This is my real indian shopkeeper sex story that still makes my cock twitch when I think about it. I am Ravi, twenty five, living in a crowded gali in Varanasi near the old mandir side. Every other day I walk to the small kirana for milk bread and those cheap biscuits. The shop is run by Anjali aunty. Her husband goes to the village for days at a stretch leaving her alone behind the counter. She is maybe thirty four, dark wheatish skin, heavy bust that always stretches her nighty or simple cotton blouse, thick thighs and that way of looking at you like she knows exactly what you are staring at.
For weeks I was just buying random nonsense so I could stand there longer. She started packing my stuff slower on purpose. One evening the gali was almost empty and the sun was still hot. I walked in for a packet of tea. Only she was there fanning herself with a cardboard. Sweat was shining on her neck and the top buttons of her blouse were open more than usual. I put the money on the wooden counter and she held my hand a second too long when she gave change.
She looked straight at me and said beta you come here every day for small small things. What do you actually want. My throat went dry. I mumbled aunty just tea and she laughed low. She said dig out the real answer before I close. Then she stepped around the counter, reached past me and pulled the metal shutter halfway down. The shop went dim. My heart was hammering. She locked the small side latch and turned back. Her nipples were poking hard through the thin cloth.
She Dropped The Pretending First
Anjali walked right up until her bust almost touched my chest. She put one hand on my stomach and slid it down slow over my jeans. I was already half hard like a fool. She squeezed once and said is this what you keep coming for. I could not even answer properly. She opened my zip herself, pulled my cock out and whistled soft when she felt how thick it had gotten. Her fingers were a bit rough from work but she stroked me with full confidence like she owned it.
I tried to say aunty your husband and she cut me off. She said that lazy bastard is drinking in the village and I am bored of waiting. Today you are going to fuck me properly. She tugged my jeans lower, dropped to a low stool right there in the narrow space behind the counter and took the head of my cock in her mouth without any teasing. Hot wet and greedy. She sucked like she was starving, cheeks hollow, spit running down my shaft onto her hand. I grabbed the edge of the counter so I would not fall. Her tongue worked under the ridge while she pumped the base. Every now and then she looked up with watery eyes and pushed me deeper till I hit the back of her throat. She gagged once then forced more in, humming around me.
I was leaking already. She pulled off with a wet sound and slapped my wet cock lightly against her cheek. She said go on put your hand on my head and use my mouth. I did. I held her bun and thrust slow at first then harder. She took it, spit thickening, one hand rubbing her own chut under the nighty. The smell of her heat mixed with the dust and spice packets on the shelves. I almost came but she stopped and stood up fast.
She yanked her nighty and petticoat up around her waist. No panty. Her thick dark bush was already sticky. She turned, planted both palms on the big sack of rice next to the dal tins and looked over her shoulder. Her big gaand was round and soft, the brown hole winking a little when she arched. She said put it in my chut first before you think of anything else. I rubbed the head up and down her wet slit, collected her juice, then pushed in one long stroke. She was tight and burning hot. Her walls grabbed me hard. She grunted loud and pushed back so her ass slapped my stomach.
I held her heavy hips and started pounding. The rice sack shifted under her. Jars rattled. She kept telling me harder beta harder like she wanted the whole gali to hear but the shutter was down so nobody outside would. Every thrust made her bust swing under the cloth. I reached around and freed both tits. They filled my hands heavy and soft with thick nipples. I pinched them while slamming deep. Her chut made filthy wet sounds. She was dripping down her thighs onto the dusty floor.
Counter And Floor Both Got Used
After some time she pulled off me, turned around and hopped her ass onto the wooden counter pushing ledgers and a weighing scale aside. She spread her legs wide, feet on the edge, and pulled her pussy lips open with two fingers. Come finish what you started she said. I stepped in and rammed back inside. From this angle I could watch my cock disappear into her dark pink hole. She leaned back on her elbows and let me jackhammer. Her tits bounced hard. Sweat ran between them. I bent and sucked one nipple while still fucking. She dug nails into my back and wrapped her legs around my waist locking me deep.
I felt her start to shake. Her chut squeezed in waves and she came with a broken moan, juice running out around my shaft. I kept going through it. She was almost crying from how good it felt. When she calmed a little she pushed me back, got down on the floor on all fours right between the biscuit boxes and the oil cans and lowered her chest till her tits pressed the dirty tiles. Ass high. She reached back and spread her cheeks. Now my gaand she said plain and direct. I spat on her brown hole, rubbed it in and pushed the head against it. She breathed out and told me to go slow at first. I worked the tip in. It was so tight I saw stars. Inch by inch I sank till my balls touched her wet chut. She cursed under her breath in Hindi then told me to move.
I fucked her ass deep and steady. The grip was insane. Every time I pulled almost out and slammed back she pushed to meet me. One of her hands went under to rub her clit. The shop smelled of sex and sweat and open spice tins. I reached under and played with her hanging tits, pulling the nipples while my cock wrecked her gaand. She came again shaking so hard she almost collapsed. That finished me. I buried deep and pumped thick ropes straight into her ass. Long heavy spurts. She clenched around me milking every drop.
We stayed stuck like that for a minute breathing hard. Then she eased off, turned and cleaned my cock with her tongue like it was nothing new. She licked her own cream and my cum off the shaft and under the head till I twitched again. I was still half hard. She laughed and said young blood never finishes once. She made me sit on the low stool, straddled me facing front and sank her still dripping chut down on my cock. Upside down ride. Her hands on my shoulders, bust in my face. I sucked both nipples while she bounced hard, using my shoulders for leverage. The stool creaked. Her ass slapped my thighs. She rode till she came a third time then kept going for me. I grabbed her waist and thrust up shooting again inside her pussy this time, flooding her.
After that she just sat there impaled, forehead against mine, both of us dripping sweat. Slowly she lifted off. Thick white cum leaked out of both her holes and down her thighs. She wiped some with her fingers and pushed it back into her chut like she wanted to keep it. Then she cleaned the rest with a corner of her petticoat, pulled her clothes down and fixed her hair with zero shame.
She opened the shutter a little, checked the gali was empty and told me to pull my jeans up properly. Before I left she packed the tea I came for and shoved two free biscuit packets into my hand. Come tomorrow same time she said. Husband is gone three more days. I walked out legs weak, cock sticky in my pants, the whole street looking normal while my head was still full of her moans and the feel of her tight hole.
I went back the next evening and the one after. Each time she locked up early. We fucked over sacks, against the cold fridge door, even once with her bent over the weighing scale while I pounded her from behind talking dirty the whole time. She liked when I called her rndi and told her how loose and wet her husband left her. She liked sticking three of my fingers in her chut while my cock was in her ass. She drained me every single visit until the husband finally returned and she had to act normal again. But whenever he leaves for the village now she sends a simple message. One word. Closed. And I go.
Sitting here writing this my cock is hard again remembering how she looked with my cum leaking out of her used holes under the yellow shop bulb. That thick body, those hungry fucks, the way she never once asked me to be gentle. Pure filth between the shelves of dal and safed oil. I still buy tea from her even when the husband is there. Our eyes meet over the counter and we both know exactly what those shutter nights felt like.