Kamala’s Mata & Baba
by Dyann Bridges
All Rights Reserved©
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Dyann offers one of her own original erotic stories. She also performed the voiceover. You can read along with the text version below or listen to the audio file. Enjoy!
Kamala yawned and stretched allowing her full bare breasts to slip over top of the blanket. Her nipples tightened in the chilly bedroom air. It was dawn on the first morning of her Christmas break from Princeton.
She and her mother or “mata” as she and her brother called her, had stayed up late talking and drinking shiraz. She was visiting her parents at the home she was raised in. Despite a slight hangover, she’d awoken before dawn. She lay there thinking, What better time to take a ride?
Kamala shrugged on her worn, rugged sheepskin. She ventured to the east side of the house to watch the sunrise, coat open, exposing her ample chest. Her coat was so warm she’d worn just a thin white tank top underneath. Kamala reveled in the cold winter air forcing her nipples erect. She loved her breasts. They were full and round. Men loved her breasts too.
She navigated the icy old steps of the balcony for what she knew would be an incredible view. Her snug jeans grabbed at her muscular thighs with each step as her bosom swung gently. She reached the top and gasped. The dawn broke with spectacular splashes of bright orange, purple, grey and blue. Kamala reached for her chilly nipples and rubbed them gently. She shivered with pleasure. Nature’s beauty made her randy.
Mounds of snow turned their 2000 acres of land into a winter wonderland. Their 150 year old home was an Irish castle inspired mansion which had been in her mata’s family for five generations. Made of brick, stone, blood and sweat, it was complete with a wrap around balcony and turret. Ah, that turret.
This was Kamala’s secret sensual hideaway as a blossoming pre-teen. She’d sneak up there in the middle of a summer night and strip off her underwear and t-shirt. She’d stand naked at the porthole with the evening breeze caressing her skin. She loved the feel of the air across the damp areas of her body; her underaged pussy, her underarms and the nape of her tender neck. It made her tingle and shiver. In those moments Kamala was a powerful and sensual goddess – certainly not the curious virgin she actually was.
Kamala grinned as she remembered flirting with the imaginary guard who would have surely been there 150 years earlier. She would sashay around the tiny concrete area and wiggle her bare bottom in front of the invisible guard. Everything was so simple and harmless back then!
Now, Kamala stood on the balcony feeling raw, relaxed and more powerful than ever. It had been a challenging semester. Pre-med classes, early morning yoga routines and avoiding the not-so-underground current of ivy league depravity had honed her self-discipline.
She loved medicine, but found little in common with her insolent classmates. Her hard work paid off though. She was top in her class and skipped the dreaded “freshman twenty” weight gain. She was proud of herself.
Kamala found the mix of her teen memories, feelings of success and the crisp winter air made her want to cum. She began to unzip her jeans and reach down the front, when movement caught her eye. She turned in curiosity. From between ever-so-slightly open curtains, Kamala could see the shapely, pale and very naked backside of her 53 year old mother walking toward her father laying in their king sized bed. Talk about an incredible view!
Her immediate instinct was to look away, but something told her to stay. That something was a familiar voice in her head. It said, “Stay and watch.”
That voice belonged to Esta, Kamala’s main spirit guide. From the time she was a child, Kamala understood she was a gifted psychic, just like her mother and grandmother before her. Now that she was a 22 year old college student she knew enough never to contradict Esta.
Although, she couldn’t imagine why Esta was asking her to stay and watch, she obeyed. Kamala stood very still, transfixed on her mata and baba in their bedroom. Her mother was a beauty of Irish decent. Her father was a swarthy East Indian man. They made a striking, if unusual pair and Kamala had become their voyeur.
A breeze kicked up and blew Kamala’s dark auburn hair across her face. No! I don’t want to miss this.
For several moments her sight was blocked. As quickly as she dared, she brushed her long, thick hair off her high Celtic cheekbones. She was suddenly riveted by the scene unfolding in front of her.
Although, Kamala’s mother was now in her fifties she was still stunning. Kamala’s Hindi father possessed swarthy good looks and a quiet charisma. Even after twenty five years of marriage they still had a serious case of the hots for each other.
Although she had no sexual feelings for her father, she could understand why a woman could be uncontrollably attracted to him. He was sharp-witted, loyal and totally trustworthy. Her baba had a mental strength to go along with his physical strength. The combination conveyed a sense of protection and authority. Catnip for the ladies.
Kamala was smitten with her father and by all accounts, he with her. Her baba even named her. At birth, Kamala popped out with a shock of dark red hair on her head. He said, “We shall name her Kamala.” In Hindu Kamala means “red”. And so it was.
Her baba lay propped up on one elbow with the covers under his armpit. Her naked mother crawled across the deeply cushioned duvet to reach her husband. As she did so, Kamala received an indelible image of her mata’s smooth pale ass and precious pink shamrock.
It was completely shaved and much larger than Kamala would have expected. Not that she spent a lot of time imagining what her mother’s pussy looked like. Still, it was shocking to see a woman’s yoni so full, round, fleshed out and pink. Not unlike the smiling, botoxed lips of a movie star.
Her father lay back as her mother approached him and straddled his torso. He folded his strong, thick arms behind his head to get a better look at his beautiful wife. Kamala watched their mouths move in conversation. Mata tossed her flaming orange hair and laughed. Baba gazed up at his lady, looking sleep rumpled, sexy and totally content with life.
Kamala dared not move at this point. She was fascinated, yet horrified at herself for playing peeping tom on her parents. But Esta said I should stay so there has to be a reason for this, she thought. Besides, after all these years they were still red hot for each other. It was an inspiration.
Suddenly, after a minute or two of flirtations her mata threw her head back and let out a “Whoop!” She leaned forward and gave her husband a long, slow deep kiss. Kamala watched as her baba pushed the fluffy duvet cover down his torso.
Mata lifted one leg and then the other and continued to push the duvet passed her buttocks. She propped her bottom up and leaned over to kiss him again. As she did, her husband’s now mostly erect cock came into sight. Baba’s unsuspecting dick was exposed to his totally amazed daughter.
OMG! OMG! Was all Kamala could think as her breath caught in her chest. She was transfixed by her father’s banda as it inched up past his belly button. As Kamala debated with herself, and her spirit guide Esta, whether it really was a good idea to watch her parents have sex, her mata began kissing her way down her man’s body. Baba gently grabbed the back of her wavy orange hair. He pulled the silky orange bundle toward himself letting it trail down his tummy as she made her way to his fully hardened cock.
Mata lavished his banda with soft, wet kisses. Baba smiled and put his head back in pleasure. She kept licking and kissing his balls and the shaft of his dick, taking her time getting to the top. Kamala rimmed the edge of his head with her moist tongue. She played with it, popping it in and out of her mouth. She teased him with more caressing and kissing. Baba writhed and moaned. Finally she took his entire cock into her mouth and throat. She stroked it up and down using her mouth and both hands.
Kamala found herself tingling throughout her pelvis. Her own yoni began to ache with desire. Not for her baba of course, but for a good orgasm. Esta! Why on Earth are you asking me to watch this? Kamala screamed at Esta silently. You’ve asked me to do some strange things but I think this takes the cake! It was so wrong, yet so exhilarating at the same time!
Kamala watched, conflicted as her baba gently laid his hands on the back of his wife’s head as it bobbed up and down. Suddenly, with a yank and a pull her mother straightened up and placed her knees on either side of her man’s hips. She carefully slipped his throbbing organ inside her and rode him like the wind.
The color pink began to show itself to Kamala as her mata and baba pumped away. The faster they pumped, the more pink filled the space around them. Kamala saw her parents literally engulfed in a sex cloud of pink.
She continued to watch transfixed. Her baba’s face contorted with ecstasy as he neared the climax. The windows shook a little as Kamala heard the orgasmic groans of her father explode as he reached his peak.
Her mata slipped off her man and tucked herself under one of his strong, brown arms. Her mother often talked about how good it felt to be embraced by him. Kamala understood that feeling. Laying in her baba’s arms was one of the safest places she could imagine being. Her baba was a good man whom people liked and trusted.
As her parents lay there in post coital bliss Kamala saw the pink cloud get darker and denser. She heard Esta say, “Now look closely.”
So she did. What she saw would influence every relationship she would ever have from that day forward…
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