Author's Note: This is a story of an uneducated widow who schemes to beget an heir for her impotent son. The setting is rural India where, even today preserving the family name is of prime importance.
To preserve the original flavor I have liberally used some of the Indian words like
Bhos, piki : vulva
Chut, choot, yoni : vagina
Nitamb, kula : buttocks
Lodo, lauda : flaccid penis
Lund : erect penis
Gaand : anus
Choli : skimpy blouse
Ghaghari : short petticoat
Odhani : half saari
Chacha : uncle
Chachi : aunt
Pyari, pyare : dear
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Hallo, How are you?
My name is Kishor Magani. My wife and I are living in a small village of Gujarat, India. We are farmers and also trusties for two landlords of minor age. I am 30 and my wife is 25.
My family was very poor when I was a young boy, the only child of my parents. My father had four acres of land for farming and a dilapidated house in the village. I was sixteen when my father died after a prolonged illness of six months. My widowed mom and I were left alone in the world with a debt of some twenty thousand rupees on our shoulders.
The person who had lent us the money was Kesar, a distant aunt on my father's side. She was living in another village. She was very rich with about two hundred acres of prime land, three or four houses in the village and a lucrative business of money landing. Her husband had died several years ago leaving behind him a son, Randhir, who was of my age. Kesar was forty but looked like thirty, was very smart, though uneducated, and was running the show single handedly.
Five years after my father's death, Kesar called me in. Thinking that she will ask me to pay up the money, I went to see her with some trepidation. To my surprise she treated me very nicely, offering tea and snacks. She enquired of my mom's health and condition of our farming. After I settled she gently asked, "Kishor, how much of the loan is still pending?"
Here it comes, I thought. I looked to the ground as if to read some hidden message and said, "May be nineteen thousand, may be little less."
"How much are you able to pay every year?"
"Err... not more than five hundred rupees."
"Oh. At this rate when do you think the loan will be paid up? Not forgetting the interest?"
"I am sorry Chachi, I do not have any other means of income. I try my best as you well know."
"Yes, I know and feel for you. That is the reason I have called you here. You do have means of increasing your income, only you are not aware of them. Tell me, would you like to work for me? I need help."
"But what can I do for you? I have no skills."
"I will teach you if you are ready to learn. How about a house to live in, free rations and five hundred rupees every month? Will that suffice?"
Suffice? It was more than that. I could not believe my ears. I felt like dancing. Grinning from ear to ear I asked, "When do I start?"
With a glint in her eyes she warned me, "But you will have to work very hard and do all I ask you to do. Do you agree?"
Eagerly I said, "Yes I do. Chachi, I will work to your satisfaction. When do I start?"
She smiled, rather seductively, and said, "That is my boy. You start today."
That was the first occasion when my cock stirred seeing a sweet smile on a woman's face.
On the same day my mom and I shifted to our new dwelling, which by any standards was palatial compared to our old hut. I went to work same evening.
I worked very diligently. There was nothing that I would not do; in the house, in the office, in the fields. No hour was an odd hour for me, I was available 24/7. My mom also offered some voluntary help in the kitchen. Every thing went just fine for a couple of months.
Then the flirting started. First verbal and then physical. She stared telling me dirty jokes which I found at a time very hilarious and embarrassing. She would laugh with me and give me a light slap here and there. The slaps then became prolonged contacts; on my arm, my back, my chest, on my cheeks and lips. Not sure of her intentions I could not do any thing for the fear of losing the job.
She changed her dresses too. In place of high necked long sleeved baggy blouses she started putting on tight fitting cholis with plunging neck lines.
Ordinarily she hid her chest with several folds of pallu of her sari, she was not that careful when we were alone. She then had hard time keeping her pallu in place, it would conveniently slither down from her shoulders giving me an excellent opportunity to ogle on those milk white breasts which in turn, had had hard time staying confined in her choli.
The thought of fucking her was far from my mind. But what could a full blooded man of 22 do in face of so many provocations and open invitations? Well, I masturbated twice a day and started dreaming of fucking her. I had yet no courage to give her a positive response. It was a real torture, sweet but torture all the same.
To the rest of the world she was a hard task master for me. She kept me on my toes, did not tolerate any delay or mistake. She taught me so many things on running business, controlling farm workers, dealing with merchants, government officials, accounting, bookkeeping. The more I learned the more she extracted from me, putting more and more load she on my shoulders. No body would suspect that this lady, hard like a nail would have some soft designs on a bum like me.
Meanwhile she got her son Randhir married. The festivities started seven days before and lasted three days following the actual day of marriage. By the fourth day the invitees were all dispersed and she prepared for the wedding night for Randhir and his bride Kundan.
I had not gone home for ten days. I was looking forwards to a restful night when in the evening she told me, "Kishor, there is plenty of things to do yet. I know you want to go home but one more night? Can you stay for one more night, for my sake, please? You can take few days off starting tomorrow."
Did I have a choice? It was an order coated in sweet words of request. I stayed and was busy till mid night. The whole house was quiet when I got to my room and laid down. But the sleep eluded me. The mere thought of Randhir fucking his bride under the same roof gave me an instant hard on. Besides I had had no chance to relieve myself these ten days. As a result my cock was fit to poke a hole in the wall. First, I had a quickie. I washed myself but the cock did not wilt, I was slowly working towards a second climax when Kesar drifted in.
I suddenly sat up, hurriedly put a pillow over my cock and could hardly mutter, "Chachi, aap? M.. mujhe ..... bb.... bula lena tha na?" (Aunti, you? You could have called me.)
She was in her night dress. She sat on my bed, pointed at the pillow and asked, "What are you doing?"
"Err .... Nothing, nothing. Just a little .... Little ....."