Tale Of A Bengali Teen Ch 01 2

Please read the previous chapter of the series before reading this one.

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Chapter 1.2 - Stuffing The Bengali Teen

Ahmad was sitting on the edge of his bed, his hand a blur as it moved rapidly over his circumcised cock. His head was thrown back in ecstasy and once in a while, he sighed in pleasure. He was holding a small purple-coloured lacy thong over his face. He held the crotch area with his lips and spread it over his face. "Aaah, Afreen..." he moaned out his daughter's name. He sniffed at the fabric. Though it didn't smell of her anymore, he let out another moan. "Why did you leave your father?" He gasped yet again.

Whenever he found himself alone at home, he masturbated thinking about his nineteen-year-old daughter. It was his ritual of some sort. On days when his wife was visiting one of her friends or relatives, he would bring out this thong and start wanking, gasping his daughter's name, till he came. Then he would lock it back in his secret locker, among his private documents. Sometimes he came with the thong wrapped around his dick. On those days, he would have to wash and dry it before hiding it away.

Afreen attended college at Bhubaneswar, far away from her home and parents. She came home during her semester breaks or after her mid-semester exams. That morning she had called her mom and had informed that she was going to come in a week as her mid-term exams were getting over.

When Ahmad took the phone, she sounded very excited. "Abbuuuu," she screamed in her cute voice. "How are you?" But before he could respond back, she started telling him about something or the other, completely forgetting the question she had asked. He didn't mind. He knew she was like that, bubbly and beautiful. He was more like a friend to her. She talked about this and that, giggled, complained about someone or something, giggled some more and then disconnected after good-byes, leaving him in a state of serene bliss.

He just loved his daughter. He had been her only friend for the first seventeen years of her life. Well, there was her mother too, but she's all strict and conservative, so she didn't count as one! Afreen used to be thin and skinny and short while growing up. Her classmates used to make fun of her, teasing her about her body. There were days when she would return from school with a tear-stained face. He'd complain to her teachers. Things would quiet down for few days and then the same thing would happen: the taunting and body-shaming would resume.

So one day, he stormed into her school, with his two buddies. She was in class VIII at that time. He, with Joginder and Sujit, vandalized and broke and screamed and shouted around. No one stopped the three tall giants as they ran towards her class and pulled out some boys by their hair and slapped them. Though it was wrong to beat up kids of 13-14 years, they didn't give a damn.

The Principal of the school reached the spot and tried to stop them. Seeing him, the security guards, who had been mute spectators, also intervened. The three adults were separated, pulled away from the scared and crying kids.

"Calm down, Ahmad," said the Principal, looking up at him.

"Fuck you, Banerjee babu, if you can't protect my child," Ahmad screamed in his face. "I'll fuck you all."

The Principal was one of their friends, more of an acquaintance actually. He was also the secretary of the society where they lived. His face reddened. But he controlled his emotions and calmly repeated himself, "Calm down, Ahmad. See, even your daughter is scared," he added, spotting her in the crowd of students and staff.

Ahmad looked in that direction. Afreen was crying. She had never seen her father like that, out of control, in anger. And that scared her. He shook off the guards and walked towards his daughter. He kneeled down before her and said, wiping her tears. "It's OK, sweet pea. It's alright." He kissed her cheek. "Abbu will not be angry anymore. OK, baby? It stops now. OK?"

But it didn't stop there. It got out of control when parents of the beaten-up students mobbed the school. Media covered the incident extensively. Police came. Meetings were called. Compromises were suggested. Threats and promises were made alike. And like any other incident, it too burnt itself out.

One thing happened for sure. The shaming and scorning stopped. Two things happened, actually: Afreen got closer to her father.

Well, a third thing happened too. The friendship of Ahmad and Kishor Banerjee, or acquaintance or whatever you call it, wasn't the same anymore.

Now, Ahmad could feel his climax coming closer. He started stimulating the head of his penis, crushing the thong in his other fist. The purple head was extra large compared to his shaft. He simulated the underside of it. "Oh yes, baby... You sweet, girl... Abbu loves you..." He imagined his daughter between his legs, stroking his cock, her sweet, innocent smile on her face. "Aaah yes!"

His phone rang. The sharp, shrill ringtone shooed away his orgasm. He grimaced and picked it up, totally pissed off. 'Sujit' was flashing on the screen. He connected the call and barked, "What?"

"Whoa!" Sujit sounded surprised. "What's happened, man?!"

"You called me. So you tell me what's happened." Ahmad was completely mad at him.

"Alright! Somebody is pissed off!" Sujit's voice was playful. He was having fun, irritating an already irritated friend of his.

Ahmad breathed a few times. "Sujit... Why did you call?"

"Jogi called us. Some surprise he said. A gift, in fact!"

"Oh, yeah? It better be his twins."

Sujit laughed. "Alright! I'll be there in a minute." Then he disconnected.

You'll take at least

ten

minutes, bastard

, thought Ahmad. He threw the phone aside and picked up the thong, deciding to come before his friend arrived. He brought the underwear towards his nose and sniffed. Though it had his musky scent, he whispered Afreen's name.

He tried hard but he couldn't concentrate. Unconsciously, he was keeping track of the passing time. He was waiting for his friend to ring the door bell. He tried to conjure up images of his daughter. He failed. He sighed. He gave up.

A gift

, Sujit was saying in his head.

It better be his twins

, his own words echoed.

Joginder's two daughters had tried to be friendly with Afreen. They started hanging out with her. Even Banerjee babu's daughter, a friend of the twins, started being with them. But Afreen didn't pay much attention to them. "I feel they want to be my friends out of sympathy, Abbu!" she had complained when he had asked about the three girls. "Plus they are my juniors," she had giggled.

But when she turned seventeen, it was as if some switch was flipped. Her body started developing, growing at right places and in right proportions. By the time she was eighteen, she was a fully-blossomed, beautiful young woman, to be desired by men of any age. At 5'8", she owned a sexy, slim body. Her legs looked smooth and long. Her arms were perfect. Her lips got fuller; her eyes, ever more beautiful. The only thing that didn't change was her voice. It was still sweet and innocent like that of a child.

The same classmates who used to make fun of her wanted to be her friends. They started loving her, few even got jealous, both boys and girls alike. She made quite a number of friends and her Abbu wasn't her only friend anymore. That made Ahmad happy as well as sad at the same time.

One afternoon while he was working on his tablet, she had called out in her baby voice, "Abbu?"

"Yes, baby?" He looked up. She was standing in front of him, in a loose, white, oversized t-shirt and pink hot pants. Her long and smooth legs shone in the filtered sunlight, coming through the closed curtains.

"I'm scared."

"Hey," said he, softly, concerned, putting the tablet away. "Come here, honey pie." She came and sat on his knees, pulling her legs up, curling in his lap, as if she was still a kid and not a beautiful eighteen-year-old. "What's happened, huh?"

She didn't say anything for a long time, just hugged him, putting her hands around him, her head on his chest. Even he was quiet, waiting for her to say something, caressing her hair, tucking the loose strands behind her ear. And when she did break the silence, she said, "My friends... They are fake."

"Huh?"

"They are fake," her voice sounded mature all of a sudden. "They made fun of me, but now behave as if they are my old friends, or whatever."

"And you were scared because...?"

"I don't know..." She fell silent once again. And then after a long time, "I don't need them. I have you." She cuddled closer, hugging him tighter.

Ahmad could feel her breasts crushing against his chest. Over the past year, they had grown. A lot. From A-cups to D, for sure. Or maybe even dd! His manhood stirred underneath his daughter. And he tried to think of something other than this beautiful young girl, sitting in his lap. The loving and fatherly side was for the world to see. In reality, he's the biggest pervert of all times, he knew that. And that scared him. Because his daughter was so pure, so good-hearted, so innocent. And he didn't want to...

"I don't need them," repeated she, breaking his chain of thoughts.

"A lone she-wolf, huh, cupcake?"

She blushed, he knew. She would blush whenever he called her sweet, cute names. "I should get it tattooed. 'Lone she-wolf', huh?" She giggled.

"Noooo..." protested her father.

"Why?" She broke the hug and sat up straight, facing him.

"Ever seen a Lamborghini with a bumper sticker?" He laughed.

She had just blushed in reply.

And then days later he found himself looking at her undergarments. He had no idea how he ended up doing that, but he didn't stop himself. They had gotten smaller in proportion, and sexier. She had bought new lacy ones, completely ditching the old granny panties and bras her mother had bought for her. He imagined them on her eighteen-year-old body. And before he knew anything, he was unzipping his pants. He brought his dick out, wrapped one of the panties around it and started stroking it. After a while, as he ejaculated in them, guilt replaced lust. Fear and guilt.

Fuck!

His whole body was hot.

What have you done, you perverted asshole? She isn't one of your whores! She is your daughter.

He kept cursing himself.

Quickly he washed the panties, cleaning his semen completely. He dried them and then left them where he had found them, how he had found them.

But, next day he was back in her room, pulling the drawer out, staring at her inner garments, selecting one to come into. Then again on the next day, and on the day after that. 'Come, wash, dry, repeat' had become his routine.

But then one day shit happened. As soon as he came in one of her red panties, he heard her outside, coming towards her room. He didn't have any time to process or think. He dropped the semen-coated innerwear back in the drawer, pushed it noiselessly and tip-toed out of her room. But as he was stepping out, he bumped into her.

"Oh, Abbu?"

"Umm..." He was totally blank. "I was looking for you," he blurted out.

"Yes, tell me. You needed something?"

He stared into his daughter's eyes for a few moments and then said, "I forgot."

She frowned but then nodded and stepped inside her room.

For the rest of the day he was scared shitless.

You could have pocketed them! But no, you left them behind, dumb idiot

, he cursed himself. He couldn't meet her eyes. He felt as if she was looking at him accusingly, disgusted. For a whole week, he waited with bated breath. He waited for his daughter to shout and scream at him. He waited for his wife to push him out of his own home. He waited for doom. But nothing happened. Everything was normal, especially Afreen. She behaved as if he hadn't left come-soaked panties in her drawer of clothes. The perverted father grew bolder after that incident. Often, he left them without cleaning, placing them on the top of the pile of her clothes, for her to see the doings of her naughty father. He even started dreaming of fucking her, encouraged by the fact that she didn't oppose his deed.

Then one fine wintery morning he saw her naked. He urgently needed to talk to her and had barged into her room without knocking. And there she was, his daughter, standing completely naked, with her hair wrapped in a towel and a pair of panties in her hands. She was in the process to put them on, just stepping out of the shower, when he had stepped inside. She just froze when she saw her father.

Even Ahmad froze. He was completely blank for a second or two. But then his mind started processing the beautiful and sexy image. Her body looked fresh and lighter. She had a towel on her head but few strands of hair had escaped out, still wet. Water dripped onto her shoulders and his eyes traced the path one droplet took down her slim body. The droplet gently flowed down from her shoulder to the mound where her big, soft and supple breasts began. Then it gradually rose along her gravity-defying boob, suddenly getting deflected by her small areola, tracing a part of its circumference, completely avoiding her nipples, erect because of the cold. It smoothly went downwards and fell from the lowest point of her breast, landing near her navel, merging into one of the droplets of water sticking to her smooth, flat belly. It gained speed and ran downwards, towards the dark, well-trimmed triangle of hair between her legs, disappearing into it.

Though it was just a matter of seconds, it seemed likes ages to him. Her breasts looked even bigger on her naked slim frame. His cock twitched in his pants and he was back to his senses. "Oh, fuck!" he gasped.

"Oh, God!" Afreen shrieked, finally. One of her hands shot up towards her breasts and the other one between her legs, still clutching the panties.

At once Ahmad stepped back, out of her room, closing the door, beating his reflex to go and fuck her. Half of his mind wanted him to do that very thing: to go back inside and take his daughter. But the other, saner half prevailed. Though the images of her big breasts and lovely, long legs floated in his mind, he rushed towards his own room, only to end up jacking off to the images. No need to say it was awkward for both of them while they had their breakfast. Each avoided other's eyes, talking as little as possible. Afreen hurried through it and then rushed out for her school. But by evening everything was back to normal. She was back to her giggly self. And Ahmad, all he could think was:

I've to see her naked body once again.

The doorbell startled him out of his thoughts. "Motherfucker!" he cursed out loud. He realized the thong was around his cock, moving against his shaft as he fapped.

As he was tying a towel around his waist, the doorbell rang once again. "Coming, dude!" he screamed as he walked towards the door.

"What were you doing?" was the first thing his friend uttered as he stepped inside.

"Masturbating," said he, curtly.

"Yeah, right!"

Ahmad just shook his head as he left his friend in the hall.

Why is it that people don't believe you when you tell the truth!

He went to his bedroom, to put on some clothes; but most importantly, to lock away the thong. He didn't want his wife to find it when she returned.

Few minutes later they were on their way to Joginder's house on Sujit's motor-bike. "Why did he call us?" Ahmad asked.

"I've already told you. Some sort of surprise," said Sujit, twisting the accelerator.

"It better be his daughters."

"You've already said that." Sujit laughed as he slowly released the clutch.

After few minutes they were outside Joginder's apartment. The door was slightly open and Sujit knocked once, "Hello, Jogi?" He pushed the door and both of them stepped in.

As Ahmad was stepping in he called out playfully, "It better be the asses of your sluts. Whoa!" Both of them froze. Joginder was sitting on the couch, naked, with someone on her knees between his legs. She looked delicious and inviting from behind and had a red horizontal mark on her butt cheek. Her ponytail was lying on her back, wet because of sweat, perhaps. Joginder's hand was on her head, moving her mouth along his shaft.

"Who is she?" asked someone, Ahmad wasn't sure who, as he was in a trance, checking out the gorgeous fuck-toy. She still had her sneakers on!

The girl turned her head to face the two men. "Whoa!" exclaimed Ahmad as soon as the trance broke and he recognized her tear-stained face. "Banerjee babu's daughter? Isn't she?"

"Yes," said Joginder, smiling. "Meet Riya Banerjee, daughter of Kishor Banerjee." He laughed.

Finally

, exclaimed Ahmad.

At last!

"Man, you are my truest friend," said Ahmad as he walked towards them. Sujit cleared his throat behind him. "Yeah, you too, Sujit. But, you, Jogi yaar! Finally, I can get back to that old son-of-a-bitch!" His two friends knew he hated Riya's father with all his guts. "It never occurred to me that I can punish that obnoxious prick by fucking his daughter!" He sat beside Joginder and looked towards the girl. She was looking down, blushing, but still holding Joginder's dick. Sujit sat beside him as he resumed talking, "All this while I thought—" He broke off as he saw a wooden cane on the floor. "Oh, so it's a cane mark on her ass."

Riya darted her eyes towards the cane and then towards Ahmad. Their eyes met. "You have no idea, baby, what I'm going to do to you." He licked his lips and she blushed, looking down once again. "C'mon, show us what you've got."

She got up slowly and stood in front of them to display herself. And Ahmad just couldn't believe his luck. The daughter of his 'archenemy' was standing in front of him, fully naked, her C-sized boobs on display for him and his friends. She had smooth, flawless skin just like his daughter. The only difference was in their heights. Afreen was taller than Riya. Also their body frame. While his daughter had a flat belly, Riya had just the right amount of fat to make her more mouth-watering. And not to forget the different size of boobs! Riya's were smaller, but equally firm and juicy. His cock twitched at the thought.

"Turn around," Sujit called out.

She chewed her lower lip and then turned around for the three grown-ups to examine her back. The red mark of wood on her bubbly butt was like a prize she wore with pride. Sujit reached out and pinched her soft bun just where the cane mark was present. She squeaked in pain or pleasure, Ahmad didn't know.

Maybe both.

Sujit ran his finger along her ass-crack and she shivered. "Bend down."

Riya bent forward from her hip, her hands on her knees for support, her legs straight. The tiny little bald pink pussy of hers peeked out towards them. It was glistening and few remains of semen were there. Clearly, Joginder had fucked her before calling them.

"Bend more, close your legs and spread your cheeks," Sujit instructed again. And the hot girl followed. She stretched her buns so that the three men could see her love-holes. The tiny, little, puckered ring of skin made Sujit reach out once again and rub it. She moaned when she felt his fingers on her hole. He flicked his finger, hitting her asshole and she clenched her ass-cheeks on reflex. "No moaning without our permission. Didn't Jogi teach you rules?"

"Sorry, Sir."

That pleased Sujit. "Dance for us. Do some twerking or something." He got up to pick up the cane from the floor and sat back beside Ahmad.

As she moved her body to some tune playing in her head, still facing away from them, Sujit rubbed the cane on her ass. As she squatted and started shaking her butt, he slipped it into her ass crack and started rubbing it against her hole. He even poked once or twice, to check the tightness, perhaps.