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My loving abajaan Part 3

His lund was driving harder inside me, sawing roughly over my clitoris as he fucked into me. I clutched him desperately, grunting and moaning and panting as my body was bathed in sexual lust and desire. The center of my universe became my choot, and that hard, pounding tube of flesh sliding back and forth inside it. Then I came again, gurgling in wondrous pleasure, snapping my head back and crying out in gladness as the orgasm rolled over me and swamped my mind with ecstasy. Abbajaan was pounding down into me, and every deep, hard thrust made sent a fresh burst of explosive heat into the orgasm, raising it higher. Then he came inside me, and I knew a new joy as his sperm shot up into my belly, pouring into me like liquid life. This was how I was born, I thought dazedly. His sperm had made me, and now it was inside me. We lay together afterwards, kissing lightly, stroking each others’ bodies.


I was still stunned by the pleasure he had given me, and felt closer to him than I ever had in my life, closer than I’d ever been to anyone. After a while he slid down my body, mouthing and suckling at my breasts, then sliding his tongue over my belly and down between my legs. My eyes widened, for I’d heard of guys licking girls there, but had never had it done to me. Basheer had no interest in it. He knelt between my spread legs, propped on his elbows and looking at my makkhan choot. I felt a bit embarrassed at him looking at me like that, but the embarrassment was nothing compared to the excitement and anticipation coursing through me. His hands stroked my thighs gently, then his thumbs pressed against the soft folds of my khasta choot lips, slowly easing between them, then peeling them apart, exposing the moist, pink flesh inside.

He looked at it, then eased his head down and his tongue licked along my khasta choot meat. I gasped, then bit down on my lip as I watched and felt him. His tongue felt like fire as it slid through my quivering pink flesh. I felt it screwing down into my choot hole, licking and lapping at my inner flesh. He sucked on my hole, then moved his lips upwards over my clit. An explosion seemed to take place inside me when his lips touched my clit. The fiery pleasure roared up and made my entire body shudder in response. I jerked my head back and stared up at the ceiling as his lips sucked on my clitty, then his tongue lapped against it. My clitty was a hard, super sensitive little bud of chudai ka dana, and the things he did to it were making my mind reel. He sucked hard, then blew. He licked and nibbled. He rubbed and stroked and teased and squeezed.

I came, with cries of shocked pleasure, then came again, then again. For long, long minutes Abbajaan sucked and licked at my choot, doing things I’d never imagined before, and tearing my body apart with pleasure. A fourth time I approached orgasm, my body sweating, my hair matted against my face, my chest aching. He pulled back, then straightened, kneeling between my quivering thighs. His lund was hard again, and I longed for it. He rubbed it up and down against my clit, taunting me, teasing me, and I moaned and whimpered, needing it inside me. “Daddddyyyyy!” I moaned. “Fuck meeee! Fuck meee!” He thrust into me and I cried out in pleasure. Then he gripped my legs behind the knees, lifting them and forcing them back against my chest. He jammed them back hard, the way Basheer used to, but now there was only pleasure, and a deep sexual need in me.

He rose up over me, his weight on my legs, crushing them downwards, then thrust in hard and fast. He began to fuck me then, and there was no other word for it. It was no making love but fucking. I was being fucked, and fucked hard. His lund was pounding down into me with savage force and speed, stabbing into the center of my belly with each hard thrust. His hips pounded against my upturned ass cheeks, slamming me downwards into the bed, and I cried out with each impact, a mixture of pleasure and pain. My guts churned and writhed around his pistoning lund, and my eyes closed as I shuddered in orgiastic pleasure. I came again, my insides exploding with pleasure, my mind burning and roiling under the waves of ecstasy as Abbajaan rammed his lund down into me with wild abandon. The bed creaked and groaned underneath us as the springs flung me up to meet each new thrust.

I gurgled in helpless sexual glory, unable to breath, unable to think, basking in the fires of my own inner juices as Abbajaan’s lund continued to drive down into my fuck tunnel with relentless speed and power. Then he came inside me, his juices spewing out into my sucking fuck chamber. I felt my spasming choot suck on his boner, milking it for every last drop as he cursed and moaned and then dropped over me again. Things didn’t precisely change between me and Abbajaan, at least, not in the way I felt about him or he felt about me. The only change was lust and pleasure. For the first week we fucked like bunnies. Abbajaan was so glad to be getting sex again, especially a hot young piece like me, and I was so overjoyed at discovering the joys of my own body, that we could hardly let each other alone. We took baths together, and I rode up and down on his lund in the tub.

He fucked me on the kitchen table, and bent over the sofa. He sucked my choot repeatedly, and I sucked his lund. We kissed and hugged more often, only now his hands would usually roam over my body, squeezing my ass or titties, or sliding up between my legs. I think the best position for me, the one I liked the most, was on all fours, with Abbajaan taking me from behind doggy style. To me, nothing spoke more of being his woman, and him being my man, than to kneel on all fours like a kutia in heat, and have him mount me and ride me to orgasm. I loved sex, and loved Abbajaan for showing me how wonderful it was. I became, at least in the next months, so…sexual…so…hot and filled with desire, that often he would jerk me off right out of the blue, just for his own amusement. He would pull me into his lap, or bend me over a table or chair, or just push me against a wall, then slide his hand down my pants or up under my skirt and jerk me off. It never took more than a couple of minutes for me to come like crazy.

I was a helpless captive of my newly awakened desires, but a willing one. I moved into Abbajaan’s room shortly after that. It seemed a waste of time and effort to keep everything in my room when I spent almost every night in his bed anyway. Both of us wanted to fuck before going to bed, and first thing in the morning. I didn’t bother searching out someone else, because Abbajaan was all I needed. When I think of all the women out there married to jerks and creeps, or guys who paid them little attention, I kind of felt smug. Abbajaan was the nicest, warmest, gentlest, most caring and loving man in the world. And he was great in bed. Why would I want anyone else? Abbajaan was a little annoyed when I told him I was pregnant. I had secretly stopped taking the pill, and not told him about being pregnant until I started to show, and it was too late to do anything.

I had a son for him, then a pair of twins, girls. After that Abbajaan made sure I took the pills every day, but I think he was glad to have kids around the house again. Years later, when Anita was old enough, and starting to become sexually active, I persuaded Abbajaan to show her how much enjoyment she could get from her own body. I didn’t want her getting stuck with a creep like Basheer, and thinking sex was boring. She was a little reluctant at first, but she quickly became an enthusiastic participant in our sex life. Abbajaan even showed me how to lick choot, so that she and I could pleasure ourselves when he wasn’t around.

Too many of them, like me, give themselves to ignorant, crude, fumble fingered guys who don’t care about their pleasure. It’s too bad more girls didn’t learn about sex from their fathers.