Abhi accepted the rules and went in for the test. Surpassing the test to the marriage is fixed.
Part 2
It would be best to read part 1.
Abhi arrived just after eleven. The gate was open. He parked his bike, locked it, and walked up the short path. The house felt quieter than the last time. He knocked once. Santhi opened the door herself.
She wore a simple cotton nighty, pale green, the kind that clung lightly to her body without trying. Her hair was loosely tied. No jewellery. No makeup. She stepped aside and closed the door behind him.
“Manju is at the clinic until four,” she said. “Soumya is inside with the baby. Come.”
She led him upstairs to the larger bedroom at the end of the corridor. The curtains were drawn. The air conditioner hummed softly. On the bed lay a clean folded towel and a bottle of water. Santhi locked the door, turned, and looked at him without any shyness.
“Take off your clothes,” she said. “I want to see everything.”
Abhi undressed slowly. Shirt first, then trousers, then underwear. He stood naked. His cock was already half hard from the walk up the stairs and the knowledge of what was about to happen. Santhi’s eyes moved over him with calm interest. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around his shaft, giving it one slow stroke.
“Not bad,” she murmured. “Better than the last one.”
She pulled the nighty over her head in one motion. Underneath she wore nothing. Her body was soft from age and two childbirths, but the flesh was still firm in the right places. Full breasts with dark, slightly drooping nipples. A rounded belly. Wide hips. A thick thatch of black hair between her legs, already glistening at the centre.
She climbed onto the bed on all fours and looked back at him over her shoulder.
“Come. Fuck me the way you will fuck my daughter.”
Abhi climbed behind her. He ran his hands over her ass, spreading the cheeks, watching the wet pink slit open slightly. He rubbed the head of his cock along it once, twice, then pushed in. Santhi exhaled a long, low sound as he sank all the way to the root. She was hot and very wet. He began to thrust—deep, steady strokes that made her heavy breasts sway beneath her.
“Harder,” she said. “Don’t be polite.”
He gripped her hips and drove into her with more force. The wet sound of skin on skin filled the room. Santhi pushed back to meet every thrust, her voice rising in short, broken moans. After several minutes she pulled forward, rolled onto her back, and opened her legs wide.
“On top. I want to see your face.”
He entered her again. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him deep. Her hands slid down to his ass, urging him on. Abhi fucked her with long, powerful strokes, watching her breasts bounce and her mouth fall open. She came first—her cunt tightening hard around him, a low cry escaping her throat. He kept going until he felt his own orgasm building, then pulled out and spilled thick ropes of cum across her stomach and the underside of her breasts.
Santhi looked down at the mess, smiled faintly, and wiped a finger through it.
“Good stamina,” she said. “And you didn’t finish too fast. Manju will be lucky.”
She rose, cleaned herself with the towel, and put the nighty back on. “Wait here. I will call Soumya.”
Five minutes later the door opened again. Soumya entered carrying her six-month-old daughter against her chest. The baby was fussing softly. Soumya wore a loose nursing nighty, the front already half open. Her eyes met Abhi’s for a second—calm, knowing—then she sat on the edge of the bed and freed one full breast. The dark nipple was already leaking thin white drops. She guided it into the baby’s mouth. The infant latched and began to suck with quiet, rhythmic sounds.
Santhi stood beside the bed and spoke quietly. “Soumya knows everything. Ratheesh has given permission for anything inside this family. You may take her while she feeds the child. She will not stop.”
Abhi’s cock, soft only moments ago, hardened again at the sight. Soumya’s free breast remained exposed, heavy and full. Milk beaded at the tip. She looked at him and simply nodded once.
He moved behind her on the bed. Soumya shifted slightly, still holding the nursing baby, and raised her nighty to her waist. She wore no panties. Her cunt was already wet. Abhi guided his cock to the entrance and pushed in slowly. Soumya’s breath caught, but she did not stop feeding the child. The baby continued to suck, unaware.
Abhi began to fuck her in deep, measured strokes, careful not to jostle the infant. Soumya’s free hand braced against the mattress. Soft wet sounds mixed with the quiet suckling of the baby. Milk leaked from the corner of the child’s mouth and ran down Soumya’s breast. Abhi reached around and cupped the free breast, squeezing gently. Warm milk sprayed across his fingers.
Santhi watched for a moment, then knelt in front of Abhi. She took his balls in one hand and leaned in, licking the shaft each time it slid out of Soumya. After a while she spoke.
“Drink from her. She has enough.”
Abhi leaned over Soumya’s shoulder. The free nipple was swollen and wet. He closed his mouth around it and sucked. Sweet, warm milk filled his mouth. He swallowed and sucked harder. Soumya moaned softly, the sound vibrating against the baby still latched to the other breast. At the same time Santhi took Abhi’s cock into her mouth whenever it withdrew from Soumya, sucking the mixed juices of mother and daughter’s sister.
The three of them moved together for long minutes—Abhi thrusting into Soumya, drinking her milk, Santhi sucking his cock and balls between strokes. Soumya came first, her cunt clamping hard around him while the baby continued to nurse. Abhi lasted longer, fucking through her orgasm until he pulled out and came across Santhi’s waiting tongue and open mouth. She swallowed every drop, then cleaned him with slow licks.
The baby finished and fell asleep against Soumya’s chest. Soumya gently covered herself, stood, and left the room without a word, carrying the child.
Santhi wiped her mouth and looked at Abhi.
“You did well with both of us. The marriage is fixed. I will speak to Sharma tonight. We can set the date for six weeks from now. Traditional ceremony, then reception. Agreed?”
Abhi nodded, still breathing hard.
“Good. Now go home. Shower. Rest. I will call you when the formal talks are ready.”
Three days later Abhi returned. The wedding date had been announced. Relatives on both sides were already making plans. That afternoon Santhi called him again.
“Come at two. Manju will be home. She knows what is going to happen.”
When Abhi arrived, the living room was empty. Santhi led him upstairs once more. Manju was already there, sitting on the edge of the bed in a simple salwar kameez. Her face was calm, almost curious. Soumya stood near the window. Babu—Santhi’s brother-in-law—leaned against the wall, arms folded, watching without expression.
Santhi spoke first. “Abhi asked to see Manju before the marriage. Not to fuck her. Not to put his mouth on her. Only to look. I agreed to show him her breasts. Nothing lower. Manju has consented.”
Manju stood. Without ceremony she opened the front of her kameez and pulled the blouse and bra down. Her breasts were high and full, the nipples a soft brown, already slightly hard from the cool air of the room. She held the fabric open and looked at Abhi steadily.
He stepped closer. Santhi nodded permission. Abhi cupped both breasts, felt their weight, brushed his thumbs across the nipples. Manju’s breathing deepened, but she did not move away. He leaned in and kissed each nipple once, lightly. Santhi allowed it. Then Manju covered herself again and sat down.
“That is enough for now,” Santhi said. “The rest she keeps for the wedding night.”
Abhi’s cock was fully hard again. Santhi saw it and smiled.
“You asked for something else as well. You want to fuck me while Manju watches. And you want Babu to take Soumya at the same time. Both of us agreed.”
Manju’s cheeks coloured, but she did not look away. She shifted on the bed, pulled her salwar down to her thighs, and left her white cotton panties in place. Her hand rested lightly over the damp patch already forming at the centre.
Santhi undressed completely and lay back on the bed, legs open. Abhi climbed between them and pushed into her in one long stroke. She was already soaked. He began to fuck her with deep, steady thrusts, the wet sound loud in the quiet room. Manju’s eyes stayed fixed on the place where Abhi’s cock disappeared into her mother. Her fingers slipped inside her own panties and began to rub in slow circles.
At the same moment Babu stepped behind Soumya. He pushed her nighty up, bent her forward over the arm of a chair, and entered her from behind with one hard thrust. Soumya gasped and gripped the chair. Babu fucked her with short, powerful strokes, one hand on her hip, the other squeezing her still-full breast until milk leaked onto the floor.
The two pairs moved in the same room. Abhi drove into Santhi while watching Manju’s hand work inside her panties. Manju’s eyes flicked between her mother’s stretched cunt and her aunt being taken by Babu. Soft wet sounds, low moans, and the occasional slap of skin filled the air. Santhi came first, crying out as her body clenched around Abhi. He kept fucking her through it. Across the room Babu groaned and buried himself deep in Soumya, holding still as he finished inside her.
Abhi pulled out of Santhi, stroked himself twice, and came across her stomach and breasts in thick pulses. Manju’s fingers moved faster. Her hips lifted off the bed. A quiet, broken sound left her throat as she came inside her panties, thighs trembling.
For a long minute no one spoke. Only breathing.
Santhi sat up, wiped the cum from her skin with a towel, and looked at Abhi.
“The date is fixed. Six weeks. After the wedding she is yours completely. Until then, this is all you get of her. The rest of us remain available whenever you ask.”
Manju quietly pulled her salwar back up. Her panties were visibly wet. She met Abhi’s eyes for a second and gave the smallest nod.
Babu zipped his trousers. Soumya straightened her nighty. Santhi stood and opened the door.
“Go home, Abhi. Rest. The real work starts after the wedding.”
He dressed, walked down the stairs, and stepped out into the afternoon light. His body still hummed. The image of Manju’s bare breasts, her hand moving inside her panties while he fucked her mother, stayed sharp behind his eyes.
The marriage would happen.
And the family tradition had already begun.
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