went about this task, she could see from the gap at the foot of the door Hari Singh’s wife standing at the rear veranda of the house looking towards the cowshed.

Hari Singh was meanwhile transfixed by the sight of his son’s fiancé on all fours in front of him. Her hips were provocatively wiggling and her knees were sufficiently apart. He knelt behind her and raised her skirt, exposing her once again. A hand went under her and he held her soft stomach. With his other hand he guided his cock, slathering the valley between her legs. It touched her anus, her perineum and her coarse haired pussy. The slit was gaping open and wet and took but a moment to absorb his cock.

Binita gasped as new spots in her pussy were now caressed by that knobby monster. She braced herself on all fours allowing Thakur to ride her. Soon his hands came up to grip her breasts. He held her hard, pinching her nipples. Then he raised himself on one knee. From this position of strength, he fucked her hard.

With each thrust, Binita sobbed out her pleasure. Her eyes were closed as she concentrated on the hot pillar pounding her. Waves of orgasms poured out of her cunt. When her eyes were open they naturally wandered to the wife standing on the veranda. Her would be mother-in-law stood there, picking up wafts of sounds emanating from the cowshed.

Binita’s eyes opened with shock with Hari Singh changed the angle and the rearing cock head touched her g-spot. She blabbered out loud and wildly, ” Babujeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Oh fuck! Yes, take me. Make in me that child which you wanted. Yah, yah, yah!”

She started to buck and thrash back at Thakur. His cock twisted and turned and he felt her pussy walls contracting and ravaging his cock. The throes of her orgasm had her bucking like a cow mounted by a bull and he gripped her breasts hard to hang on to her. His fingers were surely making their mark on her tender skin but those breasts were so ripe, and so asking to be eaten!

Binita noticed the Thakur’s shuddering and loss of control when she moved and twisted on that cock. Now was the time for her to drive her point. She leaned forward and allowed his cock to slide almost entirely out.

Hari Singh wildly lunged forward to find the hot wet nesting place again. Binita skillfully avoided him. As she leaned further forward, the angle of cunt to cock changed and the Thakur risked losing her pussy completely. He stopped so that at least he wouldn’t lose the positioning.

She now gently rode back, the pussy only gliding over the exposed and raging head. Thakur shuddered. He thrust his hips forward, allowing his cock to project outward, fully exposed, ready to take the gripping cunt’s caress on his cock. But it never came.

Binita had turned her head and was looking back at him. Her lustrous black hair was undone and framed her face, her shoulders, and her breasts. She smiled at him. He groaned and caressed her buttocks, kneading them and running his fingernails all the way up to her shoulders. She shuddered and shivered from the touch.

But her hips stayed perfectly still. “This,” she said with a quick backward jab of her pussy, “is what you want, isn’t it?”

Thakur shuddered and his neck and head went into spasms. “Y…ye…… yessssssssss!” he hissed.

“Then,” she continued with a harder jab, “how will you get it” — and here she fucked him really hard- “if I am not in your house?” and in conclusion she rotated her cunt pulling his cock in all directions.

“You can be in my house. Aaaaaaaaaaaaah! You bitch! You whore! You slut!” shouted Thakur as his nails dug into the fleshy ass.

“But how?” pushed on Binita, holding her cunt away from him and leaning forward to the edge of a ‘slip-out’.

“Marry — uh- my- yaah- sonnnnnnnnnnnnnn!” wailed Hari Singh, each grunt being his response to her expert jabbing fucks backward.

“Then you can have me anytime you want,” panted Binita as she felt the waves rising up in her again.

“Can I fuck you like the bitch you are?” implored Hari Singh, his hands gripping her hips as she lowered her head and presented her ass upward to him. She was giving him control once again, now that they had a deal.

“Yes, take me! As much as you want! I cannot do without your fulfilling cock!” begged the woman who was at least 30 years younger than her Babuji, Thakur Hari Singh.

Thakur needed to spill his seed and cum and fill her now. He just had to. This girl’s tight and gripping cunt, her gymnastics, her sauciness and the sheer illicitness of their mating was all too much for Hari Singh.

He moved into the mating rhythm and started to pound in and out mercilessly. Binita was reduced to a whimpering and quivering mass of exploding flesh as orgasm after orgasm wrenched out of her poor, ravaged pussy. From virgin to an hour (or more?) long fuck in one night was a bit too much.

Then as her own pleasure subsided and her mind started to notice what stage he was in she realized he was going to fill her with his seed. Could she allow that? Impregnation by a man other than her husband. That too his father? She thought about pulling out at the time that he would start to cum. But she also felt her own need to feel that hot boiling semen surge in her.

Her pussy was aching from the pounding they had given each other and she figured the surging fluids would help. But pregnancy?

“I am going to fill you with my seed, beti!” groaned Thakur as he felt his cock respond to the incessant pounding. From deep within his body, everything seemed to be gathering up to pour out his lust into this young woman who was kneeling in front of him. His hands reached under and felt the soft, hanging breasts jiggle as the fucking continued unabated. “You are now going to give us the next generation of Thakurs!” he declared triumphantly.

Binita had the answer in a moment of hearing that. Yes, it was the same genetic line, father or son she rationalized to herself. Any explanation would have done, she needed just something to allow her to take what she so desperately wanted.

She leaned forward and Thakur slipped out.

“What the……………!” he bellowed. His cock lurching and jerking wildly as it missed its warm clutching cunt.

Binita lay down and opened her legs wide. Her breasts lay open, spread and mauled with finger nail marks and saliva smeared. Her cunt was wide, red and ravaged. Her eyes were sparkling with desire. And her arms were outstretched inviting Thakur Hari Singh.

“Come, fill me the way a woman is supposed to be filled!” she invited him.

Thakur kneeled between her legs and sank in the pool of wetness. The cunt which had been gripping and tight was now open and lubricated. He pulled out and used the cloth of his dhoti to dry himself and did the same with her outer lips.

She braced herself. He thrust. The pleasure was searing as her cunt received the hot pillar and the nerves carried the message of thrill to her brain. She bucked her hips and hollered, “Fuck me Thakur. Fill me! Take me! Take your son’s fiancé! Yes, fuckkkkkkkkkk!”

Thakur rested his chest on those magnificent breasts and his hips pistoned in and out of her cunt. His seed boiled up and when his first spurt came, he pressed himself deep inside, his back arched, his head thrown back, so that at the time of the shooting of semen he was as deeply embedded in her as could be.

The head of the cock was almost at her womb and when the semen came it splashed out deep into her recesses.

As the warm surge spread inside her, Binita’s nails violently dug into the Thakur’s ass. She squeezed and yanked, pulled and cajoled. She wanted every drop.

Thakur pulled back and thrust back in harder. Another big dollop of semen released into her. She gasped. This was a huge flooding. And with another thrust he filled her more, this time the mixed juices flowing outwards as he pulled to fuck again.

The violent thrusting made her shudder and wail as she too came.

“Babujeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Make me yours! Make us that child!” she wailed

“Beti. Beti. Yes, beti” he panted in short terse words as his spurting cock became the centre of his world. It was as if he was entirely pouring into her.

Her hands ran up and down his back, his ass and his hips as she caressed him. They shook and shuddered. Juices exchanged and released. The jerking and thrusting slowly gave way to shudders and shivers. She sighed in contentment. This was going to be a happy marriage if she had Thakur Hari Singh, sexually and authoritatively, on her side.

Her reasons for getting into this, and now her hopes as she completed it, were different. What had started as a challenge and then become a control game, was now to be sought out for the pleasure.

“Come into my house as a bride!” he whispered into her ear, as his cock receded, losing the powerful hardness which she had made it acquire.

“But not yours,” she replied wiggling her hips. Thakur spasmed as her muscles squeezed out the edges of his rapidly diminishing orgasm.

“I didn’t say that. But I want you in my house. To take and be taken as we please,” he insisted.

“Is that a promise?” she asked, the thrill of this man’s strong fucking making her fuck him now. Her pounding cunt found only a small jut of tender flesh where a large rampant cock had been. He was sensitive as ever still, and quivered.

“Aaah! What do you want now?” he mumbled.

“You!” she replied shamelessly.

“You have me!” he confessed.

“When is the wedding?” she asked.

“As planned.”

“And us?”

“As and when we can.”

Hari Singh’s wife noticed the quiet descend on the cowshed. The rustling, the thumping on the metal door, the shuffling of hay, the cows stomping their feet and the occasional mooing, and the muffled moans and mumbling had all subsided.

It was quiet once again. She watched as the woman opened the door of the cowshed. The woman waited, and peered about. Hari Singh’s wife could not see who it was. But she clearly had no blouse on and was just clutching the remnants of the blouse to her chest. As the woman ran, she was briefly visible in the light of the tube at the pump house. Her ghagra (skirt) seemed crumpled and what were those brown stains on the back?

Thakur stepped out, smoothing his long flowing kurta. He seemed to stagger. It was too late for his wife to discreetly vanish from the scene. She called out to him, “Listen! Dinner is served! Come on in!”

“Yes, coming!” replied the Thakur as he bent to pick up a half ripe mango from the scattering of raw fruit that now lay on the leaves below the trees. It certainly was a good evening to have in the season when fruit ripens, he mused.
Laju looked up and saw that the young daughter-in-law had been transfixed on the spot looking at her father-in-law reduced to a mass of pleasure seeking, spasming flesh. She got up on her haunches and then stood. She held both hands up as one was lathed in the cum and in the palm of that hand she held some of the flow. Her other hand was stained with the white streaks and oil that came from the fisting she had given with that hand. She used her shoulder to shift her pallo into a slightly more respectable cover of her torso, but the signal that her look sent was unmistakable. She was clearly a woman who had been handled by a man and it was impossible to know that she had not been ravaged, fucked and made to cum.

She looked every bit as if all that had happened to her, with her clothes askew, hands full of semen and her face perspiring and flushed.

She brushed past Binita as she went to rinse her hands and arrange herself properly.

“Thakurji, the oil for your head massage is here,” she called out to the stretched out, contented man.

“Go, he is waiting,’ she said to Binita.

Binita was uncertain on what she should do. She did not want Thakur Hari Singh to know she had witnessed his pleasuring. However, she moved forward confidently, relaxed with the thought that if he was spent he would be harmless.

The night she had and he had fucked in the cowshed like animals was different. On that day, he was just a man and she a woman. Now he was her father-in-law. She would never let anything between them ever happen again. She never wanted to appear before him in any other role than that of a dutiful and conservative daughter-in-law.

Binita walked towards where the Thakur was sitting, her eyes on his broad muscled back. Undoubtedly, that night when they had fucked, her hands had roamed that back, gripping, digging and searching in her wild pulsating passion. She shook those thoughts off as she had done a million times since she got married and entered this house as the daughter-in-law.

She could not afford to let those images of their sexual encounter linger if she was to have a normal married life living in the same house with her husband and his father. It was the father who she had lost her virginity to, just before the marriage.

But in the last few minutes a new image had just been added to her memory. She had just witnessed one of the women on the domestic staff masturbate her father-in-law. Unknown to the lecherous old man, she had observed the two of them as the woman expertly brought him to orgasm. Clearly her father-in-law, Thakur Hari Singh, did this often during his oil bath. Binita had been sent by her mother-in-law with special herbal oil for the Thakur’s hair. Laju, the maid had to rush off to clean her hands which were dripping with his semen and left Binita to apply oil to the Thakur’s hair.

With his back to the young girl, Thakur had no way of knowing that it was his daughter-in-law who had come in with the hair oil. She was unsure of touching him, knowing the inflammatory chemistry they had shared on their previous close encounter. She tipped the bowl of oil over allowing the hair to be soaked and the oil to run down the back of his neck and his forehead.

Instinctively she put out her hand and her thumbnail caught the trail of oil. The touch of that finger on his skin did not go unnoticed by the Thakur. Reaching behind him, still unable to see who the person was, he grabbed the hands and directed them to his hair, indicating that he wanted the massaging of his head to start.

Binita dug her fingers into the thick hair and rubbed in the oil. She was holding her breath as she felt him, her fingers alive to the memory of his hard and demanding body. She had been a virgin that day when they took each other. Now she had experienced one other man, Thakur Hari Singh’s son, her new husband. The son was no match for the father. Neither in how he was endowed, nor in his experience or skill. What is more, the old man had the stamina of a bull, while the son was easily spent, and still more easily exhausted.

As Thakur held those hands he could not help notice that the skin was soft and tender, unlike the coarse hands of the women that worked in the household and farms. “A new one,” he wondered. And while he had only a few minutes before ejaculated in massive spurts, he was not averse to assessing the new one, even if that meant attending to her some other time.

Binita rubbed the oil and her hands ran down the back of his neck periodically to catch the oil running down. As she did so, she caressed the well rounded strong shoulders of her father-in-law. She had clung on to those shoulders when he had lifted her off the trunk of the mango tree that wild night. Her father-in-law reached up and behind to touch and feel her arms and he felt a tingle rush through him as he felt the soft and tender arms of his daughter-in-law.

She leaned forward and she could see below between his legs his cock. She was surprised to see that if was still half erect and a trail of fluid streaked downward from his cock. He was either in the last throes of his last orgasm or in a semi –aroused state.

“Are you new here?” Thakur asked, unable to overcome his curiosity about the ‘new’ helping hand.

“Yes, Babuji, it is I,” she replied.

Hari Singh half turned to look up as he recognised the voice. His heart leaped in delight as he noted it was Binita. He spontaneously smiled at her. Quickly, he made sure that his garment covered his loins. She smiled back and with a new vigor started to rub the oil into his scalp.

“Why are you getting your hands dirty?” he asked, closing his eyes and absorbing the sensations of her touch.

“Hands can always be washed,” she replied. “Perhaps I will not get a chance to serve you this well very often.” Her eyes were riveted on his nipples which seemed to be alert and stiff at attention.

“Why not?” he asked, his cock twitching involuntarily. As he felt her fingers and the proximity of her body he felt his cock responding rapidly even though he should have been incapable of it.

“Well, what will people say if a young girl like me spends more time with a man your age in seclusion?” she countered.

“What is there to say? You are part of this house now, are you not?” replied Thakur, not quite convinced with his own answer as his body betrayed him. The cock was now fully erect and throbbing. It was throbbing and pulsating like it could only for her. He knew that, but he tried to push the thought from his head.

“Oh, look! The oil is running down your chest!” exclaimed Sunita and reached down his chest to arrest the flow. It was reflexive and unthinking on her part. As she did so, her stomach pressed against the back of his head and her breasts pressed on the top of his now oiled hair. As her hands reached down to catch the running streak of oil, her eyes glanced at the tenting in the cloth between his legs.

There it was, evidence of her effect on him. Even though it was shrouded in the cloth, the size and enormity of his proportions were inescapable. She remembered how it felt that night when her pussy was plundered and spread by his invading cock.

Her mind was numb with those thoughts and she felt herself moisten at the thought. His hands held her hands and he guided them to his chest almost without realizing what he was doing. Binita’s fingers caressed the chest, her fingers teasing his proud nipples which she had observed earlier.

Thakur gasped, “Beti!” he whispered, “We are now definitely not supposed to do this!”

He half turned towards her. He had felt those soft breasts on the back of his head and he just had to bury his face in them NOW.

“Your body and mind are operating at different levels, Babuji'” she murmured, rocking his head as he rubbed his face against her chest.

He encountered her blouse, her mangalsutra chain and seemingly innumerous layers of cloth appeared to lie between him and the succulent feast his mouth sought. Of all those layers, it was the mangalsutra, the symbol of her married status that posed him the greatest challenge.

As he as half turned towards her, his legs were spread apart. She placed one leg there on the floor between his legs and moved closer so that her leg now touched his cock. She played her leg against his erection, which sprang and bobbed as she rubbed it with her leg.

Thakur moaned loudly in ecstasy and closed his mouth on her breast, through all those layers of clothes which were there and bit down firmly but not injuriously on the mound of flesh.

Binita gasped, “Babuji, stop! I am your son’s wife now. We should not be doing this!”

“You were mine before his. You were a woman then and you are a woman now,” he sighed, nuzzling the breasts as he started to frantically want this woman and any justification would do.

He frantically grabbed at the hooks of her blouse, at the mounds, clutching caressing and grabbing. He tried to insinuate his hands from the lower hem of the blouse so he could touch her searing flesh, but the blouse was too tight. He wanted to reach from her cleavage but she was hunched above him and he couldn’t reach the delectable flesh.

She smiled at him, tousling his hair. As she pushed him away he sensed that if he didn’t push for it now, the moment would pass. He put his arms around her hips and pulled her to him. He bent a little so his face would go between her legs and nuzzled her there. Through her skirts, his lips found the furry patch of triangle and he bit at it. She gasped as his teeth and lips grabbed teased her at the tenderest part of her sexual being.

Suddenly she wanted to allow him to do that to her bare skin. She wanted his rough demanding lips on her melting, simmering flesh.

She let go of him briefly, undoing the front hooks of her blouse. She swung her mangalsutra around so that the locket was towards her back and not obstructing his access. And while doing this, her feet had reached up and caressed his cock fully, displacing the small piece of cloth that represented restraint. Between her big toe and next toe she caught the base of his penis. As she tried to stroke the cock with that pair of digits, she found she could not move up beyond the point where his cock swelled to its full proportions.

“How come you are like this?” she asked. “Didn’t Laju just……” she trailed off, not knowing how to put words to describe the pleasuring she had observed the maid give the master.

“That was just my excitement from fantasizing about you and I had to find some release,” he lied glibly. “Now that the real you is here, my arousal is back where it should be.”

“Is that what this is?” she asked teasingly, as she allowed the sole of her feet to rest along the bottom of his cock. She felt he was lying because she had seen him convulse in orgasm, both hands on Laju’s breasts as he took his pleasure. This man was designed for pleasure she thought to herself. She shivered as she felt the heat of his flesh and a hint of dampness touched her heel as he flowed with pre-cum.

He kissed her stomach, her navel and now moved up to the lower line of the bra. As he kissed her, she felt bolts of heated pleasure rush up her spine. She just had to have this man.

“Oh, babuji. The dam of passion which I had restrained myself for so many days has really burst. I have to have you!” she confessed.

“Why did you restrain yourself my darling?” he asked as he feverishly nibbled at the nipples through the lace fabric of her bra.

“It was a mistake,” she said, pulling up her bra without really undoing it. Her breasts were now exposed to his marauding lips. Thakur lost no time sucking in those conical projections and the nipples, seeming to drink from the breasts his son must have sucked so often since the marriage.

“Oh my god! You really know how to treat a woman. Take it my darling. Take my breasts! Suck them! Milk them dry! They are for you only,” wailed Binita.

She leaned down and grabbed the monstrous cock while continuing to ensure Thakur access to her aching breasts. She laughed in delight as she felt the full import of that great weapon of his. She wanted that, needed that.

Thakur opened his mouth as wide as he could and sucked in as much of her breast as he could. Then he toggled the nipples in his mouth. Binita wept tears of joy as she felt her pussy quake open with an orgasm induced by his tonguing her breasts. She bent her knees and her pussy gaped open as she felt it shudder to the tonguing at her breasts. She clutched his head tight as her pussy trembled in an intense if subdued orgasm. She shuddered and quivered with the intensity and clung to him hard. His hands roamed her back and squeezed her ass as his lips continued with their marauding.

Binita allowed her weak knees to slowly let her body sink lower. The Thakur leaned back and stretched his legs out straight. Inevitably, they aligned to each other as she sank lower and lower. At the precise moment, Thakur gripped his cock and held it at the correct angle to spear her. Her own hand joined his hand as she held the monster to control the invasion.

Wet as she was, she was still nervous about the ravaging plunge of his enormous cock. Slowly she allowed her hips to drop onto the two fists holding the cock ready. Binita now let go and hung on to his shoulders to control her fall.

And what a fall it was — she speared his cock and sat down fully on her father-in-law, facing the entrance to the bathing area. She wanted to keep a lookout, but there was no way for her to hide what was happening, sitting as she was astride him as he sat on the low stool.

Then pressing his shoulders down, she raised herself and pumped his cock, exercising her knees to provide the leverage she needed. It brought her breasts back to his face level allowing his lips and tongue to slather her breasts with his saliva as he frantically tried to catch a mound of flesh or her nipple into his mouth.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” she went as each stab of his cock pleasured her cunt. She now had comparisons to make and her mind spun with memories of how her husband was inadequate compared to the man she was now riding. The muscle tone, the thickness of the cock, the power of the fucking and the sheer chemistry.

“Babujeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” she hissed in ecstasy. “Take me and mark me as yours!”

The old man was beside himself with pleasure too. His young daughter-in-law was fucking him wildly, her wet pussy riding the head of his cock at several strokes every minute which crazed him.

His hands were on her back trying to control the flailing breasts so he could catch them. When that proved impossible, his hands slid lower, cupping her generous bottom and his fingers flirted with her anus and the lower reaches of her pussy. Soon his fingers were squelchy wet with the stream of fluids that were pouring out of both them. Using his fingers, he pried open her pussy wider and Binita found that too much to take.

She lurched forward, her teeth digging into his shoulder; passion made her bite and deep red marks formed on his shoulder.

She lifted herself and adjusted her position. There! With that stroke his cockhead had caressed her clit. There again! Oh, yes! That was what she wanted! She tried to focus hard on not losing that position but the next fuck downward was squelchy wet and had no sensations to it. She quickly propped herself up and tried a different angle and — Yes! Oh yes, that was it! The next few thrusts were on the spot and she shuddered as she came and Thakur felt a gush down his cock and balls as she spent like a man.

Thakur was now felt an animal rush of lust as he wanted to pound into her and fill her. He knew that the two of them could fuck for eternity, but not in this very public place and not at this time of day.

He would have to tame her and release himself all in quick time. He pulled her ass in over his cock and held her there luxuriating in the pulsating hot sheath of flesh gripping his cock.

Then he leaned forward, making her lean back, her shoulder blades firmly in his large hands. Binita leaned back allowing her body and breasts to open out to him. Now the cunt swiveled on the cock and pulled the cock down from its natural upward pointing angle. His cockhead now touched the upper reaches of her cunt as the angle changed.

New areas were stroked and Binita gasped in her pleasure. Cupping her ass in his large powerful hands, Thakur now thrust his cock into her. Each thrust caused the stool on which he was seated to move, making a grating noise against the floor. The breasts jiggled and Thakur leaned forward to feast on them, now nibbling, now sucking.

Binita raised her legs fully and locked them around his back fully impaled on this rampaging beast. She was now leaning backward and rested her hands on the floor on either side of Thakur’s outstretched legs.

Thakur’s hand came down to her lower stomach and stroke her flesh. She was damp there, just from the heat, the sweatiness and the humidity generated from the passion. Then he searched other the skirt for the point where his cock was plunging in and out. His thumb found her clit and the ball of his thumb rotated the clit mercilessly.

Binita sobbed as orgasm after orgasm ripped out of her pussy. She laughed and smiled through tears at Thakur as the powerful if illegitimate lust ran its course. But of course, she wanted to hold him to herself, and cling to those powerful arms and shoulders to feel belonged and totally dominated by him.

He leaned forward to kiss her stomach. The clothes on her were a nuisance but there was nothing to be done about it. They were in too much of a public place. He also was beginning to think about the consequences of being discovered in this situation with his daughter-in-law.

But the biggest driver for his change in tempo was none of these. It was that the pleasure from the grinding, from the unusual angles of bodies and the cock and cunt, the pleasure from the female taking her pleasure were no longer enough for him. It was urgent for him to dominate and pound her pussy and to flood and fill her with a vigor she seemed to instinctively demand from him.

And so he leaned forward further, shifting the weight of his body on the stool firm reclining mode to being prone forward. He was now leaning over her, ready to assume the traditional man-fucks-woman position. As he did so the stool slipped and there was a huge clanging of vessels as pots were tossed aside and buckets hit.

In the chaos, he slipped out of her causing the sexual shock of a sudden vacantness in her. He too gasped as his cock slid along her bare skin and he missed the hot caress of her pulsating flesh.

Urgently and quickly her hand reached between them and she grabbed his convulsing cock and guided it back to her waiting, bubbling snatch.

He sank in, now completely leaning over her. He looked in her eyes, bright, happy and radiant with lust. He kissed her open mouthed and wet and their tongues dueled with one another. Thakur Hari Singh drove in deep and strong, with powerful strokes of his hips. He held Binita’s hips in his hands as he pounded into her. Binita shook and shuddered as the entire depth of her sheath felt the rush of his hot penis and every bit of every stroke as he entered and left her with a definite rhythm.

She felt one more of the several orgasms well up within her and her nails dug into his shoulders as she clung on for the waves of pleasure that were due to ride her.

Her hips undulated; milking him and fucking him back as best as she could, even though she felt she was no match for the vigor with which he was pounding her. She felt water soak the back of her dress, the bulk of the skirts even as they were bunched up under her. Yet, she was not one to leave the fucking to him and she fucked back with all the strength she could muster.
Despite having cum in torrents just a short while ago, the excitement of this encounter, its complete illegitimacy and the sizzling sexual energy of Binita had aroused him to a point where he was ready to burst forth once again.

He felt strong surges of semen emanate from his depths. He timed his thrust to be deeply embedded in her with his cock, the skin surely pulled back, the head swollen and large as a result, its mouth at her womb so that when the semen gushed forth, it flooded her deepest being.

Binita sobbed and sighed as she felt the warmth spread inside her. It was so soothing even as the frenzy of passion made her grind and thrust herself at him. It was as if she wanted to melt into him and that the two of them should fuse at the loins and the pleasure should never come to an end.

He jerked, convulsed and came in huge surges. Each surge was timed to a deep thrust into her. And he held himself there till his cock needed one more stroke to release the next surge of cum.

The timing of his thrusting and release was exquisite and she felt so completed and so fulfilled by the shared orgasm.

Her hips shuddered and pounded in decreasing intensity as her orgasm swept through her and every pore in her body felt as if it were sexual. Her body was humming all over as if the orgasm had occurred not in her pussy but in every cell in her body.

They pushed against each other on that wet floor there, squirming, squeezing and groping. Orgasms subsided and gave way to long lingering caresses. But the subsidence of orgasm also brought back a flood of realization that they were in a vulnerable position. Binita gently pushed at his shoulder, as the Thakur grew drowsy with the release and the combined effect of his long massage and the exertions.

He grunted as she tried to rouse him. As his body relaxed his weight came to rest on her and moving him became ever more difficult for her.

She tousled his hair and stroked his ass but this only led him to a gentle snore. Binita panicked and shook him more vigorously now. This roused the Thakur and he heaved himself up on his elbows and looked at the woman pinned under him, resplendent in the afterglow of her sexual release her breasts now becalmed and in a state of repose.

As she pushed him further, he lifted himself off; his penis slid out of her, no longer erect and hard but still heavy and full. It seemed he would remain in a permanent state of arousal over his young woman. The cock was still seeping fluid and had not shrunk as it usually might.

Binita gathered herself, trying to smooth her clothes as best as she could. But the truth could not be hidden, she was wet and the patches betrayed she had been lying on the floor. Patches of wetness between her legs marked the places where Thakur’s copious discharges had overflowed. Her blouse was open and her bra askew.

She reddened in embarrassment at this sight of her own self. It was amazing how lust caused shameless abandon and how clear everything looked when the passion had receded. She hurriedly did only three of the five hooks on her blouse and covered herself as best as she could with her pallo, as the Thakur looked on with satisfaction at his handiwork.

“Welcome home,” he said to her, as she regained her composure for the rapid walk back to her bedroom. She had just over a half hour to appear tidy and composed before her husband returned home and she knew she needed that time.

As she headed up, carefully avoiding encounters with anyone, especially her mother-in-law, Binita realised that she was caught in an inescapable cycle of lust driven by the chemistry between the Thakur and herself.

With that thought, she returned to the sanctuary of her bedroom.
The contrast was obvious to Binita. Every single time her husband Pritam drew her into his arms, she could feel those arms as being lean and non –muscular; the arms of a pen-pusher in a city office. As she ground chillies in the kitchen assisting her mother-in-law, she extended that thought even to the young men she had encountered in the city who were regular gym goers. Their muscles were bulging and hard, yes, but there something artificial about it.

There was something far more appealing about the muscle and tone of the body of a man who had achieved that from working on the farm and handling rough things. And that man was Thakur. The contrast between how he felt, and how his son felt was so very obvious. The muscle and the strength of the older man’s arms matched the roughness and calluses on his hands. That roughness brought an electric friction to the caressing of her soft skin. It was like a flint to match, setting her alight.

The warmth in her loins spread as she thought of the way those hands caressed, then gripped, lifted then set down, scooped her up and then set her free. She still loved Pritam, the guy who she had met and fallen in love with in the city and married. But the beginnings of any lovemaking with Pritam only ended up kindling a lust which his physique and his inexperience could never handle.

And so their honeymoon, from which she had returned only just that morning, was replete with encounters with her love. The encounters left her as a simmering mass of flesh which perpetually sought release, but it eluded her in Pritam’s arms. He could set it off, but never finish it. As Pritam moved over her, she compared the feeling with how it was when Thakur gripped her shoulders. She compared everything, the sweat, the smell, the hardness, the bubbling cauldron it caused between her legs, and yes, that thickness and heaviness of his penis which Thakur had failed to pass on to his son.

The heat from the chillies she was grinding was matched by the flush she felt in her pussy and in her chest and then her cheeks. The outlet was the ferocity with which she ground the mortar into the pestle. She watched the blunt end of the mortar and was immersed in the phallic metaphor it suddenly took on to represent. It seemed to her that just watching and imagining would lead her to a quiet orgasm. A small self contained one, of the kind she felt occasionally with Pritam, if at all. Not the large, soul-scorching, all encompassing explosion that soaked up the whole universe of her being.

“Beti. You have not gone and done a pranam to Babuji since you returned. You have missed serving him while you were away. Go and give him this lassi and get back to your household duties,” said the Thakurain to her daughter-in-law, handing a large copper tumbler of frothy lassi.

Binita stopped the grinding and went to wash her hands thoroughly of the effects of the chilli she had been grinding. The cool water felt pleasant on her skin but did nothing for the seething mass of flesh she had been reduced to. Thakur was the first man she had known, the first to plunder her virginity, reducing the impact of anything Pritam could have been in her memory. And just before she left on her honeymoon, Thakur and she had again succumbed unwittingly in the bathing area. They were both able to explain away the first encounter in their minds since she was not yet married to his son at the time. The second one had been the complete conquest of lust and a towering testimony to the chemistry of the Thakur and his new woman, Binita.

They always avoided eye contact, and were circumspect in their interaction. Thakur himself never called for her and she never volunteered to attend on him. Both knew that their feelings and passion were uncontrollable and not to be trusted. Both felt a sense of guilt over their willingness to allow that lack of control to go where it wanted. But when her mother-in-law set her some duty to accomplish, her desire surged and the outcome was a foregone conclusion. It was as if their bodies had known each other for years and designed for one another, though they had had only two intense encounters till date.

Her hands were shaking as she reached for the glass. The simmer between her legs had never really gone away during the entire honeymoon. Pritam had just lost his virginity to Binita after the marriage and was busy exploring his sexuality. The inexperience and the obsession with his own self had done nothing to satiate Binita. And she herself had the experience of Thakur dominating her demands. In the train journey back home, she had barely slept. The excitement of returning to Thakur — her Babuji — had just increased the simmering to a boil.

The jolts and jerks of a moving train and the vibrations had helped. As had the darkness. She had covered herself well with the sheets as she lay on the berth, thighs squeezed together allowing the sensations from the train to travel to her pussy. With a little toying through the clothes she had managed to find some measure of release. Nothing, however, was going to compare with the ravaging pounding of her cunt that Thakur provided. He just knew how to touch her in all the right spots with that fullness of his cock.

Thinking all these lust-filled thoughts she wended her way through the corridors, stairways and rooms of the sprawling haveli, through to the room which was the Thakur’s lair. It was here the old warhorse retreated to for his siestas and his quiet times of day. The mid-afternoon lassi was a ritual for Thakur. Different people brought it to him every day. He would always look forward to one of the maids bringing it rather than any of the man servants, though he never made this obvious and took things as they came. The maids had all some form of tacit agreement with him. Even those who were “out of bounds” were at least worth eyeing. And then there were those who acquiesced to his overtures. And still others who hankered to feel his manliness and his vigor.

There were all sorts. And Thakur was prudent enough to rein in his desire and channel it discreetly. This allowed him unlimited pleasure, access to a bevy of village beauties married or otherwise and did not provoke any resistance from any quarter. And that included the Thakurain who had never failed to guess from the look of a maid emerging from the Thakur’s quarters what might have been going on. She also knew which maid fell in which category.

The Thakur lay on his easy chair in his lair. It was a well planned and suitably equipped den. It had a view of the road and fields approaching the haveli so the Thakur had unrestricted knowledge of the coming and going of various folk. There was a TV, a DVD player and an assortment of movies from local dialect, Hindi mainstream and some porn flicks which he kept to the rear of the stack. There was also his bed with a mosquito net and four posts to suspend the net from and the usual assortment of paraphernalia associated with dressing and personal grooming.

Thakur was mildly drowsy and knew that lassi was on its way. He had heard the commotion of the arrival of his son and daughter-in-law and while he had met Pritam he could not spot Binita. The first half of his usual day was anyway loaded with work around the farm and other business interests. The afternoon was reserved for some rest while the evening went in hookah sessions and general gossip and meetings with friends and lackeys.

With the mild drowsiness was also a mild arousal from the anticipation and guessing game around who the bearer of the lassi would be. He hoped to God it wouldn’t be a manservant. And he didn’t dare wish it to be the new bahurani, his Binita. The thought of Binita sent his pulse racing and he shifted to make his instant hard-on less obvious.

He had wondered about Binita these last few days. She must have been getting fucked several times a day. Thakur had no clue of his son’s endowment and capabilities. Yet, he found himself jealous of his son’s free and assured time with Binita. His Binita. He shifted uncomfortably as his cock swelled to its full proportions and the heaviness hung, inadequately supported by his loose undergarment.

As he stretched out his legs and let his palm graze his cock he sensed someone’s presence. Surely it was the bearer of the lassi. The Thakur turned and lo and behold, his Binita, lassi in hand.

The hard on was now firm and raging, Binita’s presence confirming the legitimacy of his arousal. His mind protested; the desire was illegitimate. He tried to focus his mind on the transaction at hand. She was here to just deliver the lassi and that was all he was going to do. He tried to ignore the damp patch around the midriff of her kurta. He tried to put out of his mind memories of the way she had spread herself around him when he was bathing. He looked at her proud, well encased breasts and tried to ignore how they had looked when he had feasted upon them under the mango tree that first time.

The more he tried to put out of his mind, the more came to him. There were so many things to ignore. Their fingers touched briefly as she handed him the glass. Her nostrils were flared and her face was red from the sighting of her Babuji. Her eyes bored into his eyes. A corner of her mind recorded that amongst the many folds of his dhoti there was likely to be hidden his well engorged beast of a cock.

Binita felt her juices pouring out shamelessly. She stood rooted to the spot. Thakur Hari Singh lifted the glass to his lips. His mouth opened and he extended his tongue so he could lick the cream off, as he put the glass to his lips. His eyes were riveted to hers. His tongue lapped at the cream with a long flourish that reminded Binita of the tonguing her nipples had received on an earlier occasion. She felt them jump now as if they had been touched by that memory.

She watched as his lips closed around the rim of the tumbler and he sucked in the frothy butter milked. If he had been milking her breasts his lips should have formed an ‘O’ she noted. No, here his mouth was open and taking in even as his tongue lapping; O God! Was that really possible? She was creaming down there and could he really take a large sip of her? She wondered. She had heard of it, read of it. But nothing in her experiences mirrored it.

True to their indescribable chemistry, it was as if these thoughts were transmitted to Thakur. As he drank in large gulps, he could only think of her pussy releasing such gushes as he had felt soaking his cock. There was that porn movie he had seen just the other night, where the man had buried his face in the woman’s bush. Thakur had imagined doing that to Binita and could instinctively visualize what all she might seek and he might give her, should he mouth her. He found that in drinking his lassi, his mouth was signaling all those moves.

He paused between gulps. Binita burst out laughing; his moustache had been daubed with a thick layer of cream and it made him look ridiculous. Her laughter was spontaneous, with a tinkle in it. She covered her mouth as she laughed, her breasts heaving. Thakur bristled at being laughed at.

Down below in the front courtyard, the Thakurain was dealing with a vegetable vendor when she heard the tinkle of laughter. She glanced upward and thought it was good that the bahu was getting along well with her husband. She knew not, just how well.

The Thakur’s face reddened with anger at being laughed at and just as he was about to vent his anger, Binita stepped up and using the corner of her dupatta wiped his mustache. Just like that, spontaneously.

She leaned over him to do that. Her body was hunched over his. She had come dangerously close to him. Her breasts were hanging and down the front of her kurta top he could see the fruit like breasts encased in the bra. Her hair fell forward and covered the both of their faces. He turned his face up and caught Binita’s lips in his own lips. Just like that spontaneously.

She didn’t dare kiss him back. This curious mix of unbridled lust and guilt-ridden restraint was maddening. Her mouth remained open. It allowed him to breathe in her breath and he found her smells permeating his body. He let his lips linger. Inhaling. Tasting. Smelling. Her mouth watered, as was her pussy. As she continued to lean over him her lips wetted over and he licked her lips. His tongue snaked out entering her mouth. She shuddered as she felt the wet searching and supple tongue enter her own mouth. Her mouth closed on the tongue by reflex and as Thakur pulled his tongue back she raked it with her lips, the way she might have raked his cock.

He put his hands on her shoulder and held her firm. His tongue repeated the act of sliding into her mouth and she repeated her act of forming an ‘O’ with her lips. He tongued the folds of the mouth, the way he might have tongued her pussy.

The Thakur was nothing if not decisive. He pushed her away and stood up. His dhoti could scarcely conceal the passion which his tongue had conveyed. He moved towards Binita and she kept moving back till her back came to rest on the chest of drawers along the wall. On the top of it was a stack of well folded clothes ready to be put away by the Thakurain into the Thakur’s wardrobe. The Thakur continued to move towards this girl who had come to possess him; or was it he who possessed her?

With no further space for her to back off, he closed in on her. He now loomed over her, his breath warming her already red hot face. She lowered her face, not able to look him in the eye anymore, shuddering uncontrollably as she was in the grip of maddening lust. His chest was touching her face now and she buried her face in the comfort of his broad chest. On her thigh she felt the head of his cock poking. Her hands gripped the edge of the chest of drawers as she struggled with her contrast of emotions between head and heart. It was illicit and yet, it was her Babuji, the man who had completed her as a woman before her husband could.

His strong hands — oh yes! How strong and firm they were! — grabbed her just below her buttocks and lifted her. Her buttocks cleared the edge and her hands which were supposed to be helping her control, quickly levered her up so that she was now sitting on top of that chest. Thakur’s hands now moved to the cord which tied the choodidar pajama of her dress. He found the end and pulled at it and the cord was now open. The waist of garment now needed loosening. His hands ran around the inside of that waist and loosened the pajama. It hung open now in the front revealing her smooth undulating landscape of her belly. It fell into her lap. Thakur’s hands went around to the back and he squeezed her buttocks. He pulled the pajama down and he nudged her, signaling her to raise her hips so he could slide the pajama down further. With her one hand resting on the drawer top, she gripped his shoulder with the other hand to raise herself. Thakur quickly pulled the pajama down and peeled the tight sheath of the legs down till they snagged on her heels.

And then he left it there. His lips kissed her ankles and now her calves. Then up to her knees. Binita tried to spread her legs as much as she could as she stared at this head hovering between her legs. She instinctively knew where he was headed and her pussy twitched and jumped at the thought. But her legs could not spread beyond a point because her pajamas while off her, were stuck on each heel. She thrust her hips forward in an involuntary animalistic offering of her deepest flesh to her Babuji.

Thakur continued to tongue her flesh, tasting her. Somewhere was the aroma of a freshly bathed woman, in other places the salt of a sweaty residue. He tongued, tasted and took her into his own being, recording everything as flavors of his own Binita. He was now on her thighs which caused the top of his head to grind against her crotch. He allowed his head to graze against her pussy with greater vigor and noted the dampness it caused on the top of his graying head.

He turned his face to the crotch and then he encountered her sopping wet panties, drenched but firm against her pussy. Her panties mystified him. He was used to the maids who usually wore nothing underneath as was the local custom. This was one impediment that he considered an obstacle in his fantasies about quick encounters with Binita in the various nooks and crannies offered by the haveli.

She lifted her hips, her eyes now glazed with lust. Her lips were open, her nostrils flared and her body beyond any defenses. Thakur reached for the band of the panties and rolled them down. The quickly became tight as they rolled into a bunch. As he pulled and tugged at them down one leg then the other, his hand felt the heat and wetness that soaked them. Soon they would go no lower because her legs were spread. He left the panties alone and hands shaking, reached down and released one of her heels from the confines of the chudidar. The legs closed a bit and now the panties were down to the ankles. Once again, as she looked down to see how he did it, Thakur slipped the wet and spoiled wisp of a garment over the heel and left one leg completely bare and the other carrying the burden of both chudidar and now the rolled up panty.

This time Thakur did not worship her legs on the way to the cunt. He was thirsty to taste the source of the musky wetness on those panties. He rushed for the hairy cunt. Binita leaned back, comfortable on the stack of well folded clothes. Her back came to rest on the wall. The completely free and bare leg was up on the surface of the drawer, placed flat. The other leg was stretched as far as it would go. The pussy was gaping open, its wetness in full evidence.

Thakur snaked out his tongue and lapped at this creamy offering. He was rewarded with a mix of pungent acidic odors and wisps of pubic hair. His hands held the lips apart and the loose hair, once licked out of the way, gave way to the pink –brown raw flesh awaiting his caresses. He tongued her. She gasped. “Babuji!” she hissed out, slow and long, “Kahaan mooh laga rahe hain aap!” (“Where are you mouthing me!”). The question was surely rhetorical, given that she had opened herself and offered her pussy as if it was a fruit to be eaten.

“Mmmmm,” went the Thakur. Loud slurping and smacking noises emerged as he lapped and kissed the pussy. He had no intention of engaging in conversation when the need of the moment was to use his tongue differently. He continued to lap on the pussy and found his saliva was now mixed with some of her own juices and a wet soppy mess resulted. It reduced the pungency of the offering and made it more bearable for him, for the acidity was too much to start with. Now he wanted to fuck her with his tongue and he made a lance of his tongue, folding it along its length and pushing into her cunt.

It made little progress as the tongue entered for a bit but was stopped by the walls of her pussy. Thakur slid in two fingers to hold apart the lips for this tongue to probe further. The pussy walls gave way as they swallowed his fingers. She hissed and seethed as the fingering and toying only aggravated her state but were inadequate for her satiation.

Thakur probed her lips up and down. He encountered his hand on the down stroke but on the upstroke his tongue traced the complete contours of her pulsating pussy. He went past the joining of lips on the top and soon encountered the mass of hair on the top of her cunt and on her underbelly. The rough dry hair signaled to him that he had crossed the turf. His tongue snaked back down searching for the wet pit. It was now that he crossed her clit and she shuddered and jumped.

Thakur knew nothing of the clit in general, but her hand on his head, her convulsions and her instinctive guidance of his head to that hot spot told him that that was not a spot to be casually passed over. He ran his tongue upward over that zone once again. “Yes!” she hissed, affirming to him that he was touching the right spot. Thakur retraced downward and then upward in a few quick flicks. The leaping and shuddering mass of flesh, her trembling belly and the gush around his fingers told him he had discovered something.
He slowed down, feeling around with his tongue and there he encountered, length-wise a sliver of flesh. As he toyed it with his tongue tip, her fingers dug into his scalp. He flicked his tongue rapidly on it.

She started to babble. “Babuji, haan, chooso, suck me. Peelo, drink from me. Take this!” he moaned as her legs wrapped around his shoulders and she ground her pussy into his face, wanting to fuck anything that could fill her cunt even as the tonguing was not to be stopped.

He felt the need to fuck her and the need for her to be fucked. His fingers plunged in and out even as he tried to focus on the knob of flesh he had discovered. The grazed the rough inner walls of her cunt and her entire body convulsed.

Binita shrieked. “Aieeeeeeeeeeeeee! Ui maaaaaaa, Babuji!” she went, as new sensations rippled through her cunt walls and shot up to her breasts tips. From there it traveled down her spine and rejoined the clit, where one more storm of pleasure was ready to be unleashed.

Deep in the recesses of the house the Thakurain thought she heard some screaming. She connected it to the laughter she had heard before and started to wonder. She dared not go to the lion’s den. But her curiosity was aroused beyond manageability. She did the next best thing which she usually did in such situations. She found some work to do in the small store room which was in a part directly under the Thakur’s room.

Thakur meanwhile knew that he was on to something special. His hand pumped the cunt even as his lips and tongued continued to tease and suck on her clit. Binita now thrust her hips lewdly at the man’s head and in desperation she gripped her own breasts, pinching and twisting the nipples, desperate for relief.

Wave after wave of pleasure radiated outward from her cunt. Her breasts felt good as she massaged them and she felt her spine curve to touch that spot where Babuji was so focused. Inside her there was a pooling of fluids and she was hammering her hips onto his fingers. What she wanted was his thick, hot, filling cock but oh, how could she not want this tonguing!

Suddenly she felt she wanted to pee. But wait, it didn’t feel like pee. Whatever it was, every time his fingers touched that spot deep inside her, she felt she was going to urinate. The bolts of lightning that his tonguing sent shooting prevented her from pushing him away, though she was now really afraid of losing control of her urethra.

Meanwhile, his other hand snaked up the top of her dress and joined her hands in mauling the breasts. In that awkward position and frenzied handling of her, he had no way of disengaging her bra. He touched whatever of her he could but he his goal was also to try and hold her down. She was getting too violent and he wanted to hold her down. Instinctively he knew that he was going to have to hold her down to release her fully.

She pressed herself against his hands, breasts and cunt both in his possession. Her spine seemed to melt and join her cunt while from her breasts she felt a rush of blood down to her pussy. When the three waves converged under his incessant assault of tongue and fingers, she lost control of the fluid she was holding back.

The stream jetted out as her first clitoral orgasm shook her body. Thakur was flooded; for a moment he couldn’t breathe. He thought she may have urinated, but as he tasted the fluid he knew it was something else. As he continued to tongue, she squirted again with a loud groan. Her hips was taut, thrust forward and against his face. He lapped at her copious fluids, though not with an intention to drink. She went on and on. Wave after wave. Gasping, moaning and groaning as she felt her body let go. She had lost control of whatever it was and was just content to allow it to surge out fully. She squeezed it out of her body in relief and delight as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her. Throughout the time her body was wringing out her juices, she whispered “Babuji!” several times over.

The Thakurain stiffened as she thought she heard a groan. She didn’t move a small packet of salt so that nothing could drown out any sound coming from above. She heard the second moan distinctly and it certainly sounded like a woman. It would have to be her bahu for she had gone to the Thakur and not yet returned. If anyone, it was the Thakurain who knew what a pounding her strong husband could give and she found herself wondering if the small built woman that her daughter in law was, whether she could withstand him. She was concerned for the girl’s well being, but the thought of her husband’s cock plundering the girl caused strange stirrings of voyeuristic pleasure in her. “The dirty bastard!” she thought. “His own son’s wife!”.

Meanwhile, the son’s wife was unmindfully continuing to soak Thakur and his mustache, grinding her cunt on his face. What a contrast to the supplication expected of a typical Indian bahu who was to touch only her father-in-law’s feet and never raise her head in front of him.

He had his head buried in her cunt, gasping for breath, pleasuring in her uncontrolled release. In the intensity of her mind-blowing orgasm she had his head with a vice-like grip between her thighs. She didn’t need him to lick any more, or tongue her any more. In fact, she could take no more of that. As she pressed into his face in satisfaction, she relied on that grip to keep him from manipulating the folds of skin any further. The juices which had been viscous initially had now given way to a watery consistency. And as the outpouring ebbed, it once again became viscous and streaky. And so as he had lapped and sucked and swallowed it had gone from streaky to wet and soaked and now back to streaky.

Binita laughed, and wept from the sheer relief of release from the pent up passion of the week gone by. And what a release it was! He had found a new woman in her and released her just as he had done that first time under the mango tree. He was her man, the one to lead her to the world of pleasure and discovery of her own womanhood.

She cradled him in the grip of the legs as they were wrapped around his shoulders, caressing his head and fondling him in deep satisfaction. And slowly the clenching thighs relaxed, letting go of him and allowing him space to catch his breathe.

As he looked up, he saw her face, red and radiant, wet in tears, nose reddened and flowing a little as she smiled down upon him.

Thakur held her thigh with his arm around it and looked up in disbelief at the woman he had found today. He felt the trickle of wetness on his thigh as his cock’s oozing fluid ran down the soaked front of his dhoti. Binita law sprawled on top of the chest of drawers. Her convulsing and thrusting had completely messed up the folded clothes that lay under her. However, an even greater mess had been caused by the gush of fluids that now stained the clothes themselves.

Binita’s satisfaction from the massive orgasm soon gave way to disappointment of the vacuum between her legs as his hand withdrew. She still needed to savor his cock. She was dizzy from the experience. The gut wrenching intensity of her orgasm had her trembling and the insides of her thighs still seem to quiver. She knew she wanted his cock as much as she knew she had to satiate him too. She just didn’t know whether she would find the energy to fuck him.

Thakur now stood up. His face was shiny with the wetness smeared on him by Binita’s gushing, and the mustache was glistening with her juices the way it had been with lassi a little while ago. She looked at his face in amazement, Babuji smeared with her juices and enjoying and relishing that feeling.

He pulled at his dhoti and allowed it to fall away revealing his heavy cock in its fullness. He saw no need for caution as he and his daughter-in-law were any way in a compromising position. He also had no time or interest in leaving to go and secure the door. Thakur placed his bets on the fact that by and large, no one dared disturb him in his den. Other than the lassi girl, and this today was his lassi girl.

Binita lifted herself up to a sitting position from the sprawled position and instantly felt the wet discomfort of the soggy clothes under her. A large expanse of her skin on the buttocks and thigh was wet. She shifted forwards to reach for her Babuji’s cock. This moment had been allowed to be delayed for far too long. She looked down and found his kurta tented with the cock below, and the cockhead had instantly formed a wet spot on the kurta. She held his shoulder and leaned forward to reach down and lift up the garment, and quickly found his cock.

She didn’t stroke it. She just held the mass of his erection, feeling the fullness and weighing it in her hand. Her hand always felt really small when she put in on him and tried to get hold of him. She held him lengthwise from below and pulled him to her. Her legs parted and Thakur moved closer getting between her legs. Binita wiggled forward, her ass now on the edge of the top, cunt open wide gaping, waiting to accept the cock.

He put his arms around and reached under cupping her buttocks and pulled her in. She had her hand on the cock guiding it into the sheath of her pussy. Even with all the wetness and openness of her cunt, the cock splayed open her pussy. The cock pushed apart the waiting walls and sank in fully. Thakur felt the coarse hair of her pussy mesh with the hair around his cock. They pressed together and stayed that way, savoring the feel of each other.

Binita buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder, her face caressing his face and shoulder. “Babuji, take me!” she whispered into his ear, wiggling her hips as if to suck in all of him into her. Her lips sucked at his earlobe and nibbled at it. He felt her wet tongue on his ear and the sighs and moans fed into his ear.

She leaned forward so that his hands could cup her more fully, and this allowed him the leverage necessary to fuck her. He pulled back, curving his back so that the cock could withdraw even as he continued to stay closely intertwined with her. She gasped as the pleasure of his cock moving and the agony of having him pull back combined into desperation.

She propped herself up on her hands and fucked at his cock as it pulled outward. The shock she felt when he hammered back at the same time made her sob, “Babuji! Harder. Fuck me harder!” she begged. Thakur now set up a rhythm of pounding the pussy. He slid in and out effortlessly, her ass cupped in his hand and her pussy held in position for him to plunder.

With each thrust the drawers lurched towards the wall till the furniture was now touching. As he fucked, the wood thumped the wall. Once, hard. Then twice, harder. Thump! Then the third time, even more vigorous.

“Oh!” wailed Binita as her cunt spasmed around the pounding flesh.

Down below, the Thakurain noted the methodical ancient rhythm of lovemaking being beaten out. The thumping sounds left her in no doubt, and if she did have any lingering doubts, the loud “oh” dispensed with that.

Thakur now put his hands on the inside of her one thigh and spread her out, lifting her leg to an impossible angle. This allowed him to lean into her and he fucked hard and mercilessly in a burst of short intense fucks. The rapid fire fucking had Binita sobbing and aching as she clung on to her Babuji for the wildest ride of her life. His hands were brutally harsh in the way it was holding her open. His nails dug into the flesh of her inner thigh. Thakur pulled back more fully to pound harder. His cock left her completely, and sliding along her thigh, raced past the mesh of hair and plundered into the cunt. The swift pistoning of the cock emanated in a series of squeaks as the furniture scraped against the floor and wall in response to the quick jerking.

“Oh Babuji! Fuck me, harder, hurt me,” she sobbed between convulsions. “Take me with this ferocity which your son can never do” she implored.

Thakur lifted her off that chest of drawers and held her onto his hips. As he moved off, he noted the clothes were a mess, stained with marks, some just wet patches, other brown streaks. He would just have to send them right back to wash he thought. He laid the girl back on the edge of his bed, and lifted both legs up and held them apart. As he leaned forward, Binita felt her breath squeezed up from the effect of the legs being pushed up and Thakur’s weight on her.

Thakur used his weight to the full advantage. He lifted himself up and allowed his weight to add to the thrust of his fuck. The bed creaked. Thakurain in the room below noted the shift in the location of the sound. She could contain herself no further and decided to move upstairs to see if should sneak a look at the goings on. Up and down. In and out. The fucking was merciless and brutal.

As her cunt convulsed with her next orgasm Binita knew she had to conquer otherwise her pussy would be sore and Pritam would have to be denied. She reached under his kurta and searched out his nipples and gripped them in her fingers squeezing and turning, hoping that the stimulation would make him lose control.

It had the effect of galvanizing Thakur into sexual combat with his daughter-in-law. He reached for the neckline of her kurta and in one strong tug, tore down the middle of it halfway. He stopped the moment her heaving chest was exposed. Now he tried to tackle the bra, but Binita helped him overcome that difficulty.

She hunched her back and unhooked her bra and quickly slipped the cups off the aching breasts. Thakur quickly covered them back with his large rough hands and returned her favor of twisting and squeezing the nipples. She held his hands and forced him to knead her harder, more brutally. She wanted to be owned and abused by this man. She wanted to be possessed so hard and deep that she could never be separated from him. Her hands moved up his arms and she tried to pull him closer. She was now able to reach behind his neck and pulled his head to her breasts.

Thakur sucked in all of her breast. The tongue toyed with the nipple. The teeth tugged and chewed on the nipple. Binita groaned and clutched at his head. Her other hand snaked behind him and cupped and pulled his ass closer trying to get his cock deeper in. But Thakur wanted to feast on her breasts. It required him to pull out and both of his hands and squeezed her hard. The mass of her breasts were clutched in each hand but the nipple and areola was exposed. His mouth flitted from one nipple to another. When he was at one nipple the other one ached for his attention. Her legs raised and went around his hips and she tried to pull him in.

Oh God, she wanted him everywhere at the same time.

Her hands reached between them and she took his drenched sticky cock in her fist and started to masturbate him. His lips were brutalizing her nipples and it created a flutter in the base of her stomach. She responded with a brutal masturbating of his cock and he spasmed and lurched. Now he needed back in that hot bubbling cunt. But there was too much wetness. He grabbed a sheet and quickly dried himself and her pussy.

Now he turned her around and had her face down on the bed. The girl was drained and ravaged, her top in tatters and her pajama and panty dragging along, her hair a mess, his saliva on her breasts, wet streaks on her thighs and hands clammy with his juices. He lay along her back and his cock prodded the ass cheeks.

Thakurain watched through the door from across the corridor as her husband crawled over the body of the prone woman under. She could see only one part of the bed from where she was but what she saw told her the whole story. She watched as Thakur pressed himself on the woman lying below who had to be her daughter — in — law.

Binita felt the now dry cockhead nudge her ass. She lifted her hips to angle her pussy to his searching probing cock. She didn’t want him to find her anus so in frantic haste she reached under and her fingers grasped the pillar. She held it to her pussy and waited for his thrust. He thrust in and sank into the waiting cunt. Binita now was able to let go and prop herself up allowing her pussy to be plundered from behind. Thakur reached under and cupped her breasts, holding them as handles, riding her like a bitch.

“Binita, you are my bitch” he muttered. He fucked hard and furious. She fucked back. She twisted and turned her cunt to try conquer his cock. Quickly she reached back with one hand and ringed his cock with two fingers. The extra sensations and the pulling back of his skin made his cock bulge harder still.

She fucked back. “I am your Binita who is going to take you when she wants, where she wants Babuji!” she panted.

The Thakurain watched in amazement as her husband and daughter-in-law talked dirty and engaged in an animal duel of fucking.

Binita lost control of her cunt as the pounding triggered her millionth orgasm that afternoon. Profanity spewed from her lips as she begged to be subdued.

“Chodo mujhe Babuji. Mujhe apni randi banao!” she wailed. (Fuck me Babuji, make me your whore).

The words had the desired effect on Thakur. He bellowed as his seed shot forth into her pussy, filling her with its warm gush. Once, twice, thrice, the Thakur’s head jerked and his body thrust back and forth as he tried to maximize the pleasure of her cunt juicing his cock.

She put her head down and her hands gripped the sheet tight in both fists, her ass thrust in the air and flailing back it him, milking him with her thrusts.

“Ah! Babuji! Le lo! Take! Finish me! Kuch mat chodo!” she babbled as she came in torrents. Her pussy started to drip onto the sheet below as she quaked and shook to contain the massive explosions erupting into her pussy from behind.

Thakur leaned forward and collapsed on her back as the orgasm drained him. As he spent his fingers dug into her flesh around the ass and hips and he slowed down to make sure he didn’t slip out and miss the warmth of her accepting pussy. He lurched in shorter spurts and slowed down, coming to rest on her, his cheek on her back. His hand lazily reached under and found her breasts again and he caressed the now softening nipples. Sleep overcame him from the exertion and as his cock receded and slipped out, he slid to the bed.

He was almost instantly asleep. The Thakurain watched from her secret corner as her bahu knelt on the bed, her clothes, sindoor and hair in complete disarray. She was stained and marked everywhere as his woman. She reached for the sheet and spread it over him, covering his nakedness from the world.

She then sat on the edge of the bed and pulled up the pajama. The top was torn and her breasts were hanging exposed. The cord of the pajama had slipped into the channel and could not be pulled. As she stood, she held her pajama to her and shuffled. One hand cupped onto her crotch and held her clothes there to soak up the flood of his semen seeping from there.

Binita shuffled across the room and out of the door and quickly went across to her wing of the haveli hoping not to meet anyone on the way.

Her aching limbs, her stretched bones, her pounded pussy and the energy of the lovemaking all assured her of a sound night’s sleep ahead.

She did not notice the Thakurain observe her state from her secret corner. Nor could she have possibly known of that lady’s shock and arousal from having seen the most wild exhibition of lust in her life.

If Binita and Thakur had let lust conquer and swamp their relationship, Thakurain had just been introduced to voyeurism. She had known about her husband all along. But something about the new young woman who had arrived as the daughter-in-law made her want to know more about her husband.

The Thakurain began to plot her own satiation in this new game.
The woman massaged the oil into his limbs. Thakur Hari Singh luxuriated in the ceremony of the long oil bath he treated himself to once every week. His weekly routines had been interrupted for a while now because of the preparations needed for his son’s marriage to that saucy, town-educated girl Binita.

“Binita,” he thought and sighed. The girl had come to talk to him about the stalled marriage when both he and she had descended into lust and for a good hour, they were only man and woman. No relationships, no norms, no taboos crossed their minds as they pounded into each other against the mango tree, on the floor of the cowshed till they were both spent.

His loins stirred at the memory of that animal coupling. It had come to him several times since. The girl had ever since the wedding been extremely careful around him. She never appeared in front of him without her ghungat — the veil covering her face. She never raised her face, never looked him in the eye and never found herself in any room alone with him.

And so life returned to its routines. Thakur in particular enjoyed the routine of the weekly oil bath. It was an unwritten rule that only the women on the domestic staff would attend to him in the bath. It allowed him a closer look at the various women that worked in different parts of the Thakur household.

Some of the women had rough hands, others were well muscled and capable of giving him a robust rub-down, and still others were dainty and demure and had to lean into him to be able to really give him the strong massage he demanded.

All in all, he enjoyed the experience. Garments tended to get soaked and stick to the skin of the women, often giving him a good look at the shape and size of the bosom or the ass. If a pallo fell forward then he could feast on the sight of jiggling breasts. Some blouses gave glimpses of cleavage. And when they squatted at times the ghagras revealed more leg than normal. All this happened at the wall in the backyard near the well and the taps where the Thakur would engage in this ritualistic bath.

Thakur Hari Singh sat on a low stool, about two feet high and crossed his legs so that he could sit for a great length of time in this posture. At this time he wore a small cloth that went around his waist and loins exposing his body so that oil could be applied, bathing mixes rubbed and water could be poured. The garment was a concession to modesty.

In reality, Thakur was all the time assessing the women around, enjoying their touch and quite often seeking pleasure. These were also the times he ranked the women for selection to ask for his trusted manservant to get for him at the appropriate time at night.

Not all women were available and he had to observe different codes of conduct for different women. Some were strictly off limits. Others were saucy and fancied the fling with the powerful Thakur. It often meant gifts in cash, favors and other things to look forward to. Thakur Hari Singh had all sized up. A new one always meant being cautious, but it also set the Thakur’s pulse racing that there was a new woman to possibly take.

Today he was being given personal attention by Laju. She was one of the older more experienced hands. She would never come to his bed but her fingers were magic and she never left the Thakur short of excitement in the bathing area. Here, nothing was off limits, provided the Thakur maintained the decorum of not asking her to his bedroom. That was the tacit understanding them and both enjoyed liberties within that space.

Laju enjoyed manhandling the muscular Thakur and handling his nice heavy cock was a turn on for her. Usually, the beneficiary of this arousal was her own man, later in the night. For now, it was the Thakur and herself.

As Laju rubbed the oil into his legs the Thakur felt the tug of a need to feel release. And release was what Laju was adept at. As usual, no words were spoken. The Thakur just grunted as he caught her wrist and guided her hand further up his leg, past his knee and to his thigh. Laju shook her hand free and pushed her bangles firmly up her hands so they were now no longer jangling. She knelt on the floor in front of his crossed legs and reached under the garment.

As her hand snaked in between her index and middle finger she encountered the hot pillar of his penis. It was the wrong position for her hand if the intention was to fist him, but this was the only to discover where the monstrous cock lay. And there it was, hard, proud and jutting up. She rubbed the based of his belly and with her other hand, stroked the cock through the garment.

Thakur Hari Singh grunted and leaned back slightly.

“Oil!” he muttered, his voice thick with excitement.

Laju poured oil into the palm of her hand and anointed the penis. The Thakur threw his head back and sighed in contentment as he felt the warm oil cover his penis, now glistening. The trickled snaked down his balls tickling him with gentle pleasure. He squirmed and suddenly his erection frantically demanded the relief that only a proper hand stroke would give.

She had done this enough times to know what the man wanted and her finger tips of both hands danced up and down the throbbing and jerking pillar of flesh. Teasing, promising, now fulfilling but not quite. He groaned in frustration and then gasped in pleasure as she closed her hand on the hard cock.

She slid her hand down, pulling the skin down and the head swelled up and drops of precum flowed down freely. The clear fluid ran over her hands and she started upward slowly, the oil melting into the silken skin of his cock. As she reached the head she relaxed her grip and rotated the palm of her hand around the hand before closing the fingers into a fist once again.

She noticed the white streaks which formed around the web of skin at her thumb. She didn’t know what it was but it always did form. Another slow stroke downward commenced. Thakur shuddered as his foreskin was stretched back and he jerked and wobbled when the thumb came up to stroke his cock head again.

He was jelly in her nimble fingers and now she started to masturbate him with a steady rhythm. Her bangles started to jangle again and the beat of her hand and the stroking of his cock were the only noise.

Thakur enjoyed this immensely and his hand came to the back of her head and he rubbed her gently. She could never make up her mind on whether he was just being affectionate or whether he wanted her to take him in his mouth. But she never did respond.

She just continued, her eyes intent on the reddish monster and its pulsating beat in response to her methodical stroking. Every so many strokes she ran her hand over the top, which was glistening with precum and it shuddered and caused him to spasm and jerk. That made her hopeful that he might be close to cumming and the next few cock strokes were hard and vigorous in the hope of breaking him.

But he never did. He could just take his pleasure on and on forever. Her hand started to ache and she wanted to switch her right hand with her left hand. She put her right hand down onto the floor to rest the weight of her body. This brought her close to his body, her face near his left arm.

With her left arm she took his cock in her grip with renewed determination. From the tightness and from the way she had made herself comfortable in that position, Thakur knew she was stroking for the finish to make him cum.

Yes, he needed to finish this. Soon someone would be coming in with the special herbal oil for his hair and he wanted to feel every throb and jerk of his orgasm. He did not want to hurry back into a position of modesty without feeling every surge, every drop and without letting himself go over that.

His left hand was on her right shoulder. His right hand reached under for her blouse. Down her throat and straight down his hand cupped the heavy fully laden breast. She was wearing nothing under her choli (blouse). He gripped the breast, briefly feeling the grape-like nipple. He squeezed it, as if milking.

Laju gasped as she felt her juices flow in response to his touch. As it is, she could not control her lust from the sight of his cock. Each time she saw it, as she worked on it her mind would wander to thoughts of how that might feel between her legs. And now his large hands milking her breasts.

Her hand jiggled furiously as she masturbated him. Her head was down staring at the beast which her hand was beating into submission. His hand which was on the shoulder slid down her back. Her torso was now jammed between his two hands, and his fingers twisted and mauled her breast as he felt the brutal pleasure she wreaked on his erection.

She now closed her eyes and gave herself to the rhythm of pistoning his cock with her fist. Her head turned this way and then that, and suddenly when she opened her eyes briefly to see how his cock was beginning to spasm, she spied someone at the door.

It was the new daughter-in-law of the house holding the herbal oil meant for the Thakur’s hair.

Their eyes met and locked. Laju was impassive. Her eyes seemed to say to Binita, “Look, this is my job. It is part of what I have to do.”

For Binita it was shock. From where she was she could see the woman had her head just under the Thakur’s armpit and her hand was rested on the floor. The other hand had to be between them and had to have everything to do with the jangling of bangles and the jerking motion and rhythm. It was a dead giveaway. Thakur had his head upward to the ceiling and the visible hand was on Laju’s back. Binita wondered where the other hand was.

Thakur’s fingers digging into her back told her he was near cumming. Her breast was red with the mauling. She leaned back, bringing both hands into play again. Laju swiftly changed hands to relieve her left hand and the stroking was taken over by the right. But the left was not idle either. She twirled the top of his cockhead every time it was exposed making him shudder and spasm.

Cumming was imminent. Laju moved back. Her clothes may have been grimy, but all the stains and marks were explained by household chores. She could not possibly have Thakur’s semen on her clothes.

The Thakur made a low throaty gurgle as he felt the loss of control. He had to hold something of that woman but she had moved. His hands reached out and grabbed the breasts quickly finding and tugging hard the nipples through the cloth of the blouse.

Laju gasped and threw her head back and waves of pleasure rippled through her with the rough handling. And she felt the cock jerk as he came. She looked down and with jerked the cock as it spat its first shot. She held her hand down having once rubbed the head. A second shot of semen blasted and in time with the release, she jerked her hand down. This maximized the pleasure to Thakur who twisted and caressed her nipples and breast as best as he could.

It was the way she timed each jerk of her fist to the release of semen which thrilled him the most. At the height of his passion, it seemed to him to be a level of pleasure unmatched even by the actual fucking of a woman.

The releases now became thick flows rather than blasts. White cum flowed over her hand as it slid over its treasured holding. She caressed, stroked, pumped and made love to that throbbing flesh, coaxing it to release all of its fluids, warm and thick.

Thakur jerked and thrashed, his legs and hands lost control as he spasmed to every ministration of Laju’s.

He groaned loudly and his body went into a relaxed stretch as he felt the goodness of the experience radiate through his body.

Laju looked up and saw that the young daughter-in-law had been transfixed on the spot looking at her father-in-law reduced to a mass of pleasure seeking, spasming flesh. She got up on her haunches and then stood. She held both hands up as one was lathed in the cum and in the palm of that hand she held some of the flow. Her other hand was stained with the white streaks and oil that came from the fisting she had given with that hand. She used her shoulder to shift her pallo into a slightly more respectable cover of her torso, but the signal that her look sent was unmistakable. She was clearly a woman who had been handled by a man and it was impossible to know that she had not been ravaged, fucked and made to cum.

She looked every bit as if all that had happened to her, with her clothes askew, hands full of semen and her face perspiring and flushed.

She brushed past Binita as she went to rinse her hands and arrange herself properly.

“Thakurji, the oil for your head massage is here,” she called out to the stretched out, contented man.

“Go, he is waiting,’ she said to Binita.

Binita was uncertain on what she should do. She did not want Thakur Hari Singh to know she had witnessed his pleasuring. However, she moved forward confidently, relaxed with the thought that if he was spent he would be harmless.

The night she had and he had fucked in the cowshed like animals was different. On that day, he was just a man and she a woman. Now he was her father-in-law. She would never let anything between them ever happen again. She never wanted to appear before him in any other role than that of a dutiful and conservative daughter-in-law.
When Thakur Hari Singh stirred from his slumber he immediately became aware that while he was covered by a sheet, he was not wearing his dhoti and the lower part of his body was bare. His eyes felt cool and his body felt alive with a buzz and he remembered savoring the luscious body of his bahu (daughter-in-law). It reminded him of how he had felt in his younger days when he lost his virginity to one of the older maids. That particular maid, one who had been his nanny through growing years, had allowed him to discover sex through her. She and her young master had several trysts till the young man had learned enough to go off on conquests of other women around the household.

Thakur lazily reached between his legs and while he was no longer hard and erect, his penis had not lost its volume either. It lay on his thigh, still not entirely shrunk, its dimensions doing no justice to energetic milking his daughter-in-law had subjected him to.

“That girl!” he marveled. His mind traveled back to the vision he had of her, on all fours under him, the flare of her hips pinching in at the waist and the way she had fucked back at him to make him cum. God! He felt his cock jump and twitch at the memory and he idly caressed himself, coated as he was with the now dry juices of their spending.

He raised himself on his elbows to see where his dhoti lay and was surprised to see that it was no longer on the floor where he had whipped it off in frenzy. It was well folded and placed on the chest of drawers. The stack of clothes which was previously there, which he and Binita had messed up and soaked with her juices, was also missing. The Thakur tensed a bit. Surely someone had come in and cleared up things a bit and had that person noticed him lying in this state on the bed. And what about the messed up stack of freshly laundered clothes?

“Any way, there is nothing to be done about it,” he ruminated and got up to get dressed again. As he started to yawn he felt stiffness around his mouth, particularly his mustache which felt starched. He realized that was the cum of Binita’s which had dried on him while he slept. He desperately needed to wash up, rinsing all signs of the illicit, yet lovely, lovemaking that had happened earlier. It felt like he had slept for hours but he noticed it was just over 30 minutes. Once again, he remembered the past when he had slept deep and soundly every time his Dai maa (nanny) had fucked him.

He wondered where Binita was now. As he wound the dhoti around and tucked in the long end around his waist, he reflected on how little was said between him and her around the house. Clearly, both were self conscious of each other and avoided any overt contact unless absolutely necessary. And yet, on two occasions now, three times in all, they had plowed into each other feeding each others deepest and most illicit of desires.

He moved off to wash his face, regretfully noting that he would have to get rid of the fragrant aroma of her juices on him, for fear of it being noticed. It was getting to be time for his late afternoon round of the farmyard followed by the hookah session. He never missed showing up for those and he was not about to change those habits this late in life.

Binita was buried and lost. Not just in the recesses of that vast haveli but also in the household chores it offered. She just wanted to lose herself and not be seen or noticed particularly. Yes, she was self conscious. She didn’t want to be spotted by her husband in their bedroom because he might want to make love to her and she wasn’t going to be able to handle that. That inability to handle it was a combination of guilt, exhaustion from the ravaging at the hands of the very potent Thakur and of the mental preoccupation with that other man.

The only other place was to engage in household chores even though she didn’t want to encounter Maaji (The Thakurain, the Thakur’s wife) right after having been wild, fucking her Babuji (the Thakurain’s husband). Some of the housework did allow her the benefit of keeping her eyes on the task at hand and her head down rather than getting into eye contact and conversation with her mother-in-law.

And so the day wore on, and very soon the remaining couple days of Binita and Pritam’s stay at Pritam’s family home came to an end. Once again, both Binita and Thakur had remained quiet about their involvement with each other. Any words exchanged were only in the presence of others. For all that had happened between them, neither of them reached out to the other to set up a tryst or rendezvous. Something may have happened had her mother-in-law sent her to the Thakur to attend on him. But she did not.

She did not, but not because there was no such work. It was just that the Thakurain was carefully observing her bahu’s behavior around the house and around the Thakur, her own husband. It puzzled her no end that both the Thakur and his daughter-in-law were so circumspect. There was no communication in words or in glances and looks. Either Binita’s presence or Thakur’s presence was always accounted for. The Thakurain found that quite incredible, given what she had observed. In fact, clearly the Thakur was taking his bahu from behind in a position she did not think possible.

Could she have been mistaken? No, definitely not. Binita had walked past the room where the Thakurain was hiding right after the encounter ended and Thakurain clearly saw that it was indeed her daughter-in-law who had been fucking her husband.

Could it then have been that he forced her? Thakurain might have believed that, but she clearly remembered the girl grinding her hips back and fucking back at the Thakur. And her giveaway moans and throes of orgasm. No, it could not have been force, though perhaps it started with him forcing himself on her.

And while she thought about all of this, she thought it prudent to keep the girl away from her father-in-law so no further chores of attending to him were allotted to her. This would also have allowed the Thakurain to spot any willful moves on her bahu’s part.

Yet, nothing came to pass. The Thakurain could not figure it out and her son and daughter-in-law left for the city to continue their life there.

Festival days are times for the family to congregate around each other. Pritam and Binita were due to join the family at the family home in the village and both arrived in time for the festivities associated with Holi, the Indian festival of colors. This is celebrated at the end of the Indian winter. Traditionally it is celebrated with dry color and pichkaris (a water squirter) are used to spray colored water on one another. Music, dancing and a bonfire of holika are also part of the celebration.

The city girl, bold and confident, transformed to a demure girl, eyes downcast and head down whenever she came to her in-law’s place. Her mother in law was very nice to her so it had nothing to do with being fearful of the woman. Her father-in-law was someone she had challenged and spoken aggressively to, only once; on that occasion an intense sexual chemistry between the two of them had sprung up and neither of them could control, manage or come to terms with that intensity.

Her demureness had more to do with an attempt to blend in and not have to face that intensity which melted or the subsequent guilt which rankled in her. Fortunately for her, Thakur knew when to wait for and take his women, that having been the pattern with the maids of the house; and now with this new woman, his daughter-in-law, as well.

The days surrounding Holi are a mad melee of fun and games with an incessant flow of visitors and friends. As the special day itself comes closer, most of the youngsters play with colors and water even though one is supposed to do that only on the day of Holi itself.

And so it was with the day immediately before Holi. The haveli courtyard and rooms for visitors were overfull with cousins and friends of Pritam and his parents. Everyone was dressed in special clothes and so was Binita. She was wearing a ghagra choli (skirt and blouse) but this one was designed in the city and had a more daring cut and from fabrics different from the traditional ones used. The choli was practically backless with just two strings holding the front piece on her lovely succulent breasts. One string went behind the neck and the other string was along the bottom hem of the blouse. In the middle was an expanse of seductive skin, exposed to all, but for the chiffon dupatta used to cover it all. The gauze like dupatta did more to allure by hinting at what lay beneath.

As she laughed, joked and went about the house with friends and relatives, an occasional momentary slippage of the dupatta would give any person lucky enough to be around a view of her back. The front was not daringly cut, but yes, it was firm and supportive enough to hold up her breasts almost as if they were on offer. The motifs on the front of the blouse, while traditional, were arranged in a manner that visually accentuated the contours of her oh-so-suckable breasts.

None of this was lost on the Thakur who watched every move of his bahu, reminiscing of the time he had caressed that back and watched it weave and undulate as he rode her like a stallion, from behind. Or of those breasts, which in his mind were desperate to be released from the confines.

The boisterousness of Holi is the one occasion when men younger and older, and the girls and women flirt with each other outrageously. Some get drunk and touch, kiss and fondle — unthinkable behavior on any other day. The girls respond rather shamelessly. And the saucier, perhaps those in their 30’s, seduce without really intending to let the Romeos go the whole distance.

And Thakur watched this too, as Binita participated to the fullest and was the life and soul of happenings in the haveli that day. He saw the same sauciness and charm which he had encountered that first time she came to fight with him. It reminded him of the wild girl he had tamed rather than the intense girl who he had fucked on the next two occasions. His loins stirred as he started to want the saucy wanton woman in his daughter-in-law.

These last months when she was away, there was a new intensity and frequency in his sexual affairs with the maids with even the Thakurain coming in for some treatment. With all that, in the eye of his mind, each time it was Binita he was fucking. Everyone of them felt that change in intensity as he pounded them into the mattress, cushioning or ground below.

The Thakur’s favorite among the bevy of maids was treated to his newly discovered oral skills. Soon enough the story had spread among a small circle and some of them made it a point to catch the Thakur’s eye — and more. And every one of them wondered what it was about.

During Holi, boisterousness and flirtation usually leads to some throwing of water and color and a general loss of control of the situation. Today was no different. Some youngster started off the riot by throwing water at someone else and soon out came the packets of color and pichkaris. The bolder among the boys approached Binita and with joyous shouts of “Bhabhi” and chased her to throw color and water at her.

Binita ran, laughing, out of breath, ducking in and out of corridors and rooms avoiding everyone skillfully, till she was cornered. As the youth with flushed face paused on finding her trapped, he took in the intoxicating sight of Binita with her dupatta askew and face radiant with smiles and a flushed look.

“Wait!” she said authoritatively. “Don’t spoil my new dress. I will change and come down and then I will allow you to do what you want.”

“Whatever I want?” asked the young man audaciously, his eyes sparkling.

“Yes, whatever!” she replied impishly.

He drew himself back, placing his bets on getting a chance at more aggressive flirting once she was down. He promised himself he would soak her blouse to reveal the skin below and get a good look at her breasts; and then who knows what that might lead to?

Binita was gone in a whirlwind of laughter and she ran up the steps towards her room to change into a white kurta set which she had saved up for this occasion. It is always white, and it might typically be an old set of clothes. The colors would show up well on the white but would be ruined for any normal use thereafter, and so the preference for old clothes to be used on Holi day.

While she had caught glimpses of her Babuji, the Thakur, and while she knew she would have enjoyed flirting with him, the true events between them inhibited her. What she didn’t know was that Thakur had never really let her go out of sight today. She remained in his line of sight as he watched her flirt, play and caught glimpses of her back, her ankles and as much of the rest of her lovely persona as he could.

And he caught sight of her dashing up the stairs.

Her suitcase was on the low table next to the dresser and Binita was rummaging through her clothes all in a hurry to find the white kurta. She was startled when she felt a pair of hands grip her shoulders from behind. The scare quickly turned into a pounding heartbeat as she recognized the grip; it was Thakur. He had followed her upstairs.

Binita did not move. From her bent position she looked up and behind at him and smiled. But she stayed that way. Thakur placed his hand flat on the exposed skin of her back. As soon as she felt him touch her, she was reduced to molten. That is all it took for him to melt her. His large, rough hands on her soft, ready to receive skin.

A fingernail drew a line down her spine as he traced his way down her back right up to the edge of her skirt. Binita shuddered as the nail touched every single erogenous spot on its way. It was as if he was unzipping and opening out her sexuality with that fingernail.

“Aap mauka dhoondh rahe they, lagta hai,” she said to him. (You seem to have been waiting for an opportunity).

“Haan,” he replied, “Warna tum aati kahan ho.” (Yes, otherwise you never come to me).

Both hands held her at the waist.

“Itni bhari ghar mey, koi dekh lega toh kya hoga?” she asked. (In such a full house, what if we get spotted?).

“Pehle toh kisi ne nahi dekha,” he replied. (No one ever saw us before.)

He now lifted her skirt revealing her ass to him. There were those panties, ever an obstacle.

“Aise khullam khulla thodi hota hai,” she countered. (It cannot be done so openly, can it?).

Her hands gripped the sides of the low table to steady herself.

“Toh chupke se aa jana, beti,” he advised her. (So then come to me quietly).

“Aap ke paas aa kar mai chup nahi reh sakti, Babuji!” she said with a playful smile. (I cannot come to you and keep quiet).

She pulled down her panties and stamping with her feet got it off her legs.

“Jo bhi karna hai jaldi ki jiye, mujhe neeche bhi jaana hai, nahi toh koi dhoondhta aa jayega,” she told him. (Do whatever you have to quickly, otherwise someone might come looking for me.)

With one hand on her hips, his other hand arranged the folds of his dhoti so his cock found a gap in the cloth. His erection had been ebbing and hardening all morning as he had taken in different sights of his daughter-in-law. But all her sauciness now had it in full rage.

Thakur straightened his back to thrust his cock forward. It was pointing upward in its blood-engorged firmness. He held it and lowered it, pointing to her ass. He laved it with the precum on his cockhead.

Binita shuddered as he touched her in unnamed zones from her ass to her cunt. She reached under to try guiding him. Yes, she wanted this manliness and perversely, found herself wondering how the man had failed to pass on this endowment to his son.

He leaned forward and with his teeth, pulled open the lower cord that held the blouse in place. Now the lower part of the blouse was hanging loose while the upper part stayed tethered around the neck. Thakur straightened up and guided his cock back into the vale between the asshceeks. This time his cock snagged in the outer lips of her cunt and he thrust forward to embed himself. While both of them were in an instant boil, the encounter itself was sudden and so neither was overly lubricated.

This was just as well, because the friction was immensely pleasurable to both. Their “Ah!” was in unison, almost orchestrated.

Binita laughed a small laugh and gripped the edge of the table hard and held her ass firm and upturned to him.

Thakur grunted and pulled back to thrust again. The bangles on her hands jangled as he fucked her. She was wearing a full hand which was how it was on festival days. But with his methodical thumping, the jangling became louder and followed the beat of his fucking.

She wished she had taken them off but instead of silence, she actually added to the noises with a series of “unhhs!” as Thakur changed his pace of fucking.

The man had started rapidly sliding in and out of her cunt luxuriating in the way her lips rode over his head. His hands slowly slid up her waist, up the sides of her torso and now the thumb was on her back while the four fingers gripped the side of her chest. This allowed his index finger to feel the mass of her breasts while the middle finger and ring finger teased her nipples.

“O, Babuji! Yes, maul my breasts and ride me like this. How I missed this animalness!” she hissed through clenched teeth.

She shook her head from side to side as indescribable pleasure emanated from her breasts and as the occasional lunge from the cock touched a pleasure zone inside her pussy.

“Ah!” exhaled the Thakur with every thrust. And as he pulled back, he sucked in his breath through an open mouth, making a seething sound. The rhythm of the hiss of the seething intake and the Ah of the thrust followed a pattern as Thakur closed his eyes, gripped her torso and fucked with a need to finish quick. This was dangerous as Binita rightly pointed out, but he could not have waited another hour. Now that Babuji and bahu had talked about it, he would fix a tryst for a longer leisurely exploration of sexuality. But right now, he just needed to own her, mark her, pound her and fill her.

Binita started to convulse as her orgasm ripped through her. She brought up one hand to hold her lower tummy as she felt the thick cock in her womb, from the deep penetration. She could feel it throb and pulsate inside her through the stomach wall. An occasional twinge of pain came from his marauding cockhead touching a sensitive part deep in her.

Binita’s legs gave way as the intensity of the orgasm caused her to buckle.

She let out a scream of desperate wanting when Thakur’s cock slipped out of her cunt as she fell forward, her face now buried in the pile of clothes in the suitcase.

The cock smeared itself on her ass as it missed its target completely and Thakur lurched in an uncontrolled response to lack of the grip of her cunt.

Binita frantically reached for his cock and Thakur frantically grabbed at her hips. She was now completely face down and her ass in the air. Her cunt was vacant and throbbing and she needed urgently to be filled back.

“Haaaaaaaaaaanh!” (Yes) she bellowed when he sank back into her. The sensation of cumming which had built up in him had receded and he pounded into her with a vengeance to regain the lost peak. The brutality of his quest took her over the cliff and her pussy melted in a cascade of spasms. She came like she thought only men came; drenching and shuddering uncontrollably.

The furniture groaned and squeaked as it slipped from its position on the floor and closed the gap with the wall. The suitcase overbalanced and threatened to fall to one side. Binita clung on to the suitcase and table and held her cunt steady and open for Thakur to bludgeon her into submission through the now impending orgasm. Thakur shuddered and came in torrents, as he most usually did with Binita. After two thrusts, he left her hips, placed his hands on the wall and thrust his cock deep into her and held there. The next few spasms of his cock were from the spewing from his cockhead and not from any thrusting. He stayed embedded and only when the pleasure threatened to recede completely did he pull back and thrust back in and hold again. That thrusting pulled back his skin and the cockhead swelled up and he was able to retain the fullness of his erection for another moment during which he could stay embedded. Another dribble of sperm and another thrust back. With each successive thrust, the cockhead swelled a little lesser and lesser, till finally he had come to rest on his daughter-in-law’s sexy broad ass.
For Binita the flooding surge of warmth brought out deep sighs and screams in the throat. Her womb filled with this wonderful man’s sumptuous outpourings. She felt his seed deep in her and she held steady as he plunged and held himself in more than once. His pleasure was so important to her, she just wanted him to savor every tremor of his and for her to receive every little spend from his system.

As the rapidly shrinking cock slipped away, Binita found herself unsupported as the Thakur had now placed his hands on the wall. She fell over, suitcase and all. She now was on her back, half inside her suitcase, looking up at Thakur who was standing still, hands on the wall. Thankfully for Binita, the ghagra skirt fell back to cover her, though her ass was still not covered.

She watched Thakur, lost in the trance of his experience, except for the occasional shuddering aftershock of his orgasm. He threw his head back, his hand reached for his cock and he gave himself a squeeze through a handful of cloth, squeezing out the never ending dribbles and yet drying his cock.

He looked down at his Binita, lying in a heap amongst clothes, the lower part of her blouse open and showing part of her breasts. Her eyes looked deep into his. They were soulmates. Her hand roamed over her the lower belly with the womb within and she palmed herself there, where he had deposited copious volumes of his seed. An indication of ownership.

She reached up inside his dhoti and squeeze-pinched the inside of his thigh. “Naughty man!” she pronounced and got up.

“Chalo, let me change,” she said, signaling an end to the episode.

Thakur turned and checked the front of his dhoti and left. As Binita lifted her suitcase onto the low table, she froze. There at the window, was Maaji, Thakur’s wife, her mother-in-law. Her hand was over her mouth and her bosom was heaving. When she was sure her husband had left the scene she entered the room and stood directly in front of Binita.
He was waiting her. He was Pritam’s cousin and he had been chasing his bhabhi to smear color on her and throw water at her. He had successfully cornered her, when Binita cried off, insisting that she be allowed to go change into casual clothes more appropriate for the occasion.

She had taken well over an hour to return. First Thakur had gone up and returned and then Thakurain. Yogesh thought it was all to do with some household matter as his uncle and aunt had some work to attend to with which Binita was associated.

He had no way of knowing that Binita had first been taken by her father-in-law in a simple act of succumbing to the chemistry between them. Yogesh also had no way of knowing that Binita and her mother-in-law had comforted each other with an outpouring of womanly love for each other.

All he knew was that his bhabhi (sister-in-law) had proved to be playful and flirtatious and she had promised him that she would allow him to do anything so long as he allowed her to go change her clothes.

And so he was waiting for her. He continued to play with others but he never strayed far from the stairway from which she was bound to emerge.

And emerge she did. He saw her bouncing down the stairs, ready for a bracing round of Holi play. As she ran down, her breasts jiggled and straightaway caught Yogesh’s eye.

Binita ran and grabbed hands full of gulal (color powder) and got ready to smear it on some others who too were playing in the yard. She got to one of the girls and they both hugged each other and smeared color on one another giggling at the fun of it all.

Yogesh was waiting with the water pump (pichkari) to corner his target woman for the day, his bhabhi Binita. Yogesh was barely nineteen and had no experience of any woman. He should have been chasing any of the girls of his age and there were plenty of those. But his hormones were bubbling and he knew that he stood a better chance of a sexual encounter today with one of the married women, and who better than Binita bhabhi?

As the water hit Binita between the shoulder blades, she squealed at the chill blast, and turned around to try grab the pump out of the assailant’s hands. The wet kurta stuck to her back and instantly her body was on open display. Yogesh grinned as he saw that he had hit his target. As his eyes focused on the skin which he could see, Binita was turning around. The water jet splashed on her chest and drenched one side of her before the pump ran out.

Yogesh ran for the water tank to refill the pump while Binita chased him. Yogesh reached first and breathless, partially from the running but more from the excitement turned around from the water tub to find Binita was nearly upon him.

His eyes riveted onto the partially wet breast, and the nipple that it revealed, his first sighting of a woman’s breast and her nipple. He slowly discharged the newly loaded water pump across Binita’s chest, drenching her and exposing her fully as wet cloth clung to her skin.

Incredibly, Yogesh found she was wearing nothing underneath and everything could be seen. He stared at the breasts, contoured fully by the drenched cloth, nipples taut in the cold water and jutting out and the dripping with water which made them seem oh-so-suckable.

Yogesh’s erection was as instantaneous as Binita’s realization that coming down without a bra beneath her kurta had been a blunder. She looked down and saw her breasts, completely revealed; the kurta was a mere apology of a garment. In the whirl of action, she seemed to stand still, her nipples shamelessly erect, betraying the sexual arousal which had never really receded between or after the encounters with both Thakur and Thakurain.

Binita instinctively crossed her arms across her chest to try and hide her breasts from this young man who had been flirting with her dangerously all morning. To show him her state of arousal would render things unmanageable and she felt she had done enough for one morning in sexual discovery.

But Yogesh was all too eager to press home his advantage. Had she not promised him absolutely anything, with that sparkle and dance in her eyes, when she had negotiated with him for letting her change out of her formal ghaghra choli into this kurta pajama? He grabbed fists full of color and reached for Binita. Her hands were across her chest and so she could not stop him from rubbing the color on both her cheeks. Oh, her cheeks seemed so incredibly soft!

She raised her hands to defend herself and push him back, laughing. His hands dropped and he daubed both breasts with color; they felt incredibly soft and wet in his hands. He cupped them nice and proper as he colored the cloth which was sticking to the mounds of flesh.

Binita looked down and saw how the imprints of his hands marked each breast, clear evidence that she had been handled. She had also felt him squeezing her breasts, feeling the full volume of those objects of his lust all morning. The nipples were now furiously engorged. Her body was marked as having been assaulted. Her face flushed red and she grabbed his hands pinning him down on the ledge of the water tank, her knee against his thigh.

She reached behind him and dipped a can into the water tank. As she did so she leaned over him. Her breasts smothered his face, the wet flesh slapping against his willing face. She poured a can over his head, drenching him. “There, that should cool you!” she exclaimed triumphantly.

His arms went around her, unmindful of the very public place in which they were. For this young man, it was now or never. He pulled her close to himself and with his face buried in her neck he muttered, “There is only one thing that can cool me down now!”

Binita wriggled free and splashed another can of water onto him, “Perhaps this?” she laughed, her breasts heaving and the dampness spreading across the kurta. The garment was now an apology of a cover; every part of her body was on display now. Binita felt a little more confident as her breasts seemed to be at least less visible due to the color daubed on the cloth. In any case, she was having too much fun to rush right back up and was happy to wait for a bit more.

Soon the all overpowering magenta color would be used and then nothing would be visible. Or so she hoped.

As shot after shot of water blasted her the dry gulal powder got washed away and soon her breasts were back in full evidence. She ran to the other end of the house, where the bathing area was. Partially to run away from Yogesh, but also to run away from anyone who might see her breasts. They were now completely visible and the perked up and erect nipples were no help in concealing them either.

There were more tubs of water organized there and this was the area where the household staff too indulged in play. The maids and menservants were shocked to see the daughter-in-law of the house in this state; drenched, her clothes revealing and her face radiant with laughter and fun as a youngster chased after her with a water pump in hand.

Finding the men in the household staff ogling her, Binita decided the lack of undergarments was a bad idea. She turned and ran to one of the stairways which would take her back up to her room; she needed a bra.

Yogesh followed her up the stairs.

“No Yogesh! Yahaan nahi,” she told him as she laughingly ran up the stairs. (Not here.)

“Phir kahan, bhabhi?” he asked, mischievously. (Then where?)

It was a clever leading question. It was loaded with innuendo which was typical of the flirtation on Holi. The question suggested that what was to happen was not in doubt, it was just that the venue was not determined yet. Binita impishly made as if to spank the young man for his impudence. As her outstretched arm reached toward him, she noticed that his kurta too was drenched and stuck to his broad chest. She saw his nipples and the wisps of adolescent hair. He was as much of a man, perhaps just uninitiated.

Her hand stopped in mid air as she realised any physical contact at this stage would be best avoided. The stairway moreover was visible to all passing by the foot and she went up another flight of stairs where the stairway turned and this stretch was not visible to any passers by.

Yogesh was at her heels and she turned around to stop him.

“Bas, yahan ruko,” she said. (Stop here.)

“Kyon?” he asked. (Why?)

“I need to change,” she replied.

“Abhi to change kiya aapne,” he countered. (You only just changed.)

“Haan, lekin….” Her voice trailed off. (Yes, but….)

“Yes but what?” he asked.

“Yes but isme sab kuch dikhta hain. Aur tumne paani se bhigo diya mujhe!” she pouted. (Yes but everything shows in this and you drenched me with water.)

“Not fair, bhabhi. In Holi, the drenching is bound to happen. And you had said I could do anything with you!” Yogesh went on.

Binita flushed red. The implications of what he was saying was not lost on her. The boy was infatuated with her and the indiscretions of Holi were poised to cross a line which she was unsure should be crossed.

Yogesh came up to the same stair as her and attempted to daub her with more color.

“Rang hi toh laga raha hoon bhabhi!” he said. (I am only spraying color on you.)

Rang laga rahe ho, ki rang chada rahe ho?” she asked, her natural sauciness bubbling up. (Are you spraying color on me or are you making me flushed in my color?)

“Chad toh mai gaya hoon,” he replied, dropping his voice to a whisper. (It is I who is on a high.)

She dropped her eyes to look at his pajamas and noticed the tenting of his erection there. She instantly regretted it because this overtly sexual gesture did not go unnoticed.

Yogesh decided it was now or never. He gripped his bhabhi’s wrist and brought her wrist down to his groin and let the back of her hand brush his virgin cock’s massive erection.

Binita spontaneously opened her hand and weighed the cock in her open palm. She rubbed and checked its contours, noticing that the poor boy was trapped inside a rather tight underwear.

She slipped her hand in through the pajama top without untying the cord and slid her hand past the waistband of his underwear. In this restricted access only her forefinger and middle finger had any access and she scissored these around the base of his cock.

Yogesh buried his face in his bhabhi’s neck as maddening lust gripped him. He wanted to fuck her here and now. He resolved to lift her and paste her against the wall and pound into her like they showed in all those porn flicks he had seen. He undid his pajama cord and pulled down one side of his underwear past his hip.

Binita knew time was not on their side. This was ridiculously dangerous, she and her husband’s distant cousin on a stairway where any one could chance upon them. Her hand slid the other side of his underwear down so that it was now just below his balls. In fact, the elastic band was pressing on his balls. Yogesh reached under and pulled the band down preventing it from hurting his scrotum.

His hand touched Binita’s hand which was now closing around the pillar. He held her hand and tried to guide her but she grabbed his hand with her other hand and held it back. He was a youngster and just hopelessly oversexed. She just had a situation to handle and she was going to do it here and now with a precise efficiency.

She closed on the hot throbbing penis and pulled the skin back. It hurt a little and the boy gasped but not entirely from pain. The head swelled and was wet and she quickly ran her palm over the top. Yogesh shuddered from the stimulation he received. Binita now pushed the boy back till he was against the wall.

With a clenched fist, she masturbated him vigorously. Her hand slid over the jerking pulsating penis, lubricated by his copious precum. She fucked him with a fist that mimicked a cunt. The boy leaned back and sagged against the wall. Her soft hands felt incredibly wonderful and he reached up to cup the breast through the cloth.

She leaned against him, covering him. Her hand worked like a piston; it was how an assassin might stab a victim, holding him close. Yes, her fist was clenched like it might hold a dagger. But the weapon she was holding was his cock. Yes she was stabbing, but that was the sheath formed by her nimble fingers being stabbed by the cock.

As she mercilessly masturbated him, her thumb rode over the head. You have to close your eyes and imagine the palm of her hand running the underside of his cock. Her forefinger and thumb ringed the head of his cock, with her thumb on the top of the head. Somewhere there lay the most sensitive zone of his cock and with each stroke, Binita varied the position of her thumb to try discover this zone.

She knew she had found it when Yogesh bit into her shoulder with a gagging sound. His teeth sank in and she felt a shiver down her spine as the bite send her signals of animalness.

Now with every fuck of her fist, she made sure the thumb traveled over the head caressing the precise spot. Yogesh bucked and gasped and moaned with each stroke of her fist and thumb. He sucked on her shoulder and his hand kneaded her breast frantically. With his other hand he cupped her ass trying to pull her closer.

Binita held their bodies apart so her hand had enough play to finish the job. She looked down and watched in fascination as the cock reared and jerked in her control. She liked its dimensions, which while no where near Babuji’s designed-for-her-cunt specifications, was definitely more promising than her husband Pritam’s.

How many men could she take in this one family she wondered as her fist was rewarded with further spurts of precum. She anointed the cock head with the fresh fluid so the lubrication was increased.

She now needed to finish. The danger was very high and thus the urgency. It was exciting for her but she needed to finish. She pounded the cock hard and fast with her clenching and unclenching fingers. The thumb never failed to run over the head of the cock. Yogesh was reduced to a mass of trembling flesh. His lips ran on her neck and up to her ear. He wetted her ear with his lips and tongue.

“Bhabhi, I want to fuck you!” he pleaded.

“Lo bachche. Lo, main tumhe raahat deti hoon,” she puffed as the exertion went further. (Take my child. I will give you relief.)

“Main bachcha nahin hoon,” he muttered. He grabbed both breasts in his hands and tried to push her back against the other wall, determined to mount her NOW.

She pressed him back and leaned on him. Her bangles jangled as she masturbated him furiously to tame him. She could not have guessed it but Yogesh had gone to the bathroom in that intervening hour and masturbated, fantasizing about Binita. Yet, he was young and the excitement of the woman of his dreams, the first woman to touch him sexually and the progress in one short morning had made him ready to burst.

She slid to the floor in front of him to concentrate on the finish. One hand rested on the wall for support and the other hand had enough of his precum in it to let her brutally piston the cock.

Yogesh looked down and the sight of this woman kneeling in front of him, her maang full of sindoor (the parting of her hair, filled with vermilion as a sign of being married) as she fisted him was too much for him to take.

“Bhabheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee,” he hissed as his cock spurted. Jet after jet of ropey cum gushed forth. The first blast was like a shot which leapt out of his cock. The next several jerks released his sperm in waves over her fist.

She timed every fuck of her fist to every blast and jerk from him. He shuddered and his head flailed as he gripped her shoulders, trying to guide her mouth to his cock.

She resisted his moves to have her mouth him turning her head to one side and she methodically, and rhythmically provided him the beat with which to release fully into her fist.

Her hands were a mess but she enjoyed the release of the young man; it was virile, energetic and wild and it provided her with a sense of conquest.

She held the rapidly receding jut of flesh in her hand as she continued to pump him to deliver all the pleasure he could take. When the cock had shrunk fully, she rolled the blob of flesh between thumb and forefinger and watched as his head still jerked and lolled.

She withdrew her hand, streaked with cum. She rubbed her hand against the wall, smearing the cum there. She noticed the mark the smear made and idly wondered that whenever she crossed that way, only she would know what it meant.

The boy’s pajamas were pooled around his knees and he was sagging under the weight of his mighty release.

He was totally in love with this woman; the first to touch him, and how! He was sure he could bed her. It was just a question of timing.

Binita rose to face the young man. Their eyes met.

“Aaj Holi hai. Issey yahin bhool jao, chote,” she said to him. (Today is Holi. Forget about this here and now, young fellow.)

Binita then walked up the few remaining steps to the upper floor for the second time that day to get into attire appropriate for Holi.
Holi, the Indian festival of colors and water was being played all over the city, and with equal gusto in Thakur Hari Singh’s haveli. As festivals go Holi is the most liberating one in a society which traditionally demands restraint; at least outwardly, there is a demand to remain modest; for women not to indulge themselves; and for men to be careful in their flirtations. Married women were certainly out of bounds for any open flirtation. But not on Holi day.

In fact, on Holi while the maidens are undoubtedly sought after by the young men, the greatest display of sexual energy is with the married women. You can often see them kissing openly, allowing their wet bodies (wet from the water splashed around at Holi) to be ogled, letting themselves be groped in stairways and corridors and indulging in the man or men that might be their fancy, but are socially out of bounds.

Some of this sudden loss of inhibition is also from drinking bhaang, an intoxicating drink derived from hemp and also from drinking other local brews and good old Scotch whiskey. All of this flows freely among the men folk on Holi as the afternoon wears on. This is the day you could prevail upon your target woman to take a large gulp of one of the intoxicants. You may not be around when the shot hits her, but some other intoxicated woman might be, or your target woman might come around later, still more drunk, her dress in greater disarray.

It was Holi and everything was fair game.

And so it was this Holi too, and at the Thakur’s haveli there was a riot of color and a house full of friends and relatives streaming through the halls, rooms, yards and corridors.

It was in this libertine atmosphere of Holi that Thakur Hari Singh had spotted his daughter-in-law, saucy as she normally was, playing with all the younger men freely wearing an audacious backless choli (blouse) that in the front, cupped and projected her breasts to her advantage. He knew that back, every muscle and the contours of that back from a previous bout of fucking they had had several months previously.

Binita had rushed upstairs to change from her formal attire lest it get spoiled by the Holi color dyes, into the rough white clothes normally reserved for Holi, Thakur had followed her.

There in her bedroom as she was leaned over her suitcase to pick out her clothes, her ass jutting out provocatively, Thakur had taken his daughter-in-law with characteristic animal vigor. They had fucked -she back at him, he as if riding a horse from his stable- till she collapsed in a heap on the floor and the Thakur rested his hands on the wall as his stormy orgasm reduced to a dribble.

He merely readjusted his dhoti to ensure nothing was showing and left. When Binita sorted herself out and stood up, her choli was propped up only by the string at the neck. The chord around the waist was open where the Thakur had undone the string, his hands claiming her breasts and toying with them as he fucked her. She could feel cool air on her breasts as the blouse now just loosely fell over her chest like a sheet, open on both sides.

And as she straightened up she had seen her mother-in-law, who seemed to have spotted her husband with the daughter-in-law and watched them fuck. She had waited for her husband to leave before entering Binita’s room, presumably to comfort her.

Binita had, at that moment, burst into tears.

No explanation was possible for the tears. As Binita looked at her mother-in-law, the Thakurain, through eyes loaded with tears, there was nothing for her to say or convey.

“This is how it is and this is how she has found me,” she thought to herself.

As tears streamed down her cheeks, juices were running down the inside of her thighs, for she had only just stood up after the coupling with her father-in-law. It had been a wet fuck in which her own pussy had flowed like a stream. “Why does my own husband Pritam not provoke such a flow?” she wondered, perversely. Here she was, standing in front of her mother-in-law who had discovered the illicit sexual relationship she had with her father-in-law and her mind was reviewing and comparing notes of her reaction to the two men in her life. This was ridiculous!

But increasingly, she found herself comparing feelings, reactions and notes on the sessions she had with the two men in her life, almost as if she was a third person reviewing events in someone else’s life.

Binita quickly tucked her Ghaghra (skirt) between her legs to stop the mixed fluids from dripping to the floor, and allowed the cloth to soak up the mess between her legs. It was a spontaneous action on her part and Thakurain, who had just stood rooted to the spot looking at her daughter-in-law, let her eyes travel down the girl’s body to the vale between her legs.

“She is beautiful,” noted Thakurain, seeing Binita in a completely different light. Thakurain was not shocked. It was not the first time she was discovering the nature of the relationship between Thakur and Binita. She had spotted them the last time as well, in his bedroom, when she had heard obvious sounds of moaning and grunting coming from his bedroom and taken a surreptitious look. She had seen Thakur leaning over his daughter-in-law who was on all fours and fuck her with an animal vigor which she herself recognized from the early days of her own marriage to Thakur.

Thakurain now gazed upon Binita, taking in the sight of this young woman, well-fucked, ravaged and plundered and marveled at how obvious that ravaging was in very aspect of how Binita now looked. The hair was mussed up. The blouse was partially undone and the breasts, barely concealed beneath the loose cloth, were heaving, perhaps still from the exertion of the fucking. Her face was flushed with the orgasm while the lips seemed dry but quivering. There were red marks on her torso from where her husband had gripped Binita. And her skirt was bunched between her legs, in a brazen testimony to the soppy mess that lay within.

Binita turned beet red when she realised the overt signal she had sent in tucking her ghagra into her crotch. In sheer embarrassment she took a few steps forward and buried her face in her mother-in-law’s ample bosom to hide herself.

Thakurain put her arms around Binita only to discover the bare expanse of her back, the skin silken and seductive. “No wonder Thakur couldn’t hold himself back,” she reasoned, as her hands caressed her daughter-in-law’s back. This girl was incredibly sexy and flaunting it, and her husband was red-blooded if nothing else. How could the man be expected to control himself, especially when he knew what it was like to fuck her from the previous experience?

And yet, his own son’s wife? Thakurain could not resolve it in her mind, whether Binita was exploited or was she just sexually charged in Thakur’s presence.

Binita was wracked with sobs. There was relief that the Thakurain’s arms were around her; it represented acceptance in some form. Once she had held her like this, clearly there was no censuring to come. Binita had no way of knowing that her mother-in-law already knew of the relationship she shared with Thakurain.

“Hush,” soothed Thakurain, “Nahi rotey.” (You shouldn’t cry.)

She gently rocked the younger woman in her arms as her hand continued to roam the back. Thakurain found the skin soft and silky and imagined that her own husband’s hands must have roamed that same back. And her son? Perhaps he too had caressed the same sexy back. Thakurain closed her eyes and savored the texture of the skin and her hands continued their exploration. The skin was bare everywhere she searched with no evidence of any garment anywhere. Her hand reached downward and came upon the waist of the skirt and that represented one boundary. The other hand caressed all the way up to the back of Binita’s neck and she found the other chord of the choli tied there, so that was the other boundary. She caressed the neck and Binita shuddered involuntarily.

As she investigated the sides, she came upon the soft bulge of the side of Binita’s breast. Binita gasped as she felt Thakurain’s fingers go beyond soothing; there was something exploratory to the touch. She was being felt and caressed. Thakurain marveled at the tender and delectable skin and flesh she encountered. Her hand went between the two women and she put her palm on Binita’s stomach and then slid lower to the womb. This was where her husband had implanted his own seed, she reflected.

Binita sucked in her breath at being touched in such intimate fashion by another woman. This was the first time ever that another woman had touched her and that too in a way which she thought only a man might. Her body went taut. The skirt which was tucked in firmly between her legs fell away and she once again felt a surge of fluid inside her as she felt sexuality in the touch of the other woman.

But Binita could not be sure. Perhaps it was she who was feeling sexual because of her recent encounter. Or perhaps it was the warm and loving feeling which was coming across from the Thakurain which was having a sexual impact on her. Her mind was in a whirl. She didn’t think her mother-in-law could have anything sexual in her mind about her.

In the meanwhile, Thakurain continued with her loving curiosity about her daughter-in-law. The younger woman had her sympathy and her affections. She liked Binita. She knew the kind of randy man her own husband was and could not make up her mind on whether Thakur had forced himself on this girl. Today, however she had clearly seen Binita respond. She had seen Binita reach inside Thakur’s dhoti and pinch his thigh playfully. Right now, Thakurain just wanted to be with Binita.

She too felt the skirt between Binita’s legs fall away. In a flash, the hand which was on Binita’s womb went lower to investigate the cause for Binita having tucked her skirt in, in the first place. Thakurain’s hand encountered a damp, hot patch between the girl’s legs. She wanted to feel the full extent of the mess and she opened her palm and placed it against the crotch. The entire area seemed heated and molten. She moved her palm to feel the extent of that zone. The movement caused the fabric of the skirt to graze Binita’s crotch, providing friction to Thakurain’s touch.

Binita shuddered as the older woman’s hand caressed her crotch. Her pussy lips were still splayed open from the arousal and the pounding from the older woman’s husband. It was therefore easy for the hand, palm and fingers to make out the contours of the pussy. As Thakurain probed, she felt a fresh gush of fluid pour out. Binita was now jelly, whether Thakurain intended it or not.

Binita pressed herself into Thakurain’s bosom and the older woman responded with her other hand which was still on the torso. She claimed Binita’s breast for herself, delicately feeling the warm flesh and its turgid nipple. Thakurain had never touched a woman before, but she knew exactly how she wanted to be touched. She did nothing more than touch Binita in a way that she herself would have wanted to be touched. And so when the breast was held tenderly, like a pouch of milk, and then kneaded and pulled like the udder of a cow, Binita found herself wishing she could reward Thakurain with a release of milk.

Thakurain’s instinctive touch opened Binita to offer herself. She ground herself into her mother-in-law’s open and milking hand. Simultaneously, her pussy ground against the palm between her legs to provide relief from the instantaneous build up of erotic tension.

Binita clung onto Thakurain, like a leaf in a storm. But the fluttering in her own inner being was a storm in itself. She sighed in contentment at being held by this large maternal bosom and at being caressed by tender understanding hands. Only a woman can know how a woman wants to be loved, she realised.

That realization surprised her. It was her own, an untutored discovery about her own womanhood. She nuzzled the bosom in which her head was buried, her nose seeking out the contours of Thakurain’s nipples, straining through the cloth.

No thoughts of restraint even occurred to Thakurain. Illicitness, unusual sexual feelings for another woman, the way she and her daughter-in-law were touching each other, none of these made any impact. The only thing she knew was, they were feeling each other and had feelings for each other.

When the younger woman’s nose and lips nuzzled at her nipples, the older woman felt more maternal than ever. Even as her hands continued to caress, probe and investigate Binita’s contours, she thrust her large overfull breasts into her face.

Binita needed skin. Her face needed to touch Thakurain’s flesh and skin. Frantically she searched Thakurain’s blouse for the hooks. Thakurain was wearing a cloth bodice rather than a bra, which is how it is with women of her age and dimensions in traditional India. The nipples, aroused like never before in her lifetime, were clearly protruding through the cloth of the bodice. Thakurain noticed the sexuality of this for the first time, and found it odd that the only other time she remembered her nipples sensitiveness was when her son was born. Those nipples had fed the boy whose wife was now searching for them again.

Those breasts were full and bulging and the bodice was full and bursting. There was no way to reach and open those hooks unless Thakurain was left alone to pull in herself and maneuver those hooks. But stepping apart was impossible for either woman. The older woman wanted to feel and suss out this younger one who had captivated her husband and son. The younger one had her insides boiling with lust at the tender touch of her mother-in-law.

In a fleeting moment of mindless passion, Binita gripped the bodice from the neckline and ripped downward. All the hooks gave way and the breasts spilled out. Binita did not wait a moment to bury her face in Thakurain’s breasts, feeling them with her face; the heat on her face seemed to complement the pleasant coolness it encountered on Thakurain’s breasts. As she buried herself, Thakurain found the knot of the top of Binita’s choli and pulled it open so that the one layer covering her breasts fell away.

She pulled up Binita’s face, kissing her on the cheeks and allowing the young woman’s mango –like breasts to crush against her large ponderous breasts. Nipples toggled one another and prodded each other into erect nubs.

Binita was now frantic with lust. She searched for Thakurain’s lips and kissed them squarely. Thakurain was surprised. She had never ever been kissed on her lips before. Her own husband, in those early days of their marriage had used his lips on her breasts and shoulder and while fucking her he propped himself on his arms so their lips could never really meet.

Binita’s lips felt warm and luscious on her lips and Thakurain found herself responding. The maternal warmth was slowly evaporating into a puzzling new kind of feeling in the pit of her stomach. The older woman found herself consumed by lust as the lips played on her lips, as Binita’s hands kneaded her breasts and pulled at her nipples feverishly, and as Binita’s hips seemed to hump into Thakurain’s hips.

Thakurain wanted now to love this girl and smother her. Her hands searched under the ghagra as she searched for ways to return the pleasure. Both women were now grappling with each others breasts and loins, lips locked in a long searching kiss.

“Binita!” called out her husband Pritam from downstairs, “Where are you? Everyone is looking for you?”

Binita made loud smacking kisses as she separated herself from her Maaji, “Abhi aa rahi hoon!” she yelled back. (I am just coming.)

“I am changing into my old white kurta pajama,” she called out.

Pritam reflected on what his wife might be doing upstairs. Her ghagra choli had been incredibly sexy. Her bare back and the well supported breasts had all the guys chasing to douse her in water and touch her on the pretext of smearing color powder on her. And now she was probably untying those knots and slipping out of the ghagra. She would be equally appetizing in the white kurta (loose long shirt), because the material was not quite opaque and her undergarments would be well outlined. And as soon as the water was splashed on her nothing would be left to imagination.

His cock twitched as he toyed with the idea of taking his wife between a change of clothes.

Thakurain moved away from Binita, her bodice hanging loose on her shoulders, the breasts exposed completely. She had to take care of being discreet especially as new feelings were surging in her and it was clear to her that neither of them was in any condition to walk away.

As she watched her mother-in-law shut the window and move to the door, Binita undid the cord of her ghagra and allowed the skirt to slip off her shapely hip to the floor around her feet. The garment now circled her and she stood in the middle completely nude, the stained and streaked pubic hair, the lines of now drying fluids running down her thighs absolutely clearly visible.

She looked at her mother-in-law’s body with a new perspective. The older woman had sagging flesh but a well rounded bottom. Her breasts were large and sagging under their own enormous weight but were warm and inviting to her. Thakurain turned around after she had bolted the door and leaned back on the wood, her body sagging with the weight of lust. Her odhni (sash of cloth used to cover the upper body and blouse) was trailing on the floor, her blouse was open her ghagra was still tethered around her waist. Her hand reached between her legs as she felt the surge of heat there and rubbed herself.

Binita instinctively knew it was up to her to satiate the older woman. She might have been older but her experiences were limited. Binita was less than a year married but her father-in-law had taken her in every possible way and some of the encounters were a revelation to her. The man, from even before the marriage, had uncovered desires in her which she herself did not know existed. He then proceeded to mark her as his own by satiating her in ways her husband did not even know of.

And one of those was the dramatic way in which he had lapped at her pussy. Binita’s raging loins wanted filling, the pulsating cock of a man. She could well imagine her mother-in-law, now with her fingers searching her own pussy, needing the same. But she knew there was only one way for one woman to satiate another. She moved towards Thakurain and kneeled in front of her.

She kissed her stomach. Thakurain put her hand on Binita’s head. Her own head was thrown back as the softness of Binita’s face on her stomach thrilled her. The younger woman slid her hands under Thakurain’s skirt and cupped her ass. She quickly lifted the skirt over her own head and was now inside the folds of her skirt, in the folds of flesh.

It seemed wholly appropriate to cover herself and hide within those skirts, a sanctuary of lust and loving attention, a sanctuary from the meaningless demands of the world outside.

She lifted the folds of Thakurain’s paunch as her mouth searched for the pussy. She tongue and kissed all the flesh she could find; stomach, underbelly, thighs, insides of the thigh and the hairy crotch itself. Thakurain frantically reached for Binita; she needed to grip her, hold her, touch her and maul her tits. The skirt was in the way. She quickly undid the cord and the waist of the skirt loosened and Binita’s head appeared. As Thakurain’s knees buckled under the sexual onslaught, she slid lower, her legs spread obscenely. She clutched at Binita’s slender shoulders and tried to reach under to grab the breast. She could touch the slopes of her breasts but not pull up the mass to find the nipples which she so desperately wanted to suckle at that moment. In the meanwhile, Binita was greatly assisted by the spreading of the legs. The acrid odor of the cunt hit her and Binita held her breath as she lapped at the pussy. She knew the acid smells would give way to the aromas of nectar if she just persisted. There was a tangle of pubic hair in her mother-in-law’s pussy and wisps and strands of hair came away in her lips. Binita kept clearing her lips of the strands and soon came upon a wet smear. She pointed out her tongue and dipped in, past the forest of hair towards the smear. Thakurain reached down and held herself apart with both hands to help her daughter-in-law in the quest for her cunt.
She bit her lip and gasped in wonder at Binita’s adventurous assault. Yes, the girl had to be right! Her pussy was now throbbing and she wanted the fullness of a man. Yet somehow this tonguing seemed to make her feel better. The vacantness between her legs seemed to expand with every lick and she wondered how to fill herself. The paradox of having a woman between her legs making her pussylips unfold and expand, and the need for a hot pillar of flesh to fill that vacantness was maddening.

And so, when Binita’s unexpected two-finger stab into her cunt hit her, it was so well timed that Thakurain groaned loudly with a “Haan, beti!” (Yes, my dear.)

She goaded the girl on, her hips thrusting, and the door behind her creaking with the fucking motion of her hips. Binita’s fingers had found the target and released the flood gates. Using her fingers as a guide she followed with her tongue to search out that spot which Thakur had found on her. She would find it and mercilessly tongue it the way Thakur had tongued her. If she found that satiating so too would the Thakurain would be satiated, she thought to herself.

And then her own pussy twitched and her mind wandered to the huge orgasm and waves of convulsing that Thakur had triggered in her. She had found her own husband, Pritam’s fucking inadequate thereafter. He was neither as well endowed and nor did he have his father’s staying power. She had found it necessary, one night, to seat herself on his face and rub her pussy up and down on his lips to teach him the art of eating her. His head was an instrument with her that night and she ground her clit on him, urging his tongue to stay prone till she had gushed down on his face in a massive meltdown.

Ever since Babuji had sucked an orgasm out of her, she had taken to trimming her pubic hair and her pussy was now more like a turf so she could have both men access her cunt easily with their lips and tongue. She wanted that mind numbing orgasm, more and more.

Such is the nature of lust and pleasure; once uncorked, you must have it; again and again. And she was about to uncork it in her mother-in-law just now; she was determined to. The sequence of events was odd. She had triggered a new adventurism in her father-in-law. The sexual lessons from those encounters were now being carried by her to his wife, her mother-in-law. In some ways she had become a bridge between the man and his wife.

These thoughts ran through her while Binita continued with the mechanics of drawing the response from Thakurain but only till the other woman actually responded. The response came when the tongue tip had dealt with the forest of hair and actually found the lips of her waiting, throbbing pussy; Thakurain sobbed. This was the pleasure which had eluded her so long! The tongue then traced the contour of her lips finding the top. Then began the focused thrashing, a provocative call to Thakurain’s body to reveal the clitoris. The fingers which fucked in rhythm were by this time squelching with the juices pouring out of her.

“O ma! Oh. Ah! Haan meri Binita, meri bachchi, meri beti, haaaaaaaaai!” sobbed Thakurain, tears streaming down her cheeks as she realised that she was climbing into a new zone of sexual liberation and release.

She collapsed to the floor and quickly stretched herself out, knees akimbo and legs apart. One hand was on her own breast, twisting, teasing and kneading herself. The other hand on Binita’s head, stroking, caressing and goading her on.

Her head flailed, her breathing was raspy and every now and then she raised her hips offering herself to the girl’s lips and head, thumping back with a groan as the girl took the offering in its fullness.

The sounds coming from his wife’s room were unmistakable to Pritam who found his own lusty desires thwarted by the door which he had seen his mother shutting and bolting. Who was with his mother while she was engaged in obvious sexual activity, when he had just seen his father downstairs?

Pritam’s puzzlement only grew as he heard sounds of scuffling and movement combined with groans and sighs as he put his ear to the door. As he focused on the sounds coming from within, he realised it was not only his curiosity that was aroused.

Binita in the meantime was spread on the floor, her bare body on the cold tiles, her breasts mashed against the floor, her ass jutting up as she buried her head in Thakurain’s crotch. She tongued and lapped the woman ceaselessly, her fingers fucking her energetically. The noises from her efforts were loud, and wet. Sounds of slurping, licking and gobbling filled the air.

As Thakurain melted in the assault, a huge wave started to build up in her. She needed to grip something to break through to the orgasm waiting on the other side. There was a restraint, an unreasonable holding back. Something had to give way inside her for her to reach that peak. She felt she would lose control of her bodily functions if she did not direct that energy. Her pussy felt like she might pee. That would break this dizzying bout of pleasure which she did not want interrupted.

With one hand she found the leg of a writing table while her other hand continued to be on her daughter-in-law’s head, urging her on, making sure she missed no beat. As she strained, she pulled the table with a force that the moved the furniture with a loud scraping noise. The lamp on the desktop crashed to the floor, but Thakurain’s thrashing had only begun. Neither woman could be bothered with the noises or the consequences of what they were doing or attracting. Thakurain’s large fleshy thighs were quivering and she was banging them together on the sides of Binita’s head. The hand pulled the table as close as it could be pulled and she wound her hand around the angles of the furniture to grip it ever tighter as she humped.

“Hnnnnnnnnhh!” she grunted as her clit exploded.

“Binitaaaaaaah! Haaaaaaaaaah! Aaaaaaaaaah! Haieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Beti!” she babbled.

Pritam could not believe his ears. It was his mother and in there was his wife too. His cock throbbed as in his mind he pictured his wife pleasuring his mom. But he knew nothing of how one woman could meet another woman’s sexual needs. Yes, there was something in the porn movies he watched and yes, it turned him on. But anatomically it still seemed impossibility that two women could satiate one another. And then this? His mother? With his wife? It was insane.

Pritam was brought back to the present by the sounds of the thumping of Thakurain’s buttocks as they slapped against the floor.

The waves rose to a crescendo that touched a new peak and then broke and washed over the woman’s body. The orgasm was upon her coursing through every single cell in her body; the straining and thrusting had successfully pushed her over the brink. That brink was difficult for her to breach because her entire prior sexual experience had hovered along that boundary, with no assistance to make the breach. But Binita’s ceaseless, merciless, tonguing, the fingers massaging her cunt walls, and in the back of Thakurain’s mind her realization that this was what Thakur had initiated Binita into, took her over the cliff.

Once the peak was crossed, the waves cascaded down. Her throated opened as she screamed her release. A hot flush hit her breasts as her nipples seemed to catch fire. Her stomach convulsed and the thighs fluttered. Her insides opened up. She poured out, thick viscous releases flooding Binita’s lips and chin and onto the floor below. Her whole body shook and shuddered and her breasts demanded to be held. Her jaw hung open and spittle drooled out one end of her mouth.

She was not in control of any of her bodily responses as she felt her entire being give way; there was only one event at that time, her sexual release. And her body was one single entity; her breasts, her pussy, her clit, her womb, her spine, her brain, her nipples were all compressed into one tiny point which became a single blubbering mass of convulsing flesh. It was this loss of her bodily control that caused her to fart loudly which made Binita quickly came up for air.

Binita’s fingers replaced her tongue as they stroked the clit and rode down to the recesses of Thakurain’s cunt and cavernous womb. As the fingers emerged they brought out the fluids which then smeared the clit, providing the lubrication that allowed Binita to manipulate, maul and manhandle that sliver of flesh without hurting her new-found lover. And so back and forth went Binita’s hand from clit to womb and womb to clit, squeezing out every frisson of pleasure her mother-in-law deserved.

Thakurain clutched Binita as her body responded to the sliding and slipping finger treatment, the jerking and convulsing continuing for a long time. As she poured, so did her tears. She wept, she laughed and it was a joyous celebration of her release. Those fluids washed away a lifetime of sexual neglect and Thakurain felt a thrill as every part of her body vibrated and hummed with the effects of her orgasm.

She clutched Binita tightly, stroking her body, thanking the younger woman for helping her discover her own sexuality. Thakurain herself shuddered and quivered in spasms as the orgasm levered down to smaller and smaller waves. The waves melded into one long humming of every cell in her body. She now felt liberated and released from the constraints of her physical body. She slumped, completely spent but very alive.

Binita threw one leg over Thakurain, her hands still firmly plunged into the other woman’s pussy. Their breasts touched as both women clung to each other. Binita snuggled down into her mother-in-law’s bosom, strangely calmed by the other woman’s release; as if it were her own orgasm.

Thakurain caressed her head and let the hand go down in a long downward sweeping stroke, on the nape of her neck, down Binita’s seductive broad expansive back and down to her asscheeks, kneading them. And back up again all the way.

The smell of her own juices wafted to her nostrils and she noticed how comfortable both were with smearing each other with all their bodily fluids. Binita’s crotch was now pressed against Thakurain’s thigh and she ground into her and sighed. Both felt completely relaxed and unwound in the comfort of each others arms and would have stayed that way for long languorous hours, had not the sounds of Holi being celebrated in full flow caught their attention.

“Beti, hamey chalna chahiye,” reminded Thakurain to Binita. (Dear, we need to go.)

“Maa-ji,” sighed Binita in deep contentment, exhaling as she used the Hindi word for “mother”; her breath laden with Thakurain’s aromas enveloped the other woman. She snuggled closer to the comforting bosom, idly flicking the nipple not willing to let go.

“Come, let me help you get dressed,” said Thakurain, knowing that there would be ever more lovingness in that act which in itself would persuade Binita to move.

Both women sat up; the Thakurain pulled up her knees and watched as Binita stood up, her eyes on the younger woman’s breasts, hips, torso and ass.

“Tum kuch nahi karogi. Bas kapde nikal ke dena. Jo bhi karna hai mai karoongi,” she instructed the girl. (You will do nothing. Just give me your selection of clothes. Whatever has to be done will be done by me.)

Binita nodded and unmindful of being nude, unmindful of Maaji ogling her curves and her body went over to the suitcase which was by this time sprawled on the floor, its contents tipped out. This had happened when Babuji had taken her from behind as she was bending over into the suitcase. She had collapsed from the pounding and the resultant orgasm, into the suitcase, tipping everything over.

She selected the white kurta top and the pajama to go with it. As she turned around she found her mother-in-law tucking her breasts into what was left of her blouse and gathering her odhni (upper garment that is worn on top of the blouse). As they stepped towards each other, Thakurain gathered Binita around and swept the odhni around her so both women were as if cocooned in the same protective world. She squeezed the girl in her arms, bosoms pressed together.

“Raise your hands,” she instructed Binita, eyes boring into her eyes, breath upon her breath.

Thakurain now gently allowed the kurta to slip over Binita’s head and let the body of the garment sheath the girl’s bare body. Binita shivered as she felt the sensuousness of the cloth caressing her nipples and belly and the flap at the back on her buttocks.

Once again, she felt goose pimples and the erection of her nipples. Thakurain knelt and held her panties open for her to step into. Binita held one shoulder of Thakurain for balance and raised her leg to slip it into one leg of the panty. The aroma of a dried mix of Thakur’s deposits and Binita’s secretions filled Thakurain’s nostrils. She let the back of her hand rub the pussy, feeling the girl’s recently shaven pussy hair prickly on her hand. She must ask Binita for assistance in such matters she thought to herself. The girl knew a lot.

She slid the panties up the legs, marveling every bit of the distance, leaving no opportunity to touch her legs, her thighs and her hips. Binita spread her legs and wiggled her bottom to allow the panties to be worn comfortably and snugly.

Thakurain caressed the ass as she ran the nylon up and over her ass to the waist level. She came up level to Binita’s face level and looking into her eyes asked, “What about your bra? Or are you going to give everyone a chance to look at you?”

Binita blushed furiously. She raised her hands again for her kurta to be removed to wear a bra underneath.

But Thakurain did not remove the kurta. Instead she made Binita step into her pajama and got busy with tying the knot of the cord around the waist which holds up the pajama. Thakurain’s hands touched her stomach and Binita shivered at every touch. Her nipples were now engorged and erect and when she looked in the mirror she thought it was so obvious. And oh god! She was not yet wet with the water to be splashed on her!

The Thakurain turned her to face the mirror and got busy with combing Binita’s hair. Both women’s eyes met in the mirror. So much was unspoken, but a lot was said. Binita’s fully aroused state, the kurta without the bra underneath, her nipples jutting out, and the touching and caressing from Thakurain were all evident in the flushed face in the mirror.

Thakurain combed out her hair and tied it in a bun and while doing so said to her, “You do not want your hair mussed up and spoilt in one day of Holi. This will keep you neat.”

She looked in the mirror at her daughter-in-law, now ready to let her go back into the wild celebration now in full flow around the house. Her hands came up and she briefly hugged the girl from behind, holding her palms just at the tip of those ready to be gobbled nipples.

“Aaj tumhare chahne wale kayi hain. Dekho kin kin ke naseeb mey tum ho!” she said as she let her daughter-in-law into the waiting melee below. (Today there are many who desire you. Let’s see who all get you!)

Neither mother-in-law nor daughter-in-law noticed Pritam watching from a hiding spot in the small room at the end of the corridor as they stepped out and took different routes downstairs.
There is nothing like a long absence to cure an addiction. And Binita seemed to have taken good advantage of a prolonged absence from her in-law’s place to cure herself of the lust she felt for Thakur, her husband’s father.

The last time she had met with him had been on Holi, the year before last. She had avoided going with her husband Pritam for the ritual family visit on more than one occasion, including the next following Holi. Staying away on Holi in particular had been an important act of self-control for her because it was the preceding Holi where she had completely lost herself.

Her wild abandonment of all sense on that day had haunted her for long. On that day, she had been daringly dressed. All morning she was to be seen in traditional finery; but the blouse was daring in its cut, with her full back bare for all to see and her breasts cupped and held up as if for all to sample her wares.

That seductive attire had led to a rough animal taking from behind by her father-in-law which was in continuation of their explosive sexual chemistry. She then had seduced her mother-in-law, when womanly comfort melted into sexual liberation. And somewhere on the stairway an encounter with her husband’s cousin. The youngster had the heat of the libertine atmosphere of Holi in his head and had chased her down to take his chances with her.

Binita, presented with a fait accompli by the lusty youngster had masturbated him into submission on the stairs, making him cum uncontrollably in her fist; she had left him thus conquered in a slobbering state with a warning that her action on that day was an exception rather than any permanent license from her to him.

It was left to the cold light of day back in the city for remorse at her actions to come gushing up. Yes, Holi was a day when much was permitted. But the history between her father-in-law and her would have to be packed and put away. It was not going to be possible to go on fucking him in one illicit encounter after another. No doubt she was the one who started it by picking a fight with him over her womanliness and the manliness of his clan. Yet equally, it was up to her to put an end to it.

The best way, she felt was to stay away and allow normalcy to return. Phone calls, letters, regular visits by her husband Pritam to his hometown all were meant to reassure that the young city dwelling couple were not drifting away from their roots. But the madness of that Holi day had to be allowed to abate.

And so it was over 18 months since they had visited. There had been changes in Prtiam over that period. After that last Holi at the ancestral home, Pritam appeared to have changed. He made love to her with a new inventiveness and with many new techniques which surely someone had taken the trouble to teach him. He made up for his slender dimensions with a new vibrancy to his approach to her. Something seemed to have tipped him off on the quality of their sexual intercourse. She loved him too much for that to matter, yet he clearly tried more, wanted to do more. And either he had read up on it or learnt it.

Some of the things he now did made her compare notes with what his father did to her. The incongruousness of those thoughts was one more of those things which made her stay away from Thakur. But yes, his tongue between the folds of her pussy did make her think of the time when his father had drunk from between her legs as she came in torrents. And nothing could change his physical dimensions so she did feel the difference in the yawning stretch of Thakur’s cock. She helped by clenching her muscles as Pritam stabbed into her with his slender cock and the mental challenge for Pritam of trying to fill her abated.

All in all, yes, there was substantial change and dramatic new angles to their lovemaking. For Binita, there was an added surge whenever she thought of how the older man carried out those same or similar acts on her. For Pritam, it was a relief that whatever Shobha Aunty had tutored him on Kamasutra was working for him. The woman had started with some simple quizzing. Shobha aunty had been the target of his adolescent lust in his growing years. Fulfillment came on that same Holi day when she started to ask him things about his sex life. The conversation soon turned to technique. And as Shobha started to tell Pritam on how to go about pleasuring a woman, Pritam’s fascination for her came flooding back to him.

The older woman and her younger friend of the family had then rapidly shed clothes and she taught him how to drive her wild. She showed him the positions that made his size completely irrelevant. She showed which parts of her triggered orgasms and which parts of him to use for that purpose. And she told him to repeat all that with his wife.

Which he had faithfully done, not without lusting Shobha aunty further. The two met whenever occasion permitted and the classes and comparisons continued. She was beautiful, sexy and sumptuous. Not one opportunity was lost as she sated a deep desire in herself by tutoring him in the art of pleasuring a woman.

Binita benefited tremendously from Pritam’s education and it allowed her to put the initial sexually crazed encounters with her husband’s family behind her. The combination of Pritam’s new skills, the distance and time lapse helped. But she could not stay away forever.

The pressure on Pritam to travel home with his wife grew and culminated in this trip when both husband and wife headed to the family home in the village.

Binita felt a bit tense as the train slid into the station. It was likely to be awkward but she took comfort from the fact that several ‘normal’ conversations had happened with both Thakur and Thakurain all these months gone by. Porters flashed by the train their red uniforms flapping in the breeze generated by the moving carriages. Some ran along the train to get customers. People in the crowd on the platform peered in to try spot their friends or relatives whom they had come to pick up. Some people hung out of the train to spot those on the platform.

People were waving to each other and the joy of arrival spilt from train to platform to join and coalesce with the corresponding sentiments of those on the platform. In this sea of joy and happiness was a fairly large contingent of relatives from the Thakur household. Pritam was a favorite son and his wife Binita had endeared herself to the family at large with her playfulness. Everyone wanted to be there, and every one was there. Not least the Thakur himself.

Binita felt her chest constrict as she felt her heartbeats rise. She gripped Pritam’s arm tighter than she realized almost hurting him. Suddenly, she didn’t want to arrive. Suddenly she felt an excitement which she knew didn’t belong. Suddenly she knew that control would be difficult.

Some of the party jumped on board the now slow train to take charge of their things and soon Binita and Pritam found that they only needed to walk and had a whole set of people waiting on them hand and foot. The joy of being part of a large Thakur household was such a relief from the grind of city life!

The couple touched the feet of all elders present one by one and in traditional fashion each person accepted the obeisance and quickly gave them a hug of belonging. When Binita was hugged by her mother-in law the Thakurain, she thought she felt the woman press her to the bosom more than necessary and fingers stroke her more than needed. Perhaps it felt excessive. But perhaps it was her imagination.

But Thakur’s embrace of his daughter-in-law was graphic enough for her to know it was not imagination. In the melee it was not evident to none; but Thakurain had been watching for the moment and it was not lost on her.

In rural India, cars have to be large. The larger the bigger the status symbol. And none are larger than the old American cars of the sixties. Most of the large cars in India are either those, or commercially failed / out of date models like the Contessa, Cielo and so on.

And so it was with the Thakur. He had a large American Dodge, painted in two shades of blue by the town mechanic. In keeping with his lordly status he ensconced himself in the car. Thakurain got in at the other door at the back but a cousin sister of hers prevailed upon her to push in and give her space. The cousin sister’s lap held large basket of home made savories she had brought for Thakurain to feed her son.

Pritam sat in the front with the driver and next to Pritam was Yogesh, the cousin whom Binita had ended up masturbating on that Holi day. No one had particularly taken care of Binita’s seating and she was about to dash off to one of the other smaller vehicles when Thakur opened his door. She could not have sat in the front, squeezed in with the young man.

It was the kind of opportunity Thakur had resolved he would not hesitate to jump upon. He had missed the vivacious girl’s touch, the softness of her skin, the right sized breasts that so filled his hands, those nipples and yes, her raunchy fucking at him. He could not overtly ask for her to present herself at the household and restricted himself to the more formal requests for husband and wife to come home to make a full family.

In reality, on at least one occasion he had planned a visit to the city to stay with his son so that he could fuck Binita. But it never worked out. His pent up lust for the younger woman found expression in a wild, rough and brutal fucking of his various women. Thakurain rode, literally, the storm in his fucking. The maids ended up with mauled breasts, bruised thighs and sore cunts as he pounded them in frustration.

They enjoyed, as they always did, Thakur’s unmatched vigor. But they did enjoy the slapping; the digging in of nails and the way he held them brutally wide open when he now fucked them. They went away with aching limbs and sore bodies. They were unable to let their husbands see their bare bodies for a few days for the marks were so obvious; they were also quite content and no need of further fucking. Just as they were ready to succumb to their husbands, it was Thakur’s turn to catch them again. And so the cycle went.

Every time he fucked one of them, he imagined it was her. He closed his eyes and felt in his mind, her response to him. The laughing, the fucking back, the sexual wrestle of cock and cunt and all of that sent him soaring.

When the imagination could do that much, how much would real physical, proximity do? The question was on their minds as the door swung open in Thakur’s silent invitation. She looked at him and then at the seat; there was no space for her. She glanced at the front of the car. Then she looked back at Thakur. That look could have meant either of two things: “I cannot sit in the front, nor in the back, can I? There is no space” or “Do you really except me to sit on your lap with my husband sitting there in the front?”

Thakur shifted in, pushing against his wife. It was going to be a squeeze, but that was the point. Pritam saw his wife’s dilemma. He wanted to step out so a rearrangement could be carried out. But his cousin with that bag on his lap blocked him. As he started to explain to Yogesh as to why he needed to step out, Thakur made a small space available to Binita. He patted the seat and said, “Here, there is enough space here.”

It was not enough. In that space, she would have to half sit on Thakur. He knew that. As the car engines revved up Binita knew she had to jump in to one vehicle or the other. Pritam beckoned to her asking her to get in where his father was showing place was available.

And so it was. She squeezed in and shut the door, trying to lean more on the door than on Thakur, her face flushed. Her right leg was against his left leg and they were tightly squeezed. She needed to lift her right leg and it went up on his left leg; that was the only way they could have sat.

As the car lurched forward, Binita put her arm on the window of the back door and tried to hang out of the car window as best as she could. Her arm was wrapped around the bar between the front and back windows of the car. Her face felt the wind cooling it, which was just as well; she was red hot from the embarrassment of being crushed against this man.

So long as her leg was on this side of his knee, with every jolt and jerk it only rubbed. Now that was bad enough because it send tingling sensations up her leg. But she was happy it was not on the other side of his knee, where a slide down would mean touching his cock. She could not have handled that.

The feelings in Thakur were quite to the contrary. He had no inkling of his daughter-in-laws guilt pangs over their sexual encounters. It had been a quiet thing and they never talked about it. So as far as he could tell, that was how it remained. Heat, chemistry and succumbing to desire when circumstances permitted; but perfect silence otherwise.

And so when he let his left hand drop and stroke Binita’s left thigh, he was only following their rules of engagement. As others chattered about, Thakur kept quiet; he often did speaking only when orders were to be conveyed. Binita had kept quiet by keeping her head out of the window.

When she felt the hand along her thigh she tensed and became stiff. Thakur’s hand slid over the thigh, concealed by the flow of her kurta. He felt the soft insides of her thigh. Alas, space would not let him find her pussy, the place which he thirsted to suck in.

She reached down and gripped his hand in a firm signal to him to stop. Thakur moved his hand back where she could not follow it, but at least he was off her thigh. What she didn’t realize was his intention to caress her ass and when he did this she could not reach behind and stop him. She gasped as the squeezing made her tremble but she gripped the door hard to steady herself. Thakur’s hand searched for the top of her churidar, under the kurta so he could touch the flesh of her midriff, flesh he longed to feast on.

Fingers closed on her torso, rough large hands on her hot, soft skin. The man was mad and needed stopping. She gripped his hand through her top, feeling those fingers between hers through the garment. Thakur tried to reach upward and feel the curve of her breast but met stiff resistance from her hand.

This was unlike her but perhaps she was tense about others being around.

His hand went back down, cupping her ass, this time more fully, his fingers probing, almost finding the lower end of her cunt. Binita clenched her muscles and shifted to make her ass inaccessible. She moved over his thigh and thwarted his attempt at touching the folds of her cunt. She was now sitting firmly on his thigh. Thakur moved his left leg outward, occupying the space vacated by her coming on to his left thigh.

Binita’s right leg was now between his legs and had crossed his knee. As Thakur’s hand roamed her body, his arousal was complete. It was no wonder then that when Binita’s right leg slipped a bit more, it touched his cock. Indeed, from the deep recesses of his groin, it had reared upward, throbbing and taut. Binita felt it distinctly against her thigh. She tried to move herself forward so that she would not be in contact with it. She feared the contact, not from fear of the cock and its threatening dimensions, but from fear of her own response and desire to have those dimensions accommodated inside her.

Binita gripped the door pillar with one hand and rested her hand on the seat in front of her. As she did so, her hand touched Yogesh who was sitting directly in front of her. The young man had his own set of memories of that hand and leaned back, trapping it between the seat and his shoulder blade. She moved herself forward, putting some distance between herself and the cock. But the movement started something anew; her pussy lips were spread and smeared against the broad thigh of Thakur which was under her. As she rocked forward to make that distance, she ended up grinding herself against.

The ripple through her and the moistness was not lost on Thakur. He felt the warmth of that confined space between her legs upon his thigh. To his mind, she was merely grinding herself for relief. He could not have been farther from the truth. But the forward prone angle of her body allowed him to more access to her ass. He caressed her under the kurta now with both hands, feeling her up. He thrust his hip upward, this time snagging his cock in the cleavage of her ass; he wanted her to feel his mad arousal.

Binita was horrified; she did not want to feel him at all, but less in the crack of her ass. Had she not been clothed he might have penetrated her in one orifice or the other. Frantically she reached down with her right hand, knowing fully well that this was risky; her mother-in-law was sitting on the right and might well spot her.

Whatever the risk, it was better she intervene. Otherwise, the risk of being prodded deep and allowing him to think that this was okay was only worse. She reached down and grabbed his cock. With the meat of the pillar in her fist she pulled it down and brought it back from between her legs to the side. Her fist was overfull with his erection and she hated herself for noticing his size, rather than being clinical about the removal.

He shuddered at the pleasure rendered by her grip, by her moving his cock down, which made was against its natural upward incline and pulled to the right. The frisson ran through the frame of his body as he hated the dhoti which prevented her from holding his flesh, skin on skin. He thrust forward, fucking her fist.

Her hand opened quickly, leaving his cock unfulfilled from the push. She felt the heat against her thigh but suddenly that seemed preferable to the other angle she had ended up offering him. The grinding of cunt against his thigh, feeling his cock, and thoughts of what was happening between him and her, made her hot and bothered. And it was matched up by a shamelessly flow that had commenced between her legs. She hated herself and swore never to find herself alone with him in the short stay ahead.

His left hand had more scope for movement that his right. He stroked her stomach and came up against her breast, feeling the unyielding material that formed the underside of her bra; God how he wanted to feel her! His hand moved up and took hold of her breast, something which he had done several times while fucking her in every way that he knew.

She was aghast. She brought her hand to his hand and caught it under her garment. She had to apply force to get a grip of his fingers. That force led her to press his hand upon her own breast. He kneaded. She pushed his hand down. His rough coarse hands pawed at her flesh and the pressure from her hand made sure the nipple was caught and rolled as his hand was forced down. The stretching and rolling of her nipple was painful but even as she bit her lip to stifle a cry she felt as if they were ready to moisten with milk. Binita was startled to feel that for the first time ever in her breast.

Soon she had his hand down but it came to rest on her thigh once again. This time she let him knead and stroke her thigh; once again it was more preferable than the wildly arousing kneading of her breast and stroking of her torso. And so the ride continued, with his cock grazing her right leg and his hand stroking her left thigh. The bumps and knocks from the road lifted her off him but dropped her back on the thigh she was riding. Binita felt the pleasure from the grinding and rotation of her pussy on the hard thigh below her.

She hated herself for it but her body had a mind of its own. It was that part of her which she had avoided letting out for so many months. It was that part of her which she knew not to trust. It was that part of her which she was determined not to allow, even though circumstances had put her in such a situation in the car. Binita was relieved as the car drove in through the gates of the haveli. The car disgorged its occupants but Thakur would not open his door. Binita scrambled across to the door from which her mother-in-law had left the car, but Thakur held her back with an iron grip on her wrist.
“Mai bahu ko naya dafter dikha kar lata hoon!” he called out to his wife, the Thakurain. (I will show her the new office and bring her back!)

“Chalo!” he barked at the driver, before anyone had a chance to react. Pritam stared in disbelief at the car as it disappeared into the falling dusk. Lights had appeared here and there and this was no time for the old man to be insisting on going out to see some office. But Thakur was an authority unto himself. He gave orders and took none.

The driver didn’t even pause to think in following his boss’ orders. That was why he was the boss’s driver. He never asked. Never questioned. Never let on. And never talked. He had been witness to many a clandestine operation with his boss, quite often on the other side of the law. It paid to be the boss’s confidant. And complete discretion was a minimal price to pay for the power, the access and the privileges it brought him in the village.

Binita was kneeling on the seat headed towards the door when the Thakur stopped her cold. She turned back to look at him. Thakur reached under the kurta from behind her and tried to grab her right breast. Binita quickly turned around and sat down, her eyes flashing in anger at her father-in-law’s audacity. With her now facing him, both his hands shot forward to grab her breasts. She slapped them away. His hands grabbed her thighs and she pushed his hands off.

Thakur grinned. The bitch wanted to play. How was he to know she had changed her mind about him? He never forced himself on any woman for he knew enough were on offer; if not one then another. This girl had given herself to him the first time. And there had been other occasions since. He pushed her back and she fell against the door, mildly banging her head against the handle. Her hand went to her head reflexively to massage the blow.

He slid his hands up her thighs and grabbed her hips and pulled her to him. Binita grunted as she made effort to clench her thighs tightly together not allowing him access and crossed her hands over her chest denying him her breasts. The only sound inside the car was of their heavy breathing and the slapping and pushing around.

He caressed her torso. Since his hands seemed busy there, she thought it safe to move one hand down from her breast and push away the hands on her torso. She blocked his access upward by holding the garment down to her torso leaving him no place to move up.

Thakur spotted her churidar (lower pant-style garment) cord and held one end of the tether and gently pulled. It came undone though Binita barely noticed it. His hand now rested on her pubis, palm open, fingers toward the stomach and base toward the groin. He rubbed her. She kicked at him, breathing heavily in tension.

Thakur was infuriated. If this was a game she had taken it too far. He didn’t have much time. They had to do whatever with each other real quick and head back home. He grabbed the ankle of the leg that kicked at him and caught it. He held her apart and with his other hand plunged in between her legs. Binita twisted and turned to free herself from the grip. As it happened, the car slowed down to take a turn toward a particularly deserted stretch of road. The car was full of the panting and thrashing and flapping sounds of his and her garments.

Binita sensed the chance to exit the car. She turned around, her back to him and scrambled for the door handle, knees on the car seat. As she waddled away from him, he just held the garment from around the waist. She had no way of knowing the cord was untied and it was when she felt the cool breeze on her ass she suspected something was wrong. She turned back to look at saw her churidar had been pulled back and fallen from around her hips and now lay bunched at mid-thigh level.

She looked up at Thakur. He had a playful if devilish grin on his face. “Oh my god! He thinks it’s a game!” she realised. The car gained speed and the moment of her possible escape passed. Thakur knelt up with one knee on the seat and the other on the floor of the car and reached under her kurta to her hips. Once again, he caught the nylon edge of her panty and pulled it back; it peeled off till the midsection of her hip and snagged. She raised her leg to push him, not kick, back. She merely ended up opening her legs and he caught her thigh and wouldn’t let go. Her legs were now splayed open, her father-in-law was prone over her. The open angle allowed him to pull back the panties a bit more.

It was a struggle, with both panting and gasping as they fought each other. But Binita found it difficult. The strength in those arms and hands which she had admired when it held her as per her desire, were vice-like in their grip. She could not move against his will and as she felt the cool whiff of fresh air on her pussy she knew she was in trouble.

“Babuji!” she gasped. She struggled, now frantic. She managed to push his leg hard enough to make him wobble, partly helped by the lurching of the car over a bump.

Thakur fell back. She reached down with her right hand to pull up her churidar. He grabbed the left wrist and pulled her back. She fell backward. Thakur reached for her left leg and pulled her, giving momentum to her backward fall. He raised her left leg over his own body. Already, Binita’s right knee was on the seat on Thakur’s right. Suddenly, she was now hovering over him, her left leg trying to find something to rest on while her right knee was on the seat next to his right leg.

Unable to manage her weight, she fell back, sitting down on Thakur. His cock was under her, but he had not been holding it up to spear her. She just pushed it down the length of her pussy, her perineum and ass resting along the broad blade of his lunging cock.

She looked down and pulled up her kurta so she could see clearly. There in the dark area under them, she could see by the lights of passing streetlamps, his glistening cockhead just below her pussy. The angle was impossible; cock and cunt were parallel to each other and he could not enter her.

She smiled in triumph at having averted complete disaster. As a fall back she thought of reverting to her favorite weapon: masturbation. She reached under between her legs and found his cock. She slid the fingers of her left hand around the hot flesh. She pressed downward making space for her to fist-fuck him. With her right hand she raised herself so that her hand could move in the pistoning motion so necessary at this vital moment.

Thakur groaned at the feeling of that small hand on his cock. Not only did this girl make him grow monstrously large, but the when she held him his cock seemed larger than ever by contrast. As the object of his desire started to manipulate his cock he shifted his attention to caressing her ass, her stomach and her breasts. She had resisted him more than he had expected but it seemed it was a game.

Binita looked down in concentration at the pulsating mass in her fist. She was transfixed with the sight. She had wanted to avoid it all the time but she could not at this time understand the logic which prevented her from sinking her hot and throbbing flesh down on this blunt log of a cock. Visions of what it did to her and the pleasure it gave her ran through her spine and she shuddered.

But no! She could not allow lust to conquer her. Better she tame the man she thought as she got down to the serious task of pounding his flesh into an explosion. So it mattered little to her that he was winning small battles with rolling her panties down more, caressing her pussy and trying to unhook her bra. She was going to win the war by making him lose it outside her pussy.

No sooner had he undone her bra his hands raced to find the soft unfurling petals of nipples. His rough hands found ready engorged nubs. He held her teats between forefinger and thumb and rolled and pulled at them, like he was milking her. As slapping sounds of her fist on his balls filled he started to groan. But she too was now beginning to whimper.

“Unhhh! Nahi Babuji. Rokiye isko. Ab bas!” she begged him. (No Babuji. Stop this. Enough now.)

As she twisted and turned under his ministrations the car continued to bounce and lurch along the dusty side-road. Her right hand, on which her entire body weight rested, was aching from the load, while her left hand, continuing its frantic pumping felt the strain of the repetitive motion at her wrist.

A change of hands was needed. She also needed to caress and excite him further, and change angles a bit if she was to succeed in making him explode. She let go of the cock and leaned the other way, now trying to bring her right hand to grab the lurching and jerking beast under her to catch him. But this time she tried to catch him from behind her, rather than from front and under as she had been with her left hand.

This required her to raise her hips some more. While holding from front had involved pushing the cock down against its natural angle, holding him behind her brought his cock to a more upward pointing angle. Thakur held her by her shoulders and pulled her down. Binita tried hard to change the angle of the cock as she felt her hips falling toward the barrel of his cock. Thakur grabbed her wrist and held her steady. The head of his cock stabbed into her gaping open cunt, but would go no further as there were two fists obstructing, one his and the other hers.

He removed his hand and went up to grip her breasts and use them as handles to pull her down. She retained her fist, holding on, trying to avoid further penetration.

“Babuji, no!” she wailed. He wiggled his hips, the cock rotating just inside her lips. She humped down on him allowing his cock only that much entry, but with each rise and fall she was able to send her fist sliding up and down his cock.

“Roko! Roko! Roko! Roko! Roko!” she blabbered. (Stop!)

With each ‘Stop!’ she thrust down with her fist and her cunt followed, the head popping in and out of her creaming cunt.

“Aap gande hain.Aap samajh re nahi hain!” she complained. (You are very bad. You don’t understand.)

“Kya nahi samajh raha mai?” he asked. (what is it that I don’t understand?)

As he said this he reached under and dipped his fingers into the upper end of her cunt where there was space. Then he brought up those tainted fingers to her lips and smeared her juices on her lips and asked her “Yeh?” (This?)

She kissed his fingers sucking them into her mouth. She mimicked a fucking action, letting them slide in and out of her mouth. But with her left hand she took support from the seat in front and held herself up. This madness had to stop.

“Meri chaahat paagal hai. Lekin hum ye nahi kar sakte,” she whispered, hoping the driver couldn’t listen. (My desire is mad. But we cannot do this.)

She left his cock and tried to hold it from front, from between her legs. That had been the correct strategy she reflected. It took Thakur but a moment to grab his now free penis and poise it in the correct trajectory.

Call it his luck, the skill of his driver or sheer inefficiency of the PWD road department; the car jumped into a pothole on the road and the delicately balanced woman fell back.

In one brutal moment, several minutes of successful battle ended it defeat. The hot cock seared her pulsing flesh as it shot up her cunt and came to rest in her womb.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Babuji! You bastard!” she sobbed. The relief spreading through her body as the torture came to an end was most welcome. It was as if a raging fire had been quenched. But her defeat was also a reality and the anger allowed her to curse him freely.

She grabbed the door and the seat to lift herself off and twist away but all that happened was the next jolt slid her back down. She put her hands to the seat and lifted herself off, and reached into the front of the car, frantically grabbing at the dashboard and clutching the arm of the driver. But her churidar was stuck around her knees and caused her to lose balance. As she tried to lift herself off more, the cock jabbed back into her.

Much as she tried to lift off over him, gravity and the movements of the car defied her. She had struggled to keep herself off the marauding cock, but she had been stabbed, impaled, skewered and fucked several times over.

Now her next line of defense to fuck him mindless and bring this to a quick end. She rested the hand which was intended to hold his cock on her own thigh. The accumulated mess from handling him smeared on her thigh and with the support from the other hand on the seat she pumped down on him with a vengeance.

“Nahi! Nahi! Nahi! Nahi! Bilkul Nahi” she cried out, unmindful of the driver now.

(No! No! No! No! No! Absolutely not!)

Each ‘no’ was one lift-off punctuated by a thrust down. She was beating his cock with her cunt as a punishment for her ravishment.

“Aap ko yeh nahi karna chahye tha!” she wept as she fucked him.

The cock rode up into her and was drenched as she poured out onto him with each lifting.

His hands claimed the breasts which were his own. When she looked down she noticed that under her dress was the contour of his hands where he was mauling her tits.

“Theek hai! Lo. Jitna lena hai lo! Randi banake chodenge na mujhe! Haaaaaaaaaah! AAh. Hai. Maaa!” she ranted at him. She was angry and now the only way for her to express that was an animal mauling of the cock. She wanted to maraud, whittle it away, dissolve it so he could not plunder her ever again.

(“Ok fine! Take me. Take me as much as you want. You want to make a whore of me, don’t you? Oh! Mother”)

Thakur was excited yet scared. It was now clear to him that he had misjudged the situation.

He glanced toward the driver. This was noisier than he had thought it would be. The woman was supposed to be an accomplice but her resistance had made it noisy. What was more, she was now wilder than he had ever seen her and the fucking was vengeful. The angles she found and the force with she fucked down on him were thrilling.

As he looked to check on the driver, he noticed the man had stolen a sideways glance at the breasts which were clearly being man handled under the kurta.

Thakur reached around and hugged his bouncing daughter-in-law to him. One hand moved up to cover her mouth and tame her screaming. Fingers from the other hand crept lower and found the clit and the slit below. He stroked her violently.

She shuddered and as she spasmed, her movements changed from a well orchestrated fucking to the wild throes of a female orgasm. She bucked and thrashed on his cock and her cunt jabbed at the embedded cock, hurting him.

“Cum, you dirty old man!” she wept, “Fill me, make me yours, flood me like only you can!”

Her pussy dissolved in a flood as she drenched him with her mighty orgasm. Binita’s head flailed, her hands grabbed wildly. She beat the seat with her fists as wave after wave was pummeled out of her by the cock and the fingers. As she grabbed wildly, her hand made contact with the shoulder of the driver. Her nails dug in and the man winced in pain.

A loud guttural groan from the Thakur announced to the world that his daughter-in-law’s rocking and thrusting, her entreaty to fill her had achieved its goal.

“Aaaaaaaah!” bellowed the man, as he let loose his shot of searing hot semen up into her womb.

“Ooooooooohhhhhhhhhhh! That’s big!” she moaned.

With a series of “Hah”s and “Aah”s Thakur thrust up into his daughter-in-law coming in torrents.

The girl plunged down and stayed down so she could feel him spurt into her deepest being.

“Babuji! Aap kitne alag ho!” she wept. (Babuji, you are so different)

“Maine zabardasti aapko bhulaya hai, lekin aap asli mard ho,” she sighed, leaning back on him, grinding his cock as the flooding slowed to a dribble. (I was hell bent on intending to forget you, but you are a real man.)

She rotated her hips, milking him, enjoying the depleting cock. Even when it lost the hard erection of a full arousal, there was enough flesh of his inside her to twist and turn on. She shuddered as she savored every little frisson of delightful pleasure.

Thakur thrust forward, wishing his cock would not lose its thickness and its hardness. Yes he wanted to spurt but the wait had been so long he wanted to fuck her more.

He hugged her as she settled back on him. Both caressed each other, touching, feeling and holding. Thakur fell asleep and Binita just sat on him luxuriating in his presence.

Suddenly, the driver honked. There was no one on the road, he was just waking up his master and alerting him to the imminent arrival at home.

Binita lifted herself off. There was a barely a jut of flesh that slipped out of her, where there had once been a marauding monster, its head in her womb. As she had lain there, the juices had flowed back out of her, onto his dhoti and the car seat. She felt the sticky residue streaked on the inside of her thighs.

She pulled up the panties, still not quite unrolled but at least somewhat pulled over her crotch. She quickly tied the cord of her churidar and tried to smooth down her kurta. Reaching under and behind she snapped her bra back on, even though the cups were not well adjusted to cover her breasts. She just wanted to be presentable on arrival at home.

She did not turn to look at Thakur. It was up to him to get his act together. She just wanted to leave the car and flee to the safety of her room in the mansion. As she got off the car seat she realised the cord around her waist was not quite tight enough. Her panties too seemed not fully up the way she liked it; covering her crotch completely and up to her navel. Everything seemed like it might fall of and uncover her shame.

None of that would have mattered if no one was in the front of the house. But on the porch was Pritam, sitting on the stairs, waiting for his wife to reappear.

Binita ignored him and made a dash for the inner reaches of the house hoping to find a sanctuary before her husband found her.
He felt lost without his right hand man. A Thakur without his henchman was like a man in the Wild West without his gunslinger. But there was no way Thakur Singh could have gone to the city with anyone else, given the mission in his mind.

Binita had avoided him for several months now. It all started with her late evening visit to his farm to convince him that she should be allowed to marry his son. The hot, wild sex started that day. Since then she had allowed herself to be taken a few times. The last time was in his car and she had found herself trapped. She was sitting on his lap in a crowded car and when everyone else had left, he did not allow her to get off him or the car. The ride that followed was a battle between Binita and her own desires. And Thakur represented the darkest side of her desires.

This was why she stayed away from. She weaned herself off the need to be fucked by the brute monster of a father-in-law. The lust that overcame her when he touched her scared her. She found a solution for herself by staying away. Yet, for family occasions she did have to come by and the last time that happened the Thakur had ravaged and plundered her completely. Her unprepared cunt was raw from the fucking it received. Her tender, soft lips were splayed and stretched with the jolts and jerks from the car ride. Every violent jerk from the car had allowed her dirty — but manly- father-in-law to stab her deeper than ever and in newer ways than before.

Her orgasm had been sucked out of her as had her juices. She hated him for it but she also hated herself for it. She had married Pritam out of love and felt stuck with his father out of lust. Undoubtedly, the Thakur was all man. He knew how to fuck and pleasure her. But for God’s sake, the man was the father of her lifetime love.

She stayed away. The last family occasion that man — dirty, lecherous bastard — had pounded her into submission. Thereafter, she made excuses for family occasions as well and stayed away.

The Thakur had come out of his jungle looking for his quarry that was staying away in the city. That last time she had come to the village, the sex in the car had been electrifying. That was always the case about her. He had suspected that he had misread her desire when she resisted him so stoutly even as he plundered her. But the copious flows from her pussy and her endearing pleas to him were encouraging. And then there was the blabbering while cumming, calling him dirty and obscene but the only real man she knew.

He continued with the women in his haveli in her absence. But none would do. Dear old Lajjo, his favorite before the daughter-in-law invaded the scene tried hard. Her breasts were delicious but her pussy lacked that throbbing urgency which Binita had. Then another one had a tight cunt but she lacked Binita’s sauciness. Binita was a package which was irreplaceable. Despite fucking more than one woman during the day, every night he ended up masturbating, thinking of his daughter-in-law. She was incredibly sexy. Perhaps more so because she was illicit.

Her demure resistance attracted him. The beating of fists was music to his ears; it alternated between thumping out the drumbeat of pleasure and a sign of impossible resistance. He wanted to feel that demure girl’s resistance and then the dam of lust bursting around his cock. That thought caused a massive spurt as he orgasmed alone in his bed one more night. Damn! That girl had to be had.

And so he ended up venturing into the big city, Binita’s office address in one hand. He found a hotel near her office without too much difficulty and went out to look for the woman who could satiate him like no other — his daughter-in-law.

She had a shock when she saw him in her office. The man seemed a misfit in the environment. Here was a large man with a twirling mustache wearing a dhoti among computers in a steel and glass office.

“Babuji!” she gasped in surprise, spontaneously smiling.

His eyes wandered over her tight t-shirt and consumed the contours of those breasts which he loved to grip as he fucked her. Thakur felt a familiar stirring in his loins. He tried to guess if she was wearing more under that revealing top but could not make out. He was a bit taken aback that his ‘traditional’ daughter-in-law was so daringly dressed. Was she inviting sex from her friends at work? His rustic mind could not differentiate between a city work environment and what in his village would have been an open invitation to be plundered at will.

“Beti,” he mumbled, his usually deep and resonating voice gone dry with the excitement of having found Binita.

“How come you are here?” she asked, “Pritam never told me!” She reached for her cell phone to call her husband when the Thakur grabbed her wrist. “Abhi nahi!” he said. (Not now).

Binita felt the familiar strength in his hands as he gripped her. “Chodiye!” she whispered. (Leave me!).

“Lekin main tumse milne ayaa hoon,” he explained. (But I have come to meet you)

“Haan par yahan nahi,” she insisted. (yes but not here)

“I know,” he replied. He opened his hand and showed her the key to the room at the hotel.

She shook her, indicating a firm no.

A passing colleague saw that and stopped to ask, “Any problem?

“Babuji, don’t make a scene here,” she pleaded.

“That is why I am saying just come with me,” he replied firmly. Suddenly his voice had eh authority of the village landlord, which eluded him in the anonymity of the city.

She gripped his arm to lead him to the reception area. “Aap idhar baithiye, mai zara bol ke aati hoon,” she said. (You sit here while I go inform my boss.) As her hand tried to close around his arm she found the bulge of muscles and thickness of his arm was too large for her small, soft hands. But of course, she remembered having clutched him in various stages of passion and had found him to be large and hard everywhere. What a body! How could the son of such a man be so soft and fleshy?

She shook herself back to reality as she felt unwelcome warmth spread through her body. She would leave her father-in-law in the reception and go call her husband Pritam. She would get him to come to the hotel immediately and that would make her feel more secure. It would certainly scotch any plans this dirty old man had. For months now she had kept away and neither did she have any plans in the near future to go visiting. Her sexual encounters at her in-laws’ place had almost entirely been risqué and taboo.

“Pritam! Your dad is in town,” she told her surprised husband. “I don’t know what it is about, I thought you would know.”

“Neither do I,” replied the surprised husband. “When did he come?”

“Just now,” said Binita, “and he says he has checked in at Hotel Raj International near my office.”

“Why wont he stay at home?” asked Pritam.

“How would I know? Anyway, he wants to meet us there. Please come there quickly,” said Binita.

“I have some meeting lined up. Let me try,” said Pritam, completely puzzled by his father’s behavior.

As Binita replaced the receiver and turned around, she was startled by the towering broad figure of her father-in-law who was standing close behind her. She felt her face go red and her ears were burning.

“Babuji! Aap yahan kya kar rahe hain?” she stammered. (Babuji, what are you doing here?)

“Tumne usey kyoon bataya,” asked Thakur. (Why did you tell him?) “You and I have a special relationship, isn’t it?”

Much as she wanted to deny it, something inside her prevented her from rejecting that special relationship to his face. That ‘something’ had tortured her for all the time she had stayed away from him. There were days when she ached for his powerful and vigorous fucks. There were times when Pritam was inside her and she found herself comparing the yawning stretch of her pussy to the thickness of Thakur’s cock. And there were days when, desperate to simulate her love-sessions with her father-in-law, she used a cylindrical bottle of lotion from her dresser and masturbated herself. Mere masturbation would not do; to mimic that he-man, she also needed to pinch her nipples and maul herself so she would feel his vigor.

The violent masturbation sessions helped. Binita had managed to control, if not put away her feelings of lust and desire. She fully intended to stay away so that the illicit feelings would not receive any fresh fuel.

And yet, when Thakur was face to face, she found it difficult to tell him off. In fact, that was the reason she stayed away.

He reached for her wrist and with a sense of ownership gripped her in his large rough hands. “Chalo!” he commanded here. (Come!) And he walked out of that office, with his daughter-in-law in tow. She was pink with embarrassment. She was demure in office and was not known to be loud, except in business meetings when her aggression shone through. She wanted to be her natural demure self as a daughter-in-law but the aggression she had shown in confronting the Thakur who was opposed to the marriage had led to the explosion of lust between them. And try as she might, she could not put Thakur’s uncorked lust back. He took several women from the staff and the village and she knew him to be indifferent. There were favorites, but no fixations. It seemed to be different in her case.

Binita suddenly felt that all eyes were on her and she hated the thought. She decided to quickly leave with the insistent man and avoid any scene at her place of work. In any case, Pritam would arrive at the hotel and that would prevent any moves from Thakur.

Or so she thought. The first thing the Thakur did on arriving at the hotel was to leave instructions at the reception. “Mera beta abhi ayega. Unko idhar rok lo, aur mujhe phone karma. Bahu aur mai nichey aakar ham sab baahar jayenge,” he told the front office staff, leaving a large generous tip. (My son will come here shortly. Hold him here and give a me a call so we can all leave for an outing.)

They entered the lift to go up to the lavish suite which Thakur had taken. Binita went to the far end of the lift. Thakur silently reached out for her and gripping her arms made her stand in front of him. He decided to make his intentions clear to the girl by holding her close and letting their bodies touch. She may have reduced the time he had but he fully intended to use that time. Now he would have to be quick. Binita felt her father-in-law lean into her. She felt the familiar thickness press along her ass. she shivered, hating herself for all those nights when she had wanted to feel this.

She wriggled and tried to free herself from his grip. All she succeeded in doing was rub her ass against the engorged, trapper monster in its lair. Thakur’s lips went to her ears, “Don’t tell me you didn’t want to feel this?” he whispered, thrusting himself at her.

His cock was impossibly large and this what he liked about Binita. There was an excitement that made him more of a man than any other woman he spent his lust on. she was special. May be because she was illicit. But more likely because she and he were bodily built for each other.

Binita was trembling with anticipation as they entered the plush suite. She knew he was going to unpeel her layers of restraint and expose her raw sexual desire. Her mind was spinning and her thoughts were torn between resistance and expectation.

She crossed her arms across her breasts and held her shoulders, signaling to him that she was out of bounds. “Who abhi aate hee hongey,” she mumbled. (He will be here soon.)

Thakur, inflamed as he was with desire was even more agitated at the thought of being thwarted. He pushed the girl against the wall, rough in the way he handled her. “Babuji!” she protested. “You are hurting me!”

“I never heard you complain of that when I have used this to push you,” he hissed, his face close to hers, his hand taking her hand and leading it to feel the contours of his massive erection he now sported. Her fingers were in a clenched fist. He let her knuckles feel the cylinder of flesh. Binita stared into his lust-filled eyes. His breath had the sweetness of paan in it. She knew those lips and that tongue of his but she didn’t want any further dealings of that sort.

But her loins were inflamed and she felt herself juicing up. This was the problem zone for her. She needed to hold out and this could be conquered. Thakur needed to be given the message that their encounters were a thing of the past. She had never told him plainly. She now needed to. As she opened her mouth to talk to him, he moved.

His head moved past her breasts, which were tight in that t-shirt she had chosen for the day. Why today of all days for a t-shirt she cursed herself. He knelt in front of her and buried his face in her crotch. The material of the jeans prevented him from using his tongue and he cursed her inwardly. If she had worn a churidar, he could have lipped her through the layers. Damn these Western clothes. He used his entire face to massage her crotch, hoping to melt her resistance. The last time, too, she had resisted and it had seemed to him like a game she played with him. But combined with her staying away, it seemed his daughter-in-law was breaking free. And a Thakur never let his prey go free…

His hands reached up and searched for the edge of her t-shirt. Her hands were on his head pushing him away but useless against his strength. He pulled at the t-shirt which was tucked in. she held his hand trying to stop him from doing what he was. She tried to break his grip on her by interlacing her fingers with his. He allowed her fingers to interleave his. He opened his hand and now he had her palm against his. Success! Any flesh to flesh contact was a route to lust. He ground his palm against hers while using his other hand to coax the t-shirt out of the jeans.

That there were erogenous zones between her fingers and on her palm was something that was a discovery to her. Thakur slid his fingers between hers, as if they were sexual organs. She felt shivers run through her body. She closed her eyes, her other hand clutching at the hair on his head. Was he winning? She wondered.

The answer came when his other hand found the gap between t-shirt and jeans and his hand slid around her waist. Binita gasped and her body hunched over that of her father-in-law. His coarse, callused palms played havoc with her soft, silky skin and Binita felt herself melt. It was time to take the battle to his camp. “Babuji!” she groaned. “Yeh sab galat hai!” (This is all wrong.)

He undid the button of her jeans and sighted the lace top edge of her pink panties. She looked delectable in these beautiful undergarments thought Thakur. The village belles whom he routinely fucked were directly accessible under their skirts. Binita was not. She almost always wore panties. It was an obstacle but he loved the way she looked in them and maddened him. Strange things, he pondered. Wearing them only hastened the need to remove them.

He pulled at the top edge but it could hardly be peeled down as the jeans were hugging her tight. Both of his hands raced up under the t-shirt to her breasts as he nuzzled her underbelly with his face. She was aromatic, and even here he could smell that she had started to juice up.

As he felt her torso, he found the lower edge of the bra. He slipped his hands under. The straps dug into Binita and she whimpered half in pain, half in delight. Soon the elastic stopped biting into her as the hands slid into the cups. Her breasts were in his hands and he kneaded at them with vigor.

“Babuji, aap sun nahi rahe,” she complained. (You are not listening to me.)

“Nahi,” he confirmed. (No, I am not.)

His thumbs found her nipples and he toggled on them as he felt her soft flesh in his hands. Binita felt as if triggers to her passion were being fired and suddenly the yawning gap between her legs opened further. Involuntarily, her legs spread. The expert lover that he was, the signal was not lost on Thakur. It was this way in which her father-in-law read her body which she missed in her husband.

His hands left her breasts. Binita groaned at that. She didn’t need him to stop now. Her nipples and receptive flesh ached for the touch again.

Thakur busied himself with pulling the jeans down from the hips. Her hands left his head and grabbed at his wrists trying to stop him. “Ruk jaiye! Yeh sab naa jayi hai,” she pleaded. (Stop. All this is illicit.)

That infuriated him. Still kneeling, he reached up to the neckline of her t-shirt. He stretched the fabric to its breaking point and then ripped it down. He stood up. The girl was shocked, leaning against the wall on her shoulders. His hand went behind her and he pulled her ass off the wall. Then he pushed the jeans down past her hips. It got stuck at her thighs. Binita refused to help him. Thakur then pushed up her bra, forcing her breasts out of the cups and under the elastic. He was unwrapping his parcel. When the time came he would need those nipples in his mouth.

He knelt again and pulled the jeans down. Binita raised one leg, then another. She was scared at this anger. Worried about what she would do if he damaged her clothes. She was now in her panties. Thakur furrowed his head to her crotch and bit at her pussy. She gasped at his naked aggression and the waves it sent through her.

His nose dug into her cunt through the fabric of the panty. Thakur was checking out her readiness. The bitch! She was damp. She was ready. This was the second time her body had shown her readiness even as she resisted.

He was furious. She was wasting precious time. She did not realize how much he needed to fuck her. Or she needed to fuck him. He would teach her a lesson. He pulled down her panties and they rolled up tight around her thighs. As his hands tightened around the fabric, Binita feared he might destroy that garment too. Meekly she raised one leg then another to remove the garment. When she raised her leg, Thakur could see her pussy agape. He teased her lips with his fingers. As soon as the panties were off, he stood up.

“It has all been one big mistake,” rued Binita as she fought off the tears welling her eyes. If she had not encouraged her father-in-law after that first spontaneous encounter, she wouldn’t be in this situation today. And who was to blame for the spontaneity of that first instance? It was as if cotton and match had been brought together.

Hands went under her and Binita was lifted off the ground and pressed back against the wall, right next to the door to the room. His hands gripped the back of her thighs as he lifted her so that the legs spread as much as they would. Binita refused to lift and wrap the legs around his hips. she would do nothing to help him she decided, even though her cunt had decided otherwise; it was flowing like a river to welcome the invader.

She was laid back against the wall like a frog, open, with her toes pointing downward. She trembled and her pussy quivered, knowing that an assault was imminent. The quivering caused more juices to flow for which Binita was glad because she knew she needed lubrication to imbibe that weapon. Resistance was going to be futile because she now how strong he was. A less open cunt would make him cum quick given his state of excitement, she reckoned.

He could feel her weight and it made his task tougher. But he was up to it. His cock was rock hard, jutting upward, as ferocious and as angry as he was. With her legs slumped down the only help he was going to get in penetrating her was the excited, open-petal state of her lips. If she had held her legs wide and over his hips they would have parted further; but that was not to be.

Thakur slid one arm lower under his daughter-in-law so that he could control her weight with one hand. With his other hand he held his aching cock and pushed apart her leg as far as he could, lodging the ram at the gates. He then grabbed her ass in both hands and held her hard against the wall and himself and thrust upward. The thick, brutal cock parted her lips with ease as her pussy surrendered to his invasion. Far from making him cum, the rapid spreading of her tightness caused her to shudder. Her hands which had been idle, grabbed his strong shoulders as the daughter-in-law tried to climb on top of her father-in-law and gain some control over the situation.
But that was not to be. Far from it, her pussy, even though it was flowing was not prepared for the assault. Binita should have known- her Babuji was such a bull; even though she had memories which made her horny, her body had forgotten the exact physical impact of the man. As the large head reared its head up into her womb at the top of the fuck, Binita gasped. She felt touched everywhere. Her cunt exploded when she least expected it.

As the unexpected waves lashed her body, her nails sunk into his back. Her legs spontaneously lifted and she pushed her toes downward, arching her pussy over the cylinder inside her. ‘Babuji!” she screamed, unmindful of the risk of being heard in the corridor outside.

“Tumhe yeh nahi chahye?” asked Thakur, every word punctuated with an unrelenting thrust. His eyes were focused on the young girl’s face which was screwed up tight as the searing pleasure extracted its price. (Don’t you want this?)

“Gaaaaa!” she went, as she lost control of her facial muscles. In desperation she closed her teeth on his shoulder, biting him. Her saliva soaked his kurta but that was nothing compared to the drenched state of his pubic hair. She was pouring and the cum was running down his balls and dripping to the carpet below. “Unhhh!” she screamed through clenched teeth as her body opened out like a storm cloud. The precipitation of her desire was instant and plentiful.

She had been incredibly tense in the walk up to the hotel. She was tense about avoiding him and about the arrival of Pritam. Later, she became tense about the inevitability of an encounter. And then the tension of his assault. The orgasm which swamped her was unwanted and she hated it. The pleasure was intense and she hated the fact that her Babuji was so enjoyable. She wished he was repulsive, then she could resist successfully. On the contrary, he was all man and every time he reminded her how intense and beautiful sex with him could be.

The release of tension caused her to swoon. She was in a daze as she felt the cock pound into her and extract orgasm after orgasm while the man inside her, her father-in-law was undiminished.

Binita slid to the floor in a heap as the complete weight of her body came onto Thakur and he slowly allowed her to slip. She was on her knees briefly and Thakur was hopeful that his glistening, smeared cock which was bobbing in her face would get attention. But Binita just slumped to the floor.

Thakur watched his son’s wife slumped on the floor. Her ragged t-shirt was still around her shoulders and her untouched breasts were weighed toward the floor. The nipples seemed erect from the arousal. He looked at the beautiful, ravaged woman; he had seen her transformed from angry aggressive girl to a beautiful, blossomed woman. Sweat dripped from his brow. His own dhoti was unraveled and he stood with his cock, hard and proud as ever, the kurta going over it like a towel on a clothes hook. The lower edge of his kurta was damp with the juices, trapped as it was between the dueling bodies.

He stood there breathing heavily from his exertions for several minutes. When she did not stir, he started to worry. He knelt down next to her and putting a hand on her hip rocked her gently to rouse her. When he tried to roll her on her back, Binita felt he might get between her legs. She moved on to her knees to get up. Enough was enough.

All it did was expose her well-fucked cunt and her ass to her father-in-law who himself was on his knees behind her. He grabbed her hips, the sight of her sexy wide hips and ass giving him an invitation. He was between her legs, not from front but from behind. Binita tried to crawl away but he moved forward with her. Holding her hips, he moved himself as close as he could. Holding his cock downward he closed the gap between them completely and let go of his cock.

The cock reared upward and came to rest alongside, parallel to her cunt. She felt the hot rod against her lips. She looked down below and past her hanging breasts and bra she could see the large round head. He wanted to take her doggy style but she was not going to let him. She knew he would need her help to penetrate. Unless she reached under and held his cock and guided it to her cunt this angle was impossible. At his size, even more so. She and her husband Pritam had once had a failed attempt after he had tried it, inspired by a porn film he had seen on a trip.

That was the logic Binita applied. Her move forward had brought her against sofa in the room and she now raised her body and hands rested on the sofa. Surely, she could now successfully get up. A strong hand on the nape of her neck held her down.

Thakur reached between them to get his cock moving. He raised on leg onto his foot so he had space to search out her pussy with his cockhead. His cock was clammy and most with the flow from her. Eyes closed and mind concentrating on what his cock head was feeling out, Thakur kept the girl down as he ached to get back into her.

This time she seemed tighter; Binita screamed, “No!” The bitch was always resisting and he made a note that when sanity returned he would talk to her on why she held back what was clearly special between them.

She wriggled and he brought his strength to bear on her prone form. He pulled back a little as he felt his foreskin being stretched backward. He withdrew and felt her resistance drop. Eyes still closed he felt out her cunt. “God, was it so difficult only because of the heat of passion? Or because of the position? At least the girl could cooperate!” he fulminated. He knew the position was doable because one of the saucier women in his circle had once ridden him to a wild high. But back then he was lying down and she was facing away… same thing…

He dipped into her cunt and found her wet as ever. Perhaps that wetness was not reaching the outer lips. He used two fingers to collect a smear from her cunt and applied it to his cock. He also gave himself relief from his pent-up state by stroking himself. It brought some of his own precum to the fore. “It should be easier now,” he thought to himself.

When he thrust forward Binita was least expecting it. When he had withdrawn, she thought he had realized his mistake. But now, with no warning, he entered the wrong hole and facilitated by the added wetness, he sank in. when he was stuck, he just pushed with his brute strength. The tight, virgin sheath expanded to accommodate him. But the shock waves it sent through Binita were largely painful, tinged with pleasure.

“Babuji! Aap galat jagah ghus gaye ho!” she wailed.

Thakur gasped in horror, unable to stop as he felt amazing pleasure from such a tight clasp of his cock. Perversely, he also thought the girl deserved it. It would not have happened if she had just cooperated. But he also worried about hurting her; he knew his cock was thick for her cunt itself.

Binita wriggled like a fish speared on a hook. She had seen this in porn movies and wondered what pleasure the woman got. She could imagine the man’s state. But for the woman? Her body answered the question as her cunt and clit started to throb. Her entire perineum was stretched and the vibrating massage through the wall separating her cunt energized her. She wanted to be touched. She reached back for Babuji’s hand to guide him to the clit.

Thakur jerked a few times rapidly deriving his pleasure. The moment sanity returned he started to pull out. Binita’s hand which was traveling backward sensed the imminent departure. No! this was not the moment to leave. She reached further back and grabbed his ass and held him there.

“Ab chod hi do!” she begged him. (Now you might as well fuck me properly there!)

Thakur was mad enough with lust. He reached under and grabbed the breasts swinging like pendulums. He thrust in and out of his daughter-in-law. He had violated her in every way and today it had taken a turn he himself had not anticipated. The breasts themselves received no attention from him other than being used as handles. Binita would have loved him to pinch her nipples hard, milking them as it were. But she also wanted him in her cunt and his cock in her mouth. Right now she wanted him everywhere and in every orifice.

Tears ran down Binita’s cheeks. She was delighted from the sexual release which coursed through her body. She cried in a mixture of feelings. Joy at the sexuality. Twinges of pain from the violation. Sadness that it was an illicit relationship. An ache that Pritam was not half the man his father was. And a release of tears as all her bodily fluids were on release. Her nipples throbbed and she felt they too would burst forth with milk if that were possible.

Suddenly she wanted to feel his weight on her. She wanted those nipples to be milked by his lips. She wanted to devour him. And she worried that now not enough time was at hand to do all the things she wanted to do and have done. Reaching behind her hand crept between them. As Thakur mindlessly slapped his stomach on her ass she ringed his cock. That slowly reduced the depth of his fucking. When she formed a fist, the fucking was just at the orifice. She felt her flesh close back from the evacuation. The stretching had released pleasure. Once the pleasure receded, the pain came to the fore. She was sore and it was going to be a while before she was healed.

But right now her priorities were different. She sat on the sofa with the Thakur still kneeling on the floor. He moved forward. She lifted his kurta off and had him bare bodied. That was needed, her breasts needed to feel him. She pulled him closer and held his head to her breasts.

“Babuji! Milk me,” she asked. Thakur scooped her small breasts in his hands, kissing one then the other. Then, as if slurping at an ice cream cone, he sucked in all of her breast. He let it out with a plop. Then sucked it in again. As he let it out, his lips pressed hard, pulling the flesh outward, with the nipples running through the tight ‘o’ of his lips.

Binita shuddered at each plopping out of her breast. Her legs, till now closed, opened out to the baby-man and wrapped itself around his body. Her wet open cunt grazed his torso smearing him with herself.

She lay back on the sofa and draped one leg on the back rest. Her other leg was on the floor. She could not have been open any wider. She reached for his kurta which was at hand and wiped herself dry. She wanted to feel every inch of that monster ream every inch of her throbbing pussy.

Thakur drank in the sight of his daughter-in-law, lewd, depraved and asking. Her face was stained with tears but her eyes were sparkling with joy and desire. She wanted him. He wanted her to want him.

Rising to the task, he too placed on foot on the ground and with the other knee digging deep into the sofa the father-in-law sank into his daughter-in-law. Binita’s hands went around holding him.

“Now. Fuck me!” she commanded, taking charge of the proceedings.

Thakur moved his hips in rhythm sliding in and out of the girl. Wetness returned with rapidity as both were now in full flow. The sofa squeaked rhythmically from his thrusts. She held his head and brought his ear to her lips.

“Yahi chahte hain na aap? Din aur raat? Har waqt? Ki apni bahu ko choden?” she asked, her voice rising in pitch as each thrust of his raised her to a new level of arousal. (This is what you want, isn’t it? Day and night? All the time? To fuck your daughter-in-law?).

“Toh lee jiye!” she offered herself, thrusting upward at his downward plunging cock. (So take me!). The unexpected counter-assault from her had him gagging.

“Kyon? Aap ki khudh ki dawa sambhali nahi jaa rahi?” she teased him. (Why? Can’t you handle a taste of your own medicine?)

Provoked, he tried to ram down on her harder. She laughed, her tone tinkling. It was so much easier if you accepted what was coming; better still if you rejoiced in it an welcomed it, thought Binita as she watched her father-in-law groan. She had thwarted his attempt to pound her by grabbing his cock and tightening her fist. Thakur hated losing his vitality to her fist when what he really wanted was her cunt.

He held himself to her lips and she outwitted him once again, this time grabbing his shoulders and thrusting upward to claim his cock with all of her cunt. Thakur spasmed. This was his Binita; at her best she was simply able to take control of him. His cock seemed ready to let go of its load under her assault. His hand went under her and he cupped her bottom. He clung to her as she expertly moved her hips, clenching and unclenching her cunt at the helpless cock.

And then the phone rang.

Thakur leaned over Binita’s head to reach for the side table where the phone sat.

“Haanji,” he muttered into the instrument. (Yes.) “Haan, phone dijiye unko.” (Yes give him the phone.) it was the husband of the woman who he was fucking — who was fucking him?

Binita wrapped her legs around his hips which were now at a higher level. She lifted herself off the sofa and clinging on to him, made him re-enter her.

“Beta!” groaned the Thakur, the pleasure making him shudder even as he answered his son who was on the phone. (Son!)

“Babuji. Aap theek toh hain?” asked Pritam, worried to hear the strain in his father’s voice.

“Haan, haan,” he blabbered. (Yes, yes.) the ‘yeses’ were more for his daughter-in-law who was expertly milking his cock from beneath him. It took all his strength to hold himself up on one hand but it was worth doing. He was thankful for his routine body building sessions. They always came in handy with the more vigorous women he fucked. And none so energetic and vivacious as Binita.

“Main upar aun?” asked Pritam.

“Na…. heeeeeeeee,” croaked the elderly man as his son’s wife launched a new assault with her fingers. “Hum neeche aa rahe hain.” (No. We are coming down.)

“Binita aap ke saath hai?” enquired the son, asking about his wife. (Is Binita with you?)

“Haan, ham saath hain,” he replied. (yes we are together.) His son had no way of knowing how close together they were. His cock was swollen with his cum and the head was rearing into her womb. An explosion now would drench her insides with his cum, any minute now. Couldn’t the bastard just hang up, he cursed.

“Theek hai. Main yahan wait kar raha hoon.Ki upar aun?” persisted Pritam. (All right. I am waiting here for you. Or should I come up?)

“Ham tayyar hain, bas aa rahe hain,” replied thakur in a wobbly voice. (No I am ready. We will come immediately.) And he was indeed ready to cum but not without the unpredictable bitch who was assaulting him. He had to repay her in the same coin.

Dropping the receiver with a clatter, Thakur reached between the two sweaty bodies to find Binita’s clit. He thumbed it. She shuddered. His thumb smeared the juice from her wet clit onto her torso. Then he toggled her nipples, seeking her release.

She clutched at his ass, squeezing and releasing hoping to make him cum. Her fingers teased his anus, perhaps she could avenge herself. The probing there made Thakur unclench his ass. it was the beginning of his loss of control.

He let himself drop onto her. The fucking became less playful and more earnest. His ear was back near her lips and Binita couldn’t stop muttering obscenities and endearments to him.

“Haan chodiye apni bahu ko. Dijiye usey apna lund. Dijiye mujhe apna beej. Thokiye. Aur thokiye!” her voice rose to a scream. Her nails were now hurting him as she took her pleasure and mauled him. (Yes fuck your daughter-in-law. Give her your cock. Give me your seed. Hammer me. Hammer me more.)

The phone rang again.

“Aap aa rahe hain ki nahi?” asked an irritated Pritam.

“Haan,” muttered Thakur.

“Haan,” he said again, unable to speak anything further.

His eyes were on the woman sprawled below him. They were joined at the waist. His cock was thumping in and out. He could see her working on his cock. Her breasts were beautiful and jiggling. She was flushed red and he wanted to impregnate her, fill her, and conquer her.

Binita grabbed the receiver. “We are just moving down,” she gasped into the phone and dumped the receiver on the floor. Frantically, even as Thakur pounded into her, she reached for the phone and pressed down the button disconnecting the line. A particularly violent fuck from Thakur made her shout an “ah!” and she wondered if it carried to Pritam. She couldn’t care beyond that. She now let the phone fall to the floor.

“Babuji, bhar do apne beti ko!” screamed Binita, now frantic for release as much as for the tension of her husband waiting in the lobby below. (Babuji, fill your girl!)

“Lo, beti, lo!” hollered thakur as the words pushed him over the edge. With his release came the violent, ragged thrusting that comes with the complete loss of control. It was this irregular and wild pounding that released Binita.

She clung on to her man as he filled her. “O my god!” she exclaimed.

Thakur gasped and laughed as he felt himself pouring out in full.

“What?” he asked his daughter-in-law.

“You!” she replied, lying back and stretching herself, allowing her body to receive its pleasure and his flood.

“What about me?”asked Thakur, continuing is less frequent thrusts as the torrent slowed down to a dribble.

“You fill me so completely,” she replied shyly, the demure daughter-in-law resurfacing as passion receded.

“Before or now?” teased Thakur.

“Chodiye!” said the girl abashed. “Hamey jaldi chalna chahiye, wo intezar kar rahe hain.” (Leave me. We need to move quickly, he is waiting.)

“Main kya pehnungi?” she asked in alarm as she realised her father-in-law had shred her t-shirt.

“This,” he replied, tossing a new one from his bag. He had brought her the gift to see her in the tight opt. but she had already been wearing something similar.

As they opened the door, there stood Pritam, his hand poised to knock on the door. The hotel seemed well a0r-conditioned but his wife had beads of sweat on her brow. Well, perhaps they only just got here he surmised.

Father, son and wife headed towards the lift.
Ye li jiye tel,” said Binita to her father-in-law, shyly, her head down. (Take this oil.)

She had watched him pace around the small, comfortable flat all morning. It was Sunday and she new why he was restless. It was not because she kept avoiding being alone with him. Yes she did that, but she didn’t notice any specific discomfort or efforts on his part.

She stayed away from him ever since that shocking day when he showed up at her workplace in the city. He had taken her to his hotel room and plundered her, holding her against the wall and fucking her like a beast. And then unrelenting when he mistakenly took her ass, he had fucked her raw there too.

It had been made more complicated by the incessant phoning of her husband while she was being fucked by his father. The danger that he might arrive before they finished had made her stomach churn but it had immensely heightened her pleasure.

Not that it needed any heightening. The man was large and well hung and she small and sylph-like trying to cope with a log of a cock. Thakur, her father-in-law, was powerful in his loins, in his hands and in the way he took her. She always felt ragged, used, pleasured and plundered. The satisfaction was immense and it further reduced her need for her own husband whose sexual prowess was weak at best. Slender cock and an early finish were part of his script and when she was taken by the father her needs seemed met for a lifetime.

It was only four days since that wonderful pounding. Even though she had been reluctant she enjoyed every bit. Part of her reluctance came from her unwillingness to make this a long term relationship with a pattern. It was fraught with danger of her husband finding out. Already her mother-in-law had come to know and had been manageable only because the Thakurain succumbed to her own lust with Binita.

The other part of her reluctance came from her need to maintain the decorum, even with a man who had seen her nude and splayed open and she had taken in. he was after all a landlord and there was a whole village in awe of him. Having married into that family she felt the need to exercise restraint and be a dutiful, devoted and submissive, shy bahu (daughter-in-law).

The demure and shy side of her was in sharp contrast to the vivacious, spontaneous girl she really was. But that was how it was in traditional India. You had to be different at home and you could pretty much be what you wanted in your professional and social life of the city.

She knew her babuji (the traditional way of addressing one’s father-in-law, which equated him to ‘father’) very well. She knew every muscle, every touch, and every nuance of his wondrous, monstrous cock. She also knew every nuance of how he liked to be treated which is why she behaved differently as a bahu and very differently when he feasted on her young, lithe body.

The man was lord and master of all he surveyed in his village. If he had been there today, he would have been given an oil massage by one the village belles that worked in his mansion. He may have felt aroused at thoughts of his young, nubile daughter-in-law faraway in the city and had the village woman masturbate him. Or fuck her while fantasizing of his son’s wife. Or just allowed himself the arousal and felt good about the blood coursing through his veins in manly fashion.

He was missing that and pacing around the flat. At the moment she offered him the warm oil in the earthen dish Thakur had his back to her, standing on the balcony of their high-rise apartment, gazing at the view it offered.

He turned around to look at his bahu. She was in her nightgown, revealing nothing. Her hair was drawn back tight and her face was clear. He wondered where his son was. The young man had fucked his wife on Saturday night. He had had a drink and taken her forcefully to his room unmindful of the obviousness to the father. He had heard the guy scream out his orgasm in remarkably quick time. It left him wondering if his son was pleasuring this girl adequately.

Secretly, it pleased him if that was true. He loved the idea of being her best fuck. The thought had caused an erection and like every night and morning these last four days, he masturbated, imagining his bahu sitting on his lap, his cock lanced up into her small cunt.

“Where is Pritam?” asked Thakur of his daughter-in-law. He could take the oil or he could ask her to apply it for him. But first he needed to know where his son was.

“I sent him out on work. Thodi der lagegi unko aney mey,” replied Binita, her chest and cheeks flushed red and she felt the roots of her hair burning. (It will be a while before he returns.)

She had sent away Pritam on a long outstanding errand which she knew assured her of at least a couple of hours of absence. Every day Thakur had missed no opportunity of touching her on seemingly innocent occasions. Pritam’s wild and inadequate fucking the previous night had turned her thoughts towards her babuji who was just next door.

When Pritam had collapsed after the short fuck, she felt aroused but unfulfilled. Her mnd wandered to her Babuji who lay asleep next door. He knew he lustd her on a permanent basis and could be available to her to satiate her provoked needs. She had crept out to find babuji. She heard him groan loudly as she peered through the door. He was masturbating and she was embarrassed to stop him.

She watched as he vigorously fisted himself and was fascinated at the dimensions of the father’s cock and wondered how the son could be so slender in comparion. Then she realised this thick monster had been shoved up her anus just the other day by her father-in-law. Her already aroused state got wilder and she decided the readily available cock must be put to better use. Just then Thakur gasped loudly, and she watched as his fist flooded over with white gobs of semen. “Semen that belongs to me!” she had thought. Thakur confirmed that thought by groaning out her name, “Binita beti!” (Binita, my girl!).

She didn’t enter. She could have. Her babuji was man enough to fuck her right after cumming. But she knew it would be a longer fuck since he had just cum. Binita knew from her lovemaking record with the Thakur that her babuji always fucked her to a point of sexual exhaustion. She did not have the guts to take him on when he had just come. It would be long. She could become sore. And Pritam was at home and might want to fuck her at any time. She didn’t want to be so sore that she would have to disappoint her dear husband. It was then that she decided to postpone her pleasure to a more manageable encounter with the Thakur next morning.

“Tum laga dogi?” asked Thakur, his eyes penetrating through to the depth of her being. (Will you apply the oil?)

She nodded to him a yes, her throat choking with excitement. This is what she had wanted — a long luxurious length of time with him rather than the furtiveness when Pritam was in the house.

She tossed a mat out to the balcony so that the oil wouldn’t stain the carpet. “Aap udhar baitheye. Main lagati hoon,” whispered Binita.

Thakur stripped his kurta and raised his hands over his head to throw it off. Binita admired the rippling muscles on her father-in-law’s back and hoped she would be able to caress and cling on to him. She had tossed and turned all night in bed wanting this man. After that evening under the mango tree in the Thakur’s backyard, this morning seemed to be the day her desire was unrestrained.

Unexpectedly, Thakur stripped off his dhoti and sat down wearing only his loin cloth. It barely concealed his full blooded cock. Binita stepped forward, hesitating only because her father-in-law was very minimally clothed. What if they were spotted? Then she decided that since she couldn’t see anyone from her balcony, she too would be not visible to others.

She moved close to Thakur, standing in front of him. She tipped the bowl of oil and let the warm fluid drip onto the Thakur’s head. And then she moved the stream of oil onto his chest. She stopped pouring the oil and waited for the it flow and cover him. Thakur inhaled her scents and luxuriated in the flowing oil.

The aroma of his favorite girl made his erection swell to its fullest. The loin cloth restrained him and soaked the flow from his cock. Thakur’s strong hands gripped Binita’s ankles. She was still in her night gown. He slid his hands up, caressing her thighs and cupping her ass. He kneaded her ass causing a mild flow in her cunt.

Binita massaged her head, rubbing the oil in. The large rough hands moved towards the front of her body, inside the all-covering gown. The fact that his hands were playing on her body within the gown led her to believe they would remain unnoticed. His hands grabbed at her breasts, thumb on nipples and palms cupping the mass of her tits. Binita shuddered and her body hunched over Thakur’s head, holding him to her.

“Babuji,” whispered Binita weak with desire.

“Hmm?” asked Thakur, burying his face in her crotch. She spread her legs and allowed him to nuzzle her freely. She was wearing nothing below, like those village belles who attended on him in the mansion.

“Babuji, aap mujhe mooh nahi lagayenge?” she pleaded. (Babuji, wont you mouth me?) Thakur responded by raising her gown, his lips desperately seeking bare flesh. Binita now felt that the railing of the balcony was higher than her hip level so anything that Thakur might do with his lips on her pussy wouldn’t be spotted. She spread her legs further as she felt the cool morning breeze caress her ass and her thighs.

Thakur immediately lipped the cunt, tonguing his bahu. She hunched over him, rubbing the oil into his back, the balls of her thumb working his muscles. Soon enough, she found it convenient to put one leg over his shoulder and place her cunt on his mouth. Thakur tongued her vigorously, lapping at the cunt. His hands clutched her ass holding her pussy in place where he could feed on her totally.

Binita held on to the balcony railing and pressed herself to her babuji’s lips, grinding herself into him. She raised herself, giving him the space he needed to tongue her. Then she ground herself down, using his chin, his nose, his mouth as props for her own pleasure. Thakur’s hands were clutching her ass and he allowed his fingers to stray, exploring the edges of her anus which he had invaded with his cock just the other day.

It caused Binita’s sphincter to lose control and she convulsed in an open gush of pleasure. When she came she violently shuddered into his face, creaming his large handlebar mustache. It was soon soaked would be crusty as it dried on him. Tears ran down Binita’s cheeks at the immense release she felt with her babuji’s sexual feasting.

Drained by the release, she slumped on his head. As Thakur slowly chewed on her pussy lips she realized he was still to be taken care of. She removed her leg from around his shoulder and knelt in front of him. Thakur reached forward and held her breasts through the fabric of her gown. It was as if he way toying with her, playfully stroking and touching her.

But she was at serious work. She pulled his loincloth loose, allowing the member within to swell in all its glory. She picked up the oil bowl and from a height over the cockhead she let a stream of oil drop on the head. As it hit its target thakur felt the heavy drops drumming his head. It was an incessant rhythmic beat which caused his cock to jerk and throb.

It soaked his entire cock and it gleamed gloriously. Binita reached out with both her hands to work the oil into the trunk of flesh. Her small hands could each barely gather all of his bulk. She ran her fingers up and down the trunk. The oil sank into his skin and fluid leaked from his cockhead. She took that too in her fingers and worked it into the cock.

As she pulled the foreskin back the head swelled up to new proportions and Thakur groaned. She knelt forward lovingly, watching the beautiful cock. She could spend hours stroking and loving him. She kissed the head and with both hands she caught the cock in her hands. She wondered as ever about how large he was and how small her hands seemed. She stroked him gently at first. And then harder. And harder and harder, till he felt his cock ready to explode.

Groaning loudly and throwing his head back he pulled her hands off him. Instead he caught her head and shoved her down on his cock. Binita stretched her mouth as wide open as possible knowing that he was massively large, be it her hand, her mouth or her cunt.

Her mouth was invaded by the cock and the odor of oil, his skin and his fluids was odious. Binita gagged but the Thakur held her down powerfully. Her hands were now on his waist as she supported her body. She brought one hand to the base of his cock. She clenched at has cock moving her head backward off his cock.

Binita rose and seated herself on his lap. She wiggled forward. Reaching down between them she caught his cock and guided it as far as her lips. Then, leaning back she thrust her hips hard. The cock splayed the cunt wide open and Binita wailed with a loud shout of “Babuji, le lo!” (Babuji, take me!)

She spread her legs wider still opening out her cunt as far as possible to take in the invading monster. Thakur clutched her ass and pulled her in on top of himself. Soon her coarse pubic hair touched his groin. She had sunk down fully on him and his cock was deep where it belonged, in her womb.

She relished this! The fullness! How snug he was inside her!

She locked her legs behind his back and strapped her hands around him. She thrust her hips forward and back pleasuring herself on the cock embedded in her. Her nails dug into his back, drawing red lines of passion.

Both of them grunted and moaned as the fucking grew in intensity. The noises they were making were loud and Binita had long lost sense of their location. And while she had considered the height of her apartment and the railings she had not factored in Shaila aunty next door.

Shaila was the 40-something neighbor who had been watching and sometimes listening to the romantic antics of Pritam and Binita next door. She was discreet about it as she and her husband played the role of local elders to the young couple next door. She often talked to her husband about it and occasionally the elder couple enjoyed a spurt in their own sexual vitality.

As she sipped her late morning tea she smiled at the sounds from the balcony next door. They were at it again, but with a difference, she thought to herself. Today, Binita was also to be heard. Normally it was only thumping and the male sounds. Or perhaps Binita’s voice was not heard on other days. Today seemed to be quieter. And certainly the sounds seemed to be coming from a closer location.

Shaila peered around the separating wall cautiously, hoping she wouldn’t be spotted. She was also indulging the voyeur in herself, hoping for a visual treat. She was not disappointed. She saw the broad back of the man she assumed would be Pritam, muscles rippling as he fucked the woman seated on his lap. She could see Binita’s hands gripping the shoulder muscles at the back and her legs stretched out wide, around Pritam. Gosh, if only her own husband could be like that for one last time.

Binita thrust hard and grunted, “Babuji, fuck me!” The words clearly carried to Shaila and she was not sure of what she had just heard. Did Binita say babuji? She craned her neck but the man’s face was turned towards Binita away from her. In fact, at the moment Thakur kissed his young bahu squarely on her lips, tasting her as it were.

Shaila noted that the man was completely nude while Binita had her nightgown bunched up around her waist. She watched mesmerized as the girl wrapped around the hunk swiveled her legs. Each swing of the legs was accompanied by a grunt from either the man or the woman. Shaila felt her own lust rising and pressed her thighs together for comfort.

As Binita slid in Thakur’s lap she started to feel that the fucking would feel more animal is she liberated Thakur from her weight and let him pound her. She wanted that pounding and she wanted to lie back with legs open wide, submitting to him. She held his shoulders and raised herself, getting off his cock. Thakur applied his mouth every where on her body’ to whatever part was near him: breasts, thigh, and the now-soaked cunt.

He watched quizzically as Binita moved away from him and lay in front of him. As she sat down and stretched back she thought she saw an eye through the trellis and the money plant growing on it. Was someone from Shaila aunty’s house spying on them? Before she could react to that, Thakur knelt between her legs. Holding her by the hips the man lifted her like a doll onto his hips. With her asscheeks in his hand he pumped her onto his cock and pounded her.

Binita’s hands clutched at his hairy arms for dear life as her babuji took her. “Aap thak tey nahin ho kya Babuji?” she asked impishly, her brattishness resurfacing at the same time as she dropped her inhibitions. (Don’t you ever lose your hardon?)

“Tumhe chodte samay, nahin,” grunted thakur in reply. (Not while fucking you.)

“Mai apse dur rahti hoon, tab bhi aap mujhe nahi chhodte. Randi banana hai kya apna?” she playfully scolded him. (Even when I stay away from you don’t leave me. You want to make me your whore?)

“Sasur sey aise baat karte hain?” asked Thakur, pushing up her gown, exposing her breasts. (Is that how you talk to your father-in-law?)They were like those mangoes of the tree under which they had first laid into each other. He slapped her breasts. They were sharp slaps delivering just-so-much pain. A physical rebuke accompanying the verbal rebuke.

Shaila clearly heard the word ‘sasur’. “My god!” she thought in shock. That strong muscular figure was her father-in-law and they were fucking like animals. Shaila’s juices now poured and she became bolder in seeking a perfect view. After all, the couple were indulging in illicit passion; they could hardly be expected to complain against her.

She could see the rippling muscles of his back, the strong buttocks and the pale legs of the girl spread around them. Her heels were banging his ass. Shaila marveled at the muscular physique of a man old enough to be a father-in-law. The coarse nature of the conversation between them was fascination and shocking too.

“Bahu ko chhodne ka shauk jab chadha, tab ye rishta yaad nahi raha,” she teased. (When you got addicted to fucking me you didn’t remember this relationship.) Then she made a loud yelp “Aaii!” as Thakur thrust his thumbs in from either end, further increasing the pressure on Binita’s vagina. Words failed him in replying her so he mauled her physically. Then, the crude landlord in him burst out, “Saali, randi!” (Bitch! Whore!)

With those remarks he became more animal and vigorous and Shaila could hear moans and grunts from the poor girl as she was methodically plundered. Shaila hated the lack of opportunity to get a better look at what was happening. She pressed her palm into her crotch to give herself some measure of relief. She couldn’t wait for her own husband to return now; she had to have a nice fuck.

Binita felt she would be torn open today and the only way she could manage Thakur was to ride him. She grabbed his arm and hefted herself up. Thakur was now kneeling and Binita was seated across his hips, her heels and feet on the ground on either side.

She said, “Aye Thakurji, apne bahu ko itna bhi mat thoko ki woh chal bhi nap aye.” (Don’t fuck me so much that I will not be able to walk even.)

She then proceeded to hold his head and hug him hard, moving her hips and quieting his plundering cock. This time as she faced the lattice, she could clearly see Shaila aunty watching them. She paused in her thrusting. When Thakur felt the pause he pummeled her ass with his fist. She kissed his ear with a wet mouth and murmured, “Shayad koi hamey dekh raha hai.” (I think someone is watching us.)
That woman next door had to be stopped. Thakur was determined to make sure that Sheila, the neighbor who had spotted him fucking his daughter-in-law did not carry the tale to others, notably his son. The young woman Binita had been wrapped around him and was fluttering like a rag in a storm; she had taken in Thakur’s not inconsiderably large cock and her stomach, womb and countless other internal organs were aflame.

The precise moment when they were spotted, the passions were incredibly high and stopping was not an option. They stumbled indoors and the fuck-fest continued on the drawing room rug.

But over the intensity of their physical intercourse, Binita had cried for the possible loss of both Thakur (her father-in-law) and Pritam (her husband), if Sheila aunty next door were to tell Pritam of her sighting the old man pounding his attractive, svelte bahu. Wild with lust, Thakur had continued to slide in and out of her lips and later her pussy, promising to control events in due course. Actually, at the moment of making the promise he had no clue on how he might do it. But he just needed the woman to go on and on.

Her inherent sauciness had matured beautifully at his sexual coaching and she was now an expert sexual partner. He luxuriated in her attentions and nothing could come in the way of his primeval burst. He felt a special strength in the surge of his cum when he was with her. Promises, not necessarily false, egged her on. No less in the grip of lust, Binita too took her complete pleasure.

It took Binita this realization of the threat of loss to submit herself completely to her babuji. She explicitly told him that she lusted his seriously large, animal cock, taking care to make a distinction between her lust for him and her love for her husband i.e. his son.

Thakur was comfortable with that idea. After all, early on both he and Binita recognized, implicitly or explicitly, that the only way to keep getting each other was under the cloak of legitimacy offered by her married status in that very household. Subsequently, Binita was torn between guilt and lust and tried to cure herself of the lust for that all conquering cock. But the Thakur never let her be.

Time and again, the chemistry between them ensured that old flames reignited to the quick. And where she showed greater determination to stay away from him, he broke all barriers.

On the few occasions he had used force, it merely heightened her own pleasure and she ended up begging to be fucked and treated like a sluttish whore.

From that, to the current situation where she had wept as they fucked, asking for thakur to protect their relationship was a welcome evolution for thakur.

But she had asked for, and possibly already gotten something more from her father-in-law that day. He had suggested that she get pregnant so that her position within the household would be secure. Binita had asked him to make her pregnant. And he well might have, given that she felt his warmth soaking her womb and then drench the floor beneath.

Satiated, and feeling manly as ever, Thakur had strode out of his son’s flat to accost the peeping lady next door. He had his lungi (sarong-like lower garment) thrown on at a rakish angle. His body was glistening with the oil that he was being massaged with when the sexually charged atmosphere combusted. He was sweaty and glowing from open pores; but equally perhaps due to the glow of a fantastic session with his unbelievably competent bahu.

He was all fuelled up for threatening and bullying the neighbor into submission. To his mind, as he exited the door, it was just another of the typical sessions of threatening and intimidation that he had carried out for years in his village. It was the bedrock of his dominance of the local economy.

He felt very very different each time he fucked his bahu (daughter-in-law). She made him feel young, youthful and powerful at a completely different level. Thakur was still sexually active with the loosely organised harem around his haveli in the village. So it was not as if he had rediscovered sex in the arms of Binita. But the energy levels and outcomes were dramatically different with Binita. That sense of power added to his bounce in the step and more so today when he wanted to intimidate the neighbor.

That lady next door had no business intruding the privacy of his son Pritam’s apartment. And yet she had, and she had spotted Thakur and Binita intertwined in a primal embrace, fucking, riding and ravaging one another. It had startled Binita and later she felt threatened. She had wept that Pritam would come to know from Sheila and the neighbor and that would be the end of the intense sex.

And there he was at Sheila aunty’s door, next door. Sheila and her husband had taken the young couple next door under their wing. Their own children had left home for higher studies. The emptiness in their home was well compensated by Binita and Pritam’s acquaintance and growing friendship.

When she had spotted the gripping fingers on a man’s back and the grinding of bodies together through the trellis of her balcony, Sheila had no clue who it might have been. Many a time, she had heard the animal sounds of coupling through the walls. That had clearly been Pritam going at his young wife. It was a turn on and though she never discussed it with her own husband, the arousal had brought a new energy to their waning sex life. With increased activity came an increased appetite for all things sexual.

Fittingly, therefore, the first bodily reaction to the sighting was arousal. Sheila watched in fascination; the real thing overshadowed even the slickest produced soft- or hard-porn movie she had seen. The sounds, the wild clutching, the marks left by fingers on his back – and all this at a very close range.

As her hands crept into her track pants she realized the man was not Pritam. The woman was definitely the lively Binita. Who? An affair? The only older man in their building who might have come home had to be the watchman or the milkman. Was her young neighbor likely to indulge herself with someone below her social class? Unlikely, though the typical UP-wallahs were supposed to be prodigiously endowed, according to her kitty party gossipers!

(UP is a northern Indian state and along with another state Bihar, is the source of a majority of migrant workers in the Indian cities of Mumbai and Delhi. Rural in their origins, they are strong, muscular and hard working folk, whose families stay behind in the villages. It would be entirely plausible that these sex-starved men are well able to match the needs of the city-dwelling ladies whose men folk are rather eviscerated by the stresses and pollution of city-life.)

Sheila stroked her pussy which had moistened at a quick pace and was lost in the excitement of the moment when she heard father-in-law and daughter-in-law exchanging endearments as they reacted to each other. Shock and confusion reigned in her mind as she considered the implications of her discovery. She felt a sense of responsibility towards Pritam but equally, was unsure if she would merely end up wrecking a home.

Her aching cunt demanded attention and her fingers got busy, stroking from clit downward, plunging in her digits into an increasingly soppy cleft between her legs. It was then that Thakur caught her eye. She didn’t withdraw her hand, betting that he might not be able to see her below the waist. His eyes traveled down her body and she saw him focus on the movements between her legs. She was spotted! She withdrew her hand in embarrassed shock. But if that man had spotted her, she too held a card against him.

When Binita and Thakur staggered out of sight, fucking all the way as they moved off, Sheila went indoors too, aching to soothe her burning cunt. Her husband Girish was not home. He had gone off to shop for fresh fish and he would be a while. She didn’t want to tell him about the illicit relationship between their lovely neighbor Binita whom they treated as one of their own, and her father-in-law, before she herself had sorted her mind out. But she needed Girish right now to fuck her.

Desperately, she lay down on her reclining chair which was positioned close to the wall her flat shared with Binita’s. She masturbated furiously, closing her eyes, imagining Binita being fucked while hoping to catch the sounds of the wild coupling. She rolled down her track pants around her ankles and legs spread wide she fucked her self. As her need grew so did her aggression and soon she found herself on the brink of hurting herself as she desperately sought release.

She heard a manly growl and timed her own release to that. Her eyes were closed and she imagined herself in Binita’s place, taking in the older man. He was even older than Sheila herself but clearly the younger woman had found immense pleasure in him, age notwithstanding. Immense enough for Binita to throw caution, tradition and restraint to the winds.

That reality allowed Sheila to imagine a man who surely must know how to touch a woman in every place she needed it most. She imagined a man who through all those years had learned and discovered all there was about pleasure. And now a man who was sharing his experience by giving a young, inexperienced woman all the pleasure her husband was to learn at the altar of lovemaking. An advance taste of what the young woman had to steer her young man to.

Those thoughts led to a wracking release which had Sheila thumping her ass vigorously on the cushion below her and briefly lusting for the man next door. The intensity was such that if he walked in through the door she would have fucked him silly. As the tremors subsided, sanity returned. Drowsy now, she thought about the dilemma. It seemed less of a dilemma. The girl was just plain lucky and it was within the family. “Why not?” she thought, as she pleasantly allowed sleep to overcome her.

What awoke her was the furious clanging of her door-bell. She threw on a caftan and rushed to the door. She opened it to find at her doorstep the man, who if he had walked in a little earlier, she would have been willing to fuck all the way to sexual nirvana.

“Kahiye?” asked Sheila enquiringly, leaning on the door, arm stretched over her head. (What can I do for you?) She was relaxed from the intense orgasm she had had. She was thankful that she had masturbated herself to a furious release, otherwise she might have assaulted Thakur at the spot where he stood.

Sheila admiringly eyed the rustic’s broad muscular frame. He glistened with oil and was clearly wrapped in minimal clothing. The redness on his skin could have been his robust health or perhaps the last tinges of the flush from sexual release. All told, he was quite a man and Sheila found herself sympathetic to Binita’s fall to temptation.

“Shall we go in?” he asked, a little non-plussed by Sheila’s chutzpah. The Thakur was used to submissive behavior from all those he addressed in his village and in his household. But this woman seemed to be enjoying his predicament and possibly taunting him. Sheila stepped aside to make way for him. Thakur strode past her, nearly brushing her body with his. Sheila scrambled out of the way to avoid contact. She was sure he was fresh from fucking that girl and she didn’t think he had time to wash.

She shut the door and followed Thakur who had been presumptuous enough to walk around the apartment sizing up the place. She caught up with him in the kitchen and asked him, “Aap ko kuch chahiye kya?” (Do you need anything?)

“Dekhiye,” he replied, drawing himself to his full height to exude authority, “Aap ney jo bhi dekha usey bhool jaiye.” (Look, forget whatever you saw today.)

“What shall I forget? The sight of a dirty old man plundering his own bahu?” asked Sheila, taunting him.

“Whatever I did was with her full cooperation and desire,” replied Thakur.

“That doesn’t it make it right,” countered Sheila.

“But it doesn’t concern you,” persisted Thakur.

“Maybe it does,” said Sheila turning her back to him, her hands going up to her hair to tie it into a bun. The action lifted her breasts up.

The Thakur’s nature belligerence burst forth. “How?” he asked aggressively.

“Any thing that happens to her, concerns me. I have to know,” she replied.

“You have to know what? Whether she enjoyed herself? Whether she was willing? She is part of my house and I know how to handle her,” he challenged her gruffly.

“There is so much that I don’t know!” Sheila answered, hands on the table behind her.

“You don’t know what it is to fuck around with me. Maybe I should just show you,” said the Thakur, his face red. He stepped forward.

Sheila enjoyed the idea that he had lost his temper. That gave her control. “Don’t make empty threats,” she said provocatively, turning around as she said that. He could not possibly assault her; and definitely not sexual. She was confident of that at least.

As she turned she saw Thakur’s hand lift his cock through the thin cloth of the lungi Sheila was startled by this display of uncouth behavior but also by the obvious stirring of his manhood. Quickly, she turned back, away from him. Her body was burning with embarrassment and she just wanted the bastard to leave.

Instead, she felt Thakur grip her arms and shove her forward on the kitchen table. Sheila placed her hands flat on the table to balance herself. Before she knew what was happening, his strong rough hands had bunched up her caftan and she felt the cool morning air on her thighs and ass.

“Rukiye! Stop!” she commanded him, spreading her legs to brace herself. Perhaps all it did was present the Thakur with a stable target. His hands roamed under her caftan and quickly discovered she was wearing nothing beneath. He stroked her belly with one hand and slowly crept upward to check out her breasts. She had a bra on. He insinuated one leg between her legs and knocked her knees apart.

“Isn’t it enough you have fucked your daughter-in-law?” she asked, hoping to stop him with questions on the morality of the situation.

“Now I have to make sure the secret is kept,” he replied, jerking his lungi free and letting it fall to the ground. He held his semi-erect cock in his hand and the pumped the clammy tool to bring it to full attention.

“Leave me or I will make sure everyone hears of it” Sheila threatened, even as her nipples felt unreasonably confined in the bra cups.

“I will give you a secret of our own for you to remain busy with,” said Thakur and he inserted his cock, now sufficiently erect between her ass cheeks.

Sheila braced herself for further resistance and tried to turn but he had her in his grip. “Besharam! Bahu ko zarur aise hi chodne par majboor kiya hoga!” she gasped. (You shameless man. You must have coerced your daughter-in-law in this same fashion.)

“Is that how it looked when she had her legs locked around my hips?” he asked.

“That was today. How about the first time?” asked Sheila twisting and turning to deny him progress.

“The first time she nearly raped me!” he replied. “Now we are addicted to each other, that’s all” said Thakur. As Sheila tried to make her body rigid, he thrust forward.

“NO!” screamed Sheila as the cock prodded her roughly, and nearly prised open her anus. She leaned forward to prevent that mishap. Thakur reached between them and directed his cock to her cunt which was now more open, with all the wiggling.

Sheila desperately hoped the older man would not feel the fluids in her pussy surging and flowing downward. Before the unconnected response from her body became open and obvious she had to stop this.

“Don’t compound your first mistake with another one now. We can always talk about this,” she gasped as she tried to wriggle out of his iron grip.

“That’s what I came here to do in the first place,” he grunted, as he guided his cock to nose around her nether regions.

“Whatever it is, she is your bahu,” went on Sheila, confident that this change in conversation could reverse the situation. She also assessed the largeness of his cockhead and felt sure that she was going to have this man, it would have to be with her lying back, and legs open wide and enough lubrication to avoid being rent asunder.

“I think the best way for you to understand this would be to experience what she experienced. Then, maybe you can relate to this. Which was she first — a woman or a daughter-in-law? And how to resist intense pleasure?” explained Thakur as he continued to caress and stroke her ass and back with one hand. The other hand continued to guide his cock to coax open her already parted pussy lips. He could sense wetness but that could well have been his own cock smearing her.

“There will be temptations. That does not mean one succumbs,” argued Sheila, trying to close her legs together. All she achieved was rubbing her own legs against the leg he had placed between hers. The hard muscular limb, with his hairy legs caressing her soft thighs, fascinated her. He seemed to be made of steel. She felt burning desire in the pit of her stomach as her mind imagined and wondered, “How steely is his cock?”.

“Yes, that’s what philosophy says. Let us see if you can practice it,” said Thakur. He resented her preachy tone. He just needed to teach her the lesson of her life in temptation and succumbing. He now reached under her below her belly. His middle finger slid to her slit. His fingers spread her lips. The other hand was used to guide his cock. When his cock felt his own fingers, he knew the target was found.

Instead of thrusting his hips, he carefully pistoned his cock in a precise movement which would have made a sniper proud. The cock slid forward with precise force, focused on the well-juiced target. Without any waste of energy in a general thrust, it splayed open the cunt and rode for some part of this length, before meeting further resistance.

Sheila bit her lip so that she would not be heard signaling the pleasure with an approving groan. When the bulb got stuck in the channel of her cunt she wished the flow would reach and lubricate him inward. But she could not be seen cooperating.

“You will have to stop this. With me. With her,” she ordered futilely. As she tried to move she realized he had her pinioned. Movement was impossible. Except if she thrust back — and that she was not about to do.

“Try this and tell if you can stop. If you can stop and do stop, then I will stop it with her too,” replied Thakur. The woman’s cunt was tight — obviously not enough was happening in her marital bed. This was going to be pleasurable.

He rocked back and forth sawing along the long slit of her cunt and soon enough felt the surge of fluids — clearly not his own. Hands slipped upward towards her breasts, still encased in her bra. His fingertips breached the underwire. Sheila shuddered involuntarily as the rough surface of his hands aroused a million trigger points in her soft, mildly saggy skin.

Her breasts were merely handles to grab. His eyes were closed and his mind was actually on the precise effect her cunt was having on his cock. The trunk was being caressed by lips and the head being pleasured by the narrowing passage.

“Sheila-ji,” he murmured in mock respect. “Aap thoda tayar rahiye,” he said, (do be ready for this) rocking into her gently, hands gripping her breasts. As he did so, the bra, tethered by only one hook, gave way and she felt his hands claim the entire territory, except for her nipples. And they instantly started to ache, begging for attention.

“For what?” gasped Sheila, tearing her mind away from his hands, his cock and his legs, all of which were touching her in intimate spots. She gripped the sides of the table. “Aap galat kar rahe ho,” she stammered. (You are doing wrong.)
“Let your body be the judge of right and wrong on this one,” he countered. “Then only can you decide about Binita. Just prepare yourself to discover that pleasure conquers everything. I want you to realize that.” Sheila stared out of the balcony as her cheek lay on her kitchen table. He was asking her to prepare herself. She could barely move from his grip. Her body was responding independent of her mind. She had never felt a man, firm and hard like this before. And as for his cock — no definitely nothing like that. How could she prepare for this?

She had a new worry — that of her husband returning from the fish market. She should not have opened the door so wide that he could saunter in. and now she herself was wide, wide open.

“My husband could return at anytime,” she mumbled, her body aflame and her mind numb.

“We already see a change in concerns, don’t we?” sneered Thakur, continuing his teasing rocking. Sheila had felt the broad cock struggle to slide in the narrow channel between her legs. The cock had firmly prodded her entrance a dozen times. He needed that action on himself to make his erection absolutely full. He also needed to grind pleasure out of her — or the willingness to receive pleasure. Both objectives were well met.

When she heard him sneering, Sheila felt angered. “Was this a hunt? A conquest? The bastard!” She gripped the table hard steeling herself for a full battle to escape from his clutches. No harm was done. Yet.

As she tensed, he rammed forward. The cock seared her cunt walls as Thakur yelled in pleasure. The sliding of her walls on his pillar was exquisite. He fucked her hard.

Sheila exhaled with a long “Haaaaaaaaaah!”

The hairy pubis slammed against her ass. She felt the prickly hair on her skin. Her eyes were closed. He had spread her wide, really wide. The cock was a monster-cock. The lubrication was excellent. As each enveloped the other, pleasure soared. She felt her inner thighs become jelly as her body opened out. She squeezed to reclaim the searing pleasure. The clamping effect on the cock was not lost on Thakur.

“Bas! That’s it!” he exulted. Now he was ramming in and out of her, hard and fast.

Sheila’s resistance could not have held up. Neither physically, nor from the pleasure quotient. If pleasure had not started she may have stopped it. But there was no question of having taken him in and not feeling the pleasure while he pulled out. And then there was no question of not having him ride in again, filling the unbearable vacuum he left behind.

She felt snug and full of him, engorged. She luxuriated in that for a split second before she craved the friction of his cock against her cunt again. Pleasure is a cycle, she thought. Either you in or you are out. And once in, you need to go through the paces. She let her body go limp as she realised any stoppage was going to be distressing. But she was also distressed as the hopelessly compromised condition of herself.

For Thakur, the fucking was a lesson being administered. From the pleasure point of view, he needed to quickly climb to the pinnacle and release. This erection and fucking while pleasurable, was his second fuck and it was close after the first. The impulse to manage a cum quickly was high.

And yes, there was her husband to worry about.

He should have rather worried about Binita. His daughter-in-law had been wondering about his whereabouts. The answer came when Sheila aunty’s kitchen table thumped against the wall. The dull thuds, their rhythm and the periodicity seemed to suggest a fuck. Could he?

In a flash, she was at the door of Sheila’s flat. They had neglected to latch the door. She stood in the doorway, watching as Sheila lay forward, her cheek on the table, and face away from the front door. Behind her stood her Babuji, ass muscles clenching and releasing as he fucked like the animal he was. The old man was indeed an animal. She had seen him taking his pleasure with the bevy of maids in the village. And now this.

Both Thakur and Sheila were oblivious to the young woman watching jealously from the doorway. Thakur was now humping Sheila with a ferocity. Between his quest for release and the need to pound Sheila into submission Thakur had now worked up a sweat. “Ye lo. Take this! Unh! Ah! Do you see? Do you……..?” he demanded.

“Thakur saab! Thoda… ah… please! A little softer? Let me feel you? Not so hard, please?” sobbed Sheila as she clung on to the table.

“No. first you promise that you will not recount this morning’s incident,” insisted Thakur. He clutched at her breasts harder.

Sheila was angry with her body for betraying her with its wet, squishy response. “I will tell everyone not only…aaaah!… that you fuck your bahu… uhh… but also…unhh… that you fucked — oh fuck! — me………!” yowled out Sheila as Thakur hammered into her.

“Will you also tell them….uh… that you became slick with juices and opened wide for me?” he stammered, as pleasure played havoc with his diction.

“That’s not my fault, you dirty old man,” cried out Sheila as she felt her body surge with a build up. It was beautiful, the way he opened her out and his cock massaged every cell along her pussy lining to awake her body.

“Neither was it Binita’s,” concluded Thakur triumphantly.

“But you corrupted her,” said Sheila as she felt her body melt completely. An orgasm of earthquake proportions was upon her. She had never felt so helpless in her release as today. Usually, her pleasure was within a threshold of control and she used it to pleasure back her husband. But Thakur was a pleasure-machine and she just took it. Suddenly imagined Binita’s finger nails digging into his back and realised she wanted to feel his body as well.

“And you? Are you not corrupt now,” Thakur paused. A hand slid down between their bodies and his fingers dabbed up the mix of juices. He brought his fingers to her lips and held it there. “What is this?” he demanded. “Are you not a slut now?”

“Let me show you how much of a slut I am!” she hissed. She leaned up and quickly took the caftan off, baring her entire back to him. Thakur leaned forward and kissed her between the shoulder blades. Sheila gasped at the hot touch of his lips — but also at the vacantness inside her as the cock slipped out from the change in posture. “Fuck me like you should really fuck a woman,” said Sheila pushing him back and turning around. She held her legs up, spread wide and invited him back into her cunt. As Thakur stepped forward, cock once again in his fist to guide it in, Sheila turned her head and was shocked to see the fixated figure of Binita.

Her legs dropped and she tried to push aside Thakur as he moved closer. But he grabbed her thighs and laid them over his shoulder. He looked down. The cunt was defenselessly spread wide now. He held his cock to the cunt.

“Thakur,” whispered Sheila, nodding towards Binita. A woman can control herself, but a man in lust doesn’t pause. Thakur rammed his cock back in with a loud sigh of relief at reclaiming his soppy refuge. Sheila screamed with pleasure at the invasion. Her hands gripped his strong arms. “Babujee,” she wailed, “aapki bahu!” (Your daughter-in-law).

“What of her? She too has had this” — he fucked harder for emphasis- “pleasure” he ended ramming himself into her repeatedly.

Thakur gripped her breasts hard, very hard. The flesh was in his hands, tight and hard. But the nipples and the area around them were free and left alone. The blood engorged the nipples as his hand held tight. She wished he would touch them, kiss them and give them relief. The tingling sensation was huge.

Thakur angled his cock to graze her clit repeatedly as he slid in and out.

“Babuji, look there!” she exclaimed, her hand pointed to Binita.

Sheila’s hand was outstretched toward Binita. Her other hand gripped his arm for pleasure. Her cunt was open and being pounded. Her breasts were being mauled. The experience was unimaginably good. But she should have seduced the man for the sake of her own pleasure. Binita seeing her in this slut-lust condition was not what she wanted.

“Beti,” she called out to Binita. (Come, my girl.) Thakur turned towards Binita. Their eyes met. Thakur continued to fuck, sweat pouring down his brow and chest. The amalgam of bodies was a squishy mess. Thakur’s face was wincing as shots of pleasure ran through his body.

He slowed a bit. Only to have Sheila thrust back with an urgency. Her hands grabbed back at Thakur and she thrust her hips lewdly towards his loins. “Arrgggh!” shuddered Thakur as the assault from the woman ravaged him. He thrust back to quell her.

Binita stepped forward. Sheila moved her legs from Thakur’s shoulders to around his hips. Her heels hammered at the muscular ass, urging him to fuck them both to the grand finale. She clutched at his chest, her fingers mauling his nipples , hurting him. Thakur reached for her hands, releasing her breasts. “Damn!” thought Sheila. She needed his hands everywhere. And his cock deep in her cunt.

Thakur and Sheila held hands, fingers interlaced. They pulled themselves together. Then their palms pushed backwards. Sheila and thakur briefly became a single beast comprised of two parts. The two parts levered against once another, hands, hips and bodies — all with the single goal of pistoning the cock and cunt to release intense pleasure.

When Binita reached close, Sheila released Thakur’s hand and caught Binita’s soft, small hand. It held a mobile phone which she took from the girl and placed on the table. Then with her other hand, she reached for Thakur’s hand and placed Binita’s hand in his. Soon the three of them were holding hands three-ways. Thakur’s right hand clutched Sheila’s left hand as they fucked with increased vigor. Sheila’s right hand held Binita’s left hand gently; this was her latest guidance to the girl she had taken under her wing in the city. And Binita’s right hand was in Thakur’s: a familiar union of Binita and her Babuji.

Thakur’s grip on Binita’s and Sheila’s hand was hard; he was focused on the fucking he was delivering his newest conquest.

Sheila guided Binita’s hand to her own neglected breasts which were aching for attention.

Binita’s fingers stroked the nipples and the mass of flesh. Sheila aunty’s skin was hot and burning. There were also drops of sweat from her Babuji’s brow and Sheila aunty seemed to be sweating too.

Binita gathered the mound of flesh in her fist, but also let her thumb flick and pleasure the nipple.

“Yes beti,” gasped Sheila, thanking her ward for pleasuring her rather than playing games.

As orgasms rippled through her body, Sheila pulled Binita down to her breasts. The younger woman sucked and milked her aunty’s breasts. Her hand crept to Babuji’s ass as it pounded into Sheila aunty, stroking and encouraging him. Her lips moved further up and kissed Sheila’s throat, which was bobbing and pulsating with the pleasure coursing through her body.

Sheila’s body bucked and thrashed as the combined attention of the old man and young girl overpowered her. The rhythm of fucking was lost as the hips thrashed in uncontrolled orgasms. Sheila’s lips smeared on Binita’s lips as she lost control of her neck muscles too. Sheila was in effect, thrashing her body against Binita and Thakur, squeezing new found pleasure out of her system. This was incredible! She had never experienced such pleasure before. She was lost in her own world.

A flash of light brought her back to reality. Thakur was holding up Binita’s mobile and had taken a photo of the two women kissing.

“What are you trying to do?” mumbled Sheila through the haze of pleasure.

“Something to remind you of how you feel in pleasure,” replied Thakur. He tossed the phone aside to focus on the finish. His ever reliable Binita came to assist. Her hand, till now caressing his ass, slid lower and reaching under him stroked his sac and perineum. The clenched muscles which held back Thakur’s release were let loose. Binita pushed his buttocks aside with fingers as if to invade Thakur’s ass. Thakur’s face contorted and helplessness washed over him.

Sheila could see the transformation in the man who had dominated her till just now. He seemed weak and wobbling. She could see he might cum anytime, but she could not know why. She was older, yes; but she was nowhere the younger one’s sexual prowess or experience.

Thakur groaned his orgasm out aloud, as he released into Sheila’s plundered pussy. Binita stepped back to let man and woman exchange the moment of passion. Sheila hauled herself up, hands shimmying up his arms till she was able to sink her own nails into his broad shoulder blades, signaling her own aftershocks of pleasure.

The gap between them closed as her breasts crushed against his broad chest, the chest which she had admired so much. For the first time, their lips met. Thakur shuddered as his semen spurted into Sheila. She screamed into his throat in disbelief at the sheer quantum of seed spilling into her. To cum twice at his age and then so copiously was a wonder!

As he fucked her in the rapidly receding orgasm, Sheila clutched onto this wonderful man. Subsidiary orgasms coursed through her body. The two mashed their lips together, clinging, grinding and releasing. Thakur’s hands roamed her back and in a final act, he cupped her ass and lifted her onto his cock and thrust as deep into her as she could.

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” sucked in Sheila as the cock touched her in a few more unexpected places.

Binita stepped back, thinking these two had no place for her in this intensity. As she did, Sheila’s hand found her again. She stopped her from stepping away. The younger lady stopped there. Tantalizingly close to two people she admired a lot, locked in their own passionate release. She was fully clothed and not part of the sexual tryst. But then again, she was the key link in the equation between these two.

Sheila allowed the quakes to subside and as soon as the storm passed, her body sagged. She ran her nails down his chest as she allowed her body to lay back slowly.

Thakur let go of the woman, his mission accomplished.

“Come beti” he beckoned to Binita. “We shall have no trouble from her!” he announced. He bent to pick up his dhoti and wrap it around his waist. He took her hand and led her out, leaving a drained Sheila shocked at the abrupt departure. Binita was looking back at her Sheila aunty as her Babuji dragged her away. She wanted to stroke and soothe that beautiful woman- how warm and erotic she seemed! She wanted to tell aunty that Babuji’s approach to Sheila was not her own attitude to Sheila. She wanted to touch, hold cling and talk to Sheila aunty. She wanted to lay her head on her breast, sucking, toying, caressing. She had always wanted to reciprocate that lady’s warmth and kindness. The possibility of holding and conveying her feelings seemed so much preferable to the traditional methods of thanking.

There she was laid back, open and available. And here was thakur dragging her off.

This was not the time.

As they left the flat, Thakur, his face sweaty and flushed, bare-bodied came face to face with Sheila’s husband. Thakur surely looked suspicious coming out of the flat in this state. But the properly attired Binita who followed saved the day. That left the matter of the woman on the kitchen table, helplessly laid out nude and in satiation.

“Don’t close the door!” said Sheila’s husband, “I don’t have a key!”

Binita shut the door. Hopefully, that gave Sheila aunty the time she needed.

Father-in-law and daughter-in-law slid into their own flat, Binita suddenly thankful that her Babuji had treated it as a transaction; had they lingered, they would have been caught.

Finally, her Babuji had countered the threat of exposure. She felt satisfied that he cared for her. But she should have known he would solve it using his manhood as a weapon. And of that, she was jealous.
Sheila spent much of the afternoon and evening alone on her balcony, smoking and staring into the distance. Her husband could not figure out why but then Sheila went through these phases and he let her be. He had no way of knowing how dramatic and faraway her thoughts were.

Actually, not that far away. Her thoughts were on the young woman Binita next door, her father-in-law the Thakur and her own self. Sheila and her husband had taken the young couple new to town under their wing long back. And earlier in the morning Sheila had spotted the young woman impaled — no, speared — on her father-in-law as he pounded her like an animal.

They spotted her but didn’t — couldn’t- stop. They merely moved location and yet the sounds and thumps reached Sheila’s ears.

And then there was Sheila’s response to the visual and aural stimulation and her own mind and imagination driving her wilder still. She masturbated to the sounds of the illicit lovemaking next door. It was not lovemaking- it was wild fucking. She discovered that when the Thakur, shamelessly came over as soon as he had finished the fuck-fest.

He had rationalized the illicit relationship to Sheila as bodily needs of both himself and his bahu (daughter-in-law). That was the stunning thing. There was no remorse or excuse making. Perhaps what was truly stunning was the truth. The man and woman had an incredible chemistry and they indulged in each other fully. Simple.

Thakur had threatened her and asked her to be silent about his affair. When Sheila challenged him and accused him of exploiting Binita, Thakur had stepped forward to demonstrate how unstoppable lust could become. Thakur being a sexual predator from his earliest village belle in his teens right up to his nubile, virgin daughter-in-law spotted the flush in Sheila. Her own sexual readiness was visible to him.

As Sheila provoked him in argument, she miscalculated that Thakur would be incapable of fucking her as he had only just finished fucking his daughter-in-law. But the old man was a sexual dynamo.

He fucked her, right there in her kitchen on the table. Reluctance gave way to unbridled pleasure and tables were indeed turned when Binita wandered in. The tearful young bahu had pleaded with her father-in-law to buy Sheila’s silence. She feared as much for her marriage as she feared for deprivation of sex with the Thakur. It thrilled Thakur that Binita wanted their sexual relationship protected. The man in him strode over to Sheila’s place, bullied, fucked and pleasured Sheila into a tentative submission.

When Binita walked in to check on what was happening, she found Sheila aunty being plundered by her Thakur and responding pleasurably to her man. She wanted to hold, hug and cuddle up to her aunty and seal their already close relationship with some physical intimacy. There was no jealousy in her. There was just a need to be close to her Sheila aunty. But Thakur had dragged off his daughter-in-law. He knew that at that point he had a psychological advantage over Sheila. He did not want Binita apologizing or otherwise compromising what he had achieved.

And that left Sheila wondering about what to do next.

It was sexual: the bond between father-in-law and daughter-in-law. If Binita found sexual prowess in her husband Pritam this could be broken. Sheila could understand Binita’s attraction for Thakur from the fucking she herself had taken. It was animal like she had rarely experienced. The vigor was that of some her younger lovers. But the experience missing in them was blended in. Thakur was skill and experience of a man who had mastered the body of a woman combined with lust and vigor of a youngster discovering sexual release.

She felt her pussy stirring unreasonably. She had masturbated violently and she been fucked even more aggressively. Something had been awoken.

She dragged on the umpteenth cigarette and shook herself out of her own growing obsession with sex. She needed to solve it for Binita. Somehow, from the moment Binita and Pritam had moved in, Sheila and her husband — ‘Uncle’ and ‘Aunty’ to the youngsters — had helped them settle down in so many different ways. She felt the same way about this. The illicit sex between the two had the potential to rupture the marriage. With the clarity that it was raw sex at play, she felt a solution might be possible.

The solution did not occur to her then. But it did come to her in a flash in the middle of the dinner she hosted for a few friends, her neighbors Binita and Pritam, and Pritam’s father, the Thakur.

The problem was perhaps Pritam; and the solution had to be some change in how Pritam handled Binita.

At an opportune moment she guided the young man to the balcony. This was the same balcony from where she had spotted Thakur and Binita fucking. They stood leaning back on the balcony facing the room where the guests were moving about.

“Son, are you able to keep Binita happy?” she asked in her opening salvo. The word ‘happy’ meant many things in most Indian languages. It could imply you being nice to your wife. It could also mean to ask whether your sex life was normal. In some sub-cultures it was a direct reference to the female orgasm. And at the broadest level, it referred to a wholesomeness of the marital equation: from sex, to niceness, to outings, to having nice in-laws.

“What do you mean, aunty? Of course! Did she say anything to you?” asked Pritam, ever eager to keep his wife happy. The marriage had been controversial and had very nearly not happened. They loved each other dearly and were willing to take on any challenge. Then suddenly, the Thakur, his father had turned a supporter of the marriage proposal. Pritam had no clue that his father’s change of heart had anything to do with a direct encounter between Binita and her prospective father-in-law. The virgin bride-to-be lost her virginity in a spirited meeting. The sexual desire and bond between Thakur and Binita then became a parallel track to the abiding love between Binita and Pritam.

Pritam was determined as ever to make something he had fought so hard for a success. He was particularly caring towards Binita and took care of her every need. And now here was Sheila aunty suggesting something might be amiss. She was more than a mother to them. While his own mother was in the village, in this large soulless city, it was Sheila aunty.

Sheila shook her head. “No. She didn’t. But she doesn’t need to you know. I know her,” she replied.

“So what is it, you think?” asked Pritam. If there was anything to be solved, he was going to fix it.

“How good are you with her in bed?” asked Sheila, her chest constricting as she said that. She felt blood rushing to her face. She had opened the topic.

Pritam just stared at her. Vegetable shopping, yes. Where to dine out, yes. Making sure the house was well equipped, yes. Medicines and consultation for typical women issues — just fine. But sex?

Sheila cleared her throat. “Well?” she egged him. It was a job which had to be done and there was no one but her to do it.

“We are quite regular and she seems quite happy with it,” mumbled Pritam, eyes down as he felt his ears burning in embarrassment.

Sheila felt bad for the young man. Poor chap. So earnest and well meaning and there was his wife, being a bitch with the father. Suddenly, she felt angry with Thakur for becoming a competitor to his own son. It made her more determined to de-addict Binita. That would teach him!

“Hey!” she said softly. She held his chin and lifted his face up. “Nothing for you to be shy with aunty, ok?” she whispered, “I am there for you.” She hugged him. And perhaps for the first time each felt the other. She felt her breasts press against his arm. And he felt those mounds on his arm.

“Look, there are some things which you just must know,” said Sheila, warming to the task. Suddenly she felt conscious of her attire. She had worn a blouse which was tethered with laces right up to her throat. It seemed completely modest, with no cleavage or skin showing at all. But it was completely backless. Self-consciously she tried to pull her saree pallo around her shoulders to cover her back. She merely drew attention to her smooth expanse of skin on the back.

The blouse was actually designed for seduction. The seemingly modest front had two panels, neither of which, on their own could cover a breast fully. But pulled together and laced up, they concealed the front completely. It was in black silk with a self-pattern in black. And there is nothing as seductive as black. For those who were looking for it, the effect was to bunch those masses of flesh tightly and hold them up together, as if they were waiting to burst into your presence. All it needed was for the top bow knot to be gently tugged open. If you knew, if you looked.

And Pritam was looking now. Sheila wished she had worn a bra — but she had not. She never did with this blouse, though her tailor had told her to be sure to wear one. Her tailor did not know her so well after all. Sheila used this blouse to great effect at parties. A clever adjustment of the saree top would reveal to a person she targeted the true nature of this blouse. To the rest, she seemed more modestly attired than most.

It didn’t help that the surge of blood in her veins had caused her nipples to engorge. They poked out of the sheer silk, adding to the heady effect of her confined breasts. Pritam felt his throat go dry.

“You must learn to keep her tied to you,” said Sheila. Pritam allowed his eyes to wander over Sheila aunty. He had never looked at a woman other than Binita but was now quite intrigued by what Sheila was trying to conceal. As he looked at her back he saw the vast expanse of her smooth flesh. It was inviting. And then he noticed there was only a string at the back — no hint of a bra. His eyes ran down the front of her chest — sure enough, there were her nipples, stabbing out calling for attention.

“How?” he croaked for his throat was dry as ever. His mind was elsewhere, his eyes were wandering and the word he spoke was unconnected to anything else.

Sheila glanced at him to see how Pritam was taking this. She saw his eyes fixed on her chest. She looked down and saw what her blood had already told her: engorged nipples. She heaved a sigh which caused her breasts to rise and fall and merely accentuate their sumptuousness.

“You have to make sure that the lovemaking is a complete process,” she continued.

“I always do finish,” replied Pritam, wondering where this was leading. He was suddenly extra conscious of their physical proximity.

“See, this is what I am talking about,” exclaimed Sheila. She pulled her saree around her trying to bring about some true modesty.

Suddenly her husband poked his head out, “What’s on here? Everyone comfortable?” he asked, ever the careful host.

“Just having a private word,” said Sheila waving him off.

“Oh,” he said and retreated. She watched him go over to Binita and said something to her and both of them looked towards the balcony.

“What are you talking about?” asked Pritam. Carefully, he let his arm extend outward and without touching her, brought Sheila within the ambit of his reach. All he needed to do now was curve his hand and it would be on her shoulder. Her skin was tantalizing and within reach. But this conversation was not about her. Yet, his nostrils were loaded with her scent and his eyes were searching out the contours of her body.

“Did she finish? You, of course would finish. What about her?” she asked.

“What about her?” asked Pritam.

Sheila lost it. She turned to face him. “There is more to making love to a woman than just fucking her, ok!” she hissed.

Pritam looked more shocked than ever. Sheila aunty was using words like ‘fuck’ with him.

“What happened to you, aunty? Why are you talking like this?” asked a flustered Pritam.

Again someone interrupted- this time it was Binita. “Is everything okay? We guys are missing you in there,” she said.

“Binita — tum jao. Everything is fine. I am just talking some sense into Pritam!” she said sharply.

Binita stiffened. Could it be about her and babuji? Could Sheila be blurting out the truth? Surely not after the fucking she so gratefully accepted from Babuji? She went back in, now more tense than ever.

“Come with me,” said Sheila to Pritam. “We will never get the privacy we need to talk this through.”

She grabbed his wrist and pulled him. He followed her meekly through the bustling room of visitors. Sheila, the party artist, threw casual remarks at her various guests, making them feel comfortable even as she wove through them on an agenda of her own. Cleverly, she made everyone feel she was present even as she was leaving with Pritam.

Quickly she took Pritam to the top floor of the apartment block.

“Where are you taking me?” asked a bewildered Pritam. He followed her, his eyes now checking out Sheila aunty in a way he had never imagined her before. His eyes wandered between her bare back and the round, rolling ass.

“We are building a party lounge on the rooftop for our building. It is still being completed. We can sit there and chat for a bit,” said Sheila.

Even though there were no lights in the area, the place had a general low illumination from the surrounding areas.

“This is where the bar is going to be,” said Sheila pointing out the work being done. The bar was made with slabs of granite placed at two levels, one for the barman and the other the bar top. “Here is a sink,” she pointed out. “It’s a good plan. We can have our parties and get togethers here henceforth.”

She engaged in minor talk about the work somewhat nervous about the topic she had initiated. She was now here alone with him wondering whether she was doing the right thing. The wine she was sipping had made her heady and talking about sex and Pritam’s evident ignorance was playing tricks on her mind. She had a weakness for seduction and Pritam was dear to her. Getting physical with him did not seem so far fetched. But it was completely the wrong direction to take if marriage counseling was her plan. There were enough problems with Binita fucking her father-in-law.

“Let’s go,” said Sheila abruptly, unable to take the ache in her nipples. She was not in control and this was not how she wanted to do this. Interruptions and all, her house balcony seemed a better bet for control.

“But what about her? What did you bring me here to tell me? You cannot say something is wrong with me and then leave it incomplete,” he complained.

“Oh, nothing is wrong with you dear,” said Sheila spontaneously. She moved towards Pritam and held him by his arm hoping to reassure him. He felt the wine on her breath as she stood close to him.

“Aunty,” murmured the young man.

“Oh, Pritam! I want you two to be so happy,” whispered Sheila rubbing his arm.

“But we are!” said Pritam, moving closer to the woman who had meant so much to them. Those magnificent breasts came to rest against his chest.

“There are things missing. I want to teach you about those,” said Sheila. Feeling her nipples stab his chest. It was years since she had taken a younger man. The seduction game was like swimming; once you learnt it, it came back to you naturally at the opportune moment.

Lips parted, warm, wet and searching, Sheila reached up and closed her mouth over his and kissed Pritam.

“Don’t get this wrong,” she whispered into his lips between kisses. “I am doing this for your own good. Yours and Binita’s.”

Pritam’s mind was in whirl. His pulse was racing and his cock was engorged. His surrogate, stand-in, city mom was kissing him and he was kissing her back. She was a woman worth fucking and he was all ready for her. And if any guilt should have stopped them, she had it covered with her good wishes for them. Her intentions were not to be doubted he thought. His hands came up, one on her hip and the other to side swell of her breast.

“Did you know: just as you finish there is a finish for her too?” murmured Sheila as she nibbled at his lips.

“Is there, aunty?” stammered Pritam. As her lips continued their work, the hands on her became more sure. He felt her breasts. He now wanted to knead them and suck them good. Would she let him?

“Yes, there is. And it needs patience. You cannot go at her with this,” said Sheila sliding a hand between them and feeling the outline of his cock. She gasped. He was nice and hard. The blood pounded in her head. She needed release.

Pritam was startled with the effect of her hand on his cock and his teeth caught her lip.

“Then what?” he asked, his hips moving in the fuck-rhythm against her hand.

“See, that is all you know,” explained Sheila. “To fuck with that cock of yours,” she said, emphasizing the ‘k’s in the sentence, becoming sluttish in her talk.

“Aunty!” gasped Pritam his gasp a mix excitement at Sheila’s talk and his own physical need of the moment.

She pushed him back and walking backward hoisted herself up on the ledge. “Come here, young man,” she invited him. As he walked toward her she raised her leg and placed it on his chest stopping him from getting closer. Her legs were wide and had there been more light he would have glimpsed her pussy, which was at least as engorged as her nipples. The lips were slick with her juices as the woman flowed with the thought of a new seduction and conquest. Pritam could not see it at that moment but Sheila was wearing nothing under her petticoat — another playful habit of hers on party nights.

She slid the leg over his shoulder and placed the other leg on the side wall.

“Go down,” she commanded.

Pritam held her leg in his hand and allowed his lips to drag on her calf. Her legs were fleshy and heavy of a woman well into her forties. But she was silky smooth. As his head moved towards her pussy his head pushed the saree and petticoat into a bunch.

Sheila laughed. “Fool,” she whispered and lifted the garments and threw them over his head.

As the acid smell of her pussy hit him Pritam drew in his breath and gripping her hips in his hand, kissed her there. He gasped as his lips encountered her open wet flesh. She was wearing nothing! He kissed her again, tasting the somewhat viscous fluid. It tasted sharp.

He tried to lift his head. He wanted more of her.

“Stop,” she commanded, forcing his head down.

He shook himself free. “What next?” he asked, peering up to her.

She was a sight to behold. Her lips were hanging open in lust and she had let herself fall back as she allowed her legs to open. Her chest was heaving from her breathless passion.

“Lick me! That is what Binita misses,” she panted.

“She told you?” he asked incredulously.

“I just know,” she hissed, pressing his head down forcefully and lying back. “Put your tongue out and lick me,” she ordered.

Pritam tentatively put out his tongue. And lapped at her. They were weak, exploratory strokes. He needed to be harder. She moved her hips against him, grinding her pussy against his face. Pritam gulped, his tongue losing the battle.

“Your tongue!” she commanded him, holding him by his ears. “It should meet my hip thrusts! Tongue me. Lick me!”

Pritam held out his tongue against the pussy lips which seemed soaked now. He tongued her.

“Yes! Yes!” moaned Sheila. “Like that!”

Pritam’s hands roamed searching for those magnificent breasts. She grabbed his hands. “This is not about you. You guys can only think ‘breasts’ and ‘fuck’. Think about her. Think of the pleasure she is getting now!” she said. “Ah! Ah! Ah!” she intoned to make sure he knew the strokes were working.

“Mmph!” grunted Pritam.

Now focus on the top with the tip of your tongue,” she said.

As he formed a pointed tip with his tongue, he found Sheila aunty manipulating her pussy so her clit touched the point. She shuddered. He felt the slick jut of flesh.
“Feel that?” she asked.

“Mmph,” he affirmed.

“Remember that, ok?” she panted. “Now GO at it,” she emphasized the go. Pritam lashed at her with the tongue tip.

“Yes!” she hissed.

“Alternate,” she instructed him. He stopped. She thrust her hips frantically searching for the obliging tongue.

“Between the tip and the licks,” she said quickly so that he could recommence to satisfy her needs.

“This will bring her to a finish if you do it long enough,” she stammered as the tongue found its mark.

“Oh, yes! Yes! Yes! Yah!” she groaned as her orgasm rose rapidly. “Ram your fingers into her at this point,” she pleaded. “She doesn’t know if she wants the vacuum filled or the clit hammered” she wailed.

“She or you?” gasped Pritam.

“She! She! Sheee!” sobbed Sheila as Pritam’s fingers slid into the gaping cunt unobstructed even for a bit.

Her hips violently bucked and thrashed as her orgasm rippled through her. She held his head hard and in place to ensure she didn’t miss one single tongue stroke.

Pritam, the eager student, mechanically and faithfully continued his ministrations. His limited knowledge helped him finish her to perfection.

Sheila squirted, drenching a surprised, shocked Pritam, his nostrils filled with her fluids and he opened his mouth for a large inhalation, nearly choking on her juices. And having filled his lungs plunged back to the still squirting, squelching, throbbing and thrashing Sheila.

“Yes Pritam! Yes! This is what Binita wants!” she sobbed.

“You, you, you!” sputtered Pritam into her bubbling cunt as he completed his assigned task.

When he rose from the depths of her pussy, she was radiant in her complete release.

“That,” she panted, “Is how a woman completes! Have you ever seen Binita like this?”

Pritam shook his head, her cum and juices staining his chin and lips. “No” he gasped.

“Do it to her like this,” she said triumphantly.

“And don’t you want to check how a man finishes? Whether I do that right?” asked Pritam, unbuckling his trousers.

Sheila staggered to get up. “Beta, I don’t think we can do that!” she stammered, well in control of her senses post-orgasm.

“Why not?” it was a rhetorical question from Pritam.

His cock lunged free as he moved forward over her. He reached for the bow lace at her neck. Those breasts would now be his. As he tugged he was delightfully surprised at what happened next.

The two panels of the blouse moved apart to their natural position with the swell of her breasts. He could see the mounds of flesh, bare — no bra, as he had guessed. On one side her nipple, standing erect was visible. The other panel covered the nipple of the breast. He moved apart the panels and hands trembling, claimed his prize.

“No!” gasped Sheila, her hands on his arms. Pritam was now over her and his cock waved between her legs.

“Son, this is wrong!” she pleaded.

Pritam did not answer except to knead those magnificent breasts as he knew to, and moved closer. His cock slid into the cunt, lubricated by the mess between her legs.

“Pritam!” she gasped, “Not like this!”

He stiffened. Maybe she really wanted to stop him? He wanted her- but she was his Sheila aunty. Crazed as he was, she was the woman he obeyed instinctively. If she let him, he would fuck her. And how!

But if she didn’t, he wouldn’t. And that would not surprise him.

“Dry her before you fuck her,” instructed Sheila. She was not stopping him, to his surprise. She was teaching him how. She grabbed her petticoat and stuffed it up her pussy making it as dry as she could. Then she wiped his cock with it.

“Now, now,” she invited, wiggling her hips and pulling him to herself. “Fuck her!” she commanded. She sighed with contentment as she felt his cock prise apart her lips only to be absorbed by the bubbling pit within. She squeezed her hips together, feeling the circumference.

The instructor in her took note of the fact that in the wetness, Pritam’s cock was lost. And she contrasted that with the fullness of Thakur, wet or not.

“Move your legs apart,” she ordered, the pulse in her neck quickening as she felt tremors building.

He balanced himself atop her, spreading his legs.

She moved her legs closer and felt her self closing around the slender but hard cock. This was better.

“This is how she wants to be fucked,” hissed Sheila. She humped his cock wildly. Pritam hung on for dear life. His cock was mauled and milked by the expert fucking from Sheila aunty.

“Aunty!” he groaned as he spilt into her. Sheila moved her legs behind him and pummeled his ass making him quiver his entire release into her pussy.

“Oh yes, my baby! Fill me! Fuck me! Love me!” she wept. “This, this is what she wants!”

Sheila loved Pritam and the sexual intimacy was deeply, deeply satisfying. She took him as her own, she filled herself with him. She milked him. She dried him out. And as he felt her do all those to him, Pritam fixed his mouth on her breast and sucked and dug his teeth into them. He had wanted them all evening and between kneading and sucking he satisfied his thirst.

And he filled her thirst for him; a thirst which she did not know had existed.

The frantic movements ceased. The woman he treated as his mother lay beneath him, open, mauled and plundered.

The thrusting ceased as he had no more seed to spill. The boy she treated as her son lay slumped on top, spent.

They held each other close, savoring the intimacy which only a complete sexual release brings.

She patted his arm. “That, is what she wants” whispered Sheila.

Pritam, sweaty from the exertion, nodded. He had never licked and tongued Binita like that.

But Sheila knew there was more to handle. She had taught him how to suck Binita. But she had also experienced the fuck. And the contrast between Thakur and Pritam was clear to her, even in one encounter. Binita must feel the difference every time both men touched her. The son was a shadow of the father. And the father, old or not, was a bull of a man.

She had tried to teach Pritam the technique of straddling his wife. But she was unsure if he could make that work.

As she laced up her blouse and smoothed down her saree and petticoat, she wondered if she needed a chat with Binita.

“Don’t come down with me,” muttered Sheila aunty as she left. The contrast between what she was, what she had done and her own conclusions about Thakur and her son had started more problems.

There was more to come; she knew it.

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