Ek Lund ki kahani (Story of a knob)

Avantika made my lund very hard. Avantika mother of two, lonely milf, Avantika smelling like obsession, Avantika with hair like silk, Avantika with tits like sugar, Avantika who like her G&T's, Avantika who moaned and liked nibbling my ear. Avantika who treated my lund like her third child. I met Avantika on the train.
She entered at a station after mine and behind those huge glasses of hers I could make out that she was sizing me up. We got off at the same station, its only now that I admit that I followed her out; just so that I could see her ass as she climbed up the escalator. It was everything I thought it would be and it was the first time that Avantika stirred my lund.
Everything I describe about what happened next is in slow motion. The four year old boy slipped while Avantika was tending to the baby she was carrying. Instinctively I reached to hold out to the boy. The boy fell. His head would have landed on the steel escalator had it not been for my hand that he landed on. My hand cut deep and bleed like a bitch. I pulled out a handkerchief and tried to bandage it as the blood filled up everywhere. At the top of the escalator Avantika consoled her kid and I asked if she was okay.

For the first time Avantika took off her glasses and all I thought about was imagine those doe eyes looking up at me while she sucked my lund. I tried to act concerned and patted the boy head but all I was really thinking about was angling into a position to see Avantika; who was squatting down. Specifically to see her ass crack for a memory to jerk off to later. Avantika’s ass crack was covered in a tiny silver thong, the lace going all the way down making my lund throb. I came back to reality when Avantika asked me if I was okay and I kept saying I was. She insisted we go to the doctor; one that she knew worked nearby and soon I was staring at her ass as she climbed up the stairs of a walk up apartment.

Lunch followed. Curry staining her baby’s frock, jokes, stories on Pune, we lived on the same street, she was 38. Cougar town. Second marriage. Husband travelled. Condo living. Housewife but was in advertising before life happened during advertising plans. Phone numbers exchanged. Promised to be introduced to lots of single friends of hers who’d love to date me. I didn’t want to date. I just wanted to douse her jwalamukhi with my warm cum. I got invited for dinner.

Dinner; jazz music playing in the background , kids were put to bed early with the help of some Benadryl. It was just the two of us sitting on a sofa framed between photos of her husband and her. Pati. Patni aur who for the millennia audience. Husband far away selling fabrication material for air conditioners in Shanghai and his wife - Avantika between my legs with my jeans pulled down giving me a blow job while looking at my face with those big doe eyes, the glass of wine slipping from my hand making a stain on the white sofa.

I shagged her on her shag carpet, on the dining table with rocket salad stuck to her ass, shagged her on her bed while her husband’s smiling face looked down on us, shagged her in the bathroom with her head banging against the shelf dropping her Gillette glide razor, shagging her before we slept, shagged her in the morning before I left. She let me out her face looking a mess; mascara stains making long dried black tears on her face, her hair a tousled mess, her night shirt carelessly unbuttoned. Her nipples making bumps against the soft fabric.

That was the end of it.

Then why am I writing to you from a hospital bad?

I underestimated the consequences.

I reached home . My wife opened the door. I had told her it was a late meeting and I mumbled my way to the bedroom. The last thing I wanted was for her to taste another woman on my lund.
I showered; changed and reached for my phone. 15 SMS’s in five minutes. I messaged back. ‘I’ll cll u l8r’ – another 15 sms’s followed. Her English was not that good. In-fact her ass had a lot of blotches. Her tits weren’t firm – my wife looked much better. It was the morning after and I realized that everything I made her out to be was made in my head. Avantika was a great one night Milf but I needed to put it aside and carry on with my life. Avantika didn’t let me .

SMS's became calls. It became difficult to explain to my wife when I left the room or ignored the phone frequently I met her again a week later. She wanted to divorce her husband and wanted us to move in together. I told her I was married. She created a scene. Stainless steel cups flew and I ducked, the other customers looked on. I ran out from the restaurant, my head bleeding from a cut.

Avantika showed up at my house after a couple of days. I had just come back from work and saw her as she sat there with my wife and was telling her about my SMS’s before the dreaded dinner. She told her about the mole on my back, the scar on my thigh. Wife left. Promised to make my life hell. It was only Avantika and I and there was nothing else to do but to fornicate.

It was after-eight hours in my house just like it was the last time. This time there was just silence and grunts as I fucked her so hard making her scream . Pleasure at the thought of hurting her coursed through my body. Pleasure that turned to quick disappointment when her painful expression broke into a big wide smile of pleasure, those doe eyes wide shut in moans of delight.

I tried harder till I had spent myself on her back.. I laid down next to her and told her ‘Bitch get out’ It was then that my wife returned home and saw us lying there on the bed and like a mad woman rushed out only to rush back in with a kitchen knife yelling ‘AAAIIIIII’ I’m sure her Chinese ancestors would be proud of little Atilla the hun It was not a first time lucky shot. She had to take a couple of swipes while I ducked and dived but when she got lucky she swiped it off clean.

My proud lund lay there between the sheets while I bled like a mad man and whimpered like a dog on a chain too long. I whimpered and cried as I lay on my side and watched my wife storm out of the room; her back disappearing in a blur of tears. Avantika was crouched in the corner, covering her nakedness and once she heard the door slam; she got up and started to put on her clothes. “Bitch” I shouted. Call the doctor bitch” Oh bitch” She gazed at me for a minute while I writhed and called her names. She reached for the phone dialed the ambulance. Later she came over to me and hunched over me – just like she had done when her boy bumped his head on the escalator.

I was lying on the wooden floor, my hair a sweaty mess, my face streaked in tears and snot, curled up in a fetal position . She giggled, ruffled my hair and then walked over to my lund. My formerly proud lund that used to fly . S
he picked it up and I noticed for the first time that she never did have a wedding ring on her finger.
She walked over to the bathroom.
I heard it splash into the toilet bowl with a plop.
I heard the flush, flush it away.
I imagined it going round and round in the toilet bowl; its final wave of goodbye to the world and then it was gone.
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end of Lund.