Adultery The Rural Posting: Shipra's ordeal.

[Nutcraker40]

Dm me rest of story updates

[xboard1986]

Waiting bhau

[Suraj76626]

Dear readers the next update is almost ready but has turned out to be quite lengthy. Give me a day or two to trim it and make it more crisp and add some sizzling gifs. If all goes well will update tomorrow.

[Ultramild2680]

This is unbearable but I trust the author... It will be worth the wait.

[Walker6]

Dear readers the next update is almost ready but has turned out to be quite lengthy. Give me a day or two to trim it and make it more crisp and add some sizzling gifs. If all goes well will update tomorrow.

This is quite disappointing, dear friend. We are perfectly fine reading it without GIFs, so please post it today

[sexypreeti]

This is quite disappointing, dear friend. We are perfectly fine reading it without GIFs, so please post it today

Why not have some patience and let the author present his story the way he feels best and good about it???

If you are already so hard in anticipation of the next part then read something else to relieve the pressure 

[rkamini006]

Dear readers the next update is almost ready but has turned out to be quite lengthy. Give me a day or two to trim it and make it more crisp and add some sizzling gifs. If all goes well will update tomorrow.

I no ur amazing reitatr but add more worlds largest and biggest pls this my request

[Suraj76626]

[Walker6]

Can we expect update today dear?

[Suraj76626]

Yep by 10 PM tonight

[Suraj76626]

Chapter 32: Awakening to a dual life: Part 1


Constable Deshmukh was lounging in his chair, scrolling through reels on his mobile, a faint smirk playing on his lips. The station was quiet, the hum of the ceiling fan above providing a rhythmic lull to his otherwise uneventful afternoon.
 
“Deshmukh!”
 
The sharp, commanding voice cut through the silence like a whip. Startled, Deshmukh nearly dropped his phone, scrambling to attention. His pulse quickened as he turned to face Shrutika, who was now standing a few feet away, her piercing gaze drilling into him.
 
“Yes, ma’am,” he stammered, hastily tucking his phone into his pocket.
 
“Where the hell are those files I asked for?” Her tone was clipped, laced with irritation.
 
Deshmukh straightened, trying to regain composure. “I told Jadhav to get them from the storeroom, madam,” he declared, his voice carrying an air of self-importance. As the head constable and the most senior among the lower ranks, he had long grown accustomed to delegating tasks to his juniors, considering it beneath him to run errands himself.
 
Shrutika stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. “Did I assign the task to Jadhav or to you?”
 
A heavy silence followed. Deshmukh felt the weight of her authority pressing down on him. His mouth went dry. “To me, madam,” he admitted, his voice now subdued.
 
“Then why the fuck are you sitting here wasting time?” Her voice was sharp, her frustration boiling over. “If I don’t have all the files on Saad Hasan on my desk within the hour, you’ll be doing night duty in Jadhav’s place—permanently. Is that clear?”
 
Deshmukh swallowed hard, a cold shiver running down his spine. He had heard tales of Shrutika’s efficiency, her no-nonsense approach, but this was his first time witnessing a lady officer being so rough. He had assumed, wrongly, that she would be lenient, perhaps even indulgent, like some of the senior male officers who overlooked his tendency to push work onto others.
 
“Y-Yes, madam! Right away!” he blurted, nearly tripping over his own feet as he turned to leave. His voice carried an uncharacteristic urgency, laced with an edge of panic.
 
“Jadhav! कसला वेळ लावतो आहेस? (Why the hell is it taking so long),” he bellowed as he rushed toward the storeroom, eager to salvage the situation before Shrutika’s wrath could escalate any further.
 
Shrutika exhaled sharply, shaking her head in exasperation as she walked back to her cabin, clearly frustrated.
 
*********************************************************************************************
 
Shipra: 
No video call, Patode.
My son is sleeping right in the next room, and anyone could show up unannounced—the milkman, the newspaper guy, a neighbour.
 
A reply popped up almost instantly.
 
Patode: 
Wouldn't that make it even more exciting? 
From what I remember, the idea of being watched really got you going last time.
 
Shipra froze, her breath catching in her throat.
 
A hot flush crawled up her neck, her fingers tightening around the phone. She wanted to deny it, to call him out on his filthy accusations, but she couldn’t.
 
Because he was right.
 
That night, when Patode had pushed her into fucking him out in the open, she had been terrified. The thought of being caught—of some unsuspecting stranger stumbling upon them, seeing her exposed, trembling, utterly vulnerable—had sent a thrill of fear through her veins.
 
And yet, that fear had strangely intensified her pleasure.
 
She climaxed so hard that night, her entire body shattering under the force of an earth-shaking, mind-breaking orgasm. The impact left her wrecked—shaking, gasping, undone in a way she had never been before.
 
Even now, the memory of it sent an involuntary shiver through her.
 
She swallowed, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure of how to respond.
 
Denying it would be useless—Patode knew her too well. And admitting it would only fuel his twisted amusement.
 
Shipra: 
That was different…
 
It was a weak response, and she knew it the moment she sent it.
 
Patode’s reply was almost instant.
 
Patode:
Oh? And how exactly was it different?
 
There was a pause, but not long enough for her to think of a response before his next message came in, hitting her like a freight train.
 
Patode:
Was it because all nine inches of my meaty cock buried deep inside your sloppy, cheating cunt made you forget all about modesty? Because it made you lose that ‘dignified wife’ act and brought out the filthy little whore you really are?
 
Shipra’s entire body burned with shame.
 
She clenched her jaw, glaring at the screen, but she couldn’t ignore the deep, traitorous ache between her thighs.
 
The phone buzzed again.
 
Another video call request.
 
Her irritation flared, mixing dangerously with the unwanted heat simmering inside her.
 
Shipra:
Stop it. I’m not doing a video call. I’m not in the mood.
 
She expected him to back off. To taunt her some more, maybe, but at least give up on the call.
 
But Patode never backed off.
 
Patode:
I thought my unmatched humor had set the mood already.
 
Shipra:
It did lighten me up a little but I’m just… not in the mood for what you want.
 
Patode:
Well, I have a extra-large magic stick right between my legs which can get any woman in mood. Specially married cheating sluts like you. 
Just pick up the call now, it's not a request Shipra.
 
Her heart pounded in her chest. She knew what would happen if she answered.
 
And yet…
 
With a sigh, she finally gave in and pressed accept.
 
As she received the call, the screen flickered, and there he was—Patode, grinning shamelessly, his eyes dark with amusement.
 
"Patode, I know I left you hanging last night but I’m not comfortable continuing it right now, that to over a video call," Shipra snapped, keeping her voice low, though the frustration in her tone was unmistakable.
 
A mix of panic and irritation laced her words, but Patode only smirked, leaning in closer to his camera, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
 
"Yeah? Just like you weren’t comfortable with office sex?" he murmured, his voice rich with mockery. "Just like you weren’t comfortable with a threesome with Namrata? Or the outdoor sex?"
 
Shipra's breath hitched. She could feel his gaze piercing through her, watching—enjoying—how his words made her squirm.
 
Each accusation landed like a whip, cutting through her defenses, stripping away every pretense of innocence she had left.
 
"And yet," Patode continued, his voice dripping with cruel satisfaction, "here we are. Doing it nonetheless. I just love how you act so prim and proper when, deep down, you’re nothing but a cock-hungry, cheating bitch."
 
There was no warmth in his voice, no softness. No pretense of affection.
 
Just raw, unfiltered filth.
 
And he was savoring every second of it.
 
But something shifted when he noticed Shipra’s expression. She wasn’t playing along this time—wasn’t flustered in that delicious way he enjoyed. No, there was something off. Something was weighing her down. She was distracted.
 
Patode’s smirk softened, just a little. Not enough to shed his usual demeaning edge, but enough to slip into another role—the one that made women like Shipra weak for him.
 
"Hmm… seems like you really are not in the mood. It's no fun teasing you like this," His tone was almost thoughtful, but there was an unmistakable glint of manipulation in his eyes. "Okay tell me what's bothering my slut? You can share it with me. It’ll surely make you feel better." His voice was coaxing, laced with a false sense of concern that masked his true intent.
 
Shipra hesitated. She wasn’t the type to air her marital problems so easily, especially not to someone like Patode. She had always believed that some things should stay within the confines of marriage, that venting to an outsider would only make her weaknesses more visible.
 
But Patode was no longer just a colleague. No longer just a casual presence in her life.
 
By now, in the eyes of Shipra, he had become something more. A more considerate and understanding alternative to Alok. And that was exactly what Patode wanted her to believe.
 
Bit by bit, she let it out.
 
She told him what all had happened since yesterday—how their night together had been a complete disappointment, leaving her feeling more frustrated than fulfilled. How she had tried, genuinely tried, to reconnect with him, to spend time together like a normal married couple, only to be met with disinterest and cold rejection. How a simple attempt at intimacy had spiraled into an argument, leaving her feeling neglected, unwanted, and completely alone.
 
But what stung the most wasn’t just the lack of passion from Alok. But it was the way Alok had chosen to handle his suspicions.
 
Instead of confronting her like a man, instead of looking her in the eye and demanding the truth, he had thrown insensitive allegations at her on a whim—not because he had proof, but because he assumed. Because deep down, he had already lost the feeling of possessiveness and ownership for her.
 
And that was what truly disgusted her. It wasn’t the weight of guilt that consumed her this time—it was the slow-burning anger at his cowardice.
 
She knew she was in the wrong. She knew she had betrayed him, crossed lines she could never uncross. If Alok had called her out on it, if he had dared to take a stand and demand answers, she would have confessed. She would have faced the consequences, owned up to the mess she had made.
 
But he didn’t.
 
Instead, he sulked. Avoided her. Tossed careless, gutless remarks her way as if they would make up for his lack of action.
 
Where was the man who was once ready to fight for her? Who once claimed her like she was the most precious thing in his life?
 
Gone.
 
Shipra let it all out without constraint. She didn’t realize it, but by confiding in Patode, she was unravelling the last threads that tied her to her husband. Every word she spoke made her more vulnerable to the man listening on the other side of the screen.
 
And Patode was the kind of man who knew exactly how to exploit a weakness.
 
He clicked his tongue in mock disappointment before scoffing. “It’s funny as well as sad, Shipra, that all this time you’ve been drowning in guilt and shame for your act of infidelity—an act, mind you, that only happened because of Alok’s incompetence as a husband in the first place—whereas he seems to have already given up his claim over you.”
 
He leaned back, shaking his head, his smirk deepening. “What a coward. He suspects his wife of an affair, and instead of fighting for her, demanding answers, instead of showing his anger, his possessiveness, he ignores it? As if he has nothing to do with why his wife chose to cheat on him? Pathetic."
 
His voice dripped with scorn, each word like a needle burrowing into Shipra’s already conflicted mind.
 
“He is nothing but a freeloader. A useless, spineless fool, Shipra. And here you are, wasting your time, spoiling your mood for a man who doesn’t care.”
 
His words slithered into her thoughts like poison, subtle yet devastating. He had sensed it—that flicker of resentment in her tone, the simmering anger buried beneath her reluctant confessions. Not guilt. Not remorse. Just frustration, a festering wound that Alok’s indifference had only deepened.
 
And Patode knew exactly how to exploit it.
 
“Fuck him, Shipra.” He leaned in closer, his expression sharp, his voice smooth yet firm. “If he can’t fight for you, if he won’t even try to hold on to what’s his, then why should you alone bear the weight of this marriage?”
 
She swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. The logic was so simple, so cruelly tempting.
 
“He doesn’t care, Shipra. Not about your love, your faithfulness, or the silent sacrifices you make every day. He isn’t losing sleep over the thought of you with another man. No, because he is so preoccupied with his own trivial ambitions that he has started treating you just as a provider, as a caretaker, as a convenience. Not as a partner."
 
Patode paused studying Shipra's reaction and finding no counter, he continued, his manipulation.
 
"Let him bask in the illusion of control, let him believe he is a man worth respecting. Let him wallow in his own pathetic existence. But you? You don’t have to waste yourself waiting for a man who doesn’t even see you anymore. Live your life the way you want. Chase the desires you’ve locked away, the happiness you’ve been denying yourself. Because let’s be honest, Shipra—a cowardly little sissy like him, a man who won’t even fight for his own wife, doesn’t deserve your loyalty. He deserves to be cheated on.”
 
Shipra remained silent. A part of her recoiled at the words, at how brazenly he said it. But another part—the part that had spent the last few weeks drowning in self-inflicted guilt at her actions, torn between regret and defiance—felt something else.
 
A sickening sense of relief.
 
“In a way, he’s made things easier for you, Shipra,” he mused, his voice taking on a teasing, almost playful edge. “You don’t have to torture yourself with this inner conflict anymore. You don’t have to struggle with maintaining a dual life.”
 
He leaned in slightly, his words slithering through the cracks of her wavering conscience. “Think about it. In Ambruj, you can be mine, free to indulge in every forbidden pleasure, fulfilling all of your fantasies—and mine.” His voice dipped lower, the promise of sin wrapping around every syllable. “I'll make you feel wanted and desired by thoroughly satisfying you both physically and emotionally."
 
He let the words seep into her, their power amplified by the silence that stretched between them.
 
“And when you return home,” he continued, his tone shifting back to something almost casual, as if he were offering a practical solution to an everyday problem, “you can be the perfect, doting wife. The responsible homemaker. Taking care of your household. Playing the role you’ve always played, but this time, without expecting anything from that wimp in return.”
 
His smirk deepened, watching her carefully, waiting for the final crack. “No more guilt, no more conflict. Just freedom, Shipra. Freedom to have it all. Just like you always wanted.”
 
Shipra exhaled sharply, her grip tightening around the phone. Patode’s words weren’t just sinking in. They were reshaping her thoughts, hammering against the molten iron of her mind, bending it to his will.
 
She hesitated, but then, as if surrendering to a tide too strong to fight, she breathed out, “Maybe you’re right, Patode. Maybe it's the right thing to do for the future of this marriage and family.”
 
A slow smile spread across his face. Victory was near.
 
“Of course, I’m right,” he said smoothly, his voice laced with confidence. “It’s a win-win for everyone, Shipra. Think about it.”
 
He leaned back, exuding an air of self-assurance, his words flowing effortlessly as he painted a picture of perfect, guilt-free indulgence.
 
“Your husband? He’ll be happy. You won’t be bothering him, won’t be demanding his attention or love. You’ll be exactly what he wants you to be—a responsible mother, a dutiful wife, quietly taking care of the household while he chases his ambitions.”
 
His gaze darkened, a smirk tugging at his lips. “And you? You will finally be free. Free to embrace your desires without guilt, knowing full well that Alok doesn’t care what you do, as long as it doesn’t interfere with his perfect little world.”
 
Patode’s fingers drummed lightly against his desk as he studied her reaction, then continued, his voice dropping an octave, dripping with sinful promise. “And as for me… well, I won't pretend I am helping you out of sheer goodwill, Shipra. I’ll be the one benefiting the most from this arrangement.”
 
He let that statement linger for a moment, watching her closely, then leaned in, his tone shifting to something darker, more intimate. “I get you—a stunning, sexy woman, a woman who was made for pleasure but has been shackled by expectations for far too long. And now?” His smirk widened, his voice curling around her like warm silk. “You'll be completely mine. My own personal goddess of sin. A horny slutty MILF who will be worshipped, explored, devoured by me thoroughly.”
 
He chuckled softly, the sound deep and knowing, his attempt to make the discussion lighter—yet undeniably erotic. “Tell me, Shipra, doesn’t that sound… delicious? No more guilt, no more torment. Just indulgence. Just pleasure. Just us.”
 
"How very convenient for you, Patode," Shipra said, her voice laced with sarcasm, a faint, forced smile playing on her lips. She had long exhausted every effort to reignite something—anything—with Alok. But after his apathy, his indifference, it all felt like a lost cause. There was nothing left to salvage, no embers of passion waiting to be rekindled. Perhaps this rural posting to Ambruj was a blessing in disguise, a much-needed escape for them both—one where she could finally indulge in every suppressed fantasy, live out her deepest desires without guilt. Meanwhile, Alok’s aspirations would either come to fruition or crumble under their own weight. Perhaps this was how it was always meant to be.
 
"But at least you’re brutally honest and upfront about it," Shipra sighed, eyeing Patode with a mix of amusement and admiration. His boldness was infuriating, yet refreshing. She could almost respect his shamelessness. At least he didn’t pretend, unlike her husband, who hid behind excuses and empty gestures. The thought still stung. Her resentment toward Alok simmered beneath the surface, fueling her recklessness.
 
"And what after these few months?" she asked, tilting her head, testing the waters of this dangerous liaison.
 
Patode shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Who knows?" His dark eyes gleamed with mischief. "Maybe you'll extend your tenure in Ambruj and continue being my slut." He winked, his voice dripping with arrogance.
 
Shipra let out a small chuckle, shaking her head. "You would love that, wouldn’t you?"
 
"Oh, I would. Who wouldn’t want to keep a goddess like you in their bed?" He chuckled, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "And who knows? Maybe you'll end up getting knocked up by me. Just like Aditi."
 
Shipra scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Like I’d ever let that happen. You and your twisted little fetishes, Patode."
 
He laughed, a low, mocking sound that sent a shiver down her spine. "Yeah? Just like you were so sure you wouldn’t fall for my advances?" His words dripped with wicked amusement. "Think about it, Shipra. It would be the perfect revenge on your pathetic husband. Imagine—he’d spend his life raising a child that isn’t even his, a living, breathing reminder of his failure. His incompetence." His fingers traced a slow, lazy pattern along her arm. "And every time you look at that child, you’ll remember us. Our nights. Our heat. Our filthy, desperate, irresistible lust."
 
"Oh god! Do you always have to be so vulgar and crude, Patode?" Shipra shot back, stammering a little, taken aback by the sheer audacity of his words.
 
Patode chuckled lazily, his smirk unwavering. He lounged back on his couch, the dim lighting casting sharp shadows over his face.
 
"Act all disgusted you want, but you and me both know that you love these lewd remarks and vulgar ideas. The humiliation and the dominance really makes you horny and wet," he drawled, his voice rich with satisfaction. 
 
Shipra stiffened, raising an eyebrow at his claims, but didn't reply.
 
Patode stretched, his movements unhurried, entirely at ease. "Now, since I’ve so graciously helped you sort out your dilemma and even sided with you in bitching about your lousy husband—how about you return the favor?" 
 
With a wicked smirk, he tilted the camera downward, the frame shifting to his lap. Dressed in nothing but his underwear, the hard outline of his semi-erect cock was unmistakable, pressing insistently against the fabric. He grabbed his manhood tightly, the motion teasing, taunting.


 
"My little poor boy here has been patiently waiting for some attention," he said, his voice laced with playful mockery.
 
"In what world is that a little boy?" Shipra let out a breathy chuckle, shaking her head. She couldn’t help but smile at his audacity. His crude humor was inappropriate, vulgar—but strangely disarming. A twisted kind of charm.
 
"That's more like it. It seems I have successfully lifted your mood," Patode continued, his gaze darkening, sweeping over her through the screen, "Now why don't you stop acting like a poor neglected wife Shipra, feeling sorry for yourself and start behaving like my little slut, ready to enjoy a little digital hanky panky," His smirk widened knowingly. "Let's continue where we left from last night, before your kids wakes up and cock blocks me again."
 
Shipra hesitated for a bit, her teeth grazing her lower lip as she cast a quick glance at the clock on the wall, ensuring there would be no interruptions. The quiet hum of the house only amplified the pounding of her heart. A slow, forbidden thrill curled through her, igniting something deep within.
 
She exhaled, a mischievous smile playing at her lips as she looked back at the screen, her hesitation melting into something far more dangerous.
 
"Okay… fine…" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
 
The hesitation was evident, but so was the temptation. She knew Patode wouldn’t let it go, and deep down, she didn’t really want him to. The frustration simmering within her—the resentment toward Alok, the unmet desires—needed an outlet.
 
Clearing her throat, she exhaled. "Let me just make sure Aarav is asleep. Hold on."
 
She quickly moved out of the hall, her movements slow and careful as she made her way to Aarav’s room. The little boy was fast asleep, his breathing soft and even.
 
Meanwhile, back on the other side of the screen, Patode’s expression shifted into something more sinister. His fingers flew across his phone’s keyboard, sending a quick text, his lips curling into a wicked grin.
 
She quickly made her way back, but as she reached her bedroom’s threshold, she hesitated.
 
A thick tension sat heavy in her chest.
 
Something about stepping inside, about doing this in that bed, felt too perverse.
 
Too wrong.
 
"Why did you stop, Shipra?" Patode’s voice cut through the silence, smooth yet taunting.
 
"It's your bedroom, isn't it?" Patode chuckled darkly, sensing her hesitation. "What’s the matter? Why are you hesitating?," he mused, his voice a purr of satisfaction. "Don't tell me you're feeling bad for Alok now?"
 
His tone turned mocking. "Come now, Shipra. Your wimpy, two-pump-chump of a husband doesn't deserve your consideration anymore. Think about it—how deliciously perverse it would be. You, writhing on that bed, moaning my name, playing the perfect little cam whore for me. Right there, where you once lay as his blushing bride." Patode continued, his words cruel and deliberate, pressing into the softest, most vulnerable parts of her conscience.
 
Shirpa's stomach coiled with a mix of shame and something illicit. A shudder ran through her, though whether it was from revulsion or anticipation, she wasn’t sure.
 
Because beneath the war raging inside her, another thought whispered insidiously.
 
Wouldn’t it be the apt punishment?
 
A punishment for Alok’s indifference, for his failure to fight for her, for the way he had let their love wilt into something dull and lifeless. He had given up. Let her slip through his fingers.
 
So why shouldn’t she?
 
Her fingers trembled against the doorknob, her breath uneven.
 
"Go on," he whispered. "Push the door open. Be my filthy little slut in the same bed where you had your wedding night. Flame his suspicion even more, see if he is man enough to confront you."
 
His laughter was quiet, indulgent. "It would be the perfect way to get back at him, don’t you think?"
 
Shipra exhaled slowly, the weight of her decision pressing down on her like a storm cloud. But her resentment towards Alok was too much for her to think straight.
 
And with that, she pushed the door open and entered.
 
**********************************************************************************************
 
"Hey Alok, come here, bro! Look—Chetan’s showing us his new workplace," Vaibhav called out, turning his phone toward Alok with an amused smirk. "A fucking dhaba in his hometown. Talk about a downgrade from aiming to be an IAS officer."
 
Chetan scoffed, unfazed. "Crack all the jokes you want, but at least I’m the one making money, loser." His voice carried an easy confidence, but his eyes gleamed with mischief. "Go on, Alok, take your shot too. I promise I don’t get offended as easily as you do."
 
Alok knew exactly what he was referring to—Chetan’s offhand comments about Shipra a few days back. He had let it get under his skin then. Now? He just didn’t have the energy.
 
"No, man," Alok said, shaking his head with a faint, tired smile. "It’s good that you went back and took the job. At least you knew when to call it quits."
 
Chetan raised an eyebrow. "That’s new," he remarked, catching the dullness in Alok’s tone.
 
Vaibhav frowned slightly, though it didn’t stop him from cracking a joke. "What’s up with you, dude? I thought you’d be in a way better mood now that you’re finally getting some pussy again after all those weeks." His grin widened. "Shipra’s back, so I guess your sexual fasting is officially over, huh?"
 
Alok forced a chuckle but ignored the comment entirely. His mind was elsewhere. As he watched Chetan over the video call, an idea formed—one that sent an uneasy ripple through his thoughts.
 
His gaze flickered with hesitation before he finally spoke.
 
"Hey, Chetan… your village is Ambruj, isn’t it?" Alok asked as he grabbed Vaibhav’s phone and stepped away from the group, seeking a more private corner. His voice was low, uncertain. "Can I ask you for a favor?"
 
Chetan leaned in slightly, intrigued. "Yeah, it is," he replied, then narrowed his eyes with mock suspicion. "But hold up—you need my help? Mr. Topper himself, asking me for a favor?" He let out a theatrical gasp. "Man, this does not feel right."
 
Then, as if a switch flipped, his expression shifted, his smirk sharpening. "Let me guess… it’s about your wife, isn’t it?" The jab was pointed, deliberate—an old grudge lingering from their previous spat.
 
Alok hesitated, fingers tightening around the phone. A beat of silence stretched between them.
 
Then, almost as quickly as the thought had come, uncertainty took hold.
 
"Forget it," he muttered, shaking his head. "I don’t even know what I’m doing." His voice wavered—conflicted, restless. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.
 
Chetan studied him for a moment before shrugging. "Your call, man. But if you change your mind, let me know." His tone was lighter now, less taunting. "All said and done, I don’t mind helping you. You know that."
 
Before Alok could respond, Chetan glanced off-screen. "Anyway, I gotta go. Our main guest is about to arrive." His lips curled in amusement. "Later, Vaibhav. And Alok… don’t ignore your instinct. Sometimes, the answer’s right in front of you."
 
With that, the call disconnected, leaving Alok alone with his thoughts.
 
His grip on the phone slackened, but the unease in his chest tightened.
 
Was he really about to do this?
 
***********************************************
Continued to the next post.....

[Suraj76626]

Continued from the last post...

"Fuck, Shipra… if I’d known you were going to have a fight with your husband and punish him by bringing me into your bedroom, I would have run all the way to Pune barefoot just to fuck you in your marital bed," Patode growled, his voice thick with raw desire.
 
He leaned closer to the screen, his breath uneven, his pupils dilated with lust. "There's no better place to fuck a married woman than the very bed she shares with her oblivious husband."
 
He exhaled sharply, his fingers gripping the phone as if restraining himself. "Just imagining you there, sprawled out, moaning my name, makes me fucking insane." His jaw tightened, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. "I’d have had you screaming so loud, the neighbors would’ve known exactly who you really belong to."
 
His voice dropped lower, more dangerous. "Tell me, Shipra… does the thought turn you on as much as it does me?"

"I don’t know…" Shipra murmured, shifting uncomfortably. Her cheeks burned with a mix of shame and embarrassment. "I think… I think this is a bad idea. Doing something so perverted and taboo here…"

Her voice faltered, betraying the thrill building inside her as she struggled to maintain her composure, but Patode’s words slithered into her mind like a forbidden temptation, making it harder to ignore the heat pooling deep inside her.

"And just to be clear," she added hastily, trying to regain some control, "Neither I am bringing you into my bedroom nor you're going to fuck me on this bed. This is just a..."

She trailed off, fumbling for the right words.

Patode chuckled darkly, his smirk widening. He could sense her growing anticipation, no matter how hard she tried to mask it.

“Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that,” he murmured, his tone a lazy, knowing drawl. “But that day isn't far away when—I’ll be there, in your bedroom, fucking you so hard you would even forget the name of that wimp," he drawled, his voice a low, knowing purr. “But right now?” He tilted his head, watching her reaction with the kind of patience that made her squirm. “Don’t you dare ruin my fun, slut."

His tone turned commanding, laced with that irresistible dominance that had always made her weak.

"You might be too ashamed to say it out loud, but I know the truth," Patode’s voice dripped with dark amusement. "Your slutty little cheating cunt is dripping already at the thought of bringing another man in your bedroom."

He let the words hang for a moment, reveling in the power they held over her.

"To the very bed where that wimp makes fruitless attempts to make love to you, failing, never once giving you the pleasure you truly crave. And why?" He chuckled, the sound low and taunting. "Because he’s a sissy, a weak man to realize the truth—that his wife isn’t some demure, devoted woman. No, Shipra… you’re a slut at heart. A woman made for indulgence, for filth. And he? He’ll never be man enough to handle the kind of desires burning inside you."

Patode’s voice dropped lower, silkier, edged with dominance.

"But I can… and that's what I am going to do right now."

He watched intently as Shipra squirmed at his words, her breath hitching, her body betraying her even as she clung to the last shreds of hesitation. He saw the way her thighs pressed tightly together, as if trying—and failing—to suppress the growing heat pooling between them.

“Now.” His voice came through the screen, smooth yet commanding, leaving no room for defiance. The connection was crystal clear, every syllable wrapping around her like a silk-covered chain. “Get on that fucking bed,” he ordered, his dark eyes locked onto hers through the camera. “And be ready to pleasure your lover in every way he desires.”

She swallowed hard as she watched him lean back on the couch, exuding pure control even from miles away. The pause that followed was deliberate, stretching just long enough to make her squirm. Then came his chuckle—low, wicked, dripping with amusement and something far more dangerous.

“And make sure you do it right, Shipra.” His voice softened, but the authority in it only grew. “Because you’re no longer just a cheating wife.” He tilted his head slightly, his gaze burning through the screen, leaving her feeling exposed despite the distance.

“You’re my filthy little slut.”

The vulgar, obscene remarks. The dominant, arrogant edge in his voice. The lewdly arousing demand. Each word sent a fresh jolt of electricity coursing through Shipra’s veins, igniting a fire deep within her. It was intoxicating, maddening—how easily he could unravel her with nothing more than his voice, his commands. And all of this, just over a video call.

Her breath came in shallow, eager pants as she obeyed, crawling onto the bed with trembling anticipation. She propped the phone against the pillow, ensuring she was perfectly centered in the frame, her body on full display for him. A thrill ran down her spine as she imagined how he must see her—submissive, eager, waiting.

“Perfect.” Patode’s voice was thick with satisfaction, a slow, possessive purr that sent another shiver through her. His dark eyes burned through the screen, drinking in the sight of her like a man on the verge of devouring his favorite meal. "Look at that. All dressed up in such an elegant and seductive dress. Were you expecting a video call from me Shipra?" Patode's gaze tracing every inch of her visible form.

Shipra felt the heat creep up her neck, pooling in her cheeks as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She hadn’t done anything special—at least, not intentionally. Dressed in a simple white sphegetti top and a flowing, knee-length light blue skirt, she had merely opted for comfort. But the way Patode was looking at her made her feel as if she had dressed for seduction itself.

"It's nothing special," she replied softly, the shyness in her voice evident. "This is just how I normally dress at home."

Patode chuckled, low and dark. "Well, it's always going to be special for me, you know why?" he said, his voice thick with desire. "Because no matter what you wear, I get to strip you down, piece by piece, until there's nothing left but you—naked and trembling for me.

Shipra squirmed at his nasty remark, her pulse hammering as she watched the way his gaze lingered on her.

"Make sure to pack something special for me this time," he continued, his tone laced with sinful amusement. "Some sexy dresses that cling to your curves in all the right places… and of course, some skimpy little nighties. After all, you’ll be spending most of your nights at my place, won’t you?"

Shipra's stomach coiled at the way he spoke, so certain, so commanding, sending a surge of anticipation through her.

"Let’s not waste anymore time stating the obvious, it's show time," he said with lust-filled excitement, his eyes glinting and smirk widening, 

Her heart pounded as she heard his next command.

“Tilt back a little, Shipra… and spread those sweet thighs for me,” he instructed, his voice thick with command, eyes dark with desire. His unwavering gaze pinned her in place, making it impossible to look away.

A shiver of anticipation rippled through her body, the air between them charged with unspoken tension. Her breath hitched as she adjusted her position, reclining ever so slightly against the bedrest, the soft fabric of her skirt rose up and brushed against her heated skin as she spread her thighs.



"Good girl," he murmured approvingly, his voice a sinful caress through the screen. "Now… slowly—very slowly—lift that skirt for me," he continued, his tone dripping with sinful delight. "Let me feast my eyes on those thick, smooth thighs… the ones that lead straight to that tight, glistening little love hole that’s aching for me."

Shipra’s pulse hammered in her ears as her fingers grabbed a handful of her skirt. They trembled slightly as she began to move, the weight of his gaze making every inch she revealed feel like an intimate confession.

“Ohhh...Yes, that’s it,” he murmured. “A little more—just like you spread those legs wide for me out in the lawn the other night.”

A delicious ache unfurled inside her, her breath coming in soft, uneven pants. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before obeying, the fabric sliding higher—inch by inch—off her bare, heated skin.

A low, satisfied groan escaped him, his jaw tightening as his hungry gaze devoured her every movement.

“Come closer, slut,” he ordered, his tone both coaxing and demanding, the perfect mix of control and impatience. "Let me see just how shamelessly wet you are for me.” His eyes darkened, lust dripping from every syllable.

By now, Shipra had abandoned any last shred of control. The sheer obscenity of her position, the undeniable filthiness of it all, wrapped around her like a forbidden embrace. And yet, rather than shame, it only fed the fire burning within her. The more he degraded her, the more he took control, the more her arousal deepened.

Without hesitation, she obeyed, lifting her ass a little she shifted closer to the camera. The anticipation in Patode’s gaze was unmistakable, his hunger palpable even through the screen.
 
“Just like I said,” he murmured, his eyes narrowing with dark amusement. “Your panties are completely soaked Shipra, so drenched they’ve turned transparent.” He exhaled sharply, his lips curling into a wicked smirk. “What a filthy, shameless little bitch you are. Dripping and desperate for another man, and on your marital bed, no less.”

A sudden wave of embarrassment crashed over Shipra, and instinctively, she tried to press her thighs together, as if she could somehow reclaim even a sliver of modesty. But Patode wasn’t about to allow that.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he snarled, his voice a sharp, commanding growl that crackled through the speakers. “You don’t get to act on your own, slut. Not until I say so.” His tone was raw, brimming with authority, leaving no room for disobedience. “Until I’ve emptied every last drop of my load, you’ll do exactly what I tell you. Exactly how I tell you. Got it, slut?”

Shipra froze, her body betraying her as a fresh, shameful thrill coursed through her veins. The sheer dominance in his voice sent another wave of heat straight to her core, making her thighs quiver with barely restrained need.

“I asked you something, you cheating bitch,” Patode’s voice boomed through the phone, sharp and commanding, leaving no room for hesitation.

“Yes…” she finally whispered, barely audible, her voice trembling—a quiet confession of the complete control he held over her.

“Good,” Patode smirked, satisfied. He leaned back on the couch, shifting slightly, his hand already moving to fish his cock out of his underwear. “Now, listen carefully. Slip one of those needy little hands inside that filthy, soaked panty of yours and start fingering yourself—nice and slow.” He paused, watching the way her body twitched at his words. “And with the other hand… lift that vulgar top and start playing with those tits. I want a seductive display, Shipra. A slow, filthy, desperate one.”

His gaze never wavered as he leaned back further, his own anticipation reaching its peak. His free hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it lazily as he watched her, his smirk widening. “Go on, I know you desperately want to touch yourself."

Shipra bit down on her lower lip, anticipation and arousal swirling in her darkened eyes. With a slow, deliberate motion, she gathered up her skirt, bunching the fabric around her waist, exposing the damp outline of her white cotton panties. The moment her right hand dipped beneath the waistband, sliding past the thin barrier to seek out the slick heat between her thighs, a soft, breathy moan escaped her lips.

“Unggggg…” The sound was pure, raw pleasure—the involuntary response of a body surrendering to its deepest desires. Her fingers grazed her swollen, aching folds, the sensation sending a shudder through her frame.



Her left hand abandoned her skirt, traveling upward, seeking the heavy swell of her breast. She lifted her top and cupped her tits over the bra, squeezing firmly before her fingers slipped inside and began tracing slow, teasing circles around her nipple, the sensation sending another ripple of pleasure down her spine. Her head tilted back, her lashes fluttering shut as she gave in to the intoxicating mix of her own touch and the sinful thrill of being watched.

Every stroke, every gentle pinch, every wet, obscene sound only heightened the intensity of the moment, making her body tingle with desperate need. The heat of Patode’s gaze through the screen made it all the more intoxicating, knowing he was there, watching, waiting, controlling every movement.

“You’re a natural at this, Shipra,” Patode murmured, his voice dripping with dark amusement as he slowly stroked his cock. His eyes remained locked on the screen, drinking in every sinful motion, every obscene sound she made. “Even better than those paid cam whores.”

His smirk widened as he studied her—how eagerly she obeyed, how effortlessly she surrendered to the filth of it all. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you, slut?” His tone was mocking, laced with something possessive, as if peeling back another layer of her depravity.

Shipra didn’t answer. She was too far gone, too lost in the electrifying pleasure coursing through her veins, her body working on instinct alone.

Patode chuckled, the sound wicked and knowing. “Who was it?” he pressed, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Your ex, wasn’t it? Namrata told me all about how depraved you were with him. How much of a desperate little whore you used to be.” He let the words settle, watching for her reaction. “Once a slut, always a slut.”

“Fuck you, Patode,” Shipra snapped at the mention of her ex, her voice filled with both irritation and unchecked arousal. But despite her protest, she never stopped—never even slowed. If anything, his taunts only seemed to fuel the fire burning inside her.

Her head fell back against the pillows, her body writhing under the weight of her own need. “Ohhh… God… hmmmmmm…” she moaned, unable to suppress the desperate sounds spilling from her lips.

Lost in pleasure, she pushed her bra down until her bare breasts were exposed for Patode's eyes to feast on. She squeezed herself greedily, fingers rolling and pinching her hardened nipple with just the right amount of pressure. Meanwhile, below, her right hand worked with frenzied precision—her fingers plunging deeper into her soaked cunt, playing with her clit in frantic, needy circles.

Her hips moved on their own, gliding against the bed, rising slightly with each sharp jolt of pleasure that rippled through her. She was a mess—desperate, breathless, completely lost in the overwhelming heat of the moment. And Patode, watching every second of it, knew he had her exactly where he wanted.

"Enough with the foreplay, Shipra,” Patode’s voice cut through the thick haze of arousal, his tone low and commanding. “It’s time to get down and dirty. Time to go wild.” He leaned forward, his dark eyes blazing with unfiltered hunger.

“Lose the skirt,” he ordered, his voice sharp with expectation. “Then turn around. Get on your knees and bend over—waist down, ass up. I want that sexy, succulent ass of yours staring right at me.” His words dripped with lust, leaving no room for hesitation.

Shipra groaned in frustration. She had been so close—teetering on the edge of release, her body humming with the promise of pleasure. But she knew better than to defy him now. With a shaky breath, she shifted, repositioning herself on her knees. Her fingers fumbled with the knot of her skirt, hurriedly untying it before letting the fabric slip down around her knees in a careless heap on the bed.

But she wasn’t done. Patode hadn’t told her to remove anything else, but the wild and slutty side inside of her made her reach for her top. With a slow, deliberate movement, she peeled it over her head, her bare skin tingling as cool air met heated flesh.

Now, kneeling on the bed, her body was on full display—curvy, deliciously exposed, save for the white cotton panties clinging to her soaked heat and the matching bra barely containing the fullness of her breasts. It was a sight made for sin, and from the way Patode’s breath hitched through the speakers, she knew he was loving every second of it.

The very next moment, Shipra turned around, her breath shallow, her pulse hammering in her ears. Following Patode’s command, she slowly bent at the waist, her movements deliberate, almost hypnotic. Her soaked white panties clung to the curves of her ass, the thin fabric riding up between her soft cheeks, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.


A deep, guttural groan rumbled through the speakers.

“Damn,” Patode exhaled, his voice thick with unrestrained lust. “What a fuckable ass. Tight, round, and thick—just the way I like it.”

Shipra shuddered, her body thrumming with a sinful mix of arousal and shame.

“Now, twerk it for me,” he ordered, his voice dipping into a dangerous growl. “And slap that pretty ass while you're at it.”

Her fingers curled into the sheets for a fleeting moment, hesitation flickering in her mind. But the intoxicating thrill of his control, the wicked obscenity of his demands, had her body responding before she could think twice.

Slowly, she arched her back, pushing her hips higher, her ass swaying in a sensual rhythm. The damp lace of her panties barely covered anything, teasing the way her plump flesh jiggled with every movement.

 
SPANK!

A sharp crack echoed through the room as her palm connected with her own skin. A delicious sting spread through her body, a gasp slipping past her lips before she even realized it.

SPANK! SPANK!

Each slap sent a fresh jolt of heat through her, the sound filling the space between them, reaching Patode through the speakers.

“Fuck,” he groaned, shifting on the very edge of the couch, his grip tightening around his cock. His dark eyes were glued to the screen, drinking in every hypnotic bounce, every tantalizing jiggle.

Patode’s reaction sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through Shipra’s body, her arousal spiking at the raw hunger in his voice. A newfound boldness stirred inside her, pushing aside any lingering hesitation. She could no longer wait for his next command—her own need had grown too intense, too demanding.

Her hands moved on their own, sliding down her trembling thighs, fingers slipping beneath the damp fabric of her panties. A desperate moan escaped her lips as she dipped into her slick heat once again, her body instinctively seeking relief from the unbearable ache.



Patode groaned deeply, his breath ragged, his grip tightening as he watched the filthy display unfold before him.

"That's it, Shipra," he rasped, his voice thick with possession. "A perfect little wife for that wimp, the insatiable, depraved bitch for me. Just the way I like my sluts to be." He let out a low, satisfied groan. "Now, make it filthier… make it hotter. Show me just how deep your depravity runs."

Shipra’s hips bucked against her own touch, her body completely at his mercy even from a distance.



“Peel those panties off that gorgeous ass,” Patode’s voice growled through the speaker, thick with command and temptation. “Slowly. I want to savor every second. And spread those curvy ass cheeks. Let me see your twitching slutty holes."

Down on the mattress, Shipra turned her face towards the camera, watching over her plunged shoulder. Her eyes catching the lens with a smoldering, almost defiant hunger. Her breath trembled as her fingers slipped beneath the waistband, dragging the soaked fabric down inch by inch. The cool air caressed her freshly bared skin, sending a shiver up her spine. The flimsy material slipped past her thighs, pooling on the bed, leaving her exposed, vulnerable—and achingly aware of every inch of herself now on display.



But Patode wasn’t done degrading her. His voice, low and ominous, cracked through the stillness like a whip. “You forgot to spread them. I don’t like repeating myself, Slut.”

A tremor ran through her. Humiliation and desire warred inside her, each feeding the other in a storm of raw sensation. Swallowing hard, her fingers hesitated—then slowly reached back. She dug them into the soft curve of her flesh, parting herself open in trembling obedience, her face flushed with a cocktail of shame and undeniable arousal.

Patode almost came at the sight of her glistening wet pink cunt and her puckered ass hole, his breathless voice almost a growl. "Fuck, look at those tight little holes… so ready, so desperate to be ravaged."



Then, his tone dropped even lower, dripping with sinful amusement.

"Tell me, slut," he murmured, his words wrapping around her like a vice, "if I were there right now, if I climbed onto that bed behind you… would you have stopped me?"

Shipra’s breath hitched, her fingers faltering for a split second.

The filthy question sent another sharp jolt of arousal through her, her body betraying any semblance of self-control. She knew the answer. They both did.

She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper, but filled with undeniable need.

"No…"

A slow, wicked chuckle rumbled through the speakers. "I can't hear you bitch," he said, voice sharpening into something more commanding. “Turn around. Look me in the eye. And while you’re at it, lose that useless bra as well. I want you to bare it all for me .”

Without hesitation, Shipra shifted, her movements deliberate and slow. She turned to face the camera, the soft lighting casting delicate shadows over her curves. With a single motion, she slipped the straps of her bra down her shoulders and unclasped it, letting it fall aside.

Reclining once more against the headboard, Shipra’s bare back sank into the mattress as she spread herself out across the bed—exposed, vulnerable, and trembling with anticipation. Her hands resumed pleasuring herself, her face flushed with the sting of shame and the thrill of abandon as she met his gaze through the lens—eyes wide, lips parted, heart pounding like a drum.

“Now…” Patode’s voice lowered to a whispering growl. “Answer me again. If I pressed my cock against that sloppy, wet, married cunt and buried myself deep inside you—right there, right now—would you have resisted?"

"No...," Shipra whimpered again, her lips trembling and mouth dry.

"No what?" Patode growled.

Shipra gasped, her body jolting as waves of pleasure surged through her. The filthy thoughts, the raw truth of what she was feeling—it was all too much to contain.

“Oh godddddd,” she moaned, her voice rising with each breath. “No... I wouldn’t have stopped you… I wouldn’t have resisted… I would’ve begged you to shove that monster cock of yours into my needy cunt, I would have let you fuck me,” she cried out, the confession spilling from her lips like a dam breaking.

Patode’s voice hardened, laced with cruel delight. “And what does that make you, Shipra? Huh?” he growled. “Moaning for another man’s cock in your husband’s home… ready to get defiled on the very bed where you pretend to be his faithful wife… just to keep that greedy, aching cunt of yours stuffed.”

His words were vile, degrading—meant to break her. But instead, they fueled her desire.

Shipra’s moans grew louder, her body trembling, the shame curling into something dark and addictive. “A fucking cheater… an unsatisfied, filthy cheating wife....a bitch in heat… a SLUT,” she sobbed, the words tearing from her throat as she surrendered completely.

“That's right," Patode smirked with satisfaction. "And whose slut are you?” he pressed, his voice turning into a thick, seductive drawl. “Who owns that sinful little body? Who makes you feel like this? Who, Shipra?”

“You… You, Patode,” she gasped, barely able to form words through the rising heat building inside her. “I’m your slut… your toy… You own me. My body… my moans… my cunt—only you can satisfy me. Only you—ahhhh—Patode!” Her body shook as the orgasm built to an unbearable crescendo, and she could barely breathe between the waves of ecstasy.

Then, just as she teetered on the edge, Patode’s voice took on a new cruelty—one meant to completely unmake her.

“Now imagine Alok standing right there,” he said, a slow, sinister smile tugging at his lips. “Watching you—watching his ‘perfect’ wife unravel under another man’s control. Watching you obey every filthy command I give like a shameless whore.”

Shipra whimpered, her eyes fluttering, torn between release and humiliation.

“Look into his eyes, Shipra,” Patode continued, his voice like velvet and poison. “Tell him what he is. Tell him he’s a pathetic, useless excuse of a husband. Tell him that from now on… you’re mine. That he’ll have to watch you getting fucked by me—right here, on his bed—as punishment for failing to be the man you need.”

Her breath caught. The sheer debasement of it, the fantasy of being seen, being exposed—it pushed her over the edge.

Shipra's entire body seized, suspended in a moment of unbearable tension. Patode’s voice still echoed in her mind—cruel, commanding, utterly in control. 

Hovering at the brink of release, Shipra trembled, caught between hesitation and surrender. Patode’s cruel, degrading words echoed in her ears—relentless, possessive and downright depraved. And the image of Alok… helpless, standing just beyond reach, forced to watch as she gave herself so completely to another man… sent a forbidden thrill racing through her. The twisted pleasure of that thought shattered her final restraint. Before the words could even leave her lips, the climax that had been building inside her crested and crashed down with breathtaking force.

And then it hit her finally.

Her back arched violently, her hips jerked off the mattress and a strangled cry ripped from her throat as her orgasm tore through her like a tidal wave. Pleasure exploded from her core, crashing over her in wave after wave, drowning every thought, every shame, every lingering resistance. Her legs trembled, her body quivered uncontrollably as her breath came in ragged gasps.



“F-fuck… I’m—I'm cumming!” 

The words tore from Shipra's throat in a broken sob, her voice trembling, barely recognizable even to herself. Every nerve in her body was alight, her thoughts dissolving into white-hot static as pleasure surged through her in relentless waves. She was drowning in it-no, she was burning, her skin flushed and feverish, her muscles coiled so tight she thought she might shatter.

Her fingers worked furiously at her clit, desperate to prolong the unbearable ecstasy, but her body had already tipped past the point of no return. A high-pitched whine escaped her lips and her thighs trembled uncontrollably, her hips lifted off the mattress in wild, helpless jerks. The orgasm ripped through her like a shockwave, and then—her pussy clenched and pulsed, hot and wet, before it let go completely. A sudden gush of her release squirted from between her legs.  Another followed, then another, her body convulsing as her juices spilled freely in rhythmic jets of slick, clear fluid.


Shipra moaned brokenly, her voice caught somewhere between ecstasy and disbelief. Her body refused to stop shaking, caught in the aftershocks of the overwhelming high. The bed beneath her was soaked, the dark stain spreading wide.

Her fingers slowed, trembling and slick, still pressed to her throbbing clit as as her hips gave a final sharp twitch, releasing remnant spurt of her juices. Her breath came in ragged pants, chest rising and falling rapidly, nipples stiff against the sweat-slicked air. She collapsed back onto the mattress, dazed, her thighs glistening and the sheets beneath her soaked with the undeniable proof of her surrender—raw, uncontrollable, and utterly consumed by her own touch.

Across the screen, Shipra's shameless and depraved display of raw unfiltered desire, every filthy confession from her lips, every humiliating, degrading act she performed, only fueled the fire. Her complete surrender—mind, body, and dignity—culminated in a wild, uncontrollable orgasm that left her squirting, perhaps for the first time in her life. It was primal. Unhinged. Beautiful in its vulgarity.

For Patode, it was too much. His restraint shattered. His grip on his cock tightened, strokes turning frantic, feral. He groaned deep in his throat, watching her lose herself completely, and felt his own climax surge toward the edge.

“Oh fuckkk… Shipra… I’m gonna cum all over you, you filthy little slut,” he growled, voice thick with lust and on the verge of collapse.

Then it hit him—his balls tightened with explosive force, and his cock jerked violently in his hand. Thick, hot ropes of cum erupted from him, spilling over his chest and abs, smearing messily across his hand. He groaned like an animal, his body arching slightly off the couch with each pulse. It went on, long and heavy—his orgasm rolling through him in waves until he was left panting, covered in sweat and cum, completely spent.

His head lolled back against the cushion, breath ragged, heart pounding. The room was quiet, except for the faint static of the still-open call and the soft, wet sounds of Shipra catching her breath on the other side. For a few moments, neither of them spoke, lost in the shared afterglow—the tension between them now thick with something deeper than just lust.

Then ping—a sharp, chirping chime broke through the haze.

Patode blinked, slowly pulling himself out of the fog of ecstasy as his phone lit up with a new message. He reached for it lazily, a sly smile already creeping onto his lips as his eyes scanned the notification.

His grin widened into something surreal—mischievous, almost triumphant. Whatever the message was, it lit a spark in him that matched the satisfaction he’d just drowned in.

“What a day…” he muttered under his breath, chest still rising and falling as he opened the message with a swipe.

Meanwhile, on the other end of the call, Shipra was just beginning to collect herself—legs still trembling, fingers sticky, her body splayed in the aftermath of pleasure. She reached for a pillow to pull over herself, trying to catch her breath and process the storm she’d just weathered when—

Ding dong.
Ding dong.

The sharp ring of the doorbell sliced through the heavy silence like a blade, jerking her upright with a gasp. Her eyes widened, heart stuttering in her chest.

Reality crashed back in, fast and cold.

Someone was at the door.

End of Chapter 32: An Awakening of Dual of Life: Part 1 

[Hornytamilan23]

In two lines

If anyone thinks it's just a story,

Fuck you bro, that's the reality.

[eslx1212]

An absolutely superb update. Well done and thank you.

[Dumeelkumar]

Amazing episode. Now waiting to see how she is going to humiliate her wimp husband and make him a bloody cuckold.

[cobain7799]

That's a stunning update

[xboard1986]

[eslx1212]

A way for Patode to escape Shrutika's wrath if she finds out is for Shipra to become whore enough to seduce Shrutika for Patode. Let's see if the story takes that direction.

[Bigil]

omg, patode has transformed her fully now to his slut. no turn back hereafter.

[Anju angel]

Very interesting