It was a rainy day when I alighted at Bombay for the first time. I was married to a wealthy businessman from Goa. Rainy days at Bombay are real hell. You see all beautiful Victorian buildings and Manhattan like sky scrappers in pictures, films and all other booklets about Bombay. But if you happen to land at Bombay on a rainy day, your dreams will die first. I was also like you only, totally upset with the ugly black mud, the roads full of potholes, train traffic totally disrupted. My husband took a taxi and we reached a flat complex. But the ground was full of water and street children were playing in the mud water. I could not distinguish between road, playground, and campus. Everywhere it was flood like situation.
My husband was wearing loose pants and as soon as he paid for the taxi, to my astonishment he removed his pants and put it into a cover. He was wearing his country made shorts and I felt greatly disappointed seeing him behaving like an illiterate. But he took his big briefcase on top of his head and walked to the building in front of us like a coolie. He gave me a hand symbol to stay where I had been. He somehow reached the steps of the buildings and there was water up to his waist level. Then he returned and took me like a child and carried me in his hands and walked once again in the water and reached safely. Then he began to walk to the top floors through the staircase. There was a large crowd of people sitting at each steps, some cooking chappathis using stoves and some were mixing wheat floor using cooking oil and making breads. I found all these things quite embarrassing. I had to live among these disordered folks. I cursed my fate and accompanied my husband with my big luggage. At last I reached 4th floor of the building and my husband took a key from his purse and opened the door. I too followed him inside my new residence.
My husband was wearing loose pants and as soon as he paid for the taxi, to my astonishment he removed his pants and put it into a cover. He was wearing his country made shorts and I felt greatly disappointed seeing him behaving like an illiterate. But he took his big briefcase on top of his head and walked to the building in front of us like a coolie. He gave me a hand symbol to stay where I had been. He somehow reached the steps of the buildings and there was water up to his waist level. Then he returned and took me like a child and carried me in his hands and walked once again in the water and reached safely. Then he began to walk to the top floors through the staircase. There was a large crowd of people sitting at each steps, some cooking chappathis using stoves and some were mixing wheat floor using cooking oil and making breads. I found all these things quite embarrassing. I had to live among these disordered folks. I cursed my fate and accompanied my husband with my big luggage. At last I reached 4th floor of the building and my husband took a key from his purse and opened the door. I too followed him inside my new residence.
It was a one bed room flat. My husband’s business was not a flourishing one at that time. There was a portico type room first with little furniture. Then we entered to the bedroom cum drawing room. There was a double bed with a good bedspread. It was evident that it was newly purchased perhaps after my marriage was fixed. Anyway I was relieved to see that I did not have to sleep on floor. Then there was a kitchen and adjacent to the kitchen was a bathroom and latrine. My husband was wearing the same shorts and he opened his wardrobe and showed me several sarees and churidars he had bought for me. They were most of out of fashion. It was evident that my husband was not aware of current trends or fashion. Then he took a bottle of rum hidden inside one cabin and poured it into a glass. He mixed it with some water and drank it in one gulp. He did not care about my presence. I asked him to show me where he has put oils etc. I was planning to take a bath first. The long train journey in a second class compartment was tiresome for me. I took a gown from my luggage and proceeded to take bath. There was no shortage of water. I tried to bolt the door. But the door was jammed and it was not closing well. I put some oil on my hair and soaked it well. Then I removed all my clothes and threw them into a bucket and put some soap powder into it. Then I rubbed the rest of oil on my breasts and opened the shower. I took some five minutes under the shower and then began apply soap on my body. I took extra caution to lather my pussy, ass, breasts and my underarms so that my husband would not feel repelled by my body odour. I was expecting him to explore my body on that night. We did not get much privacy after my marriage to fuck good. I was totally disappointed by his performance so far. It was nowhere coming near to my anticipations and fantasies which I gained after reading and hearing a lot about sex after marriage.
Sex before marriage is a taboo subject in India. After I was satisfied that I was clean and fresh smelling I opened the shower once again. I loved the heavy shower wetting my whole body. I fantasized about being a model for a bathing soap, jumping and dancing under a waterfall, which was a famous soap ad at that time. I came to my senses, when my husband grabbed me. I did not know when he had opened the door and joined me under the shower. He smelled heavily of rum and smoke. I felt vomiting when he kissed me with his big moustache rubbing all over my nose and his bad breath. But I did not show any reluctance from my part. Like any devoted wife of an Indian man, I too had got my coaching from elders to obey my husband, cook good food for him, behave like a slave to him and be ready to take him to a prostitute if he asked me so.
He then took me out of bathroom and placed me on the bed. I told him I was wet and I had to dry myself. But he was not going to hear any of my talks. He was intoxicated with his rum and I looked at the bottle which was placed on the table. It was almost empty. I wondered how did he manage to drink it without any snacks or food. His penis was looking angry at my pussy. It was now very thick and I wondered how could he insert that big penis into my pussy. During my masturbations I was able to insert only three fingers into my pussy while I was at maximum heat. I did not have to wait much. I felt a pain at my vagina for an instant and then he was inside me like a snake entering its den. I felt terrible pain, but after my husband began moving inside my pain was subdued and I felt something ticking inside my pussy folds. Soon he found his rhythm and was breathing heavily and was muttering sounds like an animal. He was taking in his native language which was Konkan and no one could understand it other than his family. Even after ten years of marriage I still could not recognize a syllabi of that language. The language has no script, so we can learn it only by speaking!.
He then took me out of bathroom and placed me on the bed. I told him I was wet and I had to dry myself. But he was not going to hear any of my talks. He was intoxicated with his rum and I looked at the bottle which was placed on the table. It was almost empty. I wondered how did he manage to drink it without any snacks or food. His penis was looking angry at my pussy. It was now very thick and I wondered how could he insert that big penis into my pussy. During my masturbations I was able to insert only three fingers into my pussy while I was at maximum heat. I did not have to wait much. I felt a pain at my vagina for an instant and then he was inside me like a snake entering its den. I felt terrible pain, but after my husband began moving inside my pain was subdued and I felt something ticking inside my pussy folds. Soon he found his rhythm and was breathing heavily and was muttering sounds like an animal. He was taking in his native language which was Konkan and no one could understand it other than his family. Even after ten years of marriage I still could not recognize a syllabi of that language. The language has no script, so we can learn it only by speaking!.
He moved about three to five minutes in me. I was laying like a pinned animal with a big pole inserted into my pussy. My husband’s heavy body was crushing my slim figure. My bones were going to be broken. His belly was pressing my pelvis and I found it very ticklish. It felt like a big balloon full of water being pressed to my belly. As his belly was covered with small hairs it felt very ticklish to me. I loved the feeling better than the pleasure I received by intercourse.
Thus we started our married life far away from our relatives and soon we found the rhythm of life and adjusted with the life at Bombay. My husband starts early in the morning at 8 am and used come back around 10 pm. So I was left alone at my flat and started learning computer classes and with my accountancy and law background it was easy to get a job. I changed jobs at different companies and decided to try for a government job. All the private jobs were paying much but they were exploiting us to maximum extent. In government jobs salary is comparatively less but we don’t have much to perform anyway. I got pregnant soon after my marriage and delivered my girl promptly after 12 months of my marriage.
When we both started earning we sold our old flat and bought a new one which was at the ground floor and rooms were more spacious. But it was still an one bed room flat. But it was in good locality and railway station was near so that my husband can commute at ease. One morning after I had said good bye to my husband and put my daughter at her school, I was relaxing after all morning chores were over by reading news paper and sipping a cup of tea. There was one knock at the door and I looked through the peep hole and saw a dark lady standing at the door. I opened the door and asked her what was the matter. She was obviously looked like a local woman, wearing the traditional Maratti( Local people of Bombay is referred as Maratti) dress viz a long sary worn with an edge taken between the legs and inserted into the channel between the buttocks. This style looked awkward to me first but it helped them to move faster carrying load on the head. When they move it was nice to see their buttocks moving like a grinder up and down right and left. Most of the Maratta woman had big buttocks too. They had enormous breasts and the upper part of the breasts and cleavages were open for everybody to ogle.
The lady standing before me was saying something in her native language which I could not understand. Then she changed to Hindi and told me that she came to my flat to enquire about whether I need to shave my armpits. This was news to me. I have never heard about barbers for ladies and they visit flat to flats!?. I told her that I did not understand her profession. She then smiled at me showing her pearly white teeth that she was a barber who visits flats and shaves armpits of ladies. In cities ladies were sleeveless blouses and shirts showing the armpits. The armpit hair is considered as a taboo somehow in history. We never see a film actress with a dark pit under her arms. It is prerequisite to shave them and keep as smooth as possible. Recently one actress had declared in an interview that the most discomforting thing for her is that she cannot grow hair under her arms. Only in Italy woman does not shave their armpits. In western countries ladies wax their underarms whenever possible. But waxing is a painful and expensive technique.
An average India woman cannot spend a fortune each month on doing waxing or going to beauty parlours for getting them shaved wherever they please. So those who want to wear the sleeveless blouses steal their husband’s or brother’s shaving set and shaves it themselves. But shaving is an art and it is to be done with care and at peace. There is great difficulty when our right arm is to be shaved as the left hand may not be flexible as our right hand. But in cities where there is a will there is a way. Everything is delivered at your doorsteps.
So coming back to the story, the woman told me about how she shaves the ladies in our flat complex, then I also thought I may try it for the first time. I invited her in and closed the door. She then opened a case and took a sharp knife and some soap out. I was shocked to see a knife for shaving purpose since I was expecting a safety razor. But she told me there was nothing to worry and it would be a smooth experience. I then removed my blouse and sat before her in my bra. She opened my arms and looked at the pit growth. I could feel the smell of sweat and perspiration from my armpits. She touched my pit and put her fingers to her nose and sniffed for an instant. Then without applying any soap she used the razor sharp knife and in an instant I saw some soft hair falling down. She repeated the same to me left hand too. And within two seconds she had done first round. Then she shaved once again on both underarms so that the surface got smooth. She then touched there with her fingers and searched for any stubbles. She said the work was finished and I asked her about fee. She said it was only two rupees. It was a paltry sum. Then she took my pit hair fallen on the floor together and put it in a plastic cover. I asked her what does she want with it. She then told me that my pit hair was so soft and she had liked the smell on them. She told me that she had collected it to sniff at leisure.
I was stunned by her bold remark. Then I gave her two rupees and she was left. I was thinking about her taking my pit hair home to sniff at!. It was totally ridiculous. Then I too started wearing sleeveless blouses and I understood the need for shaving our pits as people would look at our opened body parts and may ogle at good pits. The armpits of women can make men go crazy. Each men is in search of a good armpit. The armpit hair makes them think about pussy. It is an aphrodisiac to many men. The maratti woman came to my house next week and knocked. But I told her that I like to have hair grown in my pits and I do not plan to go sleeveless everyday. She was gone with a sullen face.
I felt pity towards her making a living by shaving other women’s pits. It looked a pathetic job to me, so out of pity I used her service occasionally and I gave her food which was left balance of previous day’s dinner. She expressed her gratitude and told me that nobody had given her food from our flats and most of the time she was starving. This open remark made me more compassionate to her. I then made some household activities like washing bed sheets, taking wheat to flour mills to be done by her and used to give her some money.
This went on for an year and we became friends. Her name was Poornima. She would take my daughter to the adjacent park and would baby sit occasionally. My husband did not like anybody from outside visiting us. He was of opinion that all the local people are cheats and thieves. He scolded me for encouraging woman to come and chat with me. But I told her that I had nothing much to do in the afternoon and perhaps I could learn Maratti language by chatting with her. He was pleased about me learning native language and he told me that it would give us an added advantage of considered as a local family and it would be helpful when riots etc occur, which occurred most of the time during festival seasons.
My husband went for a conference at Bangalore and told me to take care of myself for a week. He was planning to visit his parents in the return trip and it may take one week to come back. I gave him a go ahead sign and thus was left home alone with my kid. Then rain started out of season. My office got a few holidays declared by the government. On one night, the rain was falling continuously from the evening and I had cooked food for me and kid and was reading a book. Then I heard a knock at the door. I was afraid about some unexpected guest or intruder and looked through my peephole. It was the Maratta woman standing at my door steps completely drenched in the rain. I opened the door and asked her what was the emergency. She then told me that she may not get train to go to her place and everywhere flood like situation has raised. She begged me to allow her to stay at my doorsteps. She said she would sleep in some newspaper and start in the early morning.
I considered the situation and decided to give her shelter. She could not murder me as I had a revolver hidden in my house. She was drenched and was smelling awful. I asked her to take a bath first if she want to stay at my flat. She walked cautiously without wetting my floor and I gave her an old cotton sary to wear. She then asked me if I could spare some mustard oil to her. I gave her a bottle which I sparingly used. The mustard oil is used for cooking fish, and as a massaging oil which was preferred by North Indian people. It had a strong smell and therefore I did not like it. But it can warm our body within instant if we rub it on us.
I then retired to my room and started reading the paper. Soon I heard a folk song being sung by the maratta woman. I was curious to see what made her such glorious mood. When I reached the kitchen I could see her applying mustard oil all over her body standing in the bathroom and singing loudly. She was completely naked and she was jet black all over. Her body was glistening with oil and sweat. She was standing against me and I could see her hands busy applying oil on her back and buttocks. Obviously she was using the chance given to her to the maximum and about quarter of the oil bottle was empty. Her hair was put above her head as a bunch and she had only a red string with some locket attached to it at her waist. She had put on leg on a platform and was massaging her big buttocks alternatively. With in a flash her round ass was in full view. Her ass was even more fair than rest of her body, but areas near her ass cheek was brownish black. She did not have any hair on or around her ass cheek. I was little surprised as most of the Maratti women hardly shave anywhere. They think that hair on their ass, around pussy and even armpits are sexy which really is. But I was quite surprised not seeing any hair on her ass. But I was not to be disappointed. Rather Purnima’s clean ass mounds made a stinging feeling in my cunt. Then she bent down to take some more oil giving a broad display of her ass hole to my eager eyes. Her ass holes was a blackish brown spot in the middle of very fair skin. The ass cheeks were reddish and everything was clean shaved. I was putting my hands into my panties and rubbing my pussy now. Purnima then did some thing very strange. She brought on of her finger with long nails near her ass hole and started scratching her ass cheek. She then inserted the finger inside her ass hole only a little bit and poked her ass for some long 30 seconds. She then brought her finger out and smelled it holding it before her nose. I could not clearly see her cunt as she was standing. But I could tell that her cunt was also completely shaven. Purnima then raised both of her hands over her head for oiling her hair. I was watching the big blotch of wetness from sweat at her armpits. She had a big bush of black hair on both of her armpit. I had never seen something so sexy in his life. She was shaving every woman’s armpits in these flats I wiped my tongue and lips imagining how delicious and sexy it would be to lick the sweat out of her armpit hair. Purnima seemed unaware of my presence and the effect of her nude body on me. But I was yet to see her frontal nudity from my angle of view. But I managed to get an over all idea about her black tits. Her tits looked bigger than I was expected when I see under her bra now. Then she moves sideways and started rubbing oil on her big black breasts. I had never seen any tits so beautiful in his life, not even in porno movies starring Negro women who are famous for their biggest globes of breast meat. They were fair, full, little sagged with jet black nipples and very large. They seemed to be lager than what appears from outside. I could imagine myself touching Poornima’s tits with both hands and licking her nipples. Purnima then started pouring water on her body and wiped all the sweat from her body with a towel. She raised her armpit again and wiped the sweat from there too. She then brought her nose close to one of the armpits and smelled it. She looked satisfied with the
Smell.
Then she began applying soap on her body. She used half of my toilet soap within a few minutes and used it to remove all oil she had just applied. She was not using shower but taking water from a bucket using a mug. And she had forgotten to close the door too. Perhaps she was used to bath in open as her hut in a slum area could not offer much privacy. I had seen women from the slums shitting near railway tracks sitting on the tracks and covering their face using their sary. Very near to them men may be sitting doing the same thing. And trains may be passing within five minutes gap, when a train approaches they just jump from the track and soon after its gone they will once again continue shitting sitting on the track!. I have never imagined they were such courageous people. Life in a Bombay slum takes away all of your shame, self respect etc and soon you become an animal, unabashed about your privacy, nudity and interested only to make more money. I could see her black body from behind and I did not get a clear frontal view of her nudity. If she had a white skin she would be more beautiful than me. As she wears ugly clothes and chew tobacco and never appeared as if taken a bath her real beauty was concealed before other’s
Eyes.
I thought it improper to stand there and watch her nudity while taking a bath and came back to my room. I could feel my pussy getting heated up and begging my hands to masturbate. I looked at my daughter. She was sleeping peacefully. After some time Poornima appeared from the bathroom with a smile on her face. She was humming another folk song in her native language. I could recognise some terms and could guess it was a song in dirty slang. She was wearing only the cotton sary, which I gave to her. She was not wearing any blouse or brassieres. She wore the sary in a round way fashion so that it would cover her breasts from a frontal view. But I could see her breasts and most of her backside by a side view. The way she dress could not cover her side view and I could see her breasts and I loved every moment of it. I was flabbergasted to notice her teats. She had very large and long nipples. It was sticking out of her sary like a small finger. Most of the Maratta women have taut and long nipples, which always protrude out. I could not control myself any longer. I was damn sure that if I sit there watching her semi nude body I might go mad and will rape her. So I proceeded to the kitchen and took some chappathis and poured some dal curry over it and put some red chillie pickles and offered it to her. I took some bread and omelette for me. We started eating it, I was sitting on chair and she preferred to sit on the floor.
She was occasionally looking at a shelf nearby and smiling at me. I could not understand her message. I asked her what was that. She then caught my attention towards a bottle of rum which was kept by my husband for his use. I never drink such strong liquors and I hate the smell of rum. She was begging me for some rum from my husband’s store. I could not deny her request. I knew that rum was the most cheap liquor and my husband might not scold me if he find out that I have taken from it. I opened the shelf and took the rum bottle and poured a half glass of rum and added water to it. She grabbed it from my hands and greedily drank it in one gulp. She then asked me for one more helping. I poured another half glass of rum and started adding water to it. But she took that water bottle away and drank it raw!. My god, she is a drunk it seems!. Anyway I put the bottle away and she got the message that she was not going to get anymore rum. She then sat silently and ate the food. Then she took my plates and washed them well and put them on the shelf.
I gave her a mat to sleep and one sheet for her to cover herself. She laid the cover on the mat and lay over it. She put her hands above her head and I could thus see her armpit bush and my head started spinning seeing the bushy pit. I asked her, “”Poorni,, you have not shaven your armpit hair? Why did you grow hair on your armpits while you are shaving every other woman and earning a living with the money”. Poornima smiled at me and said ” I’ll never shave hairs on my armpits. Only my pussy and ass will be clean shaved. My husband won’t permit me to shave there. He liked the smell of my bushy armpits”. She then asked me, “Madame have you shaved your pussy and ass by the way?”. I was stunned at her question. I told her that I had been shaven when I was admitted for delivery.
I still remember it as a most painful experience. There were about six women fully pregnant in a room and a nurse came with a razor for shaving us. She did not bother to apply any soap and shaved us raw. We were experiencing shaving for the first time and thought it was customary at hospitals not to apply soap and wet hair. But the lady next to me complained to her that she does not know how to shave and why did she not applying soap. But the nurse was very arrogant and replied that it was not her duty to shave women’s pussies. “You are coming here for delivery and having a forest between your legs. What do you think we are here for?, you should have shaved good and come prepared. I don’t have time to soap your bloody pussies and pleasure you with shaving. Lay there still or you will be hurt”, saying this she removed part of her bush with a scissors and shaved and she was writhing in pain. The others soon learnt a lesson and did not say anything and suffered the atrocity of the inexperienced nurse.
I replied her that I prefer a bit of bush on my pussy and I did not have any hair near my anus. I then changed to my night dress and lay myself along with my kid. The bed room light was on. Since Poorni was drunk and tired she started sleeping right away. I could not get sleep and I lay there thinking about the shower scene I had just viewed and I looked at the floor and looked at Poorni. I could hear her low snoring sound. Her upper part of dress had fallen around and I could see her breasts naked. Her head was turned on her right side and I was looking at her from her left side on my cot.
I could not resist the temptation to look at her big breasts once again clearly. So I moved silently to the mat and with slow moves removed the upper part of cloth covered her fully away. I stood apart and looked at the beautiful view offered to me by Poorni in her sleep. Her big breasts were well rounded and as heavy as two footballs. Since she had applied mustard oil all over her body there was a glistening sparkle on her breasts. I looked at her big nipples. I could not resist the temptation to touch them. I had to do that otherwise I die, I thought. I put my hands on her breasts and looked at her face for response. She did not move a bit. Thus encouraged I began moving my hands over her beautiful round big breasts and I took her large nipples in my hand and measured the length. The nipples were iron hard as I thought. I looked once again to her face to see whether they became hard because of my touch. Was she awake, but I did not see any response. Her breathing was as normal as it was. Then I desired to inspect her armpit more closely. I moved her hands a bit away from her body and moved bit by bit until it was wider enough to feast my eyes on her bushy armpits. As if she had read my thoughts she scratched her hair in her sleep and without much move from my side I could clearly see her armpit hair. It reminded my like a perfect black pussy. The hairs were sprouting outside and were reaching almost her breasts from the roots situated at the middle portion of her armpits. I remembered her words about her husband sniffing at her armpits and not permitting her to shave her pit hair fearing he might loss the natural odour of her pit. I wanted to sniff at it and feel it myself. But I still was not getting courage for sniffing. I did not know how many men had violated her in her life, in fact I did not know anything about her sex life so far.
I moved to the kitchen and opened the fridge for drinking some cool water. Then I saw the rum bottle and without thinking much I poured a stiff one into a glass and added water to it. I took it and gulped in one move, the taste was bitter. I was getting courage. I had one more drink and returned to my room. Poorni was sleeping in the same position. Her bushy pits were inviting me. My mouth was watering at the sight of her upper nudity before me. She was so plump and I kissed her on her armpits and sniffed her smell from armpits. Her husband was right there was something peculiar about her armpit smell. It remembered me of a garlic flower and it was stimulating me. Then she moved sideways closing her armpits. I jerked away and looked at her backside. It was black but so smooth like Naomi Campbell’s smooth body. I touched her backside and I felt I was touching butter. The mustard oil had a bad smell but the skin was made so soft and loved the touch of her flesh under my hands. I lay close to her. I was getting my head heavy. The problem with rum is that it hits directly to our heads and vanish in the same pace. I was getting enough courage to explore further. I did not mind even if she awake and I was ready for some explanation. My blood was boiling at the sight of the nude black woman lying close to me. I moved close to her and touched her nipples from behind. I loved the feeling of getting her nipples iron hard in my fingers and I started massaging those big breasts from my angle and I suspected her body temperature had increased. Then I longed for one view at her pussy.
Every woman craves for the view of another woman’s pussy and tits. It is due to curiosity more than streak of lesbianism. God had created all human as bisexuals, there will be no person from either sex who had not experience a caress or a seductive look from a close friend or relation of same sex. I was in such a frenzy and I was not going to stop. I really need a view of her black pussy. I knew she was drunk and could offer no restriction. So I tried to remove the remaining clothes from her body away and I forced her to lay on her back so that I can get a full view of her frontal nudity.
I was getting bolder. I put my hands into her lap and took away the edge of her dress put inside her waistline string. I moved her dress from her body and she was laying spread-eagled fashion before me. I looked at her pussy. She was keeping her legs crossed preventing me an inside view. I should apply pressure to part her legs and it might obviously wake her up. I could see only the upper part of her pubic triangle. It was neatly shaved and looked so smooth. I wandered over her upper triangle and the smoothness of the part interested me. How could I resist my temptation to part her legs and peep at her labia. I brought up some courage and tried to move one of her leg away from the other. Her big thighs were so creamy and I felt as if I was touching a buttered surface. Even if she looked ugly and not bathed most of the time, her private parts were superb. Her creamy thighs were dark but so soft and there was no hair on them. I kissed the inner sides of her thighs. That was a better idea than to apply force as she slightly parted her legs and continued to sleep as a child. Now I could see the rose coloured opening of her vagina. I moved my nose up to her vagina and inhaled her smell. She smelled heavily of sweat, soap and mustard oil. I did not dare to insert my tongue into her pussy. Then she moved once again and lay with her backside facing me and prevented the celestial view of her frontal nudity to be. But I was not to be disappointed since she was now offering the sexuality of her full back uncovered to my feasting eyes. Her buttocks looked like two black hill tops and they were tightly spaced so that the channel between them could not accommodate even a piece of silk between them. I loved to see her beautiful butt. The backside of her butts where the thighs start was doubly black than her other parts. Somehow her extreme blackness there attracted me. I put my hands over there and cupped her buttocks. I felt like I was kneading a finely powdered wheat flour using a generous amount of cooking oil. Such was the feeling, I loved it.
I kneaded her fat black buttocks like that for some time. I parted her butt and looked at her asshole. It was so small for a big lady like her. Now I was satisfied with my explorations and decided to stop and go to sleep. I moved to my bed and looking at her nude body laying below on the floor, I hiked my dress and inserted a finger into my vagina. It was wet with my love juices. And I started masturbating slowly. I rubbed the upper edge of my vagina till my rosebud clit was enlarged and I took it like a button and rolled it between my fingers. Then I closed my eyes and dreamed about standing in a shower with my barber Poornima naked and fully coated with oil. I loved the fantasy and soon inserted more and more fingers into me.
I then felt a kiss on my pussy and opened my eyes and found that Poornima was sitting on the floor naked and her head was touching my thighs and she was kissing on my pussy. ‘Madame, I was looking for eating your pussy, please allow me, I just love it’ she said in her language. I was happy and offered her my body. She took my cunt hair in her throat and moved her tongue on my cunt. Then she told me, ‘Madame, I will shave you first, I cannot keep your long hair in my mouth, if you allow me to shave your cunt, I can please you to the maximum.’ I was getting impatient, I nodded her. She then went to the bathroom as naked as she was born and returned with soap and a mug full of water. She parted my legs wide and applied soap on my thick cunt hair using a brush. When it was a good lather she used her sharp knife on the surface and started doing her job. She was an expert in cunt shaving. I think she is better there than at armpits. When she shaved my pelvis and pubic mound she asked me to sit in bed keeping my head high. She then put a pillow under my buttocks and carefully began to shave my outer labia and after ten minutes she told me that it was completely done. She took a small mirror from the table and put it to view my pussy. Wah, she was a lovely barber, my cunt was as hairless as my daughter’s pussy. I moved my fingers over it and felt the smoothness. Then she put some dettol( deodorant) into the water and washed my pussy without wetting my bed. Then she dried my vagina using my own night dress. She then lifted my thighs up and she too joined my bed and kissed my pussy.
She was looking into my eyes lying between my legs. She had a laugh of a victorious person. She put her long tongue outside and used it as a sharp penis and inserted into my vagina. It was a feeling like your whole pussy was stuffed with a soft but thick flannel, which moved inside touching all my nerves and my pussy was writhing for some free space. She used her tongue to create a whirlwind in my whole vagina and I was clenching my hands on the pillow’s sides and I felt I am going to die. It was like I am taken to Mount Everest and was going to be dropped into the valley like an ice ball. She then put her thumb finger to top of my vagina and rubbed my clitoris and never stopped her tongue’s movement for one instant. At last I felt two or three orgasms building up inside me and they happened like a wave created when you throw a stone into a still pond. I never in my experienced such a batch of consecutive orgasms.
She then lay there silently for some time and I moved to downside and kissed her. As our lips touched, she slipped her tongue into my mouth and I could feel my clitoris begin to throb as though it were psychically linked to my tongue. With just one kiss she made me come alive; what I thought was dead, broken now pulsated with desire.
I kissed her deep as I allowed my hands to explore her body. No longer in a drunken frenzy, slowly I made my way towards her bare breasts tasting them one at a time. I could feel her loving gaze on me as I made my way down, between her legs.
We made love again and again that night. I had had no idea I could feel so much. This was more than flesh on flesh. My Soul seemed to be dancing around the room, free at last. My body tingled with desire and the space between us, once filled with tension and anxiety now sparkled with electricity.
Thus I became addicted to pussy eating and I bet my lesbian barber is the best women who had loved me and will remain the same. My husband was surprised to see my pussy hairless. He was also excited by the view of my bald pussy. He asked me why did I do it. I told him that I was getting a feeling that sweat and perspiration had condensed at my pussy and the smell may offend him and decided to shave and grow hair afresh. He told me he would like such surprises. I was feeling guilty to cheat on him in his absence. So I gave him a good fellatio and after that he fucked me. He told me that he was getting a feeling that he was fucking a minor girl and he loved it. He then asked me to shave once in a while and thus shaving has improved our sexual life.
The barber Poornima sneaks into my house like an ardent lover whenever she saw my husband going for a tour and I have never disclosed my amorous adventures with my same sex to him. I know no husband would like to hear that. It will bruise their ego and why should a happily married wife spoil her life committing such blunders. God created us to enjoy sex and in whatever form available to us. So dear folks why wait, make love as many times as you please. Sex no bar.
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