Desimunda89
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At first I did not want to read this story because I was thinking that its the same story of village and breast milk... but you showed something different and that's nice to know about her fucking with all..
Erotica Story of Gita
- Thread starterRajuWalvan
- Start date
- 5,214
Update 15
One morning, while drying clothes in the courtyard, I dialed Radha's number. The line crackled a bit before she picked up. Her voice was bright, cheerful.
"Radha, I wanted to ask you something," I said, trying to sound casual.
"Tell me, Gita. Everything okay?"
I smiled, glancing at the quiet veranda where Mohan was sitting with his school books. "Yes, yes. I was just thinking... Mohan is all alone these days. The other boys have stopped coming around, ever since I stopped breastfeeding them. It’s better this way, but he misses having someone to play with."
There was a pause on the other end.
"You’re still firm about that? I dont want my son to pull my blouse tring to suck my breast when he comes back." Radha asked, her tone careful.
"I’ve made decided to discontine," I replied. "I’m not unhappy—actually, I’m grateful for all I experienced. But now, I just want to keep my body and my milk for my childrens. It felt right at the time, but things grew beyond my control. Some of Mohan’s friends have seen more of me than a boy his age should be okay with. I just hope it doesn’t affect his older life later."
Radha sighed softly. "I understand."
"But that doesn’t mean Mohan has to suffer," I added. "He’s been so lonely. I was wondering... if your son could come here for a few days? Just for the holidays. They got along so well when you visited."
Radha seemed to consider it. "He did enjoy himself there. Let me talk to him and his father. He’s been asking about you too, you know. I had to let him suck my breasts for a week before he realised i dont have milk in them. Though, he weaned himself, I'm not going to go through that again."
I felt a quiet satisfaction, my heart warming at her words. "He won't trouble you. I assure you. Let me know, Radha. I think it would be good for childrens."
And in truth, deep inside, I knew I wasn’t done. I missed the closeness, the connection—especially with him. When Radha’s son came, I hoped we could pick up where we left off, but within the safety of my home. Just us, quietly, as before.
As I hung up, I looked back at Mohan. His head was bent over his book, but I could see he was not in the centre of attention with the boys as before. His mother was over giving turns to them. Maybe having a cousin to play would lift his spirit. And maybe, keeping everything within the boundaries I had chosen, I could offer comfort—to my son, to myself, and to the ones who truly mattered most.
As I sat down, folding the last of the dry clothes, a new thought took shape in my mind. I should speak to Manisha. She had made Raju care for her deeply, and despite everything, he was always respectful, kind. He never behaved like the others in the village. What had she done to earn that love? Maybe Radha’s son could learn the same. If I could show him that kind of bond, that kind of trust, everything would feel right again.
One morning, while drying clothes in the courtyard, I dialed Radha's number. The line crackled a bit before she picked up. Her voice was bright, cheerful.
"Radha, I wanted to ask you something," I said, trying to sound casual.
"Tell me, Gita. Everything okay?"
I smiled, glancing at the quiet veranda where Mohan was sitting with his school books. "Yes, yes. I was just thinking... Mohan is all alone these days. The other boys have stopped coming around, ever since I stopped breastfeeding them. It’s better this way, but he misses having someone to play with."
There was a pause on the other end.
"You’re still firm about that? I dont want my son to pull my blouse tring to suck my breast when he comes back." Radha asked, her tone careful.
"I’ve made decided to discontine," I replied. "I’m not unhappy—actually, I’m grateful for all I experienced. But now, I just want to keep my body and my milk for my childrens. It felt right at the time, but things grew beyond my control. Some of Mohan’s friends have seen more of me than a boy his age should be okay with. I just hope it doesn’t affect his older life later."
Radha sighed softly. "I understand."
"But that doesn’t mean Mohan has to suffer," I added. "He’s been so lonely. I was wondering... if your son could come here for a few days? Just for the holidays. They got along so well when you visited."
Radha seemed to consider it. "He did enjoy himself there. Let me talk to him and his father. He’s been asking about you too, you know. I had to let him suck my breasts for a week before he realised i dont have milk in them. Though, he weaned himself, I'm not going to go through that again."
I felt a quiet satisfaction, my heart warming at her words. "He won't trouble you. I assure you. Let me know, Radha. I think it would be good for childrens."
And in truth, deep inside, I knew I wasn’t done. I missed the closeness, the connection—especially with him. When Radha’s son came, I hoped we could pick up where we left off, but within the safety of my home. Just us, quietly, as before.
As I hung up, I looked back at Mohan. His head was bent over his book, but I could see he was not in the centre of attention with the boys as before. His mother was over giving turns to them. Maybe having a cousin to play would lift his spirit. And maybe, keeping everything within the boundaries I had chosen, I could offer comfort—to my son, to myself, and to the ones who truly mattered most.
As I sat down, folding the last of the dry clothes, a new thought took shape in my mind. I should speak to Manisha. She had made Raju care for her deeply, and despite everything, he was always respectful, kind. He never behaved like the others in the village. What had she done to earn that love? Maybe Radha’s son could learn the same. If I could show him that kind of bond, that kind of trust, everything would feel right again.
Update 16
It was just past noon when Radha called. I wiped my hands on my sari and picked up the phone, her voice clear and warm on the other end.
"Gita, he left this morning. He’ll be there by evening. The bus might get a little late, but he’s excited to come."
My heart lifted hearing her words. "Thank you, Radha. I’ll take care of everything. Don’t worry."
As the afternoon sun dipped lower, I told my husband about the bus. The stand was far, and the roads often unpredictable. We decided to go together to pick him up. It felt easier that way, not leaving it to chance.
We left just as the sky started turning gold, the car weaving through the dusty village paths. The ride was quiet at first, my husband focused on the road while I watched the horizon. I kept checking my phone for any updates.
When we finally reached the stand, it was nearly dark. The bus had just pulled in. I spotted Bablu stepping down, a small bag slung across his shoulder, his face lighting up when he saw us.
He climbed into the back seat, tired but smiling. I offered him water, and he leaned back, resting his head for a moment. My husband started the car again for the ride home.
Somewhere on the way back, Bablu started sneaking his hand under my saree. I looked back at him and softly asked, "Don't rush, Maasi is going to let you do many things"
He nodded slowly, glancing at me. The car was dim inside, lit only by the soft glow of passing lights. My husband’s focus stayed on the road, and the night hummed with quiet.
I turned slightly in my seat, pulling one leg up so I could twist and face him more easily. I pulled my pallu up and draped a shawl over us for privacy, the backseat becoming a little cocoon. Bablu laid his head down on my lap, his breath warm on my belly.
I reached beneath the pallu and removed the neckline of my blouse, freeing my breast which rested heavily and warmly against his cheek. As I guided his mouth, his lips parted and he latched gently, with a quiet pull that made me exhale.
He suckled softly at first, adjusting to the movement of the car. I slid my hand under in his pant and gently holding his penis between my fingers and started stroking penis head with my thumb, making sure he knew what I'm going to do in following days. The combination soothed him — his jaw worked in steady, slow rhythms.
His cheeks hollowed gently with every pull, the moist, muffled sound of his mouth creating a steady pattern. Whenever the car jolted over a bump, I tightened my arms around his shoulders to keep him from slipping. He adjusted, sometimes releasing with a wet pop and re-latching with a low, contented breath.
I watched his profile in the passing streetlights — his brow relaxed, lips firmly around my nipple. He suckled deeply now, and I could feel the tug radiate through my chest in waves. My milk flowed freely, and he drank without pause, his throat moving with quiet swallows.
The softness of his head in my lap, the warm suction, the secret of it all wrapped in the darkness — it filled me with a tender calm. I leaned my head back, letting the moments stretch. The engine hummed, my husband drove on, and I cradled Bablu gently, nursing him through the winding roads toward home.
As Bablu continued nursing, I felt his hand slide between the thighs, gently slipping into my wet vagina. His fingers moved back and forth, as if trying to find something to inside. I could feel his balls tighten slightly as the car jolted, keeping himself steady as he continued suckling, his focus solely on the my pleasure. The quiet rhythm of the car, combined with the gentle warmth of his hand and the steady pull from his lips, created a strange but calming harmony between us. The moment stretched out in the moving car, and I continued to care for him, my body and his intertwined in the quietude of the night.
It was just past noon when Radha called. I wiped my hands on my sari and picked up the phone, her voice clear and warm on the other end.
"Gita, he left this morning. He’ll be there by evening. The bus might get a little late, but he’s excited to come."
My heart lifted hearing her words. "Thank you, Radha. I’ll take care of everything. Don’t worry."
As the afternoon sun dipped lower, I told my husband about the bus. The stand was far, and the roads often unpredictable. We decided to go together to pick him up. It felt easier that way, not leaving it to chance.
We left just as the sky started turning gold, the car weaving through the dusty village paths. The ride was quiet at first, my husband focused on the road while I watched the horizon. I kept checking my phone for any updates.
When we finally reached the stand, it was nearly dark. The bus had just pulled in. I spotted Bablu stepping down, a small bag slung across his shoulder, his face lighting up when he saw us.
He climbed into the back seat, tired but smiling. I offered him water, and he leaned back, resting his head for a moment. My husband started the car again for the ride home.
Somewhere on the way back, Bablu started sneaking his hand under my saree. I looked back at him and softly asked, "Don't rush, Maasi is going to let you do many things"
He nodded slowly, glancing at me. The car was dim inside, lit only by the soft glow of passing lights. My husband’s focus stayed on the road, and the night hummed with quiet.
I turned slightly in my seat, pulling one leg up so I could twist and face him more easily. I pulled my pallu up and draped a shawl over us for privacy, the backseat becoming a little cocoon. Bablu laid his head down on my lap, his breath warm on my belly.
I reached beneath the pallu and removed the neckline of my blouse, freeing my breast which rested heavily and warmly against his cheek. As I guided his mouth, his lips parted and he latched gently, with a quiet pull that made me exhale.
He suckled softly at first, adjusting to the movement of the car. I slid my hand under in his pant and gently holding his penis between my fingers and started stroking penis head with my thumb, making sure he knew what I'm going to do in following days. The combination soothed him — his jaw worked in steady, slow rhythms.
His cheeks hollowed gently with every pull, the moist, muffled sound of his mouth creating a steady pattern. Whenever the car jolted over a bump, I tightened my arms around his shoulders to keep him from slipping. He adjusted, sometimes releasing with a wet pop and re-latching with a low, contented breath.
I watched his profile in the passing streetlights — his brow relaxed, lips firmly around my nipple. He suckled deeply now, and I could feel the tug radiate through my chest in waves. My milk flowed freely, and he drank without pause, his throat moving with quiet swallows.
The softness of his head in my lap, the warm suction, the secret of it all wrapped in the darkness — it filled me with a tender calm. I leaned my head back, letting the moments stretch. The engine hummed, my husband drove on, and I cradled Bablu gently, nursing him through the winding roads toward home.
As Bablu continued nursing, I felt his hand slide between the thighs, gently slipping into my wet vagina. His fingers moved back and forth, as if trying to find something to inside. I could feel his balls tighten slightly as the car jolted, keeping himself steady as he continued suckling, his focus solely on the my pleasure. The quiet rhythm of the car, combined with the gentle warmth of his hand and the steady pull from his lips, created a strange but calming harmony between us. The moment stretched out in the moving car, and I continued to care for him, my body and his intertwined in the quietude of the night.
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Update 17
We reached home close to midnight. The village was quiet, only the faint rustle of trees and distant barking of a dog breaking the stillness. My husband carried Bablu’s bag inside while I gently led him by the arm.
Inside, I had already prepared his room. The bed was freshly made, mosquito net tucked, and a small glass of water placed on the table. But Bablu didn’t want to go to his room right away.
"Aunty," he said softly, "can I stay with you for a while?"
I smiled and nodded, guiding him to the cot in our common room. My husband and son had already gone to bed, leaving the two of us alone in the quiet.
He sat close beside me, his body still warm from the journey. I could feel his eyes on me, and when I looked at him, I saw not a boy tired from travel, but someone expectant, curious. There was a silence between us, but it was full — not empty.
I pulled the shawl tighter around my shoulders and asked gently, "Still hungry?"
He nodded once, his gaze lowering to my chest.
I stood slowly and held his hand as he followed. I leaned back against the wall for support, lifting the end of my pallu and loosening my blouse. As I brought my breast out, he stepped closer, eyes drawn to me. With a shy breath, he leaned in and kissed me softly on the side of my breast before gently latching on.
The moment sent a warm shiver through me. I cradled his head close, steadying him with one arm while the other hand held my shawl partly closed. He suckled gently at first, adjusting to standing, his face pressed against the softness of my chest.
I could feel the pull of his lips, warm and steady, the quiet rhythm of his swallowing filling the silent room. My breast felt full and heavy in his mouth, releasing milk steadily. His hands held my waist firmly, as though anchoring himself while he drank.
Eventually, I sat back on the edge of the cot, drawing him down with me. He laid his head on my lap again, suckling slower now, more relaxed. His hand found its way under the folds of my sari once again, fingers resting on my vagina, trying to enter.
As he nursed, I thought about the days ahead. There was so much I wanted to show him, so much I hoped he would feel with me. This wasn’t just a visit — it was the start of something that belonged to us.
His eyelids grew heavy, suckling slowing down. I let him nurse until he stopped on his own, then guided his head to rest against my chest, my arms around him.
The table lamp flickered in the corner, casting warm shadows. The room was still, and as his breathing deepened, I sat with him long after sleep took over. A quiet smile played on my lips.
It was only the first night, and already we had begun.
As the early morning light filtered through the trees, I couldn’t keep still. The night with Bablu left me stirred in ways I hadn’t prepared for. After making sure the house was quiet and Bablu still asleep, I wrapped my dupatta and walked briskly to Manisha’s home.
She opened the door with sleep still in her eyes. But when she saw my face, her expression shifted.
"What happened? Come in," she said quickly, guiding me inside.
I didn’t sit. I stood near her small kitchen window, arms crossed, trying to find the right words. "Manisha... I think I need to talk. Last night... with Bablu. I didn’t plan it but... it happened so naturally."
Manisha took a breath and pulled her chair closer. "Sit. Listen to me first."
I sat.
She looked at me for a long moment before starting. "You remember when Raju came back from Mumbai? I had no idea what was waiting for me. I was used to feeding my brother-in-law and my father-in-law. It had become habit, comfort. But with Raju... something changed."
Her voice softened, eyes distant.
"The first time he asked, I was surprised. But he was always quiet, respectful. He never asked for attention like the others. He didn’t demand. He just... waited. And one evening, when I was sitting on the veranda, He looked like a young god with his 6'+ height, dark hair, and sleek, yet muscular, physique. I didn't realize I was staring at him until suddenly I realized he was looking back at me. I quickly looked away in shame and tried to pretend that I wasn't gawking at him. For crying out loud, he was only eighteen and he was my nephew! He came and sat beside me and put his head on my lap. I looked down and he was already halfway to my blouse. I didn’t stop him."
I watched her face as she spoke, the corners of her mouth curling faintly, not quite a smile.
"He fed so gently. I didn’t realize how different it could feel. Not like Bhaiya or Baba. With them it was a need. With Raju, it was a bond. I felt wanted. Desired, yes, but in a way that made me feel seen. He would look up sometimes while feeding, eyes locked on mine. I felt like I was the only person in his world."
She reached for her cup and held it between both hands, fingers tracing the rim.
"He started helping around the house more. He never let me carry heavy buckets. He would massage my feet in the evenings. And at night, when I couldn’t sleep, he would lay his head on my stomach and just listen to me breathe. As the days passed, I began getting more and more infatuated with Raju and curious about his body. I was in a permanent state of horniness now, but at the same time disgusted with myself about what I was thinking and doing. I was constantly trying to get glimpses of his body. Worse yet, on a daily basis I was going into his room and removing the wad of tissues from his trash in order to indulge my sense of smell that was now seemingly addicted to Raju. I found myself lying in bed at nights, next to my husband, wondering if Raju was making himself cum in the room across the hall from ours. I also found myself, during the infrequent times my husband and I made love, thinking about Raju. No, that wasn't quite accurate. I wasn't just thinking about Raju, I was wishing he was somehow the one satisfying me.
One night in my bed I couldn't sleep. My pussy was soaking wet, but my fingers weren't satisfying me. I tossed and turned for probably fifteen minutes before my curiosity got the best of me again, and once again I headed for Raju’s room. I peeked in and saw that he was lying on his back. The sheets were down below his knees. Quietly, I approached Raju. I looked down and for the first time saw the outline of his cock through the underwear. I had to know what it felt like, so I reached down and ever so gently ran the tip of my finger across the outline of his soft cock. He didn't flinch. I reached down into my underwear with my left hand and inserted a finger into my wetness. With my right hand, I again ran the tip of my finger across Raju’s penis. I kept my finger on him as I gently caressed his penis through the fabric.
I had to have been a sight to see standing there in nothing but panties, with one hand in my panties, and my other hand on my nephew's penis. Suddenly, I realized that his cock was reacting to my touch. He was still soft, but larger. As I kept rubbing him, his cock quickly hardened and the head began to appear from beneath the waist band. At that point, I wanted so badly to wrap my lips around the protruding cock head that I don't know how I resisted. Amazingly, Raju never moved as my fingers massaged the outline of the thick vein of his cock. I completely lost track of time in my state of lust for my nephew, when I realized his cock was throbbing. Oh shit, I thought to myself, as I realized he was ejaculating. Sperm was shooting from the tip of his cock onto his belly. He woke up watching his aunt stroking his penis while fingering herself. It was embarrassing, but I gathered my courage and asked if he was hungry, my breasts were hurting because of excess milk. He said, I know what you want. I couldn't believe my ears. Raju had been awake the whole time I was in his room. 'Please don't tell your uncle.' I begged him as I released my grip from his now firm cock. 'I won't tell.' Raju responded as his hand reached out and took my hand. 'Please finish.' I started stroking his cock, he drank milk from my breast. Raju’s cock swelled and then began to throb in my hand. Soon it was firing out sperm all over his chest and belly as I worked hard to completely drain his balls. When he was finished, I went over to the nightstand and gathered up a handful of tissues, and then carefully cleaned him up. I was going to leave but, he stopped me. I was still in my underwear, which he evwntually removed. Raju knowing that his aunt would have fucked his grandpa and father, rested his finger and started licking my vagina. It was an unbearable sensation. He probably knew my vagina would be huge and he couldn't satisfy me. His tongue worked wonders and I came under a minute. It was my turn now I asked him if he could climb up and insert his penis in me. I lifted myself up and pushed Raju's cock down. Then, I carefully rested back, making sure that his cock stayed in and not fall out. I was now a fully naked married woman, sleeping under her fully naked nephew, with his cock pinned in my vaginal juice. Slowly and carefully I once again began moving my hips back and forth causing his penis to slide back and forth in my vagina. His eyes rolled back in his head as he placed his strong young hands on my breasts and enjoyed the sensation of my pussy on his cock."
I felt the silence settle in the room as her words faded.
"So yes, Gita," she finally said, "I understand what you’re feeling. And if you’re asking me if it’s wrong... I can’t say it is. But you must decide where your boundaries lie. Raju made me feel special. It wasn’t about just sex. Raju and I were hooked. We continued some form of this little game of coaxing orgasms from each other every night during his stay. Whenever we were seeking privacy for breastfeeding, I was giving him blowjob or having him fuck me. I gave him every pleasure he could imagine, without ever compromising my marriage or his relation with his uncle. For him, I readily opened my legs and during his last days I even convinced Sujata and Leena to have sex with him"
I sat there, heart pounding, eyes sparking. She didn't know, I spend a night with Raju. But, I wasn’t alone. And maybe, just maybe, Bablu could be Raju for me. He wouldn't dare to expose his dear maasi, I was his first and best.
We reached home close to midnight. The village was quiet, only the faint rustle of trees and distant barking of a dog breaking the stillness. My husband carried Bablu’s bag inside while I gently led him by the arm.
Inside, I had already prepared his room. The bed was freshly made, mosquito net tucked, and a small glass of water placed on the table. But Bablu didn’t want to go to his room right away.
"Aunty," he said softly, "can I stay with you for a while?"
I smiled and nodded, guiding him to the cot in our common room. My husband and son had already gone to bed, leaving the two of us alone in the quiet.
He sat close beside me, his body still warm from the journey. I could feel his eyes on me, and when I looked at him, I saw not a boy tired from travel, but someone expectant, curious. There was a silence between us, but it was full — not empty.
I pulled the shawl tighter around my shoulders and asked gently, "Still hungry?"
He nodded once, his gaze lowering to my chest.
I stood slowly and held his hand as he followed. I leaned back against the wall for support, lifting the end of my pallu and loosening my blouse. As I brought my breast out, he stepped closer, eyes drawn to me. With a shy breath, he leaned in and kissed me softly on the side of my breast before gently latching on.
The moment sent a warm shiver through me. I cradled his head close, steadying him with one arm while the other hand held my shawl partly closed. He suckled gently at first, adjusting to standing, his face pressed against the softness of my chest.
I could feel the pull of his lips, warm and steady, the quiet rhythm of his swallowing filling the silent room. My breast felt full and heavy in his mouth, releasing milk steadily. His hands held my waist firmly, as though anchoring himself while he drank.
Eventually, I sat back on the edge of the cot, drawing him down with me. He laid his head on my lap again, suckling slower now, more relaxed. His hand found its way under the folds of my sari once again, fingers resting on my vagina, trying to enter.
As he nursed, I thought about the days ahead. There was so much I wanted to show him, so much I hoped he would feel with me. This wasn’t just a visit — it was the start of something that belonged to us.
His eyelids grew heavy, suckling slowing down. I let him nurse until he stopped on his own, then guided his head to rest against my chest, my arms around him.
The table lamp flickered in the corner, casting warm shadows. The room was still, and as his breathing deepened, I sat with him long after sleep took over. A quiet smile played on my lips.
It was only the first night, and already we had begun.
As the early morning light filtered through the trees, I couldn’t keep still. The night with Bablu left me stirred in ways I hadn’t prepared for. After making sure the house was quiet and Bablu still asleep, I wrapped my dupatta and walked briskly to Manisha’s home.
She opened the door with sleep still in her eyes. But when she saw my face, her expression shifted.
"What happened? Come in," she said quickly, guiding me inside.
I didn’t sit. I stood near her small kitchen window, arms crossed, trying to find the right words. "Manisha... I think I need to talk. Last night... with Bablu. I didn’t plan it but... it happened so naturally."
Manisha took a breath and pulled her chair closer. "Sit. Listen to me first."
I sat.
She looked at me for a long moment before starting. "You remember when Raju came back from Mumbai? I had no idea what was waiting for me. I was used to feeding my brother-in-law and my father-in-law. It had become habit, comfort. But with Raju... something changed."
Her voice softened, eyes distant.
"The first time he asked, I was surprised. But he was always quiet, respectful. He never asked for attention like the others. He didn’t demand. He just... waited. And one evening, when I was sitting on the veranda, He looked like a young god with his 6'+ height, dark hair, and sleek, yet muscular, physique. I didn't realize I was staring at him until suddenly I realized he was looking back at me. I quickly looked away in shame and tried to pretend that I wasn't gawking at him. For crying out loud, he was only eighteen and he was my nephew! He came and sat beside me and put his head on my lap. I looked down and he was already halfway to my blouse. I didn’t stop him."
I watched her face as she spoke, the corners of her mouth curling faintly, not quite a smile.
"He fed so gently. I didn’t realize how different it could feel. Not like Bhaiya or Baba. With them it was a need. With Raju, it was a bond. I felt wanted. Desired, yes, but in a way that made me feel seen. He would look up sometimes while feeding, eyes locked on mine. I felt like I was the only person in his world."
She reached for her cup and held it between both hands, fingers tracing the rim.
"He started helping around the house more. He never let me carry heavy buckets. He would massage my feet in the evenings. And at night, when I couldn’t sleep, he would lay his head on my stomach and just listen to me breathe. As the days passed, I began getting more and more infatuated with Raju and curious about his body. I was in a permanent state of horniness now, but at the same time disgusted with myself about what I was thinking and doing. I was constantly trying to get glimpses of his body. Worse yet, on a daily basis I was going into his room and removing the wad of tissues from his trash in order to indulge my sense of smell that was now seemingly addicted to Raju. I found myself lying in bed at nights, next to my husband, wondering if Raju was making himself cum in the room across the hall from ours. I also found myself, during the infrequent times my husband and I made love, thinking about Raju. No, that wasn't quite accurate. I wasn't just thinking about Raju, I was wishing he was somehow the one satisfying me.
One night in my bed I couldn't sleep. My pussy was soaking wet, but my fingers weren't satisfying me. I tossed and turned for probably fifteen minutes before my curiosity got the best of me again, and once again I headed for Raju’s room. I peeked in and saw that he was lying on his back. The sheets were down below his knees. Quietly, I approached Raju. I looked down and for the first time saw the outline of his cock through the underwear. I had to know what it felt like, so I reached down and ever so gently ran the tip of my finger across the outline of his soft cock. He didn't flinch. I reached down into my underwear with my left hand and inserted a finger into my wetness. With my right hand, I again ran the tip of my finger across Raju’s penis. I kept my finger on him as I gently caressed his penis through the fabric.
I had to have been a sight to see standing there in nothing but panties, with one hand in my panties, and my other hand on my nephew's penis. Suddenly, I realized that his cock was reacting to my touch. He was still soft, but larger. As I kept rubbing him, his cock quickly hardened and the head began to appear from beneath the waist band. At that point, I wanted so badly to wrap my lips around the protruding cock head that I don't know how I resisted. Amazingly, Raju never moved as my fingers massaged the outline of the thick vein of his cock. I completely lost track of time in my state of lust for my nephew, when I realized his cock was throbbing. Oh shit, I thought to myself, as I realized he was ejaculating. Sperm was shooting from the tip of his cock onto his belly. He woke up watching his aunt stroking his penis while fingering herself. It was embarrassing, but I gathered my courage and asked if he was hungry, my breasts were hurting because of excess milk. He said, I know what you want. I couldn't believe my ears. Raju had been awake the whole time I was in his room. 'Please don't tell your uncle.' I begged him as I released my grip from his now firm cock. 'I won't tell.' Raju responded as his hand reached out and took my hand. 'Please finish.' I started stroking his cock, he drank milk from my breast. Raju’s cock swelled and then began to throb in my hand. Soon it was firing out sperm all over his chest and belly as I worked hard to completely drain his balls. When he was finished, I went over to the nightstand and gathered up a handful of tissues, and then carefully cleaned him up. I was going to leave but, he stopped me. I was still in my underwear, which he evwntually removed. Raju knowing that his aunt would have fucked his grandpa and father, rested his finger and started licking my vagina. It was an unbearable sensation. He probably knew my vagina would be huge and he couldn't satisfy me. His tongue worked wonders and I came under a minute. It was my turn now I asked him if he could climb up and insert his penis in me. I lifted myself up and pushed Raju's cock down. Then, I carefully rested back, making sure that his cock stayed in and not fall out. I was now a fully naked married woman, sleeping under her fully naked nephew, with his cock pinned in my vaginal juice. Slowly and carefully I once again began moving my hips back and forth causing his penis to slide back and forth in my vagina. His eyes rolled back in his head as he placed his strong young hands on my breasts and enjoyed the sensation of my pussy on his cock."
I felt the silence settle in the room as her words faded.
"So yes, Gita," she finally said, "I understand what you’re feeling. And if you’re asking me if it’s wrong... I can’t say it is. But you must decide where your boundaries lie. Raju made me feel special. It wasn’t about just sex. Raju and I were hooked. We continued some form of this little game of coaxing orgasms from each other every night during his stay. Whenever we were seeking privacy for breastfeeding, I was giving him blowjob or having him fuck me. I gave him every pleasure he could imagine, without ever compromising my marriage or his relation with his uncle. For him, I readily opened my legs and during his last days I even convinced Sujata and Leena to have sex with him"
I sat there, heart pounding, eyes sparking. She didn't know, I spend a night with Raju. But, I wasn’t alone. And maybe, just maybe, Bablu could be Raju for me. He wouldn't dare to expose his dear maasi, I was his first and best.
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Update 18
Earlier in the evening, I had taken care of my sasur. After dinner, I helped him change into fresh clothes, then sat with him in the quiet of his room. His legs had been aching, so I warmed some oil and massaged them gently, just as I’d seen Ma do for Baba back in my childhood. He looked at me with grateful eyes as I helped him lie down, covering him with a light sheet.
He asked for warm milk, and I brought it to him. But he didn’t drink from the glass. Instead, he looked at me with longing. Without a word, I slid my fingers under blouse and lifted my pallu and sat beside him. He rested his head against my chest. I helped him latch on, careful to support his head. My breast filled in his mouth, and he suckled slowly, silently. There was no urgency in him, just need, and I let him feed like that—quietly, like a baby. I stroked his limping penis as he drank, my other breast still full.
The fullness had built up from earlier in the day, and I needed to relieve it. That was when I looked toward the other room, where Bablu was napping. My heart hesitated only a moment before I gently shifted Sasurji’s head away. "Enough for now," I whispered. "You’ve had your share."
He murmured something soft, then turned to sleep, content.
I then walked to the main room where my husband was lying down with the newspaper still in his hand. I stood in the doorway, my fingers curling against the frame.
“I’m going to Bablu’s room for the night,” I told him quietly. “He was restless earlier. I want to give him some company.”
He looked at me with sleepy eyes and simply nodded.
That was when I returned to Bablu. He stirred at the sound of my voice, his eyes fluttering open. A sleepy smile crept across his face when he saw me sitting beside him.
“Massi…” he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.
“Shhh,” I hushed him, placing my palm gently on his cheek. “Go back to sleep. I’m just going to sit with you.”
But I didn’t just sit. My heart was still full from earlier. The bond we had deepened in the afternoon lingered in the air. I removed my sari, only in my blouse and underwear, slipped under the blanket beside him, careful not to wake him fully.
He shifted slightly, instinctively curling toward me. I drew him into my arms, his head resting against my chest. I cupped the back of his head just as I had before. He nestled close, grown but still my baby in that moment.
I removed the hooks of my blouse, under the blanket. Beneath the cover, it felt like a world of our own—safe, secret, tender. I let my breast slip free near his face, and he moved instinctively, his lips brushing against the areola before latching gently.
It was slower now, more tender. His lips pulled softly, his breath warm against my skin. I felt the tingling letdown as my nipple filled in his mouth. The areola, still tender and slightly pink from before, throbbed gently, but his touch tonight was calmer. He paused, looking up at me with concern.
“Did I hurt you earlier, Massi?” he whispered, his eyes wide.
I smiled down at him, stroking his cheek. “A little... but only because you were playing. Not because you meant to.”
He looked guilty for a moment, then kissed me softly near where the nipple met the curve of my breast. My breath hitched gently.
“Just drink properly tonight,” I murmured. “No playing. Just stay close.”
He nodded and resumed nursing. His fingers crept in my underwear restjng on my vagina, caressing my labia, going back and forth. As he fed, I wanted him to hold my legs in air and take him straight in. But he was very impatient and accidently inserted his thumb in my asshole. I scolded him gently, tugging his cheek.
“Bablu, no mischief,” I whispered. “You’ll make me sore again.”
He blinked up at me sheepishly, then nuzzled in closer, more careful now caressing my vagina only with his middle finger.
After a while, he pulled away slightly and looked up, concerned.
“Did I hurt your nipple? It looked pink last time.”
I smiled and touched his cheek. “It’s alright. Just be gentle. You know how delicate it gets.”
He nodded seriously, then nuzzled back in. I kissed his forehead gently, giving him permission to explore my body more.
“You’re such a baby sometimes,” I whispered. “But you're my baby.”
Under the safety of blanket, surrounded by the softness of fabric and the warmth of his mouth, I let myself be everything he needed tonight. A aunt, a lover, a teacher.
As he nursed slower, he shifted closer again and taking my legs on his shoulder he inserted his penis in my wetness, “Massi, can I just rest my penis inside you?”
My heart softened further. “Of course,” I whispered, adjusting myself to wrap my legs around him fully.
I brushed his hair gently as he rested his cheeks against my breast, warm and comforted.
I felt his penis growing and limping in my vagina, I contracted and loose my vagina to give him pleasure. He came with full fore lodging his seed in me. He slept while his sperms roll down from my vagina to my asshole.
Tonight, I wasn’t just his Massi.
I was his world.
Earlier in the evening, I had taken care of my sasur. After dinner, I helped him change into fresh clothes, then sat with him in the quiet of his room. His legs had been aching, so I warmed some oil and massaged them gently, just as I’d seen Ma do for Baba back in my childhood. He looked at me with grateful eyes as I helped him lie down, covering him with a light sheet.
He asked for warm milk, and I brought it to him. But he didn’t drink from the glass. Instead, he looked at me with longing. Without a word, I slid my fingers under blouse and lifted my pallu and sat beside him. He rested his head against my chest. I helped him latch on, careful to support his head. My breast filled in his mouth, and he suckled slowly, silently. There was no urgency in him, just need, and I let him feed like that—quietly, like a baby. I stroked his limping penis as he drank, my other breast still full.
The fullness had built up from earlier in the day, and I needed to relieve it. That was when I looked toward the other room, where Bablu was napping. My heart hesitated only a moment before I gently shifted Sasurji’s head away. "Enough for now," I whispered. "You’ve had your share."
He murmured something soft, then turned to sleep, content.
I then walked to the main room where my husband was lying down with the newspaper still in his hand. I stood in the doorway, my fingers curling against the frame.
“I’m going to Bablu’s room for the night,” I told him quietly. “He was restless earlier. I want to give him some company.”
He looked at me with sleepy eyes and simply nodded.
That was when I returned to Bablu. He stirred at the sound of my voice, his eyes fluttering open. A sleepy smile crept across his face when he saw me sitting beside him.
“Massi…” he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.
“Shhh,” I hushed him, placing my palm gently on his cheek. “Go back to sleep. I’m just going to sit with you.”
But I didn’t just sit. My heart was still full from earlier. The bond we had deepened in the afternoon lingered in the air. I removed my sari, only in my blouse and underwear, slipped under the blanket beside him, careful not to wake him fully.
He shifted slightly, instinctively curling toward me. I drew him into my arms, his head resting against my chest. I cupped the back of his head just as I had before. He nestled close, grown but still my baby in that moment.
I removed the hooks of my blouse, under the blanket. Beneath the cover, it felt like a world of our own—safe, secret, tender. I let my breast slip free near his face, and he moved instinctively, his lips brushing against the areola before latching gently.
It was slower now, more tender. His lips pulled softly, his breath warm against my skin. I felt the tingling letdown as my nipple filled in his mouth. The areola, still tender and slightly pink from before, throbbed gently, but his touch tonight was calmer. He paused, looking up at me with concern.
“Did I hurt you earlier, Massi?” he whispered, his eyes wide.
I smiled down at him, stroking his cheek. “A little... but only because you were playing. Not because you meant to.”
He looked guilty for a moment, then kissed me softly near where the nipple met the curve of my breast. My breath hitched gently.
“Just drink properly tonight,” I murmured. “No playing. Just stay close.”
He nodded and resumed nursing. His fingers crept in my underwear restjng on my vagina, caressing my labia, going back and forth. As he fed, I wanted him to hold my legs in air and take him straight in. But he was very impatient and accidently inserted his thumb in my asshole. I scolded him gently, tugging his cheek.
“Bablu, no mischief,” I whispered. “You’ll make me sore again.”
He blinked up at me sheepishly, then nuzzled in closer, more careful now caressing my vagina only with his middle finger.
After a while, he pulled away slightly and looked up, concerned.
“Did I hurt your nipple? It looked pink last time.”
I smiled and touched his cheek. “It’s alright. Just be gentle. You know how delicate it gets.”
He nodded seriously, then nuzzled back in. I kissed his forehead gently, giving him permission to explore my body more.
“You’re such a baby sometimes,” I whispered. “But you're my baby.”
Under the safety of blanket, surrounded by the softness of fabric and the warmth of his mouth, I let myself be everything he needed tonight. A aunt, a lover, a teacher.
As he nursed slower, he shifted closer again and taking my legs on his shoulder he inserted his penis in my wetness, “Massi, can I just rest my penis inside you?”
My heart softened further. “Of course,” I whispered, adjusting myself to wrap my legs around him fully.
I brushed his hair gently as he rested his cheeks against my breast, warm and comforted.
I felt his penis growing and limping in my vagina, I contracted and loose my vagina to give him pleasure. He came with full fore lodging his seed in me. He slept while his sperms roll down from my vagina to my asshole.
Tonight, I wasn’t just his Massi.
I was his world.
dubukh
New Member
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wonderful updates bro. finally good to see some other women in that village using their pussy for fucking male. Hearing Manisha's fucking experience with her nephew Raj was an eye opener for Geetha. Initially she was ready to give milk and also fuck her nephew, but there was some guilt within her. But on hearing Manisha's experiences, she has taken the necessary steps
before that she gave milk to her FIL, and shake his penis as a bonus. But nothing more than that, as she has been tempted to her young nephew. She even got permission from her Husband to go and sleep (just sleep) with him that night and feed him her milk and allowed him to fuck her wet pussy as well. Even the nephew's permission seeking to fuck his aunt was also really really exceptional, "Mausi can I park my penis inside you?". WOW, what a way to ask your aunt to show her pussy for a nice fuck? Super bro, these updates are really really superb
please continue bro
before that she gave milk to her FIL, and shake his penis as a bonus. But nothing more than that, as she has been tempted to her young nephew. She even got permission from her Husband to go and sleep (just sleep) with him that night and feed him her milk and allowed him to fuck her wet pussy as well. Even the nephew's permission seeking to fuck his aunt was also really really exceptional, "Mausi can I park my penis inside you?". WOW, what a way to ask your aunt to show her pussy for a nice fuck? Super bro, these updates are really really superb
please continue bro
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Update 19
The afternoons had started to feel long and empty. Bhaiya had stopped visiting, and the children in the village no longer came by like they used to. I had no chores left after lunch, and the hours stretched endlessly. My breasts stayed full longer, the heaviness building through the day. I found myself aching—not just physically, but emotionally too. The need for closeness, for touch, for purpose—it all lingered in the quiet of the empty house.
So that day, as the sun slid lazily across the sky and the silence of the home wrapped around me like a thick shawl, I picked up the old phone and called Manisha.
"Come over," I said simply. "I need you. Bablu needs you to teach him few tricks."
She knew what I meant without further explanation. There was comfort in how easily she understood these things. When she arrived, I hugged her tightly, pushing her large breasts over mine, holding on a moment longer than usual. I needed her wisdom, her calm, her knowing eyes.
We sat together on the mat, and I told her what had been filling me. How Bablu has no rhythm, he has small penis which could only satisfy if he uses it right. How I needed him in my arms, but there was a shyness.
Manisha nodded slowly, her eyes soft. "He’s growing. Boys that age begin to question, not because they want to stop, but because they don’t know how to ask for more."
She adjusted her pallu and placed a hand on mine. "Let’s call him. I’ll help guide him."
When Bablu stepped into the room, his eyes sparkled seeing both of us. He hesitated at the doorway, unsure.
I reached out. "Come, bablu. Don’t be shy."
He came forward slowly, his eyes darting to Manisha.
"Sit here," she said gently, patting the mat beside her. "Today, you’ll be with me."
I sat back and watched as Manisha guided him close. With practiced ease, she undid the buttons of his shirt and lifted his vest off, baring his chest like a child about to be nursed. She licked his nipple and helped him lie sideways against her, then lifted her pallu and settled it over both of them like a soft curtain, wrapping them together in a cocoon of privacy and warmth.
Under its cover, she bared her breast fully. Her areola was wide and dark, and her nipple firm, standing gently from the weight of fullness. She guided his mouth tenderly, and he opened for her eagerly, without hesitation. His lips latched with that practiced softness, eyes fluttering closed as he nestled against her.
Manisha cradled his head with one hand, her fingers gently threading through his hair. With the other hand, she massaged his balls in slow, reassuring circles. She even kissed his lips softly before each latch, moistening them.
Bablu was playful now. He sucked and held the milk in his mouth, kissed her and spat it in her mouth. Manisha gently scolded him, wiping his cheek and murmuring, "Drink properly, babu. I dont want to drink my produce."
He giggled softly, but latched again, this time with more focus. His hands explored gently under the cover of the saree, holding her breast more firmly, feeling the softness as he fed. Each pause revealed the darkness of her nipple, glistening from his eager mouth, and the rich brown of her areola surrounding it.
"You're such a good boy," she said, brushing his cheek. "Come climb on me. Make your Massi proud." He rested his penis on Manisha’s opening and pushed his small penis in her. I wonder if she even felt him inside. Manisha held his ass in both her hands and guided his motion. She even let out small moans to encourage him.
I sat beside them, watching closely. My own breasts were heavy, so I slipped a hand under my blouse and began to express slowly, catching the milk in a soft cloth. There was no jealousy in me—just admiration and gratitude. Manisha was a pro, and I trusted her completely.
She inserted her middle finger in his ass, now and then, to make his push harder. She knew when to moan, when to press him closer, when to adjust her own position so he could keep satisfying. She had done this for many—comforted, soothed, nourished them like a mother, an aunt, a lover.
Bablu had was a pro today from his brief pauses I knew he had came atleast 4 times. And he wasn’t shy. He occasionally shoved his tongue in Manisha’s mouth as if counting her teeths. I was aroused and unknowingly started fingering my pussy.
While he fed from Manisha, he noticed me playing with my vagina. Perhaps sensing my longing, he slipped from Manisha’s arms for a moment and came to me without thinking. He held my legs in air and inserted his wet penis in me, as if reminding me I hadn’t been forgotten. My breath caught in my throat. The contact, the warmth—it was everything I had missed.
Manisha still with her legs up in air, stayed in tbe position, her eyes warm but wistful. She passed a comment in a soft voice, "I was very close... You’re more beautiful than me, Gita. He couldn’t stay away. That body of yours... your thin waist, that fair chest, even your nipples—so pink and tender—it’s no wonder he wants to satisfy you."
That afternoon, I didn’t plan to feed him or have sex with him. I only wanted Manisha to teach him, how to please a married women. But in the end, he reminded me of how much he loved me.
Manisha waited for some time before, she fingered her vagina to climax. Bablu had learned how to move his penis in circle, which made me cut under a minute. Her teaching had infact ended my longing for orgasm.
The afternoons had started to feel long and empty. Bhaiya had stopped visiting, and the children in the village no longer came by like they used to. I had no chores left after lunch, and the hours stretched endlessly. My breasts stayed full longer, the heaviness building through the day. I found myself aching—not just physically, but emotionally too. The need for closeness, for touch, for purpose—it all lingered in the quiet of the empty house.
So that day, as the sun slid lazily across the sky and the silence of the home wrapped around me like a thick shawl, I picked up the old phone and called Manisha.
"Come over," I said simply. "I need you. Bablu needs you to teach him few tricks."
She knew what I meant without further explanation. There was comfort in how easily she understood these things. When she arrived, I hugged her tightly, pushing her large breasts over mine, holding on a moment longer than usual. I needed her wisdom, her calm, her knowing eyes.
We sat together on the mat, and I told her what had been filling me. How Bablu has no rhythm, he has small penis which could only satisfy if he uses it right. How I needed him in my arms, but there was a shyness.
Manisha nodded slowly, her eyes soft. "He’s growing. Boys that age begin to question, not because they want to stop, but because they don’t know how to ask for more."
She adjusted her pallu and placed a hand on mine. "Let’s call him. I’ll help guide him."
When Bablu stepped into the room, his eyes sparkled seeing both of us. He hesitated at the doorway, unsure.
I reached out. "Come, bablu. Don’t be shy."
He came forward slowly, his eyes darting to Manisha.
"Sit here," she said gently, patting the mat beside her. "Today, you’ll be with me."
I sat back and watched as Manisha guided him close. With practiced ease, she undid the buttons of his shirt and lifted his vest off, baring his chest like a child about to be nursed. She licked his nipple and helped him lie sideways against her, then lifted her pallu and settled it over both of them like a soft curtain, wrapping them together in a cocoon of privacy and warmth.
Under its cover, she bared her breast fully. Her areola was wide and dark, and her nipple firm, standing gently from the weight of fullness. She guided his mouth tenderly, and he opened for her eagerly, without hesitation. His lips latched with that practiced softness, eyes fluttering closed as he nestled against her.
Manisha cradled his head with one hand, her fingers gently threading through his hair. With the other hand, she massaged his balls in slow, reassuring circles. She even kissed his lips softly before each latch, moistening them.
Bablu was playful now. He sucked and held the milk in his mouth, kissed her and spat it in her mouth. Manisha gently scolded him, wiping his cheek and murmuring, "Drink properly, babu. I dont want to drink my produce."
He giggled softly, but latched again, this time with more focus. His hands explored gently under the cover of the saree, holding her breast more firmly, feeling the softness as he fed. Each pause revealed the darkness of her nipple, glistening from his eager mouth, and the rich brown of her areola surrounding it.
"You're such a good boy," she said, brushing his cheek. "Come climb on me. Make your Massi proud." He rested his penis on Manisha’s opening and pushed his small penis in her. I wonder if she even felt him inside. Manisha held his ass in both her hands and guided his motion. She even let out small moans to encourage him.
I sat beside them, watching closely. My own breasts were heavy, so I slipped a hand under my blouse and began to express slowly, catching the milk in a soft cloth. There was no jealousy in me—just admiration and gratitude. Manisha was a pro, and I trusted her completely.
She inserted her middle finger in his ass, now and then, to make his push harder. She knew when to moan, when to press him closer, when to adjust her own position so he could keep satisfying. She had done this for many—comforted, soothed, nourished them like a mother, an aunt, a lover.
Bablu had was a pro today from his brief pauses I knew he had came atleast 4 times. And he wasn’t shy. He occasionally shoved his tongue in Manisha’s mouth as if counting her teeths. I was aroused and unknowingly started fingering my pussy.
While he fed from Manisha, he noticed me playing with my vagina. Perhaps sensing my longing, he slipped from Manisha’s arms for a moment and came to me without thinking. He held my legs in air and inserted his wet penis in me, as if reminding me I hadn’t been forgotten. My breath caught in my throat. The contact, the warmth—it was everything I had missed.
Manisha still with her legs up in air, stayed in tbe position, her eyes warm but wistful. She passed a comment in a soft voice, "I was very close... You’re more beautiful than me, Gita. He couldn’t stay away. That body of yours... your thin waist, that fair chest, even your nipples—so pink and tender—it’s no wonder he wants to satisfy you."
That afternoon, I didn’t plan to feed him or have sex with him. I only wanted Manisha to teach him, how to please a married women. But in the end, he reminded me of how much he loved me.
Manisha waited for some time before, she fingered her vagina to climax. Bablu had learned how to move his penis in circle, which made me cut under a minute. Her teaching had infact ended my longing for orgasm.
Update 20
The next day, the house felt alive again. Bablu, from the moment we woke, he stayed close—like a shadow always near, always wanting more. The ache I had carried in my chest for days now melted into a steady rhythm of giving and receiving, and I embraced the hours like a gift.
I fed him first in bed, under the morning sun that filtered through the curtains. He curled into me, warm and eager, suckling gently while his eyes remained closed, still half-asleep. I stroked his hair and let the quiet morning stretch longer than usual.
Later, in the kitchen, he stayed near. As I prepared breakfast, he pushed his penis softly at my ass. I lifted the saree without hesitation and kneeled to showed him space, hidden beneath its folds. The heat from the stove, the smell of spices, and the Bablu's penis from behind—it all became part of a new kind of morning ritual.
In the courtyard, while I washed clothes, he found his way. I sat on his lap and held him close, draping the saree over us. He was playfully this time, his hands rested on my ass, playing with breasts in his mouth, holding it until I came. I gently scolded him, brushing his cheek and tucking him back in closer under the saree, like a mother would with a fussy infant. The weight of the fabric over him, the closeness of our bodies—it gave him the full feeling of being breastfed like a baby, and I let him have it.
Everywhere in the house, he found me. On the steps, near the well, by the storeroom. He wanted to please me, and I didn’t say no. The rhythmic motion of his waist, the tug of his mouth, the jerks when he came in me—it filled me with a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in weeks.
I decided to try giving him a blowjob as he was having his evening tea. I called him on terrace, asked him to lower his pants, istarted to lick his balls to the tip of his penis. But as the vein on his penis started to throb, I heard the familiar sound of a motorcycle approaching. My heart skipped. My husband was home—early.
I quickly adjusted my blouse, straightened my pallu, and looked at Bablu. His penis was still wet from my sucking. I didn’t want to stop this day, didn’t want it interrupted. And I certainly didn’t want to offer myself to my husband tonight. Not after the softness I had just lived.
So I picked up the phone and called Manisha.
"Can you come over? Now?" I asked. "I want you to entertain my husband.. and I need you."
There was a pause, but only a short one.
"What," she said. "Don’t worry. I will fuck his brains out."
Within minutes, she arrived, just as my husband was washing his hands on the veranda. I met her at the door and pulled her in quickly.
Manisha greeted him with a casual smile. "You’re home early, bhaiya. Everything alright?"
He nodded, drying his hands. "Just didn’t feel like staying late today. Thought I’d surprise Gita."
She laughed lightly. "Good surprise. But she is cleaning the storeroom."
He looked between her, puzzled but not suspicious. "Okay?"
"Just cleaning," she said smoothly. "And call me if you need cleaning."
His eyes narrowed just slightly, but he said nothing. Instead, he walked into the inner room, leaving her in the hallway.
Manisha lingered a little, chatting with him, she occasionally dropped her pallu to expose her deep cleavage to show my husband everything was on the table, keeping his attention. She laughed at his stories, teased him about his beard, and flirted just enough to make him feel noticed—giving him the kind of attention he had expected from me.
Meanwhile, I slipped away quietly with Bablu.
I took him into the storeroom, away from the evening noise. He followed, already knowing what I needed. The room was dim and quiet, and I drew the saree over us, wrapping us in a soft cocoon. As he latched on, the hush returned. He suckled eagerly, his hands pressed gently against my chest. My heart slowed, my breath softened.
I heard Manisha moaning from my bedroom. I removed my breast from Bablu's mouth and asked him to wait. As I peaked in, I saw my husband fucking Manisha from behind. Her bare breasts swayed with each push. I was angry, but also content I could end my day without needing to have sex with him. I went back to the store room and pulled my saree up and asked bablu to put it in my asshole. He was startled and wanted to have milk. But I pulled my ass to him. As he started to fuck me a thought came to my mind, hoping Manisha won't ask me to fuck her husband. He was handsome and popular but I didn't want to fuck a stranger anymore.
I heard Manisha knock on the door, she whispered, "I have emptied his balls, but next time plan in advance". I didn't respond, but focused on Bablu who was working on my tight asshole.
The next day, the house felt alive again. Bablu, from the moment we woke, he stayed close—like a shadow always near, always wanting more. The ache I had carried in my chest for days now melted into a steady rhythm of giving and receiving, and I embraced the hours like a gift.
I fed him first in bed, under the morning sun that filtered through the curtains. He curled into me, warm and eager, suckling gently while his eyes remained closed, still half-asleep. I stroked his hair and let the quiet morning stretch longer than usual.
Later, in the kitchen, he stayed near. As I prepared breakfast, he pushed his penis softly at my ass. I lifted the saree without hesitation and kneeled to showed him space, hidden beneath its folds. The heat from the stove, the smell of spices, and the Bablu's penis from behind—it all became part of a new kind of morning ritual.
In the courtyard, while I washed clothes, he found his way. I sat on his lap and held him close, draping the saree over us. He was playfully this time, his hands rested on my ass, playing with breasts in his mouth, holding it until I came. I gently scolded him, brushing his cheek and tucking him back in closer under the saree, like a mother would with a fussy infant. The weight of the fabric over him, the closeness of our bodies—it gave him the full feeling of being breastfed like a baby, and I let him have it.
Everywhere in the house, he found me. On the steps, near the well, by the storeroom. He wanted to please me, and I didn’t say no. The rhythmic motion of his waist, the tug of his mouth, the jerks when he came in me—it filled me with a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in weeks.
I decided to try giving him a blowjob as he was having his evening tea. I called him on terrace, asked him to lower his pants, istarted to lick his balls to the tip of his penis. But as the vein on his penis started to throb, I heard the familiar sound of a motorcycle approaching. My heart skipped. My husband was home—early.
I quickly adjusted my blouse, straightened my pallu, and looked at Bablu. His penis was still wet from my sucking. I didn’t want to stop this day, didn’t want it interrupted. And I certainly didn’t want to offer myself to my husband tonight. Not after the softness I had just lived.
So I picked up the phone and called Manisha.
"Can you come over? Now?" I asked. "I want you to entertain my husband.. and I need you."
There was a pause, but only a short one.
"What," she said. "Don’t worry. I will fuck his brains out."
Within minutes, she arrived, just as my husband was washing his hands on the veranda. I met her at the door and pulled her in quickly.
Manisha greeted him with a casual smile. "You’re home early, bhaiya. Everything alright?"
He nodded, drying his hands. "Just didn’t feel like staying late today. Thought I’d surprise Gita."
She laughed lightly. "Good surprise. But she is cleaning the storeroom."
He looked between her, puzzled but not suspicious. "Okay?"
"Just cleaning," she said smoothly. "And call me if you need cleaning."
His eyes narrowed just slightly, but he said nothing. Instead, he walked into the inner room, leaving her in the hallway.
Manisha lingered a little, chatting with him, she occasionally dropped her pallu to expose her deep cleavage to show my husband everything was on the table, keeping his attention. She laughed at his stories, teased him about his beard, and flirted just enough to make him feel noticed—giving him the kind of attention he had expected from me.
Meanwhile, I slipped away quietly with Bablu.
I took him into the storeroom, away from the evening noise. He followed, already knowing what I needed. The room was dim and quiet, and I drew the saree over us, wrapping us in a soft cocoon. As he latched on, the hush returned. He suckled eagerly, his hands pressed gently against my chest. My heart slowed, my breath softened.
I heard Manisha moaning from my bedroom. I removed my breast from Bablu's mouth and asked him to wait. As I peaked in, I saw my husband fucking Manisha from behind. Her bare breasts swayed with each push. I was angry, but also content I could end my day without needing to have sex with him. I went back to the store room and pulled my saree up and asked bablu to put it in my asshole. He was startled and wanted to have milk. But I pulled my ass to him. As he started to fuck me a thought came to my mind, hoping Manisha won't ask me to fuck her husband. He was handsome and popular but I didn't want to fuck a stranger anymore.
I heard Manisha knock on the door, she whispered, "I have emptied his balls, but next time plan in advance". I didn't respond, but focused on Bablu who was working on my tight asshole.