A Thaur and His Bahu

Chapter 07: The Women Celebrate Holi

Holi, the Indian festival of colors and water was being played all over the city, and with equal gusto in Thakur Hari Singh's haveli. As festivals go Holi is the most liberating one in a society which traditionally demands restraint; at least outwardly, there is a demand to remain modest; for women not to indulge themselves; and for men to be careful in their flirtations. Married women were certainly out of bounds for any open flirtation. But not on Holi day.

In fact, on Holi while the maidens are undoubtedly sought after by the young men, the greatest display of sexual energy is with the married women. You can often see them kissing openly, allowing their wet bodies (wet from the water splashed around at Holi) to be ogled, letting themselves be groped in stairways and corridors and indulging in the man or men that might be their fancy, but are socially out of bounds.

Some of this sudden loss of inhibition is also from drinking bhaang, an intoxicating drink derived from hemp and also from drinking other local brews and good old Scotch whiskey. All of this flows freely among the men folk on Holi as the afternoon wears on. This is the day you could prevail upon your target woman to take a large gulp of one of the intoxicants. You may not be around when the shot hits her, but some other intoxicated woman might be, or your target woman might come around later, still more drunk, her dress in greater disarray.

It was Holi and everything was fair game.

And so it was this Holi too, and at the Thakur's haveli there was a riot of color and a house full of friends and relatives streaming through the halls, rooms, yards and corridors.

It was in this libertine atmosphere of Holi that Thakur Hari Singh had spotted his daughter-in-law, saucy as she normally was, playing with all the younger men freely wearing an audacious backless choli (blouse) that in the front, cupped and projected her breasts to her advantage. He knew that back, every muscle and the contours of that back from a previous bout of fucking they had had several months previously.

Binita had rushed upstairs to change from her formal attire lest it get spoiled by the Holi color dyes, into the rough white clothes normally reserved for Holi, Thakur had followed her.

There in her bedroom as she was leaned over her suitcase to pick out her clothes, her ass jutting out provocatively, Thakur had taken his daughter-in-law with characteristic animal vigor. They had fucked -she back at him, he as if riding a horse from his stable- till she collapsed in a heap on the floor and the Thakur rested his hands on the wall as his stormy orgasm reduced to a dribble.

He merely readjusted his dhoti to ensure nothing was showing and left. When Binita sorted herself out and stood up, her choli was propped up only by the string at the neck. The chord around the waist was open where the Thakur had undone the string, his hands claiming her breasts and toying with them as he fucked her. She could feel cool air on her breasts as the blouse now just loosely fell over her chest like a sheet, open on both sides.

And as she straightened up she had seen her mother-in-law, who seemed to have spotted her husband with the daughter-in-law and watched them fuck. She had waited for her husband to leave before entering Binita's room, presumably to comfort her.

Binita had, at that moment, burst into tears.

No explanation was possible for the tears. As Binita looked at her mother-in-law, the Thakurain, through eyes loaded with tears, there was nothing for her to say or convey.

"This is how it is and this is how she has found me," she thought to herself.

As tears streamed down her cheeks, juices were running down the inside of her thighs, for she had only just stood up after the coupling with her father-in-law. It had been a wet fuck in which her own pussy had flowed like a stream. "Why does my own husband Pritam not provoke such a flow?" she wondered, perversely. Here she was, standing in front of her mother-in-law who had discovered the illicit sexual relationship she had with her father-in-law and her mind was reviewing and comparing notes of her reaction to the two men in her life. This was ridiculous!

But increasingly, she found herself comparing feelings, reactions and notes on the sessions she had with the two men in her life, almost as if she was a third person reviewing events in someone else's life.

Binita quickly tucked her Ghaghra (skirt) between her legs to stop the mixed fluids from dripping to the floor, and allowed the cloth to soak up the mess between her legs. It was a spontaneous action on her part and Thakurain, who had just stood rooted to the spot looking at her daughter-in-law, let her eyes travel down the girl's body to the vale between her legs.

"She is beautiful," noted Thakurain, seeing Binita in a completely different light. Thakurain was not shocked. It was not the first time she was discovering the nature of the relationship between Thakur and Binita. She had spotted them the last time as well, in his bedroom, when she had heard obvious sounds of moaning and grunting coming from his bedroom and taken a surreptitious look. She had seen Thakur leaning over his daughter-in-law who was on all fours and fuck her with an animal vigor which she herself recognized from the early days of her own marriage to Thakur.

Thakurain now gazed upon Binita, taking in the sight of this young woman, well-fucked, ravaged and plundered and marveled at how obvious that ravaging was in very aspect of how Binita now looked. The hair was mussed up. The blouse was partially undone and the breasts, barely concealed beneath the loose cloth, were heaving, perhaps still from the exertion of the fucking. Her face was flushed with the orgasm while the lips seemed dry but quivering. There were red marks on her torso from where her husband had gripped Binita. And her skirt was bunched between her legs, in a brazen testimony to the soppy mess that lay within.

Binita turned beet red when she realised the overt signal she had sent in tucking her ghagra into her crotch. In sheer embarrassment she took a few steps forward and buried her face in her mother-in-law's ample bosom to hide herself.

Thakurain put her arms around Binita only to discover the bare expanse of her back, the skin silken and seductive. "No wonder Thakur couldn't hold himself back," she reasoned, as her hands caressed her daughter-in-law's back. This girl was incredibly sexy and flaunting it, and her husband was red-blooded if nothing else. How could the man be expected to control himself, especially when he knew what it was like to fuck her from the previous experience?

And yet, his own son's wife? Thakurain could not resolve it in her mind, whether Binita was exploited or was she just sexually charged in Thakur's presence.

Binita was wracked with sobs. There was relief that the Thakurain's arms were around her; it represented acceptance in some form. Once she had held her like this, clearly there was no censuring to come. Binita had no way of knowing that her mother-in-law already knew of the relationship she shared with Thakurain.

"Hush," soothed Thakurain, "Nahi rotey." (You shouldn't cry.)

She gently rocked the younger woman in her arms as her hand continued to roam the back. Thakurain found the skin soft and silky and imagined that her own husband's hands must have roamed that same back. And her son? Perhaps he too had caressed the same sexy back. Thakurain closed her eyes and savored the texture of the skin and her hands continued their exploration. The skin was bare everywhere she searched with no evidence of any garment anywhere. Her hand reached downward and came upon the waist of the skirt and that represented one boundary. The other hand caressed all the way up to the back of Binita's neck and she found the other chord of the choli tied there, so that was the other boundary. She caressed the neck and Binita shuddered involuntarily.

As she investigated the sides, she came upon the soft bulge of the side of Binita's breast. Binita gasped as she felt Thakurain's fingers go beyond soothing; there was something exploratory to the touch. She was being felt and caressed. Thakurain marveled at the tender and delectable skin and flesh she encountered. Her hand went between the two women and she put her palm on Binita's stomach and then slid lower to the womb. This was where her husband had implanted his own seed, she reflected.

Binita sucked in her breath at being touched in such intimate fashion by another woman. This was the first time ever that another woman had touched her and that too in a way which she thought only a man might. Her body went taut. The skirt which was tucked in firmly between her legs fell away and she once again felt a surge of fluid inside her as she felt sexuality in the touch of the other woman.

But Binita could not be sure. Perhaps it was she who was feeling sexual because of her recent encounter. Or perhaps it was the warm and loving feeling which was coming across from the Thakurain which was having a sexual impact on her. Her mind was in a whirl. She didn't think her mother-in-law could have anything sexual in her mind about her.

In the meanwhile, Thakurain continued with her loving curiosity about her daughter-in-law. The younger woman had her sympathy and her affections. She liked Binita. She knew the kind of randy man her own husband was and could not make up her mind on whether Thakur had forced himself on this girl. Today, however she had clearly seen Binita respond. She had seen Binita reach inside Thakur's dhoti and pinch his thigh playfully. Right now, Thakurain just wanted to be with Binita.

She too felt the skirt between Binita's legs fall away. In a flash, the hand which was on Binita's womb went lower to investigate the cause for Binita having tucked her skirt in, in the first place. Thakurain's hand encountered a damp, hot patch between the girl's legs. She wanted to feel the full extent of the mess and she opened her palm and placed it against the crotch. The entire area seemed heated and molten. She moved her palm to feel the extent of that zone. The movement caused the fabric of the skirt to graze Binita's crotch, providing friction to Thakurain's touch.

Binita shuddered as the older woman's hand caressed her crotch. Her pussy lips were still splayed open from the arousal and the pounding from the older woman's husband. It was therefore easy for the hand, palm and fingers to make out the contours of the pussy. As Thakurain probed, she felt a fresh gush of fluid pour out. Binita was now jelly, whether Thakurain intended it or not.

Binita pressed herself into Thakurain's bosom and the older woman responded with her other hand which was still on the torso. She claimed Binita's breast for herself, delicately feeling the warm flesh and its turgid nipple. Thakurain had never touched a woman before, but she knew exactly how she wanted to be touched. She did nothing more than touch Binita in a way that she herself would have wanted to be touched. And so when the breast was held tenderly, like a pouch of milk, and then kneaded and pulled like the udder of a cow, Binita found herself wishing she could reward Thakurain with a release of milk.

Thakurain's instinctive touch opened Binita to offer herself. She ground herself into her mother-in-law's open and milking hand. Simultaneously, her pussy ground against the palm between her legs to provide relief from the instantaneous build up of erotic tension.

Binita clung onto Thakurain, like a leaf in a storm. But the fluttering in her own inner being was a storm in itself. She sighed in contentment at being held by this large maternal bosom and at being caressed by tender understanding hands. Only a woman can know how a woman wants to be loved, she realised.

That realization surprised her. It was her own, an untutored discovery about her own womanhood. She nuzzled the bosom in which her head was buried, her nose seeking out the contours of Thakurain's nipples, straining through the cloth.

No thoughts of restraint even occurred to Thakurain. Illicitness, unusual sexual feelings for another woman, the way she and her daughter-in-law were touching each other, none of these made any impact. The only thing she knew was, they were feeling each other and had feelings for each other.

When the younger woman's nose and lips nuzzled at her nipples, the older woman felt more maternal than ever. Even as her hands continued to caress, probe and investigate Binita's contours, she thrust her large overfull breasts into her face.

Binita needed skin. Her face needed to touch Thakurain's flesh and skin. Frantically she searched Thakurain's blouse for the hooks. Thakurain was wearing a cloth bodice rather than a bra, which is how it is with women of her age and dimensions in traditional India. The nipples, aroused like never before in her lifetime, were clearly protruding through the cloth of the bodice. Thakurain noticed the sexuality of this for the first time, and found it odd that the only other time she remembered her nipples sensitiveness was when her son was born. Those nipples had fed the boy whose wife was now searching for them again.

Those breasts were full and bulging and the bodice was full and bursting. There was no way to reach and open those hooks unless Thakurain was left alone to pull in herself and maneuver those hooks. But stepping apart was impossible for either woman. The older woman wanted to feel and suss out this younger one who had captivated her husband and son. The younger one had her insides boiling with lust at the tender touch of her mother-in-law.

In a fleeting moment of mindless passion, Binita gripped the bodice from the neckline and ripped downward. All the hooks gave way and the breasts spilled out. Binita did not wait a moment to bury her face in Thakurain's breasts, feeling them with her face; the heat on her face seemed to complement the pleasant coolness it encountered on Thakurain's breasts. As she buried herself, Thakurain found the knot of the top of Binita's choli and pulled it open so that the one layer covering her breasts fell away.

She pulled up Binita's face, kissing her on the cheeks and allowing the young woman's mango --like breasts to crush against her large ponderous breasts. Nipples toggled one another and prodded each other into erect nubs.

Binita was now frantic with lust. She searched for Thakurain's lips and kissed them squarely. Thakurain was surprised. She had never ever been kissed on her lips before. Her own husband, in those early days of their marriage had used his lips on her breasts and shoulder and while fucking her he propped himself on his arms so their lips could never really meet.

Binita's lips felt warm and luscious on her lips and Thakurain found herself responding. The maternal warmth was slowly evaporating into a puzzling new kind of feeling in the pit of her stomach. The older woman found herself consumed by lust as the lips played on her lips, as Binita's hands kneaded her breasts and pulled at her nipples feverishly, and as Binita's hips seemed to hump into Thakurain's hips.

Thakurain wanted now to love this girl and smother her. Her hands searched under the ghagra as she searched for ways to return the pleasure. Both women were now grappling with each others breasts and loins, lips locked in a long searching kiss.

"Binita!" called out her husband Pritam from downstairs, "Where are you? Everyone is looking for you?"

Binita made loud smacking kisses as she separated herself from her Maaji, "Abhi aa rahi hoon!" she yelled back. (I am just coming.)

"I am changing into my old white kurta pajama," she called out.

Pritam reflected on what his wife might be doing upstairs. Her ghagra choli had been incredibly sexy. Her bare back and the well supported breasts had all the guys chasing to douse her in water and touch her on the pretext of smearing color powder on her. And now she was probably untying those knots and slipping out of the ghagra. She would be equally appetizing in the white kurta (loose long shirt), because the material was not quite opaque and her undergarments would be well outlined. And as soon as the water was splashed on her nothing would be left to imagination.

His cock twitched as he toyed with the idea of taking his wife between a change of clothes.

Thakurain moved away from Binita, her bodice hanging loose on her shoulders, the breasts exposed completely. She had to take care of being discreet especially as new feelings were surging in her and it was clear to her that neither of them was in any condition to walk away.

As she watched her mother-in-law shut the window and move to the door, Binita undid the cord of her ghagra and allowed the skirt to slip off her shapely hip to the floor around her feet. The garment now circled her and she stood in the middle completely nude, the stained and streaked pubic hair, the lines of now drying fluids running down her thighs absolutely clearly visible.

She looked at her mother-in-law's body with a new perspective. The older woman had sagging flesh but a well rounded bottom. Her breasts were large and sagging under their own enormous weight but were warm and inviting to her. Thakurain turned around after she had bolted the door and leaned back on the wood, her body sagging with the weight of lust. Her odhni (sash of cloth used to cover the upper body and blouse) was trailing on the floor, her blouse was open her ghagra was still tethered around her waist. Her hand reached between her legs as she felt the surge of heat there and rubbed herself.

Binita instinctively knew it was up to her to satiate the older woman. She might have been older but her experiences were limited. Binita was less than a year married but her father-in-law had taken her in every possible way and some of the encounters were a revelation to her. The man, from even before the marriage, had uncovered desires in her which she herself did not know existed. He then proceeded to mark her as his own by satiating her in ways her husband did not even know of.

And one of those was the dramatic way in which he had lapped at her pussy. Binita's raging loins wanted filling, the pulsating cock of a man. She could well imagine her mother-in-law, now with her fingers searching her own pussy, needing the same. But she knew there was only one way for one woman to satiate another. She moved towards Thakurain and kneeled in front of her.

She kissed her stomach. Thakurain put her hand on Binita's head. Her own head was thrown back as the softness of Binita's face on her stomach thrilled her. The younger woman slid her hands under Thakurain's skirt and cupped her ass. She quickly lifted the skirt over her own head and was now inside the folds of her skirt, in the folds of flesh.

It seemed wholly appropriate to cover herself and hide within those skirts, a sanctuary of lust and loving attention, a sanctuary from the meaningless demands of the world outside.

She lifted the folds of Thakurain's paunch as her mouth searched for the pussy. She tongue and kissed all the flesh she could find; stomach, underbelly, thighs, insides of the thigh and the hairy crotch itself. Thakurain frantically reached for Binita; she needed to grip her, hold her, touch her and maul her tits. The skirt was in the way. She quickly undid the cord and the waist of the skirt loosened and Binita's head appeared. As Thakurain's knees buckled under the sexual onslaught, she slid lower, her legs spread obscenely. She clutched at Binita's slender shoulders and tried to reach under to grab the breast. She could touch the slopes of her breasts but not pull up the mass to find the nipples which she so desperately wanted to suckle at that moment. In the meanwhile, Binita was greatly assisted by the spreading of the legs. The acrid odor of the cunt hit her and Binita held her breath as she lapped at the pussy. She knew the acid smells would give way to the aromas of nectar if she just persisted. There was a tangle of pubic hair in her mother-in-law's pussy and wisps and strands of hair came away in her lips. Binita kept clearing her lips of the strands and soon came upon a wet smear. She pointed out her tongue and dipped in, past the forest of hair towards the smear. Thakurain reached down and held herself apart with both hands to help her daughter-in-law in the quest for her cunt.