Reeti to Rita - 8
A story of innocent lust
Previously
8
There are things in life which you cannot come back from. All those months that you wasted playing video games instead of preparing for JEE, to end up in a mediocre college, where you spend the four years watching every new TV series and movie, torrenting 4k porn, jerking off to all sorts of things, even to a video of a girl peeing in the forest, imaging that she pees on your face. You cannot come back from these things as the same person. The person before and the person after are different, a fork in the personality, a branch in the way you see the world.
As Prakash and Reeti sat on the sofa, after he had cum on her face, after she had rubbed herself thinking of all the dicks she had made hard with her nude, and after shedding every bit of modesty that she had in front of her devar, they were different people.
Reeti wasn’t just a 19 year old nubile teenager any more. She was a wife, she was a bhabhi, who knew how to take care of a man. She had been sexual only thrice, with two men who were brothers, who lived in the same household and lived pretty much the same life1. And yet, Reeti felt utterly sexual2.
She didn’t make any effort to reach for her clothes, because for the very first time in her life, she felt utterly confident in her skin. She kept looking at her bare thighs, her bare breasts, her bushy crotch — the things that have almost always been hidden.
As Prakash scrolled through the feed and was explaining various things, Reeti let her hand wander on his bare thigh. She would touch his dick, caress it, remembering how hard it felt when it was in her mouth, and how he had cum on her face, the taste of his cum.
He wasn’t her husband. But he had been involved in all the times she had cum. She was grateful to him. She was scared of him too. It made him incredibly attractive. She was too young to understand what made men tick. Prakash himself wasn’t man by then. But with Prakash, sitting their naked with him, after being photographed, Reeti felt like a woman.
The weeks following that afternoon were a ride for Reeti. Prakash was right. After those photos, the Rita Bhabhi profile attracted a lot more attention. The requests for custom photos got more and more specific, and more and more lucrative.
In front of others, Reeti and Prakash barely talked or looked at each other. However, hunched over their phones, they would be talking about when they could take the photo of her ass in a certain way that would fetch them ₹500. There chats would be around finding time for a photo session.
When they started this, Reeti thought it would be rare for the bhabhi and devar to end up alone in the house. However, it became more and more frequent. Yogesh’s worked had picked up. “It’s unusually difficult these days,” he would tell Reeti.
In a week, Yogesh would be away for 3 days, some times 4. Either to Pune or Nashik, Yogesh would not be in their marital bed. For a newly married couple it would have been difficult, especially for a girl like Reeti who had only recently discovered the pleasures of the flesh. She would feign sadness, and would show how irritated she was that she had to sleep in the bed alone.
But she was rarely alone in the bed.
The first night Prakash was scary.
“Can we take that picture tonight?” Prakash had texted. They needed a picture of Reeti covering her breasts, with the name of their patron written on her bare belly, with lipstick.
“But how?” Reeti had asked over text. They were having dinner. Yogesh was away that night. Her in-laws were talking about the inane gossip of the society, about a divorcee having an affair with three guys who shared a flat in the society.
“Keep the door unlocked. I will slip inside around 12 AM,” Prakash said. “And wear less clothes,” he added.
Reeti smiled, with her lips pursed, as her mummyji was saying to everybody in general, “I don’t know what gets inside these women. Three guys…” she shook her head.
Reeti nodded, without paying attention to her mummyji’s talks of virtuosity, while she replied, “You want me to sleep naked under the bedsheet?” with as wink. She kept the phone away.
That night, Reeti slept naked under the sheets. She went to bed around 11 PM. She video called Yogesh. She called him, lying on the bed, with nothing to cover herself except, a flimsy bedsheet. It had been only a week since their marriage.
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Well, their lives were not exactly the same then, but at least their childhoods were the same. The same comforts, the same ambitions of their parents, the same socioeconomic grooming.
Dunning-Kruger Effect is a bummer.
