Indian Wife Longs for Motherhood Ch. 01

Chachaji smiled as I became clearly aroused. He was playing with the remote, fluctuating the speed, even stopping it once to see how I reacted.

"Chachaji!" was the only word I could exclaim, a hand gripping his thigh to show a sense of need. He was enjoying my reactions. He stretched a hand himself, teasing the area around my pussy while the vibe teased the insides.

I felt the hand run along my tummy and up. He squeezed my firm round breasts, flicking the thumb on the nipples. I was receptive to his play. My nipples proved my arousal with their hardness.

My breath came in gasps. My lips parted. My eyes closed and I lusted for more.

In deep arousal I squealed, "Oh! Chachajii."

"Yes, Bitiya?" He responded, and then, "You are feeling better? Would you like to sit up?"

He didn't wait, helping me to sit up in normal position. But the blanket cover remained. So did the intrusive vibrator.

Underneath the cover, he fidgeted for a while. Then, when his movements seemed to have ended, a hand had moved over and gripped mine. Without waiting, he was guiding that hand of mine towards him and on to what was now a very hard and throbbing length of meat.

I was taken aback. I understood what had happened when he fidgeted underneath the blanket. He had taken out his manhood from within his trouser and underwear.

I froze the moment my hand touched that warm, hard shaft. It became restless instantly.

"Do you know what it's called?" Chachaji asked in whispers.

"Yes," I blurted shamelessly. Keeping quiet wouldn't have helped me.

"No, you don't. At least, you don't know its nick name," he brushed me off with a naughty smile.

I looked at him askingly.

"Lund," he said, "the sweetest name that you should call it by, Bitiya."

What a vulgar name, I thought. But, oh how manly!

"I guess you don't need any introduction, do you? You are aware of the prowess of ones similar as this?" Chachaji was enjoying his teasing.

"Chachaji!!" There was a degree of uneasiness, and mock admonishment, in my tone.

"I'll introduce you to the power of this one in our hotel. In the meantime, just get a feel of it, dear. This is just for introductions. Go on, press the girth. See how it reacts," he ignored my earlier expression.

His hand remained on mine, exerting pressure so that I had no way of pulling away. His face now turned serious, and I knew he would have his way.

I had no choice and I surrendered. I started feeling his organ, running my hand over it. I could imagine the size and thickness and guessed it to be quite enormous. The mushroom could be easily made out, so also the veins that crisscrossed over it.

"Feel the tip," he commanded.

Hesitatingly, I ran my thumb over it. Oh god! He was oozing precum. I couldn't resist, I played along the tip, parting and pulling the foreskin down and yet running another finger over and over the wet tip. There was a faint desire to see the throbbing organ.

Chachaji was certainly loving it, I could make that out easily.

"Like to taste it?" He asked in a hoarse voice. Thankfully, the voice was low.

I was horrified.

"Or smell it at least? Just a whiff?" He toyed to see my reaction.

Without further ado, he began to draw out my hand from underneath the blanket.

"Go on," he said, when my hand was out. The wetness around the fingers was clearly visible. So were patches on the palm of my hand.

I shook my head, uneasy and ashamed. But he had raised my hand and brought it towards my face. There was a normal need to breathe and when I did, the strong, acrid smell hit me. I lowered my hand.

"Later, Chachaji," I said, "please, not here."

Just then the announcement to fasten seat belts for landing was announced. The sticky juices had almost dried on my hands.

I tried to go to the toilet to wash my hand but the sharp cracking words of the airhostess, 'Madam, sit down please!' was enough. I remained seated.

As I looked out of the window of the aircraft on to the city we were to land, I wondered what the next few days held for me. Whether I would be able to pray at the temple on the auspicious day? And, more importantly whether, in the end, my cherished desire of motherhood would be fulfilled.

________/\/\/\/\_______

When we reached the hotel from the airport, it was mid-afternoon. Chachaji had made online reservations, and we were quickly ushered to the reception.

A few welcoming words before the female receptionist opened out the Visitors Register in front of Chachaji.

I glanced over my shoulders as he filled in the details.

Visitors name - Mr. Vinod Reddy

Number of Guests - 2

Relationship - Wife

The Register required other information and Chachaji busily filled those in. But I just waited with bated breath. Wife? What if they required my identity as well?

Luckily, they were satisfied with just his.

When, later, I had asked Chachaji what if they insisted on my identity proof that had a different surname, he had a ready answer.

"These days, many women keep their pre-marriage title. I am sure the receptionist wouldn't be bothered," he had said.

But coming back to Chachaji's weird perversions, it began with the way he addressed me right in front of the reception desk.

"Bitiya (daughter), I have booked a suite for us," he said, ensuring that his voice was loud enough to be audible for those around us.

The receptionist looked up in surprise. Daughter? Yet, I had been registered as wife, the receptionist must have thought. Not that our age difference wasn't a good reason to evoke curiosity.

I wished I could get away from the spot. I was uncomfortable, to say the least.

Chachaji, unperturbed as he was, had an arm around me as we walked towards the elevator. In moments, his hand had slid from my back towards my ass curves, where it rested. The young bellboy in uniform led us, pushing the luggage trolley in front.

The elevator was big and both of us walked back to the end. The bellboy pushed the buttons and we began to ascend.

At that moment, Chachaji gripped my ass hard, pulling me near.

"Bitiya," he said. Without a care, he kissed me hard and noisily. I am sure hotel staff are well trained these days for tact, and pretend ignorance at what guests do.

I tried to push Chachaji away, but he held me firmly.

"Mujhe mat roko (Don't stop me)," he hissed, again loud enough for the bellboy to hear. He didn't turn his head, no movement at all that would indicate a curious mind.

I understood it was Chachaji's way to initiate me into exhibitionism. It was his kink and he would fulfill that weird fantasy in this trip. I was a toy in his hand, and he would play with it like a child did to one that was new.

Luckily, we reached our floor and, as the door opened, we walked out and followed the bellboy.

Walking along the passage and turning through two bends, we reached our suite. It was somewhat isolated and had a privacy that would meet the requirements of a honeymooning couple.

The bellboy quickly opened the door with the electronic key and kept our bags inside. Chachaji was magnanimous in his tips and the lad bowed in delight. Yet, even before he could close the door to leave, I was within Chachaji's very tight hug.

He had gripped my ass curves and was pulling me into him as tightly as he could. His lips were on mine, impatiently parting them with his thick pair, when my eyes fell on the bellboy through the yet unclosed door. He was gaping inside, looking at us, mouth wide open. Just for a few moments, but I pulled away and he also, embarrassed at being caught, quickly shut the door.

"What happened?" Chachaji was taken aback at my sudden withdrawal.

"The bellboy. He was staring at us," I said, somewhat out of breath.

"So? Isn't that what I said I want?" Chachaji seemed annoyed, "Don't ever stop me like that again. And I think I clearly told you that starting from our entry into the hotel, you'll address me as 'Papa'? I want to hear you use that term frequently and audibly."

"Yes, Chachaji," I answered, not able to hide an element of fear in my voice.

He gripped me by the arm in a manner that hurt. The pain was evident in my eyes.

"Papa. That's what you are to address me as. Why do you keep forgetting?" There was only impatience and anger in his voice.

I lowered my eyes and nodded.

"Well? I am waiting." He waited like one admonishing a delinquent.

"Ye...yes, Papa," I stammered.

"That's better. And I want to hear that more often when we have dinner later in the evening," Chachaji said in finality.

This primary behavioral instruction having been established, Chachaji turned different.

"Come to Papa, bitiya," he said, pulling me into his chest again. He was running a hand over the top of my head, almost brushing my hair, somewhat in a show of affection.

Moments later, his behavior changed. Affection turned to lust, as he gripped both my breasts, kneading them madly while his lips kissed me hard. He pushed in his tongue into my mouth, searching for mine. I felt it roam around inside, running over my teeth and the insides of the cheeks before it began to swirl around my tongue.

He lowered his hands, letting them go around my back and down on my ass. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of my rounded curves, pushing hard and lifting me up. I was overwhelmed in this raw display of passion. Saliva was dripping out of my mouth and down my chin.

"God! You are sexy!" he mumbled, "Get ready for a torrid seven days, unforgettable ones I can assure you."

I realized that my efforts to show a degree of resistance and keeping the man at bay, were weakening. If it went on in this manner, I would succumb in a very short time.

"You held my 'lund' on the plane under blankets. What holds you back when you can see and play easily with it?" He asked in a husky voice.

"Uh?" I responded, trying to be evasive.

"I know you want it." He was asserting. "Never deny yourself what your mind and body want. Take it, bitiya."

I felt his fingers nudging on my shoulders, and then the palm of his hands, pushing me ever so slowly to go down on to the floor.

I slid to the floor, in the end resting on my knees right in front of Chachaji. His enormous bulge loomed right in front of my face and even underneath his trousers, I could sense its efforts to get out from cover.

"Feel it," Chachaji said, his voice full of lust and want.

I ran a hand over the bulge. I cannot deny that it sent a shiver of excitement through my body. I pressed on it, wanting now to feel and see it.

"Oh! Bitiya rani!" He said, his voice shaking.

I looked up at his face. There was a pleading in those eyes, a need that I could understand.

"Pleaseee," he begged.

I held the zipper and slowly pulled it down the length of his fly.

"Yes, yes," he goaded me on. No pressure, no threats. Just the shaking voice of a man who cannot wait.

Pulling aside the sides of the fly to his trousers, I saw spots of his arousal on his underwear. Something overcame me. I touched the spots, shivering as I did.

"Don't tease me, I beg you," Chachaji's voice was hoarse, "take it out!"

It was easier to unzip the trousers than it was to take out his 'lund' from within the Jockey underwear that he was wearing. At its stage of heightened arousal, it had grown enormously big and hard to allow the necessary maneuverability to bend and pull out. But the touch on the naked skin of the shaft that shook in my hands could be another reason for this.

In the end, the entire length was in my soft hands. Warm, thick, hard and leaking on the tip! I looked at it, almost frozen, in amazement.

It seemed eager to release itself, as my grip on it was weak and loose. Curious to see what it did when free, I pulled away my hand and released it. Instantly, two things happened.

One, it jumped up and down freely, like one would do when nodding one's head. But it was far more erratic.

And two, Chachaji almost screamed, "Noooo, don't let it out of your hand!"

I knew that, bit by bit, I was beginning to have an overpowering effect on this man. Were it not a fact that I was shy and submissive, I could easily overpower him to do as I pleased.

I looked up now. He placed a hand on my hand.

"Please Asha. Choro maat. (Don't leave it)," he said, begging for my touch, "lagao nah muh uss mein, aur der nahin seha sakta (touch it with your mouth, can't wait any more)." He had never called me by name, but he did so now.

His pleadings and my rising desires got the better of me. I held it with one hand and touched the wet tip with my lips.

"Rub your lips on it, bitiya. You don't realize my condition," he reacted.

I did as he wanted, rubbing it over and over my lips as I looked upwards. He had closed his eyes and went on repeating, "Oh god! Oh god!"

My lips and the areas around them were completely smeared with a thick coating of his escaping precum.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. I froze.

Chachaji, in his deep arousal, was incapable of a saner reaction.

His spontaneous response was, "Come in!" before he realized his folly. But it was too late. The bellboy entered, carrying with him two bottles of water.

Chachaji desperately tried to save his embarrassment, turning around to face the other way from the incoming bellboy. At the same time, he fiddled with his penis, trying desperately to push it inside, under the cover of his underwear and trousers.

I quickly attempted to get to my feet, almost falling over in the process. I would have, hadn't the bellboy, involuntarily, caught hold of me at my arms to prevent it.

The bellboy's face was very near to mine for a few seconds. But it was enough for him to see my lips and around, still smeared in sticky precum. I felt ashamed that he had, in all probability, got a whiff of that 'wetness' and must have made embarrassing conclusions.

He let go of my arms and, turning around, quickly left.

I was too shocked and embarrassed to say anything. Ashamed and red in the face, I quietly sat down on the bed.

Chachaji was quiet for a few moments, and once fully back being decently dressed, started to laugh.

"He got a good scare, didn't he? He will have sweet dreams tonight imagining what he saw you doing. Wow! Sexy wet lips of a ravishing housewife. And for what reason!"

"Stop it!" I said, out of disgust.

Chachaji ignored my outburst.

"Remember, this act is not going to end here. There'll certainly be more exhibitionism, more display of this priceless and alluringly sexy beauty who accompanies me. I intend to carry on the scenes, as both the director and an actor.

Just you wait!" He was in considerable mirth.

It was obvious that our small interlude with the bellboy, although accidental, was very much to his liking. But I knew that he would carry out what he had in mind, as events proved later in the evening.

A couple of hours before dinner, Chachaji was asking me to get ready. He rummaged through my bag, making a mess of it, till he came up with the one blouse that met his requirement.

It was a deep crisscross patterned bustier blouse that paired with a thread and mirror embroidered lehenga. It had a double-dori at the back and some dainty latkans attached to the strings. The base colour was lavender and had a matching see-through dupatta.

It was one that I wore just once, at my husband's insistence, one that exposed more than it covered. I felt too ashamed and uneasy wearing it, and I kept it at the back of the wardrobe shelf since then.

I tried to keep my makeup refined and subdued, barring the lipstick shade of 'Revlon cherries' selected by Mr. Reddy or chachaji as I called him by.

When we were about to walk out of our suite, he stopped.

"Remember, that from now on, you'll call me papa. I'll ignore if you call me by any other name." He was serious.

We walked out. As we stepped towards the elevator, he held my hand till it was soon behind my back.

When we walked into one of the dimly lit restaurants of the hotel, I was aware of the many pairs of eyes that were on me. It was quite unsettling for me, but I trudged along in my heels with Chachaji, his hand still around my back.

He guided me to a corner, one that seemed even further engulfed in semi darkness, and helped me slide into a cushioned couch that arched into a quarter circle. It was big enough to accommodate the two of us. When I did, he sat down as close to me as he could.

When the waiter had almost come to our table, Chachaji muttered between clenched teeth, "Go on, call me 'Papa' right in front of the waiter and make a request for any special dish or drink of your choice."

It was not easy for me to respond in the manner that he did. But I went along with his crazy requirement.

"Papa, I'm not too hungry," I said when the waiter stood beside us, "but I could do with a fresh lime soda."

I think our bellboy had disclosed the earlier intimacy between me and Chachaji in our room to some of the other staff. The waiter looked at me when I said 'Papa', wondering perhaps the true relationship between us.

"Nahin bitiya, kuch toh khane hi paregi (no, my girl, you must have some food)," he said in a caring voice, and placing a hand on mine which rested on the table.

He flicked a hand over my lips and said soothingly, "What will you like to have, tell me?"

I quickly glanced at the waiter and saw a look of bewildered confusion. Here was a man whose every move showed him up as a lover or husband, and yet the way we addressed each other indicated our relationship to be genetic, of same flesh and blood.

"Anything that you'll select for me, Papa."

Chachaji was satisfied that I continued to follow his instructions. He scanned the menu list and came out with a couple of vegetarian items to go with 'roti'. He didn't forget to order fresh lime soda that I had wished, and hard drink for himself. But I was curious to know why did he, and what he might have whispered into the waiter's ears when he bent down.

Sometime into our dinner, I started feeling lighter. I wondered why that could happen. Not that I felt bad. On the contrary, I had the nicest feeling and, rather than being uneasy and nervous that had overcome me for the last couple of days, I felt relaxed and very happy. I seemed to enjoy Chachaji's company, loving his attention and ardor.

"Papa, I love this place and being with you," I blurted as I took further sips on my drinks.

"Really? You would do anything for Papa?" He asked. He placed a hand across my shoulders.

"Uh-huh," I nodded.

"Nice girl," he said, planting a short kiss on my lips.

He seemed least bothered by the appearance of the waiter who came to enquire if we required anything else.

"Get us two scoops of tiramisu ice cream," Chachaji said before he held both my cheeks and kissed me again. I placed my hands on his chest.

The waiter bowed, turned and left.

I was a bit unsteady on my feet when we left after dinner after some time. But Chachaji's arm was around me tightly, and my head rested on his chest.

I guessed that there could have been some alcohol in the sweet lime and soda that I had been drinking, and it was not that innocent a drink that I had taken it to be.

Each moment, my dizziness seemed to increase. I realized that I was losing control on my actions. Even Chachaji was finding it hard to hold me and help me stay on my feet. I wobbled.

The familiar bellboy of the morning came rushing out of nowhere, asking Chachaji if he could be of help. I don't know what Chachaji told him, but he trudged along beside us.

I was behaving in a manner that I wouldn't normally do in my proper senses. I indulged in unabashed and wanton display of physical nearness to the man who was with me.

I giggled more than I remained serious, without a care in the world.