Suguna's Tuition Classes Ch. 01

Both women were wet between the legs almost instantly as Saroja initiated the discussion. And yet, the words that came out of Suguna's mouth were hypocritical in the extreme.

"You want me to do what?" exclaimed Saroja's former maid Suguna.

Saroja had come looking for her maid Suguna many months after she had moved away and changed her residence just to avoid coming face to face with her. It was embarrassing to be back but Saroja had no choice.

It started very innocuously with Saroja looking for ways to fill her hours. She started taking classes for kids that lived in that apartment block for classes 6, 7 and 8; basically all the 13- and 14- year olds. Soon she was handling a gaggle of may be a dozen kids.

All was going well in her life. She had had one episode of her husband Arvind's uncle coming down to fight with her. She had conquered that by exposing Uncle's sexuality and then dousing and quenching it with her own so that the old man could no longer take the high moral ground.

Having distanced herself from everything in those steamy months when she fucked her nephews and brother-in-law, got spotted by the maid, allowed that woman to manipulate her, unwillingly tasted the animalness of the maid's husband and then Arvind's uncle, Saroja settled down to the relatively tame life of the typical south Indian housewife.

In many ways the kid's tuition classes drew the curtain on a sexually sordid phase of her life. She enjoyed it. But her upbringing did not allow her to live like that. Her confrontation with Arvind's uncle scared her that a wider scandal would endanger everything she had stood for. She and her husband were after all the glue of the family. He did not know that in fulfilling this role she had gone sexual with the younger men to keep them focused on their life-goals.

Initially Saroja rationalized it that way. For a brief while in the middle she luxuriated in her unleashed sexuality. And then having done so, withdrew back into the classical mode, prim and proper.

She relived those moments in her mind occasionally and convinced herself that it was something to be grateful for, but not to want again. She had experienced intense pleasure in a variety of ways. Enough for this lifetime. Enough to smile over. And she had gotten away with enough without endangering the rest of her existence.

Things would have been fine and Saroja would have got on with it had not one of the lady's Chakku mami (Chakku being the name and mami meaning "auntie" in the local language had not brought her recalcitrant son into the picture.

At eighteen the boy had failed his tenth class exams thrice, mainly because of math.

Saroja protested. "I don't teach those classes," she explained to Chakku.

But Chakku mami would have none of it. "His basic math is not good. I hear good things about your teaching skills. If you sort out some of the fundamentals I am sure he can handle the rest," she pleaded with Saroja.

"Ok," agreed Saroja reluctantly.

The 18 year old showed up for class and sat at the very back of the hall which Saroja re-arranged every afternoon for the classes. He interacted very little, wore an insolent look on his face and did his own thing. Every now and Saroja asked him questions which he was able to answer reasonably well, to her surprise.

As classes progressed and Vikram kept responding to her questions Saroja's curiosity was aroused. Was he really solving all the sums? And if so, why was everyone treating him like a dud?

She decided to check out his note book to see if he was really solving the questions because quite often she thought the pencil movements suggested that he was doodling. Since she never walked up to him and he sat at the very back against the wall, he did not expect her to come up or even see her coming up.

Otherwise he would have flipped the page. But he did not flip the page and Saroja was shocked by what she saw. There, on the sheet at the back of the book, Vikram had sketched her. The face was a good likeness of her face. He was really a good artist!

But the shock came from what else he had drawn. He had sketched Saroja's chest and torso. Her breasts were accentuated and larger than they actually were. But they were proportional and suggestive. He had even drawn the curve of her belly and her navel. Saroja found herself spreading her saree out to cover her body now, though she seemed to have given the young man all the views he needed.

She snatched the book, "What is this?" she yelled. Immediately other kids jumped to take a look. Saroja quickly shut the book and shouted at them to sit down quietly.

When she opened the book again it was at the beginning. There he had solved all the problems. But once a page was used he seemed to come back to it later and on the space still free he had made sketches. More sketches. And not all of them were like the first one she had spotted.

That first one had her fully clothed, even if sexily projected.

These other sketches were all sorts. In one, her saree pallo was nowhere to be seen. She was in her blouse. Her breasts were full and the blouse was stretched in his imagination. The shading was so beautiful that all dimensions were seen. Her nipples were seen as a contour of the cloth of the blouse.

In another, her nipples were outlined. In a caricature of her the blouse was hanging open and the boy had imagined Saroja's nipples, large and engorged. Her breasts were thrust up and larger than life, jutting outward towards the viewer. She could see where that might go – these young, uninitiated men always wanted to suck on breasts.

And in yet another Saroja was seen coy, arms folded under her breasts – still full, bursting and proud. She was blushing and bashful like a woman being gazed upon by her lover.

She looked down at him from the corner of her eye. He was a wonderful artist, indeed. No wonder he was not so good at math. The system – you could not get ahead if you did not crack math in the tenth class. His head was down but his shoulders were not slumped. There was defiance in his posture; insolence as some would call it.

Her anger evaporated as she admired his talents. But she realized that this young man was looking at her through very different eyes. She had just some distance between her nephews and herself. There was justification there. Here, it was only danger.

She slapped him on his head with the notebook and simply said, "Ask Chakku mami to come see me."

She walked away and ignored him for the rest of the class. Though every time she saw him from the corner of his eye busy with the pencil she wondered how he might be depicting her now.

By involving his mother, Saroja hoped to insulate herself from what might happen next if things were left unchecked. What it might mean for the youngster was a different matter.

As per Saroja's plan for tackling Vikram things would still have been fine had it not been for a visit from her nephew who was now studying at IIT. Schedules were tight and the young man had not been able to come by very often. But on this occasion he made it a point. He had spent enough nights reliving those moments with his aunt and later the maid. He thirsted for the real thing.

He arrived on a morning and Arvind left for work late that day to spend time with his nephew of whom he was now very proud. They all decided to go out for dinner that evening. Sundar could not wait for his uncle to leave. As soon as he left, Sundar tried to initiate a conversation with his aunt that started where they had left off a couple of years ago.

But he found Saroja manni distant. The young man pressed all on morning, through the cooking and the lunch. Saroja kept the conversation within acceptable limits by interjecting with questions about studies and so on.

Sundar was perplexed.

The time was coming up to the tuition class and Saroja started rearranging the hall. It was when she bent forward that Sundar found himself staring at her cleavage.

"Oh, come on!" he pleaded.

"What?" she asked, briskly going about her work. With the kids coming in soon Sundar would have no opportunity and soon after Arvind would be back.

Sundar made his move by shifting behind her and putting his hands on her hips. He ground his erection into her letting her feel his cock – the same cock that she had loving initiated to the warmth of a woman.

He leaned forward and held her mammaries, softly, gently. Grinding slowly he made a strong case for sinking into the arms of the only woman he fantasized as he masturbated. Saroja felt the slickness between her legs as she was reminded of how virile and active her nephew was.

She glanced at the clock. This boy might not settle down and she did not have much time. Hurriedly, she took a decision to allow him to fuck her and grabbing his hands led him into the room.

"You are shameless!" she complained hotly as she unwound her saree.

There was no reply from Sundar as he leaned forward and nuzzled those lovely breasts.

"No need for all that. Lets get on to the main thing," said Saroja.

"If I indulge you once for a reason that should be the end of that," she continued her protests.

"But where do I get to see you," protested the nephew.

"And when you see me do you have to see my like this?" asked Saroja, baring her breasts to the young man.

Lovingly, tenderly and gently Sundar lifted the weighty mass in his hands. He felt the warm, sweaty breasts and drank in the sight of the nipples. How many nights had he dreamed of sucking on them as his hand fisted his cock furiously! He had wanted Saroja manni on so many days with images of her riding him distracting him enough to excuse himself from class to a remote corner of the library, the loo and even back to his room to masturbate for desperate relief.

And now here she was in his hands.

"There is no time for all that," she said sternly as the boy leaned forward and licked in long loving laps.

"Why?" asked Sundar slurping noisily as he tried to push her arousal up and quickly so. (en?)

"The students will come now. Come on, fuck me!" she said abruptly.

Sundar tried to hide his disappointment. He was looking for a long luxurious fuck in his manni's arms. The sleep thereafter. Then waking up to fuck, suck again. But his aunt was in no such mood.

"Be happy with what you get young man," said Saroja unable to avoid being strict and stern here.

She lay back and pulled him on top. Her hand reached into his trouser and she checked out what she knew: there was a fully engorged cock with a sticky mess in the underpants. Sundar has in fact masturbated on the train, Lying in his berth at night, as he fantasized his aunt eagerly fucking him on arrival. No such thing had happened all morning.

She had not let him touch her. And now that the fucking seemed imminent the eagerness was missing. Didn't she love him any more?

Once the cock was in her hand, Saroja became a woman. She was not the aunt anymore. Her hand felt the contours and she held it in her palm weighing him again. While the start of this encounter lacked enthusiasm the moistness between her legs was an inescapable truth. Right now, she knew that the boy was thicker than this uncle and she was going to get a treat of a fuck.

Might as well as enjoy it.

Her blouse hung open for her nephew as she knew he enjoyed her breasts. Her petticoat had slid to the floor; she did after all need to spread her legs wide and full to take the stud on. She wrapped her legs to invite him in though he needed no invitation.

"Be quick," she whispered. She caught herself realizing that she must sound like a whore who wanted a customer to finish. Then her mind wandered to whether the boy had been to such places now that he had tasted sex. This was why the elders insisted that young men abstain. It leads to other things...

She was brought to the present with Sundar's swift ramming of her pussy.

"Unhh!" she grunted as her hands flew to his shoulder and she expressed her pleasure by digging her nails in.

"Manni!" groaned and sobbed Sundar.

"What dear?" cooed Saroja manni.

"Manni!" repeated the nephew as his cock effortlessly slid in and out of his aunt's soppy wet cunt. She was so slick for him! Then why had she held back?

Saroja lost herself in the stretch and fullness of her stud-nephew's fuck.

"Mmmmm!" she said as if repeating her question.

Her hands roamed his hairless chest and she hissed her pleasure.

"Ok, fine. We both need this. But you know I can't just allow this to go on and on," she murmured as her hips joined his hips in fucking back and forth. Cock and cunt slid over each other, in and out like they were designed for each other and to do nothing else. Shumma panninde iruka mudiyuma?)

Sundar grunted. He had no answer. In the circumstances he preferred to concentrate on pleasure, lust, moist warm skin, succulent flesh and the throbbing engagement between cock and cunt.

He slowed down, chewing, nibbling, sucking and caressing.

"Fuck me!" cried out Saroja, with a sense of urgency which was half sexual and half time based. She needed him to fuck hard now that he had gotten her. She needed him to finish in time for her class.

It was her high-pitched shout to Sundar to fuck her that alerted Vikram to something else happening in the bedroom.

Vikram had deliberately come early to Saroja mami's place. His mother was going to come after the class to see her. if Saroja brought up the matter of his sketches, Vikram was going to be in trouble with his dad.

Moreover, he wanted to continue with these classes. Saroja mami had a hot, luscious body. She had not been careful enough in class. Cleavage, blouse, armpits, ass were all on display in various forms through the class. Vikram sketched her beautifully. As class ended, he rushed home to masturbate himself to fantasies of Saroja.

Was all that going to go up in smoke?

He decided to go early and plead with Saroja. The door seemed to be open and he let himself in. but before he could call out to her he heard the low scream.

Through a gap in the curtain he spied Saroja lying back on the bed. Her breasts were bare with the blouse open as he had imagined. Her nipples were not visible; the man had stuffed her breast into his mouth. Was that Arvind uncle? Or was it Saroja mami with a lover?

Saroja moved her hips aggressively, shoving upward and using her heels on Sundar's ass.

"Come on, da. We have no time. Fuck me! Come on! Fuck! Fuck!" she pleaded. Her insides were craving proper thrusting and this boy was taking his own time. She regretted not having got into bed earlier on. This was perilously close to the class time. And god knows she needed release. She could not just go into class in this state of intense arousal. She was not to be denied.

Sundar found himself getting thrown around like a cowboy riding a bucking bronco as Saroja threw herself up at him.

"Manni! Manni! Manni!" he groaned as Saroja expertly twisted and turned her cunt around the cock.

Vikram could not believe his ears. The man was calling her sister-in-law. His hard on was now raging. Not only was he seeing Saroja in a sexual state, it was illicit. He knew he had her and could now escape from the situation around his mother's visit.

But right now he slid his hand in and took charge of his cock. Watching the lucky young man bounce on his sister-in-law (she was not; the term 'manni' used by Sundar meant sister-in-law all right. But actually Saroja was Sundar's aunt.)

The 'manni' rocked back and forth to maximize the friction between cock and cunt as force was needed to negate the slippery effect of their combined juices.

Sundar held himself up by grabbing her breasts and propping himself in the exact manner that Vikram wanted to hold those luscious tits.

As he slammed down on his aunt, his sweat dripped and flowed in the valley of her chest.

As Sundar slammed his cock into Saroja, Vikram hammered his fist down on his cock.

Saroja begged him to fill her, her eyes watering with pleasure as she luxuriated in his thickness and his vigor. "Give me! Give me more! Fill you manni up! Just fill me NOW!" she hollered.

She wanted him that much but she also knew begging him would arouse him to a finish.

They finished at the same time; all three of them. Saroja felt twinges of instant regret as Sundar filled her. She wanted more. Lust had conquered her for that brief while. In those mad moments of pleasure she wished she had taken more of him, for longer and she knew she could have had Sundar eat her out to another kind of intense orgasm.

Sundar held himself deep down into her as he poured. He wished he would melt into her and became inseparable from her.

"Don't leave me!" he sobbed his cumming.

"Shh! Shh!" shushed Saroja in motherly tones as she pulled him down to kiss him and rock him comfortingly, but offering nothing.

As they melded and shared the warmth of their orgasm, Vikram shuddered in isolation as copious amounts of cum flooded out of his being. He gritted his teeth in frustration regretting that it was not he who was burying himself in the wondrous Saroja mami.

He wanted her, by god!

Before Sundar could get erect again, Saroja pushed him off. The boy slumped to one side. Saroja got up. Vikram moved back, smearing his cum on the curtain and drying his hand.

He had just enough time to zip up and to move to the far end of the room when a disheveled visibly fucked Saroja mami appeared at the door of her room, shutting the door behind her leaving Sundar to doze.

She stared in shock at Vikram. How long had be been here? How? Was the door open? Was she looking okay? She had paid enough attention. Maybe her blouse was unbuttoned. Maybe something was showing? Was she too flushed?

She held the curtain to sort of cover herself and her hand came upon the large smear of cum. As she looked down she knew what she was looking at and what happened.

Her throat dried at the thought of what Vikram might do next.

It led her to go looking for her former maid Suguna seeking a more decent solution to what was emerging here.