Champa Rali is a woman who was cast out of her village for engaging in adultery. Her own parents and her sister refused to take her side. “You deserve this, Iravati.” They were the last words of Jayah, her sister, to Champa before she was forced out of the village.
Back then, her name was Iravati. This happened many decades ago. Moving to the city, Champa had experienced a lot in her life. Champa was hired by a local politician as a maid. She soon realized that her job requirement was more than just cleaning and dusting.
She had to sleep with any politician directed in her way. Fortunately, she liked it; having sex with the top politicians felt empowering. Her life changed even more when she took up the role of being a surrogate. She had birthed children for three politicians in a decade, for those whose wives couldn’t conceive.
By surrogate, I mean the politicians impregnated her one at a time.
In this chaotic lifestyle of sex and frequent pregnancy, Champa found love in the form of a baby girl. An innocent newborn that was rejected as that politician’s wife became pregnant. Actually, this was just an excuse as the baby born was a girl.
Champa was furious hearing this, but she said nothing. She simply decided to raise the baby girl as her own, which, in a way, she was. Champa was happy and satisfied in her life except for one thing.
“If only I could fix things with my family or even know their whereabouts,” she said while she was being drilled by a muscular guy named Gangal Singh, out in the lawn under the starry night sky.
Gangal Singh worked as security at this politician’s place, and he had become Champa’s fuck buddy. More than sex, Champa just loved to open her heart and talk about absolutely anything. Most of the time, Gangal would not respond. He would be busy pounding her ass.
But Champa liked the fact that he listened quietly. He didn’t demand her attention or gag her mouth by stuffing his dick in to prevent her from talking as other politicians did.
“I wish I could meet my sister once before I die…” said Champa.
She wished for it, and lucky for her, it happened. Champa’s sister Jayah called her to her village. Champa was more than happy to go there. She didn’t care about the weird reason * why her sister called her. All she cared about was that her sister called. So she went.
(*Please read the first part to know the weird reason)
Coming back to the present, it was afternoon. Champa was recollecting all this while she was just strolling by the village lake. Even on this hot afternoon, the weather there was pleasant. The place was almost entirely covered by a blanket of beautiful yellow flower trees.
Champa enjoyed the fragrance of the flowers coming from the trees. As the heat of the afternoon reduced, Champa started walking back to her sister’s house. At that moment, Champa was wearing her sister’s sari, a pink translucent one with a silver border.
This was a bit uncomfortable for her. Despite the fact that the two sisters were identical, her sister’s blouse was too big for her. When Champa looked in the mirror, she couldn’t help but notice the problem.
“This is loose. It shows a huge cleavage and… and if I bend just enough…” said Champa, mischievously bending until her nipple popped out.
“That’s why we wear a sari,” Jayah said, placing pallu of the sari over her shoulder. This properly covered Champa’s exposed chest. “It’s only the matter of one day, I’ll stitch a new blouse for you tomorrow,” said Jayah, who professionally was a ladies tailor.
The afternoon had passed, and the sun was going down. It was only a matter of one evening. But for a clumsy woman like Champa, one evening is too long. Champa was just walking as she passed the market area.
As usual in the evening time, many salesmen were sitting there. Earlier that day, Jayah requested her sister to get some vegetables for the night. Jayah tried to give her cash, but Champa politely declined.
Walking to one vegetable vendor, she started looking around. His name is Taran. The vendor seemed to get excited, looking at her. He stared at her, saying, “Jayah?!” he was confused. He noticed the resemblance between this new woman Champa and one of his regular customers Jayah.
“No, I’m her sister,” said Champa while smiling. She took it as a compliment. For many years while she was a child, she looked up to her elder sister. She wanted to be like her. Now at least she has become like her, appearance-wise.
Champa was looking around to pick vegetables. The table on which the veggies were kept was too low. It strained her back to bend while picking the right pieces. She didn’t say anything, though. This naughty vegetable vendor had made this arrangement on purpose.
When Champa bent, her pallu slipped, baring her chest. A huge hanging cleavage inside a loose blouse made his jaw drop. He pretended to talk on his phone but instead was filming her chest. “Nipple please… nipple please… nipple please…” he whispered to himself.
Even the thought of catching a glimpse of Champa’s nipple gave Taran a huge hard-on. It was a struggle as quite often, Champa stood back up and fixed her pallu. This was disappointing. Still, the camera continued to record as he kept the phone in his pocket.
As one last hope, when she bent to pay the money, he tugged on her hand, making the pallu fall. Lucky for him, this made her right nipple pop out, and it was hanging on the edge of the blouse. That didn’t last long, though. Only till she was done with the money transaction.
When Champa walked away, the vegetable vendor replayed the recorded clip. He was proud of himself, seeing how good a shot of her chest he managed to capture. “This is pure gold. Finally, I will upload my next video. This one I will call Spying on MILFs 3 – Cleavage show.”
Champa continued on her return journey. She didn’t realize what happened back there. The exposed nipple fixed itself as it went back into the hiding inside this loose blouse. She had put the pallu in place so that her chest showed absolutely no cleavage.
But that didn’t stop one pervert from the locality – one old man named Birju. He saw her approaching from a distance. “A new face,” he said, “This means she must be unaware of my reputation,” he said to his two friends Broju and Johar. “Let’s fix that, shall we?” said Birju.
Birju was a weak-looking old man. A single guy who lived alone in his house. A pervert who was known to hit on women passing by. Despite his shameful behavior, none of the women used to fight back, respecting his old age. This only encouraged him to do it more.
Timing the moment right, he went ahead and bumped into Champa. She immediately dropped her bag and tried to hold this falling old man. But he was clever. He tried to grab on anything but her hands to prevent himself from falling.
The first thing he did was to pull on her pallu, exposing her chest. A surprising treat to his eyes as well as to those pervy wolves of friends he got back there.
“Here… babuji… hold my hand to get up,” said Champa extending her arm. She didn’t care to fix her pallu as she was tactfully distracted by the old man. Birju pretended to be blind, and so instead, he started pulling on her blouse.
“Please stop! Please stop!” she said politely as he continued to pull on her blouse until her breasts had popped out, exposed. Champa’s tits were exposed, yet he continued to pull on her blouse while attempting to get up.
Fortunately/unfortunately, there was no one else to feast on Champa’s bare chest. “That’s enough, asshole!” she cursed, pushing the old man back on the ground. Champa was the first woman to retaliate as Birju fell hard on his ass.
“Fucking old pervert, why don’t you just die already,” she cursed, tucking her boobs inside. None of Birju’s friends had the guts to walk to their friend and save him. Things were escalating as Champa started gathering people.
Although the villagers were very respectful towards Birju, they had a built-up rage towards him. It eventually came out spilling under Champa’s leadership.
Champa was pissed as she insisted on shaming this old man by making him walk naked around the village. She insisted on stripping him that instant, but people weren’t on board with this proposal.
“Who wants to see this fucking old man naked?!” thought all of them, giving out a feeling of disgust.
The argument was resolved when a man named Raja walked in. Dark sinned, semi-bald ugly looking guy. He managed to convince Champa to drop this thought and walk away from this situation with her. Raja took her to his shop.
“Jayah is my student,” said Raja, the number one ladies tailor of the village. “So you say you are her sister. I can see the resemblance.”
They continued to chat as Raja told her how he taught Jayah the art of Blouse stitching. Champa was comfortable, happy, and was enjoying the conversation with Raja.
From time to time, though, Raja kept on peeking at her chest. She noticed that which made her a bit uncomfortable. She wanted to make him stop but didn’t find the right words. Fortunately, Raja took the hint.
”I apologize for staring at your chest. It’s not what it looks like,” Raja confessed. “As you know, I am a ladies tailor, the best one there is. So just by looking, I can tell that your blouse is not a proper fit,” he said, intensely staring at her chest. Despite the pallu covering her chest, Raja was able to see through.
“I might have blouses that will fit your size. Do you want me to get you one?” asked Raja.
“Yes, please,” said Champa. After the incident that happened earlier, she was more than eager to change her blouse. The next step was critical. Raja stood up as did she, “Um… I will…” he hesitated, “I will have to take your exact measurement,” he said.
Champa was uncomfortable still she agreed to uncover her chest for him to see. Raja gave a good look at her chest. Then while gently pulling on her blouse, he started measuring it. He pulled on the fabric to measure the blouse in such a way that Champa felt no pressure of his touch.
Champa should have pointed out that this is not the right way to take measurements. But she didn’t, as Raja kept her distracted with chit-chat while pulling on the fabric to have a good look at her brown nipples.
After a long one minute of measurements taking, Raja gave a disappointing sigh, “I’m pretty sure Jaya made this blouse. It’s poorly made,” he said in a serious tone, “She is still learning,” he added, “I might have to go in to take the actual measurement.”
Champa was confused at first. Until he clarified what he meant by that. ‘Go in,’ meaning he wanted to feel her breasts to get the accurate value. He raised his hands as if ready to go in. Champa, as a reflex action, moved back, covering her chest. “Please don’t!” she said.
Raja assured her, “Don’t worry, it’s nothing I haven’t seen or done before. I am a professional.” It was a big fat lie. But that trick seemed to work. Champa dropped her defenses and let him in. The blouse was so loose that his hands went inside with ease.
He was feeling her breasts, enjoying them. Even after two minutes, he was not done measuring. That is if he was measuring in the first place. At one point, he was tempted, and so he gently pinched one of her nipples. That’s when Champa pulled his hands out, saying, “That’s enough.”
“Oh yes, I have got it,” he said as he rushed inside a room. For five minutes, he didn’t return. Champa was curious, and so she followed him to the room. Pushing the door slightly open, she saw him stroking his dick while sniffing his other hand.
“So cute,” was Champa’s first response as she closed the door again. Champa knew exactly what Raja was doing. She didn’t mind having sex with him so long as it happened behind closed doors. Sadly, Raja was too busy pleasuring himself.
She walked out of his house with a bag of vegetables. The outside was dark by then. That was good as at least now, she won’t be the target of those pervert villagers who saw her breasts exposed earlier.
Champa reached her sister’s home safely. She went in and kept the bag in the kitchen. She saw her daughter happily playing with her cousin brother Jegan in the backyard. The same cousin she had sex with last night. Her sister was nowhere to be seen in the house, so she walked out again.
Neighboring her sister’s house was Ligan ghar, the house where Champa spent her first night in the village. Based on what she learned, three people live in the house, an old man Johar Ligan who owns the house, his son, and daughter-in-law.
His son is mostly out of the house for work. So it is just two of them living there. The woman of the house explained it to her, saying, “That’s why I am very happy when we have guests in the house. It feels less empty and less scary.”
”Maybe I should go thank them for opening their house for me.” she wondered. She walked to their house straight inside. There was nobody. She walked to the backdoor just to find something shocking. There is a squarish place with a tap where clothes are washed.
But at that moment, the tap was on, and the things that were getting washed were not clothes but two warm bodies. under the running tap.
“I knew it. I guessed it right the first time I met them that they must have been fucking each other,” Said Champa to herself.
She was happy that one of her dirty fantasies had come to life. She was enjoying the view from hiding until they were done and ready to get inside the house. Champa rushed out of the house. She was relieved the moment she was out of the gate as she gasped.
There was no one for Champa to talk to except for one person. The old man Birju who mistreated her earlier that evening. The moment he saw Champa, he looked away. Seeing his response, Champa was more driven to walk to him. She noticed his torn clothes result of people beating him and so she apologized.
“Sorry for what happened back there,” Champa said.
“No, I’m sorry for making a move at you,” replied Birju.
“Really…” commented she, “If you really feel sorry, then why do you do these things?”
The old man paused, he thought for a while. Champa was going to change the topic, but then he interrupted her, giving the answer to her question.
“You saw what was happening inside that house?” he asked, pointing at the Ligan ghar. Champa didn’t reply, but her expressions gave the answer.
“You see, that old man in there is my friend. Every time I meet him, he shows me pictures of how he creatively fucked his bahu (daughter-in-law). It’s really frustrating for me as I never had the good fortune of having a wife or a bahu, for that matter. A lonely orphan since birth to death…” he said in a crying tone.
There were tears in his eyes. These droplets melted all the residual anger Champa had towards him. He continued,
“… I know it is wrong. But what other options do I have? Teasing passer-by women is the only way I get some sort of physical contact. It’s my only reason to live.”
Champa felt sad for him, as his emotions felt genuine. She walked him to his house, which was like some abandoned house.
“How do you even live in such a place?”
Birju had nothing to say. He went and sat in a rocking chair, the only place that didn’t seem to be covered in layers of dust. She saw a sadness in those old weary eyes. She felt pity for him. On top of that, she recollected a line some politician told her during one of their meetings.
“Old age is like a second childhood. If I don’t take care of my parents, then who will.” This line hit her hard. She decided to do something about this old man’s situation.
She took off her pallu and tied it around her waist. Then with a strong will, she started cleaning this house in ruins. While she did all the cleaning and dusting and mopping the floor, old Birju just sat there and watched her. More accurately, he watched her breasts move.
He was getting an erection and felt like masturbating as he slowly caressed his pole in pants. But he didn’t do it as he felt it was inappropriate to the woman who was doing a noble deed of cleaning her house. It took her an hour or so to get the house decently cleaned as much as she could.
She then walked to him, saying. “Now that the house is clean let’s get the man of the house cleaned too.” She pulled him up and walked to the bathroom she just cleaned. She helped him take off his clothes. He insisted on keeping the underwear on, and she agreed.
Birju was completely useless as he let her pour water on him, lather soap on him, and then wash him clean. Meanwhile, he simply sat there watching.
“Your sari is getting wet,” he pointed out.
She looked down to see that the sari was absorbing all the water on the floor. In response, she pulled up her sari and tied it around her waist, baring her fair, fat thighs. This excited Birju even more.
“Now there’s only one part that remains to be cleaned,” said Champa looking at his underwear.
She noticed the erection but was not bothered by it. He resisted, and yet she pulled down his underwear to expose his erection. For a wrinkly old man, his dick was surprisingly straight and hard. Champa gently laid her hand on his seven-inch pole and slowly started stroking.
“It’s been so long since someone has touched me like that,” said Birju. She smiled as she continued to stroke his dick. It didn’t take her that long to make him ejaculate. Birju was hoping to get some pussy action, but she put brakes on his intentions.
“Not so fast, old man.” She said with a naughty smile. She carried him to the bedroom and got him dressed.
After that, they sat down to chat for an hour or two. Birju shared his life experience and how it led him to live a lonely life in this old age. When it was time for her to leave, she kissed his forehead, saying, “So long as I am here, you don’t have to feel jealous of your friend.”
Then fixing herself to look decent, she walked away from the old man’s house.
To be ‘cuntinude.’
Please do tell me what you think about the story via email at /cdn-cgi/l/email-protection” class=”__cf_email__” data-cfemail=”a1c9d3cecfd8ccc0cf9798e1c6ccc0c8cd8fc2cecc”>[email protected]. You can also read ///www.indiansexstories2.net/couple/couple-swapping-resort-1/”>my other story here.
Also, I apologize if this story wasn’t up to the usual standards. I had written it a long time ago, but posting it just now. Thank you for reading it.
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