Tarun Cant Resist Taking Sunita

The drinks through the evening made him nice and woozy. His head felt light and in this state Sunita looked ever sexier and alluring. As if that was not enough, she was wearing her saree with one of those blouses that was daringly cut. Every time she leaned to serve someone or pick up a glass for refill, her low slung blouse gave enough slack for everyone to look down the front. Not that there was so much on display; her breasts were just short of large and there was not any significant cleavage. Her breasts mostly were contained by her bra.

As he thought of those suckable breasts with their pink-brown nipples he felt his cock rising. His eyes searched her out in the party even as the guy next to him babbled on about his new business plan. There she was, leaning over. This time her backside was towards him and he appreciatively took in the sight of her hips flaring and the well rounded ass. Delectable. Any which way you looked at her. He shifted uncomfortably, giving his cock some relief from the unrelenting pressure now building up.

Sunita too had had a couple of drinks. She was feeling nice too. As she leaned across to pick up the glass that was just that much too far, she was tantalizingly poised over Tarun. Tarun gulped as he took in the sight of her breasts so close near his face. Her aroma filled his nostrils and she looked down at him and smiled. Tarun’s eyes wandered all over her. Her breasts, down the front of that low-cut blouse, her shoulders, her hair, her sparkling eyes. Tarun was transfixed.

So when she overbalanced and fell over, he was too caught up in his own world to help her any, and she fell on him. Her breasts crushed against his head, her body on his chest, and her knees digging into his thighs. She held her hands up, trying to avoid spilling or dropping the glass. One of her elbows caught the back of the sofa and the other was around his shoulder. That jousted her breasts against his face, and he felt the satin encased mounds of flesh play against his face. The hard-on was instant. His friend’s wife, smeared against him in front of everyone. Her hands holding glasses, unable to prevent the mashing of breasts. His hands at his side unable to support her.

“Sorry!” she mumbled, as she hoisted herself up, one hand on his shoulder. As she steadied herself, she found that she was tantalizingly close to him. And she could still feel his face on her breasts. She moved back, aware of the situation and the eyes on them, and as she did so, her knee grazed his crotch. She wondered if what she felt was for real….. Karan grabbed her arm and hauled her up, helping his wife regain herself. As she turned to face the person who had helped her up, she felt her face flushed red. And the heat and color on her was not lost on Karan.

She freed herself and thanked him and moved away into the kitchen. She steadied herself at the sink. The back of her hand covering her mouth, as she thought of the way she was spread over Tarun, and of the fleeting touching of his hardon that her knee had discovered. “God!” she thought. “In front of everyone. This stirring of lust is not me. Is not legitimate. And from where has this willingness to feel lust come from?”

She looked down at herself and saw the view of her breasts in their trappings, the pinkness of her chest that must have been so visible through the evening, and so particularly to Tarun when they were so closely juxtaposed. Damn the tailor, she had told him to keep all his design bravado to the back. She pulled up the blouse a bit and readjusted the pallu of her saree to cover herself better. She felt better this way. It was more reflective of her traditional upbringing and the wife of a respectable household. She wondered if she was covering her body, or whether the pallu was to shroud her willingness to feel illegitimate lust.

When she stepped back into the hall, it was as if all eyes were on her. She looked up nervously to spot Karan and noticed that he was indeed with his eyes on her. Sunita smiled at some of the other guests and continued as if nothing had happened. She didn’t want Karan to realize that she was self conscious of what had happened. As she rose from one sofa to move around she found herself across the room from where Tarun was sitting. He was looking at her, and she felt an unfamiliar tingling in her breasts. It was the pressure, the squashing, the mashing of flesh on his head, his face. The stimulus, unexpected and in dangerous public view. It had felt good and her breasts ached for completion. The thought of having her breasts touched, felt and sucked, made her feel even hotter. And she realized that moistness had come to be between her legs. One corner of her mind took note of the fact that it did not matter to her who was doing the touching, the satiation. She just wanted it.

Karan knew he wanted her and also knew he could not wait for the last guest to leave. Not tonight. Tonight, he needed her. But there was the usual gang that would hang around for longer. The group that had come to expect that the party would shrink in size but continue for a longer bit. How could today be different? Damn, thought Karan. Yes, on other nights it was fun to have everyone hang around, but tonight was different. Maybe right now was a good time. When the first set had left, and there was a hiatus, when things were getting put away and the house being made comfortable for a smaller group. Children being put to bed, and a little informality creeping in.

He went around the house and found her in her room, putting away some things before heading down again. As her hands were up accessing the top shelf, she was on her toes and her body fully exposed. He let his hands rest on her bare torso, just under the blouse, above where the saree was tied. She gasped. His four fingers were to the front of her body and his thumb on the back. His fingers crept up and reached the lower slopes of her breasts. He let his hands slide up. Feeling the soft flesh bunch up as he pushed upward. Sunita let her hands hold the shelf as she left her body open to his hands. She wanted this, she could use the relief. She closed her hands on the shelf and felt his fingers stroke her breasts. The nipples shuddered when touched but not enough was happening, with layers of cloth covering her aching flesh.

She pushed her ass back till she found his crotch and she caressed the cock with her ass. He pawed her breasts. Squeezing. Kneading. She shuddered. Partly from the stimulation. Partly because in her closed eyes, the hands were not of Karan. And the excitement of having Tarun touch her was the other part. As the ripples went through her, her lips parted and a sigh escaped. Karan put his hands on her shoulder and turned her around. And he pushed her down. He couldn’t think of her needs at a time when his cock was screaming for release. He pushed down his trousers along with the waistband of his shorts. The slender but full cock jumped out and Sunita’s hand covered it. She slowly fisted it, even as she felt a fever of desire on her breasts. She groaned as she felt her need escalate. He lay back on the floor and she knelt between his legs, her back to the door.

She covered the cock with her mouth and started to fuck him with her lips. He was so predictable, except that he was drunk; he might take longer to cum. God knows they didn’t have that much time, with their inner circle of friends still around the house. Her head bobbed. His hands were on her head urging her on. “Suck and fuck you bitch! Make me cum! Make me cum the way the Tarun wants to cum in you!” Karan was wild and crazed.

Her eyes opened wide at the reference to Tarun. Her head bobbed ever more furiously. Shorter strokes. More focused on the head. But faster. “So its true, isn’t it!” he asked triumphantly. “The thought of him makes you go, you slut!”

She had no idea where this language came from. He seemed a different man. But what he said was so true. Her hand crept below and slid through the top of her saree at the waist. She felt the softness of her own tummy. Her hair. Her pussy. Her wetness. Her clit. She stroked slowly. Yes, slut. She wanted to be pleasured like a slut. Her hand pulled at her saree. Opening it out, bunching it up. She tried stuffing her fingers in to her pussy. But she didn’t know enough about pleasuring herself. God she need to cum………

So did he. He started to thrust. Wildly. The thrusting made his cock leap and twitch uncontrollably. She needed to hold him, his cock, to give some control to this, if he was to cum and finish. Her hand closed around his cock and she fisted him, even as her lips pleasured his cock head. Her lower body was exposed because of the bunching up but she couldn’t attend to herself. She remained kneeling and her legs spread out as she went down lower on Karan. He started to scream. Holler. His hips bucking. His shaft felt her fingers and her lips. The wetness of her lips and the wetness of his fluid spewing was maddening. Uncontrolled lust and desire was all he felt. The pleasure was indescribable. “Oh! Yes, baby. Yes!” he muttered as he felt little surges and small amounts of fluid release. This control, this prolonged pleasure came only when he was drunk. The haze in his mind allowed him to seek and feel only pleasure. He was not in control. He was not aware of his beautiful sexy wife, or her needs. Just that she pleasured him madly.

It was that same haze in his mind that allowed him to spot Tarun enter the room but not react. He would have got up and quickly rearranged himself, but that would have meant the pleasure stopped. And that was something he could not handle at this time. His hips continued to buck. He looked down and saw Sunita with her eyes closed, her mouth open, his cock sliding in and out as her head moved up and down. He could see her ass jutting up as she was kneeling low. And he now noticed that her saree was askew, not quite up to her ankles. He looked back up and saw Tarun’s eyes devouring Sunita.