Adultery NAZRIN AN INNOCENT WIFE (With pics)

[bongmom]

more Bhabhi/Aunty Pics

https://dropgalaxy.vip/7x87n73d2kty

https://dropgalaxy.vip/j5iz2bf5udq9

https://dropgalaxy.vip/8a1i6cjvvz7y

https://dropgalaxy.vip/7yyc6w4w0vh2

https://dropgalaxy.vip/xr0mzkzszlwp

[Rahulcool]

today we will get any update bro ...

[Cuckoldindian]

Yes..around 5

[Cuckoldindian]

Update 9:

With a smirk, she ended the call and turned her attention to the bags on the couch. Her fingers danced over the fabric, feeling the softness of the dresses and the whisper of lace against her skin. Then, with a sudden decision, she pulled her dress over her head, letting it fall to the floor in a pool of fabric. Her bra and panties followed, leaving her naked in the soft glow of the living room lights.

 
Her skin was flushed, her nipples tight from the excitement of the day. She walked slowly towards the bathroom, each step a deliberate act of defiance against the mundane reality of her marriage. The cool tiles of the floor kissed her bare feet, sending shivers up her spine. She reached for the shower handle, the water cascading down like a waterfall of liquid need.
 
The water washed over her, a blend of hot and cold that sent shockwaves of pleasure through her body. She took her time, her hands gliding over her curves, her fingertips tracing the lines of her newfound sexuality. As the water sluiced away the sweat and grime of the day, she felt a rebirth, a shedding of the old Nazrin and the emergence of a woman who knew what she wanted and was not afraid to take it.


 
When she stepped out of the shower, her skin glistening with droplets, she felt alive. She padded over to the bags, her bare feet leaving wet footprints on the floor. The living room was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, casting a warm light that painted her body in a seductive golden hue.
 
Her hand hovered over the padded bra, the fabric a whisper of promise against her skin. She slipped it on, watching in the mirror as it pushed her breasts up and together, creating a tantalizing cleavage that made her feel powerful, desirable. The crop top followed, the red fabric hugging her curves like a lover's embrace, revealing the slightest hint of her toned midriff.
 
The denim shorts were the final piece of the puzzle, and as she pulled them up her legs, she felt a thrill at the way they clung to her hips, the frayed edges brushing against the tops of her thighs. She turned to the full-length mirror, the image reflected back at her making her gasp. She had never looked so sexy, so bold. Her eyes sparkled with a mischievous light as she twirled, watching the fabric swirl around her.
 
The padded bra had transformed her breasts into works of art, the deep red pushing them up and together in a way that was both alluring and intimidating. The crop top was a scandalous whisper of fabric, leaving her midriff bare, the slightest hint of her panties peeking out as she moved. The shorts hugged her curves, the tight fabric cupping her ass like a lover's hand. She felt a jolt of desire, a hunger that could only be satiated by the two boys who had brought her to this point.


 
The doorbell rang, a sudden jolt in the quiet of the house. She took a deep breath, her heart racing. She knew it was Arun, punctual as always. She walked to the door, her bare feet silent on the cool tiles. As she opened it, she saw the surprise etched on his face, his eyes widening as he took in her new look.
 
Arun's gaze swept over her, his eyes devouring the curves of her body. He had never seen her like this, a siren in red and black, a vision of temptation that was impossible to resist. His eyes lingered on the plunging neckline of her crop top, the fabric clinging to her breasts like a second skin. The shorts hugged her hips, the fabric so tight it was as if it had been painted on.
 
Nazrin felt his gaze like a caress, a silent acknowledgment of the power she held over him. She stepped aside, the fabric of her shorts whispering against her thighs as she moved. "Come in, Arun," she said, her voice a low purr that seemed to resonate through the very air.
 
He stepped over the threshold, his eyes never leaving hers as she closed the door behind him. She led him into the living room, the soft lighting casting a warm glow over the couch where she had laid out her collegebooks and notes. "Sit," she instructed, pointing to the spot beside her.
 
Arun did as he was told, his eyes never leaving her as she sat down and arranged her legs in a way that made the shorts ride up even higher. He felt the weight of his own desire, the books in his hands seemingly inconsequential compared to the allure of her bare thighs and the promise of what lay beneath.
 
Nazrin began to teach, her voice a siren's song that wove through the air, wrapping around him in a seductive embrace. She spoke of algebra and calculus, but all Arun could focus on was the way her breasts moved as she gestured, the way the fabric of her top clung to her skin. Her scent was intoxicating, a sweet and spicy mix that made his head spin.
 
Every now and then, she would lean over, her breasts pressing against the fabric, threatening to spill out of the confines of the bra. Each time, she would catch him looking and give him a knowing smile, her eyes dark with desire. She was in complete control, a master of this silent dance of seduction.
 
Then, without warning, the lights flickered and went out. The room plunged into darkness, the only source of light coming from the emergency lamp in the hallway. The sudden change in atmosphere was electric, the tension between them palpable.
 
Nazrin's heart raced as she felt Arun's eyes on her in the darkness. The hum of the air conditioner stopped, leaving only the sound of their ragged breaths and the distant wail of a car outside. "It happens sometimes in this area," she murmured, trying to keep her voice steady.
 
The emergency light flickered in the hallway, casting eerie shadows that danced across the walls. Arun shifted uncomfortably beside her, the heat of his body palpable even in the sudden coolness of the room. "Ma'am," he began, his voice tight with desire, "the light is too dim for me to study."
 
Nazrin's eyes glinted in the half-light, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Ok, then let's finish it for today," she said, her voice a soft caress that seemed to echo through the darkness. "We can continue tomorrow."
 
Arun's heart hammered in his chest, the thudding rhythm a silent symphony of desire. He quickly packed his books into his bag, his movements jerky with need. The dim emergency light cast an eerie glow across the room, the shadows playing across their faces like lovers' whispers.
 
Nazrin leaned back into the couch cushions, her legs drawn up to her chest. The red crop top and black shorts clung to her wet skin, outlining every curve and dip with a tantalizing clarity that made Arun's mouth go dry. "Make yourself comfortable," she murmured, patting the cushion beside her.
 
He swallowed hard, setting his bag aside. The darkness was a comforting blanket, shielding them from the judgment of the outside world. He sat down next to her, the couch dipping slightly under his weight. The fabric of her shorts was cold from the air conditioning, sending a shiver up her spine as their legs brushed together.
 
"Ma'am," Arun managed to say, his voice thick with desire, "you look... amazing."
 
Nazrin felt a thrill at his words, the darkness only heightening her awareness of him. She leaned closer, her breasts pressing against the fabric of the crop top, the wetness of her skin leaving dark spots on the red material. "Do you really think so?" she asked, her voice a teasing whisper.
 
"Yes, ma'am," Arun replied, his voice barely above a murmur. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, the scent of her arousal mingling with the faint smell of the wet fabric. His hand hovered over her leg, the fabric of her shorts a silent invitation.
 
Nazrin felt the weight of his gaze, the hunger in his eyes a potent force that seemed to tug at her very soul. They chatted for a while, their voices low and intimate, the darkness acting as a catalyst for their desires. She talked about her day, the mundane details of shopping and teaching, while he listened with rapt attention, his eyes never leaving the swell of her breasts.
 
"Ma'am," Arun finally said, his voice thick with need, "I... I have to go. I have work to do at home." and continues "Ma'am, Can i hug you like yesterday.
 
Nazrin's smile was sadistic in the dim light. "Oh, really?" she asked, her voice a purr. "I thought we were having a productive session."
 
Arun swallowed hard, his eyes flickering between her face and her chest. "Ma'am," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "I just want to thank you for the help."
 
Nazrin's smile grew wider. "Of course, Arun," she murmured, her voice a silky invitation. "Come closer."
 
Arun's heart skipped a beat as he leaned in, his hands tentatively reaching for her waist. She stood before him, a vision of temptation in the dim light, the fabric of her crop top sticking to her wet skin. His hands closed around her, the warmth of her body seeping into his palms as he pulled her closer. The fabric of the crop top was unforgiving, the cold wetness of it pressing against his chest as he felt the firmness of her breasts.
 
Nazrin's breath hitched as their bodies met, the warmth of his chest a stark contrast to the coolness of the fabric. She felt his bulge, a hard reminder of his desire, pressing against her stomach. Her hand slid up his back, her nails digging into his skin slightly as she pulled him closer. The fabric of her shorts was sticky with her juices, the scent of her arousal thick in the air.


 
Arun's breath was hot against her neck, his kisses leaving a trail of fire that burned through her veins. She gasped as his teeth grazed her earlobe, his hands roaming over her bare skin, exploring the curves that she had so artfully displayed for him. His touch was tentative at first, as if he couldn't believe she was allowing this, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into it, her body arching towards him like a cat in heat.


 
Her own hand drifted up to his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer. His kisses grew more insistent, his tongue flicking out to taste the salt on her skin. She felt a shiver run down her spine as his teeth closed around the sensitive spot just behind her ear, his breath hitching as she responded with a soft moan.
 
Nazrin's eyes fluttered shut, her mind a whirlwind of desire and need. She started to kiss his neck, her lips tracing a fiery path from his ear to his collarbone. He tasted like rainwater, fresh and clean, a stark contrast to the heady scent of their combined arousal. She felt him shiver beneath her touch, his grip on her waist tightening as he pressed her closer.


 
"Ma'am," he whispered, his voice a hoarse rasp that sent shivers down her spine, "Can I kiss you on your lips?"


 
Nazrin's heart raced in anticipation. She looked into Arun's eyes, dark pools of desire that mirrored her own. Without a word, she leaned in and planted a small peck on his lips, pulling away before he could deepen the kiss. His eyes searched hers, a silent question lingering in the air. She smirked, enjoying the power she held over him.


 
Her hand found its way to his cheek, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw as she leaned in again. This time, her lips lingered, parting slightly as she teased his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. Arun's breath hitched, his hands tightening around her waist as he tried to hold back the storm of passion that threatened to consume him.
 
Nazrin felt the heat of his body, the tension coiled in his muscles, and she knew that she had him. She pulled away, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "I think," she said, her voice a soft purr, "this is enough for today."
 
Arun's eyes searched hers, the hunger in them a stark contrast to the innocent facade he usually maintained. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the effort of maintaining control. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with the effort. "Ma'am," he murmured, his voice a hoarse whisper, "you look... beautiful."
 
Nazrin leaned back slightly, the fabric of her crop top stretching taut over her breasts. She took a moment to appreciate the raw need in his eyes, the way his pupils dilated at the sight of her. "Thank you, Arun," she said, her voice a seductive purr that seemed to wrap around him like a warm embrace. "It means a lot to me that you think so."
 
Arun nodded, his gaze lingering on her lips. He wanted to taste her again, to claim her mouth in a passionate kiss that would leave them both breathless. But he knew the boundaries, the unspoken rules of their game. He took a deep breath and stepped back, his hands dropping to his sides. "I'll go now, ma'am," he murmured, his voice a thick, sweet agony.
 
Nazrin watched him leave, her eyes never leaving his retreating form until the door clicked shut behind him. She collapsed onto the couch, her body humming with unfulfilled desire. The house was eerily quiet, the darkness pressing in on her like a lover's embrace. Her hand strayed to her shorts, her fingers slipping under the wet fabric to find the slickness between her legs.
 
Her thoughts were a tumultuous storm of want and need. She had never felt so alive, so hungry for something that she knew she couldn't have. Her eyes drifted to the clock on the wall, the ticking a taunting reminder of the hours that stretched out before her, each one a silent promise of release that remained maddeningly out of reach.
 
Nazrin knew that her hand wouldn't be enough tonight. She had tasted the forbidden fruit of desire, and now she craved a dick. Her mind conjured images of Muthu, Praveen, and even Arun, their eyes dark with lust, their bodies poised to give her the satisfaction she so desperately needed. She bit her bottom lip, the taste of them still lingering on her tongue from their shared moments of passion.
 
Her eyes strayed to the clock again, the red digits glaring back at her like an accusation. It was 10:30 PM, and Fahim's empty chair was a silent reminder of his absence. She picked up her phone, her thumb hovering over his contact. With a sigh, she dialed his number, the sound of the ringing echoing through the empty house like a sad melody.
 
When he finally answered, his voice was distracted, the murmur of his colleagues a backdrop to his muffled greeting. "Babe, it's too late," she said, trying to keep the desperation from her voice. "Come home."
 
"Naz, I can't," Fahim replied, the sound of shuffling papers punctuating his words. "I have a lot of work tonight."
 
Her eyes fell to the couch cushion, the imprint of Arun's body still visible. "But, Fahim," she protested, her voice a soft whine that she knew he'd find unbearable. "I've been waiting for you."
 
There was a pause on the line, the sound of his sigh a knife twisting in her gut. "I know, Naz," he said, his voice filled with the weariness of a man who'd given up trying to satisfy a woman who never seemed to be satisfied. "But it's an emergency. I have to stay."
 
Nazrin's eyes narrowed, the frustration coiling in her belly like a snake ready to strike. "How much longer?" she asked, her voice tight.
 
"I don't know," Fahim replied, his tone filled with the same tired apology that had become a refrain in their conversations. "It might be a few more hours. I'm sorry."
 
Nazrin's hand tightened around the phone, the plastic creaking under her grip. "It's fine," she said, her voice a brittle shell that barely contained the turmoil of her emotions. "Just... come home as soon as you can."
 
Fahim's voice was a distant murmur as he reassured her, his words a meaningless blur. She ended the call, the sudden silence of the room pressing down on her like a weight. The digital clock on the wall read 10:30 PM, the red digits a stark reminder of the hours that stretched out before her, hours filled with nothing but her own insatiable desires.
 
With a resigned sigh, Nazrin opened her WhatsApp, her eyes scanning the group chat with Muthu and Praveen. There were no new messages, no signs of life from the two boys who had so recently brought her to the brink of ecstasy. She typed out a casual "Hey guys," her thumb hovering over the send button for a moment before she finally hit it.
 
Her phone buzzed almost immediately, the screen lighting up with a flurry of responses. "Ma'am," Muthu's message read, "We've been waiting for you."
 
Nazrin told them about her husbands' being late at work.
 
Praveen's response was swift and eager. "How can we help you pass the time?" His words were loaded with innuendo, and Nazrin felt her body respond, her nipples tightening against the fabric of her bra. The thought of them, waiting for her, anticipating her every move, filled her with a heady sense of power.
 
Muthu's message followed, his words a little more direct. "Tell us about the movie, ma'am. Did you enjoy the show?"
 
Nazrin leaned back into the couch cushions, her mind replaying the day's events. She had enjoyed the movie, but it was the aftermath that had left her craving more. She described the plot in detail, her voice a little shaky as she remembered the daring act she had performed in the empty theater. "But the best part," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper, "was the hugging afterward."
 
The silence on the other end of the chat was filled with anticipation. "The hugging!!!" Muthu echoed, his tone eager.
 
"Yes," Nazrin replied, her voice a siren's call. "The way you both held me so close, your hands on my body... it was intoxicating." She closed her eyes, her fingers tracing the path of their touch on her skin. "I felt... alive."
 
Praveen's message was quick to follow, the screen lighting up with his words. "Ma'am, your neck was so tasty," he wrote, the memory of her pulse racing beneath his lips. "I could have licked you all night."
 
Muthu chimed in, his message a little more crude but no less earnest. "Ma'am," he typed, "the way your boobs felt against my chest was smoother than silk."
 
Nazrin felt a thrill at their words, the heat of their desire pulsing through the phone screen. She had never felt so desired, so alive. Her hand drifted to her chest, her fingers tracing the outline of her nipples beneath the wet fabric of her crop top.
 
"Your words make me feel... wanted," she replied, her voice a soft purr that seemed to echo through the quiet house. "To think that you both were thinking about me like that, it's... amazing."
 
Muthu's response was swift, his excitement palpable. "Ma'am, did you try the clothes we bought today?" he asked, his curiosity piqued by the thought of her in the sexy outfits they had chosen for her.
 
Nazrin stood up, the couch cushion sticking slightly to her damp skin. She didn't bother to reply, instead walking towards the full-length mirror in her bedroom. The floorboards creaked softly under her bare feet, the sound a gentle reminder of the emptiness of the house. She paused in front of the mirror, her eyes tracing the contours of her body, the way the crop top clung to her curves, the way the denim shorts hugged her hips.
 
Her hand hovered over her phone, the screen a gateway to the two young men who had captured her imagination and her desires. With a flick of her wrist, she opened the camera app and held the phone at arm's length. The reflection in the mirror showed her flushed cheeks and the dark circles under her eyes, but she focused on the way her breasts looked in the red crop top, the way the fabric outlined her erect nipples.
 
With a seductive smirk, she snapped the photo, the flash illuminating the room in a brief burst of white light. The image was stark, a testament to her newfound power and the depth of her sexuality. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she sent the picture to Muthu and Praveen, watching the chat bubbles pop up with their names, signaling that they had received it.


 
Their replies were almost instantaneous, a symphony of adoration that flooded her screen. "Ma'am, you look absolutely stunning," Praveen wrote, his words a declaration of worship.
 
Muthu's response was equally as fervent. "Your body is a masterpiece," he typed, his thumbs flying over the keyboard with a feverish excitement. "I can't wait to see the rest of the outfits we picked out."
 
Nazrin felt a thrill at their reactions, the power of her newfound sexuality coursing through her veins like a drug. She decided to play along, enjoying the thrill of the game. "One per day," she replied, her voice a sweet promise that hung in the air like the scent of ripe fruit.
 
Praveen's response was a playful pout. "But ma'am, I want to hug you in that dress right now."
 
Nazrin's smile grew as she typed back, enjoying the thrill of their eager anticipation. "Patience, boys," she replied.
 
Muthu was the first to respond. "Ma'am," he wrote, his voice a desperate whine, "We'll be here, waiting."
 
Nazrin's heart raced at the thought of their eager young hands on her body. She knew she was playing with fire, but the thrill was too intoxicating to resist. Her mind drifted to the day she had spent with them, their hands exploring her body in the darkness of the theater, their mouths on her skin like a brand.
 
With a sly smile, she sent them a message. "Ok, now I sent you the pic. Send me yours, guys." She knew what she was asking for, the image of their naked bodies burned in her mind like a candle in a dark room. The anticipation was almost unbearable as she waited for their replies, her hand slipping into the waistband of her shorts to stroke the bare skin beneath.
 
Her phone buzzed, and she held her breath as she opened the messages. To her surprise, instead of the explicit photos she had hoped for, she found two pictures of Muthu and Praveen, each shirtless and wearing only their underwear. The V-shaped fabric hugged their hips, leaving their bulges visible and tantalizing. They had clearly coordinated their teasing, and the sight of their muscular torsos made her stomach flip with excitement.

 


"Was hoping to see you guys naked," she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm, but her heart racing with anticipation. The line between playful banter and reality was blurring, and she knew that the thrill of the chase was only making her want them more.
 
Praveen responded with a wink emoji, his message playful yet charged with meaning. "Ma'am, we haven't seen you naked yet," he wrote, his words hanging in the digital ether like a challenge.
 
Muthu followed suit, his message a blend of seduction and cheekiness. "Ma'am, we're just getting started," he sent, the ellipsis trailing off like the promise of something more.
 
Praveen chimed in, his tone more serious. "Ma'am, your beauty keeps us awake at night."
 
Nazrin felt a thrill at their words, the power she held over them like a heady perfume. She sent them a kiss emoji and typed, "Oh, you naughty boys. Go to sleep now, and dream of me." She knew they would be masturbating to the image she had sent, their hands moving in the darkness of their own rooms, their thoughts consumed by her.
 
With a seductive smile, she set her phone aside and stripped off her clothes, letting them fall to the floor like discarded pieces of her old life. Standing naked before the mirror, she ran her hands over her body, feeling the heat of her skin, the slickness between her legs. She climbed into bed, the cool sheets a stark contrast to the fire that burned within her.
 
Nazrin picked up her phone, the images of Muthu and Praveen in their underwear a siren's call that she couldn't resist. Her breath grew ragged as she stared at the bulges in the photos, imagining what lay beneath the fabric. She trailed her fingers over her breasts, her nipples hardening at the thought of their eager eyes on her. Her hand drifted down, her fingers finding the warmth between her legs.
 
With a whispered moan, she inserted two fingers into her wetness, the sensation making her hips buck. She began to pump them in and out, her movements growing more frantic as she whispered their names like a mantra. The emptiness of the house only amplified the sound of her breathing, the wetness of her cunt, and the throb of her clit. Her eyes never left the photos, her mind racing with images of their hands on her, their mouths on her skin.
 


Her other hand reached for her phone, her thumb swiping to enlarge the images of Muthu and Praveen. The bulges in their underwear seemed to pulse with each stroke of her fingers, as if beckoning her to touch them, to see them. The desire grew into a crescendo, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she pictured herself on her knees, their dicks in her mouth, their hands tangled in her hair.
 
"Muthu," she moaned, her voice echoing through the quiet room, as she pushed her fingers deeper inside herself. The name rolled off her tongue like a sweet incantation, a declaration of her yearning. Her other hand found her clit, the sensitive bud swollen and aching for attention. She rubbed it in tight circles, her hips thrusting against her palm as she imagined Praveen's fingers playing her body like a maestro.
 
Her breath grew ragged, her chest heaving as she increased her pace. The images of the boys in their underwear filled her mind, their erections straining against the fabric. "Praveen," she whispered, her voice a desperate plea. Her thumb swiped over the screen, switching to Muthu's photo, then back to Praveen's, as if she could somehow bring them to her through the digital veil.
 
Suddenly, Arun's face swam into her thoughts, his soft, sweet kisses a stark contrast to the roughness of the students' embraces. Her body responded with a jolt of electricity, her hand moving faster over her clit. "Oh yes," she murmured, her voice a soft crescendo that seemed to fill the room. The memory of his innocence was a drug, a gentle high that made her crave the harder edge of Muthu and Praveen's desire.
 
Her orgasm crashed over her like a wave, her body arching off the bed, the muscles in her stomach tightening as she cried out. She rode the wave, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she felt the warmth spread through her core. The room spun around her, the darkness a comforting embrace that held her as she shuddered with pleasure.
 
When the storm had passed, Nazrin lay back, her chest heaving. She felt empty, the void inside her only temporarily filled by her own touch. Her eyes fell on the photos of Muthu and Praveen on her phone, their smirks taunting her from the screen. She knew that the real thing would be so much better, the feel of their flesh beneath her fingertips, the taste of their skin on her tongue.
 
With a sigh, she set the phone aside and curled into a tight ball, her legs drawn up to her chest. She slept in the same position she had when she was a child, seeking comfort in the fetal embrace. Her dreams were a tumultuous blend of the innocent and the illicit, her mind conjuring images of the three young men who had come to dominate her thoughts.

[Cuckoldindian]

I am thinking of writing a new real sex story..

Any one who wants me to write their stories please emali me.

bing6909@gmail. Com

I will surely reply back.

[Solotrubator]

As expected. I want this type of story. Slow and steady one update per day. Your story has all the masala elements, suspense , seduction and waiting for the fruit to ripe theme.

[dragonslair]

I am thinking of writing a new real sex story..

Any one who wants me to write their stories please emali me.

bing6909@gmail. Com

I will surely reply back.

please finish this one before starting any other story

[dragonslair]

Wonderful. Plots are all amazing. Just want to see Nazrin seduce the boys to the peaks and then initiate the steamy part. Don't let her lose to the boys so soon. And just like that don't turn the husband cuckold. We have a lot of boring cuckold stories in this site with that theme nothing had the slow and seductive theme. This is good. Keep it going.

My imagination of Nazrin -

Exactly how i feel

[Cuckoldindian]

please finish this one before starting any other story

I will not leave this story unfinished..

I will write both stories simaltaneously..

[Rahulcool]

bro u nailed it awesome update ...teaser for next update ....can we expert next update tomorrow ...keep rocking bro ....

[ShakirAli]

Awesome story bro… you’re too good with AI 

[killthecheats]

Awesomeeeee. Strange she still control herself.

[Cuckoldindian]

Awesome story bro… you’re too good with AI 

Its originaly wrote up by me. 

No AI ??

[ShakirAli]

Its originaly wrote up by me. 

No AI ??

My sincere apologies, dear friend. I intended to type “good with articulating,” but my phone’s autocorrect perchance changed it to “good with AI.”  

Keep creating the good stuff. I love the story. It’s awesome.

[magneticpersonality]

Excellent Narration

Superb Slow Seduction

[Dinesh Raveendran]

Marvelous update

[Rahulcool]

my imagination of nazrin

[Rahulcool]

today we will get update like yesterday bro

[Cuckoldindian]

Update 9:

The next morning, Nazrin woke to the harsh blast of her alarm, the digital clock's red digits burning into her retina like accusations. She sat up with a start, the emptiness of the bed beside her a stark reminder of Fahim's absence the night before. He was sprawled out beside her now, his snores a testament to his obliviousness. Anger bubbled in her chest, a thick, noxious brew that threatened to spill over.

 
Her eyes fell on his sleeping form, his chest rising and falling in the soft early light. He looked so peaceful, so unaware of the tumultuous desires that had ravaged her only hours ago. Her hand itched to wake him, to demand an explanation for his neglect, but she held back, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. Instead, she slid out of bed, her feet hitting the cold floor with a quiet thud.
 
Nazrin padded softly to the bathroom, her bare skin prickling with the coolness of the tiles. She turned on the shower, the water cascading over her like a balm to her frayed nerves. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth wash away the remnants of her dreams, the images of Muthu and Praveen's eager bodies still imprinted on her mind. The scent of her shampoo filled the air, a mundane contrast to the intoxicating musk of the theater, but it was a comfort she clung to.
 
As the water streamed down her body, she felt a pang of regret for the night she had spent alone, her hand a poor substitute for the real thing. She turned off the tap and stepped out, wrapping herself in a towel that felt rough against her sensitive skin. The bathroom mirror fogged up, and she took a moment to wipe it clear, staring at her reflection with a critical eye. The woman staring back at her was the same, yet somehow different, her eyes holding a secret that seemed to shine brighter than ever before.
 
Nazrin made her way to her cupboard, her hand hovering over the neatly folded clothes. She grabbed a black lace panty and padded bra, the fabric whispering against her skin as she slipped them on. The low-cut blouse she chose was a vibrant shade of red, a stark contrast to the conservative attire she had once donned. The fabric clung to her curves, revealing just enough to tantalize without being overtly provocative.
 
With a practiced hand, she wrapped herself in a dark blue saree, the pallu dbangd over her shoulder. The material was light and soft, brushing against her bare legs with every step she took. She felt a thrill of excitement as she fastened the pleats at her waist, knowing that the way she wore it today was a silent declaration of war against the mundane routine of her life. The border was adorned with intricate gold threadwork, a stark reminder of the treasure hidden beneath the layers of fabric.
 
Her blouse was a crimson red, a color that set her skin alight with passion. The back was cut low, revealing the smooth expanse of her back, her hair cascading down like a waterfall of silk, the only barrier between her skin and the world. The lace of her bra peeked out from the neckline, a secret shared only with the mirror and the eager eyes of Muthu and Praveen, who had seen the same sight only hours ago.


 
The journey to college was a dance of seduction she performed with the world. The rustle of her petticoat was a symphony to her ears, a sweet melody that spoke of the power she held in her hips. Each step was deliberate, the fabric of her saree whispering against her legs, a promise of what lay beneath. She walked with a sway that was both innocent and knowing, her eyes meeting those of a stranger who couldn't help but stare. His gaze lingered on the swell of her hips, the way the fabric clung to her curves like a lover's embrace.
 
Entering the college gates, she felt a thrill of excitement. The walls were a familiar cage, the classroom a stage where she could act out her desires without consequence. She stepped into the classroom, the chatter of students rising and falling like a tide. The air was thick with the scent of chalk and teenage angst, a heady mix that made her pulse race. She took her place at the podium, the fabric of her blouse clinging to her damp skin, the scent of her arousal mingling with the dusty air.
 
Her eyes scanned the room, finally settling on the back row where Muthu and Praveen sat, their faces a mask of innocence that she knew all too well. She cleared her throat, the sound echoing through the room as the students turned to face her, their expressions a mix of curiosity and boredom. She began her lecture, her voice a siren's call that lulled them into a state of semi-attention. Her eyes never left the boys, the anticipation building with every word she spoke.
 
As she approached the back of the classroom, the fabric of her petticoat whispered against her legs, a secret language that only she and the two young men understood. She leaned against the desk, her hips tilting slightly to the side, the red of her blouse a stark contrast against the blackboard. The room grew quiet, the only sound the rustle of fabric as she leaned closer, her breasts threatening to spill out of her low-cut top.
 
Muthu and Praveen's eyes widened, their gazes transfixed on the tantalizing view she offered them. The rest of the class remained oblivious, their focus on the words she spoke rather than the silent promise of her body language. Nazrin felt a thrill of power, a heady rush that only grew as she caught the scent of their arousal, faint but unmistakable in the stale classroom air.


 
The lecture dragged on, each minute feeling like an eternity as she waited for the end. Finally, she dismissed the class, watching as the students filed out, their eyes lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. The door clicked shut, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the anticipation of what was to come.
 
Her heels clicked against the tiles as she made her way to the staff room, her heart racing like a wild animal in her chest. But as she reached the door, she paused, remembering Muthu's message. "Ma'am, go to the ECE lab upstairs," he had whispered, his eyes sparkling with mischief. She took a deep breath, her hand shaking slightly as she turned away from the familiar room and headed up the stairs instead.
 
The ECE lab was a place she had rarely ventured, the realm of circuit boards and wires as foreign to her as a desert to a fish. But today, it called to her like a siren's song, a promise of escape from the drudgery of her life. She pushed open the heavy door, the room greeting her with a cold embrace, the only sound the faint hum of machinery.
 
Her phone, a silent witness to her secret life, buzzed to life in her purse. She pulled it out, the screen lighting up with Fahim's name. The sight of it was a jolt of reality, a reminder of the world she was leaving behind. "Whatsup?" she said, her voice a forced casualness that didn't quite reach her eyes.
 
Fahim's voice was a distant echo through the receiver. "Naz, I have to go to Madurai branch for a meeting with the state bank manager. I'll be there for two days."
 
Nazrin's eyes narrowed as she took in the empty lab around her, the sterile white walls and humming computers an unwelcome backdrop to the conversation. "Two days, Fahim?" she replied, her voice tight with annoyance.
 
Fahim's voice was a mix of apology and distraction. "It's just work, Naz. You know how important this is."
 
Nazrin's eyes flashed with anger. "Fahim, please," she begged, her voice a desperate whisper. "I need you here."
 
"Don't worry, Naz," Fahim replied, his voice a lazy drawl that seemed to drip with indifference. "It's just two days. I'll be back before you know it."
 
With a sigh that was almost a growl, Nazrin ended the call, the plastic phone feeling slick with her frustration. She stared at the screen, the blackness of the display mirroring the anger that swirled within her. How could he be so dismissive, so oblivious to the turmoil that consumed her? Her hand clenched into a fist, the desire to hurl the phone across the room almost overwhelming.
 
Instead, she took a deep breath, willing the fury to subside. "Two days," she murmured to herself, the words tasting bitter in her mouth. Two days of emptiness, two days of craving, two days of yearning for the touch of someone who actually cared about her needs. She turned to the empty lab, the cold gleam of the machines a stark contrast to the warmth she craved.
 
As if on cue, the door to the lab creaked open, and in strode Muthu and Praveen, their expressions a blend of confusion and excitement. They took in the sight of her, her usually stoic face now a canvas of anger and frustration. "Ma'am?" Muthu ventured, his voice tentative.
 
Nazrin whirled around, her eyes blazing with a fiery intensity that made the boys take a step back. "What do you want?" she snapped, her voice a whip crack in the silent room.
 
Muthu and Praveen exchanged a glance, their expressions a mix of surprise and concern. "Ma'am, are you okay?" Praveen asked tentatively, taking in her disheveled appearance, the way her eyes searched the room as if looking for an escape.
 
Nazrin took a deep breath, her chest heaving with the effort of keeping her emotions in check. "It's Fahim," she spat out, her voice laced with bitterness. "He's going away for two days on a work trip."
 
Praveen took a step closer, his hand reaching out to her shoulder. "Ma'am, we're here for you,"
 
Nazrin's eyes snapped to his, the unspoken promise in his gaze making her heart skip a beat. She knew what he was offering, the sweet oblivion of their youthful passion. But she was torn, her mind a battleground between the comfort of the familiar and the siren's call of the unknown. "I don't know what I'm doing," she murmured, her voice a barely audible confession.
 
Muthu stepped closer, his warmth enveloping her as he placed his hands gently on her waist. "Ma'am," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear, "just enjoy your life." His fingers traced the outline of her petticoat, the fabric a flimsy barrier to the heat of her skin. Her body responded instinctively, arching into his touch, the fire inside her igniting once more.
 
Praveen, his eyes dark with desire. He wrapped his arms around her, his body pressing against hers, his chest a wall of firmness that made her nipples peak. She could feel the unmistakable bulges in their pants, their erections straining against the fabric, eager for her touch. His kiss was soft and gentle, a stark contrast to the hunger in his eyes.
 
Muthu, ever the silent observer, stepped up behind her, his hands sliding around her waist. He pulled her back, her curves fitting perfectly against his lean body. His touch was tentative at first, as if asking for permission, but when she didn't pull away, he grew bolder, his fingers tracing the lines of her waist, the fabric of her blouse a barrier to the warmth of her skin. She could feel his breath on her neck, his warmth seeping into her like a balm.
 
Praveen, unable to resist the temptation any longer, leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her neck. It was a gentle caress, a butterfly's kiss that sent a shiver down her spine. She gasped, the sound muffled by the fabric of her pallu. His mouth moved along her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below her ear, sending bolts of pleasure straight to her core.
 
Praveen unpinned her pallu, and it fell to the floor in a whisper of silk, leaving her in nothing but her blouse. He stepped back, his eyes drinking in the sight of her bare shoulders, the red fabric clinging to her full breasts like a lover's caress. The room grew hotter, the air thick with tension as Muthu's hands tightened around her waist.


 
Her eyes searched theirs, looking for the reassurance she needed. The desire in their gazes was all the invitation she required. With a sigh that was half protest, half surrender, she allowed Praveen to trace his fingers along the neckline of her blouse, his touch feather-light. He lingered at the top of her cleavage, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of her flesh, revealed in the low-cut fabric.
 
Muthu's hands moved to the small of her back, his thumbs brushing against the bare skin above her petticoat. His touch was like fire, searing through the layers of fabric and into her soul. She felt her resolve crumbling, the need for them overwhelming any semblance of propriety she had once clung to.
 
Praveen's fingers danced along the neckline of her blouse, tracing the lace of her bra. His eyes never left hers, the intensity of his gaze making her knees weak.
 
Muthu took the cue, turning her to face him. His hands remained on her waist, the warmth of his body pressing into her. He leaned in, his breath a warm whisper against her skin, and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. She was caught off guard, her eyes widening in surprise. For a moment, she was frozen, unsure of how to react.
 
But then, she felt a spark, a flicker of something she hadn't felt in so long. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she allowed herself to lean into the kiss. It was gentle, almost tender, a stark contrast to the hungry need that pulsed between them. His lips moved over hers, a silent question that she found herself eager to answer.


 
Her arms wound around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair as she kissed him back with a passion that surprised even her. His hands slid up her back, cupping her face as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into her mouth with a confidence that was at once thrilling and terrifying. She could feel the beat of his heart against her chest, a rhythm that matched her own racing pulse.
 
Praveen, not to be outdone, stepped closer, his breath hot against the sensitive skin of her neck. His lips traced the line of her jaw, his teeth grazing the tender flesh just below her ear. A shiver ran down her spine, and she gasped into Muthu's mouth as Praveen's hands slid over her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh.
 
Nazrin broke the kiss, her eyes glazed with desire as she turned to Praveen. She reached up, her hands cupping his face, and brought his mouth down to hers. His kiss was different from Muthu's, more insistent, more demanding. His tongue plunged into her mouth, and she met him with equal fervor, their tongues dancing together in a silent battle for dominance.
 
Praveen's hands slid down her back, his fingertips brushing against the lace of her bra. He groaned into her mouth, his desire evident in every touch, every movement of his body. She felt her knees buckle, her legs growing weak with need.
 
With surprising confidence, Praveen guided her left hand down to the bulge in his pants, pressing her palm against the firm length that strained against the fabric. It was the first time she had felt another man's arousal, and she gasped at the size of him. The reality was stark and thrilling, a stark contrast to the gentle curve of Fahim's manhood that she had known for so long.
 
Her hand trembled slightly as she traced the outline of Praveen's erection, her fingertips moving in slow, exploratory circles. Meanwhile, Muthu stepped closer, his own desire palpable as he took her right hand and placed it on his own swelling arousal. She could feel the heat radiating from him, and the fabric of his pants was taut with the promise of what lay beneath.
 
Her eyes widened as she realized she was touching two men, both young and eager, while her own husband was miles away, oblivious to her betrayal. But instead of guilt, she felt a rush of power, a thrill that made her blood race through her veins like a river of fire. She broke the kiss with Praveen, turning to Muthu, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
 
"It's time," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "Let's leave."
 
Muthu's eyes lit up with excitement. "Ma'am, please," he begged, his voice strained. "Help us release our cum."
 
Nazrin felt a jolt of surprise, but the thrill of the forbidden was too tempting to resist. "How?" she asked, her voice a breathy whisper.
 
Praveen's eyes danced with mischief. "Just watch us, Ma'am," he replied.
 
Muthu took the lead, his hands moving to the button of his pants. With agonizing slowness, he undid the fastening, the zipper whispering down as he revealed the thick bulge that had been hidden beneath. He pushed his pants and underwear down, his erected dick springing free, a testament to his desire. It was thick and hard, the veins standing out like cords against the dark skin.
 
Praveen followed suit, his movements more eager than Muthu's. He kicked off his shoes and peeled away his trousers, his eyes never leaving hers. His cock bobbed before her, longer and more impressive than she had ever seen. The tip was a dark red, leaking precum that glistened in the fluorescent light of the lab.
 
Nazrin's gaze flickered between the two, noticing the differences in their anatomy. Their dicks were uncut, a stark contrast to Fahim's circumcised dick. The sight was foreign yet fascinating, her curiosity piqued. She had never seen an uncut penis before, and the thought of the new sensations it could bring filled her with a mix of excitement and trepidation.


 
Their foreskins rolled back to reveal the engorged heads of their penises, glistening with precum. Muthu's was slightly thicker, the mushroom cap, while Praveen's was longer, the shaft a warm brown. They both began to stroke themselves in unison, their eyes never leaving hers.
 
Nazrin felt a warmth spread through her core as she watched, her own hand inching towards her petticod. The sight of their uncut members was a revelation, a world of unexplored pleasure that she had never before considered. Her eyes darted between them, noticing the way their hands moved, the subtle differences in their strokes.
 
But she didn't want to masturbate in front of them, not yet. Instead, she let her hands wander up to her blouse, her fingertips grazing the swell of her breasts. The fabric was smooth against her skin, the friction sending shivers down her spine. She watched their faces, the way their expressions grew more intense with every touch.


 
Her thumbs found her nipples, hidden beneath the layers of fabric, and she rolled them gently, the sensation making her gasp. Muthu's eyes grew darker, his strokes faster, as he watched her play with herself. Praveen's hand moved in time with hers, his eyes locked on her chest, his breath coming in harsh pants.
 
The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with the scent of their desire. Nazrin could feel her own arousal building, her pussy growing wetter with every second that passed. She watched the two young men, their bodies taut with need, and knew she had them exactly where she wanted them.
 
And then it happened. With a chorus of grunts and gasps, Muthu and Praveen reached their peak, their cum spurting onto the cold linoleum floor in thick ropes. The sound was almost musical, a symphony of pleasure that seemed to echo through the empty lab. The sight of their seed mingling together was a powerful aphrodisiac, making Nazrin's knees weak with need.


 
Their cum pooled at their feet, a testament to their shared release. Nazrin couldn't tear her eyes away, the sight of their youthful vigor a stark contrast to the stale routine of her marriage bed. She watched as their cocks grew flaccid, the aftermath of their climax leaving them momentarily sated.
 
"Ok, boys," she murmured, her voice a seductive purr that sent a shiver down their spines. "Thank you for everything." Her eyes danced with a mischief that seemed to dare them to follow her, to challenge the boundaries she had so carefully constructed.
 
Nazrin reached for her pallu, the silk fabric a stark contrast to the coldness of the lab. She pinned it back into place with deft fingers, the act a silent declaration of her intent to leave them wanting more. Her dress fell back into place, the fabric whispering against her skin as she straightened it with a grace that belied the tumult of emotions roiling within her.
 
With a seductive smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, she turned and sashayed out of the lab, her hips swinging with a newfound confidence. The click of her heels on the linoleum was a declaration of victory, a promise of what was to come. The door swung shut behind her, leaving Muthu and Praveen in a cloud of desire and anticipation.
 
The hallway was a blur as she made her way to the staffroom, her thoughts racing with the possibilities that lay ahead. The mundane conversations of her colleagues grew louder as she approached, their laughter a grating reminder of the life she had once known. But she was no longer that woman, the one who had settled for so little.
 
As she entered the room, the chatter died down, all eyes on her. The scent of stale coffee and photocopy ink washed over her, a stark contrast to the heady scent of lust that still lingered on her skin. She could feel their gazes, the unspoken question in their eyes, as she moved with the grace of a cat that had just caught its prey.
 
Mr. Chandran, Economics Teacher with a penchant for sleeveless vests, couldn't help but let his eyes wander to the generous view of her cleavage. His eyes lit up with a hunger that was all too familiar, and she felt a thrill at the power she held over him. She knew he was married, with a plump wife and two kids, but that didn't stop the lecherous glances he threw her way every time she bent over a desk.
 
As she settled into her chair, the fabric of her blouse stretched taut over her breasts, the lace of her bra peeking out just enough to tease. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the tainted air of the staffroom. The mundane conversations about students and exams seemed trivial now, a world away from the steamy lab she had just left.
 
Mr. Chandran sauntered over, his eyes greedily devouring the view she offered. He leaned against her desk, his arms folded over his chest, the sleeves of his vest riding up to reveal thick, hairy forearms. "Nazrin," he said, his voice a low purr. "You look...different today."
 
Her eyes flickered up to meet his, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Do I?" she replied, her voice a sweet challenge. She knew he was married, knew his hands had touched another woman's skin, had likely filled her up with the same need that now consumed her. But she didn't care. She was the one with the power now, the one who knew the secrets of desire that lurked just beneath the surface.
 
Mr. Chandran leaned closer, his breath a mix of coffee and mint. "You do," he murmured, his eyes locked on her chest. "Is there something...special going on in your life?"
 
Nazrin felt a thrill at his audacity, his blatant disregard for the unspoken rules of their workplace. She leaned back in her chair, arching her back slightly to give him a better view. "Just feeling a bit...experimental," she replied, her voice a silky promise.
 
The hum of the air conditioner the only sound as Mr. Chandran's eyes widened with interest. He took a step closer, his hand brushing against her shoulder as if by accident. "Care to share your newfound...inspirations?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly.
 
Nazrin's eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of amusement playing on her lips. "Not today, Chandran anna," she replied firmly, yet her tone held a hint of mischief. She knew the effect she had on him, the way his gaze lingered on her, and she enjoyed the thrill of his desire. But she had other plans, other fires to stoke.
 
The bell's shrill cry pierced the air, a metallic symphony that signaled the end of the college day. The students groaned and began to pack up their belongings, the shuffle of chairs and rustle of books a cacophony that filled the room. Nazrin took her time, savoring the last moments of her newfound power. She gathered her papers, her hand brushing against the cold metal of the chair, the reality of the day's events sending a shiver down her spine.
 
As she stepped into the hallway, the cool air washed over her, a stark contrast to the feverish heat that had consumed her in the ECE lab. She adjusted her blouse, ensuring the lace remained hidden, her petticoat a silent testament to the desires that had been unleashed. The clack of her heels echoed through the corridor, a seductive rhythm that seemed to call to every man she passed.
As she reached her house, the silence was a stark contrast to the chaos of the college. The heavy wooden door creaked open, revealing the cool embrace of the marble foyer. She stepped inside, her heels clicking against the floor, the sound echoing through the empty house. Fahim was already gone.
 
The living room, once a stage for their mundane routines, now seemed eerily quiet. The TV played a Hindi soap opera on mute, the dramatic expressions of the actors a stark contrast to the stillness of the room. The fridge hummed in the kitchen, a solitary sentinel in the night. She knew she would be alone for the next two days, and the reality of it settled over her like a heavy blanket.

[masud93]

tnx...keep updating