I lived alone in my spacious 4-bedroom ancestral house in a quiet village near Kochi, Kerala. At 51, I had retired early from my government job and enjoyed the peace of the large compound with its coconut trees and small private pond at the back.
At the local toddy shop where I sometimes went in the evenings, they had just hired a smart college boy named Arjun for the summer. He was 22, studying engineering in Thrissur, and was staying temporarily in the area. After a couple of weeks, one of the servers told me he was looking for a room to rent until the end of the monsoon season. Knowing I had empty rooms, she asked if I would consider it. I had already spoken to him a few times — he was polite and well-mannered — so I agreed.
I didn’t say yes only to help him. Arjun had a very beautiful girlfriend, Meera, who was studying with him. The thought of her and her friends visiting, laughing by the pond, wearing their colourful salwar suits or sarees… it was a pleasant bonus.
But I had one big worry.
For the past year, I had secretly become Rani every weekend. Fully dressed — long wig, heavy makeup with kajal, bright red lipstick, bindi, and a delicate golden nose ring (nath) in my left nostril that sparkled with every movement. I had padded breasts, bangles, jhumkas, maang tikka, anklets, and beautiful Indian clothes. No one in my family or among my friends knew about Rani. Except for a few secret online video calls, no one had ever seen me like this. With Arjun moving in, I thought I would have to stop almost completely. But my bedroom was at the far end of the house, so I believed I could still dress up once in a while without him noticing.
Or so I thought.
Three weeks after he moved in, it was a Friday night. I had dressed completely as Rani. I wore a deep maroon silk saree with a matching low-back sleeveless blouse that showed off my smooth back and padded D-cup breasts. The saree was draped tightly, highlighting my hips. Underneath, I had a black lace petticoat and a tiny thong. I completed the look with glass bangles, jhumkas, maang tikka, a shining golden nose ring, dark red lipstick, and high strappy heels that made my anklets tinkle softly. I was chatting and camming online when I heard Arjun’s scooter come in around 2 AM.
I expected him to go straight to his room as usual. Instead, I heard him moving in the kitchen, then silence. Suddenly, there was a knock on my bedroom door.
My heart almost stopped. I was fully dressed as Rani — makeup perfect, saree pallu arranged seductively, and the nose ring glinting in the light. There was no time to change. I stayed silent, hoping he would leave. He knocked again, louder.
With trembling hands and knees, I walked to the door in my heels and asked softly, “What is it, Arjun?”
He replied, “Open the door, Rani. I know what you’re doing.”
I froze. My mind went blank. After a long pause, I whispered, “Wait thirty seconds,” turned off the main light, unlocked the door, and quickly got into bed, pulling the covers over myself completely.
Arjun opened the door. His eyes adjusted to the dim lamplight. He saw me covered up and smiled.
“You don’t have to hide. Get up. Let me see you properly.”
Shaking, I pushed the covers aside and stood up. I adjusted my pallu and smoothed the tight silk saree over my hips. The golden nose ring swayed gently as I moved. I took a few steps towards him, the anklets jingling with every movement.
“Wow… Rani, you look stunning,” he said softly, his eyes lingering on my face and the nose ring. “Turn around for me.”
I obeyed, slowly turning. I felt his presence right behind me. His hands gently touched my waist over the saree. I shivered like an electric current passed through me. He leaned in, his face brushing against my neck and the jasmine flowers I had pinned in my wig.
“You smell so good… like fresh jasmine and perfume.”
One hand moved up to cup my breasts through the blouse while the other slid down, tracing the curve of my hips. He tugged my pallu slightly and felt the smooth skin above my petticoat.
“So soft… I need to see everything.”
He gently guided me to the edge of my old teak four-poster bed.
“Bend over, Rani.”
He lifted the saree and petticoat up to my waist, exposing my round buttocks barely covered by the thin thong. His hands explored me freely. I tried not to moan like a wanton woman.
“This is going to be a very fun night,” he whispered.
He turned me around, pulled me close, and kissed me passionately, his tongue exploring mine. The nose ring brushed against his cheek as we kissed. Then he stepped back and began removing his shirt and jeans. As he did, I finally found my voice and asked how he knew.
“Two things,” he said with a naughty smile. “First, I saw lipstick-stained beedi stubs on the back veranda. Last weekend, I parked my scooter down the lane and peeked through your window. I watched you dressed like this for almost an hour — that beautiful saree and the way your nose ring sparkled. I almost came inside when you left the door open… I wanted to fuck you so badly, but I wasn’t sure how you’d react. Tonight I saw you again — in this beautiful saree, watching crossdresser videos. I knew you would like it.”
By now he was only in his boxers. A massive bulge was clearly visible. He noticed me staring.
“Take it off for me, Rani.”
It felt completely natural. I knelt gracefully in my saree, bangles jingling. I pulled his boxers down. His thick, uncircumcised cock sprang out and brushed against my lips. It was long, heavy, and already leaking.
I wrapped my manicured fingers around it and started kissing and licking the head. His moans encouraged me. I took more and more into my mouth, sucking eagerly until he held my head and gently fucked my face. I gagged a little but kept going, loving every moment.
Just when I thought he would finish in my mouth, he pulled out.
“I don’t want to cum yet. I have other plans for you.”
He looked into my eyes. “You’re still a virgin back there, aren’t you?”
I nodded shyly. “Yes.”
He grinned. “Good. I’m going to enjoy making you my slut tonight.”
He helped me up and bent me over the high bed — perfect height. He lifted my saree and petticoat again, pulled the thong aside, and took the coconut oil from my nightstand. He poured it generously over his cock and my smooth entrance.
He teased me for a long time — just the tip in, then out — until I was pushing back desperately. Finally, he held my hips firmly and pushed in slowly but steadily. I gasped as he filled me completely.
“Arre baapre… you’re so tight, Rani,” he groaned.
He started fucking me with long, deep strokes. The sound of our bodies slapping together mixed with my moans and the tinkling of my bangles, anklets, and the subtle movement of my nose ring. He kept whispering, “You like my cock, Rani?” and “You’re such a good randi.”
When he finally came, he buried himself as deep as possible, pulsing and filling me with hot cum. We stayed like that for a long time.
He spanked my ass lightly and said, “Don’t clean up. I’m going to use that as lube for the next round.”
That night he took me three more times — in different positions, including with me riding him in my dishevelled saree, blouse open, breasts bouncing, and my nose ring catching the light with every movement. By morning I was a sweaty, cum-filled mess, my makeup smeared, saree crumpled.
We continued meeting every weekend until he returned to college. It gave me tremendous confidence. I started going out dressed as Rani at night — to safe, discreet places.
The next summer I ran into him and Meera at the toddy shop (I was dressed as Rajan). When she went to the washroom, he quietly said, “I still think about you, Rani. You have the best gaand I’ve ever fucked.”
I nearly choked on my drink. He laughed and added, “You have my number.”
Later that Friday night, my phone buzzed with a message from him…
I’m glad he caught me. It turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened to Rani.
Discussion (0)