Adultery Geetha ~ teacher

[Suresh@123]

Super hot. Pls next update involved Threesome with Geetha. After lesbian and blindfolded series continues. I think Bharat and Goutham threesome sex with Geetha. After involved lesbian friends also with blindfold suprises

[Kore shivkant]

update cancel 

Why bro?????

[Kore shivkant]

I couldn't stop reading the last update.....it is awesome haran.....when can we expect the next update????

[Peter004]

Ayoo ..that's reading it new post once got time ..but post got deleted

[Nishikant.Wayal]

Very long update after long wait nice one, eagerly waiting for next

[Thangaraasu]

Awesome

[val.coutinho]

Haran bro why did you cancel the update...... It was so nice and erotic husband and wife getting involved sensually in front of Bharath

[Haran000]

Thanks to you all.

Check my other stories below.

[Haran000]

19. For you darling!

Gautam had been booking their flight tickets to Canada when a fleeting memory surfaced—Geetha’s single trip to Dubai years ago, the faint scent of desert sand still clinging to her stories. Just a month and ten days prior, he himself had flown from Hyderabad to Montreal via Boston, the sterile tang of recycled cabin air a bitter reminder of the miles. But now, on the night of May seventeenth, it was Geetha and Bharat who touched down in Boston after a grueling haul from Dubai. The roar of jet engines faded into the muffled hum of the airport terminal, where the air hung heavy with the sharp bite of jet fuel and overbrewed coffee from nearby kiosks. Exhausted, their limbs leaden from the cramped seats and the relentless drone of multilingual announcements, they shuffled toward the airport hotel Gautam had reserved in advance—a modest sanctuary of beige carpets and the faint, musty whiff of industrial cleaner, promising one night’s respite before their early connection to Montreal.

The room card beeped with a soft, electronic chirp as it unlocked the door, releasing a puff of cool, conditioned air laced with the subtle floral notes of cheap hotel soap. Geetha stepped inside first, her eyes sweeping the simple space: a single queen-sized bed swathed in crisp white linens that rustled faintly under the overhead light’s sterile glow, a lone bathroom door ajar with its porcelain gleam, and the quiet hum of the air conditioner whispering against the distant rumble of airport traffic. She sighed, a deep, bone-weary exhale that carried the faint salt of dried sweat on her skin, and stepped aside to draw Bharat in behind her. He closed the door with a decisive click that echoed like a full stop in the hushed room, and in an instant, his arms wrapped around her, hugging her tight. The heat of his body seeped through her rumpled t-shirt, a comforting press of firm muscle against her softer curves, while his hands slipped beneath the hem, fingers splaying across the warm, slightly damp silk of her waist. His calluses, rough from years of unyielding labor back home, grazed her skin like sandpaper on velvet, sending a shiver up her spine. His eyes, wide and gleaming under the dim lamp’s amber haze, brimmed with wonder, surprise, and an awe that bordered on disbelief—the sharp, metallic tang of jet lag sharpening his gaze. For Bharat, who had never so much as crossed state lines back home, where the air was thick with monsoon mud and temple incense, this was a miracle: continents bridged, America beneath his feet, its cool, unfamiliar chill seeping through the thin soles of his sneakers. And the only soul to share this electric joy with was Geetha, her familiar jasmine shampoo mingling with the faint, acrid edge of travel-weary perspiration.

“Miss,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, a low rumble that vibrated against her ear like distant thunder, “my life is changing because of you. I’m so happy now. I never thought I’d be traveling the world like this so soon.” His breath was warm and minty from the gum he’d chewed through the flight, brushing her cheek like a summer breeze.

She understood the raw thrill in his words, the boyish elation bubbling over like fizzy soda, and she hugged him back, her cheek pressed to his shoulder, inhaling the clean, soapy scent of his skin mingled with the faint musk of anticipation. “I know, ra,” she whispered, her voice a soft rasp from hours of strained small talk on the plane. “Are you less scared now?” Her fingers traced idle circles on his back, feeling the taut ridges of his spine through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Hmm... I’m not scared, Miss. It’s just that my mother will be tensed. That’s why.” His words carried a faint tremor, like the echo of worry in his chest, and she could feel his heart thumping steadily against her own, a reassuring drumbeat in the quiet room.

“Hmm... Okay, don’t think about anything. Put on your nightdress and sleep. We have to wake up in five hours to catch our flight to Montreal. Okay?” The clock on the nightstand glowed 9:15 PM in harsh red digits, its tick a relentless reminder of the dawn departure.

“Hmm...”

He pulled back just enough to gaze into her eyes, his own filled with a tender, unspoken love that made the air between them hum with unspoken promises. He leaned in to kiss her, the faint stubble on his jaw whispering against her skin, but Geetha placed a gentle hand on his chest, feeling the rapid flutter of his pulse beneath her palm like a caged bird. “Change your clothes and sleep. That’s all.”

He said nothing, stepping away to give her space, though a flicker of disappointment shadowed his face, darkening his eyes like clouds over a full moon. Geetha’s expression softened with a touch of sadness, her lips parting on a sigh that tasted of stale airline pretzels, and she turned toward the bathroom without another word. It was just one room, one bed—one intimate bubble in a foreign land, where the faint scent of bleach from the linens clashed with the underlying staleness of recycled air.

Bharat set his bag by the bed with a soft thud, the zipper’s rasp cutting the silence as he peeled off his t-shirt, revealing the lean, sun-kissed planes of his chest, still carrying the faint, earthy residue of Hyderabad’s dust. His gaze drifted to the closed bathroom door, a glossy barrier that muffled the first trickle of running water. A restless pull tugged at him, urging him forward, his mind whispering temptations laced with the humid heat of curiosity. He took a step, hand hovering near the knob, the cool metal biting into his fingertips.

“Don’t come in here. Stop...” Geetha’s warning sliced through the door, sharp but laced with fatigue, her voice echoing off the tiled walls like a splash in a still pool.

Yet Bharat, ever the mischievous one, ignored it, the thrill of defiance quickening his breath into shallow huffs. He pushed the door open a crack, the hinges sighing softly, and peered inside. The air hit him first—thick with steam and the coppery tang of fresh blood, undercut by the floral sharpness of her body wash. There she was: pants dbangd over the sink like wilted petals, a stark red stain blooming on the fabric, dark and viscous under the fluorescent buzz. Geetha sat on the edge of the toilet, the porcelain cool against her bare thighs, carefully separating a blood-filled menstrual cup from between her legs with a wet, sucking pop. She emptied its contents into the bowl with a faint plop, the metallic scent blooming stronger now, primal and unyielding, before tossing the cup into the bin with a muffled clatter. A stray drop of blood trailed down, raw and glistening, slipping from her vulva like a crimson tear, catching the light in a slick sheen.

Bharat’s face tightened, an innocent fear knotting his brow, his nostrils flaring at the unfamiliar, iron-rich aroma that twisted his gut. Questions flooded him, unformed and urgent, tasting sour on his tongue. Geetha’s eyes snapped up, catching him there, and she snatched her black panty from the floor, the elastic snapping taut as she hastily covered herself, the fabric whispering against her damp skin. “Why did you come in?” she said, her voice a mix of awe and nerves, cracking like thin ice under the hum of the exhaust fan. “Go, ra. It’s not good for you to see this.” Her cheeks flushed hot, the steam curling around her like a veil, carrying the faint, soapy lather of her hurried rinse.

Drawn by a youthful curiosity he couldn’t quell, he took a tentative step forward, the tile floor cold and unyielding beneath his socks. “Miss, what happened? Is that blood?” His voice was a hushed croak, the word “blood” hanging heavy, evoking the sharp sting of childhood scbangs.

“You go... don’t look.” Her tone sharpened, but her hands trembled slightly, the air between them thick with the humid mist and unspoken vulnerability.

But his agitation held him fast, feet rooted like saplings in the damp warmth. He closed the distance, kneeling before her on the gritty tile, his hands steady on her shoulders, thumbs brushing the damp straps of her bra, feeling the subtle quiver of her breath. “Miss, why is there blood...?” He searched her eyes, dark pools reflecting the overhead light’s glare.

She cupped his face in her hands, drawing him close, her palms cool and faintly clammy against his cheeks, her touch a balm against the awkwardness that prickled like static. “This is what happens to women,” she said softly, masking her own discomfort with a steady inhale that carried the faint, antiseptic bite of the bathroom air. “You don’t know.”

Stroking his hair, her fingers threading through the damp curls at his nape, releasing a whiff of his shampoo—crisp and citrusy—she continued, “You go outside, ra. I’ll wash up and come out.” The words vibrated gently against his scalp.

“Miss, tell me what happened, please.” His plea was earnest, laced with the faint tremor of fear, his knees aching faintly against the hard floor.

“Nothing happened. Don’t worry.” Her voice softened to a murmur, like rain pattering on leaves.

“Then why did the blood come?” He leaned closer, inhaling the mingled scents of her—blood’s metallic edge softening under the overlay of warm water and soap.

She pressed a kiss to his forehead, her lips soft and slightly chapped, tasting faintly of lip balm’s waxy sweetness, and drew a deep breath that expanded her chest against his. “Women get periods every month. Blood comes out like this. It’s nothing, okay...?” The explanation hung in the steam, simple yet profound, the water’s steady drip punctuating her words like hesitant applause.

“Really, it’s nothing?” Doubt lingered in his tone, a shadow across his features.

She managed a smile, though it strained against her weariness, pulling at the corners of her mouth like taut silk. “Nothing happened. You go outside. I need to wash up.” The invitation was gentle, but the air felt heavier now, charged with the intimacy of revelation.

“Miss, I’ll stay with you. Is it really nothing?” His eyes pleaded, wide and unguarded, the fan’s whir a constant underscore.

“Okay, stay.” Resignation softened her voice, a quiet surrender.

He watched, breath held in his chest like a held note, as she reached for the hand shower, the plastic grip slick in her palm. Warm water hissed out in a fine mist, spraying over the stain between her thighs with a soft patter, the red diluting to rivulets that swirled pink down the drain, carrying away the sharper edges of the scent. The folds of her skin emerged, flushed and tender under the stream, and a wave of relief washed over him, loosening the knot in his throat. Geetha met his gaze without a word, offering a small, reassuring smile that crinkled the fine lines at her eyes, her breath steadying into the humid air.

Emboldened, he gripped her waist, fingers sinking into the yielding warmth of her hips, the faint tremor of her muscles under his touch like ripples on still water, and drew her to the toilet’s edge. Burying his face between her thighs, he inhaled deeply— the earthy musk of her arousal mingling with the fading copper of blood, a heady, forbidden elixir that quickened his pulse. She seized his hair, yanking him back with a sharp tug that stung his scalp. “Bharat, no...” Her voice was a gasp, edged with the raw scbang of surprise.

He lifted his head, eyes pleading, strands of damp hair falling across his forehead. “Why does this happen to women, Miss?” The question tasted of innocence, his lips still tingling with the phantom warmth of her skin.

“Do you know that women produce an egg?”

“Hmm... they call it an ovum, right? Men produce sperm.”

“Ha... women produce one a month. If it comes out and there’s no pregnancy, it goes to waste and comes out like this.”

His gaze dropped to her thighs once more. “Does blood always come out like this?”

“Sometimes.”

“Why does it come out, Miss?”

“The lining of the uterus sheds and comes out. That’s why there’s blood.”

“Does it hurt, Miss?”

“Hmm... it’s a little less now.”

“Miss, tell me again so I can understand?”

She cradled his face affectionately. “Women get periods every month, Bharat. The egg—” She touched her vulva lightly with a finger. “—comes here. If there is sperm, one of them takes the ovum, and if it does, they get pregnant.”

“Miss, this is in Biology.”

Looking deep into his eyes, she pressed on. “If there is no sperm, the uterine lining where the egg was attached sheds and comes out in three to five days. Blood also comes out.”

“Does it happen to everyone, Miss?”

“Ha... it happens to me, to Chandu, and to your mother too...”

Bharat fell silent, the revelation sinking in. He hadn’t even known women bled like this every month—a hidden rhythm of the world he’d only just glimpsed.

“I’ll tell you one thing, listen,” Geetha added, her voice steady.

“Hmm...”

“If you want to have sex with any girl, you must ask her first, and only if she likes it, only if she says there is no problem, and only if she agrees, should you do it.”

“Miss, but I didn’t ask you last time, right?”

“I am different, I know. I took tablets, you see.”

“Miss, if you hadn’t taken the tablet, would you have gotten pregnant?”

“It might happen, or it might not.”

“Then what we did...”

She covered his mouth with her hand. “It’s okay, ra. I liked what you did. But with another girl, always make sure you know about her periods before having sex. It’s not good to use a tablet in a hurry. Since I couldn’t say no when you unexpectedly asked me the other day, it happened.”

“Miss, can’t we fuck now?”

“We can. Why did you ask that?”

“Nothing, just a doubt.”

Geetha noticed the telltale bulge straining against his pants. “Miss, you take a shower, I’ll change my clothes...” He turned to step back, but her hand darted out, cupping the swell through the fabric.

“Aren’t you ashamed, ra?” she teased, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Does it get hard even after seeing this?”

“Sorry, Miss, I came here for something else, but after seeing you like this...”

She smiled at his sheepish head-scratching. “We have a flight tomorrow morning. Go to sleep...”

“Hmm... just for a little while, I thought...”

Her hand rubbed him through the cloth, and she bit her lip. “Do you want it, Bharat...?”

He startled back at her directness. “No, no, Miss, not now. You take a shower.”

But she tightened her grip, pulling him closer. “Come here...” As he yielded a step, she unbuckled his belt with swift fingers, tugged down the zipper, and freed his hardened length, squeezing it firmly.

Bharat averted his eyes, heat rising in his cheeks. “Miss, I thought I might not get a chance once we get there.”

She caressed his cock, feeling it swell under her touch. “What do you think we should do if he finds out about us?”

“I’ll be careful, Geetha. I won’t put my hands on you in front of him.”

Geetha began stroking him in earnest. “I’ll talk to Gautam gaaru and make sure you sleep next to me.”

He bent low, drowning in her eyes. “No... if you do that, I might not be able to control myself, Miss...” His fingers tangled in her hair, gripping her neck.

She twisted away with a fierce tug. “Then, can you be alone?”

“I came to see Canada, that’s enough.”

They kissed then, lips crashing together. He sucked her upper lip, releasing it with a soft pop. “If I didn’t want this, I wouldn’t have come at all. Because I don’t want anything to happen between you two because of me.”

Her fingertips coaxed his balls gently, her left hand cinching his neck as she kissed his forehead. “I want you too, ra. Mine wants yours.”

Smiling softly, he prompted, “Mine means?”

Shyly, she kissed the tip of his organ. “This...”

“Sh... Don’t suck it, Miss. I might get tired. I feel a little strange.”

“It’s up to you, ra... Ask if you want it.”

Wordless, he kissed her neck, then knelt to press his lips to her navel. Geetha watched as he trailed lower, kissing her belly just above her pussy. In her haze, she didn’t stop him. Bharat dipped another inch, burying his face between her thighs, and kissed the red, hibiscus-like bloom of blood.

“Iss...” She groaned, clutching his head and yanking him back. “No....”

“Just once...” Insistent, he licked beneath her pussy lips, tasting the metallic tang.

Geetha’s body tingled, the cramping ache in her stomach easing into something warmer, more comforting under his tongue. He traced her vertical lips again.

“Aah... no, it’s not good, Bharat.”

She pulled away firmly this time, the passion he’d stoked threatening to overwhelm her. Scooping him up, she settled him on her lap atop the toilet seat, wrapping him in her arms. “No, ra... What you said is right, we should sleep.”

“Can I ask one thing?”

She stroked his back as he huddled against her. “Hmm...”

He kissed her neck, his hand caressing her left breast. “I want to watch Gautam gaaru fuck you.”

The words landed like a stone in her gut. How could she bear to diminish Gautam in Bharat’s eyes? “No.... How can you watch that? It’s wrong.”

“Please, Geetha.... I want to see how you fuck with your husband.”

“Bharat, don’t talk like that, ra.”

“Why are you still shy... we did the same thing, right? I want to watch.”

“I won’t agree. I don’t like it.”

“Please, just leave the door slightly ajar when you are in the bedroom tomorrow.”

“Okay, we’ll see if it’s possible, ra.”

“Miss... I like watching that. After seeing him suck your cock through the window that day, I wanted to see the fucking too, so I’m asking.”

“Why do you need to watch, ra? You fucked me yourself....”

The slip escaped her, and she bit her tongue, mortified.

Bharat laughed, light and teasing. She buried her face in her hands, flinching. “Chee... you are making me speak dirty words, you silly boy.”

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about all this between us.”

She kissed his shoulder. “You’re getting me used to it, ra.”

“Get used to it, Geetha. Do anything you want to your puppy.”

She flicked his head gently. “That’s enough, ra, go... sleep without thinking anything... I’ll come after my shower.”

“Hmm...”

Some time later, Geetha emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, the steam of her bath clinging to her skin. Bharat lay shirtless on the bed, the blanket dbangd loosely over him. But the hormonal storm inside her refused to quiet; the sight of him ignited an urge she couldn’t ignore. She loosened the towel’s knot and slid onto the bed beside him, biting her lip with a shy, mischievous smile as she kissed the taut muscle of his neck.

He turned to her, pressing a kiss to her cheek, and tugged the towel lower, his hand claiming and squeezing her breast. “Aren’t you asleep yet....” she murmured affectionately.

“I’m waiting for you....” He emerged from under the blanket, enveloping her in an embrace, the towel the only barrier between them.

“What does the puppy want?”

“Anything?”

His palm stroked her waist, fingers kneading the soft fold there. “Hmm...” she moaned softly.

“Miss, will it hurt if I put it in your pussy now?”

She raked her knuckles through his hair. “Shall I tell you something... It might feel good, ra... but I’ve never done it.”

He ventured lower, squeezing the white, pumpkin-like swell of her buttock in his full grasp. “Mmm....”

“Didn’t you do it with Gautam gaaru?”

“Uh-uh...”

He captured her lower lip in a kiss, squeezing her buttock harder. Geetha’s body tensed, then she nipped his lip sweetly in response.

As he bit back, she cried out, “Aaah...” and released him.

“Will you hit me, ra?”

“I felt like hitting you. Did it hurt?”

“If you hit me that hard, won’t it burn?”

“I won’t hit you if you say no.”

She dbangd her leg over him. His hand snaked from behind her buttocks into the warmth of her thighs, brushing the lower edge of her vertical lips. “Ah...”

“Miss, did you wash your ass well?”

She laughed, the sound bubbling up unexpectedly. “Why do you ask that, ra?”

“Tell me?”

“I just took a shower now, didn’t I?”

She lifted her arm, and he kissed her left armpit, sending a thrill racing through her. She grabbed his head, pressing him closer. “Hmm... Geetha...” he mumbled, intoxicated, his lips lingering.

“Hmm...”

He guided her onto her back and shifted, positioning himself behind her thighs. “What are you doing...?”

“I’ll tell you, bend over.”

Yielding to his whim, she lifted her hips and arched forward. He kissed a tiny mole on her milky-smooth back, and she shivered, eyes fluttering shut. His hand slid under her neck, cupping and squeezing her left breast. “Mmmmmm....” She bit her lip.

Inch by inch, Bharat kissed down her back, his teeth grazing the high curves of her buttocks. “Abba... H..”

He nipped and licked in quick, teasing darts. The cool balm of his tongue soothed the burn of his bites, doubling the pleasure coiling within her. As he gently tugged the soft, khoya-like flesh of her right buttock with his front teeth, Geetha trembled, lips caught between her teeth.

“Miss, close your mouth.”

“Wh—” Before the word formed, he bit deeper, pulling the fat of her buttock.

“AAAAA...” Her scream ripped through the room, nerves firing like lightning.

He licked the tender spot in apology. “Mmmmmm... What do you think they are that you’re biting them, you dog...”

Smack. Four finger marks bloomed on her left buttock, the flesh quivering. Eyes squeezed shut, she savored the sharp pleasure amid the sting. “Amma... Bharat... why are you hitting me, you psycho...”

He dbangd himself over her, licking her neck. “When you scream like that, it’s crazy, Geetha. Do you know how they shake when I hit them?”

She clawed at the pillows overhead, gripping her head. “Don’t delay, ra, please put yours in..”

“Put what?”

“Abba, don’t ask, don’t you know?”

Squeezing the slapped spot, he coaxed, “You can tell me, can’t you?”

“Ah...”

She reached back through her thighs, guiding his hand to her pussy lips, pressing his fingers there. Gazing at her raw need, he slipped his little finger inside. “Iss... Not that...”

“Hmm...”

He joined his ring finger. “Uff...”

“Miss, do you know what I’m going to do now?”

“Tell me...”

Fingering her pussy with his right hand, he parted her buttocks with his left, sinking his face into the cleft and kissing her asshole. “Aaah...” Geetha groaned, lust shuddering through her as she crushed the pillows in her fists.

His tongue delved eagerly, laving her. She lurched forward, bracing against the bed, and twisted to glare at him. “Chee.... you have no sense, ra. What is that dirty thing?”

He rose to lick her neck. “Mmm... I told you, didn’t I, that I’d lick all of you?”

“Chi, even there...”

She flicked his head, then slid her hand down to grip his cock. The itch in her pussy clawed at her, and she angled him, urging entry.

Bharat exhaled hot breaths against her face and kissed her. “Do it slowly, okay.”

“Do what?”

“Insert it, ra...”

He tapped his cock against her mound. “Mmmm....” She bit his chin.

“What should I do after inserting it, Miss?”

“Abba, insert it, don’t delay.”

He teased her vertical lips, stroking horizontally across her raw vulva. Her craving peaked; she screamed and slapped his face. “Insert it, you rascal...”

“I’ll thrust it in, Miss, if you tell me what to do after inserting it...”

“Please, ra...” She bucked her hips, pressing his cock to her entrance with her own hand.

But Bharat held firm, his game unrelenting. Her pussy throbbed, desperate for release. Face buried in the pillow, she mumbled, “Fuck...”

“I didn’t hear you clearly....” He chuckled.

“Fuck me....” she begged, eyes clamped shut in shame.

Slowly, he pressed forward, the head of his cock slipping into her depths with a wet plop. “Aaah... Ssssss...”

He eased in another inch. “Hush... Miss, your pussy is so soft..”

She fisted the pillows, arching up. Bharat focused, sinking deeper, and began a gentle rhythm with his hips. “Ah... ah... Abba... do it slowly, slowly, just like that...”

Leaning over her, he soothed, “Okay, okay...”

Palm braced against the bed, he drove back and forth with deliberate slowness. “Ah, ah... Abba...”

He captured her groaning lips in a kiss. “Hmm... Close your mouth, Miss...”

She reached up, eyes sealing shut. He maintained the unhurried pace, pleasure building without frenzy.

“I’ll fuck you all night, Miss.”

“Hmm... Gautam hasn’t done this even once, ra. He never holds back when I ask him to be slow.”

“I’m doing it, aren’t I, Miss?”

“Ah... thanks, ra...”

He licked her armpit. “But when will it come...”

“Do it until it comes, ra. How can you hold back?”

“I don’t know. Does Gautam gaaru not hold back?”

“Uh-uh... he can’t last even two minutes.”

“Really? Miss, shall we see how many minutes I can hold back?”

“You took a good amount of time last time.”

“Not like that, let’s check, look at the time on the phone.”

“Hmm...”

He withdrew slowly, and her nerves screamed in protest. “Iss... Don’t take it out.”

“Just one minute.”

He snatched the phone from the bedside, passed it to her, kissed her deeply, parted her thighs, and plunged back in with exquisite care. “Abba...”

The clock read 9:43 PM. He leaned in, lips on hers, and resumed his steady thrusts. Her juices slickened him, her walls gripping, vertical lips sucking him deeper.




Time: 21:49...

“Ah... Bharat... how are you holding back, ra?”

“Should I fuck you harder then?”

“No, no...”

...

Time: 21:59

“Fuck, ra... Ah, ah...”

“Ah, Miss, don’t scream.”

“Mmmmm... It’s been more than ten minutes, ra…!”

“Stop, don’t talk.”

...

Time: 22:10

“Uff, Miss.”

“Aah... no... slow.”

“Ah, it’s coming, I can’t stop it..... Mmm....”

“Ah, Amma.. Am… Ha… Amma….”

“Hush... Abba, Miss...”

“Aaah... AAAAaah…. H…”

“Ha, Miss, stop... It’s over.”

...

Time: 22:14

They clung together fiercely, legs entwined, collapsing into a sated tangle of limbs and breaths, the world narrowing to the quiet comfort of their shared afterglow.

[Haran000]

At ten forty in the morning, Geetha and Bharat emerged from the customs line, luggage in tow, into the bustling Arrivals hall of the Montreal airport. The air hummed with the chatter of travelers and the distant rumble of announcements. There, some distance away, stood Gautam in a sharp blue suit, waving enthusiastically. His presence cut through the crowd like a beacon. A broad smile lit Geetha's face, and she quickened her pace, Bharat matching her stride with a mix of exhaustion and excitement.

As they drew nearer, Geetha noticed the changes in her husband—the subtle leanness in his frame, the way the suit accentuated his handsome features, paired with a crisp white-striped tie and polished brown leather boots. *What a bikini is to a woman,* she thought with a private thrill, *a suit is to a man.*

She reached him first, throwing her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. Gautam responded with affection, pressing a kiss to her neck and then her cheek before turning his gaze to Bharat, who was momentarily lost in the grandeur of the airport, his eyes wide with the thrill of a new world.

"The journey was endless," Geetha murmured, leaning in to kiss her husband's clean-shaven chin.

Gautam touched his nose to hers, a intimate gesture that spoke volumes. "It couldn't be helped, could it?" he replied softly. Then, extending a hand to Bharat, he added, "I'm glad you're here."

Bharat shook it firmly, snapping out of his reverie. "How are you, sir?"

"I'm well," Gautam said with a warm grin. "And you? How did the exams go?"

Bharat's smile was sheepish. "I wrote them just as Geetha Miss instructed. Whatever marks I get, the full responsibility is hers."

Geetha feigned offense, pinching his arm lightly. "So, if they're low, it's my fault, is it?"

"I didn't say that, Miss!" Bharat protested, rubbing the spot.

Gautam threw his head back in a hearty laugh and relieved Geetha of the trolley. "Haha... Enough, you two. Let's get out of here, Bharat. And remember—no worries, alright? If anything comes up, you tell me or your teacher."

"Okay, sir," Bharat nodded, falling into step behind them as they wove through the throng.

The drive from Montreal wound toward Quebec City, the sleek car gliding over smooth roads. They veered left onto the La Croche River path, crossed the shimmering water, and slipped into a narrow lane flanked by dense woods. Finally, the vehicle slowed to a halt before a sprawling villa, its silhouette rising like a secret from the forested embrace.

Bharat stepped out first, his jaw dropping at the sight. Towering walls, easily fifty feet high, encircled the property, enclosing a world unto itself amid the whispering trees. It felt like the set of a lavish film, where romance or intrigue might unfold under the canopy of leaves.

Geetha and Gautam alighted next, her eyes sparkling with the same wonder. She bumped her shoulder playfully against his as he slipped an arm around her waist.

"Sir, do you actually live here?" Bharat asked, half in awe, half teasing. "Are you running some kind of mafia operation?"

Gautam chuckled, the sound rich and easy. "Haha, no, Bharat. This is my MD's place—we're just borrowing it. But we'll be staying here with you now."

Geetha leaned into him, and Gautam drew her closer. "A little privacy never hurts," he murmured.

Bharat caught the undercurrent, grinning. "Looks like you've planned a second honeymoon, sir."

Geetha's cheeks flushed, and she shot him a mock glare. "Hey... *Chup*—quiet!"

Gautam laughed again. "Fine, fine. You can borrow it for your own honeymoon one day, Bharat."

The boy looked pleased but averted his gaze, a faint blush creeping up his neck. Geetha noticed and teased further. "Oh! The boy's blushing. You'll learn all about honeymoons after those results come in."

"Why discourage me like this, Miss?" Bharat groaned good-naturedly.

"Then why rush it?" she countered. "You're here for the tour, remember?"

Gautam intervened with a gentle wave. "Hey, leave him be, Geetha. He's not a kid anymore. Come on—inside."

He swung open the wrought-iron gate, parked the car in the shaded drive, and led them through the grand ten-foot door with a flourish of keys. 

The entrance hall unfolded before them like a dream: vast and flooded with natural light, adorned with four plush sofa sets in varying hues, elegant curtains framing floor-to-ceiling windows, and a glittering chandelier suspended like a frozen cascade overhead. It was a castle in miniature, opulent and inviting.




Bharat whistled low. "Miss, if you added up my house, your house, Harish's, Chandana's—all of them together—they still wouldn't have this many sofas."

Geetha glanced around, a touch of overwhelm in her voice. "Why such a palace for just the three of us, sir?"

Gautam shrugged, his arm still around her. "It came free of charge. Who cares about the size?"

Bharat, eyes alight with boyish energy, bounded toward a sleek grey sofa and flopped onto it, sinking into the cushions. "Miss, I don't even need a bedroom. I'll camp right here."

Gautam guided Geetha to the maroon sofa beside him, settling her close—close enough that she perched half on his lap. Bharat, oblivious at first, sprang up again. "Miss, we have to explore the whole place. Wow, it's massive." His gaze roamed restlessly: the ornate lamps, the flowing curtains, the polished tables dotted with indoor plants, the chandelier's prisms catching the light like diamonds. Through the vast glass windows, birds wheeled lazily over the river below.

But as he tilted his head downward, Bharat froze. There, on the maroon sofa, Geetha was lost in Gautam's lap, her lips pressed fiercely to his in a deep, languid French kiss. Gautam's hand roamed her back with possessive familiarity, while his left ventured beneath her t-shirt, fingers kneading the soft curve of her waist.

Bharat lingered by the window, silent as a shadow, his heart quickening.

Gautam nipped at Geetha's full, rosy lips, delving his tongue deeper into the warm cavern of her mouth. She met him eagerly, tongues entwining in a dance of rediscovery.

"I couldn't bear being away from you, darling," she whispered between licks, her voice husky.

He silenced her with another sweep of his tongue, then pulled back just enough to murmur against her skin, "You look good today?"

Lifting the hem of her t-shirt an inch, he pinched the tender fold at her waist, trailing kisses to her neck. A soft hiss escaped her—"Sss..."—as she arched into him.

"Bharat," Gautam called without breaking rhythm, his voice steady but laced with distraction, "your room's upstairs. Grab your bag, take a shower. Everything you need is there—make yourself at home."

Bharat said nothing, only nodded mutely. He hefted his bag and ascended the curving staircase, pausing at the landing to glance back. In the sunlit expanse of the hall, Gautam had eased Geetha onto the cushions, peeled off her t-shirt, and now cradled his face against the swell of her chest, breathing her in. A faint, bittersweet smile tugged at Bharat's lips. He slipped into his assigned room and shut the door.

The space was a revelation: a wall of windows flooding the room with daylight, a kingly mattress dbangd in silky sheets, the river's serene beauty unfurling beyond like a living painting. No lamp was needed; the sun did all the work. It was luxury incarnate, a far cry from the humble corners of home.

Bharat set his bag down, stripped off his t-shirt, and pushed open the bathroom door. His eyes widened at the marble expanse, the array of gleaming fixtures. With a grin, he shed the rest of his clothes and stepped under the shower, twisting one of the three handles. Warm water cascaded over him like a benediction, and he surrendered to it, letting the steam carry away the grime of travel.

In the quiet of his room, Bharat lay on the plush bed, the shower's echo fading into memory. A fragment of home surfaced unbidden: his mother's voice, soft and dreaming.

*"Bittu... you should get a good job, tear down this old house, and build a new one for us."*

*"Don't talk like that, Mom—not now. My studies aren't even finished."*

She'd cradled him then, stroking his hair as he rested in her lap. *"That's right... not yet. Study hard, earn well, and we'll build it. One room for us, and one for you and my daughter-in-law."* Her laughter had been a gentle ripple.

*"If sister were here, she'd have a room too, right, Mom?"*

*"Hmm..."*

*"If she were here, she might've built it herself by now."*

*"Even if she was, she'd go to her in-laws' house, wouldn't she?"*

*"But when she visited, she'd have a room, Mom."*

She'd hushed him with a finger to his lips. *"Enough. Sleep now."*

Memories were cruel thieves—stealing joy in sorrow, sorrow in joy. When neither lingered, only the present held sway: the villa's hush, the river's murmur, and the tangled paths of desire weaving through them all.

* * *

Downstairs, in the hall's golden glow, Geetha straddled Gautam's thighs fully now, her lips brushing his neck in feather-light kisses. She guided his right hand from her waist to the soft weight of her breast, and he obliged, squeezing gently as he nuzzled the nape of her neck.

"Aah..." she breathed, a shiver rippling through her.

"You look irresistible in this t-shirt and jeans," he murmured, his voice a low rumble.

"Mmm... And my husband looks utterly adorable today."

Their eyes locked, molten with intent, and they crashed together in a kiss that devoured—lips bruising, breaths mingling in fervent need.

"Shall we make this a honeymoon, then?" Gautam teased, his hands already at the hem of her shirt.

"Every day, if you want," she replied, her consent a sultry whisper. "Would I ever say no?"

In a fluid motion, he tugged the fabric upward; she lifted her arms to aid him. The t-shirt sailed away, revealing the creamy fullness of her breasts, straining against the lace of her bra. He cupped one, squeezing with reverent hunger, and buried his face in the valley between them. She cradled his head, pressing his warmth to her fevered skin.

"How wonderful it feels to rest here," he sighed, lips grazing the tender curves, his mustache tickling like a promise.

A pleased warmth bloomed in Geetha's chest—not just from Gautam, but from the memory of Bharat's earlier surrender to the same allure. "Iss..." she gasped as he pecked at her, sending sparks skittering across her nerves.

Her fingers reached back, unclasping the bra with a soft click. Gautam massaged the newly bared skin of her back, then kissed a slow path up her cleavage.

"Shall we take a bath?" he suggested, his breath hot against her throat.

The question caught her off guard, a playful glint in his eye sparking her own curiosity. Blushing, she nodded, shy yet eager, and rested her forehead against his.

He claimed her neck with a lingering kiss, then scooped her into his arms. She wound her legs around his waist, arms looped over his shoulders, clinging as he carried her from the hall down a short corridor. A side door swung open to reveal the garden beyond: lush and green, where a swimming pool shimmered under the breeze, its surface dancing like liquid silk.




In the shaded coolness, cradled in her husband's embrace, Geetha felt a fresh enchantment unfold—the whisper of leaves, the sun-dappled air, the solid beat of his heart against hers.

Kissing her neck, Gautam stepped to the pool's edge. With a mischievous grin, he hoisted her higher and tossed her in. She yelped as she plummeted, the bra flying free in the arc before she hit the water. It splashed over her face, cool and shocking, and she surfaced sputtering, peeling off the sodden lace. Her breasts gleamed with rivulets, water beading on her skin like jewels.

"You should have warned me!" she laughed, breathless, as he hastily shed his tie, shirt, and pants, leaping in after her.

He pulled her close in the rippling depths, and she melted into silence, acquiescent. Gautam kissed a droplet from her forehead, tender as a vow. "I didn't bring you here just to rattle around the house, you silly girl."

"Ooh... I know," she murmured.

In the breeze-kissed water, their gazes intertwined, bodies locked in a timeless sculpture of desire. "Geetha..." he whispered.

"Ooh?"

"I have to tell you something."

"Tell me."

His voice dropped, steady but weighted. "Unable to wait for you, I spent two days here with another woman."

The words struck like lightning through the waves, shattering her languor. Geetha pulled away, retreating until her back met the pool's tiled edge. Gautam advanced, caging her with his arms braced on either side.

"If you think it's wrong, forgive me," he said, eyes searching hers. "I told you because I knew you'd understand."

Her hand flew up, slapping his cheek with a sharp crack that echoed off the water. He caught her wrist, pinning it gently but firmly.

"Take it easy," he urged, unflinching. "Please don't be angry."

In that instant, truth pierced her: Gautam had mirrored her own betrayal, the distance fraying them both in equal measure. "It's your wish, darling," she said, voice tight with resignation. "You're a man, after all." She turned her face away, lips pursed in a pout—a shield for the confession she lacked the nerve to voice.

Gautam lightened, a smile breaking through. "But no one gives me the pleasure you do, my darling."

Pride flickered in her chest. *How could any other woman tempt a husband who leaves me wanting?* she thought.

"Hey, look at me," he coaxed.

"No—I won't. Shameless husband."

He cupped her chin, turning her gently, their eyes locking once more. "You have no shame yourself. I think you've corrupted the boy?"

"Because of *you*," she shot back.

"Did you do what I asked that day?"

"Hmm... I did. He's taller than you."

A flicker of feigned ire crossed his face; he delivered a light slap to her cheek. She surged forward, kissing his lips fiercely, wrapping him in her arms.

"Umm... Darling... why—"

His exhale was fire, cutting her off as he bit her lower lip, drawing the barest taste of blood. She didn't resist; her hurt dissolved in his heat. Their mouths fused, rubbing in urgent friction. Geetha clutched his head; Gautam slid his hands beneath her buttocks, lifting her as he savaged her upper lip.


He stripped away her jeans, then his own undergarments, the water veiling their nudity in merciful haze—save for the dark thatch between her thighs, glistening wet. Turning her to face the edge, he seated her hips there, exposed and vulnerable.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked, voice trembling.

"Tell me," he replied, kissing the tip of her nose.

"He saw me... like this."

Gautam's index finger traced the damp curls, dipping to caress her slick folds. "Aah!" she cried, the sound raw and echoing.

"What did he do after seeing?" Gautam pressed, his lips at her neck as he claimed her there, on the precipice.

"He kissed and licked me... there."

"Aren't you ashamed to confess it?"

"You *told* me to."

Teasing her entrance, he hummed. "Hmm..."

"You never have," she added, offering her breast to his free hand.

He devoured her lips anew, his fingers delving deeper into her core. "Mmmmmm..." she moaned, arching back.

"Shall I now?" he offered, voice thick.

"Ooh..."

Releasing her mouth, he trailed kisses downward, but she guided him lower still, trapping his head between her thighs with urgent hands. The musk of her arousal overwhelmed him; he pressed his lips to her honeyed center, kissing the petal-soft flesh.

"Ssss..." she hissed, fingers tangling in his hair, drenching him in her fervor.

He nipped her labia, and she pleaded, "Aah... eat it up..." Her gaze bored into him, wild and commanding.

Gautam rose, settling astride her lap, water from his hair raining onto her upturned face like a private storm. She laced her fingers with his, drawing his hand back to her core, while he kneaded her breast, twisting the peak until she whimpered.

"Iss... Who is she?" she demanded between gasps.

"Who?"

"The one you brought."

"Evelyn..."

"Did she have to steal *my* husband?"

"Hmm... I kept telling her I had a beautiful wife. I resisted."

"Did she subdue you anyway?"

"Ha..."

"Is she that beautiful?"

"Not like you."

"Go down."

He obeyed, kissing her neck before descending, his lips brushing her clitoris like a bee to jasmine. "Aah, darling..." she sighed.

Pressing his lower lip to the bud, he bit gently. Pleasure crashed through her in waves, electric and unrelenting. "Amma..."

"I licked Evelyn's, Geetha," he confessed against her skin. "Forgive me for yours now."

"Stop talking—just lick."

He claimed both breasts in his hands, squeezing as he buried his face in her thighs. For the first time, his tongue traced her vertical smile with deliberate slowness—not the frantic lapping of youth, like Bharat's, but the proud savoring of an artist with his masterpiece. Saliva mingled with her warmth, a cool glide over heated silk.

"Ss... Ah-bba..." she gasped, body quaking like ripples on a pond.

Gautam took his time, vertical strokes teasing the seam of her desire. Geetha writhed, fishlike in her ecstasy, moans spilling unchecked. 

Passion crested uncontrollably; she shattered, hot essence flooding his face as she screamed, "Aah Amma... Aah-ndee... Iss."

He laughed, a sound of triumphant joy, wiping his gleaming cheeks. She hauled him up, sealing their mouths in a kiss that tasted of salt and secrets.

"Love you, darling," she panted. "Please... keep doing this. I crave it."

"I will," he vowed. "That's why we're here—for *this*."

As words faded, he eased into her, slow at first. "Shh..." she breathed.

He began to move, thrusts building to a rhythm that slapped water against tile. Their slick bodies slid and ground, friction igniting sparks. From the first-floor balcony, Bharat watched, towel tented, his hand working furtively beneath it.

"Aah... slowly..." Geetha urged, but Gautam was relentless, hips snapping with abandon. She knew he wouldn't yield.

Her gaze lifted, locking with Bharat's across the distance. Clutching Gautam's back, she offered the boy a conspiratorial smile.

He shifted the towel aside, baring himself boldly. In response, she blew him a kiss, light as air.

Whispering into Gautam's ear amid the churn: "He's watching."

"Let him," Gautam growled, undeterred.

"Do it harder—for him, darling."

"Aah... don't say that; I can't hold back."

"Control it."

He surged from below, powerful and unyielding. Geetha cried out deliberately—"Aah! Aah!"—her voice carrying for Bharat's ears. Gautam echoed her, a primal roar, and spilled into her with shuddering release.

As he slumped against her, spent and sated, she glanced up and waved Bharat down, an invitation soft as the breeze.

He shook his head, hesitant.

"Come on," she coaxed aloud. "It's nothing..."

Bharat recoiled inwardly—*Why call me like that?*—and retreated inside, pulse racing.

Geetha nestled against Gautam's shoulder, a sigh escaping. "I feel like we've gone utterly shameless."

"Meaning?"

"Like... in front of him."

Gautam drew her nearer, kissing her brow. "It's fine."

He climbed from the pool, water sheeting off his skin, and called upward. "Bharat! Bharat..."

The boy reappeared on the balcony, peering down uncertainly.

"Come here?" Gautam urged.

"No..."

"It's alright. Come on."

Geetha emerged too, droplets tracing paths down her curves. She kissed Gautam once more. "Darling... can I stay with him tonight? If I push him away, he'll feel left out."

"I'm not objecting," Gautam replied evenly. "Romance him if you want."

"Thanks," she breathed.

He enveloped her in a hug. "Darling...?"

"Ooh..."

She sensed the question hovering, unspoken—her pulse quickened in anticipation. But Gautam let it die, the words unspoken.

"What?" she prompted.

"Nothing."

They lingered in the charged silence, an invisible line drawn. 

Suspicion had taken root in Gautam's eyes, a subtle shadow neither dared illuminate. 

For now, the water lapped on, secrets rippling beneath the surface.


Nothing did Geetha knew is : Goutham had already decided to agree that.

-

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[Haran000]

I stepped out onto the balcony, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the estate's manicured lawns, and there they were—Miss Geetha and Gautam Garu, entwined in the shimmering turquoise of the swimming pool like figures from some forbidden dream. I hadn't anticipated this: her lithe form reclined against him, her laughter carrying on the breeze like a siren's call. The sight twisted something deep in my gut—desire laced with dread. What if she glimpsed me and fury ignited in those dark eyes? But no, her gaze lifted, locking onto mine with an invitation that bordered on mischief. "Come down," she called, her voice a silken thread pulling me inexorably toward them.


My mind raced with shadows of secrets. The memory of that stolen afternoon, her lips on mine amid the chaos of half-finished paintings, gnawed at me. What if I let it slip to Gautam Garu? Or worse, what if she had already confessed, and his temper—usually so measured—erupted like a monsoon? Heart pounding, I shrugged into a simple yellow T-shirt and black shorts, the fabric clinging to my damp skin from the recent bath. Descending the stairs, I peered through the glass panels, catching fragments of their murmured conversation. The door to the pool lay just beyond the corridor, a portal to temptation I both craved and feared.

The air outside was thick with chlorine and jasmine, the water's surface rippling like liquid silk under the sun's caress. Miss Geetha leaned against the pool's eastern edge, her body cradled in Gautam Garu's lap, her laughter bubbling up as she beckoned me closer. He lounged beside her, one hand trailing lazy circles in the water, his touch hidden but unmistakable in its intimacy. My body betrayed me instantly—a insistent hardening that no amount of shifting could conceal. Swallowing my nerves, I approached, the distorted reflections of her breasts dancing on the waves, pale and full as ripe fruit, stirring a hunger that made my pulse thunder.

"Why were you watching from upstairs?" Gautam Garu's voice cut through the haze, deep and unamused, his eyes sharp as polished obsidian.

"Uh, I just came out, sir. Sorry," I stammered, my cheeks burning under his scrutiny.

Miss Geetha dissolved into laughter, her mirth a balm against my trembling. They had summoned me—why this tremor, then, like a boy caught pilfering sweets?

"So, are you going back inside," Gautam continued, a wry edge creeping into his tone, "or just going to stand there and gawk?"

In my mind, unbidden, flashed the image of what might unfold without him: my hands on her, parting her thighs, sinking into the warm, welcoming depths of her. "Uh, sorry, sir."

"Come on," he said, gesturing with a tilt of his chin. "You get in too."

"Yes," she echoed, her smile wicked and warm. "Come on, Bharat."

What game was this? A test? A trap? "I just took a bath—no need."

"You'll do it again," Gautam replied, his command brooking no argument. "Get in."

Resignation mingled with a reckless thrill. If they insisted, who was I to deny? Better to heed their words while I lingered in this gilded cage of theirs. Yet doubt gnawed: Why no anger from him at my voyeurism? She was bare now, utterly exposed under the sun's indifferent gaze. Had she confessed our indiscretion? Did he... approve? One wrong word, one faltering glance, and the fragile peace might shatter.

"Take off your clothes," Miss Geetha said then, her voice a husky murmur that sent heat flooding through me.

What? The words hung in the air, absurd and electric. She knew the fire she stoked—surely this was her teasing, a playful torment. "I'm shy," I protested weakly, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. "You two are right here."

Gautam's chuckle rumbled low. "So, are we not shy? We're without clothes, even knowing you were up there, eyes on us."

"Oh, that's not what I meant." Mortified, I peeled off my T-shirt, the cool air kissing my skin like a promise.

"Get in first," he advised, "then take them off."

Decision crystallized in the moment's heat. I leaped, the water enveloping me in a shock of cool clarity—not deep, my toes grazing the tiled bottom, the level lapping at my neck like a conspirator's whisper. With a furtive glance, I shucked my shorts and flung them toward the bench, the fabric landing in a damp heap. Beneath the surface, my arousal throbbed insistently, a secret pulse urging my hand downward, tempting me to stroke while devouring her with my eyes.

She caught my stare, her neck arching as she turned to Gautam Garu, their lips meeting in a slow, languid kiss that stole the breath from my lungs. Above the water, the elegant swell of her breasts bobbed like twin moons, creamy and unyielding as coconut shells carved by a lover's hand. Emboldened, I ducked under once, eyes wide in the underwater gloom. There, in crystalline silence: his fingers threading through the dark thatch at her core, massaging with deliberate tenderness. A gasp bubbled from my lips as I surfaced, only to find their gazes fixed on me—amused, knowing.

"Come here," Gautam said, his tone deceptively casual.

"Uh-uh, no," I blurted, the water suddenly too intimate a shroud.

"Come," he insisted. "It's okay. I won't mind."

His nonchalance unnerved me more than outrage ever could. His wife, naked and radiant, and he... unbothered? It defied the jealous rhythms of the world I knew. With a mental shrug—*whatever you wish*—I waded closer, positioning myself at her right, him at her left. Her eyes gleamed with predatory hunger, as if she might devour me whole. I shook my head in silent query—"What?"—and she nodded me nearer. Our shoulders brushed, a spark igniting; my length surged, rigid and aching, but I bit back any sound. Gautam Garu loomed too close for recklessness.

"Bharat..." His voice drew me like a hook.

"Yes, sir."

"You have to give me your word."

Had she betrayed us? Or was paranoia weaving its web? "Did you hear me?" he pressed.

"Ah! Yes, sir. Tell me."

"Bharat... this must stay between the three of us. You shouldn't tell anyone. No matter what happens here. Whatever unfolds these four days, it stays locked away."

"Of course, sir. I won't tell a soul." Even as the vow left my lips, her hand found me under the water—fingers curling, stroking with a rhythm that blurred thought to haze.

"You didn't feel wrong about kissing your teacher?" Gautam asked, his gaze probing.

Peering into the rippling depths, where her touch worked its silent magic, I confessed, "Sir, Miss told what happened between us that day with the painting. Honestly, if you're angry about it, I'll take full responsibility."

"Don't think too much, Bharat." His words were steady, almost paternal. "Geetha told me, and I agreed. I'm not angry at either of you. But I'll ask something else—something she held back."

Suspicion clawed at my chest; sweat beaded despite the pool's chill. A glance at her—her eyes mirrored my tension, wide and watchful. "Ask me, sir," I managed, voice taut as a bowstring.

"Geetha shared what you did while painting," he said. "Afterward, I pressed her: Did you suck him when Bharat asked?"

Ice flooded my veins. What madness was this? What lie had she spun? "Tell me the truth," he urged. "Did Geetha give you a blowjob before coming here?"

"Uh-uh..." I shook my head, denial instinctive.

"The truth?"

Her whisper ghosted my ear, urgent and velvet: "Say yes, come on."

"Yes..." The word tumbled out, half-choked.

"Is that all, or anything else?" His eyes narrowed, relentless.

She fell silent, her grip tightening like a vice. "No, sir... no..."

"Have you fucked any woman?" The question landed like a stone in still water.

Geetha bristled. "What are you asking? Stop it now—that's enough." But his hand clamped her waist, silencing her with a squeeze.

"You be quiet." He leaned in, closing the distance, his presence a tide I couldn't outrun. "He said, coming closer."

"Sir, if Miss agrees..." I met his stare, boldness surging from some reckless core. "I don't mind. I have the urge to get one."

Gautam Garu threw back his head and laughed—a booming, genuine roar that echoed off the tiles. "See, Geetha? Watching us has him all riled up."

"Ugh, stop it," she chided, though her cheeks flushed with delight. "You never used to do this."

"Alright... Now listen." We turned to him as one, her hand never ceasing its submerged dance. "We're heading to Niagara Falls tomorrow. The day after, evening—my MD's youngest daughter, Carla's, birthday party. Those are our plans for now. Okay?"

We murmured assent in unison, the water lapping at our words.

"Alright then," he said, rising slightly to press a kiss to the curve of her neck. She swayed into it, a soft moan escaping as her fingers clenched around me in involuntary delight. "I'll go fetch groceries. The hunger from a wife's cooking—no store-bought meal can touch it, eh?"

"Come back soon," she breathed, her voice laced with promise.

"I will. Don't cross the gate and vanish. If you like, we can wander the grounds together once I'm back."

"Certainly, sir," I replied, the words tasting of anticipation and the sharp tang of the unknown. As he hauled himself from the pool, water sheeting from his broad frame, the air hummed with possibilities—secrets shared, boundaries blurred, and the long, sultry days ahead stretching out like an uncharted river.



Gautam had just driven off, the low rumble of his car's engine fading into the distance as the gate clanged shut behind him. In the quiet that settled over the secluded poolside, Bharat and Geeta turned to each other, their eyes locking with a mix of lingering surprise and unspoken hunger. The water lapped gently at their bare skin, steam rising in lazy curls from the heated surface. Bharat reached for her without a word, drawing Geeta close until her body molded against his. His arms encircled her waist, strong and unyielding, and he captured her lips in a kiss that started soft but deepened with the urgency of secrets shared.

Geeta pulled back just enough to murmur against his mouth, her voice a breathy whisper laced with amusement. "Um... You heard it, right? We can be comfortable like this."

Bharat's eyes darkened, his grip tightening as he shook his head. "That's not it. What did you tell him?"

She traced a finger along his jaw, her touch light but teasing. "That we're here without clothes on."

"No, miss," he pressed, his voice low and insistent. "He suspects something about us."

Geeta shrugged, unperturbed, her lips curving into a defiant smile. "So what if he does? Let him."

Bharat's brow furrowed, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "Miss, Gautam sir is so romantic. What didn't you do? He said you won't lick my pussy. So what did you do after that?"

"I told him I won't," she replied simply, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Oh..." Bharat's response was a soft exhale, heavy with unspoken desire. In one fluid motion, he gripped her waist and lifted her effortlessly, settling her onto the pool's edge before leaning in to kiss her again—this time gently, reverently, as if savoring the taste of her surrender.

"Shh... Let him go," Geeta whispered, glancing toward the driveway, though her body betrayed her words, arching toward him.

Bharat chuckled softly, his lips brushing her ear. "He said to kiss, so what else?"

"You saw the puppy from above, right?" she asked, steering the conversation with a playful lilt. "How did it look?"

"I know you called me when I was up and jerking off," he confessed, his voice roughening with the memory.

Geeta's eyes widened in mock surprise. "Really...? For me, I wanted to see it from there—it wasn't visible properly."

"For me, your moans made me hard," he admitted, his hands sliding up her sides.

A laugh bubbled from her throat as she cupped his face, pulling him into another kiss. She pressed her breast against his chest, the contact igniting sparks along her skin, while his tongue thrust forward, entwining with hers in a dance of heat and need.

"Geeta," Bharat murmured when they broke apart, his breath ragged, "you're such a bad teacher. No shame at all. Doing this with me while your husband is around."

She swatted his cheek lightly, her slap more caress than reprimand. "I didn't think he would agree, you know."

"What did he say when you told him?" Bharat asked, curiosity sharpening his gaze.

"I told him everything you did," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush.

"What? You told him everything?"

"No, no," she corrected with a grin, "everything except that one thing."

As Bharat's lips found her breast, trailing kisses down to capture her nipple, Geeta giggled, the sound light and breathless. He drew it into his mouth, sucking gently, and she squirmed, half-protesting. "Eww, oh god, stop."

But her hands tangled in his hair, urging him closer even as she spoke. Bharat brushed back the damp strands of hair clinging to her forehead, droplets of water tracing cool paths down her skin. "Miss, you do this outside too—if I'd known this earlier, I wouldn't have gone for a bath."

"Really?" Geeta's voice softened, tinged with wonder. "I didn't think he would do that. He's changed."

Bharat's fingers skimmed her collarbone, thoughtful. "Miss, do you think Gautam sir brings girls here? Nothing anyone does here gets out anyway."

"Not a girl," she teased, her eyes glinting, "maybe an auntie."

Bharat burst into laughter, the sound echoing off the tiled walls, rich and unguarded. "You're overthinking, miss." He shifted, his hand dipping below the water's surface to guide the head of his cock, submerging it with a deliberate slowness that made her pulse quicken.

Geeta sighed, leaning into him. "I feel so satisfied."

"Why?" he prompted, his thumb circling her hip.

"Today, I got all the pleasure I wanted from Gautam sir."

Bharat's expression turned pensive, a shadow of jealousy flickering in his eyes. "For some reason, after you told him what happened with me, I think he's jealous and wants to show even more affection toward you."

"Maybe," she conceded, though her mind wandered briefly to Gautam—to the way he'd granted her this freedom while subtly reclaiming his place as her anchor. It wasn't possessiveness alone; it was a reminder of his strength, woven through tales of Evelyn and boasts of his prowess. In her eyes now, he wasn't just her steady husband but a man bold enough to conquer another, his confidence a quiet fire that both thrilled and unsettled her.

"Miss," Bharat said, pulling her back to the moment, "are you feeling Gautam sir's essence?"

"His doesn't feel that intense," she mused, her fingers idly tracing patterns on his chest. "It's somehow not sticky."

"What?" Bharat blinked, caught off guard.

"Yes," she continued, her voice matter-of-fact yet intimate. "There's some difference between yours and his for me. You came on me once. He came in my hand once. His isn't sticky; it's like it's watery."

A wicked grin spread across Bharat's face. "Miss, want to taste mine again?"

"Eww, you idiot," she shot back, though laughter danced in her eyes. "You made me do it in my mouth yesterday. Gross. And you're asking again?"

"Haha... Okay, okay..." He relented, but the spark in his gaze promised mischief.

"He might not be back for an hour," Geeta said, her tone shifting to invitation as the distant sound of Gautam's car fully vanished.

With a shared laugh, she took his hand, leading him toward the stairs. They climbed dripping and unhurried, water pooling at their feet, until they reached the shaded bench overlooking the pool. Bharat settled there first, his posture relaxed yet proud, his arousal on full display like an offering. Geeta curled beside him, her fingers wrapping around his length with familiar ease, stroking in slow, deliberate rhythms that drew a low groan from his throat.

"Miss, do you remember?" Bharat murmured, his head tipping back against the stone. "When we went to our village, we swam first, then sat like this and kissed."

"Yes," she replied softly, her strokes steady. "No one was with us then either."

"Exactly." His voice warmed with nostalgia. "Back then, this sexy teacher shyly talked to me with double meanings."

"Hey, were you any less?" she countered, leaning in to nip at his earlobe. "You trapped me with words and kissed me."

Bharat turned his head, capturing her left breast in his mouth once more, sucking until her skin glistened anew. He wet her hair further with teasing laps of his tongue. "Back then, I wanted to grab these but didn't have the courage."

"I felt like teasing you," Geeta confessed, her breath hitching as his mouth worked its magic, "like I had to."

"How wonderful they feel..." Bharat's words were muffled against her skin, reverent. "I could play with them forever."

"You always say that... You only play with them..." But there was no complaint in her tone, only affection, as he squeezed her breast like soft dough in his fist.

A soft "Mmm..." escaped her lips, bitten back as she bit her own, her fingers venturing lower to pinch the sensitive vein beneath his scrotum. Bharat leaned in, licking her earlobe with a whisper. "Miss, there are all sorts of angles, right? You could teach me."

She lifted her hand, sweeping the wet strands of hair from her face, meeting his gaze with a sultry challenge. He maneuvered her then, turning her sideways so his chest pressed flush against her back, the heat of him seeping into her like sunlight. His cock nudged between her thighs, insistent and warm, and she reached back to clutch his neck, anchoring herself.

"They fuck in all kinds of ways," Bharat continued, his voice a husky rumble against her ear, "doggy, like this from the side, legs up, carrying, you on top of me..."

Geeta shook her shoulders in a sly shimmy, her smile coy. "You're the one telling me all this—why ask me?"

"Teach me, Geeta," he pleaded, half-joking, half-earnest.

She intertwined her fingers with his, guiding his hand to her breast. "When did I ever say I'd teach you?"

He pressed his full length against her, thrusting shallowly between her buttocks, the friction sending shivers racing up her spine. "Then shall we learn together?"

His fingers tickled the backs of her thighs, chasing away the chill with a rush of heat that made her body hum, writhing against him in helpless abandon. "Puppy..." she gasped, the endearment slipping out like a secret.

"Tell me, miss..." Bharat's breath was hot on her neck. "If you say to put it in your pussy like this, I'll do it just like that."

"Don't talk like that..." she protested weakly, even as her hips rocked back instinctively.

"Then how should I ask, miss...?"

"Not there..." Her voice trembled, laced with longing and restraint.

"What...?"

"Not this time..."

He searched her eyes, then kissed the curve of her neck, his resolve cracking. "I can't hold back, miss."

"Coming in my mouth is okay," she offered, her cheeks flushing.

Bharat's eyes lit with hunger. "Miss, I want to come on your face."

"No way."

"Please, just once."

"Uh-uh, no." But her denial softened as he rubbed both breasts with his palms, kneading them until she arched into his touch.

"On these then?" he suggested, his voice dropping to a velvet growl.

"What...?" She hesitated, glancing down at herself, curiosity blooming in her chest like a forbidden flower.

With one hand, he pushed her right breast upward, holding it firm, and traced a deliberate line down the valley between them with his finger, rubbing up and down in a slow, suggestive rhythm. Geeta's breath caught, surprise mingling with a rush of novelty that heated her core, her breasts swelling under his gaze like ripe fruit begging to be plucked.

"Got it, miss?" Bharat murmured, watching her reaction with predatory satisfaction.

Suddenly, her entire body ignited, a fierce blush creeping from her neck to her cheeks. "Don't say it so crudely, idiot."

"Shall I do it then...?"

"Mmm..." The moan slipped free as she wrapped herself around him, yielding completely.

Kissing the sensitive hollow of her neck, he squeezed her upper buttock, firm and yielding like a sun-ripened guava. "Gently..." she breathed, guiding his hand.

"I'll suck these too," he promised, his fingers toying with her breast, rolling the nipple until it peaked.

She hooked her arm around his waist, pressing his palm to the throbbing heat between her thighs. "Suck me..."

Bharat started to lower himself, but she caught his head, halting him mid-motion. "You're the one who says suck, and now you're stopping me?"

"Just stay like this for a bit..." Geeta pleaded, needing the solid weight of him.

From behind, he enveloped her in a fierce hug, their bodies entwining like vines in the undergrowth. They sealed their lips in a deep, consuming kiss, his tongue delving into the warm cavern of her mouth, coaxing her to suck as if drawing nectar from a bloom. Her breasts yielded against the hard plane of his chest, and the faint prickle of his mustache tickled her upper lip, drawing a greedy pull from her.

"Mmm..." Bharat groaned into the kiss. "These rosy nipples—I could suck them forever and it wouldn't be enough."

Blushing, she smiled shyly against him. "They're always ready for you to suck whenever you want."

He swirled his tongue deeper, and she responded in kind, sucking with a fervor that bordered on desperation. "Are the ones down there always ready too?" he asked, breaking just long enough to tease.

"Both are just for you..." Geeta whispered, her voice thick with surrender. "But you've done everything and you're still asking why?"

"You're my teacher, after all," he replied, nipping at her lower lip.

"Just a teacher?" She arched a brow, playful challenge in her eyes. "Or a lover too?"

"Could I say no...?" Bharat's answer was a deep suck on her upper lip, sealing the truth between them as their bodies pressed closer, the world narrowing to the pulse of shared breath and unspoken promises.

[Haran000]

Their tongues grazed the edges of parted lips, a fleeting spark in the humid air, while her breasts yielded softly under the insistent press of his palms. His arousal, rigid and unyielding, nudged against the curve of her lower buttocks, and invisible beads of sweat mingled with the growing dampness between them. Bodies suspended in the throes of passion, they surrendered to the moment, the air thick with unspoken hunger.


"Don't squeeze them, ra," Geetha murmured, her voice a breathless plea laced with laughter.

Bharat's eyes gleamed with mischief. "You know my hands don't listen to me."

She twisted in his grasp, rising to straddle him, her weight a delicious anchor. He reclined against the cool tile edge of the pool, watching her with the intensity of a man starved. Leaning forward, she nipped at the taut muscle of his neck with her front tooth, drawing a sharp hiss from his lips.

"Iss..."

"How cute you are, ra," she teased, her breath warm against his skin.

"Then kiss me, Miss," he countered, his voice rough with need.

Geetha's rosebud lips descended upon his hardened chest, leaving trails of wet saliva that glistened in the dim light. He gathered her hair in his fist, holding it aside like a curtain, granting her unhindered access. Fire coursed through Bharat's veins, igniting every nerve. A sly smile curved his mouth as she bit down playfully on his chest.

He tugged her hair gently, pulling her head back until their gazes locked, and laughter bubbled between them like champagne.

"You have so much attitude," she accused, her eyes sparkling with mock indignation.

"Why, Miss?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"Because I've fallen for you."

"Who kissed first?" he shot back, his tone laced with triumph. "Did I ask for anything?"

"Ha, that's why you're so cocky."

"What did I do now that you're saying that?"

"You're teasing me like this." Her words dissolved into a gasp as he lifted her neck and traced his tongue along its delicate column.

"You are teasing me," he growled, his lips brushing her ear.

"See... when you say things like this, you call me *meeru*," she pointed out, her voice a sultry whisper, "otherwise you call me *nuvvu*."

"She's my lover," he declared boldly. "I'll call her whatever I want."

"See, this is what I call arrogance."

With a deliberate shift of his hips, he guided his manhood to graze the soft inner flesh of her thighs. Geetha flinched, a startled "Hey..." escaping her.

"If I put that down," he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky rumble, "my arrogance will decrease too, Miss."

"Hmmm, yes, you're so bold because of that. I'll cut it off."

"Cut it off, and you'll be the one to lose."

Her mischievous smile returned as she swatted his cheek lightly. Bharat threw his head back in laughter. "Hahaha... you're laughing—go on and cut it off."

"Stop it..."

She crawled downward, her nose brushing the length of his manhood in a teasing sniff before planting a single, lingering kiss upon it. His eyes fluttered shut, a tremor rippling through him as desire coiled tighter in his core. Rising slightly, she pressed her lips to the chiseled ridges of his six-pack, tracing them with reverent touches.

"Miss, come up," he urged, his voice strained.

Obediently, she ascended, their faces inches apart. Bharat searched her eyes, his own dark with unspoken questions. "Why do you like me?"

She bridged the gap, her nose brushing his in an intimate Eskimo kiss, her whisper feather-light against his lips. "I don't know..."

A tender kiss followed, soft as a sigh. "Tell me, Miss?"

"I love the way you look at me, ra."

"And?"

"You were shy, but still kissed me. You praised me." Her confession hung in the air, vulnerable and raw.

He extended his tongue, capturing a stray droplet of moisture at the corner of her lip. But then, her expression sobered. "But please don't be like this with me when he's around."

"Miss, you must be like this with me only when Gautham garu is not here."

"I will, ra."

His hand found her left breast again, kneading it like a ripe, yielding orange. "Ha..." she breathed. "I will be whatever way you want, ra. Your teacher, your lover..."

"I wish Gautham garu wasn't here either."

"Why?" she asked, her cheeks dimpling in playful curiosity.

"Because I want to have a study session with this beautiful teacher without any interruption."

"We can do it whenever we get a chance, ra... just have a little patience for me."

"I will."



Their lips met in a deep, unhurried kiss, and as he eased back, her nipple trailed a tantalizing path against his throbbing organ. Geetha's gaze lingered on him, heavy with longing.

"Don't tease me, Miss..."

"If you like these," she replied, her tongue darting out to taste the tip of his member, "I like this, ra."

"Abba... you're killing me."

"Hmm..."

She rose higher, capturing his manhood between the quivering swells of her breasts, the soft, cheesy hills enveloping him in an earthquake of sensation. "What should I do?"

"Up and down..."

Following his command, she began to rock against him, her movements rhythmic and exploratory. Bharat gasped, his breath ragged, pleasure stealing the air from his lungs as groans tore from his throat. "Aah, Miss... like that."

She thrust forward, her lips finding his stomach in fervent kisses. "It feels strange, ra... when it's burning like this, something happens."

"But it feels pleasurable for me, Miss. Abba, how soft they are."

"Mmmm."

He surged upright, pressing his manhood into the warmth of her lap before claiming her lips once more. "Stay like that."

Guiding himself, he thrust upward like a rubbery piston into the cascading valley beneath her throat. A shiver danced across her skin, eliciting a delicate "Mmmmm..." from deep within her.

He shifted, rubbing sideways against her firm left nipple. "Hah..." She writhed beneath the intensity.

"I worship your every atom, Miss."

Smiling cheekily, she tilted her head. "How...?"

His member found her right nipple next, pressing and circling with deliberate pressure. "Abba... it's hot, and it's pressing in, ra."

"Haha... when I hit it on your boobs, it gets even hotter."

"You're driving me crazy with these silly things, ra."

With his left hand, he gathered her breasts together, creating a plush vise, and drove his waist forward. His potent length, like sugarcane heavy with promise, honed itself in the yielding pressure. Geetha's nipples buzzed with electric tingles, but Bharat pressed on relentlessly, lost in the friction.

"You're crazy, ra... I told you no there, and you're doing this here."

"I'll do anything, Miss... let's finish this. We'll look at the lower part for the second round."

She brushed his hands aside, taking control, squeezing her own breasts to heighten the intimacy they were forging anew. His member, buried deep in her cleavage, reached toward her neck in pulsing urgency.




"Is it good...?"

"Anything with you is a pleasure for me... Aah... look, Miss, what's happening."

She glanced down, mesmerized by the sight: her curves pulling his skin back and forth like a retracting sheath, pre-cum glistening at the tip. Thirst bloomed in her, drying her lips. She wet them with her tongue, shedding the last veil of shyness. "Give it to me, ra. I'll suck it..."

He offered it without hesitation. Her lips brushed the edges in a teasing kiss, then enveloped him, licking and sucking with growing fervor before releasing him with a wet *plop*.

"Aah... why did you ask like that, Miss?"

Her right hand encircled him as her tongue traced the throbbing vein beneath. "Shouldn't I ask...?"

"Don't ask, Miss. Do whatever you want."

"What do you want to do, ra?"

Laughter rumbled from his chest, lust-fueled and wild, as he tapped his member against her lips. She responded with a charming smile and a kiss. Emboldened, he swung it toward her lower right breast with a sharp *thap*, like striking a marigold bloom.

"Ah... why are you hitting me, ra?"

"Miss, do I always have to take the hits? Today I'll hit you."

"Bring a stick..." She dissolved into laughter.

"Not on the hands with a stick, Miss."

She stretched her neck, capturing his chin in a soft kiss. "Then?"

Pressing her cheeks with his left hand, he aimed with his right, letting it sway against her left breast like a bell tolled by a hammer. "Ahh..."

"Tell me, Geetha... why did you refuse me the other night?"

"Because I had an early morning flight."

"Then you should have told me. Why did you threaten me by refusing?"

He targeted her right breast with firmer intent. "Iss... I should have told you before. Sorry."

"Then you must be punished, Geetha."

"Hmmm..."

He alternated strikes between her breasts, drumming a rhythm of playful dominance. "Aah, you've gone crazy."

Leaning in, he sealed her mouth with his, and as her lips parted, he let a stream of saliva spill into her. She sealed it with a swallow, her eyes locking onto his in silent challenge.

"Miss, will you not say anything no matter what I do?"

"You can do anything to me, ra..."

Roughly, he plunged into her mouth. She welcomed half his length with eager suction, her eyes crinkling in a subtle smile. "Aah... Miss, how wonderful it is to be like this with you. Abba, I'm getting so lustful."

Words failed him as she worked him with devoted rhythm. Fearing the edge too soon, he leaned back, but she nudged him upright with her thigh. Meeting her gaze, he nodded. "I know, Miss..."

He withdrew almost fully, then surged back, her saliva bathing him in slick warmth as she continued unabated.




At last, restraint shattered. Bharat pulled free just as she drew breath, and in a hot arc, his release cascaded like warm ghee across her milky swells. Geetha thrilled to the novel rush, the semen painting her chest in intimate strokes. As his softening length nestled in her cleavage, he leaned forward to claim her lips.

"I just sucked it," she murmured against him, a hint of teasing in her tone, "you're kissing me—is that okay with you?"

"Miss, when you had my member in your mouth, did you smell anything? Did it feel uncomfortable?"

"No matter how it is, I will suck it for you."

"No matter how your lips are, I will kiss them."

"Ooh... dirty fellow."

"Should I do something even dirtier?"

"What else will you do?"

A sudden warmth surged—a stream of urine flooding her chest. She recoiled instinctively, but Bharat captured her lips, holding her in a devouring kiss until he finished. She resisted at first, then yielded, drawing on his mouth even as the acrid scent invaded their senses, turning her stomach. The flow mingled with his earlier seed, washing it away in rivulets.

"Ummm... I'm sorry..."

"Oh..."

The moment passed, and she seized his organ. "Eww, it feels awful, ra."

"Okay, I won't do it again. Please forgive me, Miss. To be honest, I had to pee, and I just let go without thinking."

"Ha... fine, now we have to take a proper shower."

"Wait..."

"Bharat, that's enough—let go. We need to be normal by the time he arrives."

"Just one minute..." Scooping her into his lap, he settled her on his thigh. Dipping her index finger into a lingering drop of semen beneath her throat, he lifted it toward her lips.

She eyed it warily. "What are you doing?"

Kissing her ear, he coaxed, "It was in your mouth once, right? Now just once in front of me..."

Shaking her head, she demurred. "Uh-huh, eww..."

He gripped her neck, halting her protest with a kiss, then yanked her head back and thrust the finger past her lips. Startled, she froze, lips closing around it. Compulsion took over; she licked it clean before spitting it out, swatting his face with a spark of anger.

He laughed through the sting. "Gross, disgusting fellow, eww... mental, mental..."

Preening under her ire, Bharat absorbed the blows as she grappled with the bizarre intimacies he'd drawn from her. At last, she wrenched free and dove into the pool's embrace, the water swallowing her in a splash.

"Geetha... let's get crazy. Should I come? Can we do it in the water too?"

"You stay right there," she called over her shoulder, nose wrinkling as she turned to swim away. "If you come here..."

Bharat remained perched on the edge, his gaze devouring the graceful arc of her form slicing through the water, a king watching his siren vanish into the depths.

Geetha floated in the cool embrace of the pool, her bare skin hidden beneath the rippling surface, a sly smile playing on her lips as she cast playful, sideways glances at Bharat. The late afternoon sun filtered through the palms, casting dappled shadows on the water, but her teasing gaze was the real spark igniting the air. Bharat, unable to resist, came running from the edge, his laughter echoing as he launched himself into the pool with a splash that sent waves lapping against her body.

She retreated with a mischievous giggle, but he was quicker, his hand closing around hers in a firm, unyielding grip. With a swift pull, he drew her onto his lap, her swelling breasts nestling against the taut muscles of his forearms as their fingers intertwined like vines in a forbidden garden. Geetha leaned back against his chest, her wet hair cascading over his skin like a silken veil. Bharat swept it aside with a gentle sweep, then bit her neck—not gently, but with a fierce, mock-anger that made her gasp.

"Ouch… Shh…" she cried out, kicking her legs in playful protest, the water churning around them.

He relented, wrapping his right arm around her waist and pressing his lips to the reddening mark, a tender apology in the heat of his kiss.

"If you bite me like this," Geetha murmured, her voice a husky whisper laced with feigned reproach, "what if my husband sees?"

Bharat's breath was warm against her ear. "Miss, how many kisses have I already put on your neck? It always feels like it’s not enough."

They drifted back together, leaning against the smooth curve of the pool's edge, the tiled bank cool against their shoulders. Geetha lifted her arms languidly, tossing her damp hair forward in a cascade that exposed the freshly bathed smoothness of her underarms. Bharat bent to the left, his lips brushing that sensitive skin in a kiss that sent a shiver racing down her spine. She could feel the stirrings of desire awakening again, a familiar ache blooming low in her belly.

“Don’t start again, darling…” she warned, though her tone betrayed the thrill she felt.

"Miss, let’s go there," he urged, his voice thick with want.

“Isn’t what we’ve done enough for you already?” But even as she spoke, his nose nuzzled deeper into the crook of her armpit, drawing a squirm from her body—a delicious blend of tickle and torment.

"Behave yourself," she chided, pushing his head away with a half-hearted shove. Yet he pressed himself closer, his body aligning with hers in the buoyant water, his erection a insistent heat against her lower back.

"I am behaving myself…" he murmured, his lips finding her neck once more. The tremor that coursed through Geetha was electric, her resolve fraying like wet silk.

"I said no," she breathed, but it was a plea wrapped in longing.

Undeterred, he captured the soft skin of her neck between his front teeth, tugging just enough to elicit a sharp intake of breath. "Aah… Don't bite so hard, darling… What should I tell my husband?"

"They'll be gone by then," Bharat replied, his confidence a low rumble.

"No, they won't. That night, you bit me as you pleased. For three days. You thought, how can this remain until I come here? What do you know?"

"Well, it happened now, didn't it?" He smiled against her skin, then claimed her lips in another bite—not of flesh, but of passion, nipping at the fullness of her mouth.

"Mmmmmm….. No," she protested weakly, even as his hand found her right breast, squeezing with a possessiveness that made her arch into him.

She lifted her face, meeting his eyes, and in that gaze, submission bloomed like a secret flower. "Miss, if Gautam comes, we'll hear the car sound. I'll stay away," he promised, his voice a velvet assurance.

Turning in his arms, Geetha reached down, her fingers wrapping around his throbbing length beneath the water. He mirrored her, his hand cupping the underside of her breast. Leaning over, he captured her lips again, their kiss deepening into a shared hunger. Tongues danced as they climbed from the pool together, water sluicing off their naked forms like liquid diamonds. On the sun-warmed tiles, they embraced once more, lips locked in fervent exploration. Bharat's hands roamed to her buttocks, kneading the firm curves, while Geetha's palm massaged his penis just below her navel, her fingers clenching to test and tease his firmness.

"Will it be quick," she whispered against his mouth, "or will you do it like yesterday?"

He cradled her face, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that stole her breath. "What did I do yesterday?"

"How did you hold it in for so long, darling?"

"Why do you ask such things, Miss?"

"Because I haven't had the pleasure you've given me all these days, darling. Do you know how many times I used to imagine things? I don't know why, but in this matter, Gautam…"

Bharat silenced her with a small, insistent kiss, his lips a gentle dam against the flood of vulnerability. The mention of her husband hung between them like a fragile thread, taut and trembling. "Don't, Miss… Don't talk like that."

"How much affection you have for us," she said softly, the words a bridge over the chasm of her guilt.

"Miss, not about Gautam Sir. Tell me about me."

"Hmm…"

He pressed closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. "I overheard someone talking the other day. There are many people; didn't we see Ramya Miss and Ganesh? Tell me, Miss… can't we be like that too?"

Geetha pulled him into an affectionate hug, her lips brushing his shoulders in feather-light kisses. "We will, you puppy."

With a sudden surge of strength, Bharat gripped the undersides of her buttocks, lifting her effortlessly against him. "I love you, Geetha…"

"I want you, darling. I'll keep you. Hmm…" Her lips found his neck as he carried her toward the lounging bench from earlier, the one that had borne witness to their earlier indulgences. He eased her back onto it, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss that tasted of salt and sun. Geetha parted her thighs in silent invitation, her body an open secret.

Kissing a trail along her cheeks, Bharat whispered, "Miss, when Gautam Sir comes, I won't come between the two of you. I know, Miss, he has been staying away from you for all these days. You must also feel it, right?"

"Yes. You take the chance when I give it to you, darling. I want this…" She adjusted his penis with deliberate care, guiding it toward her core, aiming true at the slick, waiting flower of her desire.

"Put it in yourself, Miss," he urged, his voice roughened by restraint.

"Hmm…" Her fingers closed around his shaft, firm and unyielding, pulling him forward until contact sparked like flint on steel.

Bharat thrust his hips, slow and deliberate, parting the delicate, wet folds beneath her sparse pubic hair. He pierced through layers of warmth, plunging deep into her depths. "Hash…" Geetha gasped, the overwhelming weight of his firmness stealing her breath in hiccuping bursts. In the haze of their union, she closed her eyes, exhaling hot breaths that ghosted across his nose. Her knees pressed into the bench's cushion, bracing as she spread her legs wider, like a lotus unfurling its petals to welcome the dawn.

He sank fully into her, then began to move—drawing out, then grinding back in, his penis stirring her mound with rhythmic insistence. A thrill shot through Geetha's nerves, electric and unrelenting. "Aah… Mmm…" She bit her lower lip, teeth sinking into the plush flesh to stifle the moan building in her throat.

The residue of Gautam's earlier release lingered on the tip of Bharat's penis, a slick testament to the tangled web of her affections. He paused, shifting to her side, bringing his glistening length near her shoulder. "Miss, this is Gautam Sir's. Lick this."

Surprise flickered across her face, mingled with a twinge of disgust. She turned away, shaking her head. "Uh-uh…"

But Bharat was insistent, his fingers threading through her hair to gently turn her back, pressing the tip to her lips. She caught his penis in her hand, halting him. "Don’t force me, darling."

"Oh, it’s nothing, Miss. Just put it in your mouth once. This is what your husband climaxed."

"Why are you asking this… Please hurry up, he’s coming."

"Just taste it once. This is your husband’s. Not mine. Tell Gautam Sir what it was like."

His words hung in the air, noncommittal yet probing, and Geetha's heart pounded like a war drum. *What is happening between us? How many more thoughts do you have?* The question echoed in her mind, unanswered. With a resigned sigh, she turned fully toward him, lifting her head to grasp his penis. Her lips brushed the residue clinging to the glans—a sticky pearl of Gautam's love that now smeared across her rosebud mouth. Tentatively, she licked it away, swallowing the salty essence.

Bharat trembled, a low "Hah…" escaping him. "Lick it, Miss. It’s nothing. They even said in a research paper that eating semen is harmless."

"You even find out things like this?" she asked, a note of incredulity cutting through her daze.

For the first time, she savored the true taste of her husband's release. A frown creased her brow at the initial strangeness, but curiosity won, and she lapped it clean, the flavor settling into something unexpectedly intimate.

"A little more, Miss…"

"Hmm…" Her tongue worked over the mushroom-like swell of his red, swollen glans, polishing it with deliberate strokes.

"Miss, how is your husband's come…"

"Doing this…" Confusion tangled her words, but he silenced her with the press of his penis against her lips, like a finger sealing a secret.

"Did you like it or not?"

She caressed his length slowly, lifting her gaze to meet his. "It feels a little awkward, darling."

"Don't worry about all that, Miss. Did you like it?"

In answer, she kissed his penis fiercely, a bold declaration. "I like yours, darling…" Her fingers drew back the foreskin, her tongue tracing the sensitive head beneath.

"Iss… Miss, I didn't think you would do all this, you know."

"You wished for me to do this, didn't you?"

Bharat's left hand wandered restlessly between her thighs, his ring finger grazing her wet vulva before slipping an inch inside. The intrusion made her shiver, and she responded by drawing his penis deep into her mouth, her lips sealing around him with sudden fervor. Her fingertips squeezed his testicles gently, sucking with a rhythm born of mounting desire.

"Ugh… You're not letting go of mine, yourself. Though you say no when asked."

She released him with a wet pop, saliva glistening on his shaft. "I used to watch porn and wish my husband also had a big one. I don’t know why, it was a fixation for me."

"Hmm…"

"Yours is this long."

"It's for you, Miss…" He thrust forward, fierce and unyielding, filling her mouth once more.

"Click… Mmm…" She hollowed her cheeks, sucking with abandon as his finger delved deeper into her, stoking the fire between her legs. Their shared rhythm built, a symphony of touch and taste, until the sharp blare of a car horn shattered the haze.

Geetha flinched, snapping upright and clamping her thighs together, the spell broken by cold reality. "Put your shorts on. I'm going inside," she said, fear threading her voice like ice.

Bharat lunged for her, planting one last desperate kiss on her neck. "We're stopping in the middle."

"We have to, puppy."

"Hmm…"

She fled toward the house, her naked form a blur of urgency across the tiles, leaving droplets in her wake. Bharat snatched up his discarded shorts from the poolside, pulling them on with hurried hands.
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To be continued………..

[Thangaraasu]

Superb. Geetha is on her honeymoon with bharat keeping the wimp husband at bay

[Nishikant.Wayal]

Super update dude have wait till i go home!

[Kore shivkant]

Super update bro.....no words to describe......... waiting for the next update

[Haran000]

Superb. Geetha is on her honeymoon with bharat keeping the wimp husband at bay

Super update dude have wait till i go home!

Super update bro.....no words to describe......... waiting for the next update

Thank you guys

[Haran000]

Geetha ascended the stairs to the upper room, her yellow frock swaying gently against her knees, the fabric whispering secrets with every step. The living room below faded into quiet shadow, but up here, the air hummed with anticipation. Her milky thighs, pale and smooth as fresh cream, caught the dim light filtering through the hallway, a tantalizing glimpse that might have stirred any lingering gaze. Yet tonight, it was for one pair of eyes alone.

She paused at the door, her fingers curling around the knob, and pushed it open with a soft creak. Inside, Bharat lay sprawled across the bed, lost in a deep slumber—or so it seemed—his face slack, a thin trail of saliva glistening on his cheek like dew on a leaf. Geetha’s lips curved in a knowing smile. She’d soon unravel the truth of his sleep, peel back the layers of pretense. Beyond the window, stars pierced the velvet dark of the sky, winking through the tangled branches of the old tree outside, as if conspiring in the night’s unfolding drama.

With the grace of a cat, she crossed the room, her bare feet silent on the cool floor. She climbed onto the bed, straddling his thighs, and leaned forward, her breath warm against his skin as she pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Hey,” she murmured, her voice a velvet coax, “wake up. It’s dark out there. You ate and crashed—get up now.”

Bharat stirred without fully awakening, his eyes still sealed shut, but a sly smile tugged at his lips. His hands found her waist, fingers digging in with possessive hunger, squeezing the soft curve before yanking her down beside him. The frock—the very one she’d impulse-bought on that whirlwind shopping spree before their arrival here—hiked up slightly, bunching against her hips. She laughed softly, a sound like wind chimes in the hush, and brushed her lips against his cheek.

“Enough of the theatrics,” she teased, propping herself on an elbow. “Get up. Won’t you eat?”

“I will,” he mumbled, his voice thick with feigned drowsiness, “but first... I want a snack.”

“Oh, you...” Geetha rolled her eyes, though her tone dripped with mock exasperation. “You scarfed down breakfast like a dog in heat.”

“Can’t a man crave an evening bite?” He cracked his eyes open at last, and the sight of her—hair tousled, frock clinging just so—ignited something feral in him. His hands returned to her waist, tracing the dip of her hips. “Did you slip into this just for me?”

She arched a brow, playful defiance sparking in her eyes. “No. For my husband.”

“Of course.” His laugh was low, edged with mock hurt. “You toy with me while he’s away, and now this line...”

“Are you pouting because I left you hanging mid-game?” Her words were light, but her gaze lingered, heavy with promise.

In answer, his left hand slipped beneath the frock’s hem, fingers grazing the warm swell of her thigh before pinching—sharp enough to draw a gasp. “Aaah... Hey!”

“Will you let me sleep beside you tonight?” His voice dropped, earnest now, laced with longing.

“Not tonight, darling.” She softened the refusal with a stroke of his arm.

“Hmmm...” He sighed, but there was no real defeat in it.

“Come on,” she urged, sliding off the bed. “Let’s eat. He’s waiting—we’ll all dine together.”

“Miss,” he said, rising reluctantly, “after dinner... can you stay with me a little? Just until I drift off. Then you can slip away.”

She tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with that wicked, suggestive glint that always unraveled him. “Why?”

“Just... please. Till sleep takes me.”

“Alright,” she conceded, her smile a secret shared. “I’ll stay. Now come.”

They rose together, but as they turned toward the door, Bharat’s arms snaked around her waist from behind, pulling her flush against him. His lips hovered near the nape of her neck, breath hot and insistent, on the verge of claiming a kiss.

“Let go,” she whispered, though her body betrayed her, arching just a fraction. “Control yourself—a little.”

“I want you now,” he growled, unyielding.

“I want you to take me, too, love.” Her admission was a sigh, laced with heat.

“It happened with Gautham this morning, didn’t it?” His words turned teasing, a edge of jealousy sharpening them. “Not sated by your husband, Teacher Madam?”

She touched her chest lightly, eyelids fluttering down in feigned innocence. “Un-uh...”

“You’ve got fire in your veins, Geetha.” He chuckled, the sound rumbling through her.

She swatted his chest in playful retaliation. “Tsk, don’t say that, darling. Try to understand.”

He bent his neck, capturing her right cheek in a lingering kiss. “You’ll come back after dinner, won’t you? We’ll see then.”

“No,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered. “Not possible tonight.”

“As you wish.” Resignation colored his tone, but his eyes promised pursuit.

“Come on—he’s waiting.”

### Dinner and Disclosure

Downstairs, the dining room glowed under the warm halo of the overhead light, a sanctuary of scents: spiced rice steaming in bowls, curry simmering with cumin and mystery. Gautham sat at the head of the table, patient as a sentinel, his fingers drumming idly on the wood. As Geetha and Bharat descended, hand in invisible thread, he looked up, his gaze steady—first on Bharat, then flicking to Geetha with that knowing glint she both loved and feared.

She guided Bharat to his seat, her hands efficient yet tender as she ladled food onto his plate, then her own. Gautham watched the quiet ritual, the air thick with unspoken currents. Bharat met his eyes briefly, a silent acknowledgment passing between them, before both men dropped their gazes to their meals. Geetha settled between them, a bridge of flesh and fabric, and the clink of spoons against plates filled the hush.

“Which stream for intermediate?” Gautham broke the silence, his voice casual, probing.

Bharat glanced up once, fork pausing mid-air. “BiPC, sir.”

Gautham’s brow quirked. “Why ‘sir’? Did Geetha put you up to it?”

She laughed, light and deflecting. “Why would I? He fell into the habit on his own.”

“Because...” Bharat shifted, cheeks warming, “you’re the teacher’s husband.”

Gautham chuckled, the sound easing the tension like a balm. “Haha... Never mind. After you eat, there’s an iPad on the side table—take it, play around. It’ll fend off boredom. Just log out before we head out.”

“Okay, Gautham garu,” Bharat replied, the honorific slipping out like old habit.

Geetha hid her smile behind a sip of water, a secret bloom in her chest.

Gautham nodded. “Hmmm... Tomorrow morning, we’re off to Montreal, then a flight to Buffalo.”

“A flight?” Geetha echoed, surprise lifting her voice.

“Yes.” He spooned rice with practiced calm.

Bharat leaned forward. “So early?”

“It’s a seven-hour haul to Montreal. Flight’s at six a.m.—best to beat the rush.”

“We might freeze out there,” Geetha murmured, rubbing her arms at the thought.

“It’ll be fine,” Gautham assured, his tone a steady anchor.

Bharat shrugged. “I’m game. Can’t wait to see it.”

“We’ll head out early, meander back before dusk. Or crash there if it runs long.”

“Alright...” Geetha’s agreement was soft, her mind already wandering to frost-kissed paths.

“Oh, Bharat—you said BiPC. Doctor in the making?”

“Not set on medicine,” Bharat admitted, swallowing a bite. “Anthropology’s my pull. But a medical undergrad fits the bill.”

Gautham’s eyes lit with recognition. “My buddy Shiva did the same route. You know him, yeah?”

“Hmmm...” Bharat nodded, noncommittal.

Geetha interjected gently. “Shiva planted the seed—Bharat saw it take root.”

“That’s solid,” Gautham said, approval warming his words. “And your badminton? Still in the game?”

“I love the shuttle,” Bharat confessed, a spark igniting in his voice.

“Not just love—do you want to go pro? Be elite?”

“Yes.” The word hung heavy, laced with dream and doubt.

“Decide smart now, and you’ll soar. Get serious—starting today.”

Bharat swallowed hard, rice sticking in his throat. “I want to go national...” A sigh escaped, carrying the weight of ambition.

“Don’t bury it under books,” Gautham pressed. “If the court calls louder, answer it.”

“But...” Bharat hesitated, fork trembling slightly.

“Tell me.”

“If I chase badminton full-throttle, money’s tight at home. That’s why Shiva sir’s entrance—free ride through college. Then I can play without the chains.”

Geetha’s hand found his shoulder before he could spiral further, a grounding touch. “You’ve got that free spot locked in. No fees, no worries.”

Bharat blinked, confusion clouding his face as he turned to Gautham for confirmation.

“I’ll square it with Shiva,” Gautham said firmly. “If sports is your fire—and you’re dead set on greatness—play without the noose of cash. Focus.”

“But...”

“No buts, no what-ifs,” Geetha cut in, her voice a gentle command. “We talked it through, love. We’re not strangers—don’t stare at us like we are.”

“It’s not that, Miss,” Bharat protested weakly.

Gautham leaned in. “You dodging study strife or not?”

“Yes...”

“Then I’m in your corner. I’ll tag along if needed—chat with your folks too. Since you wove into our world, we won’t let you scbang by.”

“Hmmm...” Bharat’s murmur was a knot loosening.

“Even down the line, job hunts turning sour? I’ve got a spot here. No fretting over futures or favors—chase what lights you up.”

Silence fell then, thick as the curry’s steam. Bharat poked at his plate; Geetha and Gautham exchanged a glance, words unneeded. The meal wound down in companionable quiet, plates scbangd clean, hands washed under the faucet’s rush.

### An Unexpected Act

Geetha cleared the table with brisk efficiency, stacking plates in the sink as the men retreated to the living room. Bharat sank into the couch, limbs heavy with the day’s undercurrents, while Gautham lingered in the kitchen’s threshold, drawn by the sway of her hips as she wiped the stove. He crossed to her in three strides, his hand catching her wrist mid-motion, halting the cloth’s dance. With a gentle but insistent pull, he spun her against the cabinet, his palms framing her waist, bodies aligning like puzzle edges.

“Is it alright?” he whispered, eyes searching hers, a teasing lilt beneath the heat. “Your lover’s college tab’s covered—no more scbanging pennies.”

She smiled faintly, a flush creeping up her neck. “What lover?”

“Then... a boyfriend?” His grin widened, playful challenge.

Her finger pressed to his lips, silencing the jest. “Why frame it that way? You’re my boyfriend, my lover—my husband.”

He laughed, the sound rich and freeing, before stepping back to thumb through his phone’s glow—company missives demanding attention. With a final glance, he joined Bharat on the couch.

Bharat had claimed the iPad, thumbing open Instagram’s endless scroll, faces and feeds blurring into distraction. Geetha followed soon after, perching beside him, her thigh brushing his in casual intimacy.

“Hey,” she said, nudging his arm, “did you tell your girl you’re here?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, not looking up.

Gautham perked from his screen. “Oh? Already got a girlfriend?”

Bharat clammed up, cheeks burning.

“What do you mean ‘already’?” Geetha teased, her laugh bubbling like champagne. “The hero’s timeline is accelerating—everything’s happening now.”

“Miss...” Bharat groaned, awkwardness twisting his features.

“It’s fine, kid,” Gautham soothed, setting his phone aside. “Spill.”

“Nothing, sir.”

“Listen,” Gautham said, voice dropping to earnest steel, “whatever flies here—talks, touches, secrets—stays locked when you head home. Got it?”

“No... I mean, yes—I won’t breathe a word.”

“Don’t hold back with me. Be easy, open—okay?”

“Okay...”

Gautham pressed on, deliberate. “Geetha filled me in: the kisses, the caresses, glimpsing her bare, that painting session.”

Bharat’s gaze plummeted to his lap, heat flooding his face.

“I’m not pissed—at either of you.”

“Hmmm...” Bharat’s response was a ghost of sound.

“That canvas? Damn good work.”

“.....”

“Say thanks,” Geetha prodded, elbowing him lightly. “Why the mute act?”

“Thanks, sir,” he mumbled.

“But another one?” Gautham ventured, eyes glinting mischief. “This time, her fully bare?”

Geetha’s cheeks ignited, a wildfire bloom. “Oh, have you lost it?”

Gautham barked a laugh. “Easy—hold up. You game?”

“No, sir,” Bharat rushed, shaking his head. “Bare? It’d scream her—folks would clock Geetha Miss in a heartbeat.”

“What if no face? Abstract it—shadows, curves. Fair?”

Geetha’s blush deepened to crimson; she couldn’t stifle it, launching herself onto Gautham’s lap, hand clapping over his mouth amid her giggles. “Stop! No paintings, no nonsense.”

Bharat, emboldened, chimed in: “Yeah... that could work, actually.”

“Really?” She whirled on him, threat laced with mirth. “I’ll pinch you raw, you mutt.”

“Hey, what’s the harm?” Gautham grinned, peeling her hand away. “Free artist on tap—why waste it?”

“Tsk, enough.” She squirmed, half-hearted. “You’re pimping me out nude to him, you lunatic.”

Gautham silenced her with a kiss—lips firm, claiming—leaving her breath caught, body still as stone.

“Listen,” he murmured against her skin, “he swore silence, right? It’s fine.”

Bharat edged closer, voice husky with persuasion. “Yes, Miss... I’d kill to sketch it.”

Gautham’s laughter boomed, filling the room.

She shot back, direct as a dart: “Zip it, both of you.”

“Not tonight,” Gautham conceded, though his eyes danced. “But opportunity knocks... who knows?”

“What ‘who knows’? It’s a no. Have you two plotted against me?”

Bharat inched nearer still, fingers tangling in her hair, gently turning her face to his. “Please, Miss... Sir’s idea’s gold.”

“Don’t.” Her protest was breath, not steel.

Gautham’s hand found the small of her back, urging her forward with inexorable calm. Their lips met—Bharat’s and Geetha’s—in a collision of shock and spark. Eyes flew wide, bodies rigid as marble. No one had scripted this: a husband guiding his wife into another man’s kiss, right there in the lamplight’s glow.

Bharat jerked back first, the air between them crackling with the aftershock.

Words evaporated, leaving only the thud of pulses.

### Questions and Uncertainty

For an eternal heartbeat, questions surged like a tidal wave, drowning thought. *Did Gautham orchestrate that?* The query echoed in every mind—even his own, a flicker of recklessness he hadn’t fully owned. Bharat’s doubts crystallized: *He’s engineering this. No man shares his wife like a toy.* Suspicion slithered in—Gautham concealed depths, shadows Bharat couldn’t chart.

Geetha’s storm raged fiercest, a maelstrom of confusion. *Why does he wave it all away like mist?* It clawed at her, this lightness where she craved gravity. Gautham alone held the compass: time with Bharat poisoned her like slow venom, consent a bitter pill he swallowed for her sake. This kiss? A ripple, mere circumstance’s cruel jest.

She locked eyes with him, searching for anchors. He held her stare, nerves coiled tight beneath his calm, awaiting the verdict.

“Sir,” Bharat stammered at last, rising unsteadily, “I... I’ll crash. Sorry.”

Geetha’s hand snagged his, tethering him. “Darling...”

“It’s alright,” Gautham interjected, voice even. “That’s why you’re here—not for blueprints or busywork.”

“No, sir. I won’t wedge between you.”

Gautham drew Geetha nearer, his gaze piercing hers like sunlight through leaves. “Your wish—speak it.”

“Um...” She faltered, adrift. “As you wish.”

“Bharat,” Gautham said, turning to the young man, “no lectures from me. Pull her close whenever the pull strikes. While you’re under this roof, let’s weave the three of us tight—like this.”

Geetha gaped, stunned into silence, her eyes darting to Bharat. His hands shook, fine tremors betraying the quake within.

“What’s wrong?” Gautham prompted, scanning their faces.

“Nothing,” Bharat muttered, voice frayed. “I’m out—sleep.”

“Alright... Night.”

Bharat fled to his room, door clicking shut like a full stop.

Geetha whirled on her husband, whisper sharp. “What was *that*?”

“Don’t overthink,” he soothed, cupping her face. “It’s fine by me. I... wanted it. It stirs something.”

“I love you,” she breathed, vulnerability cracking her armor.

He kissed her then—deep, reaffirming. “Hmmm...”


Geetha glanced up from the dim, amber glow of the living room lamp, its light pooling like molten honey on the faded rug beneath her feet. The air carried the faint, earthy tang of rain-soaked soil from the garden outside, mingling with the subtle musk of the evening's lingering warmth. Her pulse quickened as she caught sight of Bharat in the shadowed doorway, his broad frame etched against the deeper gloom of the hallway. He tilted his head toward the stairs, a silent beckoning that hummed through her veins like the low thrum of distant thunder, his dark eyes glinting with unspoken intent.

"I'll put him to sleep and come," she murmured to Gautham, her voice a soft hush against the quiet tick of the wall clock, its pendulum slicing through the stillness like a metronome of domestic rhythm.

"Come fast," he replied, his timbre gravel-rough from the day's end, laced with the quiet urgency of their intertwined lives. The faint scent of his sandalwood cologne clung to him, a familiar anchor in the cooling air. "We have to wake up early tomorrow."

"Hmm," she assented, the syllable vibrating softly in her throat as she watched him turn, his bare feet whispering across the cool terracotta tiles toward their bedroom, the sound fading into the house's nocturnal hush.

With a quiet resolve, Geetha ascended the stairs, each creak of the worn wooden treads a conspiratorial murmur under her soles, the banister's smooth varnish slick beneath her palm like polished stone warmed by hidden sun. She slipped into Bharat's room like a secret exhaled into the night, the door's latch clicking shut with a decisive snick that sealed them in twilight's velvet embrace. The air here was alive, laced with the crisp, mineral bite of the river wafting through the open window, carrying whispers of wet pebbles and wild jasmine from the banks below.

Bharat wasted no time, his fingers hooking the hem of his T-shirt and peeling it upward in one fluid, unhurried motion. The fabric rasped softly against his skin, releasing a faint, sun-warmed scent of cotton and the subtle salt of his day's sweat as it whispered to the floor. He stretched out on the bed, the mattress sighing beneath his weight, sheets cool and crisp like fresh linen against his bare back, gooseflesh rising in the draft from the window. Outside, the ancient tree's branches swayed in the night breeze, their leaves rustling like a lover's sigh, stirring the gauzy curtains into a hypnotic flutter that danced shadows across the walls—ethereal veils of silver moonlight threading the room like liquid mercury.

"Miss, this room is heaven," Bharat drawled, his voice a lazy rumble that vibrated through the mattress, propping himself on an elbow with a faint creak of springs. "I can see the river from here, all silver and restless, its surface rippling like black silk under the moon. And I can't stand the AC—too sterile, like breathing through ice—so I cracked the window wide. Feel that? The night's breath on your skin."

"You're comfortable?" Geetha asked, her tone a tender probe laced with the faint husk of anticipation, already inhaling the mingled aromas of his skin—earthy, vital, with an undercurrent of the river's clean, loamy freshness.

"I'd be more so with you here," he confessed, his wink a spark of mischief in the dimness, his lips curving in a slow, predatory smile that pulled at her like gravity. The words hung in the air, tasting of promise on her tongue, unspoken yet palpable.

She climbed onto the bed without hesitation, the sheets whispering cool silk against her calves as she settled astride his feet, her hands capturing his in a grip that was both anchor and surrender—his palms roughened by calluses, warm and faintly damp, pulsing with the steady throb of his veins. Tilting her head, she offered the soft curve beneath her neck, the skin there flushed and sensitive, prickling under the room's caress. Bharat's fingers loosened from hers, sliding up to her shoulders with a deliberate drag of fingertips, the heat of him seeping through her thin frock like embers against frost. He drew her down beside him with a firmness that brooked no resistance, the mattress dipping to cradle them in a shared hollow. Easing her onto the linens, he nestled his face into that vulnerable hollow, his stubble a faint, teasing rasp against her collarbone, his breath hot and rhythmic, carrying the faint, clean tang of mint from his earlier tea.

"Miss, I'm not in the mood," he whispered against her pulse point, the words muffled and honest, vibrating through her like a plucked string. "I just... I like lying like this. Close. Your heartbeat under my cheek—it's like the river, steady and deep."

Stroking his hair with featherlight fingers, the thick strands coarse yet silken between her knuckles, she hushed him, inhaling the subtle, sun-baked scent of his scalp. "Then lie still. No words." The air between them thickened with the night's symphony: the distant lap of water on stone, the intermittent chirp of crickets threading the breeze, the faint rustle of leaves like secrets exchanged.

His eyes fluttered shut, lashes brushing her skin like moth wings, and in the span of two heartbeats, he surrendered to sleep, his weight a comforting anchor on her chest—solid, unyielding, his breaths deepening to a slow, resonant rhythm that synced with hers, rising and falling in tandem. She pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead, the salt of his skin blooming salty-sweet on her lips, a taste like the sea carried inland. Gently, she shifted him onto the pillow, his form curling instinctively into the dent she'd left, a soft exhale escaping him like a sigh of contentment. The door sighed open and closed without a sound as she stole away, descending once more to the sanctuary of her husband's room, the stairs' creaks now a fading echo in her ears.

There, the bedside lamp cast a golden halo over Gautham, its warm light gilding the fine hairs on his bare chest, which rose and fell in the lamplight's soft, flickering embrace—a single moth batting against the shade, casting erratic shadows like unspoken desires. He lay sprawled beneath the blanket drawn only to his waist, the cotton whispering against his hips with each subtle shift, the air heavy with the intimate musk of his skin, warmed by the day's residue and the faint, spicy trace of his aftershave. Geetha shut the door with a quiet finality, the latch's click a punctuation in the hush, a flush of shyness warming her cheeks like a sip of forbidden wine as she bit her lower lip, tasting the faint copper tang of it.

She approached like a shadow seeking light, the floorboards cool and smooth underfoot, curling into his lap as a child might seek solace—her frock's hem riding up to expose the velvet warmth of her thighs against his. Her head nestled against the steady drum of his heart, a muffled thunder beneath her ear, its rhythm quickening at her touch, carrying the clean, soapy scent of his recent shower mingled with the deeper, primal earthiness of him.

He dbangd an arm around her, pulling her flush against him with a low hum of satisfaction, their bodies aligning in the instinctive geometry of long familiarity—his skin fever-hot against hers, the fine crispness of chest hair tickling her cheek like whispers of silk. "Why did you do that?" she asked, her voice a pout-soft murmur, laced with the ache of unspoken questions, her breath feathering warm across his collarbone.

"I don't know," Gautham admitted, his fingers tracing idle patterns on her back through the thin fabric—light, teasing strokes that sent shivers cascading like cool water down her spine. "It just... felt right in the moment. Like the air needed it."

She shifted upward, fluid as water over stone, straddling his waist with a faint rustle of sheets, the heat of him radiating through the blanket like a hidden hearth. Cupping his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing the faint stubble along his jaw—rough as sandpaper kissed by salt—she locked her gaze onto his, the intensity stripping away the veils of the day. Their breaths mingled, close enough to taste—his warm and faintly sweet with the echo of dinner's cardamom, hers quickened with jasmine from her hair oil.

"Let's sleep," he suggested, though his eyes betrayed the lie, dark and dilated like storm clouds heavy with rain, his voice a gravelly plea wrapped in restraint.

"You can't just say that," she chided, her lips brushing his chin in a feather of a kiss, the skin there tasting of faint salt and the day's faint bitterness, teasing the resolve from him like thread from a loom.

"Can't I?" His hands found the hem of her frock, fingers slipping beneath to slide it upward from her shoulders to bunch at her waist, the fabric whispering like dry leaves over her skin, exposing the curve of her to the cool air's teasing nip and his reverent gaze—pupils flaring at the sight of her, flushed and luminous in the lamplight. He bent his head, lips trailing fire along the line below her neck, each press a bloom of heat that drew a soft, involuntary "Mmmmmm" from her throat, vibrating low and throaty, tasting of surrender on her tongue as she arched into it.

The world narrowed to the press of skin on skin, slick with the first sheen of shared warmth, as Gautham rose with a faint groan—the sound raw, elemental, like gravel under boot. Positioning himself between her thighs with a deliberate grace, the mattress dipped and creaked in protest, he reached for the pillow beside them, its downy softness yielding as he slipped it beneath her waist to cradle her just so—an act of quiet devotion that lifted her hips in invitation, the linen cool against her heated back. Then, without prelude or pause, he entered her, a slow, inevitable union that blurred the edges of where one ended and the other began—velvet heat enveloping him, a gasp tearing from her lips like silk ripping, the air thickening with the sharp, intimate scent of their arousal, musky and alive.

They clung to each other like storm-tossed vessels finding harbor, bodies slick and sliding in a timeless rhythm—fingernails grazing sweat-damp skin, leaving faint trails of fire; warm breaths tangling in ragged harmony, tasting of salt and shared sighs; groans weaving into the night's symphony, low and guttural, punctuated by the wet, rhythmic slap of flesh and the distant, soothing lap of the river beyond the walls. The cool room enveloped them, a balm of crisp air against the fever they kindled, shadows leaping across the ceiling like wild spirits in the lamp's glow, until exhaustion claimed its due—a final, shuddering crest that left them trembling, spent, the aftershocks rippling like echoes on water. Lulled by the echo of their shared sighs, the faint metallic tang of release lingering on their lips, they drifted into sleep.
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To be continued………………

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How Goutham gonna react when he finds out the fuck?

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From now on, English and Telugu will get updates at a time.

[siva05]

Super hot update bro

[Sage_69]

Marvelous updates!

[Haran000]

Super hot update bro

Marvelous updates!

Thanks you..