Previous Part: My secret plan to get pregnant – Part 1
After my period ended, I prepared to go to Neha’s clinic. That day, during my bath, I trimmed the hair on my pussy and buttocks with a trimmer, cleaning everything thoroughly. I washed my pussy with soap and made my buttocks smooth. I also scrubbed my breasts clean.
My husband came with me to the clinic to drop me off. He paid fifty thousand rupees at the counter. I couldn’t help but smile. He had no idea what he was paying for—handing me over to another man who would ravish me day and night for a month.
He had no clue. After paying, he left. I said goodbye to him.
My friend took me to an ICU room and said, “Sit here.”
“Take a bath and freshen up. I’ll send the boy to you when he arrives,” she said, turning on the AC and leaving.
I went inside, took a bath, and sat looking at my phone. There was a TV in the room. I was bored, so I turned it on and listened to songs. After an hour or two, someone knocked on the door. I rushed to open it. The boy was standing there.
“Tushar, come in,” I said, inviting him inside.
He came in and sat on the sofa, and I sat on the one next to him.
“So, when did you arrive? How was your journey?” he asked.
“I just got here and was waiting for you,” I replied.
“Wait, I’ll make tea for you,” I said, getting up to go to the kitchen.
I deliberately swayed my hips as I walked. He was staring at my backside. While I was making tea, he stood at the kitchen door, watching my back—or rather, my buttocks. I moved my hips rhythmically, captivating him. I finished making the tea.
Taking the teacup, I said, “Come on, let’s go to the bedroom. What are you doing here?”
He went to the bedroom and sat on the sofa. I secretly glanced at his erection—it was visibly hard, bulging through his pants. He was sipping the tea. I went closer to him, locking eyes with him. He got shy and looked down.
“What were you looking at earlier?” I asked.
“Nothing, nothing,” he stammered.
“No, it was something,” I said playfully.
“I was looking at you from behind,” he said.
“Yes, but what were you looking at from behind?” I teased.
“I was looking at your ass,” he said.
I turned red with embarrassment. How bold he was!
Looking into his eyes, I asked, “Want to see it again?”
He stared at me, stunned. I winked at him and bent over in front of him. Without wasting a moment, he lifted my saree above my waist and pulled my underwear down. I was terribly embarrassed. For the first time in my life, I was exposing my ass to a man other than my husband, bent over.
I felt so shy, but as they say, why hide the pot when you go to the market, and why hide your ass when you’re here to get fucked? So, I boldly exposed my ass to this stranger, bending over as if offering a greeting. His erection was saluting me back. He lovingly ran his hand over my ass. It tickled, but it felt good too.
After a moment, he gave a sharp slap on my ass, leaving what felt like the imprint of all five fingers on my soft, pink, delicate ass. A shiver ran through my body. My breathing quickened. He placed both hands on my ass, using his thumbs to spread my anus. It started to hurt.
I closed my eyes tightly and bit my lower lip with my upper teeth. He spat on my anus; I heard the sound. After a moment, he started licking my anus loudly. It felt amazing. I felt the urge to pee from the excitement.
“I need to pee,” I said, turning my head back to him.
He immediately stepped back, pulled my underwear up, and adjusted my saree.
“You peed so quickly? Go, pee and come back fast. After you pee, I’ll set your ass on fire and make it red,” he said, giving another quick slap on my ass.
I was starting to like his roughness, especially the way he slapped my ass. My husband had never slapped me like that, and my ass had never been spanked. It was a new experience. A school friend, Asha, has recently got married.
She used to tell me her husband fucked her three times a day—twice from the front and once from behind, in her ass. She said she enjoyed anal sex the most, that the real pleasure was in the ass. I had been unfortunate in that regard. Despite ten years of marriage, my ass was still a virgin.
My husband tried anal once, but he couldn’t penetrate, and he never tried again. I had been deprived of that pleasure until now. But today, my hopes were high because the way he handled my ass made me certain he would fuck it today. I was thrilled, bursting with joy. He had even said he’d set my ass on fire.
Lost in these thoughts, I went to the bathroom. It was spacious and luxurious. I lifted my saree to my waist, pulled my underwear to my knees, and squatted. I started peeing loudly, “su su su.” Suddenly, someone pushed the door open.
Oh no! I had forgotten to lock it. I realised too late, but my pee was flowing so forcefully I couldn’t stop. I kept peeing. Tushar walked right in. I was facing the door with my ass, so he must have clearly seen it. I was terribly embarrassed and stood up quickly.
“Madam, why are you giving me respect? Pee freely. I came to watch you pee. Since childhood, I’ve loved watching women pee, hearing the sounds they make, and the whistles. Pee, go ahead,” he said.
“I can’t pee in front of someone; I’m shy,” I said.
“Come on, sit down, don’t be scared or shy,” Tushar said, coming closer.
I lifted my saree and petticoat above my waist again. My underwear was already at my knees. I squatted, exposing my soft, pink, plump ass to him. I had to pee badly because I had stopped midway earlier. But I couldn’t pee with him watching.
“I can’t pee in front of you. Please go outside,” I pleaded.
“I’m not going, but I can make you pee if you allow me,” he said.
“Permission granted,” I said, nodding.
He immediately took off his leather belt and held it in front of my eyes.
“I’ll hit your ass with this,” he said.
My urge to pee was so intense that my thinking was fading.
“Do whatever you need to, quick; my pee is stuck,” I said.
He went behind me, raised the belt high, and—one… two… three—he hit my ass so hard that I stood up to my waist.
“Oh, mother! Oh, God! I’m dying!” I screamed. I started dancing in the bathroom with my saree up. I peed continuously for five minutes, thrashing around.
“See, I made you pee with one hit,” he said proudly.
After five minutes, I realised I was peeing standing up in front of a stranger with my saree raised. I was terribly embarrassed, but I had no control over my peeing. I was gushing. He was licking his lips, watching me. When I stopped, I started panting. I was exhausted and squatted down.
He lifted me, carrying me on his shoulder. My buttocks were pressed against his arms. My underwear was down to my ankles, and my saree and petticoat were above my waist. I was completely exposed below the waist. His rough arms were pricking my buttocks.
He carried me like a strongman from the bathroom to the bed. He sat me on the bed and started kissing my mouth as if he had never seen a woman before. He pounced on me, sucking my mouth, biting my lips. He lay me on the bed, licking my cheeks, nose, and ears, drenching me in his saliva.
His chest rubbed against mine, crushing it under his massive body. His rock-hard erection poked me through his pants. Then he sat on my chest, grabbed my breasts, and started squeezing them hard. It hurt, but the pain was pleasurable. Slowly, he unbuttoned my blouse, one by one, until it was fully open.
My bra was my only shield, but he removed that, too. My confined breasts were now naked before him. He stared at them, then clenched his fists, grabbed my breasts tightly, and squeezed them hard. It felt like he was squeezing the air out of me. He climbed on me like a bull, ravaging me.
My breasts turned red, but I was enjoying it more and more. I didn’t stop him. He took my nipples in his mouth and started sucking, biting, and licking them. I started enjoying it too. I forgot I was a teacher; I had become a slut. A stranger was sucking my boobs, and my underwear was at my knees.
I was moaning, “Ahh… ahh… ooh… ooh.” I felt ashamed of myself, but kept staring blankly at the ceiling. Then he moved to my underwear and finally pulled it off my ankles. Now I was completely naked. A teacher, lying naked in front of a stranger for the sake of a child.
Without wasting a moment, he took off his pants and underwear. His massive erection stood ready to enter my cave. I was terrified—it was three times bigger than my husband’s. Though I was married for ten years, I wasn’t loose like women who had children.
But today, I knew he would tear me apart. As I was thinking this, he spread my legs and went straight for the target. He placed his erection at my entrance, lay on me, and grabbed my breasts again, squeezing them. He rubbed his erection against my opening.
After a lot of squeezing, he moved back. I knew he was about to fuck me. He took a pillow and placed it under my buttocks. I lifted my hips to help him. He set his erection precisely at my entrance, winked at me, and gave a signal. I blushed but nodded back unknowingly.
I closed my eyes tightly, bit my lower lip, gripped the bedsheet with both hands, and braced for the thrust. He was playing with my vagina. Lost in thought, I was jolted by a powerful thrust. His entire erection sliced through my pussy and went deep inside.
“Oh, mother! No! I’m dying! I can’t take something so big!” I screamed.
But he didn’t listen and gave three rapid thrusts, ‘khap khap.’ Once fully inside, he lay on my chest and asked, “Does your hole hurt?”
Before I could answer, he took my lips in his mouth, silencing me, and started pounding me hard from below. After sucking my lips, he licked my cheeks, nose, forehead, and ears, drenching me in his saliva.
“Should I release?” he whispered in my ear.
I was being thoroughly ravaged and said yes.
He got up, but his erection stayed inside me. He pulled it out suddenly, ruining my mood. But it was the calm before the storm. The pillow under my buttocks had shifted.
He picked it up, and I placed it back under my ass with my left hand. He grabbed my ass with both hands and started fucking me rhythmically, pounding me hard. My legs were tightly held; I couldn’t move.
“Ahh ooh ahh ooh ooh ahh ooh ahh ooh ooh ahh ooh ahh ooh ooh,” I was chanting the alphabet of pleasure.
He increased his speed so much that I thought the bed would break, creaking ‘kuch kuch’ with each thrust. I was terrified and sweating profusely. My throat was dry.
“Water,” I asked him.
“I’ll give you water from below,” he said.
He grabbed both my breasts and started thrusting like a speeding train, ‘khap khap,’ ‘rap rap.’ Squeezing my breasts hard, he gave rapid thrusts and, with one final shot, released a glassful of semen inside me, holding my breasts tightly until the last drop. His erection stayed deep inside.
As he pulled out, I started peeing uncontrollably, probably a litre. He went to the kitchen and brought me a glass of water. I gulped down three glasses, finally catching my breath. My stomach was churning, and I felt nauseous from him lying on me for so long.
I rushed to the bathroom, locked the door, and let out a loud fart, relieving myself fully. Only then did I feel better.
The next part of the story will be published soon. Until then, send lots of comments to my email to encourage me to keep writing.
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