Once upon a time there was a girl in Nagpur named Indrani. Her parents were very mean to her. Like, they made her actually clean her room! And come home on time when there was a curfew!! And be respectful of old people, like her lecherous boss down at the Swiggy Food Survive, where she rode a Scooty to take food to people!!!

It was a real bummer for Indrani, but her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Damle were serious about her growing up to be a proper woman. They made her eat her vegetables at every meal too, which she didn't like.

But she couldn't argue that a good diet and the exercise her parents demanded she do was probably responsible for the fact that she was a stone hottie, with a killer body. She was about 5'10", with the sweetest 36 C titties you ever saw, all round and heavy looking, with tight brown nipples on them that just begged to be sucked.

South of there was her sparse collection of pubes, which lay, short and flat on her mons just above two pouting pink pussy lips that looked like they were plumped up and ready to kiss you long and hard. Those pussy lips closed over her teenaged clitty, which stuck out just enough that her tight jeans rubbed it every so often. If she sat just so, she could get her cookies in school or wherever without using her hands at all! All she had to do was sit so that her clitty was being rubbed and then rock, back and forth just a little.

Yes, all the boys walked around with boners whenever Indrani was in the area, and enough sperm had splattered against shower walls, or into wads of toilet paper or towels or whatever while boys had been fantasizing about Indrani, that you could probably float a good sized rubber raft on it.

Not that any of that sperm had a real chance of getting anywhere close to Indrani's pretty pussy. Her father was careful to make sure of that. Just as soon as he started getting his own boners looking at her, he cut her off from boys and wouldn't let her date, or wear makeup or ANYTHING!!

What a prick!!!

And, her parents had talked to the family doctor and made it very clear he was to provide her with no birth control of any sort without their express approval, which they weren't going to give until she was at least twenty five or so.

Her mother had a 'heart to heart' talk with her when she turned eighteen and reminded her that if she ever even thought about masturbating, she would go blind and catch at least sixteen sexual diseases. Indrani knew that was a crock. She'd been masturbating regularly since she was a teen.

But she was still virtually a prisoner in her own house.

Which is why Indrani decided one night to run away from home. She packed a few things in her back pack and headed off for Bollywood, where she was quite sure all kinds of people would fall all over themselves to make her a star. After all she was beautiful.

Of course that meant she needed to find a ride, since she didn't have her driver's license yet. So she decided to thumb a ride. And, naturally, when she got to the highway and stuck her thumb out, she caused a 24 car/truck accident because every male in sight jammed on his brakes to offer this luscious little number a ride, regardless of which way they were going.

Indrani, completely oblivious to what her wobbling breasts had caused, spied one of those big trucks that was obviously going cross country because it had one of those bed things in the back. So she climbed up and asked the man driving if he was headed for Bollywood, and could she please have a ride.

The man introduced himself as "Tarun, little miss, Tarun Girpade, but my friends just call me the Bade Girpade." He grinned, eyeing Indrani's nipples which were protruding through her T shirt. "And I'm on my way to Bollywood right this minute. I have to stop in Pune and then Thane first, but after that - Bollywood for sure."

Indrani nodded. She really should have paid more attention in Geography class.

As they started down the road Tarun suggested she must be tired from all that walking and that she might want to take a nap in the back. Then he said that, as he would be driving for hours and hours yet, she might want to take her clothes off so they didn't get all wrinkled and mussed.

Indrani thought that was a pretty good idea, though she thought it was a little odd, about half an hour later, when Tarun parked the truck and proclaimed it was time for his lawfully prescribed rest period. When she felt his naked body slide under the covers with her she began to realize what kind of situation she was in.

She was in bed with the Bade Girpade, whose obviously hard penis was pressed against her lovely round bottom, while his hand hung negligently over her side, which put his hand right on her breast.

Now Indrani Damle was a teen, but she wasn't stupid. Several of her girl friends had given her lots of advice on just what to do in situations like this. What they all said they did, involved the girl's mouth and the boy's penis, but they all said it was guaranteed to solve the problem.

If you liked the boy, you made him very happy with your mouth.

If you liked him a lot, you swallowed.

If you didn't like him, or he was forcing himself on you, you offered to make him happy, but then used your teeth to make it so he wasn't interested in chasing you as you ran away.

You had to be careful about that, though, they all warned, because blood didn't taste very good at all.

Indrani suggested to Tarun Girpade that she knew something about making him very happy. There was a big sigh from Tarun at first, as she started, and then an agonized scream.

Witnesses said they saw a naked girl get out of the truck, pull on her clothes and run off. Most said it wasn't any of their business so they didn't ask any questions.

And so it was that Indrani Damle escaped from the Bade Girpade and ran into the woods where she almost immediately became hopelessly lost, she being a city girl and all.

She wandered around in the forest until suddenly it began to rain. Very soon she was soaked to the skin, which meant her shirt was soaked and her pants were soaked, because other than that she didn't have anything on.

It was a thoroughly miserable girl who stumbled into the clearing where the Bhosriwala lived. Of course, Indrani Damle didn't know the Bhosriwala lived there. All she saw was their house.

Who are the Bhosriwala you ask?

Well, the Bhosriwala family consisted of Malcolm P. Bhosriwala, who was a big gruff man over six feet tall with a big woolly beard. People who looked at him were scared instantly because he looked so mean.

In fact, he was a sensitive guy for the most part. In particular he was sensitive to being called "Malcolm". He felt like it sounded gay and he was NOT gay.

His wife, being an intelligent woman simply called him 'Papa Bhosriwala' and to make that seem normal referred to herself as 'Mamma Bhosriwala' instead of Sanju, which she didn't care for much either.

They had one son who was born in a hard labour during which Papa Bhosriwala was present, but was drunk as a skunk. They had agreed upon a manly name for their son: "Jose". Mamma Bhosriwala turned to the nurse and said "Jose" and the nurse, a Marathi resident student from some city, promptly wrote down "Jozz" on the form that ended up being the birth certificate.

Naturally, Indians, who cannot speak any language well, including their own, called him "Jog".

Imagine for a moment, being in Junior School, in cricket practice, with a name like "Jog".

Of course, he got so much shit in school that he went by "Bug" a nickname no one understood. But it was better than "Jog".

He wouldn't let his mother call him "Jog" either, and she refused to call him "Bug". So he got called "Baby Bhosriwala" when he was at home.

Baby Bhosriwala was a strapping young lad, broad of shoulder and muscled from all the woodcutting he had to do as part of his chores.

Theirs was a happy, but poor Parsi family though, and while he had all the urges of teenaged boys, he didn't have the outlets. He couldn't take the girls out on dates in the manner to which most of them had become accustomed, and none ever visited his house twice because they thought it was "creepy" out in the woods like that.

There being no Malls just around the next tree, they had to go shopping every once in a while, a somewhat time consuming activity, as they lived way the hell out in the suburbs.

And shopping is in fact where they were when Indrani found their house. Indrani approached the house with care. She was wet, cold, shivering and her stomach had just started growling. She was in no shape to fight off another amorous attacker and she wanted to scope things out before announcing herself.

Besides the house looked kind of creepy.

She stuck her head in the door and immediately smelled food smells. She stepped inside and listened intently. All she heard was her own stomach growling.

Very quickly she looked around. There were only two rooms. One had three beds in it, and the other was a sort of combination living room and kitchen. There were three bowls on the table in the kitchen and that was where the smells were coming from.

She investigated and found that the bowls were made of wood, hand carved, and each had a name on it. There was some kind of stew or something in them and it smelled delicious. She tried some from the largest bowl, marked "Papa Bhosriwala". It was so spicy hot that her eyes watered. She dropped the spoon in it and pushed it away. Then she tried the smallest, which said "Baby Bhosriwala" on the side and found it was stone cold. The spoon she used ended up with a big sticky glob of stuff stuck to it. She dropped that on the table and pushed it back too. But when she tried the middle sized one, marked "Momma Bhosriwala", it was perfect and she ate it all up.

Little did she know that Papa Bhosriwala, having been horny for about a month, put something in Mamma Bhosriwala's stew to make HER horny too!

Indrani explored now, trying to find a towel, or some clothes to change into that weren't wet.