Comfort Zone 1: Help from Mala's friend
Hi,
This erotic story is about a 24 year old woman Devaki from Chennai, married with a two year old son. Her husband Kumar a rich businessman is 6 years her senior and after three years of marriage his libido is not what it was three years ago. Love making had become once a week routine tension release for him and no more. This had left Devaki highly frustrated sexually, many a night.
Till she got married Devaki was living in Coimbatore. Her best friend Mala is still at Coimbatore and single. Not only were they great friends, both their families were also close. Mala's father Venkat and mother Kalyani were a handsome couple and very outgoing. Venkat was a strapping man and still is. Their house was like a second home to Devaki.
Tragedy stuck couple of months ago in the form of Mala's mother Kalyani's death due to prolonged illness. Devaki rushed to Coimbatore to be with Mala and her dad to comfort them in this hour of need. Though Mala got reconciled to her mother's demise, her dad was still in deep mourning.
After two weeks, Devaki returned to Chennai to be with her husband and son. However she got a frantic call from Mala that her dad was still depressed and has become a sort of a recluse and that she was very worried. She desperately wanted Devaki to come to Coimbatore and stay with them for a while and comfort her dad specifically.
Devaki explained this to her husband and after leaving her son in her parent's care at Chennai, flew to Coimbatore to be with Mala and her dad. She could never have imagined that this trip would turn her sex life topsy- turvy. Mala picked her up from the airport and after reaching Mala's house had a leisurely bath and breakfast. Uncle Venkat was in his room on the first floor. Mala asked Devaki to go and say hello to him. Devaki went up the stairs and tip-toed into his room to surprise him. It was she who was surprised.
Devaki watched in fascination. No doubt, Venkat Uncle had his back to her and he was fully clothed. But there was no mistaking in what he was doing. The elderly recently widowed father of her dear friend Mala was busy stroking himself fast and hard. His hand was holding the railing and his head was thrown back. His hand was moving in long strokes and short thrusts, a rhythm she was familiar with for all the times she had masturbated her own husband Kumar to orgasm. That was how she managed Kumar, when she needed to and it never took Kumar too long to come. But Venkat Uncle seemed to go on for quite a bit. His hand was clearly under his dhoti (Indian male attire from waist down) and every now and then, his tall broad frame shuddered. He paused as he relished that wave of pleasure and then gave himself a few more long strokes. As he leaned forward and sometimes back, he turned a bit which gave her a glimpse of his hand on his cock. The cock head was jutting well beyond his clenched fist.
Devaki felt her throat catch from excitement. She felt a release of fluid between her legs and she shifted uncomfortably. Uncle was now hunched over. Hard strokes with the hand flying over the pillar of flesh he caressed lovingly. Then after a few short ones his head was thrown back and she heard the groan of satisfaction in the release and frustration of being lonely. For several seconds, he shuddered and spasmed as he ejaculated and Devaki watched in fascination as his body jerked. As the elderly man thrust, jerked and slowed down, she heard him exhale with a long and deep sigh of satisfaction, then a shudder and a stifled moan.
She stepped back into the shadows, her feelings a mixture of embarrassment, sympathy, excitement and illicit thrill. She ought to have knocked or cleared her throat she thought. She glided down the stairs as silently as she could carrying with her the coffee she had brought for him. The first floor was his lair and his preserve.
She came down to the kitchen and Mala asked her, "Why didn't you give him the coffee?"
"He was in the bathroom," whispered Devaki and stared out of the window. She shivered involuntarily at the thought of the cock she had seen him wield and lust raged through her body when she thought of how different it looked from what she had seen and experienced of her own husband Kumar. And then she remembered the school girl stories Mala and she had exchanged years earlier when Mala told her of the raucous noises from her parents room all those year ago.
Mala had got up in the middle of the night to get some water and she had heard loud moaning noises and some slapping sounds. When she peeked through the door which was ajar she had seen her mother sitting astride her father. Uncle had been slapping Auntie's sumptuous ass. Her sari (Indian woman's attire) had been pulled aside in the typical fashion that Indian's make love: not quite undressing but pulling aside clothes and raising skirts to accommodate the male. Her breasts were squeezed out under her blouse and bra and Uncle had been nipping at the flesh.
Auntie was screaming, "Yes!"Bite me! Maul me! Take me!" begging to be fucked hard. When Mala had shared this story with Devaki they had giggled with the usual thrill that school girls have for discussing all things sexual. Now that memory came back to tell Devaki the unstated story of Uncle's continuing sexual needs and how the absence of aunt was causing him to be the way she had seen him now. The rich wetness between her legs scared her.
"You take the coffee to him," she whispered to Mala and went to her room to lie down for a while. As she lay back and closed her eyes she imagined uncle looming over her and she opened her eyes with a start. She smiled a little to herself and closed her eyes again. And again imagined him come over her and sink his animal size cock into her cunt. Involuntarily her legs spread and she squirmed, wondering if she would be able to take the pillar in one stroke. She caressed her lower belly, allowing herself the naughty indulgence of a very private pleasure. She rubbed herself, sighed, turned over and slipped into a long mid morning nap.
Later in the afternoon Mala and Devaki got into the kitchen to make coffee. Devaki placed the cup on a tray and got the midday paper and slowly walked up the stairs. There lay uncle sprawled on his easy chair, reading a newspaper. He didn't see her coming. And she didn't have any warning of what she was going to see as she came from behind him and looked over his shoulder. Her eyes latched on to the tent in Uncle's dhoti. Since the cloth was tented, it revealed the side of his cock.
Devaki stood transfixed. She saw the bulge twitch from the involuntary effects of a prolonged state of arousal. She quietly set down the tray and moved closer to her friend's father. With one of her hands, she lightly covered his mouth to let him know that he was not expected to say anything or stop her. The other hand slipped through the gap in the dhoti and her small hand closed around the raging cock. His eyes opened wide in shock. Her throat went dry as she surveyed the dimensions of the tool in her hand. Her fingers softly felt the skin, her thumb reached up as she held him the way one would hold a joystick of a videogame. Her thumb moved over the head and her fingers traced the line back down to the base of his cock.
Her other hand now moved from covering his mouth to the back of his head and her fingers gripped his hair. Her hands slowly slid up and down the cock and with each move the paper rustled. The rustling followed a pattern as Devaki's hand fell into a rhythm on his cock. The man groaned.
"Magale!" he said pleadingly, referring to her in Tamil as daughter for that is how he had addressed her for years now.
"Ssshhh, appa!" she whispered (Father in Tamil). "You know you need this. And then, have I not come here to help both of you overcome what you have been through?" in a kind, soft tone.
