Special thanks to Kenji Sato for editing this story
Vishwanathan was sitting in the meeting and, as usual, there was a deep argument going on. But his mind wasn't in place, it was reminiscing how he had fucked his nephew's newly married wife yesterday. He could remember how her boobies jiggled at each stroke, and how tight her pussy was, unlike his wife.
What an irony that it was he, who suggested this girl to Anand's family, as she was both beautiful and also very conservative. Who knew he would end up inside her before Anand? But, of course, that low-caste milkman had already broken her seal.
He was now imagining her moaning like a banshee, as the ugly black dick of the milkman was pumping her mercilessly. Even in the din of shouting, he got a huge erection, and luckily, it was under the table. No, he could not allow that angel to be soiled by some roadside tramp; he needed to save her. The only way to save her was to completely satisfy her sexually, so that she wouldn't think of looking outside.
After the meeting, he feigned a headache and returned home. He knocked on the door, and Kayal opened it excitedly, and he saw her face drop when she saw him. Vishwa knew she was expecting that mongrel milkman, but he pretended not to notice. He went to get refreshed, while Kayal was preparing dinner.
After he changed to normal clothes, he looked out for her. Alone in the kitchen with her now, he looked at her, and fought to quell his raging excitement.
Kayal exuded a soft sexuality. Her skin was clear as satin, utterly unflawed, smooth, fair, and creamy. She was slender and lovely, with finely chiselled features-- lovely dark, doe-like eyes rimmed with kajal; a slim, straight nose; with full lips over perfect, even teeth. She wore a long, black and gold mangalsutra and a gold necklace around her long neck. Her sloping breasts were full and high, and ripe like succulent fruit.
Her belly was flat, her waist narrow, and she had bell-shaped hips, elegant legs and arms, with slender ankles and wrists. Her hair was bound in a long, low braid that hung to the curves of her gently rounded buttocks. She wore a small bindi in the centre of her forehead, with a touch of red in her parting, delicate diamond earrings, a gold bracelet and diamond rings on her second and third fingers. Her hands and feet were slender and graceful. She wore silver rings on her toes and sexy silver anklets with tiny bells that looped over her slender ankles erotically.
He couldn't take his eyes off her breasts. She wore a simple sari in synthetic fibre, with a tight, close-cut blouse. The blouse had a plunging scoop neck that rode low on her shoulders. It showed most of her upper torso and, through the translucent fabric of the pale sari, gave him an unimpeded view of the invitingly deep shadow of her cleavage, and the swelling of her luscious breasts squeezed together by the tight blouse. The gold necklace and long mangalsutra glistened against her creamy skin. The blouse was cut short and high, the lower hem running hard under her breasts which jutted provocatively over her flat belly. She wore her sari very low on her hips, well below her navel, and he could see a long expanse of the smooth, unblemished flesh of her midriff.
Kayal knew he was watching her, as she kneaded the dough for the chappatis, the wafer-thin disks of unleavened bread. It was hard work, and her shoulders hunched and her breasts squeezed together, as she deftly knuckled the soft mass of dough. She saw him glance at her, and saw his eyes glitter, as he watched her breasts move under her pallu. She flicked her eyes down, and saw the bulge between his thighs.
Not long now. She rose slightly on her feet, pressing down hard on the dough, her arms stretched, her shoulders hunched, and the pallu of her sari slid off her shoulders. It fell down to the shallow steel plate, in which she had the ball of dough, and exposed her breasts and cleavage. She made no move to raise it. She heard his sharp intake of breath, and hid a smile.
There was a steel tumbler of water for the dough by the plate. She reached for it, and knocked it off the counter. It clanged to the floor, and she clucked in mock irritation. Abandoning the dough, she turned and bent steeply from the waist to retrieve it, the sari still off her shoulders. She was facing him, when she bent over and Vishwa saw her full breasts bunch and swing. Her mangalsutra was squeezed between the luscious mounds. He was only inches from her body.
Vishwa's loins blazed with the pent-up lust, and from the heat of the day. The sight of her breasts, in such close proximity, was too much to bear. He wanted to take them in his hands, to drive his cock into her mouth, into her cunt. God. He lost control. With a strangled cry, he bent forward and thrust his wet hands deep down the neck of her blouse, groping and crushing her breasts.
He expected her to shout, scream, squeal, to try to struggle free; anything. But looked like she was expecting it
She stopped, one hand on the tumbler, still bent over and looked up at him. His mind jerked in surprise, as he realised that her nipples were hard and her breasts were swelling to turgidity in his hands. She tilted her lovely face up, a gentle smile lit her eyes, and her teeth flashed. He froze incredulously. She let the tumbler go and her lips parted and he saw her eyes shining with excitement. Her tongue peeked between her lips.
She did more. Hunching her shoulders, she squeezed her breasts into his hands. In an utterly wanton, lascivious motion, she rocked gently back and forth, rubbing her nipples against his palms. He gasped, and quickly squeezed them. Her face spasmed with sincere pleasure. A slow grin creased his face. He rolled her rigid nipples under his palms. She gasped softly.
Kayal slid to her knees slowly with his hands still inside her blouse. Instantly, he understood what was going to happen. He straightened. She bent her face towards his crotch and slid her hands up his strong thighs. He looked down, still reeling in disbelief. Her face moved closer to his groin and she nuzzled his crotch gently. Her lips parted delicately, and he gasped in shock as he felt her warm breath and fiery tongue probing at his cock-head through the thick cloth of his shorts.
"Uncle, don't you think it's inappropriate?" she murmured softly, her voice lowered.
"Come on dear.we have already done it yesterday.Why so hesitancy now?"
She flicked open the buttons and fly of his shorts, and peeled them open. His erect cock bounced out at her face, throbbing, dark-veined, already dripping with pre-cum gunk.. His balls were heavy and low. She took her Uncle-in-law's penis in her fingers and began to masturbate him. It throbbed and pulsed alive. Vishwa groaned softly and thrust his hips at her face.
"Suck it! Suck it! Quickly!" he grunted. His wife never did that for him, and he wanted Kayal to do that.
Pumping his shaft in her slender fingers, she rolled back the foreskin, and opening her mouth, swirled her tongue about his thick cock-head. Vishwa gasped at the electric touch of her tongue on his erection. Her tongue swept over it with a flickering serpentine action, and then, she slid her lips and teeth up and down his shaft, raking it gently. Pursing her lips on her servant's cock-head, she slowly drew his penis between her lips, and began to suck on the tip of his cock. He moaned thickly. Gently, she drew his penis deeper into her mouth, her lips parting further, her cheeks hollowing, then filling with his size, as it distended her face, while she still jerked him in her fist. He hissed in pleasure and lifted his vest up under his arms, caressing his torso sensuously.
