Indian Housewife Prenuptial Agreement

It was past 7.00 when the bright sunlight woke up Sonam. She was horrified and embarrassed at having woken up so late. As a bahu, she always got up much earlier, and by this time she was in the prayer room after her bath. By 8.00 everyone would be at the dining table, having their ‘nasta’ (breakfast), with the patriarch at the farthest end of the table and his bahu always beside him. This was his wish and command.

“Babuji. Get up, get up …oh my god, I am so late!” She pushed the patriarch a few times and picking up her tattered nightie that lay on the bed, she hurriedly got down from the bed. But that was the farthest that she could get.

Balwant just stretched his strong pair of hands and gripped the pretty bahu by her waist. He pulled her on to the bed and on to his lap. Both were completely naked.

The ‘hardness’ of the patriarch immediately on awakening was not lost on Sonam. She felt the eager ‘lund’ probing the crack of her rump and strong hands that were soon mauling her milk laden breasts. A squirt or two trickled on to Balwants hands.

“Choriye Babuji (Leave me, Babuji),” she cried out. She felt excited but stifled her want because of her daily chores that needed her attention and were no less demanding.

“Why? A bahu’s rightful place is on her sasur’s (father-in-law) lap,” Balwant laughed as he fondled her.

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He swung Sonam on the bed so that she now lay face down with Balwant on top. He was still gripping her breasts.

“Babuji, please! I am late. I’ll not be able to face the household if you hold me back further,” Sonam wailed. Her cries fell on the deaf ears of an aroused mind.

Balwant was sliding his body down over Sonam’s back. He kissed her neck and then on her shoulders, gradually moving down across her soft creamy body. He released her breasts when she reached her rump, parted the soft, fleshy curves of her butt and stared at the crack and the hole that it nestled.

“So lovely,” he uttered, not hiding the intensity of his rising lust. Unable to resist, he had brought his face down on to the spot.

Balwant sniffed the area as he dug in his nose.

“Ahhh!” He exclaimed, as he took in whiffs at the spot, one after the other.

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Sonam wriggled on bed, trying to free herself. She was deeply embarrassed at the patriarch’s inappropriate outbursts on such an intimate part of her body. Balwant didn’t hide his intoxication, sniffing and moaning as his eyes remained closed.

In one moment of Balwant’s slackness Sonam slid out of his grip, almost pushing her feet on the man’s shoulders with all her strength for leverage to break free. Before Balwant could realize the intentions of his prey, Sonam was out from his clutches.

With her tattered nightie still in her hands, she quickly ran away to the adjacent bedroom which was hers. In her hurry, Sonam forgot to take the wet panties that she had thrown underneath the bed, an inadvertence she would rue later.

In less than an hour she had her bath and got ready for the day. She was wearing a pretty, red saree with a golden border, a matching golden silk blouse and a red petticoat. Underneath, she was wearing the most exotic pink lingerie, full of laces and even had a thin frill border. The bra sat nicely on her breasts, extending the beauty and shape of her already beautiful curves of her bust.

Sonam looked at the mirror and wondered if she had worn it for her Babuji. Would he look at it admiringly? Would he fondle her breasts? She smiled at herself. How the man had taken over her mind! Her thoughts always revolved around him alone.

She parted her hair and applied a thin line of vermilion like Hindu housewives do. But she was unsure who it was for. Was it only for Rajesh to whom she was married? Or, for someone nearer? After her torrid love making with Babuji the previous night, was it for this elderly father-in-law?

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She rushed quickly to the prayer room. She just hoped that Babuji would have got up and completed his bath. If he too was late! Oh god, what would everyone think?

Normally, he was in the sitting room by 6.45 having his morning cup of tea, doing rounds at the cow shed, inspecting his cows, talking with the servants and telling them their outside duties for the day. Then sharp at 8.00, he would come and sit at the dining table. Today, even he was late and that must have been a surprise to everyone.

Sonam completed her prayers in fifteen minutes, but didn’t forget to pray for her husband which she usually did. But this day, she had some special thoughts and prayers for her Babuji too, wishing him well, wishing his long life and yes, praying for their love.

Oh god! How much she was in love with him now.

Soon, she hurried to the kitchen, first to see that the cook had prepared the ‘nasta’ or if they required her help. Satisfied, she dashed across to the dining room where everyone seemed to stare at her for being late. She should have been the first at the dining table, as others came in one by one. Today, she was the last. It was 8.10. She was embarrassed and apologized, first to Babuji, for that was the custom in the rich yet rural family, and then to the others who were all elder to her.

The patriarch was, fittingly, sitting at the head of the table. The first seat from that end was vacant, obviously left for the loving bahu of the household, Sonam. She came and sat down demurely, her head covered with the pallu of her saree.

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Such was Sonam’s embarrassment at being late that she fumbled with the spoon in her hand. Unfortunately, the spoon slipped out of her hand and fell on to the floor. Sonam blushed in more embarrassment. The young bahu of the house was making a mess of everything.

She mumbled a soft apology, as she bent down to pick up the spoon.

“Meri galti hui. Mujhe maf kijiye Babuji (I am at fault, forgive me),” her voice was most apologetic.

In the process of picking up the spoon, as she bent down her pallu (saree end covering her breasts) slipped of her shoulder. An involuntary glance at her breasts and cleavage revealed her curves. Just underneath the blouse, she glanced at the outlines of her lace bra. She knew Babuji would be happy if he saw her in her latest lingerie pair.

She was about to get up and out from underneath the table when her eyes fell on the parted thighs of Babuji sitting on his chair. The ‘dhoti’ that he was wearing couldn’t hide the bulge that lay in between. The two orbs and the thick cock that rested on them were conspicuous under the thin fabric that comprised the dhoti.

Sonam’s thoughts, for an instant, went back to the previous night and the rampaging organ that was resting barely a couple of feet away from her face.

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It was then that the horror of her forgetfulness hit her! Oh my God! What had she done! Her soiled panties was lying on the floor of Babuji’s bedroom. Imagine! Bahu’s panties under the master’s bed! That too, the panties that would have the unmistakable signs of the man’s sticky cum! Sonam turned red in the face. She couldn’t get the patriarch’s attention from underneath the table and neither could she remain in that position for long. She gave a mild tug on his dhoti before she got up.

Babuji must have realized something was amiss but he said nothing. He just glanced at Sonam who was trying to say everything with her eyes that expressed an imminent danger. Just then Matasari entered the room, carrying the awoken child in her arms.

Anjali, Anurudh’s wife, asked, “Where were you Matasari? You are supposed to be here during breakfast. You know that.”

“I was cleaning malik’s (master of the house) bedroom,” she said seriously. What was left unsaid was that it was not her fault if the man was late in vacating his room. Obviously, she was hinting that the master had got up unusually late himself and she could attend to it after the master had vacated.

“I did your room too, Bahurani,” Matasari continued to say, but she smiled mischievously at her. Sonam was certain that the maid had found her panties and blushed. The patriarch might have witnessed it.

Soon everyone was getting up from the dining table having finished their meal. As Sonam got up Balwant told her, “Bahu, I want to have another cup of tea … prepared by you.”

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Turning to Matasari his booming voice said,” Won’t the child have his bath now? Get him ready. Bahu will go to her room shortly after she gives me a cup of tea.” Matasari turned and quickly left the room. So did the others.

Everyone feared the patriarch. Babuji and Bahu were left alone now.

“You wanted to say something Bahu?” the master of the house asked. He was worried that something might have happened to his grandson that had made his bahu restless.

Breathlessly and in whispers, Sonam said, “Babuji, I made a big mistake. I forgot to bring away my panties from your room this morning. I left it underneath the bed where I threw it after you cleaned me. You heard what Matasari said just now? She must have seen my undergarment in your room. Oh! What will she think? Babuji I am scared!”

Sonam’s face didn’t hide what she felt. She was now tense, scared and nervous. She looked at her Babuji. Was he angry on her? Or would he take control and do whatever he thought would be best to protect the dignity of his bahu and himself?

“Toh tum apni kachhi mere bedroom pe chor ke chali ayii? (So you left your panties in my bedroom?)” Balwant asked his bahu. There was no anger in his voice, no concern at all. Just understanding and sympathy for his bahu.

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Although he wanted to, he could not reach out and take her in his arms at that moment. He wanted to hold her hand and reassure her that there was no reason for worry. Yet, there were concerns – maids are easily the quickest carriers of gossip. It would be a source of immense speculation, and certainly spicy for the household and neighbourhood, if the news about the bahu’s missing panties got leaked.

“Do not worry bahu. It will be fine.” Balwant assured her.

“But Babuji.. ” Her face filled with alarm and eyes moist as she stifled her cry.

He wanted to reach out and hold her hand. Yet he restrained himself.

“I will take care of it bahu.” His voice sounded cool but there was sternness and resolve.

She quickly wiped a tear with the help of the pallu of her saree.

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“Go to your room bahu. I will speak to Matasari. And you do not worry. All will be fine.” His voice exuded the confidence that he always had in his ability to take care of things.

“Yes, Babuji,” Sonam said and slowly proceeded towards her bedroom. There was relief in her face after Babuji’s reassurance. She gathered her pallu over her sleeveless blouse, covering her ample and proud breasts underneath the soft fabric.

Balwant, one for never putting anything till later, got up and walked down to the courtyard where the maid, Matasari was playing with Varun in her arms.

“Matasari..” he beckoned, carrying the authority of the head of the family, “Go and leave Varun with bahu. Then you come here, I have something to till you.”

“Ji babuji,” she bowed her head and hurriedly picked up Varun and went off in a hurry.

Balwant too got up after Sonam had walked away. Everyone else had moved away to other parts of the house after breakfast. The morning sun was now lighting up the courtyard. The patriarch walked along the corridor glancing at the closed door of Sonam’s bedroom. He felt an urge to walk in but resisted. He’ll have all the opportunity at night to hold and fondle his lovely bahu.

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Balwant opened his bedroom door and walked across to his favorite lounging chair. He waited for Matasari and thinking about this small predicament that had fallen on him and Sonam.

Balwant heard the shuffle of Matasari’s feet as she approached his room. She and her husband were longtime employees of the household. She was around thirty-three years of age and, like rural womenfolk involved in strenuous physical activities since childhood, had a very shapely figure. She had a somewhat dark complexion, having been exposed to harsh sunlight, but she had a longish face that was rather pretty in a way. And she did have a lovely smile and was very lively.

Matasari’s husband, due to exigencies at home, had sought Balwant’s permission and left for his distant village a year back. Matasari would visit her husband every six months or so. Her last visit was about four months back.

“Babuji, aapne bulaya? (Master, you have called me)?” she asked from the door.

“Yes, yes … Matasari.. come inside.” His voice was soft, not betraying the anxiety in his mind.

“Yes Babuji.” She walked in. As was customary she left the door open. She came and stood in front of Balwant with hands folded. Her saree wrapped around her torso and the pallu across her shoulder and head.

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“How’s your husband?”

Her face was polite and grateful, “He’s ok I think. I haven’t talked with him for quite some time. But his brother was here a week back. I learnt from him that everything is fine back home.”

Balwant nodded. “I just hope you are happy. You have been staying alone for a long time without your husband.”

“Why not, Babuji? You all take so much care and are so watchful of my needs. Why shouldn’t I be happy?”

“Even then. After all, you stay alone.” Balwant crossed his muscular legs, covering part of the dhoti beyond the thighs.

“I have become used to this life. What can I do?” She sighed one, not hiding her disappointment at having to live without her husband and the needs of a separated couple. But she quickly recovered.

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“Then why don’t you call him back? What work does he have in the village and living without his wife?” Balwant was trying to sound considerate and sympathetic before he went on to discuss the embarrassing topic on Sonam’s panties.

“No Babuji. I am okay.” She felt a bit uneasy and pulled her pallu further across her body as she watched Balwant uncross his legs.

Balwant kept silent for a while as the maid fiddled with the end of her saree pallu. Abruptly, he fired the bombshell without warning as he watched her reaction.

“Have you cleaned my room this morning?”

“Yes Babuji,” her face darkened as the import of his question hit her.

“When?” He asked calmly without betraying any emotion.

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“Just a while ago.” Her face was visibly distraught, and her breathing was rapid.

“Did you find anything?” Straight, to the point. Balwant wanted to get this over with quickly.

“Wh …what Babuji?” She stammered, stalling for time. She had no idea that the patriarch would ask this question about an intimate apparel of a woman, and his bahu.

“Go on. Speak.” His words were now definitely firmer, and serious.

“Yes, Babuji” Her face looking down at the floor. She was not sure how to answer his question.

Balwant was unrelenting. “Batao… Kya mila tha (Tell me, what did you get)?” he had lowered his voice, but the message was distinct.

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“Babujiiiiii …” Matasari was astounded when Balwant questioned her in that manner.

“Tell me. Don’t be afraid, Matasari.”

The maid hesitated before she blurted, “Kachi (Panties) …from underneath your bed,” she trembled to say this to the master.

“Whose is it, eh?” More embarrassing question for the maid.

Matasari covered her face. The questions were getting more and more difficult for a woman to answer. Who would, in real life, ever talk about such matters with a man and that too with the master of the house. And now to have to talk to Babuji about them! She was distraught.

“Whose is it?” He repeated himself, unmoved and with an expressionless face.

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“Bahuji ki …I think it is hers,” she quickly went through with her answer.

“How can you say?”

“I wash her innerwears … Babuji, so I know,” the maid answered.

“Do you know what that means, Matasari?” His voice soft and eyes penetrating hers

No words came out. She nodded.

“And, and … did you see the stains on my bedsheet?” He asked.

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Matasari again nodded her head.

“Go and close the door,” Balwant said.

She froze at first, reservations and shyness getting hold of her. But then, she slowly moved towards the door, shutting it and came over to Balwant.

“Come here …” he pointed to the carpeted area in front of his seat.

Matasari slowly walked up to him and stood in front. He reached out, took her hand, and pulled her down to sit on the floor.

“Have you talked with anyone about this?” He asked. His hand still holding hers but neither she nor the patriarch made any attempt to free their hands.

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“Nahin (No), Babuji.”

“Matasari.. dhyan se suno …yeh hamisha tumhere under hee rahna chaheye ( Listen carefully, Matasari .. this should always remain within you).” Balwant’s voice was commanding.

“Yes Babuji.” Her cold hands were starting to warm up within the big palms of the master.

“I have always treated you and your husband very close to me and my family. I hope you realize that, Matasari?”

“Yes, Babuji.., ” she said, nodding her head firmly.

“You will not even tell your husband. Understand?”

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She nodded before respectfully affirming, “No, I will never tell him. Believe me, malik (master).”

“Matasari .. I have always relied on your loyalty. Don’t ever betray that trust.” He pressed her hands.

The maid was embarrassed and blushed.

“I will take care of you. In turn, you will take care of me and Bahurani. We will be mutually helpful to one another, trust me.” Was it only her trust that Balwant was seeking? Was there any hidden intent?

She was voiceless. Her eyes were brimming as she nodded.

He reached out and took her face in his big hands.

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“Batao kya karun tumhere liye. Paise ki baat mut karna .. wo mai dekh lunga. (Tell me, what I can do for you? Don’t just talk about money for I’ll meet that requirement.” The patriarch’s voice was husky.

She stared at him, trying to fathom the inner meaning of what Balwant Singh was saying.

“Go on. Tell me … Matasari. Don’t fear.” He urged. His fingers still touching her cheeks. A shiver ran through Matasari.

“Not now, Babuji.. Some time later … when the time comes,” her tremulous voice betraying fear and emotions too. She decided to keep her wish on hold. Only time will help her to extract the best at that point of time.

Bahut Acha. Kabhi bhi.. Samaj gai na (Very good. Whenever you wish, eh? You understand?” He repeated his offer.

“Jee.. Babuji. (Yes master!)” She was shivering with an odd sensation.

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“Where have you kept that ‘kachi’ (panties)?” Balwant asked abruptly.

“Babuji … In my room.”

“Go and bring it now,” he advised her, pulling her up on her feet.

Matasari returned quickly with an unwashed saree in her hand which Sonam had kept aside for washing. The soiled panties was hidden inside the folds of the saree. She bolted the door again.

He nodded to her, “Show me.”

She opened the folds of the saree in front of the patriarch. Visible before the eyes of Balwant lay the pinkish white panties of his bahu. Clearly visible were abundant streaks of dry ‘cum’ – evidence of intense sexual intercourse and discharge. It also spoke of the rich virility of the man …for the discharge was by no means meager.

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“Jante ho .. yeh kya hai..(you know what this is)?” He asked her blatantly as his fingers slowly brushed over the dry coating on the surface of the flimsy fabric.

“Yes … Babuji.” She whispered.

“Huh?”

“Yours … there’s so much!” She couldn’t look at Balwants’s face and, having said so, immediately bit her fingers in shame.

He nodded. “Yes, there’s lot of it.” He remained passive but gloated in pride at his virility.

The maid kept quiet, breathing deeply.

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“You keep those here,” he pointed to the sofa and then continued, “and go by that door and call bahurani. And remember to clean my bed-sheet today itself.” He had pointed at the connecting door between his room and Sonam’s.

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