In the quiet lanes of Gokuldham Society, where families lived in harmony, a new society was taking shape—one fueled by lust and hidden desires. When Gokuldham turned into a den of raw, throbbing passion, the Gada household became the epicenter of a steamy, forbidden tale.
The Gada family was a typical one. Jethalal, a 38-year-old chubby businessman, ran an electronics shop, always busy with deals. His wife, Daya, a 32-year-old Gujarati beauty, was a walking fantasy with her curvy figure, tight sarees, and heavy boobs that made every man in the society steal glances. Her innocent smile hid a burning pussy that only Jethalal could satisfy. Their son, Tipu, an 18-year-old college kid, was always out with friends, leaving the house to Jethalal, Daya, and Champaklal, or Babuji, a 62-year-old widower whose wife had passed away years ago. Despite his age, Babuji’s eyes still sparkled with a dirty hunger, and his body, though aged, carried a surprising strength—and a cock that could still make a woman scream.
One lazy morning, the sun peeked through Gokuldham’s balconies. Jethalal was sprawled on the bed, snoring like a buffalo. Daya, draped in a yellow saree that clung to her sweaty curves, brought a cup of tea to wake him. “Jethiya, get up! It’s 9 already. Shop nahin jana?” she cooed, her voice sweet but teasing. Jethalal just grunted and buried his face in the pillow.
Daya sighed, her saree’s pallu slipping to reveal her deep navel. She glanced around—Tipu was at college, Babuji was at the temple, and the house was dead silent. A naughty smile curled her lips. “Not waking up, huh? Let’s see about that,” she whispered. She knelt by the bed, tugged Jethalal’s pajama down, and his soft cock flopped out. Her soft fingers wrapped around it, stroking slowly. The cock twitched, growing harder with each rub.
“Mmm… Daya, what’s this?” Jethalal mumbled, eyes still shut, but his dick was wide awake now. Daya didn’t answer. She leaned closer, her hot breath teasing his cockhead. Her tongue flicked out, tasting the tip, and Jethalal groaned. Daya’s pussy was already wet, her saree hiked up to her thighs. She climbed onto the bed, straddling him, and rubbed her heavy boobs against his face through her blouse.
“Jethiya, ab toh utho!” she giggled, grinding her hips. Jethalal’s eyes snapped open. He grabbed her waist, pulling her into a hungry kiss. His hands slid under her saree, finding her wet pussy through the petticoat. “Aah… Jethiya, slow down… someone might come!” Daya moaned, but her eyes screamed for more.
Just then, the doorbell rang. Babuji was back from the temple. Daya and Jethalal froze, quickly fixing their clothes. Daya rushed out, her saree disheveled, while Jethalal cursed under his breath. Babuji plopped onto the sofa, but he’d heard their moans from outside. His mind raced. “What am I thinking? My son and bahu… this is wrong!” he scolded himself, grabbing a newspaper. But his eyes kept drifting to Daya’s swaying hips as she moved in the kitchen, her saree barely hiding her round ass.
Days passed, and things took a wild turn. Jethalal had to leave town for a business deal. “Daya, I’ll be back in 10-12 days. Take care of Tipu and Babuji,” he said, kissing her forehead. Daya smiled, but her pussy ached already. Jethalal fucked her senseless every night, and without his cock, she felt like a bitch in heat.
That night, alone in bed, Daya tossed and turned. Her pussy throbbed, begging for relief. She slipped her fingers under her nightie, rubbing her clit, but it wasn’t enough. She needed a real cock, and her mind wandered to something she’d seen earlier.
The next morning, Babuji was in the bathroom when the water stopped. “Daya, bahu! Get me a bucket of water!” he shouted, his face covered in soap. Daya filled a bucket and knocked. “Babuji, open the door,” she called. Without thinking, Babuji swung the door wide open, standing buck naked. Daya’s eyes locked onto his cock—7 inches, thick, and veiny, even at his age. Her jaw dropped, and her pussy clenched. She handed him the bucket and scurried away, her heart pounding.
Babuji didn’t notice her stare, but Daya couldn’t shake the image. “God, Babuji’s cock is so big! What must it have been like in his prime?” she thought, her fingers slipping into her pussy that night. She came hard, imagining Babuji’s cock stretching her.
The next morning, Daya hatched a dirty plan. Before Babuji woke up, she drilled a small hole in the bathroom door, angled perfectly to see the shower—and his cock. When Babuji went to bathe, Daya crept outside, peeking through the hole. His cock swung under the water, glistening. Daya’s saree was up, her fingers buried in her pussy, moaning softly. “Aah… Babuji… so fucking big…” she whispered, her juices dripping.
For days, this became her routine—spying on Babuji’s cock by day, fingering herself to his image at night. But one morning, it all went wrong. Babuji finished brushing his teeth and stepped out early, forgetting his towel. Daya, caught mid-peek, tried to flee but tripped. The next day, Babuji planned to catch her. As Daya peered through the hole, he flung the door open. She fell, twisting her ankle, crying out in pain.
Babuji helped her to the bedroom, laying her on the bed. “Daya, you okay? I’ll call Anjali or Madhavi,” he said, but as he stepped out, a wicked thought hit him. “She was staring at my cock. Her pussy’s probably dripping for it.” He grinned, his cock stirring.
He returned and said, “Bahu, no women are around to massage your leg. I’ll do it. No need to feel shy.” Daya, wincing in pain, nodded. Babuji grabbed oil and lifted her petticoat to her thighs. Her creamy, thick thighs made his cock rock hard. He poured oil, his hands gliding over her skin, inching closer to her pussy.
Daya’s pain eased, but her pussy was on fire. Babuji’s fingers brushed her pussy lips, and she moaned, “Aah!” Her eyes fluttered shut, half in pain, half in pleasure. Babuji’s hands moved to her ass, kneading the soft flesh. Daya’s moans grew louder, her pussy soaking her petticoat.
Suddenly, Daya opened her eyes. “Babuji, don’t you ever feel lonely? You’ve been alone for so long. We’re here, but… that pleasure, that fucking… only a partner can give it.” Her voice was bold, desperate.
Babuji smirked. “You’re talking about sex, bahu? Honestly, sometimes I crave it bad. But your saas is gone. What can I do?” Then he threw a curveball. “By the way, what were you doing by the bathroom?”
Daya’s heart raced. She threw caution to the wind. “Babuji, Jethiya’s been gone for days. I’m so fucking lonely. You’re alone too. Why don’t we… help each other?”
Babuji’s cock twitched. He leaned in, kissing her forehead. “I’m always here for you, bahu,” he said, then left the room. Daya’s pussy throbbed, knowing what was coming.
Her ankle felt better by evening. In the kitchen, as she cooked, Babuji sneaked up, grabbing her waist. His hands cupped her boobs, squeezing hard. “Babuji, what are you doing?” Daya gasped, but her pussy betrayed her excitement.
“No more Jethiya’s absence for you, bahu. We’ll fuck each other’s loneliness away,” Babuji growled, pinching her nipples through her blouse. Daya moaned, her head tilting back. Babuji tried to kiss her, but she slipped away to the hall, giggling nervously.
He chased her, pinning her against the wall. “Where you running, my slut?” he whispered, kissing her hard. Daya kissed back, their tongues dancing. His cock pressed against her thigh, hard as steel.
After a steamy make-out, Daya pulled away. “Babuji, chai?” she asked, blushing. He nodded, smirking. She served him tea and went back to cooking, but the air was thick with lust.
That night, after Tipu was asleep, Babuji crept into Daya’s room. She was in a saree, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Babuji, so late?” she teased, knowing damn well why he was there.
“Bahu, you got hurt because of me. And you work so hard. Let me massage your body,” Babuji said, locking the door. Daya smiled and lay on the bed. “Take off your clothes,” he ordered. Daya hesitated, then stripped off her saree, petticoat, and blouse, leaving her in a black bra and panties. She wrapped a towel around herself and lay face-down.
Babuji poured oil on her legs, his hands working her calves, then her thighs. Daya moaned softly, “Aah… Babuji… feels so good…” His hands reached her ass, squeezing her round cheeks. He pulled her panties down slightly, pouring oil between her ass crack. Daya’s pussy dripped, her moans louder now. “Uff… Babuji… slow down!” she gasped, but her hips bucked.
He moved to her back, his fingers grazing her boobs. Daya couldn’t take it anymore. She flipped over, her towel falling off. “Babuji, I can’t wait. I’ve been alone too long. Fuck me, please!” she begged, her pussy glistening.
Babuji grinned. “That’s what I wanted to hear, bahu.” He grabbed a condom from under the table and stripped naked. His 7-inch cock stood proud. Daya’s eyes widened, her pussy aching.
He climbed on her, kissing her fiercely. His hands mauled her boobs, tearing off her bra. “Aah… Babuji… so rough!” Daya moaned, loving it. She spread her legs, begging, “Lick my pussy, Babuji. I need it.”
Babuji slapped her cheek lightly. “No licking, bahu. I like it raw. Straight to fucking.” Daya pouted but spread her pussy wider, inviting him. Babuji rubbed his cock against her wet slit, teasing her. “Aah… Babuji… put it in!” she cried.
With one hard thrust, he buried his cock deep in her pussy. “Aaah!” Daya screamed, her pussy stretched tight. The bed creaked as Babuji pounded her, each thrust making a wet “slap… slap…” sound. Daya’s boobs bounced wildly, her moans filling the room. “Uff… Babuji… so big… fuck me harder!”
“Take it, you slut! My cock’s been starving!” Babuji growled, slapping her ass. He flipped her into doggy style, ramming her pussy from behind. Daya’s ass jiggled, her moans turning to screams. “Aah… ooh… Babuji… you’re killing me… uff!” Her pussy clenched, cumming hard around his cock.
Babuji pulled her legs onto his shoulders, fucking her deeper. “Uff… Babuji… you fuck better than Jethiya!” Daya gasped, her second orgasm building. Babuji pinched her nipples, making her scream. “Shut up, randi! Take my cock!” he roared.
After an hour of relentless fucking, Babuji groaned, “Bahu, I’m cumming!” Daya moaned, “Inside me, Babuji!” He ripped off the condom, shooting his hot cum deep in her pussy. Daya came again, her body shaking.
They collapsed, panting. “Babuji, you fucked my thirst away,” Daya whispered, her pussy still tingling.
“Bahu, I’ve wanted to fuck every woman in Gokuldham. You’re just the start,” Babuji chuckled. Daya smiled. “I’m yours, Babuji. Jethiya’s wife and yours too.”
Babuji’s cock twitched, ready for more. Until Jethalal returned, Gokuldham was his playground.
Anjali’s fed up with Tarak. Who’ll fuck her pussy next? What do you think? Share your thoughts!