All those who have read my earlier stories (âTara gets the drop inâ and âPlanned surprise system lets them have funâ and the rest) would have seen that I have set up a deal with my lover, Tara, to play adult games to keep our sex life full of surprises and with anticipation of how we would get fucked next.
This happened yesterday and I thought that it might be of interest to you. This is a true story.
If my stories have got atleast one panty wet or one dick on the hop or one couple has enjoyed their fucking session better, I am overjoyed. Frankly, reading stories written by many of you has made me excite Tara many a time and fuck, and she has helped me overcome tiredness and fuck.
It was Saturday morning and I was having my breakfast tea. I suddenly decided to call Tara and talk to her about some shopping we had done the evening before. I felt she had spent far too much on her clothing. During the phone conversation, I had to tell her many a time âYou donât know your maths." She said, âI am a Biology student." I sounded pissed and said, âI will have to teach you maths. Atleast with our money." Tara said âIt was my money, not yours. So why are you upset." I was more pissed and said, âWhat did you say?â Tara said, âI am sorry, I made that distinctionâ But all I bought was some lingerie that was expensive. Rest was humdrum stuff. Anyway, I am sorry you feel so. Darling all my money is yours and all your money is mine. Even I am yours. So what is the fight about!â I agreed with her and said, âI will HAVE to teach you maths anyway." Tara added, âI promise to make it up with you darling. Just donât get pissed early in the morning." I said âBye. See you soon darlingâ and hung up.
The whole day went by lazing and doing some standard housework. In the evening, I had a bath and started to get ready for my ritual visit to Tara to spend an evening of fun and maybe some torrid sex.
While getting ready, I got an idea. Let me surprise her. Let me dress like a traditional teacher of India. I took out my Dhoti (a white long piece of cotton cloth that is worn traditionally in India and a Kurta. Remember Gandhi with his loincloth. A better version of that). I slipped into Kolhapuri slippers and dabbed some Aramis cologne. (Tara hates bad smell).
A short 30-minute drive through bad traffic reached me to Taraâs home.
I walked slowly up the steps and rang the bell. I heard her come to the door and felt she peaked out through the eye spy on the door. I had been telling her to be careful. I could hear her slipping in the door chain and then she slowly opened the door a crack and asked, âYes?â She then saw me and said âGood God. What is this? Why are you wearing all this?â I said âMiss, didnât you want a Maths teacher?â Tara said, âYes. Yes. Sir. Please come in."
Tara was wearing a traditional white cotton sari and red blouse with hooks in the front. Her sari was crumpled. She had been having a nap. Her eyes were swollen, as they would be after she woke up from a nap. Her hairs were open. She would carelessly wrap her hairs and make them into a bun. She smelt good. Like always.
I could see the traces of her white bra through her blouse. Actually, I did not like this dress sense of hers. Nevertheless, she always wore such stuff at home when I was not expected.
I walked in tentatively and asked, âWhere is the student?â Tara said âSir I am the student." I answered, âArenât you rather grown up for learning maths?â
I said âI charge Rs 200 per hour." Tara said âThat is okay Sir. As long as I learn Maths, it is okay with me." I said, âMiss, I didnât get your name." âSir. My name is Tara."
I said âOkay. So should we start today?â
âYes Sir. Let me get the copy books etc."
Tara led me to a small square study table. She pulled to two handle less chairs from the dining set and placed them on both sides of the table. She placed some rough paper and placed the pens and pencils.
I sat myself down and asked, âWhere do we start? Sit down Tara. . . . . . And bye the way, I am strict about workâ
Tara said âOkay Sir."
Tara added, âSir I spend too much money and I canât even add well. I was a Biology student. Therefore, Maths did not matter too much. But my friends are keen that I learn minimal maths atleast."
âOkay. Let us see how much you know."
I gave her some short additions, done the long way. She did it all right. Then I gave her some longer additions with six digits across and seven numbers one below the other.
Tara was foxed and said, âThis is hard."
I said, âJust do it. No talking when doing sums - okay."
Tara went on trying. She made a mistake and I told her to do it again. Tara tried again. And again another mistake.
Over the next half and hour I saw that Tara was terrible in Maths. And then her hand writing. It was truly bad.
When she made her sixth mistake, she looked frustrated. I got up and spoke in a stern voice âYour handwriting is terrible. It has to be better."
Tara said, âI cant. Sir."
I went behind her and leant over her shoulder and held her right hand and firmly made her write numbers one below the other.
The moment I sat down, Tara again lapsed into bad handwriting.
I decided that this was the time to have some fun.
I looked cross and said, âOne more mistake and you will have to be punished."
Tara did not take long to make the mistake. I quickly reached out, caught her by her ear, twisted it, and said, âCorrect this."
Tara took out the eraser and corrected the mistake.
In less then five minutes she made one more mistake. I grabbed a small bunch of her hairs and tugged them and said âWhat is wrong with you?â Tara winced and corrected the mistake.
I got up and started to pace up and down and she continued with her work.
She made one more mistake. I went behind and her and held her ear again and pulled it hard. I think her ear tops hurt. She said, âIt hurts."
I simply took off her ear tops and threw them in the corner and said, âYou wear all this stuff and sit for studies. Is it? Take off all your jewelry and keep it away. You do not need to look dressy to study."
âOne more mistake and I will be very angryâ
Tara was trying very hard to keep her work straight.
Tara was scratching her head and then her torso. I found that she was scratching her breasts also, from above her blouse.
I came behind her and said, âWhy are you scratching everywhere?â
âWhat is wrong with youâ?
Tara said âSir. It is scratching. What can I do?â
I went behind her and caught her by her shoulders and pulled her elbows up. Her hands came behind her head.
I slowly moved my hands over her breasts over her blouse.
Tara said âSir. What are YOU doing?â
I said, â Where is it scratching Eh?â
Tara pointed out a place. I scratched and pinched that part of her breast.
She said âOuch. That hurts." Tara gasped and appeared to be a little shocked where I was taking the evening.
âJust go ahead â do your maths."
Tara continued with her work.
Once again, she started to scratch part of her body.
I caught her hands from behind and pulled then on top of her head and asked âIf you donât stop scratching and making mistakes, I will have got check if you have some skin diseaseâ
I gave her a difficult sum to do. She floundered and scratched her head.
I shouted, âStop. Just stop the work. I HAVE TO CHECK whether you have some scratching disease."
Tara stopped and looked up at me.
I went behind her, pulled her sari away from above her breasts, and threw it aside. I just caught her blouse front ends and unsnapped the blouse hooks one by one, agonizingly slowly. I was standing behind her. I pulled the blouse up onto her arms. Her arms came down as if in mock arrest.
I slid my hands behind her blouse and unsnapped the bra. I slowly moved the bra straps down her shoulders and lowered the bra.
Her breasts leapt out of that small-constricted bra. Indian girls have large breasts - certainly compared with European girls. In the west, there is a notion that breasts should be the size of wine glass. In India, compared, they are not breasts, they are udderly large and creamy.
I told Tara âScratch them if you like."
Tara meekly said âSir, my hands are caught. I cant.â
I said, âI donât care. Just scratch them. I want you to get over this stupidity."
Tara tried and failed.
I told her angrily âDo I have to do that also?â
With that, I scratched her breasts one at a time. Tara said âSir. Yes here. Up, a little bit. Yes Yes. Here."
Soon I was caressing her breasts and not scratching them.
Tara was enjoying the attention to every detail on her breasts.
I caught both her breasts from behind and twirled both the nipples together. Tara gasped and said "Sir. Please stop.â
I said âWhat? I should stop. You are ordering me around? I donât take any orders from my students â Do you understand?â
I just cupped both her breasts and caressed them more from behind.
She purred with delight.
I took one nipple at a time into my fingers and kneaded them.
I peeled off the blouse from her hands and then slid the bra off. She was now naked on the top.
After playing with her breasts for a while, I took her sari and draped it over her breasts in mock covering for her modesty.
I went to the other side, sat down, and asked, âHas it stopped scratching?â
âYes Sir. For the time being."
I said, âJust go ahead do your sums. Donât let me punish you more."
By this time, Tara had caught on what would follow but did not know what I would do next.
She quickly made a mistake. (Was she doing it intentionally? To fast forward her fuck?) I caught her by her hair and made her stand up and then said, âThis is bad. You have to be punishedâ
I made her kneel in front of her chair and made her lean over the chair. I told her âLift your buttocks over the chair. You will have got be disciplined."
Tara reluctantly raised her buttocks over the chair and took a delectable position. Her face was down and her legs were on the other side.
I slowly went behind her and took a position. She could not see me any more.
I swiftly and roughly lifted her sari from under her knees and placed the sari and the petticoat near her waist. Her lovely buttocks were visible. She was not wearing a panty. (That is common in India)
I ran my hands over her buttocks. Suddenly I pinched her buttocks. This was followed by caressing them. That one slight slap on her buttocks. She yelped "Aaah. That hurt." I said, "It is supposed to hurt."
I took the ruler she had brought and showed it to her. "Would you like this to be used?"
Tara said "no Sir. That will hurt."
I gave her a couple of slight taps with the ruler on both her bum cheeks.
Her pussy folds could be seen from the back. I ran the ruler lightly between her legs and brushed her pussy.
She gasped and said "Aaaah. That is good."
I walked around her and took a position near her head. I leant down, held both her breasts from behind her, and kneaded them. She moaned.
Alternately I slapped quite hard on her buttocks.
She yelled. I said, "Education is fun. But it can have pain too!!"
Tara said, "I know Sir. I want more fun. Less pain."
On hearing this, I said, "There can be no fun without pain" and slapped her hard a couple of time on her buttocks.
She gasped with pain and moaned.
I changed position, went behind her, and ran my hand over her moist pussy from behind. God, it was dripping wet.
When I caressed her pussy lips she moaned with pleasure and her eyes rolled.
My dick was hard and wanted to get Taraâs pussy.