The Holi Special–Comforting Gazala
Sajid merely readjusted his dhoti to ensure nothing was showing and left, when I sorted myself out and stood up, my Choli was propped up only by the string at the neck, the string around the waist was open where Sajid had undone the string, his hands claiming my breasts and toying with them as he fucked me. I could feel cool air on my breasts as the blouse now just loosely fell over my chest like a sheet, open on both sides. And as I straightened up I saw Sajid’s first wife Gazala, who seemed to have spotted her husband with me and watched us fuck. She had waited for her husband Sajid to leave before entering my room, presumably to comfort me.
I, at that moment, burst into tears. No explanation was possible for the tears. As I looked at Gazala, Gazala, through eyes loaded with tears, there was nothing for her to say or convey. As tears streamed down my cheeks, juices were running down the inside of my thighs, I’d only just stood up after the coupling with Sajid. It had been a wet fuck in which my own pussy had flowed like a stream. Here I was, standing in front of Gazala who had discovered the sexual relationship I’d with her husband. I quickly tucked my Ghagra between my legs to stop the mixed fluids from dripping to the floor, and allowed the cloth to soak up the mess between my legs. It was a spontaneous action on my part and Gazala, who had just stood rooted to the spot looking at me, let her eyes travel down my body to the vale between my legs.
“She is beautiful…” Gazala noted, seeing me in a completely different light. She was not shocked, as Sajid was married to two other ladies. She had seen Sajid fucking her other wives many times. Gazala now gazed upon me, taking in the sight of me, well-fucked, ravaged and plundered and marveled at how obvious that ravaging was in every aspect of how I now looked. My hair was mussed up, my blouse was partially undone and the breasts, barely concealed beneath the loose cloth, were heaving, perhaps still from the exertion of the fucking. My face flushed with the orgasm while the lips seemed dry but quivering. There were red marks on my torso from where her husband Sajid had gripped me. And my Ghagra was bunched between my legs, in a brazen testimony to the soppy mess that lay within. I turned beet red when I realized the overt signal I’d sent in tucking my Ghagra into my crotch, in sheer embarrassment I took a few steps forward and buried my face in Gazala’s ample bosom to hide myself.
Gazala put her arms around me only to discover the bare expanse of my back, the skin silken and seductive.
“No wonder…Sajid couldn’t hold himself back…” Gazala reasoned, as her hands caressed my back. I was wracked with sobs, there was relief that Gazala’s arms were around me; it represented acceptance in some form. Once she had held me like this, clearly there was no censuring to come.
“Shh….Stop crying…” Gazala soothed. She gently rocked me in her arms as her hand continued to roam my back. Gazala found the skin soft and silky and imagined that her own husband’s hands must have roamed that same back. Gazala closed her eyes and savored the texture of the skin and her hands continued their exploration. The skin was bare everywhere she searched with no evidence of any garment anywhere. Her hand reached downward and came upon the waist of the Ghagra and that represented one boundary. The other hand caressed all the way up to the back of my neck and she found the other chord of the Choli tied there, so that was the other boundary. She caressed the neck and I shuddered involuntarily. As she investigated the sides, she came upon the soft bulge of the side of my breast. I gasped as I felt Gazala’s fingers go beyond soothing; there was something exploratory to the touch. I was being felt and caressed, Gazala marveled at the tender and delectable skin and flesh she encountered. Her hand went between us and she put her palm on my stomach and then slid lower to the womb. This was where her husband had implanted his own seed, she reflected.
I sucked in my breath at being touched in such intimate fashion by another woman, this was the first time ever that another woman had touched me and that too in a way which I thought only a man might. My body went taut, the Ghagra which was tucked in firmly between my legs fell away and I once again felt a surge of fluid inside me as I felt sexuality in the touch of the other woman. But I was not sure; perhaps it was me who was feeling sexual because of my recent encounter. Or perhaps it was the warm and loving feeling which was coming across from Gazala which was having a sexual impact on me. My mind was in a whirl, I didn’t think Gazala could have anything sexual in her mind about me. In the meanwhile, Gazala continued with her loving curiosity about me. I’d her sympathy and her affections, she liked me. She knew the kind of randy man her own husband was and could not make up her mind on whether Sajid had forced himself on this me. Right now, Gazala just wanted to be with me. She too felt the Ghagra between my legs fall away. In a flash, the hand which was on my womb went lower to investigate the cause for me having tucked my Ghagra in, in the first place.
Gazala’s hand encountered a damp, hot patch between my legs, she wanted to feel the full extent of the mess and she opened her palm and placed it against the crotch. The entire area seemed heated and molten. She moved her palm to feel the extent of that zone. The movement caused the fabric of the Ghagra to graze my crotch, providing friction to Gazala’s touch. I shuddered as Gazala’s hand caressed my crotch, my pussy lips were still splayed open from the arousal and the pounding from Sajid. It was therefore easy for the hand, palm and fingers to make out the contours of the pussy. As Gazala probed, she felt a fresh gush of fluid pour out. I was now jelly; whether Gazala intended it or not. I pressed myself into Gazala’s bosom and she responded with her other hand which was still on the torso. She claimed my breast for herself, delicately feeling the warm flesh and its turgid nipple. Gazala had never touched a woman before, but she knew exactly how she wanted to be touched. She did nothing more than touching me in a way that she herself would have wanted to be touched. And so when the breast was held tenderly, like a pouch of milk, and then kneaded and pulled like the udder of a cow, I found myself wishing I could reward Gazala with a release of milk.
Gazala’s instinctive touch opened me to offer myself, I ground myself into her open and milking hand; simultaneously, my pussy ground against the palm between my legs to provide relief from the instantaneous build up of erotic tension. I clung onto Gazala, like a leaf in a storm; but the fluttering in my inner being was a storm in itself. I sighed in contentment at being held by this large maternal bosom and at being caressed by tender understanding hands. Only a woman can know how a woman wants to be loved, I realized. That realization surprised me. I nuzzled the bosom in which my head was buried, my nose seeking out the contours of Gazala’s nipples, straining through the cloth. No thoughts of restraint even occurred to Gazala. Sexual feelings for another woman, the way I and she were touching each other, none of these made any impact. The only thing she knew was, we were feeling each other and had feelings for each other.
When my nose and lips nuzzled at her nipples, Gazala felt more maternal than ever. Even as her hands continued to caress, probe and investigate my contours, she thrust her large overfull breasts into my face. I needed skin, my face needed to touch Gazala’s flesh and skin. Frantically I searched Gazala’s blouse for the hooks. Gazala was wearing a cloth bodice rather than a bra. The nipples, aroused like never before in her lifetime, were clearly protruding through the cloth of the bodice. Gazala noticed the sexuality of this for the first time, and found it odd that the only other time she remembered her nipples sensitiveness was when her son was born. Those breasts were full and bulging and the bodice was full and bursting. There was no way to reach and open those hooks unless Gazala was left alone to pull in herself and maneuver those hooks. But stepping apart was impossible for either woman. Gazala wanted to feel and suss me out who had captivated her husband. I’d my insides boiling with lust at the tender touch of Gazala. In a fleeting moment of mindless passion, I gripped the bodice from the neckline and ripped downward.
All the hooks gave way and Gazala’s breasts spilled out, I didn’t wait a moment to bury my face in her breasts, feeling them with my face; the heat on my face seemed to complement the pleasant coolness it encountered on Gazala’s breasts. As I buried myself, Gazala found the knot of the top of my Choli and pulled it open so that the one layer covering my breasts fell away. She pulled up my face, kissing me on the cheeks and allowing my breasts to crush against her large ponderous breasts. Nipples toggled one another and prodded each other into erect nubs. I was now frantic with lust, I searched for Gazala’s lips and kissed them squarely; Gazala was surprised, she’d never ever been kissed on her lips before. Her own husband, in those early days of their marriage had used his lips on her breasts and shoulder and while fucking her he propped himself on his arms so their lips could never really meet. My lips felt warm and luscious on her lips and Gazala found herself responding. The maternal warmth was slowly evaporating into a puzzling new kind of feeling in the pit of her stomach. She found herself consumed by lust as my lips played on her lips, as my hands kneaded her breasts and pulled at her nipples feverishly, and as my hips seemed to hump into her hips.
Gazala wanted now to love me and smother me, her hands searched under the Ghagra as she searched for ways to return the pleasure. Both of us were now grappling with each other’s breasts and loins, lips locked in a long searching kiss.
“Reema…where are you? Everyone is looking for you?” Sajid called me from downstairs.
I made loud smacking kisses as I separated myself from Gazala “Coming in few minutes…changing into my old kurta pajama…” I yelled back. Sajid had seen me in that kurta pajama before, he had a picture of me dressed appetizing in white kurta pajama, as the material was not quite opaque and my undergarments would be well outlined, and as soon as the water would splashed on me nothing would be left to imagination. Gazala moved away from me, her bodice hanging loose on her shoulders, her breasts exposed completely. She had to take care of being discreet especially as new feelings were surging in her and it was clear to her that neither of them was in any condition to walk away. As I watched her shut the window and move to the door, I undid the cord of my Ghagra and allowed the Ghagra to slip off my shapely hip to the floor around my feet. The garment now circled me and I stood in the middle completely nude, the lines of now drying fluids running down my thighs absolutely clearly visible. I looked at Gazala’s body with a new perspective. Gazala had sagging flesh but a well rounded bottom. Her breasts were large and sagging under their own enormous weight but were warm and inviting to me.
Gazala turned around after she’d bolted the door and leaned back on the wood, her body sagging with the weight of lust. Her dupatta was trailing on the floor, her blouse was open her Ghagra was still tethered around her waist. Her hand reached between her legs as she felt the surge of heat there and rubbed herself. I instinctively knew it was up to me to satiate Gazala. Gazala might have been older but her experiences were limited, I was younger but had been taken in every possible way and some of the encounters were a revelation to her. Sajid, had uncovered desires in me which I myself did not know existed. He then proceeded to mark me as his own by satiating me in ways my husband Yash’s didn’t even know of. And one of those was the dramatic way in which he had lapped at my pussy. My raging loins wanted filling, the pulsating cock of a man. I could well imagine Gazala, now with her fingers searching her own pussy, needing the same. But I knew there was only one way for one woman to satiate another. I moved towards Gazala and kneeled in front of her.
I kissed her stomach, Gazala put her hand on my head; her own head was thrown back as the softness of my face on her stomach thrilled her. I slid my hands under her Ghagra and cupped her ass; I quickly lifted her Ghagra over my head and was now inside the folds of her Ghagra, in the folds of flesh. It seemed wholly appropriate to cover myself and hide within those Ghagra, a sanctuary of lust and loving attention, a sanctuary from the meaningless demands of the world outside.
I lifted the folds of Gazala’s paunch as my mouth searched for the pussy, I tongue and kissed all the flesh I could find; stomach, underbelly, thighs, insides of the thigh and the hairy crotch itself. Gazala frantically reached for me; she needed to grip me, hold me, touch me and maul my tits. Her Ghagra was in the way, she quickly undid the string and the Ghagra loosened and my head appeared. As Gazala’s knees buckled under the sexual onslaught, she slid lower, her legs spread obscenely. She clutched at my slender shoulders and tried to reach under to grab my breast. She could touch the slopes of my breasts but not pull up the mass to find the nipples which she so desperately wanted to suckle at that moment. In the meanwhile, I was greatly assisted by the spreading of the legs. The acrid odor of the cunt hit me and I held my breath as I lapped at her pussy. I knew the acid smells would give way to the aromas of nectar if I just persisted. There was a tangle of pubic hair in Gazala’s pussy and wisps and strands of hair came away in my lips. I kept clearing my lips of the strands and soon came upon a wet smear. I pointed out my tongue and dipped in, past the forest of hair towards the smear. Gazala reached down and held herself apart with both hands to help me in the quest for her cunt. Gazala bit her lip and gasped in wonder at my adventurous assault.
Gazala pussy was now throbbing and she wanted the fullness of a man. Yet somehow my tonguing seemed to make her feel better, the vacantness between her legs seemed to expand with every lick and she wondered how to fill herself. The paradox of having me between her legs making her pussy lips unfold and expand, and the need for a hot pillar of flesh to fill that vacantness was maddening. And when my unexpected two-finger stab into her cunt hit her, it was so well timed that Gazala groaned loudly “Ooohhh….yesss…..”
Gazala goaded me, her hips thrusting, and the door behind her creaking with the fucking motion of her hips. My fingers had found the target and released the flood gates. Using my fingers as a guide I followed with my tongue to search out that spot which Sajid had found on me. I would find it and mercilessly tongue it the way Sajid had tongued me. If I found that satiating so too would Gazala would be satiated, I thought to myself. And then my own pussy twitched and my mind wandered to the huge orgasm and waves of convulsing that Sajid had triggered in me. I was about to uncork the nature of lust and pleasure in Gazala now; I was determined to. The sequence of events was odd. I had triggered a new adventurism in Sajid. The sexual lessons from those encounters were now being carried by me to his wife, Gazala. In some ways I’d become a bridge between the man and his wife. These thoughts ran through me while I continued with the mechanics of drawing the response from Gazala but only till she actually responded. The response came when the tongue tip had dealt with the forest of hair and actually found the lips of her waiting, throbbing pussy; Gazala sobbed. This was the pleasure which had eluded her so long! The tongue then traced the contour of her lips finding the top and then began the focused thrashing, a provocative call to Gazala’s body to reveal the clitoris. The fingers which fucked in rhythm were by this time squelching with the juices pouring out of her.
“Ooohhhh….yeeesssss….Reeemmmmaaaa….aaaaahhhhh….” Gazala sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks as she realized that she was climbing into a new zone of sexual liberation and release. She collapsed to the floor and quickly stretched herself out, knees akimbo and legs apart. One hand was on her own breast, twisting, teasing and kneading herself, the other hand on my head, stroking, caressing and goading me on. Her head flailed, her breathing was raspy and every now and then she raised her hips offering herself to my lips and head, thumping back with a groan as I took the offering in its fullness. I in the meantime was spread on the floor, my bare body on the cold tiles, my breasts mashed against the floor, my ass jutting up as I buried her head in Gazala’s crotch. I tongued and lapped her ceaselessly, my fingers fucking her energetically. The noises from my efforts were loud, and wet. Sounds of slurping, licking and gobbling filled the air. As Gazala melted in the assault, a huge wave started to build up in her. She needed to grip something to break through to the orgasm waiting on the other side. There was a restraint, an unreasonable holding back. Something had to give way inside her for her to reach that peak. She felt she would lose control of her bodily functions if she did not direct that energy. Her pussy felt like she might pee. That would break this dizzying bout of pleasure which she did not want interrupted.
With one hand Gazala found the leg of a writing table while her other hand continued to be on my head, urging me on, making sure I missed no beat. As she strained, she pulled the table with a force that moved the furniture with a loud scraping noise. The lamp on the desktop crashed to the floor, but Gazala’s thrashing had only begun. Neither of us bothered with the noise or the consequences of what we were doing or attracting. Gazala’s large fleshy thighs were quivering and she was banging them together on the sides of my head. Her hand pulled the table as close as it could be pulled and she wound her hand around the angles of the furniture to grip it ever tighter as she humped.
“Hnnnnnnnnhh….” Gazala grunted as her clit exploded.
“Reeemmmaaaa….Aaaahhhh….yyyyeeeesssss….” Gazala babbled, I heard the sounds of the thumping of Gazala’s buttocks as they slapped against the floor. The waves rose to a crescendo that touched a new peak and then broke and washed over Gazala’s body. The orgasm was upon her coursing through every single cell in her body; the straining and thrusting had successfully pushed her over the brink. That brink was difficult for her to breach because her entire prior sexual experience had hovered along that boundary, with no assistance to make the breach. But my ceaseless, merciless, tonguing, the fingers massaging her cunt walls, and in the back of Gazala’s mind her realization that this was what Sajid had initiated me into, took her over the cliff. Once the peak was crossed, the waves cascaded down. Her throated opened as she screamed her release. A hot flush hit her breasts as her nipples seemed to catch fire. Her stomach convulsed and the thighs fluttered. Her insides opened up. She poured out, thick viscous releases flooding my lips and chin and onto the floor below. Her whole body shook and shuddered and her breasts demanded to be held. Her jaw hung open and spittle drooled out one end of her mouth. She was not in control of any of her bodily responses as she felt her entire being give way; there was only one event at that time, her sexual release. And her body was one single entity; her breasts, her pussy, her clit, her womb, her spine, her brain, her nipples were all compressed into one tiny point which became a single blubbering mass of convulsing flesh. It was this loss of her bodily control that caused her to fart loudly which made me quickly came up for air.
I replaced my finger instead of my tongue and stroked the clit and rode down to the recesses of Gazala’s cunt and cavernous womb. As the fingers emerged they brought out the fluids which then smeared the clit, providing the lubrication that allowed me to manipulate, maul and manhandle that sliver of flesh without hurting my new-found lover. And so back and forth went my hand from clit to womb and womb to clit, squeezing out every frisson of pleasure Gazala deserved. Gazala clutched me as her body responded to the sliding and slipping finger treatment, the jerking and convulsing continuing for a long time. As she poured, so did her tears. She wept, she laughed and it was a joyous celebration of her release. Those fluids washed away a lifetime of sexual neglect and Gazala felt a thrill as every part of her body vibrated and hummed with the effects of her orgasm. She clutched me tightly, stroking my body, thanking me for helping her discover her own sexuality. She herself shuddered and quivered in spasms as the orgasm levered down to smaller and smaller waves. The waves melded into one long humming of every cell in her body. She now felt liberated and released from the constraints of her physical body. She slumped, completely spent but very alive.
I threw one leg over Gazala, my hands still firmly plunged into her pussy; our breasts touched as both of us clung to each other. I snuggled down into her bosom, strangely calmed by her release; as if it was my own orgasm. Gazala caressed my head and let the hand go down in a long downward sweeping stroke, on the nape of my neck, down my seductive broad expansive back and down to my ass cheeks, kneading them. And back up again all the way. My crotch was now pressed against Gazala’s thigh and I ground into her and sighed. Both of us felt completely relaxed and unwound in the comfort of each other’s arms and would have stayed that way for long languorous hours, had not the sounds of Holi being celebrated in full flow caught our attention.
“Dear…we need to go downstairs….” Gazala reminded.
“Hmmmm….” I sighed in deep contentment, I snuggled closer to the comforting bosom, idly flicking the nipple not willing to let go.
“Come…let me help you get dressed…” Gazala said knowing that there would be ever more lovingness in that act which in itself would persuade me to move. Both of us sat up; Gazala pulled up her knees and watched as I stood up, her eyes on my breasts, hips, torso and ass.
“Just go and bring your clothes…I’ll dress you today…” Gazala instructed. I nodded and unmindful of being nude, unmindful of Gazala ogling my curves and my body went over to the suitcase which was by this time sprawled on the floor, its contents tipped out. This had happened when Sajid had taken me from behind as I was bending over into the suitcase. I’d collapsed from the pounding and the resultant orgasm, into the suitcase, tipping everything over. I selected the white kurta top and the pajama to go with it. As I turned around I found Gazala tucking her breasts into what was left of her blouse and gathering her dupatta. As we stepped towards each other, Gazala gathered me around and swept the dupatta around her so both of us were as if cocooned in the same protective world. She squeezed me in her arms, bosoms pressed together.
“Raise your hands…” she instructed me, eyes boring into my eyes, breath upon my breath. Gazala now gently allowed the kurta to slip over my head and let the body of the garment sheath my bare body. I shivered as I felt the sensuousness of the cloth caressing my nipples and belly and the flap at the back on my buttocks. Once again, I felt goose pimples and the erection of my nipples; Gazala knelt and held my panties open for me to step into. I held one of her shoulder for balance and raised my leg to slip it into one leg of the panty. The aroma of a dried mix of Sajid’s deposits and my secretions filled Gazala’s nostrils. She let the back of her hand rub my pussy, feeling my recently shaven pussy hair prickly on her hand. She must ask me for assistance in such matters she thought to herself. She slid the panties up the legs, marveling every bit of the distance, leaving no opportunity to touch my legs, my thighs and my hips. I spread my legs and wiggled my bottom to allow the panties to be worn comfortably and snugly. Gazala caressed my ass as she ran the nylon up and over my ass to the waist level.
“What about your bra? Are you going to give everyone a chance to look at you?” Gazala asked looking into my eyes as she came to my face level. I blushed furiously, I raised my hands again for my kurta to be removed to wear a bra underneath; but Gazala did not remove the kurta, instead she made me step into my pajama and got busy with tying the string around the waist which holds up the pajama. Her hands touched my stomach and I shivered at every touch, my nipples were now engorged and erect. Gazala turned me to face the mirror and got busy with combing my hair. Our eyes met in the mirror. So much was unspoken, but a lot was said. My fully aroused state, the kurta without the bra underneath, my nipples jutting out, and the touching and caressing from Gazala were all evident in the flushed face in the mirror.
Gazala combed out my hair and tied it in a bun and while doing so said to me “Don’t want your hair mussed up and spoilt in one day of Holi….this will keep you neat….” She looked in the mirror at me, now ready to let me go back into the wild celebration now in full flow around the house. Her hands came up and she briefly hugged me from behind, holding my palms just at the tip of those ready to be gobbled nipples.
The Holi Special–Enjoying with Rasul
Rasul was waiting for me, he’d been chasing me to smear color on me and throw water at me. He’d successfully cornered me, when I cried off, insisting that I be allowed to go change into casual clothes more appropriate for the occasion. I’d taken well over an hour to return. First Sajid gone up and returned and the Gazala, Rasul thought it was all to do with some household matter as his uncle and aunt had some work to attend to with which I was associated. He’d no idea that I first take his uncle in a simple act of succumbing to the chemistry between us. Rasul had no idea that I and his aunt Gazala had comforted each other with an outpouring of womanly love for each other. All he knew was that I’d promised him that I would allow him to do anything so long as he allowed me to go change my clothes.
And so he was waiting for me, he continued to play with others but he never strayed far from the stairways from which I was bound to emerge. And I emerge, he saw me bouncing down the stairs, ready for a bracing round of Holi play; as I ran down, my breasts jiggled and straightaway caught Rasul’s eye. I ran and grabbed hands full of color and got ready to smear it on some others who too were playing in the yard. I went to Raziya, Sajid’s third wife and we both hugged each other and smeared color on one another giggling at the fun of it all. Rasul was waiting with water gun to corner his target for the day, me. He was barely nineteen and had no experience of any woman. He should have been chasing any of the girls of his age and there were plenty of those, but his hormones were bubbling and he knew that he stood a better chance of a sexual encounter today with me.
As the water hit me between the shoulder blades; I squealed at the chill blast and turned around to try grabbing the water gun out of the assailant’s hands, the wet kurta stuck to my back and instantly my body was open display. Rasul grinned as he saw that he’d hit his target, as his eyes focused on the skin which he could see, I was turning around. The water jet splashed on my chest and drenched one side of me before the water gun ran out. Rasul ran for the water tank to refill the water gun while I chased him; Rasul reached first and breathless, partially from the running but more from the excitement turned around from the water tub to fine me nearly upon him. His eyes riveted on the partially wet breasts, and the nipple that it revealed. He slowly discharged the newly loaded water gun across my chest, drenching me and exposing my fully as wet cloth clung to my skin. Incredibly, Rasul found I was wearing nothing underneath and everything could be seen, he stared at the breasts; contoured fully by the drenched cloth, nipples taut in the cold water and jutting out and the dripping wet water which made them seem so suck-able.
Rasul erection was as instantaneous as my realization that coming down without a bra beneath my kurta had been a blunder. I looked down and saw my breasts, completely revealed, the kurta was a mere apology of a garment; in the whirl of action, I seemed to stand still, my nipples shamelessly erect, betraying the sexual arousal which had never really receded between or after the encounters with both Sajid and Gazala. I instinctively crossed my arms across my chest to try and hide my breasts from Rasul who had been flirting with me dangerously all morning. To show him my state of arousal would render things unmanageable and I felt I’d done enough for one morning in sexual discovery. But Rasul was all too eager to press home his advantage. Had I not promised him absolutely anything, with that sparkle and dance in my eyes, when I’d negotiated with him for letting me change out of my formal Ghagra Choli into this kurta pajama? He grabbed fists full of color and reached for me, my hands were across my chest and so I couldn’t stop him from rubbing the color on both my cheeks. ‘Oh, her cheeks seemed so incredibly soft!’ Rasul thought as he rubbed the color on my cheeks.
I raised my hands to defend myself and push him back, laughing. His hands dropped and he daubed both breasts with color; they felt incredibly soft and wet in his hands. He cupped them nice and proper as he colored the cloth which was sticking to the mounds of flesh. I looked down and saw how the imprints of his hands marked each breast, clear evidence that I’d been handled. I had also felt him squeezing my breasts, feeling the full volume of those objects of his lust all morning. The nipples were now furiously engorged. My body was marked as having been assaulted, my face flushed red and I grabbed his hands pinning him down on the ledge of the water tank, my knee against his thigh. I reached behind him and dipped a water gun into the water tank. As I did so I leaned over him, my breasts smothered his face, the wet flesh slapping against his willing face. I poured a water gun over his head, drenching him.
“There…that should cool you!” I exclaimed triumphantly. Rasul arms went around me, unmindful of the very public place in which we were. For Rasul, it was now or never. He pulled me close to himself and with his face buried in my neck he muttered “There is only one thing that can cool me down now…”
I wriggled free and splashed another water gun onto him “Perhaps this.” I laughed, my breasts heaving and the dampness spreading across the kurta. The garment was now an apology of a cover; every part of my body was on display now. I felt a little more confident as my breasts seemed to be at least less visible due to the color daubed on the cloth. In any case, I was having too much fun to rush right back up and was happy to wait for a bit more. Soon the all overpowering magenta color would be used and then nothing would be visible. Or so I hoped. As shot after shot of water blasted me the dry color powder got washed away and soon my breasts were back in full evidence. I ran to the stairways which would take me back up to my room. Partially to run away from Rasul, but also to run away from anyone who might see my breasts, they were now completely visible and the perked up and erect nipples were no help in concealing them either; I needed a bra. Rasul chased after me with a water gun in hand, followed me up the stairs.
“No Rasul…not here…” I told him as I laughingly ran up the stairs.
“Then where…” he asked, mischievously. It was a clever leading question. It was loaded with innuendo which was typical of the flirtation on Holi. The question suggested that what was to happen was not in doubt; it was just that the venue was not determined yet. I impishly made as if to spank Rasul for his impudence. As my outstretched arm reached toward him, I noticed that his kurta too was drenched and stuck to his broad chest. I saw his nipples and the wisps of adolescent hair. He was as much of a man, perhaps just uninitiated. My hand stopped in mid air as I realized any physical contact at this stage would be best avoided. The stairway moreover was visible to all passing by the foot and I went up another flight of stairs where the stairway turned and this stretch was not visible to any passersby. Rasul was at my heels and I turned around to stop him.
“Stop here…” I said.
“Why?” Rasul asked.
“I need to change…” I replied.
“You just changed…” Rasul countered.
“Yes…but….” My voice trailed off.
“Yes…but what?” Rasul asked.
“Yes…you drenched me with water…everything shows in this…” I pouted.
“Not fair…the drenching is bound to happen…you only said I could do anything with you…” Rasul went on, I flushed red. The implications of what he was saying was not lost on me, Rasul was infatuated with me and the indiscretions of Holi were poised to cross a line which I was unsure should be crossed. Rasul came up to the same stair as me, attempted to daub me with more color.
“I’m only applying color on you…” Rasul said.
“Applying color on me…you’re making me flushed in my color…” I asked, my natural sauciness bubbling up. I dropped my eyes to look at his pajamas and noticed the tenting of his erection there. I instantly regretted it because this overtly sexual gesture did not go unnoticed. Rasul decided it was now or never. He gripped my wrist and brought my wrist down to his groin and let the back of my hand brush his virgin cock’s massive erection. I spontaneously opened my hand and weighed the cock in my open palm. I rubbed and checked its contours, noticing that his cock was trapped inside rather tight underwear. Without untying the pajama string, I slipped my hand inside the pajama top and slid my hand past the waistband of his underwear. In this restricted access only my forefinger and middle finger had any access and I scissored these around the base of his cock. Rasul buried his face in my neck as maddening lust gripped him. He wanted to fuck me here and now. He resolved to lift me and paste me against the wall and pound into me like he watched Sajid doing me. He undid his pajama string and pulled down one side of his underwear past his hip. I knew time was not on our side, this was ridiculously dangerous, I and Rasul on a stairway where anyone could chance upon them.
My hand slid the other side of his underwear down so that it was now just below his balls. In fact, the elastic band was pressing on his balls. Rasul reached under and pulled the band down preventing it from hurting his scrotum. His hand touched my hand which was now closing around the pillar. He held my hand and tried to guide me but I grabbed his hand with my other hand and held it back. He was a youngster and just hopelessly oversexed. I just had a situation to handle and I was going to do it here and now with a precise efficiency. I closed on the hot throbbing cock and pulled the skin back. It hurt a little and Rasul gasped but not entirely from pain. The head swelled and was wet and I quickly ran my palm over the top. Rasul shuddered from the stimulation he received; I now pushed Rasul back till he was against the wall, with a clenched fist, I masturbated him vigorously. My hand slid over the jerking pulsating cock, lubricated by his copious pre-cum. I fucked him with a fist that mimicked a cunt; Rasul leaned back and sagged against the wall, my soft hands felt incredibly wonderful and he reached up to cupped the breast through the cloth.
I leaned against him, covering him; my hand worked like a piston, it was how an assassin might stab a victim, holding him close. Yes, my fist was clenched like it might hold a dagger. But the weapon I was holding was his cock. Yes I was stabbing, but that was the sheath formed by my nimble fingers being stabbed by the cock. As I mercilessly masturbated him, my thumb rode over the head. You have to close your eyes and imagine the palm of my hand running the underside of his cock. My forefinger and thumb ringed the head of his cock, with my thumb on the top of the head. Somewhere there lie the most sensitive zone of his cock and with each stroke I varied the position of my thumb to try discovering this zone. I knew I’d found it when Rasul bit into my shoulder with a gagging sound, his teeth sank in and I felt a shiver down my spine as the bite send me signals of lust. Now with every fist fuck, I made sure the thumb traveled over the head caressing the precise spot. Rasul bucked and gasped and moaned with each stroke of my fist and thumb. He sucked on my shoulder and his hand kneaded my breast frantically. With his other hand he cupped my ass trying to pull me closer.
I held our bodies apart so my hand had enough play to finish the job, I looked down and watched in fascination as the cock reared and jerked in my control. I liked its dimensions, which while nowhere near Sajid’s specifications, was definitely more promising than my husband Yash’s. How many men I could take in this family I wondered as my fist was rewarded with further spurts of pre-cum. I anointed the cock head with the fresh fluid so the lubrication was increased. I now needed to finish. The danger was very high and thus the urgency, it was exciting for me but I needed to finish. I pounded the cock hard and fast with my clenching and unclenching fingers. The thumb never failed to run over the head of the cock. Rasul was reduced to a mass of trembling flesh, his lips ran on my neck and up to my ear; he wetted my ear with his lips and tongue.
“I want to fuck…” Rasul pleaded.
“Oh baby wants to fuck…let me finish you…” I puffed as the exertion went further.
“I’m not a baby anymore…” Rasul muttered, he grabbed my both breasts in his hands and tried to push me back against the other wall, determined to mount me now. I pressed him back and leaned on him, my bangles jangled as I masturbated him furiously to tame him. I couldn’t have guessed it but Rasul had gone to the bathroom in that intervening hour and masturbated, fantasizing about me. Yet, he was young and the excitement of the woman of his dreams, the first woman to touch him sexually and the progress in one short morning had made him ready to burst. I slid to the floor in front of him to concentrate on the finish. One hand rested on the wall for support and the other hand had enough of his pre-cum in it to let me brutally piston the cock. Rasul looked down and the sight of me kneeling in front of him, the parting of my hair, filled with vermilion as a sign of being married as I fisted him was too much for him to take.
“Ooohhhh….” Rasul hissed as his cock spurted. Jet after jet of ropey cum gushed forth, the first blast was like a shot which leapt out of his cock, and the next several jerks released his sperm in waves over my fist. I timed my every fist fuck to every blast and jerk from him. He shuddered and his head flailed as he gripped my shoulders, trying to guide my mouth to his cock. I resisted his moves to have my mouth him turning my head to one side and I methodically and rhythmically provided him the beat with which to release fully into my fist. My hands were a mess but I enjoyed the release of Rasul; it was virile, energetic and wild and it provided me with a sense of conquest. I held the rapidly receding jut of flesh in my hand as I continued to pump him to deliver all the pleasure he could take. When the cock had shrunk fully, I rolled the blob of flesh between thumb and forefinger and watched as his head still jerked and lolled. I withdrew my hand, streaked with cum, I rubbed my hand against the wall, smearing cum there, I noticed the mark the smear made and idly wondered that whenever I crossed that way, only I would know what it meant.
Rasul’s pajamas were pooled around his knees and he was sagging under the weight of his mighty release. He was totally in love with me; the first to touch him, and how! He was sure he could bed me. It was just a question of timing. I rose to face Rasul, our eyes met.
“Keep our little secret with yourself…” I said and then walked up the few remaining steps to the upper floor for the second time that day to get into attire appropriate for Holi.
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