The Masala Moment Ch. 03

Heels

The proceedings of that night both exhausted them as well as caused some concern.

Baba knew he had been noisy and demanding in his fucking, exhausting his daughter in law quite completely. Paru had been wrung dry by the energy and the inventiveness of the old man.

Both were also aware of the brazenness of what they had done. It was easy to be discovered. Any one could have come to the terrace where they had fucked for hours. They could have been spotted by neighbors. And neither of them was sure that they had not been heard. Each of them, while cumming had screamed out orgasms and pleasure. Who knew?

And then Paru remembered her walk down the stairs. She carried her undergarments in one clutched hand. The other hand held the saree which was just playing the role of a sheet covering her body. By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs the hand with which she held the cloth to her crotch was damp with all sorts of sexual fluids.

There was a steady stream of cum – his and hers – leaking out of her. Baba had deposited seed that belied his age. It seemed as if he came in gallons. If she had bumped into anyone, her ravaged state would have been immediately apparent. At one point, her bra fell from her hand and when she bent to pick it up, the barely adequate garment covering her body fell, too and she was almost completely nude expect for that part she was clutching to her crotch.

Hastily she made her way to her room, abandoning the attempt to cover herself as she entered her bedroom. Her husband Deepu was fast asleep. Mixed perspiration, mixed cum, dried semen in some places, wet fluids in other places – and it was not as if she wanted to wash it all off. She wanted to wear his aroma and other parts she wanted to clean so she could sleep…

After this wild night of sex and lust, both of them stayed away from each other for half a day. But half a day was all that they could manage.

All morning while she went around her household chores her mind was on the various ways in which her father in law had fucked her. She wondered about how he could be so virile. And her thoughts immediately went to the girth she struggled to accommodate.

And then she thought of how she had fucked him. If he wasn’t experimenting with positions with her, then she had been taking him differently. For instance, climbing on his cock with her back to him was a new variation she came up with …

She was amazed and shy to note that her cunt had started flowing again, sore or not.

On his part, Baba found his erection unabated. After he had rested a while, around dawn when he awoke, he immediately became aware of his cock being erect. Through the morning he found that his erection returned time and again. He could not keep his mind of his daughter in laws breasts, her wide ass and the way they had fucked in every conceivable position. He licked around his lips and thought he tasted her still. Parts of his moustache were brittle from her cum having dried on him. He loved every detail of the memory of the long night of lust.

But he did not want to be found fucking his son’s wife like this – so rampant and so animal. He kept pressing down his cock and found some relief.

Restraints broke when Paru brought paan to his bedroom after lunch. She need not have – she could have sent it through someone else. But the furnace between her legs, the lovely soreness, the desire to feel intense pleasure again drew her to his room.

(A paan is a post meal digestive which consists of the betel nut, soaked and softened with various sweeteners and mild tobacco added sometimes, wrapped in betel leaves. It’s a mildly intoxicating to some. And mildly sexually arousing to others.)

What happened next was spontaneous.

He was lying back reading the newspaper of the day. She came and sat down on the large double bed and held out the paan, her hand extended. His erection had been almost permanent all morning – receding only to rise again at the memory of the wild sexual tryst. God, he wanted her!

At the sight of her, it assumed its fullest proportions. His eyes darted to her bosom which was partially covered by her saree and inadequately contained by her blouse. The same sexual surge that was seen in his erection caused her to breathe heavily – her bosom to heave.

Her throat dried with fascination and her hand reached out. She noticed that his cock was full and standing at attention unrestrained by any underwear.

“You are wearing nothing underneath,” she murmured. Her hand parted the folds of his dhoti and delicately stroked him. Her fingers tickled his skin under his sac, his scrotum and then the trunk of his magnificent erection. As she reached the engorged head her fingers felt the slick moistness of his pre-cum. It seemed like a perennial fountain to her. He was never dry, rarely flaccid.

“You must be tired,” he replied. He grasped her shoulders and swung her over and back onto the pillows. He had ignored the paan. Who needed an intoxicant with a sexy woman like his daughter-in-law at bursa escort hand?

As she flounced on the pillow her hair spread out under her head. The sindoor smeared with the damp of perspiration, her heaving bosom and her radiant face were intoxicating enough.

“The door is open wide,” she whispered. But the excited glow on her face betrayed no alarm.

“You mean finish quickly?” he asked nuzzling her breast. He couldn’t find her nipple – perhaps she was wearing a bra. “When have we ever finished quickly?” he asked rhetorically.

“But we have to,” she breathed heavily, her lust demanding that she be fucked.

She raised her hips to bunch up her saree offering him access. He hoisted himself and holding his erection – wow! It was larger in these late years much more than he ever remembered, she was one hot bitch! – found her bubbling hot cunt. In, he sank.

“Aah!” they both sighed. “Why did we not fuck in the morning?” he grunted in her ear.

“You were shy!” she thrust up at him.

“You were busy!” he fucked back.

She grabbed his shoulders and urged him on. He obligingly set up a cadence that caused the welled up love juices in her to pour.

“That’s what makes you tired,” he said as he fucked her in fluid strokes.

“Never tired for you, baba,” she whispered holding him tight as he plundered her – again. The last few days were all about fucking his old man with the vigor of a young stud. “Do I feel like I am tired?” she asked rhetorically, fucking him back with energy.

Unless she fucked him hard, he was unconquerable. And the room door was wide, wide open and the house was full of people. That thin curtain formed a minimal screen for something as wild, illicit and animal as the way they were fucking.

“Come here,” he said suddenly, with a new urgency. He withdrew and she felt desperate at the vacuum in her cunt. Pulling her to the edge of the bed he hoisted her rump onto a heap of cushions.

“We don’t have time for all this,” she cried out feeling excitement and apprehension all at once.

He paid no heed. He raised one leg of hers over his shoulder, spreading her cunt wide open. Standing there, his dhoti unraveling to his feet he thrust in to her hard and demanding.

“Ui ma!” she whimpered as he plundered her. He fucked so well! She loved this. She wanted this day and night. She gave in to his thrusting and took her pleasure, unable as she was in her position to thrust back.

She admired his virility – way beyond men half his age, she felt. But did he have to demonstrate this now. “Aiee maaa!” she yelped and then urgently she stuffed her saree pallo into her mouth to avoid screaming her pleasure out loud. Her eyes were fixed on that door but it was not as if she could do anything if someone walked in.

Unmindful of all the risk, Baba bared her ass, round and plump. Spreading it even as he continued his fucking he dipped his thumb in a shallow dish of oil and kneaded that plump lovable buttock. As he kneaded her she stuffed more and more of her saree into her mouth.

The round, deep circles his thumb was making on her buttock on the inner cheek felt as if it was a partner to his plunging cock. Sometimes his thumb went as far as the point at which his cock plunged in. sometimes his thumb took space at the entrance to her cunt, spreading her ever more, making his cock more effective at plundering her.

She sobbed in pleasure. “Ah! Ah! Ah! What are you doing?” she pleaded.

But nothing that she had ever experienced with her father-in-law prepared her for what happened next. The thumb at each circling massage, started to caress her anus. And with one more dip of oil, the dripping thumb prised her open and sank in to her anus.

“Ui ma! Baba! You are …you are… You are!” she was at a loss for words. “Baba you made your daughter in law lust like a whore, baba! I am your bitch. You are taking me everywhere!” she wailed loudly.

Baba fucked her with his cock and his thumb in synchronicity and he felt his cock on the other side of her flesh and she felt the combined pressure.

Gripping his wrist Paru sobbed in pleasure and release.

“Baba! Baba! This is too much!” she pleaded.

Her eyes were squeezed shut and they watered – teared but not quite tears. He was squeezing every imaginable fluid out of her.

Once again for the nth time in the last 48 hours she felt her body going into melt. Her entire universe was reduced to that core inside her which seemed to have gone over an edge.

She gave up, gave in and was a limp rag doll convulsing into which her father in law continued to thrust and pound, unmindful of all but her pleasure.

As her pleasure receded she felt the need to return the favor of intense sex with some of her. Equally important he didn’t seem to want to finish and yet, she thought she knew how to conquer him.

She hoisted herself up and tugged at him. Baba eased his thumb out of her anus and she found her body humming, vibrating asking for that thumb back. He bursa escort bayan slowly eased back his unrelenting cock and as her flesh folded close, she felt her body aching for his thickness. As he let her leg go the wide angle at which he had held her closed and she felt the need to be wanton like that spread leg symbolized.

But right now it was time to manage that door. And the best way to do that was fuck him into submission and a finish.

She pushed her man back. It was now his rump on the heap of pillows, his cock thrust up and erect. She mounted him and found that her body was on a slope of cushions, her ass high in the air as her cunt tried to capture the cock.

It was sublime as his cock raked up into her in a very different angle. She felt the moistness in her ass and felt the need to be filled – it had felt good, being massaged from within. The cock and thumb were good in rhythm.

It was his turn to moan and scream and like a typical male he was indiscreet where she was the archetypical Indian woman, taking her pleasure somewhat demurely, though her father-in-law had made her lust like a bitch in extreme heat.

She fucked down hard and quickly, willing him to cum. His hands crushed her breasts through her blouse and bra. He tried unhooking them but she slapped his hands away. In this condition, if she stood up her saree would fall and cover them. But with her bra open and breasts, hanging – no way!

“Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!” she panted as she fucked.

“Bau-ma! My dearest! You sexy wench! Hai! Hai! Hai! Diye! Amarke Diye!” he responded.

They could be heard. Or they could be spotted easily.

And they were. It was her son, Babul. Baba’s grandson. And what attracted him were the urgent whispers, grunts and moans. And occasional whoops of sexual joy and pleasure.

From an angle of gap between curtain and door he tried to glimpse what was going on.

He saw a shadowy figure- of a man fucking. That he was fucking was in no doubt. While Babul was unmarried he was no virgin. He had had enough sex to know what he had spotted. He just could not make out who it was but was very curious.

When the woman got up and threw the man down and mounted him, he could see that it was his mother. Ma was riding the man so that would have to be his dad. But who had he spotted downstairs in front of the TV? He leaned to look and found that his dad was indeed down there. The man was someone else.

Hands grabbed Ma’s breasts and kneaded them. His mother whispered, “Baba, Jaldi! Be quick!”

And he heard the man reply, “Bau-ma! I cannot get enough of you!”

Her sumptuous round ass was up in the air as she fucked like a whore. Then she said, “That oil and your thumb…I wish you could fill my cunt and ass at the same time!”

Babul felt completely aroused. Ma was fucking someone else and she was wild and wanton in her lust.

It reminded him of that rainy day many years ago.

He had been playing football and was injured in the groin. Ma had ‘helped’ him and he had his first experience of a woman. A hand other than his own had worked him to an orgasm.

He could not get his mind off that. He masturbated several times each day at that memory but knew that whatever had happened was one-off and anything more in his wild imagination was sinful.

One day shortly after, he sat there on the staircase in his lungi. His erection was rampant as it usually was nowadays as he was discovering sex and experimenting by himself.

And running up the stairs came Moni, the woman who lived in the flat above theirs, when they lived in that apartment block. She was wet from an early morning shower. She was returning from dropping her young son at school. The boy was late and had missed his school bus.

She needed to rush to drop him on her scooter. In her hurry she dressed in her blouse and saree but decided to skip her bra. She was not going to get down and she was coming right back. She wound her saree tightly, covering her breasts and tucked it in her waistband.

All that came to nothing in the sudden shower and accompanying wind on the return. Her saree tuck came unwound and the rain wet her through. The water was chill and her nipples rose to a tart erection, jutting through the blouse.

Moni rushed back and ran up the stairs to make it home. And as she looked up the stairs to be sure no one would spot her, she saw Babul, his legs apart, the angle up helping her look up his lungi. She was the young man’s hard cock and she felt an urge.

They knew each other. Lots of friendliness and playful banter. She was only a few years older and that put them in the same age group though she was married and had a kid.

The smile she flashed him was spontaneous. It was a ‘guess what’ smile.

And then she noticed his eyes. They were on her breasts. Stuck to her skin, wet and extremely revealing, particularly those hard nipples still erect from the chill. Involuntarily, Babul licked his lips, overtly signaling his sexual görükle escort desire.

As she passed him, she squeezed his shoulder. She looked down, not bothering to cover her young, firm and aroused breasts.

He looked up – not at her but at every man’s fascination – her breasts. They stuck to the damp blouse. The nipples were well outline. Here and there the cloth was so closely stuck that he was indeed looking at her bare breasts. He wanted those teats running through this lips…

His cock was now raging and he involuntarily pressed it down. She looked at that movement of his hand. A gentle tug at his tee and she was gone.

He followed her up to her flat. When he reached the door, he found it ajar. She was inviting him. He shut the door behind him and went looking for her. She was waiting, saree gone and in blouse and petticoat. Her breasts were staring at him through that fine gauze like cloth.

“Come,” she said in a soothing voice. It started with the freedom to undo her blouse and play with her breasts. When he was done sucking and tugging at those nipples, she held his chin and asked him what he would like next.

He said nothing. She guided his hand under her petticoat and let him feel her pussy and cunt, hair and all. His fingers in her hand, she made him part her lips, which he copied hesitantly.

“Virgin?” she asked. He nodded in the affirmative.

She held his hand and walked him to her bed. Moni was a seductress extraordinaire. The man she married had been fucked by her so thoroughly that she had enslaved him before the engagement ceremony.

Her husband was not her first sexual partner. He was not going to be her last in a few moments more.

She undid her petticoat and let it drop to the floor. “Did you lock the front door?” she asked. He did not answer her immediately. His eyes drank in the luscious sight of her chocolate breasts and the vale between her legs. The dark curls there hid what he wanted to see the most – her cunt.

“I shut it,” he replied. Lock? He did not know.

She went like that – no petticoat, blouse hanging open to check on the front door. When she turned after locking it, he was upon her, mashing his lips to hers. His hands amateurishly probed her pubic area, not knowing what to look for.

They fell to the floor right there. She lay back and undid his lungi. Holding his cock she guided him to his target and spreading herself wide invited him to push.

It was awkward and nervous for him as was to be expected. Added to that was the disturbance he felt when people passed on their way just on the other side of the door. It didn’t bother her. She had once fucked her college professor and they were behind the cupboards of the staff room. It was after hours and they heard many people come and go, pick up things and chatter on their way out. They fucked undeterred.

On the landing outside the door where the married Moni and the boy Babul were fucking, someone paused and rang the bell, too. He stopped his tentative fucking. Her hips took over. Holding his face she pulled him down to her breast desperate for her own release.

“Pay attention,” she hissed, like an impatient tutor. With her hips testing his stamina with relentless fucking, he came – too soon for her.

But that was fine.

A short while later she laid him on her marital bed, on his back. His erection was back. She knew that would happen. That was how it had been with the milk delivery boy whose virginity she had taken when still in the first year of college. He got erect again immediately and they fucked several times that first day for him.

She rode him and took her pleasure, holding his hands to her own breasts. He touched them worshipfully at first. Then he tugged at those nipples. Then he pinched the mass of flesh. Then he mashed her tits against her chest. When he was done, her breasts bore marks of his mindless mauling. But she loved the pain and ardor that came with the pain.

When he came, he filled her fully. When she stood up, the cock was barely diminished-her cunt and body reddened and damp. She could have sat back on him and he would have been up inside her in a jiffy. But she had to go.

“Come again before he returns home,” she said getting off him and hooking up her blouse again. He did. Several times each day for several months till suddenly Moni’s husband was transferred.

“He doesn’t … do this with you?” he asked out of curiosity.

“Do what?” she asked impishly.

“This,” he stammered.

“You mean does he not FUCK me?” she looked at him laughingly. “He has needs, he fucks. I fuck him back.”

“And me?” he asked in a tremulous voice, as if their vibrant sex life was a threat to him.

She reached down and gently lifted the weight of his cock. “This hard, so soon. This much cum regularly. This much enthusiasm for pleasure,” she whispered, pumping him as she spoke that last sentence. “Not with him. Only you,” she lied, knowing what men wanted to hear from their woman.

Later she sat on a sideboard with her legs on a chair she had placed in front. Her legs were on the back of the chair. Her cunt was spread and open on offer. She sat the boy on the chair between her legs. The untutored, inexperienced novice had his head held by the hair and she thrust him between her legs.

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