Risita An Oblivious Star - The Unseen Stage - অধ্যায় ৩

Part 2: Chapter 6: The Sliding Secret Weeks later, the monsoon had given way to a crisp autumn, and Risita found herself on another makeshift stage, this time in the sleepy village of Kamalpur. The air was cooler, but the warmth of the audience’s anticipation was just as palpable. Tonight, a new set of aged kakus managed the stage lights: the stoic, bespectacled Ghosh Kaku (65), the notoriously jovial Pal Kaku (58), and the silent, ever-observant Mondal Kaku (72). Debu, as always, was front and center, his chest puffed out with pride. Risita, in a beautiful indigo saree, felt a slight breeze against her legs. She had remembered her white low-waist bikini panty this time, a creamy soft barrier, but in her usual pre-show rush, the petticoat had once again been forgotten. The flimsy saree, though thicker than her previous one, still lent itself to the kakus’ wicked designs under the precisely angled spotlights. "Shona, the next one is 'Jodi Tare Nai Chini Go'," Risita called out to Debu, her voice clear and melodious as she began the soul-stirring melody. She moved with a gentle grace, her 34C-30-38 figure swaying rhythmically. The lights, expertly manipulated by Ghosh Kaku, played over her, making the saree cling and then drift, hinting at the pale skin beneath. Pal Kaku adjusted a spotlight, a wide, lewd grin spreading across his face. "Dekho, Ghosh-da, aajke Panty porechhe Risita . Kintu petticoat nei, aar amader light er jaadu toh achhei!" he whispered, nudging Ghosh Kaku. Ghosh Kaku grunted, his eyes fixed on Risita, a glint of perverse amusement behind his spectacles. "Hyan, kintu Panty-ta besh low-waist... dekhi koto-khon thake jaygay," he muttered, subtly angling the light to focus on her lower body as she performed a gentle spin. And then, as Risita launched into a particularly energetic crescendo, her body twisting slightly, a sudden, almost imperceptible shift occurred. Her white low-waist bikini panty, loosened by her movements and the absence of a petticoat to hold it in place, slid ever so slightly to one side. Just a fraction, but enough. Mondal Kaku, who had been silent until now, gasped softly, his eyes widening. A single, dark, long curly pussy hair, escaping from the edge of her mature hairy puffy pussy lips, became faintly visible beneath the sheer indigo fabric of her saree. Then, as Risita leaned forward slightly, gesturing with her hand, one edge of her mature hairy puffy pussy lips, now partially exposed by the displaced panty, became obscenely distinct. It was a rounded, plush outline, hinting at the full, soft mound beneath, and with each breath she took, it seemed to swell and contract, a silent, primal rhythm visible only to the men backstage. Long, dark curly pussy hairs hung downwards from that exposed, mature puffy pussy lip, a wild, untamed fringe against the delicate fabric. "O ma go... Dekho Risitar Panty-ta ek dike ki bhabe shore geche!" Pal Kaku hissed, his lund already beginning to stiffen inside his dhoti. "Dekho, dekho! Risita 'r… mature hairy puffy pussy lips… pura dekha jachhe." He licked his lips, his eyes gleaming with illicit pleasure. Risita, still singing, felt an unfamiliar coolness where the fabric usually clung. A sudden, subtle tingle. Her eyes darted downwards for a split second, and then quickly back to the audience. Her heart skipped a beat. She realized. Her panty had slid. One of her mature hairy puffy pussy lip was practically showing through the thin saree, with those tell-tale long curly pussy hairs. With practiced grace, Risita incorporated a hand movement into her singing, a sweep of her arm down her side, hoping to subtly adjust the errant panty. Risita thought she was being discreet, blending it into the flow of her performance. But it was useless. The white low-waist bikini panty remained stubbornly displaced. One of Risita’s exposed mature hairy puffy pussy lip continued to press against the thin saree, the long curly pussy hairs a dark fringe against the indigo Saree. Risita tried again, a slightly more exaggerated ass sway, another hand brushing her thigh, as if part of an emotional gesture in the song. Still nothing. Still Risita's panty would not budge to the right place. Her efforts, meant to be unnoticeable, were laid bare to the kakus. "Dekhli? Dekhli? Sanskari Risita ki kore Panty thik korar chesta korche!" Ghosh Kaku chuckled, a low, guttural sound, his lund pressing hard against his dhoti. "Kichu hobe na....... o jotoi chesta koruk na keno. Amader light-er khela aar Risitar shore jawa panty-ta Risitar panty-er side theke shob dekhiye dichhe amaderke." Mondal Kaku, usually quiet, now let out a low groan. "Bhagwan, ki shundor… Risita toh janeo na je amra sob dekhe nilam… oi mature hairy puffy pussy lips… ki rokom kore fulche aar aslilbhabe sankuchita hochhe…" His lund was now throbbing, a deep, insistent ache. They watched, mesmerized, as Risita, still maintaining her composure with her coy smile and her beautiful voice, made a few more subtle attempts. A feigned itch, a quick adjustment of her pallu that momentarily obscured the view for the audience but did nothing for the angle of the stage lights. Each failed attempt only heightened the kakus’ perverse obscene delight. "Risita , koto sanskari dekho. Accidentally emon bhul hoye giyeche, tarporo koto shundor kore lukate chaiche... kintu amra toh sob dekhe feli," Pal Kaku whispered, his voice thick with lust. "Oi mature hairy puffy pussy lips jeta prottek ta shwashe fulche aar sankuchita hochhe, ar panty-er nich theke oi lomba lomba chul… hay re!" His hand, almost subconsciously, dipped into his dhoti, gently caressing his straining lund. Debu, completely oblivious, clapped enthusiastically from the front row. "Ki gaan Risita! Oshadharon!" he called out, his smile beaming. Risita smiled back, a little forced, then resumed her singing, her voice unwavering despite the internal panic and the awkwardness she felt. She subtly spread her legs a little wider, hoping the fabric would fall differently, but it only served to stretch the saree taut over that vulnerable, exposed area, making the outline of her mature hairy puffy pussy lips even more prominent, the long curly pussy hairs seeming to stand out in the spotlight. The kakus exchanged knowing glances, their secret game unfolding deliciously. They remembered the last show, the stories that had spread among their circle. "Mon ache, Das ki korechilo?" Ghosh Kaku murmured, a sly grin on his face. "Risita jokhon mic check korte eshe Panty aar petticoat bhule jabar jonno oi saree-er opor diye tar mature hairy puffy pussy lips ta dekha jachhilo, ar oi lomba lomba chul gulo jhule royechilo, Das-er lund toh shob kichu chere diyechilo... creamy thick sticky white hot cum chorie diyechilo oi dhoti'r vitore!" Pal Kaku snickered. "Hyan, ar Risita koto innocent vabe jiggesh korlo, 'Kaku, aapnar kichu hoyeche?' O jantoi na je oi kaku'r lund tar jonno pagol hoye creamy thick sticky white hot cum chere diyeche!" He watched as Risita moved, her saree still betraying her, the white low-waist bikini panty still askew, and her mature hairy puffy pussy lips, with their dark long curly pussy hairs hanging downwards, a constant, pulsating presence under the stage lights. The thought of Risita's pure, cultured innocence juxtaposed with the raw, carnal display ignited a fresh wave of heat in Pal Kaku. His own lund was now painfully hard, throbbing with a desperate need. He could almost feel the rough texture of those long curly pussy hairs against his fingers, imagine the softness of her mature hairy puffy pussy lips. Mondal Kaku, observing Risita's futile attempts to adjust her panty, felt a mix of pity and profound lust. "Bechari… jotoi chesta koruk, amader chokhe toh sob porche. Tai toh bhabei Risita nijeke jotoi sanskari rakhar chesta koruk na keno... kintu amra jani ki cholche." He let out a low, almost inaudible growl, his lund pressing against the fabric of his dhoti, a thick vein pulsing under his hand. He imagined leaning in, just as Das Kaku had, and seeing that magnificent display even closer. The thought alone was enough to make him feel light-headed. Risita, sensing her continuous efforts were futile, decided to ignore it. She focused on her singing, her voice soaring, completely oblivious to the fact that every micro-movement of her body, every breath she took, was making her partially revealed mature hairy puffy pussy lips swell and contract with shocking clarity through the thin saree. The long curly pussy hairs, catching the light, seemed to glisten, an unintentional beacon for the kakus' hungry gazes. The show continued, Risita pouring her heart into each note, her face radiating serenity and artistry. She is a star, shining brightly on her stage, while just behind the curtain of her obliviousness, the old kakus reveled in their secret, lewd theatre, their lunds aching, their minds consumed by the accidental spectacle of Risita 's mature hairy puffy pussy lips and her battle with a sliding white low-waist bikini panty. The forgotten petticoat and the precisely angled lights were merely the accomplices in this ongoing, unseen stage play. -End of Part 2-