Summer. Hot, sweaty summer. Whenever I think of summer, my memory takes me back to the days after my junior college exams. Entire North India was under a scorching heat wave that summer.
I am Shilpi. And this is the story of the days right after my junior college exams. I was 19 years old at that time. The heat wave started within a week after the exams were over.
My parents decided to visit some long-lost relatives in Dehradun. They wanted me to tag along, but I refused. “Waste my vacation with people I hardly know? No way!” I wanted to taste freedom and experience something new, away from the big city, relatives, and parents.
My free spirit, like my bouncy, perky 34DD boobs, was undaunted and untamed. So, it was decided that I be allowed to spend 5 days at our ancestral house in the village before my parents joined me there from Dehradun.
5 days. Alone. At our ancestral property. “Ahh! Freedom!” I was super excited.
Now, this ancestral house is big but not glamorous by any standard. It is located right in the heart of North India. No shopping malls, no pubs, no cool hangout spots. So, why was I excited?
Well, 5 days of freedom and ‘Me Time’ did not seem like a bad deal. After 18 years of living under the control of Papa-Mummy-school-homework—tuition- academic goals-social expectations-peer pressure-lazy boyfriend…and so on. Wish it was longer, but 5 days is better than nothing.
Papa said, “Shilpi, remember Jeetu? He is the caretaker of the property. I have asked him to make all arrangements for your stay.”
I remembered Jeetukaka. He had been the caretaker of that house for as long as I could remember. “How old is he?” I asked Papa.
“Jeetu must be in his mid-forties by now,” Papa replied. “Has spent half his life taking care of that house. He is a Jack-of-all. Can manage everything, including cooking.”
“Pack everything you need, don’t miss anything.,” said Mom. “You won’t get any stuff over there. It’s a village, after all.”
So, I went off with packed suitcases, sunglasses, my phone and a tablet in a rental cab. Little did I know what was going to happen once I reached there.
Below is a chronicle of my days after I reached out.
Day 1
The first thing I noticed after arriving at the village was how hot the weather was. It was scorching. Jeetukaka said the heat wave was exceptionally brutal that year. The temperature was above 46 degrees already.
And there was no air-conditioning at the old house!
“Why?” I asked.
“Nobody stays here except me,” replied Jeetukaka. “Nobody visits anymore. What’s the point of having an AC unit?”
Bummer. It’s so hot and sweaty. I took a quick shower, had lunch that Jeetukaka had prepared, and crashed into bed. Jeetukaka had arranged a room for me on the 2nd floor. I was so tired after the long car ride that I quickly fell asleep.
I woke up suddenly feeling suffocated and uncomfortable. The ceiling fan was not moving. It was so hot and humid. I was sweating profusely.
“Jeetukaka, the fan is not moving,” I yelled from my bed.
“There is a power cut, Chhoti Rani. It is quite common.” Jeetukaka always addressed me as Chhoti Rani. Not sure why.
“Damn!” I cursed. This heat, no AC, and now a power cut. Terrible!
I checked the time. It was 6 pm. I was sweaty all over. Sweat was running down my forehead, neck, and cleavage inside my bra. My T-shirt was soaked in sweat. My skirt was soaked in sweat. My bra was killing me. So tight-fitted that it made me feel suffocated.
I got up, took off my T-shirt, unhooked my bra, threw both in the corner of the room and changed into another T-shirt. A thin, light flimsy t-shirt. With no bra underneath.
I was wearing a short mini-skirt, so I kept it on. Nothing shorter was available in my suitcase. I was not wearing my regular panties underneath the mini skirt. Due to the heat and humidity, I wore a tiny white thong after lunch before sleeping. The thong barely covered my crotch and slit.
My butt was completely uncovered. I thought the thong would be more comfortable than regular panties. But the power cut made it soaked in sweat too. Worse, my groin started to itch.
I put my hand under the skirt. And started scratching my crotch over my thong. The itch kept increasing. It spread to the inner folds of my thighs, the joint of my crotch and thigh. Even the inside of my crack started itching.
Shit. My pussy hair has started growing! I should have brought my wax strips from home. I forgot to carry them.
I put my fingers inside the thong and scratched my crotch and pussy. Tiny bits of hair had grown and covered my crotch, the entire length of my slit, and even inside the crack of my ass. The tiny hairs made the itching worse.
As I was lying on the bed and scratching under my skirt, I suddenly noticed a slight movement and a flicker of light near the door. The door was open. Jeetukaka was standing there with a lantern and a plastic hand fan in one hand.
He was wearing a white vest and lungi. And there was a massive tent inside his lungi near the crotch area. I was shocked to see the tent but did not react. Did not get up either.
“I brought light and a hand fan for you, Chhoti Rani,” said Jeetukaka. He kept the lantern and the plastic fan on the table and turned to leave the room. My eyes fell on his crotch and the massive hard-on hidden under his lungi. An idea struck me.
“Don’t leave Jeetukaka. Bring the fan here,” I said while lying on the bed.
I had removed my fingers from under my skirt. Jeetukaka walked over to my bed with the hand fan. His erection remained, and he did not try to hide it. He was not wearing underwear, I said to myself. And he was not feeling embarrassed at all by his erection.
“Sit down on the floor. Fan me,” I ordered. Jeetukaka dutifully sat down on the floor and started fanning me. I rolled over to the edge of the bed, pointed at my cleavage, and asked him to fan there. He stared at my juicy cleavage and the sweat trickling down the middle and started fanning.
The flimsy t-shirt I wore clung to my boobs due to the sweat. I noticed that my nipples were visible through the fabric of the t-shirt. I thrust out my chest towards the fan that Jeetukaka was waving. He was staring at my boobs and nipples with lustful eyes. But felt helpless to do anything.
“Jeetukaka, fan under my skirt. It feels very hot down there.” Saying this, I opened my legs slightly, positioned them to face Jeetukaka, and lifted them.
For a few seconds, there was no response from him. I saw him staring under my skirt at my thong. His erection remained as is.
In fact, there was some movement under his lungi as if his dick was moving and enlarging and enjoying the view. He started fanning under my skirt. I enjoyed it. But I wanted to take it further ahead. I thought Jeetukaka was a servant, which gave me the upper hand.
“Jeetukaka, there is a lot of sweat down there. Wipe it off,” I ordered.
Again, there was no response from him for a few minutes. The fanning stopped abruptly. And then I felt his breath on my thong. I looked down. He was sniffing my thong! What a pervert! Let’s see where this goes.
He started moving his fingers on my inner thighs to wipe the sweat. Then he slid his fingers inside my thong. He ran his fingers through my tiny pubic hair, the hair outside my pussy lips, and touched my clit. I shivered at his touch. It felt good.
“Chhoti Rani, it’s not just the sweat here,” he said.
“What else then?” I replied instantly. “Check quickly.”
His fingers touched my pussy, clit, and the opening of my vulva. Just the opening.
“It’s slippery, wet, and does not appear to be sweat.” He put the finger in his mouth. “It is salty. It looks like you are wet, Chhoti Rani.”
I knew I was. And I knew what I wanted him to do next. “Clean it. Wipe it off. Take off my panty,” I told him.
He waited a few seconds, then inserted his hands inside my skirt, grabbed my thong from both sides at the waist, and rolled it down my legs. As he removed it completely, he took it in his palm and exclaimed, “It’s so tiny! Smaller than a handkerchief!” And started sniffing it.
He is a perv, I thought. But enjoyed the sight of him sniffing my wet panty. He then started rubbing 2 of his fingers on the lips of my wet pussy. The more he rubbed, the wetter my pussy got. He did not stop. Kept rubbing my pussy and clit. I was now leaking badly. He touched my asshole and tried to wipe it.
“This is not working,” I told him, as I got hornier and wetter with every passing second. “Clean it with your tongue.” There were a few seconds of pause, as usual. Then I could feel his breath on my naked pussy. He was sniffing again!
“What are you doing?” I got irritated.
“It smells so good,” he replied. And then he put his tongue on my wet cunt and started licking.
Rivers of pleasure swept through my body. His tongue went in and out of my pussy hole, around the edges, on the lips, on my clit, and even on the opening of my butthole.
“It tastes good, too,” he smacked his lips while lapping up my juices.
I closed my eyes and started moaning. Softly at first, then louder and louder. I kept leaking and leaking and shivering and moaning. And then, my juices came out. I climaxed. Loudly. It was such an intense orgasm, the most intense of my life so far. Rivers of juices came running out of my cunt and flooded his face.
He licked and licked and lapped up the last drop of fluid oozing out of my pussy. Then he licked my butthole, which was also covered in the fluid. He looked up. I smiled at him in satisfaction. His face was glowing in the dim light of the lantern.
It was covered in my white juice on his nose, lips, chin, and even his moustache.
“Why me?” he asked.
“What?” I could not understand.
“Why do this with me? You must have a boyfriend. Why me?” he inquired.
I sighed. “My boyfriend is lazy and a moron. He spends more time with his PlayStation than with me.”
“What’s that?” he had never heard of PlayStation.
“Video games,” I replied.
He did not understand. But he stood up and said, “You should not wear any undergarments here, Chhoti Rani. It’s very hot. Power cuts occur throughout the day. You should let your private parts breathe.”
“What?” I laughed at his bold suggestion.
“Yes. Underwear will make you sweat and itch. Do not wear any as long as you are here in this house. There is nobody here to notice except me.” He went on to add, “You should air your privates more.”
I could not believe that our property caretaker of 20 years was giving me such dirty advice. He must have been encouraged by the incidents of the last 30 minutes.
“Is that why you don’t wear underwear?” I tried to match his boldness with mine.
“No. I have never worn underwear in my life. Nobody in my village did while I was growing up,” he replied. “Now, it has become a habit.”
It was time to turn my attention from my crotch to his. He was standing next to my bed. The tent in his lungi was as big as ever. And I noticed a big round patch of wetness at the tip. It must be his pre-cum!
“Ok, let me see what you have,” I said. “Take off your vest.”
He took off his vest immediately and threw it on the floor. I have never seen Jeetukaka’s naked torso before. Since childhood, I have seen him in shirts, kurtas and vests. He had hair all over his shoulders, arms, chest, belly, and back. Thick, dense, curly, black hair.
His belly was huge. Bigger than your typical beer belly. But I was more interested in what he had 6 inches below his belly, hidden behind his lungi.
“Let me take this off,” I said. I removed the knot of the lungi at his waist while sitting at the edge of the bed. The lungi dropped silently to the floor. Wow! I was right! What was hidden under the lungi was much bigger than his belly.
A thick hairy bush. A giant black cock pointed right at me. And 2 enormous balls – the size of potatoes – covered in dense, curly hair. Jeetukaka stood like a naked, hairy beast in the half-dark, half-light, semi-lit-up room. The veins on his massive black cock were bulging out like the branches of a tree.
The tip of his cock was shining in the light of the lantern. I touched the tip with my finger. A sticky, gel-like liquid stuck to my finger even when I pulled it away. It was an extremely thick pre-cum, and it had a very strong smell. I wanted to taste it, but the smell put me off.
I brought my face closer to his dick, and the smell intensified like strong bleach. His balls had the same smell too.
“You stink!” I said and removed my face from his dick. “It’s like an Amazon rainforest down here. Why don’t you shave?”
“Shave what?” he seemed surprised.
“Shave this jungle,” I tugged at his hairy bush. “And your balls. They look like potatoes covered in wool!”
He looked genuinely confused. “I am a man. All men have hair down there. Why should I shave? How can I shave? Nobody shaves his balls in my village.”
What a primitive uncultured beast, I thought. He is still stuck in the Stone Age. Men shave their balls and groin regularly these days. But there’s no point in arguing with him.
“I will not suck your dick unless you remove all that hair,” I told him in frustration. “And you have to wash your dick. It stinks.”
He walked to the other side of the room, opened a cupboard, and took out something. Then, he walked over to me and put that thing in my hand. It was a tiny bottle of Parachute coconut oil.
“Use this and your hands. I don’t need your mouth.” Saying this, he tore off my mini skirt and removed my t-shirt in 2 swift motions, and threw them on the floor below. “Lie down, face up,” he commanded in an angry voice.
I lay down on the bed, fully naked, slightly nervous at the change in tone of his voice. He stood right above my face. His dick pointed straight and upright.
“Massage my balls with oil,” he ordered again.
I poured oil on my palms and started applying it to his balls. They were huge. I could not fit them inside my palms. And they were heavy, very heavy.
“Now, massage my cock,” came his next order.
I applied oil to his cock. With both hands. It felt as if I was holding a thick iron pipe. Covered in oil, it shone in the dim light of the lantern.
“Now, keep sliding one hand back and forth on my cock,” he ordered. “And rub my balls with the other hand.”
I did as I was told. I could hardly grasp his balls with one hand. They were so big. And my tiny little hand looked like a stick on his tree-trunk-sized dick.
“Keep squeezing, keep pumping. Faster, faster,” his voice became louder as his cock got harder and bigger. Pre-cum liquid started dripping off the tip of his cock onto my throat and neck. The smell was overbearing, but I kept going.
Seconds went by. Minutes went by. I kept pumping his rod and squeezing his nuts. My hands started aching. I felt tired. Just as I was about to give up, he started to fuck my hand. He pushed and shoved his dick on my palm with force.
He grabbed his balls over my fingers, which were already cupping them and squeezed hard. And then he cum with a loud grunt. Like an animal. Spurts of warm, thick cream started falling on my body from above like a waterfall.
Chunks of white cream fell on my throat, boobs, nipples, belly button, hair and face. And he squeezed the last 2 drops on my lips. I opened my mouth inadvertently. And the fluid trickled inside. It was thick, sticky, very sticky. And had that strong bleach-like smell.
Jeetukaka picked up his lungi and vest from the floor and walked out of the room. He did not say a word. I lay on the bed for some time and then went to the bathroom with the lantern he had left behind.
I stood in front of the mirror and held up the lantern. I could not recognise myself. Every inch of my upper body was covered in thick, white cum. I had cum on my hair, nose, lips, boobs, and belly. Dollops of semen were stuck to my body like glue! They were not trickling down, just stuck in place.
I was bathed in semen. Jeetukaka had given me a semen bath!
I picked up some cum from my face and placed it on my tongue. Salty, sticky, creamy – is this what freedom tastes like?
To be continued.
Next Part: Heat Wave – Part 2 (The roof of freedom)