Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
The early afternoon Punjabi sun beat down mercilessly as I made the mile walk back from my Aunt’s house, where I had been to deliver a message from my dear Mother, but the discomfort was driven from my mind by what I had witnessed.
I had not delivered Mother’s message, because the scene that had greeted my disbelieving eyes had been too astonishing for me to comprehend.
“Oh Rahul.” The voice of her sister came to me before I had even reached her door. “How wonderfully your splendid weapon splits me.”
What I saw and heard when I looked through a gap in the partly open door could not possibly be, but it was.
My Aunt – who often chided my Mother for her immodesty when she chose not to wear the salwar, or loose trousers, under her sari when at home – was lying on her bed, as naked as the day she was born. Even more shocking to my innocent eyes was that lying upon her, feeding greedily on her most excellent breasts, as he drove his hard maleness into the secret treasure between her slender thighs, was none other than her very own brother, Rahul, who was also of course, brother to my Mother, and an always welcome and frequent visitor to our home.
Her voice came to me again. “Harder Rahul, my Brother. If only you knew how my lonely nights are filled with dreams of your potent manhood. I wake every morning praying that you will come to me and fill me as you are now.”
I stood transfixed, as unable to move as a stone statue, as her legs rose to wrap around his driving hips, affording me an unforgettable view of his member, already coated with her creamy secretions as it thrust tirelessly in and out of her eager and glistening opening.
The next words my Aunt spoke burned into my brain. “When you visit her, do you thrill Indira as much as you thrill me?”
Uncle Rahul paused in his exertions. “Let us not speak of our sister when we are together, my sweet one.”
“Forgive me Rahul, I know it is not for me to ask such things, but the thought of you pleasuring her as superbly as you pleasure me excites me. When I am waiting for you, I like to think of you pushing in and out of her, just as you are now pushing in and out of me.”
“Hush,” he said a little crossly. “When I am inside you nothing but your warmth exists for me, so do not speak so. Now we must hurry, so we can enjoy each other again and again before your husband comes home.”
Prompted into fevered response, my Aunt arched up to meet him. “Thrust faster then, I am almost there.”
Mesmerised, I watched their frantic coupling, until he gasped, his whole body shaking as his seed spilled into her. I could feel my hardness straining against my dhoti as he withdrew and rose to reveal his thick cream seeping from her thoroughly serviced entrance. Now that they had momentarily finished pleasuring each other, I jumped with fright when Uncle turned towards the door. My heart leapt into my mouth with the certainty that I was about to be discovered, but he merely stooped to move his clothing from beside the bed and knelt between her widespread thighs, lowering his mouth to her slippery crevice. Nonetheless I decided it would be prudent to leave before I was seen, and I turned away toward the path leading home.
Although still in shock at finding my Aunt and Uncle shamelessly enjoying each other in the most forbidden manner, I found my cheeks burning with shame that I had not only become aroused, but I had wished that it was I between her willingly parted limbs. One thing I had not been ashamed of however, was that when Uncle Rahul turned towards the door with his still hard member bobbing, I saw that whilst he was taller and heavier, I was at the very least his match in both length and girth.
As I walked my thoughts turned to what they had said about my Mother. I refused to believe that she could behave as shamelessly as her sister, despite what my Aunt had suggested. Surely I would have known, and besides my Uncle had refused to confirm it. At the same time, it concerned me that he had not denied it.
The closer I came to my home, the more my over active imagination tormented me, and my mind was in a turmoil of uncertainty. Living as we did in such a cramped space with but one room, the only privacy consisted of curtains around our meagre individual sleeping spaces. Since I had returned home at the finish of my schooling at the age of eighteen years, it was not unusual to come across my Mother in various states of undress, but I did not consider it seemly to allow my gaze to linger. For this very reason, the sight of Mother’s bosoms neither excited or disturbed me, and I scarcely even glanced between her thighs. Until now.
I tried to dismiss the thoughts now running through my head, but the seed of suspicion that my Aunt had sown had already begun to grow. With Father away for long periods, pedalling a taxicab in the city, Mother certainly had ample time and opportunity to ease her loneliness. Of course it would be far from easy to avoid becoming the beylikdüzü escort subject of village gossip, so although it was one of the most forbidden of acts, who better to turn to than her own brother, who could not betray her without betraying himself?
Halfway home I began to run, hoping that the pounding of my feet would pound out the unwanted images that invaded my thoughts. I arrived just in time to witness the familiar sight of my Mother standing beside her bed as she wound her sari. As was her habit in the heat of summer, she had chosen to leave her midriff bare, and had not yet arranged the cloth over her bosom, and I stared at her firm breasts, for the first time seeing her as a woman. A very desirable woman. It seemed odd that she was only now dressing, so late in the day, since she had risen from her bed before I left to deliver her message to my Aunt.
There was almost certainly a perfectly innocent explanation, but the demons my Aunt’s words had planted in my mind were whispering otherwise. That perhaps my Mother had despatched me on my errand so that she could ‘entertain’ a ‘visitor,’ and had not had time to dress properly before I returned. I knew deep down that this could not be so, but my member stirred inside my dhoti as I recalled how my Aunt had looked last time I saw her. In my imagination it was not my Aunt who lay panting as her well plundered treasure oozed with male seed, but my Mother. In my imagination it was not my Uncle Rahul who had just withdrawn his spent manhood, but myself.
My cheeks burned with guilt as I shook my head, trying to banish the wicked thoughts as I caught one final glimpse of my Mother’s superb dark tipped breasts before she finished dressing. Draping the fabric loosely across the wonderful globes and over her shoulder, she turned to me with a smile, which quickly became a look of concern when she mistook my suddenly trembling legs as a sign of distress.
“Oh my poor boy,” she exclaimed. “Your poor legs must ache terribly from such a long walk in this dreadful heat,” she said, with infinite tenderness.
“Yes Mother,” I agreed. “I confess I was rather stiff at first, but I managed to put it from my mind.”
I smiled as the double meaning in my words escaped her as she declared, “Well then, since it was at my request that you undertook the errand, let me attempt to ease your discomfort.”
Turning to a small stand beside her bed she picked up a jar of scented oil. Pouring a few drops onto her palms, she knelt and began to massage first one foot and then the other. I sighed with utter delight at her tender touch, and stared avidly as her movements further loosened her sari, causing it to ride up above her bare midriff, unwittingly affording me tantalising glimpses of the lower curve of her breast.
Humming to herself she kneaded the muscles of my calves vigorously, before moving to my lower thighs, where the firm pressure of her fingers seemed to ease to a more gentle caress. “When did my son grow up?” she whispered to herself. “How could I not notice?”
Her hands were still firm as she massaged my thighs, moving steadily higher. “You have become a fine young man,” she murmured. “Such firm strong legs.” Although her fingers were working the stiffness from my leg muscles, the same could not be said of the ‘muscle’ in my dhoti, which stood up more as her hands moved nearer. She half turned her head, trying to look away, but her eyes remained fixed on the strained front of my single garment. Her voice was husky when she spoke again. “Such a fine man, Such strong muscles,” she repeated, ‘accidentally’ contriving to brush the back of her hand repeatedly against my stiff member. “So strong and hard.”
By now fully half of her breast and the bottom portion of the darker area surrounding her nipple was exposed. “You also are a fine woman,” I responded, voicing my wicked thoughts without realising. “Such a slenderly tapered waist and nicely rounded bosom.”
Mum looked at me sharply. “You should not be having have such thoughts. I am your Mother!” she snapped.
I do not know what made me say it, but the words were out before I could stop them. “Do you say that to Uncle Rahul?”
“Why do you mention my Brother?” she demanded.
Since I had nothing more than suspicion to support my insinuation, I lifted my shoulders in a shrug. “I see things.”
“Well whatever you think you may have seen, you are wrong. What happened between he and I was perfectly innocent. Rahul was contemplating looking for a bride, and he begged me to teach him how to touch her so that she would be pleased rather than afraid. He seemed so distraught that I could not find it in my heart to refuse.”
Her explanation failed to convince me and I put out a hand, expecting her to back away, but she remained unmoving. The memory of my Aunt’s oozing femininity gave me a boldness I had never thought possible, and I placed my palm firmly on the exposed büyükçekmece escort portion of Mother’s breast. “Did it not please you when he touched you like this?” I whispered. “Or like this?” My thumb caressed her rising nipple.
The way she lowered her eyes without replying, led me to think there may be at least a grain of truth in what my Aunt had suggested. Her heart began to pound in her chest, and she gave a strangled moan as my hand moved on her breast, squeezing, stroking, and becoming bolder I unwound the top of her sari, baring her to the waist.
“Were you thrilled when he gazed adoringly at your wonderful breasts and exquisite nipples?” I persisted, wanting her to relive the memory. I could sense her resistance crumbling, and I pressed home the advantage, slipping my hand beneath her sari and stroking her wetness. “When he kissed your breasts and nursed at your nipples did it make you want him to touch you here?”
The reluctance in her voice fought with the growing desire in her eyes, and parting her thighs she moaned again and murmured “What sort of devil have you become Wazir, to tempt your Mother so? We must not do this.”
I pushed a finger into her and raised it to show her glistening juices. “Your lips say ‘no,’ but this says ‘yes.’ I replied gently. There was no resistance when I unwound the rest of her sari and cast it aside, to gaze spellbound at her smooth unadorned mound, with beads of arousal dotted along her pouting slit like pearls nestled between brown silken cushions. I wondered briefly if she had shaved to please her brother or her husband, then reasoned that Father would most assuredly have become suspicious if it had been for anyone but him.
Smoothing the moisture across her mound I whispered, “When Uncle caressed you here did you long for him to taste you as I long to taste you?”
She drew in a sharp breath, and taking her barely audible “Oh!” as assent, I lowered my lips to her fragrant treasure. I felt her thighs tremble as my tongue probed between the soft lips and began to dance with her swollen bud, coaxing out her exotic essences. I feasted greedily for many delicious minutes, until she seized my hair to pull me closer, groaning with frustration when I disengaged and moved further up her quivering form. Pushing my dhoti down my legs, I placed her hand on my tumescence.
“Tell me that which your treasure already knows,” I urged.
“May Parvati forgive me,” she gasped forlornly, sliding her curled fingers along my length. The bangles on her wrist tinkled musically, and her eyes gleamed with need as her hand flew up and down my rigid rod.
Feeling the exciting grasp of her fingers, and hearing her invoke the name of the Goddess of Love, I knew she was mine for the taking, but taking was not enough. I needed her to give herself to me willingly, without restraint or regret, so that in the future she would not hesitate to give herself to me again and again. “Say it,” I insisted. “Say the words.”
Stroking desperately she sighed in total surrender. “Forgive me Parvati, for wanting my son to fill me with his hardness.” Parting her legs further, she guided me urgently to her entrance. “Quickly Wazir,” she gasped. “Put it inside me now.”
For no longer than a heartbeat I hesitated, filled with wonder that I, who had never in all of my almost nineteen years even kissed a girl, was about to drive my maleness deep into the enchanting womanhood of she who had given me birth. And then like a cobra pursuing its prey, my hard dhoti snake slithered into the warm dark depths of Mother’s exquisite cave. I pushed with all of my youthful power, hardly able to believe I was actually inside her, rejoicing in the warm pulsating grasp of her wet silken treasure as she rose to my thrusts. She held my head as I kissed her sweet lips, not as a son, but as a lover, and she urged me to suck her nipples in time with each driving thrust of my manhood. Between kisses she whispered encouragement, teaching me to love by slowing the movement of her hips to prolong the pleasure, then moving faster towards her peak.
Throwing her legs around my waist, she clung to me. “Now Wazir! Now!” she gasped, violently shaking in the throes of climax, then my dear sweet Mother cried out ecstatically as I poured my liquid love deep inside her clutching treasure. She held me close with arms and legs until I began to shrink inside her, then she kissed my face.
“Oh what a man you have become,” she murmured as I withdrew and lay beside her, my head resting on her soft bosom. “I feel that without knowing, I have waited my entire life for just this precious moment. The instant you caressed my breast I knew that my loins would be yours. Now I know that I was right, for no man has ever filled me so full, or pleased me so completely.”
My chest swelled with pride at such praise. The unworthy thoughts that my Aunt had planted in my mind resurfaced, and I was given to wonder cevizli escort briefly how many other men had been where I had just been. Angry with myself for entertaining such unjust notions, I pushed them aside in favour of a more pleasant thought. That of how tightly her willing treasure had grasped me, and how my manhood had seemed to grow in the few moments I was spilling into her.
The image returned to me of my Aunt with her Brother’s cream seeping from between her thighs, and I had a sudden urge to know if Mother was really as full as she said. Moving quickly, I changed my position until my head rested against her knee, and I was looking up between her wonderfully smooth thighs. As if she divined my intent, she raised her leg, drawing up her foot to rest beside the other knee.
“Do you like what you see, my son?” Smiling, down past her breasts and into my eyes, she reached to part the delightful lips, allowing me to gaze adoringly at the cream which looked startlingly white as it seeped thickly from her brown slit. Too entranced to speak, I replied by pushing first one, then a second finger into her, mixing my seed with her secretions as the ball of my thumb pressed insistently on her still swollen bud.
She moaned softly, pushing herself against my thrusting fingers, and wrapped her hand around my reawakening member. “I must make an offering to Parvati, for gifting me such a wondrous weapon,” she crooned, stroking me back to my former glory, then turning at the waist she leaned over and took me into her warm mouth.
My heart threatened to burst from my chest when she worked her tongue along my throbbing organ, and I watched her cheeks hollow as she began to suck. I switched my gaze back and forth between her gliding lips and my plunging fingers, until I could no longer hold back, and her hollowed cheeks billowed as I released a stream of hot young seed into her wonderful mouth. Her head continued to bob up and down, until she was satisfied I had no more to give, then swallowed with a happy smile.
“Thank you my Son, you have made your Mother most happy indeed.”
I felt that it should be I who thanked her, but her words filled me with pride, certain that in all of Punjab, surely there could not be another son who had had the honour of fulfilling his beloved Mother as I had.
There was mischief in her smile as she fondly patted my sleeping member and declared, “We shall have some tea, and when he awakens again I am certain that he will continue to make me happy over and over.”
My heart pounded in anticipation, and gazing at her wonderfully rounded bottom as she made the tea, I silently pleaded in vain for my exhausted manhood to rise quickly to the task. When Mother brought our refreshing drinks, she squatted before me, whispering reassurances as she enticed me by alternately fondling her fine bosom and caressing her still creamy treasure. Crouched as she was with her knees apart, I was afforded a perfect view between her widespread petals at the swollen ‘tongue’ of her love bud, and my loins began to stir at the sight of her glistening fingers.
Seeing my restored stiffness, Mother cried out with joy and fell back, pulling her knees up until they framed her quivering breasts. “Quickly Wasir!”
Mesmerised by the copious secretions seeping from her treasure I moved closer, separating the soft lips with my fingers and laying my hard length along her open slit. With deliberate slowness I slid back and forth, teasing her tender button with the rounded tip of my pole until she moaned with need.
“Now my Son, now,” she pleaded, and in response I plunged into her, causing her fluids to overflow and trickle down, pooling around and drawing my attention to the dark ring between the delectable cheeks of her bottom. Unable to resist temptation, I repositioned the end of my cream coated organ causing her to cry out in anguish, “Oh, Wazir, whatever are you thinking?”
My only reply was to press more firmly, but when she tensed I desisted, fearing I would harm my dear Mother. However, it became clear that she did not wish to deny me, for she sighed and whispered, “If you are to take me there you must push harder my Son.”
Heartened, I drove into her mysterious opening with a mighty thrust, gasping as the clenched muscles seemed intent on peeling the very skin from my rampaging snake. Gathering more of her slippery juices with each thrust, I began to slide I and out of her tight rear passage with joyful ease.
“Harder Wazir!” Mother exclaimed, rising to meet me.
Evidence of her need welled in her open treasure as I plundered her back passage, and she wailed with pleasure when I plunged three fingers deep into the pearly pool, delving and probing both places at once until my seed erupted inside her hidden depths.
During the next three days she seemed like the embodiment of Pavarti herself, as over and over Mother beseeched me to pleasure her in more ways than I ever could have imagined, often employing her feminine wiles to restore me to full readiness at those times I thought it impossible. On the fourth day, the sun was not yet halfway to its zenith when for the second time that morning I withdrew from her seed filled treasure. At her request I donned my dhoti and went to the village pump to draw fresh water for her to make tea.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32