Previous Part: Dilsha Tales – Part 1 (Intimacy with Older Men)
Me: Grandma, why did you call me?
Grandma: I made breakfast for you. Come and have it.
As I tied my wet hair with a towel and began to eat, I couldn’t shake off thoughts about our neighbour. Suddenly, my grandma came and sat beside me.
I couldn’t resist asking her about the man.
Me: Grandma, who Is that man in our neighbourhood?
Grandma smiled and said, “Oh, that’s Abrar. He’s the strongest guy in the village.”
Me: I can see that.
Grandma started laughing, adding, “He’s a good friend of your grandpa. He used to assist your grandpa in farming.”
I headed to my room and collapsed onto the bed, feeling utterly exhausted. It suddenly dawned on me that I had forgotten to reply to all the WhatsApp messages I had received. As I grabbed my phone, I was met with a flood of messages from my boyfriend.
I quickly messaged him, explaining how I had fallen asleep while travelling. I eagerly inquired about his trip.
In the midst of our casual conversation, he inquired about the presence of anyone else around me. He intriguingly suggested, “Go and close the room door.” Perplexed, I questioned his directive. His cryptic reply urged me to send a ‘view once’ message.
Fuelled by curiosity, I summoned the energy to rise from my bed and secure the privacy of the room. I settled onto the bed and opened the message. It was his dick pic accompanied by a message: “Up for a video call, baby?” A smile played on my lips as I eagerly responded with an affirmative “Yes, baby.”
I propped my phone on the dressing table and began the seductive dance of disrobing. First, my t-shirt went up and showed my bouncy boobs to him. He started stroking his cock then he asked me to remove my pants and bend down to show my pussy to him.
I pulled down my pants and bent before the phone. Just as things were getting really intense, someone knocked on the door!
“Who’s that?” I exclaimed, startled.
“Open the door, Dilsha,” came the composed voice of my grandpa.
I panicked, quickly threw on a T-shirt without a bra, and rushed to open the door. Grandpa asked why I was sweating, and I came up with some lame excuse about forgetting to turn on the fan.
Grandpa introduced me to the neighbour, Abrar.
Abrar: Hey, we’ve already met.
Grandpa: Oh, really?
Me: Yes, Grandpa, we chatted this morning.
Abrar: She looks exactly like your daughter. (He smiled, looking into my eyes.)
Grandpa nudged Abrar about the farm motor issue.
Abrar: Sure, uncle-ji.
I seized the moment.
Me: Grandpa, I’m curious about the farm. Mind if I join Abrar?
Grandpa: (After a pause, he agreed) Okay, beti, and instructed Abrar to take good care of me.
As we cruised in Grandpa’s vintage Jeep to the farm, Abrar sparked a conversation.
Abrar: How’s your mother?
Me: She’s fine, busy with work.
Abrar: She’s quite a hard worker.
Me: Oh, you seem to know her well, don’t you?
Abrar: We were best friends. I struggled with my studies, but she aced her classes.
I decided to add a hint of intrigue.
Me: (winking with a sly smile) What else have you two done?
Abrar hesitated but eventually spilt the beans.
Abrar: We used to spend time on the farm before she moved to Delhi.
Me: Spending time? What kind of activities did you guys share?
Abrar evaded the question.
Me: Come on, Abrar uncle, spill the details.
Abrar: (with a mysterious look) We did what couples usually do.
I pretended innocence.
Me: What exactly do couples do?
Abrar: (locking eyes with me) Don’t act naive. You’re a Delhiite; you know the game.
I chuckled, playing along.
Me: So, were you two in love?
Abrar: It was complicated. We were more like friends with benefits. She helped me with my studies, and I quenched her thirst.
Me: Quenched thirst? Haha, what kind of thirst?
I mocked him.
Abrar: (paused the Jeep and chuckled) Hold your laughter until we get to the farm.
Me: Sure thing,
I turned my head, slightly annoyed. Abrar called my name, but I ignored him.
Abrar: Apologies, look here.
I pretended not to hear. Abrar tugged my shoulder to make me face him. A wave of arousal surged through me as his hands, rough and sturdy like metal, made contact. The sensation was electric, igniting a desire within me.
At that moment, I couldn’t help but think of cuddling with this man, yearning for a more intimate connection.
Me: (turned towards him) What?
Abrar: I said sorry.
Me: I’m not in the mood for apologies.
Abrar: What do you want then?
Me: (smirking) Quench my thirst too.
Abrar: (shocked) What?
After a brief pause, he kept his gaze on the road, avoiding eye contact. I reached out, touched his lap, and repeated, “Quench my thirst, too.” I could sense a pulsating energy beneath his dhoti, a sign that he was equally captivated.
The expansive farm was deserted except for us. Abrar led me to a small hut. Inside, a farm worker was fixing a motor. Abrar introduced me to the worker as Baltej’s uncle’s granddaughter, and we exchanged greetings.
Abrar instructed the worker to fetch parts from the nearby town. He asked me to sit on the charpai.
Abrar: Thirsty? Want some water?
Me: Yeah, sure.
He poured water from a mud pot and handed it to me. An awkward silence lingered. He pretended to search for something in the hut, creating an intimate atmosphere. Nervously, I spoke up, my nipples subtly betraying my nerves through my t-shirt.
Me: Abrar uncle, you never answered my question from earlier.
Abrar: What question?
Me: Don’t play smart now.
I approached him and whispered in his ear, “Is this the place where you and Mom used to spend time together?” He tensed. Seizing the moment, I guided his hand to rest on my breast.
He squeezed it then I reached for his dick with my other hand. It was huge, akin to cradling a cucumber beneath the fabric of his pants. I gently massaged it with my hands. Subsequently, he took hold of my hands, lifted them, and proceeded to remove my t-shirt.
My bouncy breast was shaking. He removed my t-shirt and grabbed my boob, and sucked it. I pulled his cock out of his doti and went under him. It was thick and smelled like cheesy. I pulled the skin back and started giving him a blowjob.
He held my hair, and moving my head back and forth, I felt like a slut. He then lifted my hair, prompting me to stand. He had me lie on the charpai, an uncomfortable experience as I slept with bare skin against it.
Abrar smirked. “This is where it happened with your mother. Now it’s your turn,” he said I drew him closer, embracing his sturdy frame while lying on the bed—an experience of hugging a wood.
Then he inserted his dick inside me. My pussy engulfed it. I could feel my pussy spreading, and I had pain for every stroke he made. He gradually intensified the speed. Sweat and desire enveloped us.
After several exhilarating minutes, our connection deepened, and our intimacy reached its zenith. He cum inside me. He then pushed himself up from my body and lay beside me on the charpai. I stood up and saw a huge log of cum dropping from my pussy.
After wiping it away, I went back to him, enveloping him in a hug. Lost in thought, Abrar’s eyes fixated on the hut’s ceiling lost in introspection. Curious, I wrapped my arms around him, breaking the silence.
Me: Abrar uncle, everything okay?
Abrar: (with a sigh) Yes, he replied.
Me: Then why the long face?
Abrar: (smirking) I miss your mom.
Me: Really? You had a thing for her?
Abrar: (nodding) Yes, everything was fine until she crossed paths with your father.
Me: (raising an eyebrow) Ah, so she cheated on you?
Abrar: (chuckling) No, not on me. We split, but she played a little game with your father, haha.
Me: Game? What did she do?
Abrar: (chuckling) No, not on me. We split, but she played a little game with your father, haha.
Me: A game? What did she do?
Megha, my mom, stands at 5’5″ at the age of 47, sharing the same physique as mine, 32D-30-32. We used to exchange bras. She has fair, slightly wrinkled skin, complemented by curves that mirror my own.
Her eyes are accentuated with mascara. Her long hair gracefully falls to her hip. Our resemblance is such that everyone perceives her as my older sister.
Flashback:
On the eve of her wedding, I was sobbing, desperately scanning your house for a glimpse of her. Eventually, I found her in the secluded corner of the backyard. Approaching her, I held her hands and pleaded, tears streaming, urging her not to go through with the marriage.
She whispered, “Abrar, I can’t.” I stopped crying before anyone caught sight of us together.
Megha: Alright, enough. I’ll come to meet you in the far hut tonight after everyone’s asleep. Now, leave this place.
I departed from the scene and waited in the dimly lit farm hut, holding a small lamp, eagerly anticipating her arrival. Finally, she emerged, and as I took her hand, we slipped into the hut, shutting the door behind us. As the tears flowed, I couldn’t contain my emotions.
Megha: Stop, please. This isn’t good for us. We can’t be together. I want to earn more money, and my dreams are big.
Me(Abrar): (pleading) But I can make you happy every day. Remember how I used to take care of you?
Megha: I remember everything, but this won’t work. Plus, you’re from a different religion. My parents won’t accept this.
As tears continued to flow, Megha sought a solution.
Megha: What should I do to make you stop crying, aside from stopping this marriage?
In that tearful moment, I made a request.
Me: Promise me you’ll meet me in the hut and do whatever we used to do before your marriage.
Megha smiled through her tears and agreed.
Megha: (smiling) Okay, I promise.
Clothes were shed, and we shared an intimate connection one last time before her impending marriage. Following that, her return to the village became a rare occurrence. Our encounters were shrouded in the memories of those passionate moments in the dimly lit hut.
Me: Did you guys even use protection? I questioned, incredulous.
Abrar: (nonchalant) Nope.
Me: What the fuck! Who is my father, then?
Abrar: (smirking) Only God knows.