Kas 08

Worship: But Not The Planned One

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

You could blame it on the situation. The temple queue was such a crush that it was inevitable that the people in the queue were pressed together in all sorts of awkward ways.

But when Srikant, an 18-year old from her neighborhood first brushed against Shobha aunty (mami) in that crowd he was guilty of allowing it to happen rather easily. He had always secretly fantasized about Shobha aunty, with her full bosom and enticing way of wearing her saree. She always showed cleavage, her face was radiant and she wore flowers in her hair — which somehow seemed raunchy to him.

She always seemed dressed to seduce; or was it just the desire in the eyes of the 18- year old boy that she looked that seductive?

And when she came up against the awkward and geeky youth from in the temple crowd, she recognized him from get togethers though she did not know him by name. She immensely preferred him to the anonymous males brushing up against her and crushing against her. And not all those brushes and crushes seemed forced; now here was that cock rubbing itself on her ample, rounded ass, even pausing between her buttocks for an extra rub. Her reaction was somewhere between bubbling desire and revulsion.

In general she loved how sexy she felt and how wanton and lustful she really was. She dressed, showed off and mentally seduced all the men, young and old that she socially encountered. And she took all that pent up energy to her husband at any time and place where she could get him to fuck her.

She would have happily fucked Sundar uncle who was her husband’s mother’s brother. An ex-military type he seemed fit and his body seemed strong. “Would that strength extend, despite his age to his sexual stamina?” she often wondered.

She often dreamed of seducing Sundar uncle’s his son Surya and really wanted to allow her own cousin Shashidhar to plunder her as he did with his lustful eyes — but decorum restrained her.

Sometimes she wondered if it was her own inhibition. Sometimes she felt it was a consciousness that she played a key role in her household and somehow any such unleashing of her sexual desires would create some imbalance.

She also thought of what might happen if someone, especially Sundar Uncle who was a figure of authority reacted badly and exposed her in front of the family. She was a bit surer of the younger guys — they would happily indulge in her and fulfill their own fantasies she was sure.

So some combination of inhibition, fear, cowardice and a lack of opportunity outweighed her pulsating sexuality and fertile imagination.

So she did all this mentally. Every day. Every opportunity.

She was one of those mamis who was always doing a lot around the house. And theirs was a house where there was always a lot of coming and going. If it was not in the family, it was some neighborhood function around some festival.

On all these occasions, Shobha mami’s zest translated to a bubbling personality. Add to that her curvaceous figure and playfulness — she was quite a package. The menfolk in these situations always spent a lot of time eyeing her and thinking about her. If they were not imagining themselves in bed with her, at the very least they imagined her breasts to play with.

Many of the younger men yearned to work alongside her putting up flowers or stirring ingredients. They wanted to be near her just so that she might flirt with them. Or hands might touch. Or her saree pallo might slip. And who knows, if one was lucky he might die and go to heaven in those soft plump arms and everything that lay within.

But Shobha mami did much of that kind of work with the kids in the community. Her flirtatious best was reserved for men older than her; men she could really bed if she got down to it. But unknown to anyone, beyond that flirtatious exterior was a woman who furiously fantasized about every man she encountered. And on more than one occasion she masturbated to that fantasy.

Or brought it to her marital bed. And on those occasions she surprised her husband with additional sexual energy and her sluttish devotion to pleasure and lust.

She might have mouthed him to orgasm imagining him to the strict, disciplinarian Sundar uncle and viewed the cumming as his taming. She might have ridden him, on top, to an uncontrolled, explosive orgasm pretending she was deflowering the young Surya.

Or bent over and insisted he ride her like the bitch on heat she felt herself to be at that moment.

Her husband, on all such occasions enjoyed the whore in her and the contrast with the dutiful social mami added to the lust of her slutty tendencies when in bed with him.

He could make out which were ordinary days and which were days of extra energy. She was not the same woman. Making love to her oscillated between worshipping a divine, motherly woman and plundering and being plundered by a wanton slut.

So yes, there was some playfulness in her for all the men who used the opportunity şişli escort to feel her in different ways. In some ways it was also a compromise in a society where crowds were what they were and men were the way they were.

They would grope on such occasions but at least enough of them were cowards like Sundar uncle — they would not have the guts to seduce or respond unless the woman made the definitive move. “Hypocrites!” she thought to herself.

So she told Srikant, “Let us stick to each other! It is unbearable in this crowd.”

“Yes, mami,” mumbled the taller, younger man, looking down Shobha’s cleavage. Sweat coated them and her blouse was at least partially soaked. How often had he imagined his face between those mounds of flesh! And here he was looking down and admiring them freely. The rivulets ran down her broad chest, converging at her cleavage and running down where he wanted his lips to run.

She looked up and saw his eyes riveted on her bosom. She struggled to bring her hand up to pull her pallo over her breasts, making both of them more conscious of the situation.

But her gesture was not genuine. She was already beginning to feel a different kind of heat radiate from within at the awareness of the young man’s eyes on her. Hypocritically, her actions were her social self, while she actually wanted to let him nibble at her with his eyes.

Her mind briefly dwelt on the situation. She had seen him in and about the neighborhood. She noted that he had never featured in any fantasy possibly because he was younger and not within the family. Even in her mind, she felt bolder with the older males. They often represented authority figures and she suspected that beneath that veneer was a male who could be subjugated with sex.

Every flirtatious gesture was to test if that theory was correct. Or within the family, where they represented opportunity and control. The rest of the working out of the theory — of she fucking the authority figure and reducing him to bubbling mass of flesh under her; of taming the young man and making him her sexual slave — was done in her mind.

As she was wondering on whether to flirt with this young man there was a lurch in the crowded mass of bodies. Her pallo was swept aside and her cleavage was again exposed. But also more of the blouse was now also visible to him and he saw the damp fabric stuck to her body. In fact, Srikant could smell Shobha mami’s womanly aromas as they rose off her body.

“Take this,” Shobha mami bellowed at him, handing him her pooja basket, loaded with a coconut, a dozen bananas and flowers. Srikant took them and held them high over their heads. Shobha pushed with her left shoulder to make way and both of them sideways, facing each other made their way forward. “Stay with me,” she shouted above the din.

He was not about to lose her. She featured in the standard set of two or three of his hot favorite women from the locality. He often ran errands for the other two, in the hope that opportunity for a steamy encounter would present itself. He had often been home alone with Saroja mami in her kitchen having just brought her some vegetable or ingredient she had just requested. Like with all the mamis of the neighborhood, the breasts were heavy and sumptuous. And in his limited repertoire of fantasies, all he wanted was those breasts.

Some of the stuff he had seen on the net told him there was more — but he did not fully understand many of things shown there.

Srikant’s fantasies usually revolved around their breasts; he imagined his buried in them, his lips sucking at them and him playing with those objects of his intense desire. It resulted in an erection that could not be controlled and he masturbated quickly to find release. At least once he had done this standing in the corridor of Saroja mami’s house, his eyes on her as she sat on the kitchen floor, grating coconut.

It was he who had brought her that coconut. When Saroja mami sat down with the grater on the floor he had a good view of her breasts. That morning she was wearing no bra within and in the heat of her kitchen she was soaked. Slowly from her armpits the sweat had seeped through and the side of her breasts were clamped to the cloth. Her nipples formed dark patches and Srikant’s throat had gone dry as his eyes riveted on those knobs he wished to suck.

When Saroja mami had started moving back and forth and grating the coconut the jiggling of her breasts was too much for him to take. Mami was talking to him about a forthcoming cricket match but his mind was on a different ground.

“Sachin’s last, isn’t it?” Saroja mami had asked, perspiration flowing from her effort. She always engaged these boys in small talk else they could not be asked to run these errands.

Suddenly, she was met with silence. Unknown to her, Srikant had moved off to where he was not likely to be noticed and has masturbated. His breathing was heavy as his hand massaged his cock feverishly through his dhoti, for that is where he meant to catch the mess of fluids that flowed.

He had come, shuddering, watching Saroja mami rocking while grating the coconut, and he imagined that rocking to be her atop him. He milked himself till the jerks receded and quickly made a quiet exit hoping not to meet anyone while on his way home to change his dhoti.

Now, today at the temple with both his hands above holding the basket, Shobha held his midriff and they shuffled forward, toward the temple gate. That temple gate was the bottleneck. Once on the other side of that narrow passage the crush would ease as they reached the outer courtyard of the temple.

Shobha found herself closer than ever to the youngster given that his arms were now raised and she was holding on to him to keep them together and moving. Her face was in his chest and through his thin shirt she found his nipples poking through. She almost allowed her hands around him but moved her fingers to his sides again to avoid ending up hugging him.

Srikant shivered as he felt Shobha mami’s cheek pressing against his chest — and Shobha felt the shiver, too. At one point, he felt he might lose his balance and with his one free handed grabbed at Shobha mami. He held her just below her armpit.

As the jostling continued she found her face remained at more or less the same spot on his chest. Mischievously, she closed her wet mouth on his shirt, allowing her saliva to seep the cotton so that he felt her. And so that she felt him. Her lips playfully tugged on the nipple exactly once.

Srikant shuddered and reflexively brought his hand down on her hand — sort of pushing her towards him. He realized the brazenness of the gesture and let his hand drop to her shoulder. Shobha mami looked up at him with radiant eyes and he could have kissed her right there, in the middle of the crowd.

Instead his hand dropped further and rested on her midriff, his hand against the side of her breast. As Shobha heaved, he felt that mass swell in his hand. He allowed his hand to stay there for she had not brushed him off. He allowed himself the small gesture of pressing on the breast. She still did not stop him. She was in fact preoccupied with negotiating the crowd.

But she did notice it, when encouraged by her silence, his thumb searched for her nipple. She looked down and watched his thumb at circled and looked in all the wrong places. “What does a boy know about the anatomy of a woman?” she thought, watching him move his thumb every which way. Once he came close to her areola but the wire of her bra misled him to thinking he was in the wrong direction.

Suddenly, she felt excited at the thought that being a teacher to a youth, initiating him to the body of a woman was a titillating thought, too. All these days she only planned on bedding the older lot. Suddenly, the education of a young man in the ways of being with a woman appealed to her. And she remembered something her husband had once told her which warmed her further to this thought.

She looked up at him and laughed. Her laugh was a tinkle befitting a courtesan. But it was her eyes that spoke. And she was famous for that. At many of her husband’s office gatherings, or indeed at family functions, it was with her eyes that she spoke to the men she flirted with.

With not a word spoken, but with gestures, laughs and sparkling eyes, Shobha had always communicated sexually with each one. Her flirtation bordered on aggressive sexuality and she used her body to leave the man in no doubt.

So it was with Srikant now.

“Looking for something?” she asked. Srikant started to remove his hand.

“Don’t stir,” she hissed at him. On her other breast she placed her own hand and with a subtle movement toggled her already erect nipple to show him where to find it. She felt ripples of pleasure with her self — manipulation and waited to see if the boy had any treat for her.

He proved a good student at this one step, finding the nipple where she showed it would be. The aroused, erect state of the nipple surprised him and he felt the first flow of wetness in his underwear.

He carefully felt its contours and imagined that in his mouth. He was drenched now and desperately needed to stroke himself. He could have moved his free hand to his crotch but he did not want to lose contact with her breast and the nipple.

Lust makes a person bolder than he or she should be. Srikant in his desperate lust shuffled forward so that his crotch pressed against Shobha mami’s lower abdomen. He pressed as hard he needed to so that his cock felt a much-needed squeeze. And when he had pressed all that he could, he felt the softness of her abdomen and wished for something hard to grind himself against.

But Shobha was no less aware for that — she felt the cock on her and she thought she felt the young man grind himself. She knew that grinding thing — she had seen her cousin Shashidhar run the base of his palm over his crotch more than once while watching her from a short distance. She didn’t think Shashidhar had been signaling her or would be so crass- she felt it was an involuntary action on his part at the uncontrolled erection he had worked himself up to, fantasizing over his cousin.

And it was the same now it seemed with Srikant, in this unlikeliest of places — at the gateway to a temple. “We are not yet past the entrance gate,” she rationalized to herself as she felt herself warming to the situation and wanting to do more with this young man.

With a naughtiness typical of her, she gently rolled her stomach so that she responded to his grind with one of her own. Srikant felt the relief of a proper massage to his cock and sucked his breath inward. It seemed so purposeful, “Was it deliberate?” he wondered. In the next instant his doubts multiplied. On the pretext of adjusting her saree Shobha moved her right across between their bodies. The back of her hand rested on his crotch. She rolled it over the trunk of his cock feeling its contours. The moment she had a sense of its alignment she spread her index and middle finger. The forked fingers moved up the cock and as she came up on the head she narrowed her fingers, squeezing the tip the best she could.

Srikant shuddered as his cock released a small quantum of cum in relief. She felt the shudder too, and also the warmth and was that moistness? Involuntarily, her face reddening she looked up to see the reaction on the boy’s face and their eyes met. Shobha mami knew lust when she saw it. She quickly looked away.

At once she felt both sorry for having created a situation that was not immediately solvable and excited at having seduced Srikant. She felt her throat dry up.

Till today, all her sexual fantasies had been in her mind. But now, this boy from her neighborhood — her body and mind seemed ready to sink into a dalliance with him.

The shuffle continued as the crowd and heaved and pushed. Shobha found herself slightly misaligned with Srikant. Her machinations with his cock had moved them askew a wee bit but this was fortuitous. It allowed Shobha to get his thigh between her legs. And while she wanted to do more with that excitable cock of his, she had needs of her own and she added that to her seductive mix.

She splayed open her legs and allowed herself to plant her pussy with the weight of her body behind it, squarely on his thigh. Then to make sure that it was not a passing grind that might be mistaken she bent her hips ever so slightly and rode her pussy up his thigh.

The rub supplied her with simple pleasure. He had never seen or been with a woman and he had no idea beyond the fact that somewhere in that part of the body was where man and woman joined when they responded to their innate desires.

His cock had swelled larger than ever before. Even when he looked at all those nude pictures or clips on the net it had not been this large; nor had it been larger when he fantasized about any and every married woman on the street where he lived – including Shobha mami. He just wanted to be somewhere else where he could masturbate to one more fantasy –this time with more to add to his imagination.

And again. Again she rubbed her pussy against his thigh that he now pushed forward once more. Between the two rubs she had half made up her mind that this boy would be the one which whom she would unleash the real Shobha. The wanton, lust-ridden Shobha. The Shobha who had desires and needs beyond her marital bed and who would it take it wherever it took her.

It inflamed her senses to the point that the second rub brought on sensations that no other part of her body could have provided. She was agape, the lips had unfolded and she sensed the flow and wondered if her groin was going to be one soppy mess by the time she was to reach the sanctum of the temple.

And this time Srikant felt a little more than he had felt the last time. Something more moist and slippery than just the plain body he had felt before, perhaps? He still had no way of knowing. He made up his mind then and there — he would turn back from the temple. He desperately needed the release and in any case this was not the frame of mind in which one visited the temple.

His mind was in a dizzy whirl with desire and he wondered how much of it was imagined by him and how much real. No — it was real. Those fingers on him, that deliberate angle she gave her hips so that her pussy would rub on him — those were not accidents. She had to want to do it for those things to happen.

He would have turned and made a dash for his house and for the one private place he knew there on the rooftop below the water tank. But he did not want to separate his body from that of the desirable woman who rubbed herself against him much as a cat would against a scratching pole.

Anyway, their separation was inevitable and likely to happen soon. At that time he would anyway have to go to the rooftop refuge and masturbate. He controlled his need for release to enjoy what he was getting right now.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir

Şu HTML etiketlerini ve özelliklerini kullanabilirsiniz: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>

tuzla escort istanbul travesti istanbul travesti istanbul travesti ankara travesti seks hikayeleri ortaköy escort kocaeli escort kocaeli escort film izle eryaman escort demetevler escort şişli escort şişli escort çapa escort muğla escort gaziantep escort ankara escort numberoneescorts.com