A Thaur and His Bahu

Chapter 03: Another Step Towards Womanhood

The contrast was obvious to Binita. Every single time her husband Pritam drew her into his arms, she could feel those arms as being lean and non --muscular; the arms of a pen-pusher in a city office. As she ground chillies in the kitchen assisting her mother-in-law, she extended that thought even to the young men she had encountered in the city who were regular gym goers. Their muscles were bulging and hard, yes, but there something artificial about it.

There was something far more appealing about the muscle and tone of the body of a man who had achieved that from working on the farm and handling rough things. And that man was Thakur. The contrast between how he felt, and how his son felt was so very obvious. The muscle and the strength of the older man's arms matched the roughness and calluses on his hands. That roughness brought an electric friction to the caressing of her soft skin. It was like a flint to match, setting her alight.

The warmth in her loins spread as she thought of the way those hands caressed, then gripped, lifted then set down, scooped her up and then set her free. She still loved Pritam, the guy who she had met and fallen in love with in the city and married. But the beginnings of any lovemaking with Pritam only ended up kindling a lust which his physique and his inexperience could never handle.

And so their honeymoon, from which she had returned only just that morning, was replete with encounters with her love. The encounters left her as a simmering mass of flesh which perpetually sought release, but it eluded her in Pritam's arms. He could set it off, but never finish it. As Pritam moved over her, she compared the feeling with how it was when Thakur gripped her shoulders. She compared everything, the sweat, the smell, the hardness, the bubbling cauldron it caused between her legs, and yes, that thickness and heaviness of his penis which Thakur had failed to pass on to his son.

The heat from the chillies she was grinding was matched by the flush she felt in her pussy and in her chest and then her cheeks. The outlet was the ferocity with which she ground the mortar into the pestle. She watched the blunt end of the mortar and was immersed in the phallic metaphor it suddenly took on to represent. It seemed to her that just watching and imagining would lead her to a quiet orgasm. A small self contained one, of the kind she felt occasionally with Pritam, if at all. Not the large, soul-scorching, all encompassing explosion that soaked up the whole universe of her being.

"Beti. You have not gone and done a pranam to Babuji since you returned. You have missed serving him while you were away. Go and give him this lassi and get back to your household duties," said the Thakurain to her daughter-in-law, handing a large copper tumbler of frothy lassi.

Binita stopped the grinding and went to wash her hands thoroughly of the effects of the chilli she had been grinding. The cool water felt pleasant on her skin but did nothing for the seething mass of flesh she had been reduced to. Thakur was the first man she had known, the first to plunder her virginity, reducing the impact of anything Pritam could have been in her memory. And just before she left on her honeymoon, Thakur and she had again succumbed unwittingly in the bathing area. They were both able to explain away the first encounter in their minds since she was not yet married to his son at the time. The second one had been the complete conquest of lust and a towering testimony to the chemistry of the Thakur and his new woman, Binita.

They always avoided eye contact, and were circumspect in their interaction. Thakur himself never called for her and she never volunteered to attend on him. Both knew that their feelings and passion were uncontrollable and not to be trusted. Both felt a sense of guilt over their willingness to allow that lack of control to go where it wanted. But when her mother-in-law set her some duty to accomplish, her desire surged and the outcome was a foregone conclusion. It was as if their bodies had known each other for years and designed for one another, though they had had only two intense encounters till date.

Her hands were shaking as she reached for the glass. The simmer between her legs had never really gone away during the entire honeymoon. Pritam had just lost his virginity to Binita after the marriage and was busy exploring his sexuality. The inexperience and the obsession with his own self had done nothing to satiate Binita. And she herself had the experience of Thakur dominating her demands. In the train journey back home, she had barely slept. The excitement of returning to Thakur -- her Babuji -- had just increased the simmering to a boil.

The jolts and jerks of a moving train and the vibrations had helped. As had the darkness. She had covered herself well with the sheets as she lay on the berth, thighs squeezed together allowing the sensations from the train to travel to her pussy. With a little toying through the clothes she had managed to find some measure of release. Nothing, however, was going to compare with the ravaging pounding of her cunt that Thakur provided. He just knew how to touch her in all the right spots with that fullness of his cock.

Thinking all these lust-filled thoughts she wended her way through the corridors, stairways and rooms of the sprawling haveli, through to the room which was the Thakur's lair. It was here the old warhorse retreated to for his siestas and his quiet times of day. The mid-afternoon lassi was a ritual for Thakur. Different people brought it to him every day. He would always look forward to one of the maids bringing it rather than any of the man servants, though he never made this obvious and took things as they came. The maids had all some form of tacit agreement with him. Even those who were "out of bounds" were at least worth eyeing. And then there were those who acquiesced to his overtures. And still others who hankered to feel his manliness and his vigor.

There were all sorts. And Thakur was prudent enough to rein in his desire and channel it discreetly. This allowed him unlimited pleasure, access to a bevy of village beauties married or otherwise and did not provoke any resistance from any quarter. And that included the Thakurain who had never failed to guess from the look of a maid emerging from the Thakur's quarters what might have been going on. She also knew which maid fell in which category.

The Thakur lay on his easy chair in his lair. It was a well planned and suitably equipped den. It had a view of the road and fields approaching the haveli so the Thakur had unrestricted knowledge of the coming and going of various folk. There was a TV, a DVD player and an assortment of movies from local dialect, Hindi mainstream and some porn flicks which he kept to the rear of the stack. There was also his bed with a mosquito net and four posts to suspend the net from and the usual assortment of paraphernalia associated with dressing and personal grooming.

Thakur was mildly drowsy and knew that lassi was on its way. He had heard the commotion of the arrival of his son and daughter-in-law and while he had met Pritam he could not spot Binita. The first half of his usual day was anyway loaded with work around the farm and other business interests. The afternoon was reserved for some rest while the evening went in hookah sessions and general gossip and meetings with friends and lackeys.

With the mild drowsiness was also a mild arousal from the anticipation and guessing game around who the bearer of the lassi would be. He hoped to God it wouldn't be a manservant. And he didn't dare wish it to be the new bahurani, his Binita. The thought of Binita sent his pulse racing and he shifted to make his instant hard-on less obvious.

He had wondered about Binita these last few days. She must have been getting fucked several times a day. Thakur had no clue of his son's endowment and capabilities. Yet, he found himself jealous of his son's free and assured time with Binita. His Binita. He shifted uncomfortably as his cock swelled to its full proportions and the heaviness hung, inadequately supported by his loose undergarment.

As he stretched out his legs and let his palm graze his cock he sensed someone's presence. Surely it was the bearer of the lassi. The Thakur turned and lo and behold, his Binita, lassi in hand.

The hard on was now firm and raging, Binita's presence confirming the legitimacy of his arousal. His mind protested; the desire was illegitimate. He tried to focus his mind on the transaction at hand. She was here to just deliver the lassi and that was all he was going to do. He tried to ignore the damp patch around the midriff of her kurta. He tried to put out of his mind memories of the way she had spread herself around him when he was bathing. He looked at her proud, well encased breasts and tried to ignore how they had looked when he had feasted upon them under the mango tree that first time.

The more he tried to put out of his mind, the more came to him. There were so many things to ignore. Their fingers touched briefly as she handed him the glass. Her nostrils were flared and her face was red from the sighting of her Babuji. Her eyes bored into his eyes. A corner of her mind recorded that amongst the many folds of his dhoti there was likely to be hidden his well engorged beast of a cock.

Binita felt her juices pouring out shamelessly. She stood rooted to the spot. Thakur Hari Singh lifted the glass to his lips. His mouth opened and he extended his tongue so he could lick the cream off, as he put the glass to his lips. His eyes were riveted to hers. His tongue lapped at the cream with a long flourish that reminded Binita of the tonguing her nipples had received on an earlier occasion. She felt them jump now as if they had been touched by that memory.

She watched as his lips closed around the rim of the tumbler and he sucked in the frothy butter milked. If he had been milking her breasts his lips should have formed an 'O' she noted. No, here his mouth was open and taking in even as his tongue lapping; O God! Was that really possible? She was creaming down there and could he really take a large sip of her? She wondered. She had heard of it, read of it. But nothing in her experiences mirrored it.

True to their indescribable chemistry, it was as if these thoughts were transmitted to Thakur. As he drank in large gulps, he could only think of her pussy releasing such gushes as he had felt soaking his cock. There was that porn movie he had seen just the other night, where the man had buried his face in the woman's bush. Thakur had imagined doing that to Binita and could instinctively visualize what all she might seek and he might give her, should he mouth her. He found that in drinking his lassi, his mouth was signaling all those moves.

He paused between gulps. Binita burst out laughing; his moustache had been daubed with a thick layer of cream and it made him look ridiculous. Her laughter was spontaneous, with a tinkle in it. She covered her mouth as she laughed, her breasts heaving. Thakur bristled at being laughed at.

Down below in the front courtyard, the Thakurain was dealing with a vegetable vendor when she heard the tinkle of laughter. She glanced upward and thought it was good that the bahu was getting along well with her husband. She knew not, just how well.

The Thakur's face reddened with anger at being laughed at and just as he was about to vent his anger, Binita stepped up and using the corner of her dupatta wiped his mustache. Just like that, spontaneously.

She leaned over him to do that. Her body was hunched over his. She had come dangerously close to him. Her breasts were hanging and down the front of her kurta top he could see the fruit like breasts encased in the bra. Her hair fell forward and covered the both of their faces. He turned his face up and caught Binita's lips in his own lips. Just like that spontaneously.

She didn't dare kiss him back. This curious mix of unbridled lust and guilt-ridden restraint was maddening. Her mouth remained open. It allowed him to breathe in her breath and he found her smells permeating his body. He let his lips linger. Inhaling. Tasting. Smelling. Her mouth watered, as was her pussy. As she continued to lean over him her lips wetted over and he licked her lips. His tongue snaked out entering her mouth. She shuddered as she felt the wet searching and supple tongue enter her own mouth. Her mouth closed on the tongue by reflex and as Thakur pulled his tongue back she raked it with her lips, the way she might have raked his cock.

He put his hands on her shoulder and held her firm. His tongue repeated the act of sliding into her mouth and she repeated her act of forming an 'O' with her lips. He tongued the folds of the mouth, the way he might have tongued her pussy.

The Thakur was nothing if not decisive. He pushed her away and stood up. His dhoti could scarcely conceal the passion which his tongue had conveyed. He moved towards Binita and she kept moving back till her back came to rest on the chest of drawers along the wall. On the top of it was a stack of well folded clothes ready to be put away by the Thakurain into the Thakur's wardrobe. The Thakur continued to move towards this girl who had come to possess him; or was it he who possessed her?

With no further space for her to back off, he closed in on her. He now loomed over her, his breath warming her already red hot face. She lowered her face, not able to look him in the eye anymore, shuddering uncontrollably as she was in the grip of maddening lust. His chest was touching her face now and she buried her face in the comfort of his broad chest. On her thigh she felt the head of his cock poking. Her hands gripped the edge of the chest of drawers as she struggled with her contrast of emotions between head and heart. It was illicit and yet, it was her Babuji, the man who had completed her as a woman before her husband could.

His strong hands -- oh yes! How strong and firm they were! -- grabbed her just below her buttocks and lifted her. Her buttocks cleared the edge and her hands which were supposed to be helping her control, quickly levered her up so that she was now sitting on top of that chest. Thakur's hands now moved to the cord which tied the choodidar pajama of her dress. He found the end and pulled at it and the cord was now open. The waist of garment now needed loosening. His hands ran around the inside of that waist and loosened the pajama. It hung open now in the front revealing her smooth undulating landscape of her belly. It fell into her lap. Thakur's hands went around to the back and he squeezed her buttocks. He pulled the pajama down and he nudged her, signaling her to raise her hips so he could slide the pajama down further. With her one hand resting on the drawer top, she gripped his shoulder with the other hand to raise herself. Thakur quickly pulled the pajama down and peeled the tight sheath of the legs down till they snagged on her heels.

And then he left it there. His lips kissed her ankles and now her calves. Then up to her knees. Binita tried to spread her legs as much as she could as she stared at this head hovering between her legs. She instinctively knew where he was headed and her pussy twitched and jumped at the thought. But her legs could not spread beyond a point because her pajamas while off her, were stuck on each heel. She thrust her hips forward in an involuntary animalistic offering of her deepest flesh to her Babuji.

Thakur continued to tongue her flesh, tasting her. Somewhere was the aroma of a freshly bathed woman, in other places the salt of a sweaty residue. He tongued, tasted and took her into his own being, recording everything as flavors of his own Binita. He was now on her thighs which caused the top of his head to grind against her crotch. He allowed his head to graze against her pussy with greater vigor and noted the dampness it caused on the top of his graying head.

He turned his face to the crotch and then he encountered her sopping wet panties, drenched but firm against her pussy. Her panties mystified him. He was used to the maids who usually wore nothing underneath as was the local custom. This was one impediment that he considered an obstacle in his fantasies about quick encounters with Binita in the various nooks and crannies offered by the haveli.

She lifted her hips, her eyes now glazed with lust. Her lips were open, her nostrils flared and her body beyond any defenses. Thakur reached for the band of the panties and rolled them down. The quickly became tight as they rolled into a bunch. As he pulled and tugged at them down one leg then the other, his hand felt the heat and wetness that soaked them. Soon they would go no lower because her legs were spread. He left the panties alone and hands shaking, reached down and released one of her heels from the confines of the chudidar. The legs closed a bit and now the panties were down to the ankles. Once again, as she looked down to see how he did it, Thakur slipped the wet and spoiled wisp of a garment over the heel and left one leg completely bare and the other carrying the burden of both chudidar and now the rolled up panty.

This time Thakur did not worship her legs on the way to the cunt. He was thirsty to taste the source of the musky wetness on those panties. He rushed for the hairy cunt. Binita leaned back, comfortable on the stack of well folded clothes. Her back came to rest on the wall. The completely free and bare leg was up on the surface of the drawer, placed flat. The other leg was stretched as far as it would go. The pussy was gaping open, its wetness in full evidence.

Thakur snaked out his tongue and lapped at this creamy offering. He was rewarded with a mix of pungent acidic odors and wisps of pubic hair. His hands held the lips apart and the loose hair, once licked out of the way, gave way to the pink --brown raw flesh awaiting his caresses. He tongued her. She gasped. "Babuji!" she hissed out, slow and long, "Kahaan mooh laga rahe hain aap!" ("Where are you mouthing me!"). The question was surely rhetorical, given that she had opened herself and offered her pussy as if it was a fruit to be eaten.

"Mmmmm," went the Thakur. Loud slurping and smacking noises emerged as he lapped and kissed the pussy. He had no intention of engaging in conversation when the need of the moment was to use his tongue differently. He continued to lap on the pussy and found his saliva was now mixed with some of her own juices and a wet soppy mess resulted. It reduced the pungency of the offering and made it more bearable for him, for the acidity was too much to start with. Now he wanted to fuck her with his tongue and he made a lance of his tongue, folding it along its length and pushing into her cunt.

It made little progress as the tongue entered for a bit but was stopped by the walls of her pussy. Thakur slid in two fingers to hold apart the lips for this tongue to probe further. The pussy walls gave way as they swallowed his fingers. She hissed and seethed as the fingering and toying only aggravated her state but were inadequate for her satiation.

Thakur probed her lips up and down. He encountered his hand on the down stroke but on the upstroke his tongue traced the complete contours of her pulsating pussy. He went past the joining of lips on the top and soon encountered the mass of hair on the top of her cunt and on her underbelly. The rough dry hair signaled to him that he had crossed the turf. His tongue snaked back down searching for the wet pit. It was now that he crossed her clit and she shuddered and jumped.

Thakur knew nothing of the clit in general, but her hand on his head, her convulsions and her instinctive guidance of his head to that hot spot told him that that was not a spot to be casually passed over. He ran his tongue upward over that zone once again. "Yes!" she hissed, affirming to him that he was touching the right spot. Thakur retraced downward and then upward in a few quick flicks. The leaping and shuddering mass of flesh, her trembling belly and the gush around his fingers told him he had discovered something.