My name is Madhvi, and I’m here to share a raw, real story from my life. Reading this, you’ll feel the truth in every word, as if a girl is baring her soul about her deepest experiences. Growing up, I was always the friendly type—climbing into anyone’s lap, wandering off with uncles for a stroll, never thinking twice. My parents both work for the railway, so when they left for their shifts, I was often alone at home. Sometimes, my mama would visit from the village. He doted on me, always showing up with bags of sweets, chocolates, and little trinkets like shiny hairpins or colorful ribbons. This time, he came after a two-year gap, and by then, my body had changed in ways I was just beginning to understand.
I was 18, in my final year of high school, and my curves had filled out—34B breasts, a slim waist, and hips that had grown fuller. Since these changes, I noticed the way neighborhood uncles and older boys stared at my chest. Their gazes felt strange, but I didn’t fully grasp why. That day, I came home from school in my uniform—a white blouse, blue skirt, and knee-high socks, slightly damp from the day’s heat. Mama was there, and like always, I giggled and plopped onto his lap. I thought his intentions were still innocent, like before when he’d let me sit for a few minutes before playfully nudging me off. But this time, something felt different.
Mama wrapped his strong arms around me, holding me tight against him. His grip had an intensity I hadn’t felt before, but I brushed it off. I was engrossed in a romantic scene on TV, the kind that makes your heart flutter. Then, I felt his fingers graze my thighs, slipping under my skirt. A ticklish sensation made me giggle, and I said, “Mama, that tickles! Stop it!”
He smirked, his voice low and warm. “Just watch the movie, Madhvi. It’s a good scene.” I turned back to the TV, but his hand crept higher, brushing over my pink cotton panties—the comfy ones I wore under my school uniform. I laughed again, squirming. “Mama, come on, it tickles!” But he didn’t stop. His fingers slid under the edge of my panties, touching the soft skin of my pussy. It felt strange, unfamiliar, but I didn’t yet realize it was wrong.
“Madhvi, put one leg down,” he said softly. Without thinking, I did, letting one leg dangle off his lap. His fingers began to explore between my thighs, stroking gently. A slight sting made me wince, and I grabbed his hand, my legs clamping shut. “Mama, what are you doing?” I asked, confused. He redirected my attention to the TV, saying, “Nothing, just watch the movie.” Then, with a slow, deliberate move, he tugged my panties down to my knees. I gasped, “Mama, why are you taking my panties off?”
“It’s hot, isn’t it? You’ll feel better,” he said casually, his eyes glinting. I didn’t know what to say. Then he looked at me, a challenge in his tone. “You’re such a scaredy-cat.” I puffed up, indignant. “I’m not scared!” He grinned. “Oh yeah? If you’re not scared, let me slide my finger inside your pussy.” I blinked, confused. “What’s a pussy?” He parted my legs slightly, pointing to my slit. “This.”
I hesitated, then mumbled, “Okay, you do it.” He brought his finger to my pussy, easing it in slowly. The sharp pain made me cry out, “Ow!” and I clamped my legs shut again. “See, you’re scared,” he teased. “I’m not!” I shot back, stubborn. “Then keep your legs open,” he said. I protested, “It hurts!” He softened his tone. “I’ll go slow. If it doesn’t feel good, I’ll stop.” I frowned. “Why would it feel good? It hurts!” He chuckled. “Just try it once.”
Reluctantly, I relaxed my legs. He spread them wider, his eyes fixed on my pussy with a hungry look. “Fuck, you’re so tight and fresh,” he murmured. I didn’t understand. “What’s that mean?” He brushed it off. “I’ll tell you later.” Then, without warning, he leaned down and dragged his tongue across my pussy. “Ahh… ohh…” I moaned, a mix of ticklishness and something new, something warm spreading through me. His tongue lapped at my folds, wet and hot, while he slid one finger inside, moving it in and out with a soft “schlick-schlick” sound.
For nearly 30 minutes, he worked me with one finger, his tongue flicking over my clit. Then he added a second finger. “Ahhh!” I gasped, pain shooting through me. “Mama, stop, it hurts!” But he ignored me, pumping his fingers faster, the wet sounds growing louder. My moans turned to whimpers, “Ohh… uhh… Mama, please!” He didn’t stop until a couple of minutes later, leaving me trembling, my skirt bunched at my waist, panties tangled at my knees.
From then on, it became a daily ritual. Every day after school, I’d come home in my uniform, and Mama would pull me onto his lap. My blouse would be half-unbuttoned, skirt hiked up, or panties pulled down as he fingered me. I’d stay silent, resting my head on his shoulder, eyes closed, letting out soft “ahh… ohh…” moans as his fingers worked my pussy. Sometimes he’d peel my panties off completely, spreading my pussy lips with his fingers to stare inside, or he’d lick me, his tongue swirling over my clit. Other times, he’d say, “I want to suck your tits,” and I’d unbutton my blouse, lift my bra, and offer my 34B breasts. He’d suck and nibble my nipples, sometimes biting hard enough to make me wince. Occasionally, he’d strip me down to just my bra and panties, or even fully naked, and we’d lie on the bed together, his hands roaming my body.
Mama, at 30, was cunning. He knew exactly how to play me, how to stoke the fire in my body. He’d learned every inch of my pussy—where it hurt, where it felt good. When he fingered me, I’d squirm, my hips bucking, my legs trembling. He’d slow down when I tensed, letting me adjust, and I’d let him do whatever he wanted. His fingers were like magic, stirring a need in me I didn’t understand. I started missing him during my last period at school, my body craving his touch.
One day, a relative’s wedding came up. My parents planned for us all to go, but Mama whispered to me, “Say you have a test.” I did, and when my parents asked how I’d manage alone, I mentioned Mama. They agreed, not suspecting a thing. It was the biggest mistake of my life. The day they left, their train departing at 10 a.m., I went to school, but my mind was elsewhere. I rushed home, still in my sweaty uniform—white blouse clinging to my skin, skirt slightly creased.
Mama was waiting. He cranked up the music, a pulsing beat filling the house. He pulled me into a dance, his hands sliding over my waist, my back, my hips. His touch felt electric, and I didn’t pull away. He leaned in, kissing my cheeks, then my lips. I giggled, but then he squeezed my breasts through my blouse. “Mama,” I said, blushing, “let me shower first.”
“Go ahead,” he said, his voice husky. I went to the bathroom, stripped off my blouse and skirt, standing in my pink panties and bra. I turned on the shower, letting the water cascade over me. Suddenly, I heard the door lock. I opened the latch, and Mama pushed his way in. I froze—he was stark naked, his 7-inch cock hard and thick, jutting out. I’d never seen a cock before, and my eyes locked onto it, unable to look away. He stepped closer, grabbing the soap and rubbing it over my wet body. His hands massaged my 34B breasts, my stomach, my thighs. “I’m gonna fuck you today, Madhvi,” he growled.
Before I could respond, he lifted me in his arms, his soapy fingers sliding into my pussy. “Ahhh… ohh…” I moaned loudly, my body trembling. He turned the shower on full blast and laid me on the bathroom floor, the cold tiles against my back. He climbed over me, kissing my lips hungrily, his tongue invading my mouth. “Wanna fuck?” he asked, his breath hot against my ear. I nodded, nervous but curious. “Yeah, do it.”
He peeled off my wet panties, leaving me completely naked. “I’m gonna break your cherry, but don’t scream,” he warned. He rubbed his cock against my pussy, the thick head teasing my slit. “Ohh…” I moaned, feeling its heat. He held my head with one hand, kissing me deeply, while the other guided his cock. Then, with a sudden thrust, he pushed inside. “Ahhhh!” I screamed, pain ripping through me like a knife. “Mama, stop! It hurts!” I cried, tears streaming down my face.
He didn’t stop. Another hard thrust—“thwack!”—and I pushed against his chest, but he was too strong. He paused briefly, letting me catch my breath, my sobs echoing in the bathroom. I thought he’d stop, but he adjusted his cock and thrust again. “Thwack!” Blood trickled from my pussy, my virginity torn. “Ohh… uhh… Mama, please!” I begged, writhing under him. It felt like a steel rod was pounding between my legs. “If I don’t fuck you properly, it’ll hurt more next time,” he said, his voice firm.
With that, he drove his cock deeper, using his full weight. “Thwack-thwack-thwack!” The sounds of his thrusts mixed with my moans, “Ahhh… uhh…” I loosened my legs slightly, desperate to ease the pain. “Good girl,” he murmured, thrusting faster. Each thrust stretched my tight pussy, the pain blending with a strange heat. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his hands squeezing my breasts. For 20 minutes, he fucked me, the “thwack-thwack” rhythm relentless, my moans growing louder, “Ahhh… ohh… uhh…” Finally, he came, his hot cum flooding my pussy. I gasped, my body shaking, unable to move.
He carried me to the bed, my body limp. He wiped me down with a towel, gently cleaning my breasts, my pussy, still sore and bloody. He covered me with a blanket, and I passed out from exhaustion and pain. When I woke, it was 10 p.m. Mama gave me a glass of juice, and I sipped it slowly, my pussy still burning. Then he slipped under the blanket, his hands finding my breasts again. He pinched my nipples, making me moan, “Ohh…” He kissed me, his tongue deep in my mouth, and climbed on top. “Mama, it’ll hurt again,” I whispered, scared.
“Your cherry’s already broken. It’ll hurt less now,” he said. He bent my legs, spreading them wide, and eased his cock into my sore pussy. “Ahh!” I yelped as he thrust slowly. “Thwack-thwack.” “Ohh… uhh…” I moaned, the pain sharp but less intense. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, squeezing my breasts. He fucked me for another 20 minutes, each thrust—“thwack!”—making me moan, “Ahhh… ohh…” He came again, his cum filling me. I lay there, panting, as he collapsed beside me.
The next morning, I could barely walk, my pussy aching. But Mama fucked me again, the “thwack-thwack” sounds filling the room as I moaned, “Ohh… uhh…” This went on for three days until my parents returned. For a week, Mama fucked me daily—licking my pussy, sucking my tits, pounding me with his thick cock. One night, at 1 a.m., I woke him, desperate. “Do whatever you want, just don’t leave me.” That night, he fucked me hard, his hands gripping my breasts, his cock slamming into me. “Thwack-thwack-thwack!” My moans, “Ahhh… ohh… uhh…” echoed as he ravaged me.
It became a daily routine—after school, in my uniform, or at night in my nightie, Mama would fuck me. My body changed—my skin glowed, my hips grew fuller, my breasts firmer. Maybe it was all the fucking.
What did you think of my story? Drop your thoughts in the comments!
Is it real story madhavi