Daddies Brat

Story 1

I had just turned nineteen. Unlike the West most guys in my country, India, were still virgins at that age, making the best use of their hands. But that did not stop them from fantasizing. I was like any other guy.

The Mehta’s had moved into our apartment recently. Their’s was a small family husband, wife, and their six-year-old kid. Mr. Mehta ran some business and was always traveling. Mrs. Mehta was a friendly lady she must have been about 34 or 35 at the most, but most of the time she kept to herself. She had a lovely figure rather curvaceous with huge assets which were imprisoned inside her blouse as she wore only traditional wear. She had beautiful eyes. She would always smile and ask me how I was doing.Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

whenever she would see me. And I always used to help her carry her groceries up the three flights to her house.

I used to go up to the terrace every day to work out as there was no gym near my place. I used to work up a nice sweat and come back home only after a few hours of exercise. Now our terrace was common for all the residents of the building, but not everyone would come up, except for certain gatherings or to dry their clothes, which gave me all the liberty. I would work out in my shorts without anything to cover my upper body. Once in a while Mrs. Mehta had walked up to the terrace to collect the clothes she had set to dry and every time she smiled at me I had this feeling, that her eyes strayed all over me, especially my crotch. Again maybe it was just the mind of a perverted nineteen-year-old working overtime.

Once in a while, I was bored to work out, so I would light up a smoke but, make sure no one would ever find out.

It was one of those days when I was relishing my smoke without a care in the world when I heard someone behind me. I turned and saw Mrs. Mehta standing and staring at me. Now a nineteen-year-old smoking in the West is no big deal but in India that sure is taboo. I froze looking at Mrs. Mehta and quickly stubbed out my cigarette. She left without a word. I was scared shitless for she knew my mom and if she were to tell her, I was in deep shit. The next two days I did not go to the terrace for fear of passing Mrs. Mehta’s house.

I was coming back from my friend’s house when I bumped into Mrs. Mehta. She just looked at me and straight away asked me what would happen if she told my mom I smoked. I turned pale and begged her not to, I even promised her I would never smoke again. She gave me a stern look and asked me to come see her after a while. I had no choice and I agreed. As I took the staircase to go up to her house my heart was pounding hard. I had no clue as to how to convince her.

I rang her doorbell. She opened the door and ordered me in. She asked me to sit down on her couch. I did as she asked me. She then asked me how long I had been smoking. I told her I just started as all my friends from college smoked. She smiled, which got me confused. She then told me she wouldn’t tell my mom if I helped her exercise as she was putting on weight and she couldn’t go to a gym as her hubby didn’t like the idea. I gladly accepted. We decided that we would work out together starting Saturday as her hubby was supposed to go on a business trip for a few days.

When I rang the bell on Mrs. Mehta’s door she opened it up and I could see she was ready for her lessons dressed in a track pant and a t-shirt. We started with some warming exercises. And then we started skipping rope taking turns. Now friends I had no intentions in mind but, when I saw her skipping rope and her breasts jiggling in front of me, it almost gave me a hard-on. Mrs. Mehta was running up a sweat, so I asked her to stop and take a few seconds off. I started doing a few push-ups and my sweatshirt was making it difficult for me to do it right. Mrs. Mehta noticed it and asked me to feel free to take it off and work out. I pulled off my sweatshirt and Mrs. Mehta noticed my lean physique for the first time. We worked out for an hour together that day and I left promising her that I would be there, at the same time the next day.

I entered Mrs. Mehta’s house at the same time the next day and again she was wearing track pants and a t-shirt all ready for our workout session. I was wearing my shorts and a long sweatshirt, as my maid had dumped both my tracks in the washing machine.

I finished jumping rope and handed her the skipping rope. She started jumping rope, but there was something different today. I could see her breasts were jumping more freely and that’s when I realized that she wasn’t wearing a bra today. My cock was at a complete attention. I did not know how to react, I tried not to look at her and concentrate on something else but, it was the most difficult thing to do. Mrs. Mehta was sweating now and I could see her breasts as the t-shirt was clinging on to her skin. I asked her to stop but she insisted that she wanted to do it a little longer. I just had to agree.