My name is Simar, and I’m 19 years old. Life has always been a tangled mess for me. I never had a real mother, just a stepmother who made my life hell. My father was a complete bastard, never giving a damn about me. Caught up in my stepmother’s schemes, I was sold off like some cheap deal. They fixed my marriage to a guy living in Dubai, and get this—she took money instead of giving a dowry, trading my life like it was nothing.
During the COVID lockdown, my marriage happened over a fucking video call. It felt like some surreal dream, unreal and bizarre. After the so-called wedding, I was shipped off to my in-laws’ place. There, it was just my father-in-law, alone in that big-ass house. His wife, my supposed mother-in-law, had run off with some other guy years ago. My father-in-law was a middle-aged man, rugged, living solo in that sprawling mansion.
The day I arrived, he handed me a mangalsutra, saying, “This is from your husband. He told me to give it to you.” I took the heavy, shiny gold chain and put it around my neck. It felt strange getting it from his hands, but I didn’t think much of it then. The weight of the gold felt like a chain binding me to this new, fucked-up life.
Now, let’s be real—I’m no saint. After my mom died, I turned wild. I was into flirting with boys, making TikTok videos, and spending hours on video calls, teasing and talking dirty. I had guys drooling over me. Hell, I’d already fucked two of them before this marriage bullshit. I dreamed of a wild life post-wedding, moving to Dubai, living it up, and fucking my way through a glamorous life. But this lockdown and corona crap shattered every damn fantasy.
That first evening at my in-laws’ was quiet. I cooked dinner, and my father-in-law handled some household chores. We ate together, the silence heavy between us. After dinner, he went to his room to sleep. I cleaned the dishes, and my stepmother’s words echoed in my head: “He’s your father now. Serve him well.” I figured, fine, I’ll start by massaging his feet with oil or some shit.
I walked into his room. He was lying there in a lungi and a worn-out vest, his loose, striped desi underwear barely holding together. I grabbed the oil bottle and started rubbing his feet. At first, he protested, “No need, beta, don’t bother.” But I insisted, “No, Sasur ji, my stepmom told me to take care of you.” He gave in, muttering, “Fine, go ahead.”
He pulled his lungi up a bit, exposing his thick, muscular legs. As I massaged the oil into his strong, wrestler-like calves, a strange thrill shot through my body. His body was chiseled, muscles bulging like he still hit the gym hard. I kept rubbing, my hands gliding over his skin, and within minutes, I noticed a bulge forming under his lungi. His cock was getting hard, straining against the thin fabric of his underwear. He tried to hide it, shifting awkwardly, but that thick, long dick wasn’t staying hidden.
I knew the old man was getting horny, and fuck, I was too. Touching his powerful body, feeling those muscles under my fingers, sent a tingle straight to my pussy. I’d never massaged a man like this before, and it was turning me on. I slid my hands higher, teasing his thighs, inching closer to that growing bulge. His breathing got heavy, but he stayed quiet, his eyes locked on me, dark with lust.
I got bold. My fingers brushed his cock through the lungi, then gripped it lightly. He flinched but didn’t stop me. I stroked it slowly, feeling it harden even more under my touch, thick and pulsing. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I climbed onto him, straddling his hips, and pushed his vest up, rubbing oil across his broad, chiseled chest. His hard cock pressed against my pussy through the fabric, throbbing with need. I could feel it—huge, hot, and ready to fuck.
I was dripping wet now, my body screaming for it. I slid the pallu of my red wedding saree off my shoulder, letting it fall. My fingers fumbled with my blouse, popping the buttons open one by one. My small, perky tits spilled out, barely held by my bra. I unhooked it, tossing it aside, my lemon-sized breasts free, nipples hard as fuck. His eyes were glued to them, hungry. He grabbed me, pulling me against his chest, his strong arms wrapping around me like a vice.
His rough hands slid down my waist, gripping my hips. I yanked his vest off, revealing his naked, muscular torso, gleaming with sweat and oil. I ran my hands over his pecs, feeling every ridge of muscle, my pussy aching as I pressed myself closer. He was losing control, and so was I. His big hands grabbed my tits, squeezing them hard, like they were ripe fruit he couldn’t get enough of. My small breasts fit perfectly in his palms as he kneaded them, his fingers pinching my nipples. Then he leaned in, sucking one into his mouth, his hot tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. I moaned, “Oh fuck… Sasur ji… slow down…”
He didn’t. He sucked harder, nibbling my nipple, then switched to the other, devouring my tits like a starving man. My pussy was soaking now, dripping through my petticoat. I couldn’t take it anymore. I tugged his lungi off, and there it was—his massive, rock-hard cock, standing like a fucking steel rod. I wrapped my hand around it, stroking slowly, feeling its weight, its heat. He groaned, his hips twitching as I teased his dick.
He flipped me onto the bed, ripping my saree off in one swift move. I was down to my petticoat, my body exposed to his hungry gaze. He climbed over me, his lips crashing into mine, his tongue invading my mouth, wrestling with mine in a sloppy, desperate kiss. He moved lower, sucking my tits again, one hand squeezing while his mouth worked the other. I was moaning like a slut, “Ohh… fuck… yes…”
He didn’t stop there. He untied my petticoat, yanking it down, leaving me naked except for my dripping wet panties. He spread my legs wide, shoving a pillow under my hips to lift my pussy higher, right in his face. My cunt was glistening, begging for him. He ran a finger along my slit, teasing my clit, and I gasped, my hips bucking. Then he buried his face between my thighs, his tongue licking my pussy lips, flicking my clit with slow, deliberate strokes. I was losing my fucking mind. He sucked my clit, grazed it with his teeth, then slid a thick finger inside me, pumping slowly while his tongue worked my sensitive bud.
“Oh fuck, Sasur ji… don’t stop… eat my pussy…” I screamed, my hands gripping the sheets. My cunt was leaking, juices dripping down my thighs as he devoured me. He shoved his tongue deeper, lapping at my wetness, his nose rubbing against my clit. My body was on fire, every nerve screaming for release.
I couldn’t wait anymore. “Sasur ji, fuck me… put it in… I can’t take it…” I begged, spreading my legs wider. He positioned his massive cock at my entrance, the thick head pressing against my soaking pussy. With one hard thrust, he buried it deep inside me, stretching my tight cunt to its limits. I gasped, faking a little pain for effect, “Ohh… fuck… slow… it hurts…” I’d fucked before, so it wasn’t new, but his cock was huge, filling me completely.
He smirked, “First time’s like that, beta. You’ll love it soon.” I almost laughed—dumbass thought I was a virgin. I started moving, lifting my ass to meet his thrusts, urging him deeper. He took the hint, pounding into me harder, his thick cock slamming in and out of my wet pussy. The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping, my moans, and his grunts. “Fuck… Sasur ji… harder… fuck my pussy…” I screamed, my ass bouncing to match his rhythm, taking his dick as deep as it could go.
His muscular body pinned me down, his sweat mixing with mine as he fucked me senseless. My small tits jiggled with every thrust, my pussy clenching around his cock. I came twice, my juices soaking the sheets, my body shaking with each orgasm. He kept going, relentless, his cock stretching me, rubbing every inch of my tight walls. After what felt like forever—probably half a fucking hour—he groaned, his cock twitching as he unloaded inside me, his hot cum filling my pussy. He collapsed on top of me, both of us panting, sweaty, and spent.
He pulled me into his arms, his voice hoarse. “Beta, you made me feel young again.” I giggled, resting my head on his chest, his heartbeat pounding against my cheek.
Friends, that night was just the beginning. For the past month, my father-in-law has been fucking me every night, turning my life into a nonstop honeymoon. My small, lemon-like tits have grown a bit from all the attention. My husband, stuck in Dubai, jerks off on video calls, staring at my tits, while my father-in-law has become my real man. Every night, he pounds my pussy, leaving me satisfied and dripping. This lockdown might’ve fucked my dreams, but my father-in-law’s cock is making up for it.