It took Maniamma a bit longer to coax her bountiful breasts back into the confines of her blouse. Like many working class women from the lower income groups, she had no use for a bra. By the time she had stuffed them in and hooked up the blouse her daughter Rukku who had seen the entire encounter left without being noticed by the mother.
Maniamma took one glance more at the gently snoring Rangappa as he lay exhausted by the exhilarating orgasm. His garments were in complete disarray but his position was somewhat better because Maniamma had thrown the cloth of his sarong-like lower garment (dhoti) over him.
She noticed the large area that his sticky, messy semen covered in the cloth and took note that the man, despite his age seemed to be totally virile. Next time she did not plan to let this go waste; it would have to be inside her. She knew how to take a man and for her the epitome of pleasure was in his spending helplessly into her, in the throes of a death-like orgasm.
Maniamma was shamelessly engrossed in her own pleasure over the pleasure of any of her men. It just so happened that her own pleasure involved the cumming of her man. This morning, perhaps, was the first time when the entire encounter was purely focused on the man. It was spontaneous. It was a man that Maniamma admired and respected. And she had served him in many different ways. To her, the act of intense gratification too, was serving him.
Rangappa was one of the few men she had met in her life who, as her landlord, was downright nice and helpful and had never been exploitative. If sex had been part of the deal, she would not have minded it one bit, given how much she enjoyed sex and pleasure. But Rangappa was careful to a fault, not even touching her by accident while going about the daily give and take.
And now this. Now that the pleasure of her master was done and over with, her urgent and immediate craving was for her own pleasure. Apart from her breasts, which Rangappa Ayya had held, touched, kneaded and ravaged with his hungry hands, she had nothing from the encounter. As she walked down the stairs she felt the juice in her pussy squelching with her movements as hips rotated.
The vacantness between her legs was throbbing and her mind whirred as she considered which of her current crop of lovers would be available at this time. Her first preference was for Devan the most illicit of all her relationships. Devan was her husband's nephew -- by extension her own nephew.
Back Then...
Devan became her lover not because she made the first move. When the 20-year lad came from the village to make a living working with his uncle, he had been totally taken by the obvious sexuality of his aunt. He first saw her go away furtively with one of her lovers and concluded his aunt was licentious. His perception was confirmed when he saw her riding someone else with her typical ruthlessness. It was one of those moments when she was busy extracting her own orgasm from the hapless man below.
Devan slowly let the woman know his intentions. At work he leaned over her. He grazed her luscious breasts with his arm. And at least once let his hand drop on her sumptuous ass.
She ignored it at first, but then the signals became unmistakable. When she saw him out of the corner of eye ogling her and tugging at his erection beneath his lungi (sarong) she knew for sure. It was typical of Maniamma to start assessing Devan instead of being prudent.
Being strong, muscular and young, he qualified. The clincher was the probability that he was a virgin. She had no way of knowing for sure and that was something new in her book. All her men were either married or as licentious as her. The surge in her breasts and the tingling at her nipples at the thought of his virginity told her she had a new target.
The actual encounter happened by both the young man and the older woman allowing the situation to come together, each acting independently.
Maniamma stored the coal she needed for her clothes iron in the rooftop room of Rangappa's house. It was a crammed shed, full of all sorts of assorted things. Just inside the door of that shed lay a full sack of coal. When this coal was depleted she usually sent her husband to replenish it and haul up the heavy sack.
This time she asked Devan to handle that. When her husband said he would do it as was usual, she insisted that the newcomer earn his keep by doing more.
"Go up and keep this sack in that shed," she said to her nephew.
"But where? How?" asked Devan.
"Go up and wait there for me," she said, her eye meeting his eye. The eyes conveyed a lot more than what the words meant.
And there, in the shadow of the water tank, she had taught him what it was to be with a woman. Her surmise that he would be a virgin proved correct. She so enjoyed the tutoring. Holding his hardness and guiding it to her pussy she had asked him to push. And then, holding his hips she pushed him up and away. Then she switched her hands to his buttocks and pulled him in.
That is all she needed to teach him. His instincts took over. She gave him a free run of her as he fucked her mindlessly, seeking his own pleasure and trying to feel every part of a woman he had fantasized about throughout his growing up years.
There was a charm to his wild plunging and thrusting. He came, quickly and torrentially. But his erection was undiminished, as she had anticipated. It was this second fuck that she really wanted. The cock, she knew would not cum as easily as it had the first time.
She pushed him off. Devan lay on his back, his cock waving in the air. His first experience with a woman was not as great as he thought it would be, though he enjoyed the release into her much more than he had ever enjoyed masturbating.
Looking at the disheveled form of his aunt, he realized that he had wanted to fuck her, yes; but also to feel those breasts, caress her ass, and to feel her. And he had also wanted her to do things to him he had only seen on those pirated x-rated videos.
It had been too quick and too random.
His wildest dreams had then been realized when his aunt gently undid the hooks of her blouse and allowed her tits to spill out. Devan could not have known that Maniamma was aching for her breasts to be treated well. Devan could not have known that his aunt's cunt had barely begun to feel satiated and that much of her sexual needs lay before them.
And she continued to teach him. As only an expert lover would know she left his cock to rejuvenate and throb, ignoring the waving and bobbing shaft as her hands guided his hands to her breasts.
She taught him to squeeze them just how she liked it. She allowed him to play with them. But she also taught him to slap the sides of breasts gently. And hold her nipples like toggle switches and rotate them. And when his throat bobbed as he swallowed, she leaned forward to slap her breasts on his face, eventually feeding him her teats.
The slow stages in which she got him used to her breasts and her control of his hands had shown him her preferences. He was gentle in the nibbling and suckling. But he was harsh and quick in sucking them in and out of his lips.
Maniamma shivered. The young man was a great student. The way he sucked pleasure out of her breasts sent tingles to her pussy. Those were the connections she loved to experience. Holding her young lover's head to her breasts she ran her other hand slowly down his taut body, caressing him gently till she reached his groin.
Gently she passed the cock by and reached for his sac, gently lifting and caressing him there. And then her forefinger went beyond to the stretch between his legs and he shuddered.
She ran her fingers lightly up, tapping his sac, his pillar from base upward, slowly -- tapping as she went. For each tap the spongy cock bounced to her touch. She could feel the buzz in his nerves. He was ready.
Laying his head back on the floor, she swiveled one leg over the prone man. She leaned forward, her breasts back in his face. Bunching up her sari she descended on his cock. Cleverly, she let the triangle of her pubis catch and caress the cock. As she moved down his body the cock moved from pointing up toward his own belly down, snagged in her triangle. Maniamma caught the cockhead in her gaping open pussy and tried align the hot, waiting flesh so that if she pushed he would penetrate.
But the cock escaped as Maniamma moved her hips and sprang back to its taut, upward pointing position. Devan gasped in disappointment and Maniamma looked down at his face loaded with desire, her own face a mirror of his desire, her mouth agape. Her lower lip, hanging and wet was so exciting to him that he wanted to grab her and devour her. But it was not he who was in control this time.
She looked down between their bodies and saw the object of her immediate desire. His cockhead, red and bulbous, wet and smeared with the viscous fluids of his arousal waited for her.
Burning as she was desire, Maniamma knew better than to hurry. There was time enough to feast. But Devan thrust his hips upward in ardor.
She pressed him down and again moved her hips down snagging his cock in the same way. When the head had again found her pussy lips -- also agape- she reached between and held his cock delicately between forefinger and thumb. Holding it in alignment, she thrust downward, and was rewarded with the fulfilling sensation of a tight fit.
The nephew was well endowed indeed! Hoisting herself up, she straightened her torso. Her hands now off the floor, she grabbed his hands and brought them to her breasts. She squeezed her own breasts by manipulating his hands to squeeze her.
