Desi Aunty Sex Stories: The Overheard Phone Call

"and then you will take my whole... yes, yes, take it deeper," the woman was saying, low and breathless, and it took Arjun three seconds to understand he was hearing Ritu aunty through the thin balcony grill, the woman who made him adrak chai every Diwali, talking on her phone like the heroine of one of those forbidden desi aunty sex stories from his college days.

"No, not tonight," she whispered, laughing in a throaty way he had never heard from her. "He is in Madurai till Friday. Come tomorrow afternoon. I will wear that red blouse you like, the one you said makes my boobs look like they are begging to be touched."

"Yes, I am touching myself right now," she said, so plainly it burned his ears. "My fingers are inside my panty. Ugh, it is so wet. Tell me what you will do to me tomorrow. Tell me slowly."

He should have walked away. Instead his fingers tightened on the damp cotton and he stayed, breathing shallow, while the beloved aunty of the second floor described in filthy detail what a man who was not her husband would do to her chut the next afternoon.

"Say it again," Ritu murmured. "Say where you will put your mouth first." She gave a small gasping laugh, half shocked at herself. "No, do not say it. If you say it I will not stop myself here, and my neighbor boy is home, he will hear everything."

Then a pigeon landed hard on the railing between the balconies with a loud clatter, and Ritu's head whipped around. Her eyes locked on Arjun through the iron bars, wide with horror, phone still at her ear, hand still inside her panty.

"Arjun," she said. Not into the phone. To him.

On the phone the lover's voice went tinny and eager: "Ritu? Ritu, what happened?" She stared at Arjun for one endless second. Then, to his shock, she did not hang up. She put one finger to her lips, the sign for silence, and said into the phone, "Nothing, darling. Just a pigeon. You were saying where you will put your mouth."

Her eyes never left his face while she listened, and the panic drained out of her expression, replaced by something far more dangerous, something amused and wicked and fearless. She had decided, right there in front of him, not to be ashamed.

"Tomorrow, two o'clock," she said, loud enough that he heard every word. "Sundaram's train comes Friday night. Tomorrow this house is ours. I want you to fill me up until I am crying." She ended the call and leaned on the railing, calm as a woman discussing tomato prices.

"So," Ritu said. "You heard everything."

Arjun's mouth opened and closed. "Aunty, I... I was just hanging my sheet, I swear I did not mean to..."

"Hmm." She tilted her head, a slow smile spreading. "You stood there a long time for a boy who did not mean to. Your sheet is still not hung, beta."

Heat flooded his face. "I am sorry. Really. I will never tell anyone. Please forget I was here."

Ritu laughed, nothing like her polite building-meeting laugh, and turned toward her door. "Forget? Men like your uncle only dream of being caught by a boy who looks at me the way you were looking at me. I am not angry, child." She glanced back over her shoulder. "I am curious what you will do now that you know my secret."

The next three days were the longest of his life. Ritu began leaving her balcony door open in the afternoons, the sheer curtain billowing, and through the gap he caught glimpses of her in a sleeveless blouse and petticoat, humming old film songs, bending with a carelessness he was fairly sure was not careless at all.

On the second day she knocked at four in the afternoon holding a steel tiffin. "Arjun beta, I made too much sambhar," she said, stepping past him before he could answer, her sari pallu slipping enough that he caught the curve of her cleavage as she bent over his counter. "You boys never eat properly. Sit."

He sat like a rabbit in a trap while she moved around his tiny kitchen, and when she bent to hand him the plate her arm brushed his shoulder and stayed half a second too long. "You are blushing," she observed, delighted. "Twenty-four years old and blushing. It is sweet."

"Aunty," he managed, "that day on the balcony..."

"Shh." She pressed one finger to his lips, and the touch sent a current down his spine. "Some things are better kept between the people who were there. Eat your sambhar."

On the third day the game went past pretending. He came home from his shift at the mobile repair shop and found his door ajar and Ritu inside, in a faded cotton nightie, on her knees before his open ceiling fan, the nightie riding up her thighs to show the lace edge of her panty.

"Aunty! What are you doing in my house?" He dropped his bag.

"Your fan is making a noise, I could hear it through the wall," she said, perfectly casual, staying on her knees a beat too long so he got a full look down her nightie. "Come hold the blade steady, beta." He climbed onto the stool beside her, close enough to smell the talcum on her neck, and she shifted so her hip pressed deliberately against his arm. "Aunty, this is not..."

"Not what? Neighborly?" She shifted, and her hip pressed deliberately against his arm. "For three days you have been watching my balcony like it is the only channel on television. Do not pretend you are innocent now."

"I was not... okay, I was watching," he admitted, voice cracking. "But you started it. The phone call. The door. The sambhar. You are playing with me."

Then she stepped forward, took his face in both hands, and kissed him. Not a gentle kiss. The kiss of a woman who had been thinking about this for three days, deep and demanding, and Arjun made a sound half moan and half surrender as his hands closed around her waist.

"Good boy," she breathed against his mouth, unbuttoning his shirt with quick expert fingers, pushing it off his shoulders, palms sliding down his bare chest while he trembled. "You have been imagining this since the balcony, have you not? Tell me the truth."

"Yes," he whispered, and she smiled like a queen accepting tribute. "Then take off my nightie," she commanded, lifting her arms, "and do not be gentle. I am not your aunty today. Today I am just a woman who wants to be touched properly."

His hands shook as he pulled the nightie over her head and dropped it. She stood before him in only bra and panty, a thirty-eight-year-old woman with the lush heavy body of a mother of two, breasts straining at worn cotton, hips wide, a dark damp patch already spreading on the front of her panty.

"Look at what you do to me," she said, following his gaze, unashamed. "Now the bra." He fumbled the clasp twice before it gave, and her breasts spilled free, big and warm with dark hard nipples, and she placed his hands on herself. "Squeeze. Harder, beta. I am not made of glass."

He kneaded her breasts with growing confidence while she moaned and arched into his hands. "Yes, like that. Now your mouth. Suck them like you mean it."

He took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard the way she demanded, and she clutched his head to her chest. "Ugh, yes. It has been so long since anyone touched me like they actually wanted me. Your uncle touches me like furniture. You touch me like I am food."

Her hands went to his trousers, unzipping him with brisk competence and pushing them down with his underwear, and she wrapped her hand around his lund, which stood so hard it ached. "Oh, look at you," she purred, stroking slowly, thumb circling the wet tip. "All this for me? For your Ritu aunty? Tell me what you want to do with it."

"I want to put it inside you."

"Say the word," she said, eyes glittering. "Say it the way I said it on the phone."

"I want to put my lund inside your chut," he said, and the filthy words in his own mouth made her shudder with delight.

"Good boy," she whispered, pushing him backward onto his sofa and straddling his lap in her panty, grinding down against his bare cock through the thin lace. "But first, I want to taste you. Lie back. Let aunty show you what a real woman's mouth can do."

She slid down and took him into her mouth in one smooth motion, deep, and his back arched off the sofa with a strangled cry. Her mouth was hot and skilled, her tongue swirling, her hand working what she could not fit, her eyes on his with a wicked triumphant smile.

"Aunty, oh god, I am going to..." he gasped, thighs tensing.

"Not yet," she said, pulling off with a wet pop. "Inside me first. I want to feel you finish inside me." She slid her panty off, climbed back onto his lap, positioned him at her entrance, and he felt the slick heat of her chut against his tip.

"You are so wet," he breathed.

"Three days of teasing you has been teasing me too," she admitted, and sank down onto him in one long slow slide, taking his whole length inside her. They both cried out. She was tight and hot and dripping, and she began riding him with pure experience, grinding her hips in circles.

"Suck them while I ride you," she panted, and he latched onto a nipple while she moved faster, her moans growing louder and less controlled. "Yes, yes, like that, oh god, your lund is filling me so deep. Do not stop. Do not you dare stop."

"Turn around," he gasped, surprising himself. "I want you from behind."

"Oh, the boy has ideas." She climbed off, got on her hands and knees with her back to him, and he knelt behind her, guided himself in, and drove deep with one hard thrust that made her scream into the cushion.

"Yes! Like that! Fuck me like you mean it!" she cried, pushing back against him, meeting every stroke, while he pounded into her, one hand gripping her hip, the other sliding around to rub her clit in hard circles. "There, there, right there, oh god I am coming, I am coming..."

Her body convulsed around him, wetness flooding over his cock, and the sight and feel of her climax tipped him over. He drove in deep one final time and exploded inside her, groaning her name, wave after wave pouring into her while she milked him with those perfect spasms.

They collapsed sideways in a tangle of limbs, both panting. Then Ritu started to laugh, soft and satisfied. "Well," she said, breathless, brushing sweaty hair from his forehead. "Was the game worth finishing?"

Arjun looked at her, the woman who had brought him Diwali chai a week ago and was now naked and glowing in his arms, and laughed too, giddy and disbelieving. "You planned all of it. The open door. The fan. All of it."

"A woman gets lonely, beta," she said. "And a smart woman finds her own fun. The question now is..." She propped herself on one elbow. "Tomorrow is Friday. Sundaram's train comes at nine. What will you do with me until then?"

Arjun pulled her closer, his hand sliding down to cup the warm curve of her hip, and grinned. "I think I need to fix your fan again. It is still making a noise."

"Is it?" Ritu smiled against his mouth. "Then you had better come over tomorrow afternoon. Bring your screwdriver."