Tag: aunt

பத்தாம் வகுப்பு பொதுத்தேர்வுகள் முடிந்திருந்த அந்த விடுமுறைக்காலம், என் வாழ்க்கையின் போக்கையே தலைகீழாக மாற்றப்போகிறது என்று நான் அப்போது கனவிலும் நினைக்கவில்லை. என் அம்மாவின் பெரிய அக்கா, அதாவது என் பெரியம்மா பத்மாவதி தேவியின் வீட்டிற்கு நான் செல்வதாக முடிவானது. பத்மா அத்தையின் வாழ்க்கை ஒரு விசித்திரமான பந்தம். அவள் தனது 16 வயதிலேயே, தந்தை வழி உறவான தனது மாமனையே

The phone rang around 5.30 in the morning. It was my aunt Taiba's cell, and the ringtone was an annoying Bollywood high pitched tune. The sun had still not risen on what would be a hot August summer day, and both my aunt and I were in deep sleep."Taiba." I poked her in the butt. "Mamani! It's your cell phone.""Hmm..." Taiba murmured in her sleep.The phone continued to ring."Taiba." I put my hand under the sheets to find her buttocks again. "Wake up and get your phone.""Mmmm." Taiba once again mumbled something. Even I putting a finger in her anus didn't wake her up.We were both tired, of course. It had been a late night. The room still stank of our sweat. And of sex.I had fucked my Taiba mamani twice last night. The first time we had ended up in the missionary position, with me cumming in her hole, as she lay spread eagled. For almost half an hour we had laid in that position, with my cock buried deep inside her, my cum continuously seeping inside her. We lay together as I stroked her

Taiba paid the rickshaw driver, stepped down from the rickshaw, put the suitcase on the ground and walked up the steps to the door of the lodge. She seemed to be giddy and eager; there was a spring in her step, a swing in her big hips, and a smile on her beautiful lips. She rang the bell and was surprised to see me open the door almost instantaneously. I had been listening for the rickshaw so I opened the door almost immediately as soon as she had rung the bell.She looked ravishing. As in, I wanted to ravish her. There was something about her. Despite being chubby and fat, this curvy aunt of mine oozed a sort of sex appeal the modern skinny Bollywood actresses just couldn't. The meat that she displayed on her waist and tummy was just begging to be squeezed and jiggled. Her light pink blouse, barely constraining her large breasts, looked warm and inviting. The pink sari, draped loosely around her body, resembled a refreshingly cool flower on a hot summer day. As I said, she had a smile

I returned in the evening.For the whole of Monday afternoon that I had been out, a sense of panic had gripped me. It had been with me ever since I had left the lodge. I still could not believe I had taken the initiative and made an advance on my aunt. My conservative, orthodox aunt. For so long we had been playing footsies and tip toeing around each other, but suddenly I had grabbed the bull by the horns. Or in this case, grabbed the lady of the house by her buns.The whole day as I had done my work and chores my mind had gone back to that moment. That grab. That kiss. And somehow - I was fearing the worst. It seemed all fine at the moment, but now? What have it done? What would Shaheen think once I had left?It was dark when I returned. I rang the doorbell but no one answered. Finding it somewhat strange, I opened the door with the key that Shaheen had given me. Upon entering the house, I found it eerily quiet.For a second I was worried. Where was my aunt? Had she left? Did ... my

My mother has three brothers -- all of them way older than her. This story involves their wives (my aunts) and me, one summer when I went up to their lakeside lodge. In Urdu, we call a maternal uncle (the brother of one's mother) a mamu (maternal uncle). The wife of a mamu is called mamani (or maternal aunt-in-law). Therefore this story is the story of my beautiful mamanis and me.We are an Urdu speaking family, originally from Lucknow in India, but settled in Kolkata (formerly known as Calcutta) for a long time. My father is a government employee and my mother works in a big corporation as a secretary. Ours isn't a very rich family, somewhat middle class, but my mamus are all extremely well off. My mother's brothers together runs a business making and exporting traditional Indian garments such as sari and kurta. The older two brothers are actively involved in the business, while the younger one is a doctor with his own practice, but also has shares in the business as a silent partner.

சென்னையை நோக்கி சீரான வேகத்த்தில் கார் ஓடிக் கொண்டிருந்தது. பின் சீட்டில் அம்மா, அப்பா, அக்கா மூவரும் அமந்திருக்க நான் முன் சீட்டில் பாதி மூடிய கண்களுடன் இன்னும் பத்து நாள் கழித்து நடக்கப் போகும் என் முதலிரவுக்கு கனவில் ஒத்திகை பார்த்துக்கொண்டிருந்தேன்."ஷயாம். என்னாடா இப்பவே பொண்டாட்டியப் பத்தி கனவு காண ஆரம்பிச்சிட்டியா" என்று அக்கா என்னைச் சீண்டினாள்."நீ சும்மாவே

When my maternal uncle returned to our house after an interminable gap of two decades, the transformation was so profound that none of us could recognize him. He had departed from our humble village when he was just a lanky 15-year-old, his eyes brimming with dreams and his heart pounding with the promise of the unknown. All those years, he had wandered across the vast expanse of the country, tasting the bitter and the sweet, the highs and the lows, and finally, he had settled down in Madras, now known as Chennai, where he was engaged in some business ventures.The moment my grandmother laid eyes on her long-lost son, her face lit up with an unbridled joy that was almost palpable. Her eyes, though clouded with age, sparkled with a fervor that was infectious. She was overjoyed to have her son back under her roof, and she was determined that he would never leave her side again. With a mother's instinct, she began her meticulous preparations to get him married, hoping that the bonds of

SharmilaI was not able to sleep for last few days. The single thought that kept running through my mind was my son Arjun ravaging my sister-in-law Sangita. I kept imagining his hard bull sized cock entering the wet depth of his middle-aged conjugal partner. No matter how much I fingered myself, thinking about getting the same pleasure for myself, it just felt unsatisfactory.I needed my son Arjun.I needed him so bad.Am I a bad mother?At this point of time do I really care?I had made up my mind that I have to convince my son to become my lover. If I have to seduce the poor teenager and make his mind jelly, I am going to fucking do that.I was positive my big teardrop milky white lactating tits can do its magic like they have always done and before long I would be in the arms of my strong son getting ravished like a cheap whore.My skin still radiated a golden hue and if I put my mind into it, I can definitely look as stunning as Sangita.The night beforeArjunAs I attempted to once more

Sharmila sighed and looked away, "Because he sees you in me!"I was awakened from my dreamy haze... What!!!Even when I wanted to protest, my lips were dry and hesitant. I could feel a sharp tinge down below which belied the motherly shock I should have displayed.I guessed Sharmila wanted to drive home her point and she came up with a mischievous idea."Why don't you hide in the closet and watch your son ravage me next time we do it? You will understand me and my relationship with Arjun better. I am sure you would like what you see." She winked naughtily.I was half attentive as I nodded. My hand was twitching and I had pressed my thighs together in case I leaked there and then from the wild thoughts.It was decided that I would fake a headache that night and pretend to retire early and let everyone know not to disturb me. I would then sneak into Sharmila's room while she went to the connected room and met Arjun.I barely fit into the closet and shut the doors pretty much all the way with a

The land Khokhapur, in which this tale; my tale is based in, is a small agricultural hamlet in Haryana, a northern agrarian state in India.There are about 80-90 families residing here since many centuries now and it suffices to say that our village isn't any different than a typical crude hamlet of peasants and feudal lords. What's different though is our village is known for its hardy men and their proud history of serving in the Indian armed forces.But it's always a village that bears the cost of a war and as history very well knows, we have had several painful ones and they have taken a toll, a frightful one, for all of us.Our family is considered fairly rich among the native people of Khokhapur. We have always owned more than ample land in the village, where we have grown wheat and maize in plenty. We live in a large but antiquated spread out bungalow that is made up of five medium sized houses arranged in a large circle, connected to one another by common walls but has separate