Fucking married bitch

Indian wives, ninety percent, don’t go to work. They stay home and call themselves housewives. But fate was so cruel to me that I was destined to give up the so-called housewife status to work and earn for my family. I had to support my only daughter and my invalid husband.

I tried all possible means to earn. I tried as a sales girl. The owner of the shop, taking advances, pressed my breasts one day, squeezed my buttocks another day, that and all I allowed, but when he wagged at me his skin capped penis one day I was scared. I gave up the job. I tried my luck as a house maid too. The men folks there, the land lord, his college going son and the land lord’s father-in-law, all of them wanted to have sex with me, to the back of their women folks, that of course I understood, but when they exposed me their foreskin clad pricks I was panicked. I stopped going there. I tried even prostitution, but with the very first customer, when he pulled out his uncircumcised cock, I babbled in panic and ran out. I never went indoors again. I went into the open, on the garbage laden streets of Mount Abu, and survived as a rag picker.

Sunrise would be only at 6:30, even in summer, over the hills of Mount Abu. I get up at 4:00 to 4:30 a.m. and start working. I had to start my work so early in order to have an edge over my competitors. My competitors were street children. And they come in flocks.

On that day, I went into the streets, as usual, picking rags. After quite some time, I became aware of a young man following me. I felt a chillness running through me. I sped up and moved towards the lake, where security persons would be posted. That man chased me not, but in his leisurely phase followed me there also.

“Where are you heading towards, sir?” a security man intervened him, “Nobody is allowed in the lake area before 6 O’ Clock.”

That young man, then, backtracked. I felt relieved.

I could almost fill up my big container bag before sun rise. My competitors, the street children, arrived by then.

At sunrise, I was in the market area, searching through the vegetable wastes. And suddenly there I noticed him, the young man who followed me in the early hours. He was watching me. No, it seemed, he was admiring me. I observed him through side glances. He was tall, young and also handsome, dark skinned though. He could be a South Indian, by his looks.

I took to the road towards my hut. He followed me there too. My hut was located near a small bridge of a narrow stream, on the eastern bank of the lake. We had raised it over a small plateau. Other huts were in the valley, on both banks of that small stream. Poor people of Mount Abu were living there.

My follower was on my tail. I reached the bridge, then got down from the road and went up towards my hut. Once I climbed the plateau, where my hut was, I turned around and looked for him. He was standing there near the bridge. I knew, being a man of high strata, he would not follow me in to the slum.

I put my rag-bag in a corner and went inside my hut. My six year old daughter was sleeping still. I took some water in a plastic bottle and came out. My eyes strayed towards the bridge. The man who followed me was nowhere around. I smiled, within me, a bitter smile. Then with a sigh of relief, I stuck on to my morning routines.

I came down and stepped on the road. Brahma-kumaries, gents and ladies in white robes, had already started their morning walk around the lake. I walked north, took a narrow path and climbed the hill and went behind a rock. I sat down lifting my saree and skirt. After relieving me of my bowels, I moved a bit forward and started washing my ass with the water I carried in the bottle. Only then I noticed him, the young follower, standing on the high platform of the nearby rock-garden, watching me intently. I felt shy and covered my head and of course the other uncovered parts. I left immediately and went straight into my hut.

I went behind my hut and washed myself behind an enclosure. Thoughts of my husband raised their painful heads. After the riots, he couldn’t manage himself to be useful in anyway. He couldn’t think of a work for an earning. All these years, nearly seven, he never had the courage again to approach me his wife for sex. Poor man! And now, he didn’t want to be a burden to me, it seemed. He ran away.

Drying out myself I entered back into my hut. I woke up my daughter, made her ready and gave her some roti to eat.

All these activities would have taken me an hour. But when I came out of my hut I could see him, that young man, standing there near the bridge. I was alarmed. I hesitated first, but made up my mind to face him. When I stepped on the road, over the bridge, I threw a glimpse at him. He met mine with a piercing stare. Something got snapped inside me.

I didn’t go to the town, where I intended to go, but walked on the opposite direction. As I expected, he was behind me. After five minutes walk I took a diversion and went in to the hilly terrain behind some bushes. He took some time, to avoid others observations, and arrived at my side.

“Kya hai? (What is it?)” I questioned him annoyingly, “Kya chaahiye? (What do you want?)”

He was off guarded. He blinked at me pathetically as a fool. I felt a bit sorry for my rudeness.

He found back his courage after a minute. “I don’t know. I have no intentions” he answered me in a majboor (weaker) Hindi. “You have a great structure. That’s all I can see. You draw me like a magnet. That’s all I can say.”

I didn’t know whether I was appalled or delighted, but I said in vexation, “Can’t you see that I am a dirty rag picker.”

“But, best things in life come from worse background.” He announced, boldly.

His eyes were grazing at my body. I felt as if I was naked. But the point is that I experienced a hot wave through my body and a wetness welling up in between my thighs.

‘Seven years, since we left Ahmedabad,’ I reckoned, ‘Thought of sex never crossed our mind. Now this rascal had rekindled it.’ I took aside the ‘pallu’ of my ‘saree’ to sponge out the perspiration on my face. It exposed the jutting of my breasts in my tight fitting blouse. He looked eagerly at my exposure. His right hand moved to his crotch and pushed down something there.

That, when I observed, stirred my body hot, further increasing my juices to flow. I became more anxious then. I didn’t want to lose him.

“People are climbing over there” I pointed out to him the trekking people, who were climbing on the near by mountain. “They could very well notice us.”

“I too would like to climb, if you permit” he quipped with a mischievous smile.

His remarks raised my pressure. ‘E no lund ne layeene maari bhose ma naakhvaanum joyeeye.’ (I wanted to pull out his cock, then and there, and stuff my cunt with it.) Instead, I gave him a simple meaningful look and walked ahead. I found a hideout not very far. Behind a big rock there was a small space covered with a patch of grasses. My saree I removed, folded and spread over the grasses. Coming behind me, he was eagerly feeding his eyes on my physique, curved out in my tight chaniya (skirt) choli (blouse). I sat down. My heart was racing. He was looking at my heaving breasts. I looked up at him. He was handsome, boyish, not exactly black, but brown as a snuff, with broad shoulders and strong limbs. And to look at from down under, the bulge in his pants…

Immediately, shyness came over me. I patted the ground beside me. He sat down, but I kept mum. I wanted him to make the first move. He hesitantly placed his big hand on my shoulder. That was enough for me. I caught that big hand and placed it on one of my breasts. Taking the clue, he himself placed his other hand on my left out breast. He squeezed them and pulled me towards him. His face was so close to me. His jet black eyes were boring through mine. I closed my eyes, enjoying his eager gentle squeeze at my breasts.

He brushed his lips against mine. I opened mine a little. Then I felt his wet lips fully on mine. He pushed through my lips and entered my mouth with his big fleshy tongue. I received it readily and sucked at it. Then he took my tongue in to his mouth and played to it with his own tongue. Eagerly I played with him.

I opened my blouse. There was no bra to interfere. I surrendered their bareness unto his open hands. He cupped their already congealed fleshiness and started squeezing them as one kneading aatta (flour) to make roti. My nipples became painfully erect and were getting mangled under his palms. Leaving my lips he took my breasts in his mouth and started sucking them and their nipples one by one. He was at them for quite sometime that it only increased my passions, evaporating my patience.

I myself downed his pants, inserted my hand into his brief and pulled out his manhood. His mottu lund (huge cock) sprang up in my hand like an angry snake. I was fascinated by its size. It was like a granite piece in its hardness and color. Its well exposed bulbous head was shining like a peeled off onion with its fish-mouth already oozing pearls of pre-cum. I smeared his pre-cum with my fingers over his cock-head. His cock impatiently stabbed at my palm.

I opened then the buttons of his shirts. His broad chest was covered with shiny black hairs. His stomach was flat.

I climbed on his lap and embraced him, entrapping his erect cock in between our bodies. I pummeled his hairy chest with my stiff nipples and jutting breasts. He encircled me with his muscled arms, crushing me against him and fucking his cock up through the tightness of our embrace. His moving cock was spitting its oozing pre-cum at the valley of my breasts.

“Now, show me your cunt” he whispered.

Enjoying the compress-recoil movement of his cock in between our bare bodies, I pressed my breasts more and more against his chest and said, “Why the cunt? This fucking itself feels great.”

“But I want to have a look at your cunt” he insisted like an adamant child.

I looked up at his face. A baby face it was, indeed. He looked like a grown up child. His clean shaved face was radiating. Our eyes met. I smiled. He kissed my lips. Crushing my breasts against him, I kissed him back.

Breaking the kiss he pleaded again, “Please, allow me to see the beauty of your naked cunt.”

I separated and laid myself on my back. I pulled loose the rope, but didn’t push down my skirt. With one of my feet I teased his standing cock, inviting him for action, but at the same time I covered my face with my hands out of shyness. He pulled down my skirt and tossed it aside. I didn’t wear any panties. He caressed my naked body from toes to temple with his fingers, which sent shivers all over my body. He moved up slowly and made me hot to want more and more of him.

He massaged my thighs. Then he kneaded the fleshy mound of my shaved cunt, running his fingers now and then all along the crack, manipulating the labial swelling and teasing the pleasure button. I couldn’t bear the sensations. I myself widened my thighs and offered my cunt to his access, willingly. He kneaded and kneaded my cunt as one kneads a mango fruit to make its pulp into juice, before he bites open its skin to suck out the juices. Then he pushed his middle finger into the slushiness of my crevice. His finger being so thick and long, I felt as if a cock had entered my cunt. I lifted my buttocks a little and fucked back at his invaded finger, exposing my eagerness shamelessly, contradicting my hands hiding my face in shyness.

O his upward journey, he stayed at my breasts a while, pressing and squeezing them to cause my breathings hot and course. Then taking away my hands to uncover my face, he petted my cheeks, twisted my lips and murmured into my ears, “The fairness of your skin, the whiteness of your mounds, the pinky peaks of your nipples, the golden brown valley of your cunt and its rosy depths are rare wonders that I can not find such niceties on our part of the country.”

Elated, I opened my eyes. We looked into each other. His eyes were sparkling and speaking so many love-tales. “What do you want me to do with you?” he asked.

I inserted my fingers into his dense hairs, held him by his hairs and jerking his head, urged him, “Fuck me. Fuck me now, immediately.”

But he had other ideas. He started kissing me from my temple to toes. On his way down, he dwelled long on my breasts and sucked them like a starving baby feeding itself at its mother’s. But on my cunt, he just snipped down as a dog at a useless thing, and proceeded on his kissing down to my toes. But then he knelt himself on his knees, brought his face on level with my cunt and engrossed in kissing it. When the tip of his tongue probed in to the seams of my engorged cunt lips, a shiver of pleasure ran through the length of my body. Enjoying a few minutes like that, he dived himself in between my thighs. I stretched out my thighs and presented him my cunt like a full blossomed flower. He started lapping at it and sucking his honey directly from its depth. He ran his tongue all along the labyrinths of its inner lips and on the rim of its swollen outer lips. He nibbled and sucked at my vattana (pea). He repeated all these actions again and again, but with variations in pressure and sequence. To admit sincerely, I lost my head somewhere in between and it is useless in trying to narrate the heavenly dance of his miraculous tongue on the inner and outer arena of my cunt.

As time went, waves of pleasure rippled through my body. Tossing my head this side and that side, moaning and groaning, I lifted my buttocks and pushed the gash of my cunt at his face. Suddenly my abdomen convulsed and the dam inside my cunt broke down to bath his tongue and mouth with the floods of its juices. My buttocks collapsed on the floor, but he didn’t let me go. He lapped at my cunt for some more time, till he satisfied himself with his performance. Only then he raised his head and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

I never had my cunt licked before. It took quite some time for me to return to this world. I smiled at him, but at the same time, out of shyness I covered my face with my hands. He took away my hands and kissed me tenderly.

Then he laid himself on his back. He lifted me up and made me sit on his thighs. He wanted me to fuck him from ‘woman on top’ position. That too I never did in my life before. Not only that, we never experimented varieties in our sex acts. I admitted him so. But he insisted. His cock was pointing the sky in its full glory. He made me mounted on it. He caught his cock by his right hand and placed its bald head in the entrance of my cunt. Then he pulled me by my hips and made me slip down on his cock. His cock filled my sheath with its hugeness. My buttocks rested on his balls. Yah Allah, his cock stretched the whole length of my vagina, entered the tight cervical ring of my womb and pervaded the secret depths of my fertility chamber. I remained there, stuffed with his hugeness, stunned.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Your cock is unbelievably big” I hissed.

“But your cunt is unbelievably hot and juicy” he hissed back at me.

I blushed at but enjoyed his rhetoric. With his instruction and guidance, I started my up and down movement. When he appreciated my quick learning I went red, but jumped up and down on his pole encouragingly. His cock was hitting me deep. I was bathing his shaft with my juices. Just in five minutes fucking, I reached my pleasure peak. I collapsed on his chest and kissed him affectionately.

He had not yet shootout his load. He reversed our positions. I was on my back. Splitting my thighs and placing them over his muscled thighs, squatting, he caught my fleshy boobs firmly as supports and positioned his cock-head, nuzzled at the juice-dripping crease of my swollen cunt lips. Raising himself on his toes and pushing forward he entered me and started attacking my satiated cunt with his ferocious cock. His cock was ramming in and out and by its mere massiveness it stretched out the walls of my vagina and started ironing out the fleshy folds therein. ‘My poor cunt! It would loose its grip and remain for the rest of its life as a wrinkleless wide open bell mouth, once he completed this cunt-stretching fuck.’

Nevertheless, I lifted my buttocks up and enjoyed his merciless jabbing. My cunt was overflowing with its juices, drenching down my thighs and buttocks. A rhythmic sound as ‘plug-klug-plug-klug-plug-klug’ was produced out of our cock-in-cunt movement and echoed by the nearby rocks. Within few minutes my body rocked again and I let out a groan and climaxed.

Immediately he disengaged himself, rolled me on my stomach, pulled up my hips to raise my buttocks and entered my cunt, from behind, with the stiffness of his massive manhood. I felt as if I was busted in by a stallion. He brought his hands around my thighs and caught my breasts. He never let my breasts free. Squeezing them he started moving his cock in a deep and shallow movement. The deep movements were real attacks, in which his thighs slapped against my buttocks while the tip of his cock hitting against a far wall somewhere beyond my navel. My cunt was begging for mercy, but the savageness of his cock was heedless. Burying my face in the folds of my saree there under, I was moaning and groaning continuously. My cunt was full of pleasure buds being stimulated unbearably by his powerful long swimming cock. Peak after peak my body was rocked by the waves of pleasure. I was about to lose my consciousness, but then he increased his speed and… and so deep inside… his cock erupted…again and again… and flooded my cunt with his hot thick semen until it overflowed through the puffy lips of my cunt. He collapsed on me and I collapsed on the ground. We were lying there like that, breathing heavily and sweat pouring down from his body bathing mine.

When his cock completely shrunk down, he pulled it out and got up. I rolled on my back and looked up. And there he was standing with his flaccid cock. And I was stung by a thousand wasps. His penis, I found, hanging down like a drenched rat, was covered with a foreskin. Yes, he was uncircumcised.

“Are you not a Muslim?” I questioned him with a shuddering voice.

“What made you infer so?” he questioned me back coolly.

I gathered my cloths in horror and ran away from there. He was calling behind me, but I didn’t look back. After a safe distance, I dressed myself and headed towards my hut.

The whole night on that day I couldn’t sleep. I was tormented by the images of him and his sexual excesses. In the dead of the night, I shockingly realized that I enjoyed his sexual excesses to their cores. I realized also that I never had a pleasure trip like that before and would never have thereafter, if I part way with him. My body started yearning for his overindulgence. My cunt started itching for his long probing tongue and hard poking cock. ‘I was a fool to leave him like that’ I despaired, ‘And by chance if he had left already…’

I didn’t know the time, but I got up and hurried up straight to the spot where I spotted him the previous morning. And, ma shah Allah, he was there leaning against a lamp post, expecting my arrival, the whole night perhaps.

I ran into his stretched out hands. He hugged me. We locked in a frantic kiss.

Fortunately nobody was there to notice us. I led him into a dark lane. Leaning against a wall, I zipped down his pant and freed his monster cock and it was impatiently throbbing for action. I furled my saree and skirt above my waist. There was a curb wall of two feet height near my feet. I placed one of my feet on it, while placing the other firmly on the ground, leaning my back against the wall. I pulled him by his cock and offered my cunt. He wedged me up. We locked our lips. He started executing his lengthy strokes through the well lubricated tunnel of my velvety cunt. Unusual circumstances and an unusual way of fucking it were! Within seconds I convulsed through, released my juices and bathed his moving piston.

I  complained about his brutal force, which make my back rubbing sour against the wall. Immediately he pulled out his cock; made me bent, placing my both hands on the curb wall and entered me from behind. That was fantastic! He lunged forward. I could withstand his brutal attacks, pushing back my buttocks as shock absorbers.

We were fucking like street dogs. And that too in an open street in doggy style! The visualization made me terribly hot. My cunt started convulsing into multiple orgasms rocking my whole body, like a storm seizing a tender sapling. It was intolerable. But, by then, he increased his speed by short strokes and released his floods in hot streams.

When we regained our breathings and composures, I told him, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked.

“For the way I behaved and left you in the forest.” I said, pulling his head to my bosoms and kissing at his temple.

“For everything that went against, you’ve made up now,” he said, caressing my buttocks. “Go home, get some sleep and come over to our hideout this afternoon. I have a patient admitted in a hospital here. I have this commitment to look after, even though I don’t want to leave the hot and juicy comfort of your cunt. ”

I blushed into the night. We kissed a long lasting kiss. And, on my way back, I was humming some sexy Hindi film song.

I became really made after him. I went into the hideout long before his arrival and when he arrived at last, I pounced on him, freed his cock out of its confinement but jailed it immediately in the sheath of my cunt. Willingly, he started his engine and took me to the sky to fill up my womb with his seeds.

When we landed back, I looked at his foreskin clad penis and asked, “Are you a Hindu, then?”

“Yes and no” he answered. “But what is it that disturbing you?”

“Mmm…I’ve not asked your name, so far”

“Amarnath. What’s yours?”

“Parveen. Parveen Ahmed” I replied and said, “So yours is Amarnath, a Hindu name, but where is your sacred thread? Are you a low caste or what?”

He smiled and said, “One, who has mastered the Vedas, is supposed to wear the sacred thread. Nowadays people are wearing it just to declare their castes. Nonsense! In Manu Smriti, it is written, ‘All Dravidians are kshadriyas, but they, giving up reciting Vedas, became shudras’. I am happy to be a shudra. And I don’t respect the deceitful Vedas, either.”

Though I couldn’t follow him fully, I perceived him as a scholar. “Are you not against Muslims, then?”

“I am not against anybody. All these religions are dishonest” he said. “I see you not as a Muslim, but as a beautiful woman.”

I secured to him. He took me in a protective embrace. I took his limp cock in my hand and played with its foreskin, furling and unfurling it over his cock-head.

“I thought yours was circumcised when I saw it first” I said.

“Because it was in full erection then” he explained, “In full erection, the foreskin automatically rolls back in my cock.”

“I see, now I understand” I said, blushing. “And I want to see it attaining full erection, now.”

“You can, but you have to do one thing.”

“What is it?” I demanded eagerly. My face was close to his cock.

He closed his big hand over mine that was playing on his cock and bending his cock, he brushed my slightly opened lips with its head and said, “Suck.”

Immediately a vomiting feeling started in me and my stomach started churning. I surged. In alarm, he withdrew his cock. And he was bewildered.

“Sorry, I want to, but I am not able to” I told him after I regained my senses. “You will understand if I reveal you my past. During the Hindu-Muslim riot,

a mob entered our house. My husband was away then. We were three women inside: my old mother-in-law, my little sister-in-law, and me in my advanced stage of pregnancy. The mob raped us. They didn’t even spare my kid sister-in-law, who had not attained her puberty. A full bearded temple priest tore her apart and other innumerous thugs followed him. She died of pain and shock. A teen aged boy pounced on my mother-in-law and others followed him in molesting her. When a thug inserted his uncircumcised prick into her mouth she bit it and in pain he wailed, but sliced her throat with a sword he carried. She died in a pool of blood. Out of fear I had to accommodate all the uncircumcised dirty cocks that entered my mouth with their urine and muck smells. Luckily a group of Muslims, with weapons, arrived on the scene and I was saved. Our shop, a bakery, too was burned down. My husband in panic took nothing but me and we fled. We arrived here. My husband was psychologically affected. He couldn’t work afterwards. I delivered my girl. I sold the jewels I put on and managed. Later, failed in coping with the Hindu dominated social careers, I ended up in rag picking.”

I broke down. Amarnath scooped me up and embraced me tightly. Shedding tears with me he was going on kissing and soothing me. His concern touched my heart. We were remaining silent in our embrace for quite a long time. Then slowly my mind and body returned to their carnal normal.

“Is it not this act, fucking out of wedlock, is wrong?” I raised him my doubt.

“There is no right or wrong” he asserted in a serene voice. “There is good or bad in the world and that too with mean people. Actually, there is only GOOD. But even that is merely a term; because when you name something ‘good’ then automatically it implies the existence of a ‘bad’, such as when spiritualists name the truth as ‘one’, then ‘two’ or ‘more’ raise their heads. When you say ‘Islam’, automatically other religions will raise their heads. NOTHINGNESS IS TRUTH, but only as long as it remains as nothingness. Once something is bred out of it, corruption comes around, just like matter attains its attributes as soon as it evolves itself out of vacuum (or vacuum energy as scientists call it). It’s a sad thing. It’s very difficult to remain in and as nothingness. So we create religions and fight each other.”

“I am not that much educated” I admitted, “Tell me directly.”

“There was a custom among Eskimos. I don’t know whether it prevails still. As we offer tea to our guests, an Eskimo offers his wife. There is no question of wedlock or chastity or faithfulness, but only survival.”

“But in Qur’an…”

“Most of the prophets had slept out of wed-lock with their maid servants or slaves. Qur’an or Bible or any other Vedas, all are something bred, vulnerable to corruption.”

“Jesus Christ never slept with a woman…”

“Texts are written contesting this belief.”

“What about Hindu seers?”

“There is no one as Hindu seer. There were of course Indian seers. When we did blackout Buddha we did indeed blackout the total Indian vision.”

“Are you a Buddhist?”

“No ism is worth. Buddhists are killing Tamils in Sri Lanka.”

“What are you then?”

“I am none. Right now I am trying to be Parveen’s lover.”

I laughed at his conclusion. I mounted on his lap and kissed all over his face. He caught my boobs, his favorites, and started squeezing them. His cock stirred under my buttocks. I got down and observed the erection process of his cock. It raised its head gradually, extending on its length and breath at the same time. To encourage him I squatted in front of him and exposed my puffy-lipped zipped-open cunt. His cock leaped up immediately into its full glory. Its goose egg sized head swelled out of its foreskin cover. In its full erection it exactly resembled a circumcised prick. He pulled me to seat on his thighs so that my zipped down cunt slammed against his leaped up cock. Then he caught his shaft in one hand, rubbed its bulbous head up and down all along the crack, dipping now and then into my soak pit. It made me feverishly hot.

“Where did you learn all these tricks?” I asked.

“Not to be revealed, but nothing will go wrong if I tell you” He answered, “From an elderly lady who was my first woman and the only one before you. She taught me everything now I do, just in three months.”

“Was she a courtesan?”

“No, she was a respectable housewife, an ex-girlfriend of my father” he opened out. “But when our relationship was found out I thought it was a shame on me. I left that place, remained all these seven years as a celibate without seeking this pleasure.”

“What made you to seek back the embraces of women?”

“I came here to the ‘Brahmakumari Samaj’. Their babble on ‘atma’ luckily exposed me the deceitfulness of the entire ‘atmavadins’. Brahmakumaris say a human will reborn only as a human being. Adhishankara writes, an atma has no qualities and a human being may reborn as a god or an insect, depending upon his/her past karma. When quality of rebirth is independent of atma, where will be the necessity for atma? It is nothing but they are simply afraid of death. They want something to be in continuance. They framed a folly called ‘atma’ to do that continuity. Thus they assigned a function to the so-called functionless atma.”

“Don’t you believe in rebirth?”

“I believe indeed. A seed does reborn as a sprout, a sprout as a plant, a plant as a tree, a tree as fruits and fruits as seeds. Every moment we die and every moment we do reborn. No atma is required for this. We will also die giving up our breath and will reborn as carcass, in that moment, and will reborn to decompose the next moment. Never mind, as seeds are the rebirths of trees, our children are our rebirths to maintain our continuity in this world.”

“So?”

“So I realized and came out of the religious maze. And I spotted a man struggling for his life. I admitted him in a hospital. And I spotted you, structured like a marble statue, unbelievable, yet picking rags. I followed you. That’s all.”

“That’s not all” I patted his cheeks. “Come let’s fuck”

I got up from his thighs and walked away to try a new position.

“Your bums are so big and fleshy” he commented, “that it would be nice to ream.”

The idea attracted me. I turned only my head and looking at him over my shoulders I invited, “Then do it.”

He jumped up on his legs. And his elongated cock jumped with him, up and down. He came behind me and caressed my buttocks affectionately. Nudging his erect cock in the groove of my fleshy behind, he embraced me and nibbled at my ears. He didn’t forget to give a squeeze to his favorites, my boobs. Then he made me bent, placing my hands on a rock for support. From behind he entered my cunt and fucked in slow movements.

“You suggested some other thing?” I reminded him.

“Yes, but I am lubricating my piston,” he answered.

It pleased me. I waited. He pulled out his piston from my cunt and tried to position it at my asshole. I put down my hand, caught his lubricated shaft and placed it at the right place. He gave pressure and pushed his cock head in. I expressed him that I experienced some pain. He waited. He told me to relax. He cajoled my buttocks for a minute. Then slowly and slowly he filled my rectum with his stiffness until his balls slammed against the lips of my cunt. I sighed.

Leaning on my back he murmured some vulgar words, “Choochi Choochi pakadke masalke | Jor jor se chodhoong, pyaari | Garmi garmi chootwali | Kaan maarna maja thumhari ||” (Cupping and squeezing your boobs | I shall fuck you vigorously, my love. | The hottest cunt you have, | Yet to ream your ass is a delight || ). One thing was sure. Even though his Hindi was poor, he had mastered all its vulgar words.

Then he started his engine. It started, on my part, as a fearsome adventure and eased up slowly into a pleasure promenade. His piston was moving in and out. While moving in, it pulled all my cunt muscles and while moving out it, released them. Thus not only he was fucking my asshole, but also titillating my cunt muscles. As time passed, I relaxed and started fucking back at his every in-stroke. He squeezed my breasts simultaneously. Now and then he tweaked my clitorious with his big fingers. Thus he raised my body temperature to its pleasure peak and made me ready to explode. Then he increased the speed of his fucking and manipulation of my pleasure button. When he exploded inside my ass, I wobbled and exploded with him. He pulled out his cock, but kept me in his embrace until our excitement subsided.

Then he made me lie on my back and gave me a bonus cunt-lapping to end the day in sweet memories.

Thereafter that hideout became our love nest. We met there and fucked daily to our heart content. He would look after his personal duty whenever I release him from my love lock. We enjoyed sex in all lovable ways: like birds, like animals and like even snakes. In fourteen days we fucked, sixty three times he discharged his seeds deep into my womb and charged it. I marked and accounted it by scratching a line on the rock, every time he flooded my womb. On fourteenth day, after the sixty third charging, he took me into his embrace and asked me, whether I would be interested in marrying him. Sobbing on his shoulders, I said, “Yes”.

He said, “My poor friend is getting discharged tomorrow. I will see him reach his residence safely and then come to your house. Your daughter will be my daughter. See that you don’t get second thoughts. I love the greatest feeling of your body and the beauty of your mind.”

The next day was going to be my great day. Even my daughter was exited. I didn’t tell her, but she understood some important thing is going to happen. At about 11:00 O’ Clock in the morning, my lover Amarnath crossed his bridge limit and stepped in to our slum. I ran toward him like little lass to receive him in to my house. But when I reached him I found a familiar face in a decent man behind him. It was no one but my husband minus his musalman beard. A great shock indeed it was to me, but Amarnath my lover, without an iota of an idea, was smiling happily at me.

“This is my wife, my friend.” My husband introduced me to my lover. Then he continued to address me, “And this friend is Mr.Amarnath who is in fact a messenger of God. He saved my life and met my total hospital expenditure. He has also given me some more money to start our new life.”

Amarnath’s face went pale, but only for a minute, because he was an enlightened and brave man. But my condition was worse. We couldn’t share even a single word. But then what is there to share!

Seeing her father my daughter ran down towards us. For her, the special occasion was dawned as her father’s arrival.

Once we entered our hut I guided Amarnath sit on the luggage box I had made ready to go with him. My husband told me to prepare some tea, while he went to announce his return to all his old acquainted in the slum. My daughter too left with her father in a happy mood.

We were weighing the heavy atmosphere. Amarnath stood up as though he wanted to go out. I rushed on him as an orphan child and hugged him as if he was my very life. I wept silently. He wept with me. Then that madness came on me. I slipped down to my knees and zipped down his pant and pulled out his cock. He tried to prevent me, but I was mad. I took that beautiful thing, my love pole, which flooded my womb sixty three times with its seeds, in my hand and then into my mouth and started sucking at it.

“No, Parveen, one should not use for his pleasures the wife of one, whom he helped, behind his back.”

But I didn’t listen. His cock was already rock hard and it meant he started enjoying it. I too enjoyed it very much. I recalled in my memory all the Hindu thugs’ cocks that were stuffed in my mouth during the riot. A love surged in me now, and I decided to clean those uncircumcised uncleaned cocks by my very mouth. I started sucking them one by one with the consent of my free will. All were enjoying my art and the slurping wetness of my act. When they discharged their semen into my mouth I gulped the load and sucked them dry until their cocks shrunk so small. When I had done with those thugs, I turned my attention to my lover Amarnath’s cock. Without taking away my mouth, I looked up. Our eyes met and he understood. He approved my change. My lover’s cock was a beautiful thing, the egg head eel of my love games, my cunt-hole swimmer, my play mate and my pleasure giver! I swirled my tongue around its head. And then I swiped at the small opening on its crest. He got excited and, caressing my earlobes with his fingers, started pumping his cock through my clamped lips. I looked up again. Delighted, he was with me on the pleasure trip. Then, like a wounded cub, he started growling in a low voice, “I love you Parveen, I love you. I will continue to be here with you, my love, my transition port.” He increased his speed then and his cock-head swelled and released his load at a high pressure. The jets of semen hit the back of my throat and flooded my mouth beyond my gulping speed. Some dripped through the corner of my mouth. Without releasing his cock, I sucked it dry. He was still caressing my earlobes, affectionately, in a slow motion.

His cock had not yet shrunk, but we heard some voices at the door step. In a hurry he pulled his cock out and turned his back to the door to zip in his cock. I scooped the overflowed semen stream from the corners of my mouth with my finger and sucked it dry.

My husband and daughter re-entered. I started making tea.

“Oh, only now you are going to make the tea.” My husband observed. Then he turned towards my lover and asked, “Well, when are you going to marry then, my friend? Don’t forget, you must invite us all for your marriage.”

My lover sat quietly for almost a minute and then answered, “To tell you the truth, I was in love with a girl named Parveen, but her family situations prevented us from getting married.”

I was overwhelmed by a deep sorrow. I wiped my down pouring eyes, hiding away from my husband’s view.

“Oh, a muslim girl! Now I understand.” My husband sympathized. “Don’t worry; my wife’s name is also Parveen. I am ready to spare her. Stay here. Enjoy this Parveen and forget that Parveen.”

We both were shocked. But that was only for a second. Then my husband laughed loudly and started enjoying his own joke.

Amarnath left Mount Abu, once for all. My husband had changed completely. He started a tea shop first. It went very well. We regained our sex life too. Though it was not as wild as that with Amar, I was content in satisfying my husband. I conceived and gave birth to a male child. A black baby it was. A pleasant gift from my lover, his rebirth, I could see, but at the same time I was afraid of what my husband would think.

My husband was overjoyed when he saw the baby. “Parveen, we were always thinking of Amarnath mercifully and mercifully, indeed, he has come in to our home.”

My husband named our son as ‘Amarnath’ after his savior, my lover. Following the birth of our son, we could buy a bakery there. We displayed a name board, “Amar’s Bakery”. Later we could buy some vans to run as taxis in that tourist place. “Amarnath Travels” came into existence.

My husband didn’t agree to perform circumcision on our son. When the local Muslim community opposed him, he got up as a brave lion and lectured, “Brothers, let the Imams have their circumcision, grow beard and wear cap. Let the Prohits and Temple Priests wear their sacred threads. Let the Christian Missionaries wear their crosses. Let us, ordinary people of one community, be like ordinary people of any other communities.”

I was astounded. I could see Amarnath right through my husband. What a work my lover had done to my husband! His amorous seed he planted in me, alright, but his intellectual seed he had planted in my husband. That was great! I ran up, hugged, and kissed my husband in the public, in front of those rotten old minds.

And I did right

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