Seven Year Itch – Part 3

Recap from Part 2: The real gigolo came to our hotel room after the first guy enjoyed my wife and left. It was a case of mistaken identity. Then I went to our previously allotted room, 710, to see if a girl called Palki is there.

Since we had already paid for his services, my wife decided to get a sensual body rub from the gigolo. Meanwhile, Palki assumed I’m her blind date and fucked me twice.

Luckily my suite, 718, was on the same floor. So I disappeared after humping Palki before she could follow me outside. Walking silently into the bedroom, I noticed Shimona’s full body massage was almost over. The gigolo applied baby oil and started squeezing her supple breasts as if he was molding soft clay.

He teased her by pulling her tits lightly. She kept smiling with pleasure, with a hot towel covering her eyes. She jerked and giggled when he applied oil on her sensitive, shaved underarms. Her well-oiled body was shining like a porcelain figure, making her an object of desire.

But I stood back, content in watching her sultry expressions. Manik spoke to her in a cajoling voice, “Ma’am, can I finish with a happy ending, oral or full service?” She wasn’t paying much attention. So he continued, “you can touch and decide.” He took out his 6-inch cock and wrapped her soft fingers around it.

Shimona’s lips parted to say something, but she kept quiet. The gigolo had convinced her for a fuck. He made her sit on his thigh with one leg raised and squatting with her other leg.

He had his wrist under her hip, supporting her weight, rubbing her clit with gentle touches while dexterously fondling her boobs with his other hand. I knew what my pretty wife was thinking. She was fantasizing about Benoy with her eyes closed and her back turned to Manik.

He rolled a ribbed condom on his dick and positioned it a Shimona’s pussy entrance. With only one push, his entire shaft plunged into her cunt, like a hot knife going through butter. He started pumping while changing his strokes and grinding every few seconds.

It was like live porn to watch Shimona’s light body swing with every stroke. She was moaning loudly, “Aaah, mmm, Benoy! fuck me, press my boobs, baby, pull my hair, fuck!” Manik complied by holding her curly top hair and pulling on it.

Shimona arched her back and climaxed with a loud squeak. Manik took her to the bathtub and quickly applied liquid soap all over her body. Using a hand sprayer, he washed her from head to toe. She kept her eyes closed, only opening them after he’d washed her pussy and applied lotion on her legs.

Shimona came out wrapped in a towel and finger-combing her hair. Manik was already out of the door. Shimona got dressed, and we took the elevator down, our elbows locked, like a newly married couple. Exchanging notes with Shimona, I recounted my blind date experience.

Shimona: Jaanu, Palki is from our wedding party.

Jeet: Benoy was her blind date.

Shimona: He was ‘cho’ sweet, sorry jaanu, we won’t talk about it, ok.
Jeet: the paid boy had good moves too.

Shimona: don’t even try Shona. You’ll get a slip-disk. How was Palki?

Jeet: Sweet girl, I made her happy.

Shimona: My tiger baby! (pinching my cheek) no more girls, ok shonu.

We were back in the garden. It was a beautiful open-air wedding on a winter night. Shimona headed towards the dance floor, and I saw the red saree milf eying me. She looked stunning in the bright lights, and I found myself walking towards her.

The babe excused herself from someone and walked to the gazebo bar, glancing back to make sure I was following. The main dance floor was a bit farther, but some people were dancing behind a tower speaker, next to the gazebo. The milf asked for a Virgin pina colada.

“Make that two,” I said, resting my elbow on the leather padded counter. She gave a 100-watt smile. Showing her beautiful pearly whites, she held out her hand stylishly (for a touch and go handshake). Going by her comfortable 2-inch heels, she was probably as tall as my wife (5’7”).

Her oval face had a strong jawline, like a beauty pageant winner. “Premila, she announced in a classy accent. “Good to see you again,” I said, picking up her hand and kissing her long pinkish fingers. I continued to hold her hand as we started chatting.

She scanned around with her dramatic big black eyes, then spoke, “She was a friend’s niece. I don’t know her that much.”

She wanted to get Palki’s topic out of the way, so we could start fresh, like strangers. “I’m Jeet,” I said, liking her already, and caressed her waxed arm with my free hand.

Premila: Of course! You’re not Benoy. I could sense that.

Jeet: I’ve seen you somewhere.

Premila: Probably, I’ll give you a hint, ‘Television.’

Jeet: I hardly watch TV.

Premila: Ok, baba, you saw me in the shikakai shampoo ad. I was a model.

Jeet: Wow! Why did you quit?

Premila: I became a trophy wife (pretending to complain)

Her posture was like a saree store mannequin. Only a model could pull off the bikini-blouse she was wearing. It was a black and gold embroidered piece of cloth, sewn onto the black padded bra cups, with the adjustable straps intact (with telltale plastic buckles).

Basically, she was just wearing a bra. My cock started swelling, and I searched for her online profile on my phone. Sure enough, she was 31, height 170 cm, stats of 35-26-37, weight 57kg.

Her long hair was just like the shampoo ad, falling straight to her lower back, bluish-black, and straight, with even thickness from top to bottom, curving slightly at the end. Her hair had a shine like deep water and felt like velvet. She had an off-center part, with a pretty eves peak on her forehead.

The hairline was perfect, without peach fuzz. She had a single piercing in each earlobe, with long hanging ornaments. Her nose was sharp, with flared nostrils like an Ellora sculpture. She had small flying dragons tattooed across her collarbone, 5 in total, one hiding under her bikini blouse.

I touched her tattoo and asked with curiosity:

Jeet: What does it mean?

Premila: Just cute dragons.

Jeet: Any more tats?

Premila: On my hips, there’s a star on each side, an anklet, and a wristband

She lifted her saree pleats to show a delicate design around her right ankle. Then slid her left-hand bangles up. To show an inked black bracelet, in stark contrast with her white marble skin.

Premila: And, if you allow me to turn my hand.

I loosened my hold on her right hand. She turned it outward to show her inner bicep tattoo, a vertical infinity love in blue-green ink. I put my finger on it and traced the infinity, giving Premila goosebumps. She tucked her hair behind her ear.

I wanted an opening to kiss her glistening rose petal lips, so I asked her for a dance. We joined the crowd outside the gazebo rather than go to the actual dance floor. Now I had full access to her curvy waist. She turned around, caressing my face with her curtain of hair.

She then allowed me to hold her amazing ass. She brushed her hand on my crotch to check my erection. When she turned again, I hugged her tightly, pressing her bikini covered boobs on my chest, almost dry humping her for 3 seconds.

Her long hair was like camouflage in the shadows. She bent her head, offering her pouted lips. I took her mouth like a hungry animal, sucking on her sweet tongue and rubbing her back. I couldn’t hold any longer.

Jeet: Baby, let’s see the stars.

Premila: Shh! my saree will fall off, baba.

I looked down. Her red chiffon saree with sparkling stone-work was wrapped tightly around the hips, like a leather-bound book. Then asked her:

Jeet: what about the hidden dragon.

Premila: My babu, can’t wait, haan!

Smiling, she moved the bra strap off her shoulder, revealing another inked dragon. I marveled at her perfect D-cup boobs and pressed one from under her saree, asking with curiosity.

Jeet: Babes, are they real?

Premila: No, cheeku.

She was amused by my touchy-feely actions and looked at me kindly like she tolerated a naughty boy. I dug my fingers in her rapunzel hair, pulling gently. She looked at me in mock anger, and I fell in love.

Premila: Babu, can I have my hand back!

Jeet: Only if you give something in return

I loved holding her beautiful hands, and it was slowly turning her on too. Neither of us wanted to let go. I moved her hair and planted a small kiss on her neck. She shivered, turning back to stare at me, begging for intimacy with her expressive eyes.

Premila: Very bad! First, you hugged me so hard, without any manners. (referring to our meeting in suite 710 that evening, when she’d introduced me to Palki). Now you’re passing the time as a boring husband.

I understood she wanted a rough fuck and with a man who would handle her like a bitch. I confirmed my theory:

Jeet: Is your husband boring?

Premila: He’s a CA and very caring.

I hit the nail on the head. I took out the access card for 718 from my pocket and tucked it into Premila’s waistline. She raised a sharp, bow-shaped eyebrow. I told her it’s a vacant suite.

I kissed her hand, saying, “Baby, I’ll see my partner and meet you there.”

“Hmm, ok, come soon if you want to see the stars,” saying, she vanished in the crowd.

Shimona was on the dance floor with some teenage girls, trying out all her practiced dance moves. I caught her elbow and spoke in her ear:

Jeet: Baby, you look adorable. Stay out of trouble, ok.

Shimona: Shona, come back after eating. I’ll be here

She kissed my cheek and let go. Usually, she didn’t eat late in the night and never touched the creamy buffet items. It was 9:30. I had roughly till midnight before Shimona would get tired and come looking for me. I headed towards the hotel building, but first, I needed something.

I tipped a bell boy, sourced it easily, and then made a beeline to the suite on the 7th floor. I knocked on the door. Premila opened. We started our roleplay.

Jeet: Premila?

Premila: Who are you?

Cutting her off, I continued.

Jeet: Are you the escort?

Smiling like a cheap whore, she played along:

Premila: Come inside, sir.

I walked around her, looking at her boobs lecherously, and slapped her ass lightly with the back of my hand, saying ‘cut piece,’ like a rude client.

Jeet: Make a drink for me, whiskey with soda and ice.

Premila: First relax, babu.

She took my coat, made me sit in the bed, and removed my shoes. Then she opened my tie and undid my shirt buttons. I held her hand and twisted, kissing it and pressing her gold bangles into her skin. She gave a little gasp, “Ishh aah,” then proceeded to make my drink.

I took a sip of whiskey and asked her to dance, taking the chance to hide the earlier sourced ‘object’ under the pillow.

Jeet: Show me your dance raani (queen).

Premila: I can’t dance without music.

Jeet: Baby, don’t spoil my mood ok, here (I threw some cash at her)

Slowly she picked up the money and played an item number on the bedside alarm speaker. She looked lanky and awkward, swaying her hips like a prostitute. The next minute I ordered, “Now remove your blouse.”

She looked at me angrily then removed her blouse, throwing it on my face like a dance-bar slut. I changed the song to relaxing spa music and called Premila. Holding her waist, I pulled her roughly into my chest. She gasped, “Eesh.” I picked my whiskey glass and made her take a sip.

She took a big gulp then spat it into another glass, just like a bar girl. Premila tried to remove her saree, but I held her hand. I wanted to fuck her in the saree. She tried to kiss me, but I squeezed her puckered lips with my fingers, like a bad client.

I lifted her saree, found her panty, and without looking, inserted my middle finger in her cunt. Pulling it out wet, I put my finger into her mouth. She sucked it, her dramatic eyes now burning with desire and her boobs heaving lightly with deep breaths. The bitch was in heat.

I pulled out the ‘object’ (a pair of scissors), lifted her saree, and then cut off her panty with a ‘khachack’ sound. The stretched elastic hit her pussy. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip with an ‘Aah.’ Then she hinted:

Premila: I beg you, babu, please don’t cut my hair.

(In the role play, she was actually telling me to cut some of her hair.) I laughed and asked her to shut up and do as I say:

Jeet: Part your fringe dolly!

She made a small triangle section on her forehead with the fingernails of her pinky fingers. She knew exactly what to do and probably tried to cut her own bangs. But never had the nerve. I held the two feet long strands and closed the scissor at her nose bridge with a single ‘khach.’

A long lock of hair fell in her lap. I picked up the hair and wound it around my cock like a cock ring (to make my erection last longer). She shook her head to spread her fringe over the eyebrows. I squeezed her cheeks and finally kissed her once on her bangs.

Then I pushed her back, lifted her saree, and shoved my prick roughly into her pussy. Then I started pumping in missionary style. I put my arms around her, pulling her hair to raise her chin, then kissed her throat. She felt soft and slippery, like a Sylhet cat. Everywhere I touched, her body was silky smooth.

I made her sit up with one leg around me and fucked in a sitting position. Then turned her around and tried doggy style, with her hair wrapped around my wrist. Pulling her hair like a leash, I made her match my strokes. With her back arched and ass in the air, she couldn’t resist my multiple insertions.

I was almost pulling out my entire cock, up to the cock head and inserting all the way back in her vagina. I repeated this action hardly 10 times before she clutched the bed sheets and started giving orgasmic signals, “Ayee, aahh.”

Her muscles tightened for a full 30 seconds, leaving her drained with an explosive orgasm. I got up and removed my cock ring, as Premila dropped in bed, looking up with glassy eyes. Her chest was bare, kajal running, and lipstick smudged. She looked disheveled like a used whore.

There was a mark on her navel where I’d given her a love bite. Regardless of the role play, I felt sorry. I squeezed a hot towel in the sink and wiped her face. Then apologized to her.

Jeet: I’m so sorry, darling. I just wanted some fun.

Premila: Babu! that was so raw like you wanted to devour me (wiping a tear of joy), and it’s ok. No regrets. I know your heart is pure gold.

Jeet: Is that why you stole it? Can I see the stars now?

Premila slapped me with both hands laughing. She removed her saree to show me her hip tattoos. They were 2-inch, blue stars on opposite sides of her hip bone, just above her shaved pussy. I kneeled and kissed them, giving her smooth pussy a quick lick.

She closed her arms around my face and kissed me with passion. I started playing with her hair, losing track of time. It was a joy to caress her silky locks between our faces, and we indulged in hair play to our heart’s content.

She sat down at the edge of the bed, and I inserted my cock into her pussy again. It was 10:30pm, we had enough time to make erotic love, slowly this time. “You’re my Sylhet cat,” I whispered in her ear, fondling her smooth neck.

She made soft purring sounds and started grinding with my cock deep inside her. I creamed her pussy in 5 minutes, but we didn’t stop our intense lovemaking for another 2-3 minutes.

We kept canoodling like a pair of love birds. She kept saying my name and, “I love you,” every time I kissed her body. I couldn’t break away from such heavenly sex. We held hands and looking into each other’s eyes, and falling in love.

Premila: Thank you, babu. You know, I never felt ‘needed’ in seven years of marriage.

Jeet: I love you Premila.

Premila: You’re a big Baby! come here

Saying she held my face to her sweet-smelling bosom. My eyes closed, the world disappeared, and time stopped. I wanted to live in her embrace forever. My heart ached at the thought of letting go, and I snuggled closer.

Premila (whispers): Sona! Mamma is not going anywhere, baby.