Misc. Erotica Swati's Downfall (Original Story)

[S Darko]

Ashok is sitting in his favorite chair, watching a match on TV when Swati comes in. He takes a swig of his beer, smiles and waves a hand at her. This is unusual, this acknowledgement and greeting, he knows, but he is a changed man. Somewhat, at least. He is going to make an effort.


He watches her as she takes off her heels by the door and smiles at him. Unusually high heels, he thinks, but he dismisses the thought. Perhaps she needed it for some office presentation. Sometimes, it isn’t just the product you sell, it is a bit of yourself too. 

She looks tired.

“Sweetie,” he says, “hard day at the office?” He hasn’t called her sweetie in a while. It is a word he uses only for her and Dhruv, no one else. He has never felt the need or compulsion to use it with any of his concubines, whores, one night stands. Words have power, he knows.

Her smile falters, then widens at the word. A genuine smile. She nods. “Tired,” she says.

He watches as she heads off to the kitchen. 

“Did Dhurv eat? What time did you get in?” She calls over her shoulder.

“Yeah, he ate. He’s in his room on his iPad. Oh, and I got in a couple hours ago. The flight was on time.”

He watches Swati as she returns from the kitchen.
 
“Ready for dinner?” She says. 

“Yeah, sure,” Ashok says, and picks up the remote to turn the TV off, but she says, “keep watching, I have to go change, see to Dhruv…ten minutes?”

Ashok nods. Perhaps he will get lucky tonight, he thinks. Lately, well, after the resort, it has been a while, so perhaps tonight? If she’s not too tired.

Later, after dinner, as they’re washing up, he sidles up behind her and embraces her. He lightly nips her earlobes, kisses her neck. He cups her breasts from behind. One hand for one boob. He can barely contain them, but he is gentle, cupping and supporting rather than squeezing. He can, if he wants, use forefinger and thumb to gently squeeze the nipples, but not yet. This is an old signal that he’s in the mood, one that rarely fails unless she is on her period or something. But she flinches slightly, sucks in her breath, before she settles.

“What’s the matter?” He coos in her ear.

“Nothing…just a rash I think,” she says after a moment.

“On your boobs?” He is incredulous.

Again, she says nothing for a beat. Then, “I think it might be the new bra. Something is off about it. Maybe the material…” she trails off.

“So…” he says, “tonight is off?” He knows he sounds disappointed, but doesn’t care that she knows it. She should know, he thinks. He wants to make love to his wife, improve their relationship. Perhaps break some new ground with their new friends.

“No…” she says, “I mean, sure.” She sounds hesitant, unsure. 

Ashok kisses the back of her neck again, still holding her from behind, firmly cupping her breasts but not squeezing or anything. He nibbles her earlobe and she squirms. This is a sure tell. He can feel himself swelling in his pajamas. 

Later still, after the dishes are put away—Parvati is gone for the day—and Ashok helps her dry the dishes, put the leftovers away in the fridge, they adjourn for the night. 

Swati insists on turning the lights off before she undresses. 

As they make love, Ashok is surprised by how much she is eager and willing. She almost devours him. She is hungry for him, and he reciprocates. 

The viagra he has taken in anticipation kicks in and he feels like a god. He can last for ever. He can choose when he wants to come. He reduces Swati to a quivering mass of jello before he says, “Ready?”

“I already came twice,” she says, breathing the words into his ear, low and slutty. “But,” she adds as she chews her lower lip, “fuck me harder and I will come again!”

Swati never uses words like fuck, not even when they are at the height of their passion. So this is a new one for Ashok. Something has gotten into his wife for sure.

But he is energized, excited beyond anything before. He hammers into her, harder and harder. He can hear a knocking, like someone at the door and realizes it is the headboard banging against the wall. He dismisses it. 

At his peak, he pulls out, holds, and thunders into her as hard as he can go. Each time it is like a jackhammer, a pneumatic punch. He can picture himself as a giant machine, punching through impenetrable rock. 

And above the blood roaring in his ears, he can hear Swati gasping, mewling, crying out as her nails dig into his back and her legs encircle his ass, squeezing, squeezing.

Finally, with a roar, he pushes in for the last time, mashing his pelvis against hers with as much force as he can muster, and unloads. He does a few residual pumps, and he can feel his wife gripping his cock in her velvet vise, milking him. It feels like she is doing the exact same thing as he is, pumping, pumping, pumping, except in reverse. 

Exhausted, he collapses on top of her, still hard, still holding himself in her. He feels her nails still digging into his buttocks and back. Slowly, her grip relaxes.

After a while, he pulls out and flops over to his side of the bed. Swati is still breathing hard. 

“Wow! That was fantastic! How was it for you?”

He is aware that he has never asked her this question before. Usually, he would pump into her until he was done and always assumed she was done when he was. He didn’t understand the female orgasm at all. He had read some, but it confused him. Women were supposed to be multi-orgasmic, whatever the fuck that meant. 

Swati said, “it was wonderful!” She sounds genuinely sated. 

Ashok grunted. They breathe for a while, getting their wind back. 

He wracked his brains to think of what he might say to his wife of almost ten years. How had it come to this?

Finally he says, “I got a text from Abhi.”

“Abhi?”

“Yeah, Abhinav, the guy we met at the resort? His wife is Menaka…remember?”

“Oh,” she says, “them…yeah, I remember. What about them?”

Ashok thinks perhaps Swati and Menaka didn’t hit it off as well as he and Abhi did. 

So he says carefully, “Didn’t you guys get along? Like you did the whole spa thing, right?”

Swati’s reply is a little more enthusiastic. “Oh yeah,” she says, “Yeah, it was great. I like Menaka. Abhi also seems cool.”

Ashok breathes a sigh of relief. “Well, they’ve asked us over to their place in Delhi next weekend.”

“Sure,” she says after a bit, during which Ashok holds his breath. “What about Dhruv? They don’t have any kids…but I guess Parvati can stay until we return. What do you think?”

Ashok is stunned at how easy this was. He decides to push a little. “We may stay the night…” He can see her face in the dim light filtering in through the windows, and her expression is skeptical. He presses on. “You know, it’s a long drive…it could take a couple hours, and we’ll be drinking a little and…”

“Okay,” she says. Apparently she sees the logic in his words. “At their place? Or in a hotel?”

“Oh,” he says, “I think their place is pretty big…he insisted actually that we stay over.”

“But doesn’t he have other people at his party?”

“Not sure…he didn’t tell me.” Ashok knows there will be no one else. And the bed will be shared, hopefully he and Menaka and Abhi and Swati. Separately in different rooms or together in one sweaty mass? An orgy of dicks and pussies and limbs and tits. 

The thought makes his dick rise again. He looks down and says, “Hmm…look at that. Want to go again?”

Swati giggles and throws her leg over him.