Kareena was married now with a celebrity child who had more attention span these days than hers. Saif would take her for holidays to exotic locations but the wild sex in her life was missing. Over the years she had a string of lovers. Some dearer to her with whom she spent long, languorous hours when her house was quiet. Others were more to do with her lust unleashed as she took a fancy to a young man and devoured him as a special treat. On many of the occasions the quiet of her house was rent apart by the animal bellowing she allowed herself.
As pleasures took over she had arrangements made for her satisfaction in private palatial bungalows. There were rooms which had glasses on all sides overlooking lush forests. There were gas fired heater rooms where, despite the torrential storms that lasted hours, it would be warm and dry. And in that wild weather interruption was no risk. And to the howls of the wind she added the tempestuous shouts of her own delight.
Her lovers were chosen by her. Not one of them lacked the stud-like virility she craved, hungered and feasted. Seduced as they had been by her sultry eyes and tight round hips in which to sink was a delight(she was known as Gaand Queen in one of the fb pages) they were all too aware who they were fucking. None of them never lost sight of the fact of who they were with. She made sure it stayed that way no matter how intimate the moment was; be it how they were being ridden, or were sucking those lovely milky breasts, or buried between the thighs and drinking, or ramming hard to tame the unquenchable.
But things changed after marriage. She was raw in her sensuality but she carried it with impeccable social skills. Her dressings had become immaculate and she was always on the best dressed lists. But she exercised restraint. In the flow of bodies in the cocktail parties many chanced upon her and hoped that tonight would be their night. It never was. She had fashioned herself into a woman who had harnessed the volcano within her very well. There was unlimited sexual energy but it was channelized with class and style. There was a buzz about her; but not that of a slut. Never.
She was not about to drop standards and style and become a slut. Not Kareena.
And so she withdrew and handled her unbridled and seemingly ageless sexuality differently. One could add it to the list of sacrifices a mother makes for her children. Sexuality ranks right there on the top of the list of sacrifices, unacknowledged, unsung and often unrequited.
The idea came to her slowly. But when it did, it gushed forth as a new release for the pent up woman inside her.
Lying spread on her bed she might massage her own breasts, in large round movements. Squeezing them and feeling out the nipples as they ached for the voracious sucking of a restless young man. Sometimes she ripped open her blouse to milk her own teats. The feverish pitch rose and inevitably Kareena would end up stroking her pubis hard. A handy hairbrush handle, her own sensitive fingers, dipping in, mimicking the hard stroking of a penis, thumbing her clit... and at the height of that self arousal a moan of deprivation.
