Home visit

The evening air in my hometown carried the familiar scent of jasmine and distant rain as I pulled up to my parents’ house. They had left for a weekend trip and, as usual, entrusted the spare keys to Mrs. Priya Sharma, our long-time neighbor. I hadn’t seen her in years—not since I left for college. I knocked on her door, expecting a quick handover.
The door swung open, and there she stood: Priya, in her mid-40s, with curves that time had only enhanced. Her dark hair cascaded over one shoulder, and her full lips curved into a very flirty smile. Her eyes immediately locked onto my face.
“Oh my god, look at you! All grown up and so handsome,” she purred, stepping closer. Her gaze lingered on my nose ring. “That little ring… it looks so sexy on a man like you. Bold. Makes me wonder what else you’re hiding under that tough exterior.”
I felt heat rise in my cheeks. Her husband was a night-shift supervisor at the factory and wouldn’t be back until morning. She waved off my attempt to grab the keys. “Come inside, beta. Don’t be silly. Stay for dinner. I made too much biryani anyway, and it’s been ages since I’ve had company.”
I readily agreed, my pulse already quickening from the way her hips swayed as she led me in.
We chatted in the kitchen while she warmed the food. Halfway through, she excused herself. “This salwar is so uncomfortable. Let me change into something lighter. Make yourself at home.”
When she returned, my jaw dropped. She wore a sheer white blouse, unbuttoned dangerously low. Her heavy breasts strained against the thin fabric, the dark outlines of her nipples clearly visible. The matching skirt hugged her wide hips and thick thighs.
“Wow,” I breathed. “Women are so lucky to wear clothes like that. So freeing, so… revealing.”
Priya’s eyes sparkled with mischief. She stepped closer, her breasts brushing my arm. “You like it? Then why don’t you try something even better?” She traced a finger down my chest. “I’ve always fantasized about dressing a handsome boy like you. A saree, a wig, some makeup… you’d look stunning. And no one will ever know. It’ll be our little secret.”
I hesitated for only a second before nodding, my cock already twitching at the idea.
She led me to her bedroom, her hands eager. She stripped me completely, cooing at my body. “Such smooth skin… perfect.” First came the blouse—tight, black, low-cut to push up imaginary cleavage. Then the petticoat, and finally the deep red silk saree. She wrapped it expertly around me, pleating it low on my hips so it accentuated my ass. A long black wig with soft curls framed my face. She sat me down and applied makeup: dark kohl, red lipstick, blush, and a bindi. When she was done, she turned me toward the mirror.
I barely recognized myself—a curvaceous, slutty version of me, the saree pallu draped seductively over one shoulder, my nose ring gleaming against the feminine makeup.
Priya stood behind me, her hands sliding over my silk-covered hips. “Fuck… you look like such a hot randi,” she whispered, grinding against my ass. “My little sissy bride for the night.”
The tension exploded.
She spun me around and kissed me hard, her tongue invading my mouth while her hand slipped under the saree to stroke my rock-hard cock. “On your knees, beautiful.”
I dropped. She hiked up her skirt, revealing she wore no panties—her shaved pussy already glistening. I buried my face between her thick thighs, licking and sucking her clit hungrily as she moaned and gripped my wig. “Yes, just like that… eat my wet cunt, you pretty little slut.”
She came fast, flooding my mouth with her juices, thighs shaking around my head.
Priya pulled me up and pushed me onto the bed on all fours, yanking the saree up over my hips. She lubed my ass generously with oil from her drawer, then pressed two fingers inside me, stretching me open while stroking my cock. “Such a tight little hole… going to ruin it.”
She mounted me from behind, first sliding a thick strap-on dildo deep into my ass. The fullness made me moan like a whore as she fucked me hard, her heavy tits slapping against my back. “Take it, sissy. Feel how deep I am.”
After making me beg, she flipped me onto my back, climbed on top, and sank her dripping pussy onto my throbbing cock. The saree was bunched around my waist as she rode me wildly, her tits bouncing free from the blouse. I squeezed them, pinching her nipples while she slammed down, her pussy clenching around me.
“I’m going to cum inside you,” I groaned.
“Do it,” she gasped. “Fill my married pussy.”
I exploded, pumping rope after thick rope of hot cum deep inside her as she screamed through her own orgasm.
But she wasn’t done. She pulled off, turned around, and presented her round ass. “Now fuck me here, my pretty girl. Take my anal cherry tonight.”
I positioned my still-hard cock at her tight asshole and pushed in slowly, then harder as she pushed back. The sensation was mind-blowing—her ass gripped me like a vice. I fucked her deep and rough, the sound of skin slapping echoing as the saree rustled around us. She rubbed her clit furiously until she came again, her asshole pulsing around my cock. I pulled out at the last second and painted her ass and back with the rest of my load.
We collapsed in a sweaty, cum-soaked tangle of silk and limbs, breathing hard. Priya kissed my lipstick-smeared mouth tenderly.
“Stay the night,” she whispered. “My husband won’t be back till morning… and I want to play with my new sissy again and again.”
The night was far from over.