GOTRBHID MAHĀ BHĀRAT: Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté: 28Posted: March 3, 2015
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
My abdomen was lean and defined, and she didn’t try to hide her gazing at me.
She stood still and absorbed what she saw.
No words came from either of us, but a couple of moments passed.
I watched her intently and we both knew she hadn’t just walked on out.
It was clear to both of us now that there was a distinct tension.
She spoke softly but clearly.
“We have to act responsibly here. You know?”
I just looked at her, and she felt a vulnerability with me.
Then she spoke again and immediately regretted what she chose to say.
“I have never cheated on your friend.”
She was turning again to leave when movement again got her attention.
She looked back and froze in place.
She watched my hands at my waist.
Her eyes followed my thumbs as they hooked into the band of my boxers and start them down.
She didn’t look away as I worked the fabric over my hips.
There was the black patch of pubic hair that first was revealed, but just afterwards there was the release of me at my Bachhalyā crotch as the boxers fell on away.
My long, engorged Bachhalyā shaft hung between my legs, and the large head pulsed where I was now fully exposed to her.
We both heard her gasp.
She took in the sight of me, and I savored watching the effect I had on her.
Her face tightened with intensity as it was clear she was flustered by me.
She swayed just a bit back and forth, and I wondered if she was showing some kind of indecision about whether to leave.
I felt myself twitch and harden more.
Arundhatī Joshī looked at my face and then back to my crotch.
With an unsteady awkwardness, she slipped back out the door.
I smiled triumphantly.*
I lay down and brought myself relief, thinking over the night and everything that had ensued.
I relished the forbidden nature of it all, but I especially liked and was titillated by how I had accomplished such an effect on my usually poised friend’s wife.
Arundhatī Joshī was stunned and confused in a way she
had never experienced.
She tried to get to sleep and just chalk the strange
evening up to the drinking, but the rational thoughts kept getting overwhelmed.
She went from reminding herself that she’d tried to make things right to the other part of the spectrum, where she knew she’d felt an incredible excitement at seeing me as she did.
Even more, she felt exhilarated at how turned on
she had become by all of it—the kisses, the groping and the confrontation at the end.
She tossed and turned, but eventually she had to admit to herself that she just couldn’t calm down.
In a last effort to assuage her restlessness, she let a hand pass to her middle.
Maybe she could just briefly comfort herself.
Her fingers found herself wet and hot to her own touch.
She swung her legs off the bed and launched onto her feet.
She padded her way over the carpet to the master bath, and closed herself inside.
Desperately, one hand reached to the sink counter for support, and the other hand went straight into her panties.
She stood fixed that way, as her mind reeled off the images of me standing in front of her showing her the biggest cock she had ever seen.
Her hand worked at herself in her panties.
She told herself the obvious—that I wanted to give it to her—and her head snapped back and she climaxed as hard as she had ever reached.
She gave multiple whispers as she kept herself from screaming as she really wanted.
The next morning brought the inevitable fog and hungover misery.
All three of us moved about slowly.
No doubt there were some others from the party suffering that morning, too.
But in our own household, all felt the damage from our party.
Arundhatī Joshī slowly made her way to the kitchen.
Her head pounded, and she felt queasy.
She saw me at the table and we exchanged quiet looks.
“Here, have a seat,” I politely gestured for her to take my seat, and I went to get her a cup of coffee.
She pulled her robe to her and sat down carefully. “You hungover, too?” I asked.
“Oh yeah. Sure am.” She muttered.
I brought her the coffee, and I thought of something to say to try to lessen any embarrassment from the night before.
My friend always played golf on Saturdays, and I knew he’d soon be leaving, so maybe I’d wait to bring it up until after my friend left.
As if on cue, Vinod Sharmā could be heard coming down the stairs.
He sounded like he was racing down us.
Arundhatī Joshī reacted as if perplexed by what we heard, and we both turned to watch him appear.
Vinod Sharmā charged into the room.
“Don’t let me interrupt anything.”
Arundhatī Joshī and I looked at one another, smiled boldly, and looked back to Vinod Sharmā who was clearly upset.
Vinod Sharmā’s hands went to his hips and he talked in the mimic of someone repeating what we had heard from someone else. “Yeah, Arundhatī Joshī was drunk enough she was kissing on my friend, intead of me.” Vinod Sharmā’s face contorted into horror. “I couldn’t believe what I heard. ‘Kissing’? Each other?”
Vinod Sharmā stood transfixed.
I kept smiling.
Arundhatī Joshī was sitting straight in her chair and visibly alarmed.
“What in the hell were you possibly thinking?” Vinod Sharmā’s voice rose with each word.
His head jutted with rage as he looked at his wife. “Have you lost your mind? Tell me—have you gone crazy?”
Arundhatī Joshī didn’t speak.
She just looked up at me.
Her bottom lip quivered.
Vinod Sharmā shook his head in utter disbelief and then he spat more words.
“We have to live here, Arundhatī Joshī! For twenty years, we HAVE lived here. Do you give a damn what anyone thinks of us? What in the hell do you think of yourself?”
I felt horrible yet never helpless.
I had to say something.
“Vinod, it was really not like it sounds. It wasn’t anything bad. We were just kidding around is all.”
Vinod Sharmā shot his attention over to me. “WHAT? Yeah? And just what were YOU thinking?”
Arundhatī Joshī stood from the table as if reprieved when Vinod Sharmā looked at me.
She hurried from the kitchen and off to go upstairs.
Both Vinod Sharmā and I watched her make her escape.
Vinod Sharmā continued with me.
“I cannot even begin to tell you how disappointed I am with you. I thought I understood you better. I really did.”
Vinod Sharmā stormed from the room, his disgust not the slightest bit dissipated, it seemed.
He slammed the door to the garage as he couldn’t leave fast enough.
I stood gravely now alone in the kitchen, trying to process what had just happened.
The whole situation seemed surreal.
How angry my friend was, the fact that there’d been the kissing at the party, as well as the other stuff—it all seemed like it couldn’t really be happening to him.
Yet it was, and it had.
My friend had left as angry as I could remember him, and my friend’s wife had run upstairs obviously mortified.
I tried to assess how I felt at it all, but I found myself in a fog.
As I stood there, I found an irrational feeling within myself.
Inside me was an overwhelming desire I felt driven by.
I thought of her upstairs, and I immediately went bounding up the stairs to her.
She was lying on the bed in hers and Vinod Sharmā’s bedroom.
She was turned onto her left side and facing away from me as I stood in our doorway.
I walked slowly into the bedroom and to the bed.
I paused for a moment.
She didn’t look over to me, but she did seem to bring a hand to her eyes, as if she were dabbing at her eyes.
I eased onto the bed, and she still didn’t turn to me.
I lay next to her on her side and faced her back.
I thought of what I should say or do, but I stayed silent.
After some time, I brought a hand to her back and I started just rubbing her back.
My hand moved gently over her upper back, trying to soothe her, and her shoulders did relax some with my touch.
Neither of us spoke.
I wanted to say something to try to reassure her, but I kept rubbing her instead, bringing my hand to also massage her shoulders.
I liked that we were just silently being there together.
Even though my friend had just left to go play golf in the routine he always kept, they probably both thought this risky just the same.
My friend had been very angry, and if there was a time when he might break his routine, then this could be it.
I thought it unlikely.
Arundhatī Joshī stayed still, except for the way her back responded on its own to my gentle strokes of her.
She thought of just how gentle and good my hand felt on her back.
She had several thoughts swirl through her own mind as we lay there.
She was aware she was still in a fog from her hangover, and she felt a tired and resigned effect from the drinking.
She also felt a vulnerability lying there.
My hand moved easily over her, and we both no doubt noticed the thin, smooth fabric of her robe and slip she had on.
She had a warmth pass over her as she thought about that slip.
Black and somewhat discreet, it could nevertheless be revealing if she turned over, she realized.
This thought together with her awareness of us being on her bed gave her a nervous excitement she liked but was leery of at the same time.
Just the same, she didn’t move.
She let me be there with her.
Then, as she had accepted my presence there, the dynamic changed.
Her eyes widened as she felt my hand clutch her shoulder.
She knew it felt as though I was urging her to turn onto her back.
She didn’t at first turn completely over, but she did look over her shoulder to me.
She knew she must have looked concerned and maybe even afraid when she did.
I was looking directly into her eyes, and I was showing no concern.
I seemed sure.
She was acutely aware of my confidence and also of my proximity.
I was lying closer to her than she had expected.
She felt my hand at her shoulder pull at her, and at once her shoulder was lowering onto the bed.
She kept my eyes, but she also knew that she wouldn’t for long.
She knew the robe was apart.
The black, thin satin of her slip underneath the robe curved into her cleavage and it was only a matter of time before attention went there, she knew.
She felt her nipples harden and swell.
She fought the instinct to try to cover her chest.
She opened her mouth to speak, but at first she said nothing.
Then, weakly she spoke in just above a whisper.
“We can’t be here like this.”
Her eyes looked pleadingly to me.
I looked back at her with my expression seemingly set.
She knew this look.
I looked determined.
She simply inhaled deeply.
When she sighed, she shut her eyes.
I closed the distance between us and I kissed her.
She only let the kiss go a couple of seconds before she was moving her face away from me.
To her surprise, my hand urged her face and lips back to me and I kissed her more urgently.
She focused on the fullness of my Bachhalyā male lips and the sensation she felt, and my lips parted hers.
She gave a shrill sound into my mouth and then it was like she let herself respond.
Her mouth moved about my vigorously, as she sucked at my tongue.
Emboldened by her, I kissed her harder, pushing my tongue further into where she was opening wider.
We stayed locked and embraced, twisting on each other.
As her mind swirled, my face went to her neck.
She felt my lips kiss and suck at her, as I made a wet trail down her neck.
I kept going lower to where my face met her open chest.
The kisses continued and she could feel her top being opened.
One of my hands manipulated her top to where her left breast was openly exposed.
I couldn’t help but stare at the large brown, hard nipple angled at me.
It practically covered the pointed end of her, and I kissed it there, taking its swollen texture at my lips and then strongly sucking inward to bring it straight into my mouth.
We both heard her grunt at this.
Arundhatī Joshī squirmed at the roughness of my taking each breast back and forth into my mouth and trying to devour them.
Abruptly, she then felt my hands at her panties.
A fear seized her, and she reached for my hands as if suddenly trying to stop me.
I batted her hands away instinctively, and she started lurching up the bed as if in a panic.
We both heard her give frantic cries as if frightened.
She was still panting and with her eyes clenched shut, when she realized I wasn’t moving any more.
She eased her eyes open to see me sitting back on my legs and heels and just peering down at her.
The only sound to be heard was of her breathing slowing, and she lay still there before me.
The top of her slip was still apart, and both breasts still lay open and bare.
Arundhatī Joshī thought of her waist as being similarly exposed, and I must have reached the same thought, as my eyes went to her there.
Arundhatī Joshī had brought her legs up and together during our scuffle, and she still had them pressed together.
Her stomach was uncovered as was her waist.
Arundhatī Joshī saw my eyes stare at her there.
For a moment, she felt like I seemed contented to take in the sight of her.
It was as if I was absorbing her with my eyes.
I looked at her still erect nipples, and I brought my eyes down her body to where she had little left hidden.
My hands moved, and she flinched a bit.
She soon saw that my hands went to my own shirt.
I lifted it up and off myself.
Then, we both knew that it was she who was doing the looking, as her eyes surveyed all over my abdomen.
I was closer than the evening before, when she had seen me in my room.
This time there was a closeness that enabled her to see my skin taut over muscle and showing an apparent firmness.
We silently studied each other.
Arundhatī Joshī became very aware of how she was lying in front of me.
This together with my bare chest in front of her, affected her.
She felt a warmth throughout, and she felt herself react between her legs.
She felt herself uncontrollably moisten her lips with her tongue.
I moved up off my heels to where I was now kneeling before her prone figure on the bed.
Slowly and assuredly, I moved my sweats down my hips.
I again watched for her eyes, and I saw her eyes widen when my sweats released myself and it jerked up and down once it was away from the clothing.
I felt self-consciously aware of how completely exposed I was to her, but even more, I had a surge of emotion from seeing her stare wantonly at my erect ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund bobbing before her.
She only refocused on me when my hands went to rest on her knees.
Just as my abdomen had appeared differently the night before, my crotch now impressed her more with its jutting Bachhalyā male thickness protruding in her direction.
Her belly churned with the thoughts and emotions roiling within her.
She was at once struck by my Bachhalyā maleness and by my closeness.
When my hands came to her knees, she looked back to my face and she wondered how she must have looked at me.
Her hands had been at her sides, but she brought them to rest on me at her knees.
There was a moment where we both looked at each other with her hands atop me at her knees.
Then, her eyes blinked quickly a couple of times, and we both felt her move.
Her legs slowly lowered to where we were straightening out onto the bed.
As her legs lowered and her feet moved toward me, we encountered where I was still kneeling on my knees.
When her feet reached my knees, each foot moved to the opposite side of my knees to where they would be open and apart.
She saw my eyes dart down to where her thighs relaxed.
She saw my eyes stare at her between her legs and she noticed me pulse there over her.
Then she felt herself even wetter when she moved her legs further open and away from where I still knelt.
And with that, I was moving forward and over her.
My arms propped on each side of her and she put her hands to my chest.
I felt very solid to her touch, and she sensed heat on my skin.
She lifted her head slightly from the pillow to look down our bodies and view me.
Her eyes darted from my crotch to my face and back again.
She seemed to stare as if to try to comprehend.
Several moments passed and I just waited.
I liked observing her and seeing her react.
While still looking down there at me, she clenched her eyes shut, and then she let her head fall back to her pillow.
Her chest rose and fell with her breaths.
She opened her eyes and she looked forlornly at the ceiling.
Sensing her concern, I took her hand from where she had rested it at my chest.
I was going to take her a step at the time, I figured.
I wanted to relish her reaction at each step of the way.
When I took her hand in mine, she automatically remembered the night before and how I had done the same thing.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam