Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Dear buddies, I am back after a long absence. First of all, I would like to thank all those readers who have read and/or voted for my previous erotica. I also want to pay my gratitude to those who not only took time to send me the feedback but also encouraged me to come up with new stories. I trust you would like this new title as well. On the popular demand, I have kept the old dialogue style: Urdu then its English translation.

Let me elucidate a key point here. Sometimes it becomes literally impossible to translate a word, a phrase or an expression to other language. I faced the same problem with the Urdu expressions, ‘Saab jee’ (the correct phrase is, Sahib jee/je) or ‘haye’. ‘Shahib’ (or ‘saab’ as it often spoken by less educated people) literarily means: Sir–or at times, master–it is spoken to show respect especially when one is conversing with elders; ‘jee’ at the end is usually for adding more respect or to bring in affection and/or warmth; it may also be used humorously having the stress on it. ‘Jee’ usually means: (respectfully) yes, okay, all right. But when it is used after a proper noun or a salutation, it is to reduce the formality of the prefix bringing in affection. ‘Haye’ (well haye is haye) it is so typical South Asian that it cannot even be explained; it is just an exclamation. These were hard nuts for me to crack, but if someone knew a better translation, please do let me know.

Pronunciation tip: All Urdu words ending with ‘e’ shall be pronounced as ‘ey’ or ‘ay’, as in haye /ha-ay/.

Copyrights (c) 2007 Starry Eyed

Chapter One

“What do you think, should I do about Shabo?” Asked my wife.

“What do you have in mind?” I bounced back with a question, knowing well that in this case any suggestion from me would be overruled.

“I really don’t know. But, I believe she should stay on her job till the time we get to some solution.

“Why can’t she continue with us?”

“Don’t be silly,” she sharply asserted, “How could she, being all alone now? We can’t take any responsibility for a young divorcee, can you?”

I hurriedly shook my neck in negation.

This discussion with my wife took place eighteen months ago. Shabo–Shabnum was her real maiden name–was our cook and her husband, a chauffer, also worked for us. They both were with us for almost six years then. More often than not, both of them, quite like us, used to brawl and fall out with each other. They, again like us, had no kids. Perhaps that was the main cause for clashes in both the cases. See, there were so many similarities, but none constructive one, between us. The chauffer-husband even used to beat his wife–well, that was an ‘out-of-bound area’ for me–and my wife had so often yelled at him for being so cruel with his ‘beloved!’ spouse. He never listened to anyone, nevertheless.

One dull’evening he announced to his beloved spouse that he had decided to leave her.Poor Shabo came to us sobbing and wailing, and broke the news.My wife got incredibly mad at her ‘husband-not-to-be’ and she threatened him that if he did not change his mind and attitude she would call the police and get him into prison. (The way she stared at me afterwards, I am positive that the warning had a dual aim!) Brutus–the brutal hubby–knew well that a hard time would be in store for him if the police got involved. After much heated debate and fuss, he retreated form his decision. It seemed that the matter had resolved but early next morning we faced crying and sobbing Shabnum again. The hubby and fled away in the middle of night taking along all his stuff. She explained that as she got up from the noise of him packing his odds and ends, she tried to stop him, over which he hit her on the right temple so hard that she immediately passed out. I could see the swollen wound on the right side of her forehead. Bastard!

Though my wife was furious at the absconded hubby, she did nothing substantial except consoling her. There was no news of him for nearly five-six weeks. Then, Shabo’s father-in-law, and her paternal uncle, Chacha, as well, appeared and broke the news that his son had divorced Shabnum and there was no possibility of reunion anymore. When I asked him that where she–Shabo–would go, as her both parents had deceased and except her this uncle she had no relative at all, he replied that he was least pushed about her. “She can go wherever she likes to go.” Was his reply, which actually intended that she could go to hell. My wife was not in the country then otherwise, I am positive, a great scene would have been created.

It was almost eighteen months old incident as I mentioned earlier. Ah, those fateful eighteen months! What had not happened during that time: the most ill fated and turbulent of my life ever. Only two months after the aforementioned episode, my wife exploded the deadliest, but hitherto unused, weapon by informing me that she cannot live with me any longer. Therefore, bahis firmaları she had decided to invoke her ‘right of divorce’ that I had accorded her at the time of our marriage. It was a shock of my life. I had never thought that it would ever come to this extent. Though we both never really ‘clicked’ and had a lousy sex life and, above all, had no kids, I never thought of a divorce, in any event. But she did. It came to my knowledge that she had already moved her stuff to her parents’ place. Hence, she left, abandoning me high and dry. I tried my best, involved elders and her friends for reconciliation but to no avail. Ironically, her father had a soft corner for me but my mother-in-law, ah! well by then she had developed a kind of hatred for me. I was a persona non grata in her eyes. (It must be the aftermath of the negative feedbacks my wife have been constantly providing her, I’m positive.) Cutting the long story short, we were divorced after three months, a requirement of the law of the country. To my utter surprise, and you can see what a naïve person was I, within the week our divorced matured, my ex remarried. Only then, I came to know through one of her friends that they both were having an affair for more than a year. I remembered her saying: “They were having very intimaterelations for over a year now.” To my question that why haven’t I was informed, she replied, “I’m surprised over your naivety. Had you shut your eyes altogether? Couldn’t you see what was happening around you and what was forthcoming, it was all so overt?”

Ah, but I am like that: trusting and naïve, rather stupid. The divorce had its effects on me, however. I was depressed and dejected, and felt cheated. It took me nearly nine months to a year to surmount the strain and the pain to some extent.

After our divorce, even Shabnum was not very comfortable working for a ‘home alone’ male. She frankly informed me of that. I told her that I understood her concerns and was looking for some reasonable family in need of a handmaid so that she may join them. Nevertheless, at the same time, we were a source of consolation to each another. Sailing in the same boat, we could understand the pain we both were going thorough. Though our mental wavelengths were ways apart because of the diverse social order we belong to–thus have a certain distance between us, on human level we both on and off try to raise other’s spirits using consolatory vocabulary.

One fine morning as I was about to leave home for the office, I stumbled over the main door’s stairs and instantly heard a shredding sound behind me. As I held my ground, I realized that the back of my trousers had ripped off the seam. Shabnum was right behind me, and as she watched my trousers ripping apart, she could not help herself from giggling. Thank Goodness that I was in a habit of wearing undies, otherwise I would have heard a shrieking scream rather than a hearty laughter. Embarrassed as I was, I turned around with my hands on my back, covering the slit, I hurried inside the house. I changed my trousers and came out of my room to find Shabnum still chuckling.

I started laughing too, although I was little irritated by her overreaction.

“Bohat hunsi aa rehie hai! Feeling very funny!” I said, patting her lower back. This was the first time ever that I have touched her.”Ager tumhare saath aisa hota tou?If it’d happened to you, then? “Saying so, I smacked and squeezed her bums.

“Ouch…” She exclaimed in total disbelief.

All this happened so abruptly that it even surprised me. To save further embarrassment, and not daring to have an eye contact with her, I quickly turned around, rushed out of the house, got into my Honda Civic and off I went. On my way, I wondered how that happened so out of the blue. I felt remorse and was worried about Shabnum’s reaction. By the time I reached my office, I was so upset that I even thought that she might leave her job and me too. It was a disturbing thought, indeed. Once I got into the official routine, I forgot about the incident but when I was driving back home, my mind raced back to the old apprehensions. I reached home with all my worse suspicions to find Shabnum still there and I found her as normal as if nothing had happened. How glad was I then.

That evening I remained home and kept chatting and joking with Shabnum. When I retired to bed that night, I felt much relaxed; deep down somewhere inside me I was pleased over no reaction from Shabnum.

Next morning after the breakfast when Shabnum handed me over my briefcase, I bade my farewells: “Okay Shabo, I’m off… Take care.”

“Aaj sham ko aap kaya khana pasand kerain gay? What would you like to have in supper tonight?”She had a big smile over her cute face, I didn’t know why.

“Jo bhi buna dou, whatever you make,” Saying this, I lent forward and kissed her both

cheeks. No, it wasn’t a sudden act on my part that day; it was well thought kaçak iddaa of. Nevertheless, it did surprised rather shocked Shabnum, for sure.”Acha sa khana pakana aur ache se kapre pahen’na, theek!Make nice food and wear nice clothes, right!” I told my stunned maid-cook as I have never talked to her or acted like that before. I nipped her butts again as I did yesterday and strode away very calmly.

Back home that evening, I observed that she had had not only some fine clothes on but also had tried to make up her face with whatever little cosmetics and expertise she had. Anyway, she was looking pretty attractive.

Before I proceed further with the narrative, let me graphically describe Shabnum herein. She was no stunning beauty but nor was she unattractive. She was an average looking strapping Punjabi female in her late twenties. Nevertheless, she did carry a sex appeal that would induce the opposite sex to sneak a second look at her: Fairly tall stature, beefy cheeks, big and heavy breasts, equally beefy round voluptuous ass-globes. Man! she had enticing looks. What else all we ‘dickhead’ males ask for?How foolish was I not to notice her before, and what a looser her ex-husband was.We both were perfect assholes, weren’t we?

Anyway, there she was with all her splendor and indeed was tempting to my eyes as well as to Dickie! ‘Wow!’ I reflected in jubilation, ‘She was game, man! Too willing!’ I felt that Mr. Dickie was getting restless in my pants. I, nevertheless, warned Dickie to behave itself, as I was not only wore out but it was no time for being naughty either.

Handing over my briefcase to Shabnum and pinning down Dickie in the undies, I went inside the house, saying: “Aaj main bohat thak gaya houn. I’m too tired today.”

“May I knead you, Sir?” She asked in Urdu of course, with a broad smile. Now, this was the first time that she offered me a massage.As I stated before, we never had touched each other so far.

“Sure Shabo,” Replied I elated, patting her cheeks, “But let me change first,”

I went straight to the bath and had a quick shower. After changing into casuals, I retired to my usual couch in the lounge and started switching the channels of my ‘Plasma’ with remote. That was my way–and if I am not terribly mistaken, a way for most of the people as well–to relax.

In a short while, Shabnum brought the tea tray. She handed me over a cup of coffee–be apprised that Shabnum makes excellent coffee, thus when home I always prefer coffee to tea. She then moved on to my back and started kneading my shoulders. Long before, Dickie budged again to make its point. Ah, I was behaving abnormally since yesterday and now her actions were so uncharacteristic. These anomalies, however, were certainly dragging us both on a course of head-on collision–a pleasant collision though. We both knew it. We both wanted it. We both needed it. We both were starving from it.

Envisaging having sex in so many months, Dickie got out of control, making a tent in the front of my slacks. I was sure that Shabnum had noticed it, as the bulge was too obvious. Dickie had embarrassed me on numerous occasions, previously, too. I tried to hide its tension hopelessly with my inadequate hands, but by then she must have known that Dickie has gone wild. And this, I was sure, had exhilarated her own libido to inundate her ‘love-hole’ with all those liquids required to lose self-control.

There was nothing to stops us now. The collision was inevitable!

I grabbed her arm and pulled her in front of me. “Shabo, aaj tum bohat pyaari lag rehie ho. Shabo, you’re looking very cute today.” Saying so, I got up from the couch and kissed her cheeks.

“Haye Saab jee! Oh My Sir!”

Then I pulled her forward and hugged her. My both hands were on her back, caressing; my lips glued to hers; and Dickie was pressing into her lower abdomen. I sensed that her body got tensed and taut; she had locked her lips and legs tightly together. She attempted a halfhearted protest.

“K-k kaya kete haan saab jee… Choorain na, W-w what are you doing sir… Leave me,”

Nevertheless, I continued with the foreplay. Gradually she relaxed and let herself loose at last and her lips started responding.

Dickie was getting too impatient to get out and then get in. With our lips glued together, I pushed my slacks down to release my cock. It was as rigid as rock. I held Shabo’s arm and placed her hand on my bare cock. Her body jolted, maybe in shock, but I was too busy smooching her to tender any notice or further reaction, if there was any at all. She kept holding my cock. I then held her hand clutching my rock-hard cock and start moving it up and down.

“Keep massaging it,” I whispered to her.

I moved my mouth down to her cleavage and kissed her watermelonnish boobs over the fabric of her kamiz, shirt. She ceased my hands, as I tried to pull her kamiz off.

“O, oh…Iss ko kaçak bahis utaro, take it off,”

She shook her neck in refusal.

“Why not?”

“Nahien saab jee, kamiz nahien utarni, No sir, don’t take off [my] shirt,”

“Keyoun nahien, Why not?” I repeated my words in somewhat irritated tone this time.

She kept mum.

“Kaya tum apne mian ke saamne nahien utarte thien? Hadn’t you took it off in front of your hubby?”

She looked into my eyes for a while, surprised, and then sheepishly shook her neck in negation.

Well it would be true, I realized only then. It was very cultural, you know. I mean it was not common for the majority of couples in our society to take off all their clothes during lovemaking, especially the people from middle to lower class. The spouses never get naked in front of each other nor do they indulge into foreplay, nor they talk let alone dirty-talk. That is a standard social norm of our culture. Ah! this sexy woman needed to be taught plenty as well as to be emancipated from many inhibitions, myths and mores.

“Take it off,” said I in a stern tone, “Ya must.”

She again stared at me, but I got hold of her kamiz and pulled it up. At long last, we succeeded in removing her shirt. I could not help smiling. The modest-sized bra could

barely able to conceal her two fair-colored melon-like globes. I began kissing them both, while my hands were busy unfastening her bra. She did try to resist again but my grip was firm enough and shortly she was standing topless in front of my eyes. She at once tried to cover her tits with her hands, which I starkly rejected by twisting them away. Man!Her boobs were gorgeous! They were real big with chocolate-colored tits, fully arouse and erected.

I instantly pounced on them like a starving greedy dog tonguing, sucking and nibbling them. Then, for the first time, I heard her almost inaudible moans. Perfect! She was enjoying my foreplay. Excellent! I got the encouragement, as if ever I needed! While my hands were wildly caressing her naked back and still covered buttocks, Dickie was being stimulated by her hand. I brought my right hand in front of her and placed it between her legs, and started fondling her cunny. I felt her body shivered. Ah, things were getting along smoothly, so far.

It was time to get rid of our remaining clothes. My slacks were already down to my ankles, so, I stepped out of them. It was so easy! Ah, I forgot to tell you that I intentionally had no undies on. I then got hold of her azarband (shalwar’s fastening-string) and was about to unknot it when she seized my hand. I had anticipated that.

“Ab kaya hu’a? What happened now?” Said I, deliberately bringing irritation to my tone.


“What batti?” My tone was still holding annoyance.

“Saab jee…b-batti… light… b-band ker doo. Sir…t-turn…off the l-light.”

“Kaya! What!” I nearly shouted but then realized her restraints and said in a softer voice, “Shabo, undhare main pyaar nahien keya jata,Shabo, you don’t make love in the dark.” I kissed her cheek and whispered into her ear, “Shabo jan, main tuje nanga daikhna chata houn. Shabo dearie, I want to see you naked.” Drawing all the courage in me, I continued, “Main teri choot daikhna chata houn. I wanna see your cunt.” With this, I tugged hard at her azarband to undo the knot and loosen the string. Her shalwar dropped down on the carpeted floor like a house of cards.

“Haye Allah! Oh my God!” She exclaimed and in a flurry led her hands in front to conceal her very private place, though it was freshly shaved off!

There was she, stripped to the buff, in her birthday suit! Mama Mia! Her pubic area was shaven off and it was quite evident that it was done recently. Wow, she had done her ‘homework’ pretty diligently. Naughty girl! Yet, she deserved a treat, without doubt.

“Shabo, tum bohat khubsurat ho! Tumhara jsim tou bohat hee pyaara hai. Shabo, you’re beautiful! You’ve literally a lovely figure.” Saying so, I hugged her again and started kissing and caressing her wildly. Before long, I felt her stiff body began melting in my embrace; her mussels and limbs were now responding to my exploits. Dickie had found its own way and was rubbing her cunny, my both hands were exploring her back and butts, and my lips finally were glued to her. To my surprise, she responded my French kiss pretty confidently. Her hands also began moving over my back. Yeh, we both were starving sex! We, kept glued to each another, stood there, God knows, for how long. After what seemed eternity, I released myself from her and said, “Mere kamre main chaltey hain, Let’s move to my room,”

I dragged her to my bedroom and tossed her gently on the bed. She was now lying on the bed, naked, with her feet touching the carpet.

I told her to move further up, which she did. “Apni tangain kholo, open your legs,’ I asked her.

She reluctantly obeyed me. Her cunny was shinning with the pre-cum fluid omitted by her sex glands. Ah, I really love pussies, shaved pussies specifically. I threw myself between her legs and began licking her bald cunt wildly.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32