All Golpo Are Fake And Dream Of Writer, Do Not Try It In Your Life

Neighbouring Room-English Story

He sat writing at his desk. Writing fiction is taking a trip into a world that exists only as per the terms suited to the author. If that fiction is erotica then you can do things which you would not contemplate in real life. And that was why Shyam wrote.

It allowed him to indulge in fantasies about all the women he encountered in life. Women who he talked to politely while actually he might have wanted to scream obscenities while fucking them. There were others whose breasts he imagined — would they spill out if he undid the hooks? Or situations: what if the man who was part of a family council choosing a bride actually decided to fuck her? Or that aunt who looked saucy and flirted: what if she took the boys in to the neighbouring room one by one?

And so he wrote. Of aunts. Of uncles. Of himself. Of his cousins. All behaving irresponsibly and letting their sexual inclinations flow. They took, indulged, sampled and feasted on the targets of their lust, unrestrained by social norms. They did it in aggressive, seductive, passionate and entrapping ways, unhindered by their own consciences. And they performed acts unhindered by physical limitations.000i001LhA5As he wrote of them and their impossible encounters, Shyam found himself aroused uncontrollably. These were the stories he wanted to read and the only way was to write them himself. He liked the fact they were rooted in reality. He enjoyed the idea that any of those events could have easily occurred: every other setting was perfect except the constraints which evaporated when it came to fantasy. And he had lusted after every woman in every story: after all they were all real characters in the world around him.

That aunt’s breasts. This girl’s long legs. That night at the wedding reception when he and a woman he knew only as an acquaintance in a room by themselves counting gifts. Each of those women had been real. Each of them delectable, touchable, fuckable, suckable. And in his writings he did everything to each one exactly as he would have in real life.

It brought on massive erections and Shyam found it necessary to masturbate as he relived the fantasy in his mind, several times during the writing of each story.

However, it was not always convenient to do so. He might be writing sitting in a hotel room somewhere in which case it was not unusual to masturbate more than once in the space of a few hours as the stories drove him wild. At other times, he might be at an airport on a plane in which case he could only wait to reach his destination. And then there were times like this, when he was writing seated at his desk in his home-office. The rest of the house went about its chores, oblivious to him; perhaps assuming that he was busy at work. He was writing after a long, long time and he was finding terrific arousal in imagining an Uncle getting cunt, hands, lips, tongue and mouth of his daughter’s friend. Why had he waited to write so long? Nothing got him as hard as his own story, well-crafted.

Shyam shifted in his chair as the story gathered momentum and the male and female became animals consuming one another. He was wearing a lungi (the sarong that goes around the waist) writing this story, his erection unfettered by any restraining garments. It reared up and hummed with fullness. He was engrossed in his writing and the pleasure it gave him. Occasionally he reached under his desk and gave his hard on a rub or a squeeze. He felt his need soar and knew that within a few more pages of writing he would need to adjourn to the bathroom and masturbate to release.

Around him the hum of household work was on. A lady who he knew to be the maid’s mother was sweeping the floor in the hall. His table was in one corner. She seemed faraway enough for him to continue stroking his cock every now and then. He had made it a habit to keep an eye out for various people coming and going to ensure he wasn’t spotted. He wanted his writings to be secret and definitely none of his sexual comforting of his hard on was to be spotted by anyone.

Beyond keeping an eye out for intrusions in privacy he didn’t eye the domestic staff. They were working class and he never stooped to that level of lusting for them. Nor did he ever treat them as eye candy. They were after all, servants who relied on his goodness. Anything sexual would be exploitative. Even to glance at their breasts, cleavage was not in his scheme of things.

The coast seemed clear enough and Shyam continued writing and squeezing himself. His cock had started dripping and unknown to him it was dripping on to the floor below. The woman was sweeping the floor now on her haunches and walking along as she swept the floor. Shyam did not notice her progress across the room and soon enough, she was nearer his desk than he realised. From where he was sitting he couldn’t see her.

Neither did Dhanam, the maid’s mother, notice Shyam. The sahib pretty much kept to himself and his work. On the few occasions she had come to help her daughter complete the housework she had no interaction with Shyam. Her daughter, the maid of the house, never reported any advances or incidents of questionable nature. Dhanam and her daughter often gossiped about the families at which they worked and there was never anything salacious to be had about Shyam’s household.

She was the mother of a sixteen year old but given to hard physical work which is normal for the working classes. Her body was hard and her shoulders square — somewhat Amazonian in her build.

Right now, as she used the broom she found the floor had some drops of fluid and she couldn’t sweep without wiping it off first. As is usual with working class women she thought nothing of wiping it with the side of her hand and then getting up to go to wash her hand off. But as she was about to get up she noticed another drop hit the floor. She looked up and lo and behold, in all its glory she could see Shyam’s cock. His lungi was pulled up a bit and the cock was exposed to the floor and also to anyone looking up from that angle. In effect Dhanam was looking up Shyam’s lungi. And there was his cock full and raging in its hardon, and the precum dripping from its swollen head to the floor below. Dhanam was unlettered but in one of the other houses she frequented she had noticed the teenage boy of that house watching sexy video clips on a computer. (She and her daughter had laughed about it. Dhanam even felt her daughter was not laughing as freely as she did on other occasions; it led her to suspect that her daughter might have obliged that young man. ) Dhanam knew that things of a sexual nature could be viewed on the computer and that is what seemed to be engaging Shyam. She had had much more intimate experiences in other houses – of the master of the house watching sensual, erotic and porn clips on DVD. There had been times the man of the house had demanded sexual favours. She had obliged. With oral, with masturbation and occasionally a full blown fuck.

She imagined Shyam’s hard on was from watching some such material on the computer. Impulsively, she reached out and held the cock in the same position one would hold a tennis racket. Shyam moved back in shock. But Dhanam was holding his cock firmly if gently. She moved her hand up and down adding drops to the floor below. Shyam gasped with pleasure and looked below the desk. There she was with one hand on the floor resting on it and other hand up his lungi.

She gave Shyam a matter of fact look — almost as if it was one more menial chore she was performing around his house. Shyam gripped the sides of his chair as Dhanam expertly ran her hand on his shaft, reaching the base and pulling skin back and pulling forward and getting the foreskin back over the head. Shyam closed his eyes savouring the slow stroking. There were huge risks in accepting what Dhanam was doing to him but he couldn’t have needed it more. He was betting on the idea that she was under the table and would not be spotted.

As Shyam thrust his hips upward, Dhanam realised she needed to change the angle of her hand. She sat down and took his cock in both hands. Her thumb ran over the head taking the fluid in her hand for lubrication. She smeared the cum on his pillar and rubbed with both hands holding his member in the closed fists of both hands. She rubbed up and down matter-of-factly looking at the cock. It was a nice thick cock, as good a specimen as she had seen in her lifetime of handling men.

In seeking to provide him release her stroking was mechanical. It was anything but mechanical for Shyam. He gasped and grunted as he was treated to an efficient if impersonal stroking of his cock. He looked down at the woman whose hands were giving him such expert treatment. She looked up at him wordlessly, blushing slightly. Her bosom heaved from her exertions and for the first time Shyam noticed large breasts firmly placed on her broad shoulders.

Unexpectedly, Dhanam quickly used one hand to pull her saree and cover her breasts more completely. From where Shyam was seated he had a good view down her blouse but now it was veiled in the layer of cotton. Dhanam’s bangles clinked slightly as the rhythm she set up for his cock took hold of her. Shyam stared at the sweaty, reddening woman, her head not far from his knees and her body at his feet. He reached forward and pulled the saree down to see the slopes of her breasts. He wanted to see more, touch, hold and feel. But she was seated below him and any change in position would prevent her from masturbating him well. Any adventure beyond this would need a change in setting as well.

Her breasts had beads of sweat on them which made them more alluring than ever. Apart from the exertions of sweeping the effort it was taking to make Shyam cum was unusual. Shyam surprised Dhanam by not cumming instantly. It was his dimension of erection which had made her reach out and take him in her hand. She was fascinated by the proportions of the cock but not aroused. What got her curiosity — and slowly her too — aroused was the staying power. Shyam would make a great fuck, she realised. “Imagine having this well proportioned cock filling me and then being able to fuck me till I came as much and as often as I wanted to!” she thought.

The thought caused her to be rough with his member. The fluid had dried up and the cock head was red and dry. Dhanam leaned forward and released a blob of saliva from her mouth onto Shyam’s cock. She needed the lubricant and Shyam was dry. Her own pussy was juicing up but she did not want to go beyond just this one session of masturbation. Expose yourself and God knows where it ends — that was her principle in handling the master of various houses. Do enough but don’t create situations where they can exploit you.

Shyam stiffened as Dhanam moved her head over his cock — was she going to kiss him, take him in her mouth? “Ohh!” he shivered in anticipation. When she soaked him in her warm saliva Shyam shuddered.

Dhanam’s measured cadence on his cock gave way to rapid thrusting of her fist. She rubbed his balls against the palm of one hand, coaxing the man to cum. He wanted to cum and thrust his hips back and forth. Suddenly, Shyam sat forward and spread his knees. Dhanam was now between his legs trying to keep both her hands on his shaft. She played and made love to the hot flesh, allowing it to run between her fingers. Each thrust down brought its head rearing up quite near her own lips. She watched transfixed, imagining that same head rearing up into her womb. As she kneeled to do her chosen task better, her pussy flowed freely. Dhanam knew her desire had crossed a threshold she had set for herself. She had not been asked to do so and here she was masturbating Sahib. He had not moved on her and she was now on her knees pussy agape, and lips apart hovering over his cock, flowing of its own accord.

From this position Shyam could reach lower and lift her breasts in his hands. He felt them full, hard and heavy. His thumbs ran over the nipples. Dhanam gasped and Shyam felt the warm breath on his cock, his scrotum and his pubic hair. Her blouse was hardly an impediment as Shyam discovered she wore no bodice or bra. It was just an apology of a cover for her ample bosom. He squeezed and enjoyed the fullness as his hips thrust into her hands.

With the same impulse that she first grasped his cock in her fist, Dhanam leaned a little more and kissed the head. It was not a kiss as one might receive on the cheek. It was a sucking kiss that pulled on his cockhead. Shyam gasped and hands roaming on her back pulled her close to him.

Dhanam buried her face in the master’s stomach and her hand worked the pillar of flesh faster and harder with the new deposit of saliva she left on him. She kissed his belly and her face caressed the expanse of flesh on his tummy. Now holding his cock like a joystick her thumb toyed the head. She paused to rotate the whole pillar round and round. Then she thrust down taking the cock in. as she clung to Shyam and kissed and bit his flesh, Shyam gripped her back and pawed at her breasts.

Finally, Dhanam slid her middle finger into the crevice of his ass. Gently, greased by cum and saliva, her finger teased Shyam’s perineum and ass.

With a groan Shyam felt Dhanam conquer him fully. His flesh relaxed and the orgasm whipped his body. He stretched his legs, toes curling as Dhanam’s one hand roamed from ass to scrotum while the other hand fisted him with even greater vigour.

His spurts were huge and her hand was quickly soaked. Dhanam quickly smeared the dollops she collected on her saree edge and her hands came up for more. Holding her master’s cock firmly in one hand then the other, she collected all his cum and wiped it on her saree.

Shyam came in a series of hissed “ah”s. He didn’t know the woman’s name. He wanted to call out to her. He wanted to repeat her name over and over. All he managed to do was shudder and empty in her hands. She thrilled him by leaning and kissing his thighs. His cock was still cumming and Dhanam was stroking and pleasuring all the surrounding areas.

Shyam groaned and sank back in the chair as his cock rapidly lost its tumescence. Dhanam took the receding jut of flesh between her lips and forming a small “o” fucked the small jut of remaining flesh. It was ultra sensitive to her touch and Shyam jumped and squirmed as subsidiary orgasms were squeezed out of him by the expert woman kneeling between his legs. And when that too receded, she covered the entire cock and pubic area with her mouth and tongued the flesh. Her repeated ministrations continued and pleasured him incessantly. He wondered why she would not let go.

Dhanam continued to suck and lick the area till she felt what she wanted to know about her master; the cock twitched back and added just enough volume to let her know that her Sahib was a sexual volcano.

She knew that he could quickly regain his erection to the fullest. Having satisfied her curiosity, Dhanam withdrew, wiping her mouth on the edge of the saree. She inspected the floor below — it was clear of any drops of precum. Everything had been captured in her hands and her saree.

Pulling the curtain of his lungi over the cock, she resumed the sweeping which had brought her between his knees.

Shyam slumped in his chair, drained and knowing that he would have to continue his writing some other time. Dhanam had changed forever the way he viewed her or her daughter. She had released him sexually and transcended all class boundaries. He would never be able to look at her the same way again.

Before he could ask her anything she had gone back to being the mother of the regular maid in their house and Shyam did not know how to ask her anything. Neither her name, nor what their next sexual tryst if any, would be like. He stared at the words on the screen which seemed flat and hollow compared to the experience he had just had.

The post Neighbouring Room-English Story appeared first on Mastaram: Hindi Sex Kahani.

Neighbouring Room-English Story

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