ZAMINDAR WITH HIS DAUGHTER-IN-LAW

 The wedding preparations came to an abrupt halt. As usual, there was no provocation other than a heated exchange of words, and egos on all sides were hurt. When the girl questioned the boy's intentions for the young couple's future in front of her father and other family elders, the boy's father, Zamindar(land lord) Polash Ghoshal, became enraged.

But it was the manner the debate devolved into a verbal brawl that truly set the tone for what occurred next. The Zamindar had said, in classic feudal lord fashion, that he would wait exactly 9 months to become a grandfather and that his freshly married son should begin spreading the clan right away.

At a gathering of the two extended families, this announcement was made. Priya, the bride-to-be, was merely supposed to observe the events in order to learn what was expected of her, not to respond, react, or make any kind of commentary. Her father, however, had not raised her in this manner, despite the fact that they were from a family that was traditionally expected to be obedient to the Zamindar. Higher education, according to her father, was the key to escaping social disadvantage. He sent his daughter Priya to the best schools in town, then to a hostel in a larger city. She was among the best educated in the village at the age of twenty.

When she was treated as a commodity in marriage, she had a predictable reaction. She rose to her feet as the Zamindar expressed his desire to become a grandfather, her eyes flaming with rage, and she said, "For the first five years, I have no intention of becoming a mother. Parimal and I are both heading to work. Before we start a family, we're planning to construct our own foundation."

Her stress increased as she spoke, and her breathing became more obvious and ragged. Her face was flushed scarlet, and she raised her head in defiance. She gradually recognised that the deafening quiet that surrounded the assembly was horror at her violation of their village's ultimate authority. Despite this, she raised her head, glared at her soon-to-be father-in-law.

"Hey, girl!" exclaims the narrator. the Zamindar screamed "How can you call your fiancé by his first name? And who are you to decide what will and will not happen in my home?"

"Ask your son," she said sarcastically. "It was him who said I should call him by name and think and do as I please when he was pursuing me around to marry him!"

Priya's father, seeing the situation deteriorate, rose with folded hands and a bent head to attempt to mediate between the two extreme stances. "The girl, Zamindar sahib, intends to work for a few years and would be unable to do so if she became pregnant. However, after she marries into your family, the decision is yours to make, and you can talk about it amongst yourselves "He made the suggestion.

The Zamindar raged, "I don't see the need to discuss!" "We don't talk about the obvious in our household. Is there anything you're keeping hidden from me about this female you're supporting? Is she capable of conceiving children? Or are your family's women not complete women?"

Priya's father's entire family was roused to their feet by the reference to his clan's womanhood. From there, it was all downhill from there. Priya and her family were back in their humble home, debating future actions, approximately half an hour later, just after twilight, when preliminary celebrations should have begun.

Polash Ghoshal was chastising his son for coming out in public with a girl he hadn't yet engaged to. That, without a doubt, was what gave the girl the guts to confront him.

Priya, who was seated on the roof of her house, was enraged by the sneer directed at her gender. A lesson has to be taught to that man. As she considered her options, she knew that no one would dare to go up against the Zamindar. She would have to do whatever needed to be done. What better way to teach him than to make him recognise her womanhood's superiority?

Priya made her way to the Zamindar's residence in the dead of night. The guards who recognised her let her in, and she navigated her way through the maze of halls and chambers to the back yard. The Zamindar sat smoking a hookah under the mango trees near the cowsheds, accompanied by a few of his buddies.

When the men noticed Priya approaching them, their animated conversation came to a halt. Her chest heaved from the exertion of her trek and the intensity of the moment as she stood there looking at Polash Ghoshal. Her contours were enhanced by the lamps, and her tight choli (blouse) highlighted her breasts to her advantage. The light from the lamps glinted off her ghagra (skirt), which had mirror work. Those dark, angry eyes blazed at him, and it took a minute for the Zamindar to remember he was staring at his future daughter-in-law, not just any woman to lust after.

He told his guys to stay away from them.

"What have you come for now?" he inquired, assuming she was apologising for her actions earlier in the evening.

"I've come to tell you that your clan's manhood is not guaranteed by a moustache as enormous as yours. So, before you comment about our women, you should watch it "she remarked, a mocking smile on her face.

With that sassy, mocking smile, the woman he had chosen to be his son's wife looked captivating. The warm glow of the lamps, the shadow and light play, just added to her eerie appearance. Her body language, as well as her words, presented a difficulty. His male chauvinist impulse was to answer with a display of his manhood, and he did so.

With a display of rage, he disguised his loss of control. He strode forward, his arm reached, as if to hit Priya across the face, from his low slung rope cot.

Priya saw his towering stride, powerful arms, broad shoulders, and sinewy torso for the first time when the man towered over her. She was panicked inside, but she was not about to show it, so she continued to play her nerves game.

"Violence? Is that how you conceal your incapacity? "She questioned, laughing, knowing that her laid-back demeanour would irritate him.

He snatched her throat and forced her back till her back was against the mango tree's trunk. He was caught aback by the tenderness of her skin as he caressed her. His clasp on her throat loosened, and he pushed her back with an open hand. Priya was impressed by something about his primal ferocity in that shove. The strong hands with rough calloused fingers caught her attention. She let herself be pushed back, bracing herself for a fall, and then landed with a harsh slap against the tree trunk.

They had moved into the shade of the tree, away from the circle of light and the seating area where the Zamindar had sat with his hookah. Both the guy and the damsel took in each other with their eyes as their eyes grew acclimated to the lower lighting. The lighting was dim, with barely a sliver of light coming from the lamps and another beam of faint light coming from the pump house's tube light.

Nonetheless, her eyes twinkled. She was confident that she had him in the right place. As he realised what the girl was up to, Polash Ghoshal's hand completely loosened. His thumb ran across her chin and he was now stroking her on the back of her neck, right above her bosom.

He grumbled, "I wish I could ask you to exhibit your womanhood in the same way."

She tried to withdraw his hand away from her body with her hand gripping his wrist, but she was simply enthralled by his body's strength. "Perhaps you won't want me to exhibit my gender because you'd be completely exposed," she remarked on the spur of the moment, and immediately regretted it. She was well aware that you could only go so far with a Zamindar before provoking his wrath.

And she was absolutely correct. Polash Ghoshal, blinded by wrath, grabbed the top of her choli (blouse) and yanked it down, shredding the front of her blouse in one rapid ripping action, and it hung down, supported only by the thick band of cloth that ran around the lower border of the blouse. Her brown, young, firm, and proud breasts stood totally exposed in the weak light, heaving up and down from the rage she felt.

She attempted to slap him with her left hand, but Polash Ghoshal was too quick for her and fended her off. Priya moved lower and successfully gripped his crotch, obtaining a full hand of his partly erect cock. Since the moment she went up to his charpoy, it had been that way. She now knew a lot more about his manhood than she ever wanted to. Polash Ghoshal's cock filled with blood in seconds, and he had a full-fledged erection. It had been years since he had been grabbed so firmly by a young lady, and his body's reaction to the shock had been rapid.

It was an erotic situation. His cock was gripped by a young woman whose breasts were exposed and heaving, and he and she were both under the low branches of a mango tree, outside the circle of direct light, despite the fact that they could easily be seen by anyone looking on. Her grip loosened, and the cock instantly swelled to its largest size in recent memory. She instinctively closed in on it again as she felt it fill out more. It had the effect of cock-pumping. As the fist provided relief, the Zamindar groaned and involuntarily pumped his hips.

The girl's gaze was fixed on her hand. She held a handful of the Zamindar's garment in her hands, wrapped around an obscenely large cock. Even as she realised the gravity of the situation she had put herself in, her pussy swelled. She let go of the cock and leaned back against the tree trunk, both hands gripping the trunk. Her hands behind her back only served to further protrude her proud and heaving breasts.

She locked her gaze on the Zamindar, who returned her gaze. Then his gaze was drawn down to the succulent breasts, which were crowned by magnificent nipples. Due to the lack of adequate lighting, everything is bathed in pale hues. Her eyes flitted, her throat tightened, and her lips parted just a smidgeon. She didn't dare to move, so she didn't.

Polash Ghoshal's hands rose to rest gently on the breasts, cupping them lightly as if weighing the valuable booty. Priya screamed, her body shivered, and she tightened her grip on the tree trunk behind her. Her awareness and control of the situation melted away as her chest was thrust out and up.

The Zamindar's hands were rough and gritty, and his thumbs flicked the nipples. "So this is the woman my son was supposed to marry," he said quietly.

Priya smiled and nodded. She then let her fingers drop back to his dhoti, aware that her might-have-been father-in-law was taking the initial topic further (sarong-like lower garment.) Her fingers made its way inside, touching the naked skin of his thigh. From there, she searched the area for that monster of a cock. Her hand couldn't claim it from where she was standing. She moved her wrist so that the palm of her hand faced upward, allowing her to grasp the shaft in her hand like a bat. Her fingertips were on his balls, and the palm of her hand was on his cock's trunk. Her wrist was touched by the head.

She replied, "And this is the finest specimen of manhood your clan has to offer." She moved her thumb back and forth along the length of the cock, encountering dampness first, then the head. Polash Ghoshal shivered as her thumb rounded the head of his cock. As a reflex action, his hands firmly clasped the breasts in his hands. She winced as the pinching action on her nipples wounded her, but the pain bolts were so pleasurable!

She took his cock in her hands and masturbated him, gently but firmly stroking forward and back. Polash Ghoshal kneaded her breasts, then moved his hands down the sides of her body, massaging the roll of flesh at her exposed hips. Priya shifted her weight from one foot to the other as her pussy began to flow.

"Babuji!" she exclaimed, her first acknowledgement of his seniority that day as she addressed him as she would her father-in-law.

Zamindar drew in close, his head stooped over hers, his hips jerking and pumping as the fisting sent shockwaves through his body. He gradually pulled up the skirts and bunched them in his hands, exposing his son's fiancée's powerful legs. His hands moved under her ass and cupped it. He held her ass with both hands, lightly lifting her, testing her weight to see if he could lift her completely.

She leaned back against the trunk, bending her legs to make it easier. This young woman, who had no previous sexual experience to speak of, instinctively elevated her legs.

She undid his shirt to the point where his cock was bare and exposed. He raised her to the point where his cock was licking her pussy. As cock and cunt kissed, the dampness between them was clear. Priya hoisted herself onto her Babuji's shoulders. Polash Ghoshal swung his hips around, attempting to snag his cockhead in her crotch.

Priya knew she was about to be torn apart by the monster as the manhood she had so challenged touched her. As she tried to spread herself out farther, she moaned and shrieked. The cockhead tore the wet but inexperienced cunt apart with his snout. Polash Ghoshal's powerful grip on her was unbreakable. He wiggled her and brought her over to the cock. Her cunt was smeared all over his cock head as a result. But he kept her there, as if she were a threat. He wasn't sure what he should do next.

She, too, recognised through the veil of extreme joy that this was the father of the man she was to marry. She was unable to fuck him. At the very least, she shouldn't.

She inquired, "Babuji?"

"What shall we do, beti?" he inquired, speaking to her as a man would to his daughter-in-law (beti).

"Let go of me!" she said as she pushed herself higher and spoke into his ear with wet lips.

"How about your challenge?" he inquired.

"I believe I have been responded, and I have also demonstrated how womanly I am," she replied.

He asked her, his head bending to mouth her nipples, "What type of man and woman could contain themselves in this situation?" He swept his lips over the sweet, fruit-like offerings, brushing his proud moustache against her flesh.

She reached between them and painted her furrow with the dripping wet cock, asking, "A father-in-law and a daughter-in-law?"

He tasted the salt of the day's sweat on her breasts and murmured, "Should I let you marry my son?" He kept sucking her nipples and tonguing them. Those breasts were plump, juicy, and delicious!

She felt jets of lightning run to her cunt from her nipples as she glanced down at the man consuming her. The issue of marriage remained unsettled.

Priya drew herself up by grasping the lowest branches of the mango tree. Polash Ghoshal's enormous, powerful hands began to lose grip of her as her weight shifted away from him. She was hovering over his cock now, completely in control of her own body, ready to overcome him and end her marriage.

Her body's new elevated position allowed him to suck in more of her breasts, and she was now drenched in his saliva. His fingers, no longer tethered to her weight, yanked at her cuntlips in both directions. Priya lowered her body down and impaled the waiting beast that was his cock the minute she felt the cockhead at her doorway.

For a virgin cunt to slam down on such a weapon of a cock was a daring thing to do. However, ignorance is bliss, and the crime was committed. As her cunt seared open to the hot cock slamming up, the pain was terrible. Her weight dragged her along, and she couldn't stop. Before she could register the fuck, the cunt had fully sunk and he was up in her womb, writhing and pulsing.

Polash Ghoshal howled with delight as the virgin cunt's velvet sleeve gripped his cock. Even as he tore into her, sensations shot through his essence, and he briefly felt her hymen resist. As she quivered and shuddered on her crucifix, more of her weight was transferred to his hands, and he held her. In response, the insides of her thighs stiffen up to the point of excruciating discomfort. She shivered and shuddered as she let her body calm and relax.

He held her steady while she whimpered, knowing she was in anguish. Her virginity was brutally ripped apart. She was clinging to him. Tears welled up in her eyes, and as the feelings gave way to pleasure, she found herself wishing she could relive it all. Why would anyone want to go through such excruciating agony and stretching again? Nature, on the other hand, took over, and her instincts compelled her to seek more. Her weight was transferred to her hands once more, and his hands were free to move her body once more. Polash Ghoshal took off the last of her clothing and tossed it on the leafy ground below.

Her body spread out gloriously as she lifted herself up. As her hands stretched upward, he noticed the ripple of well-toned arms. Her shoulders were rounded by her arms. Her breasts were stretched and pouting upward as her body was one one stretch of flesh from torso to fingertips, and her muscles were stiff from the tension of lifting her body.

The curves, hills, and valleys of her breasts, shoulder, stomach, and thighs played games with the light. Polash Ghoshal gazed at the woman's young sleek and flexible figure, which glistened.

She sunk down on his cock for the second time, this time more confidently, and a rush of fluid poured out of her. Polash Ghoshal felt the fluid rush down his balls and thighs, soaking his pubic hair. It could have been blood or her own bodily fluids. He had no way of knowing and didn't give a damn.

Her flesh stretched out fully again and sank down around his aching cock as his hands gripped her ass and gratefully welcomed her weight.

"Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" She giggled and leaned back in her chair, her eyes closed, loving the sensation of flesh on flesh stroking.

She lifted and dropped herself once more. And then there was the third time, and the fourth time, and the fifth time, and "That's it, Babuji! Take that, you beast! Take that, my man's father!" With every thrust and parry of her body down on his waiting cock, she repeated it over and over.

The mango tree's branches sagged and bowed as she lifted and dropped herself. As she humped him, the rustle of leaves greeted her thrusts. With every thrust of Polash Ghoshal's daughter-in-law down on her father-in-cock, law's the branches trembled and the leaves spoke their own story.

Polash Ghoshal surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure of being encased in a tight virgin cunt's sheath. Most of the pussies he had encountered had a firm grasp on his large cock and round head. However, because this was a near-first, the tightness was exasperating.

He clenched his hands around her asscheeks and determined to take control of the pleasure process for a few thrusts. He hoisted her higher, aided by her own efforts, and then let her down with no assistance on her trip down when she least anticipated it. Priya began to sob in delight as the cock was driven into her cunt with greater force than before.

Her back was raw from the tree trunk's abrasions. The unreasonably wide length ached her thighs. Her muscles were aching from the abrupt and strenuous activity. Her cunt, on the other hand, desired more. She took much more. And then he gave.

As one attempted to undo the other, the fucking became increasingly savage. The rustling of leaves and moans and shouts were soon joined by the thumping sound of mangoes striking the ground. Young mangoes were being dislodged by the strong shaking of branches, and the fruit was thumps upon the leaf bed below.

The wild couple tried to tone down their tempo and add some rhythm to try save the mangoes, and more critically, to avoid attracting attention. But the sexual chemistry was too powerful to subdue.

And soon they had notice.

"Who is that stealing our mangoes?" screamed out Polashbabu's wife.

Both of them froze. Priya let go of the branches and put her arms around Polashbabu's shoulders and raised herself on, but in the process she was almost fully off his cock. Her legs were no longer spread apart as she had achieved before. Therefore she hung on to his shoulder and attempted to prevent slipping down on his cock. She was afraid she would be torn apart if she did not stretch herself out and she didn't want to chance it.

She tried to let her legs down but Polashbabu would have none of it. He held her thighs hard and kept her around his hips. There was a tussle of him wanting to dive again into her hot throbbing pussy and she wanting to escape getting plundered open.

As she struggled to keep off and he tried to thrust up into her, he looked towards the house only to see his wife staring towards the mango tree. He moved the girl wrapped around him away from the house, beyond the mango tree, towards the cowshed at the back. With each step was a shuffling of feet and leaves gave away his movements. With each stride was the bouncing of her body and the cunt nosed, rode, or sank, to varied extents at varying moments on his bobbing cock.

The woman stepped towards the mango trees, "Who is there?"

"Haaaah!" came a hoarse scream from Priya as with one his steps Polashbabu speared her fully. He felt glad when he slid in fully, for he could not endure the suspense. For the following several steps he was tucked in her and the progress to the shed was sluggish. But it was more delightful as they jiggled and fucked with every move. Priya's eyes were on the undulating shape of her mother-in-law and she immediately muttered to her Babuji, "Take us away swiftly, we will fuck later, elsewhere. Stop now!"

The desperation in her speech was not lost on Polashbabu, he dragged her off his cock and staggered towards the cowshed. As soon as they were in, he relieved his weary arms by letting her lean on a buffalo. Priya let her arms fall and sprawled herself back on the buffalo, her ass still in Polashbabu's hands. Immediately, the zamindar fucked her hard and fast giving himself satisfaction from the build up induced by the stoppage at the mango orchard.

The squelching sounds and the sobbing from the fucking filled the shed and the buffalo shuffled its feet beneath the forceful thrusts from zamindar. Priya grasped Polashbabu's shoulders as she lost equilibrium. Once again she was wrapped around his hips fucking him hard.

Nothing, it seemed nothing, could keep them back from fucking. They merely had to try to tame one another and strong lust had captured them.

Now they heard footsteps outside the cowshed. There was only one way for zamindar to prevent his wife from entering the shed. He took Priya to the door of the shed so that she leaned on the door, making it difficult, if not impossible for anyone to force it in and enter.

It also allowed him to continue to fucking her, for he felt he would go wild if the thrusting were to cease. He just had to have that hot, wet, bubbling cunt ride him. Now, as he thrust, the thump of her body against the metal door became the drumbeat of their lust. Their fucking tapped its rhythm on the metal. Priya's fingers were over the top of the door as she reached up and behind to support herself.

"Zamindarbabu! You animal!" she hissed.

"You whore!" he shouted at her, fucking her up twice harder for good measure.

"Who is that?" came up a voice from real close.

"It's me! Go out from here!" answered the zamindar  gruffly.

The wife recognised the voice of the guy who no one dared disobey and stopped short. Those fingertips which she observed on the top of the door were not a man's. The feet which she could see at the foot of the door were pointing towards the door and were here husband's.

The door itself was bending as if pressure were being exerted on it and with each bend, came a thump. The thumps came in a cadence she had once been accustomed to, albeit not lately, putting her in little question as to what was going on. What she did not, and could not know, was who.

But that was not such a big concern for she knew her hubby banged at will. Discreet, and resigned over the years to the ways of his feudal lordship she went out, and maintained a watch from afar.

As the footsteps receded, both zamindar and Priya wanted to relax their limbs and he allowed her to slide down, all along the metal door. Her falling body tugged his cock downwards till it eventually slid out, then sprung up when liberated, smearing itself on her belly. Then as she slid further, it rested across her breasts. Polashbabu gripped her by her armpits, luxuriating in the warmth of the valley of her breasts. And then her face was in his groyne.

She peered in awe at the exquisite example of maleness. "This is worth losing my virginity for," she thought to herself. And she did something she had seen the porn DVDs that the females at the college hostel had previously brought. She kissed the cock, tasting herself and him, but of course, not knowing which flavour was male and which feminine. She opened her lips and let him to slide into the wet warm depths of her mouth. zamindar put his hand on her pretty head of beautiful hair and fucked her face. "God! This woman knows it all. This has been worth the decadence!" he thought to himself. "I must have her in my house."

Priya's palm clenched over the cylinder of flesh as she pumped in and out of her lips and then suddenly she let go. She slipped to the straw on the floor of the cowshed and now was kneeling to construct a thick enough bed of hay for them to lie on and fuck. As she knelt and went about this chore, she could see from the opening at the foot of the door Polashbabu's wife standing at the rear veranda of the house staring towards the cowshed.

Polashbabu was meanwhile riveted by the sight of his son's fiancé on all fours in front of him. Her hips were provocatively swaying and her knees were adequately apart. He knelt behind her and raised her skirt, revealing her once again. A hand went under her and he grasped her soft stomach. With his other hand he guided his cock, slathering the valley between her legs. It touched her anus, her perineum and her coarse haired pussy. The slit was gaping open and wet and took but a second to absorb his cock.

Priya gasped as fresh regions in her pussy were now caressed by that knobby monster. She braced herself on all fours allowing zamindar to ride her. Soon his hands came up to grab her breasts. He gripped her hard, pinching her nipples. Then he rose himself on one knee. From this position of strength, he fucked her hard.

With each thrust, Priya sobbed out her delight. Her eyes were closed as she concentrated on the hot pillar slamming her. Waves of orgasms spilled out of her cunt. When her eyes were awake they automatically strayed to the wife standing on the veranda. Her would be mother-in-law stood there, picking up wafts of sounds originating from the cowshed.

Priya's eyes opened with amazement with Polashbabu shifted the position and the rearing cock head brushed her g-spot. She blabbered out loud and frantically, " Babujeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Oh fuck! Yes, take me. Make in me that child whom you wanted. Yah, yah, yah!"

She started to buck and thrash back at zamindar. His cock twisted and spun and he felt her pussy walls contracting and ravaging his cock. The convulsions of her climax had her bucking like a cow mounted by a bull and he clutched her breasts hard to stay on to her. His fingers were clearly making their mark on her fragile skin yet those breasts were so ripe, and so asking to be eaten!

Priya noticed the zamindar's shaking and loss of control when she moved and twisted on that cock. Now was the time for her to hammer her point. She leaned forward and allowed his cock to glide almost entirely out.

Polashbabu desperately surged forward to reach the hot wet nesting area again. Priya cleverly evaded him. As she moved more forward, the angle of cunt to cock shifted and the zamindar feared losing her pussy altogether. He halted so that at least he wouldn't lose the positioning.

She now slowly rode back, the pussy merely gliding over the exposed and furious head. zamindar shuddered. He thrust his hips forward, allowing his cock to project outward, totally exposed, ready to absorb the clutching cunt's caress on his shaft. But it never came.

Priya had turned her head and was looking back at him. Her luscious black hair was undone and framed her face, her shoulders, and her breasts. She grinned at him. He gasped and massaged her buttocks, kneading them and sliding his fingernails all the way up to her shoulders. She shuddered and shook under the touch.

Her hips, on the other hand, remained completely motionless. "Isn't this what you want, isn't it?" she asked, a swift backward jab of her pussy.

zamindar shivered, and the muscles in his neck and head began to spasm. He hissed, "Y...ye...... yesssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss"

"How will you get it" — and here she fucked him really hard — "if I am not in your house?" she added with a harsher jab. Finally, she rotated her cunt in all directions, dragging his cock in all directions.

"You are welcome to visit my home. Aaaaaaaaaaaaah! You scumbag! You're a whore! You scumbag! "As his nails dug into the fleshy ass, zamindar yelled.

"But how?" you might wonder. pushed Priya away from him, holding her cunt and leaning forward to the edge of a'slip-out'

"Marry — uh- my- yaah- sonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn"

"Then you can have me whenever you want," Priya grumbled as the waves in her stomach rose again.

"Can I fuck you like the bitch you are?" Polashbabu pleaded, his hands on her hips as she bowed her head and raised her ass to him. Now that they'd made a bargain, she was relinquishing authority to him.

"Yes, please take me! You can have as much as you want! I can't live without your satisfying cock! "zamindar Polashbabu, a woman at least 30 years younger than her Babuji, implored.

Now was the time for zamindar to unleash his seed and cum and fill her up. He simply had to. Polashbabu couldn't stand this girl's tight and clutching cunt, her gymnastics, her sauciness, and the sheer illicitness of their mating.

He got into the mating rhythm and began pounding in and out indiscriminately. As climax after orgasm was dragged out of her poor, battered pussy, Priya was reduced to a wailing and quivering mess of exploding flesh. It was a bit much to go from virgin to an hour (or more?) long fuck in one night.

Then as her own pleasure subsided and her mind started to notice what stage he was in she realised he was going to fill her with his seed. Could she consent to that? She was impregnated by a man who was not her husband. Is it also his father? She considered leaving just as he was about to start cumming. But she was also aware of her own desire to feel the hot, boiling semen surge through her body.

Her pussy hurt from the pounding they'd been giving each other, so she hoped the gushing fluids would help. But what about pregnancy?

"I'm going to fill you with my seed, beti!" grumbled zamindar as his cock reacted to the constant pounding. Everything seemed to be gathering deep within his body to pour out his lust into this young woman kneeling in front of him. As the fucking continued unabated, his hands reached under and felt the soft, hanging breasts jiggle. "Now you're going to give us the next generation of zamindars!" he triumphantly exclaimed.

Priya knew the answer as soon as she heard it. Yes, it was the same genetic line, whether father or son, she reasoned. She didn't need an explanation; all she needed was something to allow her to take what she so desperately desired.

zamindar slipped out as she leaned forward.

He screamed, "What the..............!" As it missed its warm clutching cunt, his cock lurched and jerked wildly.

Priya sat down, her legs spread wide. Her breasts were open, spread out, and mauled, with finger nail marks and saliva smeared all over them. Her cunt was ravaged, wide, and red. Her eyes glimmered with desire. And she had her arms outstretched, inviting zamindar Polashbabu to join her.

"Come, fill me up the way a lady should be filled!" He was invited by her.

zamindar knelt down between her legs and sank into the puddle. The cunt, which had previously been gripping and tight, had now become open and lubricated. He yanked himself out and dried himself with his dhoti's cloth, and he did the same with her outer lips.

She took a deep breath and braced herself. He pushed forward. As her cunt received the hot pillar and the nerves carried the thrill message to her brain, the pleasure was intense. She shook her hips and yelled, "zamindar, fuck you. I'm hungry! Please take me! Take your son's fiancée with you! Yes, fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk"

zamindar's chest rested on her beautiful breasts, and his hips slid in and out of her cunt. His seed boiled up, and when his first spurt came, he pressed himself deep inside, his back arched, his head thrown back, and he was as deeply embedded in her as he could be at the time of the semen shooting.

The cock's head was almost touching her womb when the semen arrived, splashing deep into her recesses.

Priya's nails dug violently into the zamindar's ass as the warm surge spread through her. She yanked and squeezed, yanked and yanked, yanked and yanked, yanked and yan She was after every last drop.

zamindar drew back and pushed in even harder. Another large amount of sperm was injected into her. She let out a gasp. This was a massive flood. And with another thrust, he filled her up even more, the mixed juices this time flowing outwards as he pulled to fuck once more.

As she approached, the violent thrusting made her shudder and wail.

"Babujeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Please make me yours! Make that child for us! "she screamed

"Beti. Beti. Certainly, beti "As his spurting cock became the centre of his world, he panted in short, terse words. It was as if he was pouring himself completely into her.

As she caressed him, her hands ran up and down his back, ass, and hips. They shuddered and shook. Juices were swapped and then released. Shudders and shivers gradually replaced the jerking and thrusting. She let out a contented sigh. If she had zamindar Polashbabu on her side, sexually and authoritatively, this was going to be a happy marriage.

Her motivations for enrolling in this programme, as well as her expectations as she completed it, were different. What had begun as a challenge and then evolved into a control game was now to be pursued for the sake of pleasure.

He whispered into her ear, "Come into my house as a bride!" as his cock receded, losing the powerful hardness she had given it.

"But not yours," she said, her hips jiggling. zamindar spasmed as the edges of his rapidly fading orgasm were squeezed out by her muscles.

"That was not something I said. But I want you to live with me. We have the right to take and be taken as we please "He was adamant.

"Is that a promise?" she inquired, the excitement of this man's strong fucking making her want to fuck him right now. Where a large rampant cock had been, her pounding cunt found only a small jut of tender flesh. He trembled and remained as sensitive as ever.

"Aaah! So, what exactly do you want now?" He muttered something.

"You!" she exclaimed haughtily.

He confessed, "You have me!"

She inquired, "When is the wedding?"

"Everything went according to plan."

"How about us?"

"We'll do it as and when we can."

Polashbabu's wife became aware of the eerie silence that had descended upon the cowshed. The rustling, thumping on the metal door, shuffling of hay, cows stomping their feet and the occasional mooing, as well as muffled moans and mumbling, had all died away.

There was silence once more. She stood there watching as the woman opened the cowshed door. The woman paused and looked around. Polashbabu's wife couldn't tell who it was because she couldn't see it. However, she was clearly missing a blouse and was clutching the remnants to her chest. In the light of the tube at the pump house, the woman was briefly visible as she ran. Her ghagra (skirt) was crumpled, and there were brown stains on the back.

Zamindar took a step forward, smoothing his flowing kurta. He appeared to be stumbling. His wife had already left the scene and it was too late for her to leave quietly. She said, "Hey, hey, hey, hey, "Pay attention! Dinner has been served! Please come in!"

"Yes, coming!" exclaimed the zamindar as he bent to pick up a half-ripe mango from the strewn raw fruit beneath the trees' leaves. He reflected that it was a pleasant evening to have during the season of fruit ripening.