Indian housewife Infatuation by nephew – Life of Indian Housewife

97 Min Read

There was hardly an hour left before sunrise. The patriarch was by now a tired man and an exhausted lover. The younger bahu, too, could hardly keep her eyelids open and, drawing herself into the arms of Balwant, ready to pass into slumber. Balwant kissed her fully on the lips again.

“Meri rani (my queen),” he said lovingly, “get some sleep now for you’ll have a tiring day from the morning.”

Matasari had earlier gone off to the adjacent room that was Sonam’s. As the child lay sleeping on the cot, she spread a mat just beside it and dozed off quickly. She too would have a very tiring day ahead of her with so many household chores in hand. Tomorrow would be another day, and her authority as a priestess over the master of the house and the young daughter-in-law, would be gone. But, before she fell off to sleep, she couldn’t stop recollecting those intimate moments with the two most important members of the household.

In the other room, the couple lay in each other’s arms. They looked exactly as a loving couple would be like, with Balwant holding Sonam within his arms and squeezed into his chest. But holding Sonam within his arms, Balwant seemed a worried man. He kept thinking of what he had assured Sonam a while back.

” Wait and see what happens … everyone will get to know today itself …and you’ll have no complaints,” Balwant had said in the end.

Yet, in Balwant’s mind, there was a lurking fear. No matter how powerful and assertive head of the family he might be, he feared that considering the unthinkable relationship between him and his bahu, some of his family members might seek their pound of flesh … The young Bahu’s flesh to be precise!

But exhaustion got the better of him and he too soon fell into deep sleep. When he got up, the rays of the morning sun were brushing his face and, in moments, he was wide awake. He turned around and found that Sonam had already got up and left.

In fact, Sonam had got up with a start. She couldn’t afford to be late but try and be ready before the rest of the household. Usually, others would come and be in the sitting room talking before they would walk into the dining room for breakfast.

Sonam’s dress was simple. She wore a mauve coloured chiffon saree and a green satin blouse with sleeves that came down to her elbows. For her undergarments, she chose a white, lacy pair, the sheer gossamer hugging her most beautiful areas exquisitely. Needless to mention, she looked elegant and thoroughly ravishing. She bowed before both Anurudh and Anjali in the usual gesture of respect before she dashed off to the kitchen to guide the maids in preparing the morning breakfast.

Balwant took his time in getting ready. He just lay on the bed recollecting the events of the previous night and the torrid sexual activities that he had with the two women. He felt a surge in his energy just thinking about his own prowess in the night, and how he had given pleasure to his bahu and the maid and, in return, had been fully satisfied himself. Lazily, he got out of bed and ambled over to the bathroom. He trimmed his moustache and proudly looked at his Rajput face. Usually, he would rub mustard oil all over his body before his bath but that day he did away with it. While having his bath, he soaped himself well, building up a rich lather all over his body and, more particularly, cleansing his penis and scrotum thoroughly. The bath was very refreshing, and he felt invigorated. Stepping out of the bathroom he got dressed in a fresh dhoti and kurta. Finally, he walked towards the stairs.

He took his steps slowly, coughing a bit now and then as he came down the stairs. Frankly, despite being a man with a towering personality, and an authority that stemmed from his position as head of the family, he was not feeling too comfortable at the thought of telling his brother Anurudh and sister-in-law Anjali about his new relation with Sonam.

“I’ll tell them later, not now …not now,” he kept murmuring to himself. His wisdom advised discretion, and he decided he would defer informing them about his indiscretion till beyond Holi, the festival of colours and fun.

Still coughing a bit, Balwant came and sat at his usual place at the dining table. He looked a couple of times at Sonam, trying to catch if she in turn was looking at him. But Sonam was too shy and withdrawn to steal glances at this stage. She kept herself busy with other chores, rushing into the kitchen, wiping the plates, setting the items for the morning meal comprising of pyaaz (onion) kachori with coriander and tamarind chutney. Once ready, she nodded at Matasari who deftly took them to the dining table and placed them before the family members.

Balwant looked towards the kitchen, catching a glimpse of the naked waist just below Sonam’s blouse that her saree didn’t cover. The faint vision of her belly button was enough to stiffen the patriarch’s cock in an instant, almost wanting to go and take his bahu in his arms and make passionate love immediately. He sighed silently before he touched one of the hot ‘kachori’ on his plate and, whispering his prayers to himself, commenced to munch it with a bit of chutney.

Balwant finished his meal and gulped down some water from the steel tumbler. As he set down the tumbler on the table, his eyes fell on the engraved letter ‘B’ on its metal surface. It was the first letter of his name, one that he was proud of. And yet, at that instant, he only saw the word ‘Bahu’ in that one single letter. It only made his heart swell in a deeper sense of love and belonging to this sweet, pretty, young bahu of his. Lost in his thoughts, he was largely silent at the table while his brother Anurudh and sister-in-law Anjali went on in their endless banter.

Their son, Abheer, a strapping lad of around nineteen, had returned home just that morning, after completing high school from a boarding institute. He was tall and well built, a strikingly handsome boy just as a Rajput would normally be. He had some stubbles on his cheeks and more on his chin, with a fine moustache over his lips, possibly following in the footsteps of his uncle, Balwant. His teeth were sparkling and perfectly aligned on his young face which gave him a smile that most girls would fall for. He was wearing a crimson T-shirt and light blue jeans, as he spoke rather boldly with his parents.

The heated debate revolved around his career and where Abheer should now be completing the next part of his studies. The lad was insistent on studying at any local college in the city while his parents wanted to send him off to some distant engineering college. The young lad had a soft corner for Sonam, who was his young bhabhi (sister-in-law) ever since her marriage to Rajesh, his elder cousin brother. He was younger by a few years and hadn’t had too much interaction with his ‘bhabhi.’ But now, with this home coming, it was enough for him to develop an infatuation for her. Events would soon turn that infatuation into a growing lust for this attractive woman.

Behind Abheer’s almost adamant desire of continuing studies in his hometown was his secret and steadfast wish to be around his ‘bhabhi’. His age was now such when infatuation becomes far too binding to wish away. And, he usually relieved himself from overpowering urges in the privacy of the bathroom by imagining this ‘sweet’ bhabhi of his.

“I have been away from my home and family for far too long to want another bout of banishment,” he cried in a voice that was far deeper than it was a few years back. And it was forceful, almost demanding and adamant.

Just then, the young bahu had walked into the dining room with a glass of hot milk and put it right in front of Abheer. She smiled at him affectionately, as she always did, just like an elder sister. She put a hand on the youth’s shoulder.

“You must take your milk first, shouldn’t you?” she asked sweetly.

Abheer was in an aggressive frame of mind and his attention was anywhere other than on milk. He vehemently shook his head and said, “No, I won’t drink it. Do I get milk when I am in a hostel? Or do I get Bhabhi to serve it warm and with so much care when I am there?”

“What’s the use of staying here if, when even bhabhi gives it to you herself, you refuse to drink?” Her voice was cool and calm and caring. She was just rubbing her hands on the lad’s shoulders.

Abheer instantly took up the glass in his hands and gulped down the milk, hardly wasting any further time on it. When he put down the glass, there was unmistakable trace of it over his existing moustache where the milk had touched. He looked almost like a grownup child.

Sonam started laughing. But, the way Abheer responded to Sonam’s words by drinking the milk only showed him up as a rather obedient devar (brother-in-law).

“Bahu, try to convince this boy that it’s in his interest to pursue higher studies elsewhere instead of being tied down in this place,” Anirudh appealed to Sonam.

“Abheer, listen to your parents. Aise nahin karne chahiye. Woh tumhara bhalai ke liye bol rahen hain. (You shouldn’t do this. They are telling this for your own good.)”

Sonam said sweetly, now sitting down beside the lad for her own breakfast. Abheer instantly felt elated.

“No bhabhi. Mai ghar mein rehe kar padai karunga. Sab ke saath rehe ke. Tumhari pas rehe ke. (I will study by staying in the house. With everyone. And staying beside you).” He said, uneasily shuffling in his seat when saying this.

Balwant looked up quizzically on hearing the last words that his young nephew said. He somehow didn’t like to hear them and wondered how possessive he had already become. But he kept quiet, not wanting to intervene in this discussion when the lad’s parents were already debating his future with him.

“Very well,” said Anurudh, coaxing his son in the end, “we will keep both options open. If you succeed in getting admission in an engineering college, then you will not refuse. But, if on the other hand, you don’t get it, then you’ll continue your studies here whatever the subject. But promise, you must try hard in the competitive examinations for getting admission into engineering colleges.”

Abheer just nodded his head, but really, he had already decided to stay at home and continue his studies. Getting, or not getting admitted into engineering colleges, was entirely in his hand. And he knew how easy it would be to be out of the merit list.

“You have earned a gift, Abheer,” suddenly Sonam uttered and, taking a hot kochori from her plate, kept it on the lad’s, “because you have listened to your bhabhi.” She affectionately rustled the young lad’s hair, smiling prettily to expose her sets of milky white teeth within her luscious lips.

Abheer shifted in his seat, blushing a bit at this sort of amorous display by his strikingly attractive sister-in-law. Out of the corner of his eyes, he tried to catch a glimpse of the reaction in the faces of both his parents and on his somber uncle, Balwant.

He was relieved to see that his parents had a look of relief, arising out of his acquiescing, after the earlier resistance to leave town for higher studies, albeit out of the persuasive powers of his Bhabhi.

Yet, the expression on his uncle’s face did not augur well. For, Balwant was looking intently at both Abheer and Sonam. Very intently in fact, the reason for which the lad was unsure. His heart escaped a beat, for he wondered if his uncle had caught on to the growing attraction within him for his Bhabhi, a feeling that he was certain nobody had any inkling about, not even his Bhabhi. He quickly tried to make amends by pretending to show a dislike for the way Sonam was showering her affection.

He moved his head away, picked up the ‘kochori’ that Sonam had placed on his plate, dropped it on hers a bit rudely and, without smiling at all, looked at her.

“Stop it, Bhabhi! If I leave town, I’ll leave on my own … with or without your ‘kochori’.” His voice was bland and loud enough for all to hear.

Instantly, Sonam’s face turned pale. She hadn’t expected her dear and affectionate ‘devar’ (brother-in-law) to behave in this manner when she was being so affectionate to him. Abheer felt bad. If only he could explain to her that this was just a mock show of indifference against the probing eyes of his strict and assertive uncle. But he kept quiet out of fear.

By now, Balwant was looking quizzically at Sonam. Even if his nephew seemed indifferent to or irritated by Sonam’s outward show of attention, what if his ‘Bahu’ really fostered a liking towards the young lad? After all, there was hardly a difference of three or four years between the two, and it was natural for her to have some fondness for the young Abheer. He must keep a close watch, thought Balwant. He was a possessive man and now that he had made this strikingly pretty and sensual woman his own, he had no intention of losing her to anyone.

Sonam quietly finished her breakfast, not raising her face from her plate nor talking, after what she felt was a snub from Abheer. The young man felt bad and, overcoming his fear of his uncle, he tried to make amends.

“Bhabhi! ‘Kochori’ is no gift. You must offer one that is priceless for me to accept, isn’t it?” He said in the end.

“Very well. Then tell me when you decide upon it,” Sonam said without much emotion. She was still feeling hurt.

Abheer knew that any further pampering or indulgence wouldn’t go down with the family head and it would be best to leave the table.

In any case, he had emptied his plate. He pushed back his chair and got up. He wanted to hold his bhabhi’s hands, tell her he was sorry for this outburst which was anything but true. But then, it would only defeat the purpose for which he had behaved in this fashion. He would make it up with his Bhabhi later, he thought.

Balwant looked around the table. He had resolved to tell the household about his relationship with his daughter-in-law, Sonam, later after the Holi festival. He decided to set the tone for the most colourful of all Hindu festivals in India.

“Listen, everyone,” he began the discussion, “Holi is very near. In fact, it is hardly a week away. I think we should start preparing. Already, the villagers are busy preparing for the Rashleela Dance that we hold prior to the Holi festival and we are supposed to be having our own Radha and Krishna too performing in the fun and frolic.”

“Yes, yes, we must do that,” Anurudh was quick to agree, “and who would be better to portray Radha than our own, sweet bahu in that role?” He laughed heartily.

“And may be Abheer would fit in nicely dressed as Krishna,” Matasari butted in, but froze when Balwant gave her a cold stare.

Balwant’s initial glare quickly turned into a look that was mischievous as well as scheming. He wondered if this would not work out well to find out if the young bahu, whom he had secretly married the night before, had her mind enraptured in the thoughts of his young nephew now. He was surprised how jealousy had quickly transformed his thoughts, and he was willing to doubt his bahu as easily as he would doubt a whore. He wasn’t even prepared to give the benefit of doubt to Sonam, whom he had vowed to love just a few hours back.

“Yes, yes,” Balwant said, “in the absence of her husband Rajesh, we should get Abheer as Krishna, for they would make a lovely pair, eh Matasari? They would perform the ‘rasleela’ (dance) rather well, don’t you think?” Balwant’s voice contained tones of suppressed sarcasm. He abolished the idea of declaring his secret marriage to the rest of the family. He decided to wait for some more time before he would announce their relationship that had ended in a marriage of sorts.

Sonam by now was turning pale. Did her behaviour with her ‘dewar’ a while back cause any suspicion in the mind of the patriarch? She had wedded the patriarch the previous night in a manner that was clearly different from what was customary or had social acceptance. Theirs was cast in moulds of sex and erotica, and they had made vows of love. How could this man even think of anything otherwise or doubt her loyalty? She looked sideways at Balwant, noticed the clear marks of scorn on his face and was almost on the verge of crying.

Balwant got up from his chair and, in leaving the dining room, beckoned Sonam by saying, “Bahu, when you have finished your breakfast, you shall come to the study room. I have something to discuss with you.” He hadn’t even turned his face to look at Sonam, just walking off with a huff.

“Go bahu, I think your Babuji is somehow angry with you, for whatever reasons that may be,” Anurudh said. His wife, Anjali nodded her head. She was already wondering why the patriarch’s mood had suddenly turned sour when the young bahu had apparently not done anything that could really cause any anger.

By now Matasari was beside Sonam, picking up the plates and bowls from the table for cleaning. Standing beside Sonam, she said softly, “Bahu, Babuji is calling you. You shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

Unseen by others, she nudged Sonam at the shoulders and directed her with her eyes towards the study room where the patriarch had said he would be waiting.

Sonam waited a while in front of the door to the study room before she pushed open the unlocked door and, in a meek and scared voice, with her head still looking at the floor, said, “Babuji, you called me?”

Balwant was peering out into a small cemented courtyard from the window beside him. Hardly anyone treaded in this area that was usually locked and isolated. He turned and faced his bahu.

“Close the door. Lock it.” Balwant commanded.

Sonam didn’t delay for she was full of fear and apprehension. She quickly raised the catch on the door to lock it and turned to face the patriarch.

“Am I already too old for you, Bahu?” His voice was cold and yet almost taunting.

Sonam was taken aback at this unexpected utterance from Balwant, the man whom she had so lovingly wedded the previous night. Her eyes had the look of a shocked and yet timid deer.

“Why, Babuji? Why are you saying this?” She was almost crying out the words.

“You think that two-bit kid can give you the satisfaction that I can give at my age?”

Balwant was simmering in rage. “I’ll show you tonight what makes a man a man, a real ‘mard’ from one who has only youth to show for himself!”

Sonam was aghast! What, in heavens, was her beloved Babuji talking about?

“Babuji!” She could only exclaim in shock,” What? Who” She could hardly continue before Balwant’s tongue lashed out once again.

“Don’t pretend, Bahu! It will get you nowhere. You know very well who I am talking about. The one you now seem to fancy … your young devar, Abheer. Who, despite being nineteen years in age, has miles to go before he can become a real man, a real ‘mard’ with the sexual prowess that I have! Do you hear?” Balwant’s voice, although supressed, was harsh, accusing and hurtful.

Sonam covered her ears in shame, shocked beyond imagination at these utterances from her father-in-law to whom she was now wedded too.

“Babuji! Stop, stop! I beg you. Listening to your words is just as much a sin! God knows I have never thought, nor imagined anyone other than you for the last few days. You are my husband now, and I shall ever remain faithful to you alone,” Sonam cried out, with tears rolling down her cheeks.

Balwant by now had got up from his reclining wooden chair and walked up to Sonam. He raised her chin and looked at her pretty face.

“Do you deny what I have said just now?” He asked of his bahu.

“Yes Babuji. I deny it fully. I swear in my son’s name that what you insinuate is absurd. I have no such feelings for your nephew.” Sonam’s voice sounded convincing and it seemed that she was not telling any lies. Balwant felt a bit repentant but wanted to be sure.

He gripped his bahu by her arms, looked into her eyes with emotion.

“You speak the truth?” Balwant asked once again.

Sonam nodded here head almost hysterically, “Babuji, I love you. I love you with my heart and soul.”

Balwant drew Sonam nearer, wrapped his big, strong arms around her and, in one instant, planted his thick lips on the soft pair that was his bahu’s.

He found the touch of her lips irresistible. Forcing her to part her lips, Balwant had pushed in his tongue, swirling it around her mouth and tasting her saliva. Her breath, as fresh as ever, intoxicated him. He was torn in a rising desire and was almost willing to take her that instant, if not on any bed or table, on the very floor where they stood. His big palms gripped Sonam’s butt, drawing her into him as he sucked on her soft lips. Soon, a hand had come up and held a breast in his hand. He squeezed it hard, pinching the nipple till she yelped in pain.

“Bahu! My bahu! My wife! You are mine,” he said emotionally, “Whatever you possess, whatever God has given you, you must give to me …always.”

“Yes, Babuji. Yes, I am yours entirely. I belong to no one else,” Sonam cooed.


Unknown to the couple, there was someone else who was a witness to this amorous display of love and passion. Balwant had been careless to have kept the window to the courtyard open. For, beyond the courtyard, in another wing of this big mansion, there stood a prying youngster, barely nineteen years of age, just ripe enough to be curious about and experimenting on the most common and instinctive human behaviour – sex.

Although Sonam had left her in-laws place soon after marriage, leaving little scope for this youngster to know or watch her closely, Abheer would dream of his lovely Bhabhi. And now, back home, with this paragon of beauty roaming about just at touching distance, and showering him with her attention, he could no longer control his emotions. In the privacy of his room, he indulged in frequent masturbation, always imagining his lovely sister-in-law, Sonam.

Abheer stood at the small balcony outside his room on the first floor of the mansion. He could see his uncle sitting beside the window of the study room just beyond the courtyard. The courtyard was vacant, locked by a small wooden gate. Outside the courtyard there was a garden and usually, the locked courtyard housed much of the requirements of the garden.

That garden, however, boasted of varied and colourful flowers which had captured his attention more than keeping a watch on his aged uncle Balwant, whom he usually found to be strict, adamant and far too authoritative than to his liking.

His eyes roamed around, from the garden to the distant stretches of vacant land, to the compound gates and back to the mansion and the rooftop where pigeons rested or walked about. He loved his home and place of stay very much. A return glance in the direction of the open window of the study room instantly caught his attention.

From a floor above and at a position directly opposite to the window, he watched, without blinking an eyelid, his beautiful ‘bhabhi’ walking into the study room. Even from a distance, he could make out that there were a few exchanges of words between the two. It was obvious to him that his uncle was angrily conveying something to the young bahu of the house and, possibly, his scolding affected her. She had burst into tears, as she tried to explain her position, whatever that might be.

Father-in-laws, often enough, inconsiderately show their anger on young ‘bahus’, Abheer thought, with a sense of growing sympathy.

Within moments, Abheer got the surprise of his life. Something that he never imagined could ever be possible was unfolding right before his eyes. He watched in amazement how his uncle, the always respected, revered and serious Balwant Singh, had held his Bhabhi by her arms before hugging her and then had begun kissing her passionately. To his utter surprise, he saw how his loving Bhabhi had responded to that show of passion. My god! My god! He simply went on whispering before he bent and arched his body to get a better view of this intimacy. Already, there was a raging fire in his loins.

Down below, within the four walls of the study room, the couple so wide apart in age were in the throes of uncontrolled passion. They forgot or ignored the open window, letting them each be engulfed in this erotic display of raw sexual necessity. All along, the young Abheer stood in a trance, watching them from the balcony.

Balwant had turned Sonam around so that he was now positioned behind her and pushing into her spongy, rounded butt. His arms were around her and hands were firmly holding her breasts, kneading them hard, till suddenly, he unhooked Sonam’s blouse which opened out in the front. Her white lace bra was exposed instantly and even Abheer, from such a distance, shivered in excitement. Balwant ran his hands over the gossamer fabric, cupping the breasts now and then.

Sonam had turned her face backwards, wanting Balwant to kiss her on the lips. The patriarch couldn’t resist the parted lips that were so eager for his. They were so tempting, so full, oh god, so sexy … Balwant thought, as he bent his face down on hers.

Cupping her breasts, he drew her into him even more, his rock-hard cock resting on the crack of her butt as he began kissing her passionately. He hit the spot repeatedly, as he groaned and grunted like an animal while she moaned in delight.

In moments, his hands had lifted the bra cups, pushing it above on her chest to reveal Sonam’s naked breasts. The nipples sat prettily on the light brown areola and Balwant ran a finger along the border. He held the nipples, each within his three fingers of both hands and slowly tugged on them.

“Pretty, very pretty, Bahu. Never have I seen a pair like this. I am hungry for some milk …I must have it now.” Balwant found them irresistible and couldn’t wait for a concurrence from the young lactating bahu.

Turning her a little towards him and nearer to the window for some visibility, Balwant’s greedy mouth was on the tits, suckling hard and drawing out the milk from each breast.

“Mmm …tasty, so tasty,” he cried once before his mouth was back on the oozing tits. Sonam watched Balwant, rustling his hair with her hands almost tenderly as the man suckled noisily on her breasts.

Elsewhere, from his vantage position, Abheer was a witness to whatever was unfolding before his eyes. While he was taken aback initially at this erotic show of desire between his respected uncle and his much admired bhabhi, with each passing stage he seemed to want more to unfold. His young blood was now aching to see more of what the couple down below were enacting. His cock was bursting underneath his jeans, and he ran his hands over the bulge, pressing on the hardness every moment. He wouldn’t want to ejaculate at this stage for he wanted to witness every second till the end, not wanting to leave his vantage post.

Abheer kept his eyes focused on the happenings inside the room and didn’t have to wait long for the next stage to unfold.

Balwant was fully satiated with the milk from Sonam’s breasts. He had raised his face now and looked at his bahu, not hiding the need that had already started to surface in his mind.

He placed his hands on Sonam’s shoulders, and still looking into her eyes, began applying the slightest of pressures to indicate that he wished her to kneel before him.

As Sonam knelt before the patriarch, the rugged and dark man parted his dhoti and presented an astounding erection that throbbed and swayed right before the young, already aroused, pretty bahu.

A little far away, the youthful Abheer was restless at the spot where he stood. Unbelievable, he thought! My uncle has a tool compared to which mine would be too modest to even be talked about, the nephew wondered, almost ashamed. Yet, he wanted to see what his beloved Bhabhi would do next. Would she? Would she?

The young Abheer had already seen a few porn with his friends to know what many women love doing …sucking a man’s cock, that male organ which he and his friends always referred to as ‘lund’.

Mouth open, Abheer went on gaping as his hard erection became alarmingly uncontrollable. Certain that no one would be able to see any portion below his waist due the intervening brick wall of the balcony, he continued running his hands on his bulge and squeezing the area in anticipation of what scene would unfold below in the study room.

Sonam, kneeling in front of her babuji, began to gently stroke the man’s enlarged cock. Her fingers, with the manicured nails painted dark red, stroked the length of meat, sometimes gently gripping the crown with her fingers from the front and squeezing softly. These deft touches were extremely arousing for Balwant, who gently brushed the eager bahu’s head with his large palms.

“Bahu, aab sahah nahin jaa raha hai. Tu apni muh mein leh aur chos. Tere jeebh ke liye aab pagal ho gaya mera lund. (Bahu, can’t wait any more. Take it in your mouth and suck. My cock is crazy for the touches of your tongue.)

Sonam didn’t keep the patriarch waiting. Holding the organ by its girth, she played with the tip with her tongue, parting the skin with the end of her own wet tongue, rolling it repeatedly on the opening that was now oozing pre-seminal fluid. Balwant grunted and moaned, holding Sonam’s head firmly with both heads.

“I want to fuck that pretty mouth of yours Bahu, cum into your mouth. Wouldn’t you love that?” Balwant’s voice was hoarse.

“Yes, yes Babuji … I want to suck and make you burst in my mouth. Let this be the ‘prasad’ (holy offerings) that I seek!” Sonam cried out.

They spoke in whispers, careful that their words were not in any way audible to anyone even if the person were to put his ears on the locked door of the study room. They ignored the open window to the courtyard, certain that it was impossible to trespass with the gates locked and secured.

Holding Sonam’s head firmly, Balwant was now fucking her mouth, pushing in and out in rapid succession.

“Take this! And this! There’s so much pleasure in fucking this sweet mouth of yours, Bahu!” He cried out.

Sonam wished to respond with words of agreement, but the cock inside her mouth stifled all her words and Balwant could only get to hear her garbled words in reply.

“Kya bol rahi hai tu? Aur chahiye? Toh leh, samhal isey, Bahu (What are you saying? You want more? Then take it, handle this, Bahu.” Balwant’s voice was almost taunting and teasing naughtily.

Yet, they remained ignorant of the silent observer on the directly opposite balcony a floor above.

Abheer was now simply writhing restlessly at the spot. Each scene, each act, only increased his own desires to an extent where he was now almost drowned in thoughts of his Bhabhi. How he wished to enact all that his uncle was so adeptly doing and, that too, to the obvious satisfaction of his beloved bhabhi. He wished he could swap his place with his uncle. He observed the pretty face, eyes closed, and completely engaged in this sexual activity with none other than his elderly uncle. I must have her, Abheer resolved.

Just then, Balwant, unable to hold himself any longer, ejaculated his voluminous load in Sonam’s mouth. The spurts were endless and, with Balwant’s strong hands holding her head so firmly, she almost choked. She swallowed as much as she could, but in the end, it was too much. She shook her head with as much strength as she could muster to free her mouth of the man’s ejaculating cock, and then spit out the last portions of Balwant’s load which she couldn’t retain.

Needless to mention, Abheer watched this and, being at the stage of no return, let his own cum burst out into his underwear. Embarrassed, he could only watch horrified as the front of his jeans quickly revealed a broad trace of wetness, almost like a map on the front. He was, during these moments, inattentive to the happenings inside the study room before he moved away.

Down below, Sonam had opened her eyes. In one fleeting moment, she caught a glimpse of the handsome youth on the balcony before he had moved away. Since when was the young Abheer watching them? How much had he seen? Instantly, she turned red as a beetroot in shame and embarrassment. She quickly mumbled incoherent words and quickly, almost in frenzy, moved her face down and away from the window. She knew who he was and wished she could sink into the earth in shame.

“Kya hua Bahu (What has happened, Bahu)?” Balwant asked seeing the shock on her face. He looked outside intently and even bent his body to look at the opposite walls, and windows and balconies. But saw none. In his standing position, it would have been impossible to see the balcony that was situated angularly above.

Sonam didn’t disclose what she had seen. It wouldn’t be wise, she knew, to tell the name of the young voyeur to the authoritative patriarch. She just mumbled, “No, No, it’s nothing. I just got choked.”

Already feeling extremely embarrassed, Sonam was certain that she had lost all respect from the only one in the family who was younger to her in age. Oh god! What had she done? She had belittled herself by this erotic exposure in front of the only person from whom, till now, she could at least expect reverence and admiration. Quietly, she got up from her kneeling position. She wanted to get out of the room at the earliest, get some fresh air to release her discomfort. Besides, she had to wash her mouth and make herself presentable for the family and household chores again.

“Babuji, I think I should leave and get myself cleaned. We have been in this locked room for a while and others, including servants and maids, would think otherwise,” Sonam said meekly, and in a voice that was seeking permission.

“So? As the head of the family, I may certainly have some family matters to discuss with the ‘bahu’ of the house,” Balwant said shrugging his shoulders.

“But, but …” Sonam was about to tell something but Balwant simply brushed away her words.

“And besides, who is going to lick my cock clean now? Matasari? Go on Bahu, get to your knees and see that there’s not a single trace of the sticky cum here. I don’t want to dirty my dhoti,” Balwant said, as he pointed a finger towards his loins.

Sonam hesitated. She was worried about the open window. But, at the man’s commanding behaviour, she came nearer, glanced at the balcony where Abheer was earlier standing. There was no one there. The lad had fled when he had spilled his own cum on his trouser.

Relieved at seeing that Abheer had left, Sonam bent down and ran her tongue over and over the shaft so that it was spotlessly clean in moments. Moments later, she got up and stood facing Balwant.

“Babuji, let me go now. I beg you,” the young bahu pleaded.

“Thik hai, jao (Ok, go)” her Babuji acquiesced, “Lekin suno. Hum dono ki batein aab Holi ki baad hi bolenge (But listen, our relationship will be disclosed only after we celebrate Holi).”

Now that Abheer was already a witness to that secret relationship, it mattered little to Sonam if the patriarch got down to telling the family about it. She was worried that the affair would be out in the open even before the day was out.

“Jaise aap ka bichhar, Babuji (whatever you decide Babuji),” Sonam said softly, nodding her head.

Opening the door, Sonam almost dashed away to the privacy of her bedroom. Luckily, she saw none on the way and she began panting once inside. Much of the pleasure that she had indulged in, a short while back, had eroded due to the sudden and ominous presence of Abheer, a silent witness to the taboo relationship between her and her father-in-law. Even before cleaning herself, she sat on her bed, pondering about the possible dangers that lay ahead of her. The only redeeming factor was that Babuji, the undisputed authority and head of this family, was a partner in this ‘crime’ and the needed protection would surely come from there, when needed.


Abheer had rushed back to his room after witnessing that torrid display of sexual need between his uncle and bhabhi. The intimate scenes came back afresh -the passionate kissing, the earnest fondling of bhabhi’s naked juicy breasts by the patriarch, followed by hungry sucking of the man’s ‘lund’ by this lovely woman in return. To Abheer, Bhabhi was the epitome of beauty – a true goddess moulded for love and sex. Oh my god! How well she sucks, Abheer thought excitedly. It led to an instant hardness in this young adult once again.

Just a while back, these erotic scenes had brought out the unintended discharge of his seminal fluid, and he had to hastily retreat to his room to change his soiled underwear and embarrassing spots on his trousers. But now, he was surprised at his growing hardness so soon after his discharge. He visualised his own intimacy with Sonam bhabhi. He wanted her, desperately wanted her. He could go to any extent to hold her in his arms and make passionate love to this woman.

When at last he could curb his restlessness, he decided to be like his uncle as much as possible, as if, he thought in his immature mind, it would be the easiest way to be near to his Bhabhi’s heart and that desirable body of hers.

But he had to have his bath first, be fresh and presentable before he stood in front of his gorgeous Bhabhi.

While he stood underneath the shower, the soothing water refreshed his body. He stroked his ‘lund’, instantly hardening the length of meat. Cleaning it thoroughly with abundant soap, wanting it to be purified and cleansed of dirt and the coating of discharged cum. He let the water from the shower fall on his head ceaselessly while he thought of ways to get what he wanted so much.

Abheer’s mind worked overtime. He could now conclude why the head of the family had, ostensibly, found reasons for shifting his bedroom from one wing to the room beside his bhabhi’s. For years, he had occupied the large bedroom befitting the patriarch of this family in the airiest, well lit, spacious room. Why should he have any reason at all to forsake the room of the earlier heads of family merely for the security of the young bahu of the house?

It was glaringly apparent now, after what he had seen, why the patriarch shifted. Lust and desire for the bahu were the only reasons, Abheer concluded. The patriarch had only pretended care and protection as reasons for the shifting but he, Abheer, had caught on to the real motive.

He took a long time in the shower and, even after that, he lay on the bed for quite a while, with a dry towel wrapped around his waist, thinking over all events. It only resulted in a bulge on his crotch, a rather big tent he thought; may be not as big as his uncle but certainly one that didn’t fall far behind, Abheer thought proudly.

Later, adequately rested, he switched from his usual jeans and T-shirt into an embroidered Rajasthani kurta and dhoti. From the shoe rack, he took out and dusted his ‘nagra’ (traditional footwear worn in North India). Abheer was a handsome lad – tall and manly, and wearing the ethnic attire, he looked even more dashing.

Walking out of his room he wondered where his uncle Balwant Singh could be at that moment. There were times during the week when his uncle would trot off to the mandi (market) on business and the young Abheer wished that would be one such day. He wanted to spend some private moments with his Bhabhi but that would never be possible or even attempted with his uncle around. Not with the existing amorous relationship that had obviously grown between the patriarch and the bahu. Unless careful, his attempts would certainly lead to intense scrutiny by his uncle.

Coming downstairs, he went straight to the study room, but there was none there. Nor even in the lobby nor the usual places the patriarch was seen around when he was in the house. Had he gone back to his bedroom, Abheer wondered. Would it be wise to go back and ascertain? His growing arousal forced him to throw caution to the winds. He quietly sneaked up once again to the wing that had the adjacent rooms occupied by Balwant and Sonam.

On the way he thought of something to tell his uncle should be get caught. May be something about what he should study or even, about the farmland – whatever just to throw the elderly man off track.

Surprise of surprises, the man was not even in his room. Abheer just glanced around to see if there were any tale-tell signs of his bhabhi’s presence in the room. Any indication, any clue? Unfortunately, he found none. Frankly Matasari, the trusted and confidant maid had taken ample caution. She had ensured that there wasn’t even the faintest indication of the bahu’s presence in babuji’s room when she did the rooms in the morning. Did they sleep together in bhabhi’s room then, wondered Abheer needing to check her room now. The mere thought of walking into bhabhi’s room was an arousal for him, as he came and stood before the partly closed door of her bedroom.

“Bhabhi,” he whispered softly, not wanting to intrude without a warning.

There was no response. He knocked on the door again, calling out to his Bhabhi but even that met with the same result – silence. She’s not inside, he concluded.

Softly, he pushed the door with a finger to open it wider as he peered into its inner recesses. No, Bhabhi wasn’t in. Possibly, she was downstairs, busy with some household chores. Abheer walked in slowly, glancing intently at the double bed covered elegantly with a colourful Rajasthani bedsheet. He imagined his Bhabhi being fucked by Rajesh, her husband who was also his elder cousin brother. Quickly, that changed to visualising Bhabhi being fucked hard by Balwant, his uncle.

His attention was drawn to the unoccupied attached toilet at the corner. Bhabhi must have finished her bath and left the room, for the door to the toilet was ajar too. But something caught Abheer’s attention – the pile of unwashed clothes lying on the floor, Bhabhi’s worn ones in fact, that would be cleaned by the maid Matasari sometime later. His curious eyes instantly fell on the brassiere and panties, the pink exotic pair of the previous night surely, lying crumpled among other worn clothes of the pretty bahu of the house. The lovely pair that had hugged her bhabhi’s intimate areas must have draped her when she lay on the bed in front of the patriarch, Abheer went on imagining.

Abheer turned his face away initially, having been overcome with a sense of guilt. But he couldn’t resist the temptation of a young mind. He quickly came to the door of the bedroom and, peeping outside, checked if there was anyone in the passage coming that way. Satisfied that there was no one, he dashed across to the toilet and to the pile of discarded clothes lying on the floor.

The mere touch of the bra sent shivers down his excited body. He picked it up and felt the soft fabric with his fingers. He saw the intricate laces and imagined how the cups would cover those adorable breasts of his Bhabhi. He could see traces of leaking breast milk that had left its mark in the insides of the cups. Then, without further thought, he placed the spot on his face and breathed in deeply. He loved whatever odour that came in with each breath, somewhat stale and sour, but one that made him giddy as imagination took over.

In a while, he dropped it back on the heap and picked up the panties. The gossamer piece, with laces that made it even more sensual, attracted Abheer and he pressed it softly with his hand. Without any further delay, he held it on his face, just as he did with the bra. He felt insanely aroused to see the spots of a leaking pussy and more intoxicated in the aroma of that tiny fabric. In his intoxicated mind, he forgot where he was or for how long. How ridiculously silly of him to prolong his trespassing into a woman’s bedroom without her knowledge, violating her privacy and gaining access to her intimate inner wear!

Downstairs, a while earlier, the pretty bahu had been attending to some decorative household chores when she suddenly remembered that she had left her mobile in the bedroom. What if Babuji decided to call her from the ‘mandi’? It would be impossible for her to explain why she hadn’t answered the call and then get scolded and rebuked once again. She kept aside her work and, without further thought, made a dash for the stairs and her bedroom.

Abheer was sunk in an uncontrolled lust that he had never felt before. To be so much in ‘touch’ with this woman of his dreams, albeit a touch with just her worn and discarded innerwear, was far too deep an arousal for him. He continued to hold the panties on his face, uttering ‘bhabhi, bhabhi’ in almost audible whispers when suddenly Sonam rushed into her bedroom. Her entry was as sudden as it was shocking – for both bhabhi and her devar (brother-in-law).

Sonam froze instantly, almost like a statue, just a couple of feet inside the room. Never in her life had Sonam been more shocked than at that moment. She could have fainted at what she saw; for here was her young devar gripping her worn panties and holding it tight on his face, as if the piece was something of immense value and very dear to him. She recoiled in shame, blushing so intensely that her fair cheeks soon turned red.

Abheer, on the other hand, with guilt written all over his face, lowered the panties, and to hide the source of embarrassment, pushed his hand behind his back. But the mischief had already been exposed and he stood at the dock waiting to be prosecuted.

“What are you doing in my room, Abheer?” Sonam asked in a tremulous voice. She was still far too embarrassed to even ask about her panties.

“I …I …ha …had just come to ta…talk with Taauu (father’s elder brother) but he isn’t in hi…his room. So, I …I just saw yo … your room and came inside,” Abheer stammered.

Blushing profusely, Sonam couldn’t look at Abheer’s face. “But … what …” She just couldn’t ask what exactly he was trying to do with her panties. Rather, she was too ashamed to continue talking with the young man and in a huff, merely said, “Please leave now.”

Abheer was seeking a way to escape from his own embarrassment. He made a dash for the door, still holding the panties, as if there was nothing in his possession.

Dexterously, on his way out, he had transferred the panties into the side pocket of his kurta.

Sonam knew that her devar was still in possession of her worn panties. Initially, she simply couldn’t muster the voice to ask for its return when Abheer was pushing past her. Hoping that he would return it, she waited till he was at the door.

“Give it back,” Sonam trying to be serious and authoritative for a change.

“What?” Abheer tried to sound innocent.

“You know what I am talking about, Abheer. Don’t go on embarrassing me further,”

Sonam tried to be assertive without being rude, which was not in her nature. She had already lowered her tone.

“What if I don’t return it? What if I claim it as the gift you had promised for listening to you at the breakfast table this morning?” Abheer had stopped and turned around at the door. He was regaining his courage, particularly seeing that his Bhabhi was just as timid as she always was.

“Gift?” Sonam queried, surprised at this awkward claim.

“Remember what you said in the morning? A gift promised by you in return for my agreeing to leave my hometown and study elsewhere?” Abheer pointed out.

It struck Sonam that what she had said in a lighter vein in the morning had boomeranged, and the young man had seized that utterance to claim an absurd gift from her. She wished to wriggle out of this awkward situation but didn’t know how she could.

“No. That’s not a gift. In any case it is stolen,” Sonam insisted. There was no tone of authority in her voice which, in any case, was never her forte.

“Sorry Bhabhi. I decide on my gift. I have made my choice. I can only barter it for something else.” Abheer’s voice had an impish tone. His initial predicament at being caught unaware had ebbed seeing that his Bhabhi was far from being assertive or imposing. And certainly, she wouldn’t even think of ‘reporting’ her loss or his behaviour to other members of the family.

“And what is that?” Sonam asked in apprehension, wanting to know what else was in Abheer’s mind.

“A kiss on your lips,” Abheer’s tone now carried desire as he looked intently at his Bhabhi’s lips.

“Leave me. Leave me this instant,” Sonam said in exasperation. Young as she was herself, she didn’t know how to handle the situation. At the back of her mind, she knew she was facing someone who had ‘witnessed’ her illicit relationship. She would have to be careful in handling him.

“Why? Just because my lips are not as thick as the ones you seek?” Abheer blurted out. The morning’s passionate exchange between Bhabhi and his Taauu was fresh in his mind.

Sonam knew what he had implied, and it led to more shame and uneasiness in her. Her face flushed, she just dashed away to the bathroom and locked herself in.

Abheer waited a moment but better sense prevailed and, without any further effort in carrying on a conversation, he turned and left. Sonam’s panties remained in the pocket of his kurta.

Such was Sonam’s uneasiness that she skipped the afternoon meal, offering acute nausea as an excuse. She remained in her room, wondered what a mess she had got herself into and apprehensive of what would follow in the coming days. Or, at least till Abheer left for continuing his studies elsewhere if he got admission.

Balwant returned in the evening and, even before he had reached the staircase, Matasari briefed him immediately about Sonam being unwell. Concerned about his bahu, he quickly strode to her room.

He coughed falsely a few times to hint his arrival just as he had reached the landing upstairs. Despite their intimate relationship now, he didn’t wish to intrude without warning. It would look odd to the rest of the household if the father-in-law had developed such an easy relationship with the young bahu of the house to warrant unannounced intrusions.

“I hear you are unwell, bahu,” he said, as he entered the room.

To overcome her uneasiness, with the saree just lying loosely over her while she lay on the bed, Sonam had quickly recovered to pull up the shawl over her half-exposed breasts.

“Tell me, should I call a doctor?” Balwant asked.

“No, no Babuji. It is nothing, just that I had a bit of nausea. But I am feeling far better already,” Sonam said softly.

“Where’s my grandchild?” Balwant asked, not seeing the baby in the cradle beside the bed.

“Oh, he is with Matasari. Out in the garden, I think.” Sonam replied.

He looked around, and at the door before whispering, “I am waiting for the cot to have another occupant in a few months, bahu.” Balwant had a gloating smile on his face.

Sonam blushed before she said, “Babuji, please. Anyone can hear what you are saying. What will they think?”

Much to Sonam’s embarrassment, the patriarch bent down and quickly kissed Sonam on the lips.

“Ah! I feel energised with just a kiss from your soft lips,” he said when he stood up again, “and I’ll kiss them hungrily again at night, just you wait. Bahu, it’s impossible for me to wait. You have created an insatiable longing for sex in this fifty-year old.”

Sonam was scared and kept watching the door. Abheer had brought a lot of discomfort in her timid mind, and she was worried that the nineteen-year old boy could just as well be keeping an inquisitive watch to the happenings inside this room from some vantage spot beyond their knowledge.

“Babuji, you must have had a tiring day. Why don’t you go and refresh yourself and take some rest?” Sonam said, wanting that the patriarch to leave her room at the earliest.

The young housewife’s fears were not pointless, as was proved soon. For, the young Abheer could be seen passing right in front of her door, briskly walking towards the adjacent room occupied by the patriarch. He had glanced their way and, seeing Balwant, stopped in his tracks. There was a look of curiosity in his eyes as he slowly and hesitatingly walked into Sonam’s room. He ignored Sonam completely, as if she didn’t exist. He was aware that any attention would be a dead give-away that the patriarch would easily latch on to.

Balwant’s face showed consternation at this sudden intrusion. “You! What are you doing here? What do you want?” He said in a grave voice, not hiding his irritation.

“Taauu, I was going to your room. I know you will be the right person to advise me about my studies,” he said, his voice being submissive and respectful.

Balwant thought for a while, trying to assess the real intent of his nephew, before he nodded his head.

“Very well, then. Let’s go to my room. No reason for you to disturb your Bhabhi. She is not well.” He said in finality, wanting to draw away the young Abheer from the centre of his own sexual attention.

Then, turning towards Sonam, he said, “A cup of hot tea with a bit of ginger would do a world of good. I’ll tell Matasari to send you a cup immediately. And, mind you, no skipping dinner. And complete rest … no talking with anyone.” His voice sounded authoritative, virtually sealing Abheer’s entry into Sonam’s room.

Both Balwant and Abheer left the room, and necessary instructions were on the way to Matasari to send the ginger tea upstairs to Sonam.

In the period that followed that evening, both uncle and nephew spent quite a while discussing the latter’s studies and career, while the woman on whom both had their eyes upon sipped on some hot tea to get well.

Sonam didn’t have the courage to avoid her meals that night but, as she was having her dinner, she was aware that much of the young devar’s attention was directed towards her. And, before everyone retired for their rooms after dinner, Abheer seized one moment of privacy with this desirable woman near the washroom.

Glancing to confirm that no one was watching them, he whispered, “I keep feeling you all the time with my fingers, Bhabhi. You feel so exquisitely soft and tender… right here, right inside my kurta pocket.” Words that were meant only for her but ones that carried the degree of his arousal.

Sonam knew exactly what he meant. Anyone looking at her that moment would know that she was extremely uneasy and embarrassed. The blush on her face was far too evident. Luckily, no one had been watching and Sonam escaped attention and scrutiny. Save and except Matasari, who was standing inside the kitchen but was watching the young pair near the washroom. She couldn’t hear a word but Sonam’s profound uneasiness and embarrassment was all too evident to her.

That night, the patriarch and bahu indulged in the wildest sex imaginable, entangling their bodies together like two serpents, unwilling to part till the wee hours of the morning.

In a different wing, Abheer kept up vigil all through those long hours, watching the curtained window and the beacons of light escape into the dead darkness outside the mansion through those tiny gaps on the curtains. They were still awake, his uncle and Bhabhi, oh god! What they might be doing now! His imagination flew, his desires rushed, and his sleep deserted him that night.


The days leading up to ‘Holi’, the festival of colours, flittered away. There was general mirth and joy everywhere and among all, just as was customary.

Balwant Singh had, a few days earlier, insisted that the ‘Rashleela’ would be held with much pomp along with other villagers, and the family would put up Sonam and Abheer as their very own Radha and Krishna in the dance festivities. Sonam wished to get out of the role, ever since she became aware of Abheer’s clear weaknesses towards her. Radha and Krishna represented pure love and whatever may be the religious tale behind that love, it would be necessary for the couple enacting the roles to be in proximity with each other, almost intimate so to say. She feared that in Abheer’s current frame of mind, such intimacy would be far too tempting.

Sonam couldn’t ignore this possibility, apprehending that the immature Abheer would create a situation that wouldn’t escape the patriarch’s attention. Quite unnecessarily, it would lead to misunderstanding between her and Babuji. She had to find a way out from being ‘Radha’ in the dance sequence.

The evening prior to their ‘Rasleela’ celebration that would herald Holi, she quietly stood before Balwant when he was in the study room. She only hoped that the patriarch wouldn’t release one of his ‘sexual outpourings’ like the previous time.

“Babuji,” she implored, “I wish to be excused from being Radha in the dance sequences tomorrow.”

“Why? Is it because you do not like the ‘Krishna’ of my choice?” Balwant asked.

“It’s not that, Babuji.” Sonam said hesitatingly.

“Oh! So, you like this Krishna after all but have other reasons for refusal?” Balwant was prompt in asking.

Extremely embarrassed at this logic from the patriarch, she vigorously shook her head.

“Never!” She said wanting to shrug off this ridiculous conclusion, “I only say it because I still seem to be unwell. I may faint when the show is on.”

“Ha! As if you won’t have a Krishna to hold you if that happened,” Balwant said,

“Look Sonam, if the mythological Krishna could, miraculously, supply Draupadi with yards and yards of cloth to protect her from shame, certainly a modern day Krishna can prevent you from fainting and falling down. Abheer will be there, don’t worry.”

Sonam was exasperated.

“Babuji, what are you saying!”

But Balwant was in no mood to give her relief, “Certainly you don’t expect me to enact the role of Krishna and at this age?” Frankly, he was curious now to know the real reason behind Sonam’s sudden wish to withdraw. But he didn’t pursue to know why.

Sonam knew that it was a lost case. Without further argument, and just before leaving, she said “Jaise aap kahen (As you say), Babuji.”

That night, in the privacy that they enjoyed together in one bedroom, Sonam initially remained sentimental and withdrawn. This was really her reaction to Babuji’s rigid stance on her participation in the ‘Rashleela’ dance with Abheer, one that she wanted to avoid but was rejected. However, her behaviour did not deter the patriarch in getting his own sexual gratification, albeit with some degree of persuasion and some degree of force, till Sonam could not suppress her desires.

She returned Balwant’s demands with an aggression that surprised the man himself.

“I’ll take Radha even before Krishna is able to enjoy a dance with her tomorrow,” he laughed aloud, “make her sit naked on my lap and squeeze her tits. How will that be, eh?”

“You are the mythological Kangsa, the tyrant. I’ll punish you with all that I have,” Sonam said aggressively.

“And what do you have excepting three holes, my darling Radha?” Balwant taunted.

“Three holes, yes. But they are enough to drown you in,” the young housewife continued her aggression. So unthinkable of her, Balwant wondered.

She straddled the patriarch that night, riding his cock as an expert rider would, holding the man’s mat of hair in her hands like the reins of a Rocky(H) as she hunched on his chest like a jockey. She sat and jumped alternatively, with Balwant’s penis deeply embedded in her vagina, allowing it to hit the walls and clit inside her wet hole. She settled into a nice rhythm in a short while, her wetness making the shaft run easily inside her. She moaned endlessly, then broke into squeals and whimpers and in the end, she screamed like a woman possessed.

“Fuck me! Fuck me hard,” she almost howled, pushing herself up and down on the lengthy shaft rapidly, the moistness within her own ‘choot’ in arousal making it easy for smooth movement.

Not to be undone, Balwant raised his own buttocks, thrusting himself vigorously into the woman sitting on him. He held her breasts, squeezing them hard, wanting to tear them off her chest and marking them red with scars. Not easing his grip on her breasts, he pulled her down on to him, taking in her lips within his and sucked them hard. In no time, the lips were swollen and bruised. It did not bother either of them, in their moments of such arousal, that these marks would be clearly visible the next day, not just to the family but to the people in the neighbourhood, when the festival would be held.

“You are the sexiest woman that I have ever known, the most sensual, erotic and desirable. You should be treated to the most intense fucking imaginable for your pleasure and complete satisfaction. Isn’t that true?” Balwant asked.

“Yes, and you are the one who I crave for, the one who makes me reach unimaginable ecstasy, Babuji. Please do not deprive me of that heavenly pleasure,” Sonam was moaning.

It was a sleepless and long night for Balwant and Sonam. So also, it was for Abheer, who tossed and turned in bed thinking about his ravishing Bhabhi.


The next evening, there was quite a gathering in the vacant area leading to the mansion belonging to Balwant Singh and his family. Named ‘Amrit Nivas’ which meant ‘abode of nectar’, it was built by Balwant’s grandfather, perhaps optimistically hoping for a home akin to heaven. Since then, the mansion was substantially renovated and extended by Balwant himself.

For the day’s celebration, many had turned up. Most had come from the neighbourhood and a village nearby, and even relatives living not too far away. Guests were splendidly dressed in rich and colourful clothes and, quite a few couples who attended, were vividly dressed as Krishna and Radha. Anyone aware of Krishna would know that two things stand out in his dress and accessories … a wooden flute with which he mesmerizes those who hear him play, and two, something more unique – a peacock feather that either rests on the top of his crown or tied to his mat of hair in the front of his head.

Due to this common item in all those dressed as Krishna, or even in the sea of colourful clothing of men and women participating, Balwant easily lost track of Sonam and Abheer in the crowd and the dance. Sometimes he would catch a glimpse of either of them only to lose them in the next instant.

Songs blared through loudspeakers, sung by local artists with accompanying music. Amidst the cacophony it was almost impossible to hear what people around were talking. Abheer seized this opportunity and, as he and Sonam danced around, he took liberty to tell Sonam whatever was plaguing his aching mind.

“Bhabhi, why are you trying to avoid me? Do you realise that each moment you are occupying more of my mind and heart than a day earlier? Do I have to feel you only through that delicate fabric of yours which I possess?” He somehow conveyed these words as they were beside one another.

“Careful. Babuji is watching us intently. Do you want that we fall into trouble?”

Sonam quickly said, smiling just as much as the dance required of her.

“Is it? Have you told him that you have gifted me your panties? It’s just touching the area over my heart right now, inside this gawdy tunic of mine.” Abheer pointed to the spot with the help of the flute in his hand.

“Are you mad? You want me to tell him about my missing panties? Give it back to me right now.” Sonam said, muttering the words within clenched teeth.

“Oh! So, you want your gift back? Very well, I’ll return it to you, but not here. I can’t open my tunic and certainly, I can’t take out your very intimate inner garment from the inside in clear view of everyone.”

“Where then?” Sonam asked eagerly, hopeful that she would get back her intimate piece of undergarment at last.

“You know the old, gardener’s cottage in our compound? It’s vacant anyway and it’s hidden behind bushes and trees at the end of the pond. No one will see you going there.” Abheer’s said a bit tentatively.

“But why there? Why not inside the house?”

“And get caught in the process? Nothing doing.” He had other reasons for choosing that spot which he didn’t disclose.

Sonam thought for a while before she asked agreed and asked the time.

“Soon after this dance,” the young Abheer specified.

The rasleela dance went on for almost another hour, with two three breaks. Before the function ended Balwant had got sufficiently bored to think of leaving. He was satisfied that nothing was amiss between his nephew and his bahu to warrant his presence.

Both Sonam and Abheer saw him leaving towards the mansion and heaved a sigh of relief. The young lad seized this opportunity.

“Let’s get out of here now,” he said to Sonam even before the dance ended.

Sonam quickly agreed. With Babuji out from the frame, this was the safest moment, she knew. Abheer slid away first and Sonam followed a bit later. Among the medley, no one missed them.

Once inside the cottage, Sonam was panting not just because she was out of breath but because she was scared. If observed, she really had no answer to anyone asking what she and Abheer were doing inside this abandoned cottage.

“Abheer, where is it? Give it back. Please, quickly,” she said in a hushed voice even though no one would be able to hear a word of what was being said at this place.

“But my kiss? We agreed on the exchange yesterday, remember?” Abheer pointed out.

“Don’t play games, Abheer.”

Abheer turned towards the door. “Very well then, suit yourself. I am leaving.”

“Wait,” Sonam cried instantly. Hesitantly, she took two steps towards her ‘devar’.

The young man too, with excitement running through his veins, had taken a few steps towards his Bhabhi, looking at the luscious lips of the sensual woman. He noticed that they were a bit swollen but didn’t press to know the reason.

“I want to hold you,” he said, his voice trembling. Before Sonam could respond, Abheer held his lovely Bhabhi, his hands holding her arms near the shoulders, and then looked deeply into her eyes.

The pretty bahu had her eyes closed, not in any excitement but wishing to avoid witnessing her own ‘infidelity’ towards Balwant.

Abheer’s arms were around Sonam in seconds as he pulled in his Bhabhi, allowing her breasts to push into his chest. He now held the woman’s head at the back, just where the hair was tied into a bun and drawing her face up to receive his own. Their lips were hardly inches apart.

“Open your eyes, Bhabhi. I can’t allow you to imagine someone else when you kiss me,” he said with an air of authority.

“What? Who do you mean?” Her words came out more in guilt than in surprise.

Abheer didn’t reply. He felt intoxicated in the fresh and minty breath that rushed out with her words. So irresistible, he felt. His lips met hers, softly at first before he began kissing her turbulently in a wild passion. His lips forced her to part hers and push in his tongue.

Sonam tried to push out the invading tongue and say something but Abheer heard only garbled words. Till, suddenly, she could pull her head away and push against the young man’s chest with the palms of her hand.

“Enough!” Sonam screamed, “You have got what you wanted.”

Releasing herself, she extended her hand, “My panties. Give it back. Now!” For once, her voice was stern.

Abheer had an impish smile on his face. He undid the buttons on his tunic and parted its fold at the top. He was wearing a vest inside, and the panties was hidden underneath it, right where his heart would be. He took it out.

“One last whiff, Bhabhi,” he was already taking the fabric towards his face.

“No! Give it back. Have you no respect for your Bhabhi?”

Abheer smiled. “On the contrary, I have enormous respect. I worship her like a goddess! It is she who spurns such an ardent and passionate disciple.”

Sonam made a grab for the piece. Her young ‘devar’ merely raised his hand high above his head, making her jump a few times before she gave up. Abheer was tall and Sonam had no chance of reaching it. She gave up.

“Keep it. I am not going to beg for something that is mine,” she said in the end in irritation.

“What will you do with this when you already have one underneath your clothes right now. How will you carry it all the way from here to your room with so many people around you, including your ‘respected’ Babuji?” There was a distinct taunt in the way he stressed on the word ‘respected’.

“I’ll find a way. You needn’t worry,” Sonam said.

“What would that be? Wearing this on top of the one you are already wearing? Come on, wear it in front of me, Bhabhi. Please,” Abheer teased her.

Sonam was on the verge of crying.

“Hold your tears, Bhabhi. I am pained to see tears in the eyes of those whom I love and adore.” His voice was mellowed and loving.

Without further delay, he handed over the fabric to his Bhabhi.

“Here, you have earned back your undergarment,” he said, “but be careful while you take it back to your room.”

“Thank you, I will.” Her voice was soft and carried a tone of relief. She made a dash for the door. Each moment could put her in danger.

“Bhabhi,” Abheer called out.

Sonam turned around at the door, “Yes?”

“Tomorrow is another day. And it is Holi … and we should all be open to fun,” his voice didn’t carry threats but just hints of a challenge of sorts.

Sonam was out and almost running towards the mansion. On the way, she brushed her lips with her fingers, almost trying to rub away the invisible traces of that kiss back in the cottage. But her mind recaptured a fleeting image of her devar’s lips. Thin and longish, the upper was perfectly shaped like a bow and the lower complemented it to perfection. Together, those lips formed a youthful yet demanding pair in the end. How did that compare to the thick ones of Babuji? She shook her head imperceptibly as she took quick strides. Oh heavens! What was she thinking, how shameful?

And Abheer? Soon after Sonam left, he walked out of the cottage. He too thought of that one kiss a while back and already, he was aching for more. He would celebrate Holi in a befitting way, he resolved. His young and mischievous mind was at work.

He started whistling a tune and there was a smile of contentment on his face. His mind had worked out how to extract the best out of the celebrations on Holi … not the usual way people celebrated the festival of colours but a deviation of sorts. He would not only equip himself with packets of ‘gulal’ (a fine powder that comes in different colours used in Holi) but would also have a little ‘sindoor’ (vermillion) stashed away secretly in his pocket.

What better way to mark Bhabhi as his own other than spreading some of that red ‘sindoor’ on her ‘mang’ (the line where the hair is parted), as a groom would do to the bride in a wedding? No one would easily know the difference in the red powder, but his ‘sindoor’ would carry an enormous difference in intent that separated others from him. And this gave immense joy to an infatuated lover.

By : AshmitaMadhukar

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