Adultery Between Nabila and Ranjeet

[StoryReader1]

Pl cont

[naj0501]

We drove through quieter streets for about ten minutes from the hall until we reached his neighbourhood. The area looked peaceful, with new apartment blocks standing tall. Wide balconies jutted out from each floor, and old leafy trees lined the road. His building was newly built, simple but neat, with a small garden at the entrance. The watchman nodded at Ranjeet like they were old acquaintances.
In the lift to the fourteenth floor, we exchanged small talk about the evening, our voices still carrying traces of the party’s energy. When he opened the door of his flat, I stepped into a space that felt calm and warm – cream walls, a dark brown sofa, a low wooden coffee table, and a tall floor lamp casting a soft glow. On a shelf sat framed photos – landscapes, group shots, and one of a smiling little girl. The faint mix of floor cleaner and woody cologne hung in the air.
“This is nice,” I said.
“Not much, but it’s home. Please, sit. I’ll make us some coffee.”
I sank into the sofa, feeling the smooth fabric and soft cushions. My saree settled around me, the chiffon brushing lightly against my skin, pleats spread over my legs, pallu trailing along my arm in the lamplight. From the open kitchen came the sound of water boiling and the gentle clink of a spoon.
He returned with two steaming cups. “Here. Careful, it’s hot.”
I sipped. “You make good coffee.”
“A survival skill,” he smiled. “For late nights.”
“Rajiv kept forgetting names!” he laughed.
“And you clapped so loudly when your team got an award!” I teased.
“Proud moment,” he grinned.
We laughed about Meera’s near-trip on stage and the country head mixing up designations. “Talking to you feels so easy,” I said.
“Like old friends,” he agreed, eyes warm.
“But with something… extra,” I added.
“Something we both feel,” he said softly.
Without breaking the mood, he picked up his phone. “Want to see some pics from tonight?”
I leaned in. Group shots, candid moments – and me, in almost every frame.
“You were following me,” I teased.
“Not following – focusing on the best part of the evening,” he said.
“Smooth talker. Flattery won’t get you dessert.”
“I’m not after dessert… I’m after catching the real smile hiding in these pictures.”
“Careful, you’re sounding rehearsed.”
“With you, Nabila, I don’t need rehearsal.”
"Your daughter?" I asked looking towards a framed photo on the wall opposite to us.
"Yes, Anaya. Lives with my parents in Goa.”
“She’s lovely.”
“She is. Lost her mother too soon. I visit whenever I can.”
I told him about Adnan’s cricket coaching sessions.
"He runs faster than all the other friends," I said, smiling, "but half the time he misses the ball completely. Still, he throws his hands up like he’s just won the World Cup."
Ranjeet laughed. "That’s the spirit!"
"Or the drama," I chuckled. "At home, he hides my phone in the laundry basket, or switches sugar with salt just to see my face."
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Does he get that mischief from you?"
"Maybe," I said, tilting my head, "maybe not."
"I think he does," he grinned. "I can see where he gets his smile from too."
"Flatterer," I said, shaking my head.
He kept nodding, asking little questions about Adnan’s friends, his study, his favourite games, laughing warmly at the right moments, his smile lingering as if he could see every scene in his mind.
Our laughter slowly gave way to a softer quiet, the kind that made you more aware of the person sitting across from you. I noticed his gaze holding mine for a fraction longer, his smile gentler now. The shift was almost unspoken, but I felt it – the conversation moving from the safety of family stories to something more personal.
“Seeing you in that saree tonight… I forgot we were in a crowd,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked. And how much I missed talking to you.”
“Maybe you should have.”
“Maybe I saved it for now,” he replied, holding my gaze.
I set my cup down. The room felt warmer.
“Are you glad you came?” he asked.
“More than I thought I would.”
His slow smile told me the night was far from over.
He leaned a little closer. “You have no idea how hard it was to not touch your hand during the dinner.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And now?”
“Now,” he said softly, “I’m not holding back.” His fingers brushed mine, slow and deliberate, sending a shiver up my arm.
I didn’t move away. “You’re getting bold, Ranjeet.”
“Maybe I’ve been bold all along. Tonight just gave me the chance.”
Our words slowed, the silences filled with glances that spoke louder. When his hand gently closed around mine, his palm was warm and his grip firm yet tender, his thumb slowly stroking the side of my fingers as if testing my comfort, I felt my breath catch. Neither of us spoke for a few seconds.
“You make it hard to think straight,” I murmured.
“That’s exactly how you make me feel,” he replied, his voice low.
When he finally leaned in, our conversation melted into quiet closeness, the kind that made the rest of the night blur into warmth and touch.

[naj0501]

When he finally leaned in, our conversation melted into quiet closeness, the kind that made the rest of the night blur into warmth and touch.
At first, his lips touched mine gently, tender and searching. They were warm, soft, and a little rough at the edges from his stubble. The kiss was slow, a brush of emotion and curiosity. I felt my heartbeat speed up as his lips lingered, coaxing me into the moment. I closed my eyes and leaned in, letting myself melt into his touch.
The gentleness turned into need, and as our mouths parted slightly, I felt the wet warmth of his tongue slowly slip inside my mouth. It was smooth and eager, tasting of coffee and something uniquely him-earthy, intimate. The sensation made me moan softly, my own tongue meeting his in a shy yet hungry dance.
I felt a thrill run down my spine, my hands rising instinctively to cup his face, pulling him closer. It was our connection made real, intense, messy, and beautiful. His lips moved with passion, pressing against mine in a rhythm that made my toes curl. The way he kissed me felt like a promise-not just of pleasure, but of all the feelings he'd kept locked inside. I gasped slightly as his lips moved over mine, my breath catching from the intensity, my fingers automatically rising to hold his face, needing more of that contact.
His breath was warm and a little uneven, carrying the faint scent of the coffee we'd shared earlier mixed with something entirely him-masculine, earthy. It tickled my cheek and sent goosebumps over my skin. Each exhale made me shiver in anticipation, adding to the intensity of our kiss.
I moaned into his mouth, my hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer as fireworks exploded behind my eyelids. God, he kissed like he meant it-like every stroke was a promise of what was coming.
"Nabila," he whispered softly against my lips at first, his breath warm, sending tingles across my skin. Then, with a growing need, his voice turned rough as he kissed me harder, breaking it just enough to gently bite my lower lip. The mix of tenderness and hunger made my heart flutter and my body shiver in response.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to devour you like this. Your mouth... it's addictive. I could kiss you all night and still not get enough."
I felt a rush of heat pool between my legs at his words. My breath hitched as my body responded on its own, arching into him, drawn by a mix of his rough voice and tender touch.
My thighs pressed together involuntarily, heat spreading like a slow burn. My heart pounded faster, and I felt a soft ache between my legs, pulsing with need. The sheer want in his voice, in his eyes, made every nerve in my body come alive.
"Then don't stop," I whispered, my voice breathy and shameless. "Kiss me harder, Ranjeet. Make me feel how much you want me."
He chuckled deeply, and I felt the vibration of it through my skin-it made my heart beat even faster. Slowly, his hands moved from cupping my face down to my shoulders, then further to my waist. They were warm and steady. As they slid along my sides, his fingers pressed into the silk of my saree, making a soft rustling sound. It was like he was feeling every part of me, trying to remember the shape of my body through the cloth. His touch was full of care but also hungry, like he didn’t want to let go. Every time his fingers pressed or moved, I felt small waves of excitement, and my skin came alive underneath. His every move was slow, but it said a lot-it told me he wanted me, fully and completely. Then, he bent closer and softly kissed my lips again.
I was drowning in him-the taste of coffee on his lips, the scratch of his stubble against my skin, the way his body pressed me back into the sofa cushions. My heart pounded wildly, a mix of excitement and that delicious ache building low in my belly.
Pulling back slightly, his eyes dark and blazing with lust, he placed his hand gently on my shoulder over the pallu of my saree and slowly slid it down, making the soft fabric slip off my shoulder. His fingers brushed against my collarbone, sending a tingling feeling through me. His touch was slow and respectful, like he was unwrapping something precious, making my skin tingle with every movement.
The fabric slid beneath his grip, warm and smooth under his fingers, making him more eager to feel the skin beneath. I could sense his growing excitement in the way his breath quickened and his touch grew more deliberate, like every fold of the saree carried a part of his longing.
I could feel the tension in his breath against my cheek-warm, uneven, and laced with desire. The scratch of his stubble rubbed against my jaw as he leaned closer, the roughness of his stubble rubbing deliciously against the soft, delicate skin of my face, making the contrast feel electric and intimate. It sent a shiver through me, that tickling scbang sending waves of excitement through me, sparking a heat low in my belly that only grew stronger with each passing second.
His lips brushed against the shell of my ear, his breath hot and teasing, making my skin erupt in goosebumps. His voice dropped, deep and hungry, "This has to go," he murmured, the words laced with desire. "I need to see you... feel you... strip away every layer between us and taste every inch of you, Nabila. Let me unwrap you like the most precious gift I've ever touched."
My breath hitched, a thrill shooting through me as I nodded and slowly stood up in front of him. He sat on the sofa, his eyes dark with longing, and reached for the loose end of my pallu, which already hung down from my shoulder. With slow, reverent hands, he began to unwrap the saree, inch by inch. The soft fabric slipped from around my waist, gliding over my hips with a silky whisper. I held his gaze as I turned slightly, letting the folds unravel, the saree sliding lower with each movement of his fingers. I helped by gently loosening the pleats from my waist, letting them fall to the floor in a soft, crimson pool.
Now standing in front of him in just my fitted blouse and petticoat, I saw how he looked at me-his eyes full of hunger and admiration. His breath was warm and heavy, falling softly on my skin, making me feel shy and bold at the same time. I felt like something special, like he had been waiting to see me like this for a long time.
My blouse was maroon with delicate silver embroidery on the neckline and short sleeves, the deep cut showing off the upper curves of my breasts. The petticoat was made of stretchy lycra material, clinging to my hips and legs and falling just above my ankles. It was a matching red shade, plain and smooth, allowing ease of movement while still hugging my shape. Tiny silver jhumkas swung gently from my ears, their cool touch brushing my cheeks now and then, and a delicate chain lay around my neck, its thin pendant resting just above my cleavage.
The look in his eyes made my skin tingle-hungry, reverent, as though he’d just uncovered something sacred. His gaze raked over me hungrily, making my skin tingle. "Fuck, Nabila, look at you. Those curves... I want to worship every inch."
I looked down, my cheeks warm, feeling suddenly shy under his intense gaze. "Do you... like what you see?" I asked softly, my voice hesitant but filled with trust.
Ranjeet leaned in closer and placed soft, wet kisses on my bare belly. His breath felt hot against my skin, each kiss leaving a trail of tingling warmth that made my stomach flutter. Then, I felt his hands moved to cup my bums gently, and a deep shiver passed through me. My eyes widened at the unexpected boldness, but instead of pulling away, I bit my lip, the thrill of his touch sending waves of pleasure to my core. He squeezed softly, his palms firm but reverent, making me feel both shy and excited.
He then dipped his head again and started kissing around my navel, this time slower, wetter, and more playful. His mouth moved in lazy, open-mouthed kisses, his tongue circling teasingly around my belly button.
"Mmm... Ranjeet," I breathed out, my fingers brushing through his hair, trembling.
"You’re so sensitive here," he said with a smile in his voice, his breath warm and heavy on my skin.
"It tickles... but in the best way," I giggled softly, biting my lower lip as my hips twitched toward his mouth involuntarily.
He looked up for a moment, eyes full of mischief. "I love how your body reacts to me. It’s like your skin talks to my lips."
"Then don’t stop... let it talk more," I whispered, arching slightly as he kissed lower.
The contrast of his wet lips and warm breath made my skin come alive. Every kiss felt like a tiny electric jolt, playful and arousing, like he was teasing my nerves awake one by one.
As his hands moved up, they glided smoothly along the curves of my waist, slowly approaching the softness of my breasts. When he finally reached them, he cupped them with both hands, gently at first as if memorizing their shape and weight. His warm palms made my skin tingle through the thin fabric of my blouse. I gasped softly as his thumbs brushed over my nipples, the pressure sending a sudden rush of sensation that made me arch into his touch. My breath quickened, and a soft moan escaped my lips as his hands explored, hungry yet tender. The sensation was overwhelming-my heart thudding, body aching for more.
"Your breasts... so soft, so perfect," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "I love the way they fill my hands, the way you react to every touch."
With practiced ease, he found the buttons and began to undo them one by one, his eyes fixed on mine, I was breathless, my heart racing. I was his in that moment. My heart beat fast, my skin warm under his touch. I felt his eyes devour me with admiration and need, and it made something inside me flutter wildly.
My breath caught in my throat, nerves and excitement dancing together. I wanted to be touched by him, kissed by him, held by him. I wanted to lose myself in his arms and forget everything else. I stood there, open and waiting, my body aching to feel more of him. The look in his eyes gave me courage.
Blushing, I hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of his gaze. My hands trembled slightly as I reached up to help him, fingers brushing his as they moved together to unbutton my blouse. The soft clicks of each button opening felt louder in the quiet room. As he slid the blouse down my arms, I raised them slightly to help him, and the fabric slipped away, pooling at my feet. I stood before him, breathing fast, flushed with desire and shyness.
My bra was lacy and pale pink, with delicate floral patterns embroidered on the cups. As Ranjeet slid his fingers under the straps, he paused, looking up at me with a wicked grin. "This is so pretty... but it'll look better on the floor," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.
He tugged it gently, but it didn't come off easily. He fumbled for a moment, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.
"Damn, these hooks are trickier than I thought," he muttered, making me giggle.
I reached back, helping him undo the clasp. "Here, let me help you, Mr. Confident," I teased, our fingers brushing in the process, sending a warm shiver down my spine. Once it came loose, he looked up at me and whispered with a mischievous glint in his eye, "Now that's teamwork."
I gasped softly as the cool air touched my bare skin. His eyes widened, full of hunger and raw desire, and I saw him freeze for a second as if trying to take in the sight of me. My breasts spilled free, nipples already hard under his gaze. "God, Nabila... you're so beautiful," he whispered, almost reverently.
I felt exposed and shy, yet that look in his eyes made me feel powerful. My body tingled all over, and a deep warmth pooled between my thighs. His gaze alone made me ache for his touch, my heart pounding with both nerves and longing. I bit my lip, cheeks flushed, and took a shaky breath as his eyes slowly traveled over me, worshipping every curve without saying another word.
He groaned and stood in front of me. His left hand gently cupped the back of my neck, guiding my lips back to his in a kiss that was deep, hungry, and intense. Our mouths locked with raw passion, our breaths mixing as the kiss grew hotter. His right hand found my breast again, squeezing it tenderly before teasing my nipple with his thumb and forefinger, making me moan softly into his mouth.
I gasped as he pulled me closer, his hardness pressing against my body. Then, without breaking the kiss, he began unbuckling his belt. I sensed his urgency and placed my hands over his, helping him unfasten the buckle and unzip his pants. Together, we pushed them down, along with his underwear, baring him completely. He stepped out of them quickly, never taking his eyes off mine. The air between us was thick with desire, every touch and look fueling the fire that had ignited between us.
He caught my hand gently and placed it on his hard cock, guiding me with a soft urgency.
"Aaaahhh... Nabila," he moaned, his voice rough with pleasure as he felt my soft palm wrap around his shaft. "Your touch... it's like fire and silk."
I blushed, but my hand began to move slowly, stroking him with growing confidence. His cock felt hot and hard, throbbing gently in my palm like it had its own heartbeat. The skin was silky-smooth over the thickness beneath, and as I ran my fingers along the shaft, I felt a tremble run through his body. That made my heart race even more.
His breath hitched, and he let out a low, needy moan that sent a delicious thrill through me. Just knowing I could make him feel like that filled me with boldness, and I gripped him a little firmer, moving my hand with more rhythm, wanting to please him, excite him, and make him lose control just like he did to me.
His lips pressed against mine again, more intense this time, his tongue brushing my lips, asking for entry. I smiled shyly and opened my mouth, letting him in. His tongue slid inside, warm and slick, dancing with mine. It tasted faintly of coffee and desire—earthy, male, and utterly intoxicating.
He wrapped his left arm around my waist, pulling me closer, and with his right hand, he cupped my breast , squeezing and kneading gently at first, then with more hunger.
"Ohhh, Nabila... your boobs are so full... so perfectly round," he whispered into my mouth between kisses, his breath hot and uneven.
A soft moan escaped my lips as I stroked his hardness, and his fingers teased my nipple, sending little shocks of pleasure through my chest. I arched slightly, pressing myself more into his touch.
My body was burning with need, and in that moment, it felt like only he could quench it.
His kiss grew wetter, sloppier, his lips crashing into mine with unfiltered hunger. His tongue roamed inside, rubbing against mine, trying to explore every part. It went deeper, hot and eager, and I could feel our mixed saliva trailing down from the corner of my lips. A thin string of it stayed between us when he paused, just staring into my eyes with pure fire in his gaze.
His hand was still on my breast, but for a moment, he froze, and I too paused the slow stroking of his cock. We both stood like that-bodies hot and trembling-breathing each other in.
Then, without warning, he pinched my nipple sharply. "Ahhhh!" I cried out, my eyes squeezing shut as a jolt of pain and pleasure shot through me. My hand gripped his cock tightly in response, and I felt my fingernail scbang instinctively across the sensitive tip.
He groaned aloud. "God, Nabila... you're going to kill me," he said with a strained voice.
His mouth returned to my face, planting wet, messy kisses on my cheeks, my nose, and my forehead. He bit my earlobe softly, growling low, then moved to my neck, sucking just under my jaw. My skin tingled and burned with every kiss.
He bent lower and cradled my breast from underneath, gathering the softness in his warm hand. His mouth found my nipple, sucking deeply, then flicking it with his tongue. I gasped loudly, nearly jolting from the touch, but his other arm held me firm against him.
"Ohhhh... Ranjeet!" I moaned, my fingers tangled in his hair, urging him closer as my body arched. "Yes... right there... don't stop..."
But he wasn’t in any mood to pause. His left hand began to roam slowly along my bare back, caressing every inch of my skin. His fingers trailed from my neck down to the small of my waist, then slipped lower to cup my petticoat-covered bums. The way his palm pressed and kneaded my curves made me quiver, sending hot shivers up my spine. The roughness of his palm against my soft, bare skin created a delicious contrast, setting off a wave of tremors in me. “Aahhhh,” I moaned softly, my voice catching in my throat, while his mouth continued working magic on my nipple—sucking, licking, gently nibbling, driving me wild.
His right hand slowly moved down to my waist and rested over the tied knot of my petticoat. He caught the string between his fingers and gave it a soft tug. The knot loosened, and I gasped as I felt the garment go slack around my waist. But since the petticoat was lycra, it didn’t fall right away. He tugged it a bit lower, inch by inch, until it gathered around my knees. Then, with a teasing smirk, he placed his foot gently on the gathered fabric and eased it all the way down to my ankles, where it pooled like a soft ring around my feet. I stood there trembling, completely bare now except for my soft pink lace panties that clung gently to my skin, tiny silver earrings, and the delicate chain still lying above my breasts, my heart racing as I watched the hunger grow in his eyes.
"He looked at me with raw hunger in his eyes, his voice low and full of desire. "Woooww... my queen..."
He leaned in, planting a soft, lingering kiss on my lips. Then, with gentle force, he guided me backward until the backs of my legs touched the edge of the sofa. With a little push, he made me sit and then lay back as he knelt between my legs. His erect cock hung heavily between his thighs, swaying slightly with each movement.
His hands reached for the waistband of my pink lace panties. Slowly, teasingly, he began to slide them down. I gasped softly, my hands flying up to cover my face, shy yet smiling behind them, feeling both exposed and aroused.
He pulled the panties all the way down, dragging them over my thighs and calves, then finally off my ankles, tossing them carelessly to the floor. A cool breeze brushed against my wet folds, sending a shiver up my spine.
"Wooow..." he breathed again, this time in awe, his gaze fixed between my legs.
He lifted my legs and gently bent them at the knees, placing my feet on the sofa. Then he leaned over, his voice a tender tease as he caught my wrists.
"Why are you hiding that beautiful face, darling? Don’t be shy," he said warmly, pulling my hands away from my face and placing a kiss on my forehead.
I blushed but didn’t resist. His soft words and hungry gaze made me feel beautiful and wanted beyond words.
Then he caught my left foot and gently kissed the sole, then took each toe into his mouth and sucked slowly. I shivered and giggled at the tickling sensation. He gave the same loving attention to my right foot, his warm tongue making me squirm with pleasure. Then he began kissing up my calves, placing soft, wet kisses along my thighs, inching closer and closer to the most intimate part of me.
He paused right there, right in front of my pussy, his face only inches away. He gazed at it with an expression of awe and hunger, then closed his eyes and took in a deep, deliberate breath, inhaling my scent as if it intoxicated him.
"God... Nabila... you smell so sweet... so delicious," he murmured, his voice rough and full of longing. I felt his warm breath fall gently over my folds, sending a jolt through my body. It was a strange and thrilling feeling—intimate, forbidden, and arousing all at once.
Then his tongue reached out and touched me, gently at first, parting the folds with a slow, deliberate lick.
"Ahhh... Ranjeet... what are you... ohh..." I gasped, my fingers clutching the sofa cushions.
"Shhh... just feel," he whispered, before diving in with his wet, eager tongue, licking and circling my clit, exploring every inch of me with raw hunger.
Sensations coursed through my body like wildfire, from the crown of my head down to the tips of my toes, an entirely new realm of pleasure unfolding as someone licked my pussy for the first time in my life. My husband had never ventured there, never dared to taste me like this. My eyes squeezed shut, my lower lip caught firmly between my teeth to stifle the building ecstasy, but moans escaped anyway—soft at first, then rising in pitch as his tongue danced over my most sensitive folds.
Then, suddenly, something hard pressed against the slick opening of my pussy, sending a jolt through me. I opened my eyes, propping myself up on my elbows to glance down, my breath coming in shallow pants. There he was, his mouth still kissing and teasing my swollen lips while his finger probed gently at my entrance. He met my gaze, a wicked smile curling his lips, and murmured, "Relax, darling..." Before I could respond, he slid his finger inside me, the intrusion filling me with a delicious stretch that made my walls clench around him.
It was overwhelming—tremors rippled through my core as he began moving his finger in and out, slow and deliberate, while his tongue continued its relentless assault on my clit. I collapsed back onto the sofa, a deep, throaty moan tearing from my throat: "Ahh... oh God, yes..." My hand flew instinctively to his head, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, grinding his face deeper into my wetness as waves of heat built inside me.
Emboldened, he added a second finger, stretching me further, and picked up the pace, finger-fucking me with rhythmic thrusts that hit every nerve. He curved them just right, scbanging along my inner walls in a way that made my hips buck wildly, my body squirming uncontrollably on the cushions. "Mmm... fuck, don't stop," I moaned loudly, my voice breaking into desperate whimpers—"Ohh... Nabila, you're driving me insane"—no, wait, that was me, Nabila, lost in the haze, my cries echoing off the walls as the pressure coiled tighter and tighter.
Finally, it shattered—I shuddered violently, my pussy pulsing around his fingers in a shattering orgasm, juices flooding his hand as I arched off the sofa with a final, guttural scream: "Yes! Ahh... I'm coming!"

[siva05]

Like no more inhibitions . Thanks writer

[naj0501]

As the waves of my orgasm subsided, my body went limp on the sofa, chest heaving with ragged breaths, a sheen of sweat glistening on my skin. His fingers lingered inside me for a moment longer, gently withdrawing with a wet, slick sound that made me shiver anew. He lifted his head, his lips shiny with my essence, and locked eyes with me-those dark, hungry eyes that promised more. "You taste incredible, Nabila," he whispered, his voice rough with desire, before planting a soft kiss on my inner thigh.
I could barely form words, my mind still foggy from the intensity, but a lazy smile tugged at my lips. I reached down to pull him up toward me. He obliged, crawling over my body like a predator claiming his prize, his hardness pressing insistently against my thighs. His mouth found mine in a deep, passionate kiss, and I tasted myself on his tongue-salty, sweet, forbidden. A soft moan escaped me into his mouth, "Mmm... I can't believe you did that."
He froze mid-motion, his body still hovering over mine, and lifted his head to stare at me with wide, incredulous eyes, as if I'd just confessed to something utterly unbelievable. A beat of silence hung between us, our heavy breaths mingling in the charged air, before he finally spoke, his voice laced with genuine surprise. "What do you mean by that? Was it really your first time someone licked your pussy?"
I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks, a mix of lingering ecstasy and shy vulnerability, so I simply nodded, my lips pressed together, unable to meet his gaze fully.
He blinked, shaking his head slowly in disbelief. "I just can't believe it. Your husband never did that to you?" His tone was a blend of astonishment and something almost pitying, his hand still resting possessively on my thigh, thumb tracing lazy circles that sent faint aftershocks through me.
"No," I whispered, my voice barely audible, a soft exhale that carried the weight of years unspoken.
A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, dark and dismissive. "Such a loser," he muttered, his words dripping with contempt for the man who'd missed out on so much. Then, without another word, he leaned down and captured my lips in a soft, lingering kiss-tender this time, almost reassuring, his tongue gently coaxing mine as if to erase any lingering doubts, our bodies still intertwined in the warm glow of what we'd shared.
As we kissed again, my fingers instinctively threaded into his slightly tousled hair. My long dark waves-now loosened from their earlier careful styling-fell over my shoulders and brushed his bare chest. The soft scent of jasmine oil still lingered in my hair, faint but unmistakable.
My small silver jhumkas swayed gently with every movement, brushing against my neck. I could feel them lightly tapping against his jaw each time he leaned in. Around my neck, the thin silver chain with its tiny pendant stayed in place, catching a little sweat and glittering dimly in the low light. It rested just above my breasts, rising and falling with each rapid breath.
These tiny touches-my hair against his skin, the jingling of the earrings, the cold kiss of the chain-added layers to the intimacy, a mix of sensations that made our closeness feel even more intense and real.
Then he wrapped his strong hand around his thick, throbbing cock, the shaft bobbing free and heavy with arousal, veins pulsing visibly under the taut skin like rivers of fire. A bead of pre-cum glistened at the tip, making my mouth water even as my body still quivered from the aftershocks of my climax. My eyes widened in a mix of awe and hunger, a fresh surge of molten heat pooling deep between my thighs, my pussy clenching emptily in anticipation despite the lingering tremors.
He caught my gaze, a devilish smirk playing on his lips as he stroked himself slowly, deliberately, the sight making my breath hitch. "Look at what you do to me, Nabila," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, laced with raw need. "So hard for you... ready to fill that sweet, wet pussy of yours."
I whimpered softly, my body arching toward him involuntarily. "God, yes... it's so big," I breathed, my voice trembling with desire, my hands roaming over his chest, nails grazing his skin. "I want it-want you-to stretch me, claim me."
He positioned himself at my entrance, the swollen tip teasing my slick, swollen folds, rubbing back and forth in agonizingly slow strokes that coated him in my juices. Each pass over my clit sent sparks shooting through me, my hips lifting instinctively, grinding against him in desperate plea. "Mmm, feel that? You're dripping for me," he growled, his free hand gripping my thigh to hold me steady, his eyes locked on mine with predatory intensity. "Tell me how bad you need it, darling. Beg for my cock."
"Please," I whimpered louder now, my nails digging deep into his shoulders, leaving crescent marks as frustration and lust built to a fever pitch. "I need you inside me-now. Fuck me, please... make me yours." My words dissolved into a needy moan as he pressed just a fraction deeper, the promise of fullness driving me wild.
He let out a deep, guttural groan that vibrated through his chest like thunder, echoing in my core as he pushed forward with agonizing slowness, his thick cock sliding inch by delicious inch into my slick, aching pussy. The stretch was exquisite torture-my walls clenching greedily around him, stars exploding behind my tightly shut eyelids as he filled me completely, every ridge and vein pulsing against my sensitive inner flesh. "Ahh... fuck, you're so tight, Nabila," he murmured huskily, his hot breath fanning across my neck, sending fresh shivers down my spine. "Squeezing me like you never want to let go."
Once buried to the hilt, he paused, our bodies locked in a heated, intimate fusion-his hips flush against mine, his balls resting heavy against my ass. I could feel him throbbing inside me, a living pulse that made my toes curl. "Mmm, you feel so good wrapped around me," he whispered, nipping at my earlobe before trailing kisses down my throat. I gasped, my hands clawing at his back, nails raking red lines into his skin as I adjusted to the fullness, my pussy fluttering wildly.
Then he started to move-slow, deliberate thrusts at first, each withdrawal leaving me empty and desperate, only for him to plunge back in with a wet, satisfying smack. The rhythm built like a storm, my moans spilling out uncontrollably with every glide: "Oh God... yes, deeper... fuck me harder..." My legs hooked around his waist, ankles locking to yank him impossibly closer, our sweat-slicked skin slapping together in a raw, primal symphony of lust that filled the room with obscene sounds.
His growl was deep and wild, like an animal's roar, shaking through his chest and into mine. It made every part of my body feel alive with fire. His hips pushed forward fast and strong, his thick cock hitting inside me again and again in a hard, non-stop way.
The sofa shook under us. The wet sounds of our sweaty bodies slapping together were like a dirty music, his balls hitting against my bottom with each strong push. He went deeper and harder, taking full control of my wet, shaking pussy, as if he owned it-and owned me. With every powerful thrust, my full breasts bounced up and down wildly, like soft waves rising and falling, my hard nipples rubbing against his chest and sending more sparks of pleasure through me.
My jhumkas swung back and forth from my ears, tinkling softly like tiny bells in the heat of our passion, brushing against my neck and cheeks. The chain around my neck swayed side to side, sliding over my sweaty skin, catching the light as it moved with our rhythm. My black hair, loose and messy now, spread out on the sofa like a dark river, some strands sticking to my face and back from the sweat, flying a little with each hard push, making me look even more wild and lost in the moment.
One hand held my hip tightly, like a strong grip, his fingers pressing into my soft skin for support. It might leave marks, but in a good way. He kept me still and unable to move as he pushed into my center with wild power. His mouth came down on my breast, hot and hungry. His teeth lightly touched my hard nipple before he sucked it strongly. This made me gasp sharply-"Ahh!"-the bite mixed pain and pleasure in a way that felt amazing, making my back bend up from the cushions.
"These breasts... fuck, so perfect, so full and ready for me," he said in a rough voice between eager licks. His tongue moved in hot, wet circles around the sensitive nipple, touching and playing until it beat like a heart. His other hand attacked my second breast, pinching the forgotten nipple between his strong fingers. He rolled and twisted it just enough to send shocks of pleasure straight to my clit. I bent my body high, a loud cry coming from my mouth-"Oh God, yes... it hurts but feels so good!"-my body twisting under him. My pussy squeezed tighter around his moving cock, pulling on him as my wet juices covered us both. The smell of our excitement was strong and thick in the air.
"Come for me again, darling-squeeze that hot, dripping pussy tight around my cock and shatter into pieces for me," he commanded with a deep groan.
"Ahh... yes, just like that," his voice a gravelly rasp like a forbidden vow whispered in the dark, sending shivers racing down my spine. His piercing eyes locked onto mine, blazing with raw, animalistic hunger as he thrust even faster, his hips a blur of savage power, pounding into me with merciless force that made my entire body jolt with each impact-"Mmm... fuck, you're so deep," I moaned breathlessly, my cries mingling with his ragged grunts, "Oh God... ahh!"
The friction inside me ignited like a scorching inferno, every ridge of his throbbing shaft dragging along my slick walls, stroking that hidden spot that set my nerves ablaze with white-hot fire. I clutched at his broad shoulders desperately, my fingers digging into his muscled flesh like anchors in a storm, pulling him impossibly closer as if to merge our bodies into one
"Ahh... deeper, please," I moaned breathlessly, my voice breaking into husky whimpers that rose with each thrust.
He groaned in response, a low, feral "Fuck... yes, take it all," rumbling from his throat as his hands gripped my thighs with bruising force, spreading me wider, his nails biting into my skin to hold me steady against his relentless assault.
The coil in my belly wound tighter and tighter, like a spring compressed to its breaking point, ready to explode in a cascade of ecstasy. Waves of intense pleasure surged through me, crashing higher and wilder with every brutal plunge, my juices flooding around him in hot gushes, the obscene squelch of our union filling the air alongside my desperate gasps and his ragged grunts-"Mmm... so wet for me," he panted, our moans intertwining like a symphony of raw need.
My nails scratched down his back in quick, wild lines, pulling out thin marks of blood that only made him more crazy and full of energy. Our sweaty bodies rubbed hard against each other in a slippery, hot mess-skin on skin, the friction growing so much that I couldn't take it anymore. My moans got louder and turned into sharp screams of full wildness: "Fuck... oh God, I'm so close... don't you dare stop!"-I was balancing on the very sharp edge of total blankness, my sight getting fuzzy, my pussy tightening in strong beats, begging for the big release that would swallow me completely.
And then it hit me-like a dam breaking open, the tight feeling broke in a bright flash of joy that tore through my body from inside to my fingers. I screamed his name,
"Ranjeeeett... ooohhhhhhh" my pussy shaking wildly around his thick cock, squeezing him in tight, beating pulls that made my eyes see only white.
Waves of strong pleasure beat through me, hot and without stop, my juices spraying out in wet bursts with each shake, making the sofa wet under us. My legs shook without control around his waist, toes bending as I bent my back high, breasts moving up and down, my nails stuck in his back like sharp hooks.
He made a deep sound, "Ahh... that's it, darling, come all over me," his pushes becoming wild, hitting harder as my coming pulled him to the end too. As his body tensed and I felt him swelling even more, I gasped out, "Wait... don't cum inside me!"
He groaned in response, his eyes locking onto mine with raw intensity, and at the last second, he pulled out with a shuddering breath.
With a final, rough shout "Fuck... Nabila!" his cock throbbed in his hand, spilling hot, thick lines of cum across my belly, the warmth spreading over my skin and dripping down my sides. We fell together in a sweaty, breathing pile, his body pressing me into the cushions, our hearts beating fast together. He kissed my forehead softly, whispering, "You're incredible," as small shakes still went through us both, leaving me fully tired but wanting more.

[Yash121]

Fucking awesome update...

[siva05]

Now he heard her voice by pulling out not like last time . Good update

[Yash121]

Waiting for next update

[Bimal]

Wonderful and beautiful story ❤️

[naj0501]

Thank you for your kind comments.

[naj0501]

After a few moments of catching our breath, he shifted slightly, his hand trailing down to gently trace the sticky warmth on my belly, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Look at the mess you've made me make," he teased softly, his voice husky with lingering desire. I laughed breathlessly, my fingers weaving into his hair as I pulled him closer for a deep, lingering kiss that tasted of salt and satisfaction.

Reluctantly, I untangled myself from his embrace, feeling the pleasant ache in my muscles as I sat up. "I need a shower," I murmured, glancing down at the glistening evidence of our passion on my skin. He watched me with hooded eyes, his hand reaching out to brush my thigh one last time. "Hurry back," he said, his tone promising more adventures ahead.

I slipped off the couch and padded through the dimly lit hallway to Ranjeet's bedroom, my bare feet silent on the soft carpet. Pushing open the door, I crossed the room-glancing at his rumpled bed that promised more intimacy later-and entered the adjoining bathroom, the cool tile floor a stark contrast to the heat still radiating from my body. Turning on the shower, I let the steam fill the room before stepping under the warm cascade, the water rinsing away the stickiness and soothing my sensitive skin. As I lathered up, my mind replayed every intense moment, a smile curving my lips-I couldn't wait to return to him.

The steam was thick. It wrapped the room like a foggy blanket. Everything looked blurry. The walls were faint shapes. The mirror was a misty sheet of water drops. Water ran down the glass shower walls. The air smelled like my jasmine soap. A light, sexy scent from our earlier fun still clung to my skin.

Then, I felt him before I saw him-a small shift in the air, like a warm breeze cutting through the fog. It brought his body heat and the spicy smell of his aftershave. My skin tingled, and my heart started beating faster with excitement. I paused, bubbles dripping from my fingers. Slowly, I turned under the falling water. The spray hit my shoulders like many tiny taps, washing away the foam in lines that followed my body-down my neck, over my hard nipples, and along my hips.

There he was, stepping out of the mist like a fun dream: Ranjeet, completely naked. His dark skin shone under the bathroom lights, and his muscles moved smoothly with each step. His dark eyes locked on mine through the steam, full of that playful hunger that made my knees feel weak. Water drops were already on his wide shoulders. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths, and his flat stomach led my eyes down to where his dick was getting hard, growing right there in the hot air.

He didn't say a word at first, just letting the moment build. The shower sound made the quiet feel louder-the steady rush of water, the soft drip from the tap, our breaths starting to match.

Without a word, he was behind me, his body a stark, hard contrast to mine. His chest pressed firmly to my back, his muscles locking against my curves. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight as he pinned me to him. With a low growl, he drove his hips forward. He pulled me hard against him, so I could feel his cock getting bigger and harder right against my ass-thick and throbbing, pushing between my cheeks with hot pressure that made my pussy tingle and get even wetter.

It felt like a live wire had touched my skin. His body was a furnace against mine, and the cool water running between us made me shiver with a pleasure that was almost painful. My body answered the feeling instantly: my nipples stood at sharp attention and my thighs clenched with a deep, pulsing want.

"Sorry Jaan…couldn’t wait" he whispered in my ear, his voice deep and rough like gravel, but with a teasing smile in it. His soft lips kissed my ear lobe and then he bite it gently, sending a sharp wave of pleasure down my body. I could feel warmth of his breath on my neck. The spicy smell of him mixed with the steam made me dizzy with excitement.

"Oh, Ranjeet, you badmash," I spoke in mock anger. My back arched into him.

"Yeah….I like being Badmash" He hissed back.

He chuckled low, his hands sliding up slowly. His rough, calloused palms grabbed my boobs tight, fingers digging in just enough to make me gasp. He squeezed them slowly, like kneading soft dough, his thumbs circling my nipples in lazy, teasing rounds—rubbing the hard tips back and forth until they stood up stiff and pink, aching like they were on fire. Each flick and pinch shot electric sparks right to my pussy, making it throb and drip with fresh juice.

He gave a soft laugh, his hands slowly sliding up my body. His rough, strong hands grabbed my breasts firmly, his fingers pressing just enough to make me gasp. He squeezed my boobs gently, like molding soft clay. His thumbs circled my nipples in slow, teasing motions, rubbing the hard tips until they were stiff and pink, feeling hot and tingly. Every touch and pinch sent a jolt straight to my core, making it pulse and grow wetter with excitement.

"Mmm, your boobs feel so good in my hands, Nabila," he murmured. "Like they're made just for me to play with."

I pushed back against him, grinding my ass into his thick, hard cock. A low moan escaped my mouth, lost in the roar of the shower. My heart hammered against my ribs as a slick heat pooled between my legs, my juices mingling with the water streaming down my thighs. "You're driving me crazy, Ranjeet," I panted, my voice a ragged whisper.

I turned around in his arms and faced him.We hugged gently -his hands on my waist and mine on his back. Our wet skins sliding together nice-chest to chest, leg to leg. Water was sticking his black hair to his forehead in messy waves. Drops hung on his eyelashes and ran down his sharp jaw.

He caught my face with both hands and smashed his lips on mine.Our kiss was full of passion. Our tongues fought for dominance in a slick, hot battle, tasting of water and sweat. The rough stubble of his beard raked my chin, a strangely pleasant sting that made my nerves sing.
"God, Nabila, you taste like honey, darlu," Ranjeet growled between fierce kisses, his lips hot and demanding against mine, stealing my breath with every press. His strong hands slid down my curves, gripping my bum with a bold, possessive hold, fingers digging into my soft flesh. I felt his hand spreading on my bums.

He lifted me effortlessly and pinned my back against the cool, glossy shower tiles. It was cold against my heated skin that made me gasp sharply into his mouth. Goosebumps erupted across my arms and thighs. His touch was firm yet teasing, grounding me in the steamy haze as water cascaded around us.

"Why are you always hungry for more?" I whispered against his lips as my legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. My ankles hooked tightly behind him, pulling his body press against mine, our wet skin sliding together. I felt tip of his thick, throbbing cock pressed at my entrance. It was slick with warm shower water.

"It’s all your fault……Why are you so much delicious?" he teased back, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief under the shower’s dim glow, water droplets glistening on his long lashes like tiny jewels.

He pushed his cock into me slowly, inch by agonizingly delicious inch, stretching me wide with a fullness that made my breath hitch. He slowly inserted his cock fully inside me. My insides clenched around him, greedy for every bit of his hard cock, savoring the way he filled me completely.
"Ohhh, Ranjeet, you’re so big," I moaned, my head falling back against the tiles, the cool surface anchoring me as waves of pleasure surged through me.

He paused, a wicked grin spreading across his face, his eyes locking onto mine. "Hmmmmmm….Isn’t your Shohar big?" he teased, his voice low and cheeky, one eyebrow raised playfully.

I laughed, shaking my head, my wet hair slapping against my shoulders. "He’s not even close to you," I shot back, my tone mockingly pitying. "He never filled me like this."

Ranjeet chuckled, his laugh Grown deep and smug. "Ohhhh….my sweety…." he said, leaning in to bite my earlobe gently, sending a fresh tingle down my spine. "I promise I would give you what he can’t"

And he began to move his cock in and out of my pussy, slow and deep at first, each thrust deliberate, letting me feel every inch of him as he slid in and out, the warm water making our bodies slick and smooth. The wet, rhythmic slaps of our bodies echoed in the steamy shower, the sound mixing with the steady rush of water.

His hands gripped my hips tighter, guiding me as he thrust deeper, his pace quickening to match the shower’s pulsing rhythm. My legs tightened around him, urging him on, my nails grazing his broad shoulders as I clung to him.

"Mmm, you like that, don’t you?" he murmured, his voice rough with desire, his lips brushing my neck as he thrust harder, the tiles cool against my back.

"Ahh, harder, Ranjeet, please!" I gasped, my voice breaking into a soft cry, my body trembling with need.

He obliged, his movements growing faster, more intense, each thrust sending jolts of pleasure through me.

“AAaahhh….aaahhhhhhh….hmmmmmm……..” I was moaning uncontrollably.

His hips rocked in a steady, powerful rhythm, the water amplifying every sensation. Our gasps and moans bounced off the walls, a passionate symphony-his low, guttural grunts of "Ungh, yes, baby," blending with my breathless whimpers of "Ohhh, don’t stop!"

Then he shifted slightly, angling deeper, hitting a spot that made my toes curl and my eyes flutter shut. His fingers dug into my bum, holding me firmly as he drove into me, the shower water streaming over his muscular back, glistening on his dark skin. "You feel so damn good, Nabila," he groaned, his voice thick with need, his breath hot against my ear.

I arched into him, my body shaking as the pleasure built, my core tightening around him. "Ranjeet… ohhh, you’re too much," I moaned, my words barely coherent, lost in the rush of sensation.

He grinned, slowing for a moment to tease me, his eyes burning with playful intensity. "Too much? Really Nabu?"

I giggled through a moan, my hands roaming his chest. "Ohhhh maaannn….You are a tiger," I teased, my voice breathy and taunting.

Ranjeet’s laugh was low and wicked, his thrusts picking up speed again, deep and relentless, pushing me closer to the edge. The steam wrapped us in a hot, private world, our bodies moving as one, the water making every touch electric, every thrust a spark that set me ablaze. Soon I felt a shuddering orgasm and groaned loudly, my nailed digging into skin of his back,

“AAAAAARRRRHHGGGGG….RAAAANJEEEETTT……”

Ranjeet continued fucking me in swift, hard thrusts throughout my bliss. His mouth found my nipple and he sucked it gently. My hands moved to his head, playing his wet hair and pulling it towards myself.

As Ranjeet neared his peak his thrusts slowed and a deep, throaty groan escaped him. His forehead pressed against mine, slick with sweat and shower water, his ragged breaths hot against my face.

"Owwwww…..Youre amazing….Janeman" he howled

Then he eased out his cock from my pussy. My legs trembled as he lowered me, the shower’s cool water soothing our fevered skin, but his dark eyes still blazed with untamed desire, like embers glowing in the steam.

He caught my face with both of his hands and kissed my lips tenderly. Then, a playful smirk curled his lips, his eyes glinting with mischief. He put his hands on my shoulders and gently pushed me down to kneel on the shower floor. The warm, wet,textured tiles cushioned my knees like a soft embrace.

"Suck me, Nabila," he said, his voice low and commanding.

One hand gently gathered my dripping wet hair and tilted my face up with care. His uncut dick stood right before my face, thick and glistening from water and our juices.It’s veins bulged under the shower’s sheen, the flushed tip swollen and leaking, tiny beads of precum mixing with water droplets in a tantalizing glint. I wrapped my fingers around its warm, firm length, feeling its heat. Slowly, I pulled back the foreskin and it revealed the flushed, swollen head, slick with tiny beads of precum that mingled with water droplets, glistening like a tempting gem. My nostrils were filled with a musky and earthy scent mixed with a faint hint of my jasmine soap, creating an intoxicating mix that made my heart race faster.

My heart was racing with a wild mix of excitement and jitters.

"I’m so nervous, Ranjeet," I admitted with a shy smile, looking up at him through my wet, clinging eye lashes.

He tugged my hair gently with a loving, teasing pull.His eyes were glinting with mischief. "Oh, come on, Jaan, don’t tell me you’ve never had fun with Imran’s cock," he said, his voice was warm and playful and a cheeky grin spread across his face.

I blushed.My left hand was resting on his hairy thigh, feeling the tight, strong muscle flex under my palm and my right hand was stroking his cock gently.

"Well, in the early days of our marriage," I confessed. "But it’s been ages since I did that with him."

Ranjeet chuckled, his smile wide and encouraging.

"No worries, my love, you’re gonna love this," he said in soft tone. "Come on, Jaanu, take it in-just dive in and enjoy the ride!"

I planted a soft kiss on the exposed tip of its head and parted my lips slowly. I gently placed the swollen head of his dick between my lips and it felt warm and rubbery. My tongue flicked around his home and I could taste salty precum mingling with the shower’s fresh water. I hesitated for a moment. My eyes met with Ranjeet’s eyes and he smiled at me blissfully. I too smiled with his dick between my lips.

“Aaahhhhh….”

He groaned as his hands moved to the back of my head. With a gentle push, he guided his cock deeper into my mouth.

My tongue grazed the sensitive underside of his dick, tracing its length with a slow, curious flick as it was slipping in. Ranjeet let out a loud, rumbling moan—“Aaaaahhhhhh, Nabila!”-his voice echoing off the steamy tiles, raw and full of delight.

His eyes were half closed, full of passion and lust as I started sucking, my lips sliding over his shaft. My tongue danced along his length, swirling around the head and teasing the tiny hole at the tip.Each movement was bold yet fun, my core tingling with excitement as I found my rhythm, egged on by his encouraging groans.

"Ohhh, Nabila… fuck, yes, just like that," Ranjeet groaned loudly. His hips jolting forward instinctively. Water poured down from his body and dropped onto my face mingling with the slick saliva that coated his shaft in a glistening sheen.

"Your mouth is so hot," he breathed, "so wet… keep going."

I answered with a low hum from my throat. I picked up the pace, my head bobbing on his cock in a steady rhythm.My lips and tongue working in co ordination.

I bobbed faster, my lips tightly shut around his hard cock.My tongue was pressed flat against underside of his dick and with each stroke it lapped at his hardness. My left hand caught his balls, gently kneading and rolling them in my palm, while the right hand gripped the base of his cock, twisting with a slick, teasing motion, my fingers drenched in water and the shared heat of our desire.

"Aaaaahhhhh, Nabila, your mouth’s fucking paradise," he roared.His voice was raw and thick with lust.His hand slammed against the wall with a wet smack. The filthy sounds- My wet and hungry slurps and his ragged, panting breaths and my soft, stifled moans echoed through the steamy bathroom.

Then his hips began to jerk, his thighs tensing under my hands. "I’m so close… open wide, darlu," he warned, his voice tight as he pulled out with a wet pop, his hand taking over, stroking himself rapidly, his knuckles taut with urgency.

I tilted my head back, kneeling eagerly, my mouth open, tongue extended like I was waiting for a naughty gift. My eyes locked on his face. It was flushed red.His jaw clenched and eyes were dark with raw pleasure.

With a loud, primal shout-"Nabila… ahh, damn!"-he came. Hot, thick spurts started shooting in bursts across my face. Warm cum was spread across my cheeks, forehead, and lips, some landing on my tongue where I tasted its salty-bitter edge,the flavor bold and intimate. Water mingled with the mess, trailing down my chin and onto my heaving breasts, the sensation feeling deliciously wicked, marking me as his in that steamy moment.

He sank to his knees before me. The shower water was falling around us like a warm monsoon rain. He pulled me into a fierce kiss, undeterred by the mess, tasting himself on my lips with a hungry desire.

"I love you, Nabila," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

I grinned, feeling playful and cherished, my heart swelling. "Love you Ranjeet" I replied.

He helped me to my feet, our bodies still tingling from the intensity. We washed each other slowly, our soapy hands gliding over skin with tender care-no rush, just savoring every curve, muscle, and familiar spot we loved to explore. The steam began to fade as the water cooled, but our warmth stayed.

[siva05]

Nice one, keep going

[Monikapu91]

Sooooo hoootttt narration
Superb

[Kobir99]

Great story...

[Monikapu91]

Anxiously waiting for next update please

[Monikapu91]

Story is very good 
Please update next episode

[naj0501]

Thank you all for your kind comments and feedback. update coming soon.

[naj0501]

The steam from our shower still curled on the mirror, the clock on the wall glowing a soft 2:30 AM. Wrapped in towels on his couch, the quiet hum of the city outside felt a world away. Ranjeet handed me a mug of coffee, his fingers brushing mine.
“Careful, Jaan, it’s hot,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “Like you.”
I nestled against his side, my head on his shoulder, his skin scorching against my cheek. His arm slid around my waist, pulling me flush against him, while his other hand traced teasing circles on my thigh, just at the edge of the towel.
“You know,” he whispered, his breath hot against my hair, “tonight is the start of us, Nabila. Something wild, something ours.”
I tilted my head back, my heart racing at the hunger in his eyes. “Oh, you think you’ve got me locked down already?” I teased, my voice low and playful. “Are you sure you can handle my chaos? Adnan, my family, me stealing your heart?”
“Chaos?” he purred, his lips grazing mine. “Jaan, that’s my kind of trouble. Adnan is your spark; I’ll guard him like my own Anaya. Your family? I’ll shut them up with how I love you. I’m so fucking in love with you, Nabila-every bold, naughty inch.”
Our lips crashed together, a slow, hungry kiss tasting of coffee and raw desire. When we parted, I nipped his lower lip. “You badmash, you’ve got me hooked. But don’t think I’m easy.”
He laughed, a deep rumble that vibrated through me. “Easy? Jaan, you’re a fucking wildfire,” he growled, his eyes glinting. “I’m already planning my birthday. You will be screaming my name so loud the whole building knows you’re mine.”
A blush crept up my neck, but I met his dare, shifting to straddle his lap. “Big talk,” I whispered, my lips against his ear. “I’ll be the one making you beg.”
“Fuck, you’re trouble,” he groaned, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me down against his growing hardness. “Challenge accepted.”
Just as he leaned in to kiss my neck, my eyes caught the clock again. A jolt of panic sliced through the haze of desire. “Oh, God, Ranjeet!” I gasped, sitting up straight. “It’s so late-I have to pick up Adnan from Ammi’s!”
I expected a flicker of annoyance, but his expression softened instantly. “Hey, breathe,” he said, his voice soothing as he took my hand. “Let’s get you to him. I’m driving you; it’s too late for you to go alone.”
His understanding melted my anxiety into a wave of love. We dressed quickly-me in my rumpled kurta, him in jeans and a t-shirt. In the car, the empty Mumbai streets blurred past as he laced his fingers with mine. “You’re a queen, Nabila,” he said quietly. “Juggling everything. I’m so proud of you.”
We pulled up to Ammi’s modest flat, the building’s faded paint glowing under a streetlamp, the air thick with sea salt from the nearby coast. Ranjeet’s hand brushed my lower back as we walked to the door, a possessive touch that made my skin hum. I knocked softly, nerves fluttering-would Ammi see the truth in my flushed glow?
The door creaked open. Ammi stood there in her black abaya, neat even at this hour. The cloth was matte and smooth, a thin silver thread running along the cuffs. Her scarf framed her face tight. Fine lines sat at the corners of her eyes-soft from love, sharp from years of worry.
Her eyes swept over me in one slow pass-my damp hair clinging to my neck, the flushed cheeks, the rumpled kurta that still held a trace of sandalwood. Then her gaze slid to Ranjeet’s hand hovering too close to my waist. He pulled it back at once, but she had already seen.
A flicker crossed Ammi’s face, her warmth hardening into something steely. Her eyes sharpened, a knowing glint surfacing, and a chill ran through me as I realized she was recalling Adnan’s birthday-Ranjeet’s lingering smiles, his playful winks, the way he’d hovered too close. Her expression shifted, memories etching lines of suspicion, piercing through the quiet of the moment.
Ammi’s voice was gentle, but the edge was clear. “Assalamu Alaikum, beta. Party ran that much late?” Her eyes flicked to Ranjeet again, then back to me.
I was nervous but gathered courage.I kissed her cheek. “Wa Alaikum Assalam, Ammi. Sorry for the hour.” My voice shaked a bit. “Ranjeet drove me so I wouldn’t have to be out alone.”
Ranjeet dipped his head. “Namaste, Aunty” He took a careful step back from me, palms open, respectful. His tone was soft, innocent which made me laugh in my mind.
Ammi’s mouth curved into a small, careful smile and moved the door wider and stepped aside.
“Come,” she said at last, voice calm, body firm. “But quietly. He’s asleep.” She looked at me, not at Ranjeet. “And Nabila….We need to talk…”
“Later” I replied and slipped inside.
The living room held the soft scent of nankhatai. A single lamp lit the sofa where Adnan lay curled under a blue blanket, toy car still in his hand. My chest loosened at the sight.
Ammi stood by the edge of the carpet, her arms folded loosely. “He missed you” she said, eyes steady on my face. “You are glowing tonight, Nabila.” Her head tilted a fraction. “Is it the party that does this… or something else?”
Heat rose under my skin. I kept my tone light. “Ammi….It was a Long day. I’m really tired now.”
Ranjeet stayed near the door, careful as a guest. “May I carry his bag to the car, Aunty?” he asked.
Ammi looked at him for a long second. Then she nodded once. “ok”
I bent and brushed Adnan’s forehead with my lips -”My Bittu…” I whispered. He stirred but didn’t wake. I lifted him slowly; his warm weight settled into my arms, heavy and familiar. Ranjeet picked up the little backpack.
“Good Bye, Aunty” Ranjeet spoke while moving.
Ammi’s answer was a simple nod. Still, something in her face said she was weighing him.
Ranjeet opened the back door of the car and helped me settle Adnan. “You okay?” he whispered.
“I’m okay,” I said, breathing out. Inside the house, Ammi’s shape moved past the window, a brief shadow against the lamp.
As we drove to my flat, Ranjeet’s hand found mine again, his thumb stroking softly. “You were a queen back there, Jaan,” he whispered, his voice thick with pride and mischief. “Ammi’s sharp as a tack, but you’re sharper”
I laughed softly, careful not to wake Adnan, my heart light despite Ammi’s suspicion. “Keep dreaming, badmash,” I teased, squeezing his hand, my voice husky. “But you’re stuck with me now.”
At my flat, he carried Adnan’s bag to the door, stealing a quick, heated kiss under the dim stairwell light, his lips tasting of coffee and promise. “Drive safe,” I whispered, my lips tingling. He winked, his eyes promising more nights like this, and drove off.
Of course. Here is the scene rewritten with a more detailed and flirtatious tone.
After tucking Adnan into bed, I leaned against his closed door and took a deep, shuddering breath. The night had been a whirlwind of passion and tension, and my body hummed with the aftershocks. A wave of guilt washed over me; my mind screamed that this was too much, too fast, that I should stay away from Ranjeet before I got burned. But my heart, traitorous and wild, sang a different song. It craved the love, the raw lust, the exhilarating danger he offered. My pussy was sore, a sweet, throbbing reminder of how thoroughly he had claimed me, and a secret smile touched my lips. It was a good kind of pain. I fell into bed, my last waking thought a hazy, intoxicating memory of his scent.
I woke with a jolt. Sunlight streamed aggressively through the curtains. My eyes flew to the clock—10:30 AM! A cold dread washed over me. Adnan.
I rushed into the living room, my heart pounding with self-reproach. And there he was. Sitting on the rug, calmly pushing his toy cars around, completely absorbed.
“Baba?” I asked, my voice thick with sleep and guilt. “Did you eat anything?”
“No, Mumma,” he replied, not looking up.
“When did you wake up?” My voice was barely a whisper.
“An hour ago,” he said casually. “You were snoring…”
The words were a punch to the gut. An hour. My son had been awake for an hour, all alone, while I slept. What kind of mother was I? “Oh, baba, I’m so, so sorry,” I stammered, rushing to the kitchen. My hands trembled as I cracked eggs for omelettes and put water on for tea, my mind replaying his little voice.
As we sat at the dining table, the guilt still gnawed at me. I picked up my phone, needing a distraction, and saw the screen flooded with notifications from Ranjeet. A warm flush spread through me as I read the messages he’d sent while I slept.
“Hi…..” (Sent right after he dropped me off)
“Still feel your skin on mine, Jaan. Can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Sitting on my couch. It still smells like us. Driving me crazy.”
“I hope you’re sleeping well, my wildfire. Because I sure as hell am not.”
I smiled, my guilt momentarily forgotten. Just as I finished reading, a new message popped up.
Ranjeet: Finally. The wildfire awakens.
My fingers danced across the screen as I replied, a playful energy bubbling up inside me.
Nabila: Some of us need our beauty sleep, badmash.
Ranjeet: You don't need any. I couldn't sleep at all. You've ruined me, woman.
Nabila: Oh? And how did I do that?
Ranjeet: How? By invading my damn mind. I can’t stop tasting your lips, remembering how you bit mine. I close my eyes and I can still feel your breasts in my hands, so soft, your nipples getting hard for me. And God, Nabila… being inside you, feeling you clench around me… your ass in my hands… I wanted to take you again right there on the couch.
Nabila: You are completely insane. And insatiable.
Ranjeet: Only for you. Just talking to you now, my dick is hard again.
I giggled, glancing at Adnan, who was focused on his omelette.
Nabila: I’m a magician, you know. I can make soft things hard from a distance.
“Mumma, why are you laughing?” Adnan asked, his innocent eyes wide.
“Oh, nothing, baba,” I said quickly, my cheeks burning. “Just a silly joke a friend sent. Finish up your food.” I grabbed my mug of tea and retreated to the couch, sinking into the cushions where, just the night before, Ranjeet and I had…
My phone buzzed again.
Ranjeet: A very sexy magician. You should know, my Popatlal is waiting to meet you again.
Nabila: Who on earth is Popatlal?
Ranjeet: The nickname for my cock. And he’s very lonely without his best friend.
I let out another muffled laugh, covering my mouth.
Nabila: Lmao ?
Ranjeet: It’s not funny, he’s an explorer. And he’s desperate to map out your warm, tight, secret places again.
Nabila: Well, you can tell Popatlal to be patient. His best friend is still recovering from the very brutal, very thorough exploration from last night.
Ranjeet: Mmm, I like the sound of that. What are you wearing right now?
Nabila: A yellow kurti and white leggings.
Ranjeet: And underneath? Tell me.
Nabila: Bra and panties, what else?
Ranjeet: A cage. You’re at home, Jaan. Why cage such beautiful things? Take it off.
Nabila: Shut up, you’re crazy.
Ranjeet: I’m serious. I want to imagine them exactly as they are right now, under your kurti. Free. My mouth waters just thinking about it.
Nabila: But my nipples will poke through the kurti!
Ranjeet: Exactly. Hard and poking. Just for me. Do it for me, Nabila. Set them free… and then send me a picture. Please.
My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, thrilling rhythm. Ranjeet’s request hung in the air, a dare I was terrified and desperate to accept. I looked over at Adnan, who was now meticulously building a garage for his cars with colourful blocks. He was safe, lost in his imagination.
The bold, reckless woman Ranjeet was awakening in me made the decision.
I slipped into my bedroom, closing the door and leaning against it, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts. I felt like a teenager, full of illicit excitement. I faced the large mirror on the wardrobe, my reflection looking back at me with wide, dark eyes. My cheeks were flushed, my lips slightly parted.
My hands trembled as I made the first move. In a subtle, furtive motion, I lifted the hem of my yellow kurti just enough to slide my hands underneath. The fabric whispered against my skin as my fingers traced the path up my own back, a secret journey hidden from view. The cool air trapped beneath the cotton felt electric. My fingertips found the familiar elastic band of my bra and followed it to the center of my spine.
It was a motion I’d done a thousand times without thought, but now, it was charged with adrenaline. My fingers fumbled for a moment before closing around the small metal clasp. I held my breath and, with a deft flick of my thumbs, pushed the hooks free.
There was a tiny, satisfying click.
Instantly, the tight constriction around my chest vanished. The band went slack against my skin. With a practiced shrug of my right shoulder, I slipped my arm free of its strap. The whole bra was now loose under my kurti. I gathered the tangle of lace and wire, pulled it around my torso, and guided it down my left arm until it emerged from the cuff of my sleeve. It fell from my hand and landed on the floor in a soft, soundless heap.
I exhaled a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. The feeling was instantaneous-a rush of absolute freedom. The thin cotton of my kurti settled against my bare skin, a delicate, intimate caress. And then I felt it-a sharp, tingling sensation. In response to the cool air and the potent thought of Ranjeet’s eyes, my nipples tightened into two hard, aching points. They pressed insistently against the fabric, creating two sharp, defiant peaks in the soft yellow landscape of my kurti, a secret now brazenly visible, waiting to be captured by the lens of my phone.
Lifting my phone, I angled it, capturing the same sly smile from before, but this time the picture held a new secret. It showed the soft dbang of the kurti over my unbound breasts, the undeniable, defiant outline of my nipples. It was an image of subtle rebellion. My finger hovered over the send button for a heartbeat, and then I pressed it.
The three dots indicating he was typing appeared almost instantly.
Ranjeet: Fuck, Nabila. Perfect. I knew they’d be perfect.
Ranjeet: I’m going to lose my mind thinking about that all day. I swear to god, the next time I see you, I’m pushing you against a wall and tasting them, right through your clothes.
Nabila: You’re all talk, badmash.
Ranjeet: Try me, Jaan. Just fucking try me.
A delicious shiver went through me. I felt powerful, desired, and completely alive. I slipped my bra back on before leaving the room, but I felt different, as if I were carrying the warmth of his gaze on my skin.
The rest of the day passed in a hazy, happy bubble. I played cars with Adnan, made us a simple lunch of dal and rice, and read him a story before his afternoon nap. But through it all, my mind was elsewhere. My thoughts were a constant, humming loop of Ranjeet’s words, of the heat in his messages, of the promises his desire held. The world felt brighter, more vibrant. For the first time in a long time, I was living in colour.
As the afternoon sun began to dip lower, casting long shadows across the living room, a familiar knot of dread started to tighten in my stomach. Asif was due back tonight. My happy bubble felt fragile, threatened. I tidied the flat, my movements becoming more subdued, the smile fading from my face.
It was just after 7 PM when the sound came. The harsh, metallic scbang of a key turning in the lock.
It was the sound of my bubble bursting.
I jolted, my entire body going rigid. The air in the room suddenly felt thin, heavy. Adnan, who was watching cartoons, looked up towards the door.
Asif walked in. He didn’t bring the light or warmth of a father and husband returning home. He brought the cold, stale air of the outside world, the scent of travel and cigarette smoke. He dropped his bag on the floor with a thud that echoed the sinking of my heart. His face was a mask of irritation and exhaustion. He glanced at me, his eyes cold and dismissive, and the fragile joy that had carried me through the day shattered into a million pieces. The fight was coming. I could feel it in the chilling silence he brought into our home.
Asif invaded the room. He didn't just enter it; he filled it with the stale chill of travel and the bitter scent of his mood. His cold eyes swept the room before landing on the simple dinner I had set on the table.
“Is this a joke?” he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “I work my ass off for five days, and I come home to this? My mother would be ashamed to serve this even to the maid.”
The insult was designed to make me small, to make me apologize. But the woman who had spent the morning trading bold, delicious promises with Ranjeet refused to shrink.
“I am not your mother, Asif,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “And I am not the maid.”
He stopped, stunned by my tone. He stalked towards me, his body radiating a palpable anger. He invaded my space, looming over me until my back was nearly against the kitchen counter. “What did you just say to me?” he growled, grabbing my arm. His fingers dug into my flesh. “You’ve gotten a sharp tongue while I’ve been away.”
I wrenched my arm free, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Let go of me! You walk in here after days of silence, forget me ,not even one call to your son, and you dare to lay a hand on me?”
“Mumma?”
A small, terrified voice cut through the tension. We both turned. Adnan was standing by the sofa, his eyes wide with fear, his favourite blue blanket clutched in his tiny fist. Seeing his face, seeing the fear I had allowed into his world, broke something open inside me.
“See what you’re doing?” Asif hissed, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Making a scene in front of the boy. Hysterical, just like your mother.”
That was it. That was the end. “Don’t you speak about my mother,” I said, my voice a blade of ice. “You are not welcome in this home anymore.”
His face contorted with a rage so absolute it was terrifying. The loss of control, the defiance in my eyes, and the presence of our son as a witness-it was too much for him. He saw the woman he thought he owned slipping through his fingers, and he reacted with pure, brutish instinct.
His hand moved in a blur.
The crack of his palm against my cheek was an explosion of sound in the small flat. It seemed to suck all the air from the room. A flash of white light burst behind my eyes, and the world tilted violently. A sharp, stinging fire spread across my skin, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth where my teeth had cut my lip.
In the ringing silence that followed, I heard Adnan let out a choked sob.
That sound brought everything into a terrifying, perfect focus. I slowly turned my head back to face him. The man standing before me was a stranger, an enemy. The slap hadn't just been a physical blow; it was a severance. In that moment, the last vestiges of the woman who had once loved him, who had feared him, who had tolerated him, died.
Ignoring the throbbing in my face, I walked past him as if he weren't there. I went to my son, knelt down, and wiped his tears. “It’s okay, baba,” I whispered, my voice steady. “We’re going on an adventure. Just you and me.”
I took his hand and led him to my bedroom. Asif stood frozen, watching, a look of disbelief on his face. I didn't spare him a glance. I pulled open my wardrobe and from the very bottom, I dragged out a large, worn duffel bag-my escape plan, packed months ago.
“What the hell are you doing?” he stammered, following me.
I laid the bag on the bed and unzipped it. Inside were neat stacks of clothes for me and Adnan, a small bag of toiletries, the emergency cash I had been secretly stashing for over a year, and tucked in a side pocket, Adnan’s favourite teddy bear. I was not just leaving; I was executing a long-planned extraction.
I zipped the bag shut, my movements efficient and final.
“You are not taking my son!” he bellowed, his voice cracking with a desperate fury.
I slung the heavy bag over one shoulder and effortlessly lifted Adnan onto my other hip. I faced him one last time, my eyes empty of everything but a cold, hard resolve.
“He was never your son,” I said. “You were just the man who happened to be in the room.”
I walked out of the bedroom, past the dinner getting cold on the table, and straight to the front door.
“You’ll regret this, Nabila!” he screamed, his threats sounding hollow and pathetic now. “You’ll be back in a week, begging! You have nothing!”
I opened the door, the sounds and smells of the Mumbai night rushing in to meet us. I didn't look back. I stepped over the threshold, pulling the door shut on my old life. The final, decisive click of the lock wasn't the sound of an ending. It was the sound of my real life beginning.

[Yash121]

Nabila only ranjeet slut....make asig cuck

[siva05]

Asif paved the way towards ranjeet for nabila .