Sundar had drifted into a nap as his aunt Saroja saw Suguna out. "The house work is getting affected," thought Saroja to herself as she eyed the luxurious swaying ass of the servant maid Suguna. In these last 12 hours life had taken an unreal turn. Nothing seemed to matter more than her trysts with her nephew in the aftermath of her initial indiscretions. Her husband, the house, the kitchen and everything else, including the servant maid were a distraction from her sexual management of her 20 year-old nephew.

Manipulating the young man's obsession with her had gotten transformed into sexual engrossment on her own part. And with both of them engrossed in each other, sex and the heavy aroma of sex permeated everything; till this maid had decided to take a fill of the stud. It was inevitable that Saroja would have discovered them. She had let the maid finish thinking that this would show Sundar that lust and love were different things.

And then she ushered the maid out. Saroja had watched the woman coax her breasts into her blouse. A few of the hooks were no good anymore, and flesh --reddened and sweating from the pounding the young man had given her -- peeped out.

As she glimpsed the flesh, Saroja found herself licking her lips involuntarily. She recalled her nephew sucking on those mammaries- that was the only word for them. The 20 year old boy had demonstrated how well he could handle a woman if he was shorn of the emotional veneer accompanying his lust for his aunt. And that was exactly what Saroja had wanted so that her nephew would overcome the distraction of sex and start concentrating on his studies.

But after watching her nephew plunder the maid, jealousy had reared its head; she found herself wishing that the nephew had done all those things with her rather than with the maid.

The sex with the aunt had been reverential and almost a ritualistic initiation of the virgin boy. The sex with the maid had been animal, rough and an unleashing of his new-found familiarity with sex.

Suddenly, the aunt who had all along wanted the boy to recognize lust as distinct from love and lose his obsession for her, wanted him to make her the object of his every sexual move. She wanted him to identify and isolate lust; but also use her as an object of his lust, be animal with her, and come to terms with his sexuality -- all with her. Not with any other woman, least of all a servant.

That woman would have to be shown her place, but that was later. Right now, Sundar needed to be taught the last lesson in this chapter preparing him for life. And to make him concentrate on his studies rather than on sexual obsession.

When she returned to the room, there he was, on his back, dozing. The cock, down from its high was in repose, sagging under its own weight. It was slick, it was reddened and it had not yet spilled its seed. Sundar had cum in Suguna's (the maid's) hand in the first flush of their encounter. She had awakened him with her mouth and he had lost control in her fisting later. That allowed him to fuck hard and furiously without cumming, which is what made the session animal and wild. It was that wildness which Saroja sought as she stepped forward towards Sundar, slowly unraveling her saree.

All previous encounters had been in states of undress but never fully unclothed. Now she thirsted for contact: chest on chest, hands intertwined, legs intertwined, and mouths able to kiss any flesh anywhere at will. Previously, also, there was a sense of urgency in finding ways to reveal her pussy to his cock. Now the urgency was to take revenge for his having gone to a maid for further sexual exposure.

The boy had to be made to be animal with her and exposing herself fully was the route she chose. There should be no angle at which they could not take each other. Everything was open and up, in what she wanted to be the concluding session of fucking.

Sundar had to leave for his parent's home after this, she was sure. She found herself worrying about the plain, raw, womanly lust in her taking control of her complete senses. What else could explain watching and allowing the maid to continue fucking Sundar? What else could explain the calm manner in which she asked the maid to leave for the day? What else could explain her willingness to postpone everything and immediately disrobe to fuck her nephew?

The saree slid to the floor and the petticoat dropped as well. Saroja pulled off her blouse and undid and dropped her bra to the floor as well. Naked, body burning with desire and shivering with excitement at the thought of taking him so fully. She moved over the prone body. She noticed the residue from the maid's cunt in semi-dry state on his cock. Much as she would have loved to arouse Sundar by mouthing him, she felt inhibited by the coating of the lower class woman's body fluid.

She wondered then, about how she had licked her lips at the sight of that other woman's bosom. Was she ready to accept Suguna as a woman? And yet here, when she had to decide on mouthing Sundar she balked at that same decision?

She caressed her own breasts and tugged at her nipples as her dizzy levels of desire allowed her to think of things she might not have 24 hours earlier. Attraction to a woman? That too of a lower social class? But Suguna's breasts looked delicious and her Sundar had tasted of them. The maid's sweat was like an attractive glazing applied to her flesh. And Sundar had smeared himself on her and vice versa.

Saroja shuddered as her body answered her own caresses with mild tremors. The aunt straddled the body of her nephew who was still dozing. She leaned down and held the cock in her fingers. Gently she slid her hand down, pulling back the foreskin, encouraging the cock to regain volume. She was rewarded with a pulse of life as it jerked once.

It brought Sundar out of his slumber and through the initial haze he saw atop him another woman, breasts bare, hair flowing, a bright smear of kumkum which had run in the sweaty heat and lust written all over the face. She was focused downward, her eyes on the single point of attention -- his cock.

He looked down and watched as the smallish hand pumped and thumb ran over his dry cockhead. His skin had folded back over the head and was stuck there. The head was exposed and dried out. Even as the woman fisted him, the skin would not budge. Sundar started, apprehensive that he would get hurt. But the woman knew more; the next stroke brought a bead of precum to form on the tip of his cock. She expertly took it on the ball of her thumb and rubbed it on the head. Sundar shuddered and his hands grabbed the mess of sheets below him.

He closed his eyes. He felt immensely refreshed and ready to take on this woman. He had not yet cum and he might have slept for hours -- it was actually only a few minutes. He opened his eyes ready fuck as his hips thrust involuntarily. His eyes focused on the face of the woman above him, who was still expertly and softly coaxing his cock to its full state of readiness.

It was his Goddess, not the whore. And she was handling him so beautifully that he was massively aroused. The cock swelled impressively quickly. Sundar wanted to fuck and fuck hard. But Saroja manni was not a whore.

He allowed himself to sag back. He could not take her on. She would have to take him. He allowed his aggression to recede. He was not going to maul someone who he worshipped. He eyed the swinging breasts and started to notice differences between the two women. He wondered about sucking and biting her like he had been with Suguna. But he lay supine, keeping his thoughts to himself. All his reflections were captured in the enormous engorgement of the pillar of flesh in his aunt's hands.

Saroja manni desperately wanted this specimen embedded in herself. She had watched Suguna and Sundar in a wild, grabbing '69' and more, and her own arousal had reached a feverish pitch. It needed a quenching. She could sink down on this monster and ride him to a new heaven. But she wanted him to feel her, to push her, test her, pound her and hammer her to an orgasm. She had labored hard on him the previous night. Today she wanted to lie back and take it all. She wanted to be a whore and get fucked mindlessly, as a young stud should. She didn't want worshipful lovemaking. She wanted to be where Suguna had been.

The boy smiled up at his aunt as his hands caressed her forearms gently. Saroja stared down in sexual fury at the boy's cock, his body, his chest and his face, wanting the animal in him out on display. He cupped her breasts gently, weighing them, comparison once again coming to his mind, when all she wanted was for him to twist and hurt her nipples.

He leaned up and gently kissed the cool flesh, yet to get all heated up from exertion, when she wanted him to bite and make marks. Marks that she should have to hide from her husband Arvind. He maneuvered his thigh between her legs grazing her pussy, feeling her hair, the heat and the latent moisture, when what she needed was his fingers invading her cruelly.

She looked down, her face hot and flushed. In her mind she was replaying the scene of torrid sex which she had just witnessed. Suguna's ass was beating up and down as she smeared her cunt on Sundar's face, while the maid's own mouth was loaded with his cock. This face which was smiling up at Saroja manni had eaten the maid's cunt, fucked, sucked and bitten and marked that woman like his own. The smile on his face irritated her. Saroja wanted to see lust for her writ large on his face.

"Eppadi da? How? How could you let her?" asked Saroja her eyes filling up and her lips quivering as she felt the release of her pent up emotions.

"I was asleep. When I awoke she was already here. I thought it was you and when I realized it was not it was already late," he stammered, blurting out the whole truth in a bid to mollify his aunt.

"Oru velakari. A servant maid! Her pussy on your lips! Just because she was gobbling away at your cock you lost your sense?" she demanded, tears rolling down her hot cheek.

Sundar was stunned and didn't know how to respond. She looked beautiful than ever in her tears; her breasts were heaving and he wanted to touch, hold and comfort her. Yes, of course he had seen his aunt watching them fuck, but he had no idea about from when she was watching. In fact, where was the time for reflection? Every thing had happened in the last hour.

"And you were so open, demanding and aggressive with her! How could you be like that with her?" continued the distraught aunt.

"She is only a maid!" replied Sundar by way of justification.

"So?" countered Saroja. She leaned forward pinning his arms down her breasts swinging and lunging just in front of his face. He watched them hungrily, wishing this conversation would die down and he could feast on her body. She must have such intentions of letting him indulge, why else would she be nude, completely nude?

"So I don't have to be careful what I say and do," said Sundar his hands moving to her back, stroking her in a comforting way.

"And you have to watch yourself with me, your manni?" she asked, lowering her body and slapping his face with her breasts, as if to hurt him.

Sundar was silent. He had nothing to say to his aunt. It infuriated her.

She slapped him hard. It shocked him. She slapped him again, harder. Saroja sat back, astride on his knees. His entire body, including his cock, was at his mercy. The rage made her red and she looked completely ravishing. But she was now hurting him. As her body heaved and showed off its contours, Sundar felt vulnerable.

He laughed weakly, only to infuriate her further. In frustration Saroja leaned forward and dug her nails into his chest. She dug in, and dragged her hands down partly unmindful of how badly she might hurt him. She wanted him to hurt; she wanted him to feel the pain she felt as seeing Sundar being so free with that bitch.

Her hair fell forward and she glared at him through the veil of hair on her pull back. She now slid a little further down, sitting on his ankles. Sundar yelped in pain as the nails drew red lines down his chest. When he caught his aunt's eye he was somewhat scared. She looked violent and out of control. And here he was completely nude, pinned under her. If she used her hands on his cock the way she had raked his body…

Sundar shuddered and an in act of self --defense pulled his feet up into a crouch, out from under her body.

"Dey! Bayama?" she taunted him. (Hey! Are you afraid). "I didn't see any of this caution when you were stuffing yourself into her mouth? Let me at that!" hissed Saroja as she lunged forward to grab his cock in her fist.

The boy was aghast at this avatar of his aunt. She was systematically dissecting his encounter with Suguna and asking for an account of every liberty he had taken with her. (Or was it liberties she had taken with him?)

Reflexively he sat up and grabbing her arms, as she lunged he used her own momentum to push her onto the bed. Saroja fell back with her legs spread and in the air. Her breasts jiggled as the volume of flesh tossed back on her chest. In a flash Sundar sought to reverse positions and try pin his manni under him. Saroja crossed her legs defensively and covered her breasts with her hands.

She swiveled to the left, to get off the bed, loudly announcing, "I am leaving!"

Sundar hadn't expected that, and he was not about to let his aunt leave in an upset mood. He tried to throw himself on her to pin her down. But Saroja had already propped herself up on her elbows and knees and moved her right leg down to the floor.

There she was, ass towards him, legs spread wide, and one leg down on the floor spreading open her pussy. Sundar did not know that he had a target in front of him. The novice could only visualize grabbing his aunt to hold her down. He proceeded to do just that and moved close to his dear Saroja manni and threw his arms around her hips to pin or at the very least, weigh her down.

Nature took over as only nature can. Sundar had no clue that a woman could be taken from behind. Saroja manni could not possibly have contrived a situation where she could instruct her nephew on positions. She was some where between bringing the youngster back on track with his studies and combating her own surge in jealousy on finding the boy fucking the maid like a bitch.

No, being taken was definitely not on either of their minds as the swollen hanging member prodded the nether folds of Saroja's cunt. She felt the hot, erect flesh slap the intimate, innermost inside of her thigh. She gasped. Sundar felt the prickly brush of his aunt's hair, lush, unkempt and unshaven as it is with Indian women. Inexplicably his hips humped at the woman under him.

He grazed her cunt repeatedly, his cock parallel to the lips it was attempting to pierce. As he rubbed against her, Saroja threw her head back luxuriating in the sensations. This was animal. He was behind her. She was kneeling like a bitch. Yes! This was Sundar about to lose control and take her like she deserved! Saroja rocked, closing her thighs to try trap the cock between her thighs.

"Mannni don't!" he pleaded, referring to her attempt to leave the bed.

She mistook it as a reference to the doggy-fuck. She quickly inserted a hand below herself and between their bodies. Thumb and index-finger grabbed at the pointlessly thrusting flesh. Saroja dropped her torso, angling her womb and the tunnel leading up to it, upward at the boy's cock.

Holding the member gingerly at the mouth of her waiting cunt, Saroja thrust back, capturing her prize.

"Ah!" screamed her victim. She had him where she wanted him. She shivered as the cock touched her in new places and she marveled that the peculiar curvature of Sundar's cock was grazing her g-spot so closely. "It is the angle," she thought.

Delicately she drew herself forward, preparing to fuck back hard. She was being careful that the cock on which her quivering flesh seemed to depend for its very survival should not leave her sheath. She felt the head roll around the entrance and slowed down. Even as she prepared to fuck back, Sundar reacted.

He had felt so snug ensconced in his aunt's upturned cunt. His stomach had caressed the sumptuous cheeks of her ass. Before this, every part of his body had felt her flesh. But not his stomach and not this way. He had enjoyed the curve of her ass smashed against his somewhat flat groin; flat except for the massive protuberance deeply embedded in its natural resting place.

And now she had moved forward, sliding her pussy off his rock hard cock. This was maddening. When Suguna the maid had fisted him, the excitement was too much and he had spurted on her. Then when he had fucked her, he found he couldn't cum all that easily. He had humped her like a beast, ravaging her, pummeling her and wearing her out with uncounted orgasms -- but he still had not crossed the peak of his own pleasure into the uncontrolled rush of a full orgasm. But now, the sight of his aunt's curvaceous body in front of him once again lifted him to a pinnacle.

At last, the relief of an orgasm seemed to be near for his achingly hard cock which had little respite from an erection all morning. It was erect when Suguna the maid entered his bedroom while he was still asleep. It still was erect while his aunt was below him, ass and womb thrust up towards him.

He rammed the erection down his unsuspecting aunt's bubbling cauldron. The woman had one knee on the bed and the other leg down on the floor. Her right hand gripped the timber of the side of the cot while her left hand slipped. She felt her entire body being pushed along the bed as her nephew hammered his cock home.

She had no time to rebalance as the young man pulled back and fucked her hard again. Saroja's cheek slid along the bed and her shoulder pushed forward, angling her head. Her lips were open with gasps of pleasure and as her face turned sideways, Sundar caught a glimpse of his aunt's profile; he felt reassured by the apparent pleasure on her face and her open lips.

Saroja clutched at the sheet, her fist tight; but it did nothing for her, she needed to squeeze a mass. Desperately she reached for the end of the mattress and squeezed the coir foam in her fist. The tight grip told Sundar everything he was looking for. His Goddess was in the throes of pleasure. This position seemed so whorish and exploitative of the woman that he had briefly worried if she would disapprove.

He need not have worried and any lingering doubts were taken care of by Saroja's hollering.

"Fuck me like your own bitch!" she wept. "Take me! Treat me also like a pleasure toy! I am yours too, to use, abuse, fuck and plunder" she wailed.

Sundar barely heard her. His eyes were closed. The exactitude of the ring of her cuntlips on his cock was thrilling. In this position, he could feel the "o" of her cunt run on his pillar like a ring. And when that "o" -- which at the opening must be more like a sphere- ran over his cockhead, it was like a piston rotating in a socket. His world was on that ring of flesh which raked his cock along its entire length as he fucked forward and she fucked back.

His hands pressed into the flesh of her hips, slowly nails raked her ass causing Saroja to shudder. His thumbs rotated the sumptuous ass, massaging his cock further between her cuntlips.

She held on for all she was worth as her nephew finally treated her the way she had seen him treat the maid; she was finally his bitch.

She laughed her pleasure as his mindless fucking caused butterfly-wing-like waves in her womb. She came and she thrashed, completely out of control with nothing to provide her stability. She could well have been a quivering mass of orgasmic flesh speared on him and in throes of death. Her hands dug, grabbed, squeezed, pinched and held on. Nothing could prevent the grinding of her shoulder, her cheek and her breasts on the somewhat coarser fabric of the mattress as the sheets were completely displaced. Her soft womanly skin bruised. A slow drip of her viscous fluids on to the mattress below marked the completed meltdown of her insides. She came and she flowed as she came. The cock plugged her and blocked her fluids inside her, squishing out as the pistoning allowed some to seep. It matted her hair and when the pubic hair was saturated, a steady drip ensued. She watched as she looked under: it was her own juice and she knew that.

She could see nothing else. Either her eyes were shut as she traveled to a personal paradise, or nothing else was in her line of sight. She could see the boy's legs just behind her own legs but not too much, and nothing more.

She was reddened, bruised and her knees grazed. Sundar's massaging and teasing her ass-flesh was all pleasure. But she would only later realize, when bathing, and when hot water ran on her flesh that he too had drawn lines on her.

"Don't spare me. Do me. Plunder me well." she implored him in the throes of her orgasm. ("Vidade da! Pannu! Nalla tei!")

"Yes, take! You bitch!" whispered Sundar, almost afraid his aunt would hear him. He was enjoying dominating his aunt and he had dug his nails into her like she had. And he wanted to call her a bitch even as they fucked like dogs.

At last, the vigor, the aggression and the language he had used with that bitch. Saroja laughed.

"Yes, I am your bitch! Fuck me like one! Look at me spread open and kneeling for you! I am a slut! A whore! Take me like you took that bitch!" she screamed as pleasured addled her brain. For two days now lust had dominated her. Every non-sexual detail of her life seemed to recede into the distance. There was her constant hunger; his body. His virginity and her body. And nothing else.

"Yes, manni!" he agreed, calling her by her respectful title even as he said the words she had desperately wanted to hear him use since finding him with the maid. "You are my slut, whore, bitch, Goddess, everything. Just don't be upset with me?" he pleaded.

With the boy conquered, Saroja's body heaved in a final string of orgasmic spasms. All possible orgasms for the moment had been wrung out of her. When the dripping slowed, Saroja paused to regain her breath. With pleasure receding, she realized her neck was aching from the awkward angle. Her right knee was complaining for the shock absorbing work it had been subjected to.

Saroja reflected on what a wondrous thing sexual lust was; it was an analgesic for all pain. It transcended hunger for food. Social status didn't matter. It trivialized the worries of life. And it made a woman risk her family, her respect, her everything -- Vatsyayan had himself said so in the Kama Sutra -- for the pleasure that lust brought.

"Iru da! Wait!" she called to her obedient trainee.

She needed to make him cum and for that she needed stability. She wanted to fuck back and subdue him completely.

As his aunt moved to the left, Sundar felt his cock slipping out. "No!" he gasped in panic.

She smiled and slowed down. She moved one bit -- and he waddled and followed her, slowly riding in and out to assure himself that he was within the reach of that spherical hollow just past her pussy lips. She waited for him and then moved some more. And then he moved. And then the reassurance fuck. And so on till she was stable in the middle of the bed, both knees firm and her legs spread.

She turned her head as far back as she could to catch the look on his face as she fucked back. It was difficult. The only glimpse she got was of a face grimacing in unbearable pleasure. First, she was slow. Then as the alignment was set, a bit faster. Then still faster. And then only on his cockhead. Only that position where the cockhead behaved like a rod in the eye of a socket, for a socket was how her upturned cunt felt to him.

She rotated her hips clockwise. Then fucked, taking him in fully. Then she rotated anti-clockwise. Then fucked him, taking him in fully again. A thrust, a grind, a thrust, a grind.

Even for the boy who had just come a little over an hour ago, who had failed to cum by fucking that slut-maid, the treatment proved too much.

Saroja allowed herself a triumphant smile as she heard Sundar groan "Manni!" loudly, his fingers digging into her ass-flesh.

"You know how to fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkk!" he gagged as she took him over the cliff, paying her the compliment she had ached for. And then, "like a whore!" he concluded. Saroja felt her face go red as she realized that one more line had been crossed between her and her nephew. Would things ever be the same? She would know only when she looked him in the eye.

Right now that was not possible. She was fucking back at her nephew like the whore he had called her.

She continued the provocative treatment of his cock, her own cunt pulsating once more, as if it had not orgasmed at all.

"Manni," he gasped.

"Yes?" she asked, rotating her hips one way.

"Don't…..ah….stoppppp!" he said. That was needless- she wasn't about to.

She gently rode all the way back taking in his full cock.

"Manni," he quaked.

"Yes?" she coaxed him. "Sollu da. Tell me."

"I" he stammered as she rotated, "am" he managed when she fucked, "going to" he quavered when she rotated, "cummmmmmmmmmmmmm!" he wailed.

He had tried to stay perfectly still, providing his aunt a perfect target for manipulation.

She had taken him there without making him wait a moment too long. She was having her own quiet orgasm at the same time. She was quiet by comparison, but she was there with him.

When his orgasm took over his body he started to shudder and thrust. His instincts took over as his cock moved randomly, without pleasure-enhancing strokes or any particular pattern.

He emptied into her and Saroja felt the surge and the squishy saturation. Her pubic hair dripped again, this time it was his cum washing down her own soaking. The combined dripping widened the spot on the mattress below them.

His pounding was incessant as he came and she found her hips pushed down, her knees losing their grip. She spread her legs wide so that her dear nephew would not slip out. She was now akimbo like a frog, legs wide and under him. His cock was embedded and the grateful boy sobbed out aloud, "Yesssssssssss!" as his cock received its full share of caresses even as it spewed out the semen.

She slid down to the bed and he was on top of her. The cock escaped from its lair, but it seemed perfectly timed. Free from restrictions it seemed to spew more and he felt himself fully letting loose. The jerking member was once again parallel to her soaked, wide and raw cuntlips. He leaned forward and sucked in the flesh of her shoulder, and somewhere in his pleasure sank his teeth into her.

The jerks and thrusts slowed and at the same time the unrelenting erection, receded. Soon it was a small jut of flesh squished between their bodies resting along the crack of he buttocks, staining her.

As pleasure retreated she felt him weighing her down. Once again she wondered how she had accepted that entire weight ramming down on her; but now found the supine weight unmanageable. Lust receded. Sleep came. He slid down by her side, his leg thrown over her ass. He felt the inside of his thigh smear to the wetness on her back.

And they slept once again………

She tousled his hair as he slept like the baby he was. She too napped, yes- it was inevitable after the energy-sapping sexual release. But memories of her wild swings from 'responsible aunt' to 'jealous sexual mentor' kept her from drifting into deep sleep.

Her fingers ran over his chest, where she had dug her nails. "How is he going to explain these marks to his mother," she wondered. Should she expect a call from her cousin, asking?

But she felt her own bruises and wondered how she was going to explain them to her husband. She would have to avoid him tonight. But that alone would not do as she later discovered. There were his teeth marks on her shoulder, bruised knees and breasts marked with lovebites.

"I need to organize his departure back to his parent's tonight itself," she said to herself. "Would Suguna and Sundar fuck again if he stayed another night?" she wondered as she drifted off into another nap. She awoke still later wondering if Sundar would share with the others his discovery and conquests, prompting a stream of visits from the other two…

Surely it was well past lunchtime and for the second day in a row she found herself in bed with her nephew not having bothered with either cooking or housework. This had to stop. She got out of bed, leaving Sundar in his deep slumber.

When she phoned her husband Arvind asking him to book tickets for Sundar to leave, he was puzzled. But he bought her line that the boy had realized his folly and wanted to rush back and catch up on his classes.

Her body ached in places she had not known to exist as went about doing the minimum around the house, letting Sundar sleep till he awoke on his own. The young man found his aunt packing his bag and ran to her and put his around her from behind her.

"You are leaving tonight," she stated simply, neither turning nor interrupting her work.

"Who said so?" he asked, crestfallen.

"Your uncle," replied his aunt. "In fact, there he is" she announced as Arvind pulled up in the drive way.

She turned around and reached up to his face and patted his cheek. "Study well," she said to him, looking him deep in the eyes before moving on.

The young man staggered back to his room to gather his thoughts and things, keen to do both away from his uncle's gaze.

She had never intended the sex -- never mind how intense and liberating it had felt - to linger on. Her nephew, now 19, had lost his concentration and appetite for studies with his mind suffused with thoughts of the warm embrace of Saroja Manni. He remembered her hands on his cock and lusted for more than just handling. His brother had been luckier with her and he could not get over that.

With his scores falling and the boy's parents looking to Saroja and her husband to help their kids do well in life, Saroja felt responsible for bringing back focus into the youngster's academic pursuits.

That one goal dominated her mind when she took him to bed with her and fucked him; he should get in decent hours of study.

Despite all the reasoning behind her actions she fucked him to her own satisfaction as much as to his.

The release was therapeutic to him. His animal taking of her as he overcame the initial awe helped her convince him that he was sex and lust crazed rather than in love with his aunt as he imagined.

That was to be the end of that. The young man repaid her by immediately sitting down with his books and putting in

That would have been the end of that had it not been for Suguna the maid. The nephew Sundar's hardon was unrelenting. While he slumbered on through a late morning after the all nighter with his aunt, his cock stood as if waiting for the next opportunity.

It was a matter of time before Suguna came to his room to clean up. She had spied and guessed the illicit activity between the saucy and buxom Saroja and her virile virgin nephew. When she entered the room and found Sundar with his cock at full mast, she took him.

It helped Saroja in the larger mission of showing Sundar the distinction between love and lust. It helped Saroja show Sundar that sex could not become a distraction that destroyed his life and career. If fucking the maid could get it out of his system that was all for the good.

But it also unleashed sexual jealousy in her. When she chanced upon maid being fucked with a vigor and abandon she felt Sundar had been timid with her. He had not been -- but now she felt that way. The language, the aggression and the dominance he showed were things she considered him incapable of.

Her loins told her she wanted him to be all that with her too. And the intimacy with the maid, of lower class was appalling. He ate her and sipped from her cunt, whereas in the house they did not even serve her in the same teacups.

Before the boy left for his parents, Saroja took him again, this time asking to fuck like a slut, a whore and a bitch. No reverence, no coyness. If he could fuck her like a raging stud, he better ravage her too.

And then Sundar left as she had planned for him to.

When the maid came by the next morning it was a bit odd for Saroja. At first, the maid had spotted her with her nephew. And then she had seen the maid and her nephew in the sixty-nine position. She had practically kicked her out of the house that morning. Suguna had lain drained and supine on the floor. Saroja treated her the way she ought to have been. She prodded the woman with her feet and asked her to leave. But that was not before the woman's large chocolate colored breasts made their impression on Saroja. She shook her head to shrug off unacceptable thoughts of lustful attraction.

She turned the fire in her loins to her own kind in her nephew.

And now this morning, she did not know how to face the maid. Nor did the maid have a clue on how to handle her return to work.

Both women kept it professional. Saroja went about her housework. As soon as Suguna arrived she was directed to her chores. Vessels to be scrubbed, clothes to be washed and rooms to be cleaned.

Suguna was all deference. That was how it was on the day after the maid had taken liberties on the previous day. The liberties were typically a day off, a loan taken or wanting to come in late or leave early.

Today the liberty taken the previous day had been to fuck the young master of the house even as the lady of the house had been fucking him. It was just not done. Neither the aunt nephew thing, not the maid young master episode. But both had happened.

Suguna was extra careful and efficient today. She had been fearful of losing her job. The knowledge she possessed of Saroja engaging in forbidden sex was not a weapon she could use. It was knowledge but she could not apply it to saving herself. The only thing was to be completely supplicant.

And there was always one thing that maids could extend as favors to their mistresses. It was the gentle massage and leg pressing on afternoons. In the equation between maid and mistress the leg pressing was a game. If the maid felt well disposed or had the need to curry favor she would oblige. But for the Indian housewife, the need for the leg pressing was routine.

Today, Suguna planned on offering her services to mend fences with Saroja. The lady had seemed especially brusque and offended when she asked her to leave the previous day. Suguna had been in a state of undress and had hurried out. It was 'making up' day.

She parted the curtain to Saroja's bedroom and peered in. "Ma, I am done for the day," she called out.

"Hmm," said Saroja drowsily.

"I have a bit of free time today,' said Suguna, entering the room. She didn't actually have the time. She had told her husband to come by and pick her up. They planned to get a loan and start a taxi service. He was too much of a drunkard and preferred odd jobs. She was more ambitious than that. In fact, cozying up to Saroja was part of that project. They would need all the support and referrals they could get.

"Do you want me to press your legs for you?" asked Suguna, realizing that Saroja was keeping quiet. Normally it was Saroja who would be reduced to pleading for the massage -- today it was quite the opposite.

Saroja did not want to say yes, but she did need the rubdown. The excesses of the previous day, especially when she had straddled her nephew was now telling. Muscles were aching. Things that she had seen Suguna do prove quite strenuous physically. In the heat of the sexual tryst she didn't feel it. But now it did.

Saroja rubbed her ankles together and grunted "Yah!"

Suguna settled down on one edge of the bed -- the only circumstance in which she was permitted to sit down on house furniture. Her being sprawled on the bed, legs wide apart while Sundar was eating and plundering had been a gross transgression of house etiquette.

She rubbed the ankles gently. Saroja's drowsiness deepened as she relaxed. These sessions were normally punctuated by gossip and Suguna found the silence uncomfortable.

"Are you angry with me?" she asked softly.

"Why should I be?" asked Saroja, a little irritated.

Suguna said nothing in reply. What could she say? She continued rubbing the ankle and calf muscles. Suguna noticed for the first time that Saroja's skin was soft and delicate compared to her own rough and weather beaten body. Her hand drifted upward as she wondered that if the ankles were this soft how much softer would she be further up?

"Here," said Saroja, indicating her hip. The boy had held her legs apart at an impossibly wide angle. It had seemed marvelous at the time that he would treat her with the authority of ownership. It was only during the night that the pain had surface. (That night she had stayed as far on her side of the bed as possible, away from her husband. She was too raw to take him after Sundar's plundering.)

Suguna let her hand slide further up almost as if to reach for the hip from within Saroja's saree. Then she quickly pulled the saree and petticoat down and hoisting herself up on her knees pressed down with her palms on Saroja's hip. Leaning over the lady's body, she could see her breasts rising and falling in the rhythm of her breath.

Boys love breasts and young Sundar must have feasted on them she thought. Her own body stirred at the thought of how he had mauled Suguna's breasts.

As if on cue, Saroja broke her silence.

"You seem to have lots of experience with this sort of thing," she asked.

"Oh yes, everyone likes a massage. But I do more readily for you than others. I tend to avoid them," replied Suguna.

"Not that! There must be young fellows in almost every house you work at," said Saroja pointedly.

Suguna held her breath. She took her body weight off the palms of her hands. Her hands became softer and were rubbing her hip rather than massaging it.

"Not really experience. You know how it is with these young men," she said.

"I wouldn't!" snapped Saroja.

"But you do,' insisted Suguna her fingers going softer on Saroja. She meant it in a general sort of way, as if to say that the lady of the house knew more about anything and everything than the servant would know.

"I don't!" snapped Saroja again.

"Come on, Ma! You really are angry with me, aren't you?" she said pouting. She slid her hands all the way down the side of Saroja's body, rubbing her from hip to ankle and back again.

"Why would I be?" said Saroja.

"Because of the young master," said Suguna her hands back on the hips.

"Nonsense!" said Saroja.

"That age is like that," explained Suguna. "They are curious. They want to know. They want to touch."

"And you let them?" hissed Saroja, suddenly angry. "It is not quite like that," replied Suguna, her hands wandering onto Saroja's belly.

"Then what is it like?" asked Saroja.

"These guys are very bold nowadays. And if we are not downright rude, they are persistent too," said Suguna, her mind going to the time the young man had boldly masturbated under the sheets even as she went about sweeping the room.

"Well if you are clear then it is quite easy for you to be firm, isn't it?" said Saroja.

"Yes, but we don't take it all that seriously. And then I am a woman too," explained Suguna. Her hands continued to roam Saroja's hip, seeming less like massage strokes and more like caresses. Saroja did not notice or did not care. Whichever, Suguna was enjoying the soft warmth of the housewife's body.

"Oh, I noticed that it is no big deal for your type. A woman must keep herself in check," said Saroja, trying to take the moral high ground

"Did you?" asked Suguna, stung to the quick.

"Mine is a different case," said Saroja, wishing she had not provided that opening to the maid.

"In these matters we are all the same ma," said Suguna, her hand briefly sliding under the hem of Saroja's petticoat. Saroja had on such afternoons in the past asked the maid to unclasp her bra or loosen the petticoat. Such requests had no intimate overtones. It was one more menial task for the maid to do.

That was on other days. Today, Suguna suggested she loosen the petticoat and without waiting for the okay from her mistress, she went ahead and undid the cord. The saree tucked into the petticoat came undone and was no longer properly wound around Saroja.

Suguna pushed the petticoat over the curve of Saroja's hip and applied weight and pressure in the zone so that she did not send any overt sexual signal; even though her fingers had subtly started savoring the housewife's body.

"What matters?" asked Saroja.

"In sex. In men. In fucking," she said matter of factly, now focusing intently and only on the massage.

"Shush!" admonished Saroja.

"What ma! That is how it is! What is there to hide? What do you think my husband is interested in when he comes home, drunk or not?" she laughed.

"Does that mean you have to be so shameless about it" asked Saroja.

"What else shall I say," sighed Suguna. "It is not the first time and it is not the last time," she explained.

"First or last of what?" asked Saroja. The voyeur in her was wide awake. The pussy stirred at the thought of a series of young men wanting to lose their virginity and be animal.

"A man propositions me," she said.

"But you can say no, isn't it?" asked Saroja.

"But we don't always want to say no!" said Suguna with a giggle. "Maybe it is the fish we eat!"

"Chee!" exclaimed Saroja the vegetarian.

"You didn't say no," exclaimed Suguna thinking that Saroja was referring to the sex.

"That was different," insisted Saroja.

"Hmm!" sighed Suguna. "These middle class housewives and their complex minds!" she thought to herself.

"It is all the same flesh," she said aloud, her hand slipping to the curve of Saroja's tummy and stroking her. "And if it flesh it reacts the same way." Unthinkingly her hand slipped lower and her fingers brushed Saroja's pubic hair. Saroja caught her hand and exclaimed "Aye!"

But there was a softness to her grip. She was not pushing her away. Suguna rubbed her lower belly in large circles taking care not to venture into the vale between Saroja's legs.

Saroja was fairly unraveled now. She lay back enjoying the fingers stroking her.

"Only those women that have a problem with their husbands think like that," said Saroja.

"No!" replied Suguna.

"What? You have a perfectly happy life with him?" she asked.

"I don't know about perfect or happy. But if he fucked me the previous night then I have no need or stamina to oblige any of the young masters," she confessed with a candor typical of her social class in such matters. The surge in Saroja's pussy was immediate. "The man must be a bull," she thought. She squirmed as she thought of how far away she had sent the nephew and of how tame her own husband was. Her breasts felt unreasonably confined.

"Undo my bra," she said.

Suguna proceeded to do just that, letting her fingers caress Saroja's back. She reached out for Saroja's midriff and pulled the wire brace hugging the curve of the breast loose. Saroja undid the last two buttons of the blouse. All of this was standard procedure between them; but for the brief caress today.

Today -- also -- as she leaned over Saroja to do what was needed, Saroja caught herself looking at Suguna's breasts. The mounds of chocolate colored flesh were squeezed into the blouse with on bra. That was usual. Today the pallo of her saree was not fully covering them. Today, the maid's nipples were full and turgid.

Saroja looked up at Suguna taking her eyes off the breasts to see if she had been noticed. Suguna looked her mistress deep in the eye -- yes, she had been noticed gazing at those breasts.

"So you do oblige young masters and that is what you did with Sundar," said Saroja matter-of-factly.

"We," she said referring to her social class, "don't think that much. It was the thing to do at that moment. He was aroused and I was there. That's all. It might be different for you."

"Pure pleasure is it?" asked Saroja out of curiosity. She wiggled her hips tucking into her bed as Suguna's hands lazily stroked her hips and torso.

"Wasn't it for you?" countered Suguna, mischief in her voice. She once again strayed to her mistress's pubic hair. She lingered a little longer to see if there was any objection. There was not going to be any objection. Saroja had already become slick at the mental image of a series of young man doing the things she had seen Sundar do to Suguna. That slickness was several minutes ago. Several minutes later it now threatened to become a flow.

"I did it out of a sense of duty," said Saroja. There it was, out in the open. The maid had heard all the noises of aunt and nephew fucking. She had taken sneak peeks.

"Maybe. But was there no pleasure?" asked Suguna softly remembering the moaning sounds she had heard from this very woman. Her fingers drifted even lower between the legs. She used the base of her palm to press down on the pubis. Saroja felt the pressure and she shivered with her first frisson of pleasure. At least Suguna had not invaded her with her fingers. Anything from massaging was okay. But no allowing that woman to touch her intimate parts…

"It was just incidental," she whispered. Her body was fully relaxed now. She luxuriated in the drowsy yet aroused state. Had she been too hasty in sending off that boy? She could have done with more.

"But it was there!" proclaimed Suguna, with a mix of triumph and arousal and the change in the tone of the conversation.

"Keep quiet!" said Saroja rubbing her legs together and fidgeting. She was unconvincing in asking the maid to shut up.

"No need to talk," said Suguna covering the Saroja's bare crotch with her entire hand.

Saroja gasped and opened her eyes to look into Suguna's eyes. Before she could protest, Suguna slid her middle finger into the bubbling pit between Saroja's legs. She may have reacted if it felt like an invasion. Suguna's finger, though rough skinned, was hardly thick enough to make an impact on Saroja's gaping wide, soaking wet cunt.

And then she wiggled the finger, feeling the walls of Suguna's pussy. Saroja gripped Suguna's hand involuntarily. She was now lying on her back, one knee up and Suguna was kneeling beside her.

"Ayyo!" exclaimed Saroja. She felt the fever of desire soaring in her body. "Sugunaaah! I need a man dear."

Suguna giggled nervously. She was in uncharted territory here. The lady would either be hers -- or she would lose her job. She slid in a second finger -- her forefinger and proceeded to gently fuck her mistress's cunt. Her other hand went to Saroja's forehead to try and soothe her.

With what her other hand was doing, soothing was not about to happen.

"It is not enough. I wish I had kept that boy," murmured Saroja, her hips moving rhythmically as she gave in to pleasure.

"But that would not be duty. Any way Sir will be home in the evening, no?" said Suguna mischievously. She was playing mind games with Saroja. If fucking the boy was pleasure was not duty then her own guilt in the matter was reduced. By referring to Saroja's husband Arvind she was reminding her that such matters were to be pursued with the husband after all. But she also increased the vigor with which she fucked with her fingers to try and help the poor lady out.

The reference to duty and husband brought Saroja back to reality and she opened her eyes. She pushed away the arm she had been gripping and said, "Ok, that is enough."

Suguna withdrew her fingers and asked, "What is enough? This?" and she held up her fingers smeared with Saroja's juices.

"Or this?" she asked, this time ramming back her fingers up the open, spread wide cunt.

"Aaah!" hissed Saroja. She sucked in air through her teeth as pleasure seared her. But she needed something fuller, something more complete. Her pleasure gave way to despair as she felt the need for a full and proper fuck. The young man would have willingly stayed and willingly met her carnal needs. Was it a false sense of restraint that made her ask him to leave she wondered. And how she needed him now! And how far away she had sent him! The distance was more to do with changed circumstance than physical distance between the two houses.

Even as Suguna coaxed a physical frisson of pleasure from her, Saroja felt a sadness wash over her at these thoughts. There was a certain incongruity in the brief thrash of her hips and the tears that escaped the corner of her eyes. She stifled a sob.

The difference between the sob and the frisson was not lost on Suguna.

"Amma!" she whispered softly, lifting Saroja's head onto her lap and gently rocking her head. It had a dual effect of comforting her like a baby but also of helping her slide her fingers in and out rhythmically. The fingers were hopelessly wet and their effectiveness in pleasuring her diminished rapidly. Suguna shifted the focus to joining of the lips at the top of the pussy where she knew a zone of pleasure existed -- at least for herself.

She rubbed with rapid strokes there hoping to quickly discover the pleasure zone before the grief of separation overcame her mistress. She was successful as she felt Saroja go into a series of shudders.

"Yes, dear, yes!" she smiled through her tears as relief swept her. She buried her face in Suguna's all encompassing bosom. Those large, chocolatey breasts that she stared at, which she had seen Sundar mauling and feasting on, her face was buried in them.

Suguna's fingers slid back into the even more messy channel now, brining Saroja off the intermediate high. Saroja's eyes opened and drank in the sight of the substantial mammary in her face. There, clearly outlined and straining against the thin fabric of Suguna's blouse, was a large erect, repressed teat. One of which her Sundar had sucked and milked. She opened her mouth and bit on it gently with her teeth.

Suguna jumped in the pain. Quickly the pain receded as Saroja soaked the fabric with her saliva and used her lips as she had used the teeth before. Suguna grunted with pleasure. Hugging the woman to her and pressing her head to the breast in encouragement, she rocked her in her arms. Saroja's legs were spread wide now affording Suguna all the space she needed to fuck her.

Suguna dried her fingers and stuffed some clothing up Saroja to dry her for more action. In sweeping strokes she went from the pleasure zone at the mouth all the way to the depth of her womb as far as fingers would go. And when Saroja starting sucking at her breast and pleasuring the maid, she responded by adding a third finger. It helped. But the effect lasted only a couple of strokes.

Saroja whimpered her desire for more. Suguna tried by spreading out the three fingers to create a feeling of the pussy being stretched. She also needed to feel Saroja's lips on her breasts directly. She briefly withdrew her hands from Saroja. Her head fall back on Suguna's lap and her hips jerked uselessly. She was in complete disarray.

Suguna, for the second time in as many days, ripped a few hooks in her haste to open out her breasts to her mistress. Quickly she pulled Saroja's head back to her breast and just as urgently crammed her fingers.

"It is just not enough!" sobbed Saroja.

"I need a man!" she wept.

Suguna felt desperate. The lips on her nipples and flesh were exciting but it might not continue if she did not find a way to extend Saroja's pleasure. She thought of going down with her head between Saroja's legs but her breasts demanded Saroja's lips. At least for now.

As an alternative, she used the thumb to stroke the clit and let two fingers wiggle in the pussy. There was a sudden sharp yelp from Saroja. Suguna thought she had made progress and was about to repeat her stroke when Saroja tried to push her away. Suguna held her tight, thinking she needed someone to thrash against in pleasure. But Saroja screamed, "Look there!"

Suguna turned. There was a man leaning against the wall opposite the bedroom door. He sported a large, black, thick cock and was stroking himself, open-mouthed. Suguna recognized the man and the look on his face.

It was her husband Murugesh who had come to pick her up. The look on his face was his impending orgasm.

Saroja sat up and pulled the saree down to her ankles and crossed her arms across her chest and went into a huddle, sitting in a crouch on the bed. Suguna made no such moves, her breasts hung proud and magnificent, and the blouse apart. She looked ravishing beautiful, with her sweat making her skin shine, the soaked armpits, the hair in disarray and the swabs of Saroja amma's saliva on her breasts.

"Who is he?" asked Saroja her voice tight and seething. It was anger at her own embarrassment. It was anger at her own vulnerability. It was anger at her indulging -- both taking and giving. And it was anger at being found like this.

Her heights of desire receded somewhat; but the need was there. Was some of this irritation at the interruption.

"Don't stop!" commanded the person at the door. He continued to look at the women and continued to stroke himself -- harder and harder.

"You stop," said Suguna to him laughingly. She turned to Saroja. "He is my husband," she said. "The man who if he fucks me I have no stamina for any young master at any house." As she said this she noticed Saroja staring intently, albeit through the slit of her eyes at the specimen of manhood on proud display.

"Yes, I should stop," he said abruptly and let go of his cock. The way it hung under its weight and bobbed with strength was not lost on Saroja. Her fascination grew and she remained transfixed. "Why let it go waste," he said stepping forward.

As he walked towards them his lungi (waist cloth) slid to the floor. With only his vest the cock was on fully display. It bobbed and reared with his every step. Saroja noticed the superb blend of weight and strength. It seemed heavy but in arousal the gravity was effectively countered. What a fuck it must provide! No wonder Suguna had no stamina or desire for anything afterward. That was the kind of satiation Saroja needed at this time. The pool between her legs poured forth at the thought.

"Your husband," she murmured.

"Yes. But take what you need," replied Suguna simply. That statement said it all. She had a need. And she could take her fill.

The husband was on the bed in a jiffy and the wife gently pulled at Saroja's shoulders and laid her back. As she fell back her hair spread back on the bed. She looked lovely too. Murugesh drank in the sight. A luscious, curvaceous woman, full breasts, plump lips, wide accepting hips, genteel and polished; but today, for the first time in his life, a high class lady, his for the asking. And his wife, normally protesting at his womanizing ways, was helping him!

She was actually helping Saroja. And herself. She too had needs. They had been aroused. She too had a desire to bed someone of a higher social status. It could have been a man but she had seen their bodies; lotus eaters all. For the male she preferred her own -- strong, rough and powerful. But for a woman Saroja was so perfect. And she knew Murugesh to have enough for both of them. How many nights she had endured a second or a third fuck when she could actually take no more…

"No. Go Away," said Saroja. She was unconvincing. There was no strength in her voice. It was just a statement for the record. Murugesh loomed over her. He leaked and streaks of precum strung out to the bed below. He looked at her for a few moments. Then he reached for her blouse and pulled it open with a loud rip. The bra, previously unhooked by Suguna hung uselessly. He pulled it and threw it away. Saroja's chest heaved in the tension of the moment accentuating her attractiveness. Her taali (chain worn around the neck with a talisman) indicating her married status was the only incongruent thing. But it did give Murugesh a sense of conquest.

Saroja's breasts, heavy and round, were large mounds of flesh falling back on their own weight. The nipples topping them were erect from the ministrations of Suguna and right now threatened to burst from the surge of excitement from Murugesh's aggression.

"Be gentle," said Suguna, a bit apprehensive for she knew how he could be.

In direct contrast to that instruction, Murugesh slung one leg of Saroja's over his shoulder leaving her open and agape to his assault.

Saroja braced herself. It was inevitable. Not that she was in a state to evade it. It just seemed incongruous in the overall. But at this moment, the man looming over her was who she needed. She would attend to other things when their time came. Right now, the time was to fuck.

Or more precisely, to be fucked. She reached out and grabbed Suguna's arm. Suguna made soothing, clucking sounds. Murugesh bunched up the flow of garments above Saroja's waist. Hold himself in his left hand he positioned his cock for the fuck.

"Take it easy," she comforted her mistress.

It was more like a slam, a bludgeon. Saroja's warm pussy spread out effortlessly to take in Murugesh. He was wider than her natural width, but the stretch was a pleasurable snug fit. It was like they were made for each other. There was no pain for her; just an intense feeling of being filled up. It was what she had been craving. Not from a man below her social status. On the other hand, she had just wanted a man; in some ways any man.

As he reached the full extent of how much she was going to accommodate -- or how deep he was going to reach, the force caused the woman below him to heave. The breasts were thrown and they jiggled attractively. His right hand held her ankle -- his left reached for the breast, holding it tightly. The nipple of that breast received its relief when he pinched it between thumb and forefinger.

Saroja grunted, "Unhhh!"

"I said gently" remonstrated Suguna urgently. But she went unheeded as Murugesh pulled back and slammed back. A sob escaped Saroja's lips. The strength of his fuck was something she had not experienced before. The vigor, yes -- when her nephews had been deflowered they were excitable. The sense of experience with a woman, yes -- with her husband when he expertly played her. But this combination of expertise and strength -- never before. And that was before taking the heft of the cock into account.

Murugesh sawed in and out of her in rapid but complete cycles for about half a dozen times. Saroja made mewling and sobbing noises which alarmed Suguna. The maid knew her husband to be a violent love-maker at times. She had to assault him back with her own pelvic movements to bring the equation to balance. She repeatedly told Murugesh to slow down. Then she noticed Saroja.

Saroja amma's head was gently moving from side to side. "No!" she seemed to say. Her mouth was slightly agape and there was a smile of wonderment on her face. He was marvelous. Suddenly who he was became more irrelevant than ever. If Suguna had any doubts about her mistress's feelings at this hard, swift fuck, Saroja's watering eyes completed the story.

A teardrop flowed down the side of her face. The sobs were relief. And the tears this time, unlike the regret at letting Sundar go, were of joy. Of relief and of pleasure.

Murugesh paused to catch his breath. Saroja mistaken thought he was responding to Suguna's warning. Frantically she reached with her free hand (one was still gripping Suguna's arm) and grabbed Murugesh's ass. Clenched as it was she felt the steel of his muscles. For a brief moment her fingers caressed the toned hard-muscled flesh. "No wonder he fucks like a bull!" she marveled.

She pulled at him but her hands did not have the strength of his body. With her right leg (her left leg was slung over his shoulder) she propped her hips up as best as she could and fucked at the cock that was stationed just a quarter or less inside her.

Suguna watched in jealous fascination as the pillar, smeared with juices disappeared around the grabbing lips of Saroja's cunt. Her own desires soared and she slipped fingers down her belly to rub herself for some measure of relief.

"Fuck me!" she hissed at Murugesh.

"How un-lady like," muttered Murugesh. He meant to tease and taunt this high class woman who was not like a bitch in heat.

Suguna simply leaned forward and covered Saroja's lips with her own. She just felt like kissing this beautiful woman. Saroja smelt the paan which Suguna habitually chewed on the maid's breath. It felt fragrant. It was a relief for Saroja. Somewhere inside her were worries of smells, breaths, hygiene -- all abandoned for passion, pleasure and lust. The fragrant smell encouraged her to do more. She seemed to be dealing with people who were just like her own people. And she had taken, devoured and pleasured her own people in enough number of ways.

Somehow, when the sex transcended the routine missionary stuff, there seemed to be a world more equal. When she took her nephew in her fist, it included her willingness to touch his bodily fluids. When she mouthed her brother-in-law she remembered the initial acidic taste. It had not repelled her. It was followed by the tasted of seminal fluids and cum.

The same willingness was in her own nephew when he sank his face between his aunt's legs. And now she knew he must have tasted nothing different between Suguna the maid's legs when he sixty-nined with her. Whatever he overcame to eat her pussy were the same inhibitions he must have overcome to eat Suguna's pussy.

At the time she had lost it -- how dare her nephew, coming from their family indulge in pleasures from those who were not allowed to even share their teacups?

But now, in her own lust, she realized that the inhibitions you overcome are the same. Whether nephew or servant. Beyond that inhibition, the fluids were the same -- and you could not be finicky when indulging in sexual adventures.

So if the maid was luscious in her kisses, she was not going to be spare any attentions on her. She kissed back, her tongue invading the other's surprised mouth. Suguna squealed in pleasure as the throbbing flesh in her mouth felt sensuous.

The effect was on Murugesh. He was immeasurably excited to see the two woman go at each other. It was his first threesome where the two others were women. Once in a drunken state he and his friend, both of them quite drunk had shared a woman. It did not please him to see that other guy do things to the same woman. But this felt different.

The surge in his loins told him he was going to cum. He had been masturbating at the sight before. He had now fucked the lady enough times. The fuck-back was exquisite as the sheath rode over his head. And now this sight. The pleasure boiled over.

But he did not want it to end. He pulled out of Saroja. He held his cock in his fist, pressing down willing the pleasure to recede.

Saroja screamed into Suguna's mouth in frustration. She pushed away Suguna and asked, "Where is he?"

It was rhetorical. She was going to find him herself. She kneeled in front of him combative in her posture. Both were facing each other and the other woman in this sexual equation (the wife) was next to them.

Saroja pushed him back. "I want that!" she proclaimed.

Used to taking instructions from women like Saroja, Murugesh stared at her dumbly. He fell back with his cock waving in the air. Saroja mounted him. As she did so, her juices welled up in her cunt poured forth. She slid down on him taking him up fully. He claimed her breasts, gripping them very tight in his large rough hands. As she fucked down he squeezed and milked those breasts to her extreme relief and pleasure.

"Aah! Ayyo! Amma!" exulted Saroja as she took her pleasure in the full. Her thighs ached as she pumped up and down on him. It was exercise her body was not used to. But the things one does in sexual fervor go beyond the normal. She kept at it till the desperation caused by his withdrawal receded. The squelching and thumping sounds that filled the air also filled Suguna with jealousy. She could not address that feeling just now; but she did try and quench her own fires with furious masturbation.

As Saroja's pleasure came down from the peaks -- partly because of the extremely wet conjoint -- she slumped forward on Murugesh. Fresh from the liberating kiss of Suguna's she kissed Murugesh. He was not terribly used to that; their sex was free from the more nuanced sensuality of kisses. He awkwardly responded. Saroja smelt stale liquor on his breath and it further caused her arousal to recede.

Suddenly she felt a soft hand creep in between them. As the fuck-thrusts grew more gentle Suguna put her hand between them. Her hand was flat to find its way through the gap. Her fingers snaked around her husbands cock. She felt the intense wetness. She withdrew her hand and inserted her hand back this time with palm facing upward at Saroja's stomach. Her forefinger found the pleasure-zone she had been massaging previously.

Expertly she rubbed hard. The movements of the lovers were slower now and she found the space and time to pleasure Saroja. The pleasure soared again. This time, unlike the last when Suguna had massaged her clit, the cunt was full of rock hard flesh. The pleasure was complete. She was full and she was being stimulated.

It broke the last barrier of pleasure. Saroja shuddered and spasmed and melted. The flood down the tunnel soaked Suguna's hand and Murugesh's cock. His cock was ready to burst, humming and buzzing on the precipice of an explosion. But the squishiness could do nothing to take him the full distance.

Saroja moaned loudly as the waves rocked her. She buried her face in the broad, strong shoulders of Murugesh. Here was a fantastic mix of experience, strength and endowment. It made her nephews enthusiasm seem boyish and immature. It made her husband's ardor seem like that of an ill-equipped enthusiast. She sobbed her pleasure biting into the shoulder.

"Aah! Yes! Aah! Do me! Give. Do it. Don't leave me!" she begged as the waves went over her. Her breasts crushed against the servant man's chest below. And slowly she went into a slump.

Murugesh was still hard, throbbing and pulsating. He was unsure about handling Saroja. He had been taken aback by her ardor. As her weight slumped on him in full, he wondered what to do. He wanted to fuck again, desperate for his own release. He need not have bothered. Suguna gently massaged Saroja's back and gaining control of that body, she gently pushed till the lady of the house rolled off.

"Aah, amma," yelped an exhausted Saroja as the cock, erect as ever slid out. The pull out was as pleasurable with her entire being feeling tender and receptive to touch.

Suguna did not leave her untended. She gave her a quick rubdown, leaving no part untouched. The breasts were caressed. The face was stroked. The aching thighs were pressed. The pubis was pressed with a full, flat palm. Saroja was becalmed. Her breathing, ragged and frantic in passion slowed down and she felt a drowsiness. As the mind shifted from pleasure to aftermath she found herself wondering about getting the maid and her husband out of her bed. She did not to sleep with them there; and later wake to find them there either.

She was wondering about that as Suguna's hands worked her. And while Suguna went about this with a sense of duty, her own unfulfilled desires were on her mind. She needed to fuck but she was wondering about where and how. Suddenly out of the corner of her eye she spotted the supine Murugesh reach for his cock.

The cock was leaning on its weight and seemed to be off its highs. Murugesh needed release like mad and his hand movement was almost involuntarily.

Suguna saw it as a threat to her own fulfillment. What would she do next if he came on his own? In haste she abandoned Saroja.

Quickly straddling what was hers in the first instance, she looked down. She saw a cock smeared and wet. In a reversal of social attitudes, she found herself unwilling to sink down on Saroja's puddle of fluids. She winced -- a facial expression not lost on Saroja as she watched in the daze of her drowsiness.

"Go now!" she said, unable to move a muscle or put any mistress-like authority into her voice.

Suguna grabbed at the nearest available cloth -- the spread out saree of her mistress -- and threw it on the cock. The tented cloth was then used to dry her husband as best she could. There were limitations on how much the cloth could be used to clean up the mess. There were far greater limitations on how much time she was willing to spend on cleaning while waiting in desperation to fuck.

She threw aside the cloth and positioned herself over Murugesh.

"No!" commanded Saroja finding energy to stop both from fucking on her marital bed. Never mind she had fucked and been fucked by nephew and maid's husband. That was her prerogative. But not them on their bed!

Suguna fucked down and took her husband in, in one full stroke. Perhaps she had dried him too much for she screamed as pain preceded pleasure. The scream transformed to an expression of pleasure very quickly. Saroja was now treated to a spectacle of how dramatic sex could be between two equally strong partners.

Suguna and Murugesh went at each other like animals. Even though she was on top weighing down, Murugesh's fucks threw her up. He held her breasts like he had held Saroja's before; but here the blouse was on. It was damp and clung to the skin below --braless as she went. The nipples were twisted and breasts clawed. Slowly hooks popped. Some were gone previously. The task of holding swollen heavy breasts and resisting the mauling actions of the man proved too much.

She fucked right back.

"Do you really need a high class bitch?" she bellowed.

"When I am here?" she seethed, each word separated by a fuck.

Saroja was about to protest at the language used but lapsed into silence, quite stunned by the ferocity of the fucking.

Murugesh sat up. His cock now rubbed against the Suguna's clit as she continued to move her hips in rhythm. Saroja marveled at the strength and stamina. She swore she would act on her resolve to start gymming. But then she also thought of how little it took her to make Arvind cum. And now she was destined to compare him; and want more; and look for more than what she had been used to, right upto now.

The man thrust at woman sitting on him. The woman raised her thighs a bit and fucked down more. She increased her control with that hoist up. His cock could not reach up to her insides; she could fuck down the entire length of him. But it also brought her breasts to his face. And he bit on her with a vengeance. The blouse was all but strained apart. Murugesh ripped at it and stuffed her breast into his mouth.

He squealed his pleasure onto the flesh as Suguna changed the direction and rotated in her fucks.

"Will you get this!" she asked, her sexual rage unabated.

The fucking was intense. Sweat poured. Saroja watched in mute fascination. This was real fucking. This was sex. This was passion. But this was also her bed, her bedroom. She doubted it would witness this intensity ever again. Either between her and her husband; or another couple like this.

Murugesh was ready to spill his load. He had been ready for awhile now and the postponement made it more urgent. But he was not going to do that except how a man should seed his woman.

He heaved himself up. There was strength! Saroja watched the buttocks clench. She had felt that steel with her hands, her fingers. She now watched as Murugesh used his muscles to lift Suguna up. She used her own strength to remain prone over him. But now her buttocks were in his hands. Now she was speared on him. Now she could move by pressing down against his hands. But the control shifted to him. He could lift her off and drop her back. Which he did. But that was not how he wanted to come.

He dropped her back. The cunt pulled the cock downward and slid off. It was pleasurable. But the pleasure ended in despair for Suguna as cock vacated the cunt. As she slid off the cock sprang back up. Saroja watched drops of fluid splash upward on release.

Murugesh did not wipe any fluids. He rammed Suguna. But his head was turned towards Saroja. His eyes met hers. His eyes roamed her body. He fucked Suguna harder as he looked at the lady and imagined it was her he was fucking.

Suguna hollered, "Ayyo! Amma! Yes, like that!"

Her eyes rolled in her head. She looked up to see her husband and was shocked that his attention was elsewhere. Was that the surge in his hardness and thickness? He was imagining her? While fucking me?

"Hey look here!" she implored.

Her body wanted and loved what it was getting. She could not have done without it for a moment. But her mind wanted something more as well.

He ignored her. Saroja was beautiful. He drank in the sight of her luxuriant breasts, her spread out hair, the curve of her stomach and the wideness of her hips. An Indian's dream definition of beauty!

He became more animal with Suguna. She wept her orgasm. It was physically complete but unfulfilling for who knew where the vigor was coming from. She came sooner than him though he too had been on the boil. He had at least had some stimulation. She had been simmering for hours.

She took what she got. As she waited for him to pound out his finish he surprised her.

He withdrew. He surprised the supine Saroja as well. He jumped from this woman to that.

The beautiful body he admired, he wanted to cum in that. Saroja had done much with him and others. But that was in the heat of lust. Now in her relaxed state she was thinking better. She did not want more of him; certainly not his cum.

But it was not her choice. He mounted her with a new ferociousness. This time her legs were spread out. This time he was deep in her womb. This time she was more conscious of the fucking. But nothing explained why she raised her legs and wrapped around him. She felt his steel in side her, around her and she suddenly -- just as sudden as his advance -- welcomed it.

She moved in rhythm. He cried out his orgasm. She took his seed deep in there where she did not actually want it.

She clung to him as he spasmed though she wanted to push him out of her bedroom.

She came in small tremors though she was completely satiated.

Her pussy pulsated and clasped at the similarly pulsating cock though she had no further use for him.

She opened her eyes and met the eyes of her maid. Both women were helpless with the marauding man. One wanted him to cum in her. the other wanted him to leave. One wanted to fuck him more. The other wanted no more. One enjoyed the luxurious room and the opportunity of pleasuring herself here. The other wanted her room back to herself.

The one who wanted everything watched as the one who wanted it to end took it all.

Saroja took all of Murugesh. She enjoyed every bit of the man's thrashing and shuddering as he emptied himself fully into her. She helped him with her pussy. She caressed him. She held him as he beat against her. and she felt the hot surge in her womb and welcomed it.

She satiated him. Fully. Like she had satiated all the new men thus far in her life.

He satiated her like none other could or might ever again. And she hated herself for it.

The sheer physical exhaustion that followed led her to sleep. He slept on top of her. she was unaware of anything for a long time. When she stirred, she felt the absence of weight.

She woke up and found the room empty. The only presence was the heavy stench of wild sex.

Saroja got up. Change was necessary if sanity was to return. She had a plan.

In the next three months she executed it. the house was changed. The maid was gone. And the nephews had moved on to their careers.

Just when she thought she had it sorted out and put all the illicit happenings behind her, something unexpected happened.

"Where is Arvind?" the man at the door shouted. He must have been about seventy years old. He was wearing a shirt and a dhoti, which is a white cloth worn around the waist in South India and covers the lower part of the body all the way down to the toes.

Saroja heard the noises outside and came rushing from the kitchen. Who was this asking for her husband so rudely?

Her frown changed to a smile. The man at the door was her husband's uncle. This was the same uncle whose children were Sundar and Gopi. For those who do not recognize these names, Sundar and Gopi were her two nephews. She had taken both of these young men to bed. They had lost their virginity to her. And she had lost her innocence to them. The sex between a woman discovering her sexuality and young men discovering sex could only have been animal and animal it was.

Right now she had been working in the kitchen. Without bothering too much about her disheveled state, she wiped her hands on her sari pallo and walked towards the door to invite him in.

"Welcome, welcome Mama!" she said. He was Arvind's mother's brother.

"Where is Arvind?" repeated the agitated elder. At 70 years age he remained sprightly and fit. As he worked himself to a fury his face reddened.

"Come in and sit down first," pleaded Saroja, a little embarrassed. Neighbors were peering from their balconies and windows. Her previous house was an independent bungalow. It was different there.

Let alone simple things like someone shouting at the main door, some audacious moments could happen in that bungalow. She had deflowered her nephew, exchanged intimacies with her maid and been plundered by the maid's husband. In fact, the maid had treated the nephew to some wild sex as well. All had happened there with discretion. No one knew. No one heard anything. Not even Saroja's husband.

This new place was in an apartment block. If someone stood around and shouted everyone would notice. The shift from house to apartment had happened at Saroja's insistence. She had felt the need to change her locality and put distance between Suguna the maid and her husband Murugesh and herself. While the maid's hands were magical and the husband's sexual prowess and endowment was unique in its combination, Saroja was wise enough to move away.

She had fucked her nephew, done stuff with her maid and filled -- no feasted on the maid's husband. But when the moment passed her usual self took over. No one could be permitted to retain any hold over her. The nephew studied well after the focus she created in his mind by making him familiar with sex. She shifted to a completely different locality. And so the new domestic staff had to be from the new locality.

Problem solved.

"I have not come here to sit down!" shouted the man, creating a scene. Saroja could see her neighbor open the door ajar and peer at the commotion. Others craned their necks from their balconies and up and down the stairwell.

"Mama!" hissed Saroja. "Come in. People are watching!"

"Let them watch! Let them know what kind of new neighbor they have," ranted the old man.

Saroja grabbed his arm and pulled him through the door. "What are you talking? What happened now?" asked Saroja alarmed at his tone. The two families had an excellent relationship and the tone adopted by the uncle was unjustifiable.

"Is Arvind not at home?" thundered the uncle.

"No. He is outstation on a tour," said Saroja. She was too was red now, flushed with embarrassment.

"Well, then, let me ask the witch herself," taunted the uncle.

"What? Unless you tell me what the matter is how can I respond to anything?" pleaded Saroja showing the deference expected in Indian society.

"Did you do things with Gopi and Sundar?" asked uncle.

Saroja reddened ever more and she felt a choking sensation. Not that! She hoped and prayed the boys had the good sense to keep their sexual adventures private and confidential. There were reasons and situations which to her mind justified whatever had happened. But she did not want to have to discuss those with anyone.

"What things?" she stammered. Suddenly she became conscious of her disheveled state. More than the untidiness she was conscious of her blouse which was a tad too small for her. Her sari was not wrapped around her so her torso -- blouse and all -- was open to inspection. Damp patches of sweat made her skin show through. And she had been washing vessels- so water too played its part. She drew her sari palloo around herself trying to appear more decorous.

"Now it is too late to cover anything!" continued uncle with his taunts. As Saroja covered herself, he too took a look at his nephew's wife; by extension she counted as a daughter-in-law. The full breasts, flesh bursting from the ill fitting blouse did not escape his attention. He caught himself assessing her sexuality, but it was her fault. It was natural to wonder if the woman was capable of the things that had been reported to him. He would not know for he had never looked at her in that manner.

But since he had been told of the possible sexual corruption of his sons, he had tried to remember this woman in different terms. However, each time he could only recall her as Arvind's caring wife who looked after his every little need. And equally attentive to his needs as a daughter-in-law of the house. In the same manner that she who would care for her father-in-law in a traditional household.

In fact, he could not recall any specific physical attributes, let alone anything sexual.

On the train trip he took to confront Saroja and expose her to Arvind, he tossed and turned all night. He had always thought the boys were safe in their house. Could it have been her? Was she the type? Or was it someone else the boy's befriended in the neighborhood? But he had been told of some incident in the family wedding the previous year…

His inability to conjure up images of her was now compensated by her physical shape in front of him.

"I don't know what you are talking about," said Saroja as she brushed past him to close the front door. It helped her to avoid looking him in the eye, guilty as she was of solving the problems the boy's faced by giving them the sex they so keenly wanted. She was also guilty of going beyond and indulging herself rather fully. More fully than she had ever sexually encountered her own husband.

As she walked past, uncle took note of her glistening neck covered with perspiration from the humid air. He also smelt her sweaty aroma. And yes, her arm brushed his arm. She seemed like a woman bubbling with sexuality. There could be truth in those rumors.

It suited him as well that they were no longer face to face. He could blurt out what he wanted to confront her with a little easier.

"I am talking about what you did with Sundar when he was here," he said.

"I only made him focus on his studies," she said heading back to the kitchen, once again past him.

This time uncle took in the sight of her rolling backside; it looked sumptuous and full too. There was more to this woman than he had previously noticed, obviously.

"By doing what!" asked uncle, again raising his voice.

"By removing distractions," replied Saroja determined to skirt uncle's issues but keeping focus on the real issues.

"You are supposed to advise and restrain them, not indulge them," remonstrated uncle.

"Both Arvind and I use a carrot and stick approach with them. That is why they listen to us. That is how he got admission at the IIT," said Saroja. She was clear that the outcome justified any means she may have adopted.

"I don't it has anything to do with Arvind. Something has been going on between you and Gopi and Sundar which Arvind does not know about. Or should I tell Arvind about it?" asked uncle. He now had the upper hand. He knew Arvind could not possibly know of his wife's activities.

Saroja stiffened. The young men seemed to have been boasting. Was she a conquest? Or had she just been an aunt intent on comforting and soothing the confusion brought about by unfulfilled sexual needs? Why had they not taken care of her by keeping these things to themselves?

"I just managed things no one else in the family could," flared Saroja. Attack was the best form of defense here. She bustled about the kitchen and hall attending to minor chores and tasks, not standing still to face uncle. In the process, her pallo fell loose from the tuck around her waist and once again uncle was privy to her charms. That bosom, sweaty, damp and stuck in places to her skin told him she could have been the subject of the rumor.

"Any young man would be attracted to such a woman'" he thought. "But there is a decorum a daughter -- in -- law of the house must observe'" he said aloud.

"And have I not maintained that?" she said with a toss of her head. Her tousled hair made her look even more attractive. Uncle was now sure. Yes, his daughter-in-law had the sexual demeanor that could validate his suspicions. Had she been any different, he would have had doubts. But once he had assessed her in this fashion, he could see the possibility.

In fact, uncle was aroused. He felt his cock twitch like it hadn't in a few years now. He was surprised at himself. He was ashamed at his bodily response.

He turned away from her to avoid being spotted. The Indian dhoti was a poor garment at hiding the male erection. Any tenting would be obvious even to a casual glance.

"I would agree with you if there weren't any rumors," he said.

"What rumors?" asked Saroja, irritated.

"That you corrupted them," he said. There was no word for 'sex' or 'fuck' or even anatomical parts in the language their community used. Everything taboo lacked an expression in language even.

"I removed corrupt thoughts from their minds," defended Saroja.

"By corrupting them?" asked uncle disbelievingly. He was now visualizing Saroja disrobing for Sundar and Gopi. The thought caused his cock to swell to full proportions making it impossible for him to turn towards her. His voice turned hoarse from his arousal and Saroja sensed that the edge of hard anger was gone. She knew she had a fighting chance of coming out of this.

"They have needs, okay? You and mami are just not tuned to those needs. Whether it is counseling, books, money, materials, and permission to travel -- whatever. They have no one to sync to. That is why they look to Arvind. And to me!" she explained.

"Those things are okay," admitted uncle. Unable to take the conversation further without being explicit he brought himself to utter the word: "But sex? No, you should not have exposed them to that."

"Youngsters nowadays need no one to tell them anything. They already know about everything. Merely hiding the issues or ignoring them solves nothing," replied Saroja.

"But elders in our families handle these things differently," said uncle.

"Yes. And the children wander away," argued Saroja.

"Yes, but not like this," insisted uncle.

"They have needs okay!" shouted Saroja, losing her cool. This was the problem with the older generation. Obstinate and unwilling to see another point of view.

She grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him around, "Look at me," she insisted. "I have only made them focus on their studies," she pleaded.

As he was turned around by her forceful pull, uncle desperately reached for his dhoti to pull it up so it would camouflage his shameful erection.

He merely invited attention to it.

Saroja gasped in horror. She pulled back, taken aback. But her eyes stayed on the erection tenting the older man's dhoti.

His hung down in embarrassment.

"This is not the way these things are to be," he mumbled, crestfallen. His bodily reaction had deprived him of his moral high ground.

"But this is how it is," said Saroja firmly. "At your age, you have needs. Then why should they not when they are at that age?" she demanded to know.

"I don't have any such needs," protested the old man.

"Come here," said Saroja holding by his hand and moving him into her bedroom. The hall had too many windows and she was now in dangerous turf. "Then what is that?" she asked glancing down at the telltale sign of a significant erection.

"Nothing. Nothing. You are misinterpreting things," mumbled the old man, tears welling up in his eyes.

"This doesn't need interpretation. This is reality. This is what I am asking you to recognize" said Saroja, unaware that the shamed man was in tears. Saying this she stepped forward and with gentle fingers traced the outline of the cock within the cloth in a bid to establish undisputed facts.

Uncle broke into tears. His embarrassment and exposure was complete. He shuddered when she touched him and it was more humiliation than he could bear.

He wept.

"Mama!" cried out Saroja alarmed. "I didn't mean it that way!" she said, startled at the turn of events. She put her arms around him to comfort him. Uncle slid down in a complete breakdown.

He buried his face in her shoulder weeping uncontrollably.

"Shh!" she soothed him, rocking him to her bosom. Uncle felt comforted but it was not because of her soothing words. It was because he enjoyed the warm softness of her breasts. His mind turned to the actual fact of her breasts in his face. His hard on which had flagged at the tears soared to new highs. He nuzzled her.

Saroja stiffened. Had he?

He rubbed his face in her breasts again. Yes, he had.

She did not know how to react. Uncle sank into the comforts of her bosom and made no sign of leaving her embrace. She stayed still. She wanted the tears to stop and this seemed to be helping.

As she waited patiently, rocking him, the other thing the closeness helped reached mammoth proportions. It would have gone unnoticed but for the drop which fell from the cock onto her foot. It could have been a tear. That is what Saroja thought till a moment later she felt the erection nudge her thigh. Now she suspected it to be a drop of pre-cum.

She sighed. "There is only one way to teach a man, young or old," she thought to herself. Her hand snaked down and gently held his shaft in her hand. As she did so she reflected on how similar he was to Arvind, her husband. "Probably not so hot in bed either," she mused.

There was nothing desperately inadequate in Arvind. What he lacked by comparison to someone like Murugesh, the well endowed and powerful husband of her former maid, Arvind made up in affection and the feelings they had for each other. Having experienced several men in the last few months -- each separately and each justified separately as well -- she just ended up making comparisons. Even if they were meaningless. After all, she was not going to bed uncle was she? Was she?

Uncle shuddered and stifled a groan as he felt a woman's hand on his cock after several years, even if it was through cloth. "Sarojamma!" he moaned her name. He called her like that often to emphasize the father-daughter nature of the relationship. But this time the calling out was so hopelessly different. But there was no other endearment he had for her. And he had to call out to her so dearly. The calling out was somewhere between an apology and surrender.

"This," said Saroja, clenching and unclenching her fingers on the slenderish cock, "is desire. This is the need. It is the same need those boys had. Who else can feel for them that way? And who else can take care of it for them so harmlessly?" asked Saroja.

Uncle's hips moved in the rhythm that no man needs to be taught, his desire demanding some comforting from being masturbated. At least for the edge of his desire…..?

"Harmlessly?" he stammered. "What do you mean harmlessly?" It was not an actual question. His body had overtaken his mind and he needed some form of engagement. Otherwise his real attention was on Saroja's breasts which he continued to nuzzle. As he soaked the fabric he started to wonder if she was wearing a bra at all. Or was he going to be lucky enough to get at her nipple?

Had be pulled back and reflected he would have been shocked. A girl he himself had selected for his nephew to marry, who had treated him with great respect befitting a family elder: here he was fumbling among her clothes to feel her flesh with his lips. But he was no longer thinking.

She was. She was very conscious of what was happening here. As she had been with her brother-in-law, her nephews -- she knew that once again the fabric of relationships in the family was going to be dependent on her adroitness.

(The incident with Murugesh, the maid's husband was not to be over-interpreted. She was vulnerable at that moment and he was exceptional. That was the nature of sexuality -- once unleashed, it reduces a woman to forgo anything to indulge in that joy as observed in that timeless love-sex manual The Kamasutra. It was unalloyed pleasure. She had taken it, reveled in and moved on.)

So if once again gaining control over Uncle was going to be instrumental in keeping the family together she was not going to balk.

While she justifying what was happening with all those thoughts, her hand was lazily sliding back and forth on uncle's very rigid member. If it lacked anything in dimension, it lacked nothing in hardness. She was brought back to reality by his other hand cupping her breast and clumsily trying to find its way through to flesh where actually no such path existed.

"This is how they were too," she said pushing him back and holding his face in her hands. His tear stained face stared up at her. He wondered what would happen next. The tears had come from embarrassment and the strain of feeling illicit desires. They had dried and now, avoiding looking in her eyes to hide his guilt, he had worked on her body. Forced to look into her eyes now he realized that the moral authority with which he had descended on her had completely evaporated.

But even as she looked into his eyes, the continued stroking of his cock told him he need not worry about anything stopping just yet. Cleverly, he adjusted himself so that his dhoti parted. As she continued her gentle stroking -- not too hard to count as masturbation; not too soft to allow his brain to start thinking again -- she felt his bare thighs. Suddenly she knew that she could feel his flesh in her fist -- if she wanted to.

"And if I gave them what they wanted, they were fine too," she said withdrawing her hand, leaving him gasping for her just-right grip again. She was testing him. How far would she need to go? Had she done enough to buy his silence?

"But they are too young for this. At least, I am married," said uncle in a daze.

"This," she said firmly, sliding her hand in between the folds of the dhoti and gripping his hot member in her soft fleshy fist, "is the same. Whether bachelors or unmarried. Old or young. Desire," she whispered. Her hand moved more firmly this time giving him a dress rehearsal of what she could do to him, for him. Uncle shuddered helplessly as he felt himself milked. He was wasting time, he suddenly felt. He should ravage her. Now! Grab her breasts. Suck and bite them! And mount her. And show her how much of a man he is!

He reached with both his hands for both of her breasts. He did not manhandle her. He held them as if weighing the mounds. His thumbs tentatively searched out for her nipples. He still did not know whether there was an impeding bra.

"This too, they wanted," she said. She would have to do more to silence him. He wasn't blackmailing her. She was not buying his silence. But step by step, what needed doing was so clear. "I gave them," she went on. Her hands left his cock hanging for more once again.

As she reached for the hooks of her blouse he found himself willing to wait. But his cock ached and he reached for it himself and did something he had not done since his teen years -- he played with himself.

She unhooked her blouse and left it open to hang. The melon-like breasts burst out and hung, the blouse covering most of them but leaving enough for him to see. The nipples were not seen. Was there a bra and had she unhooked both in one go? His throat dried as he took in the view of the luscious flesh.

Gently, he pushed aside the fabric and slid his hands under. He had done all this before --not to her. But he had done all this before. His fingers found her flesh burning hot and unfurled thick nipples standing erect. He brushed them briefly. He thought of his sons handling that same flesh. "You let them do this?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Why, what is there?" she asked. "The obsession is only when they do not know what it is. Here -- you too are fascinated. And so what?" So saying she guided his hands more firmly and had him cover both the orbs. Uncle squeezed gently. He was so gentle and experienced in his touch. There was no animal roughness or brutal hurting in the way Murugesh had been with her. The squeezing action was like a gentle milking. His thumbs teased out her teats

Saroja's gasp was involuntary. "Someone who has seen it all before is so aroused, how can you blame young men?" she asked.

"I am not blaming them," replied uncle, marveling at the weight and pride of her breasts.

"Are you blaming me then?" she asked, holding his hands as if to stop him.

He merely shook his head to indicate no. AS he tried to knead them more, she held his arms a little more firmly. "No," he said lamely with no conviction.

She pressed his hands to her breasts more intently. She rotated his hands on her mass of flesh seeking some relief for herself. "An expert like you gives so much pleasure. And amateurs are so forceful. What do you expect a woman to do?" groaned out Saroja throwing her head back.

"I had to cure them of their obsession. And they were naturally good at responding to me. But now I know why!" hissed Saroja in a seductive voice. "It runs in their blood," she whispered into his lips. Flatter a man sexually and get what you want.

"Am I good?" he whispered back. That a young woman should find him adept excited him no end.

She gave a short laugh. It sounded like music to him. Actually it was her recognition of having conquered him.

"Come!" she invited at her seductive, alluring best.

It was time to fuck a different generation of the family she had married into.

Her sari was already unraveled from the time she let go of her pallo to open out her blouse. Now she tugged at where it was tucked into her petticoat and it quickly fell in a heap at her feet.

As uncle continued to toy her now swollen tits, she undid the cord of her petticoat. Her eyes darted to the windows of her bedroom to make sure the curtains were properly drawn. They were. The opened petticoat clung to the curve of her hips and ass, refusing to slide to the floor the way the sari had.

As her hands went to push the cloth over the hip, she felt shy. Opening out her blouse had been a lot easier. Breasts were very nurturing and it was possible to draw a man's head or hands to them as a beginning. But to go nude, and to bare her pussy… it demanded more. And the man in front of her was someone she had been taught and learned to respect and treat with care.

Uncle too seemed to hesitate a bit. "Two wrongs…" he started to say. "Don't make a right," is what he wanted to say. But his mind took him elsewhere.

Could he actually see his own daughter-in-law's pussy bare? Sex was wonderful. But some of the steps associated with it required a certain boldness or a mindset which was challenging in the present situation. How to do this?

Saroja knew instinctively that unless she acted decisively the old man would merely vacillate and go back to moaning about the corruption of his sons.

Drawing him close to her she put one arm around his shoulders and whispered in his ear, "Don't think. Don't look."

She held him so close that he could not see her body. Nor did she look him in the eye. When her body was bare it was without either of them looking down. Her blouse was still on and hanging around her shoulders. But she was now open enough to take his cock.

She slid to the floor. Uncle was not quick enough to keep pace with that move, especially since he was totally unsure of what he should do -- or not do. His daughter-in-law was showing him exactly how his sons had lost control with her. His Saroja ma was showing how she had fucked them by fucking him. His mind was dizzy and his cock was buzzing with pent up arousal.

For uncle sex meant man on top and woman on the floor with her legs agape. He did not know any other position. For such a man, the wet mouth of his nephew's wife on his cock was a sensation completely new and fellatio a concept completely alien.

"Eeswara!" he groaned loudly, calling out to God almighty. It was a calling out to God in response to the divine sensations he felt at the hot bubbling sheath of her mouth, with her tongue intertwining and bobbing with his cock. It was also a screamed out apology for succumbing to the intense and illicit pleasure he ought not to have taken. It was like a plea to god to forgive him but how could he not take such intense pleasure?

The allusion to god fell on deaf ears as Saroja merely continued what had been an instinctive response to having encountered uncle's bobbing erection on the way down. She slurped and slobbered on the cock and pulling him down by the arms lay down.

It was all done in one smooth swoop so that uncle did not have to see Saroja lying their legs agape, cunt with hair and all spread out and she lewdly opening herself to be fucked by her in-law.

Instead, as she lay he covered her with himself. He propped himself on his arms, she below him. The breasts -- those magnificent mounds of pleasure -- lay shimmering in her perspiration. The nipple of one jutting up in pride; the other covered by the flap of her blouse. She pulled apart the blouse fully allowing him to take in the sight of the other nipple as well.

Her hand reached between them and she held the cock. It felt inadequate in its girth but that was in comparison to Murugesh. Compared to Arvind it was similar; but once she went illicit her mind went to satiation rather than satisfaction.

She pulled him down guiding his body with his cock. She held it at her cunt lips and hissed, "Find out more!"

Uncle pushed. She was ready for him but not surging wet. The politics of the situation she was managing kept her from flooding with juices. In her depths she was soppy but at penetration it was near-dry.

Uncle grunted. Saroja reached between them and prised her lips apart. Such active participation had never been witnessed by uncle. In his day, it involved a few unsuccessful and maybe painful thrusts. One was not to touch sexual body parts and eventually things yielded to allow intercourse. Here, Saroja ma had mouthed him, touched him and was now touching herself to help him fuck her.

He penetrated her. The fact that she was not overly soppy helped her experience his scything through her cunt. She gasped in pleasure. By the time he dipped fully and pulled out the wetness was thorough -- that is all it took. She raised her legs and brought them to lock around his hips.

"Do more!" she implored, her eyes closed. Uncle leaned forward and sucked at her tits. Balancing on the palm of his hands and the tips of his toes he touched her only in two places. One was his cock reaming her cunt and the other was his mouth milking her nipple.

Saroja gasped. What uncle lacked in dimensions he made up in pistoning in and out of her and that too with some speed. What he lacked in girth he made up in length; which meant she touched him deep, sometimes too deep. But basically, in some new places. She sighed in amazement at her own appetite for this: each man was different and each involvement was also different. From motherly love, to raw pleasure-seeking, to politically charged -- each brought its own sizzle.

Uncle did what he new best. He sawed away at her cunt and he chewed and nibbled incessantly on her nipples.

Her pussy bubbled up and she shook and shuddered scaring the old man. He slowed down somewhat, unsure what was happening to his young daughter-in-law when she goaded him on.

"No! No! No!" she begged. "Just go on! You are doing just fine!" she clung onto him and hissed through her teeth as she quickly came.

The old man, fit and fine at his age, continued to pound into her like a mechanical fuck-machine. His pleasure was complete but there seemed to be a threshold he could not cross. He closed his eyes and concentrated on crossing that last barrier. It was elusive; but the pleasure at this side was indescribably great. He continued, knowing that he had to release into her to actually finish.

Saroja laughed out her pleasure as she contrast this man with Arvind who by now would have come and come hard with her fucking.

Uncle's cock lost some of its body as the woman laughed. He mistook her to be laughing at him.

"What happened?" he asked stopping completely.

Saroja looked at him impishly. Her body was slick with sweat and uncle was dripping on her too.

"When you need so much guidance and encouragement, how much do they need?" she asked.

"Why?" asked uncle, his erection losing its stiffness quite completely.

"Because nothing is wrong and you cannot even make out what is happening to me. Just go on," she said, humping her hips against him uselessly even as his cock, completely ineffective slipped out.

She wiggled down and with both hands and gentle fingers manipulated the jut of a cock. There was something in fucking which did not feel completely unless the man filled her with his seed. It was like chewing but not swallowing. If he hadn't shuddered and emptied it was not over and done with.

Her fingers slid over the head and with each passing over the cock jerked to one larger dimension. She shimmied down further. Holding her tits she brought the cock in between.

A loud "Aaah!" from uncle told her he was enjoying the warmth of her tits. She was smeared with his juices and hers. The cock regained its fullness in a jiffy.

Uncle would not have known what to call it but fucking the hot, slick cleavage between the mounds she was holding together for him came instinctively. He fucked her breasts.

"Everything can be sorted out. But it needs doing," she said to no one in particular, breathlessly.

Deftly, she turned him over on his back. As uncle flopped over his cock waved in air. Once again Saroja did the unthinkable in his view. She took the messy, everything coated cock in her hand. And now, even though both of them had found it awkward he was treated to the sight of his nephew's wife lewdly poised over him. One knee on the ground and the other leg askew foot firmly on the ground, she hovered over him as she grabbed his cock.

Lowering herself, but not too much, she guided the head and searched out the pathway to her waiting, aching pussy. Uncle watched mesmerized by Saroja ma's workman like manner of going about this task. Her breasts jiggled under their own weight as she maneuvered about. His hands lay idle by the side of his head on the floor. Something caught the corner of his eye and he turned right.

There in the mirror on the front of the cupboards to their right was a completely different view of him with his daughter-in-law. There he was old and wrinkled, except for his cock which was anything but wrinkled. She had had this marvelous effect on him. There she was on top of him, manipulating them to copulate again. There were those lovely succulent breasts, but the flaps of the blouse covered them, with only the nipples and a little bit of the curve bobbing in and out of view.

And there was her face, hair sticking to it with sweat, and she looked as if she was in pain -- her face was screwed up. It brought him back from the unreal reflection to Saroja poised over him. His hand reached up and he tenderly stroked her face and asked, "Are you okay?"

The grimace twisted into a lust laden half-smile. She looked luxurious. He was so lucky to be the center of this woman's attention at this time!

Saroja was having a bit of difficulty as she was wet but her hair had soaked it up. It was thick and congealed rather than wet and squishy. She was probing and pushing. And with his slenderness she was not sure if lodging the head and thrusting down would pierce her; he might skid sideways.

"I am okay!" she said breathlessly. "Just -- ah! -- finding a way to get you back in. We women have to do all the work always isn't it!" she joked.

Uncle felt obliged to add his own effort and thrust his upwards as if to help. Saroja put her fingers on his chest and pushed him down. There was authority in that push. There was ownership and conquest.

As he looked up and saw her breasts heaving, her face flushed and yes, that necklace (mangalsutra) indicating her wedded status, she did look like a queen that had conquered him.

He always had loved her. Now he loved her dearly. An incongruous thought was his hope that Arvind was looking after her well.

His hands reached up and he claimed her breasts in both. This time he held nipple between forefinger and thumb and the palm held the mass of her flesh. She let his weight on him for a while and now she parted her lips with one hand and held his cock with the other.

As her weight sagged on his hands he squeezed --without crushing- her breasts as hard as he could. Saroja thrilled at the pleasure this brought. She marveled that though the sex must be a luxurious treat for the older man there was no feverish roughness in his handling. Care and patience brought an intensity to the way he touched and pleasured her -- even if he was minimal in his initiatives.

The cock was now within the opening folds. As uncle brought his hands down her lips neared his. Her other lips widen and swallowed him whole.

He spotted the kumkum on her forehead -- another symbol of an Indian woman's married status -- smeared in a messy way. He kissed her on the forehead, her nose and her chin. And then he locked lips with her.

That lock was useful for him to scream his pleasure from the sudden rapid pistoning Saroja gave his cock. It was like she was the man here and he was the woman receiving a bludgeoning.

Once again his pleasure reached a crescendo and if reached that threshold at which he seemed unable to let go. He felt if he did let go, his prostrate and bladder would let go to. He closed his eyes and concentrated his mind on letting go.

Saroja simply enjoyed the staying power, unaware that it was to do with his age. But she was also worried about the clock. They had been fucking a while now and in these apartments housewives called on each other frequently and casually at this time of day. Of her household help -- she knew nothing having lost all track of time. But surely she was due to drop by.

Her breasts heaved magnificently, weight notwithstanding. The slapping of their bodies together, their grunts and the quite separate slapping sounds of her breasts beating against her own body filled the room.

Saroja looked to the mirror and saw herself riding the supine uncle like an Amazonian on horseback. His hands were on her thighs now holding her dearly. She reached behind and under. Her fingers found his cock at the point where her cunt squelched around the rod. She teased his balls.

Uncle hollered, "Amma, Sarojamma, amma mamamamama!" as he felt the lose of control.

Smiling, breathing heavily, sweating Saroja mercilessly reached further down and her fingernails scraped his perineum. As she pressed down uncle felt his body was going to explode.

She was not his nephew's wife anymore, this woman flapping wildly down on him. She was not his daughter-in-law anymore, this woman who was teasing parts of his body he himself had never touched leave alone caressed.

She was just a sexy wench who god had sent for him to experience wild lust once before he died.

Just when he thought he might burst, she scrambled off him. Grabbing the bed sheet from the bed nearby she quickly dried his cock. The lack of sensation from the messy squish now was not helping. It brought her face oh-so-close to his cock. Her swinging mangalsutra slapped against his balls. She pulled it back and swung it around to the back so it was out of the way. He felt relieved. What he was doing was so utterly sinful and he did not symbols of tradition reminding him of that fact.

She looked up at him. Past his cock and his flat body. Uncle was craning downward to see why she had done that -stopped when he was going to explode. Her eyes were flaming -or so it seemed. She seemed like a woman possessed, breasts hanging, forehead smeared red with kumkum and lips hanging open. She closed her lips to kiss his cock.

Snaking out the pointed tip of her tongue she stabbed at the cock down its length from tip to balls and back up again to the head. And then back down all the way, this time all the way to the perineum where her fingernails had tenderly stimulated him. And back up again with butterfly kisses. And back down again with large wet kisses this time.

But when she went down it was more than he could handle. He ought not to let his daughter-in-law demean herself by applying her mouth so low on his body. He half sat up and pulled her by her locks of hair -- and holding her face in his hand went through that feeling that every man does.

A woman who pleasured like a whore was a divine creature to be worshipped.

His eyes conveyed that devotion. She knew the look. She had seen in it on Sundar's face when he first felt her envelop him in her pussy. The devotion prevented him from fucking her the way he later fucked Suguna the maid. She wanted devotion so she could command him to study. But after seeing him fuck Suguna like an animal she had wanted that animalness.

But today, she was that animal. Her cunt was now fully alive and she was rich with juices to lubricate him in. she had him dry like she wanted. The time was now to make him cum and complete the lesson.

"This is how they felt too," she said wickedly as she rose above him one last time. She took him in easily now at a different angle. It allowed her to lean back. She stroked his balls and perineum as her cunt stroked down on his cock.

Uncle held her thighs and watched, drunk and intoxicated at the sight of this all-consuming woman. This time his hands crept closer to where the cock and cunt were conjoined. His thumbs came together and he pressed the top of her pussy together as if to tighten the clamping on his cock.

He rotated his thumbs, it felt pleasurable. He was able to feel the effect on his cock and he trembled in anticipation of his release. Perhaps next time when her fingernails stroked her down there…

Her screams brought him out of his focus on himself. He stopped his thumbs. She screamed at him, "No, mama! No, don't stop! You always do at the wrong moment!" she panted as the action of his thumbs massaged a part of her anatomy he did not know existed.

Her clit was trapped between the balls of his thumbs and was being mashed. The grinding of her clit was an unexpected bonus for the woman who thought all pleasure would have to be given as well as taken at her own initiative with this old man.

"Oh!" she wailed. She grabbed one breast with her free hand and pinched and twisted her nipple in desperation.

Uncle tried to reach up but she quickly put his hand back where she wanted them. On his clit. Uncle grew bolder and found his thumb finding wetness at the opening. The thumb strokes grew wider in their circle touching more, making more.

Saroja leaned forward. With gleaming eyes she held his face in her hands. She came close, breasts resting on his chest. She kissed him fully on the lips.

"My mama!" she whispered and went back to her upright position. She brought his hands back to her groin, thumbs to the clit leaving her husband's uncle in no doubt on what she wanted. Leaning back she resumed both the strokings.

"Ah! Ha! Ah Ha!" she went with each stroke.

"Ungh!" grunted uncle once again concentrating on crossing the barrier.

Saroja's cunt and clit gave way. She thrashed and ground down on him as she flooded and poured.

"Mama!" she cried out. "Ayyo, mama-ah!" she wailed. "Mam-ah! Mama-ah!, Mama-ah!" she wept as she came in torrents.

She twisted, pinched and mauled her breasts. She wanted hands and lips everywhere. She thrashed about as uncle watched stupefied. The last time she had felt like this was when Murugesh was marauding her. On that occasion the maid, Suguna, Murugesh's wife was at hand to kiss her, fondle her and Saroja felt complete.

Today her mind leapt to the sons of the man she was fucking. Her nephews, Sundar and Gopi. They should have been here for their Saroja manni. She imagined each of them running riot on each of her breasts -- one a piece. She would feel so complete!

"You should have seen them!" she squealed as she took her pleasure at those completely far out thoughts. Boys and their father fucking her, loving her, sucking her and biting her simultaneously? Crazy! Not in this overachieving, focused and inhibited, political family.

"They fuck so well! They know how to treat a woman!" she humped down on uncle. Uncle felt a bit challenged like all males would. Here she was fucking him and thinking of his sons? Was he so inadequate for Saroja?

"You too do," she panted as if on cue. "Look at how you have made me flood" she looked down her face flushed red at the mess where their bodies bonded.

"But you need to be told once, don't you?" she asked, increasing the tempo. Would this man never come?

Carefully she smeared her little finger from the mess of fluids flowing down his balls. It was a well manicured one with no long finger nails. So coated, she snaked it down beyond the perineum and it entered him. It caused his sphincter release.

"Ayyo! Amma!" the man sobbed and sat up in shock. He streamed up into her, filled her in no time and squelched out of her down. They had their arms around each other, bounded tight.

She took care of him, like she had all these years, this time differently. She rocked so he felt the strokes. She lifted herself a wee bit and dropped back so he felt milked. She did not leave one tremor large or small in him unattended. His every frisson of pleasure was allowed to blossom forth, and recede in a wave of satisfaction. Till the next one. And the next one. And the next one…. Till they receded fully.

One of her breasts was pressed against him. The other was behind the panel of her blouse and the hook dug into him. He carefully reached for it and made sure her breasts were firmly against his chest.

They sat like that, intertwined, enjoying the aftermath. Till his cock receded and slipped out.

"It brings focus," said Saroja.

Uncle came out of his reverie. "What?" he asked.

"Focus. Sundar maxed his exams and got into IIT didn't he?" said Saroja.

Uncle nodded dumbly.

That was the answer she wanted.

Saroja rose. When she descended from the heights of pleasure she liked to arrive at a logical explanation for what had happened. That was how she explained her unbridled sexuality to herself. And to any one who might ask. Like Uncle.

As she stood up, her legs on either side of uncle below, he found himself staring at an agape reddened, angry looking pussy. Streaked, stained and creamed.

Finally here he was looking at his daughter-in-law in a manner that exemplified the illicitness of what he had just completed. She moved away and went into the washroom to clean herself.

Alone in that room sitting on the floor he could not even look at himself in the mirror alongside where just a while ago there had been a couple copulating like beasts.

He could not face himself. Nor her. She probably had him where she wanted him. When she came out, he had left.

Saroja felt sure she would hear no more of it. She went back to the kitchen and the chores of her day.

"I need you," he said, his voice thick and feverish with desire.

"Not right now," she hissed back. They were both in the kitchen. It was an open format kitchen and across the service counter into the hall one could clearly see where the men were seated.

Saroja had worked hard on her nephew Sundar's higher education in a manner that her husband could not have imagined. The young man was related to her husband. Everyone looked up to her husband Arvind. By extension, they looked up to Arvind's wife, too; the elder manni as it were in the family.

Unusually, in Sundar's case the aunt's involvement had been unconventional. It had taken the full unleashing of her sexuality to take the then 18-year old's mind off sex. She had fucked him in every way that there was for a woman to fuck a man. She showed him his way around her body and gave him free run of her.

It had got rid of his obsession with sex. Through this phase of sexual awakening of the young man she extracted promises to study and the boy excelled thereafter.

Cleverly, she put space between them, convincing him that he was not in love with her; that he was obsessed bout sex. She indulged him and gave him as much sex as he wanted. The original goal of such a strategy was to prove to him that his desire was sex was not the same as his desire for his aunt.

Unstated was her own desire for the strong young body of her nephew. She took her own pleasure, intense and indulgent even as she allowed him to use her.

He only used her. As he became more aware of his own sexuality, his needs soared to more adventurous pursuits. Those, the ones where he indulged his animal preferences -he kept those for the maid. For Saroja manni, it was worshipful sex. She was his goddess. He made love to her. The maid - he fucked her.

Sheer sexual jealousy made Saroja try and be a whore to him; but that was all too brief. Soon, she felt the need to become the elder, surrogate mother for the boy and that was when the distances slowly set in.

It was not to the boy's liking. It welled up in him. There was none as luscious as Saroja even though he had indulged himself fully with the maid.

She was, in the final analysis divine. Loving her, holding her breasts, milking her, sucking her and having her do things to him - all these were a class apart.

Today he was visiting from college after a long gap.

The entire trip of his to his uncle's place was contrived. He found all sorts of excuses to be here and saved up from his various allowances to ensure that he no one could control him and prevent this trip from happening.

He wanted that woman. And he wanted her to be the whore she once promised to be in vengeful mood.

He did not want instant gratification though he was wild in his desire for her. He wanted long, languorous hours and the time to be indulgent. She with him; he with her.

She knew him. Very well. She knew this desire lurked beneath the surface. She knew she would have to meet his desire. May not be entirely - but at some level she would have to respond. He was here only for one night. And he would not leave without sharing some form of intimacy with her. That she knew.

The other person who was sitting in the hall with her husband was an old school friend of theirs who had come to stay the night. She did not think she would have much latitude around the house today. This was especially so because that friend Shyam knew her too well.

At various parties, Shyam had flirted with the luscious Saroja. And Saroja had played along, teasing him right up to the brink of promiscuity. And she drew the line there. She gave him glimpses of her cleavage, her thigh and parted her lips in a Monroe-esque pout to drive his imagination wild. Then she backed off.

Shyam considered her a tease eventually. But that was not true. Saroja was merely scared to go beyond. That was then. Unknown to Shyam, Saroja had crossed all sorts of boundaries with her male relatives. Saroja felt the difference in her as she met up with Shyam today. Had Shyam noticed the difference in her? The question remained.

There was always the chance that the two men would gossip late into the night. Technically, that allowed her to be by herself. But it also meant that her husband would follow her into the bedroom and expect to find her there. This prevented her from safely putting her husband to sleep and then going into the young man's room to satisfy him.

She thought through this part while humming about the kitchen and preparing dinner and laying the table.

The men were in animated conversation. She and her nephew were in the kitchen. Her husband kept flitting from the hall to the fridge for more beer and ice and so on. There was so much happening. And then…

"I need you," he said again, desperation in his voice. She hated that desperation. She wanted him to feel complete, confident and able to take on the world.

She looked down. The massive erection was plainly evident. She knew that virile cock of his- so well. On the spur of the moment she dropped to her knees. She looked up at him and said, "You look out for your uncle."

He looked down at the beautiful woman kneeling in front of him, her face at his tummy level. His hard-on was at its maximum. Nothing could have made him grow larger or harder. He was already there. And yet, the sight of her heaving breasts and the look down her blouse aroused him more.

He could not see enough of her breasts. There was no cleavage and, no slope, no parting. Saroja manni's blouse was stuffed full with her sumptuous melons. The only way to feast eyes on her was to untrap them from their confines. For now he had to be content with the upper slopes and the heavy breathing that accentuated her bounty.

She undid his trouser and lowered his underwear. Gently, ever so gently, she removed the cock from its entrapment without allowing the elastic band to hurt her young man.

There he was, proud, arrogant, lustful and desiring all at once.

"So professionally efficient!" he thought admiringly of the manner in which she uncovered him.

She needed to be lower to be able to do what she planned to do next. She spread her knees wider so that her face moved lower to be level with his cock. She held the weight of his cock gently in the palm of her hand, her fingers under the whole length and below his balls.

Fluid dripped on her wrist as he flowed freely. His body went into a feverish high and he shut his eyes, savoring the feel of her fingers on him. He had longed for this so often.

There were many many nights when he had imagined these very hands on him and masturbated himself to sleep. On other days, masturbated he again and again and again- his wanting of her never abated on certain nights. He wanted those breasts under his weight or weighing down on him. Her hair, her smell…

"Eyes open!" she hissed at him. "You are the lookout."

He opened his eyes. He looked at his uncle in the hall chatting with his friend. He looked down at her. He was just in time to see her open, wide mouth slide onto him as his aunt formed a channel with her elegant, soft fingers. Her elongated fingers were the feeder guiding her nephew's cock to the sluice gates of her mouth.

The engulfing warmth overwhelmed him. He moved his hips in a gentle rhythm befitting the fact that the woman who was mouthing him was his own beloved manni (aunt); not the maid; nor a whore who he anyway did not have the guts to accost.

His hands went behind her head, so that he could be gentle but sure. She slurped on his cock sucking and kissing as she slid his cock in and out, in and effort to provide him the comfort that her pussy ought to have. As she rocked back and forth her hips and knees rocked too.

When she had widened her knees to lower her face, her thighs had spread out. Now the sheer excitement triggered by the hot cock had caused her pussy to flow. Combined with the spread, her cunt was now agape and she felt a yawning vacantness.

The sense of duty that allowed her to indulge her nephew thus, now gave way to her own desires and lust.

But that was not her original plan. She just wanted him to get sexual relief and less desperate.

She fucked his cock with her mouth in a manner that belied the fact that she was just an ordinary middle class housewife with a very conventional sex life. In behavior she was being more like a practised street shore.

Her nephew's pent up sexual needs could not take too much more. He shuddered and came.

He flooded her, in copious jets even though the preceding three days he had masturbated several times over anticipating meeting his aunt. It was as if he had not cum in months.

She squeezed his buttocks and allowed him a full release into her mouth. She took care to allow jerking around and pulsating - but not miss the fucking action her lips afforded his cock; not miss the pleasure of cumming inside her.

He convulsed, jerked and came for many long moments. He flooded her mouth and she swallowed some, had to let some dribble down her chin into her other hand in which she held a kitchen towel. She let him splash around, managing as best as she could, not letting go of his cock.

She gave him all the pleasure her hand and mouth could. She managed the mess he created. That was her role in his life, anyway.

This was the only thing she was going to be able to do for him and she wanted it to be completely satisfying for the young man.

As he came to standstill, she realized that regardless of whether her partner was satisfied or not, her own cunt was burning with desire.

She wiped herself, eyes firmly on the magnificent manhood still bobbing in front of her eyes. She continued to stroke him lightly, causing him to shudder and give in small driblets. He was unabated in his erection. He came, he emptied. But it stayed as hard, merely reddening under her ministrations.

If she thought he would fit back snugly into his trousers quickly, she was mistaken.

She was also mistaken about her own needs.

Her cunt was sopping wet. Fortunately, she had panties and they soaked in her juices. But she knew she needed what she was looking at, deep between her legs. That much she knew.

LATER

His uncle pressed him into service for beer and ice. The drinks were slowing him down and Arvind got lazier and more garrulous under the influence of alcohol.

As she watched her nephew bound up and down, Saroja manni felt the hot flush in her body. She felt her nipples unfurl into an erect state and press against her now impossibly tight bra.

"I am hot," she whimpered to the young man.

"Shall I turn on the fan?" asked the boy innocently.

Eyes fixed on her husband she reached out and caressed the massive bulge in his trousers and said, "Hot for this," shocking her nephew.

He stared at her, looking at her heaving bosom. His throat dried as he thought of those mammaries in his mouth.

"I need you," she said to him simply, turning the narrative around.

"Get behind me," she instructed him. "I will be the lookout," this time she said positioning herself at the sink from where she could see across the hall.

She bent down and hitching up her saree and petticoat reached for the edge of her panties. She peeled her panties down and quickly stood straight. It was now around her handles. She used her feet to try and remove them completely and at some point it was stuck.

"Remove them," she commanded her young lover, who was as if a slave.

He knelt down and felt for the twisted nylon of the panties that were tightly sound. He pulled gently as Saroja manni spread her legs wide to help him with access. The twisted nylon was hot, damp - no, wet. He removed the panties and felt the wetness in his fingers. She was drenched.

"This is going to be tough," she said to him. "I have to bend forward and you have to come behind me. We have no time. Fuck me. Fuck me hard," she whispered urgently.

She leaned forward, and spread her legs. In her hand she fumbled with a dish.

"Slide up my saree," she instructed. "Not too much. Just enough for you to be between my legs."

He did as instructed. Her smooth lovely ass was bared to him. He kissed her there causing her to shudder.

"Don't," she said. "Don't get us in to trouble. Focus on fucking me!" she ordered him.

He undid his trousers and let out his own aching hardness. Positioning himself between her legs from behind, he guided his cock. His fingers were met by her guiding hand as she brought him to the gates of her hot, heavenly pussy.

He sank in. the heat was incredible and he luxuriated in the feeling. He closed his eyes and stayed put.

"Fuck me! Move!" she pleaded in desperation.

He did. He slid out just a bit and hammered home into her. His pulling out was very, very limited for he did not want to pop out, but his moving into her was ferocious and determined.

His powerful fucking jolted her and Saroja thanked her stars for planning this right. The dish she had picked up to make a pretense of being at work clattered down into the sink as she gripped the sides of the workspace to steady herself.

"All well?" asked a concerned voice from the hall.

"Yes, yes," she stammered, "I have him here to help me."

Both men from the hall glanced toward the kitchen ad saw that the young man was somewhere behind his aunt.

They could not make out that he was close behind her and deep inside her.

As soon as the men looked away, she fucked back at him. "Harder!" she commanded him.

She leaned further to allow the trunk of his cock to slide on her clit. She shuddered as this happened.

"Be steady and hard," she told him.

He set the pace. She appreciated how closely he followed her instruction.

Now she angled her body, using him like he was a machine for fucking.

Guaranteed that his flesh would maintain the rhythm and momentum, she made sure it caressed, stroked and worked very part of her cunt. And then she bent lower so it consistently raked the inside top of her love canal. It brought her to a shuddering series of orgasms that flooded onto the both of them.

"I want your breasts," he moaned.

"No. We will be spotted," she said, clinically. She panicked at the thought he might reach for her breasts. Yes she needed his hands on her. But she just could not afford the risk. Yes she wanted her nipples pinched in his fingers but she could not open her blouse - she would be spotted.

Hell, she could not even pleasure her own self fully for the men in the hall might see her pinching, caressing and twisting her own nipples.

She groaned, somewhere between pleasure and denial.

She wanted more. He wanted more. Her orgasm ran its course and she was ready for more fucking. He had not cum. She thought he could. It would have given her a sense of closure. But he did not. It was not twenty minutes since she had mouthed him to an orgasm.

He was close, but not quite.

When she had orgasmed he had found it necessary to slow down to make sure he stayed inside her.

Now, he picked up the rhythm, ready to go all the way to his own cumming.

And then his uncle stood up to get some more ice.

Saroja decoupled from him and turned around to face him, her back to ward her approaching husband.

She looked down and saw the unabated erection, now completely slick with their combined juices. With difficulty, he contained himself back in his under garments and pulled up his trousers making a quick exit to the store to the side.

Saroja turned back to the basin and splashed water on her face, obscuring her hot flushed state from her husband. Not quite unmindful of her he brushed past to the fridge. Even that light touch with her own husband caused her to shudder as her highly aroused state made her vulnerable.

She walked into the storeroom on unsteady legs to find her nephew pretending to get some spices.

"We need each other," she said, her voice and eyes laden with lust. A quick glance at his crotch confirmed to her that he was going to be always read for her tonight. Or any night; or day.

STILL LATER

She now shuffled plans around in her head. She could barely control her body and she knew the young man could only be in a worse state than her. She needed her husband in bed before her. She needed to control the events from here. Only then could she sneak into her nephew's room. It would not do to leave these two men gossiping.

She brought out a couple of glasses and a new bottle of red wine. She could always rely on her husband's low alcohol tolerance and knock him out.

"Here's to friendship," she announced, handing the new expensive bottle to the friend. Her husband was surprised for he knew she had wanted to preserve that for a special occasion. She has stopped him from opening it more than once. Anyway, Shyam was a special friend so why not.

"Let's raise a few toasts," she said, her mind working fast. She knew that if Arvind had a few quick glasses it would hit him hard.

Within ten minutes they had downed three glasses. It did nothing to Shyam but her own husband had started to slur and slouched in back in his sofa.

"What about dinner?" asked Shyam.

"Whenever you guys want it," replied Saroja.

"But look at his state," said Shyam.

"Well, you know him!" said Saroja. Her own pallo had slipped revealing the front of her blouse. Her breasts were indeed swollen and her blouse was fuller than ever. Also, the influence of alcohol on her and her own encounter with her nephew minutes before had made her redden.

"But I obviously don't know enough of you," said Shyam suggestively, eyeing Saroja's seductive form as she slouched on the sofa too, next to her husband.

"How do you mean?" she asked.

"Unless I am terribly mistaken, I think you are quite intimate with that young man there," he nodded at Shyam, still working in the kitchen.

"Yes, we are close," she admitted.

"You and I are close, too," said Shyam, moving across and plonking himself next to her. Their thighs were now touching, side by side.

It was true. They were close.

She poured him more wine. She needed him asleep too.

"Is this the only way to drink wine?" asked Shyam flirting with her even more openly as her husband started to snore gently.

As he continued rubbing his thigh against hers, her own aroused state did not help. She felt her cunt ache more and more with every passing moment.

While she would have been quite content to fuck her husband for her own satiation on any other night, tonight was thirsty for Sundar. And she needed Shyam out of the way.

Scientists have written volumes on how males and females signal each other. All that science could not have conjectured that Shyam had picked the scent of Saroja's arousal without even knowing it and now he was in an aroused state.

Saroja kept pouring him wine not knowing that unlike her own husband, wine was an aphrodisiac for Shyam. It extended his "staying" power.

Saroja would discover that only later, right now she had Shyam slouching on her and she was pressed between husband and friend. Shyam was now leaning on her, his face brushing against her bosom. Unwittingly, his lips were grazing the rock hard nipples within the layers of her clothing.

She tried to push him back and murmured, "I think you need to get to bed."

"Show me the way," he replied in a slur.

She spotted his overnight case in one corner of the hall and realized that the two men had directly sat down to drink on coming in from work.

"Come," she said, getting up and picking up his case. "What about dinner?" she asked.

"Later" he replied, his eyes on her luscious ass, his mind clear about what he wanted to do with her.

She took him to his room and showed him the switches. "This is the bathroom," she said turning the light on.

He was right behind her and pushed her in.

Her back was to the wide marble ledge in the ante room to the large bathroom. He leaned against her, allowing his chest to press against her breasts.

Her wine laden breath warmed his face.

"You have been such a tease over the years," he whispered.

"So have you she replied," her body ached for a man, any man now.

He hoisted her upon the ledge, surprising her with his strength.

She spread her legs. Far from offering resistance, she was actually willing, wanting.

That surprised him, used as he was to her wily ways of slipping away just when he was ready to make his move.

"Why?" she asked sensing his surprise. "Are you not ready?" This was Saroja at her saucy, flirtatious self.

He aggressively hoisted up her saree and reached between her legs to prepare her for his invasion. He was again surprised to find there were no panties on. He could not have known that the twisted nylon was stuffed in the pocket of the nephew as a trophy for keeps.

He undid his trousers and inflamed as he was with his arousal accentuated by the situation, he thrust into her. It was he who bellowed his pleasure. She was hot, open. Slick and waiting. A man, any man: that was her need of the moment.

He pounded into her.

"Saroja, Saroja," he gasped in pleasure. She was hot, throbbing, inviting. He tried to reach for her breasts but she stopped him.

"Everyone is in the house," she said.

His hands grasped her ass as he hauled her onto himself. He pounded her mercilessly. The orgasm that she needed, the need for release, which allowed her to take in this man, came quick and fast. She came.

He did not.

He felt her cumming and she twisted and turned in her release. He pleasured in all of that but did not cum.

He continued to pound her, fortified by wine. Saroja was now discovering that wine had the opposite impact than what it had on her husband.

He now lifted one leg of hers over his shoulder, making her lean backward. It allowed him to sink deeper. He pounded on.

Saroja felt him open her wide with each relentless thrust. The widening splayed open her most sensitive parts and then Shyam's cock pounded on those open sensitive spots.

She threw her head about as another, new orgasm coursed through her. She pinched her own breasts through her clothes and thrashed about. Shyam's pinning her helped her to stay the course. He continued to slide in and out, enjoying her helpless cumming without missing a beat, without allowing her to slip off him, without any remorse or respite.

The second orgasm reduced her to a level of helplessness. She could not fuck him back or twist on him She thought that was the reason he had not cum still. Had she been able to fuck back and return him some of his vigor, maybe?

But no.

He now raised her other leg on his should her too. She lay back on the cool marble slab, the heat of her body contrasting the cold of the marble.

Shyam now started to pump like a piston engine. In and out, in and out.

Saroja started to whimper and moan. She had never been ravaged so thoroughly by any man.

She had done this to her nephew. But he had never found it possible to treat her like a whore. She had wanted him to that. But he had been like with the maid, not with her.

She had been with a brute of a man, strong as a bull, in her maid's husband.

But tonight seemed different. Her thighs ached. Orgasms continued. Pleasure and fluids poured. She lost all control. Saliva dribbled out of the corner of the mouth.

Shyam was intensely concentrated now on his own orgasm. In the process Saroja become an object.

And while she could take no more, he had plenty to give and had no thought of giving her respite.

Her cunt ran in pools of juices and she gave herself up to the ravaging he subjected her to.

She was cured at last of the heat that her body had felt all evening.

She wanted it to end and the moment she felt that way coincided with the moment he flooded into her.

He wept and sobbed her name as he came like he had not in many, many years.

He collapsed on top of her. The effect of the release and wine made him limp.

She pushed him off and stood up unsteadily.

"Go to sleep" she said. Her thighs quivered from the orgasms and the strenuous pounding she had taken. He muscles ached and her knees were weak.

In this state she emerged into the hall

In a room where food was ready and the table laid out, her husband was on the couch, snoring. Her nephew was leaning on the counter top in the kitchen waiting for his beloved aunt to emerge.

She did not want him to see her right after her intense encounter. She made her way, wobbly on her legs where her husband lay and helped him up. Cum and juices were pouring down her legs.

She nodded to her nephew who seemed to clearly have a few questions for her: "Eat your dinner and go to your room," she said, trying to sound as authoritative as she could in the circumstances.

Her nephew heard her very clearly. 'Go to your room'; not 'go to sleep'.

Saroja did not wait to see what he did next. She turned her back to him as she and her husband staggered to the room. Was that a large wet spot on the back of her saree or were his eyes playing tricks. Sundar could not be sure.

The couple hobbled away.

"What about Shyam?" asked her husband in a daze.

"Gone to bed," she replied truthfully.

"Dinner?" he asked.

"He had his fill," she said, not untruthfully. "What about you?" she asked.

"First tell me how long I have been asleep on that sofa?" he asked.

"Very long," she lied.

"Then skip it," he said as they reached the bedroom door.

STILL LATER

It took her very little time to tuck him into bed. She went into her bathroom and stared at her own reflection. Her disheveled state oozed sexiness to her. She looked at her breasts, wondering that they had not received attention though both men had wanted to do so.

Her sindoor was smeared on her forehead from exertions. Her body was slick with sweat. And her pussy was soaked and her thighs streaked.

She turned on warm water in the handheld shower…

She hastened to check on her nephew. Her state of mind was somewhere between confused and concerned. In the space of one hour she had gone from keeping her nephew under control with a mouthing, to being ravaged in completely uncontrolled fashion by a friend. Every twenty minutes, one encounter. "Isn't that a little too much Saroja mami?" she mocked herself.

He was lying in bed. She just wanted to make sure he was asleep or at least ready to sleep. As she approached the form on the bed she could make out in the dim light that under the sheets, his erection was undiminished and perhaps lying in wait for her.

She felt the tingling soreness from Shyam's marauding and felt unprepared to take on her nephew's vigor. Just 45 minutes ago she was begging him to fuck her hard, harder! But now, Shyam, having achieved his lifetime fantasy of fucking her had left her worn out.

There was no way for Sundar to know that the aunt who had told him of their mutual need had been fucked so. But he had his doubts.

"What took you so long in uncle's room?" he asked, his voice quavering. He sounded upset; perhaps he had an inkling of what had gone on. It would have to be a guess. She was very sure he had not entered the guest bedroom, not spied them.

She did not know how to answer him. She could not have explained the half an hour or more that she took. And she did not know if he noticed her state but she did not think she could say anything convincing to him.

Instead, in one swift motion, she came atop him, straddling him.

"You wanted my breasts, didn't you?" she offered him his most desired feast.

His action surprised her: he grabbed the top of her blouse and ripped down the hooks. Her bra-encased breasts were now open to him. Roughly, he felt her flesh. She reached behind and unhooked the bra. His hands slipped under the cups and he grasped the mounds. He kneaded them vigorously, feeling her warm body and the not-so-erect-now nipples.

She responded to his ministrations with a low guttural moan. There was something about this young man. There was a passion and a desire in his touch that her body instantly warmed to. They had wanted each other so badly and the two quick encounters had merely been appetizers.

Her desire to have her young nephew, her student, make love to her, resurrected the seductress in her.

She hunched her shoulders to slip off her bra and in one swift move cast it aside. Then reaching down to her young lover she pulled his head to her breasts and offered him her nipple: first one and then the other.

The young man slathered the nipples with his tongue, and nibbled and pulled on them preparatory to suckling on her.

"So much better than giving space to loose talk," she thought as she fed him and rocked back and forth. Once again, the movement caused her to juice up.

"Incredible! I haven't been so sexually charged and ready since … since the last time I loved Sundar!" she thought. Yes, that was true. He brought out the woman in her like her own husband had not.

It was something to do with the maternal warmth and the need to nurture. But also that she was older and warmer than when she was a new bride in Arvind's arms.

Her mature experienced body seemed a perfect match for this young man's vigor and for whom she had such deep feelings. And while Shyam's vigor belied his age, where were the feelings? It was raw animal sex that had been good but, not, as she lovingly caressed Sundar's mop of hair she thought, like this.

Sundar was lost in the luscious breasts. He sucked, nibbled and caressed her intensely. She raised herself and deftly removed the fold of her saree. It fell around them and when she sat down again there was but one layer of the chiffon, but oh! What a barrier it was.

The couple attacked the obstacle with vigor and the saree was all but ripped out from between them.

Then, holding the upright cock - undiminished in more than two hours now, she marveled; but then so was she - she fisted it gently to prepare it to enter her.

She sank down on him and for the first time that evening she had him fully in her. Nothing tentative or temporary; all of him, all the way in. The fullness of his hard erection for her was justly rewarded only now.

He snuggled between her breasts with his face as she rocked upon him, taking her own pleasure from the cock sliding up her pussy.

Then she pushed him on his back and stayed up, breasts proud and jiggling as she continued with her rocking motion. Just when she thought that their passion for each other had conquered all, he surged up, fucking her with a vigor that seemed to reflected rage.

He gritted his teeth, held her up by her breasts and rammed up so hard and so fast that she howled with pleasure. Her breasts reddened with the pressure of his fingers and she feared that her cunt, sore from Shyam's pounding might be torn asunder.

Instead, the surge of new pleasure inside her welled up and a flood of juices poured down, lubricating the channel. She wailed and sobbed his name over and over and kept asking him as to what made him so furious.

He did not reply in any other way but to fuck her like an animal. Her body gave up and she fell into a spell of uncontrolled spasming, collapsing on top of him in a heap.

He pushed her over and uncannily, prized her apart in exactly the same way Shyam had 30 minutes ago. He flung her leg over his shoulder and pounded into her. He jolted her body with his thrusts and she begged him to treat her softly, gently: was she not his manni?

At this, he drew back fully, and as if stabbing her with an intent to punish her thrust hard once. Then slowly he drew back again - and again pounded her once hard with a fury. And again; and again; and again.

It was as if he was hell bent on punishing her. But he only ended up rewarding her with a series of orgasms that reduced her to a bubbling mass of flesh. In desperation she reached between and ringed his cock. Sundar, already on the brink of loss of control gasped as his cock melted and he emptied into her for the third time that evening.

He collapsed on top of her almost instantly falling into a doze.

It was a while before they awoke. She stirred when she felt something moving against her ass. He had been sleeping spooned into her, hands around her breasts and cock semi flaccid against her back. She wiggled back at him and felt it grow to its fullest grandeur.

She smiled sleepily, marveling at the stamina of youth. Her sleepiness did not last long as she felt him push and prod at her. He was nowhere near penetrating her but was feeling his cock squeezed between her buttocks. They were soon slick with his secretions and he started to pump at her, as if fucking her.

She smiled to herself, a lot more awake and raised her upper leg to reach under and behind to where his cock was making its futile attempts. She held him and pulled him downward. Simultaneously, Sundar angled his body pushing back from her while holding on to her breasts.

His cock slid in effortlessly into the nest of her cunt. She gasped and reached back for him. But his torso was nowhere near her. At best she could grab his buttocks and urge him on to fuck her.

He held her breasts one in each hand and pulled her to him as he fucked in. and milked them, leaving the nipples alone as he pulled back. In he went, and he pulled her breasts in. As he drew out, his hands milked the large mammaries.

She sighed contentedly at the smoothness of the action of his cock as well as that of his hands. He was treating her good and she was enjoying it. She yearned to yield milk from those massive tits as he massaged and squeezed for it. She also wanted to milk his large cock as it pistoned in and out of her.

"Fuck me!" she murmured silkily in the dark. It excited Sundar no end that his aunt was delirious enough in pleasure to talk dirty to him.

He fucked harder and started to jerk and convulse as he emptied into her. She pulled his ass close to her, keeping as deeply embedded into her as she could, feeling pleasure as he pulsed inside her, deep inside her.

As before, they fell asleep in their pleasure and exhaustion. She awoke again and pushed him aside to try and get up to leave. It must be in the early hours and she wanted to be back in her bedroom before her husband awoke.

But Sundar held her back. When she became forceful he slid down and pushed his head between her thighs. He licked and searched with his tongue and lapped at her pussy.

"No!" she begged him. "I need to be back," she said.

"You need more of me," he said, using the tip of his tongue to lash at her clit. She sighed helplessly and fell back, spreading her legs wide. His fingers invaded her and curled up to massage the inside upper wall of her cunt. His tongue was unrelenting.

She pinched her own nipples hard and helplessly as he squeezed an orgasm deep from her cunt. She squirted, groaning, moaning and pressing against him hard. She drenched his face and the sheets below with her amber liquid. And then suddenly, she really could take no more and pushed him away.

In the dim light she stared at his wet face in fascination. She looked down and found his manhood back at full attention. Her cunt was sore and she could take no more of him.

She reached down and gently massaged the pillar of flesh, increasing her stroking till he was gurgling with pleasure. Then, in a calculated move she brought her lips to the bottom of his cock and sucked on him as her fist worked faster and faster.

"Manni!" he screamed as his cock spurted and his cum streamed into the air and fell back on him and her. She covered the spewing cock with her mouth and milked him with her lips and tongue till his jerks slowed down. Wiping her lips on his torso she moved up to his face and asked him, "What has made you so mad today?"

He caressed her hair and said, "I came here only to be with you like this."

She kissed him and he kissed her back. His hands reached for her breasts to knead them. She slid her leg between his legs. They held each other in a tight embrace and fell asleep again.

They seemed to sleep only enough to gain the energy needed for another go at each other.

It was the sound of the milkman ringing the doorbell that woke her up next. She could not find her bra. Nor her blouse. She could see her saree but it was hopelessly intertwined with the sheets and was partly under Sundar.

She remembered that her panties had been on the kitchen floor when Sundar had taken her from behind. The doorbell was ringing incessantly and Saroja worried that her husband might get up to answer it.

She wrapped herself in a bed sheet and quickly left the room to attend to the door. She was completely sleep deprived and sore from the sexual celebration that had begun the previous evening and gone on through the night.

She was glad the three men would be gone in the next few hours. She might then get some rest during the day.