A moment later her pallu slid, to give me a truly mouth-watering treat of her nipples from under her tight blouse.
I would have lost all my inhibitions that very moment had Dad not called me to fetch some soda. As I returned after helping Dad with the soda, I found Smitaji operating on my computer. To my relief she hadn’t found what I had just typed, but had found my photo-album all-right. She was going through the photo’s of actresses in wet sarees, that I had downloaded from the internet. “You shouldn’t be going through that bhabiji”, I protested. “How else would poor Bhabiji know what naughty Rohan is up to”, she said, suddenly adding “wait a minute, could you drop me at my place? You certainly could on that bike of yours, that I’ve seen you on so many times from the day we have shifted here.” “But it’s still pouring heavily”, I said half-heartedly, palpably aware of the fascinating prospect of being alone with this sex-bomb. “That’s the idea baby”, she said, as she walked back to the drawing-room. From what I could hear her say as I fetched my bike key’s, I gathered, she had told Sharmaji she wasn’t feeling well and would be dropped home by me, but had insisted on him carrying on and enjoying himself.
We were completely drenched even before we hit the road. But Smitaji surely knew how to make herself comfortable on a bike. Sitting close enough for her saree-clad wetness to cause pleasurable spasms up my spine, she rested her hand on my fully drenched Burmuda. This time her palm was almost on my hard-on love-pole that was at it’s zenith. I wondered whether this sex-Goddess even had an iota of an idea of the pleasure she was bestowing on a mere mortal. I tried not to avoid a single ditch on the short road to her place. Going through one of them she virtually held my love-pole over my Bermuda’s, only to slowly release it with the sexapology, “Sorry Rohan, did your Bhabi hurt you?” “No Bhabiji, not at all, It’s my pleasure.....riding you home.....that is”, I said, as I rode into their porch. “Your a big liar Rohan, come in baby”, she said, as she alighted from the bike, after withdrawing her hand from over my Bermudas ever so slowly stimulating muscles in my hip and back that I wasn’t even aware existed.
Walking inside the Sharma home I was sexcited with the plausible prospect of at least having some very sensual time with this mindblowingly seductive Bhabi, if not actual sex. Following Smitaji into their well-lit drawing room, I got too see the sextreemly sexciting vision that the darkness and the rains outside had hitherto deprived me of. Watching Smitaji’s fully drenched saree clung to her voluptuous body made my mind go crazy. Her lovely buttocks bouncing in tune to her walk looked eternal, with the wet blue saree clinging to them sexposing their divinity. I had almost lost my self imposed restraint and was about grab for Smitaji from behind, when she turned abruptly asking “I hope you don’t have any inhibitions drinking with your Bhabi?” and without waiting for a response, coming very close to me, placing both her arms on my shoulders, asked in a very soft and husky whisper, “What can Bhabi offer this Prince?” there was a pause as I gathered my wits and the guts, before I placed both my hands on Smitaji’s soft cheek’s, and asked back, “Will you give me what I want Bhabiji?”, “No jokes Rohan”, she said, withdrawing her hands of my shoulders as also very slowly removing my hands of her cheeks. Holding both my hands in hers she started caressing them before ending the short pause by, “Scotch or Gin, tell me, I’m wet, I’m shivering, I need a drink quickly”, she insisted. “Scotch’ll be great”, I said, being apprehensive at what this bewitching beauty had in mind. Was she interested in me and was having a good time teasing me, or was it just her free nature? If the former were to be just a figment of my imagination, and the latter the truth, I would be spelling trouble for Dad by taking any further sexual initiative with this lady, I thought. She had left for the adjoining room saying, “Please sit here” directing towards the sofa” adding, “I’ll give you what you want baby.”
I was sitting on the sofa when she returned with our drinks on a tray. Placing the tray on the table opposite me, she came around and sat next to me, close enough for me to feel the heat emitted so very profusely by her sex-oozing body. Putting her right arm on my thigh, exactly where it was back in our drawing room, with her left she gave me my glass of Scotch. Picking up her glass of Gin she said, “cheers, to us”, “to us”, I repeated. “Now”, she said, after taking a huge sip, applying with her right hand a little pressure on my thy, over my wet Burmuda, with a light squeeze, “Tell your Bhabi, what she can give you.”. “You already have Bhabiji,” I said, showing her my glass and taking a large sip myself. My passions, that were already lit and on fire due this wet sareed ravishing beauty besides me, had begun to now go wild by the light but formidable pressure on my bermuda and the sip of Scotch that had gone in. “You know my prince your Bhabi is not talking about that,” she said, taking her hand of my thigh and with it taking my glass from me, and placing both our glasses on the table. Taking both my hands in hers, she then guided them to her cheeks, and asked, “Now my prince, tell your Bhabi what you wanted from her when you touched her cheeks a little while ago.” I couldn’t take this torture anymore. “Are you sure I should Smita....Bhabi”, taking her name for the first time I drew her face closer to mine. “Yessssssss my prince, you must. Pleeeeaaase don’t torture your Bhabi any more.” she urged with gripping sensuality. At that I planted a light kiss on her lips, at which she had closed her eyes. Withdrawing a little, I asked, “Can I make love to you Smita?” At this she said what was hitherto unheard music to my ears. “Smita is yours Rohan. Your Bhabi is your slave. Punish her for flirting with you. Punish her for masturbating thinking about you. Jabse is ghar me ayin hoon main chupke se tumpe nazar rakhi hui hoon, Punish me my sexy Prince, make love to your Bhabi as she has never known.”
I kissed her with the passion I hadn’t experienced before. Biting her lips, licking her tongue as she parted her lips, parting my lips to let her tongue in, which she did with incredible sexual precession. The stimulating soft moans she emitted intermittently were lovely-- “mmmmm-hu-hu-mmmm-hu-aaaahhhh-aaaahhhh-mmmm”. “Let me take a good look at what my wet Bhabi has to offer”, I said, as I started sexploring other parts Smita’s sexplosive body. Her moans grew louder as I licked and bit her ears and her neck. With her mouth now free, words too came with the moans--oooooohhmmmmaaaaa--ouch--aaaahh--rroohhaaaaaaaaaaan--dheere se kaato mere prince--uuuuuuyyaaaa--don’t stop darling. “I can’t sweetheart, even if you wanted me to” I said, as I moved my hands, that were till then on the sexciting sleevless sides of her upper-arms, under her arm-pits. She shivered as my fingers touched her there. With her hands on my neck I had a clear view of her seductively inviting arm-pits. I kissed her on that well shaved paradise, finding, it had hair tiny enough to provide the stimulation my tongue longed for......to be contd....You can get me at-- explicitup@yahoo.co.in

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