Vanaja’s insatiable incest Part I: Vanaja has Fun in the bus
Part 1: The Journey to Bangalore
I got into the A/C Volvo bus to Bangalore, looked around, and was disappointed. There were only ten people on the bus, since the bus starts from my town, but not a single unaccompanied young man (or even an old man) was to be seen. I sighed and thought, “Every time you can’t get lucky.”
I moved to the rear of the bus and sat in the window seat in the last row. For boob squeezes, cunt fingerings, and cock masturbations, these seats are ideal; there will be few prying eyes. I still had a ray of hope that a young stud might take the seat next to mine.
I can afford business class air travel or a chauffeur-driven sedan to go to Bangalore. In fact, my husband can’t understand it and has asked me perplexedly many times, “Darling, why do you go by bus when you can take our driver James and travel in comfort and luxury in the Corolla?”
I lied to him. “I love to see fields and beautiful landscapes from the high vantage of a Volvo bus window. Any luxurious car will not have such a view. Anyway, be happy; I am saving your money,” I would tell him, laughing.
He also laughs and leaves the topic. I managed very well to keep my fucking world and faithful housewife worlds separate.
My husband, Raghu, never suspects that countless cocks are fucking his wife’s cunt. A few times, I had scary moments when he wanted to fuck me when I didn’t have time to wash off the cum of others from my cunt, and he would have definitely known by the taste and smell from my cunt (if you allow cum to stay in the cunt, it emits a strange smell).
For him, I am a most faithful, loving wife and a doting mother of his two sons, Rajesh and Rahul; both are studying in college and staying in a hostel in the city.
I would feign a headache and offer to suck him; so far, I have got away with it.
He has a booming medicine distribution business, and I am actively involved in it. Hence, I travel to Bangalore to meet bankers, distributors, clients, and officials when he cannot go. Invariably, I go by bus, seduce young men, get my boobs squeezed, my cunt fingered, and make them mad with lust, then go to a hotel in Bangalore and get fucked to my satisfaction.
Later, I would complete all official business and go to kitty parties in Jaya’s house; she built a high-walled house for this purpose. I am very careful and never get fucked by men connected with the business.
That would be very risky; any one of them can squeak to my hubby. Jaya is a part-owner of a private medical college and gets many young men from the hostel (sometimes virgins also) for our horny group of ten ladies. I get fucked by those young studs for two days and go back home.
Our rules are very strict. We don’t reveal our names; our fuckers give us names of their choice, and my name is invariably Sunny Leone—aptly, as all the men who fucked me told me.
Selected men are transported to Jaya’s house in a transport van converted into an A/C mini-bus with no windows; their mobile phones are deposited with Jaya. After two days of fucking, when they leave, they go back in the same van again. Every time, we have fresh, new cocks. However well a fellow may fuck, he won’t be called again.
All the other ladies in the kitty group are jealous of me. Though the root cause is my fabulous beauty and body of Sunny Leone, it is also my incredible energy in fucking. They would get tired fast after a few minutes of cock riding and want to get fucked in missionary or doggy, and they want long breaks between fucks.
I can go on and on. My secret is that I always keep myself fit. In school and college days, it was sports, cycling, and swimming; after marriage, the treadmill, home gym, and yoga; and of course, the biggest exercise is fucking. While ladies of my age have sagging tits and lumps of fat everywhere, I am delectably curved. I am not thin and emaciated like a supermodel; I am quite broad in the hips and shoulders with a flat, washboard stomach, which makes my tits and butt jut out sexily.
I pulled the handle, pushed back my seat, and relaxed. My thoughts went back to the past; I was trying to recollect when I began to become such a horny slut.
Honestly, I couldn’t recollect when my horniness started. Ever since I started sprouting boobs, I have always wanted them to get squeezed and mauled.
From the moment I started reading porn, I wanted to get fucked. My mom was very religious, pious, and orthodox. She started getting panicky when I developed amazing curves; I used to ooze so much sex that all men’s jaws used to drop.
If I dropped my pallu and showed cleavage, I knew I could make them discharge liquids—saliva from their mouths and cum from their cocks.
Mom kept an eye on me like a hawk ever since she caught me masturbating. She would always send me in a car, probe my friends, and ask them if I talked to boys. Still, I managed to get my boobs squeezed and mauled.
I would go with Mom to crowded temples; you cannot avoid body contact, and I would take full advantage and rub my tits on backs, giving free access to all hands while keeping an expression on my face as if “disgusted” by the unruly crowd’s behavior for my mom’s benefit.
For religious Hindu ladies, there are many Gods and numerous occasions to visit crowded temples and get mauled.
Dad had to give in to Mom’s nagging, and I was married to Raghu before I even turned eighteen. Mom rightly felt that if marriage was delayed, I would get fucked by so many cocks it would ruin the family’s prestige and my prospects of getting married.
Once I got the license to fuck, I never looked back. I am a great actress; I can look, act, and behave normally even while getting fucked. Once I visited my kitty friend who works in a hotel. She was standing behind the reception desk, which was high enough to reach her elbow level. Her face was flushed as if she had had an orgasm.
When I lifted my heels and peered over the counter, I saw a young man licking her cunt. Then I joined her behind the counter, made that boy lie on the floor, and rode him.
After he filled my cunt with cum, when I stood up, some guests were checking out. My friend says she was so amazed that I talked to the guests normally, even as that boy was licking my juices and his cum from my cunt.
I looked at my watch. There were still thirty minutes to go; I pulled out my laptop, connected the dongle, and connected to the internet.
My mail inbox had an email. It was from the ISS author to whom I sent an appreciation mail. Normally, I don’t, but the story was so erotic that not only did I masturbate, but I kept thinking of the scenes and had many orgasms while fucking.
The story had my favorite topic: a sexy, horny lady like me seduces her hubby’s brother, a gym instructor, and a teenage boy staying with them and his friend. Her hubby is in the U.S.; she is staying with her in-laws.
What was most erotic was that the story is real, not a flight of fantasy of the author. I know because I am an expert. The author, Raj, sent a chat friend request. I accepted. Instantly, he said “Hi”; he was online.
I had nothing better to do until the bus started. I also said “Hi.” We chatted for a while, exchanging our marital status, likes, and dislikes. I felt comfortable with him. Unlike many horny males, whose second line would be “Give me your mobile number” or “When can I fuck you?”, he was decent.
He was probing gently, like a mountaineer treading on snow, to know the pitfalls and danger areas. He was checking what I was comfortable with and what to avoid.
Raj: If you don’t mind my asking, were you a virgin at the time of marriage?
I: Yes, not by choice. I was 19 when I was married.
Raj: Oh, almost a child marriage. Why were your parents in such a hurry?
I: Hmmm, my mom was worried if they delayed the marriage...
Raj: That you would be fucked by many cocks? Oh, sorry... Hope you are not offended.
I: No probs. If I were so prudish, I would not have read your story nor accepted your friend request. Yes, she was worried about that.
Contd...
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