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
She drifted down to her knees.
She brought her hands to my jeans, and as she undid them and worked the zipper, she glanced back up to see the utter pleasant shock on my face.
She pulled my engorged Bachhalyā shaft from my jeans and the thickness again amazed her.
Her fist worked around me and she stroked at me.
She hadn’t felt this emboldened, or this invigorated, in years, she knew.
She glanced up.
“Do you want this?” Her voice was meek but clear.
“Yeah!” My response was quick and sure.
We both chuckled.
We both knew she was shocking me with this, but we both also knew she was liking doing this and being shocking.
She kissed my head again, and as I moaned and looked down at her, she opened her mouth wide, pushing it down over my head and to where several inches went into her extremely beautiful Joshī Brāhmañ mouth.
She started sucking at me fervently, with her small fist pumping away at my length.
Her cheeks were reacting with each stroke of me she made.
I wasn’t going to last long and we both knew it.
I gripped her hair in my hands, and I started showing that I was close.
I narrowed my eyes and my brow tensed.
A sudden familiar sound startled us both.
The grinding sound of the garage door sliding open reverberated.
She flashed a panicked look at me.
“Hey, hey, hey! That’s Vinod!” Arundhatī Joshī snapped.
Much to my pleasant shock again, she didn’t even slow.
She just kept looking back at me and pumping me into her mouth.
A car door slammed, yet my face never twisted even a bit with concern.
“We have to stop.” I urged.
The kitchen door opened downstairs and swung closed.
“Honey, I’m home.” Vinod Sharmā’s voice called out from downstairs.
Arundhatī Joshī still did not take me out of her mouth, and now I seemed to be pulling at her hair.
My eyes gave a look like I was surrendering to something within me.
We could both hear Vinod Sharmā at the foot of the stairs, and I spasmed violently, exploding into Arundhatī Joshī‘s mouth.
My body contorted and a third spray released.
Arundhatī Joshī gazed up at me with half-closed eyes.
Steps could be heard making their way up the staircase, and Arundhatī Joshī let my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund pop out of her extremely beautiful Joshī Brāhmañ mouth.
I worked my jeans up and started fastening them.
I looked at Arundhatī Joshī, and she looked unsteady on her feet as she gave me a mischievous smirk and wiped at her mouth with two fingers.
Vinod Sharmā could be heard getting to the top of the stairs, and I watched Arundhatī Joshī dab the two fingers between her lips, licking them clean.
I watched in utter pleasant shock, as Arundhatī Joshī opened my bedroom door and stepped into the hall.
I stood at my door and watched Arundhatī Joshī go the few feet to where Vinod Sharmā was heading into their bedroom.
“Hey honey,” Arundhatī Joshī said to Vinod Sharmā, as she tilted Vinod Sharmā’s face towards hers.
Arundhatī Joshī planted a big, full kiss on Vinod Sharmā before Vinod Sharmā walked on into their bedroom.
I stood looking at Arundhatī Joshī pleasantly dumbfounded, as she looked back to me before joining her husband in their bedroom.
She pointed to my jeans and then made an up and down motion with her fingers.
I looked down to see what she was referring to, and I then realized my jeans were unzipped.
I looked up and back at Arundhatī Joshī, who smiled brightly to me before ducking into the bedroom.
After the tumultuous Saturday, we all went to dinner together.
Vinod Sharmā drove, and Arundhatī Joshī was in the passenger seat, while I quietly rode in the back seat.
Vinod Sharmā talked golf, as Arundhatī Joshī peered out the window.
She felt a swirl of different emotions about the last two days.
She especially felt regret at having pulled the stunt she did just earlier, when she had gone up and kissed Vinod Sharmā once he got home.
That was stupid and wrong.
She rationalized it to herself by thinking about how elated she had felt at finally having had passionate sex with me, after years of her and Vinod Sharmā barely touching.
Even though it was with me, which was a whole other set of problems itself, it was still not justification for having done something so devious.
She swore to herself she would make it up to me.
The car was almost to the restaurant as she was also shocked, as well as delighted, that she had even let herself do some of the things she had done.
Sure, she had fantasized about different acts or such, but she had never really been a daring partner.
Not at all.
To have done the things she had in the last two days simply shocked her.
As we pulled to the valet, she flipped her vanity mirror down to adjust her makeup.
She used the opportunity to look in the mirror to the backseat at me.
I was looking ahead and clearly fixed in my own thoughts.
She felt jarring guilt.
She felt the guilt for having been the way she was at the party with me, and then she wrestled maddening guilt at the notion of having had sex with me.
Maybe she was going insane, she thought.
But just as she had already done in her previous reflections on the day, where she had kicked and thrashed herself inside for having had sex with me, her thoughts at once went to the both of us together.
It was like she looked at me in two totally different ways.
She knew she had to have some malady, she figured, but she looked at me as a Bachhalyā on one hand, and on another, she viewed me as this ever young, virile man.
She further justified clearly I was experienced with even Brāhmañ women already.
I had not been an unwitting victim, she believed.
I had pursued her, just as she had accepted my advances.
She also repeatedly thought of herself as pathetic in a way.
She could no longer claim to be a good friend’s wife.
She could never claim this ever again.
Plus, it was likely she had unalterably changed her relationship with me to where there would be at least some negative consequences.
All of these rational thoughts replayed in her head, but as if on cue, her focus shifted.
She stood, straightened her skirt and looked over at me who was also standing and looking over at her with a grin.
Yes, it was all of those things alright, but she still felt the way she did.
She loved me, and… well, she wanted me.
She felt a chill as we all went into the restaurant.
She held her head up, but she gave it a small shake in bewilderment.
All appeared calm and collected, but as we walked in together, she did so with the knowledge that her exchanged glance with me had made her wet.*
At our table, all the three of us soon were downing drinks.
Of course, I juices only.
Vinod Sharmā had his first of probably many Scotch and waters.
Arundhatī Joshī ordered her favorite Chardonnay, and I stuck with my usual juices.
There was a comfortable atmosphere despite the morning’s confrontation, as Vinod Sharmā and I talked up the football games going on for the weekend.
Arundhatī Joshī didn’t really join in the conversation, but she didn’t really mind either.
She took a devious enjoyment in sitting back and observing us.
Vinod Sharmā spoke as he understood I was conditioned to do, and that was authoritatively.
He’d learned long ago to think and feel confidently and it had served him well.
Plus, I was his friend.
He felt good speaking to me with assuredness.
Of course, Vinod Sharmā knew what the games meant for the teams involved, and Vinod Sharmā felt good about my view of who would do well.
I delighted in sharing this with me.
I had always felt there was an inconsistency with how interested my friend was in even talking to me.
He’d soak this up, even if at times Vinod Sharmā seemed kind of… smug.
I smiled to my friend and nodded.
I also occasionally stole looks at my friend’s wife.
I was amazed.
I saw this composed, elegant young woman, the same image I had observed for years.
But now, I also saw this young woman who looked just slightly steeled to where she was avoiding the visibility of layers that shouldn’t be seen.
One layer was a restlessness that contained an appetite.
This was a layer she didn’t want detected.
It was a layer that made her incredibly more interesting and desirable to me now.
For herself, Arundhatī Joshī wondered how these guys could care so much about such a meaningless thing as the football games.
Her glass never left her hand as she savored each drink of the white wine.
She couldn’t help but marvel somewhat at me, as I showed absolutely no discomfort or inhibition at the table at all.
Here I had just spent some of the day betraying my friend as severely as I could, and I seemed utterly unfazed.
She choked at her wine as she realized the exact same thing could be said of herself.
Both men looked concernedly over to her, and she waved us off.
We resumed our conversation effortlessly, as she resumed her thoughts on my lack of concern as well as her own.
In her mind, she and I just cared for each other deeply.
It was so intense that it was like we were compelled to show it physically, she told herself.
And, she concluded that this must explain my ease with the situation as well.
After a couple of more drinks and the appetizer, Arundhatī Joshī found herself looking more and more at me.
When I’d return her look, I gazed back with a look Arundhatī Joshī adored.
It was a cute but desirous look as well.
It was hard for her to believe, but exactly what she wanted.
She admonished herself that she needed to be careful, but part of her didn’t care.
She made herself participate more in some of our talk, but she started feeling that Vinod Sharmā was just acting too… smug.
It agitated her somewhat.
During the meal, Vinod Sharmā took stock of the evening and felt a sense of contentment.
I liked and admired his wife, regardless of whether he still found her desirable.
Their comfort and security with one another was one of the best things he valued.
As far as his other needs went, he had solved that issue some time back.
Just like on this particular Saturday, his routine was golf with buddies.
He inwardly grinned knowing his Saturday routine also always included the stop by his favorite massage therapist on the way home.
There was that hour of alone time and relaxation that always culminated in the young Musalmān woman finishing his massage in a delirious release that left him sated.
This never failed to calm him and make Saturday evening that much more enjoyable, knowing his every need had been met.
This evening was no different.*
The car ride home from the restaurant was quiet and subdued.
Everyone had eaten well and had enjoyed drinks throughout the evening.
Everyone was also lost in his/her own thoughts.
Once home, Vinod Sharmā and Arundhatī Joshī made their way straight to the kitchen for night caps to take upstairs to bed.
I went to my room to change into a t-shirt and gym shorts.
I was looking forward to watching the end of the football game on TV.
Arundhatī Joshī followed Vinod Sharmā back upstairs, and she found herself excited with an idea she’d come to over the course of the evening.
She changed clothes into a nice teddy while Vinod Sharmā readied himself for bed in the bathroom.
This would be her chance to make things right with Vinod Sharmā, she figured.
Vinod Sharmā stepped out of the bathroom and directed himself straight to the bed.
Pulling back the covers, he heard Arundhatī Joshī speak to me from where she was standing across from him before getting into the bed herself.
He saw the black teddy and grinned.
“Hey baby,” she purred and she tried to give a sly grin.
Vinod Sharmā chuckled.
He continued pulling himself into bed.
Arundhatī Joshī slipped under the covers beside him.
She slid over to him, and he felt himself brace as she did.
“Sweetheart, you look great,” they both knew there was a ‘but’ coming.
“I’m really beat tonight, you know? I mean, we partied last night. I played golf all day. Then, all the drinks and food tonight. I got to get some sleep, that’s all.”
Arundhatī Joshī patted at her hair trying to seem unaffected.
“Hey, I understand. Don’t worry. I can help you get to sleep, you know?” Her hand went to his side and rubbed him.
Vinod Sharmā shifted in bed, effectively moving from her.
“Tell you what, let’s hold that idea till in the morning. We’ll do just that. I’m beat tonight.”
Arundhatī Joshī flopped over onto her back on her side of the bed. She stared dejectedly up at the ceiling.
Then, she popped out of bed, shrugging off the nightie and pulling on her satin robe.
“I’m going downstairs for a drink.”
She pulled the door loudly shut, as she stormed from the room.
She tugged the robe tightly to her body, and she tried to compose herself as she descended the stairs.
Incredibly, she had gone from feeling buoyant and bright to weak and insecure in Vinod Sharmā’s swift rejection of her.
Just calm down, she told herself.
Propped on the sofa and engrossed in the football game, I noticeably brightened when she entered the living room.
Arundhatī Joshī beamed right back at me.
She was very grateful for my reaction.
“Hey,” she looked at me, then the TV and back at me.
“How are you doing?” I asked with a warmness in my tone.
“I’m okay.” She sat in a chair facing the sofa and she tried to show interest in what I was watching. “Who’s winning?”
I answered, but it was completely lost on her.
She nodded absently and acted like she was watching along with me.
I went about trying to explain to her how the pro football teams played Saturday night games when December rolled around, when they typically would not previously in the season.
Arundhatī Joshī listened and looked at me, but she didn’t seem genuinely interested in the subject, only in holding my attention.
I grinned appreciatively at her.
Arundhatī Joshī stood and walked to the kitchen.
She went to refresh her glass, knowing full well she should stop and leave well enough alone. There was a haze from the night’s indulgence that she was aware of and decided to continue to fuel.
She drank her wine and paced a couple of steps in the kitchen.
She found herself standing in front of the sink where a large clear window overlooked their back yard.
Arundhatī Joshī stared longingly out the window.
Her thoughts jumped around.
She could make out her reflection very well in the clean glass of the window.
She saw a younger woman that she wondered about.
She had this self-image, but she wondered now whether it fit.
She doubted her looks any more, and now she began doubting even her own judgment.
Hadn’t she made a huge mistake?
What could she be thinking, having these feelings about me?
Was she just desperate?
Was she just starved?
She drank more of the wine from her glass, and she gave an answer at least to the last question.
After the day she just experienced, she recognized that she had been missing a lot.
It was just the truth.
And, if she was being really honest with herself, the affection, and the sex, was still a need for her.
An important need, she admitted.
Against her better judgment, she thought about me and our time.
She took a deep breath as she thought about how I was and how I had made her feel.
She had to admit I had made her feel like she hadn’t in a very long time, if ever.
She silently stirred at how very well I had been with her.
Then, as if on cue, I materialized in the reflection of the window, and she saw I was now standing there behind her.
At first, neither of us spoke, even though we both acknowledged each other in the reflection with our looks to each other.
The tension was palpable.
Here she was downstairs with me.
She had come downstairs, leaving Vinod Sharmā upstairs in bed asleep.
She had come downstairs and found me here. And… She had stayed.
Arundhatī Joshī studied her glass for a moment and swirled it about. “Is the game still on?”
“What’s the score now?”
“I don’t care any more.”
She smiled at me in the reflection. “Good answer.”
I looked at her intensely.
“Why aren’t you in there watching it?” There was a hint of challenge in her tone.
“Because you’re in here.”
She chuckled at this. “Mmmmmm, even better answer.”
She pulled a long taste of her wine.
Then, as if thinking better of our banter, she added, “You should go back to your game.”
“I don’t want to.” My hands went to her arms and traced up.
I started massaging her shoulders, and she seemed a little surprised.
At first, she tried hard to act indifferent.
She seemed to resist showing any reaction.
This was what she should do.
“Well, you should.” Her tone was thin and unconvincing.
I brought my hands back down her arms, and I leaned much closer to her.
She saw in the window how my head moved closer to her own.
“We can’t be that way again.” She said it quietly. Resignedly.
I opened my hands wide and went from her arms to her sides still massaging her.
She closed her eyes at my touch.
“You’re crazy. This is wrong.” She was even quieter than before.
No conviction was behind the words.
My hands glided wide over her belly and she wavered as she watched my hands on her, mentally noting how wide my hands were.
Her belly felt on fire from me.
She then felt me press to her from behind, my body was solid and straight.
There was definitely a bulge down there, too.
“Please… stop.” She was completely unconvincing and her words flat.
I paused like I might stop.
She froze in place.
A moment passed where she seemed to think.
She reached out and put her drink down, then reached with her hands to me.
We both saw me smile in the reflection.
“You are such a beautiful woman.”
“I wish that was true.”
“Of course it’s true.”
I put my hands to the satin belt of her robe and I waited letting her see what I was doing.
My hands drew a line over the belt out in each direction and back again, as her hands followed atop mine.
Her hands lightly gripped me, as if to discourage me.
We watched the material of her robe crease as the hands went up.
“I should go to bed.” She said it like she was commenting about someone else.
Her hands stayed at my arms as my hands reached to trace at the satin of the robe high on her chest.
I pressed at her robe, and she felt the lines I made over her breasts underneath, before going on to circle her chest with motions that went around the points of her robe where her nipples tented it.
My fingers rubbed the satin against her so that her nipples felt the satin press them and then release.
Impossibly, I was making them harder and more pointed with my caresses there.
She drew a sharp breath at my motions, and I lowered my face and spoke softly into her ear.
“Do you want to go to bed? Is that what you want?”
She raised her arms to put her hands in my hair up and behind her.
With this I dipped my head and started kissing her neck and over onto her shoulder.
She sighed and whispered.
I continued to kiss and lick her shoulders.
She clenched her eyes and opened them to see my hands pull the part of her robe where it crossed at her chest.
I just tugged it apart.
The robes’ sides backed away from each other, and the bare skin of her chest displayed in full view of the both of us.
Her breasts hung openly and fully, bottomed with the protruding pointed nipples I had teased when they were covered.
My hands came to them and held them, lifting just slightly.
Her entire body swooned a little at what I had done to her, as she acted unsteady.
Looking at her, I said more in her ear.
“You don’t want to go to bed, do you?”
There was a muffled sound from her.
I straightened my stance, and her head rested more back against my chest but still gazed forward at our reflection.
My hands moved again.
One swipe at the belt finished unleashing it, and my hands pressed at the open hips that appeared.
My left hand stayed pressed to her hip, and my right hand crossed her skin at her waist.
“AHHHHHHHH!” She exclaimed at my entry.
As if reflexively, she brought her hips backwards.
I pushed back at her and held.
“Oh, Durgesh!” She yelped at me.
I couldn’t believe how wet and hot she felt to my touch.
Overcome with her reaction, I brought my left arm under around her waist.
I maneuvered her around and away from the counter.
I had her wrapped in my arm and my hand holding her, as I physically brought her across the room to the kitchen table.
I forced her to the table, her back still to me, and pinned her there.
In one swift push, I had her bent over the table.
Her hands went out by her sides and braced herself.
She didn’t pull back up or slide in either direction away.
I saw no resistance from her at all.
I hovered over where I was rendering her bent over the table.
She slumped in a sprawl right in front of me.
We both heard her take a sharp gasp, when I flipped her robe up over her back from behind.
The next sound was a soft cry from her.
The gym shorts easily lowered to release my full erection.
I slid a foot of hers sideways, leaving her legs spread wide and further flattening her onto the table.
My left hand left her back where I had first thought I might have to hold her, and it went between her legs.
She reeled from my left hand reaching to her crotch and manipulating her there, fingers prying at her and opening her.
She felt lightheaded from the surprising physicality of it all, and she twitched anxiously under me.
With her lips worked open, a thick plunge pushed her forward and her upper body traveled up the surface of the table.
Desperately, she gripped to brace herself, as her body lifted impaled and defenseless.
Waves of tingling charges and profound pleasure washed over her, as she felt her helplessness at my Bachhalyā thrusts.
Her mouth fell open but silent, and her head tilted up and forward.
I was working at her and pushing. Vigorously.
“UUNNNGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!” The moaning came from her throat as I pumped at her.
Arundhatī Joshī couldn’t believe how hard and thick I felt pistoning in and out of her, and she writhed uncontrollably.
I felt as hard and excited as I could ever remember being, with her lying out below me and my having my way deep inside her.
Her body jerked about with each pump from me.
My balls felt heavy right away and I wondered how long I could last.
Arundhatī Joshī shook her head back and forth and relished the fullness of me there.
She had never been taken as thoroughly as this.
Lightness and more spasms shot through her as she struggled to contain herself from screaming loudly.
She was bucking more and more as yet another orgasm rocked her.
As she shook violently, I was set off into my own.
Seeing her body shake as it did pushed me over the edge, and I grunted and shot into her.
I pushed and made a grinding effort at her as though I was seeking some finish even deeper within her.
With my hips forward and my back hunched I slowed to a stop.
Arundhatī Joshī still had her hips elevated and was impaled on me as she tried to catch her breath and her emotions.
Her chest was mashed to the table top and her palms were flat on it.
She let her head softly ease to rest on the table’s surface as well.
She at once thought of how she must have looked at me.
Her legs were spread lewdly.
She even felt her cheeks at her bottom open given the width of her legs being apart.
Her entire upper torso and arms were still pushed forward and the robe dangled about in disarray.
She had to have looked ravished.
Nevertheless, when she thought of how I even still felt to her, lodged within, and how exquisitely taken every part of her felt, she couldn’t suppress a big smile.
I had wildly fucked her.
Durgesh was always right.
It was an art.
And Durgesh was the only master of this art.
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
Then, we had been clothed, but it had been startling.
Now, I was exposed, and it was even more so.
Without looking back downward, she followed in her mind her hand being drawn by my straight down between us.
While she had seen my Bachhalyā girth, her hand wrapping me now showed her just how endowed and very thick I actually was.
She again clenched her eyes, and she gave a little shake of her head.
No, she thought, there was no way this ‘thing’ was going inside of her.
She was extremely beautiful but she lacked sexual hunger as much as even her husband Vinod Sharmā needed.
Her mind spun with her thoughts.
She had never had such an experience, she knew.
Her mind searched for some kind of a reference, and all she thought of was a large fruit or a club.
Suddenly, there was another sensation though.
I brought her hand up and down slowly, and Arundhatī Joshī was then stroking me.
She felt her fist hold onto me, and it hit her that she did so to make it feel good for me.
She flashed her eyes open and up at me.
I still had this intense, determined look on my face.
I looked down at her and I didn’t seem to be reacting.
Arundhatī Joshī sensed some kind of power or control about me, and it flooded her even more.
She had me in her hand stroking me, and I wasn’t showing a thing.
I maneuvered over her, while her hand held me, and she felt me move my hips back.
She immediately brought her legs back towards her to where her feet planted flat behind her buttocks.
She was suddenly keenly aware at how very open she was to me.
I moved further forward, and she yelped with her lips being splayed by me.
I stopped and I savored how tightly Arundhatī Joshī gripped at me.
Her hands frantically pressed on my stomach as if to stop me in place.
I gave her a moment and I kissed her.
She kissed me back, and then she spoke very softly. “Please… please be gentle. I am a Brahm Padminī. You are a Bachhalyā.”
With my face very close to hers and our eyes gazing into each other, I answered her and nodded.
She kissed me several times.
She rubbed her hands from my stomach to around my sides and then up to where my shoulders were.
One hand went to the back of my neck and cradled me there, while the other went into the hair at the back of my head and pulled my head beside hers.
She nestled her cheek to mine, and then I felt her legs move again.
This time she brought her legs straight back, and she tilted her hips up.
I felt her thighs grip my sides, and her feet came to rest at my back.
The realization that she had readied herself for me sent a charge through me and I felt my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund stiffen even harder lodged at her Joshī Brāhmañ labial lips.
I started my hips forward and I could sense her lips cling to me and pull inward as I moved slightly into her.
She started with what sounded like an ‘ahhh’ in her throat as I flexed forward, and she instantly felt herself stretch with me as I moved into her.
I stopped deep inside her.
Arundhatī Joshī drew a sharp inhale.
She grunted, and I wondered if she could feel me plant myself better on the sheet.
When she had taken a couple of breaths, I brought myself barely back but then thrust much more than before, and this time she screamed and shook violently.
Once she seemed to adjust, I moved back and then thrust again.
Her head tilted further back as her upper body writhed underneath me.
Her hands clutched me.
She moved her hips to try to create more space but she was filled.
I moved just off her chest to speak to her as she was panting at my ear.
I asked quickly.
“Are you okay, my darling, Arundhatī Joshī?” I wanted to be sure.
“I’m your friend’s wife.” Arundhatī Joshī whispered.
Her head nodded a couple of quick times.
I withdrew myself by half and stopped to wait.
She still clung to me inside.
Her legs tilted to come further back.
I went slowly.
I moved forward, and her head responded with her body taking me in.
She seemed to release some tension with getting more used to me.
She felt herself still overwhelmed and seemingly impaled with me, as thick and as hard as I was inside of her.
Though going only a bit at a time, I was still going back further and inward more deeply with each stroke, and she was moaning and writhing even more.
I didn’t think I could go more carefully when she again started to shake and whisper under me.
I kept moving but I spoke into her ear.
I was concerned.
“Want me to stop?”
I noticed her freeze with my question.
She thought for a moment, and then her own hips started moving more with mine.
“No, no, no. Never! Jut keep doing what you are doing with me.” She answered and moved with me.
I felt relieved and I also felt rejuvenated.
I looked at her face which I could see at an angle from where she still cradled me.
“No?” I asked it teasingly this time.
She grinned slightly back to me.
I knew she was getting more used to me and I moved more inside her.
I increased my pace.
I liked how much she was getting more and more into it, her hips moving more against me now.
I looked at her, drawing her attention to my face.
I liked how she was moving with my Bachhalyā thrusts each time.
“Tell me.” I said it with a firmness.
She looked at me a moment unsure.
“Wh… , what?” Her face was rocking up and back based on my moving in her.
I spoke a little louder to her and it was obvious I was teasing her.
“Tell me what you want.”
With her face still reacting with each stroke from me, she smiled back at me.
She spoke very urgently to me this time.
“I want… I want… you… to fuck me.”
I picked up my pace, and she spoke in broken phrases back at me.
“Please… please… please fuck me, okay?”
My hips gave long, full strides that started with my head at her lips and pushed deep into where my base would get close to her lips and my balls slapped at her.
“AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” She exclaimed as my hips started slapping faster at her.
I loved it when she moved her legs wide and higher, her legs swaying back and forth high in the air with the strokes I gave her.
“YYYYEEEEEAAAHHHHHHHH!!!” I grunted down to her, another wave washing over her that made her clench her eyes shut hard.
Once this orgasm subsided, I eased myself back and I took each of her calves in my hand right above the ankle.
She looked directly up and at me startled.
“OOHHHHH!” Arundhatī Joshī sounded shocked by this, and I started pumping quicker into her at this angle.
She brought her legs down to my sides once more, and I intensely moved my entire body over her, trying to thrust even more than I had.
“Yeah, yeah, Durgesh,” she urged me on.
She pushed back at me now.
“C’mon, c’mon, mérī Jān!”
I was moaning louder myself now, and I was closer to release.
She looked up at me, and this time it was her getting my attention.
She held my eyes on hers and she spoke clearly to me.
“Durgesh, come in me. I want you to come in me.”
I bolted up and tensed hard, strokes still coming but slowing in pace.
I pushed against her.
I shook and screamed, as she took me in and she felt my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund surging deep inside her.
I slowed to a stop, and then I gave sporadic jolts of spasms as I finished my climax.
We exchanged the knowing looks of shock and satisfaction each of us felt.
We both panted, trying to calm ourselves.
Neither spoke at first.
Finally, she reached up and pulled at me, bringing me into an embrace.
We hugged tightly as I stayed lodged inside her, both of us joined.
“I love you.” I said to her.
“I love you, too.” She replied.
In the afternoon, Arundhatī Joshī tried to busy herself with the anticipation of her husband on his way home.
She felt such relief at having talked to me and I having said all was well.
She’d thought it would be, but still she felt much better knowing it was.
The fact that I had also talked to him during the day made it that much better.
She knew that we all could have a certain comfort level again, once we were altogether at home soon.
It was strange, she knew, but true.
She found herself lost in thought in the kitchen, staring out the window and thinking over her day with me.
A warmness and giddiness filled her.
She could not even remember how long it had been since she had felt such pleasure, such satisfaction.
She found herself wondering if she had ever felt that kind of pleasure.
She had felt so overwhelmed and so completely taken.
She also couldn’t believe she had let this amount of time go by without feeling such excitement, such pleasure.
She decided she wouldn’t ever let life go by like that again.
Arundhatī Joshī had determined she liked sex and sensuality, and she had come to the realization that she didn’t have to do without it.
She had also made another discovery for herself. She had not worked out all of her qualms and problems with what had happened with me, and with what that meant she had done, but at the same time, she knew she should not have gone this long without physical love or appreciation.
She just absolutely should not have.
This was a consequence of both her and Vinod Sharmā getting complacent, but she knew she had tried.
And moreover, she’d keep trying.
She decided that Vinod Sharmā needed to decide what I wanted for himself and his own life as well.
As for me, she and I had talked candidly and straightforwardly later in the day.
She was surprised, and very relieved, to learn how assuredly that I said I could be trusted and that nothing would ever, ever be said about what we had done.
In Arundhatī Joshī‘s thinking, she believed me, and there was the added aspect that I would be horribly at risk if anything were learned of our time as well.
As a result, she figured that this was all actually under control.
Then, with the hopefulness that there didn’t have to be awkwardness shortly, she enjoyed a new confidence.
She kept thinking about me, and she admitted to herself that she continued to be enthralled by our tryst.
The incredible intensity she’d felt, and how very much I had thrilled and satisfied her, was something she had never known possible, and now she felt she wouldn’t trade anything for it.
As she stood lost in thought in the kitchen, she let herself wonder about something else.
As intense and as satisfying as the sex had been with me, she now had also determined that she would trust me.
Given this, Arundhatī Joshī thought of another idea.
She wondered whether it should happen again.
When she had talked to me, she had discussed it as if it was ‘over and done’.
Now, as she stood and reflected, she let herself reconsider that.
She played back over in her mind the party where it had started.
My kisses, my charm and my eagerness.
She thought of how she had come to view me as a man.
And with that thought, she let herself go a step even further.
She thought of how I was as a man.
I had such an endearing smile.
I was ever young and handsome.
She thought of how she and her friend had admired me.
‘Yes’, she was now able to admit, ‘yes Durgesh has such arms and hands’.
She smiled to herself.
She had never seen a penis anything like mine, much less felt it and felt it as I had given it to her.
Arundhatī Joshī had to admit standing there in her house that she had lost count of how many orgasms I had given her as we’d made love.
Rather, as we had made love and actually fucked.
She admitted to herself that she had let me fuck her, and she was now not only okay with it.
She had liked it very much.
She choked at her next thought.
She had actually loved it, she admitted to herself.
She knew that if it was up to her that she was going to let me have her again.
She felt dizzy at the thought of what she was concluding to herself, but it was true.
She had decided she would try to seduce Durgesh again, and if I was interested, then she was going to let me fuck her again.
Again and again.
Again and again.
Again and again.
She shook her head silently as she found herself moving from the kitchen to the stairs.
She smiled even though she told herself she should resist seeing me again and with Vinod Sharmā on his way home at that.
She climbed the stairs anyway.
She took several deep breaths as she walked the few steps down the hall to my room.
She took a moment to listen at my door, and upon hearing silence, she tapped my door lightly.
“Yes?” I answered.
She eased the door open and stepped just inside.
I was lying on my bed reading and looked up at her.
We both smiled knowingly at one another.
“Your Vinod will be home soon.” She held my look with her own.
“Uh, yeah. Okay.” I didn’t know what more to really say.
She continued to stand there, but her look went from pleasant to one of concern.
She looked down and spoke haltingly.
“I know what we did was so wrong. …”
I took her to be starting some sort of apology or confession of sorts, and I wanted her to stop thinking that way.
I jumped from bed and I interrupted her.
“Hey, everything’s fine.” I stood right in front of her.
My face peered down into hers.
I found her eyes showing a sparkle rather than a darkness.
I had affected her with my reaction.
She tilted her head slightly as she thought of the best way to explain.
She spoke softly back.
“No, no. I wasn’t going to apologize.”
“No?” My relief was clear in my tone.
She took a step closing some space between us, and she placed a hand gently against my chest.
“No, honey. Not at all.” She took in a breath, needing some effort to explain. “Actually, I was going to admit. …Um, I was going to admit that, even though I know it was wrong, I just loved it. That’s all. I was downstairs, and I could not stop thinking about it.”
I grinned appreciatively and brought her to me.
She continued what she wanted to say even as I embraced her.
She kept looking up at me, and even though I didn’t feel certain whether I should, I brought my face to hers.
I kissed Arundhatī Joshī fully, and I was relieved when I felt her kiss me back.
I felt her moan into my mouth and I kissed her passionately.
We pressed ourselves to each other tightly and she felt lightheaded and overwhelmed with excitement.
We kissed hard, and she felt my tongue work about urgently in her mouth.
She broke free of me and pulled back.
She looked up at me, and she adored the lust and heat I focused on her.
She felt very aroused, and at the same time, she felt a compulsion to please me.
“I can’t even describe the effect that today with you has had on me, Durgesh.” Then, she seemed to decide something, and she acted on one of the most carnal of thoughts to enter her mind.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
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
He seemed to be sticking with just a couple of the other men.
Arundhatī Joshī didn’t understand why it was that he didn’t move about or use this party as the occasion to mingle.
These were people they’d mostly known a good while, and she thought it best he be friendly and more open.
This holiday party was one of the social events Arundhatī Joshī always looked forward to.
She had picked out her form-fitting black dress weeks before, and her black heels were her favorites.
She liked especially when her friends noticed her choices, and she in turn appreciated theirs.
A couple of her friends were even very complimentary to her this year.
One had been so flattering as to compare her to the actress Anne Archer, and the way the actress had looked in a popular movie from years ago.
Arundhatī Joshī was guardedly aware of the comparison but didn’t say much about. She did take good care of herself, and she thought her bright eyes and full lips did accentuate whatever appeal she carried.
At 5’5″ and 120 pounds, she worked out regularly and ate carefully.
Arundhatī Joshī was proud she had maintained herself as she had.
This was regardless of whatever popular comparison was made of her to an actress.
A few minutes after nine o’clock, Arundhatī Joshī was near the front entrance of the clubhouse when she heard a newcomer being welcomed inside.
Her attention was piqued when she heard that deep, distinctive voice.
She’d recognize that voice anywhere, she knew.
She stepped quickly around a hall to the front entrance and then she let out a shriek.
“Heeyyyyyy!” She exclaimed upon seeing me.
My face brightened into a beaming smile, and I instantly embraced her.
“Hey, Arundhatī Joshī!” I answered as excitedly back to her as she had done with me. We hugged each other tightly, and those around us all smiled at our joy in seeing each other.
Arundhatī Joshī pulled back to look at me, and she talked of how I had already seemed to change.
We continued to hold onto each other as we quickly talked and started catching up.
After a few minutes, she took me by the arm.
Arundhatī Joshī ushered me on into the party and started showing me around.
Her first stop was with my friend, and while we may not have shown quite the excitement that Arundhatī Joshī and I had, it was still clear to her that Vinod Sharmā was glad to see me, their only friend in need.
Arundhatī Joshī slowly drifted back.
Shhe let me see others and mingle on my own.
She kept a watchful eye, as I easily roamed around seeing others just as effortlessly as she always managed.
She of course attributed that to herself and not to my more socially stunted and reserved friend, Vinod Sharmā.
Arundhatī Joshī also, for probably the first time, took notice of just what a man I was.
I clearly seemed more mature and more grown than she could ever remember seeing before.
I stood up straight and tall, always an imposing figure to her.
I had kept lean and athletic, and I was certainly handsome, making Arundhatī Joshī reassured that I was popular with the girls back at everywhere.
A friend of Arundhatī Joshī‘s ambled beside her and also looked over to me.
“Wow, Arundhatī Joshī. He’s really utmost handsome still at his Sixty Six even, you know?”
Arundhatī Joshī couldn’t get out a spoken response, and the truth was that she was probably a little oft put by having a friend of hers make such an adult comment about her husband’s friend.
Arundhatī Joshī just shrugged, but the friend offered more.
“I mean, he’s really the stud they claim.”
Arundhatī Joshī half-turned to her friend and playfully slapped at her.
Arundhatī Joshī gasped at the remark and they both snickered.
But as Arundhatī Joshī turned her attention back to me, she did exactly as the friend had suggested and she took in my arms and hands.
They appeared strong even at my Sixty Six and noticeably so.
Arundhatī Joshī mentally examined my hands and she felt a queasiness inside, as it registered with her that her friend had perceived correctly.
My hands did look more handsome than normal.
She turned back to her friend and she wondered if her friend had watched her eye me.
They just chuckled to one another, and they went for another drink.
Arundhatī Joshī didn’t know if the wandering observation meant she needed more to drink or whether it signaled she should stop.
It took but an instant for her to conclude that it meant for her to have another one.
As the evening wore on, she enjoyed her friends and neighbors, and she kept her glass refilled.
She felt such an excitement and happiness that she also replenished her husband’s glass as well.
She knew she was getting buzzed, but she also knew this was one of the few parties she really let herself relax at.
Besides, we were just a short walk from home.
During the party, she kept an eye on her husband, and she tried to see for herself just how much I actually did socialize.
She found herself regretting that he didn’t seem to try harder socially.
She believed that he would get more out of things like this party if he just put more effort into it.
Much to her tipsied surprise, she also found herself keeping an eye on me.
She liked how I did make the effort, and she was sure that I and she were so very alike at how we were both so social.
More than once, she found herself just watching me.
A couple of times, I caught her watching me, too.
I would just smile over at her and give some gesture.
Whether a small wave or a knowing nod, I never failed to acknowledge her.
Arundhatī Joshī felt an unusual mix of pride in me, together with a new-found appreciation for what an impressive ever young man I had become.
She wondered if I must have overnight reached this age where I was such a man.
She partially understood her take of me was influenced by the alcohol, and she warned herself to slow it down.
Arundhatī Joshī made her way carefully to the kitchen, and she poured the remaining drink she had into the sink.
She went to rest against the counter when she was pleasantly surprised by me moving right up next to her.
“Hey lady,” I smiled to her as if we shared a secret and she found herself feeling charmed by me. “Have you been a good girl this year?”
I openly laughed, and she did, too.
Arundhatī Joshī felt herself practically blushing and she let herself imagine I was almost flirting with her.
“Well, unfortunately, yes. I have.”
We laughed more at her playing along, and she shook her head at me.
She was definitely feeling the lightness from the wine when one of the guests in the kitchen chuckled and pointed towards her.
The few guests in the kitchen looked above Arundhatī Joshī‘s head and looked back down at her again, all of them smiling at what they’d seen.
Arundhatī Joshī was perplexed at first, and she looked overhead to see what they were looking at.
She found herself looking right up at a twig of mistletoe.
She looked back down and then over next to her.
She looked up at me, and when I grinned back at her, she just kept looking up to me.
Without really thinking why, she knew she was looking at me too long.
She was sure she was confounding me by putting me on the spot with herself under the mistletoe, but I surprised her right back.
It was like I didn’t miss a beat in answering her gesture of looking to me when I moved to her and took Arundhatī Joshī into my own arms.
I let it linger briefly, and she heard a couple of people reacting with ‘ahhhs’.
As soon as I pulled back, Arundhatī Joshī decided she wouldn’t be outdone.
This time Arundhatī Joshī lingered and she was surprised when I didn’t pull right away.
Was it romance?
Was Arundhatī Joshī in love with me, her husband’s friend?
When I did break our connection, Arundhatī Joshī felt an exuberant rush she didn’t expect.
She pulled my face back, and gave another quick kiss.
This seemed to challenge me, and amid some audible reactions from the guests who were watching, I kissed her right back and a bit more urgently.
My tongue was there and urgent itself, and it was the sounds of louder reactions from the other guests that finally prompted Arundhatī Joshī to release me.
We both laughed.
She knew her face was flush with the craziness of what had happened.
The other guests were buzzing in the background, but all she could do was look at me and quietly shake her head in amazement.
I smiled broadly.
Arundhatī Joshī took a long, confident pull on her drink.
She could only stare at me openly and feel a giddiness.
Without saying anything more, Arundhatī Joshī headed over to the hallway.
She was still dazed as she made her way to the stairs and headed to a bathroom.
I had certainly surprised her.
She figured she had surprised me, too.
Arundhatī Joshī was still feeling a lightness from her kisses with me, as she freshened herself in the upstairs bathroom before coming out.
She checked her hair and make-up in the mirror, and she was pleasantly amused when she realized she had to re-apply her lipstick.
She was incredulous that she was using more lipstick because of kissing me.
She chuckled to herself as she carefully dabbed at her full lips with the red gloss.
When she was contented with her composed look once more, she opened the door and started back out to the party.
As she got into the hall she flinched as she came directly in front of me.
I was standing right in front of her and grinning down at her.
She started grinning right back, and she drew a sharp intake of breath when I took her by the arm and pulled her into an adjoining room.
I closed the door behind us where we were then alone.
She felt shock as I was once again bringing my face to hers, and she shocked herself when she decided to just go with what I did.
I was kissing her again, and this time it was I who was opening my mouth to hers.
My tongue entered her mouth and wrestled with hers, and she started pulling back from me, only to feel me stay on her mouth. She felt herself relent to my kiss.
She felt the same giddiness she had started to feel in the kitchen only this time it was intensified.
The feel of me and the complete surprise of it caused her to stand there and just receive my forceful, full kiss.
She brought a hand to my chest and she was about to press it to my chest when I took her hand.
She felt my mouth move fervently on her own, and she thought I was about to break the kiss since she’d brought her hand up. Instead, she felt me move her hand.
I brought it down, and in a one smooth motion it went right on top of my Bachhalyā crotch.
Arundhatī Joshī immediately tensed and she shrieked into my mouth.
She pulled at her hand to bring it away, but I kept it pressed to me.
My tongue worked about in her mouth, and she felt herself instinctively react.
Arundhatī Joshī squeezed at me there and held it, deliberately now, entirely unashamed of herself.
Hey Bhagvān! God, Arundhatī Joshī never knew she loved me as her man so much.
She never knew.
She never knew.
Yet the proof was there.
She then felt my hand go quickly up under her dress and between her legs.
She absolutely could not believe I had my hand on her panties and was feeling her there.
As if the reality came in a jolt, she knew to stop.
“No,” she snapped, “no.” She yanked my hand from between her legs.
She looked to me and my face looked intense where I was clearly aroused and focused on her.
She smiled and shook her head.
I managed a smirk back.
She pushed to my side and escaped out the door, looking back over her shoulder to me as she moved away.
She wished she hadn’t been grinning as she was, but she couldn’t help it.
I grinned back as I watched her drift off to other females at the party.*
It wasn’t much longer before the three of us left the clubhouse and walked the couple of blocks home.
We arrived home.
It was as if Vinod Sharmā couldn’t wait to make it upstairs and collapse onto the bed.
Arundhatī Joshī noticed me stealing glances her way repeatedly, no doubt emboldened by what had happened between us.
As Vinod Sharmā started climbing the stairs, I looked at her once again as she went to follow Vinod Sharmā to bed.
She looked back at me, and there was a conspiratorial smile between Arundhatī Joshī and me.
When she kept going up the stairs to follow Vinod Sharmā to bed, I fell along behind them to climb up the stairs.
The three of us marched up the stairs.
We got upstairs.
Vinod Sharmā and Arundhatī Joshī started in one direction with me going the other.
We said our good nights.
Arundhatī Joshī again looked to a grinning me and shook her head as if in disbelief.
I kept her look as she went into the bedroom with Vinod Sharmā.
Arundhatī Joshī hadn’t yet started to undress and she felt compelled to say something to me.
She wasn’t sure what exactly, but as she gave Vinod Sharmā time to undress and ready himself for bed, she decided to go and speak to me.
Vinod Sharmā was falling into bed and into a certain stupor when she told him she’d be right back.
She mentally gathered herself to comfort me and tried to compose her thoughts as she went down the hallway.
A mix of feelings swirled within her, as she knew she had to be the authoritative voice of reason, but yet she was also still enjoying the playful side of whatever was going on.
She got to my bedroom door and she took a deep breath.
Usually, she might knock first, but she decided just to let herself in.
She quietly pushed the door open and slipped just inside.
She closed it back, but she didn’t move further, staying where she was leaning back against the door.
When she entered, I turned to her from where I was across the room.
We both froze and stared at each other.
I was in a t-shirt and boxers, and she managed to stay focused on my face.
“Hey.” She said meekly, when she had intended to come across as authoritative.
“Hey,” I responded and my voice sounded deep and rich to her.
Her mouth parted to say something, but at first no words came.
She instantly knew she’d made a mistake.
She surprised even herself at feeling so disinclined to act firmly with me.
“Um, I’m not sure what happened back there,” she started but I interrupted her, sounding clearly more certain than her.
“You’re not?” I sounded disbelieving her.
I crossed my arms and leaned back Imyself this time, using a desk in my room to prop against.
“No, um,” she hated sounding so unsteady as she heard her words come slowly.
Then, against better judgment, she let her eyes look downward and we surveyed my barely clad body.
Her eyes noted the thin boxers I had on, and there was a large, considerable lump in the middle of them.
She looked quickly back up to my face, but I was grinning appreciatively at her apparent interest.
She shook her head and tried to change her tone.
“I was out of line tonight. …”
“It was both of us who felt what we did.”
“Well, we shouldn’t have done that.” She sounded a bit more firm and resolved, she figured.
I seemed to relax my stance just a bit, as my arms unfolded and I simply put them at my sides.
I softened the look on my face and spoke as if to reassure her.
“It’s okay. Really it is. We were both into it, you know?”
Arundhatī Joshī stood more forward and the concern now came through in her voice.
“Durgesh, no. No, it’s not okay. For goodness sake, I’m your friend’s wife. And… I’m married after all.”
She immediately regretted she’d added such an obvious fact, but she was feeling shaken by my attitude about this.
I leaned just forward, too.
I looked at her caringly and spoke softly as if trying to calm her. “Hey, we are both adults. And… .”
I paused and we both were aware she hung on my words for my thought.
I continued in a slightly more hushed tone.
“And we both liked it.” I grinned.
She closed her eyes at my saying that aloud, and then looked back at me and replied.
“Well, we got carried away with all the alcohol and all. But nothing like that can happen again.” She said it in a gentle way and with a slight smile, and she started opening the door to leave.
She had the door ajar, but had yet to leave, when my movement gave her pause.
She looked to me, and I was stripping my t-shirt away.
I let it slip to the floor and then I stood straight, facing directly at her.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
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
Coasting to a stop in front of the house, Nishikānt Joshī was surprised to see his wife’s Green Mercedes parked in the driveway.
Urmi Upādhyāý had found work as a teller in a branch office of a big downtown bank a couple of years ago.
She was a hard worker and had already received a number of pay raises.
The hours were okay. Urmi Upādhyāý only had to work half-days on Saturday, and even that only one in four weekends.
This Saturday wasn’t on her schedule, though, and today wasn’t her day off even if it had been.
Nishikānt Joshī didn’t know why Urmi Upādhyāý was home.
It concerned him because it was so out of character for her.
He walked quickly around the side of the house and in through the kitchen door.
The door hinges were well lubricated.
After all, Nishikānt Joshī was a building contractor.
It was a matter of professional pride to make sure small repairs around the house were taken care of immediately.
Everything was well maintained.
He liked things that way.
He hated squeaks, drawers that didn’t open, windows that didn’t close right…things like that drove Nishikānt Joshī crazy.
Neither the screen door nor the kitchen door itself made any perceptible noise when Nishikānt Joshī opened them.
The couple he could see through the doorway into the living room ostensibly wouldn’t have heard Nishikānt Joshī anyway.
Urmi Upādhyāý and I were too involved with each other.
Nishikānt Joshī froze in his tracks when he saw Urmi Upādhyāý and me.
He’d never contemplated seeing his wife in my arms, even kissing me.
And he’d surely never thought to see me cupping Urmi Upādhyāý’s bare right breast and working the nipple to a dark red erection with a rapidly moving thumb.
Urmi Upādhyāý was naked to the waist.
Nishikānt Joshī saw her blouse and bra draped across the couch just beyond her.
Her partial nakedness said the hand job was only a preliminary.
She brought her hand up to my chest and ground her lower body against mine.
“Was it worth the wait?” she asked seductively.
A red-hot fury engulfed Nishikānt Joshī.
He didn’t think; he couldn’t.
He could only react.
One moment he was frozen in shock.
With his next heartbeat, he was moving swiftly forward, striding purposefully through the kitchen and partway into the living room.
Planting his left foot solidly on the carpet, he brought his right one up in a tight arc that ended in my crotch.
At the last moment, I sensed something behind me…a whisper of Nishikānt Joshī’s shoes on the carpet perhaps, or his looming presence.
She probably wouldn’t have been hurt if I’d kept still.
It was only the steel-reinforced tip of the boot that slammed into Nishikānt Joshī’s butt but it was more than enough.
Sensitive nerve endings fired instantly, sending simultaneous pain signals to Nishikānt Joshī’s badly confused brain.
For a long moment Nishikānt Joshī didn’t have any breath to scream.
It had been driven from his body by the sudden intense pain in Nishikānt Joshī’s abdomen.
Nishikānt Joshī stumbled against the sofa and clung to it for an instant.
Her normally pleasant features were twisted into a rictus of tormented rage.
She’d been planning to do further damage to Nishikānt Joshī in front of me but it was abruptly clear nothing more was required.
Nishikānt Joshī began to scream in a high-pitched voice that filled the room.
He collapsed to the floor and began to writhe in agony.
The excruciating pain was overwhelming, worthy of the Marquis de Sade’s most inventive tortures.
Nishikānt Joshī was unable to do anything but scream so piercingly he was close to rupturing his vocal cord.
Nevertheless, Nishikānt Joshī saw his wife’s breasts bounce wildly on her chest as her body jerked uncontrollably.
Her lower body was exposed, though covered by her pantyhose. He could see her palms pressed tightly against her vulva.
My ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund was still jutting obscenely, yet still immensely attractive from my zipper.
There hadn’t been enough time for the blood to leave it.
The vulgar display sickened Nishikānt Joshī but something else was wrong too.
He looked down.
To his horror, he saw the bulge in his work pants.
He realized his cock was hard, perhaps harder, longer, and thicker than it had ever been before.
A deep shame overcame the anger in his mind, blanking the fury in the space between two heartbeats.
He was mortified.
His own body was betraying him.
It wasn’t possible; he was not that kind of man.
His roars, born of renewed fury and deep humiliation, blended with the agonized shrieks of himself.
It was one thing that Urmi Upādhyāý, Nishikānt Joshī’s twenty eight years old extremely beautiful Upādhyāý Brāhmañ wife and I were prepared for Nishikānt Joshī’s every potential attack already, yet it was quite another thing that his Joshī Brāhmañ penis was appreciating what Urmi Upādhyāý was doing with me.
How the hell it happened?
Does it mean in this Infinite BrāhmKalp Nishikānt Joshī’s such intense humiliation was absolutely a normal event?
Only because Nishikānt Joshī and Urmi Upādhyāý were traditional Brāhmañs and Durgesh was a Bachhalyā?
Durgesh was already fucking now the entire beautiful Brāhmañ houseladies of Nishikānt Joshī’s household.
Nishikānt Joshī had as if fallen from sky.
“Supriyā Bhābhī, you mean… you mean…”
“Yes!” Instead of Supriyā Bhārgav, Nishikānt Joshī’s elder brother, Karuñākānt Joshī, said, “Your Supriyā Bhābhī is correct, Nishikānt. You keep forgetting, it’s Infinite BrāhmKalp now. We Brāhmañs are entrusted now to greater duties.”
“Indro nirjyotishā tamaso gā aduxat?” Nishikānt Joshī asked sarcastically.
“Oh,” Karuñākānt Joshī said looking at his younger brother sympathetically, “Why?”
“Anything wrong in it?” Karuñākānt Joshī asked curtly.
“You were never satisfied with Supriyā Bhābhī.” Nishikānt Joshī said bitterly, “Her sophisticated behavior was never suitable to you. You were always interested, instead, in her ultramodern beautiful Musalmān lady friends.”*
“Who are you to discuss my married life activities and my sex activities? You are my younger brother, not my wife. Hinduism/Ved never allow any houseperson to interfere in the married life of another houseperson. It’s the only practical way to keep a joint family survive with ‘Modmānau Svastakau’, ‘Modmānau Své gr’hé’.”
“I think Imām Muħammad Ħasan is one of the greatest persons of nowadays.”
“Because he has surrendered the entire beautiful Musalmān houseladies of his household to Durgesh?” Nishikānt Joshī laughed ironically, “I never thought you have fallen to this level. I’m sorry to find you too salute the rising sun to this extent.”
“Chief Justice Vishwambhar Sharmā Supreme Court Multiverse is perhaps too a cuckold in your bright opinion, Mr. Nishikānt Joshī.” Karuñākānt Joshī also laughed equally ironically, rather more ironically.*
The environment surrounding a life form whether the life form is a male or a female always needs fresh base pairs for the survival of that life form.
To fulfill this need of the environment the life form starts to have sexual need.
The more intense the need of fresh base pairs of the environment the more intense the sexual need of the life form.
He never liked it.
They were traditional Brāhmañs.
Every traditional society has some traditions out of date it’s careless to change and update itself.
The Pseudo Musalmīn were the worst example of it.
They were too adamant to keep their outdated traditions that they refused to use their common sense even if it were against their enormously outdated traditions.
To kill the other societies for one’s own survival was a tradition among then uncivilized societies once.
The Pseudo Musalmīn were foolishly still adamant to practice it, because they never tried to understand it isn’t needed anymore.
The Democracy has not only its solution but the fair competition too to the survival of the fittest system of life.*
The Infinite BrāhmKalp had started to project its time cycle.
Despite the fact that the ever last Kaliyug itself had its time cycle unfinished for as long as 4, 27, 000 years.
I understood very well it was only a generous courtesy, not any invitation, or seduction, at all.
I was the son in law of the house.
Everyone was stunned.
“Well, I think we should talk first, Shuchi.”
“That’s a very good idea, Bahūrānī.” Pragyākānt Joshī greeted the suggestion very warm heartedly.
“I can’t help, Ammī,” Shuchi Joshī smiled naughtily, “if you were a cougar once.”
“Shuchi,” Pragyākānt Joshī said curtly, “you must be ashamed of yourself for the comment on your own Ammī.”
“It’s all right, PK.” Sheikħzādī Ůzrah Sheikħ smiled bravely, “Our children have different morals from me. You knew about my ultramodern morals and you married me with them. They didn’t.”
“Nevertheless, Ůzrah,” Pragyākānt Joshī said curtly, “Even if she doesn’t appreciate your morals, being a Brahmkanyā she must respect at least Imām Nārīm Sukr’té dadhāt and Indro nirjyotishā tamaso gā aduxat. She isn’t a child anymore. She is twenty eight years old and a PhD now.”
“Sure,” Shuchi Joshī said, “I never criticized Ammī for her past. Nevertheless, I would never allow her past to affect my own life adversely.”*
No, he wasn’t a bad man.
That was the problem.
Their overhumanity itself was a greatest enemy of all of them.
They were good to the extent to be harmful to themselves.
“I know, Supriyā,”
Nevertheless, he couldn’t blame the traditional Brāhmañs even.
They were also normal men.
They too wanted to enjoy their married life.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
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
He was adamant.
His father and grandfather both were Brahmarshis in HVSI.
Kaikasī Chaturvedī was smart enough to understand her eldest son’s mood perfectly.
She masterminded her entire planning keeping his every potential step carefully in consideration.*
When Muħammad got engaged, it was a bit of a relief for me. Muħammad had been miserable for years after Muħammad’s wife had deserted him for me, three weeks before his Sixty Sixth birthday.
Now he seemed to be back to a vague semblance of his former self.
I was glad.
My friend, Al Muħammad Al Åbdullah, had been through a lot.
It was more troublesome for me, because his wife had deserted Al Muħammad Al Åbdullah for me.
“I’m very sorry, Muħammad,” I said sincerely, “I never thought she was interested in me sexually.”
Al Muħammad Al Åbdullah laughed.
“Infinite BrāhmKalp has come. Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan says there were only two couples in BrāhmKalp, Brāhmañ Muslimāt and Bachhalyā Brahmkanyās Bachhalyā Brahmāñīs. I think my wife was afraid of herself that Niranjan could not win her from me. She preferred you on Niranjan.”
“Niranjan Sharmā.” Al Muħammad Al Åbdullah said, “You know. He is Waħīdah’s Kħālāzād cousin.”
Al Muħammad Al Åbdullah sighed.
“Niranjan Sharmā is close enough to Bhārgav
I had, of course, met Muħammad’s fiancée a few times when she’d stayed at our house, but after a while, Muħammad asked me if I’d be all right if Zakiyah moved in with us.
There was concern on Muħammad’s face, but it was unnecessary.
I was a quietly confident ever young man, who was simply happy for Muħammad to have found someone.
But when Muħammad came to pick him up from HVSI, I did not expect to find what I did.
When I climbed up into the back of the four-by-four, there was a dazzlingly attractive slim Musalmān redhead sitting inside, smiling at me. She was about twenty eight years old, dressed in a disturbingly low-cut turquoise top and green miniskirt.
Her legs were covered in nylons.
“Hi Durgesh,” said Muħammad.
“Durgesh,” Zakiyah smiled at me, “this is my daughter, Al Jalal Al Fātimah.”
“Hi,” Al Jalal Al Fātimah had an amazing smile.
She gently shook my hand and I couldn’t help but smile seductively.
I was completely amused to female company – especially such beautiful Musalmān female company.
Musalmān females were my specialty.
Even the BrāhmKalp could not take beautiful Musalmān houseladies away from me.
Yet, I was an exception.
Waħīdah preferred me on Niranjan Sharmā.
Waħīdah loved Durgesh.
Niranjan Sharmā was surprised.
“I don’t think so, Niranjan Sharmā.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s normal.” Niranjan Sharmā interrupted Bhārgav Chakrvartī Dashānan Bhārgav, “In BrāhmKalp every Brāhmañ girl is a Brāhmañ’s sister according to Bhr’gu Āchār Samhitā. She is not marriageable with a Brāhmañ. The Brāhmañs are required to marry Muslimāt and Muslimāt only to devote themselves to religious severities for their entire life.”
“I wanted to remind you it.”
His tone was somewhat curt to Niranjan Sharmā.
Niranjan Sharmā looked at him helplessly.
“Nevertheless, the Ārsh Sadan of HVSI is supporting Bhr’gu Āchār Samhitā, not Durgesh.”
The phone rang and she reached over to answer it.
“I was just…” she paused and looked at the TV, “…working on something.”
“It’ll only take a few minutes, I forgot a file I kinda need for work. Can you go on my computer and email it to me. It’s -”
“Now, now, I’m not going to remember. Just gimmie a second and I’ll go to your room and pick up the phone there, ok?”
Sītā Bhārgav made her way to the second floor of the big house she shared with me and her father Bhārgav Chakrvartī Dashānan Bhārgav.
Sītā Bhārgav turned on my computer and picked up the phone in my room.
I was giving her instructions but we were having trouble communicating.
“And you searched for the filename? You’re sure you spelt it correctly…”
“Hmmm…” I muttered. “I guess I don’t absolutely have to have it…um…oh, Damn it! Of course!”
“Oh…oh geez, sorry Sītā dear.”
“Sorry about it. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”
I laughed too.
“Three in one?”
“All in one, you Anant Brahmkanyā Ramañ, Anant Brahmāñī Ramañ.”
“Yeah, it’s just that I totally forgot something. Here’s what you need to do…” I explained to my Bhārgav Brāhmañ beloved of thirty years how to unlock the hidden and encrypted files on my computer using a password.
She sent off the email.
I confirmed I received it.
She hung up the phone and let me get back to work.
She hesitated for a moment.
What was there to go to except boring TV or a stack of books she didn’t really want to read, or a bed where sleep lately was elusive?
Didn’t she see something interesting a moment ago?
She opened up the list of files again.
Sure enough, there was the previously-hidden ‘Work Stuff’ folder they struggled so long to find.
And beside it some other uninteresting hidden folders were now revealed, like ‘HVSI Reports’ and ‘Bank Files’.
‘Pr0n Flicks’ and ‘Pics of Slutz’ and ‘XXX Stories’.
‘No,’ she thought, ‘they can’t be. Well…well, maybe he’s just got one or two things on here…I’m sure there’s a lot of peer pressure to know a bit about that sort of thing…’
She opened up ‘Pr0n Flicks’.
The list of files was so long it scrolled down past the bottom of the screen; titles like ‘Anal Trainer’ and ‘Ass Worship’ and ‘Buttman’s Big Butt Backdoor Babes’.
She double-clicked on a file and the starting credits began to play, a rapid-fire sequence of tits and ass and cocksucking and fucking and pussy eating and assfucking and double-penetration and cum splashing everywhere and and and…
She clicked it closed.
She went to the ‘Pics of Slutz’ folder.
As with the other folder, along with the main list of files there were subdirectories.
The one right at the top was named ‘AAAAA HOT DAMN IT – THE BEST – WHACKOFF SLIDESHOW’.
Here she found explicit, hardcore digital images.
Her Bachhalyā lover, Durgesh, had pictures of beautiful Musalmān houseladies, Christian houseladies, Jew houseladies and Brāhmañ houseladies even, in leather, in rubber, in lace, in chains, and of course in nothing at all.
“I would have never of suspected,” she said to herself, “I would have never have known.” Then she gave a little smirk. “No wonder he likes computers so much.”
Among the folders I made were ‘Anal Fuckfests’, ‘Mind Control’ and ‘Ashvinātam is Best’.
She knew about computers herself.
Who doesn’t in this immensely advanced Infinite BrāhmKalp?
Of course it was a long username.
It wasn’t possible even.
Bhr’gu Āchār Samhitā was the paramount constitution here.
It was legally a tremendously punishable crime and morally an immensely despised great sin.
“Param Brahmarshi Lord Bhagvān Bhr’gu didn’t go through immense religious severities to marry Bhārgavīs with Bachhalyās.” Bhārgav Chakrvartī Dashānan Bhārgav said furiously, “Bhārgavīs deserve Durgesh himself, no other Bachhalyā even.”
Vibhīshañ Bhārgav had argued,
“There were no Bachhalyās then anywhere when Param Brahmarshi Lord Bhagvān Bhr’gu had gone through immense religious severities to get infinite extremely beautiful daughters. Durgesh was the only husband available to them. Hence it’s a wrong argument that Param Brahmarshi Lord Bhagvān Bhr’gu didn’t go through immense religious severities to marry Bhārgavīs with Bachhalyās. He himself prepared Bhr’gu Āchār Samhitā, ‘Bhr’gu Shāstr Samvidhān’, constituting Brahmkanyās to marry with the Bachhalyās. There isn’t any exception for Bhārgavīs in Bhr’gu Āchār Samhitā, Bhr’gu Shāstr Samvidhān, that Bhārgavīs have exclusive rights on the rest of the Brahmkanyās to be Brahm Jagdambās everyone.”
Vibhīshañ Bhārgav was defeated tremendously.
Nevertheless, she was jealous of beautiful Musalmān houseladies now immensely.
Bhārgavīs were no exception.
She’d gone through much of the rest of my room, and found more things to pique her interest.
In the corners of my closet and in the backs of drawers she’d found recordable CD’s with suggestive labels, porn tapes and DVD’s, and stacks of magazines.
As she listened to me move around in another part of the house, Dr. Sītā Bhārgav was in her bedroom behind a closed door, kneeling over on her bed and flipping through a magazine, ‘Ass-Fuckers Vol.5 No.2’, which she was sure I wouldn’t miss from my large stack.
One of her hands was between her legs rubbing her pussy, and occasionally her fingers would reach farther, to rub the sensitive crinkle of her asshole, which would make her whole body shudder.
She was always very conservative, wearing perfect business attire; usually pantsuits that always left as little visible as possible of her neck, arms, and legs.
Her hair was always tied up in a bun or back in a tight ponytail, and her shoes were always sensible.
Not that this was foremost in my mind when I saw her, but it was the way she had always dressed since I had remembered, even back before her and her husband had split up.
It was as though Dr. Sītā Bhārgav were another species from the females I saw at HVSI, on TV, or in the pornography I consumed, the ones so willing to flaunt themselves and their sexuality just to get attention.
I grunted, and out of the corner of my eye saw her hauling some bags up to her room.
I didn’t glance over for a while, but when I did I was shocked and couldn’t break my stare.
I always thought Sītā Bhārgav had a classical face; fine lines and delicate features, a little reminiscent of the Mona Lisa, or of Greek and Roman sculptures I’d seen. She’d always worn big, practical glasses, her new pairs just like her old ones, but now for the first time I saw her wearing a sleek pair with tortoise-shell rims, that reminded me of cat’s eyes.
Her hair was sandy-brown, and at the top of her head it fell straight, but then began to curl at the level of her eyes.
She wore it untied now, and it fell around her shoulders.
Her excellent exquisite thirty years old Bhārgav Brāhmañ body, with exceptions, was slim; especially her crane-like neck, her delicate wrists, and her ankles where the contours of bone showed clearly.
But nature had also designed her body so that her breasts were large and full, and were supported by strong shoulders, and her hips and ass were big and full as well, supported by thick muscular smooth bhbr thighs.
Every daughter of Bhārgav Chakrvartī Dashānan Bhārgav was a specimen of exquisite excellent Bhārgav Brāhmañ beauty.
Now, she wore a flimsy wool cardigan, rose pink, with a knit loose enough to clearly show the bra underneath, and a plunging open neck that showed off much of her shoulders and the cleavage of her upper chest.
A cream-colored skirt stopped just above her knees, but had a slit up the side where I could see the top of a smoky brown stocking.
Her feet rested in shoes with a medium heel.
“Wow,” I said as I walked into her room, and then paused, searching for any other words. “Um…are we having company over or something?”
“Oh geez, I feel kinda out of it then.” I looked down to my white socks, jeans, and rock-band T-shirt. “Do you want me to change?”
Dr. Sītā Bhārgav turned away to continue her work, and I felt my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund involuntarily pulse and twitch against the fly of my jeans.
Dinner proceeded somewhat normally, though my eyes would often wander to Dr. Sītā Bhārgav’s chest, trying to make out the details of her bra, and picture how her chest would look without the cardigan draped over it.
I’d snap my head away when I became conscious of my thoughts, but then my eyes would also sometimes drift to look down through the glass table in the kitchen, looking down at Dr. Sītā Bhārgav’s legs and the way she held one sleek leg against the other, and something inside of me flamed up when Dr. Sītā Bhārgav’s stockinged legs would rub together as she subtly shifted position.
I was looking out the window at the backyard when hands reached under my arms and wrapped themselves around my chest.
“Yow! Hey Sītā, you scared me!”
“I just wanted to say thanks for being kind to me.” She gave me a long hard squeeze. “I’m so lucky to have such a good husband.”
She placed a kiss on the back of my neck.
We were both quiet.
Each one burned on my neck like a gunshot.
Palm flat on my chest, one of her hands began to work its way down over my stomach.
My heart hammered as I realized her hand, if it continued, would discover my pulsing ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund.
I slammed my hips against the counter, crouching down a little so the bulge of my crotch was hidden from view.
She gave a disappointed sigh.
“So,” she said softly, into my ear, “what’re you doing afterwards?”
“Um…I gotta.. go to work, Sītā,” I smilrd, and glanced at the clock.
Long after she had gone, my body missed her warmth pressing against my back.
When I got home late in the evening and turned on my computer monitor, there was a full-screen picture I was sure I had not left there.
A naked young woman, nasty lustful passion on her face, had my large ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund buried deep in her Bhārgav Brāhmañ ass.
The woman whose picture was there was Dr. Sītā Bhārgav’s younger, twenty eight years old sister, Ramā Bhārgav.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
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
I hugged my Brāhmañ Live in relationship Partner, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā, fucking her constantly from her glorious exquisite Sharmā Brāhmañ behind.
I have to confess, the thought of having my Brāhmañ Live in relationship Partner Brahm Mahimā Sharmā, all to myself for several days really appealed to me.
She would miss her brothers, heck I might even slightly miss her husband, Professor Dr. Rām Chandr Shukl, but I spoke the truth when I replied, “I can’t imagine a more wonderful person to spend Shrāvañ Parv with, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā, Mérī Jān.”
Brahm Mahimā Sharmā kissed me on my Bachhalyā masculine lips.
Before we left the grocery, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā insisted we do a little more shopping, fighting the other customers for last minute buys before the storm closed everything down.
From there, we managed to get the station wagon back to her old apartment building and into the back alley where the parking slots were located.
I usually used my space for storage, but stacking things up, we managed to squeeze Brahm Mahimā Sharmā’s old boat of a car inside.
We lugged our food and shopping up the five flights of stairs and then collapsed on the couch.
On the big color television I kept in my studio apartment, the weatherman was gleefully assuring everyone that with a projection of now twenty inches of snow, we would be having a very white Shrāvañ Parv.
“So, just get comfortable and snuggle up with someone you love and enjoy the snow,” he advised. Brahm Mahimā Sharmā and I just grinned at each other, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā’s smile just a little mysterious.
I laughed and said,
“Let it snow, let snow, let it snow!” It was December 23, and I was spending Shrāvañ Parv with the woman I loved now.
Brahm Mahimā Sharmā wasn’t beautiful only, she loved me now even more than her beautiful Brāhmañ Nanads that were my Live in Relationship Partners.
Brahm Mahimā Sharmā’s surrender to me was divine.*
Arjun Sharmā could not understand Shankar Sahajpāl when even after the enormous defeat of Congress, Shankar Sahajpāl refused to join Bhārtīý Jantā Party.
“I’m unable to understand, Mātr’Shrī, after what Shankar Sahajpāl now actually is.” He said.
Mahārānī Rājmātā Kuntī Chaturvédī smiled patronizing him.
“Arjun, you have to come out of the original Mahābhārat Kālchakr Praxép. It’s Shāshvat Satyug now.”
Yudhishŧhir Sharmā watched his traditional Purāñik Brāhmañ mother, Kuntī Chaturvédī meditatively.
Of course, she was more intelligent than the original Kuntī of Dvāpar era.
She has used Durgesh more successfully for her and her children’s benefits.
The original Kuntī of Dvāpar era could not use anyone for it.
Even Draupadī Kr’shñā was more successful than her.
Despite every effort from even the best diplomat of those days, Lord Kr’shñ, himself, Draupadī Kr’shñā successfully used Lord Kr’shñ to achieve her goal.
Even Lord Kr’shñ, the best diplomat of those days, could not stop the world war, Mahābhārat.
Now, it is Gotrbhid Mahābhārat.
Using Durgesh, Kuntī Chaturvédī has successfully brought her eldest son, Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī, to her children’s side.
She has successfully broken the original time cycle projection in numerous matters.
Entire five Chaturvédī Kauntéý Pāndavs appreciated their shrewd Chaturvédī Brāhmañ mother for it.
“The Brāhmañs never lost their battle to Bachhalyās.” Kuntī Chaturvédī used to say, “Brahm Jagdambā movement of Bhagvān Bhr’gu was their master stroke even Durgesh couldn’t defeat.”
Bhīm Vipr Sharmā interfered.*
Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl and Ghazālah Siddīqī had already finished their dessert, gâteau de riz, and now watched Ghazālah Siddīqī spoon the last of her rice caramel with vanilla sauce.
It was only 8.30, and, except for the proprietors and beautiful waitresses, Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl and Ghazālah Siddīqī had restaurant to themselves.
It was a Hindu Lund Musalmān Choot restaurant and Ghazālah Siddīqī was deliberately bringing Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl there, since his wife, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā had gone in trance.
Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl had protested first strictly.
But Ghazālah Siddīqī knew he couldn’t go on protesting for ever.
He needed sex very much and his wife, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā, wasn’t available.
Prabhā Shuklā and Umā Dīxit both helped Ghazālah Siddīqī in this matter as much as they could.
“Bhaiyā, Ghazālah Siddīqī is a good girl. Why don’t you understand? Brahm Mahimā Sharmā Bhābhī would never return to you now.” Umā Dīxit said sympathetically.
Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl looked at Mīnāxī Sharmā.
She was one of the many sisters, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā had.
Mīnāxī Sharmā immediately confirmed what Umā Dīxit had said.
“I’m sorry to say, Bhaiyā. But Umā Dīxit is right.”
“Bhaiyā,” Rādhā Pandit said sympathetically, “You aren’t born yesterday.
‘Once with Durgesh
All the rest is trash.’
You know it yourself very well.”
“Besides, Prabhā Shuklā said sadly, “Bhābhī is in trance.”
“Prabhā Shuklā, Umā Dīxit,” Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl watched them reproachfully, “I’d never forgive both of you what you have done to my wife.”
“Sorry, Bhaiyā,” Prabhā Shuklā and Umā Dīxit both said mischievously.
Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl stared at both of them.
“None of us both, neither your Bhābhī, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā, nor I, ever interfered with your freedom. We knew what you were doing with Durgesh. Yet, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā always said, ‘it’s their private matter‘. She always respected your freedom. Yet, you both…”
“Ghazālah Siddīqī is a good girl, Bhaiyā.” Prabhā Shuklā said quickly.
“Good girls never rape anyone.” Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl said curtly.*
Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl wasn’t a damn fool.
He understood very well that he had lost his wife, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā forever now.
He didn’t need Prabhā Shuklā, his sister, Umā Dīxit, or Rādhā Pandit, her friends, to tell him that.
He never needed Brahm Mahimā Sharmā for sex.
The Musalmān Beauties were crazy for him.
They provided Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl immense sex despite his every protest.
Ghazālah Siddīqī wasn’t alone that raped him.
There were numerous of them.
Being a gentleman Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl could never refuse to them despite his ever strongest monogamous ideology.
Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl hated polygamy immensely.
Yet, the Musalmān Beauties never allowed him to practice monogamy ever.
Brahm Mahimā Sharmā understand it.
She never blamed Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl for it.
Instead, she smiled.
“Let them have the pleasure, Rām, they want to have with you. As long as you love me exclusively it doesn’t make any difference how many girls make love to you unwisely.”
The more Brahm Mahimā Sharmā said it, the more Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl loved her.
Yet, Prabhā Shuklā and Umā Dīxit snatched away his love, his ever faithful wife, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā, from him.
They made her to fuck his Jījū, Durgesh.
Durgesh’s morals immensely differed from the morals of Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl.
Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl was an immensely monogamous Brāhmañ ideologically even though he was never allowed to live according to his morals.
I was an ever righteous polygamist that never appreciated monogamy for noble men.
I claimed it they were running away from their duties to have the responsibilities of the needy women that needed them tremendously.
He suddenly heard Ghazālah Siddīqī asking him,
“Rām, whatever are you brooding about?”
“Brooding?” Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl came out of his thoughts, “Never. I was only thinking back─how we first met.”
Ghazālah Siddīqī gripped his arm more possessively.
But Ghazālah Siddīqī wasn’t alone that gripped his arm more possessively.
There were too many more.
“I never think of that.” Ghazālah Siddīqī smiled gracefully, “Only of now.”
“What of Durgesh, my Jījū?” Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl asked Ghazālah Siddīqī gravely.
Ghazālah Siddīqī smiled.
“Your younger brothers, Brahm Bhūshañ Shukl, Nīhār Ranjan Shukl, Umā Dutt Shukl, Pārvatī Charañ Shukl, everyone has understood they can’t stop their wives to flirt with their Bachhalyā Nandoī.”
“They aren’t flirting with Durgesh Jījū, Ghazālah Siddīqī,” Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl smiled ironically, “They are having sex with him. I hate to interfere in my younger brothers’ private life, but I am ashamed of them. They have compromised with their cuckolding even to their beautiful Brāhmañ wives and Durgesh Jījū.”
Ghazālah Siddīqī watched him sympathetically.
She deliberately didn’t tell Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl what his younger brothers tell in answer to that.
“Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl Bhaiyā is ashamed of us that our Brāhmañ wives too have sex with Durgesh Jījū. Yet, we are proud of it that our high moralist elder brother has a Brāhmañ wife, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā Bhābhī, that is traveling the entire creations in constant sexual union with Durgesh Jījū.”
Ghazālah Siddīqī didn’t want to hurt Professor Dr. Ram Chandr Shukl more.*
Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī wasn’t surprised even a bit when Suyodhan Sharmā visited him.
Ignoring protocol Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī himself boarded the ship.
He wore a holographic identity card.
It displayed his handsome unbearded face with remarkable fidelity, and underneath it was his name,
Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī,
Sharma Brahm Indrprasth Creations
Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī still had a fresh and easy going look and manner.
He stared about the ship with clear amazement.
“How did you get down this fast, Suyodhan Sharma, my friend? We weren’t expecting you for two hours.”
“It’s a new model ship,” said Suyodhan Sharma, with non-committal politeness.
Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī stepped into the pilot room and said at once,
“With alternative Eīshān Vaigyānik arrangements.” Suyodhan Sharma said tonelessly.
He wasn’t foolish enough to deny anything that was so obvious.
Besides, he expressly wanted to impress Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī that he too can get from HVSI what the Sharma Brahm Indrprasth Creations get.
He wasn’t a damn fool enough to trust Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī that he would still remain loyal to his friendship.
Yes, he said with his Presidency on Sharma Brahm Indrprasth Creations, Sharma Brahm Indrprasth Creations would never fight against Sharma Brahm Hastināpur Creations.
But why should she?
With Durgesh Jījū and Arjun Sharma with her, why Sharma Brahm Indrprasth Creations would need ever to attack on Sharma Brahm Hastināpur Creations?
It was a wrong decision to divide Sharma Brahm Hastināpur Creations into Sharma Brahm Hastināpur Creations and Sharma Brahm Indrprasth Creations.
Sharma Brahm Hastināpur Creations, thus, lost the unimaginable Eīshān Vaigyānik warriors Arjun Sharma, and Bhīmvipr Sharma.
His ever infamous maternal uncle, Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr, never understood the importance of Arjun Sharma, and Bhīmvipr Sharma in these Eīshān Vaigyānik days, in this Eīshān Vaigyānik era.
Hey Bhagvān, how the morals changed so fast.
Polygamy replaced monogamy fastly.
Yet, LGBT also spread tremendously and cuckolding consequently.
It wasn’t limited to Pseudo Musalmīn now.
Even so many traditional Brāhmañs were suffering from it, so many Savarñs too.
Suyodhan Sharma was surprised that the Shūdrāntyaj Hindus were least suffering from it.
The cuckold life was a normal life for the LGBT now.
They were even proud of it.
Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī smiled.
“Very interesting. We hear of them but we never see them somehow. Motors in the hull?”
“That’s so.” Suyodhan Sharma said.
“Eīshān Vaigyānik Motors too?”
“Eīshān Vaigyānik Motors too.”
“Bachhalyā Brahmkanyās Bachhalyā Brahmāñīs?”
“Hell, nope! They fail miserably. Hopeless entirely.”
“I see. Ashvinātam?”
“We haven’t another option. Bachhalyā Brahmkanyās Bachhalyā Brahmāñīs Yantrs are suitable optimum only in building families and running the administration in constructive manner. They don’t accept any cunning strategy even, while ashvinātam Yantr work smoothly everywhere.”
“I understand,” Suyodhan Sharma said gravely.
Kuntī Chaturvédī was smarter than all of them thought.
“It’s great that a Chaturvédī, Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī, is the new President of a Sharma Brahm Creations.” Suyodhan Sharma smiled to ease the high political tension somewhat.
The original Kuntī of Dvāpar era could never succeed in bringing back her eldest pre-marital son, Karñ, in her favor.
He died fighting for Duryodhan.
But Kuntī Chaturvédī had learned her lesson from it.
She also gave birth to a son before she was married.
She also abandoned him.
Yet, Kuntī Chaturvédī managed to watch him on her own yacht, traveling beside her son.
She knew where her son, Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī, was.
She managed to be friend of Rādhā, Adhirath’s wife, and kept an eye on her son constantly.*
Kuntī Chaturvédī put her beautiful nude Chaturvédī Brāhmañ legs on my equally nude shoulders.
She herself arched her waist, elevated it to receive my Bachhalyā penetration.
She had vowed not to let the world war, Mahābhārat again.
It was the Infinite Brāhm Kalp now, its everfirst Satyug, Sanā Kr’tyug.
She was worried that Gāndhārī Mukherjī Dīdī could not explain to her brother, Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr, that Shakuni was a failed person despite all his shrewdness and smartness.
Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr was still following Shakuni.
He didn’t believe that Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī would still work for his ever ambitious Bhānjā, Suyodhan Sharma.
My Bachhalyā Lund penetrated Kuntī Chaturvédī’s ever tight Chaturvédī Brāhmañ Choot.
It was a Yogdarshan now that I should use Bachhalyā Brahmkanyā Bachhalyā Brahmāñī Yantr for creative and constructive affirmations and transmissions.
It’s more appropriate than Ashvinātam Yantr is even for creative and constructive affirmations and transmissions.
“You are keeping watch on Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī, Durgesh?”
“Don’t worry, Kuntī Chaturvédī,” I smiled, “Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī isn’t your son alone. I’m too his real father. I too love my son.”
Kuntī Chaturvédī constricted her Chaturvédī Brāhmañ vaginal muscles around my entirely immersed ever creative ever constructive Bachhalyā Lund.
“Suyodhan Sharma is your responsibility.”
“I’m afraid of the original Mahābhārat Time Cycle.”
“We are successfully changing it, darling,” I reassured her, “You’ve visited the ultimately improved Trétā now yourself. Has Kaikéyī succeeded? Has Mantharā succeeded?”
“Well, it took too many time slits however,”
“It was necessary.”
“I understand. Yet I wonder often how many time slits our Mahābhārat Time Cycle itself would require to make it entirely ineffective.”*
Suyodhan Sharma touched Pāndu Sharma’s feet.
Pāndu Sharma hugged him.
“How’s my ever smart nephew?”
“Eīshānasýānugraham, Pitr’výshrī,” Suyodhan Sharma smiled politely.
Bhānumatī Tripāŧhī also bent to touch Pāndu Sharma’s feet, but Pāndu Sharma stopped her as soon as she bent.
“No, my child,” Pāndu Sharma hugged her; “You are my daughter in law, not less than my own daughter herself. You don’t need it,”
Bhānumatī Tripāŧhī expressed her respect to Pāndu Sharma, nevertheless.
Bhānumatī Tripāŧhī was shrewder than Suyodhan Sharma even.
She had vowed not to let Suyodhan Sharma influenced by Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr’s dirty politics.
It was her own idea that they should visit Sharma Brāhmañ Indrprasth Creations.
Bhānumatī Tripāŧhī fucked me in front of Suyodhan Sharma.
She had numerous beautiful Musalmān girlfriends that she allowed Suyodhan Sharma to fuck even when Bhānumatī Tripāŧhī and I were enjoying sex.
“The damnfool,” Bhānumatī Tripāŧhī used to say scornfully, “He hates me for my comparatively inherent Brāhmañ coldness for sex. He loves to fuck my beautiful Musalmān girlfriends instead wildly.”
“Beware of Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr, however,” I had warned her fucking Bhānumatī Tripāŧhī gently, yet passionately, she needed my masculine Bachhalyā love very much, “Most of the Musalmān girlfriends you have are Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr’s commandos and duly trained professional secret agents.”
“I know. My father is a Tripāŧhī Brāhmañ, but my Ammī is a Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān that left Saåūdī Årab when Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan wasn’t her President.” Bhānumatī Tripāŧhī smiled, “She deliberately married me with Suyodhan Sharma because she wanted the original Time Cycle of Mahābhārat not let to repeat. She knew neither Suyodhan Sharma nor his rest of the ninety-nine younger brothers do understand what Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr is after.”
“You are prepared for them?”
“Sure, but Ammī wants me only to act on what you allow me to. She thinks you are yourself adamant not to let any inter Creations war happen. It’s better to work under your strategy, instead of devising our own that may conflict with what you are already acting on.”
Bhānumatī Tripāŧhī was straddling me.
She was a Brahm Padminī.
She never needed very much sex to satisfy her sexual needs.
Generally, until I was aroused, she had already had her orgasm.
It was the real reason why most Brāhmañs never wanted to marry Brahm Padminīs, despite their ever incredible immerse beauty.*
Mantharā Bhārgav was herself a Brahm Padminī.
Nevertheless, her sexual needs were higher than the rest of the Brahm Padminīs.
“You alright, Mantharā Bhārgav?” I spoke, softly stroking her hair before planting a kiss on the top of her head.
“Had a horrible day but I’m better now that you’re home,” Mantharā Bhārgav smiled, reaching out and linking her hand with mine.
“I’m sorry to hear that… want to talk about it?” I asked, stroking her face.
I didn’t say she succeeded in exploiting Kaikéyī Mukherjī.
It wasn’t a fact actually.
Kaikéyī Mukherjī herself wanted to send Rām Chaturvédī in exile.
She never believed Rām Chaturvédī had his Svarūpé Avasthānam ultimately.
Mantharā Bhārgav advised Kaikéyī Mukherjī that it was some political strategy of HVSI Creations.
HVSI Creations had actually kidnapped Rām Chaturvédī and I had replaced him.
Neither Mantharā Bhārgav could believe, nor Kaikéyī Mukherjī, they had really sent me in exile successfully.
Mantharā Bhārgav failed in Bhārgav Brahm Ayodhyā Creations, but she had succeeded here in Chaturvédī Brahm Ayodhyā Creations at least.
“No, not really. Just want a cuddle,” Mantharā Bhārgav replied with a small smile, gazing up into my warm handsome Bachhalyā eyes.
Sliding my arms around her young Bhārgav Brāhmañ Communist body and pulling her closer to me, I noticed how cold Mantharā Bhārgav was.
“Baby, you’re freezing,” I sounded concerned, as I tightened my grip on Mantharā Bhārgav and rubbed my hands over her back.
“It was pouring when I got off work and I didn’t have an umbrella with me,” Mantharā Bhārgav explained, “Think I’m just tired though.” Mantharā Bhārgav yawned, snuggling against my strong Bachhalyā arms.
“Do you want to go upstairs and share a long, leisurely bath?” I whispered against her hair, feeling her hands run up and down my upper Bachhalyā thigh.
“Mmm… that sounds good. It might be just what I need,” Mantharā Bhārgav sighed, already starting to feel much better now that I was home.
She could not believe I wasn’t really angry with her.
Had Durgesh blamed Kaikéyī Mukherjī only for what Mantharā Bhārgav too had planned and succeeded in doing?
“Come with me then,” I smiled as I removed the blanket from around Mantharā Bhārgav and pulled Mantharā Bhārgav to her feet.
Linking her fingers with mine, I slowly lifted each one in turn, kissing the back of each hand affectionately, before taking Mantharā Bhārgav with me upstairs to our master bedroom.
“Get undressed, baby and I’ll go run the bath,” I said, planting a soft kiss on her red crimson beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ lips and then disappeared into the en-suite bathroom.
Mantharā Bhārgav let her clothes fall to the floor in a heap at her feet, too tired to care about the mess.
All Mantharā Bhārgav wanted was to soak in the warm water in our bath, snuggled in my strong Bachhalyā arms and erase the memory of the day Mantharā Bhārgav had had.
Yet not everything of it.
Her extraordinary success on Durgesh himself must be celebrated.
A grand sex session with Durgesh himself!
What the hell could be better?
Wandering into the bathroom, a small smile tugged at her red crimson beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ lips when Mantharā Bhārgav found me leaning over the spacious bathtub, checking the water.
Leaning against the doorframe, Mantharā Bhārgav let her eyes drop and found herself staring at my firm buttocks.
The tight fitting dark jeans pulled even tighter as I bent over the bath.
The material snug around my toned buttocks making Mantharā Bhārgav itch to touch my Bachhalyā Penis. Stepping up behind me and circling her arms around my ever excellent, ever athletic, male Bachhalyā body, Mantharā Bhārgav smiled as Mantharā Bhārgav felt me alert slightly in her beautiful young Bhārgav Brāhmañ arms, having obviously not heard me come in.
“I missed you when I got home today,” Mantharā Bhārgav mumbled against my broad back, slipping her hands under the hem of my T-shirt at the front and running her hands across my muscular upper body, loving the feel of my chest hair tangling in her fingers.
Turning off the tabs, I straightened myself in her embrace and turned around to face her.
Wrapping my arms around her lithe Bhārgav young Brāhmañ body, my hands instantly gravitated downwards her toned bum, each hand grasping a buttock and gently kneading the peachy flesh.
“Missed you too, baby. But I’m here now…” I trailed off before leaning down and capturing her red crimson beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ lips in a tender and unhurried Bachhalyā kiss.
“Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, God, you’re so beautiful, Mantharā Bhārgav,” I murmured as I broke the kiss and looked down at her naked exquisite young Bhārgav Brāhmañ body, my jeans tightening around my Bachhalyā male groin.*
Blushing, Mantharā Bhārgav looked up at me through lowered lashes and I stared into her extremely beautiful young Bhārgav Brāhmañ eyes for a while.
“Get into the bath, Mantharā Bhārgav, and I’ll join you in a second,” I smiled, letting go of her.
Making sure the water wasn’t too hot; Mantharā Bhārgav slowly eased herself into the bath and lowered her young Bhārgav Brāhmañ Communist body down, sighing as the warm water enveloped her young Bhārgav Brāhmañ Communist body.
Looking up at me, watching me the whole time, Mantharā Bhārgav smiled as she gazed at my naked body and felt certain parts of her another twitch.
Walking over to the bath, I supported myself on the marble edge of the tub as I stepped in and slowly sank down into the warm water behind Mantharā Bhārgav, pulling her young Bhārgav Brāhmañ Communist body close to mine.
“How are you feeling, baby?” I asked softly, running my hands up and down her arms in soothing motions.
“Much better,” Mantharā Bhārgav sighed, tipping her head back against my shoulder and giving me a loving smile.
Kaikéyī Mukherjī was constantly transmitting to her what she was watching.
It wasn’t entirely unexpected.
Even in his Rām Chaturvédī body Durgesh was the utmost popular man in Chaturvédī Brāhmañ Creations.
Most of the Chaturvédī Brāhmañ Creations that were prominent in business and other commercial activities had declared their immediate independence and their loyalty with Durgesh.
“It’s impossible to believe what the federal government is advertising. We have more faith in HVSI Creations federal government than we have in the federal government of Chaturvédī Brāhmañ Creations.
The minute our first lady, Kaikéyī Mukherjī, brought her friend, Mantharā Bhārgav, here, we knew the ever failed ideology, Communism, is overpowering here. We’ve already warned our federal government every now and then that it would be extremely dangerous to our business and commerce if we still continued in the federation.
“Communism is an ever failed ideology that never supported any viability to any business and commerce. Prior to it that the new federal order can harm it irrevocably, we declare our independence from the new federal order of Chaturvédī Brāhmañ Creations.”
Mantharā Bhārgav wasn’t worried however, neither Kaikéyī Mukherjī.
Grabbing my hands, Mantharā Bhārgav guided my arms tighter around her young Bhārgav Brāhmañ Communist body as Mantharā Bhārgav lay back against me and closed her extremely beautiful young Bhārgav Brāhmañ eyes, enjoying the feel of my warm, wet skin against her own.
I pulled my strong muscular arms even closer around her young body.
“Good,” I replied, sounding a little relieved.
I always hated it when Mantharā Bhārgav was down or upset and left no stone unturned to make sure Mantharā Bhārgav felt okay. “Mantharā Bhārgav, I love you,” I whispered against her ear, my breath hot on her skin, which sent a shiver down her back.
“I love you too, Durgesh,” Mantharā Bhārgav muttered contentedly, snuggling further into my embrace, causing the water to gently lap between us.
Mantharā Bhārgav relaxed completely in my arms as my fingers softly stroked the wet skin on her upper arms and one foot lovingly caressed her leg.
Mantharā Bhārgav saw me smiling to myself as I gazed down at her face.
“What?” Mantharā Bhārgav demanded.
I shook my head.
“Just seeing how beautiful you look, lying here in my arms, illuminated only by the soft light,” I smiled.
“Hmm… I like the feeling of you naked against me,” Mantharā Bhārgav said all of a sudden.
“Mantharā Bhārgav, I like feeling you naked against me too,” I laughed, my hands dipping below the water and cupping her beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ breasts in my palms, squeezing the soft flesh and playing with her nipples.
Opening her extremely beautiful young Bhārgav Brāhmañ eyes, Mantharā Bhārgav pushed into my touch, biting her bottom lip as Mantharā Bhārgav felt my erection growing against her back.
Twisting her head, I brushed her red crimson beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ lips against mine, our tongues immediately coming out to play as they slowly slid over each other, tasting and licking and slipping in and out of our warm, familiar mouths.
As we continued to leisurely kiss, tongues wounding round their counterpart, I ran my hands over her taught stomach and down to her core, her quiet moans being swallowed by our kiss as my Bachhalyā Lund came into contact with her already erect Bhārgav Brāhmañ clit.
Mantharā Bhārgav gently spread her legs, giving me better access to her moist opening as I dipped in my immensely hardened Bachhalyā Lund, spreading her beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ lips while my Bachhalyā Lund slipped over her Bhārgav Brāhmañ clit, circling the erect nub with the tip of my Bachhalyā Lund, occasionally flicking it, teasing Mantharā Bhārgav.*
Kaikéyī Mukherjī was equally unworried.
She had already anticipated everything.
As soon as her son Bharat Chaturvédī would arrive, the entire revolt against Communism would calm down, eventually, ultimately.
Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr was quite capable in handling such matters.
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