In the bustling Gokuldham Society, the morning sun filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow over Jethalal’s house. Jethalal, a 45-year-old hefty businessman with a famous electronics shop in Mumbai, was still sprawled across his bed, exhausted from last night’s marathon. His wife, Daya, 38, with long black hair, fair skin, and a curvy figure that her saree hugged tightly, was in the kitchen brewing tea. Their son, Tappu, a 21-year-old college student addicted to his phone, was holed up in his room. Champaklal, Jethalal’s 70-year-old father, spry and a bit naughty despite his age, sat in the living room flipping through a newspaper.
It was 8 AM. Jethalal was still half-asleep, his body heavy from the wild night he’d spent fucking Daya senseless. His mind replayed the way her body moved under him, her moans echoing in his ears. Meanwhile, Tappu was glued to his phone, scrolling through incest stories, his fingers flying across the screen. Champaklal, glancing at an article, smirked but kept sneaking peeks toward the kitchen where Daya worked, her saree swaying with every step.
Champaklal put down his paper and called out, “Daya! Wake Jethalal up! How long will that man sleep? The shop’s waiting!”
Daya replied from the kitchen, “Yes, Babuji, I’m on it!” Her voice carried a hint of hesitation—she knew Jethalal was drained from pounding her all night. Still, she smoothed her saree, her fingers brushing her round ass, and walked to the bedroom. Her hips swayed, catching Champaklal’s eye for a moment. He felt a stir but quickly buried his nose back in the newspaper.
In the bedroom, Daya gently tapped Jethalal’s shoulder. “Tappu ke Papa, get up. It’s morning.” Her voice was teasing, laced with affection. Jethalal, eyes still shut, mumbled, “Let me sleep, Daya. You know how much I worked last night.” A sly grin crept across his face as he cracked an eye open to look at her.
Daya blushed, knowing exactly what he meant. “Oh, I know,” she said, smirking. “But Babuji’s calling. Get up!” She tugged at his blanket, but Jethalal grabbed it, pulling her closer. “I’m craving you again,” he whispered, his hand sliding to her waist. Daya giggled, pushing him away. “Stop it, Tappu ke Papa. Babuji’s outside, and Tappu’s home.”
Just then, Champaklal’s voice boomed, “Jetha! Still in bed? Should I come drag you out?” The mock anger made Jethalal bolt upright. He smacked Daya’s ass playfully as he headed to the bathroom. “You’ll kill me one day,” he chuckled. Daya adjusted her saree, blushing, and went back to the kitchen.
Half an hour later, Tappu left for college, and Champaklal headed out to meet friends. The house was quiet, just Jethalal and Daya. He sat at the dining table, sipping tea, his eyes following Daya as she moved around. Her saree’s pallu had slipped, revealing her smooth, fair midriff and deep navel. Jethalal’s cock twitched at the sight.
“Daya, come here,” he called, his voice low. She walked over, standing close to the table. Jethalal stood, grabbed her ass firmly, and growled, “How’s my sexy wife feeling?” Daya squirmed, giggling. “Tappu ke Papa, behave. It’s morning.” But her eyes sparkled with the same mischief that drove him wild.
He pulled her into his arms, kissing her neck deeply. “Last night’s still fucking with my head,” he said, his fingers sliding over her thighs through the saree. Daya smiled, her breath quickening. “I had fun too, my love. But you need to get to the shop.” Jethalal ignored her, capturing her lips in a hungry kiss. His tongue tangled with hers, and she melted into him, her fingers digging into his back. “Mmm… Tappu ke Papa, what are you doing?” she gasped, half-pushing him away, her voice dripping with excitement.
“Just having some fun, baby,” he grinned, squeezing her ass again. He tried to lift her saree, but Daya stopped him, blushing. “Someone might see!” Jethalal didn’t care, sliding a finger along her ass crack. She let out a soft moan, “Uff… you’re so bad.”
Suddenly, his phone rang. It was Natu Kaka. Jethalal groaned, picking it up. “Yes, Kaka, what’s up?”
“Sethji, where are you? Sharmaji’s at the shop for the meeting,” Natu Kaka said, sounding urgent.
“Sharmaji? Who’s that?” Jethalal frowned.
Daya, sensing he’d have to leave, started toward the kitchen, but Jethalal grabbed her hand. He pointed to his pants, where his hard cock was straining against the fabric. Daya’s eyes widened, a shy smile spreading across her face. “You’re impossible,” she whispered, dropping to her knees.
She unzipped his pants, her fingers trembling with excitement as she pulled out his thick, 12-inch cock. Jethalal groaned as she wrapped her soft hand around it, stroking slowly. “Fuck, Daya, you’re so good,” he muttered. She kissed the tip, her tongue swirling around the head, teasing him. “Mmm… you like that?” she purred, her voice sultry.
She took him into her mouth, her lips stretching around his girth. “Ohhh… fuck, Daya,” Jethalal moaned, his head tilting back. She sucked slowly at first, her tongue lapping at every inch, then picked up the pace. The wet sounds of her mouth—slurp, slurp—filled the room. Jethalal hung up the phone, tossing it on the table, and grabbed her hair. “Suck it harder, baby,” he growled, pushing his cock deeper into her mouth.
Daya gagged slightly, her eyes watering, but she kept going, her lips tight around him. “Mmm… ughh…” she moaned, the vibrations driving him wild. She cupped his balls, massaging them gently, making him curse under his breath. “Shit… you’re gonna make me lose it,” he panted, thrusting into her mouth. The gluck, gluck sounds grew louder as she took him deeper, her throat tightening around his cock.
His phone rang again—Sharmaji. Jethalal ignored it, too lost in the heat of Daya’s mouth. Her tongue flicked over the tip, then slid down the shaft, her hands stroking what she couldn’t fit. “Fuck… Daya… I’m close,” he groaned, his hips bucking. She sucked harder, her moans muffled—mmmph, mmmph—as she pushed him over the edge. With a loud “Ohhh… fuck!” he came, his hot load filling her mouth. Daya swallowed every drop, licking the tip clean, her eyes locked on his.
Jethalal, panting, grabbed the phone. “Yeah, Sharmaji… I’m coming,” he said, voice shaky. Daya licked his cock one last time, tucking it back into his underwear. She stood to zip his pants, but her phone rang in the other room. “Oh, it’s Ma! I’ll be back,” she said, hurrying off.
Jethalal, still buzzing from the orgasm, got lost in his call and forgot to zip his pants. He threw on a shirt and rushed to the shop, oblivious to his open fly.
What happens when Jethalal walks into the shop with his pants unzipped? Will this mistake lead to more naughty adventures? Let us know what you think!