5 comments/ 38397 views/ 11 favorites The Masala Moment By: misterwho It all came to be because the house was full. Children were visiting with their own toddlers and his father had come to visit them. And because the house was full Deepu couldn't get enough of his wife Paromita. And because he couldn't get enough he was like an untamed bull. And that led to the brash decision to fuck on the kitchen floor. The rest of what followed was not known to him. She was sitting on the kitchen floor, grinding masala for tomorrow's hilsa fish curry and it was late night. As it is with Bengali households dinner ended late. One by one all the family members went to bed and the lady of the house, after clearing the dishes and putting away things was getting a lead on next day's intended menu. She sat on the floor, her saree pulled up naturally and was using the heavy grinding stone on the slab below to make the masala paste for tomorrow. A day in advance not only saved time but also somehow made the mix more pungent and potent. She would wake her husband early to go get the fish fresh from the first catch. As he came by she opened her mouth to say just that. But he had come not to be told an early morning errand. He had come to see what his Paru was doing. And there she was, dress pulled up and by accident so far up that he could practically see the deep dark recesses where he loved to linger. "What?" she asked. "You are looking sexy," he commented. She knew that remark and its implications. She looked down. Yes, her pallo had slipped and her enormous cleavage was on display. She gingerly held one edge of her saree to pull it up without getting the turmeric on it and smiled at him impishly. "Brat!" she said. He nodded lower, at her thighs. Soft, plump thighs which he liked to kiss and nibble on his way up to paradise. She shook her head. There was still work to be done. Not one to help much but wanted it all. Just another day in just another Indian family. He came and sat next to her and slipped his hand around her bare torso. "Its been days," he whispered feverishly. "The house is full," she replied, going vigorously at the masala causing her breasts to jiggle. He eyed her thirstily. "But now every one is asleep," he said letting his hand fall on her bare thigh. It was a test to see if she protested. She was busy but he interpreted that as 'not a no'. "Come, lets fuck," he said, abandoning all shyness for that was the only way this would work. "Issh!" she said. He slipped his hand further up and gave her a squeeze. He knew that spot and it hit her - she tingled, paused and looked at him. She kissed him open mouthed and went back to her masala grinding. He put his hand on her breast and turned toward her, pressing his hard cock against her thigh. "Now look at that," she joked. He rubbed himself harder. "Come on," he said hoarsely, desperately. While they were into their 50s, Deepu and Paru's sex life was doing just fine. Paru remained bogged down by housework and opportunities were few and far between. But when he wanted it, he became daring and they did quite a few adventurous things to find their privacy. The bath, the terrace, the garage and even their car backseat - all had found favor to fuck when his need was at a peak. Today, it seemed was the turn of the kitchen. The kitchen had never happened before because it was an open plan kitchen and was the riskiest. But today it seemed the only option because of the full house. She looked at him with some sympathy. He didn't hassle her much but when he wanted, he really wanted the fuck. And then nothing had ever stopped him. She could see that lust in his eyes and it stirred her loins, too. She smeared the masala on her hands on the edge of the flat stone she was using. Then she reached for her kitchen cloth and wiped her hands as best as she could. Turning to Deepu she whispered, "We have to as quiet as we can," a gleam of excitement shone through. Deepu nodded. He lifted his hips and slid out of his pajamas. His cock leaped out of its lair as he did so. Paru involuntarily licked her lips and hoisting herself on to his legs wiggled up pulling up her saree and the petticoat within. She wore no panties, as was often the case with many Indian housewives around the house. If she wore a bra it was only because there were so many people in the house and the thin cotton fabric of her blouses were insufficient to hide her large brown areolas and nipples at the center. She slid on to him and when near, reached between to push his cock down with just two of her fingers to align it to her cunt. She winced, unprepared as she was with the lack of foreplay. There was no time and she knew she would juice up in no time at all. Holding him down with those two fingers delicately she inched forward, a picture of concentration. He too looked down as his cock disappeared into her bushy pubis and then he felt her tight and dry. She wiggled her hips and a moistness lubricated the head. His cock added its own drops of precum and she wiggled and hoisted her on some more. He was now well snagged into her love canal. She now put her arms around his shoulders and hoisted herself well so that she could slide down on his waiting cock. She sank down on him and they both sighed contently as he embedded in her fully. With practiced ease, they made rowing movements which caused her to slide down and up fluidly and soon a soppy wetness enveloped his cock. "Paru! I want to feel more of you," he whispered into her lips. "How?" she asked fucking him smoothly to achieve a quick end minimizing the risk of discovery. "Remove your petticoat. I want to feel your skin on mine," he moaned, as she pleasured him well. "Look at you!" she teased. "Like a newly wed on his first fuck!" "Each time I see you I feel like that," he replied with urgency thrusting harder up into her. She brought her heels on to his back and squeezed the cock, grinding on him. And then she leaned back giving herself space to unwind the garment and proceeded to lift the petticoat over her head and cast it aside. Her stomach bore all the marks of two pregnancies and years of benign neglect. But Deepu loved that softness against his own belly. He closed the gap ever more and Paru lurched forward back onto him. A few fucks later it was the turn of the blouse. Hunching his back Deepu tried to suck on her breasts. Large, heavy mammaries they sagged as much from the feeding of her own babies as they did from years of Deepu suckling on them. Thick nipples, a large dark areola around them and the sheer volume of flesh excited her husband no end. "Remove this!" he begged her. "Deepu," she said in an alarmed whisper. "I will have no way to cover myself in time if anyone came here." "We are on the floor, somewhat covered by the work shelf," he said, tugging at the fabric even as he lipped the breasts searching for her nipple. "Only somewhat," she hissed. Once again she leaned back, glancing down to see his cock still embedded the visible pillar coated with a whitish mix of fluids. She rapidly undid the hooks and her breasts sagged in their weight now unsupported by the blouse panels. She reached behind and undid the bra clasp letting them fall under their weight only to be caught mid-fall by a grateful and hungry Deepu. She loved his teasing lips each time and holding his head she luxuriated in his ministrations and fed him for a few moments like he was her child. And then it was time again to focus on fuck and finish. She put her arms around his shoulders and wrapped her legs around him and began a rhythmic fucking that had the desired effect on him. As he neared his crisis his eyes were squeezed shut and his face screwed up in concentration as his mind focused on the center of his universe on the head of his cock. A little more and they would normally have stopped to tongue, suck, bite and lick allowing the orgasm to recede and continued to fuck for much longer. But not tonight. Tonight was one of those quick fuck-to-a-finish. She let him lean back on his hands. She raised her hips placing her feet on the ground behind him. Squatting, her pussy lips gaped open on his cock. With a flexibility belying her physique she pumped down on his cock in fluid continuous strokes. It was then that she observed some movement on the stairway beyond. Right on the top stood Deepu's dad, her father, watching. The unusual silence had attracted his attention. He knew his daughter-in-law had not finished her duties. But suddenly the sounds of grinding stones, vessels and other households sounds dropped away and he could only hear some possible scuffling sounds. Deepu was groaning as he was nearing a crescendo. Paru herself was fluidly reaching her own release. She had no choice but to continue and she wondered about how much eh could see from the top of the stairs. While if they had lain down and fucked they might have got away, because she had hoisted herself and was on her haunches, squatting down and thrusting in a fucking motion she was a lot higher. Baba could see his daughter leaning forward, her breasts jiggling as she fucked his son. And she seemed to be seething in pleasure. Deepu was leaning back eyes closed in his own world and he did not notice his wife's eyes focusing on the stairs, where his father stood. Nothing was left to her Baba's imagination as she fucked Deepu to a smooth finish. Her husband spurted into her, lurching forward to hug, hold and clutch in the throes of his orgasm. Paru's legs once again swept around his hip and she pummeled his ass as she often did to extract every drop of his cum. "Moni maa!" he groaned, smiling and thrusting. There! That name again! Paru never asked but occasionally in his intensity, eyes closed he called out to this person. It might have been a lover, a woman he had fantasized about but going by the phrase, probably a woman that he lost his virginity to way back. Whatever. Meanwhile her eyes were intently locked with his, Paru and her Baba, Deepu's dad. In her release she let herself go, hugging him tight and after watching the two of them collapse, her father withdrew back up the stairs. Next Morning "My son is very lucky," said the old man, striking up a deliberate conversation with his daughter. "How so?" asked Paru matter-of-factly as she intently sliced the fish. "What were you doing last night?" asked Baba. "Grinding masala," said Paru ignoring the import of the question. "Grinding, eh?" murmured the old man. He saw his daughter in a new light. She appeared intensely sexy to him suddenly. Paru slapped down the fish on the counter vehemently. She knew how to put an end to this. "Nothing that a man and wife do not do Baba!" she said, looking him in the eye. She brushed past him and went to the fridge to bring out the mustard masala mix she had prepared the previous night. Feeling put down, the old man silently left. Laying the fish slices into the turmeric and salt mix and giving it some time before she proceeded to fry it, Paru turned to the washing basket. As she took out what she recognized her father's clothes she spotted the sticky residue of drying cum on his dhoti. She shook her head, flushed red and put the clothes in to the washing machine and washing her hands a bit more carefully, got back to the fish preparation. The gravy of mustard, turmeric and red chilly paste was reaching a simmer. She had added two sliced green chillies and now was ready to add the fried fish to the gravy. Fish and fuck, her husband's two favorites. She could do nothing about the other two "f"'s he loved - football and fights. Feed him and fuck him and she could get anything from him, she ruminated. Her sensuous fingers were rinsing the rice for the steamed rice to go with fish curry when he reappeared in the kitchen. "I need oil to massage on some of my drying skin," he murmured gently, still smarting from his daughter's stinging rebuke. "Oh yes, Baba!" said Paru spontaneously. She quickly warmed a small bowl of oil and handed it to him. Suddenly she found herself wondering about whether it was drying skin or something else. Their fingers touched briefly and Paru felt he had lingered on more than necessary. Lunch was had and as Paru continued with her housework she found one more dhoti in Baba's clothes basket, one more semi dried wad of cum. What was going on? And then she started to notice the long, oddly timed times he spent in the bathroom several times since that night. Over the next several times of day and night it was unmistakable. The old man had been masturbating vigorously and she quite sure it was all to do with the indiscretion of she and her husband. It was worse than confirmed when she chanced upon him with his room door ajar. There were scuffling sounds and grunts and then a loud whisper 'Paru'. She made bold enough to take a peek and yes, there he was, hands in his lap, head thrown back and seemingly in the throes of a release. She made her quiet exit. Next Day He again came for that cup of warmed oil. "The skin is getting coarse," he said. "What do you do all the time and putting so many clothes for wash?" she asked, her back to him. "What a single, old widower does," he replied, pleased with his sharp if delayed riposte. She felt suddenly remorseful. She had been cold to him these last couple of days after the kitchen incident. But even that had been their fault not his. When she turned to demonstrate sympathy he was already gone. Quietly. She made a point of searching out his clothes and sure enough, in the dhoti, the stains of oil and large deposit of cum were there. Next Day "Oil", he said, simply. Communication had dwindled to monosyllables. It was not borne out of any negative emotions on either part. He had started fantasizing about Paru as a lover. His erections had become fiercer and his cumming more copious. Torn between guilt and desire the old man had withdrawn into himself. He found that his physical abilities were in fact undiminished and his desires much like before. He felt safe, masturbating as he had been for decades now. It avoided the complications of a woman and the need to explain relationships to his family - as if he had no needs. But what had been adequate in the past proved inadequate to satiate him. In the last few bouts he had achingly called out to Paru, needing the intimate touch and holding of a woman. She was busy but that was not the real reason for her delayed response to him. The real reason was that she was in two minds. The woman in her was bursting in sympathy. Yes he had been a widower for simply decades. And in their society there was no space to accommodate these bodily needs, be it a man or a woman. Any relationship after the spouse died was frowned upon in their genteel classes. And if any one found a way it was discreet enough to not disturb the status quo at least outwardly. What happened next was predictable for sure and even Paru knew that the step she was about to take could only reach one logical conclusion. "I will get it to the bath, you go," she said. She wanted to provide a human touch of comfort to the old man, that's all. Deep in her mind she very well knew that that was not going to be the end of it. But that is the nature of human tendency - to go forth adventurously. She knocked on the bathroom door and Baba opened the door with just a small gap as is usual to take the odd forgotten object like a towel or soap. Boldly Paru pushed it wider. By the time Baba realized what was happening and leaned to block her the door was wide enough for her to push herself partly through. She looked down which was a tactical ploy to let him know that once she had seen him nude there was no point in shutting the door on her. Not only was he nude but he was erect too. Not only was he erect too, he was large. Paru gasped. He was beautifully endowed and this she felt made the tragedy of his state of need was even more acute. He looked down at himself and his face went red. He had not shown himself like this to a woman since his wife died. Paru gently pressed the door father and Baba gave up. She entered and locked the door, fingers on her lips indicating to him to keep quiet. "I don't see any dry skin," she said impishly looking at this broad chest. Quickly she knelt down and took the oil in both her hands. Gently she cupped his scrotum in her open palms and the oil soaked his balls. Then both hands closed on his shaft and gently spread the oil over his massive cock. It was a beautiful specimen indeed and Paru felt cheated that having married his son the genes had not flowed through in this department. Her hands went around and she twirled and swirled with magical fingers as the oil was massaged into him. "Where else?" she asked innocently looking up at Baba. The old man had his hand on his daughter's head and his own head was thrown back in the pleasure of being touched by someone else. "Just there," he whispered. He did not ask her to continue. He did not move forward to her mouth which was tantalizingly close. He did nothing. He just stayed put. His reply was supposed to mean that nothing further was needed. Paru interpreted it as that being the only point of focus. By this time her mind was in a whirl as between her legs the sluice gates had opened. She was wet and hungry from the idea of lodging this cock in to her cunt. Two children and incessant fucking later she had a wide open pussy and while Deepu was satisfying in himself, the idea of a being bludgeoned by a large, well endowed man who clearly was very, very virile was tempting. That the man was her father offered itself as a solution rather than a problem. She felt more certain about discretion if she kept it to him. But she was not thinking that much right now. Right now, looming in front of her, inches away from her face was the heftiest cock she had ever seen and she was not entirely sure about what to do and how to do it. He was going to masturbate anyway. "Might as well help him with it," she thought and put one hand around his cock. She held his ass with her other hand and was now sideways to his hips. This allowed her to move her hand rapidly as if she was wielding a pestle. She knew how rapid and smooth she would have to be make him cum quickly. She did not have much time. Soon someone would be looking for her and she could not possible emerge from the same bathroom from which her father might follow her out. Her hand moved smoothly over the thick shaft and her eyes remained fixated on what was clearly becoming an object of desire for her. As she fisted down the bulbous head bulged and she imagined that deep in her cunt and shivered. "Sorry baba," she whispered. "I should not have been so insensitive." Insensitive? Here was his sexy, sumptuous daughter doing something he could not have dreamt of asking of her! "Oh, no!" he sighed, rocking into the hand in rhythm. "Achcha, now cum," she said to him matter-of-factly. "We don't have enough time." "Enough time? Enough for what," asked the father. How he wished he was between her legs and not just in her hand. "Just cum!" she said, squeezing his ass as if milking it. "I can think of something if we had more time," ventured Baba. He looked down and their eyes met. Paru moved her hand rapidly on his cock. This was quickly turning into a race between what she was willing to do and what she and the old man wanted to do. But this was an awkward time of day for her to go missing. She knew there were other times when this might still work. But not right now, when tea and snacks were imminent. "Cum. Finish," she urged him, her hand moving in a blur. "I am always there." The Masala Moment "Ah! Ah! Ah!" cried out Baba. "Is that a promise?" he asked. She realized that her statement had excited him. She knew she could make him finish with a little more sex-talk or touching. She had been there once before several years ago. Her mind went to that episode as she continued fisting him. It had been with her son who had injured himself during a football match. The lady doctor who was attending on him told Paru to take him away, her face red with embarrassment. When Paru went into the treatment room she found her son lying there, a strong erection waving in the air. The rush of blood did not recede and sitting next to him on his bed she decided to solve this before her daughter, older than the boy, came home. She had masturbated him vigorously. And when the boy showed inability to come due to his injury she had kissed him, on the belly, just above his erection and his silken cock had scraped her cheek briefly. In that one instant his seed flew in the air and he grabbed the sides of the bed, spurting again and again till he lost it all. They never spoke about it and she never did that with him again. Almost absent mindedly while reminiscing this episode Paru leaned forward and kissed her father's belly. The old man pushed her head further down. Paru took her lips to the broad pillar sliding through her fist and sucked on it as it passed. The taste of oil mixed with his precum coated her lips. She continued to kiss and suck as her hand moved forward and back with a steady pace. She adjusted her fist a couple of times and soon found the part of his cockhead that was most sensitive, the part that was going to make him cum. Slowly she shifted the entire focus of her fisting to cover that erogenous zone and soon she was rewarded with tremors. She needed this to end now. Baba pushed her head further and she quickly took the head in her mouth. "Beta!" he moaned and his hips rocked, fucking her mouth. HE was so focused on his own pleasure and consumed by it that he was able to shove aside his feelings of guilt over his illicit pleasure. Paru's head bobbed expertly on the cockhead and her hand which was on his ass squeezed and kneaded his butt. She took her mouth off to tell him, "Come Baba. Its okay." She soothing and cooing in her tones. "It's for you I am doing this!" she murmured, watching the head reddening. Suddenly Baba froze but Paru continued to slide her hand and rotate her thumb on his head. She knew his cumming was imminent from the tautness in his ass and the stiffening of his body. When her fingers probed his ass he spurted in a first big release and his cum shot out and hit the wall across. Her fist flooded with gobs of his cum. "Beta! Beta! Beta" he sobbed as his body convulsed. His hand on the back of her head goaded her forward and she again opened her mouth and took him in deep. He groaned loudly and spurted his second shot of cum. He filled her mouth rapidly and she had to open her mouth to let the semen stream out of her mouth. She continued with her hand sliding on his cock, marveling at how he had to give. It was as if the dimensions of Baba's cock reflect the quantity of release though she knew that was not a scientific fact. She let his cock slip out continued to masturbate him. The third cum shot was smaller in its spurt but it fell in an arc and there was still enough to impress her. As he rapidly lost volume he pushed her head back on to his cock. She pursed her lips providing his cock with a channel to ride and he sighed in pleasure as he felt her milking him. A few jerks of his cock she took in her mouth and when she was filled with his seed she let him slide out of her lips, milking him like it was a cow's udder and she let the semen flow down her chin. Her hands faithfully remained on him, massaging him, giving him pleasure and providing him a full release. And he again wanted the warm and sucking action of her mouth and guided her back. She mouthed him for the last time, sucking and pushing out of her lips the small jut of flesh that now remained. Baba shuddered endlessly. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you," he murmured rocking back and forth his cock pumping into her willing and waiting mouth. "Where is your dhoti, Baba?" asked Paru. "Oh, its new," said Baba, trembling on weak drained legs. "So were all your others," she noted dryly. She wiped her face, scraped her tongue and rubbed her hands dry on the dhoti. Baba grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, his face reddening with embarrassment at being told that his activities had been noted by his daughter. Sporting an erect cock was easy and once it turned flaccid there was an urgent need to cover it. Similarly, everything sexual was easy to wear as a trophy but once he was off the sexual high even his own sexuality was to be closeted. "Don't come out now," said Paru getting up. Her pussy ached for action but she did what she did right now out of sympathy for her father. She wanted to be fucked badly but this was not the time. She wanted the father's heavy cock rather than the son's merely adequate one. But she was ready to take whatever she could get in this crowded house. It was still okay to be spotted with her husband. It would be frightfully dangerous to be found by anyone with her father. She opened the bathroom door and watched for a moment. There was no one in the corridor. She slid out. Later Baba washed himself and had a bath and by that time he was drained fully and quite tired. He went and lay down on the bed in his room and did not know when and how he fell asleep. But it was a beautiful sleep. Somewhere deep in that he felt his body abuzz as it remembered her lips and mouth on him. As his body rested fully his cock arose. When he awoke a few hours later, his cock was hungry and he was ready for a full release. He lay there thinking of his daughter. It was awfully nice of her to that for him. But it was completely illicit and unconscionable. It was the sheer engorgement and urgency of his need that allowed him to let her do what she did. But not now any more. He should stick to masturbation here onward. His hands crept down as he took charge of himself. As he stroked himself he felt his erection deflate. It did not feel the same after her hand and mouth on him. He abandoned his effort as there was no pleasure in it. May be he should go mingle with the family a little more rather than the incessant pursuit of pleasure that had consumed his last couple of days. He wandered out of his room. There was a game of caroms on in the other room. Every one was there. Every one other than Paromita, his Paru. He went looking for her. He found her in the other bathroom, the one in which the washing machine was installed. She was leaning over loading or unloading clothes. Automatically his eyes rested on her round ass. She was delectable. His erection returned swiftly. He closed the bathroom door and bolted it very, very quietly. As she continued to lean over, Baba leaned over her, pressing his erection to her ass. She was startled and bolted up. He put his hand on the back of her neck to keep her down. "Baba! What is this?" she asked in hushed tones. "This is dangerous." The father noted his daughter-in-law had no objection to what he was doing. She was just worried about being discovered. "I have bolted the door," he said, pulling up her saree and petticoat in one bunch. Paru was still bubbling for the last few hours that Baba had been sleeping exhausted. She could not get the fantastic specimen of manhood out of her mind. She needed a fuck but perhaps she needed to fuck her husband's more. There was an excitement about the dimensions of Baba's penis. There was a different dimension of excitement from the danger of discovery. And there was something scintillating about the idea of fucking the father of the man she had been fucking for years now. But there was no way to get it done. Masturbation, somehow, to her mind was different. She had done it for her son. Her friends had done it to help others. One had masturbated a somewhat ill person back to health by showing him that he was actually quite fine. Another had masturbated a nephew quite regularly during his study leave to keep the boy focused on his studies. And just when she was thinking of ambushing Deepu and asking him to fuck her for sheer relief, here was his father, hunched up behind her. The outline and the pressure on her ass told her that the old man had more vitality than his son. He was quite ready and back to the fullness of his impressive dimensions. She leaned forward, gripping the sides of the vibrating machine in front of her, offering her back. In a fashion. She pressed herself against the machine and took pleasure from the vibrations against her pussy. "Baba, what I did for you was different," gasped Paru. "Yes, Beti. And this is no different from that. It's a need," he said dropping his dhoti and fell in a puddle of cloth at his feet. "Yes, but helping you release is different from taking you in," she said unconvincingly, raising one leg and placing it on the clothes basket next to the machine. Her gaping open cunt rubbed against the corner of the machine. As a dryer cycle started it rubbed her back vigorously and Paru sighed, giving in to pleasure it brought her. She felt a minor climax and she felt more in control of herself. "Yes, it is," grunted her husband's father as he held his cock in one hand and rubbed his cock ahead along her the gap of her ass cheeks searching out the wet bubbling cauldron he knew must lie within her. "Don't cum inside me," she gasped reaching under and guiding his head onto the gaping wide opening that was ready to receive. "Then?" asked Baba pushing gently to make sure he would not slip. "Just, aah!" she whimpered. "Make a few strokes for our satisfaction, Babaaaa!" she thrilled in the fullness that speared her now. They stood still for a bit. He enjoyed the sensations of having a wet sheath grab at his cock. She didn't feel like the mother of two. She let her muscles relax as she felt the impossible stretch. Why had her husband not inherited this wonderful thickness! "And after that?" asked the old man pulling back just a bit. Paru leaned forward and widened her spread so that he could fuck her well. "After that I will do what I did before with my hand," she replied fucking back so that he did not come out of her more than she could bear. "Hm, aah, yessssssss!" he hissed as she slid over his cock. It seemed larger than ever before, swelling to new proportions and his head seemed to swell as she rode down on his cock. He thrust in and the cockhead reared into her womb. "Goooooooood!" sighed the younger woman as she thrust to meet his push. "I'll do you!" "You already are! Do me! Do me! Do me! Do me!" he pleaded fucking her harder with his next thrust. "Only a few pushes Baba, aaaah! Till we are ready for release, yaaaa?" she implored. She needed the old man to fuck her harder, to the fullest of his zeal. "Come on, come on, come on!" she egged him on. "Fuckkk me!" she hollered gripping the washing machine under which seemed to be like another piece of love making gadget operating its shakes and vibrations under her for her benefit. "Yes betaaaah!" grunted Baba fucking his daughter really hard. He thrust in and his cock head reared up to a huge bulb each time he entered her womb. Paru cried out in pleasurable pain and delight as she felt the full brunt of his thrusting weapon. She was being bludgeoned and was melting intensely with each stroke. "Baba! Baba! Baba!" she babbled. "What?" asked the old man grunting with each thrust as his daughter's cunt seemed to grab his cock and massage him with the same intensity her hands and mouth had worked on him. She shook her head from side to side as orgasms rippled through her. "Nothing! Just, uh," she said in a quavering voice. She rotated her hips slowly, telling herself that the man deserved as much pleasure as she could give. Her father gasped at the new angles this caused and he fucked harder wanting to return the favor. "Are you happy with me?" he asked fucking now in a smooth action as the edge of his desire receded and he felt continual pleasure from the fucking. He wanted her to feel as happy as he was for the sake of his ongoing pleasure. "Very!" she exulted. "Very! Just remember that this just for you Baba. And you have to, unh, unh, unh, aah...!" she went losing control over her cunt walls which seemed to pulse with their own life. "I have to, have to, have to... What! What! What!" asked the pleasure seeking old man rhetorically. Each phrase was accompanied by a firm, hard, deep fuck. The washing machine moved a little with the brutality of his fucking. She gripped it harder to provide him a stable target to fuck. "I'll masturbate you. Mouth you. Fist you. Suck you. And make you cum, ok?" she gasped with each thrust as pleasure coursed through her being. "Don't cum inside me. I am your son's wife," she explained. "Either way, it is the same genes," he argued, reaching under and trying to feel her breasts and grip them in an attempt to hold her as a firm target. "Oh, Baba, Baba, Baba! I'mmmmmmmmm..." wailed the daughter as she fell into an endless cycle of cumming. The convulsing cunt played havoc on his cock. The father was supposed to warn his daughter-in-law that he was going to cum. She was supposed to grab him in her fist and masturbate and mouth him to a finish. Instead he started calling out her name but unable to say anything else or further. "Paru, Paru, Paru, Paru!" "Yes, Baba. Yes! Yes! Yessss!" she replied exploding in her own washes of intense orgasms. The old man was large! Wild! Energetic! And she felt full inside her womb as he swelled. She knew he was about to cum and wantonly thrust back hard and fast. "Don't cum, okay. Okay? Okay! Okay!" she screamed in low tones. "Ha, ha, ha, haaaaaah!" he wailed and released into her. She remember the large gobs of shot that he fired in his first release. She felt an equivalent gush in her womb. HE had so much to give. "I told you not!" she hissed thrusting back the way her fist had thrust back on his cock to bring about a full release. "Yah, yessssss," he said and shot his second load. IT too triggered memories in her with its second load and she felt that the cock and its release, the swelling of her own internal organs and the tight squeeze made it difficult for them to fuck further. But the old man was up to the task. His third thrust was hard and brutal pushing the washing machine up to the wall and his son's wife was thrust upward to the fullest. A large dribble of release pushed through and Paru felt it stream down her legs with no space left inside her. "You bad old man," she said laughingly. "You were supposed to pull out." "Its okay, its okay, its okay," he said through gritted teeth. In this phase her pursed lips had pleasured his reducing pillar of flesh in the first round. He dribbled into her, giving her every single drop of release that he had for her. The machine stopped as they stopped convulsing and jerking. He let go of her as his cock slipped out automatically from its preferred lair. He stepped back and she let her saree fall to the floor. But Paru could hardly move. Her insides and legs quivered and cum was streaming down the inside of her thighs. He had so much to give! His thickness, his animal vigor, his vitality, his ability to fuck so often and then the large dollops of semen. It was a pity there was no one to take all of that as often as he needed. She beat on his chest with her fists and complained, "You were not supposed to cum inside me!" He held her and rocked her. "Its okay. We are the same line. The same vansh." She laid her head on his broad chest and said quietly, "That was not wanton lust, okay? It was all about you, your needs." His hand crept down and he felt the wet patch between her legs and nodded his agreement. It did not matter to him what she thought. It mattered that his own daughter was willing to giving him the physical release he had so desperately wanted. He still wanted to experience how it would be if she rode him the way she had squatted and fucked his son that night. Right now, it was the same before. "Don't come out now," whispered Paru to her father, her hands feeling his taut abdomen. They didn't make them like this any more she mused. Moving slowly to prevent a gush of escaping juices she slowly waddled to her own bathroom where she could change into a completely new set of clothes. She was wet from the washing machine in some parts and her father in other parts. But she was happy. She felt wonderfully fucked and released. She just hoped the old man would now keep a lid on it.