Tale of Indian housewife and her father-in-law – Life of Indian Housewife

58 Min Read

Sasural – In Laws House
Mard – A virile man
Bahu – Bride and housewife
Babuji – father / father-in-law
Maike – Own father & mother’s house.
Kurta – a long dress worn on top

All characters are over eighteen and once again, there’s no similarity to anyone in real.

PRELUDE : Home-Coming

Sonam, the young bride who had just recently become a mother, was staying at her mother’s place when she received a phone call.

Puran, her husband, had called her with the bitter-sweet news. He had been deputed on assignment to Denver for a medium term project that could potentially last for about six months, may be less may be more. Momentarily, Sonam was happy at the possibility of travel to the States. She had always dreamed about visiting that country. Yet, she was soon crestfallen. Given the short term of the project, her husband’s family had decided that Puran would be travelling alone. He had concurred and reconciled to that decision.

“I’ll stay while you leave?” Sonam had responded in surprise on hearing the news. But then she murmured sullenly, “Good! In that case I can stay here, at my mother’s place during this period.”

There was silence at the other end.

Puran was already torn at leaving her alone. “But…but …”

“What…” She asked exasperated at his hesitation, although she was in no mood to hear anything else.

“You will have to come and stay at your sasural, Sonam. Babuji (daddy) would insist on it.”

“No way, no …how …how can you ask me to!” She was almost in tears. Why of all the places did she have to stay in her sasural while her husband was away for such a long time? In a huff, she placed the phone back on the cradle. Being very sensitive, she was hurt at her husband’s inconsideration.

Sonam’s mother noticed her daughter in tears. Before she could find out the reason, the phone rang again. She waited for Sonam to answer, but her daughter had anguish written all over her face with tears rolling down her cheeks. The young Sonam made no attempt to respond, leaving the ringing to die into silence.

The phone rang again. This time her mother picked up and spoke to Puran. The news turned out to be more devastating for Sonam as she was required to travel to her sasural the next day. Her mother’s consolation was of little help, and her sorrow didn’t lessen in the least. She cried all night.

As she tossed and turned in bed, she felt anger and hurt. Her husband, despite professing so much love for her, didn’t seem to be too caring, almost throwing her into a miserable plight and leaving her alone in wilderness. Newly born Varun, now barely 40 days old, needed lot of attention and care, as any infant of that age would. Timely breast feeding, changing of diapers frequently, visiting the pediatrician, attending to her own chores and so forth would take away so much of Sonam’s time. She needed her husband’s love and attention at this time, more than ever. And most certainly, she looked forward to being cuddled and cared for by the man to whom she was wedded and now this seemed like a virtual desertion.

Frankly, Sonam had spent very little time at her In-laws place and knew little of her father-in-law, Balwant Singh. They talked little among themselves, Sonam mostly remaining quiet in such exchanges out of shyness, when the newly wedded couple had stayed at the family ‘haveli’ soon after their wedding. She came to know that the patriarch was a wealthy landowner, and a local businessman, with large farm lands too. He was well regarded in the area and was always treated with respect. The conversation between the daughter-in-law and the patriarch usually revolved around her health and well being and whether she needed anything. But such discussions were always grave and serious and at times, the young bride felt rather intimidated. The middle-aged man usually wore local outfits, like colorful kurtas and dhoti that clung to his well built body. He held a thick head of hair, with some silver streaks at the edges, on this tall frame. And he sported a handlebar mustache that made him look more imposing.

Notwithstanding the father-in-law, she had quickly built a camaraderie with others in the family. Anurudh (44), Balwant ‘s younger brother, lived in the other wing of the haveli with his wife Anjali and two growing kids. Anjali was a beautiful woman and provided sisterly company to Sonam. They enjoyed good conversation and sharing of interests. Matasari (33), a care-taker in her thirties, took care of Balwant ‘s wing. Not only did she take care of all the young bride’s needs, but she was also a kind person and turned out to be a reliable confidant, as the events would prove in the latter part of this narration.

There were other friends and relatives of the family – who were often around – and cared for Sonam. She and Puran had visited and hung around with people in their age group.

The fact that the place had some tourism brought a modicum of city culture, and the younger generation had obviously adopted much of these trends. It was just that they lived at some distance from the city where the people were more traditional and, to an extent, conservative.

The place where the haveli was situated was sparsely populated. Their largeness was surrounded by lush greenery and even fertile cultivable land nearby. There were other houses in the neighborhood, although not as big as theirs. The spacing among them provided a lot of privacy.

At this moment, however, she could have hated two persons – her husband for not taking her with him when he went abroad and two, her father-in-law. It was this man, the imposing patriarch, who must have stood in the way and blocked this opportunity for her to go abroad.

Yet, she had no choice. The air tickets arrived the next day. She tearfully bade good bye to her family and boarded the plane. The journey was uneventful, except for the embarrassment of feeding Varun in the clustered seats.

On the second leg of the journey, she had a momentary shuteye. An announcement from the flight attendant woke her up and soon, they were preparing to land.

It is in this situation that this narration begins, a narration of memories in a taboo relationship between two individuals, far apart in age, in their own eyes.

Sonam narrates

It was impossible for the twenty four year old Sonam to bear the two alarming news that her husband Puran told her over the phone. One, that even though her husband had bagged a nice post in USA for six months and possible extension thereafter, she would not be accompanying him in that journey abroad. The second news, which was equally devastating, was that she would have to go back to her ‘sasural’ (father-in-law’s house) immediately the next day, when she completed the requisite forty days after childbirth at her mother’s. She cried a lot, telling her mother to do something but alas! Her mother, helplessly, consoled her, told her that ‘sasural’ was really the heaven in a woman’s world and it would be odd for Sonam to stay back at her ‘maike’ (own father & mother’s house) and earn the ill reputation among relatives and neighbors of being a bad ‘bahu’ (house wife).

Sonam was a pretty girl and it was her beauty that sealed her marriage to Puran. Her marriage had been an arranged one, a process whereby the selection of a bride is undertaken by the groom’s family, sometimes much to the chagrin of the girl and her family. Luckily, Sonam’s father-in-law selected her the moment she had been led into the room by her mother. The man, her would be father-in-law, didn’t even haggle on dowry, a notorious system which is still practiced slyly in certain places. He waived the dowry without a thought, insisting on an early marriage. And so, the ravishing, long haired, fair, demure, curvaceous twenty three year old girl with pouted lips, was wedded to this patriarch’s obedient son, who too was rather young at twenty five.

Sonam’s parents were from western India and, like most of them who were usually identified as a business community migrating to various parts of the country, her earlier generations too had settled down in Patna in the past. Her husband’s family, however, had not migrated. They were Rajputs, which expressed in their rather handsome yet rugged features and good health and physique. But, as said earlier, the selection of a bride into this Rajput family really came about because of Sonam’s ravishing beauty, a thing which traditional families stressed upon.

Sonam’s marriage had taken place a year earlier, but her stay at her ‘sasural’ had been short. Her husband worked and stayed in Bangalore, to where the newlywed couple had left almost immediately after marriage. But, more reasons were there. For one, she was shy and far too young to adjust in a new family. Also, she was somewhat averse to facing her father-in-law too often. The man was very authoritative, angry, arrogant, much too traditional, had total control over his only son Puran, and Sonam almost shrunk in his presence. He expected total obedience, from both his son and his ‘bahu’. Sonam felt that the man was too dominant and would be a terror if she had to live in the sprawling haveli. She thought she was lucky that her husband worked elsewhere, far away from her ‘in-laws’ house which meant she could move about freely. Of course, despite her fear, she respected her elders and particularly her father-in-law because she was taught and brought up from childhood to think likewise. So, it was both fear and respect which guided the young girl in her relationship towards her father-in-law. It couldn’t be denied that this man was tall, muscular, tanned and, to some extent, dark complexioned. There could be no doubt that in his younger days he was really a strikingly handsome man and many women would have, undoubtedly, secretly fallen in love with him.

Balwant Singh, the father-in-law, never called Sonam by name, but always addressed her as ‘Bahu’. Sometimes he hissed the word, particularly when he found her alone, much to Sonam’s uneasiness. On occasions, he would ring her at Puran’s flat in the city where he worked. Even then, he would deliberately repeat calling her Bahu and in that weird and almost hypnotizing tone. Sonam always addressed her as ‘Babuji’ which is the traditional way a father or father-in-law is addressed.

The initial days of Sonam’s marriage went off rather smoothly. It was true, however, that Puran did not possess the rugged manliness of his father nor even his uncle. He was far shorter in height, just a couple of inches taller than Sonam, couldn’t boast of a manly physique or sexual virility. Sonam experienced her husband’s inept conjugal abilities, very often ejaculating much before his wife could reach even half of her expectations. However, luckily, he was not impotent for, very soon after their marriage, the young bride became pregnant. Varun, their son, was born out of their wedlock. Now, forty days after his birth, Sonam had to leave her ‘maike’ and go back to her ‘sasural’.

At Patna Airport, there were scenes that usually go in parting. Sonam cried as her mother consoled and then she herself couldn’t hide a few tears now that she had to part from both her daughter and grandson. Inside the aircraft, luckily, Sonam got a convenient seat that enabled her to breastfeed her baby in some privacy. Her breasts were too full of milk and heavy, a few drops oozed out of the nipples on to her bra and Sonam felt embarrassed. She had wrapped her breasts with the palloo (end of sari used as a stole to cover breasts or head), till she was conveniently settled down in her seat. She hugged and loved and suckled the child, not able to hide her tears at leaving her mother and father behind at Patna.

During the second leg of the flight from Delhi, Sonam gathered herself knowing that grief and grievance would be of little value in her present situation. She fell asleep for a while, helping her more to overcome her sadness. The plane landed about an hour later where Sonam’s husband Puran was eagerly waiting for her. They hadn’t seen one another for almost forty days, Puran having come away from Patna immediately after the baby’s birth. His eyes already showed how much he longed for his beautiful wife, after waiting for this long.

Gleaming with happiness as he saw Sonam and Varun arrive from the gates to the baggage claim area, he was restless to be near them. As they trudged out, he looked at his beautiful wife, who stood out in the crowd. He walked fast now, dashing towards them and to take them in his arms. He was longing to meet his wife and his newborn son. It had been weeks since he had left them at Patna and the baby already seemed bigger and chubbier. Sonam looked splendid, her bosoms were full and even her lips looked fuller. He wished to plant his lips on hers but, in keeping with tradition, he did not kiss his wife in public.

The drive to the haveli (mansion) took more than an hour and, during this time, Puran quickly updated Sonam about what had been going on in the household. He offered reasons for his sudden departure to USA, also trying to explain, in the best way possible, why she had to stay back in India with her infant son while her husband left. Sonam nodded as if to say she understood, because she knew any argument would be futile.

“Sonam darling,” Puran said, “I have got to tell you something. Babuji has changed his bedroom. You know our bedroom is at one end of the first floor while Uncle Anurud is at the other end and earlier, Babuji used to sleep in a room which was in the middle? But he has shifted his bedroom to the one next to our bedroom, saying that in my absence he’ll have to keep a watch to see that Bahu and the baby did not fall into trouble. Even to ensure that the requirements of the mother and child were easily met, if he happened to hear about it.” Puran kept watching his wife, trying to sound as convincing as possible.”

“I know you might feel that this may affect your privacy but please bear with it. Babuji is only being very protective and not purposefully spying on you.” He went on saying.

Sonam didn’t say anything but kept quiet. But, it was obvious, she was uneasy and was trying to fathom the extent to which she would be kept under observation.

In a while, Puran placed his hand on hers as he drove the car. He loved his wife a lot even though there was a lot of deficiency in him. Sonam kept looking at the road before she asked a question.

“Whatever Babuji says or does, we have to accept. So, there’s no use feeling bad about it or grumbling. When are you supposed to leave for USA?” She was apprehensive, as she recollected Babuji’s insistent phone calls, but she didn’t want to tell anything about it to anyone, not even her husband.

Puran just patted her hand and said, “I leave day after tomorrow from Delhi, and we have two nights to ourselves. Sonam, two nights … just imagine.” It was obvious that he was already very excited.

When they reached the haveli Sonam had already customarily covered her head with her palloo, like a shy bahu.

Alighting from the car, she walked up to where the entire family had assembled to welcome the bride of the house. Anjali, Anurudh, the patriarch himself, Anjali’s two kids and the servants. Anjali was the first to welcome Sonam, as she hugged the young housewife. She took the infant Varun in her arms and uttering sweet nothings to the baby with unbridled affection. She then bent down and touched the feet of Anurudh, who gave her a polite hug. Balwant stood a little behind, waiting possibly to get the due respects and attention from the young bahu and mother of his grandson. She walked up to her father-in-law very demurely and then bent down to touch his feet reverentially.

“How are you Babuji?” she asked, her eyes riveted to the floor like a young shy wife.

The patriarch bent down and, holding her at the shoulders, asked her to get up, which she did. He looked deeply at his young and very pretty daughter-in-law, as his mustache twitched over his lips.

“Bless you, bahu! May you live long and remain wedded for many, many years.” And then looking at Varun, he asked, “How is my grandson doing?” He took Varun in his arms, his face glowing in pride on holding his grandson to his broad chest. A male heir in India even nowadays enhances the joy and pride in families.

Sonam looked at his father-in-law with curious eyes. She was unable to fathom this man. He was so aloof and arrogant at times and at other times so accessible and caring. And now, he was all smiles and glowing with his grandson.

The warmth of the family eased her distress and helped Sonam to overcome the earlier sadness that she had felt while leaving her parents. She went to her room and refreshed herself while her baby remained in the company of the other ladies of the house.

Later, the day was spent with Anjali and others from the extended family, chatting about Sonam’s time away from them and whether she was looking forward to spending her time at the haveli. They all joked as they sympathized with her being away from Puran for an uncertain period. Anjali even offered to keep Varun for the night so that she could have uninterrupted time with Puran. She smiled and declined, as Varun had to be fed at regular intervals. As she spoke her swelling breasts caused some pressure and degree of discomfort and she wanted relief. She quietly took Varun to her room but, as she did, she noticed the probing eyes of her father-in-law following her when she left the living room.

She went past the door adjacent to her own room, wondering if it was the room that the patriarch had been occupying after relocating from the previous one. This was just next to theirs and, therefore, shared a common wall. She wondered if the wall was thick enough to prevent any sound to filter into the adjacent room. There were times when the young couple threw caution to the winds during sex and were noisy, unrestrained in their grunts and moans. She speculated if that night would be similar. She hurried. It had been a long time since the last feed and she was bursting.

As soon as she reached her room, she unbuttoned her blouse and quickly tried to unhook her bra. In her hurry the bra’s hook, stubbornly, remained unmoved to her efforts. Having done that all her life, she was surprised at herself. In desperation she pushed down the cup of the bra and exposed the nipple partially while bringing Varun up on to her nipple. A jet of milk rushed out even before Varun’s lips could be on it and, in the process, smearing her top and partially her bra. Varun hungrily kept feeding as Sonam sighed in relief. It had been a while since the last feed and she enjoyed the special moment, caring for her child suckling on her young breasts.

She had to clean herself, change her bra and top, and arrived back in the living room. She felt that all eyes were on her – observed by most but, most certainly, under the pointed scrutiny of the patriarch. Was it womanly instincts or her just being paranoid?

They talked for some more time and finally, being tired and exhausted, she excused herself to retire for the night. Back in her bedroom, she recollected that this had been their room immediately after her marriage with the large nuptial bed facing the East. She loved the feeling of belonging to the room, their room … her room! The bed was truly spacious and had witnessed nights of her lovemaking with Puran. Eagerly, she thought about the exciting moments that would follow soon behind the closed doors. It had been a long time since they had sex, perhaps months prior to and after delivery. Having completely healed after her childbirth, Sonam was beginning to feel amorous, as goosebumps flew through her supple body.

As Sonam kept feeding her baby, lost in her thoughts, she had to admire her father-in-law. Even before she had arrived at the sprawling haveli with her forty day old son, this elderly man had arranged for a crib in their room. It wasn’t something that her husband had thought over and purchased as a husband, which should have been the case. Rather, it was the patriarch’s careful foresight to provide one in their bedroom that inwardly Sonam appreciated. This fact was honestly admitted by her husband too.

She wondered what her father in law could be doing at that moment. He looked so big and strong and so very ridiculously manly! She shivered at a weird thought that flew in to her mind but let it pass quickly but not before blushing.

Varun suckled on his mother’s overflowing breasts while she kept looking at the baby’s face. So tender, so tiny, so lovable. Whom did he look like, thought Sonam? She softly hummed a lullaby for her child till he fell asleep, and Sonam placed him in the cot.

“Now Varun, don’t get up at night and disturb Papa and me,” she said in mock seriousness and smiled. Yes, they needed a lot of time to themselves – so many things to discuss before her husband left. And, she did feel the need to have her husband beside her and love her. She knew that there was some excitement in her that needed to be attended to, although, in all fairness, Varun’s presence suppressed the arousal that were creeping in now and then. Mother’s love … natural and unchanged, as always, she thought.

Sonam washed her face and brushed her teeth and slowly got ready for bed. Like always, she wore a soft, sheer pink nightie but kept on wearing the exotic pink lingerie set, more unmindful than with a specific purpose. She sat at the edge of the bed, wondering what was keeping her husband still away from the bedroom and her. Was he still talking with her father-in-law? Quite a man, the patriarch, thought Sonam once again, so strong and robust in appearance. She quickly turned her thoughts away to something else by looking at the big windows with the big curtains blowing softly with the window.

At a distance she could see the tiny lights of the town, almost like twinkling stars.

Fortunately, there were no houses situated nearby and so the inmates of the room could enjoy their privacy.

At that moment, her chain of thoughts was broken when there was a knock on the door and, before Sonam could respond, Puran pushed open the door and walked in.

Once inside, he quickly shut the door as if there was a hurry and urgency. Filled with lust, Puran gaped at his pretty wife who, as always, looked stunning and desirable in that nightie with the lace outline of her bra visible underneath. He simply couldn’t hold himself and rushed across to the bed and beside his wife. His hands were wrapping around Sonam with a towering passion. The bulge on his middle, even under the kurta and pajama, was clearly visible to Sonam and only increased her own need. But she was too reticent and inhibited in showing her own need and desire. Not so Puran, who was breathless just seeing Sonam in that provocative and alluring nightwear with the accompanying exotic lingerie clearly distinguishable underneath.

“It’s been such a long wait, Sonam,” Puran said, taking deep breaths just to utter these few words, “and now you are beside me. I can’t control myself.” He was virtually shaking in the throes of excitement.

“I don’t believe you,” Sonam said in mock sentimental anger,” because if that were true you wouldn’t have remained downstairs for so long.”

“What could I do Sonam? The whole family was downstairs, and they know I’ll be leaving in a couple of days. So, they didn’t want to leave me, telling me they won’t bother me after two days. But believe me, I kept thinking of you even when I was with them.”

Puran tried to pull Sonam towards him, tried to turn her face to plant a kiss but the girl, young as she was, remained distant and sentimental.

“I don’t want to talk with you. I have Varun, he will give me company,” Sonam went on saying.

“Please darling,” Puran said, “Don’t get angry. Don’t you realize my condition now? I have difficulty in keeping down this fellow here whose fire only you can douse.” Puran was desperate now. He held Sonam’s hand and lifted it first to his lips and kissed the back of the palm. Then slowly, he started lowering the soft, delicate hand to his chest and further down. In moments, it came and rested on his hardness that was trying to wriggle underneath.

The moment Sonam’s hand touched that hardness of her husband she felt as if an electric current had passed through her, ignited all her sexual nerves, opening all her closed doors of resistance, erasing all thoughts of mock sentimental anger. Her lips opened in a sheer show of raw passion and lust. A deep breath showed that she too was just as eager and hungry. She squeezed the shaft, first with one hand and then placed both her hands on the still invisible shaft.

“You want that I take it off?” Puran asked in a trembling voice.

Sonam had lost her voice. She just nodded. But before Puran, she had herself raised her husband’s kurta so that it rested on his chest and, after untying the knot, started to pull down his pajama. She smiled when she saw the brief that Puran was wearing. There was a big, wet area where his shaft had leaked a lot of pre-cum.

To Sonam, that sight was too much of an attraction and she quickly pulled down the brief and watched her husband’s cock jump out. It swayed in front of her and she smiled at her husband before extending a hand and holding it.

“Shall I tell you something?” Sonam was already blushing and then shaking her head, “No, I shouldn’t … you’ll think bad of me.”

“No. no … tell me Sonam, I won’t mind in the least and how can I think bad of my wife?” Puran said quickly.

“I wish it were bigger,” she said and then blushing like a beetroot, she quickly hid her face in the pillow.

“Hmmm … so my wife needs something enormous,” Puran teased her. “She’s been thinking about big things, eh? Ok, we will see what we can do about that … but for now my obedient wife would know how to please her husband, isn’t it?” Puran laughed, seeing her wife blush and shake her head violently by hiding her face in the pillow.

In all fairness it had to be said that Puran could not honestly boast about his ‘manhood’. It was modest at five inches when excited and even its girth was not one which could be said to be thick or a ‘handful’. Puran knew this shortcoming in himself and wished it were ‘manlier’ and more robust than what he possessed. Nonetheless, he was too excited that night, having got his pretty and sexy wife after so many days. He turned Sonam’s face so that she looked at him.

“How can it be big if you hide your face instead of giving this organ the warmth of your mouth and the touches of your eager tongue?” Puran asked in a tremulous voice. He unhooked the nightie to reveal her lingerie, his mouth opening at the sight of the enticing pair that had laces embedded on it.

“Oh my god!” He blurted, as he softly ran his hands over the pair of milk laden breasts still covered in such exotic gossamer. She really looked bewitching, he thought.

Sonam didn’t wait further. She held the shaft in both hands and quickly brought her face nearer to this excited length of meat. She watched how the pre-cum had gathered at the tip and brought her lips on the spot. In seconds, she was eagerly brushing her red lips on the wet tip, allowing these to make her lips to shine and gloss, making her seem a lot sexier to Puran. Her tongue searched the head of the shaft, the mushroom that formed above the crescent and took this portion inside her warm, wet mouth, nibbling it teasingly for a while. Puran squirmed in bed in excitement and knew if this went on he would soon ejaculate his load. He had had this problem always … the inability to retain in the face of extreme arousal.

But here was Sonam, excitedly sucking the modest cock and sometimes taking it out of her mouth and licking the shaft all over and smiling contentedly at her husband. She moaned endlessly, and Puran feared that these sounds would penetrate the walls and escape into the adjoining room where his father had only shifted a day earlier.

Suddenly, and without warning, Puran ejaculated. It was impossible for him to control and hold back his load in the face of this frantic cock sucking of his young wife who herself was in an extreme stage of arousal and heat. His hot load quickly drained into Sonam’s mouth, who swallowed it fully, not allowing even a drop to fall out of her mouth.

But, at the end of it, the poor wife knew that once again she would have to do without the cock in her wet, eager and impatient womanhood. She could almost cry at being deprived of the ultimate pleasure once again. She didn’t know how she would be able to abstain from physical proximity with her husband for long six months. Although she expressed little, in her heart of hearts, she knew how much she loved and longed for sex and her insatiable appetite for it!

Small drops of tears that had formed at the corner of Sonam’s eyes did not escape Puran. He quickly had his arms around her.

“Sonam? Baby? Why are you crying?” he asked.

“Oh! I’ll miss you so much for such a long period. I love you so much and now I’ll have to spend sleepless nights in this room alone,” she said in tears.

“True. But Varun will be here, and he will keep you occupied and busy,” Puran tried to console.

“I know I’ll have Varun and he is the apple of my eyes. But a wife needs her husband … and a man beside her … and, at night, she needs fulfillment of a different type. Where will I get that? Who do I go to? On whose shoulder do I cry? Who will have his arms around me and comfort me? Who will keep me warm in these long and bitter winter nights?”

Sonam went on saying, and in her sorrow the pitch of her voice was far from suppressed. Puran feared that her voice might have been audible to anyone who kept his ears open in the next room. He placed a hand on her lips to quieten her.

Sonam went on sobbing, her breasts heaving to suppress herself. Puran lovingly went on caressing her, running his hands over her head and down her long stresses of hair. He really hadn’t anything to say or comfort her with.

There was silence in the room excepting for the soft sobbing of a pretty, young and emotional girl.

Little did the couple know that their intimate privacy had been invaded and someone else had been privy to every act, every word, every emotion and all the lust that evolved between a husband and his beautiful, hot wife.

Balwant Singh narrates

Balwant was not his usual self for the past few days. Ever since he came to know that his son was being deputed to Denver for a medium term assignment, his mind always went back to that first visit that he and his family had made to Patna and meet Sonam and her parents.

…They had been looking for a beautiful and docile bride for their son and, on the suggestion of a close acquaintance who vouched for her beauty, made this trip together.

The moment she had walked through the door to meet them, her innocence coupled with that rare beauty and fullness, struck him. She was beautiful in the conventional sense, the traditional rather than the modern. Yet, she had something that made her unique. Was it that she displayed a sexual aura that made a woman a woman? A woman to be tended, seduced, loved or even taken with force. The pouty lips had made her ever more desirable and, quite often, he had gaped open mouthed.

At that moment then, at Sonam’s house, he was suddenly jolted out of this lecherous thought. Oh my god! What was he thinking. He was here to look for his son’s bride and yet he …!

He had shaken his head. But the thoughts would not go away. His eyes had remained on Sonam. Given the nature and purpose of that visit, that of selecting a bride for his son, nobody could fault him for glancing repeatedly at this girl. It was a selection after all and needed scrutiny. Yet, what was so special in this girl that he could not take his gaze off her even when the choice was made in his mind? Was it some pheromone, some exquisite fragrance, that covered her in an aura that sucked him in? His desires hidden for so long, ever since he had become a widower, were coming to the fore very rapidly.

A sensation engulfed him in a manner that had never happened before, certainly not when he had visited the homes of other prospective brides for making a choice.

Soon their talk had revolved around other matters to make the match happen. There seemed to be a cultural difference between Sonam’s family and his own. While they were all educated and big city dwellers, he and his family, excepting his son, were hardly educated. They were rustic dwellers, more accustomed to farming and business, than intelligent and cultural discourse.

As per the tradition in the family, the final decision had had to be made by him. Puran had nodded his assent. All eyes had been on Balwant Singh, the head of the family, the all-knowing patriarch. His heart had been beating hard, he had been seriously engaged in his own thoughts, assessing the value of the girl to him and his family. He did not like the fact that she was educated and a city dweller who would not want to stay with them in their rural set up, no matter how rich they were or how big a ‘haveli’ they had. Yet, he was mesmerized by the sexual aura of the innocent girl. His vicarious dirty-self had conjured up possibilities although, in his sane mind, he kept thinking that it would never happen. But then, what …what …if he were to ever get this girl. The raw, crude, lecherous thoughts had swept through him. He had felt an uncontrollable stirring in his loins which, fortunately, he had quickly stifled before anyone could realize anything amiss or awkward.

He had nodded and looked at Sonam. Their eyes had met for the briefest moment. For once, she hadn’t bowed down but held her gaze and looked straight at his eyes. He had just nodded, there had been a mild twitching in his eyes, as if silently expressing to the girl only that he found her acceptable, before he had turned his face and had said aloud, “I would feel honored to have Sonam as my bahu. She will be a treasure to our family and the perfect bride for Puran.”

He had then looked at the girl’s father “Our choice is made. We will be honoured to have your daughter as our bahu. We are sure you will not turn us down.”…

There had been a boisterous applause and a sigh of relief all around. The marriage had been sealed on that day.

The patriarch’s reverie was broken at the sudden wailing of the infant in the next room, obviously that of a hungry Varun throwing his arms and legs about.

His mind moved to the present, as he sat on his bed, removing his shoes from his weather-beaten feet. He heard a voice from the other room. It was Sonam, comforting and assuring her baby.

The last few days he had been thinking about the arrival of the young Sonam. He had made quite a few arrangements for her, beaming with an inward happiness at the looming certainty of the arrival of his ‘bahu’. The change in his bedroom to bring it next to the couple’s, a crib for little Varun, special bedding and drapes for the windows of the couple’s bedroom and providing them with a big screen TV, and such other things that he felt necessary. In thoughts of her imminent arrival, he had often found himself aroused. He could not help but touch himself. Every night, for past few days, he had masturbated and had cum hard, sometimes even whispering Sonam’s name in silent moans.

The two bedrooms were divided by a thick wall, but like many ancestral homes, there was a door that connected the rooms. The door did not seal shut, as would any door in a modern home. A small opening had formed between the two panels of the door, due to continuous usage and wear and tear over the years. This gave a somewhat obstructed view of the other room. Also, it did not stop the sounds escaping from one room to another, especially in the wee hours of the night when silence would blanket the entire ‘haveli’. Balwant was apprehensive that the couple would know about the relatively porous door that was supposed to seclude them in privacy. He had got a night lamp installed in the couple’s room that provided adequate illumination inside, even when the main lights were switched off. Of course, with his own ministrations, the bed was situated right in the middle of the room, just in line with the porous crack on the partition door.

He had changed into his night clothes that consisted of a sparse dhoti. He had long ago given up wearing briefs to bed. He turned off all the nights in his room and tiptoed his way to the interconnecting door and was amazed at what he saw in the room.

Puran was lying naked on his back on the bed, with his pajama and brief lying scattered around on the floor. Sonam, on the other hand, was not fully naked. But, what she wore was enough to raise Balwant’s desires. She was sitting beside him, holding his hardening appendage in her small hands. She was looking down at him, as his head rested on the pillow. They spoke for a few moments, the patriarch eavesdropping into each word that aroused him more and more. She saw Sonam smiling and then bringing her face down.

Tentatively, she brought her lips to the shiny glans and licked it off. The brazen act sent a shiver through Balwant. He was right. Always right!! She loved to suck her husband’s cock.

Her tongue swiped of the precum that had oozed out of the tip. Balwant let out a silent groan, careful that it did not pass on to the next room. His own fingers reached inside his dhoti, finding himself hard. His fingers clasped his rapidly growing cock while his eyes remained glued inside, watching his bahu take the phallus of her husband.

Was this voyeuristic act wrong, he asked himself? He shook his head in rebuttal. He stroked himself, pumping his dark and monstrous shaft with eyes locked on the once innocent girl who was his bahu. But Sonam had taken the puny cock of her husband inside her mouth, coating it with her saliva. She waited and savored the sensation for a moment. She slowly eased off and then took him fully in her mouth, her pouting lips circling around the trivial girth before bobbing her head up and down. Her delicate fingers stroked him, as she sucked deep and hard like a whore. The sound of moans, the jingling of her bangles and slight creaking of their bed now and then, were drifting easily through the door, like some heavenly music, giving enormous pleasure to Balwant. The man’s lust continued to surge.

Never in his life Balwant was so aroused. He abruptly pulled his dhoti off his waist and, standing naked in his own room, he aggressively started pumping himself in unison with his bahu’s head movement. The sounds from within the next room grew both in intensity and frequency. A loud popping sound resonated when Sonam pulled her mouth out to get air. A line of leer connected the tip of the cock right to her lips. Her pouty sensual lips, now coated with juices, were shining in dim light. Impatiently, Puran pulled her back for her to continue his ministrations. This time he started pushing his pelvis upwards, fucking her mouth as she tried to push down. They were in gay abundance, not knowing or caring of anything in the world. She was a picture of a slut whose mouth was full though not stretched. From where he stood, Balwant wondered how much those pretty lips could be stretched. Would it hold something much thicker, longer, harder? Oh god!

Suddenly and without any warning, Puran let out a cry. His back arched and went rigid as he went into a climax. In rapid spasms, he shot into her mouth and quickly ejaculated.

The young woman, not aware of what was coming tried to move away. Her bewildered eyes, still full of lust, was waiting for more to come. But like a dutiful wife and woman, she let him ejaculate inside her mouth without letting a drop to spill out.

On this side of the room, Balwant was still playing with his own cock, wishing the scene to continue before his eyes. He was in no hurry to hasten his own climax. He was certain that the girl was not satisfied and held himself back. He had hoped that his son would take her in his arm and fuck her. Instead, all he saw was that she was in tears and that Puran was trying to console her. He felt sorry for the deprived Sonam, so unsatisfied and let down by her own husband!

He pricked his ears, for Sonam was saying something that rang a bell, “…and, at night, she needs fulfillment of a different type. Where will I get that? Who do I go to? On whose shoulder do I cry? Who will have his arms around me and comfort me? Who will keep me warm in these long and bitter winter nights?”

Oh! God! What was she saying? Oh! Bahu! You have me, me. He wanted to shout for the girl to hear and let her feel happy and stop crying.

Quickly, Balwant went to answer nature’s call in the bathroom at the back of his room, before rushing back to his vantage point. Tying his dhoti back again, he stood at his post. Looking in now, he found Sonam with her blouse open, her pink bra unhooked and pulled open, the cups hanging down and Varun latching on to her right engorged nipple.

The beautiful breasts filled with mother’s milk provided the most beautiful and sensual picture of the girl, a mother now feeding her offspring, who rightfully was the descendant of his own clan, thought the proud Balwant. He could sense a feeling of relief in her face from her earlier lust filled contortions. Puran was on the bed, letting of a soft snore. He was not even awake to take care of his wife.

The picture sent a feeling of both amorous rage and a feeling of empathy for her daughter-in-law in Balwant Singh’s mind. She was a woman. A young girl turned into a woman in the span of a year or so. She was someone who had got a taste of sexual arousal but was yet too far from satisfied. Of this, Balwant was certain.

As a patriarch and head of the family, he could not let that happen!! After all, he was ‘mard’ (a virile man) and he simply couldn’t turn a blind eye on the suffering of his deprived ‘bahu’.

By : AshmitaMadhukar

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