CHAPTER NO: #05:
It was well past midnight in the Chennai house, a few weeks after the terrace incident. Iniyavan had fallen into a deep sleep after fucking Saira hard, leaving his cum drying on her breasts and still leaking slowly from her pregnant pussy.
Saira felt a sudden hunger. She slipped out of bed, wrapped only a thin towel around her naked body, and quietly came downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of milk. The house was silent; she thought everyone was asleep.
Suddenly, Shyamala appeared behind her without a sound and wrapped her arms tightly around Saira’s waist. The voluptuous widow pressed her heavy DD-cup breasts firmly against Saira’s back through her soft nightie, planted a soft kiss on her cheek, and whispered in a husky voice, “What are you doing, sexy?”
Shyamala brushed her lips seductively along Saira’s neck and pushed her lush body harder against her. Her hands slid up and squeezed Saira’s breasts hard through the towel.
Everything happened so fast that Saira was shocked and a little scared. In that jolt, she stepped forward; the towel lost its grip and fell to the floor. In the next moment, Saira stood completely naked in front of Shyamala.
Shyamala’s eyes glazed with raw lust as they roamed over Saira’s swollen pregnant breasts, the gentle curve of her belly, and the traces of Iniyavan’s dried cum still visible on her caramel skin. A wicked smile spread across the older woman’s face.
Saira’s embarrassment vanished in seconds under that hungry gaze. She felt bold, desired, almost exhibitionistic. She looked straight back into Shyamala’s eyes with a seductive smile.
Shyamala let out a low moan. “Oh my gosh! What a sexy beauty we have in this house… no wonder Iniyavan is banging you so much, how can he ever spare a body like this?”
Saira answered with a nasty smile, “Yes, you’re absolutely right. Iniyavan bangs me every single day.”
Shyamala’s voice dropped even lower. “Hmm… does he fuck your brains out, sweety?”
Saira nodded, biting her lip.
That was all Shyamala needed. She grabbed Saira, crushed their mouths together, and kissed her with fierce passion. Saira melted completely, surrendering as Shyamala’s tongue invaded her mouth. The older woman kissed her deeply for a full five minutes, holding her tight, soft heavy breasts pressed hard against Saira’s pregnant ones.
When Shyamala finally pulled back, she tasted something familiar and smirked. “My gosh, your mouth has the flavor of cum! Did Iniyavan shoot his cum in your mouth earlier?”
Saira nodded again. Shyamala groaned, grabbed her once more, and kissed her even harder, sucking Saira’s tongue greedily. “No wonder you taste so good, honey… you swallowed Iniyavan’s cum.”
Shyamala’s eyes dropped to Saira’s breasts and noticed the dried streaks. “I bet he smeared some on these beauties too.” Without hesitation, she leaned down and licked every dried drop clean, moaning loudly as she tasted her nephew’s cum off her daughter-in-law’s skin.
She pushed Saira back against the kitchen counter and latched onto her nipples, sucking hard, alternating between the swollen peaks while her hand slid between Saira’s thighs. Shyamala’s fingers parted the slick folds, gathered the fresh cum still oozing out, brought them to her lips and licked them clean. “Oh my gosh… I can smell and taste Iniyavan’s fresh cum straight from your pussy. So thick… so sweet… ummmmm.”
Saira, dripping wet, confessed breathlessly, “Yeah… I got freshly fucked.”
Shyamala’s eyes blazed. “Oh honey, from now on, every time Iniyavan fills you up, you come straight to my room. I want to lick his cum out of you myself… and you’ll give your mommy a nice slow massage while I do it.”
Saira smiled filthily. “Sure, mom… anytime.”
Shyamala picked up the fallen towel, wrapped it gently around Saira’s trembling body, kissed her forehead, and slipped away upstairs.
Saira sat on the counter for a while, sipping her milk, thighs shaking, replaying every second of what had just happened. She was unbelievably turned on.
She went back upstairs, lay silently beside the still-sleeping Iniyavan, but couldn’t control herself. She reached under the sheet, stroked his cock hard again, then took him deep into her mouth and sucked until he released another thick load while still asleep.
This time Saira kept every drop in her mouth.
She quietly slipped out of their bedroom and into Shyamala’s room nearby. Shyamala was lying there, eyes closed but clearly awake and waiting.
The moment Saira entered, Shyamala’s eyes snapped open with excitement. They smiled at each other. Saira said nothing—she still held the warm load in her mouth.
She bent over Shyamala’s face, kissed her softly, and let the entire fresh load spill from her mouth into Shyamala’s. She whispered against her lips, “This is the fresh cum of Iniyavan, my dear mommy.”
Shyamala’s eyes widened in shock and pure lust, then she swallowed every drop greedily, moaning as the thick warmth slid down her throat.
Saira slipped out quietly, leaving Shyamala panting in the dark, already aching for the next time.
### The Empty Classroom – A Side Flame
In the weeks when forbidden heat was building at home, Shyamala’s days at college were burning in a completely different way.
Mayavan had always been the most poorly performing student in physics. To be honest, he was the weakest in the entire batch.
His physics teacher’s name was Shyamala. From the first day, Mayavan started having wild sexual fantasies about his sexy teacher. Shyamala was probably the most underrated hot woman among the entire staff. He couldn’t help himself — after almost every class he rushed to the college bathroom to jerk off thinking about her.
Shyamala was about 35 years old and a complete MILF — voluptuous golden skin, long dark hair, heavy DD-cup breasts that strained against her blouse, wide hips, thick thighs, a soft belly that showed when her saree slipped a little. Her ass was pure heaven when she shifted her weight from one leg to the other and walked down the hallway. Mayavan, at 19, stood taller than her 5′4″ frame and dreamed of grabbing those curves.
Shyamala had a soft side for him because Mayavan was always nice to her — helped carry her books, stayed back to clean the board, never joined the other boys in disrupting class. She would smile and call him “big boy,” and every time the words left her lips, his cock throbbed.
He never took actual notes in her class. He only pretended to. While pretending to write, he fantasized about fucking Shyamala on the teacher’s table in every possible way — eating her juicy ass, burying his face between those massive tits. She always thought he was seriously noting down everything.
Shyamala was shocked when she saw his terrible marks. She genuinely wanted to became determined to help him. That caring nature of teachers is insanely sexy. Imagine sitting there rubbing your hard cock with your elbow while pretending to take notes — that hidden thrill is something else.
One day, after her period ended, she asked Mayavan to stay back. She was worried about his marks and told him she would conduct special classes after college hours. At first he was disappointed because a few other students were also told to attend.
But when the special class time came, only Mayavan and Shyamala were left in the room. The others never showed up. They both were secretly happy to be alone together. Mayavan was hornier than happy.
The college was strict — female teachers had to wear a dull cotton overcoat to hide cleavage and navel. Underneath, Shyamala always wore sarees.
In the beginning Mayavan only came for those special classes to sit right beside her on the same bench, their thighs almost touching, inhaling her fragrance while she explained.
She kept the overcoat on at first. To remove that barrier, Mayavan started talking more freely. After all, they were the only two people in the locked classroom.
Slowly the private classes continued with just the two of them. Shyamala got comfortable around him and one evening finally took off the dull coat. She wore a black saree underneath, draped low. For the first time he clearly saw the white bra through her thin blouse, her sweaty armpits, the deep golden cleavage, a hint of soft belly. Seeing those juicy, plump assets so close made precum leak from his rock-hard dick.
They sat side by side on the same bench. Their elbows brushed as she explained derivatives while Mayavan drooled over her body. It was impossible to openly touch himself with her right there — he didn’t want to scare her — but he had to hide the growing wet spot of precum.
He excused himself to the toilet. Once inside, he lost himself in the fantasy of finally seeing Shyamala’s boobs and navel so clearly after weeks of dreaming. The pleasure of getting something after waiting so long is unforgettable. He took the longest time ever to cum, smearing the toilet wall with thick ropes while almost moaning “Shyamalaaa…”
When he came back, breathing hard, he found Shyamala breathing heavily too, cheeks flushed, fanning herself. He asked what happened, but she ignored the question, handed him a derivative problem, and said she was stepping out to stretch because she had been sitting too long.
She returned after a few minutes, wiping sweat off her brow with her fancy handkerchief. Mayavan forgot about the incident for the moment.
He went home that night and watched student-teacher porn, getting more ideas, but still couldn’t figure out how to actually seduce his sexy teacher.
The private classes continued after college hours — always just the two of them. Day by day Shyamala started wearing her saree more revealingly, pallu slipping lower, smiling at him differently. She was getting more and more comfortable around him.
He gave her his phone number because he was now her “special student who needed extra care.”
One night she actually called.
“Mayavan da… the Principal has given me the responsibility to make sure you get good marks in physics. Will you study harder?”
“Sure ma’am. Anything for you.”
Silence… then a soft laugh.
“Oh… anything? See you in the evening class, big boy. Good night.”
The private classes became more than lessons. They talked like friends. One evening she casually admitted she was still single, only pretending to have a husband working abroad to keep the other male lecturers away. None of her past boyfriends, she said with a playful smirk, had ever truly satisfied her.
And in that locked classroom, with every passing day, the distance between the voluptuous teacher and her big, horny student grew smaller… until the moment it would finally disappear completely.
