The Despicable Plan Pt. 01

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Dear readers, I did get some unprecedented response for my previous stories about a man’s exploration of his daughter in law’s sexuality. On the surface it seemed like he failed but he had succeeded in planting a seed in her heart. The point where I left that story 2 years ago opened up new avenues for the daughter in law to take action. But it’s been two years and I still haven’t come up with a suitable way to continue that story. It is just too perfect at the point… leaving a sense of emptiness. Maybe some day I’ll find an idea. In the meanwhile, here is a multi-part story I wrote following a scheming father in law. It is written in the same spirit as the “How the tables have turned” series. But this features new plans, new execution style and new plot. It gets more explicit than the previous stories that I’ve written but like always I try my best to follow common sense and logic of what might happen in a realistic scenario. Just like running a simulation. Sometimes outlandish things happen that might raise an eyebrow but given the timespan over which this story plays out, I guess coincidences just happen. The cherry for this cake is at the end. I hope you’ll have enough patience to read through. I have finished writing the whole story. I will upload it in multiple parts. So, the patience will be worth it.

P.S. I know the spelling of renaissance. It’s just a username. Get over it… LOL.

Present Day

Little boy Raju was playing with his newly bought tennis ball. He was playing, sure, but not quite enjoying it. The ecstasy of owning a tennis ball and showing it off to his friends had already worn off. Now he wanted someone to play with. But the house had only three other members, save him. His mother, father and grandfather. Dad, Sumit was at work, Mama, Shreya in the kitchen and grandpa Ramakant was watching TV in the living room. It was futile to ask the grandpa to play because he was apparently weak and fragile. So, he turned towards his mom naturally to entertain him.

“Mom!! Why don’t you play with me? Come… let’s play cricket. You bowl, I will bat.”

Shreya bent and ran her fingers through his hair and said with a dry smile,

“Go and ask grandpa to play with you.”

Perhaps kids have an unconscious superpower. They can sense emotions better than elders. Little Raju could see through his mama’s smile, the suppressed sadness. He didn’t push her further. He said OK! with feigned excitement and ran off to the living room. There he saw his grandpa lazily sitting on the sofa. He jumped and sat beside him, with no reaction from his grandpa.

“Grandpa! What are you watching?”

“Can’t you see for yourself? You brat. Don’t disturb me. Go play somewhere else!”

The kid dismissed this rudeness and abruptly asked, “why is mama always sad?”

Dr. Ramakant turned his head towards Raju slowly. His drooping eyes met Raju. But there was no anger in them. There was an unfathomable sadness that one usually sees in the eyes of people who have seen suffering, death of ambition and despair from a close distance. Raju wasn’t expecting that. He was prepared for a retort. But his grandpa’s silence was unacceptable to him. He asked again,

“Why is mama sad!” he said in the typical annoying tone of an unpacifiable brat.

“It’s… it’s all my fault.” said Ramakant with a defeated look, “and to some extent yours as well.”

As Raju sat there bombarding his grandpa with a barrage of questions,

What do you mean? What did I do? What did you do? Tell me! Maaaaamaaa! What did I do?

Dr. Ramakant’s thoughts had gone back to 12 years ago, deaf to his grandson screaming right next to him. The time it all started.

****

Flashback

Dr. Ramakant was a reputed doctor in Delhi. He was originally from a small town called Aam Bagan in West Bengal and had moved to Delhi to continue his practice in a top-tier medical college as a professor and medicine specialist. He had an illustrious career and was a well-known doctor not only in his community but also to his countless patients. He had a nickname- ‘smile-healer’. An urban legend had propagated that Dr. Ramakant could heal with his smile. That was his speciality apart from medicines. He would smile at every patient and make them comfortable, and they would naturally open up to him and even tell him embarrassing stuff about their lives. This allowed him to deduce their ailments from the symptoms and their habits and often pin-point life-saving details. He was a good doctor not because of his knowledge of medicine but also because of how observant he was while discussing the symptoms with his patients.

His wife on the other hand was a bitch. Good karma doesn’t always repay people with good results. Perhaps his next life would be better but in this one he wasn’t reaping the karmic points he had earned from saving all those lives. He was too busy, as dedicated doctors often are. So, his parents had found a beautiful and well-mannered daughter-in-law for themselves. illegal bahis He agreed to marry her because she was a professor in biological sciences, and he felt it was good for his social status. Additionally, he had expected to have enlightening academic discussions with her.

But none of that happened. She was a god-awful annoying person who complained about everything. Dr. Ramakant tried his best initially to satisfy her but her demands were lofty. Despite being a professor, she knew no humility. Academic discussions were borderline wars. Every time she would refuse to see logic and insist that her knowledge was adequate, and she was right. Therefore, Dr. Ramakant’s attitude at home became that of a bitter man. The moment he would step into his home, he would be struck with a negative aura and his trademark smile that he showed to his patients would immediately disappear.

But there was something that his wife was good at. Sex. She was a bitch… but she was a bitch in heat. She had a bigger sex drive than Dr. Ramakant and they had sex at least 3 times a week. They had probably tried every position known to mankind and if it was 200 B.C., they might have added some pages to Kamasutra with their own unique styles of sex. It was only a mystery how such a good sex life couldn’t be converted into a good marriage. Perhaps this happened because his wife was insatiable and craved thrill. And to achieve that thrill she had started seducing young men.

Dr. Ramakant at the age of 46, professor, medical practitioner, next-in-line for dean- had been unable to keep up with her growing lust, resulting in her looking for alternatives and him filing for divorce. It was a bitter separation that became quite a news in the local community. However, he was portrayed as the “cheated husband” and received sympathy from friends, relatives and neighbours. Since, he had a spotless character record and thanks to all the witnesses vouching for him, he got custody of his son.

He didn’t want his 10-year-old son to grow up to be a scoundrel without parental love and care, so he sacrificed his ambition to become Dean of college, to spend more time with his son and raise him to be a good man.

He had been advised by his relatives to remarry, to have a mother for his son. But he had turned down those suggestions saying, “I’ve seen enough cases to know how well step-moms and step-sons get along with each other.” So, he stayed unmarried. Unfortunately, the legacy that his wife had left behind was lust. His sex-drive was very high, but he told himself that it would bring nothing but disaster for not only him but his beloved son. So, he bottled it all up and devoted any time that he had to his work and a medical researcher and son. To vent himself, he would occasionally masturbate in his room. It was barely enough to contain his lust but that was all he could do. Almost two decades later, his son became a regular practitioner of medicine, following in his father’s steps in the same medical college as him.

Dr. Ramakant had learnt a lesson from his life- career was not everything. To have a great career you must be supported by a good family. But he didn’t want to build his family for his son, the same mistake his parents had made, and he paid dearly for it. So, he had made it clear to his son that he could marry any girl he liked, no restriction and any time he wanted, no rush. To his delight he didn’t have to wait too long. His son brought home a fine lady. She was 27 years old and a beauty comparable with goddesses. She would often come home with Sumit for dinners. She stood at a height of 172 cm and had fair skin with a pinkish blush on her cheeks.

However, Dr. Ramakant had learnt to be wary of looks and took his time to assess this girl- Shreya. Shreya seemed to be well-mannered, but, so did his wife to his parents. He would be rude to her intentionally to gauge her reaction, but she would forever be calm and diffuse every tensed situation in such graceful way that he was actually impressed. He started seeing in her, the wife he never had. He decided that she was perfect for his son. He met her parents and proposed his son’s marriage with Shreya. Her parents were more than happy to get their daughter into such an illustrious family. With the lack of higher education, they weren’t sure if Shreya could ever get a good husband but here, one of the most celebrated doctors of Delhi had walked right into their home with open arms. They felt blessed.

The wedding was a big success. But what followed…

***

Present day

Shreya heard the commotion and came rushing to the living room.

“Mom! Grandpa said it’s my fault!”

“No, my son… what fault? What is your fault?” Shreya asked him, wiping his tears.

“Grandpa said it’s my fault that you are sad. I didn’t do anything. I swear!”

Shreya glared at Dr. Ramakant. Then she pampered her son with some of his achievements and that she was proud of him.

Half an hour later she put him to sleep, shut illegal bahis siteleri the door to his room and stomped towards the living room.

“How dare you?” she shot.

“I told him that it’s my fault.”, he said looking at the floor

“You have no right to blame him… He’s just a kid. You know very well why I… ”

While Shreya started her monologue, Dr. Ramakant had spaced out again. In his mind he was telling himself his own story. How he ruined his son’s marriage out of his selfishness.

***

Dr. Ramakant’s flashback.

I should have been more careful. I had planned every step meticulously but one moment of weakness and my retirement plan got ruined.

When Shreya came to my house as the daughter-in-law, I felt the warmth from her that I had never felt before. Being aloof from my family because of my work and living a decade with my bitch of a wife… I didn’t know that a woman can actually be so warm. She treated me with kindness and took good care of me. Although I go to the advisory board meetings quite often, if there is someone that I interact the most with, it’s Shreya, even more than my son. She filled the void that my wife had left, at least as far as emotions are concerned.

I am a retired doctor. Apart from my personal clinic there is very little to keep me busy. But this lust… this ‘gift’ from my ex-wife is a curse. I tried my best to keep it bottled up, but I was wrong. The more I suppressed it, the more I contributed it to becoming a time bomb ready to explode. And it exploded. I confess that gradually I started seeing Shreya as more than a daughter in law. The more time I spent with her, the more I was drawn towards her. But what I wanted from her was not her body. Rather, I wanted to connect with her on a spiritual level, like couples would. This added to my lust was a corrosive mixture. It corroded my conscience, my soul and my sense of duty. Yes, as a father it is my duty to enrich my son’s life, but I destroyed it.

It started in 2002, a few months after Sumit married Shreya. Shreya would do her daily chores dutifully while I would sit in the clinic attached to our living room. I was 64 years old that time and she was probably only 29. We would eat lunch together. Sumit used to eat the food packed by Shreya.

I don’t know when it started but I started seeing her in a different light. I started becoming desperate for lunch time to come because then I would be in her company. And when did it happen that I started getting jealous of my son? It was like a switch was flipped one day and there was no way to flip it back. I masturbated once a week but now I had to do it three times or my erection would become painful. It started slowly. I told myself that I’ll only imagine her body without the face and fantasize about me undressing her sweet body. For my old bones this venturing into the dark taboo territory was too much to handle and I would climax instantly.

But I had forgotten my own teachings as a doctor. The human body and mind gets used to things rather quickly and starts expecting more. Until you give it what it wants, it won’t rest. Maybe now I understand how my ex-wife used to think.

Gradually, Shreya’s face got added to the body in my fantasy. There was no turning back. It is a slippery slope and I slipped further into this abominable pit. Soon, I lost interest in my clinic. It was just a distraction now. My main attention went towards Shreya. The curve of her hip… the smoothness of her skin… the angelic glow. Even my fantasies couldn’t match up to her real beauty. Quite often I would try to brush my hands against her body. I’m sure she didn’t notice it. It would be thrilling if she did. How would she react if she knew my intention? Would she slap me? Would she accept my advances? She seems to be a pious lady with good family values. If I showed her this devilish side of me, she would surely get out of my grasp.

I had to find a way to take things slowly and definitively. My lust defeated my morals and I hatched a plan.

First, I drilled two holes in our house when Shreya went out one day. One hole that connects my bedroom to their attached bathroom which she uses regularly and one on the wall to their bedroom. The first hole would help me masturbate to her body in the safety and privacy of my room and the second one would allow me to assess their sex life. To try it out I had to drill several holes in different angles to get a good look at everything and put up a large-framed painting over it.

I snooped on her one Thursday morning. On Thursday mornings she gets up early to perform a specific ritual. So, she takes extra-long baths on that day. I woke up early that day and assumed my position after locking my door. Although it was awkward and rather tiring to remain standing like that for so long, my elevated heartbeat was pumping enough blood and my adrenaline was through the roof. So, I endured. At around 6:30 AM I heard the sound of her entering canlı bahis siteleri the bathroom.

She was wearing the same saree that she wore the previous night. I wondered how she would look in night gown. She does look like a foreigner with her short straight hairs; a night gown would only enhance her sexiness. She entered the bathroom with a large, pale blue turquoise towel in her hand. She placed it on the clothes hanger to her right and turned on the top. I was surprised to see that she doesn’t use the shower. She is much more “Indian” than I had expected. She tested the temperature by pouring some water from the bucket on her feet. While the bathroom was filled with the noise of running water, she dropped her pallu (long end of the saree that falls on the shoulder) on the floor. The synthetic piece of garment slipped with a rustle down her shoulder and hip but this erotic sound was drowned in the noise. The bucket started overflowing. She turned the knob off.

She unclenched the saree from her petticoat, lifted the heap from the floor and placed it in another bucket to be sent to laundry. The bathroom was now quiet, only the irregular drops of water from the faucet of the tap on the bucket full of water interrupted this silence. I felt that this was quite metaphorical… my lust brimming over and spilling out bit by bit. She started to unhook her blouse. It was a front-buttoned blouse. She unhooked the three hooks and a pair of plump breasts popped out of them.

She doesn’t wear a bra in the house, it seems. I thought to myself.

The light from the frosted glass window made vivid colourful patterns, following the contour of her marvellous breasts. I stood there transfixed on the other side of the wall as if I had been teleported to another dimension. I looked on. I judged the breasts to be about 36-C. I had seen plenty of breasts in my life but under this circumstance these specific pairs were the best. She put the blouse in the bucket. And just like that, her petticoat ended up in the bucket as well. She had a thick bush down there. So, I couldn’t see her pussy lips clearly. But as she stood there for a while, bending over to touch the water, I swear I saw wings coming out of her back.

Her skin had a healthy pinkish tint. Short hairs fell just on her shoulder. No make-up, all natural. She had a slim built, not an hourglass figure. This made her breasts strikingly prominent. The kind of butt she had, I guess it’s called bubble-butt. Because of restrictions on the dimension of the holes, I couldn’t see her body in its full glory. From one hole I could see above her chest, from the other only her crotch and the third one showed me the space between her breasts and groin. But my mind was sort of stitching these bits automatically. I’m a doctor after all.

She poured water on her head using a mug. However, this bit wasn’t as graceful as the previous parts. In fact, she poured water too fast and her face made a comical cringey shape, as if the water was colder than she expected. So she did a little tippy-tap which was very cute. This somehow made her more human and perhaps this is what draws me towards her. The rawness of her beauty. She seems within arm’s reach; angels are far beyond.

She applied soap on her body, not the body-wash, once again an Indian trait. Then she used a loofa to scrub her body starting from neck, working her way downwards. The white lather almost blended with her fair skin. She rinsed it off and then sat down on the little chair. I couldn’t see what she was doing because it was below the lowest limit of the holes I made. But I could hear her bangles jingling. Whatever she was doing, her hands were moving fast and rhythmically. She got up after about 5 minutes and then poured water down her navel. She bent one more time and then she took the towel to dry herself off.

Was she masturbating? Or just scrubbing her feet? If she was masturbating, it could mean that her sex life wasn’t going that well. Maybe that’s the crevice through which I could creep in. I should note that down.

She dried herself thoroughly with the towel. After taking the bath her skin had a soft glow and much fresher look. I didn’t know that was even possible. All this took about 40 minutes. I didn’t notice it before, but it seems that she hadn’t bolted the door. She just turned around, left the bathroom and went into the bedroom, naked. I envied my son for having full access to such a beauty! What wouldn’t I give to just hold her soft body gently in my embrace! This jealousy marks my final fall. I had hit rock-bottom. I had failed as a father. I had failed as a human.

Well, if I have failed then let me not be a miserable old man. I will find a way to get her into my embrace and teach her to love it. I needed to activate my second plan. For that I needed some other information. I continued to watch in hopes that she would return. But I saw Sumit enter the toilet. He entered, turned right and walked towards the wall that I was looking through. Right under that wall was the toilet. Thanks to the abstract pattern made using plaster of Paris, the holes blended pretty well with the wall and were barely visible. He was going to pee. From where he was standing, I got a good look at his penis.

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