Previous Part: Cold Wave – Part 1 (Jeetukaka’s Trap)
Jeetukaka narrated the fascinating story of Champakali. She used to work as a maidservant in her younger days. Pretty soon, she figured out a way to change her fortunes. She gained power and influence in the village by attaining control over the men and seducing every single one of them.
She stopped wearing undergarments. Roamed around in a blouse and saree, wearing nothing underneath. No petticoat, bra, or panty. And started indulging in outrageous acts to get the attention of every man in the village.
Below is an example of a typical day in the life of Champakali.
8.00 AM – A Haircut
Raghu, the barber, is a bachelor. He lives alone in a tiny hut on the outskirts of the village. He is the one and only barber in the entire village. Every boy and man goes to him for a haircut.
Raghu starts his day early at 6.00 AM. Gets ready well before time to open his shop at 8.30 AM. Today he is all set to leave his house at 8.00 AM like every other day. But today, Raghu will be late as he has an unexpected visitor. The village slut Champa is knocking on his door.
“Champa? You here? At this time? What’s up?” he asks.
“Raghu, I need a favour,” Champa enters his hut and closes the door. “I need a haircut.”
“What are you talking about? You have such lovely long dark hair,” Raghu is surprised. “Why get it cut?”
“Not the hair on my head, you dumbfuck!” Champa curses. “I am talking about the hair down below,” she puts her right leg on Raghu’s chair and stands with her hands on her hips.
Raghu is stunned. He can’t believe his ears. Did he hear that right? He mumbles in disbelief.
“You mean … you … down below …” he stutters.
“Yes. Don’t waste time. I have a few important engagements today for which this is necessary,” Champa orders him. “Let’s start. Do I have to sit down or what?”
“Um … I don’t know. Never done this before,” Raghu continues to mumble.
“So what? You know how to use scissors and cut hair. There is a first time for everything,” Champa sounds annoyed. “Now, take a good look and tell me whether I need to sit.”
Champa lifts her saree, her ankles, and thighs. Her left leg is on the floor, standing. Her right leg is on the chair. She is not wearing a petticoat.
Raghu’s eyes pop out at the sight of Champa’s fleshy white thighs. His mouth opens up as she continues to lift the saree higher. His jaw drops when she pulls the saree up to her waist. His tongue falls out of his mouth when he sees her dense, hairy bush.
“You fucktard!” yells Champa. “Stop drooling and start cutting. I don’t have all day.”
Raghu picks up his scissors and combs with trembling hands. He starts sweating even in the biting cold of December. He approaches Champa’s hairy pussy like he would approach a snake. His hands shake when he touches the scissors on her bush.
“If your scissors even touch my skin, I will gut you alive,” hisses Champa. “Be very careful. Do not cut my skin.”
But Raghu barely hears her words. He is in a different world now. The sight of a pussy is rare in his line of work. Worse, the musky scent of her pussy makes him feel intoxicated. And very, very horny.
But he is also a good barber. Even with trembling hands and a sweaty forehead, he manages to trim Champa’s dense black bush. The floor gets covered in chunks of hair. And Champa’s pussy looks neatly covered in short dark freshly-trimmed fur.
She walks up to the mirror and takes a long, hard look. She is pleased with the result. And so is Raghu. He has a bulge on his crotch inside his pants.
“A shave now?” Raghu takes out his razor and stares at her lustily.
“No. Never,” Champa sounds adamant. “I am scared of razors. Can’t imagine how city girls do it. A nice trim like this is enough.”
“My payment?” Raghu sounds disappointed. He can’t believe the session is over.
“I don’t have money,” says Champa. “But I can pay you differently.” She touches his erection through his pants.
Raghu jumps up and takes off his pants and underwear in a flash. He has never tasted Champa’s pussy before. Now is his golden chance. He dangles his stiff cock lustily.
“This …” he points at his dick, “goes there,” he points at her trimmed crotch.
“Stay within your limits, you cocksucker,” curses Champa. “Mowing the lawn does not give you the right to enter the temple. A 5-minute haircut does not give you the privilege to fuck me. Stop daydreaming.”
“Then? My payment?” Raghu feels his erection decreasing rapidly.
“You are good with your hands. So am I,” she grabs his cock and gives it a couple of tugs. That proves to be enough. His erection returns immediately.
Now, a handjob is no big deal for Champa. She does it all the time. But it is for Raghu. Poor chap never gets to touch a woman. And today, he is being touched by one.
This time, he stands with his hands on his hips. And Champa sits down on the chair in front of him. She caresses his balls with one hand and strokes his dick with the other.
Raghu gasps. Raghu moans. Raghu feels a sensation in his cock he has never felt before. Champa’s soft hands make him cum fast. All over her face and breasts.
“You made me filthy,” says Champa angrily. “I have to go to my meditation class now. And I will have to go like this.”
Just then, the bell strikes at the local temple. It is 9.00 AM. Champa rushes out of the door. She is running late for her next assignment. So is Raghu, but he is in no position to open his shop today.
9.30 AM – Meditation
High on top of a hill overlooking the river that runs on the outskirts of the village lives yoga guru Acharya. He is 65 years old. He runs an Ashram on the riverbank at the bottom of the hill. And lives alone on the hilltop.
Acharya is a true yogi. Never married, never had children. Never touched a woman, never committed a sin. He keeps his body and mind pure and free of lust.
His pure and serene world will get shattered today by the unannounced arrival of an impure Champa. She runs up the hill and arrives at his doorstep with shortness of breath and Raghu’s cum on her tits.
“Filthy whore! What brings you here?” screams Acharya.
“Yogi baba,” Champa bows down before him, “I have come to lead a pious and honourable life. I want to atone for my sins.”
The yogi’s eyes catch a glimpse of Champa’s deep cleavage and milky white boobs as she bows before him. She does not wear a bra, so her luscious tits tumble out of her blouse the moment she bends down.
“You cannot lead a pious life. You are a filthy slut,” yells Acharya again. He hates women and despises whores. He has nothing but contempt for Champa since she has lived a life of sin.
“Please allow me to redeem myself,” Champa pleads with folded hands. “Please accept me as your disciple. I want to devote myself to you. Give me a chance.”
The yogi is old, but his eyes miss nothing. Like the ample size and melon-like shape of Champa’s breasts. Like her wide and rounded ass, which appears wider when she bends down. Even the white cum stains on her blouse and tits do not escape his notice.
“You have something impure on your…,” he points at those stains. He is a saint and cannot utter the word ‘breasts’.
Champa quickly wipes off the white fluid with the pallu of her saree. But the old man is not satisfied.
“You have marks of sin all over your body. Purify yourself first. Take a dip in the river and wash off the impurities. Then come to me for your initiation,” he commands.
Champa obeys his command and runs to the river. She is on a mission today. The yogi is the holiest man in the entire village. If she could make him succumb to her seductive charms, her dominance over the village menfolk would be complete.
She takes off the blouse and throws it away. It has ‘impure’ stains on it anyway. She covers her boobs with her white saree pallu and takes a couple of dips in the ice-cold water of the river.
The cold water makes her nipples pointy and erect. The wet white saree clings to her tits and hips. Hiding less and revealing more. She returns to Acharya’s house in that condition.
The old man is shocked to his core when he sees her wet body draped in the white saree standing before him. His sharp gaze notices her dark pointy nipples poking out under the wet white fabric.
Her bare hips are also visible under the same wet saree. Droplets of water falling down her crotch and running down her thighs – all visible, leaving nothing to the imagination.
“Swamiji, I didn’t carry anything to dry myself with,” she says in a mock apology. “But I have washed myself clean.”
“Your conduct is disgraceful and disgusting,” shouts Acharya. “Now sit down over there with your legs crossed and hands folded and joined together.”
Champa obeys and folds her hands in a ‘thank you’ gesture. And sits down on a mat cross-legged. The wet saree clings to her white thighs and freshly trimmed dark pubes. Acharya finds it difficult not to stare.
He starts chanting mantras in Sanskrit but gets distracted again and again. He can’t keep his eyes off her. He feels something he has never felt before. His old cock, which has been sleeping for the last 65 years, has suddenly woken up.
Shaken and scared of sinful thoughts taking over his mind, Acharya tries to hide the erection under his dhoti with his hands. He tells Champa that her initiation is over, and she is free to leave.
Champa walks up to him and bows down to touch her guru’s feet. She notices his hands covering his crotch and instinctively realises what he is trying to hide. She seizes this opportunity with both hands. Literally.
“Swamiji, thank you for rescuing me from a life of sin,” she touches his feet with both hands. “And for giving me a new life,” she touches his erection – again with both hands.
“Evil whore! What are you doing?” Swamiji starts trembling in anger and disgust, as well as lust and temptation.
“Guruji, allow me to show my gratitude. Let me repay my debts,” she clutches his hard-on through the dhoti with both hands.
“This is sin!” shouts the old man. “No, this is service,” says Champa. “Service to my guru will be the 1st act of my new life.” She lifts his dhoti and exposes his cock.
The yogi watches in silence and astonishment as her hands work magic on his holy organ. 65 years of self-discipline and a pious life are shattered in 6 seconds. His sacred manhood stands up in response to Champa’s touch. And gets bigger and taller, harder and warmer.
“Wash me off my sins, Swamiji,” she says. And lifts her saree to her waist and stands on his face. Her legs were on either side of his shoulders, her pussy touching his nose and lips.
Acharya feels electric shocks all over his body. Is this what a woman tastes like? Is this how she smells? Is this what he has been trying to avoid all his life? Was he wrong all along?
He sniffs, licks and slurps. He buries his face deep in her pussy. All his life, he has been searching for Amrit – the divine nectar of life. He has found it at last – inside the tiny, warm, wet hole between Champa’s legs.
He licks off as much Amrit as he possibly can. Does not spill a single drop. Champa’s moans turn him on so much that he opens up her pussy with his fingers. And pushes his tongue in furiously.
Soon enough, she cums and floods his face with her juice. He licks it off hungrily and wipes her pussy dry. His hands now move towards his erect cock. It is aching for a release.
“No, Swamiji,” Champa stops him. “Masturbation is sin.”
“It is?” the old man looks dazed and confused.
“That’s what you have been preaching for years. Your seed is sacred, Guruji. Please don’t waste it. Purify me with it,” she says.
“How?”
“Let your holy seed cleanse me from inside,” Champa slowly lowers herself on his dick. “Let your holy seed enter my body and wash off my sins.” She wraps her pussy lips around his cock.
The yogi closes his eyes as if he is in a trance. A lifetime of meditation could not prepare him for this moment. His moment of reckoning has finally arrived.
Champa keeps sliding up and down his rigid cock. His slippery wetness makes it easier. Every slide brings Acharya closer to salvation. He finds the true purpose of life at last.
Shaking and trembling, he shoots off his load deep inside her pussy. And collapses in exhaustion and disbelief. He watches his fluid trickling out of her hole and holds his head in his hands in shame.
“What have I done?” he wonders aloud in shock and shame.
“Swamiji, you just attained Nirvana,” smiles Champa.
11.00 AM – Yoga Class
Having accomplished her mission of introducing the yogi to her world of sin, Champakali walks slowly down the hill. Her next destination is the old man’s Ashram, located on the riverbank at the bottom of the hill.
Acharya has some 20 – 25 disciples staying at his Ashram. All are young men. All have taken a vow of celibacy – never to get married and never have children. They are the only pious men left in the village. Today, they will have a new guru introducing them to a new world.
“Swamiji will not be able to attend the yoga class today,” Champa stands in front of the gathering and addresses them. “He has just attained Moksha. He has asked me to conduct today’s session.”
The disciples are stunned. Has their guru attained Moksha? Salvation? And has directed a whore to preside over today’s class? It is unthinkable.
But they are unable to voice their protests. Champa’s wet saree clinging to her voluptuous wet body turns them speechless. Impure thoughts start polluting their minds. They agree to have a yoga session to exercise self-restraint.
“Let’s start with Bhujangasana (cobra pose),” announces Champa as she sits down on Acharya’s yoga mat. “Lie flat on your stomach. Place the palms of your hands on the floor at the sides. Then lift the shoulders and upper body.”
The entire group watches in silence as Champa does the cobra pose. As soon as she lifts her upper body, her plump white boobs fall out of the pallu of her saree. Her dark brown nipples point straight in the direction of the group. The temperature inside the Ashram rises dramatically.
She does not try to cover herself up. This is a part of her master plan to entice them into her world of lust and evil. She swings her dangling breasts in front of their eyes. One by one, the men start moving their hands towards their crotch.
“The next pose is Dhanurasana (bow pose). We will do it standing,” she announces. She stands upright, facing the crowd, and then bends backwards to touch the ground.
Her wet saree moves up as soon as she bends backwards. Revealing her neatly trimmed pussy hair. Every disciple catches a glimpse of her swollen vulva peeking between her legs. They are stunned, mesmerised, and steal glances at each other.
Champa holds her pose just long enough for it to have the desired effect. All the men are clutching their erections now, trying to hide them desperately. Champa stands back upright and addresses them one last time.
“By the way, Swamiji has asked me to convey a message to you all. Masturbation is not a sin anymore. You are allowed to relieve yourselves behind the trees over there.”
She leaves the Ashram for her next destination. One by one, all the disciples make a beeline for the trees outside. Today’s lesson has been a mind-blowing one for them. They all end up jerking off under the trees as advised.
12.30 PM – Medical Check-up
Right in the heart of the village, under a 100-year-old banyan tree, lives the Ayurvedic doctor Vaid Niranjan. He lives alone after his wife passed away a few years back.
He is old but fit – physically and mentally. He commands more respect than the allopathic doctors of the Government-run clinic due to his emphasis on herbal medication.
Everyone in this village has been his patient at least once in their lives. But none more than Champa. She is a regular patient of his, primarily due to her lifestyle and line of work.
“Vaidji, I need the medicine again,” says Champa as she walks in.
“You again? At this hour?” Niranjan takes off his glasses. “Which medicine do you need?”
“The usual one,” replies Champa shamelessly. “I had another encounter this morning.”
“You and your horrible lifestyle,” scoffs the old Vaid. “How long will you carry on like this? Who was the guy this time?”
“His Holiness yogi Acharya,” chuckles Champa.
“What? The saint? You entrapped him, too? Do you have no shame?” Niranjan shakes his head in disapproval. He begins to prepare the medicine from his stock of herbs.
“As if you have any,” retorts Champa. “Every day, I have to suck you off in return for free medicines.”
“My medication is not free,” replies Niranjan. “It’s created from ancient wisdom, a lifetime of studying herbs and plants, and expert knowledge of the human body.”
“So, I have to suck your ‘ancient’ cock for a ‘lifetime’?” she asks in mock anger.
“Fine. You don’t need to,” the Vaid replies. “Pay me for today’s medicine, then.” He shows the herbal paste he has just prepared.
“I am not carrying any money. Apply the medicine yourself. Consider that as payment,” Champa sits down on the floor and spreads her legs.
The old Vaid’s eyes light up in anticipation. This is the 1st time Champa has asked him to apply the herbal paste with his fingers. In fact, no female patient of his has ever allowed him to do this. He scoops up some of the paste on his finger and inserts his hand under her saree.
“Higher,” says Champa, as his finger touches her thigh. Niranjan realises his hand is shaking in temptation and excitement. Somehow, he manages to reach his target. His finger has touched something soft and wet.
“Inside,” guides Champa again. The old Vaid is trembling so much that half of the paste rubs off on her pussy lips. He now inserts his finger slowly and nervously into that soft and wet place. He feels something sticky inside and looks at her with curious eyes.
“That’s the holy man’s blessing,” laughs Champa wickedly. “Go deeper, Vaidji. You said you have expert knowledge.”
The old doctor does have expertise, but that’s all theoretical. This is practical, where he is a newcomer. Like every beginner, he is nervous and tense at first. But soon succumbs to lust and desire.
He pushes his finger in and out. Again and again. Scoops up more paste and shoves it deep. Champa’s warm, wet hole feels so soft and slippery that he loses control. He scoops up all the paste and pushes 2 fingers in.
Champa gasps and moans. She is fingered almost every day by someone in the village. But the herbal paste and Niranjan’s rough fingers bring new sensations between her legs. She starts throwing her arms and legs wildly. And cums profusely.
Niranjan stops abruptly as her warm and slippery juice floods his fingers. But he keeps his fingers inside her pussy for a long time. “Take them out,” she tells him. But he doesn’t listen.
“You need more medicine,” he murmurs. “All the paste came out. I have to prepare more.”
Champa smiles and chuckles as the Vaid gets busy preparing the herbal paste again. She knows he is going to apply it again. Today, tomorrow and forever.
9.30 PM – Planning For The Future
“This village needs a new slut,” says Champa to the village Pradhan (village chief) while giving him a blowjob behind his house. “And I have found just the right girl.”
“Who is she?” asks the Pradhan.
“You remember Jeetu? The caretaker of the big old house? The girl is the daughter of the owner of that property. Her name is Shilpi,” replies Champa.
“We will have another whore in this village? A city girl?” Pradhan’s eyes twinkle in anticipation.
“Yes,” says Champa. “Jeetu has already tasted her a few times. He says she is very hot and tight. And much younger than me. I am going to meet her tomorrow and train her to become a whore. And in return, you will forgive the money that Jeetu borrowed from you. You will write off his debt and never ask him to repay the loan.”
“Accepted,” says the Pradhan, “under one condition. I will be the 1st one to bang this Shilpi girl.”
To be continued.
Next Part: Cold Wave – Part 3 (The Wicked World Of Whorecraft)