The Guidance of Nephews Ch. 08

"I need you," he said, his voice thick and feverish with desire.

"Not right now," she hissed back. They were both in the kitchen. It was an open format kitchen and across the service counter into the hall one could clearly see where the men were seated.

Saroja had worked hard on her nephew Sundar's higher education in a manner that her husband could not have imagined. The young man was related to her husband. Everyone looked up to her husband Arvind. By extension, they looked up to Arvind's wife, too; the elder manni as it were in the family.

Unusually, in Sundar's case the aunt's involvement had been unconventional. It had taken the full unleashing of her sexuality to take the then 18-year old's mind off sex. She had fucked him in every way that there was for a woman to fuck a man. She showed him his way around her body and gave him free run of her.

It had got rid of his obsession with sex. Through this phase of sexual awakening of the young man she extracted promises to study and the boy excelled thereafter.

Cleverly, she put space between them, convincing him that he was not in love with her; that he was obsessed bout sex. She indulged him and gave him as much sex as he wanted. The original goal of such a strategy was to prove to him that his desire was sex was not the same as his desire for his aunt.

Unstated was her own desire for the strong young body of her nephew. She took her own pleasure, intense and indulgent even as she allowed him to use her.

He only used her. As he became more aware of his own sexuality, his needs soared to more adventurous pursuits. Those, the ones where he indulged his animal preferences -he kept those for the maid. For Saroja manni, it was worshipful sex. She was his goddess. He made love to her. The maid - he fucked her.

Sheer sexual jealousy made Saroja try and be a whore to him; but that was all too brief. Soon, she felt the need to become the elder, surrogate mother for the boy and that was when the distances slowly set in.

It was not to the boy's liking. It welled up in him. There was none as luscious as Saroja even though he had indulged himself fully with the maid.

She was, in the final analysis divine. Loving her, holding her breasts, milking her, sucking her and having her do things to him - all these were a class apart.

Today he was visiting from college after a long gap.

The entire trip of his to his uncle's place was contrived. He found all sorts of excuses to be here and saved up from his various allowances to ensure that he no one could control him and prevent this trip from happening.

He wanted that woman. And he wanted her to be the whore she once promised to be in vengeful mood.

He did not want instant gratification though he was wild in his desire for her. He wanted long, languorous hours and the time to be indulgent. She with him; he with her.

She knew him. Very well. She knew this desire lurked beneath the surface. She knew she would have to meet his desire. May not be entirely - but at some level she would have to respond. He was here only for one night. And he would not leave without sharing some form of intimacy with her. That she knew.

The other person who was sitting in the hall with her husband was an old school friend of theirs who had come to stay the night. She did not think she would have much latitude around the house today. This was especially so because that friend Shyam knew her too well.

At various parties, Shyam had flirted with the luscious Saroja. And Saroja had played along, teasing him right up to the brink of promiscuity. And she drew the line there. She gave him glimpses of her cleavage, her thigh and parted her lips in a Monroe-esque pout to drive his imagination wild. Then she backed off.

Shyam considered her a tease eventually. But that was not true. Saroja was merely scared to go beyond. That was then. Unknown to Shyam, Saroja had crossed all sorts of boundaries with her male relatives. Saroja felt the difference in her as she met up with Shyam today. Had Shyam noticed the difference in her? The question remained.

There was always the chance that the two men would gossip late into the night. Technically, that allowed her to be by herself. But it also meant that her husband would follow her into the bedroom and expect to find her there. This prevented her from safely putting her husband to sleep and then going into the young man's room to satisfy him.

She thought through this part while humming about the kitchen and preparing dinner and laying the table.

The men were in animated conversation. She and her nephew were in the kitchen. Her husband kept flitting from the hall to the fridge for more beer and ice and so on. There was so much happening. And then...

"I need you," he said again, desperation in his voice. She hated that desperation. She wanted him to feel complete, confident and able to take on the world.

She looked down. The massive erection was plainly evident. She knew that virile cock of his- so well. On the spur of the moment she dropped to her knees. She looked up at him and said, "You look out for your uncle."

He looked down at the beautiful woman kneeling in front of him, her face at his tummy level. His hard-on was at its maximum. Nothing could have made him grow larger or harder. He was already there. And yet, the sight of her heaving breasts and the look down her blouse aroused him more.

He could not see enough of her breasts. There was no cleavage and, no slope, no parting. Saroja manni's blouse was stuffed full with her sumptuous melons. The only way to feast eyes on her was to untrap them from their confines. For now he had to be content with the upper slopes and the heavy breathing that accentuated her bounty.

She undid his trouser and lowered his underwear. Gently, ever so gently, she removed the cock from its entrapment without allowing the elastic band to hurt her young man.

There he was, proud, arrogant, lustful and desiring all at once.

"So professionally efficient!" he thought admiringly of the manner in which she uncovered him.

She needed to be lower to be able to do what she planned to do next. She spread her knees wider so that her face moved lower to be level with his cock. She held the weight of his cock gently in the palm of her hand, her fingers under the whole length and below his balls.

Fluid dripped on her wrist as he flowed freely. His body went into a feverish high and he shut his eyes, savoring the feel of her fingers on him. He had longed for this so often.

There were many many nights when he had imagined these very hands on him and masturbated himself to sleep. On other days, masturbated he again and again and again- his wanting of her never abated on certain nights. He wanted those breasts under his weight or weighing down on him. Her hair, her smell...

"Eyes open!" she hissed at him. "You are the lookout."

He opened his eyes. He looked at his uncle in the hall chatting with his friend. He looked down at her. He was just in time to see her open, wide mouth slide onto him as his aunt formed a channel with her elegant, soft fingers. Her elongated fingers were the feeder guiding her nephew's cock to the sluice gates of her mouth.

The engulfing warmth overwhelmed him. He moved his hips in a gentle rhythm befitting the fact that the woman who was mouthing him was his own beloved manni (aunt); not the maid; nor a whore who he anyway did not have the guts to accost.

His hands went behind her head, so that he could be gentle but sure. She slurped on his cock sucking and kissing as she slid his cock in and out, in and effort to provide him the comfort that her pussy ought to have. As she rocked back and forth her hips and knees rocked too.

When she had widened her knees to lower her face, her thighs had spread out. Now the sheer excitement triggered by the hot cock had caused her pussy to flow. Combined with the spread, her cunt was now agape and she felt a yawning vacantness.

The sense of duty that allowed her to indulge her nephew thus, now gave way to her own desires and lust.

But that was not her original plan. She just wanted him to get sexual relief and less desperate.

She fucked his cock with her mouth in a manner that belied the fact that she was just an ordinary middle class housewife with a very conventional sex life. In behavior she was being more like a practised street shore.

Her nephew's pent up sexual needs could not take too much more. He shuddered and came.

He flooded her, in copious jets even though the preceding three days he had masturbated several times over anticipating meeting his aunt. It was as if he had not cum in months.

She squeezed his buttocks and allowed him a full release into her mouth. She took care to allow jerking around and pulsating - but not miss the fucking action her lips afforded his cock; not miss the pleasure of cumming inside her.

He convulsed, jerked and came for many long moments. He flooded her mouth and she swallowed some, had to let some dribble down her chin into her other hand in which she held a kitchen towel. She let him splash around, managing as best as she could, not letting go of his cock.

She gave him all the pleasure her hand and mouth could. She managed the mess he created. That was her role in his life, anyway.

This was the only thing she was going to be able to do for him and she wanted it to be completely satisfying for the young man.

As he came to standstill, she realized that regardless of whether her partner was satisfied or not, her own cunt was burning with desire.

She wiped herself, eyes firmly on the magnificent manhood still bobbing in front of her eyes. She continued to stroke him lightly, causing him to shudder and give in small driblets. He was unabated in his erection. He came, he emptied. But it stayed as hard, merely reddening under her ministrations.

If she thought he would fit back snugly into his trousers quickly, she was mistaken.

She was also mistaken about her own needs.

Her cunt was sopping wet. Fortunately, she had panties and they soaked in her juices. But she knew she needed what she was looking at, deep between her legs. That much she knew.

LATER

His uncle pressed him into service for beer and ice. The drinks were slowing him down and Arvind got lazier and more garrulous under the influence of alcohol.

As she watched her nephew bound up and down, Saroja manni felt the hot flush in her body. She felt her nipples unfurl into an erect state and press against her now impossibly tight bra.

"I am hot," she whimpered to the young man.

"Shall I turn on the fan?" asked the boy innocently.

Eyes fixed on her husband she reached out and caressed the massive bulge in his trousers and said, "Hot for this," shocking her nephew.

He stared at her, looking at her heaving bosom. His throat dried as he thought of those mammaries in his mouth.

"I need you," she said to him simply, turning the narrative around.

"Get behind me," she instructed him. "I will be the lookout," this time she said positioning herself at the sink from where she could see across the hall.

She bent down and hitching up her saree and petticoat reached for the edge of her panties. She peeled her panties down and quickly stood straight. It was now around her handles. She used her feet to try and remove them completely and at some point it was stuck.

"Remove them," she commanded her young lover, who was as if a slave.

He knelt down and felt for the twisted nylon of the panties that were tightly sound. He pulled gently as Saroja manni spread her legs wide to help him with access. The twisted nylon was hot, damp - no, wet. He removed the panties and felt the wetness in his fingers. She was drenched.

"This is going to be tough," she said to him. "I have to bend forward and you have to come behind me. We have no time. Fuck me. Fuck me hard," she whispered urgently.

She leaned forward, and spread her legs. In her hand she fumbled with a dish.

"Slide up my saree," she instructed. "Not too much. Just enough for you to be between my legs."

He did as instructed. Her smooth lovely ass was bared to him. He kissed her there causing her to shudder.

"Don't," she said. "Don't get us in to trouble. Focus on fucking me!" she ordered him.

He undid his trousers and let out his own aching hardness. Positioning himself between her legs from behind, he guided his cock. His fingers were met by her guiding hand as she brought him to the gates of her hot, heavenly pussy.

He sank in. the heat was incredible and he luxuriated in the feeling. He closed his eyes and stayed put.

"Fuck me! Move!" she pleaded in desperation.

He did. He slid out just a bit and hammered home into her. His pulling out was very, very limited for he did not want to pop out, but his moving into her was ferocious and determined.

His powerful fucking jolted her and Saroja thanked her stars for planning this right. The dish she had picked up to make a pretense of being at work clattered down into the sink as she gripped the sides of the workspace to steady herself.

"All well?" asked a concerned voice from the hall.

"Yes, yes," she stammered, "I have him here to help me."

Both men from the hall glanced toward the kitchen ad saw that the young man was somewhere behind his aunt.

They could not make out that he was close behind her and deep inside her.

As soon as the men looked away, she fucked back at him. "Harder!" she commanded him.

She leaned further to allow the trunk of his cock to slide on her clit. She shuddered as this happened.

"Be steady and hard," she told him.

He set the pace. She appreciated how closely he followed her instruction.

Now she angled her body, using him like he was a machine for fucking.

Guaranteed that his flesh would maintain the rhythm and momentum, she made sure it caressed, stroked and worked very part of her cunt. And then she bent lower so it consistently raked the inside top of her love canal. It brought her to a shuddering series of orgasms that flooded onto the both of them.

"I want your breasts," he moaned.

"No. We will be spotted," she said, clinically. She panicked at the thought he might reach for her breasts. Yes she needed his hands on her. But she just could not afford the risk. Yes she wanted her nipples pinched in his fingers but she could not open her blouse - she would be spotted.

Hell, she could not even pleasure her own self fully for the men in the hall might see her pinching, caressing and twisting her own nipples.

She groaned, somewhere between pleasure and denial.

She wanted more. He wanted more. Her orgasm ran its course and she was ready for more fucking. He had not cum. She thought he could. It would have given her a sense of closure. But he did not. It was not twenty minutes since she had mouthed him to an orgasm.

He was close, but not quite.

When she had orgasmed he had found it necessary to slow down to make sure he stayed inside her.

Now, he picked up the rhythm, ready to go all the way to his own cumming.

And then his uncle stood up to get some more ice.

Saroja decoupled from him and turned around to face him, her back to ward her approaching husband.

She looked down and saw the unabated erection, now completely slick with their combined juices. With difficulty, he contained himself back in his under garments and pulled up his trousers making a quick exit to the store to the side.

Saroja turned back to the basin and splashed water on her face, obscuring her hot flushed state from her husband. Not quite unmindful of her he brushed past to the fridge. Even that light touch with her own husband caused her to shudder as her highly aroused state made her vulnerable.

She walked into the storeroom on unsteady legs to find her nephew pretending to get some spices.

"We need each other," she said, her voice and eyes laden with lust. A quick glance at his crotch confirmed to her that he was going to be always read for her tonight. Or any night; or day.

STILL LATER

She now shuffled plans around in her head. She could barely control her body and she knew the young man could only be in a worse state than her. She needed her husband in bed before her. She needed to control the events from here. Only then could she sneak into her nephew's room. It would not do to leave these two men gossiping.

She brought out a couple of glasses and a new bottle of red wine. She could always rely on her husband's low alcohol tolerance and knock him out.

"Here's to friendship," she announced, handing the new expensive bottle to the friend. Her husband was surprised for he knew she had wanted to preserve that for a special occasion. She has stopped him from opening it more than once. Anyway, Shyam was a special friend so why not.

"Let's raise a few toasts," she said, her mind working fast. She knew that if Arvind had a few quick glasses it would hit him hard.

Within ten minutes they had downed three glasses. It did nothing to Shyam but her own husband had started to slur and slouched in back in his sofa.

"What about dinner?" asked Shyam.

"Whenever you guys want it," replied Saroja.

"But look at his state," said Shyam.

"Well, you know him!" said Saroja. Her own pallo had slipped revealing the front of her blouse. Her breasts were indeed swollen and her blouse was fuller than ever. Also, the influence of alcohol on her and her own encounter with her nephew minutes before had made her redden.

"But I obviously don't know enough of you," said Shyam suggestively, eyeing Saroja's seductive form as she slouched on the sofa too, next to her husband.

"How do you mean?" she asked.

"Unless I am terribly mistaken, I think you are quite intimate with that young man there," he nodded at Shyam, still working in the kitchen.

"Yes, we are close," she admitted.

"You and I are close, too," said Shyam, moving across and plonking himself next to her. Their thighs were now touching, side by side.

It was true. They were close.

She poured him more wine. She needed him asleep too.

"Is this the only way to drink wine?" asked Shyam flirting with her even more openly as her husband started to snore gently.

As he continued rubbing his thigh against hers, her own aroused state did not help. She felt her cunt ache more and more with every passing moment.

While she would have been quite content to fuck her husband for her own satiation on any other night, tonight was thirsty for Sundar. And she needed Shyam out of the way.

Scientists have written volumes on how males and females signal each other. All that science could not have conjectured that Shyam had picked the scent of Saroja's arousal without even knowing it and now he was in an aroused state.

Saroja kept pouring him wine not knowing that unlike her own husband, wine was an aphrodisiac for Shyam. It extended his "staying" power.

Saroja would discover that only later, right now she had Shyam slouching on her and she was pressed between husband and friend. Shyam was now leaning on her, his face brushing against her bosom. Unwittingly, his lips were grazing the rock hard nipples within the layers of her clothing.

She tried to push him back and murmured, "I think you need to get to bed."

"Show me the way," he replied in a slur.

She spotted his overnight case in one corner of the hall and realized that the two men had directly sat down to drink on coming in from work.

"Come," she said, getting up and picking up his case. "What about dinner?" she asked.

"Later" he replied, his eyes on her luscious ass, his mind clear about what he wanted to do with her.

She took him to his room and showed him the switches. "This is the bathroom," she said turning the light on.

He was right behind her and pushed her in.