Adultery Geetha ~ teacher

[secpass]

Bro how are you

[nature_hunter]

We are waiting for the update

[Nishikant.Wayal]

We all hope you are doing well Haran and will update soon

[Herbiee]

Going extraordinarily. Each scenes killing the readers. Reading. .

[Projectmp]

Hope everything is fine at your end Haran Garu

[Kore shivkant]

The story is going great haran......eagerly waiting for the next update....

[Kore shivkant]

Thank you all. 

Next update will be after Ganesh Navrathri.

When will be the next update haran??????   Waiting for the Canada trip....

[Rakul1985]

When will she have encounter with Shiva Garu?

[Haran000]

I'm new to this site, and while searching for ‘good’ stories, I came across this extremely appealing and excellently presented story. 

I read it in one go and simply have to say: ‘pure eroticism, hot and exciting!’

Keep up the good work! 
--- D ---

Still reading this story. I can’t move to next updates rapidly. I was stuck with each updates which I read, stuck with each scenes I read.
Extreme level of eroticism, Perfect explanation of situations, Stunning presentation of burning scenes. It’s a complete slow erotic killer.
You are such an incredible author bro. Reading. . .

Going extraordinarily. Each scenes killing the readers. Reading. . .

Thank you so much 

[Haran000]

Geetha:~~~~

Bharat had slipped out to the corner shop earlier, his footsteps fading down the quiet street like an echo of the morning's secrets. I stood there, alone in the hush of the house, my thoughts a tangled storm. 

How had I let it come to this? The admission burned in my chest—embarrassing, forbidden, a flame I couldn't douse. Yet in the haze of those stolen hours, the deep, unspoken satisfaction he'd awakened in me had etched itself into my very bones.

For so long, I'd held back, a dam against the tide of his gentle encouragements, his lingering touches that promised more. But when I'd finally surrendered, yielding to his quiet pleas, it was as if invisible wings unfurled within me. In that moment, I glimpsed the intoxicating freedom of flight, the sheer, unbridled joy of abandon. I could still taste the sweetness of it: his voice, soft and earnest, begging me to guide him, and my own shy whisper urging him to take the reins. The warmth he'd trailed along my thighs lingered like a ghost, stirring embers I thought long cooled.

Innocence had a way of disarming you, didn't it? Bharat's wide-eyed wonder had overwhelmed me completely, pulling me under like a current too strong to fight. And Gautam—poor, distant Gautam—could never know. Yet even as guilt gnawed at the edges, I couldn't summon the will to stop. In just a few days, we'd be torn apart by oceans and new beginnings, but the mere thought of him lingering here, in this house, ignited a fresh ache in my heart, a restless yearning that twisted like smoke.

I needed the shower. Urgently. This feverish heat clung to me, threatening to envelop me whole, a cloud thick with unspoken hungers. Crossing to the bed, I laid out my blue sari, the matching underskirt, and the simple bra that suddenly felt like an unnecessary armor. On impulse, I tucked the bra away in the cupboard. No, not today. And the panty... oh, the temptation to forgo it flickered through me, wild and reckless. But reason won out, barely. *It would only dampen the fabric,* I chided myself, cheeks warming at the thought.

Haran000, that meddlesome soul, had played the unwitting matchmaker, drawing Bharat into my orbit under the guise of tutoring. What did he know of the desires I'd buried deep, the long nights spent adrift in fevered dreams? All the turmoil, the delicious unraveling—it was mine alone to bear. Bharat's touch was a spark to dry tinder; the instant his fingers grazed my skin, something inside me dissolved, melting away like frost under the sun. I'd kept it hidden, a secret locked behind smiles and small talk, never breathing a word.

I avoided the mirror across the room, its silver surface too accusing, too revealing. In my mind's eye, I replayed it all: his lips charting paths across my skin, playful and insistent, like a eager pup exploring uncharted territory. I'd marveled at it once—*Do people really do such things?*—but his charm had woven its spell, drawing me deeper into cravings I hadn't known I harbored.

The shower called, a sanctuary before he returned. If I dawdled, I half-expected him to burst in, towel be damned, his laughter echoing off the tiles. Snatching a fresh towel, I slipped into the bathroom and eased the door shut behind me. The lock? I left it unlatched, a silent invitation hovering in the steam-kissed air. *Let him come,* the reckless part of me murmured, *if he dares.*

Clothes shed and hung, I faced the small mirror above the sink. My reflection stared back—flushed, alive, a stranger thrumming with dizzying possibility. Memories flooded in: those early days with Gautam, our marriage still fresh as spring rain. He'd linger outside the door, peeking through the crack with that boyish shyness of his, watching as water cascaded over me. I'd felt seen, desired, even if his gaze never ventured further. There was a quiet thrill in it, a spark that hinted at depths we rarely plumbed. I was reserved at first with everyone, a veil of caution drawn tight, but it always softened with time, with trust.

With Bharat, that softening had come swift as a summer storm. His energy was a whirlwind—eager stories tumbling from his lips, easy chatter that bridged the gaps between us. So much had unfolded in the spaces between words, in the pauses where eyes met and held. And now, contemplating how deeply I'd entwined myself with this man who wasn't my husband, a numbness settled over me, equal parts thrill and terror.

His kisses, accidental at first, then deliberate—trailing fire wherever they landed. Even as I'd reined myself in, feigning propriety, the evenings after his departure had been mine alone: a hurried solace with a hidden toy, chasing echoes of what might have been. *To quench the ache,* I'd tell myself, *before it consumes you.*

But today, it wasn't fire that plagued me—it was the warm, lingering trace he'd left behind, a maddening reminder that pulsed with every step. I stepped under the cold spray, the water a sharp rebuke against my heated skin. Soap in hand, I worked it through my hair, fingers grazing the sensitive paths between my thighs. The simple act was a quiet pleasure, lulling the storm to a simmer.

A knock shattered the reverie—sharp against the bedroom door.

"Miss?" Bharat's voice, muffled but unmistakable. "I left the packet by the stove."

A low groan escaped me, unbidden, as I scrubbed deeper, the suds slick against my skin.

"Are you in the shower?"

"Yes..." The word hung, half-drowned by the rush of water.

"Miss, then I'll head out."

The thought of him leaving twisted something in my gut. *Stay,* I wanted to say. *Why rush away?* But silence claimed me, heavy as the steam.

A faint creak—the bathroom door inching open, tentative as a held breath. I made no move to protest, the chill of the water warring with the heat blooming anew.

"Miss, I'll go home, clean up, and come back."

There was power in it, this subtle dance of temptation, the way it coiled satisfaction through my veins. Heart pounding, I drifted to the door, water streaming down my bare form, and peeked through the sliver. His eyes dropped instantly to the curve of my neck, that familiar hunger flickering there.

"Why come back at all, dear?" My voice emerged softer than I'd intended, laced with invitation.

"To eat lunch... and hold you close."

The boy had a poet's tongue, unpolished but true.

"Just to hold me?"

He stepped nearer, his lips brushing my cheek in a feather-light promise. "There are lessons yet for the teacher to impart."

"Hey..." I swatted at him lightly, a chide wrapped in laughter.

He grinned, all mischief. "Haha... I'll be back this afternoon, Miss."

"Hmm. Alright. Lock up on your way out."

"Okay."

The words *stay* perched on my tongue, but I swallowed them, glancing toward the window where Susheela Aunty's house loomed next door. What would she make of it?

I dried off, twisting a small towel around my damp hair like a crown. Stepping into the bedroom, I froze. The bed was bare—the sari, underskirt, blouse, all vanished. *I laid them right here.* A spark of amusement ignited. The little imp hadn't gone far; he'd hidden them, turning the house into his playground.

"Hey, you rascal—give me my clothes!" I called, voice threading with mock sternness.

Silence answered, thick and teasing. I scanned the room, then ventured to the hall, kitchen—empty. Back to the bedroom, I knelt carefully, mindful of the towel's precarious grip, peering under the bed. Nothing.

From the hall, his voice floated, gleeful: "I won't give them back!"

I rose, pulse quickening, and padded out. "Hey... come out from wherever you are."

My phone buzzed on the sofa—*Puppy,* the screen read. His mother's call.

"Your mom," I said to the empty air.

No response.

"What should I tell her?"

Strong arms encircled my waist from behind, sudden and sure. Teeth grazed my left earlobe, a playful nip that sent shivers racing.

"Tell her I'm right where I belong, Miss." His breath was warm, wine-rich, flooding my senses.

He drew me closer, elbows locking like a vow, his body a solid anchor against mine. I twisted slightly, lashes fluttering up to meet his gaze—mischief dancing in those eyes. Another kiss, soft on my cheek.

"Please... say something," he murmured, voice honeyed.

The heat of his mouth seeped into my skin, flushing it rose. In his embrace, the world blurred, thoughts dissolving into a sweet haze.

"Alright—let go. I have to answer."

We parted, reluctant. Clutching the towel with one hand, I scooped up the phone with the other.

"Bittu hasn't come home yet," Susheela's voice crackled through, laced with mild concern.

"Actually, Aunty... he hasn't stirred yet." The lie slipped out smooth, practiced.

"Oh."

"Hmm... he'll head over once he's up. No college today, so I let him sleep."

"Okay, dear. Just tell him I rang."

"Will do."

The call ended, and in a heartbeat, he spun me to face him. His head dipped, seeking my lips, but I turned aside, the towel teetering dangerously as his hands claimed my waist.

"Let go—where are my clothes?"

"I won't say..." He leaned in again, aiming for my cheek.

I shoved him back, laughing despite myself, and darted to the bedroom. His hand caught my arm before the door could seal.

"What scheme is this, lingering here instead of home?"

He closed the distance, arms enfolding me once more. As his palms glided down my back, a tremor rippled along my spine, kindling that familiar warmth low in my belly. My fingers slipped beneath his T-shirt, tracing the firm lines of his waist. His lips ghosted the arch of my neck, and my damp skin seemed to steam under the contact, every nerve alight.

"Shall we escape somewhere?" he breathed, inhaling me like a rare bloom. "Just us."

"We're bound for Canada soon enough."

"Gautam's shadow will follow. I want you—only you."

"And here we are, just us, dear."

"Not *here,* in these walls."

"If we steal away now and court a chill or fever, we'll miss the flight altogether. That's why I hesitate."

"Oh." A pause, then a sheepish nod. "Hadn't thought of that. Fine, then."

Even as words flowed between us, his left hand wandered, cupping my right breast with a boldness that stole my breath. It yielded to his touch, fitting neatly in his grasp, and when he gave a gentle squeeze, a rush of vertigo swept through me—intoxicating, inevitable.

"Mmm... hands to yourself," I murmured, even as my body arched toward him, traitorous and true.

But gods help me, I craved the pressure, the claim of it all.

The pins and needles wouldn't stop, that relentless prickle racing through my veins like a current I couldn't unplug from. I wanted nothing more than to stay right here in Bharat's arms, lost in the heat of him. Deliberately, I arched my back, pushing my breast forward into his waiting palm, the towel slipping just enough to tease us both.

"Miss, you have to eat these," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against my skin, his fingers tracing the swell with a hunger that made my pulse stutter. The kid was always starving for them, insatiable in a way that both thrilled and unnerved me.

I let out a soft, breathy laugh, my body still humming from what we'd just done. "Uh-uh... wasn't what you did just now enough for you?"

"My mouth is watering now, Miss." His words were a growl, raw and boyish, as he cupped me more firmly, his thumb circling the peak until it hardened under his touch, sending fresh sparks skittering southward.

"No..." I whispered it, but it came out weak, traitorous, because even as I said it, the heat bloomed in my chest like a struck match, kindling a fire that licked down to my thighs, making them clench with need.

He didn't listen—God, he never did. 

Hooking a finger under the towel's edge, he tugged it free from my right breast, the cool air kissing my skin for a heartbeat before his lips followed, brushing the tender swell beneath my neck. I threaded my fingers into his hair, entwining them tight, pulling him closer as if I could fuse us together. He bent lower, sudden and fervent, sucking my nipple into the wet heat of his mouth, and oh—a sweet, tingling numbness exploded through me, flooding every nerve until I was adrift.

I gasped, sucking in air, and without thinking, I thrust deeper into him, offering more, craving the pull. His lips clamped like velvet jaws, biting gently at the bud, and lust hazed over me, thick as monsoon fog. My thighs itched now, a deep, insistent ache that made me squirm against him.

"Is this all you staying for?" I teased, my voice husky, trembling at the edges.

"Yes... Hmm..." The vibration of his hum buzzed against me as he latched on again, sucking with a desperation that arched my spine.

It was torture, exquisite and unending—like he was drawing a soft red cherry between his teeth, shivers rippling down to pool low in my belly. His tongue flicked and nipped while his hands gripped the fold of my waist, anchoring my hips to his. Moans slipped from my lips, sweet and unbidden, as the coil inside me wound tighter.

"Hmm... Miss, today I won't leave you at all," he breathed, eyes dark with that fierce promise of his youth. "I'll do everything."

"What else will you do?" I shot back, trying for playfulness even as my heart hammered. "You've already done what needed to be done, haven't you? You've done everything you shouldn't with your teacher, you naughty fellow."

He yanked the towel from my other side, letting it dangle mockingly at my waist, and kissed me there, bending me backward in his arms until the world tilted. The fabric whispered against my skin, a secret only we shared.

"Ssssh... should we sit?" I managed, my voice fraying like old silk.

He pulled at my waist, sinking onto the mattress behind us and drawing me into his lap, settling me astride his thighs. The towel was a pathetic barrier now, and when his hardness nudged against me—insistent, unyielding—I couldn't help it; I shifted closer, grinding until our bodies pressed flush, heat bleeding through the thin layers. His arms wrapped around my waist, his head dropping to my chest as he showered it with kisses—soft, adoring presses that made my thighs go light, weightless.

The rough scbang of his young mustache against my firm, heaving breasts was pure friction, delicious and raw, jolting straight to my core. He nuzzled my mangalsutra in the valley between them, the metal cool against the flush of my skin.

Looking up at me, his eyes like polished onyx, he said, "You know what I feel like when I look at this?"

The way he said it—weighted, intimate—stirred something forbidden deep in my chest. "What?"

His nose played along the chain, brushing my skin. "I feel like having first night. Shobhanam."

Shyness flooded me, hot and sudden, and I leaned down to kiss his forehead, soft as a prayer. "Hmm... you've had it, haven't you?"

"Not like that, though."

"Like what?"

"You wearing a white saree, coming with a glass of milk..."

Tch, the sheer audacity of his fantasies. If he were my age, I thought wildly, he'd probably whisk me away, elope into the hills without a backward glance. But that was a dream for fools, and I clamped my hand over his mouth to silence it. "Enough, stop it. That's all for the future, with your wife."

He peeled my hand away gently, his gaze locking onto mine, soft and reverent. "Miss..." Then, warmer, like sunlight on skin: "Geetha."

"Ooo..." I hummed, a tuneless surrender, as his left hand claimed my breast again, kneading with a pressure that bowed my back like a reed in the wind.

"I want our first night, Geetha."

I swatted his cheek lightly, summoning a flicker of pretend anger to hide the flutter in my ribs. "Your talk is getting too much."

"Please, Geetha. Let's have our first night."

Why this now, in the thick of our recklessness? It tugged at me, so boyishly earnest it nearly broke my resolve. "It's not possible."

"Please... just once."

I faltered, words crumbling under that plea in his eyes. "Uh-uh... when I say no, you should stop, puppy."

He dipped his head and nipped at the swell over my heart, a playful bite that jolted me upright. "Ahhh!"

"It's Gautam sir's luck," he said, a shadow of something sharper—envy?—edging his voice. "Once he returns here, he'll squeeze and bite these. I won't be here."

I hesitated, then let the truth slip, soft as a confession. "To be honest, he doesn't pay much attention to them."

A spark flared in his eyes, possessive and bright. "Then I will pay a lot of attention."

He proved it in an instant, squeezing my right breast as he captured my lower lip, drawing me into a kiss that turned feral, tongues tangling in a slick slide of saliva. His sugary little mustache tickled, a sweet abrasion against my skin as our lips bruised and rubbed. Bharat's kisses weren't like Gautam's—mechanical, dutiful. No, his were explorations, bold and teasing: his tongue tracing the delicate gums of my upper jaw, licking with a hunger that spun my head. He held me gently at first, then bit and sucked, pulling my tongue into the dance until drool trailed between us, ignored in the frenzy.

All the while, his thumb strummed my nipple like a string on a veena, those pins and needles stuttering through me, climbing toward some starry peak I couldn't quite reach. The world shrank to this: the crush of his five fingers on my flesh, the wet heat of his mouth claiming mine.

"Please," he gasped against my lips, pulling back just enough to beg. "I'll take a bath too. Let's have our first night."

"Are you crazy?"

"I want it. It's my wish."

"Please, dear... that's not a game. Listen to me..."

He pressed my breast again, pinching the bud until I hissed through my teeth. "Ssssh... Bharat."

"Just for a little while..."

I didn't fight it—couldn't, really. I leaned back, guiding both his hands to my breasts, letting him squeeze them round and full, like trumpets blaring my defeat. The pleasure washed over me, comfortable and electric, a balm I didn't deserve but craved all the same.

"Just looking at these makes my mouth water," he groaned, voice thick.

"Hmm... will you eat them?"

"Do you want me to suck them?"

I nodded, yielding like a wave to the shore, and he dove in. Squeezing one with his left hand, he drew the other into his mouth, his tongue a brush, saliva the paint, stroking my skin until I burned from the inside out. I closed my eyes, cradling his head as if feeding a hungry child, moans spilling from me like smoke. Bubbles of his spit foamed against my breast, ratcheting the heat until I clung to him, desperate. His hardness ground against my softness through the towel, the rough weave of his pants threading fire between us.

My hands found his T-shirt, bunching the hem and yanking it up. He lifted his arms, helping, and I tossed it aside, drinking in the sight of him—lean and sports-carved, muscles flexing under my gaze, veins tracing his neck like rivers on a map, that faint new down of hair sprouting across his chest. He'd shot up an inch lately, I realized with a pang, my fingers stroking those soft paths before I kissed his neck, tasting the salt of his youth.

Bharat shifted, easing the towel lower until it pooled on our thighs like surrendered silk. His hands slid under my buttocks, lifting and squeezing until a groan tore from my throat, my lips seeking the firm ridge of his pectoral. "Mmmmmm..."

"What do you like about me, Miss?" he asked, his voice roughened, edged with need.

"Your eyes, nose, chest..." I murmured, sealing each word with a kiss to that muscle, my breath hot on his skin.

He cupped my neck, tilting my face to his, eyes searching. "You like my nose..."

"Yes. It's sharp and wonderful."

"Sharp?" He traced it along my neck, his exhale a furnace against my veins, fogging my thoughts until I was lost. "You like it when it's sharp?"

"Hmm..." I groaned, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, hauling him against my chest until we were fused, heartbeats syncing in the crush.

His left hand crept higher, from my waist to the sensitive hollow under my armpit, thumb teasing my right breast anew. I seized the nape of his neck, kissing his ear as he licked my neck—light, feathering—then grazed it with a tooth's edge.

"Hey..." I pushed him back, half-hearted, my resolve a threadbare thing.

But he surged forward, leaning over me to claim my right breast, lips warm as soft needles pricking fire into my veins. A cold shiver chased the heat, arching me off the mattress. "Ahhh..."

His hands roamed up, squeezing hard, kneading until I melted into the pleasure, boneless. "Oh, puppy, not that hard," I pleaded, even as it coiled low, insistent.

"Miss, I want to play with these for hours and hours."

I met his gaze, lids heavy. "Something will happen to me if you play for hours and hours, dear?"

Our palms slid together, fine hairs rising like sentinels. "Should I give you something to play with too?"

I knew exactly what he meant, a sly smile tugging my lips as I looked away, heat flushing my cheeks. He eased me back, propping me on my knees, then reached into his pants with his right hand. My fingertips brushed something scorching, and I couldn't stop myself—my hand closed around his shaft, gripping the throb of veins against my trembling skin. It was intoxicating, that pulse matching mine, heat seeping into my bones.

Breathing shallow, I let him squeeze my breast while I stroked him in return, slow and firm. He watched me with feral hunger, then bit my right nipple like a ripe red gbang, a burn lancing through me sharp and sweet. "Ssssh..." I clenched my teeth, grip tightening on him, unwilling to let go.

His manhood filled my hand—strong, hot, unyielding—and God, the urge to stroke it forever rooted deep. As he licked the curve of my ear, my hand drifted lower, cupping his testicles, squeezing until he stiffened, flushed red and straining.

My fingers wandered, brushing the coarse hair on my own thighs, and I flinched, reality slicing through the haze. "No, dear..."

He didn't retreat. The tip of his finger probed my entrance, insistent. "Ahhh..." It burned, exquisite, my body betraying me with a rush of hot fluids that slicked his skin, welcoming him home.

His heat clung to my fingers like glue, binding us in this reckless tangle, the room spinning with the weight of what we'd unleashed—and what we still might.

I applied the precum—slick and warm, like a secret shared in the dim light—vertically along his length, my fingers trembling as I held on, anchoring myself to the moment. My gaze locked onto his eyes, hungering for the curve of his lips, the promise they held.

Not even half an hour had slipped by, and already he stirred again, ready for another plunge into the fire we'd kindled. He traced a finger up from the heat between my thighs and held it before me, glistening. It clung to his skin like paakam, thick and syrupy, a testament to the storm brewing inside me. Curled against him like this, I hadn't noticed how thoroughly drenched I was becoming down there, a filthy, wet surrender I couldn't bring myself to regret.

"Miss," Bharat murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers racing across my skin, "which one should I put?"

His words were a temptation, laced with mischief, pulling at the edges of my restraint. I turned my face away, feigning shyness, even as my hand found him, massaging the rigid heat of his organ, drawing back the skin with a deliberate tug. A bead of oil from his glands clung to my fingers, sticky and insistent.

Leaning close, his breath hot against my ear, he whispered, "You could just say it with your mouth, right?"

A smile tugged at my lips unbidden, small and secret, betraying the thrill coiling in my belly.

"Chi, go..." I breathed into his ear, my voice a playful protest. "I don't know those words..."

He pulled me into a fierce hug, and I melted against him, pressing flush to his lap, nestling right between the vise of his thighs. His hands slid under my buttocks, lifting with intent, but I anticipated him—planting my feet against the bed, I ground myself against his hardness, the friction igniting a slow, thorough burn deep within.

I kissed his chin, my breath warm and ragged against his skin. He answered with a graze of lips on my cheek, soft as a vow.

"Miss," he said, voice husky now, "I'm taking off my pants."

How long could I hold back, rubbing against him like this, my body aflame, every nerve screaming for more? I pushed at his shoulders, trying to pin him to the bed, but he resisted with a strength that thrilled me, his hands firm on my arms.

"Miss, stand up."

I obeyed, sliding from the bed as he commanded, my legs unsteady beneath me. He rose too, shedding his pants in one fluid motion, the fabric pooling at his feet like discarded inhibitions. A tingling ache pulsed in my thighs, refusing to let me stand still, my body humming with anticipation.

The instant he was free, his hands claimed my waist, kneading the flesh there before drawing me close, our bodies colliding in a rush of heat. He cradled my head, burying his face in my navel, pressing his mouth against the soft dip with a reverence that made my knees weaken.

"If i look for the boobs," he teased, voice muffled against my skin, "this waist will compete, Miss..."

I swatted the back of his head lightly, a laugh bubbling up even as desire tightened its grip. His hands roamed lower, tracing the curves beneath my back with a gentleness that belied the mischief in his touch. They tempted every inch of me, coaxing shivers from my core as he rubbed his warm cheeks against my waist, then cupped my buttocks, massaging with bold intent.

"Mmm..." The sound escaped me, unfiltered, a plea wrapped in pleasure.

"Oh, Miss," he groaned, "I really can't figure out what to kiss."

I was beyond stopping him—beyond wanting to. My fingers threaded silently through his hair, urging him on. In that suspended breath, his lips ventured lower, brushing the fine hairs below my navel, and electricity surged through me, my entire body alight.

Eyes fluttering shut, I let out a soft moan, arching my navel toward him in silent offering. From behind, his hands squeezed my buttocks like ripe panasa gujju, the pressure grounding me even as his mouth found the fat swell above my cunt, nipping gently with his lips.

As his mouth grazed the thatch of hair, an unbearable itch bloomed, fierce and demanding. I rose onto my heels, parting to offer the juicy tendrils beneath. His tongue met them at last, and the world blurred—clouds swallowing my vision, thunder cracking between my thighs.

The longing that had simmered since our last union ignited then, quenched in an instant by the warm flood of his saliva. To steady my quaking, he gripped me harder, fingers digging in, but he didn't relent, his tongue circling my clitoris with relentless, teasing strokes.

"Oh, don't chew it up," I gasped, half-laughing, half-pleading.

He paused, lifting his gaze to mine, eyes dark with amusement. "You say no, so why did this come up when I was kissing your waist?" His thumb brushed the swollen peak, sending sparks through me.

"It doesn't listen to me," I admitted, voice breathy. "It's the one that wants the kisses."

"And you?"

"Even though I didn't want it a while ago... now I do." I bit my lip, the confession hanging between us like smoke.

With a wicked glint, he slid his right ring finger into my soaked heat, the intrusion slick and deep. My thighs clenched instinctively around him.

"Ahh..." A small shriek tore from my throat as I clutched his head tighter, the tip of his finger burrowing inside, stoking the throb of need that pulsed through me.

He paired it with his lips, thrusting gently while kissing the sensitive nub above. My navel grew heavy, weighted with ache, while the rest of me floated, light and itchy with building ecstasy.

"Sss... Don't do that," I pleaded, even as my hips betrayed me, seeking more.

"Why...?" He pushed deeper, another inch claiming me.

"Aahh..." I yanked at his hair, torn between pull and push.

Undeterred, his tongue delved on, lapping without mercy. I shattered then, unable to hold back—the wetness soaking his lips in a rush of surrender. His left hand rose, claiming my right breast, squeezing with unapologetic hunger. I covered his hand with mine, guiding him, yielding to the rhythm as his thumb circled the nipple, rubbing and pinching until stars danced behind my eyelids.

"Mmm... Hey, why can't your hands stay in one place?" I murmured, half-chiding, half-begging.

"If I hold one part of you," he replied, voice rough with want, "the other part tempts me."

His right hand pressed my back, arching me into him; his left kneaded my breast, thumb tormenting the peak; and his mouth... oh, his mouth worked its magic below, drawing my pupils upward in a haze of bliss. Tingles raced over my skin, coiling tighter, hurtling me toward the edge.

"Ahh... Ssss..." The sounds spilled from me, raw and unbidden.

Squeezing my buttocks from behind, sucking the outer folds in front, he lapped at the honeyed wetness like a man starved, my nerves alive and dancing in wild abandon. Then he stilled, rising to press a kiss to the soft fat below my navel.

"Miss, should I worship your pussy like this every day?" His words were bold, vulgar, a spark to my kindling shame.

"Stop the vulgar talk," I whispered, even as heat flooded my cheeks.

"Just once, you could say it."

"What?"

"Say it."

"No..."

He relished this game, drawing out my inhibitions like a slow unraveling. And gods help me, I craved it too—the intoxication of his explicit whispers, the way they stripped me bare. Seizing his hair, I pulled him up, offering my mouth to his in a desperate clash.

Kissing a trail down my thigh, he murmured, "Miss, shall we get on the bed?"

I collapsed onto the sheets in a hurry, dragging him down with me, his weight a welcome anchor. His lips found my neck, trailing fire as he settled between my thighs, the tip of him brushing my yoni, hot and insistent.

The moment I felt that heat, I parted eagerly, thighs splaying in invitation. A small smile flickered in his eyes—joy for him, electric thrill for me.

Holding his neck, I pulled him close, my warning laced with passion: "Slowly, don't rush..."

Eagerness warred with caution; I ached to draw him in, yet the sharp twinge of fullness that followed always left me breathless, unsettled. We were still learning each other, bodies adjusting to this intimate dance.

One hand wrapped around his vaadi daanni, I guided him, peeling back the foreskin and easing him forward. He rubbed against my inner walls, friction sparking fresh flow, the glide smoother this time without a barrier. His oil mingled with my juices, a slick alliance that eased his entry.

Unrest bloomed sudden and fierce inside me, restlessness clawing at my restraint.

"Sss..." I arched my neck, sinking my teeth into his shoulder to muffle the cry.

"Miss," he groaned, ever attentive, "should I hold your waist?"

I surrendered to the haze of the room, my voice a husky whisper against his ear. "Do whatever you like," I told Bharat, "but slowly." 

He moved with a reverence that made my pulse stutter, squatting low on his heels, his callused hands spreading my waist wide, parting me like a secret he'd been dying to claim. He lifted himself, guiding his cock with that deliberate care of his, and began thrusting into me—slow, insistent strokes that unraveled me from the inside out.

Every nerve in my body prickled, shivers racing like wildfire from my fingertips to the soles of my feet. A low, involuntary hum slipped from my lips: "Mmmmmm...." The thrill of his rhythm made my pussy quiver without mercy, a slick heat blooming between my thighs that I hadn't even registered until it was too late. God, I was drenched, lost in the way he filled me, my composure shattering with each pulse.

"Shh..." he whispered, his breath scorching the tender skin under my neck, his eyes drifting downward with that familiar hunger. 

Why were men so utterly obsessed with a woman's boobs? Was it the emptiness on their own chests, that flat plane they could never know? Or just the raw, animal thrill of groping something soft, something that yielded under their fingers? Whatever it was, his left hand claimed my right boob then, squeezing hard enough to steal my breath.

I melted deeper into those shivers, a soft moan bubbling up as he kept up those languid thrusts. A smile tugged at my lips despite myself, and I met his gaze—those intense eyes boring into mine like he could see straight through to the chaos he was stirring. He squeezed harder, shifting his ankles for leverage, driving deeper with a precision that tore a gasp from my throat.

"Ahh... You're thrusting while squeezing," I breathed, the words tumbling out half-formed, tangled in the air between us.

"Feels good, right?" His voice was gravel-rough, laced with that boyish need.

"Mmm..." I cupped his face in both hands, holding him there, my soft moans urging him deeper into the dance. I guided him with tiny, teasing jerks of my hips, and that's when the thrill crashed over me again—a rogue wave, pulling me under without warning.

In a blind frenzy, I flung my hands behind my head, fingers pressing into my navel as if I could somehow hold back the storm raging inside. Juices flowed unchecked now, soaking us both, a slick testament to the fire he'd lit low in my belly. He leaned in close, his lips grazing my neck in a kiss that felt more like a brand.

"Can I go a bit faster...?" he asked, his voice quivering on the brink.

I nodded, murmuring a faint "Mmm..." that unlocked him. He picked up the pace with a surge of enthusiasm, his eyes locked on mine, never wavering. My navel burned, a white-hot knot of pleasure twisting tighter with every stroke.

"Aahh... Don't thrust like that," I protested, even as my body betrayed me, arching greedily toward him.

"Iss... Miss... I don't know," he groaned, his hips finding a fiercer rhythm, "your pussy is sucking me in so tight..." His balls slapped against me with each thrust, the wicked rhythm brushing near my asshole, sending sparks that made the whole world tilt.

He slid his hands under my hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh of my thighs as he adjusted, angling himself just right. On instinct, I hooked my right leg behind his left thigh, drawing him in, deeper, closer—needing every inch. He plunged fully then, burying his face in the crook of my neck, his tongue tracing feverish paths as he pounded into me, unrestrained and wild.

"Aah... Aah..." The cries ripped from me, sharp and breathless.

"Miss, it’s right?" he asked, the words a possessive growl vibrating against my skin.

"Mmm..." It was all I could summon—a hum of yes that fueled him. He lifted his thighs and slammed home once, hard, the slap landing like a thunderclap, knocking the wind from my lungs in a rush.

"Aaaahh... Don't thrust like that," I gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. "It feels like it's churning my stomach."

"Oh god, Miss, I just want to fuck you non-stop..." His voice broke into a ragged growl as he dragged the full length of himself against me, grinding slow and deliberate. His hands roamed under my blouse, clutching at me like I might dissolve if he let go.

"Slowly feels better..." I murmured, tilting my head to taste the salt on his neck. He answered by licking mine, grunting like an animal, his hot breaths fanning over me in waves that left me dizzy.

"Uff..." He pulled back just enough to watch himself sliding into me, and I cradled his face, moaning soft encouragements. "Aahh... Yes... You've learned, huh?"

"Did I pass?" A grin flashed through the lust, that cocky spark of his.

"I’d give you a hundred out of a hundred," I teased, wonder threading my voice.

"For a hundred marks, give me a kiss." I lifted my head, sealing my lips to his in a deep, devouring press. He groaned into my mouth, grunting with each thrust, and I drowned in it—the wet slap of our bodies, the creak of the bed beneath us, the inferno consuming me whole. My body writhed in sweet agony, every nerve alight.

"Aahh..." Bharat was a badminton player, after all—built for stamina, showing no mercy, no fatigue. The squelching sounds between my thighs turned filthy—puchuk puchuk—a lewd chorus underscoring our frenzy.

He collapsed onto me in a rush, teeth sinking into my left shoulder, right at the curve of my neck, biting down hard enough to bruise. "Amma... Bite me," I urged, the sharp sting blooming into liquid bliss.

"Nn... Mmm... Yes..." He muttered nonsense against my skin, then lapped at the mark, soothing it with his tongue like a prayer. I lost track of time, of everything—would he ever tire? Ever finish? I was the one unraveling, teetering on the edge of blackout.

"Ahh... Ahh... Puppy..." We tangled together, limbs slick with sweat, his face buried in my neck as he sobbed softly, his perspiration mingling with mine, drenching the hollows.

"Aah, Miss, it's the third time—I’ll be late," he panted, regret edging his words.

"So, isn't this happening right now...?" I shot back, a soft challenge laced with laughter.

"I don't know..." He hissed through the next thrust, and I dissolved into giggles that melted into moans. "Ah... Yes..."

With my husband, I tallied every moment like coins in a jar—obligations, routines, careful measures. But with Bharat? Minutes blurred into irrelevance. In his arms, I gave myself over completely, my world shrinking to the echo of my own cries, the crush of his weight, the relentless climb toward release.

"Iss, Miss, now we're doing exactly what we saw in those porn videos," he rasped, awe bleeding into his tone.

"Aahh, you're pounding just like that too, huh?" I could scarcely speak before his mouth crashed into mine—kissing, sucking, his tongue painting my face in desperate, wet strokes. I shut my eyes, reveling in the assault, the way everything below my waist dissolved into drenched, pulsing heat.

"Aahh... Aahh... i can’t... please cum raa," I pleaded, my voice fracturing.

"It's not coming, Miss..." He reared up, pounding with feral abandon, and my body quaked beneath him, tremors building from the core.

"Oh god... Ha... Hah..." The sounds tore free as he ground his teeth, then crumpled onto my breasts, biting my neck in one final, savage mark before going slack. Hot fullness surged inside me, a scorching flood that left me gasping, spent.

We lay there, breaths ragged and entwining, necks nuzzling in the hazy afterglow—lazy kisses traded like secrets.

"I don’t want to head home..." Bharat murmured, the words heavy with reluctance.

"You should go?" My fingers traced idle patterns on his back, loath to break the spell.

Exhaustion pulled at him; his eyes drifted shut. "I'm sleepy."

And in that instant, as the high receded like a tide, a hollow ache bloomed in my chest. He slammed me back to earth like a fool's afterthought—crashing, careless. 

There is a certain intoxication in wrongdoings.

 Now I’m realising it’s taste.

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To be continued……….

[Siva.s]

Welcome back. And superb update

[Haran000]

Welcome back. And superb update

Thank you 

[Haran000]

update cancel 

[Haran000]

sorry 

[Haran000]

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[Sage_69]

Loved the update. It seems nobody will restrict each other.

[Projectmp]

Amazing updates . Welcome back Haran garu. Hope everything is good on your end.

[Herbiee]

Slowly… Erotically…Extraordinarily. U r suprrrbb BrO.
Reading. . .


  

[Herbiee]

[Rakul1985]

Any side story about other professors like Ramya teacher.