After the bus journey

Part 3: Onam Bliss in Our Secret Home
The weeks flew by in our cozy Kerala home near Kazhakkottam. Priya’s belly had grown rounder, now six months along, and our days settled into a loving routine of me as Rani — her devoted “cousin sister” and secret wife. The Onam festival was approaching, and Priya was excited. “This will be our first Onam together, my love. Let’s make it special… and naughty,” she said with a wink, her hand stroking my thigh under the saree.
I prepared the house beautifully. We created an elaborate pookalam (flower rangoli) at the entrance with fresh marigolds, jasmine, and roses. The air smelled of turmeric, coconut, and incense. Priya’s husband called briefly to wish her well, thanking “Rani didi” again for taking such good care of his pregnant wife. Little did he know.
Onam Morning – Traditional to Bold
On the main day of Onam, I woke early and prepared the grand sadhya feast on banana leaves: avial, thoran, sambar, rasam, payasam, and fried banana chips. I dressed traditionally first — a creamy off-white Kasavu saree with golden borders, my hair adorned with fresh jasmine, a large red bindi, and glass bangles. Priya looked radiant in a green-and-gold saree that accentuated her pregnant curves.
After the feast and prayers, Priya pulled me into the bedroom, eyes dark with lust. “You look so beautiful and traditional, Rani… but I want to see my girl in something new today.”
She had ordered online a few Western-inspired pieces for me — secretly delivered to the house. First, she helped me into a knotted blouse — a tight, red cropped Western-style blouse made of soft, stretchy fabric. It tied in a cute knot just below my padded breasts, leaving my smooth, shaved midriff completely bare. The deep V-neck showed cleavage, and the short length made my waist look tiny. She paired it with a pleated mini skirt — a short, black Western mini that barely reached mid-thigh, flaring playfully and showing off my smooth, hairless legs.
I stood in front of the mirror, blushing. The contrast was thrilling — traditional jasmine in my hair and bindi, but dressed like a bold, modern Malayali girl in revealing Western wear. My cock twitched visibly under the tiny skirt.
Priya’s breathing grew heavy. “Oh Rani… you look so fuckable.” She pushed me gently onto the bed, hiking up my mini skirt. She pulled my panties aside and took me into her mouth immediately — hot, wet, and hungry. Her lips slid down my shaft while her tongue swirled around the head. “Mmm… my pregnant pussy needs you,” she moaned between sucks.
I pulled her up, untied her saree pallu, and exposed her heavy, milk-filled breasts. We kissed passionately, tongues dancing as I fingered her soaked cunt. She was dripping — pregnancy had made her incredibly horny and sensitive. “Fuck me, Rani… like you did on the bus.”
She climbed on top, straddling me in cowgirl position — her favorite. With her big pregnant belly resting on my knotted blouse, she sank down onto my hard cock in one smooth motion. “Ahhh… yes! So deep!” she cried out. The mini skirt bunched around my waist as she rode me hard, her wet pussy gripping and sliding up and down my length. Her breasts bounced heavily with every thrust. I reached up, squeezing them, pinching her dark nipples as milk beads formed.
The knot of my blouse came undone in her eager hands. She leaned forward, her belly pressing warmly against my chest as she ground her clit on me. “I’m cumming… fill your pregnant wife!” Her orgasm hit hard — her walls spasmed wildly around me, juices flooding down my balls. I thrust up and exploded deep inside her, pumping rope after rope of cum into her welcoming heat.
We didn’t stop there. After a short rest, she made me stand against the wall in just the knotted blouse (now untied and open) and the mini skirt flipped up. She knelt again, sucking me clean of our mixed juices, then turned around, bent over the bed, and begged me to take her from behind. I entered her slick, cum-filled pussy in one stroke, gripping her hips as I pounded her. The sound of skin slapping and her loud moans filled the house. “Harder, Rani! Fuck your Onam gift!” I reached around to rub her swollen clit until she came again, screaming my name.
Later that evening, after another round of sadhya leftovers, we showered together. Priya insisted I keep the mini skirt on (now wet) while she wore nothing but her blouse. Under the cool water, she dropped to her knees once more, deep-throating me until I came down her throat. Then I lifted one of her legs, entered her standing up, and fucked her slowly against the tiled wall — romantic and deep, whispering how much I loved being her secret woman.
More Onam Days of Passion
Throughout the Onam week, we repeated our fun. One morning, she had me cook in just the knotted blouse and mini skirt — no panties. While I stirred the payasam, she came from behind, lifted my skirt, and fingered me while pressing her pregnant belly into my back. Then she bent me slightly over the kitchen counter and used her fingers and tongue until I came hard, my seed spilling onto the floor. In return, I sat her on the counter, spread her thighs, and ate her out until she squirted.
Another steamy afternoon, we tried a new position on the floor mats near the pookalam. She lay on her side, one leg lifted. I spooned behind her in my tiny skirt, sliding into her from behind while massaging her belly and breasts. We moved slowly, lovingly, building to a powerful shared climax as Onam songs played softly on the radio.
Priya glowed with happiness. “This is the best Onam of my life, Rani. You’re my everything — my helper, my lover, my beautiful girl.”
Our secret life grew even more intimate with these new outfits. The Western knotted blouses and mini skirts became regular in our private moments — easy access, erotic contrast, and endless teasing. But as her due date approached, we both felt the coming changes… and the deeper bond between us.