The beginnings of restlessness crept into her lush body and Manya launched into her customary mound caress. She would finger herself after bath for about a few minutes everyday before preparing lunch. Now, while she was in that dreamy spell, she heard the doorbell ring. She first looked out of the window and saw that it was the grocer, who came once every three days to deliver vegetables and fruits. Manya rose from the couch, hand still on her crotch and moved to open the door. She kept her hand on her mound in a partial caress and retained it all the way up to the door, reluctant to give up the warm moistness which had begun to engulf her loins and also form a small wet patch on her sheer saree.
Chapter 3
Left to herself, Manya would have preferred to indulge in prolonged self ravishment in her present mood. Her mind quickly accepted the intrusion but the signals to her horny body got delayed a bit, causing a certain inner discordance, especially between her thighs, where a tiny ooze had just about begun. Caressing herself, she half opened the door and peered out to ask if there was any fresh stuff. She kept just her head out of the door, her hand still playing with her pussy through the sheer folds of her saree. The grocer announced that many of her usual choice of vegetables were fresh and she may like to take a look and decide. Manya was still a wee bit reluctant and she looked at the grocer thoughtfully, fingers still playing with her pussy behind the door. With one final thrust, she withdrew her hand from where she loved to keep it the most and threw the door wide open. The grocer, a stocky man in his late thirties gaped in astonishment at her dress, or the lack of it and kept gaping until Manya coughed to draw his attention. The grocer’s mind worked at the speed of light, unable to fathom the delicious sight in front of him. He knew from his frequent visits that Manya was hot and horny. He had encountered many a horny housewife in all his house sales over the years. He could spot a hungry pussy when he saw one. Over the last one year he had seen Manya in various careless states of dressing but somehow she always seemed in control of things. It was more like she was teasing people rather than inviting them. He also realized that she couldn’t continue to be a prick tease indefinitely and his prick was bound to have its day. Her appearance told him that today could be the day. The way she was dressed, she needn’t have worn any clothes. The saree was fully transparent, showing him all of her. The fertile bush, those glorious thighs and the entire midriff, everything lay before him like a feast, with her belly button calling attention to his gaze. While she was fingering herself the top half of her saree had slipped aside, leaving her rich and deep navel fully exposed to his view. With the creamy flesh above and below it aching to be pawed and felt, the navel resembled a pussy in need, quivering and juicy.
Manya bent forward to examine some of the leafy vegetables and this made the top half of her saree drop, revealing her generous cleavage with a clear vision of her perked up nipples. She didn’t realize that her saree had dropped and continued with her genuine task of grocery picking from his basket. The grocer’s eyes popped right out their sockets and his cock threatened to tear out of the fabric it was stretching around his crotch. His strong hands felt a rush of blood as did every vein in his body. Manya was decidedly the hottest of his customers and he looked forward to visiting her house more to experience the surprises she held for him in the form of her dress code. But this day surpassed all that he had seen before. Breasts, nipples, navel, midriff, thighs, and bush – every ounce of her juiciest parts was starkly visible through her dream like garments. The Arabian dancers did wear transparent bottoms but at least they wore panties. Here a middle aged housewife was treating him to fleshy delights of the sort people only dreamt of.