Wicked Whispers

[Paty@123]

Waiting for update plz

[rinxox]

Dinner

She was laughing at some meme Noor had posted in their group chat, describing it with too much detail, like she needed the noise. I took a slow bite of my food and waited for the right moment.

“I ran into Joss today, by the way,” I said, keeping my eyes on my plate. Just casual enough.

There was a pause. Tiny. Maybe a flinch in her smile. Or maybe I imagined it. I’ve been doing that a lot lately.

“Oh? Where?” she asked. Too evenly.

“At his place, actually. Dropped by near his office.”

She nodded, went back to eating. Like it meant nothing.

But the silence between the words? Loud as a siren.

Later That Night:

She was asleep beside me, Me? I was wide awake. 

I was scrolling on reddit ,on subreddit of infedility


I had posted my situation hoping to find a solution 

“Wife might have cheated at a recent party. Her ex was there. There’s a rumor they slipped away together. I haven’t confronted her. Don’t know what to believe. She says she loves me, acts normal. But I can’t stop thinking about it. Every little thing she does feels fake now. What should I do?”

I hit post. My heart was hammering, like I’d done something wrong.

The replies came in faster than I expected.

> “Bro, trust your gut. Women lie better than men. Get her phone. Check her chats. They always talk.”
> “Get spyware. She won’t know. Record everything.”
> “Don’t accuse without proof. Talk to her. You’ll regret not knowing the truth.”
> “File for divorce "
> “if she claims abuse, she can fuck you in court. many such cases man"
> “If you don’t have kids, you’re lucky. If you do, brace for a custody battle.”



And I just lay there.


That night, I barely slept.

Morning passed like a fog.

Emails, spreadsheets, meetings… none of it landed. My head was replaying Joss’s words. That image—her bent over, red saree rucked up, moaning for another man—haunted me like a ghost behind my eyes.

Should I ask her?

But what if she lies?

Worse—what if she tells the truth?

And if it’s only a rumor… would asking her destroy the very trust our marriage was hanging on?

I was still wrestling with it when I pulled into the driveway.

Noor’s Safari was already there


Inside, the girls were in the kitchen, laughing over some reel. Raj was half-slouched on the sofa, scrolling through something on his phone.

I gave a dry smile, forced greetings, and poured myself water.



Brunch wasmostly the girls talking.

I was Trying to act normal. Like I wasn’t dying inside.

And then she dropped it.

Noor said casually, “Oh, by the way… Ashish was looking for an apartment around here. So I gave him the number of your building’s builder. One of the flats is vacant, right?”

My fork paused mid-air.

Sheeza was across from me. I didn’t look at her right away. I didn’t need to. I felt her eyes on me instantly.

I looked up slowly. Her expression was unreadable. Calm. But something flashed through her eyes. A flicker of alertness. Or was it guilt? Maybe I was just imagining it. God, I hoped I was imagining it.

Noor smirked.“You remember Ashish, right? Met him at the party? He was our old college friend… close friend.”



She added,“His job needs him to travel a lot, up and down between cities. So I told him this area’s perfect. Familiar. Comfortable.”


It felt like code. Like some hidden message just for Sheeza. She still hadn’t said a word.

She was eating slowly, calmly, her dupatta slipping off one shoulder. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes occasionally flicking to me—watching me.

Was she checking if I suspected something?

My mind was a storm of noise. Images of the rumor I’d heard. Her moaning. The red saree. That bastard Ashish behind her.

I gripped my cup tighter, afraid my hands might shake.

I didn’t say anything. What could I say?

That I wanted to scream?


I just smiled again, said nothing.

And died a little more insie.


That night, lying beside her in bed, I finally spoke.

“Why all of a sudden is Ashish moving into our building?”

Sheeza didn’t look surprised. She adjusted her pillow, pulled the sheet up over her chest.

“I think it’s for his job. Like Noor said. He has to travel a lot for work.”

She turned to face me, her eyes scanning my face.

“Honey… do you have a problem with it?”

I wanted to scream Yes. I wanted to tell her about the images that wouldn’t leave my head—of her in a red saree, bent over, moaning, his hands gripping her fair waist ,as he fucks her.

But I couldn’t.

I couldn’t look weak. Insecure. Jealous.

“No, just…” I started, searching for words.

She cut me off .

“Jaan, is it because he was my ex?”she asked 


“That was long ago. It’s the past. You have nothing to worry about. Are you worried?”

I couldn’t meet her eyes.

I swallowed and shook my head.

“No. Just seems strange, that’s all.”

She leaned in and kissed my cheek, a soft, deliberate kiss.

“Then stop overthinking everything, okay?” she whispered, before rolling to her side and pulling the blanket up to her chin.

And just like that, she drifted off.

I stared at the ceiling.

Her words echoed in my head—You have nothing to worry about.

So why did it feel like everything was slipping through my fingers?

Why did I feel like a fool?

Like the man sleeping beside a woman who had already given herself to another.

And now… he might be living just two floors above us.



A random Redditor had replied to my post late at night, the words burned into my mind:

"He’ll come when you’re out. That’s how it always happens. In your own home. Your own bed."

I couldn’t shake the image. Sheeza bent over our bed, whispering things she never said to me. Moaning for him. Ashish.

That night, I barely slept. My chest felt tight, my head buzzing with thoughts I couldn’t kill.

By morning, a decision had taken root in me.

I needed proof.

I searched online, reviewed hidden cam setups. But I couldn’t buy it that day. Or the next. Too much work. Too many excuses.

Day four, I came home early, pretending I had a headache. While Sheeza made tea, I quietly installed the small, pinhole cam above our dresser, its lens pointed toward the bed. Covered in a fake smoke detector shell. Nothing too obvious. She wouldn't notice.

That night, I lay beside her like everything was normal, her body warm against mine, her breath soft and steady.

And I hated how much I still loved her.



Next morning.

I stepped out into the hallway, the elevator door opening just as I reached for it.

He stepped out.

Ashish.

Tall. Built like a gym ad. Dark bronze skin. Hair slick. Confident. Casual.

“Hey Ali!” he smiled like we were old friends. “Good to see you, man. I moved in two days back. Top floor. Ran into Sheeza already.”

Two days back.

Two days back.

My ears rang.

I managed a smile. Nodded. Said something polite—I don’t even remember what.

All I could think was—

Why didn’t she tell me?

She told me everything. Everything meaningless. W
hat she cooked, what Noor said, what show she was watching.

But not this.

Not that he had moved in.

Not that he had already seen her.

Had he already been in our home?

In our bedroom?

Inside her?

[Paty@123]

Good update, plz continue with early updates

[a2011]

waiting to see what ali sees in the hidden cam...sheeza knows he's a cuckold after their sex life improved after the party...she and noor have a plan

[tomdickharry2024]

Wonderful update rinxox.. you keep us wanting for more!!! Thank you.

[rinxox]

I entered the home with a strange hollowness in my chest. Sheeza greeted me with a smile as if nothing had changed.

But something had.  
I just didn’t know what.

She didn’t say a word about Ashish moving in. Not a mention of seeing him. As if it hadn’t happened.  
As if she wanted it kept secret.

We had dinner. She talked about groceries. A new recipe. I nodded in the right places, smiled when needed.

All the while, my mind was screaming.

After she went to bed, I sat on the couch pretending to scroll through my phone. I waited.  
Waited for the sound of her breathing to soften.  
For the silence of sleep.

When it came, I moved.

I crept into the bedroom, my chest tight, eyes darting to her still form on the bed. Her face was turned away. Her breath steady. Peaceful.
[img]<a href=[/img]" />
My innocent wife.  
My angel.  
My… God, my head hurt.

Those soft lips—had they wrapped around cock? 

I forced the thoughts back and reached for the shell above the dresser. Inside it, the hidden cam.

I turned and tiptoed toward the door—

“Not sleepy?”

I froze.

Sheeza was sitting up.

“Not really,” I lied, heart thudding. “Had a little too much cofy."

She smiled softly and laid back down. “dont wake for late"

She turned, back to me again.

I clenched the device in my hand and walked out slowly, every nerve on edge.

I couldn’t check it now.  
Not tonight.I will check it tomorrow.







Next morning, I sat in the car with trembling fingers. I had copied the footage from the drawing room cam to my phone the night before.

I pressed play.
Day one—nothing
She moved around normally. No Ashish.

Day two—same.


Then came Day three.
And my stomach dropped.

Ashish walked in. Tall, dark, muscular. Confident. Like he belonged.

I leaned forward, squinting at the tiny screen.
They spoke for a few minutes. I couldn’t hear anything—no audio—but I watched their faces. Her expression was soft. Comfortable. A small laugh escaped her.




Then Sheeza walked into the kitchen.

Ashish waited for a moment… then followed.

I froze the video.

Ten minutes.
They were out of the cam’s view for ten fucking minutes.

I stared at the screen, my mind spinning.

They couldn’t have had sex. Not a full session. Could they?

But… a blowjob?

Yes. Easily.

The image slammed into my skull. I could see it—vividly.

Ashish entering the kitchen, stepping behind her while she sliced fruit or poured water.

His hand grazing her back, brushing against her hip—testing boundaries.

Her soft gasp.

He presses against her, his hard cock straining against her ass. One hand sliding around her waist, pulling her against him.

Sheeza whispering, “Ashish… not now…”

But he kisses her neck, whispering filth into her ears.

“You missed this, didn’t you?”  
“You love how I used to grab this ass…”

His hand slides under her kurti. She squirms, whimpers.

Does she resist? Or does she lean back into him?

He spins her around.  
Kisses her. Deep. Rough. One hand groping her boobs, the other already undoing his pants.

She sinks to her knees.  
Obedient. Eager.

My wife. On her knees. In our kitchen.

She pulls his cock out. Looks up at him with those big, innocent eyes—the same eyes that i look at me.

Now filled with lust.

She strokes him once, twice, then takes him into her mouth. Slow. Worshipful.

Ashish groans.

Grabs her head.

Fucks her face.

Her head bobbing as he mutters curses. As he tells her she’s still the best he ever had.

Did she swallow? Did she wipe her mouth with the same dupatta she wears around me?

I shut my eyes.

My cock was hard. Sickeningly hard.

The arousal was disgusting. But I couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop the images.

At work, I was useless. Mind poisoned.

I watched the footage again during lunch, trying to find something—anything—in her posture when they returned from the kitchen.

A wrinkle in her salwar?  

Flushed cheeks?  
Did she avoid the camera?

Nothing.  
But everything.

I was drowning in doubts.

I had to know.  
But what if I already did?

[a2011]

great update, nice suspense

[Paty@123]

Early update is appreciated

[tomdickharry2024]

Great update rinxox!! Thank you.

[Sahil.A]

Excellent story but please maintain a consistent point of view, using either first-person or third-person throughout the story.

[rinxox]

That night ,after returning from office.as we were having dinner 

I asked her:“Has he moved in yet?”

Sheeza: Who?

Ali“Ashish.”

Sheeza“Yeah, I think so...” nonchalantly she said 

Ali :You didn’t mention it 

Sheeza:“What are you talking about?”

Ali: “So, you haven’t really... talked to him?”

Sheeza:“No.” Her response was quick.

Ali: “So you’re telling me he hasn’t come to our house?” 

Sheeza: “What are you talking about?” 

Ali: “You both were in the kitchen, weren’t you?”

Sheeza: “What kitchen?” She feigned confusion

Ali: “What happened in the kitchen?”

Sheeza: “What are you talking about?” She snapped, her calm facade breaking, and her arms folded defensively across her chest. “I don’t know what you’re accusing me of, Ali.”

Ali: “You both went in there for ten minutes. What happened?” i

Sheeza:“How do you know we were in the kitchen? Are you spying on me?” Her anger surged, and she stepped back, her voice sharp, accusing. “What the hell is going on with you, Ali?”

Ali: “I saw the footage... You both went in there. For ten minutes. What was it, Sheeza? What were you doing?”

Sheeza: “Did you really put a spy cam in the house?” The shock in her voice was palpable, but there was more than just surprise — there was a cold fury, the realization that he’d crossed a line. “Are you serious right now? Are you really accusing me like this?"

I was about say something but....


Sheeza“What do you think happened in that kitchen, Ali?” Her tone was sharp, filled with mock curiosity, her eyes narrowing as if daring me to come up with some wild accusation.

see her irritation my mind could not form what to say“I... I don’t know. I just—”

Sheeza: “Exactly. You don’t know anything. You’ve got all these ideas running through your head and no proof to back it up.”Her voice turned cutting, like a slap to his face. “You’re insecure, Ali. And that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you Ashish was coming over. I knew you’d make a big deal out of it, like you always do.”

She stepped closer, her tone lowering but gaining an icy sharpness. “Every time I talk to someone, you make it a threat. You turn everything into something it’s not. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d spin it into something else.”

My chest tightened, her words striking deep. I didn’t know how to respond at first, unsure if my own insecurities were clouding my judgment.But the video 

Sheeza: “And now, you’re going to accuse me of something just because of a damn spy cam?”She raised her voice slightly, fury building. "You’re really going to spy on me like that, Ali? Is that how little you trust me?” She took a step back, crossing her arms as she glared at me.

Ali: “I saw you both in the kitchen... You were there for ten minutes........ She again cut me 

Sheeza: “You saw the footage, huh? Watching me, spying on me. Now you want to turn this around and make it my fault?” Her voice dripped with condescension as she stepped back, her arms now folded tightly against her body, the walls closing in on Ali.

“Fine. Since you won’t stop, let me tell you. Ashish came over for some cream for his coffee. I checked the kitchen, but it wasn’t available, so he left. That’s all. Nothing more.”

She stared, cold and unreadable. “You gonna accuse me of more?”

I swallowed. I didn’t know what to believe. But the video, the timing…

She turned without another word.

At the bedroom door, she stopped.

“You won’t be sleeping in our bed tonight.”

She entered and locked the door behind her.

I was left in the hallway.

Alone.


I lay alone on the couch, staring into the darkness, my mind a fucking storm.

Was she telling the truth?

Ten minutes... not enough time for full-on sex, maybe. But a kiss? Groping? A quick blowjob?

God.

Why didn’t I just ask her straight? Did you suck his cock in the kitchen, Sheeza?
I couldn’t bring myself to say it. Not then. Not even now.

But the thought lingered.

Did she?

I got up again. Opened the footage. Rewatched it.

She smiled at him when she opened the door.

Was that just polite? Or something more?

The way he followed her into the kitchen like he owned the place... The way she didn't look back. Just... walked in. Comfortable. Too comfortable.

Ten minutes.

No sound. No angle. Nothing to prove anything.

So why was my gut twisting like this?

I found myself wondering—am I hoping she did do something?
Just to validate my paranoia? To justify this sickness crawling under my skin?

Or was it something deeper?

Some fucked-up part of me... craving the humiliation?

I opened my phone again.  
The old MMS.The scandal of manali.

I stared at it. My heart was pounding.  
I hated myself for even thinking it—

Is that how Sheeza looks when she..

No.

I locked the screen. Tossed the phone aside.

I didn’t jerk off.

Barely.

I turned my face to the cushion and buried the shame.

Eventually, sleep took me like a curse.

Morning.

She didn’t look at me when I entered the kitchen.

She was making tea, her movements cold, robotic.

“I’m sorry about last night,” I said, voice low.

She didn’t turn around.

“Okay.”
Just that.

Nothing else.

No warmth. No hug. No “it’s okay.”

I stood there, watching her back, her hair tied up in a neat bun. The same neck I used to kiss every morning.

Now I couldn’t even touch her.

And still—my mind whispered—what happened in that fucking kitchen?


Office was no better.
I couldn’t focus. Couldn’t stop replaying our conversation, her cold distance, the way she shut me out. Even though I’d apologized. Even though I’d swallowed every last shred of my pride.

That night, again—nothing. Sheeza barely looked at me.

Next day... same thing.

The silence was unbearable. Like I didn’t exist in my own house.

On the third night, I broke.

"I’m sorry... please... I’ll do anything to make it right," I begged.

Finally, her eyes softened, just a little.  
“Then promise me something,”she said. “You will never accuse me of cheating again.”

I nodded. What else could I do?  
Even if my heart screamed.



It was Sunday.

Doorbell rang. I opened it.

Ashish.
Tall, confident, the same smug expression.

What he is doing here?

Before I could say anything, Sheeza called from the kitchen.

"Invite him in"

Asish made himself comfortable on couch.


“Come in and sit! I invited him, Ali. To clear all your doubts.”
Her voice was calm, even sweet. “He’s a good man. It’ll be better if you two get along.”

I opened my mouth to protest—  
“No 'but', Ali.” Her tone cut like a knife. “You’ll behave properly in front of him.”

I swallowed it down.

We sat. I didn’t want to talk. But I did.

Work. Apartment. Small talk.

Nice decor,”he said, glancing at the shelf, then back to me. “Though I saw it when I dropped by a few days ago.”

I blinked.

“When?”

“About five days ago. I ran out of cream.”He smiled casually, eyes glinting. “Remembered Sheeza lived here. Came by. She still makes the best cream…”He leaned back lazily. “Missed Sheeza’s cream all these years.”

I raised an eyebrow. “When did you last see it?”

Ashish smiled, casually. “Oh... about five days ago. I ran out of cream, remembered Sheeza lived here. Dropped by. She still makes the best cream.”

That sly smile.  
“Missed Sheeza’s cream all these years.”

Before I could process that, Sheeza walked out of the kitchen, tray in her hands. Snacks. Tea.

That’s when I noticed it.

Her salwar was... tighter. Hinted just enough of her cleavage.  
Duppata carelessly on one shoulder.

A light touch of lipstick , subtle kohl on her eyes.

Did she get ready for him?

Ashish’s eyes locked onto her chest. I watched them move—her soft breasts gently bouncing with every step, pressing against the fabric. He stared, drinking her in. Then he glanced at me again… with a flicker of a smirk.

“What are you boys talking about?” she asked with a casual smile.

“Just telling him how much I loved your cream,”he said.

She chuckled, “Oh... hope you enjoyed it.”

My heart skipped.  
Didn't she say there was no cream that day?

I looked at her again. Her posture. Her smile.


And then it hit me.  
In that old footage—after coming out of the kitchen—she adjusted her dupatta .

Why?

My gaze shifted again to her chest. The gentle bounce. The outline .

His words echoed: “I missed Sheeza’s cream all these years.”


 There was something in it—an evilness, a quiet mockery, like he knew something I didn’t. Or worse, like he knew exactly what I feared.

I sat awkwardly, sipping tea I didn’t want, feeling like a third wheel in my own home.

They laughed over old college memories—names I didn’t recognize, incidents I hadn’t lived, emotions I wasn’t a part of. Sheeza's eyes sparkled when she spoke to him, her smile lingering a little longer, her voice softer.

Then Ashish turned to both of us.

"You two should join me for dinner this Friday. There's this new place in town—I want to try it. It'll be fun."

Before I could respond, Sheeza was already nodding.  
"Sure. Sounds great!"

He stood up to leave, giving me a casual nod.

And then—he hugged her.

His arms wrapped around her, easy, familiar.  
And she let him.

Just a second too long.  
Just a little too comfortable.

I clenched my jaw.

I wasn’t comfortable with it. Not at all.

As the door closed behind him, Sheeza turned to me, oblivious or pretending to be.

"See? He's just being friendly, Ali. Try not to overthink everything."

I didn't say anything.


But something was bothering me cream.The way he emphasized on cream as was ogling my wife's boob.

Then it struck me like thunderbolt.

Has he sucked her boob on that day?
Had she let him taste her that day?

My head was spinning forming all sorts of crazy thoughts.

We had dinner , but my thoughts was getting darker.

After dinner as she left for bed,I tell her I will join after sometime.

I turned my phone and saw tha cam clip again ,which I must have seen atleast 30 times to confirm my wife's infidelity.

They’d gone to the kitchen.

Ten minutes.  
No sound. No camera there. Just ten minutes of maddening silence.

When she walked back into frame—she was adjusting her dupatta.

Why did she fix it?  
What had he done to her chest?  
To her soft, creamy, mounds?


She walks out from the kitchen, eyes calm, but her dupatta was clearly out of place.  
She pulls it back over her chest... just a little too carefully.


Had she lifted her kurti just enough for him to bury his face in her breasts?  
Were her nipples in his mouth as she whispered "Just for a minute, Ashish..."?

My cock stirred.

I hated myself. But the images flooded in.

In my head, I saw it clearly .


I began to imagine.

Sheeza checking the cabinet, telling Ashish softly, “No cream, I think I ran out.”

But he didn’t leave.

Instead, he stepped behind her, his tall frame closing in. She turned, startled, but he kissed her—soft lips parting as he claimed her mouth. His strong hand gripped her ass firmly.

The other hand moves up—boldly, shamelessly—grabbing her heavy breast like it belongs to him.

She gasps, “Ashish…”

But he doesn’t stop.


She half-moans, half-protests, but it’s too late. He’s already slipping her dupatta off her shoulder—slow, practiced—letting it fall down her arm, baring the upper swell of her breast under that thin kameez.

The cream I wanted… it’s right here,” he growls, squeezing her again, both hands now mauling her soft curves. “I’ve missed it so much



And then he buries his face there.

Not gently—no.

Like a starving man.

His lips sealed around her soft mound, sucking hard through the fabric, leaving wet spots behind. His tongue swirling over her nipple beneath the cloth, the suction deep, lewd, desperate. His stubble grazing her skin as he worships her breasts like they’re his.

And Sheeza? Her head tilts back slightly, her hand trembling on his shoulder. A moan escapes her lips—soft, shameful, needy.

My wife.


[img]<a href=[/img]" />
Those creamy, jiggly, perfect boobs… his mouth all over them.

Her dupatta missing. Her modesty undone. Her nipples probably stiff under his tongue. Was he biting her gently? Teasing her with his teeth?

Was she panting?

Did she grab his head and pull him closer?

I open my eyes, breath ragged, heart pounding.

This was madness. I didn’t know if it happened—but now the image was etched in my brain like a brand. And every time I looked at her… I couldn’t unsee it.

Her smile. Her lips. Her breasts.

My sweet, innocent Sheeza.

And maybe… just maybe… Ashish had already tasted them again


His other hand slipped up, grabbing a handful of her heavy, creamy breasts through the thin fabric of her kameez. She gasped, maybe tried to push him away. But he whispered, “The cream I wanted is right here. I’ve missed it so much.”

She whimpered at that.

And then... he removed her dupatta. Slid it off her shoulder casually, like he’d done it before. Like it belonged to him.

He buried his face into her chest. Into her—my—fair, soft, luscious boobs. He nuzzled, sucked, licked. The outline I’d seen so many times... I could almost feel the wet sounds in that silent, hidden moment.

Did she moan? Did she hold his head there?

I shut my eyes.

Her dupatta fixing gesture on the f
ootage suddenly made too much sense. Her kameez had looked stretched—was it from him mauling her tits, teeth and tongue all over them?

And all I had was that single camera angle, and an imagination that was tearing me apart.


I blinked.

Back in the living room.

My heart was racing.

I looked down.  
I was hard.

I had no proof. Just... images. Sick, filthy images.



To be continued -

[tomdickharry2024]

Wow.. nice update. I didn't expect him to confront his wife directly without proof.. what is wife doing now? Trying to save the marriage, or dominate the husband?? Keep going bro.. thank you.

[kishen]

Wow, nicely building up...I think it is leading towards cuckolding...looking forward to next update...keep it coming...all the best.

[Twilight123]

Nice update

[amol1]

Waiting for next update

[Paty@123]

Update is appreciated

[rinxox]

Ali’s POV

Whenever I caught a glimpse of her cleavage at home, even in the simplest moments, my mind betrayed me. His words echoed relentlessly—“Sheeza’s cream… I missed it so much.”


At work, I was haunted by the fear that Ashish might be coming over when I wasn’t there. But every evening, the house looked untouched. No proof. No signs.Then, two nights later, Sheeza casually said:Come back early tomorrow."Why?
Sheeza: “You forgot? Ashish invited us for dinner.”Dinner? With him?She expected us to go.

Ali: “I don’t want to go.”

Her expression didn’t change. It was unreadable—cool, distant.
Sheeza: “It would be rude not to.”

Ali: “Sheeza, try to understand. I don’t want to spend time with that guy. I don’t like him.”

She blinked, once.
Sheeza: “What has he done to you that you don’t like him? Don’t be such a crybaby.”

Crybaby? That stung.
Ali: “It’s not that. It’s just… something about—”

She cut me off.
Sheeza: “That’s what I told you before. I want you to get along with him.”

I opened my mouth again, but she hit me with a line that turned my stomach inside out.

Sheeza: “Do you want your wife to go with him alone?”

The room spun slightly. I hadn't expected that.
Dinner. Her. Ashish. Alone.

Ali: “I... I don’t—”

Sheeza : “Then you decide. Do you want him to spend the entire evening alone with your wife, in your absence? Because I will go. It would be rude not to.”

My mouth was dry. My heart raced.
I couldn’t tell if she was bluffing or if she genuinely didn’t care how it sounded.


Ali: “I’ll come.”
I reluctantly agreed.

The dinner was next day.


The next day 
When I returned from the office, I saw a red saree laid out on the bed. She rarely wore saree.Sheeza, standing by the mirror, didn’t look at me as I entered.Sheeza:“Go get fresh and change. We’re already getting late.”
After a quick shower, I stepped out—and froze for a second.

She was doing her makeup now, bent slightly toward the mirror. Her saree shimmered blood-red under the soft light. The back of her blouse was little exposed. My eyes drifted downward. The saree sat dangerously low on her hips, teasing just above her inner curves. A hint of creamy waist peeked between the folds.

I with concerd I ask her“You’re wearing… that?

She turned her head slowly, raising an eyebrow.

Sheeza:“What’s wrong with it?”

Ali: “Your waist is… quite visible. People will stare.”

She let out a dry little laugh, like she’d been waiting for me to say it.

Sheeza: “Perverts will stare no matter what I wear. Saree, jeans… burkha. What difference does it make?”

I didn’t know how to respond. She dabbed a bit of perfume on her neck, then glanced at me again.

Sheeza: “Go get ready. We’re not going to keep Ashish waiting.”

And as I walked toward the wardrobe, I couldn’t help but look once more at that exposed curve of her waist… wondering if it was meant just for Ashish to see.


Ashish’s apartment was… impressive. Clean, minimalist, but with expensive touches—like the sleek bar counter and the dim ambient lighting. 

He opened the door himself, dressed in a fitted black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, veins visible on his muscular forearms. 

As we stepped in, he gave me a polite nod, but then turned to Sheeza, guiding her in first. His hand hovered for a second at the small of her back, just above her exposed waist from the low-dbangd saree. Almost touching… but not quite.He pulled out a chair for her.
Sheeza smiled, brushing her hair behind her ear.

Sheeza: “You’ve maintained your physique well… just like college days.”

Ashish gave a light chuckle.

Ashish: “But you have changed a little, Sheeza. I’d say… even better now. Curvier. Prettier.”

Sheeza looked down and blushed. Blushed.  
That little curve of her lips sent a sharp twist in my gut. Why wasn’t she shutting him down? Why did she like that?

Ashish walked toward the open kitchen, but not before resting his hand lightly—too lightly—on Sheeza’s shoulder. A friendly touch, but his fingers lingered just a bit longer than they should.

I stared at my plate, barely tasting anything as dinner began.

Then Ashish spoke again, casual, mid-bite.Ashish: “So, Ali... how’s the job going?”
I

Ali: “It’s fine. Usual pressure.”

Ashish smirked.

Ashish: “Come on, there must be something big happening. You’ve always been ambitious.”

I hesitated for a second, then replied, trying to keep it casual.

Ali: “My company’s looking to acquire land in a village... near Boda district. If I can help secure it, it could mean a big career jump. It’s a bit complicated, though.”

Ashish leaned back, his smirk deepening.
Ashish: “What a coincidence... “Really? That’s close to my village too… just a couple kilometers off.”

We talked a little about the area—roads, development, some local gossip—but honestly, I wasn’t interested. My replies were half-hearted. My focus kept drifting… to Sheeza. To her smile. To her posture. To the way her arm rested so comfortably on the table near him.

I just wanted to go home.

As I fell silent, Sheeza and Ashish naturally slipped into their own rhythm of conversation, like I wasn’t even at the table anymore. She asked him about his gym routine, his food habits. He teased her about how she never liked waking up early in college.

Then…Ashish: “You still go on those morning walks?”
Sheeza: laughing softly “Yes… I try to stay consistent.”

Ashish: “Ali doesn’t join you?”

Sheeza: “He’s always busy… stuck with his boss even in the morning.”
Just then, it hit me—like a knife in the chest.
The file.
I had to submit that damn file to my boss before 9:30. I had completely forgotten.

I panicked for a second, checking my pockets—no phone.

“I—I forgot my phone. I have to send something urgently,” I said, trying to stand up.

Ashish: “Why don’t you go get it? You can send it from here once you have it. Let Sheeza finish her food in peace.”He turned to her.

Ashish: “Right, Sheeza?”

She gave a small nod, not even looking at me.

Sheeza: “Yeah… I’m almost done here anyway.”

She didn’t say “I’ll come with you.”  
She didn’t say “I’ll wait.”

I looked at her, then him—his relaxed posture, his rolled-up sleeves, the soft candlelight making his muscles look even more defined. His legs spread slightly under the table. So damn comfortable in my wife's presence.

I felt a rock in my chest as I grabbed the keys and left.

Back home, I found my phone on the table.But the file... it was on my laptop.I opened it. Some formatting issue. It took longer than expected. Fixing the graphs, rewriting the subject line, checking the attachments.By the time I sent the email, I glanced at the clock.

25 minutes.My breath caught in my throat.Twenty-five minutes alone.With my wife.In his apartment.

 
I almost ran to the lift.Why was the door locked?i knocked ,rang the bell.Why were they taking time to open?It clicked finally. Ashish stood there, calm as ever, a faint glisten on his forehead… or maybe not.I stepped in,Sheeza sat on the couch, legs crossed, a bowl of ice cream resting lightly in her hand .

I looked at Ashish and ask him why door was locked ,to which he said it is automatic lock system.

“Have some ice cream,” Sheeza said casually.

I nodded. But I wasn’t hungry for sweets.


Then I saw it—her saree.

It was a little crumpled across her waist. The pleats weren’t tight anymore; the fabric clung loose, slightly twisted.Her pallu rested lazily over one shoulder, exposing the creamy expanse of her waist.

And there—just above her hip—a faint smear of something pale, glistening under the light. A sheen of moisture on her smooth, buttery skin. She bent slightly to adjust her anklet, and the saree slipped even lower.

The soft curve of her lower belly peeked out, taut and flushed.Then, just as fast, she readjusted, pulling the pallu forward.

Ashish passed behind her, one hand brushing the top of the couch—just close enough to her back to feel familiar.

I stared down at the ice cream bowl in my hand. It was cold.

But something inside me twisted—hot, restless, humiliated.I didn’t speak. Just sat there, spoon in hand, watching the ice cream melt slowly into a pale puddle.

Sheeza licked her spoon.Ashish leaned back in his chair, legs spread wide, looking completely at ease.Sheeza turned to me with a 
small smile. Maybe I was overthinking.Maybe it was just ice cream on her waist.Maybe the pleats had slipped when she adjusted her saree.Maybe…

 To be continued.....

[kishen]

A lot of teasing, but nothing is happening for us readers.

[amol1]

I think this story is going more in overthinking and less in action.. well let's see what happens..!!

[Rocky@handsome]

Please don't make husband a cuck, sissy or wimp infact he should be man enough to Confront to his wife and take drastic decisions after discovering wife's cheating..
I don't understand why wife is dominating..it spoils all the eroticism...

It's your story, i have no right to speak a single word against Your writing, I am just trying to give you friendly suggestions...Please don't mind ❤️