Misc. Erotica Swati's Downfall (Original Story)

[Gopal Ratnam]

Interesting updates

[arunranjith08]

Yes Sir! This story is written by request. Long one only. Also, the situations have to be built up, and unfortunately that is slow. It is not a quick fap material; there is actually a story here, at least in my mind.

Thanks for your patience.

I will try to post another update later today.

Excellent build up so far & it's taking shape beautifully. The various conflicts with the characters will be fun & exciting, gives the thrill, enjoyment, sadness, frustration, feeling bad etc. The various array of emotions this story can bring going by how it's evolving is exciting. Bro, take your time & go slow, this story has lot of potential. Eagerly waiting to see how Swati's downfall unravels. Please give regular updates is the only request. Thanks for taking time out to develop such a nice erotic story.

[S Darko]

Excellent build up so far & it's taking shape beautifully. The various conflicts with the characters will be fun & exciting, gives the thrill, enjoyment, sadness, frustration, feeling bad etc. The various array of emotions this story can bring going by how it's evolving is exciting. Bro, take your time & go slow, this story has lot of potential. Eagerly waiting to see how Swati's downfall unravels. Please give regular updates is the only request. Thanks for taking time out to develop such a nice erotic story.

Appreciate the sentiments. It is indeed a little bit of hard work to think the story through especially if you want it to hang together. 
Next update hopefully later today.

[desiass]

Yes Sir! This story is written by request. Long one only. Also, the situations have to be built up, and unfortunately that is slow. It is not a quick fap material; there is actually a story here, at least in my mind.

Thanks for your patience.

I will try to post another update later today.

Sorry if I have offended you and also for putting my request in a wrong way, I know the story is not going to be a quick one but what I was asking for is that the updates are little less frequent and also short. It is just a request from a fan to give long or frequent updates. The story is really nice and I am opening this forum only for this story. I also know this might be just your passion of writing erotica......so no pressure. it's like you ask what you want without considering other people's situation...my mistake.  Thanks for the awesome story.

[desiass]

waiting for the update

[LustyLeo]

she is now cock hungry slut

[S Darko]

Sorry if I have offended you and also for putting my request in a wrong way, I know the story is not going to be a quick one but what I was asking for is that the updates are little less frequent and also short. It is just a request from a fan to give long or frequent updates. The story is really nice and I am opening this forum only for this story. I also know this might be just your passion of writing erotica......so no pressure. it's like you ask what you want without considering other people's situation...my mistake.  Thanks for the awesome story.

No offense taken my friend. Thanks for being a loyal reader.

[bikiniking]

AMAZING!!!

Just keep this slow pace, the tease and the character development is outstanding. Just don't rush, we would love to see the real downfall slowly over the weeks, one step at a time

[bikiniking]

Once Again, A SUPERB JOB at Narration

[S Darko]

Swati was topless again, swaying slightly from side to side making her boobs swing, when Ramesh spoke. 


“Madam, can you do a…walk?” He shimmied his hips in an incomprehensible way.

Swati was puzzled and it showed on her face. Walk? What walk?

“Walk matlab?”

“Like the models do…you know on TV and such,” Ramesh said.

Oh, he meant a catwalk. Like in a fashion show. 

Swati was tall, in a relative way, but together with heels, she could top five-seven.
 
So far, all her “show” had been static, in that she had stood mainly in one place, with only the occasional twirl to show this or that. Always, of course, to show her assets better or sometimes to hide them. This was a new twist. Static was now going to become dynamic. She stood a moment, her posture relaxing. She had to think this over.

As far as figure went, she was quite confident in hers. 

She had fleshy but not overlarge hips, a still relatively narrow waist, and as for her boobs, well, wasn’t that the problem in all the wrong ways! If you were to ask a man, any man, he would likely tell her it was a good problem to have. Like too much money or too many girlfriends. 

In some ways, she thought she had the body of the porn actress Lena Paul, but the face more like one of the Indian actresses, closest in her mind was the relative newcomer, Kriti Sanon. 

She glanced down at her boobs. A quick glance. They hung a little now, not as high and proud as they had been before Dhruv came along, but still pretty great, even if she said so herself. Her nipples were large and pointed slightly off to one side rather than straight ahead, like someone who gave a three-quarter profile rather than face the camera straight-on. 

Big aureoles, but nicely proportioned, not too big, not too small, right in the Goldilocks zone. Her belly too was flat, with maybe just a little outward curve as it approached the waistband of her salwar. A nice deep navel.

She thought about her legs. Last she had seen them in the mirror, and critically appraised them, they were still shapely, just the right amount of fat and muscle tone. Good calves. She knew she was no waif like most of the scrawny models in the country. Or the world for that matter.

She decided she could carry off a catwalk. And for Ramesh, an audience of one, who was probably no connoisseur, it should be no issue at all. But, logistics came in the way.

“But, this office is too small,” she said. Two or three steps, and she would be at the door. Two-three steps the other way, she’d run into the wall. It was a spacious office with a large enough desk, yes, but it was hardly a runway ramp. 

Ramesh’s face fell. There was a theatrical quality to his expression and Swati narrowed her eyes. Topless, with her tits on full display, nipples and aureoles all puckered, she still wondered what game Ramesh was playing. 

This was his second request, and Swati assumed it would be harmless like his previous one too. Come to think of it, this was harmless wasn’t it? All he wanted was she should walk, perhaps with a little hip swing, tits thrust out, like all the catwalk models did. Nothing too bad. 

“Yes,” he said, “it is very small…” 

Then he brightened, and again Swati felt the theatricality in the way his expression changed. But then, this whole thing was some kind of drama, wasn’t it? Real life could never be this way. A high-class woman progressively exposing herself to a low-class man from the villages. That too, several years younger than her. 

So many taboos were being broken, Swati had lost count.

“How about the conference room? There’s plenty of space there,” he said. His expression was eager, pleading, hoping she would agree. 

“Conference room? But there might be people there!” Swati was starting to panic. It was one thing to expose herself to the cleaner in the privacy of her office where she had a modicum of control, or at least that’s how it felt, but the conference room was a vast space, and she felt very uneasy. 

Then she thought about the possibilities. She had been pushing past her boundaries, her limitations in the last few months. 

This would be another step forward. But first she had to make sure of one thing.

“Can you walk around and make sure no one is in any office? No one on this floor at all?”

Ramesh grinned wolfishly, canines exposed, and patted the large key-ring that was attached to his belt loop. “I have the master keys to all the offices in this building.”

Swati felt a thrill of danger, fear, all in her belly, her insides feeling light and liquid, but also a tingle of excitement in her nether regions. 

She looked at him carefully. His features were becoming familiar, and he had a naive, innocent quality that she rarely saw these days. People were so knowing, so full of themselves. Ramesh’s face was refreshing that way. Cute almost.

“Go,” she said with a smile, her cheeks dimpling much to Ramesh’s delight, “check quickly and come back.”

They were a team now. He would check to make certain the coast, so to speak, was clear, and she would go along with their games of exhibition. Before, he was an audience of one, she, the titillator-in-chief, but things had changed again. The balance of power, it seemed, had shifted a little, but Swati felt great. She even felt a little grateful that she was getting this opportunity, which she thought was strange.

Now they were partners. They had a common goal now. 

She needed to exhibit herself, make a “show,” and he needed to watch. He checked to make sure there were no stragglers in the office, especially near the conference room while she waited in her office. 

Later, they walked down the hall, she in front, he behind. She was fully dressed, sans bra, but her salwar and kameez were still on. She would undress in the conference room and give him a little catwalk. Topless of course. But the salwar would still be on.

[Vasanthan]

So easily accepted the offer? Very hot. Can she make him like a slave and it turns other way around.

[desiass]

plan in action.....nice move

[NityaSakti]

so good going

[S Darko]

Swati was aware that she’d been neglecting Dhruv for the past several weeks, and had been depending on Parvati to take the brunt of his rearing, and resolved to do better going forward. What Parvati must think of her, coming home so late in the evening, wasn’t something she wanted to contemplate. 


Ashok had also been unusually busy over the last few months and even missed his favorite T20 cricket matches involving his favorite teams. Perhaps he watched them on his mobile, she thought, or maybe at his floozy’s house. The thought that she too, might be considered a floozy by some yardstick never even entered her mind. 

Regardless, Ashok had been distant and they met usually in the bathroom in the morning while brushing their teeth or getting dressed, situations during which the most meaningful conversations concerned running the household. Or if they wanted to get takeout pizza for Dhruv in the evening. 

Parvati could manage most things. In another life, Parvati might have been a happy homemaker with a corporate husband from the way things ran so smoothly in her care.

Swati and Ashok’s wedding anniversary was coming up, and Ashok suggested they go out for a few days. She took the week off and spent the first couple of days with Dhruv and pampered him, assuaging her guilt. The leaves were falling off the trees and there was a nip in the air, especially in the early mornings and late evenings. Winter was coming, and it promised to be a cold one this year. 

She and Dhruv spent time in the park, took in a movie and had a good old time. Ramesh and her uncharacteristic behavior soon drifted out of the center of her consciousness. But of course, it remained at the edges.

Dhruv would miss a week of college, but Ashok said, what college, he’s five years old and in kindergarten, he can afford to miss some days. So they gave Parvati a week of paid leave and drove to his parents house in Noida. 

They dropped Dhruv off with his grandparents who were happy to have him, and the feeling was reciprocated by their son. They’d already lined up a week of fun activities for them to do. Swati and Ashok then drove off to the vacation resort, a place called Travamigo Farms.

Ashok was loving and attentive most of the time unlike at home. Almost to the point that Swati became a little suspicious of what he planned to do. But by now Swati knew he was having an affair, maybe several affairs and that had diminished her self image of being a desirable woman. Being with Ramesh gave her the required ego boost, and the illicit nature of their relationship, if it could be called that at all, was a further thrill. The fact that he was from a lower caste, a lower social strata only increased that thrill. 

It was a difficult adjustment for Swati as she had grown accustomed to her now weekly fix of “shows” with Ramesh. She had to explain to him that she would be out of town for a week and that their activities could resume the following week. It was also a good test since she needed to leave town occasionally for meetings and conferences and wanted to make sure that the cleaner wasn’t getting clingy, and also to make sure she still had the willpower.

In the last several weeks, sex with Ashok hadn’t changed significantly, but on the few occasions they had made love, Swati had felt cold, insipid and not at all turned on. It wasn’t that Ashok wasn’t trying—he nibbled on her ears, kissed her neck, fingered her and so on, his “A” game, so to speak, but it was weak, not even a patch on the excitement she felt even when fully clothed in Ramesh’s presence. After faking an orgasm, she usually, she had to bring herself off afterwards, in the bathroom with her fingers, stifling her moans. Not that Ashok was listening because he usually fell asleep right after. Gone was the time they cuddled and caressed each other and went a second time.

It was interesting, she thought, that Ramesh had yet to touch her. Would he? With his Hanuman hang-ups and so on, who knew? She was starting to take it on as a challenge to see if she could seduce him, but in the meantime, she would continue to play the game. It was so much fun. And the thrill she felt every time, like she told Neetu, was beyond anything she had experienced before.

The time at the resort was great. She relaxed, drank too much and spent a lot of time by the pool and in it. Her bikini was two piece, and she was secretly proud that at the age of thirty and one child, she could still pull it off. 

Evenings there were shows, and mixing with couples like themselves and on day two, they fell in with a couple from Delhi of similar age and interests. The next day the men, Abhibnav and Ashok, went off for a game of golf, leaving Swati to sleep in and relax. She would get together with Menaka and have a spa time, girl time. 

Menaka was interesting. She was a Telugu girl who had been brought up in Delhi, and behaved more like a Punjabi than a South Indian. Even though Menaka was fair, compared to Swati, she was a few shades darker. But she had a pretty face, Swati allowed. 

Her thoughts drifted to Ramesh as she woke up late. It was ten in the morning and almost time for housekeeping to come in. She sloped toward the bathroom in her underclothes—a loose cut-off t-shirt and panties, which she had decided was decadent enough to sleep in, especially during a vacation. 

In the bathroom, she brushed her hair, removed stray hairs from her face with a tweezer and brushed her teeth. She took her top off and inspected her breasts. They looked large, perhaps overly large, but Ramesh seemed to love them—looking at them that is. 

Ashok, in the early flush of their marriage, couldn’t get enough of them, but now even if she was topless in front of his, he wouldn’t even glance at them. Even if he did, if was a neutral glance, like if he’s looked at her foot or hand. There was no lust there, and certainly no love as far as she could tell. He showed more of a reaction looking at the TV remote she thought wryly. 

She wondered if they would have another child. Perhaps by accident, but probably not by design. She still had time.
As she wandered back into the main suite, there was a knock and a second later, the door swung open. There was a moment of déjà vu as she recalled the time when she had been furiously masturbating and Ramesh had walked in with his cart. 

This time too, there was a uniformed man backing in with a cart and for a nanosecond she thought Ramesh had followed her all the way here. That was crazy even to think about. But this was a different man, and he wasn’t wearing headphones.

There was a long moment as he took in her topless nudity with appreciative eyes, and Swati stood still. Not scared, not outraged, just stood there letting the man get an eyeful. She didn’t reach for a towel, even though one lay within her grasp, nor did she raise her hands to cover her tits. 

Even though the familiar urge to cover up was strong, she resisted, appeared casual, and let her hands dangle by her side. 
The man was dark, thin, and had a skinny mustache, and he spent a long few seconds looking up and down at her body, as though admiring a beautiful painting, before snapping to attention and apologizing. 

“Sorry…ma’am,” he said and started to back up to the door.

What was this place where the housekeepers walked into naked guests, Swati wondered. She smiled at the guy, just like she had at Ramesh so long ago and said, “That’s all right. How about you come back after ten minutes?” 

Again, she made no move to cover herself. She was tingling, and the act of nonchalance she put on was just that. Inside, she was buzzing like a 220 volt current was passing through her body. She felt a gush in her panties and hoped he hadn’t noticed.

The man gave her one more long, lingering and lustful look and then, slowly, reluctantly,  moved out of the room.
Swati toddled on trembling legs to her suitcase and retrieved her G spot stimulator, a special, soft vibrator she inserted into her cunt, and also had a stem that stuck out to stimulate the clitoris. Within seconds, almost as soon as she inserted and started the vibe, she came cataclysmically. 

Damn, she thought as she wiped the device and put it away. She must be an exhibitionist. She had never thought of herself in those terms, preferring not to dwell on labels, but now it was becoming undeniable. She really got off on showing herself to random people. Wait, scratch that; it was some specific people. People like Ramesh and the housekeeper that had wandered in. 

Later, Swati told Menaka while they were both luxuriating in the spa with their eyes covered with cucumber slices and their feet being massaged in hot water by industrious masseuses.

“Oh my God!” cried Menaka, “You were completely naked?”

“No, I was wearing panties, but small ones, you know, bikini type.” She had been wearing a thong that barely covered her pussy, and in the back it was just a string that dipped into her ass-crack, leaving nothing to the imagination. Not always comfortable, but she had worn it for Ashok, and he hadn’t even seen it because he was so drunk.

“Oh my God!” Menaka said again. “I would have died right then and there!”

“Yeah,” said Swati, wondering what kind of excitement Menaka might have in her life. Surely nothing like what she was having. Perhaps a night of sex with Dhruv, all of five minutes of foreplay, followed by five more of thrusting? Yeah, that sounded about right, she thought, giving her new friend a sidelong glance from under the cucumber slice.

Swati thought she might tell her story of her flashing and nude shows to Menaka. Just as a form of catharsis, telling something intimate to a perfect stranger could be a form of therapy, but in the end she decided it could be too risky. 

[Samadhanam]

Super update. By telling secret about her, she is letting the closest ones know that she is bitch in heat and not taken care of by husband. She is also trying to get a companion so that her actions can be justified.

[Chitrarassu]

Awesome

[Karmayogee]

Super one

[Rangabaashyam]

Continue pls

[S Darko]

Ramesh wandered the streets of Bhim Colony, a slum area of Gurugram, late that night, unable to sleep. He had a few friends there, men who, like him belonged to the shakha. Some of them were wrestlers, and a few of them still practiced at the local akhada where an elderly guruji still taught a steadily diminishing number of students. 

He had met the guruji and touched his feet for blessings. Something and someone familiar in a godless and alien city, he remembered thinking at the time. 


Some days, he would spend in the company of the young men who were busy doing push-ups and squats and swinging the jori. He would help out, sweeping the wrestling pit, working the sacred earth with his hands, grinding the almonds into paste for the wrestlers. 

He would occasionally pick up a few weights, but not in any serious way. Just to keep his hand in, so to speak. Sometimes, he would spar with the younger guys, just so they could get some practice. He was always gentle with them. Had he not been forced to leave his village, he might be competing at the state level in the 65 kg category, but alas it was not to be. 

A few stray dogs trotted by, and he paid them no mind. In one of the tenements, a light came on and a woman’s raucous laughter came through. Then a man’s voice telling her to be quiet. A radio, or perhaps a TV played Hindi songs, somewhere in the background. The smell of cooking--cabbage and potatoes, he thought, wafted up to him. An old man sat on the pavement, smoking a bidi. In the street corner, a eunuch was buying paan from a vendor. 

Bhim colony was full of people just like him, he thought, and that’s why he lived there. The people though had changed from when they’d lived in their villages. They had become worshippers of the almighty rupee. He didn’t hate them, just a low level sort of pity. He had his own demons to wrestle with, and paid not much mind to them.

His thoughts turned, naturally enough, to Swati. He hadn’t seen her for a few days and wasn’t sure when she would be back. He knew though that she would message him on his phone when she returned, they had that much set up by now. They no longer had to depend on his regular schedule of cleaning offices. 

Prakash too, was away and he had the chawl room to himself. A lot of time to think and decide what to do, but the answers were not easy. He had no one to talk to, and he wasn’t sure Prakash was the right person.

Their relationship had changed over the last few months. He knew the whole thing started off as an accident when he barged into her office, believing it to be empty. Her initial bitchy attitude was simply because she hadn’t recognized who he was. He figured the chaprasi uniform was part of the problem. 

Or had their “thing” started the next time when she dressed herself in front of him, giving him an eyeful? He wasn’t sure. 

Many years ago, when he still lived in the village, he had visited a temple, several kilometers away where the donations, and oblations were in the form of liquor. The prasad too, was liquor. People flocked from far and near to pay their respects to the temple deity, a form of Kali. 

He had attended a divine assembly that the head priest there had organized and had been very impressed with the way he explained how liquor, or soma ras, was something the gods themselves used, and had given the recipe to mankind. It was not a bad thing; like everything, in moderation, liquor too had its benefits. He had partaken liberally of the prasad and danced all night with the tantriks and other mendicants around a fire. In the morning, he had felt an exhilaration unlike anything he had felt before. 

It was from one of the tantriks that he heard of another temple, that of Mata Rati, several hundred kilometers away from his village, where the goddess of love was worshipped. The temple was reportedly large and the sevikas were all young women who provided sexual services for free.

Were they prostitutes then? Like the devadasis of old were thought to be?

Not at all, the tantrik replied between puffs of his chilam. They were there of their own free will, and they were highly regarded and worshipped as such. Any man could go there, and his wish would be fulfilled. 

Ramesh was intrigued. The year he turned seventeen, he and a couple of his friends had traveled to the village where the temple was situated. Supposedly, one could not visit the place unless one was invited. The call reportedly came in a dream, and the person had no control but to go there. Of course, the local villagers could visit when they wanted, but there was no advertisement for the temple, no tourism or anything at all.

Ramesh believed he’d received an invitation in his sleep. A Hanuman Bhakt, and a wrestler, he believed it was some incarnation of Sita mata who had invited him there. He could not be sure, of course, and there was no one to ask without fear of being ridiculed. He was not going to go as a common worshipper; rather, he had been called to be the protector, and he went there to receive instructions on what he was to do.

When he got there, a mela, a festival of sorts, was in progress, and he decided to stay as long as he could. The temple was open at all times, and he was able to get a better idea of what went on there. 

The chief of the temple wasn’t an old man, but rather, a beautiful, older woman, perhaps as old as his mother. She wasn’t available, not to anyone, but the others were.

Each more beautiful than the other, there were twenty-one girls that lived and learned in the temple. The girls were considered lucky to be chosen, and they were holy as well. They “donated” their time, a year or so, to the temple Devi and initiated young men into the mysteries of the body. The whole thing had a holy feel to it, a spiritual dimension that Ramesh could not understand very well. 

The girls were later often wed into prominent families in the neighboring villages, and there was quite often a bidding war. A bride price had to be paid to the girl’s parents. This was quite a reversal from the usual dowry system that plagued so much of the country. 

Ramesh sat with the old priestess and talked with her. And learned from her. She invited him to take part in the festivities, to be taken by one of the girls, but he declined. 

His need was of a different kind. He had come to learn the purpose of his life. And, he had decided at that time after his long conversations with the priestess, it was becoming clear. 

He looked down at his hand where the bidi was still smoldering. He tended to smoke when he was stressed, even though he didn’t know that was the term to use. 

Just that his head was spinning. He would have to give it up. He tosses it into the street, walls a few steps and then returns to crush it under his shoe. Fire hazard. With all the wooden and the inflammable materials the shacks around him were made of, it was a real risk. 

And now, he was back to Swati. 

Like a circular argument, he went back and forth if his relationship with Swati madam was of the divine kind or the carnal. Ramesh always thought of her as Swati madam even though Prakash often used derogatory terms for her, like whore and slut, and even more colorful and demeaning terms in Hindi. 

He would have to figure it out soon, he decided. In the meanwhile, the encounters with her were too good to pass up. 

[Sarran Raj]

Superb update