The Chronicles Of Sonali – Part 13 (The Wedding Night)

Joy’s flaccid cock slipped out of my cum sprayed pussy. A copious blend of mom pussy juice and son’s hot cum guzzled out of my cum and made a decent mini pool on the sofa. Joy watched the scene with the utmost gratification.

It was unbelievable! I was shamelessly spreading my legs wide and letting my own son watch his cum spilling out of his mother’s pussy.

“Mom, I can’t believe you made me cum so much. I don’t think any other woman will be able to make me cum like this.”

The compliment made me glow that at the age of 45, I was able to satisfy a 21-year-old horny young man.

“You’re well-cum,” I spoke with emphasis on the word cum, which made him laugh out loud. Joy did the cleaning with half a pack of tissue paper, and we took a shower together. He enjoyed immensely that I pushed out the remaining cum, and using the jet spray cleanses out my insides.

After a shower, we changed into casual Ts and shorts. We ordered the popular local butter chicken and nan for dinner. We took a break and retired to each other’s rooms. I made a WhatsApp video call to Vineeta. I was eager to share my experience and wanted how her anal initiation had gone.

I saw Vini glowing like a radiant rose, and as a woman, I sensed she just had a gratifying bout of sex. As I narrated the movie theatre experience, her jaw dropped.

“ Wow, Sonali, that’s something I got to try, too.”

“And what about the back door thing?”

“Sonali,” she exclaimed gleefully “ You were so right about the almond oil. It was unbelievably good. Rick was so delighted to explore my ass, kept on admiring my bums. He flooded me with a huge load, and believe me, I came rather hard.”

“You do have great bums, Vini. If, as a woman, I can appreciate them, then any man would. The way they wiggle when you walk –can give any man a hard-on.” I paused and then asked, “ Vini, I want to ask you something.”

“Speak up, girl.”

“See, my hubby will return from the tour and assert his conjugal rights. Joy will also ask for it, and I am in no mood to deny him. You’re so right about young cock. You kind of get addicted to them. I am worried about how I will be able to manage the father and the son.”

“Rick and I had the same discussion. He said when his dad is around, he will maintain his normal routine. When the coast is clear, we can fuck. The hubbies should not know about this.”

“Well, Vini – Joy has a fantasy.”

“What type?”

“Well, he wants to watch me and my hubby fuck and preferably in front of him.”

“That sounds hot. But how do you convince your hubby? This happens in incest porn. Theoretically speaking, if it happens, at a later stage, Joy can join you guys for a threesome. Oh my God, Sonali, that is too good to believe. Two cocks, and all in the family – no outsiders, no leaks, no scandals. You got me horny again.”

The words threesome, two cocks – for a moment – brought to my mind the image of myself jerking the cocks of my husband and my son together. But somehow, I shrugged it out of my mind.

“No, Vini, don’t put that in my head.” I cried out.

‘Now that I have already put it, you should explore the possibilities,” She signed out after giving the naughtiest wink.

After receiving the food, we had dinner. We spoke about the usual stuff like his upcoming tournaments, studies, my online culinary portal, and others. After cleaning up, we sat on the very sofa we had fucked upon two hours earlier and watched T.V.

Joy spoke gently, “Ma, will you grant me another wish?”

“Of course, beta.”

“I want to sleep with you tonight.”

“Of course, dear, how can I say no to that?”

“Ma, can you make it special?”

“How so?”

“Can you put on your wedding saree, jewelry, sindoor, and all?”

His request intrigued me, “You want me to dress up like a bride?”

“You want me to be your bride for the night. Joy, you have some wild fantasies, really.”

“If it’s weird, Ma, I won’t insist.”

“No, that’s not the point. I have no objections as we have already crossed the limits and can only explore further. I am quite amazed by the fantasies you foster for me.”

“Can’t help it, Ma.”

To be honest, it was quite surprising and exciting that I could still pass for a young man’s bride fantasy and that too for my own son.

“ Ok son, you’ll get what you want. But since I will be decked up like a bride, why don’t you dress up like the groom?”

“Wow, ma, you’re the best. I will change it.”

“I will call you on the intercom when I am ready.”

“Ok, Ma, I will wait.”

I took time and dressed in a red wedding saree, golden bangles, anklets, necklace, tiara. I was getting aroused at the thought of being fucked like a bride. As a naughty thought, I warmed a glass of milk. I kept it on the bed table for my son. He would drink it as my hubby, in traditional Indian style.

I stopped as I was about to apply sindoor, and I was pleased t see my reflection in the mirror. I was looking genuinely young and like the perfect bride. I wondered whether I should let my son apply the sindoor rather than put it on myself.

I thought that if he does it himself, it will bring a sense of ingenuity in the wedding night scenario. My God, I would become my son’s wife in a real sense. I blushed heavily and taking a deep breath called on the intercom.

“Joy, come over, I am ready.”

“Coming, Ma.” I was pleased to note the eagerness in his voice. I sat demurely on the corner of the bed like a typical Indan wife awaiting her hubby. Joy entered the room and let out a gasp.

“Oh my God, you look like the hundred percent ravishing bride.”

“Why don’t you take a closer look? And you’re looking so handsome in that sherwani. Just like a groom.”

He came in front of me, and holding my face in his palms looked into my eyes.
“Oh Sonali, you look even better than in my fantasies, how can I ever thank you?”

Then his expression changed into disappointment when he saw the barren parting of my hair. I thought to tease him a bit.

“What happened, beta?”

“Ma, I had requested for sindoor just like a true bride.”

“There is a logic behind why I didn’t apply sindoor.”

“What logic?” I enjoyed the exasperation in his voice.

“See, the sindoor is your dad’s exclusive domain. It is his sindoor I put on. If I apply it, I remain his bride technically. So I thought to skirt the issue.”

“Ma, we can just pretend to be newly wedded.”

“Nope, this sindoor is very serious – this cannot be diluted.” The sternness of my voice got hi rather demoralized. Somehow he managed to speak. “Ma, that’s an anti-climax. I had been dreaming of having you as a fully-fledged wife, for so long, and now the sindoor issue.”

“Is it so vital? Come on, dear, we have erased major boundaries without the sindoor. We can jolly well proceed, see all other things you wanted.” I struck my bangle laden wrists before his face. The sweet metallic sound brought back a spark in his eyes, yet the expression on his face was not so encouraging.

Then I took the situation in my hands.
“Well, I got it, son. Without the sindoor, you won’t be able to visualize me as your wife- isn’t it?”

“Yes, Ma, absolutely right.”

“Then, there is only one way out.” I took a deliberate pause and savored his anticipating eyes. “Son, you have to claim me as your wife.”

“How, Ma?” A big smile spread across his face.

“Take a fresh sindoor pack from the dressing table. You apply it yourself on my sinthi (hair parting) and make me your wife.”

“Wow, mom, really! What an honor! To be honest, that was in the back of my mind. But I was afraid that would be taking things too far for you.”

I encouraged him. “We have already gone beyond the point of no return. We can now only go further. So please, from now on, you’re not going to hold anything back, and neither will I. Is that clear?”

“Crystal clear, Ma,” I relished the revived enthusiasm in his voice.

“Now come on, be a man, and claim your own mother as your wife.”

“I will Ma, but since this is going to be a historic night which can’t be repeated, I had one more suggestion. I want to make a video of this momentous night.”

I paused for a moment to think about it. Well, why not? If Vineeta and Rick can make videos, why not me and Joy? Deep inside, I wanted to make a video of better quality than her, but I was afraid of leaks.

“What if there is a leak, son?”

“I will use my SLR camera Mom and never connect t to the internet.”

“Ok, get it done quickly.”

Joy rushed to his room and back soon. Within two minutes, he set it up on the tripod, taking the best focus point so that the whole bed was in focus. He turned it on and proceeded to the dressing table. Taking a generous amount of sindoor from the fresh pack between his right thumb and index finger approached me.

I stood up. He removed my pallu and applied the sindoor on my sinthi. I trembled from within. All Indian women, irrespective of background, get damn weak in the knees, on this special moment, and get flooded with emotions. For me, it was tumultuous.

It was no other man but my own son, who just claimed me as his wife. Things can’t get hotter. We engulfed each other in a deep embrace, and I could feel his heart thumping loud. The moment was obviously overwhelming for him too.

“Oh, Mom, this is unbelievable. It still feels like a dream that you’re now my wife.”

“It feels like a dream to me also.”

I disengaged him from the embrace and made him sit on the bed. I took the milk glass and offered it to him in a true traditional suhagraat style. That gesture was like icing on the cake. He gulped it down, and I placed it back.

While placing it back, I concocted up a blend of bridal demureness and naughty intonation in my voice and spoke, “That was for my dear husband’s strength. I guess you will require lots of strength tonight.”

That got him going.

“Come, my dear wife, I want to look at you closely.”

There was a deep assertiveness in his voice, which made my bridal self surrender to his wishes. He took down my ghunghat and held my face gently with his palms.

“Sonali, you must be the most beautiful bride on this planet. How radiant you look with my sindoor. I don’t have the words to describe the beauty of my wife. I am not even sure what to do, I feel so elated to have you as my wife.”

“Since action speaks louder than words, why don’t you start by kissing the bride,” I spoke with the same blend. I deliberately kept my eyes lowered to project the demure yet eager bride to perfection to my new husband.

Our hungry lips plunged into each other in one of the most passionate kisses of our lives. It’s not that we had not kissed earlier. Still, the ambiance and the sense of being kissed as a newly wedded bride had accentuated the urgency in us.

We nibbled, caressed, and sucked on our lips while our hands ran over each other’s backs. When we unlocked, we could feel our rapid exhalations mingling together.

“Ah, my wife, your lips taste sweeter than earlier.” He uttered lovingly.

“Looking up to him and holding his head in my palms, I whispered, “You kiss well, my husband.”

Joy put his hands on the borders of my saree and pulled down to reveal my designer blouse.

“Now, I want to see my wife in her bridal splendor. Without the lovely saree.”
I started undoing the Banarasi saree in a slow teasing semi-reluctant, mock coy manner.

“It took so much time to wear this saree, and now you want me to take it off,” I commented in a naughty tone.

“Darling wife, the best of dresses are meant to be taken off faster.” He quipped with a smile. I loved the newfound manly confidence in his voice. With the saree undone, I stood in the ornate red blouse, maroon satin petticoat, and the jewelry.

My young husband scanned me with loving yet lustful eyes. He kneeled down and planted a flurry of kisses on my abdomen, making me shiver all over. He got up and, in a swift motion, picked me up in his arms and laid me gently on the nuptial bed.

I felt like a genuine bride about to be ravished by her newly wedded husband. He stripped off his upper garments and slid onto the bed over me and holding my face in his palms started to kiss me passionately. Within a minute, his tongue parted my mouth and sought out my tongue and rubbed it with his.

“My sweet wife, will you let your husband suck your sweet tongue?” he inquired, looking into my eyes.

“I am all yours, darling. Do whatever you want to do with me. No need to ask for permission. A wife has to fulfill her husband’s desires- isn’t it?” I don’t have the vocabulary to describe the level of excitement as my son sucked on my tongue, asserting his conjugal rights over his wedded mother.

My hands roamed freely over his strong back, making a series of melodious sounds. It made the atmosphere erotically charged. He eventually went down and started kissing my breasts over the blouse and pressing them.

I thought that rather than taking the mantle of the well-fucked elderly lady, it would be a novel idea to play the naïve young bride, to make things thrilling. I was convinced that my son, my new hubby, would relish the experience. I changed the gears of our erotic journey.

“Ah, my darling husband, your hands feel so good on my chest. Does pressing my chest give you happiness? Teach me, my dear husband. Teach me well how to give you pleasure. I will learn well, I promise.”

“Oh, sweet wife, I will teach you well. First, don’t call them chest, say boobs. Say, press my boobs.”

“Press my,” I deliberately gave a pause, and imitating a coy expression said, “Boobs.”

“Good wife.” He exclaimed. “Now, husband wants to see your uncovered boobs.”

“I am feeling shy,” I whispered, “never shown them to any man.”

“That’s good, but you’re supposed to show them to your husband whenever he wants to.”

“Really?!”I exclaimed like a true blue virgin.

“Yes, my darling.”

“Ok, then.”

I started unbuttoning my blouse with a concocted nervous and shy manner, which was immensely savored by Joy. He helped me out of the blouse and gasped.

“Wow, my sweet wife, you got lovely boobs. Look at the mangalsutra and necklace resting between your cleavage. You’re cruel by confining them in that sexy bra. Come on, darling, release them and submit your boobs to your husband. From now on, I will have exclusive access to your bobs. Say- my boobs are all yours, husband.”

I coyly unhooked the bra and made a futile effort to conceal them with my palms and repeated after him, “My boobs are all yours now.”

“That’s not the way, darling. Hold them up with your palms like you’re making an offering and then speak.” This submission thing was making me quite excited.

I held up my decent 34 D boobs with my palms and spoke in an authentic submissive tone, “My husband, I now offer you my boobs, they are all yours now.” He immediately swooped down on my boobs and grabbed them eagerly. He started to knead them with his impatient palms.

The fingers sank deep, making me moan in pleasure. He moved over me, placing his waist comfortably between my legs. He started taking my rock hard erect nipples in his mouth, alternatively while continuing the incessant kneading of my heavenly orbs of ecstasy.

My moans grew louder as I was enjoying this new intensity and a sense of being owned. “Now that these boobs are mine,” he spoke between the nipple sucking “I will press them, suck them anytime I like. Whenever I want these boobs, you’re going to give me.”

“Yes, dear husband. Whenever you want. Oh, husband dearest, your mouth feels wonderful. Is this what a husband likes most?”

“There are many other things a husband loves. He would love to suck on your boobs – like this.”

He opened his mouth wide and gobbled in my right boob as much as possible. He started to move his head up and down, sucking it. The fierceness of his mouth drove me crazy.

“Ah, darling, it feels so good. Oh yes yes yes, suck my boob like that,” I shrieked out involuntarily. He shifted to the left boob and repeated the maneuver for several minutes. Then he started alternate suckling – ten gulps on the right ten on the left while continuing the kneading.

This set off sparks of excitement from my toes to my throat. The gluttonous slurping sounds, his moans of pleasure emitting from the depths of his throat. My own moans and the metallic cling clang sounds of my jewelry all amalgamated together to create an electrifying ambiance. My voice kept growing louder.

“Oh, my husband, how well you eat your wife’s boobs. It is making me hotter. I never knew that a man’s mouth will feel so good. You can eat my boobs anytime – you can press them anytime – whenever you like. Oh, what’s that thing, that hard and hot thing nudging my thigh? Husband, is that your penis?”

He moved his mouth from my boobs and asked, “So you know what is a penis?”

“Come on, darling, I read that in biology class eight.”

“Do you know what a wife is supposed to do with her husband’s penis?”

“Yes, heard about it a bit from my married girlfriends.”

“So, what have you heard?”

“That- that,” I covered my face with my palms feigning coyness. He forced my hands away. He moved over me so that his face was directly over mine, with his eyes looking straight into mine.

“Come on, my wife, tell me what do you want to do with your husband’s penis? I want to hear it in your hot and sexy voice.”

The compliment pleased me that even my voice was sexually appealing to a man less than half my age. “You will make me die of shame, darling,” I tried to look away from his piercing gaze. Like the assertive husband, he held my chin firmly and turned my face straight.

Feminists will burn me alive. But the fact is that women love being dominated, especially in bed. He goaded me gently. “Come on, my sweet wife, you just said you really wanted to please your husband. If you don’t follow what I say, how will you learn?”

“Yes, ok,” I exasperated. “My married friends told me that when their husbands’ penis gets hard, they part their legs wide and put it inside their…” I hesitated deliberately. I must confess playing the coy bride was giving me immense satisfaction.

Joy later confided that it had turned his fantasy into reality. He had felt as if he was really married to me.

“Then what?” he asked impatiently.

“Vagina.” I blurted out and, as if overwhelmed by maidenly coyness, tried to move my face away from his gaze, in vain, though.

“Vagina?” he exclaimed “ Is that what you call your genitals? Isn’t it a biology textbook?”

“So, what else do you call it?” I asked naively.

“Call it pussy, call it cunt, and no more penis – call it cock, call it dick. So now tell me what your friends do with their husbands’ cocks?”

“They say that the husbands shove their hard cocks in their pussy and keep shoving till… till…” I hesitated again.

“Come on, wife, no need to be shy in front of your husband. You can tell me anything.” He spoke encouragingly. While we conversed, he continued the kneading of my boobs and often squeezed my nipples expertly with his fingers.

As if genuinely encouraged, I spoke in a flurry. “They said that the harder their husbands shove in and out they feel out of the world. Al the insides of their pussy become very wet.”

“The husband keeps shoving harder and harder till after a point they shut really and spray out sticky white juice from their cocks. Sometimes they spray inside the pussy, sometimes on their belly. But most times, the husband wears a condom when they spray inside.”

“Good girl. So it seems none of your friends know how to make a man real hard.”

“No, no, their husbands told them to touch and jerk their dicks with their hands.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“Seems I have to teach my wife a lot of things.”

To be continued.