Misc. Erotica The Mechanic's Trap- By Novelist Casanova

[novelistcasanova]

“A Whisper of Temptation”

I caught the flicker of desperation in Muthu’s eyes and decided to push just a little more.
Slowly, deliberately, I reached up and slid a finger beneath the strap of my white bra, pulling it slightly—just enough to reveal the smooth curve of my shoulder.
“Feeling tempted?” I whispered, voice soft but dripping with promise.
“My white bra isn’t as tight as it looks. I can adjust it… if you want.”
I let my hand glide back over the fabric, the subtle movement sending shivers through me.
Muthu’s gaze darkened, his breath shallow, caught between restraint and desire.
“Can’t blame you,” I teased, stepping even closer, letting the warmth of my body press lightly against his.
“But maybe you should stop trying so hard to control yourself.”
His lips parted slightly, eyes locked on mine, as if begging silently for permission.
The air between us pulsed with electric longing — a promise waiting to ignite.


“The Secret Beneath”
I watched Muthu struggle to keep his composure, his eyes flickering between my face and the subtle sway of my saree.
Leaning in just enough for my breath to brush his ear, I let my voice drop to a soft, teasing whisper.
“You know,” I said, my fingers lightly tracing the edge of my saree near my hip, “beneath all this… I’m wearing something that’s as bold as my heart.”
His eyes widened, curiosity mixed with raw desire.
“Navy blue,” I continued, “delicate but daring. Just for you.”
I let the words hang between us like a sweet secret.
“The kind of color that hides in shadows but demands to be noticed… much like me.”
Muthu swallowed, his breath hitching.
“Sudha…” he murmured, voice thick with need, “how do you do this to me?”
I smiled, my fingers grazing lightly over his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat.
“Maybe because I want you to know… every part of me is waiting — for you.”
The air around us thickened with want, the dance of temptation pulling us closer, impossible to resist.
“A Saree Half-Wrapped, a Love Half-Forgotten”
I turned away from him, pretending to reach for my yellow chiffon saree dbangd over the chair. My fingers moved slowly, purposefully, as I gathered the fabric in my arms.
Behind me, I heard Muthu’s voice—low, strained.
“Please, Sudha... don’t tempt me like this,” he said, as though each word cost him everything. “I came to say goodbye. I need to forget you.”
I paused, letting the silence settle between us like the hush before a storm. Then, without looking at him, I slowly slipped one end of the saree over my shoulder, letting it fall loosely across my blouse.
“It’s just a saree, Muthu,” I said softly, running my palm down the golden threadwork. “Unless… you’re still looking at me like you used to.”
I turned my head just enough to meet his eyes.
His breath was shallow, his hands clenched by his sides, fighting the ache I could feel in the room.
“I told myself I would walk away,” he said hoarsely. “But you… like this… you make it impossible.”
I stepped closer, the saree still only half-wrapped, the fabric fluttering slightly with my movement.
“Then don’t walk away,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Let this moment be ours. Just once more. Not out of weakness… but because we were real.”
“The Last Slip of Control”
His eyes dropped to the saree still slipping between my fingers. The soft yellow chiffon fluttered like a secret between us, half-wrapped, like our story—unfinished.
Muthu didn’t move at first. He just stood there… breathing hard, like a man fighting himself. But I could see the change in his eyes. Not just desire—ache.
“I shouldn’t,” he said, almost to himself.
But he took one step toward me. Then another.
I stood still, the edge of my saree falling from my shoulder again as I let it go deliberately, exposing my sleeveless blouse beneath.
“You always say you shouldn’t,” I murmured, my eyes locked on his. “But you never stop.”
His jaw tightened, the last threads of resolve fraying right in front of me.
“You drive me mad, Sudha,” he whispered. “And I hate how much I crave you even when I try to forget.”
I took a slow step toward him, close enough to feel his breath against my cheek.
“Then stop trying,” I breathed. “Just feel. Just once more.”
His hand came up—hesitant at first—then landed on my waist. His touch was firm, warm, trembling just enough for me to feel how much he’d missed this. Missed me.
“I was supposed to forget you today,” he said, forehead leaning against mine.
“And instead,” I whispered, “you’re remembering everything.”
“The Unwrapping of Goodbye”
His fingers moved slowly to the pallu resting on my shoulder, hesitant—like someone handling something sacred, fragile, forbidden.
I didn’t stop him.
The room was silent except for the rhythm of our breath, both uneven. My heart pounded against my chest as Muthu’s hand closed gently around the soft yellow chiffon.
He looked into my eyes—searching, asking—one last time.
I gave the faintest nod.
And with that, he pulled. Gently. Reverently.
The saree unraveled like a memory, slipping away inch by inch—like time, like resistance. The golden border shimmered as it slid across my skin, a whisper of silk against the heat building between us.
He didn’t speak.
His eyes followed the fall of the fabric as it pooled at my feet, leaving me wrapped in nothing but truth and vulnerability.
“Muthu,” I said softly, “this… this is goodbye, isn’t it?”
His hands reached for me, but not hungrily. Tenderly. As if memorizing what he could never claim again.
“I don’t know,” he murmured, voice heavy. “But right now, I can’t let go.”
And I didn’t want him to.
Not yet.
“The Way He Looked at Me”
There I stood… only in my sleeveless blouse and black petticoat. The yellow chiffon lay forgotten on the floor, like our promises.
Muthu’s eyes swept over me—not with greed, but with longing so intense, it made my breath catch. He looked at me like I was something he didn’t deserve to touch again… but couldn’t stop himself from wanting.
“You look like a dream I shouldn't be having,” he whispered, voice rough with restraint.
I smiled faintly, stepping closer. My bare shoulder brushed his chest.
“But you are having it,” I said softly. “You always did, Muthu.”
His hand hovered just above my waist, not touching—aching to.
“I told myself I came to say goodbye,” he murmured. “But you… like this… you make every goodbye feel like a lie.”
I reached up and touched his face, cupping his jaw gently. My thumb traced the stubble near his lips.
“Then don’t lie,” I whispered. “Stay here. Stay in this moment. With me.”
His eyes closed for a second, as if holding back something heavy—guilt, maybe… or love.
“You know what the worst part is?” he said, opening them again. “I crave you even when I’m trying to forget you. And now… like this… you're making it impossible.”
I leaned in closer, the space between us gone.
“Then let it be impossible,” I whispered into the warm air between us. “For just one more moment… let’s not be wise.”
“Held Like a Secret”
The second Muthu pulled me into his arms, it felt like the entire weight of our silence finally collapsed.
His embrace wasn’t hurried or rough—it was tight, like he was afraid I’d disappear if he let go. I could feel the strength in his arms, the tension in his shoulders… and the storm he was holding back.
And I melted into it.
Into him.
I pressed my cheek against his chest, hearing the wild thud of his heart beneath my ear. Mine beat just as fast, as if they were speaking to each other without words.
“I missed this,” I whispered, closing my eyes. “I missed being held like… I mattered.”
His breath trembled as he lowered his head and buried his face in my hair.
“You matter more than I’ll ever admit,” he said, voice thick. “And holding you like this… it’s the only thing that feels real.”
I tightened my arms around his neck, fingers gripping his shirt like I didn’t want to ever let go. His body was warm, grounding… and I could feel the way he clung to me too.
It wasn’t just desire anymore.
It was everything we hadn’t said. Everything we couldn’t undo.
Just the two of us, wrapped in each other, trying to hold on to something that the world kept asking us to let go of.
And in that quiet, stolen moment, I allowed myself to believe…
That sometimes, a tight embrace could hold more than bodies.
It could hold truth.
“Where Goodbye Begins to Tremble”
Wrapped in his arms, I felt weightless… like time had frozen, just for us.
Muthu's breath was warm against my ear, his heartbeat thudding against my chest, too fast, too real. He held me like he couldn’t decide whether to protect me or lose himself in me.
Then, slowly—without words—his hand slid down the curve of my back. Gentle. Deliberate.
It stopped at the knot of my petticoat.
He didn’t rush. He paused, as if waiting for my breath… or my permission.
And I gave it—not through words, but with the way I leaned closer, the way my fingers clutched his shirt just a little tighter.
I felt the soft looseness around my waist, the shift in the air.
My black petticoat slipped down silently between us, pooling near our feet.
And yet—it was not the fabric that left me vulnerable.
It was the way he looked at me.
Eyes full of ache, of worship, of hesitation.
As if I wasn’t just a woman standing before him.
I was a goodbye he never wanted to say.
His voice broke the silence, low and hoarse.
“Why do you still let me in, Sudha… when you know I won’t stay?”
I swallowed hard, brushing my lips near his cheek.
“Because I don’t want to remember you as the one who left,” I whispered.
“I want to remember you as the one who held me like this… one last time.”
“The Way He Held Me”
His hands slid down my back, slow and deliberate, as if mapping every inch of a memory he didn't want to forget. I could feel his breath grow heavier, his body tremble faintly — not out of haste, but out of everything he was trying not to say.
When his arms circled me tighter, I felt his palm settle at the small of my back… then lower, stopping as though he feared crossing an invisible line.
But I didn’t move away.
Instead, I leaned into him, resting my forehead against his.
He let out a low breath — part ache, part surrender.
“Sudha…” he whispered, his voice caught between apology and longing.
And before either of us could speak again, our lips met.
It wasn’t urgent.
It was heavy… with goodbye, with need, with the kind of ache that lingers long after skin forgets. His lips tasted of every moment we had stolen, and every moment we couldn’t steal again.
His fingers held me firmly, like I was something he had lost and found all at once. There was no rush in his touch. Just presence. Just longing. Just us.
And I kissed him back — not with words, but with every heartbeat that still knew his name.


“The Silence Between Skin and Goodbye”
I stood still in Muthu’s arms, feeling the weight of his breath, the tremble in his touch. Outside, the world still moved — traffic horns, birdsong, the distant clang of temple bells. But in here, inside our fragile bubble of goodbye, there was only stillness. And us.
His hands slid up my back, slow and reverent. There was nothing rushed, nothing hungry — just a lingering, aching slowness. The kind that knew we were about to lose everything.
His fingers found the tie of my blouse. I didn’t stop him.
Not because I was bold.
But because in that moment, I trusted him with my vulnerability more than I trusted myself.
The fabric loosened, and I felt the gentle fall of my blouse slipping down my shoulders. My skin tingled, not from cold, but from how his gaze seemed to hold me — like I was a secret he had never spoken out loud.
I looked at him. He didn’t move.
“Muthu,” I whispered, “if this is goodbye… let it be one we never forget.” I said standing only in my White Bra and Navy Blue Panties.
His eyes met mine — full of pain, full of yearning. “I never wanted to forget you. That was the problem.”
And in the quiet that followed, he wrapped me in his arms again. Not as a lover. Not even as a man torn by guilt.
But as someone who, for a few moments, wanted to hold the woman he could never truly have — as if that one embrace could make up for all the years of silence ahead.
And I let him.
Because some goodbyes deserve to be felt… fully.

[novelistcasanova]

“A Kiss That Tried to Stay”

His lips were warm — trembling slightly — as they met mine.
Not in haste.
Not in heat.
But in a kind of silence that knew what it meant to break.
Muthu kissed me like he had memorized every line of my mouth and was now writing a goodbye between each breath.
I was wrapped in nothing but his gaze… and my own vulnerability.
His fingers brushed my cheek, trailing along my jawline, his thumb pausing near the corner of my lips. I kissed him deeper. Firmer. As if I could pull time backward just by holding on tighter.
His breath caught. “Sudha…” he whispered, voice breaking. “Why do we always find each other when it’s already too late?”
I didn’t answer. My lips were busy telling him the things I never had the courage to say out loud.
That I missed him.
That I wanted him to stay.
That even though this wasn’t right — it felt more right than anything else ever had.
We kissed like people who were trying to remember every detail — how the other breathed, paused, lingered.
And in that moment, I wasn’t a housewife.
He wasn’t a mechanic.
We were just two people who forgot the world for one kiss too long.
“The Knock That Stopped Time”
His hands had just started to rise — slow, careful — grazing the edge of my waist as if afraid I’d vanish beneath his touch. I was only in my white bra and navy blue Panties, and yet, I had never felt more seen. More bare in spirit than skin.
The silence between us crackled.
One more moment and we might have crossed the line. The one we had drawn and redrawn with every stolen glance, every trembling kiss.
And then—
Knock knock.
We froze.
A second knock, firmer this time.
“Anna… airport time, la?” came a voice from outside. The auto driver.
Muthu blinked. The air left his lungs like a secret collapsing inside him. He slowly turned toward the window, jaw tight, breath shallow.
“I forgot…” he whispered. “He was supposed to take me.”
The air between us changed. The tension cracked, not with lust, but with reality. My heart fell first. Then my arms. Then the future we had almost stepped into.
Muthu looked at me, his eyes glassy, lost.
“I should go.”
I nodded, forcing the ache down like a secret I’d carry forever. “You should.”
He took one final look at me. Not as a lover denied, but as a man holding his favorite chapter before closing the book.
“Sudha… if things were different—”
“I know,” I said, swallowing the tears. “Me too.”
And just like that…
He picked up his shirt.
And the moment we almost had… became a memory we’d never forget.
“The Last Ride”
The door clicked shut behind him. I stood there, still caught in the heat of almost, the silence of goodbye.
But something inside me moved — not out of impulse, but out of need.
I couldn’t let him go like this.
Not with our story half-told.
I reached for my black petticoat, stepping into it slowly, smoothing it over my thighs. Then, the yellow sleeveless blouse — I slid it over my white bra and adjusted the fabric carefully, every movement deliberate, quiet, like a ritual.
The saree came last. That soft yellow chiffon — it clung to my skin like memory. I pleated it gently, dbangd it over my shoulder, and tucked the pallu just right. Not for beauty. Not for him.
For me.
Because I wanted to be remembered as I was in that moment — sure, sad, and still standing tall.
The auto was still waiting.
Muthu looked surprised when he saw me step out and climb in beside him. His lips parted like he wanted to protest… but didn’t.
“Sudha…”
“I’m just coming till the airport,” I said quietly, eyes fixed ahead. “Don’t stop me.”
He didn’t.
We sat in silence as the auto sputtered forward, the morning sun spilling over the lanes like gold we couldn't touch. My shoulder brushed his — not by accident — and he didn’t move away. Neither did I.
He looked at me once. I met his gaze, gave him a soft smile.
We said nothing. Because some goodbyes don't need words.
Just presence.

[novelistcasanova]

“Hands That Won’t Let Go”

The auto rattled gently through the early city hush, the world slowly waking up while ours quietly folded itself inwards.
We sat close, not touching at first — like two people pretending to be composed, when their hearts were whispering chaos.
And then, without a word, his hand reached across the thin divide and found mine. Fingers hesitant at first, then curling around mine like he remembered every time they had held me in silence, in heat, in love.
His palm was warm. Rough from years of work, but trembling now — with things he couldn’t say.
I looked down at our intertwined hands.
So simple.
So unbearably intimate.
I turned my face just slightly, letting the breeze lift the edge of my saree. It danced lightly against his arm, like a secret wanting to be told.
I felt him glance at me. Not with a stare, but a hunger held back. His thumb moved gently across my knuckles, and the air shifted. It wasn’t just sadness anymore.
It was longing.
Desire.
Memory disguised as restraint.
“Sudha…” he murmured, barely audible over the hum of the engine.
I didn’t reply. I just held his hand tighter.
Because in that moment, we both knew—
We were still each other’s weakness.
Still each other’s skin, breath, ache.
But this time, there would be no turning back. No closed doors. No hidden corners.
Just this last ride.
Just these last touches.
And the unbearable weight of letting go… while still burning inside.
“The Place Between Parting”
The auto turned down a quiet lane, cutting through a patch of half-forgotten buildings — their walls weathered, their windows blind. One stood slightly apart, its doorway open like a pause in the sentence of our journey.
I saw it.
Then I saw him see it.
And then I looked at him — just once.
I didn’t say a word.
I didn’t have to.
He turned toward the driver and, with a voice that almost sounded casual, said,
“Anna, oru stop pannunga. Bathroom poganum.”
(A stop please, we need to pee.)
The driver nodded, half-bored, half-embarrassed.
The auto slowed.
As we stepped out, the morning sun warmed the back of my neck, and my saree fluttered slightly in the breeze. Muthu brushed his hand against mine, his fingers slow — hesitant, but electric. We walked side by side, past broken tiles and shadows soaked in silence.
The building greeted us with stillness.
Inside, it smelled of dust and memories. The air was thick — not with fear, but with knowing.
This wasn’t a place of shame.
It was a place of what if.
He looked at me. His eyes said everything.
I whispered, barely audible, “Just a little longer… before you go.”
He nodded.
As Muthu began lifting my Yellow Chiffon Saree along with my Black Petticoat all the way above my waist from behind, and began pulling my Navy Blue Panties down, to make love to me one last time, and began inserting his cock inside my Pussy from behind and began making love to me, “mmmmmmmm mmmmmmmm mmmmmmm mmmmmm,” I began to moan, because I was enjoying myself and began I had made up my mind to enjoy myself as much as should because I would probably never see Muthu again.  Inserting his hands underneath my Yellow Saree Pallu as, Muthu began grabbing my Boobs over my Sleeveless Yellow Blouse and began enjoying himself making love to me, I started to get excited, and so did Muthu.  As Muthu began inserting his cock deeper and deeper inside my Pussy, “mmmmmmm mmmmm mmmmm mmmmmm,” I began to moan, as I was about to cum.  That’s when I noticed the Auto Driver hiding behind a wall and watching me enjoying myself bending over and getting love made by Muthu.  For a moment I wanted to pull myself away from Muthu, since I was already missing Muthu and this was probably the last time I was getting fucked by Muthu, letting the Auto Driver enjoy himself jerking off watching me get fucked and began focusing on Muthu. “Mmmmmmm mmmmmmm mmmmmmm mmmmmmm mmmmmm, I am gonna cum, Sudha, mmmmmmmmm,” as Muthu began moaning, inserting his cock deeper and deeper inside my Pussy, “mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” I moaned, as I was about to cum.  The moment Muthu held my jaw and turned my face towards his right and began kissing my lips passionately and shot his cum deep inside my pussy, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa,” I moaned and I came all over his cock.

[novelistcasanova]

“Back to the Road”

I stood still for a moment longer in that quiet, forgotten place — breathing in what little remained of him on my skin, in the hush of air, in the way my heartbeat still hadn’t slowed.
Then, slowly, I reached down, pulling my navy blue Panties back up with a gentle tug.
My fingers moved mechanically, smoothing down the black petticoat, pulling the soft yellow chiffon saree back around me. I adjusted the pleats, tucked them in, and dbangd the pallu across my chest — each movement a quiet act of putting myself back together.  That’s when I noticed the Auto Driver, he has been watching me wear my Navy Blue Panties on and we my black Petticoat and wear my Yellow Chiffon Saree properly and jerking off and was cumming all over the floor.
Holding Muthu’s face and kissing his lips and looking at the Auto Driver, I kissed Muthu’s lips indirectly telling the Auto Driver that I belong to Muthu and not him.  As the Auto Driver began leaving the place. I began leaving the place along with Muthu.
Not as the woman Muthu held.
But the woman who had to let Muthu go.
The sunlight outside made me blink. Muthu was already waiting by the Auto, hands in his pockets, gaze lowered. As I stepped toward him, he looked up — and for a second, his eyes met mine like he wanted to memorize this version of me too.
I sat beside him, the silence between us now filled with everything we couldn't say.
His hand found mine.
Neither of us pulled away.
And just like that, the Auto rumbled back to life — carrying us forward, toward an airport, toward an ending, toward a memory we would never unwrite.
“Tears in the Wind”
The Auto’s engine hummed steadily beneath us, but all I could hear was the echo of his breath still lingering on my skin.
I sat beside him, my hand still in his — though my fingers trembled with every passing second. The road stretched endlessly ahead, but I knew it was shortening. Every kilometer was a countdown.
I turned my face slightly toward the wind, pretending to enjoy the breeze. But the truth was, I didn’t want him to see the tears forming in my eyes.
I missed him.
Not in the way you miss someone after they’ve gone.
I missed him while he was still here.
A tear rolled down my cheek before I could stop it, slipping silently over the corner of my lip. I bit down, hoping he wouldn’t notice — but Muthu did. He always did.
“Sudha…” His voice cracked, barely audible above the wind. “Don’t cry. Please.”
But I couldn’t stop. The more I tried, the more it hurt.
“I don’t know how to let go,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “You were the only secret that ever made me feel… real.”
He squeezed my hand gently. “Then carry me like a secret. Always. That’s all I ask.”
The Auto turned into the final road. I could already see the airport walls appearing in the distance, pale and indifferent. My chest tightened.
I leaned against his shoulder, unable to speak. His arm came around me slowly, protectively, like it always had. But this time, there was a finality to it.
A soft, heartbreaking finality.
I closed my eyes and let the tears come — quietly, completely — letting them fall into the space between us, into the folds of my saree, into the wind that was already trying to take him from me.
“Last Call”
The Auto hadn’t even come to a full stop when the airport speakers echoed his flight number.
"This is the final boarding call for passengers traveling to Dubai..."
The words hit me like a cold gust.
I looked at him — Muthu’s eyes wide, startled, almost dazed. For a second, we both froze. The world moved ahead in a blur. But we were still here. Still holding on.
“We’re late,” he said, voice rough, hurried. He reached for his bag and climbed out of the Auto. I followed, my feet moving on instinct.
The airport glass gleamed ahead of us like a curtain we weren’t ready to walk through.
“Muthu…” I called softly.
He stopped. Turned.

[novelistcasanova]

“The Envelope”

Just as he was about to turn away, I reached into my handbag with trembling fingers and pulled out the envelope. It was thick — filled with every last note I could gather without raising suspicion at home. I had been setting it aside quietly, piece by piece, ever since he told me he was leaving.
I stepped forward and held it out to him.
“Muthu… this is for your stay. Your food, your new room… until you find work there. Please. Just take it.”
His eyes dropped to the envelope, then back up to mine. There was a moment — a flash of pain, pride, and something even deeper.
“No, Sudha,” he said, gently pushing my hand away. “I can’t take that.”
“You need it,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Dubai isn’t easy. I’ve read enough. Just this once… let me take care of you.”
He shook his head, jaw tightening. “You already have. In every way.”
The words made my chest ache.
“I don’t want money, if you want to give me anything, give me something as a Keepsake I will kept it as your memory,” he said, “anything for you Muthu, just tell me what you want,” I said hurriedly as he was getting late for his flight.  “I want your Panties, Sudha!  Can you remove your Navy Blue Panties and give it to me, Sudha?” as he asked, “just give me a moment,” I said and ran towards the Ladies Washroom.
“A Keepsake He’ll Never Forget”
The airport was crowded. Too many eyes. Too many things unsaid.  Searching for Ladies Washrooms everywhere and I finally found one and opened the door and entered inside the Ladies Washroom.  I lifted my Yellow Chiffon Saree along with my Black Petticoat, caught the Waistband of my Navy Blue Panties and pulled it down, and took my legs out of my Navy Blue Panties one after the Other, folding my Navy Blue Panties and quickly ran back towards Muthu.
As I gave my Navy Blue Panties to Muthu, “thank you, Sudha… thank you so much for your Panties” he said in an emotional tone.  “Please accept this money as well,” as I exclaimed and gave the envelope to Muthu, Muthu refused agan.
He glanced away toward the glass doors. Then turned back. “If I take this now, I’ll feel like I took too much from you. Your time… your love… your body… your heart. Let me at least walk away with some dignity.”
Tears welled in my eyes again. “Then… what do I do with all this love, Muthu?”
He stepped close, brushing a knuckle against my cheek.
“Keep it safe. Lock it away in that place only you and I know about. That’s enough for me.”
I clenched the envelope, not knowing what to do with the weight in my hand — or in my heart.


“I couldn’t hug you here. I couldn’t kiss you,” I whispered, “but this… Navy Blue Panties of yours ….. this will carry all that.”

His fingers closed around it with quiet reverence.
He didn’t say a word, but I saw it in his eyes — that he would treasure my Navy Blue Panteis. That he would sleep with it under his pillow in some rented room in Dubai, far from me but not far from my memory.
As the final boarding call echoed again, I stepped back, our hands slipping apart slowly like pages of a book coming to its end.
And then, with a last smile and tear that glistened in the sunlight, I whispered,
“Don’t forget me, Muthu. Not even for a day.”
He nodded. Clutched the envelope to his chest. And disappeared into the terminal — carrying the scent, the softness, and the weight of everything we couldn’t say in public… but had lived in private.
As the final boarding call echoed again, I stepped back, our hands slipping apart slowly like pages of a book
coming to its end.

And then, with a last smile and tear that glistened in the sunlight, I whispered,
“Don’t forget me, Muthu. Not even for a day.”
He nodded. Clutched my Navy Blue Panties to his chest. And disappeared into the terminal — carrying the scent, the softness, and the weight of everything we couldn’t say in public… but had lived in private.

The End

Regards 
Novelist Casanova 

[Little finger]

Super update bro. Pls more stories with aunties and auto drivers bro

[veeravaibhav]

Good story. Will he come back and take her with him.

[novelistcasanova]

Super update bro. Pls more stories with aunties and auto drivers bro

Thank you for the Support 

[novelistcasanova]

Super update bro. Pls more stories with aunties and auto drivers bro

Thank you for the Support 

[Dorabooji]

She gave sendoff like giving to her husband. Some touch is missing. Anyways thanks for the story.

[tweeny_fory]

Wow Casanova, the story was quite sensual and quiet sexual. We were wondering how it was going to end, but the ending was right and apt.

Congratulations on the plot and writing!

[novelistcasanova]

She gave sendoff like giving to her husband. Some touch is missing. Anyways thanks for the story.

Thank you for the Support ..

---------------------------------------------

I think she is emotionally caught between love and lust.

[novelistcasanova]

Wow Casanova, the story was quite sensual and quiet sexual. We were wondering how it was going to end, but the ending was right and apt.

Congratulations on the plot and writing!

Thank you for the Support, tweeny!!
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This incident Happened in Tirupur, Tamil Nadu.  I remember reading this news on the Newspaper.  In real life, Muthu actually returns back to India after his Construction Contract gets over, and continues his affair with her.  When the husbands finds out, they both elope to Chennai.  I am not sure what happened to them after that.  I hope everyone involved in this are doing fine

[novelistcasanova]

Thank you for the Support 

Thank you

[novelistcasanova]

:);

Thank you 

[novelistcasanova]

Thank you so much for the Support