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Erotica Walvan in the past

RajuWalvan

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Update 8

Louis had grown used to curious glances, but the wedding he and Janaki were invited to brought a new kind of attention. The village buzzed with drums, turmeric-scented garlands, and women in vibrant red saris shimmering under the lantern light. The air was thick with incense, cardamom, and gossip.

As Janaki and Louis approached the wedding house—a large thatched courtyard lit with glowing oil lamps—many women looked at Louis with open curiosity. His fair skin, soft features, and gentle smile drew remarks laced with humor and admiration. “Like a doll carved from moonlight,” one older woman whispered. “I’d gladly have his babies,” another joked, triggering waves of laughter. Janaki squeezed Louis’s hand and laughed along, clearly at ease with the teasing nature of her village sisters.

As night deepened, Janaki leaned toward Louis. “Tonight, a sacred custom takes place. You must see it—but say nothing, only watch.”

She led him into the inner quarters of the bride’s home. The space was dim, warm with breath and anticipation. In the center stood a simple cot draped in fresh marigold garlands. The bride and groom, newly bound in marriage, sat upon it, silent and composed. Around them stood close male relatives—brothers of the groom—and select elder women who murmured soft instructions.

This was the tradition: the bride would feed each of her new brothers-in-law. One by one, the men stepped forward. It was not rushed. Each bowed respectfully before the bride, who gently loosened her blouse and let her blouse fall to one side, revealing one full, heavy breast. Her breasts were high-set and voluminous, with a rich, warm brown hue. The areolae were broad and full, the nipples soft at first, then quickly responding to the open air and attention.

Before feeding each brother-in-law, the bride would gently extend her pallu, drawing it over his head and shoulders, forming a temporary tent of privacy between them. Under this canopy of cloth, her hand guided the warm curve of her breast forward, and he would latch with a sense of reverence and familial bond.

The latching was careful and symbolic. Each brother suckled for only a moment—mouths forming gentle suction around the darkened areola, lips parting in reverent motion. There were soft, wet sounds—gentle smacks and rhythmic sucking—followed by the faint, almost inaudible pop of lips releasing from the nipple. The room held those subtle sounds, amplifying their intimacy. It was not about nourishment, but a deeply rooted rite of acceptance. It was said that through this brief act, the bride became the matriarchal figure to the husband's kin.

No one stared or giggled. There was respect in the silence. The bride remained calm, unembarrassed. Her breathing was steady, her eyes lowered. Her breasts moved gently with the rhythm of each short feed, soft sighs escaping her lips in quiet acknowledgment. After each turn, the brother bowed again and touched her feet, receiving a quiet blessing.

Louis stood behind Janaki, his chest lightly pressed to her back, her ass cheeks brushing against his groin with every breath. She didn't say but pushed her waist back at him. He felt the warmth of her through the thin cotton. The intimacy of the moment was disarming, yet oddly graceful. He rested his chin on her shoulder peeking over her deep cleavage. He glanced at Janaki, whose expression was serene. “The bride is expected to nurture and please all brothers of the groom,” she whispered to him. “The body is not just for pleasure or modesty—it is for connection, for trust.”

As the last brother stepped back, the bride raised her eyes briefly, scanning the room. Her role had transformed—no longer just a bride, but a partner, a nurturer, a part of a deeper familial fabric.

Janaki took Louis’s hand as they turned to leave. “Now you understand,” she said gently. “Let me please you Babuji.”
 

RajuWalvan

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Update 9

The sun had risen fully now, filtering through the neem leaves and casting shifting patterns on the courtyard floor. Louis remained seated on the veranda bench, his journal closed, untouched. His thoughts, unlike before, were no longer weighed with hesitation. Over the past weeks, his bond with Janaki had deepened—not just through quiet talks and long walks, but in the shared curiosity. She had welcomed his closeness, his hands, his mouth. What had begun with cautious tenderness had grown into something fearless, open.

Janaki appeared from the doorway, eyes seeking his with a quiet fire. Her voice, soft yet certain, broke the morning stillness. “Come inside,” she said.

Louis rose immediately. He left the steel cup beside the bench and followed her through the hanging curtain. Inside the dim room, the earthy scent of sandalwood and grain welcomed them. Light filtered in narrow strips through the slats, warming the mat where she sat.

Janaki folded her legs but did not sit at a distance. Instead, she reached for Louis's hands and pulled him gently toward her, guiding him to kneel close, almost between her legs. Her sari rustled as she shifted, allowing more of her skin to show, not by accident but by intention. Her blouse loosened easily beneath her fingers, practiced now, baring both full breasts to the hush of the room.

She pressed his palms gently to the curve of her breasts, guiding them over her bare nipples, encouraging the warmth. "Feel me," she said. "Know this isn't just nourishment. This is love. This is welcome."

Louis leaned into her, his hands mapping the softness of her skin, the rise and fall of her breath. She wrapped her arms around his back and cradled his head against her chest. He latched willingly, firmly, suckling with growing familiarity. Her milk came quickly, warm and abundant, and she held him close, her body enveloping his with a need that mirrored his own.

Janaki’s legs shifted, wrapping partly around him, bringing him even closer. Her thigh brushed against his side, anchoring him as her hands moved across his shoulders and down his spine. Her voice came in a murmur, "Let go, Louis. Explore. Touch what is yours to hold."

He did. His hands traced her hip and lower back, rising to cup the fullness of her breast not yet offered, fingers brushing over her nipple. She smiled and gently guided him to that side. Her skin was flushed, her breathing rich and deep. She watched him feed—watched the tension drain from his limbs, watched his lips respond not only to hunger but to trust.

She kissed his forehead and whispered, “You are not alone in this longing. I want you to feel it all.”

His response was in action, in closeness. His face nuzzled her, his arms wound tightly around her waist, anchoring in her softness. She tilted her head back, savoring the moment, her fingers massaging his scalp, her bare chest against his cheek as he fed more slowly now, full but unwilling to part.

The room was thick with quiet love, with skin and breath and the rhythm of hearts learning each other’s beat. Outside, the village stirred, but within these walls, there was only this communion.

Later, when he rested his head in her lap, Janaki ran her fingers along his jaw and said, “You are helping me bring life. But here, with you like this—I already feel reborn.”

Louis looked up, face aglow. “And you’ve made me feel what home truly is.”
 
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RajuWalvan

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Update 10

The afternoon sun poured golden beams across the village, the air thick with the distant hum of voices and the clatter of utensils. Inside his small room, Louis sat cross-legged, his journal resting on his lap, though his mind drifted far from the words on the page. The tenderness shared with Janaki over the past days filled him with peace and a growing, eager hunger for the bond they continued to nurture.

Outside, Janaki had completed her chores with her usual grace—the pots scrubbed, the grains neatly stored, and the midday meal long since served. She now reclined lazily against the wooden frame of the doorway, her breathing slow, letting the warm afternoon breeze caress her flushed skin. Her sari clung to her like a second skin, the soft cotton tracing the gentle curves of her waist and breasts. The few beads of sweat glistened like pearls along her collarbone, catching the sunlight as she absentmindedly stroked her abdomen, aware of the life she longed to carry within.

From the courtyard, Sumit appeared, his feet pattering softly across the stone floor. The boy approached his bhabhi with a mischievous sparkle in his eye. "Bhabhi," he whispered with a knowing grin, "I want milk."

Janaki’s smile widened with maternal warmth. She reached out, cupping his cheek gently, brushing back his hair. This was not an unfamiliar request; Sumit had nursed from her even as he grew, seeking her comfort as much as nourishment. But today, as she gazed into his eager eyes, a playful, intimate thought stirred in her heart, sending a shiver through her.

"Come here, beta," she murmured, opening her arms. Sumit nestled against her, his head resting on her chest as she deftly loosened the folds of her blouse. The cool fabric slipped aside, revealing the warm, full swell of her breast. He latched instinctively, his mouth creating rhythmic, greedy pulls as her milk began to flow. His soft hands pressed gently against her exposed skin, his breathing syncing with her own.

Janaki’s gaze drifted toward Louis's room, her mind already spinning with a deeper longing. As Sumit continued to suckle, she slipped one arm in his underwear holding his small penis, keeping him latched as she rose to her feet with grace. Her sari swayed as she crossed the courtyard, each step deliberate, her heartbeat quickening as she approached Louis’s door.

She paused for a moment, watching him through the open doorway. Louis looked up, his eyes lighting up as she entered, holding sumits penis in one hand. Without speaking, she knelt gracefully before him, her exposed breast still claimed by Sumit’s eager lips.

"There’s enough for both," she whispered with a soft, inviting smile, as she slowly exposed her other breast, the skin taut, the nipple already glistening with a bead of milk. She extended her hand, beckoning Louis closer.

Louis’s breath deepened. With no hesitation, he closed the small distance, kneeling beside her. His fingers lightly traced the curve of her waist, his palm resting on the soft warmth of her belly before his lips met her offering. He suckled gently at first, savoring the sweetness of her milk, the warmth of her body radiating against him. The soft sighs that escaped Janaki’s lips encouraged him further, and his rhythm grew stronger, confident.

Janaki exhaled deeply, wrapping both arms around them, her hand stroking Louis’s hair as the other cradled Sumit’s head. The dual sensation— child feeding and her lover drinking—sent waves of tender pleasure through her. She arched her back slightly, her breasts full and heavy between them, letting them both draw from her freely. To keep Sumit content and undisturbed as her pleasure built, she gently pulled his skin back, offering him soothing sensation while he suckled, her touch motherly yet filled with affection.

As the moments passed, she leaned closer to Louis, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered with heavy breath, "Louis, my love... I am ovulating today. My womb is ready. Fill me while I nourish him."

A surge of desire swept through Louis at her words. He paused only briefly to gaze into her eyes, finding there not only passion but profound trust. He nodded, his hands now roaming her waist, caressing the softness of her hips with reverence.

Janaki shifted again with fluid grace, never disturbing Sumit who remained latched and content in his steady suckling. She parted her legs just enough, her sari falling loose around her thighs, her body welcoming Louis in complete openness.

Louis positioned himself with care, his hands steadying her as he entered her with slow, deliberate depth. Janaki’s breath hitched, her free hand gripping his shoulder as their bodies began a quiet, intimate rhythm. The sensations blended—the fullness within her, the pull of Sumit at her breast, the closeness of Louis’s chest against hers.

Each slow thrust brought quiet moans from Janaki’s lips, blending with the soft sucking sounds that filled the room. Her skin flushed deeply, sweat beading along her neck and temple. She rocked gently in harmony with them both, savoring every layered sensation.

Louis’s movements remained tender but sure, his hands roaming her back and waist, his lips occasionally grazing her neck. His breathing grew heavier, mingling with hers in the warm afternoon air.

The sunlit room pulsed with their rhythm—three bodies entwined in a moment of profound unity. Janaki’s head tilted back as she surrendered completely, her voice a trembling whisper of devotion and need. "Yes, Louis... fill me... give us life."

When the waves of pleasure finally ebbed, Louis stilled within her, breathless, his forehead resting against hers. Sumit, still suckling softly, shifted slightly but remained undisturbed.

Janaki held them both close, her arms encircling them in a cocoon of warmth. The afternoon light caressed their entwined forms, and for a long moment, they simply existed—together, complete.

With a tender smile, Janaki whispered, "Babu you make me happy."

Louis kissed her gently.
 
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dubukh

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Finally Louis fucked her. What a scene it is man? Devar sucking her breasts in one side and her lover making love to her fertile womb on the other side. Great going story, please continue bro
 

RajuWalvan

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Update 11

The moon cast a silvery glow over the village, bathing the small house in a serene light. Inside, the room was quiet except for the soft rustling of fabric and the steady breaths of its occupants. Tonight, Louis, Janaki, and her husband, Ramesh, shared not only the bed but a deeper bond beyond words.

Janaki lay nestled between the two men, her cloths loosened, her skin glowing softly under the moonlight. Her breathing was calm yet filled with anticipation. Ramesh, lying on his back beneath Janaki, gently cradled her hips, providing a solid, comforting presence. Louis positioned himself over Janaki, his body hovering above hers, his heart pounding with a mixture of desire and gratitude.

Ramesh looked up at both of them, his voice tender and supportive. "Tonight, we give her everything she wants."

Louis smiled, leaning in to kiss Janaki tenderly. His hands traced gentle circles along her abdomen, feeling the softness of her curves and the warmth of her body. Janaki's breath shivered in response, her lips parting slightly as she turned her head to offer him her breast. She whispered playfully, "My love, take all that you want, I have plenty for you tonight."

Louis latched on, suckling with familiar affection, while Janaki arched her back, pressing herself closer. Her hands reached behind her, finding Ramesh's hands resting firmly on her thighs, his fingers caressing her tenderly. Ramesh's touch gradually became more intimate, his fingers exploring and stimulating her as her body opened in readiness. Janaki let out a soft moan, teasing, "Mmm, Ramesh, your hands always know where to find my weakness."

Janaki's breathing deepened, her body reacting to the synchronized tenderness of both men. Ramesh whispered loving encouragement into her ear while continuing his gentle caresses, ensuring she was fully prepared. She gasped softly, "Yes... make me ready for him... for both of you."

When her body was ready, Louis positioned himself carefully at her entrance, guided by Ramesh's steady hands below. With a slow, deliberate movement, Louis entered her, his body lowering onto hers, pressing her lovingly into Ramesh's waiting chest. Janaki moaned louder this time, her voice filled with a mixture of comfort, pleasure, and playful invitation. "Ahh... Louis, so full... don’t hold back."

Ramesh's hands roamed her sides and hips as Louis moved rhythmically above, his thrusts deep and controlled. The sandwich of their bodies created an intimacy that heightened every sensation for Janaki. Each time Louis thrust forward, Ramesh responded by lifting his hips slightly, adding a gentle counter rhythm that sent waves of pleasure radiating through her core. Janaki whimpered breathily, "You two are driving me mad... more... don’t stop."

Janaki surrendered completely to the exquisite sensations—the fullness of Louis within her, the comforting pressure of Ramesh beneath her, and their hands caressing her every curve. Their breaths and whispers surrounded her, forming a cocoon of love and unity. She murmured between moans, "My body belongs to both of you... use me as you please."

As the moments deepened, Louis’s pace grew more passionate, his mouth returning to her breast, suckling as his thrusts intensified. Ramesh continued to guide and support them both, his hands steady on her hips, his lips pressing gentle kisses to her neck and shoulder. Janaki’s moans grew louder, her voice trembling, "Yes... Louis... deeper... Ramesh... hold me tighter."

The moonlight danced over their entwined forms, the room filled with the soft, harmonious sounds of their union. When the final wave of pleasure swept through them, Louis held himself deep within her, filling her completely as her body trembled in release. Beneath her, Ramesh gently pressed his hand over her belly, offering a silent blessing to their shared act of creation.

In the quiet aftermath, the three remained joined, breathing together in perfect harmony. Janaki smiled dreamily, her heart overflowing. "Thank you both," she whispered, her voice thick with love. "Tonight, you made me whole."

Louis and Ramesh exchanged a glance filled with mutual respect and profound connection, each deeply grateful for the bond they now shared through the woman they both cherished.
 
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dubukh

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What a moment for Louis. Her husband is guiding him to slid into his wife's entrance to heaven and boy he enjoyed a lot. Fucking her and sucking her at the same time. please continue bro
 

RajuWalvan

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Update 12

It had been nearly a month since Louis had begun nursing from Janaki daily, and their bond had settled into a quiet, familiar rhythm. Each afternoon, after her chores were done, she would sit against the cool wall inside her room and let him rest his head in her lap. Without needing to speak, she would pull her blouse down, and he would latch on, suckling slowly, eyes closed. Her fingers stroked his penis, her sari draped loosely over them.

Louis drank her milk every day, and Janaki complied without hesitation. She no longer saw him merely as a foreigner or guest—he had become something more intimate, a soul she nurtured and comforted, and toward whom she felt a deep affection. His quiet need gave her peace, and she responded with increasing warmth, letting him play and suck longer, drawing his head closer, her arms tightening around him.

When she fed Louis, her touch became softer than with anyone else. She would cradle his face gently, letting her fingertips graze his cheek as he nursed. Her voice, when she spoke to him, dropped to a low, melodic whisper. She kissed his forehead, sometimes humming quietly as he rested. It was in these quiet moments that she revealed a side of herself no one else saw tender, open, and wholly at ease. The rhythm of their connection was unhurried and trusting, her body responding to his presence as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

She had begun to prefer Louis over the others in the household. Around him, she let her softer side show patient, calm, tender. She embraced him more often, spoke more gently, and let him play with her body. The warmth she gave Louis was something even Sanjeev did not receive in the same way. It wasn’t favoritism as much as a deep, unspoken pull she felt toward the boy who had slowly woven himself into her everyday life.

One early morning, as she began her sweeping, a sudden wave of dizziness stopped her mid-motion. She leaned on the broom, blinking, hand instinctively resting on her belly. The feeling was unfamiliar but unmistakable.

Later, inside, she counted days on her fingers, twice over. Her breath caught. No bleeding for five weeks. Her breasts felt heavier, her skin warmer. The truth settled over her like a whisper.

She was pregnant.

Her hand pressed firmly over her stomach. Tears filled her eyes. After all the trying, the disappointments, something had finally taken root.

That afternoon, she found Louis under the neem tree, half-asleep, his head tilted back. She sat beside him, ran her fingers through his hair, and guided him to her chest. He latched on instinctively, nursing slowly.

She let him, holding him gently. "Louis," she murmured, "I'm carrying a child."

He paused, lifting his face in quiet confusion.

"You are going to be a father," she said, smiling softly. "You gave, and it stayed."

She took his hand and placed it on her belly. "It's real. I know it."

He stayed still, overwhelmed. She pulled him close again, and he rested his head against her belly. She wrapped her arms around him.

That evening, she told Ramesh, her husband. He listened, surprised, then broke into a soft smile. His hands found hers, and his eyes shimmered with quiet joy. After years of disappointment, it didn’t matter how or who it only mattered that life had begun.

Janaki was glad for his happiness. But in her heart, she knew it was Louis who had brought this change. She looked at him differently now—with care, pride, and something deeper. She would still give him milk. She would still hold him each day. But now, with a deeper love. He wasn’t just a visitor anymore. He was part of her, and part of what was growing inside her.

They all sat in the courtyard as dusk crept in. Janaki’s hand stayed over her belly, Louis resting against her side, and Ramesh quiet nearby. The air was still, but Janaki felt alive content, strong, and full of silent joy.
 
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LaluYadav

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Part 1

The village of Walvan lay quiet under the early summer haze, its red earth warm beneath bare feet and the tamarind trees swaying with the occasional gust. Dust rose from the narrow path as a bullock cart creaked forward, bearing a lone traveler — a young European student with ink-stained fingers and a mind brimming with questions.

Louis Deschamps had come to India not for monuments or scriptures, but for whispers — fragile stories passed between elders, tales that had escaped the notice of scholars. One such whisper had guided him here: a remote village where the breast, a symbol of nourishment, extended beyond the mother-child bond.

At the edge of Walvan, near a sprawling banyan tree, a young man in a crisp white dhoti awaited him. Lean, bright-eyed, and calm in posture, he had the confidence of someone deeply rooted.

"You must be Louis," he said in slow, careful English. "I am Ramesh."

Next to him stood his wife, Janaki — no more than twenty-two, with luminous almond eyes and sun-kissed skin, her marigold-yellow sari clinging to her slender frame in the humid air. Her smile was immediate and radiant.

"Welcome, welcome! You must be tired from the journey," she said, her English warm and melodic. "You look just like Ramesh described! Come — you must be hungry."

Louis blinked, caught off guard by her fluency. Ramesh grinned. "She’s been practicing english for your visit."

Janaki laughed, the sound like temple bells. "I wanted you to feel at home. Walvan is small, but our hearts are large. You must ask many questions, yes? We will show you everything." She pressed her breast to show him her cleavage.

Though married a year, the couple had no children yet. Still, as they walked down shaded lanes, Louis noted how children flocked to Janaki. Toddlers clutched at her fingers; older boys leaned in, giggling at her jokes. She had something for each of them — a teasing word, a lullaby line, a gentle tug on an ear. She gave freely, and the children absorbed her joy like sunlight.

At a curve in the path, a boy of about six ran up and clung to her waist, face pressed against her hip.

"Arrey, you again!" Janaki teased, crouching down. "Didn’t I feed you this morning? What mischief now?"

She lifted him easily, balancing him on her hip as she perched on a low stone wall. Louis watched curiously as she adjusted her pallu with one hand, revealing the curve of a full, beautiful breast. Her nipple, large and tender, sat at the center of a dusky areola, softened by the heat. Without hesitation, she brought the boy close. His lips parted instinctively, and he latched on, cheeks rounding as he began to suckle.

The sound was unmistakable: a slow, rhythmic pull, wet and purposeful. The boy’s eyelashes fluttered, his hands relaxed, his breath slowing to match the rhythm of nourishment. Janaki tilted slightly to support him better, cradling his head with her palm, fingers threading through his thick hair.

"They know I have milk," she said, looking up at Louis with a calm, confident smile. "Even though I’ve never had a baby of my own. Love makes milk too."

Louis stood frozen, caught between reverence and disbelief. He had studied symbolic feeding rituals, communal wet-nursing, and mother-lore across continents — but this was different. There was no ritual here, no performance. Just a woman feeding a child, in the open, with peace.

Ramesh, sensing Louis's awe, chuckled softly. "In our village," he said, "milk is for all."

Janaki nodded, still nursing, her voice both gentle and firm. "We share it. Like stories. Like mangoes in summer. Boys grow strong, and so do we. You are surprised, I think. But you will see — there is no shame in feeding love."

Her breast rose and fell with the boy’s rhythm. She switched sides when his sucking slowed, offering the other nipple without fuss. The boy, now flushed and heavy-lidded, reached for the new breast with greedy familiarity, lips sealing around it, tongue moving with instinctive coordination. Louis noticed the subtle shift — this breast released faster, and the child’s gulping quickened, his hands now patting gently at her side. He could even see the way the boy's jaw worked, the rhythmic movement of the tongue pressing against the nipple, drawing out the milk in pulses.

Janaki exhaled softly, brushing sweat from her temple with her free hand. There was no concealment, no apology — just life.

Louis nodded, breath caught in his throat. In this act — quiet, unannounced, without taboo — he saw something elemental. Kinship. Comfort. Continuity.

Later that day, as the light mellowed and shadows lengthened, they arrived at a modest home with mud walls and a thatched roof.

"There’s an old government house near the edge of the village," Louis offered hesitantly. "I could stay there. I don’t want to impose."

Ramesh waved it off. "That place? Full of bats and snakes. You’re staying with us."

"Yes, yes," Janaki added with a playful twinkle. "Here, you will be fed properly — maybe even a taste of my milk," she said with a mock-serious tone, laughter dancing in her eyes.

Louis laughed, a little red in the cheeks, uncertain whether she was joking or not. In Walvan, even the ordinary seemed to carry layers of meaning.

It wasn’t long before Louis observed more. Janaki, it turned out, also nursed her two young devars — Sanjeev and Sumit. Both boys, much older than the child she had fed earlier, would come by in the afternoons. Janaki greeted them with warmth, calling them with playful teasing. Without hesitation, each would take his place at her breast, sometimes one after the other, and other times, together. Her arms encircled them effortlessly, and she would speak to them gently as they suckled — sometimes singing, sometimes laughing.

Louis could hardly believe the comfort and naturalness of it all. There was no secrecy, no awkwardness. Just the quiet intimacy of care that seemed as vital as food and air in Walvan.

And he knew then — he had not come to study Walvan. He had come to be changed by it.
D
 

dubukh

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As expected she finally got pregnant by Louis. He is not just a visitor, now became one in the family as his dick visited Janaki's pussy and given her a baby

Now more milk for Louis and more curd of Louis for Janaki. Story going great, please continue bro
 
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