Two days slipped by. Kinza grew certain now if Vishal had seen her Reddit slip, he would’ve taunted her mercilessly. The thought that he hadn’t left her breathing easier, her guard softening.But on the third night, temptation won again. She reinstalled Reddit.The feed sucked her in instantly. Threads full of dares: women strutting naked on empty highways at midnight, girls flashing their tits in shopping malls, others secretly filming themselves grinding in café washrooms. Each video more reckless, each comment thread filthier.She couldn’t look away.
Then one post froze her breath. A woman in a black burkha only bur**ha, nothing underneath . The camera, likely her partner’s, lingered on her ass as she strolled through a busy market. The fabric clung shamelessly, her hips rolling, ass bouncing like ripe fruit hidden beneath. When she bent to pick up vegetables, her peach-shaped buttocks pushed the cloth taut, so obscene it looked like she was naked under there. Through the lens you could even make out her nipples, hard and teasing.
Kinza pressed her thighs together. A tightness pooled low in her belly.Her thumb hovered, then typed a reply before she could stop herself:
Do you really enjoy it?The woman answered almost instantly:
Would you not? Maybe you should try it…Kinza’s pulse skipped. She dropped the phone to the bed, whispering, “As****ullah…” Her chest rose and fell as if she’d been caught.
That night she checked again. The burkha woman had uploaded a new clip. This time she was in an empty park, legs spread beneath the black fabric, flashing her bare pussy at a stranger who stopped mid-step to gawk.A notification popped up a reply to Kinza’s old comment.“You’re denying it, slut. Your pussy must be itching to try.”Her jaw tightened. The words were offensive, disgusting. And yet her thighs pressed together, the insult blooming heat in her core.By Sunday, her curiosity had gnawed her raw.She stood in front of her wardrobe, trembling. Then, almost without thinking, she stripped bare and pulled on her black bu**kha. No bra, no panties. Just her flushed, naked body beneath.
The fabric dragged sensually over her nipples, stiff and aching. Her thighs brushed together, slick heat gathering. She caught her reflection in the mirror from outside, she looked like the same modest Kinza. But underneat her secret clung to her like fire.She whispered to herself, breath shaky:No one will notice… no one will know.”Her test was simple: wander casually in front of Ammi.She stepped into the living room, forcing calm. Her heart thundered. Did the sway of her hips look different? Did her breasts jiggle freer?
Ammi :“Kinza, beta, chai bana lo.”
Kinza :“Ji… Ammi.”
Her mother didn’t notice a thing.Kinza’s pulse raced. A thrill coiled deep in her belly not just from lust, but from the intoxicating secret she carried on her skin.With her heart hammering, Kinza finally stepped out of the house. Bare under the burk""*a, the fabric clung differently against her skin, whispering with every step. Her nipples grazed the inside of the cloth, hard and sensitive, her thighs brushing damply.
The street bustled with people women in similar covered attire, men with shopping bags, children running ahead. No one looked twice at her. They can’t see… she reminded herself, but the thought only made her pulse throb harder.She walked stiffly to the nearby shop, bought a packet of chips, her hands trembling slightly as she handed over the money. The shopkeeper didn’t notice a thing. When she finally closed her gate behind her again, her chest heaved with relief.Kinza pressed a palm against her belly. She was wet shamefully, uncontrollably wet. The thrill had soaked her body.
She grabbed her phone, opened Reddit, and typed under the old thread:
“Maybe I just did…”
An hour later, her screen lit up with a reply:
"I knew you would, you horny bitch.”
The crude words made her shiver. She set the phone aside, pulled the blanket over her, and drifted into a restless sleep.
The next two days went by in a haze. She couldn’t resist anymore she made her own post, confessing the details of her burkha adventure: how she’d slipped out, bought chips, the thrill of being naked among people who had no idea.By evening, the post had blown up. Dozens of upvotes, comment after lewd comment flooding in:
Wish I was that shopkeeper…”
“Bet your pussy was dripping under there.”
"Show us proof next time, slut.”
Kinza’s cheeks burned, but her heart raced. She read them all, biting her lip, thighs squeezing tight. The validation made her dizzy. She felt seen not as Kinza, but as the dirty, daring secret self she never showed.
Then, near midnight, a new comment appeared:
“Maybe you should go to the market like that tomorrow…”
She tapped the username. A fresh account, no history. Someone had made it just to write this.Her stomach flipped. The words were simple, but they hooked deep inside her.
Tomorrow was Sunday. She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, whispering to herself:“Maybe… just for a while.”who would gonna indentify her if her face is covered and in bu*"kha .Her pulse quickened at the thought. The market.
Next day:
Kinza stepped out of the rickshaw, heart thudding harder than last time. The market was buzzing hawkers shouting, smells of fried pakoras and fresh coriander mixing with dust. She adjusted her black bu*"kha, the heavy cloth clinging to her damp skin. Nobody knew that beneath the modest layers she was completely naked. The thought made her lips curl into a secret smile. Her thighs brushed together with every step, sticky with heat and arousal.[img]<a href=[/img]
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She dared herself further pulling back the face cover while bargaining for bangles. The shopkeeper looked her straight in the eye, not knowing that under the burkha she was bare, nipples taut against the fabric. Her phone suddenly buzzed in her hand.
Neha: “Where are you?”
Kinza: breathless, whispering, “At market, why?”
Neha:“Turn around…”
Her stomach flipped. She spunNeha was right there, smiling, holding shopping bags. And next to her… Vikraml.His eyes locked on her instantly. Sharp, unblinking, roaming down the line of her black figure as if stripping her in public.
Vikram:smirking, “See? I told you it was Kinza. Never doubt my eyes.” He winked at her.
Heat shot up her cheeks. Her throat went dry. Did he… did he know?
Neha: “You’re shopping too? Perfect. I asked Vikram to help me carry things.” She giggled, completely unaware.
Kinza forced a tight smile, giving only one-word replies to Neha’s chatter. Her palms were sweaty inside her sleeves. All she could feel was Vishal’s stare steady, piercing, undressing. Her nipples hardened painfully, brushing against the rough fabric of her burkha.
Neha:“Come on, Vishal should give you a lift back. It’s late.”
Kinza: panicked, “There’s no need"
Neha: cutting her off, looping her arm, “Oh rubbish. Come!”
Before she could protest again, Neha tugged her toward his car. Kinza’s knees went weak, her pulse a frantic drum.The backseat , Neha slid in first, patting the space beside her. Kinza followed, her bur**ha swishing around her bare thighs, praying it wouldn’t shift. Vikram shut the driver’s door and adjusted the mirror. His eyes caught hers in the reflection. A faint smirk tugged his lips.
He knew something. She could feel it.
Kinza sat rigid in the backseat, the bur**ha clinging to her skin with the faint sheen of sweat. Her fingers dug into her palms, trying to ignore the way Vishal’s gaze crawled over her through the rearview mirror. It wasn’t just staring it was stripping, layer by layer, until she felt bare under his eyes.
Neha:“Stop here! I need to buy something. Just a minute.”
Kinza:
almost desperate, “I’ll come with you—”
Neha: shaking her head, “No need. I’ll be quick.”
And just like that, the door clicked shut. Neha vanished into the crowd. Silence filled the car. Kinza’s breath quickened.
Kinza: sharply, eyes still fixed on the window, “Why are you staring?”
Vikram leaned back in his seat, lips tugging into a slow, arrogant smirk.
Vikram:“Do you always roam the market naked under your burkha?”
Her head whipped toward him, eyes wide.
Kinza:“What filth are you spouting!”
His gaze slid lazily down her covered chest, lingering with cruel confidence.
Vishal: “It’s obvious… poking right through.”
Kinza gasped, crossing her arms across her bust, cheeks burning hot under her veil.
Kinza:“Keep your dirty thoughts to yourself, you pervert. You don’t know how to talk to a woman.”
Vikram chuckled, a low, knowing sound.
Vikram “I can prove it.”
Her lips parted, trembling.
Kinza: “You—”
The car door opened. Neha climbed back in, humming, completely oblivious. Relief washed over Kinza, though Vishal’s smirk never left.
Neha: “Vishal, drop me first. Then take Kinza.”
Minutes later, Neha waved goodbye. The car rolled again. Now they were alone, the air thick with something unspeakable.
Kinza:forcing steel into her voice, “Eyes on the road, pervert. And keep your filthy fantasies away from me.”
His words came smooth, deliberate, like a knife sliding under skin.
Vikram :I don’t need fantasies. I’m sure you’re naked under that cloth. No bra. No panties.”
Her thighs clenched instinctively, nails biting into her palms.
Kinza: “What kind of girl do you think I am?”
He only smirked, saying nothing, the silence louder than words. Her heart thundered.
When the car finally slowed near her lane, she bent to grab her bag in a rush.At that time Vikram was using front camera of his phone to set his hair,even taking selfie.The bur***ha slipped just a breath, just a moment but enough. Her breasts tumbled free, fair, heavy, full in the dim light.Time stopped.Kinza froze, horrified. And then click, Vkram's phone tilted casually, a selfie snapped, her bare curves caught in the corner.
Kinza: frantic, tugging her clothes back in place, “Delete it! Delete it now!”
His eyes gleamed wickedly, phone still in hand.
Vikram: “So my modest girl doesn’t wear a bra…”
Kinza:“I said delete it!”
Vikram: voice low, taunting, “No. This is proof. Don’t panic I won’t post it, won’t show anyone. But… if you want it gone, you’ll have to do some things for me.”
Her heart dropped, shame flooding her body, hotter than fire.
Kinza: whispering, broken, “Please…”
Vikram: leaning closer, voice a husk of dominance, “Go home, Kinza. Think about it. This is just the beginning. I always suspected there was something filthy under your modest act… but this? Between your Reddit games and now this” he smirked, eyes sliding over her body, “you’ve shocked even me.”
Kinza stumbled out of the car, burkha clutched desperately around her. Her face burned with humiliation, but between her thighs, slickness betrayed her thick, guilty wetness soaking her. She hated it. She needed it.
She walked quickly, almost running to her door, but Vishal’s smirk and the click of that photo echoed in her skull like a curse.
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