The Masala Moment Ch. 02

"That was beautiful," said Baba to his daughter-in-law. She had given him a hand-job after he had spotted her fucking her husband. The masturbation / blowjob session was an outcome of her sense of sympathy. But the discovery of the well -endowed father-in-law caught her throat and she wondered how he might feel inside her if they fucked. He did not let her wonder for long.

He had taken her doggy style while she was washing clothes in the washer. She had barely resisted. Knowing fully well that she might lose control and want him deep in her womb and flooding her, she started by cautioning him to only fuck enough to take the edge off. Then the warning changed to telling him not to spill inside her. And finally she luxuriated in the pounding and the flooding.

Somehow she did not want to take it further. Not just because it was illicit. The man was old enough to be her father and she indeed had called him that for all her married life. And now to fuck him ...

She did not want to take it further at this time because her unmarried son and married daughter with her two kids were visiting. There was still a fresh memory of the son having needed some attention a few years back when she had masturbated him to relieve him of some post-injury stress. If the son saw her in a compromising position with her father-in-law god knows what that might unleash.

Her wanting to stop was not because of any dislike she had for what had happened. In fact, here lay the crux of the matter. She had loved it so much that she was scared of her own tendency to get addicted. She knew how she drank once her husband Deepu had introduced her to alcohol. It was a phase when he wanted his wife to be "with it".

And it was not just alcohol. When she came to Calcutta after finishing her graduation from Ramananda College in Bankura district she was the very picture of innocence. Deepu had asked his elder sister to make her more fashionable for his taste and in came the sleeveless blouse with its aggressive cuts. She didn't used to shave her armpits and somehow it seemed her man liked that, too.

And then to make her lose inhibitions came the alcohol. She playfully picked up his cigarette as well. On that first day of all this, Deepu had shown the advantages of a low cut blouse on his buxom Bengali wife. He had kissed the slopes and thrilled her. Under the influence of alcohol she also had her first taste of cock and cum.

And so she knew exactly how addicted she could become. It had taken kids and the loss of privacy for her to overcome some of the wilder sex in a post-alcohol haze.

So it was easy to imagine her getting addicted to Baba's girth, the vitality and the rich copious cumming that she so loved. And that was the real, true reason for her hesitancy. Excess and the risk of discovery went hand in hand.

"Wasn't it?" pressed on her father-in-law, leaning back on the kitchen tabletop waiting for her to respond to him.

She pulled her pallo covering her blouse. She could feel his eyes staring at her heavy slopes. All these fancy cut blouses, each showing more cleavage than the previous one simply fed the old man's lust. The sides bulging and nipples protruding were all with Deepu's encouragement. As he leaned close, she felt the father-in-law was trying to benefit from the son's racy styling for her.

"Hm?" he asked, leaning closer to her and looking down her front. As she leaned and polished the top her heavy breasts jiggled. He knew what he wanted from her next. Would she give?

"Ha," she replied shortly and turned away from him facing the other side. This blouse was too aggressive, he was too suggestive and she was too weak-kneed. It was now after dinner and the household was slowly retiring. Deepu always wanted her in bed next to him, whether sex was possible or not. And like his father had come down the other day only to see her fucking him, he too was likely to come down if she did not show up next to him.

Sleeping, for Deepu, meant at the least holding her and slipping his hand under her clothes to caress either breasts or pussy. If that provoked anything in her before sleep took him over then some fucking might result. There were other days when a fuck-fest was fully planned. Those were wild nights. But with the house so full in the holiday season that was not about to happen.

If she thought turning her back to him was going to prevent her father-in-law from becoming more sexual with her, she had underestimated her father-in-law's ardor and indeed her own ass's sexiness. Baba eyed her and imagined how with her bent exactly in similar fashion he had mounted her a short while ago.

Far from being satiated or exhausted the strong old man was like a sexual monster unleashed. His cock lurched on sighting that ass and he imagined the wet channel between her legs. It had grabbed at him and milked him - in his version of events. The throbbing ache in his now-full cock caused him to reach into his dhoti and press his cock downward, relieving the buzz a bit.

It was at that moment that Paru decided to turn around and she saw his hand under his dhoti.

"What is this?" she blurted out.

Baba grinned lasciviously, "What do you think?"

She came close to him. This was unbelievable. The old man had been masturbating for the previous day or two. Today, she had tongued and fisted him to one round of cumming. He had mounted her in a second round of fucking and even then he had filled her with his semen till it ran down her legs. And here he was sporting an erection again.

A slickness in her cunt told her that fate had not been kind with the genes transfer from father to son. The son had fucked her a maximum of twice in any given 24-hour cycle. Here, the father at his advanced age was raring to go for the third time, masturbation aside. How must he have been when younger? Poor chap. Widow hood must have been cruel but also seemed to her as a waste of good, healthy vitality.

Instinctively and before her mind could stop her, her hand had reached under the dhoti. She expected just an average erection - not the whole job. But he was as loaded as she had ever encountered him. She gasped. "How could this be?" she wondered in fascination. His son's cock was never as hard and full for second fucks. Baba was promised to ravage her raw again.

While her hands were seeking out his cock his hand went under her saree pallo to seek out her blouse.

"I didn't get any of this from you so far," he murmured, fingers finding her nipples quite easily. They rose and stiffened, straining against the fabric of bra and blouse to make themselves felt. He pulled on them, like a milkman milking teats of a cow.

"Baba," whispered Paru hoarsely. "Not here, not now!"

He massaged the flesh surrounding her full nipples as if to encourage the flow of milk. Shameless and bold in his desire, he leaned forward and nuzzled her breasts. He knew his daughter-in-law just needed to be made to melt and she would take him harder than he could give her. That, and the regret at having missed her breasts caused him to be bold.

Paru gasped. She caught his hand. Her eyes were on the staircase, paradoxically looking at the same top stair where Baba had come down the other day and spotted her with his son. Eyes on the stairs, she merely held on to his hand as he squeezed and massaged her breast. At least once she guided him closer to her nipple and then she gripped him hard stopping him when she thought someone was coming.

And then let go when it turned out to be false alarm. She sighed contentedly. A man was not just his cock; he was also about how he wielded his sexuality and Baba was proving to be an expert. The father should have taught his son, she found herself musing. But the genes had not passed on the bludgeoning dimensions of his cock.

Eyes still on the stairwell, one hand on his hand for control, Paru let her other hand drop back on to his cock. Gently she held him in a soft grip through the cloth. She did not press too hard. That would have made him release some precum and lessened his volume.

She was not sure why she wanted to preserve his heft. She did not even know whether she would get an opportunity to fuck him, whether for his sake or her own needs. But she made sure that she did not squeeze him too hard. It was a stimulating caress rather than a draining one.

He brought his lips to her ears and said, "Find a way." His hands crept in between the folds of her saree and through all the layers he could feel the humid heat of her hungry cunt.

"Find a way to do what?" she asked, knowing fully well what he meant. Her hands negotiated the folds of his dhoti and found the hot, hard flesh of his cock directly to touch. Her fingers played on the soft skin of his well-oiled cock and the hard steel of his pillar within. She wanted it.

"I need to suck your breasts," stammered Baba. He did not intend to stammer but when he felt his daughter-in-law's fingers on his cock and her sultry, husky whisper asked him what he wanted to do, the stammer conveyed the sexually charged tension in him.

She put her hand on the back of his head and pressed his face to her large chest. He chewed tentatively. Suddenly, gripping his hair she pulled his head away.

"Dear. Not here. See me on the terrace in one hour's time," she whispered. She wiped the smear of cum on his dhoti and rearranged her pallo.

"Where are you going to be for one hour, beta?" he asked.

"Clearing up and then seeing to your son," she said.

"Seeing to him?" he asked.

"Yes. You don't want him coming looking for me, do you?" she asked.

"No," he shook his head.

"Then I must make sure I know where he is and whether he is asleep," she said.

"And how do you that?" he asked.

"You don't want to know," she replied.

"Tell me," he insisted.

"You really want to know?" she looked into his eyes.

"Yes," he replied, his throat catching.

"He likes to sleep holding me putting his hand on me," she said.

"Puts his hand where?" asked her husband's father.

She guided his hand back to her breast. "Here," she said. "And then here," she continued, slowly dragging his hand from her breast on to her torso and then on to her lower stomach. She slid his hand within her saree and down, to the damp heat of her pubis and whispered, "Here!"

Baba stroked his daughter-in-law's pubis with a broad palm and whispered, "He is lucky!"

"So were you with your wife, were you not?" she asked, shivering as his fingers ran over her lips.

"She was not as hot as you. And I didn't have in the last 15 years of her life," he said, rocking gently as Paru found her hand back on his cock and he gently fucked her fist. Paru counted a total years of forced celibacy assuming that Baba had been on the straight and narrow.

"And will he just sleep with that little bit of..." he left the sentence unfinished.

"May be yes. May be more. Sometimes he will fuck me," she whispered, wanting sex and for a moment not particularly worrying about where she got it from.

"Will he tonight?" he asked.

"May be," she replied.

"Don't let him," he said in a hushed tone.

"I never refuse," replied Paru all hot and bothered with her sexual need.

"He gets a fuck whenever he wants?" asked Baba in wonderment. His own wife, the girl's mother-in-law was a book of rules in this matter.

"Isn't that what you wanted when you selected me as a bride for him?" she asked, sliding her hand up and down his cock more vigorously. They were both running their hands on each other and rocking wildly with this loaded discussion.

"But not tonight," he insisted.

"I don't know," she replied pushing him away. "I'll tell you when we meet later," she said.

Later

When Paru went to her room the grandchildren were lying on the bed where Deepu lay. She lay next to him, turned towards him, as was her habit. He in turn turned towards her and slipped a hand around her and threw a leg over.

"Tired?" he asked.

"Yes," she nodded.

"Is that why you haven't changed out of your saree?" he asked. She replied affirmatively.

Deepu sighed and cuddled up with his wife and his hand roamed on her body as it did every night preparatory to sleeping. Now that she had proclaimed her tiredness he intended to let her sleep.

AS a matter of course he pulled up her saree and felt her plump thigh. His hand slid in between and he reached her pubis and gasped when he felt her wet and hot. "Hey! You are..." he whispered. Next his fingers invaded her and he found confirmation of her arousal. "Come," he whispered.

She nodded at the grandkids lying on the bed.

"We'll be quiet," he said urgently. He pushed her on her back and reached for his own cock which had swelled the moment his fingers touched her wetness.

He got between her thighs and guided his cock past the springy, prickly pubic hair to find her cunt. He sank in and gritted his teeth in pleasure.

For Paru the comparison between father's thick cock and son's ordinary cock was inescapable. She felt empty with Deepu embedded in her. He had been enough for her for years. But the impossible stretch of her father-in-law and the way he spread her apart was incomparable.

He had gritted his teeth to avoid any noises. And he clamped a hand over Paru's mouth to make sure she did not squeal, for she was normally a noisy lover. But he need not have bothered. His fucking tonight was more about him than about her. She just let him fuck like one of those many fucks at the end of a tiring day. It was not about her at all.

Normally, on tired nights she let him do what he wanted out of a sense of duty and so it was tonight. Then, she was not connected to the proceedings. Today, she was not really tired. The real reason for her lack of involvement was that the son was not half as good a fuck as the father; neither in endowment nor in imagination.

When he came it was in a series of shudders and he emptied into her. But he did not quite fill her. Again, she could not help comparing his release with the copious dosage of cum she received from her father-in-law, one after the other and not one of them short on quantity.

The qualitatively superior fucking, the pounding, the stretch and the expansion of her cunt and finally, the flooding all proved that father was a class apart from the son. The son's effort right was self-satisfying to him. But for her, he was merely a starter, an aperitif.

As he rolled over and fell asleep, she moved to the bathroom to wash up. Her real night was to begin. Her lover, her husband's father was already up there on the terrace waiting for her. She hoped he would have nothing to ask about what happened down here.

Then:

She came up to the terrace and peered in the dark. They had fixed the location but not the spot. When Baba came up he selected the shadow of the water tank on the roof. It was the obvious safe spot to prevent them from being spotted from any building nearby.

He was there hand on the parapet wall looking at the twinkling lights of the city. Silhouettes of palms swayed in the dark and there was a distinct chill in the air. For the want of a better place Paru had suggested this place which she and Deepu had used on occasion. Those were well selected nights for balanced weather, full moon and they had carried wine and more.

Today, it was a bit chill but that was not the only reason she shivered, she thought.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Must you know," she countered.

"Is he asleep?" asked her father-in-law.

"Yes, he usually is lost to the world especially after when..." and then she stopped short.

"After when... what?" he prodded her. She had given it away.

"When he fucks me," she said, in a low voice.

"Did he?" he pestered her.

"I told you, didn't I?" she said, flushing hot and red.

"You wanted him or was it that he wanted you?" asked the old man feeling his cock rise and acquire super-large proportions with this talk.

"Did the cock fuck the cunt or the cunt fuck the cock - is that your question?" she asked anger rising in her.

He held her heavy breast in the palm of one hand gently lifting the bulk.

"I want to know," he said simply.

"Why? To what end?" she asked.

He replied by guiding her hand to his cock which was now really hard and thick as ever. He had not felt himself acquire such proportions in a long, long time. The eroticism of having a window to his newfound lover's sexual relationship with her husband brought a new arousal.

"You are excited, not jealous?" she gasped.

"How can I be jealous? He is your husband, my son. So long as I get what I want ..." he rocked gently into her hand.

"Tell me how he fucked you," he asked.

She kept quiet, wondering what to say. He held her close and quickly decided that he must not let the moment slip. Leaning down he nuzzled her breasts through clothes and all.

"Did he kiss you here?" he asked. His nose sought out her nipples. The outer layers of her bra interfered with his progress. Calmly, his fingers worked the hooks of her blouse and he opened her out. Paru held his head, gently, sighing in excitement. It did not at all feel as if she had just been fucked a short while ago.

As he undid the clasp of her bra, her breasts fell out, unrestrained by anything and weighed down by their bulk.

"Does he know how to milk you?" he asked, giving her teats long loving licks.

She gasped as his tongue roughly played with her breasts. He was an expert. His tongue had a roughness - it was so dry! He had done that on his sleeve to maximize the effect of his caresses.

"Yes!" she moaned.

"He does?" asked the father-in-law. He now nosed her breasts on all sides, towards the nipples as if to prod milk towards their outlet. As he nosed and prodded her, she felt bolts running through her breasts and her nipples ached for his tongue.

She grabbed his face and looked into his eyes. "I said yes to the way you are licking," she said, eyes glistening with desire. She guided his head back to her nipples.

"I thought you said yes for his milking you," he said, between laps of his tongue. She was sweaty and sweet and he consumed her.

"Yes for that too, you dirty old man," she whimpered.

"Time to confess, is it?" he teased her.

"Yes. What is there to confess? When Babli was a baby he used to do what you are doing now copying the baby," she said, her face burning with embarrassment. The old man wanted the voyeuristic pleasure of knowing how this same woman was pleasured by his son and was blackmailing her.

But the hot furnace between her legs, the aching nipples and the contrast in the proportions of the father whom she could have now, compared to the son's proportions whom she had just had, kept her going. She wanted, that's all it was.

"You must have been milking then," he gasped, thinking about how lucky his son was.

"Yes and when he pushed my breast around it flowed and your son," she shivered at the memory of how it had felt. His fierce sucking on discovering the milk was a contrast to the gentle gumless suckling of the baby.

As if on cue, Baba ran his teeth on her nipples, dragging them through his teeth as if they should now yield him milk.

"Like that!" she whimpered and holding his head in one hand and one of her breasts in the other, she fed him her nipple. "Baba," moaned, as if calling to a baby.

The old man mumbled "Mmmmmmm" to indicate his pleasure and satisfaction. He felt as if some fluid flowed from her. It was an alien taste in his mouth for sure though he knew his daughter-in-law was not lactating. He sucked harder and drank in whatever that was, till he tasted his own saliva again. He then switched to the other nipple.

Paru groaned as she felt the nipple go sore and swollen and was grateful when he shifted to the other one.

"Did he leave any for the baby," asked Baba, knowing fully well that had it been him, he would have sucked her dry and waited for her to lactate again with lips waiting at her breasts.