Previously: Hot affair with sexy Sister-in-Law - I
She looked at me for a long time, so long, that I began to get uncomfortable. She must have realized what I was getting at. We had had enough hints in the past. "What would it be," she finally replied, her voice dropping to a whisper that was barely audible, "that could be so, so difficult as to warrant these conditions?"
I gave a short, nervous laugh. "It's really nothing extraordinary, Radha. I mean it isn't beyond you. I am not going to ask for something that's impossible. Don't worry about that. You know me better than that." "That I do," she said. Then, after some time, she said, "Okay, you've got yourselves a deal. I completely understand the terms and conditions." That made us laugh and then, there was silence again.
"Well?" she prompted. "Would you," I began tentatively, "I-I mean would you... if you don't mind, er, I mean..." "Oh my God," she exclaimed. "Either you are asking something that you think is weird or you are still a kid at heart. I mean, I remember stuttering like that when I used to ask for the chocolates from Mum when I was a little girl!"
It was like that, I thought. Like asking chocolates, only, it wasn't chocolates and it wasn't mom. "You won't get pissed off?" I insisted again. "Well! No. Not at all - now come on and get it out of you." "Well...you, I mean you are going to change that...that er, I mean that b-bra, aren't you?" She was puzzled and also a bit embarrassed. "Yes. Isn't that the purpose of this whole exercise? And isn't that the main reason I promised to that I would have to thank you back?"
"Well...okay, I mean, could you let me, er, help you to take it off and put on the other one?" I blurted. There. I had finally said it, and I felt hot under the collar. I had either blown up our relationship, or I had hit pay dirt. She fumbled with her hands, looking down at them, blushing. She brought one hand up to adjust her sari over her chest and stole a glance at me. "B-but why that?" she queried.
I couldn't possibly tell her that it would be a very erotic situation and maybe it would help her get as horny as I was getting and that it could eventually help break down the barrier between fantasy and reality. "Whew," I breathed. "I was expecting a slap!" She giggled nervously. "Is that what you really want to do? I – I mean its most unusual." That it was, I guess.
"I mean, pardon me if I am getting too personal, is that what you like to do with your wife? Or is it a fantasy?" I laughed. "No, no. I've never done that either to my wife or to any another woman. I well, I just thought, considering the circumstances, that would be a proper quid pro..." She laughed, cutting me off mid-sentence. "You think I'm a weirdo?" I asked.
She stopped laughing and I could feel her eyes on me. "No, not at all. Though, I could say that it's pretty devious!" She said it lightly and I didn't press it. There was silence again. "Well, that's one return of the first thank you." My heart began to hammer and the response between my legs wasn't too far behind either.
"Gee," I muttered, trying to imitate a kid's excitement. "You mean you would let me do that?" "Depends on the other returnable thank you," she said. "I'll let you know about it in good time, okay?" I said, somewhat confidently, now that the ice had been broken. She looked away from me and out of the window. There were hardly any streetlights outside and it was pretty dark.
"Hey look," I said, "if this makes you either angry or uncomfortable, lets just drop it, okay?" "I brought up the subject of returning the 'thank you' didn't I?" she murmured, still looking out. I managed a laugh, afraid that she may back out. "And," she continued in the same tone, "you aren't asking me something that is impossible to give."
"Well," I said, "think about it. As I said, this is just between you and me. No misunderstandings, right?" She looked at me dubiously, the flush still there on her face. I was too excited, so much so, I couldn't decide whether to peek at her heaving chest or at her pretty face. I fervently hoped that she too was just as exited as I was. By the look on her face and the increased heaving of her large breast, I concluded that she was.
The rest of the drive was made in utter silence. I don't know what she was thinking about, but all I could see in my mind were her bare breasts...When I finally drove into the parking area of the building, she whispered, "Okay, May. I guess its okay." I tried to appear casual as I locked up the car. But I could feel that sudden tingly feeling I usually got when I am aroused.
"That's good of you," I said as we got into the elevator. I was aware of her closeness and I could smell those sweet smells emanating from her. Her hands were trembling when she unlocked the door to the apartment. So, I thought, she's pretty much in the same condition as I was. She laughed, a high, nervous laugh, when she couldn't insert the key in the slot. On the third attempt, she finally slid the key in and unlocked the door.
I followed her inside and when she flipped the lights on, I locked the door behind me. She glanced at me when I did that, blushing, that strange look back in her eyes. She hung the key on the holder while I pocketed the car keys. She stood there for a while and then, hesitantly turned around, walking inside. "My clothes are in the bedroom."
I followed her to the bedroom where she flipped on a table lamp, which admitted a dim light at one corner just by the side of the mirrored dressing table. I had been to this room several times, though, not alone only with her in the apartment. There always was Dilip, or their daughter or my in-laws present.
There was a large double bed in the center with the usual side tables at the bedstead. Bolted to the wall above the head stead was a powder-coated grill encompassing the entire width of the bed. The large wardrobe lined one side of the wall. The other wall opened into a balcony through French doors. The other corner had a door that lead into the bathroom.
Trying to be as nonchalant as I could, I lowered myself on the edge of the bed and watched her walk over rather unsteadily to the wardrobe. She opened the one in the centre, revealing various separate compartments. One was filled up with her dresses that she wore when with the family, all lined neatly, hanging from blue plastic hangers.
By its side, I could see quite a lot of saris, neatly folded and kept on top of each other in two columns. Just above them were the various blouses and tops. There was another compartment for her gowns and housedresses and directly above it was the one reserved for her undergarments. "I – I will have to check for the closest matching one," she croaked and then cleared her throat.
I glanced at my watch. Twenty minutes since we had left the hotel, so I said, "Take your time. We are running on schedule. And since I have already told Akshay that I would pick him up, he will wait, even if it's late." I bit my tongue when I said the last part about being late. Why should we be late? It sounded ominous; as if this little thing between us was going to take us a lot of time.
After all, on the surface, we had agreed that I should change her bra and nothing else, so there was no point in us taking any additional time. "Oh, I-I am s-sure w-we won't be late," she stammered, drawing out a pair of pink bra from the closet. She laughed nervously, "I mean, why should it be late?" "I-I didn't mean it that way," I replied rather lamely.
"Does this match?" she handed over to me the bra, which I took in my trembling hands. It was as flimsy as the one she was wearing, but it was perfect as far the matching part of it was concerned. "Swell," I replied huskily. The bra had laces all around it and naturally there was no wire rope underneath. Her breasts did not need any support; neither did they need to be pushed up.
She made her way slowly to stand in front of the mirror that was pretty close to the bed where I was seated and reached behind her to unbutton her blouse after pulling her hair to one side of her shoulders. "No, not that part," I said getting off the bed. She froze, looking questioningly at me in the mirror.
I grinned. "That's my job as well, right? I want to change the bra, which was the understanding. And that includes removing the blouse as well." She blushed, averting her eyes away from mine and I took the two steps so that I was standing about a couple of feet behind her. The border of the sari had fallen away from her shoulder lying atop her hair and tied as it was at the waist, the end dropped to the floor.
There is no sight more erotic than the back of a woman, her sari uncovered from the top but concealing completely what lay beneath the waist, the tiny patch of blouse revealing the midriff and the top (or rather) the back of her neck and the glimpse of the bra under the blouse. Her waist was narrow in stark contrast to the width above and under it. Her skin was creamy and looked real soft.
I hesitated, wondering whether I really wanted to go through this. If my wife, or her husband found out, there would be hell to pay. But having fantasized about her for so many years and lusted for her, I dismissed all such thoughts away from my mind and reached out for the row of the tiny buttons that held her blouse together.
My hands shook when I tried to get the top button off. The blouse was quite tight as evidenced by the way that the front of her amazing chest pushed and strained outwards. She hunched her shoulders, pulled them together and whispered, "You will have to pull the blouse together to get those buttons off."
That meant I had to shove my hands, except the thumbs, inside the blouse from the top. When I did that, I felt her shudder at the first contact of the back of my hand on her bare skin. Her skin was slightly moist, but very, very smooth. I pulled the blouse together and pulled out the first button with my thumbs. My hands started to lower as I succeeded in getting off one button after the other till the blouse lay open.
"I guess you will have to push your hands in front of you so that the blouse will come off," I said, aware that my voice was hushed and off key. She was still looking down at the floor when she extended her hands in front of her to allow me to slide the blouse over her hands. The damaged cup fell off her breast and the strap slipped off her shoulder to reveal the entire flesh.
If I were to just rub my hips together, I am sure I would have ejaculated. I was aroused now, beyond the point of return. Her breast was big: very big. Perfectly shaped, no sag, creamy and looking soft, she had big areola and the big nipple was, I assumed, erect. She would have had to be frigid if she weren't aroused by now. The entire situation and what was happening now was very erotic and sensual.
Though one cup and one strap of the bra were not in place, the rest of the bra still clung to her other breast. I unhooked the bra, and this time my hands weren't shaking; rather, I was desperate to get the bra out and gaze at her awesome breasts. She still held her hands extended in front of her and that pushed her breasts together, emphasizing the cleavage.
My mind suddenly went back to a discussion that Dilip and I had more than a decade ago in the balcony of their old apartment. We had a few beers, Radha was staying with her parents and our discussions were mainly about our sex lives. He had told me how enthusiastic and eager she was for sex. "I'm telling you, man, there was this time when I was working at my desk late at night and she was sleeping on the bed, the blanket drawn right up to her chin.
About an hour after I had started my work, she must have got impatient, because she just called out my name softly. I turned in my chair to look at her and what do you know? In one fluid movement she jerked the blanket completely off her body and oh god, she was stark naked! End of work!"
He had regaled me with other instances as well. I was holding back a bit about me because after all, my wife was his sister and it looked extremely out of place for me to relate to him my adventures or anecdotes with my wife. Though, I did tell him (after he had asked me) that yes, my wife does go down on me but I have never ejaculated in her mouth or any other part of her body except maybe her belly sometimes.
"You are missing a lot, pal," he had laughed. "Radha? Oh man, she loves to get plastered if you know what I mean. I was amazed when she worked out one position that I had never known to exist. She had me straddle her belly, or rather crouch over her. She asked me to lay my boner between her tits and then, trapping them there, she tells me to go on and pump.
Shit, man, that was great. As a matter of fact, even to date it still is. And when I pumped forward to send my dick surging up between her tits, she would take my glans in her mouth! When I couldn't hold back any longer, she urged me on, refusing to let go till I creamed – into her mouth, between her tits and partly on her face! Shit, that really is great! You should try that with your wife sometime."
It was new to me as well and yes, I did take his advice and as a result, up to this day, it remains one of my favorite positions. Only, I still don't come in my wife's mouth or on her breasts. But when Dilip had spoken to me about this, we had been a lot younger than we were today. In fact, that was the only time we had spoken in such graphic detail about our sex life.
However, what he had told me had remained fixed in my mind and perhaps that was when Radha had started appearing in my fantasies. I always visualized my penis sandwiched between her fabulous breasts when I would ejaculate and breasts took a totally different meaning all together. Because from that day on, the first thing that I began to notice in women that I met (or passed by in the streets) were breasts!
And here I was, barely a couple of feet away from her and her naked breasts totally exposed. My eyes were glued at their reflection in the mirror. She was still facing it and I was still standing behind her. Finally, she shook her hands to allow the blouse and the bra to slide down to the floor.
"I reckon you will now put on that bra," she said in a small, hoarse voice. Her eyes drifted up and settled onto mine and we looked at each other for a long time. "The bra," she reminded me again. Dumbly, my eyes still holding hers, I reached out blindly behind me and picked up the bra from the bed. "Do you know how it is to be worn?" she asked attempting a gay laugh that didn't quite come off.
"There's always a first time, I suppose," I replied. "I guess men know how a bra is to be taken off, not how it is worn," she whispered. "Let me try," I answered, unconvincingly. I really did not want to proceed to the next step of covering her breasts back inside the bra. She stretched her hands in front of her and I slid the bra over them. Her eyes locked on mine again as I pulled the bra up till the cups covered her breasts.
I pulled the back of the bra together to try to slide the first hook in place and realized that her breasts were still not completely enveloped by the cups. I had often watched my wife heft her breasts into the cups before reaching behind to fasten the bra and I knew that I would have to do the same thing here. "Okay, here goes," I whispered and slid my hands around her, reaching for her breasts.
When my palms cupped the naked flesh, a kind of an electric-like shock shot through me. God, they were so soft and pliable and firm and large! I could even feel her pointed nipples as if they wanted to drill holes in the centre of my palms. I tore my eyes away from hers and felt her body going rigid, and then she shivered. She kind of collapsed against me, the back of her head cradling on my chest.
Her face was turned sideways, tilted up to me, her lips looked swollen and they were parted and the breath was coming out real fast. There was a smoldering look in her eyes, like they were on fire and her lips quivered. I felt her breath on my face and it wasn't just warm, it was positively hot. Our faces were separated by barely a couple of inches or so.
Very slowly, very gently, afraid that she might notice, I increased the pressure of my hands on her breasts. She did not make any effort whatsoever to stop me; in fact, she made no movements at all: she simply stared at me with that look in her eyes, the weight of her entire body against mine. And then I watched her tongue creep out of her half-open mouth and sweep over her lips.
At this point, I bent down slightly, my heart still hammering wildly, my mind still uncertain and confused, and then slowly brushed my lips against hers. She stifled a moan; her hands rose upwards and then bending back, they wrapped around my neck. I felt the surprising strength in them as she pulled my head closer to her, my lips fusing to hers.
Her mouth was open, warm and inviting and I did not hesitate to probe it with my tongue. She closed her eyes; I kept mine open, watching her while I explored her mouth with my tongue: the roof, the sharp teeth and her gums and finally, sweeping over her tongue.
Our tongues dueled with each other within the confines of her hot mouth and she successfully managed to bend my tongue backward and thrust hers into my mouth. By this time, I was fondling and kneading her ripe breasts, awed buy their size and shape, their softness and their malleability. I felt her nipples graze repeatedly against the skin of my palms.
Continuing the kiss and the breast play, I stepped forward and pushed the front of my body against the back of hers and I heard a sharp intake of her breath when I ground my erection against her buttocks. I still don't know why I did not ejaculate immediately. I mean the conditions were ideal. I was charged up.
She had been my favorite fantasy and god knows how many times I have masturbated with her in my mind. All those make-up fantasy stories involving her ran through my mind even as I handled the reality that was happening now. In the beginning, I would come just pretending that we were kissing in exactly the same way as we were indeed kissing now.
Then, I jacked up the fantasy stories a bit that included us undressing each other, progressing to the point where we were ultimately in a sixty-nine, each bent into the other's groin paying obeisance till the point of complete satisfaction. Understand here, that I don't particularly think that having sex with your sister-in-law is incest (though in this case, if it were to be so considered, to hell with it).
After all, she belongs to a different family and is in no way connected to your family, by blood or by flesh. She's some one married to your brother or to your wife's brother. In fact, there are so many places in India, where the elder brother has a moral right to have sex with the wife of his younger brother.
But now was the truth, the reality. This was for real. I was finally with the woman who had haunted me in all those lusty and wild dreams that probably every man in the world, married or not, old or young, always have. I would either have to be made of stone, uncaring as a Buddha or gay not to have responded the way that I was doing now. I wanted to do a thousand different things to her and wanted her to do a thousand different things to me.
pushed her left breast towards her right, trying to knead both with my left palm, primarily to free my right hand to let it slide down over her glossy waist, going further down, down... She moaned again when I began to bunch the sari up her legs, till I had it around her hips and finally easing the yards and yards of material along with the petticoat over her waist.
She pulled me closer and whimpered when I began to caress the insides of her thighs, sliding my fingers and my palm over her knees and the rest of her legs, inching up, up till I was caressing her panties.