Adultery Broken trust and suppressed lust

[a2011]

amazing scenes and narration..

[Thangaraasu]

Very nice

[K MD THABREZ]

Next update bro

[Zoz34]

Afrah pov:

Sunday morning, Afrah sat on the sofa, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram reels. Her feed was full of glamorous women flaunting their sexy waists and perfect curves. She sighed, lingering on one video. Gosh, these ladies have such stunning figures, she thought, a mix of admiration and envy creeping in. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by her sister Insha, who was talking on the phone nearby. "Yeah, exactly! Vishal means bada in Hindi. It’s such a common synonym for big,” Insha said to her friend, laughing lightly.  

Afrah’s scrolling halted at the mention of his name. Her ears perked up, her mind betraying her as it wandered to him. Big, Insha had said, and Afrah’s cheeks flushed at the unintended double entendre.  


Afrah couldn’t stop herself from blushing as her sister’s words echoed in her mind. Vishal means big.She bit her lip, her cheeks heating up. That name suits him perfectly.

Her mind drifted back to the restaurant washroom, to that intense moment when she had held Vishal’s vishal cock in her delicate hand. 

Even now, the thought of it made her feel a little naughty. 

At 11 a.m., Afrah sat on the couch, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts of Vishal, when her ammi’s voice broke her reverie. Afrah! Where is your Abba? The gas cylinder needs to be changed, and no one is here to help!

Before Afrah could respond, a sudden commotion came from outside, pulling everyone’s attention. The three women hurried to the front door, only to see a man sprawled on the ground next to a fallen bike. A small crowd had gathered, but what caught Afrah’s attention was Vishal standing nearby, looking sharp in a casual shirt and jeans.  

Her heart skipped a beat as their eyes met. Vishal noticed her immediately, his lips curving into a smirk as he approached. “Hi,” he said casually, ignoring the curious stares from her ammi and sister. “Is this your home?”  

Afrah’s ammi furrowed her brows in confusion, glancing between her daughter and the unfamiliar man. Insha, her younger sister, looked equally puzzled, her gaze darting between them. 

Afrah cleared her throat, “Yes, this is my home,” she replied, then quickly added, “Ammi, this is my boss, Vishal Sir."

Vishal :“Actually, I’m here for a business meeting with Nabeel Faruq. I didn’t realize your house was so close by.”  

Afrah’s ammi’s expression “Oh, welcome, beta,” she said politely, though her tone carried an undertone of curiosity.  

  

Vishal : “I hope I’m not intruding. I just happened to notice the commotion and thought I’d check if everything was alright,” 



Afrah’s ammi (zubeda):“Beta, sit down. I’ll make some chai,” but then stopped abruptly, glancing toward the kitchen. “Oh, the gas cylinder needs to be changed first… Afrah! Call your Abba or someone.”  

 Vishal :“Aunty, please don’t worry. Let me help. It’s no trouble at all.”  

Zubeda:“Beta, you’re a guest. How can I trouble you with such work?”  

Vishal : “Aunty, where I come from, we believe helping is a sign of respect, not trouble. And besides I’m quite good at fixing things—cylinders included.”  

Afrah :“Alright then, if you insist.”  

Vishal : “Aunty, I have to say, Afrah is always singing praises of your cooking at the office. She says no one makes biryani quite like you.”  

  

Zubeda demeanor softened further, visibly pleased by the compliment. “She said that?” Her voice held a hint of pride.  

Vishal:“Oh, absolutely,I’ve even been told your chai is legendary. I think her exact words were Ammi’s chai can fix anything—bad days, long hours, you name it.’

Zubeda finally broke into a laugh, her earlier stiffness fading. “This girl never says such things to my face,”  

 Vishal : “There you go, Aunty. All set!” he fixed the cylinder.

Zubeda: “Thank you, beta. You’ve been a great help. I’ll get the chai ready now—Afrah, bring some snacks for your boss.”  

As Vishal stepped out of the kitchen, he glanced at Afrah, giving her a subtle smirk. She glared at him, knowing exactly what he was doing.


As Vishal settled into the drawing room, Afrah’s ammi joined him, wiping her hands on her dupatta. She took a seat opposite him while Afrah reluctantly sat beside her, still flustered by the morning’s events. 

Zubeda:“So, beta,you said you’re Afrah’s boss? Where are you from?”  

Vishal :“Yes, Aunty. I work with Afrah on several projects. I’m originally from Chandigarh, but my work has brought me here. I"

Zubeda: “That’s good. Hardworking people are always blessed. And you’re so polite! Not all city boys are like this.”  

Vishal:“Thank you, Aunty. I believe respect should always come first, especially when visiting someone’s home. By the way,you have such a warm and welcoming house. It feels like a real home.”  

Zubeda:“That’s very kind of you, beta. It’s not much, but we try to keep it clean and comfortable.”  

Afrah:“Ammi, shouldn’t you be making the chai?”  

Zubeda“Afrah, you should learn to talk properly when guests are here. Beta,Afrah always speaks highly of her work. She’s very passionate about what she does, but I hope she doesn’t trouble you at the office?”  

Vishal :“Not at all, Aunty. Afrah is one of the most hardworking and dedicated people I’ve met. She’s very talented and brings great energy to the team.”  

Zubeda: That’s good to hear. A girl should be independent, but with dignity. I’ve always told her that.”  

Vishal:“Yes, and she carries herself with grace,But don’t worry, Aunty, I’ll keep an eye on her and make sure she stays focused.”  

Afrah couldn’t take it anymore. “Ammi, chai?” 

Zubeda “I’m going, I’m going. Afrah, bring some biscuits from the kitchen for your boss.”  

As her ammi left, Vishal : “Your ammi is so sweet, Afrah. I see where you get it from.”  

“Stop it,” Afrah muttered under her breath, avoiding his gaze as she fidgeted with the edge of her dupatta. 

Vishal:“I’m just saying,It’s nice to see you in your element. Very... homely.”  

Afrah shot him a glare but was saved from responding as her ammi returned with a tray of steaming chai. As she handed Vishal his cup, she said, “Beta, you should visit more often. It’s nice having polite, well-mannered people around.”  

“Oh, I’d love to, Aunty,But only if Afrah doesn’t mind.”  


Zubeda:“Why would she mind? You’re always welcome here.”  

Afrah could only groan internally, knowing Vishal had perfectly maneuvered the situation in his favor once again.


 Vishal : "Thank you for the chai, Aunty. It was wonderful meeting you."  

Zubeda:"Beta, you're welcome anytime. Do visit again."  

Afrah walked him to the door, trying to maintain her composure after the awkward conversation about her marriage. But as they reached the threshold, Vishal leaned in slightly, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "By the way, Afrah thanks for having me"  

Before she could respond, his hand discreetly brushed over her backside, giving her ass a firm, deliberate squeeze. Her body stiffened, a mix of shock and anger flaring in her eyes as she turned to glare at him. 

Vishal straightened, his smirk maddeningly calm. "See you at the office," he said casually before stepping out.  

Afrah stood frozen for a moment, her heart racing, unsure whether she was more furious or flustered. 

Zubedacalled from the drawing room, "Afrah, what are you doing? Come help me clean up!"  

"Coming, Ammi!" she called back, her voice shaky as she tried to steady herself. But as she returned to the room, her mind couldn’t shake the lingering sensation of his audacity—and the maddening smirk he wore as he left.




After lunch she text Vishal.



Afrah:Aren’t you quite the charmer?  
Vishal:Guilty as charged.  

Afrah: By the way, my Ammi hardly likes strangers, but you managed to win her over.  

Vishal: I have my ways. Besides, I did help her with the cylinder.  

Afrah: Oh, of course, thank you for that.  

Vishal: Only a thank you? That cylinder was heavy, you know.  

Afrah: But you’re muscular, you can handle it.  

Vishal: Ah, so you’ve been paying attention to that. Still, it was hard work. A little goodwill gesture wouldn’t hurt.  

Afrah smiled to herself, a naughty thought creeping into her mind as her fingers hovered over the screen.  

Afrah: Wait for a few minutes. I’ll send you something.  

Her heart raced as she hit send, her mind already teasing her with ideas.



Afrah sat nervously, staring at her phone screen. She had spent two hours perfecting the video, making sure it was just the right balance of playful and seductive. Her fingers hovered over the send button, her lips biting down in anticipation.

She hesitated for a moment, but then with a deep breath, she tapped the button and sent it off.

As soon as it was sent, a rush of heat spread through her, and she hoped, more than anything, that he would like it.


Vishal pov:

It was hectic day but it was nice teasing Afrah he thought.Vishal leaned back in his car seat, his fingers tightening around his phone as a message pinged from Afrah. The screen flickered to life, and there she was, bathed in soft, intimate light. Her face came into focus first, her lips slightly parted, then her teeth bit her lower lips.

Before he could fully absorb the moment, the camera shifted. It jerked downward, fluidly following the path of her hand as it traced a teasing line along the curve of her waist.Her fingers lingered just beneath the fabric of her clothes.


The camera zoomed in, locking on her waist as she moved. Afrah’s left hand slid down her side, fingers lightly tracing the soft fabric that hugged her body. Slowly, her waist began to sway, her hips rolling side to side in a tantalizing, deliberate rhythm. The fabric of her outfit hugged her body like a second skin, stretching taut over her luscious curves with every sultry shift. The soft material shimmered under the light, accentuating the deep dip of her waist and the full, inviting curve of her hips as they moved in perfect harmony. Each roll of her hips created a mesmerizing ripple, her figure arching and flowing like a work of art, every motion an intoxicating blend of grace and raw sensuality.
[img]<a href=[/img]" />


He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the video, replaying it over and over, each time sinking deeper into the intoxicating rhythm of her body. 

His fingers itched, imagining the feel of that waist beneath his touch, the smooth, warm skin that had haunted his thoughts. He could almost feel it, the way it would yield to his grip as he pulled her closer, his lips trailing a fiery path along her waist, tasting the salt of her skin. Each kiss would leave her body glistening, not from the light, but from the heat of his saliva, a wet trail of longing and need.


He couldn’t help but think that Afrah had one of the sexiest figures he’d ever seen. That waist—uff, it was intoxicating. She knew exactly what she was doing with it, the way it moved with a confidence that screamed she was fully aware of her power over him. Her waist was seductive, undeniably sultry—slutty in the best possible way. Now, she was sending him this—a thirst trap, no doubt. She was playing him, drawing him in deeper, making it impossible to look away, to resist.


Another video pop up in the massage box:

The video started, and Afrah appeared in a red saree adorned with delicate floral patterns, the fabric catching the light as it dbangd elegantly over her curves. She stood still for a moment, her posture straight and confident, before she raised her left hand to her head, fingers lightly brushing her hair, a subtle hint of grace in the way she moved.

As the music began, a deep, rhythmic beat filling the space, her body responded instinctively. Both her arms flickered outward in quick, fluid gestures. Her hips swayed gently in time with the music, while her waist followed suit, the fabric of her saree flowing with every motion, accentuating the delicate curves of her body.

She turned to her left, her body flowing smoothly with the beat, her hand performing the same graceful gesture as before.

With every twist of her body, her waist became more visible, the delicate fabric parting slightly as she moved, revealing the soft curve of her midriff. Her waist chain hugged her waist just tightly enough to emphasize her feminine shape, accentuating the sensual, rhythmic sway of her body, making her every step a mesmerizing display of grace and allure.


[img]<a href=[/img][img]<a href=[/img]" />

As the music swelled, her movements became fluid and deliberate. Both hands moved in perfect sync—one tracing her collarbone and sliding down her shoulder, the other following the curve of her waist. Each motion flowed seamlessly with the rhythm, a hypnotic dance of grace.


As her hand moved, the fabric of her saree shifted, parting just enough to reveal the smooth, alluring curve of her waist and the sexy contour of her navel. The soft shimmer of her waist chain caught the light, gleaming as it rested delicately around her midriff.



She twirled once, her body spinning with effortless elegance, showing her left profile.


 The movement was deliberate and seductive.As she spun, her eyes locked into the camera, a playful yet seductive gaze . 

 Her fingers slid over her hips like a slow, teasing caress, moving upward to trace the soft, exposed curve of her waist.As her fingers trailed higher, her hips rolled in a slow, fluid motion, accentuating the thick, tempting curve of her ass that swayed with each deliberate turn. The fabric of her saree clung tightly to her body, highlighting every seductive contour, while the rhythmic sway of her hips and the deep curve of her back created an intoxicating, magnetic dance.

[img]<a href=[/img]" />
She swayed her elbows side to side, each movement mirroring the rhythm of her hips. Her body moved in perfect harmony, the gentle roll of her hips matching the fluid motion of her arms, 


Now, both of her arms moved in perfect harmony. Her left arm, with a graceful, fluid motion, descended to her waist, gliding over the curve of her hips as though tracing the essence of her sensuality. Meanwhile, her right arm followed a delicate path along the outline of her chest, fingers grazing the fabric of her saree, teasingly skimming the edges of her neckline, as if inviting the fabric to part with every slow, deliberate touch.

[img]<a href=[/img]" />


With a sharp, deliberate motion, she lifted her chest, swaying with the beat as her body moved in perfect rhythm with the music. Her chest rose, accentuating the fullness of her curves as she held the pose, her back arching slightly to create a silhouette that was both powerful and seductive. The movement highlighted every curve of her form, her waist pulling inward as her chest pushed outward, creating a tantalizing tension that was at 
once poised and irresistibly sexy.

---

[img]<a href=[/img]" />


Vishal was fully aroused, his body reacting instinctively to the sight of her seductive dance. Each fluid movement, each sensual sway, seemed to intensify the tension, drawing him in deeper. He couldn't tear his gaze away, the rhythm of her body igniting a desire that grew with every graceful, provocative motion.


He couldn’t shake the thought of her seductive dance, the image lingering in his mind. In the days to come, she would perform those same alluring movements before his eyes, each one more captivating and enticing than the last. The anticipation of seeing her in person, moving with such raw sensuality, stirred a deep desire within him, fueling his longing.


As he was about to compliment her, his phone buzzed with a message from Afrah: "By the way, Sri Lanka tour is on."

He paused, his mind briefly distracted. He wondered if Afrah had finally gotten permission from her ammi for the trip. 

It would be a memorable trip for both of them, he thought. The things he planned to do with her would stay etched in her memory for a lifetime. A smirk curled on his lips as the thought fueled his anticipation.



To be continued

[Hotyyhard]

marvelous update

[Jibon Ahmed]

Very nice update

[damien123456]

another good update bro nice finally vishal is going to afrahs house well he is going to visit the house frequently

[K MD THABREZ]

Next update bro

[Bigil]

Hope vishal next fuck afrahs mom

[Monikapu91]

Erotic narration
Superb

[damien123456]

hi bro update?

[Hotyyhard]

please update

[Mailsalman01]

it has been week no updat

[shashank13]

waiting for ur update

[xbiilove]

Waiting for the ice break in sri lankan tour

[surya66]

Waiting for update

[damien123456]

bro what happens no update for a bit long time is there any issues

[K MD THABREZ]

Bro update

[NityaSakti]

Let vishal fuck the conservative mom and daughter in same bed.

[Zoz34]

Afrah and her Ammi strolled through the bustling mall, their steps leisurely as they explored the stores. As they passed a group of young girls and boys, Ammi’s sharp gaze fell on the girls dressed in short, fitted tops and low-waist jeans that revealed a hint of their midriffs. Her disapproving expression was unmistakable.  

Afrah remained silent, accustomed to her mother’s judgmental looks. She would never dare to dress like that in front of Ammi. At home, her wardrobe was modest, adhering to the conservative values instilled in her since childhood. But Ammi was unaware of the side of Afrah that was beginning to emerge .

In few days, she and Vishal would visit Sri Lanka. There, she wouldn’t hesitate to wear the daring outfits —the short dresses, the sleek skirts, the bold tops. She imagined how confident and beautiful she’d feel, turning heads and drawing attention. Vishal loved dressing her up in bold outfits. He made her feel sexy, confident, and free.

Ammi:"Do you need anything else for your work trip?"

Afrah : "No, we’ve got everything we need."  

Ammi :"I still don’t think women should be going on office trips. But since Vishal is going, I trust you’ll be fine. He’s such a gentleman."  

Afrah felt a blush creep up her cheeks. Ammi’s view of Vishal as a proper, responsible man couldn’t be further from the truth. "He was the one who encouraged her to try bold outfits—clothes that would surely give Ammi a heart attack if she knew. Afrah was certain that Vishal would make her wear something daring during the trip.

The Goa trip was just four days away. Vishal had been busy lately, not coming to the office, but he stayed in touch, ensuring everything was on track. Afrah was excited but little sacred things could get out of her hand.




The anticipation of the trip had kept Afrah restless . In darkness of room her Her phone buzzed , breaking her thoughts.  



Vishal: "I hope you’ve prepared for the trip."  

Afrah smirked as she typed her response.  

Afrah: "Yeah, I’ve almost packed all the formal office dresses."  

Vishal: "Oh, you’ll need more than formal dresses."  

She knew what he meant but still she wanted to play it hard.

Afrah: But it’s just an office trip.

Vishal:But we’ll do more than work there.



Afrah: "What do you mean by ‘more’?"

Vishal: "We’ll enjoy the trip… by having some fun."  

Afrah: "You have a very dirty idea of fun. I know that, you pervert."  

Vishal: "And yet, dirty fun excites you."  

She bit her lip, unsure whether to laugh or snap back.  

Afrah: "No, it doesn’t. Besides, we’re not going to do anything dirty there, okay?"  

She hoped her response sounded firm, but a small part of her wasn’t convinced.  

Vishal: "We’ll see. By the way, what ‘dirty things’ are you referring to?"  

Her breath hitched as she reread the message. Was this a trap? Did he want her to spell it out? She cursed herself for even blushing at his boldness.  
Afrah's mind wandered as she stared at her phone, replaying the boldness of Vishal’s messages. She tried to shake the thoughts away, but they clung to her like a forbidden thrill. Memories of the past slipped into her consciousness, heating her cheeks and quickening her pulse.  

She thought about the dirty things they had already done, the boundaries they had crossed. Vishal had licked her pussy—not once, but twice. The first time in his car his tongue working her into an ecstasy she hadn’t thought possible. But it was the second time that made her shudder now—the memory of him kneeling between her legs, his mouth devouring her while she struggled to keep quiet, terrified of being caught in the office.

Her thighs clenched as she recalled how she had held his bare, thick, long cock in her hand, feeling its heat and weight. The memory of its hardness against her palm sent a thrill through her, no matter how much she tried to push it away. 



Afrah: "Stop twisting my words, Vishal. Just behave on the trip, okay?" Don’t even think about trying anything there, Vishal. We’re going to behave this time."  


Vishal: I have something planned.

Afrah: Oh? What’s the plan, like on the yacht?

Vishal: Exactly, the yacht. But this time, I think you should go for something a little more... adventurous than last time. Maybe a bikini?

Afrah: I’m not wearing a bikini.

Vishal: Come on, you’d look amazing in one.

Afrah: I know you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me.

Vishal: But I thought I had some... special permission. Maybe a kiss or two?

Afrah: No, you don’t.

Vishal: You’re being so harsh. But remember, you’re my pretend girlfriend. I can’t help but think about kissing your waist... and maybe even lower if you let me.

Afrah: No, you’re not getting permission this time.

Vishal: Oh, come on, don’t act like you don’t enjoy it. You know you like when my lips find their way to your body... especially when you're already so... WET.

Afrah: You’re a pervert. Don’t you have any shame using such disgusting words?

Vishal: I’m just stating facts. You like when I touch you, and I know your body—your pussy gets wet for me.

Afrah: No, it doesn’t.

Vishal: Oh, Afrah, don’t deny it. Your wet pussy is practically begging for my lips to taste it, to clean up all that leaking wetness.

Afrah: Whatever, still not happening. You’re not getting permission to kiss me or touch me, okay? 



Vishal: Oh, deny it all you want, but I know you’re wet right now.

Afrah: No, I’m not.

Vishal: Come on, admit it. You’re touching yourself, aren’t you?

Afrah: No! You’re such a pervert.

(Suddenly, her screen flashes with Vishal’s video call)

Vishal: Pick up the call.



She covers herself with a blanket before picking up the video call, Vishal's face appearing on her screen.

Vishal: What are you hiding under the blanket?

Afrah: Nothing, just feeling cold.

Vishal: Then why are you sweating?

Afrah: ...

Vishal: You were touching yourself, weren't you? You dirty little girl.

Afrah: No.

Her hand instinctively tugged the blanket up higher, hiding more of her body, even though she knew it wouldn’t make a difference. She could feel the heat on her cheeks as she tried to steady her breath. 


Her fingers tightened around the blanket, pulling it up to her chin. She could feel her body betraying her, reacting to his presence, his gaze. She shifted uncomfortably under the blanket, not sure whether she should push him away or give in to the heat that was building inside of her. His smirk sent a thrill through her—she hated how much she liked it. 

Afrah:I told you,I wasn’t doing anything.

Vishal:I don’t believe you. Prove it to me.



Afrah bit her lip harder, pulling the blanket tighter. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she struggled with her decision. 

Afrah :“I don’t need to prove anything to you,” 







Vishal's POV :


Vishal:"Show me what you're hiding,"

Afrah’s fingers trembled as they slowly pulled the blanket down. Her loose top came into view, Her loose top barely contained her heavy tits, the fabric clinging to every curve like it was painted on. Her nipples poked against the thin material, hard and begging for attention, practically screaming to be sucked or pinched. Every breath she took made her chest rise and fall, the jiggle of her big, round breasts hypnotic, almost obscene in how blatantly they demanded to be noticed.

The neckline dipped low enough to tease a generous view of her cleavage, the kind that made it impossible not to imagine burying your face there, feeling the warm softness against your skin. The way the fabric stretched and shifted with her slightest movement felt like a striptease in slow motion, each shift promising more but refusing to deliver.

She might as well have been naked with the way her tits filled out the top, the fabric doing nothing to hide the mouthwatering fullness of her body. She was walking temptation, every inch of her practically begging to be devoured.

[img]<a href=[/img]" />

As she pushed the blanket down further, her top rode up, baring the smooth, creamy expanse of her waist. The sight of her exposed midriff made his cock twitch, her soft skin practically begging to be kissed, licked, and marked. Her waist tapered into a perfect curve, the gentle dip of her ribs adding to the sinfully tempting shape of her body.  

His eyes trailed lower, drinking in the way her hips flared out, the faint line of her toned stomach leading to places he wanted to explore with his tongue. The softness of her skin looked so inviting, so touchable, that it made his hands itch to grip her, pull her closer, and feel the heat of her body pressed against him.  

[img]<a href=[/img]

Every inch of her exposed flesh screamed for attention, every curve daring him to lose control. She was a walking fantasy, and the way her top teased at revealing more had his mind running wild with filthy possibilities.  

Her waist, so tantalizingly visible, curved in all the right places, the skin gleaming softly in the dim light. His eyes roamed over the small indentations of her ribs, the dip of her stomach, and the way the fabric teased the outline of her hips beneath the blanket. The way her body responded to his gaze made every inch of her feel electric, alive with desire.

But she kept the blanket tucked tightly around her lower half, hiding what he ached to see. Vishal’s lips curved into a slow, teasing smirk as he leaned in closer, his voice low and insistent. “Come on, Afrah… Don’t hide from me. I want to see all of you. Let go.”
 He knew she wanted it as much as he did.


Slowly, Afrah’s fingers gripped the edge of the blanket resting at her waist, pulling it downward . Her other hand lingered at her lips, teeth grazing her fingertip as if to stifle a nervous smile, though the spark in her eyes betrayed her growing confidence.  

Vishal’s eyes widened as the blanket slid off completely, leaving her in nothing but her pink lace panties. The delicate fabric clung to her curves like a second skin, barely covering the sweet, forbidden treasure beneath. The panties sat low on her hips, teasing the soft swell of her mound, the lace so thin he could almost see the outline of her slit pressing against it.  

Her thighs, thick and smooth, framed the little scrap of fabric perfectly, making her look like a goddess built for sin. The sight of her in just those panties, her creamy skin glowing, was enough to make his cock throb painfully.  

His eyes lingered on the way the lace hugged her pussy, the faint damp spot at the center driving him wild. It was like her body was begging for him, silently inviting him to touch, taste, and take her. The straps of the panties rested high on her hips, accentuating the curve of her ass and making her look even more tempting.  

---

[img]<a href=[/img]" />

Vishal couldn’t tear his eyes away, his breath coming faster as filthy fantasies filled his mind. He imagined peeling those panties off with his teeth, revealing her completely, his hands gripping her thighs as she opened herself to him. She was a vision of pure lust, and he wanted nothing more than to make her scream his name as he devoured every inch of her.


Vishal:"Open your legs wide," 

Afrah hesitated for a moment, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink, but her obedience was laced with anticipation. Slowly, she parted her thick, creamy thighs.

“Now,trace your fingers—slowly, seductively—along your waist and thighs.”  

Her hand, slick with her own saliva from where her lips had just been, began its slow, teasing descent. Her fingers glided over the soft swell of her chest, lingering at the curve of her collarbone before dipping lower. Her breath hitched as she trailed her touch downward, the tips of her fingers grazing the tops of her tits, her nipples pebbling from the cool air and the filthy thoughts running through her mind.  

When her hand reached her bare stomach, she paused, her slick fingers circling her navel with deliberate, sinful intent. Each slow, sensual movement left a shimmering trail of spit on her skin, catching the light and making her look like she was glistening with desire.  

Her fingers dipped lower, teasing the line of her panties, her hips shifting slightly as if her body was already begging for more. She let her hand hover there, just above the waistband, the tension building as her breathing grew heavier. Her legs parted slightly, her thighs rubbing together, the damp heat between them undeniable now. She was lost in her own touch, every movement fanning the fire burning inside her.  

[img]<a href=[/img]" />


Vishal's voice dropped to a commanding whisper, firm but enticing. “Now, focus the camera on your panty,” he ordered.  

Afrah’s breath hitched, her lips trembling as she bit down on them nervously. Her eyes flickered with hesitation, a mix of shyness and defiance. She shook her head, her dark hair brushing against her bare shoulders.  

“Do it,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for refusal.  

Reluctantly, her fingers tightened around the phone. Slowly, she lowered it, the camera angling downward toward her parted thighs. The frame shifted until the delicate triangle of her pink lace panty filled the screen. The fabric was no longer just a soft, innocent pink—it was darkened, damp.

Vishal’s lips curled into a wicked smirk as he leaned closer to the screen, his voice dripping with mock admonishment. “So, you were lying to me? Telling me you weren’t wet? You little liar,”.

Afrah’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she let out a soft whimper, her legs shifting slightly as her vulnerability only heightened the moment.  

“You like being caught, don’t you?” he continued, his voice low and smooth, each word laced with a sensual edge. “You couldn’t even hide it if you tried.”  


Vishal: “Use the phone stand holder and get back to where you were, my dirty brat.”  

Afrah swallowed hard, her fingers trembling slightly as she obeyed. Placing her phone in the stand, she adjusted it until it framed her .

Vishal: “You’ll do exactly as I say because you lied to me. And this is your punishment.”  

Her breaths came faster, her chest rising and falling as her gaze met his through the screen. There was no escaping his control.

Vishal:“Now, bring your fingers to your panty. Start rubbing it slowly. And keep your eyes on me.”  

Afrah hesitated, her lips parting as if to protest, but instead, she moved her trembling hand downward. Her fingertips brushed over the damp fabric, the sensation drawing a gasp from her lips. Her legs twitched, but she kept them open, her gaze locked on Vishal’s as he watched her every move with a predator’s intensity.  

She began to rub, her movements tentative at first, her fingers pressing gently against the wet lace. A soft moan escaped her lips, barely audible but enough to fill the silence between them. Her cheeks flushed deeper, the vulnerability of being commanded like this only amplifying the heat coursing through her.  

Vishal:“Good girl,Now let me see how well you can follow orders.”  

“vishal:Now rub your fingers in slow circles,”

Afrah obeyed, her trembling fingers moving in deliberate, torturous circles over the damp lace of her panty. Her lips parted as soft, breathy sounds escaped her, the tension building with every motion. She bit down on her lower lip, struggling to stifle her moans, but the occasional whimper still slipped past.  

A tiny bead of sweat formed on her forehead, glistening in the dim light. Another trailed down her neck, its path slow and tantalizing until it reached the curve of her cleavage, disappearing into the valley of her chest. Her body betrayed her, every movement screaming surrender, every sigh a confession.  

“Faster,” Vishal ordered, his tone sharper now, his eyes glued to her every move.  

She quickened her pace, her fingers pressing harder, but the need within her overwhelmed her restraint. Without thinking, she plunged a finger beneath the fabric, slipping it inside her heat. A sharp gasp escaped her lips, her body arching slightly in response.  

Vishal:“Stop,I didn’t say you could do that.”  

Afrah froze, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Her finger lingered for a moment before she pulled it out, her breath shaky. She whimpered softly, a sound of apology mixed with longing, her gaze pleading through the screen.  

Vishal:“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” 

She didn’t answer with words, only letting out another soft whimper, her lips quivering as her thighs shifted restlessly. Her silence was answer enough.  


It was a sight that had Vishal’s cock throbbing with need. Afrah, bathed in the dim, golden glow of her room, looked like a goddess of sin, her body glistening as if touched by pure lust. 

Her fingers moved against her pink lace panty, slow and deliberate, teasing both herself and the man watching her. Her thighs quivered with every stroke, the struggle between restraint and desire evident in the way they trembled, threatening to close but obediently staying open.  

Her chest rose and fell, her breasts heaving with each ragged breath, the delicate sheen of sweat glistening along her cleavage, catching the light like tiny jewels. Her lips were parted just enough to let soft, breathy moans escape, each sound heightening the enchantment of the moment.  

Her head tilted slightly, her hair falling over her shoulders like a dark curtain framing her flushed face. Her eyes, half-lidded with pleasure, flickered toward the camera, a blend of innocence and unbridled desire that left Vishal spellbound.  

---

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"Stop," Vishal commanded.

Afrah froze, her hand halting mid-motion, though her chest still rose and fell with ragged breaths. A soft, disappointed whimper slipped from her lips, her body aching from the sudden interruption.  

“Stand up and come closer to the phone,” he ordered.  

She hesitated for only a moment before rising to her feet, her legs still trembling slightly. As she approached the phone, the camera shifted, now capturing only her thighs and the delicate pink lace of her damp panty.  

Vishal:“Remove your panty,” 



Afrah’s hands hovered over her hips, her fingers brushing the waistband. Slowly, she hooked her thumbs under the lace, as she began to slide it down her hips.  

The fabric clung to her for a moment, reluctant to let go, before it slipped down her creamy thighs, leaving her bare and vulnerable under the dim light. The panty pooled around her ankles, and she stepped out of it, her body quivering with a mix of shyness and anticipation.  

Vishal’s silence was heavy, but his gaze, though unseen, felt like it was devouring her every movement.


Afrah stood there, trembling, her wetness glistening even in the dim light, clearly visible through the phone’s camera. The sight of her slick heat, glinting like dew, was utterly captivating.  

Vishal: “You’re a bratty liar, Afrah. Look at you. Now, hop back onto your bed.”  

She hesitated for only a moment before turning, giving Vishal a full view of her round, perfectly curved ass.

As she reached the bed, she crawled up onto it slowly, her back arching naturally with each movement. Her ass lifted, forming a perfect peach shape as she balanced on her knees for a moment, the dim light catching the smooth, creamy curves of her body.  

Finally, she settled back into her earlier position, her thighs spread once more, her body quivering with anticipation as she waited for his next command. 


Vishal :“Open your legs and look at me.”  

Afrah obeyed, spreading her thighs wide once again, her eyes locking onto his through the camera. Her vulnerability, coupled with her willingness, made her even more captivating.  

Vishal:“What do you want?”

Afrah:“I… I want to touch myself,” 

Vishal:“beg me,” 

Vishal:“Can I touch myself… please?”   

Vishal:“Touch your wet pussy,” 


Without hesitation, Afrah’s hand moved between her thighs, her slick finger plunging deep into her heat. A gasp escaped her lips as she began to move, her pace quickly growing frantic, too consumed by her need.  

Vishal:“Stop,Pull out your finger.”  

Afrah obeyed, her finger glistening with her arousal as she withdrew it, trembling from the abrupt halt to her pleasure.  

Vishal:“Now, just rub your pussy,” 

Her wet, sticky finger returned to her folds, gliding over them slowly, teasing herself as her breathing grew shallow. She let out a soft whimper, her hips instinctively shifting against her touch.  

As the pleasure built, her free hand wandered upward, slipping beneath her top. Her fingers pressed against the mound of her breast, kneading it gently, her thumb brushing over her sensitive nipple. 

Vishal watched her intently, his gaze dark and unrelenting, savoring her submission and the way she followed his every command.


Afrah’s eyes fluttered closed as her sticky, glistening fingers continued their slow, deliberate movements over her slick folds. Her breathing deepened, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with the teasing circles she drew over herself.  

Vishal:“Afrah What are you thinking about?”  

She didn’t respond at first, her lips parting as if to answer, but instead, a soft gasp escaped.  

He repeated, “What are you thinking about?”  

Her eyes half-opened, her gaze meeting his through the camera, hazy and filled with lust. Finally, her lips moved, her voice breathy and trembling. “You… I’m thinking about you. About your lips…” She paused, a moan slipping through as her fingers pressed down a little harder. “…on my pussy.”  

 Her hips instinctively arched upward into her touch, her moans growing louder, more unrestrained, as she gave herself over to the thought of him, her body quivering with anticipation.



Vishal:“Now imagine I’m in your roomMy head is between your thighs, my lips devouring your wet folds.”  

Afrah’s body shuddered at the vivid imagery, a sharp groan followed by a deep moan escaping her lips. Her thighs instinctively pressed together for a moment, but she quickly spread them wider again, lost in the fantasy he painted.  

Vishal:“You dirty little slut,You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Me, eating you, tasting every drop.”  

Her response was a loud, needy moan. Her free hand squeezed her breast harder, her fingers rolling her nipple as her other hand worked faster between her thighs. The wet, sticky sounds of her fingers moving over her folds filled the air, her hips bucking against her own touch.  

She was close now, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.  

Vishal;“Cum for me, baby,Cum for me, thinking about me eating your wet pussy.”  

That was all it took. Afrah’s body tensed before erupting in release. Her thighs began to tremble violently, her fingers faltering for a moment as waves of pleasure coursed through her. Her entire body shook, her moans spilling out uncontrollably as she rode the high of her climax.  

[img]<a href=[/img]" />

Her head tilted back, her mouth open as her chest heaved, her body still quivering as she came down from the intense peak. The image of Vishal between her thighs lingered in her mind, keeping her breathless and utterly spent.  

Sohail pov;


Sohail sat alone in his dimly lit apartment, the faint hum of the ceiling fan doing little to ease his restless thoughts. Afrah's voice still lingered in his mind, casual yet sharp, as she mentioned her upcoming Sri Lanka trip with Vishal.

Was Afrah really the pious, virtuous woman ?Or was there another side to her, one he hadn’t seen, one she had kept hidden?  

The thought stirred an old wound, one he had tried to push aside but couldn’t fully forget: those ambiguous pictures sent from an anonymous number a few weeks ago. They had appeared suddenly, like a dagger meant to pierce his trust. The photos were racy but without face, but his mind was telling him that it was Arfah's.



Sohail's eyes fixated on the picture once again, his stomach churning as he analyzed every detail for the hundredth time. The image was undeniably provocative—a woman in a white b top and ripped denim shorts, her creamy thighs glistening as the light played across her skin. The shapely curves, the seductive pose, the sizeable breasts—everything about the picture exuded sensuality.  

But was it really Afrah? The thought gnawed at him, refusing to let go. Could this be her, captured in a moment he was never meant to see? Or was it a cruel trick orchestrated by Vishal, a silent taunt to show who truly had control?  

He couldn’t shake the suspicion that this picture, sent from an anonymous number weeks ago, had a purpose beyond mere mischief. If it was Vishal’s doing, the implications were unbearable—that Vishal was mocking him, flaunting the possibility that he was intimate with the woman Sohail was planning to marry.  

Sohail had never seen a woman like this—not in person, not in his sheltered life. The sight of such raw physicality made his throat dry and his insecurities louder. He didn’t even know how to process it—was it jealousy, shame, or anger that clawed at him?  



Sohail’s mind was a whirlwind of emotions as he stared at the picture, unable to shake the conflicting thoughts racing through him. Had Afrah ever worn something so racy, so immodest? The woman he thought he knew—a modest, shy girl handpicked by his mother for their arranged marriage—was not someone he imagined baring her waist, her legs, and so much of herself in front of others.  

The idea of her dressed like this, exposing her body for other men to see, filled him with irritation. But there was another, quieter voice in the back of his mind, one he tried to suppress. It whispered how undeniably sexy she looked. That curvaceous waist, her smooth thighs, her perfectly shaped chest—he couldn’t deny the allure.  




The Dream


Sohail’s heart raced as the darkness enveloped him. He was in a strange place, unfamiliar yet vivid. The breeze carried the scent of the ocean, its rhythmic waves crashing in the background. Distant laughter and singing filled the air, blending with the sound of feet moving to a beat he couldn’t place.  

Then he saw her—Afrah. She stood under dim, flickering lights, her body swaying to the music. Her thick, dark hair framed her glowing face, and her outfit—a tight white crop top that revealed her bare waist and racy denim that was showing her ass curve. 

He froze, his breath caught in his throat as her body twirled, her curves on full display. Her tits bounced with each movement, and the playful grin on her lips made her seem carefree, untouchable.  

But then it happened. A hand—a man’s hand—gripped her waist firmly, pulling her back. It was Vishal. His fingers pressed into her smooth, fair waist like kneading dough, sinking deep into her soft flesh, leaving an imprint of warmth and need. She let out a soft, teasing laugh, her body instinctively arching into his as if she were molded to fit him perfectly.

Sohail’s heart dropped, anger flaring within him as he called her name, but his voice was drowned out by the music and laughter. He began running toward them, but the ground beneath him shifted, his steps faltering as though the earth was swallowing him whole.  

Suddenly, the scene changed. The music faded, replaced by a rhythmic, haunting sound—thap, thap, thap. In the darkness, two figures emerged.  

Afrah was bent over a bench, her shorts now at her ankles, her bare thighs exposed. Her body quivered as Vishal stood behind her, his hips moving against her in a steady rhythm. Her top was gone, and her bare breasts swayed with every thrust.  

“No!” Sohail screamed, his voice breaking as he tried to move, but he was rooted to the spot. The sound of their movements grew louder, unbearable, as Vishal’s hands gripped Afrah’s hips tighter. She moaned, her head thrown back in ecstasy, a sound that pierced Sohail’s soul.  

He screamed again, louder this time, and everything went black.  

Sohail woke with a start, his body drenched in sweat, his heart hammering in his chest. He sat upright, gasping for air as his mind struggled to separate the nightmare from reality.  

The images were so vivid, so real, that his hands trembled as he wiped his face. His stomach churned, and he clenched his fists, unable to rid himself of the rage and jealousy the dream had stirred.  

Was this his mind playing tricks, or was it a premonition of the truth? He couldn’t sit idle anymore. This torment wouldn’t leave him until he found out the reality. He had to follow them to Sri Lanka—he needed to know, no matter the cost.


His trust in Afrah wavered, but his need for answers burned brighter. He couldn’t leave this to chance or assumption. If the Sri Lanka trip was the key to uncovering the truth, he had to act.  

Sohail made up his mind. He would follow them to Sri Lanka, keeping his presence hidden, and watch their every move. He needed to see with his own eyes whether Afrah was the modest woman he had envisioned her to be—or if she was living a double life, indulging in her desires with another 
man.  

Grabbing his phone, he began to book his ticket.