Chapter 01: A Thakur Challenges Her Womanhood
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 schools 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.
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 schools 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.
Chapter 02: Binita & Thakur Meet at Home
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.
Chapter 03: Another Step Towards Womanhood
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.
Chapter 04: Binita Around the House
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.
Chapter 05: They Celebrate Holi Together
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.
Chapter 06: A Youth Participates in Holi
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.
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