Lund Ki Diwani ko Mili Lulli part 3

This was a sort of huge mansion, surrounded by a lush green patch.
There were trees, shrubberies, flowerbeds, and what not.

The house establishment had waiters, maids, maalies, etc.

The living quarters were carpeted, had chandeliers, fountains, marble
bathtubs, and above all latest sex toys. The mansion belonged to a big
business woman, Shweta.

Shweta was in her early thirties. She had inherited the business from
her father. It would be correct to call it an empire. She had married
another business tycoon, Ramji Kundan, popularly known as Kundan. They
had no children. Thereby hanged a problem.

Shweta had met Kundan at a convention of Chamber of Chemical
Industries. She found him daring, open, and ribald, though not
obscene. They met at a couple of parties, became good friends and
decided to get married. The catch was that Shweta did not have any
opportunity to sleep with him before deciding to marry him. This
proved to be a mistake.

Within a few days of the trip for honeymoon Shweta discovered that his
interest in women was confined to entertaining and partying. He was a
good entertainer, not a fucker. He had lost his male apparatus in an
accident. His testicles had received an injury and his erectile
function was lost.

Shweta, on the other hand, was highly sexual. She was, what is known
as, AC/DC both. She was bi. Above everything else, she was arousing.
Her beauty was erotic and sensuous. Her presence gave erections,
produced wetness in cunts.

This was a complicated situation. She was head of a big industrial
house. A divorce immediately after marriage was not advisable. First
she thought that she should make some sort of an arrangement with
Kundan. But then she thought that he was, in his own right, the head
of an empire. To undermine his confidence would not be good. Had he
been gay, at would have solve all her problems. They could have had a
convenient arrangement. But, no. He was straight. And, he also loved
sex within his limitations.

Slowly she discovered that there were a number of women, women in
corporate world, who because one reason or the other were not having
satisfactory sex at home.

So next time Kundan was available for a week or so in India, she found
a pretext for throwing a party. She drew a list of invitee couples
with great care. Of course, all of them were big names in the
corporate world. But all the invitees had one thing in common. All the
wives had, to use a colloquial term, jharaa huaa lund at home. They
were not getting satisfactory sex at home.

So, today’s party was a get together of wives who were ready to
experiment, given discrete situations. In fact some of them already
had some sort of arrangements; Kshudha was one of them. She was
married to an upward bound industrialist who was known to be gay. So,
she had no qualms about fucking behind his back.

She came up to Shweta and asked her if her mansion had some rooms.

“Rooms? Of course, there are a number of rooms” replied Shweta.

“No, no. I mean relaxing rooms”

Seeing the puzzled look on Shweta’s face Kshudha understood that she
was not getting her meaning. She had a long hush-hush tête-à-tête with
Shweta and at the end of it both seemed satisfied. Kshudha also
advised Shweta about the invitees for the next party.

As far as this day was concerned, she took leave for some time and
went in to make a long distance call. Before that she asked one of the
maids to go bring her small bag from her driver.

She reached the room indicated by Shweta and started a conversation on
a local number. In the meanwhile the maid came back. Something told
Kshudha to take a plunge with her. The maid was about twenty or so.
She had a good figure and sensuous gait. Just when she was putting the
bag on the side table, Kshudha had a glimpse of her behind. It was
shapely but ample. She suddenly noticed that Kshudha stopped her
conversation. She looked back and found the guest staring at, she
understood at once, her chootars.

The maid, Mary, was quick to take command of the situation.

“Ma’m, aapko foot massage chalegaa (Ma’m, would you like a foot massage)?”

The manner of her putting the question was suggestive, though very
discrete. Kshudha was already imagining the velvety touch of her
fingers on her inner thighs, furtively touching her `spick and span’

“Oh, iss se achchhi baat aur kyaa ho sakti hai. Par, short one (What
can be better then that, but a short one.)” And, with that she roughly
kicked away her sandals, spreading her legs in doing so and putting
them on two foot-stools that were already in front of the sofa. Mary
opened a side board and took out a few sundries to be used. Now she
understood that Kshudha had sent this maid and suggested this room
because this was a sort of a `relaxing room’ and Mary was a `relaxer’

Mary did not indulge in preliminaries once the signal was clear. She
took her place in between Kshudha’s thighs with confidence. She
manipulated her thighs, took a small vial, poured some drops on her
Kshudha’s thighs directly and pulled up the thighs at an angle so that
the liquid made its way towards the junction. She noticed, as she was
expecting, that there were no panties, no hair, and the lips were
slightly open and glistening. The liquid evaporated on its journey
towards the love tunnel, but left, in its wake, a tingling sensation.
The sensation was not new to Kshudha. She had herself been using
Camphora Tincture.

Mary let the sensation take its course and used her hands as cushions
under Kshudha’s chootars.

The cunt in front of Mary was on the move. It was, as if, beating like
a heart. Now Mary would see the lips opening and now closing. She had
handled a few cunts till now, but this was something different.
Suddenly she saw a few drops of a pearly, clear water drop down in the
tray that she had already n place.

“Mary, meri jaan, apni jeebh lagaa (Mary, darling, use your tongue)”
hissed Kshudha.

“Meim saahab, zaraa tarapne do apni pharakti huee choot ko. Tarpan kaa
mazaa hi kuchh aur hai (Ma’m, let your pussy yearn. Yearning has its
own pleasure)” shot back Mary.

But, she herself was eager to taste the morsel. She opened her mouth
and took the whole of it in between her lips.

“Oh, bloody hell, Mary, chod, meri phuddi ko chod apni jeebh se, h . .
.a . . . a . . . n, t . . .h . . . e . . . e . . .e . . . e . . .k .
. . hai, haan, haan (fuck my pussy with your tongue, yes, yes,)”
and Kshudha started humping Mary’s mouth.

Suddenly Kshudha felt something entering her cunt and the tongue
shifting its action to her clitty. No, it was not Mary’s finger
because it was throbbing like a huge prick. Suddenly, Kshudha saw Mary
get up. She fitted her naked and dripping cunt on Kshudha’s mouth. But
the intruder in the cunt was still there.

Now, as if there were three persons taking part in this fucking
action. She went wild on Mary’s pussy.

“Kshudha, chudakkar, dekh Shweta ke khel, tere naam kaa matlab main
jaanti hun, teri bhookh mitaane kaa intezaam Shweta ke paas pahle se
hai. Le, chud, choos, chud, chud (Kshudha, fucker, se Shweta’s games,;
I understand the meaning of your name. Shweta already has arrangements
to satisfy your hunger. Yes, get fucked, get it, suck, suck)”

“OH, . . . H . . . H . . .H H H H. . . . HHHHH. H . . .a . . .a . .
.a . . n, h . . .a . . . a . . .n (Yes, yes . . .)” and with a crash
Kshudha exploded, taking may with her.

She came out after making the `long distance’ call. When she reached
the tables she found her husband deep in conversation with Shweta,
Shweta’s husband was seeing some guests off.

Next day Shweta and Kshudha had dinner together. After the dinner and
a few pegs they went to the Kshudha Mansion. Her husband, Apoorav was
on a business trip.

They sat in the library for some time; Shweta was seated behind a
curtain. Kshudha rang a bell. A servant, young, much young, appeared.
She asked him if any calls were received and if any one had called,
then she dismissed him. Another bell, and another boy, some questions;
like this four or five of them were called and dismissed.

“Jis order mein yeh larke aaye they usi order mein unko yaad karke
bataa, Shweta, tujhe kaunsaa aaj chaahiye (remember the order in which
they came; tell me by memory which one would you like today); no
questions, no doubts’.

Shweta was not surprised by the meticulous arrangement. She gave her
preference. Kshudha gave her a skin mask to hide her identity and led
her, through corridors, to a door.

“Tere pahle (your first) dialogues se woh samajh jaayegaa tujhe kaisaa
maahaul chaahiye (He will understand what type of scenario would you
prefer)”. And Kshudha went back.

When Shweta entered with the mask, the boy was waiting. He was wearing
south Indian lungi and a vest. His hair was cropped close. He was

“Launde tujhe auraton ke kapre utaarne aate hain? Anrezi hi boltaa hai
yaa Hindi bhi aati hai? Galiyaan kis boli mein detaa hai (Stud, do you
know how to take off the clothes of a woman? You speak English only,
or you know Hindi also? In which language do you abuse)?”

Shweta had chosen her questions well; the boy understood her needs
even better.

“Jab chudai karoongaa to kapre to utaaroongaa hi. Yaa, binaa nangaa
kiye hi chudnaa hai? Haan, aur mere kapron kaa kyaa hogaa (If I fuck,
I will have to take off your clothes. Or, you want to be fucked
without taking off the clothes? And yes, who will take off my clothes?”

“Naa, naa, is ghalat fahami mein mat rahnaa bachche ki chudai tum
karoge. Chudai main hi karoongi (Don’t be under any wrong impression,
child. Not you, I would fuck)”

And while saying this, Shweta pulled off his lungi and saw the stiff
engine pointing at her. When she took off his vest, she saw that his
nipples were prominent, his naval was indented, and his chootars were
prominent. She was so taken in by his face that she dug in her teeth
on his neck, while she stroked his tool.

His tool was not a monster. She hated them. She liked lovely,
well-proportioned ones. This one had a red bulb, a rather longish slit
that was not dry. His balls were already tight, one hanging slightly
lower than the other.

He lifted her saaree in one sweep. There was nothing under it. No
petticoat, no undies, no blouse, no bra! But he did not waste his time
on making any comments.

He extended his hand towards her shaved cunt. No, he did not attack
it. He put his hand on the whole surface and used his undulating palm
to polish it.

“Tumhaare mumme to aise hain jaise abhi kisi ne inmein doodh banaayaa
hi nahin. Abhi to peit mein bachchaa aayaa hi nahin lagtaa (Your boobs
are such as if no one has yet filled them with milk, as if you have
never had a child put in you)”

“Abe ab pi le tu inkaa doodh. Le apne munh mein le, aur jeebh se
maalish kar. Haan, th e . . . .e . . .e . . .e . . k hai, baap ke
laure (Now you drink their milk. Take them in your mouth and polish
them with your tongue)”

With this she pushed him down on the rug and climbed on him. She did
not sit on him completely. She wanted to feel the bulb on her clit
first. The boy understood her need. He aided her movements. He used
his bulb as a tongue or a thumb. Shweta appreciated the intelligence
of the boy.

“Shabbaash, betaa, shabbaash, tu to baraa (Well done, boy well done,
you are) expert hai”

“Le, ammaa, le. OH . . . H . . .H . . ., Y . . .E . . .E . . .S. . .S
. . .S . . S . . .S, T . . .A . . .K . . .K . . .K . . . K . . . K . .
.E” and he shifted slightly, Shweta was with him and she aided the
entry of his prick in her pussy. She wanted to take his full buttocks
in her palms. She gave a jerk and took his body along to put her back
on the rug and to have him on her top. Now she dug her fingers in his
buttocks and started playing on them like a harmonium. She put her
legs on his back and like a vice pressed him into her.

“Le, bachche, le; dekh ammaa ki phuddi bete ke lund ko kaise jakarti
hai, kaise uskaa mard-makkhan nikaalti hai. Bete, maan kaa cunt syrup
pilaa apne laure ko, H . . .u . . .u . . .n . . .h, H . . .u. . . n .
. .h.(Take child, see how mothers pussy squeezes the prick of the son,
how it extracts `male-butter’. Son, feed mother’s cunt syrup to your

Suddenly she felt his prick distending. She said:

“Abhi nahin, abhi mat jharnaa (Not yet, don’t come yet)”

She went limp. It appeared as if she had even stopped breathing. After
a few seconds she whispered softly, very softly:

“Ek lambi saans le bete, iss se tu ruk jaayegaa (Take a deep breath
son, this will postpone your cumming)”

She felt him relax. His organ was no longer tense. Shweta pushed him
off with great love. Then she changed her direction and assumed a
position of sixty-nine. She was again on top.

“Mainen is sukh aur maze ke khambe ko to puckaaraa hi nahin. Tu bhi
pyaar ki gufaa ko choom le (I have not yet loved this pole of love and
pleasure. You also kiss the tunnel of love)”

She withdrew her head slightly and, for the first time, since the
begun the bout, she looked at the wonderful prick; it stood proud and
ready. It was glistening with a fine coat of her cunt-syrup. The slit
at the top had a drop of his man-butter sitting on it. She extended
her pointed tongue and began at the base. Very lovingly she travelled
upwards. She was licking as well as massaging. One of her hands was
cradling his balls. Sometime she would give a slight squeeze to them,
in love and passion.

On the other end he was seeing before him the open lips of her pussy.
At the top was the pleasure button, a small prick. Pointed like a
proud nipple, cradled in a tiny plate. Just below that, in fact around
the plate and extending downwards was the beginning of her upper lips
of the cunt cushioning the inner lips. The lips were open and wet.
They seemed to have a life of their own. As he felt her licking and
sucking his dong, he saw the lips change their pace and opening.

Suddenly he felt the crisis approaching once again. His hold on her
buttocks tightened. Shweta got the signal.

But, out of the blue they heard the voice of Kshudha:

“Venkat, you are wonderful . . .You have been good to my friend”

Two things happened simultaneously. Their approaching climax receded
and the huge TV set on the table became alive. They saw that Kshudha
was on the sofa, naked. Her legs were splayed wide and a young body,
male, was between them. The behind of the body faced them. What was
outrageous was that by her side, on the table was an equally huge TV
on the screen of which the bodies of the boy, whom Kshudha had called
Venkat, and Shweta, wearing skin mask could be easily identified.

“My dear friend”, Shweta noted that Kshudha was avoiding mentioning
her name, “continue, continue. Excuse my interruption. I could not
resist the temptation of cumming along with you two”.

Shweta was now excited again. She fixed her eyes on the other pair.
Kshudha’s body could be clearly seen trembling with passion.

Shweta could not restrain herself:

“Oh, Kshudhu, tu to mere se bhi ziyaadaa chudakkar nikli. Saali, dekh
main k . . .a . . .i . . s . . .e maze se c . . .h . . .o . . o . . .o
. . .o . . .o . . . o . . .s rahi hun.(Oh, Kshudhu, you have turned
out to be bigger fucker then me. See, how I am sucking with pleasure)”

“Yes . . .s . . .s . . . s, see how I a . . .m . . .m . . .m . . m
eating your friend’s cunt. I don’t want to stop”. This was the boy who
was addressed as Venkat. “But I envy Daulat also, I want to change
place with him later on. Right now, oh . . . h . . .h . . .h, I am
cummin . . . g . . .g . . g”

Shweta also shouted:

“Bete, agar meraa apnaa betaa hotaa to who bhi shaayad itni achchhi
chudai naa kar saktaa. Unh . . .h. . . h . . .h . . .h, p . . .u . .
.u . . . c . . .h . . .h (Child, if I had my own son, even he would
not have been able to fuck like you)”

The atmosphere was full of shouts of pleasure, passion, and
satisfaction from both the rooms connected by internal circuit TV.