Misc. Erotica Swathi an innocent teacher

[rathikreeda]

Part 7: Close Enough to Burn
Scene: The Equipment Room
It was Thursday — another prep day for the department’s inter-college seminar. Swathi was coordinating a demo involving a projector setup and some old lab equipment stored in the back room — a narrow, dusty space lined with shelves and forgotten models.
She had left the door half-closed to avoid the student crowd passing by.
Ajay appeared with a knock that he didn’t wait for her to answer.
“Need help?” he asked, stepping in, hands in his pockets. “I saw you carrying the HDMI cables.”
Swathi sighed, crouched in front of a box, saree pulled tight over her hips. “You’ve got nothing better to do?”
Ajay leaned against the doorframe, eyes scanning her lower back. “Nothing better than watching you crawl around in a saree.”
“Charming,” she said dryly, pulling out a coiled cord.
He stepped closer. “You know I mean it.”
“You don’t know how close you are to a disciplinary letter,” she replied, standing now, turning toward him.
Ajay didn’t move.
Neither did she.
The small space between them throbbed with heat. Her chest rose and fell with her breath. The scent of her perfume mixed with dust and electricity in the stale air.
His eyes dipped — to her waist, her breasts, the curve of her lips.
Swathi crossed her arms, subtly pressing her breasts together in the tight blouse. “You came to help. Then help.”
He reached out — slow, deliberate — and took the cord from her hands. But his fingers brushed hers. Then didn’t leave.
They stood there for a heartbeat too long.
Swathi’s lips parted, just slightly.
Ajay’s voice was quiet. “You’re not stopping me.”
She stepped back — barely.
“That’s because I’m watching.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Watching what?”
“How close you’re getting to something you can’t handle.”
Then, calmly, she turned, bent down again — deliberately, this time — to pick up another wire, her ass rising inches from his waist.
He stood frozen.
Want pulsing in his jaw.
She didn’t say another word. Just walked past him, brushing his chest lightly as she left the room.
His cock pressed hard against his jeans the entire walk back to his class.

---

Scene: Nightfall / Swathi & Rahul – The Unleashing
Swathi sat on the bed that night wearing nothing but one of Rahul’s old cotton shirts — oversized, the buttons barely done, nipples showing faintly through the worn fabric.
He walked in late, exhausted — and immediately stopped in his tracks.
“Fuck,” he muttered, closing the door behind him. “You know what that shirt does to me.”
“I do,” she said, crawling on all fours across the bed. “That’s why I’m wearing it.”
He grabbed her the moment she reached him, spinning her around and pushing her onto the bed, face down. The shirt rode up, revealing her bare ass.
“No panties?” he growled.
“Nope.”
He slapped her ass — hard, skin flushing pink. She yelped, biting her lip, loving it.
Another slap. Then a grab — both hands kneading her ass roughly before he dipped between her thighs, parting them.
“So wet,” he muttered, dragging his tongue slowly up her pussy from behind, tasting her. “Jesus, Swathi…”
She moaned into the pillow, back arching.
He turned her over, pulling her legs apart, then unbuttoned the shirt one-handed. Her breasts spilled out — full, soft, nipples hard and needy.
Rahul dove in — sucking one nipple deeply into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue, moaning into her skin. His hand slapped the other breast gently before massaging it in slow, deep circles.
“Your tits drive me insane,” he groaned, switching sides, biting down lightly on the other.
She tangled her fingers in his hair, guiding him lower.
“Eat me,” she whispered. “Properly.”
Rahul didn’t hesitate. He slid down, spread her thighs wide, and buried his face in her soaked cunt — tongue flat against her clit, licking in slow, torturous circles.
“Fuuuck, yes…” she moaned, hips rolling.
He flicked faster, then sucked her clit between his lips, fingers sliding into her pussy in rhythm — curling, thrusting, dragging her closer to orgasm.
She came hard — body clenching, legs shaking, her cries echoing into the room.
But he wasn’t done.
Rahul climbed over her, his cock thick and twitching, sliding the head along her slit before pushing in, inch by inch.
“Still so tight,” he groaned, thrusting all the way in.
He held her legs high, pounding her deep, wet slaps echoing off the walls.
“Fuck me harder,” she gasped.
He obeyed — grabbing her throat gently with one hand, fucking her rougher, deeper, faster. Her breasts bounced with every thrust, and he watched them greedily before bending to suck one nipple again while fucking her harder.
Then he pulled out.
“Get on your knees,” he ordered.
Swathi obeyed, presenting her ass, looking back over her shoulder. “Take it.”
He spanked her again — harder — then slid into her from behind, grabbing her waist, slamming into her.
Their bodies moved like fire — slick, hot, uncontrolled.
She came again, shaking, and he followed soon after, spilling inside her with a long, shuddering groan.
They collapsed, tangled and soaked, the shirt clinging to her skin, his cum dripping down her thighs.
For a long while, they lay there — breathing in sync.
Rahul kissed her neck.
“You still love teasing them?”
Swathi smiled into the pillow.
“Only because you fuck me like this afterward.”

[rathikreeda]

Part 8: Lines That Tremble
Scene: The Lecture Hall (Late Afternoon)
The lecture hall was large, tiered, and mostly empty after the day’s final session. Long rows of wooden benches faced the central whiteboard, where soft chalk dust clung to half-written equations. The sunlight filtering in through tall windows had turned gold — warm, tired, and thick with the quiet of late hours.
Swathi was alone, organizing papers at the lectern, dressed in a rich bottle-green saree with a black sleeveless blouse that hugged her torso perfectly. Her hair was tied back in a loose bun, the nape of her neck glowing with a soft sheen of sweat.
She didn’t hear the footsteps behind her until they were too close.
Aditya.
He moved with quiet energy, as usual — not lurking, just… innocent.
“Ma’am?” he said gently.
She turned. “Aditya. You startled me.”
He held up a sheet. “You missed this. I found it on the last bench.”
She took it, fingers brushing his. That brush — it wasn’t supposed to last, but it did. Half a second too long.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice neutral.
Aditya didn’t move. He was looking at the whiteboard now, at her notes — but his eyes dipped once. Just once. To her blouse. To the curve of her waist.
He didn’t realize he had done it.
That’s what made it dangerous.
Swathi placed the paper on the lectern, calmly. “You’re always here when it’s just me.”
He blinked. “I’m not… I didn’t mean to be. I just—”
“I didn’t say it was bad.”
Aditya stood awkwardly for a moment, then stepped forward to pick up one of the chalk sticks on the ledge. “Your handwriting’s really elegant,” he said softly. “You even make formulas look… nice.”
Swathi looked at him from the side — the outline of his arms under the thin shirt, his collar damp with sweat, his mouth slightly parted as he smiled without thinking.
She shouldn’t have felt it. That tight pull low in her belly. That rush.
“Flattery won’t help your grades,” she said, turning slightly, folding her arms — pushing her breasts subtly up in the process.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, then added, “I mean, I did. But… not for marks.”
Silence again.
Swathi took a step back — toward the edge of the dais — and leaned against the desk. Her saree pressed against her hip, revealing the gentle dip of her waist, a faint curve of exposed stomach where the pallu had slipped.
Aditya looked. Swallowed. Looked away.
That tension bloomed again — the one that couldn’t be spoken, couldn’t be admitted.
Just felt.
“Anything else?” she asked.
He looked up. “No, Ma’am. Sorry.”
He turned quickly, walking back up the steps.
Swathi watched him go — eyes lingering on the back of his neck, the way his spine moved under his shirt. Her thighs shifted unconsciously. Her body ached.
And it wasn’t just physical.
It was the not knowing — the innocence of his desire that made it feel all the more dangerous.

---

Scene: That Night – Swathi Alone
The house was quiet. Rahul was out late, a guest lecture in another city. Swathi sat at the edge of the bed in just a towel, skin still damp from her shower. The air was humid, the window open, the ceiling fan humming softly.
She reached down, peeled off the towel slowly, and lay back — bare.
She didn’t need to fantasize.
She could remember.
The way Ajay had stood too close.
The way Sai had stared too long.
The way Aditya had looked away after looking — ashamed, sweet, pure.
She spread her thighs, her fingers slipping between them — her clit already swollen, throbbing.
A soft gasp escaped her lips as she rubbed slow circles, hips rising, eyes fluttering shut.
Her other hand cupped her breast, then squeezed. She pinched her nipple, imagining Rahul’s mouth on it — then someone else’s. Someone younger. Hungrier.
Her fingers slid inside her pussy, soaked already, pumping slowly, rhythm building. Her thumb pressed harder against her clit as she thought about Aditya looking down, confused, curious.
What would he do?
Would he even know how to touch her?
She bit her lip, moaning louder like a bitch in heat now, fucking herself with fast, needy strokes, her juices slick and messy between her thighs.
Her orgasm hit sharp — sudden — her body jerking, mouth open in a silent cry.
And as her back arched off the bed, she whispered a name.
It wasn’t Rahul’s.









Part 9: Eyes That Linger
It was late Sunday morning. The house was quiet, fan blades spinning lazily overhead, and the scent of freshly brewed filter coffee clung to the walls. Swathi stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a white towel — a long one, but not wide enough to fully conceal her.
Her hair was wet, strands clinging to her shoulders. The towel hugged her breasts tightly, one curve threatening to spill, a pink nipple almost peeking through the corner where the tuck had loosened. Her thighs gleamed with water, the smooth skin catching light as she padded softly toward the laundry room.
She didn’t expect anyone.
Rahul had gone out early to fetch something for the week — she'd left the door slightly ajar to catch the breeze. She was alone.
Or so she thought.
The bell rang.
She paused.
Probably Rahul.
Still wrapped in her towel, she padded to the door, calling out without opening it fully.
"Coming!"
She unlocked and cracked it open, hiding behind the door.
But it wasn’t Rahul.
It was Sundar Uncle — their neighbor from the second floor. In his late 50s, he often dropped by with small grocery errands, a charger to borrow, a packet of salt, or sometimes just small talk with Rahul.
"Ah—Swathi!" he said, startled.
She blinked. “Uncle? I thought it was Rahul.”
He smiled awkwardly, eyes already dipping before he forced them back up. "No no, I was just wondering if you had half a packet of turmeric. We’re making sambhar and suddenly realized we’re out."
She nodded slowly, unsure whether to shut the door or let him wait.
“I’ll get it,” she said, turning around, still holding the door slightly open.
She didn’t notice how much he saw.
Her towel had risen slightly with her movement — one smooth, plump ass cheek peeked out just briefly as she walked toward the kitchen shelf.
He stood there silently — not speaking, not breathing. Watching.
The sway of her hips. The way the curve of her breast jiggled beneath the towel with every step. Her wet calves gleaming.
She came back quickly, handing him the packet with a smile — innocent, casual.
“Here. You can return it later.”
“Th-thank you, ma,” he said, voice catching.
He didn’t move.
Their eyes met for a split second too long.
And then, politely — but far too softly — he said, “You’re… glowing today.”
She paused.
“Must be the shower,” she replied, with a faint smile. “Don’t catch cold standing out there.”
He nodded, flushed, took the packet, and left.
Swathi shut the door gently.
Her back rested against it for a moment.
She looked down.
The edge of her towel had slid lower than she thought — just enough to reveal the full top of her breast, a drop of water clinging to her nipple.
She should’ve been embarrassed.
Instead, she felt… flushed.
Warm.
A little pulse between her legs that had no right being there.

---

Scene: Campus Vibes Still Simmering
Monday afternoon brought her back to the heat of the lecture hall, the whispered greetings, the not-so-subtle glances.
Sai winked at her when no one was looking.
Ajay ran his fingers along the edge of her table when passing by, as though daring to touch — and pulling back just in time.
Aditya smiled softly as always, unaware of the tension in the air.
And Swathi?
She taught like nothing had changed.
Except for the fact that her bra was thinner today.
And when she leaned forward to adjust the projector, she didn’t fix the gap in her blouse right away.
Not out of forgetfulness.
But because she wanted the silence to stretch longer.
She wanted someone’s breath to hitch.




Part 10: Seen, and Nearly Touched
Scene 1: Sundar Uncle — A Window Too Wide
Tuesday afternoon. The sun bore down hard, and the power had flickered off again, leaving the apartment warm and humid. Swathi was in the bedroom, changing out of her work saree — the same light yellow chiffon that had clung to her hips during her lectures.
The fan turned slowly above her. She stood near the wardrobe, the blouse already unbuttoned, the saree undone and pooling at her feet. Her skin gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat — her bra damp, translucent, nipples pressing hard through the lace.
She removed it.
Free now, her breasts sat full and heavy, rising with her breath as she reached up to tie her hair.
What she didn’t know — what she couldn’t have known — was that from the corner of the next building, Sundar Uncle was on his small balcony, just looking around while sipping tea.
His eyes caught the movement across the narrow gap.
And froze.
There she was — back to him at first. Hair lifted, back arched slightly, towel barely clinging to her waist now. Then she turned — casually — revealing everything.
Soft curves. Dusky nipples. Flat stomach. And a sensuality she hadn’t hidden… because she thought she was alone.
Sundar’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.
He knew he should look away.
But he didn’t.
Swathi turned again, pulling a loose cotton house dress over her body, adjusting it slowly. Her breasts jiggled naturally as she moved. And then — just before walking away — she paused.
Her head turned slightly… just slightly. As if… she sensed it.
But she didn’t check.
She simply walked out of view, leaving behind a silence more powerful than words.
And Sundar stood there, motionless.
Tea going cold in his hand.

---

Scene 2: Ajay – The Stairwell Edge
That Friday, the staff was preparing for the internal paper review — half the building was in disarray, with classrooms being cleaned and schedules reshuffled.
Swathi stepped into the side stairwell near the old seminar hall — a shortcut she often used when moving between departments. It was usually empty, quiet, with sunlight filtering in through dust-smudged windows.
She didn’t expect Ajay to be there — but there he was, leaning against the railing with a phone in hand.
“Ma’am,” he said, straightening immediately.
Swathi paused, a few steps above him, the sunlight behind her making the sheer material of her green saree shimmer faintly.
She started past him. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping with seminar logistics?”
“I was looking for you,” he said — voice quiet, not cocky this time.
She stopped.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’ve been doing my job,” she replied evenly.
Ajay took a step up — close. Too close. His eyes didn’t look away.
“You know it’s getting harder,” he said. “Being near you and… not touching.”
She stared at him. “And yet, you haven’t.”
His hand moved — slowly — to the railing beside her hip. Not touching her. Just near. His breath close now, his eyes darker than usual.
Swathi didn’t move back.
Her voice dropped. “This stairwell has terrible acoustics. Everyone can hear everything.”
“I’m not saying anything,” he whispered.
Her saree fluttered slightly with the breeze. He watched it — the edge of her pallu lifting, revealing the smooth dip above her navel.
He still didn’t touch her.
But his fingers clenched the railing like he wanted to.
“Go,” she said finally, voice a little breathless.
He stepped back — only slightly.
Then, looking her straight in the eye, he said:
“I’ll wait until you want me to.”
And walked away.
Swathi stood there for a long moment — heart pounding, thighs pressed together.
The worst part?
She wasn’t angry.
She was wet.




Part 11: When She Takes Control
That night, the house was quiet.
Swathi sat in the kitchen in silence, sipping wine, her mind replaying the image of Ajay in the stairwell — the way he had stared, the way his breath had hit her skin, the heat that had gathered between her thighs as he left.
She hadn’t stopped thinking about it.
And now, it needed to be burned out.
She walked into the bedroom where Rahul lay reading in a vest and shorts, unsuspecting. The moment he looked up, she straddled him — without a word — her saree still wrapped around her hips, blouse open, bare beneath.
He blinked. “Whoa—Swathi?”
She leaned in, her tongue dragging across his lips, then biting his lower one with a growl. “Don’t talk. Just take it.”
His cock thickened instantly beneath her, straining against the fabric. She ground against him slowly, her bare pussy slick and hot under the pallu of her saree.
“You’re soaked,” he gasped. “What’s gotten into—”
She reached down, pulled his shorts off with one hand, and gripped his cock firmly — stroking it from base to tip, slow and punishing.
“I said,” she whispered, breath hot against his neck, “don’t talk.”
She slid lower, dragging her breasts down his chest — nipples hard, grazing his skin — and took his cock between her lips without warning.
Rahul moaned, fingers digging into the sheets.
Her mouth was wet, eager, commanding — taking him deep, then pulling back with a pop, tongue teasing the tip, lips tight and perfect. She looked up at him while sucking, eyes smoldering, hair wild.
When she was done tasting him, she crawled back up, unwrapped her saree, tossing it aside, her full breasts finally free — heavy, soft, deliciously jiggling as she hovered over him.
“Touch them,” she ordered.
He obeyed, cupping them in both hands, thumbs rubbing her nipples.
“Harder.”
He pinched gently — she slapped his chest.
“I said harder.”
He squeezed, twisted, and she hissed — loving the sting, the heat.
Then she grabbed his cock and guided him in — slowly lowering herself, inch by inch, until he was buried deep inside her.
Her eyes rolled back as she sank down, her hips starting to grind in slow, devastating circles.
Rahul moaned, hands on her thighs. “Fuck, Swathi…”
“I’m not your sweet wife tonight,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’m everything they can’t have.”
She rode him — hard.
Her breasts bounced wildly with every thrust, her pussy clenching tight, wet, milking him. She leaned forward, slapped his cheek lightly, then kissed him hard — tongue deep, messy, claiming.
She turned him over mid-thrust, pushed him flat, and mounted him again in reverse — her ass on full display as she bounced on his cock, thighs slapping against him, moaning with abandon.
She looked back over her shoulder. “You like this view?”
He groaned. “Fucking love it.”
She spanked herself — sharp and loud — the shock jolting her harder onto his cock.
He grabbed her hips now, thrusting up into her, faster, rougher, as she screamed his name, lost in the wave crashing through her.
Her orgasm tore through her like lightning — her whole body shaking, thighs trembling, voice raw.
“Cum in me,” she gasped. “Now. Fill me.”
Rahul obeyed with a roar, his body bucking as he emptied deep inside her.
They collapsed — tangled, sweating, panting, her body sprawled over his like a storm that had finally passed.
She lay there, chest heaving, fingers tracing his collarbone.
And in her mind… somewhere behind the glow of afterglow and sweat… she saw a flash of Ajay’s eyes.
Hungry.
Waiting.

[rathikreeda]

Guys, do let me know if you are liking the story. You can add gifs or images as you like.
Your thoughts and comments will help me write better and bigger going forward.

[StoryReader1]

Pl continue

[cobain7799]

Lovely writing

[Ganesh Gaitonde]

Update is nice. But is that uncle character really needed?

[Saikarthik]

Nice updates

[snowy69]

Awesome writing bro..
Please continue..
Waiting for the update..

[rathikreeda]

Hi guys, sorry I was offline for most of the time because of the office work. Here is the next update

Part 12: Drips and Dares

Scene 1: Rain and Innocence (Aditya)
The rain started late in the afternoon — the heavy kind, tropical and sudden, drowning the college in silver streaks and murky puddles. Most students had cleared out early. The corridors were quiet. The electricity flickered.

Swathi stayed back in the department office, caught halfway through checking assignments when she heard the soft knock.

Aditya stood at the door, drenched — his white shirt clinging to his frame, hair flattened against his forehead, jeans soaked and dark.

“I didn’t bring an umbrella,” he said with a sheepish smile.

Swathi tilted her head. “You couldn’t have waited until after the storm?”

“I thought you’d be gone. I… left my notes inside.”

She nodded, gesturing him in. “Dry off first. You’ll catch a fever looking like that.”

He stepped in, water dripping onto the floor. She handed him an old towel from her locker. He started rubbing his hair, shirt still plastered to his chest — and she saw it then:

His body. Leaner than she’d expected. Young, but defined. Not gym-built — natural. V-lines subtly outlined where the shirt had ridden up over his jeans.

She looked away. Too late.

He didn’t notice.

“I found your notes,” she said, handing him the folder.

He took it, their fingers brushing. Again. Familiar now.

Then silence.

Only rain pounding on the glass.

He stood too close.

And yet, so innocent — completely unaware that her nipples were hard beneath her saree. That her thighs were pressed tight under her desk. That the smell of him, fresh rain and boyish sweat, was making her pulse flutter.

“Ma’am?” he asked softly. “You okay?”

She blinked. “Yes. Just tired.”

“You do so much for us,” he said, eyes soft. “I hope we make you proud.”

That — that — hit her lower than it should’ve.

She swallowed, the heat rising in her.

“You do,” she whispered.

He smiled, thanked her, and turned to leave.

And as he walked out — shirt clinging to his back, water trailing down his spine — she exhaled like she hadn’t been breathing.

She didn’t touch herself.

But she wanted to.

Badly.

Scene 2: Sai’s Move
The auditorium was under preparation for the inter-department event. Swathi was coordinating the logistics. Sai had volunteered — mostly because it gave him time around her.

The students had gone out for refreshments. Only the two of them remained inside the darkened stage area, setting up banners and projectors.

She stood on the step ladder, adjusting the overhead cloth, one hand reaching above her head — her saree tugging tight across her back and ass.

Sai stood below, steadying the ladder. His gaze fixed squarely where he shouldn’t be looking.

“You good?” he asked, voice low.

“Just hold it steady,” she replied, not turning.

“I am,” he said — hand tightening on the ladder, brushing the bare skin of her ankle. “But you’re not making it easy.”

Swathi paused.

“Sai…”

“I mean it,” he said, not smirking now. “You climb ladders like you know what it does to me.”

She looked down, their eyes locking.

His hand slid a little higher — brushing her calf. Then her lower thigh. Still under the saree.

Not obscene.

But not innocent either.

She could have moved.

But she didn’t — not immediately.

The air between them went silent.

Then she stepped down — deliberately slow, her body brushing against his as she descended.

“Don’t test me,” she whispered, passing him.

But her voice wasn’t angry.

It was shaky.

Her nipples were hard. Again.

Sai watched her leave — no grin this time.

Just hunger.

And restraint.




Part 13: Caught in the Act

The rain had returned that evening — slow, heavy, constant. Rahul had gone out for a quick errand, but the sky had opened up, delaying him. Swathi was alone. And it was dangerous.

She stood in front of the bedroom mirror in a long, pale peach nightie — no bra underneath, just her own curves pressing softly through the fabric. Her thighs were bare, her hair pinned up lazily. The fan spun above, pushing cool air over her skin.

But nothing cooled the heat burning between her legs.

Ajay’s stare.
Sai’s hand.
Aditya’s smile.
That feeling of being wanted by boys she shouldn’t want back…

She was soaked — not from the rain.

She slid the nightie up slowly and lay on the bed, one leg bent, the other hanging off the edge. Her fingers found the wetness between her thighs instantly. She moaned — quiet and hungry.

Two fingers circled her clit slowly, spreading the slick heat, teasing herself as she imagined being bent over the lecture table, eyes locked with Ajay’s…

Then another finger slid in. She fucked herself gently, her hips rocking, her free hand squeezing one breast, twisting the nipple, moaning louder now.

She thought of Aditya’s mouth, innocent, unknowing. She imagined him trying to eat her pussy, awkward, eager, her hands in his hair…

“Fuck…” she whimpered, her body arching.

She didn’t hear the door unlock.

She didn’t hear Rahul step in, soaked from the rain, until his voice cut through the room like thunder:

“Don’t stop.”

Her eyes flew open.

He was standing in the doorway — drenched, shirt clinging to his chest, eyes dark with hunger.

“Rahul—” she started.

“Don’t. Stop.”

She didn’t. She kept rubbing, breath heavy, chest heaving — caught in the act, caught in the heat.

He watched her for a second longer, then yanked off his wet shirt, tossing it to the floor. His cock was already hard, pushing against his jeans.

“I leave you alone for ten minutes and you’re fucking yourself to sleep?” he growled, stepping toward her.

She sat up, breathless. “I was… worked up.”

He knelt on the bed, grabbed her knees, and yanked her closer to the edge. Her nightie was bunched around her waist, pussy glistening, thighs trembling.

“Worked up from what?” he asked, fingers teasing her clit. “Or should I ask… who?”

Her breath caught. He didn’t give her time to answer.

His mouth went straight to her pussy — tongue flat and hard against her clit, licking in rough, fast strokes.

“Fuck, Rahul—!” she cried, hips lifting into his mouth.

He growled into her, hands locking around her thighs as he devoured her — tongue thrusting, lips sucking, chin wet with her slick.

“You taste like you’ve been thinking nasty things,” he murmured, licking her again. “Tell me who was in your head.”

“Ajay,” she gasped. “Sai. Aditya.”

His cock twitched. He stood up.

And fucked her.

Hard.

He didn’t even remove the nightie. He shoved his jeans down, grabbed her legs, and drove his cock into her in one rough, wet thrust.

She screamed.

He grabbed her throat gently — just enough pressure to pin her.

“You want them?” he hissed. “You want those boys?”

“No,” she gasped.

“Then why is your pussy so fucking wet?”

He thrust deep. Again. Again. Her walls clenched around him, pulling him in.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, nails raking his back.

He lifted her, turned her over onto her knees, and entered her from behind — slapping her ass once, then grabbing it tight as he fucked her hard, skin smacking loud over the sound of rain.

Her breasts bounced under the nightie, her moans getting louder, throat raw.

“God—fuck—yes—don’t stop!”

He grabbed her hair, yanked her back against his chest, and whispered:

“They don’t get this. They’ll never get this.”

He came deep inside her — a full-body groan, her pussy still milking him with greedy spasms.

They collapsed on the bed, wet with sweat and rain and cum.

Swathi lay breathless, body twitching, chest rising and falling.

And Rahul?

He turned to her and smirked.

“Next time you want to fuck yourself thinking about college boys,” he said, “wait for me.”

[raja shri]

Osm update bro ...story is great but your updates is very late ... please continue the rhythm of updates bcz if you give updates timely then flow maintain the story..

[snowy69]

Awesome update bro..

[rathikreeda]

Osm update bro ...story is great but your updates is very late ... please continue the rhythm of updates bcz if you give updates timely then flow maintain the story..

Sure bro, will try to provide regular updates from now on. Thank you for showing the interest.

[Sage_69]

Swathi an innocent lady, not really. But very hot for sure. Loved the development. Swathi is not being played. Instead she is the player. Also liked that she is being the aggressor and the one in control. It makes the story more interesting. Been reading too many stories where woman gets touched or fucked once, she becomes a doll to play. This story feels refreshing.