Tag: young boy

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.

"டேய் சுந்தரம். இதை பெரிய வீட்ல கொடுத்துட்டு பழைய பாக்கி 450 ரூபாய் இத்தோட சேர்ந்து 875 ரூபா வாங்கிட்டு வா. சீகிரமா போ!" என்று ஒரு பொட்டலத்தை கொடுத்தார் முதலாளி.  எடுத்துக்கொண்டு ஓட்டமும் நடையுமாக பெரிய வீட்டுக்குப் போனேன். பொட்டலத்தில் என்ன இருக்கும் என்பது நல்லாவே தெரியும். பெரிய வீட்டுக்குள் நுழைவதே ஒரு சுகம் தான். ஊரில் இருக்கும் பெரிய மனிதர்கள் முதல் சாதாரண ஆட்கள்

இன்றோடு பத்து நாட்கள் ஆகிவிட்டது. மாலை 4 மணிக்கெல்லாம் வித விதமாக டிரஸ் போட்டுக்கொண்டு கையில் கிங்க்ஸை பற்ற வைத்தபடி இங்கும் அங்கும் அலைவதுமாக தினமும் இரண்டு மணி நேரமாவது செலவு செய்கிறேன். ஆனால் எதுவும் நடந்த பாடில்லை. சினிமாவுக்கு சான்ஸ் தேடுறேன்னு நினிக்கிறீங்களா! இல்லை! இல்லை!!. அடையாறு பார்க்கில் நின்று கொண்டு ஆண்ட்டிகளிடம் சான்ஸ் கிடைக்குமா என்று தான் இத்தனை

"டேய் மச்சான், உன் பக்கத்து வீட்டு ஜாஸ்மின் ஆண்ட்டி ஒரு மாதிரின்னு சொல்லிக்கிறாங்க. நீ ட்ரை பண்ணியிருக்கியாடா" என்று கேட்டான் ஜான்."டேய் அவங்க ரொம்ப நல்லவங்கடா! தப்பா பேசாத." என்று அவனை முறைத்தேன்."சும்மா நடிக்காத மாமு. நானும் போறப்ப வரப்பெல்லாம் பார்த்துகிட்டுதான் இருக்கேன். எப்ப பார்த்தாலும் ஆம்பளைங்களையே வெறிக்கப் பார்த்துகிட்டு நிக்கிறா. நான் மட்டும் பக்கத்து

"டேய் காமேஷ்!. அங்க என்னாடா பார்த்துகிட்டு நிக்கிற. சாயங்காலம் ஆனா மொட்டை மாடியில அப்புடி என்ன தான் இருக்கோ" என்று முனகிக்கொண்டே மாடிப்படியை கடந்து வந்தாள் அக்கா. சுன்னி முழு விறைப்பில் லுங்கிக்குள் நட்டுக்கொண்டு நிற்க அதை குலுக்கிக்கொண்டிருந்தவன் அப்படியே நிறுத்திவிட்டு, சுன்னியை கைப்பிடிச் சுவற்றில் வைத்து அழுத்திக்கொண்டே தலையை மட்டும்

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