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The bare expanse of her back was absolutely fabulous. Many a man in that room felt the impulse to reach out and feel the soft, silky, sensuous inviting skin.

Aruna had shifted overseas along with her husband who worked in an IT firm and had come visiting for a family function. The banquet room was milling with all manners of relatives and friends, male and female, old and young.

But none was so daringly dressed or as beautiful or as sexy as Aruna.

“Such a simple and naïve girl she was when she was here! Look at her now!” wondered an aunt. She was the same girl who knew nothing of anything- including sex and sexuality – to the point that the same aunt, along with her mother and others had worried: ‘what would happen to this girl?’

Unknown to them, Aruna had learned everything on the lap of her ‘daddy-uncle’ – Uncle Sudhir. She continued to sit on his lap like she did as a baby girl all through the years. Finally when she was about to get married she crossed the line.

Uncle and niece fucked. He took her virginity. She luxuriated in the sense of lust and experimented on his lap. Finally, she got married and learned more about sex with her overeager and totally inexperienced husband. She realized that Uncle Sudhir was the real thing. Then she came back to him and teased and fucked him one last time before they left for overseas.

Her taut young body, those pert breasts and the excitement of innocence mixed with naughtiness never left Sudhir’s mind. But the niece-turned-minx was gone. He saw her from across the room and noted that Aruna was more woman like than before. She had not noticed him yet. Perhaps she did not remember. That, though seemed unlikely given the vigorous and intensely pleasurable sex they had together.

Aruna was of course looking to spot her ‘daddy-uncle’ but she was sure she would bump into him if she just went around completing her rounds of “hi”s and Hellos”s.

Some of the male cousins lingered around her, especially the younger unmarried ones. She didn’t smell of perfume that any one of them had smelled before. It seemed like the perfume of her body and that conjured up intoxicating visions in the minds of the uninitiated.

The back of her blouse had just two tethers, one up near the neck and the other at the absolute bottom, giving them large expanses of her bare back to feast their eyes on. The front of her blouse was just as minimalist with just two triangular panels of cloth designed to contain her breasts – just enough. Not to cover, not to support – but just to hold and provide a modicum of modesty for a family occasion. Otherwise, in shape, cut and contours it left nothing to imagination.

As she leaned forward to talk to the elders sitting down, the blouse slung forward. Her luscious mango-breasts bulged and the sides of those slopes those men longed to lick and taste that delectable flesh which was pressed outward from the sides of that insufficient cover provided by her blouse.

And lean she did. While her chiffon saree was bunched to cover the most open parts of her breasts she managed it depending on whom she was leaning to talk to.

When amidst the conservative -which is not the same as older- she wrapped herself with the upper part of the saree. Her back was covered and that part which ran across her breasts was folded so that nothing – or not much – could be seen through the gauze-like chiffon.

But when she was amidst those who were easy to get along with, or those who she was bold enough to tease, the saree drape slipped as if magically and unintended. Her deep cleavage and the tops and sides of her breasts were open for them.

If any old enough uncle (mama) had the gaze and the guts he could have seen her nipples gently pressed against the blouse, too, seen from the correct angle. She allowed cousins unfettered access to look down the blouse if they were standing next to her.

And then there was the waist. The front of her saree dipped below the gentle curve of her tummy, exposing navel and more flesh. When she laughed her stomach rippled and one old man imagined that ripple being caused by the workings of his tongue. In fact, when she reached across to place back her drink glass on a tray that was too far away, he watched with bated breath as the dressed dipped and the torso stretched out – and he imagined he saw the top of her pubic hairline. But he could not be sure.

The saree barely seemed to cling to her hips. Some of the more virile men wanted to hold that curve and pull her in to him. Others just watched that gentle roll of flesh bounced as she walked.

But the real action was her ass. She wore heels and she tied her saree such that her ass jutted out prominently. It rolled as she walked inviting looks, comments and lust.

“She looks like a tart!” commented an aunt only to be told by her husband that she was jealous she never had those looks. As she walked past some of the seated men an older man she knew to be a tease asked loudly, halkalı escort “Is that our Aruna who has grown so big? She used to be small and sit on my lap!” he said, slapping his thigh.

He had been eyeing her sexy, rolling ass, that being his weak point. “Ass man more than a tits man!” he had confessed to his shocked wife when they were newly wed and he first took her doggy style.

“I still can sit on your lap!” announced Aruna as her drinks finally hit her. She sat on his thigh, sideways as little girls do. The gaggle of admirers that went around with her formed a semi circle around her as always. But this grand uncle on whose lap she sat was to her left and the group of men and women was on her right. Those people met each other regularly. She was the one who was the curiosity. After her marriage she had relocated overseas soon after and was returning only now after a couple of years.

A cousin brought her a refill of drink which she gratefully accepted in her right hand. Her left hand dropped to the space between the granduncle’s thighs.

“How are things over there? Do you cook? How have you managed to maintain yourself? I am told there is no help and you have to do everything yourself?” These were the typical questions she faced.

“Do you remember those days when you used to sit on my thigh and I used to swing you up and down?” asked granduncle.

“Yes, mama!” she crooned, hand on his cheek and face close to his. She allowed her saree to slip strategically. Granduncle watched that exposed bosom. Without doubt he was still an ‘ass man’ but her breasts were beautifully swollen, delicately exposed and tantalizingly close. He felt a stirring in his groin which he had not for years. As his cock leaped with a renewed supply of blood, she felt for him.

Whatever his age could not achieve, her hand achieved. She searched for and found his semi-erect cock. Fingers splayed she trapped the head between her thumb and forefinger. Her wrist was turned over towards him. She pressed the soft head and it plopped out of her fingers. When she did that again, it was harder erect and didn’t plop that easily. A few more plops later she could not make him plop- he was rock hard.

Granduncle gagged in pleasure as he felt an erection that he had long thought he was incapable of. He put his right arm around her shoulder so that the brazen action by Aruna was as unnoticed as possible. She felt a wetness in her fingers as his precum leaked through.

She could not do more. She had teased him enough. She let go and stood up leaving granduncle gasping for more. That would teach him about the little girl that sat on his lap!

Sudhir was not a ‘anything’ man. He went for what he fancied in a given woman. And all evening his eyes were fixed on the way that ass of Aruna’s held up. With those heels, when she leaned forward, they jutted out ever more, asking to be taken. At one point she spread her legs wide while leaning and he felt his erection go uncomfortably hard in the restraint of his underclothes.

He remembered the last time he had sunk into the hot bubbling cauldron that lay behind that layer of chiffon, between those legs, between those soft now-plump buttocks. She had bulked up just right in the correct places and was just lusciously rounded. Marriage and fucking seemed to have done that to her.

The music started and bodies started swaying as those inclined to dance shifted to one end of the hall. Others gave reproachful looks at the decline in ‘cultural standards’. And those who had grown older but had not had the chance to get close to a variety of women also stepped into the melee.

It was packed with jostling, moist bodies. In the encouraging rhythm of Bollywood beats, more barriers fell and gents and ladies, mamas and maamis, youngsters, all came a lot closer. The women let their guard drop, as did dupattas (a kind of stole covering the upper bodies), saree pallos (that part of the saree covering the upper body) and cleavages were bared.

Aruna sipped from her glass as she moved and – some said intentionally – accidentally spilled some drink from her lips. It flowed down her chin and mischievously ran down her chest. She looked down and pulled the blouse forward to the liquid to race down and not stain the delicate fabric.

Her cousin who was dancing with her could not help saying, “Ooh, my!” as she watched the skin glitter, the bosom heave. For a moment she felt like licking the moisture on Aruna’s chest and throat and chin and up to those lips, which were now curved in a naughty smile crowned by a sparkling smile.

Aruna moved closer to her and briefly their breasts pressed. She let her hand drop to the other woman’s hips and spontaneously they ground out towards each other in rhythm. It was heady.

Aruna laughed and moved off to one of her admirers of the opposite sex. “Come!” she invited him. “You want to try şişli escort that?” she asked. She was tantalizingly close and they could smell each other. She made the same move, the grind routine and allowed him to come as close as needed to let him imagine he felt her pubis. He wasn’t sure but by the time the next grind came around she was gone, having felt his erection rub against her now moist lips.

A heady mix of drink and rhythm, the close proximity to men who she was comfortable with and their open admiration of her caused her to get even more aroused and bold.

She was not alone. Every one was like that now. Just that she had already titillated all those who had been watching her through the evening and some of them were on fire. She whetted their appetite and as the hunger in her loins surged, she looked harder for her Sudhir Uncle, her ‘daddy-uncle’, and the master lover.

She was now dancing with one of the mamas (old uncles) who was mimicking a move he had seen on TV on a late night song program (Midnight Masala) where they played raunchy numbers. The elder was nearly half down on his haunches and lips were close to her tummy. She was moving in rhythm as is smearing her pussy on all of his body.

And yet her eyes were searching for her ultimate man, the strong, well-muscled and virile Sudhir uncle. That is what caused her to lose sight of other movements on the crushed dance floor and her drink was jolted, this time causing quite a spill, a spray hitting the face of the older uncle who was kind-of between her legs, gyrating. As the liquid flowed down he put his hand on her back and pulled her close enough to lick the fluid off.

She let him do that in the spontaneity of the moment. But she also needed touch. Her skin shivered as the warm tongue plied on her skin just below her breasts. But if she was going to save her saree she needed to rush to the washroom.

Just as she pushed the door to the rest room open, her blouse fell forward and down, unfettered. Aruna just about managed to hold the front panels to her chest. It could not have come undone on its own! Whose sense of misplaced humor was this? She turned around, temper rising and she gasped as she saw it was her Sudhir Uncle.

As she had broken away from the crowd, so had Sudhir. Just a few steps behind her, he had made his move- he reached out and held the cord of the upper tether to her flimsy blouse. As she walked away it had come undone.

Now her face went beet red and she could feel the flush spread to the roots of her hair, her chest and shot like bolts of electricity to the tips of her nipples as they shot to a ramrod-stiff erectness.

Her Sudhir Uncle was magnificent. Towering over her, broad and strong, with a horizontal smear of sandalwood paste on his forehead that seemed to illuminate his face. Muscular arms, broad chest and he was wearing the traditional mundu – a sarong that men wear in that part of India.

He stepped forward and so close that she had to step back and they were suddenly inside the rest room, alone. It was a small one for one person’s use. Not like the large one near the main lobby which had many cubicles. This was nearer the banquet hall of the hotel.

He swiveled her around to face the mirror and stood behind her. He was tantalizingly close to her. They could smell and feel the sexy-hot, sweaty presence of one another.

Ever so gently he held her arms and brought them to her sides, fingers interlaced. The blouse panels fell. She stood exposed to him. In the mirror he saw that her beautiful breasts had more body and bounce than before. She was fully a woman now. Those lovely nipples on which he had feasted before, were desperately asking to be sucked again.

She looked at him devouring her with his eyes and she felt a twinge, a pulse, then a rich flow between her legs. She was ready for him, to be taken. Then his eyes came to her eyes.

“Enda, moley,” he asked softly. (How are you?)

She nodded without saying a word. Her throat was choked with desire and feeling. Sudhir’s hands left hers and slowly, palms on the sides of her legs, feeling her, he drew up, inch by inch, her clothes. Their eyes were on one another; sometimes meeting, sometimes his eyes roamed her body. When he looked at her, she looked at herself, too. And somehow she seemed and felt sexier with his eyes on her.

All the playful flirtatiousness of the evening and the resultant arousal felt pale in comparison to what Sudhir did to her with just his eyes.

When she felt a waft of cool air on her buttocks she came back to the reality of the situation. She was half opened out in a space in to which anyone could enter with her uncle.

“Not here,” she barely whispered. “Anyone could come in.”

“I have it locked,” he lied. She didn’t bother to counter what he said though she knew he didn’t have time to do that yet. The desire rushing through her body was overwhelming. Sudhir merely sarıyer escort moved his foot to the base of the door to jam it and prevent anyone from pushing it open without his noticing.

She had her heels on. That lovely, fuller rump was jutting out. Sudhir’s palm closed on the hot furnace between her legs and a finger slipped in front of the panties. Not inside her but across – in from one side and out the other.

His finger felt the soft silky panty as he moved it up and down. Down as far as the panties would allow him and up till he crossed her pussy and the finger came up above the panty waistband.

A few more times and she was shivering and he knew she would not protest the tearing asunder of that flimsy obstacle. The finger traced to the waist side where the panties were thinnest and he proceeded to twist the thin fabric. It wedged between her pussy lips, massaging her there. And Sudhir made it do more of that.

She shivered.

“Stop,” she said, trying to grip his hand. That was when he flexed his muscles and it came away in his hands. He brought it to his lips and smelled her. She was ready for her uncle.

Reaching under her he cupped her pubis and pulled her body back so that she leaned forward, hands resting on the washbasin counter.

“We cant!” she moaned, pressing and grinding into his palm which came up from under her, fingers pointing upward.

“Why?” he asked.

“I am trying to get pregnant. Its two years and its not happening. Something is the matter,” she confessed.

“Good,” he replied. “Let’s sort it tonight.”

The blouse fell in to the damp basin. It was going to get ruined and she would haven nothing to wear. Grabbed the tethers and held it between her teeth, and tried to wiggle out of his grip. Her breasts were now covered.

Her fingers gripped the marble top and she held the blouse tethers in her mouth and leaned forward, shaking her head in disbelief, denial – she wanted to stop him and she wanted him, too.

Sudhir dropped his mundu and holding her hips tried to feel his way through to her cunt with his cock. Aruna gasped with pleasure as she felt the strong thick cock against her ass. She relished its dimensions! Life was unfair – her husband’s cock was a total compromise compared to this. Despite enjoying sex with him, these moments showed her the gross difference.

The cock rubbed, grazed and at times was parallel to her cunt. The only time when it was about to penetrate anywhere was when Sudhir snagged on the sphincter of her anal passage.

“Do you want to take me there?” gasped Aruna. As she spoke her breasts lay bare as the blouse fell again. “I can. I have. I know how to. And it is as pleasurable and I wont get pregnant,” she said.

“No,” said Sudhir firmly. He wanted that soft, hot, wet sheath gripping his cock as he sank in to her womb.

“What do you want daddy-uncle?” groaned poor Aruna, weak with desire.

She bent forward more, reached under with one hand and guided his cock to its target of desire. “Now,” she said urgency in her voice. She had to quickly put her hand back on the marble top to prepare for the oncoming assault.

He gritted his teeth as he made the penetration. Juices poured onto his pillar and both of them moaned in unison as he sank into her, slowly, till his muscled abdomen slapped against her ass.

“Uncle!” cried out Aruna in delight.

“My love,” he shivered, his own pleasure overcoming him. They lingered, feeling each other.

“I missed this,” they said together. She smiled at him in the mirror looking up. Reaching up behind she undid the knot of hair tossed her head. Long locks cascaded down on her back. “For you,” she murmured knowing he liked long, thick hair.

Then she reached under to hold the tethers of the blouse in her teeth to save her it from definite ruin. “Don’t!” he stopped her.

“But my blouse,” she complained.

“Never mind that,” he said gruffly, fucking her once hard for effect. She shuddered and shivered at the effect of his sexuality on her.

“But.” she began when he cut her off. “I want to see those beauties,” he insisted.

Her breasts. Beautiful mounds of flesh topped by delightful teats, for him to milk. He knew her nipples to be trigger points for twinges of pleasure in her cunt from their fucking in the past. Back then when he had fucked her first here mangoes were like totapuris: saucer shaped with upwards points to the nipples. Those totapuris were now more like mulgovas. Full, more rounded, heavy and nipples less protruding, softened in their highlight by the heft of those mounds.

His mouth watered. She was very much a woman. He had fucked an imp of a girl the first time around. He was now tasting a delicious, sumptuous woman.

She looked down at what he had called beauties. They hung, ripe and ready to be taken. Those nipples ached now that he had said he wanted to see them. She looked back up at him in the mirror. She wiggled her hips and spread out a bit more readying for what she knew was coming.

She marveled and how measured she had been in being able to wait while her cunt swallowed his cock. Her impatient assault on him before had given way to the sexuality of a gourmand. His fucking commenced with slow long strokes, savoring the texture that was uniquely Aruna.

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