Adultery Weekday Wife [COMPLETED]

[Sherlocked]

Her words shattered the last of Sumu’s restraint. The acknowledgment that she chose him—here, now, in the flesh—over the loyalty she owed his cousin tore away his willpower. He released her wrists and grabbed her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he prepared to claim what she had just offered.Shweta lifted her chin, straining upward to reach his lips, a silent plea for a kiss to ground her as the reality of her decision settled in. Sumu met her halfway, but there was no gentleness in him now. He crashed his mouth against hers, sealing her lips with a bruising intensity. They moaned into each other’s mouths, the wet, sloppy sound of their tongues battling for dominance filling the silence of the room. It was a raw, primal exchange, tasting of forbidden desire.


While her senses were consumed by the crushing weight of his kiss, Sumu positioned himself. He poised his thick, rigid cock at her entrance, the head pressing against her slick, wet heat. With a sudden, decisive flex of his hips, he gave a final, brutal thrust, driving the final nail into the coffin of his brother's marriage.


He split Shweta open. Her scream of shock and overwhelming sensation was instantly muffled by their locked lips—*mmmmmhhhhhhhh*—vibrating against Sumu’s mouth as he buried his dick into her to the hilt. He filled her completely, stretching her in a way Ani never had, claiming the space that was supposed to be sacred to his cousin.


Sumu broke the kiss, gasping for air, his eyes wild as he looked down at her flushed face. "You feel so good, Shweta," he panted, his voice thick with lust. "So tight. It’s been waiting for me, right?"


Shweta couldn't speak, her chest heaving as her body adjusted to his impressive size. Instinctively, she squeezed her inner muscles around him, gripping his length in a wet, rhythmic embrace as if in agreement. She was breathless, her mind spinning, but her body had already chosen its master.


"Don't..." she managed to whimper, her eyes fluttering open to look at him. "Don't wait, Borda."


That was all Sumu needed. He let go of her hands, which had been pinned above her head. Immediately, Shweta reached out, her fingers desperate as they wrapped around his waist, anchoring him to her.


He began to move.


He pulled back almost all the way before driving forward again. His hips slammed into hers with a jarring force, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing in the room. Shweta groaned with each guttural thrust Sumu gave her, her head thrashing against the pillow. The friction was electric, a stark contrast to the gentle, predictable lovemaking she was used to upstairs.


Sumu propped himself up on his hands, his triceps straining as he loomed over her. He grabbed her hips, his large fingers digging into her soft skin, and spread her legs a little wider, opening her completely to his assault. He kept thrusting into her, a relentless piston of muscle and desire.


Shweta wasn't just enduring it; she was craving it. Her hands slid down from his waist to grab his firm ass, her nails digging in, pulling him deeper with each motion, urging him to grind his pelvis against hers. With every violent impact, her large breasts shook, dancing hypnotically with their rhythm.


Looking down at her, seeing her writhing beneath him, Sumu felt like a conqueror. The knowledge that he was nailing his beloved brother’s wife into his own mattress—stealing the one thing Ani prided himself on—made him more aggressive. The taboo fueled him, turning his lust into something dark and possessive.


Shweta met his thrusts with equal fervor, lifting her hips to accept every inch of him. The guilt was gone, replaced by pure, blinding sensation.


"Ohhh... Borda..." she moaned in pleasure, her head thrown back, exposing her throat. "You are going so deep..."The air in the room grew heavy, thick with the scent of musk and the raw, uninhibited symphony of their union. The silence of the house was shattered, not by words, but by the wet, visceral slap of flesh against flesh as their hips collided with bruising force. Every thrust was accompanied by the slick, squelching sound of Sumu’s manhood driving relentlessly into Shweta’s soaking wet heat, a rhythm that seemed to sync with the low, constant hum of the air conditioner.


It was a mesmerizing, almost trance-like atmosphere. The room was filled with the sharp, rhythmic clinking of Shweta’s silver anklets and the *sankha pola*—the red and white bangles of her marriage—striking against each other and Sumu’s skin. The irony was palpable; the very symbols of her vows to Ani now provided the soundtrack to her infidelity, chiming musically with every inch of Sumu she took. Sumu’s guttural grunts mixed with Shweta’s breathless, high-pitched whimpers, creating a haze of lust that felt dreamlike, suspended in a reality where only pleasure mattered.


Driven by a hunger that went beyond simple friction, Sumu strained upward, his head bending to seek the heavy sway of her breasts. He latched onto one nipple with voracious intensity, his mouth hot and wet as he sucked hard. His teeth grazed the sensitive, hardened peak, nipping it just enough to send a jolt of electric shock through her nerves, while his large hand roughly kneaded the other breast, squeezing the soft flesh possessively.


"Ahhh! Yes, Dada... yes!" Shweta cried out, her back arching off the mattress, her chest thrusting into his mouth as waves of pleasure crashed over her.


Sumu didn't let the rhythm falter. With a sudden growl of determination, he clamped his strong hands around her narrow waist. In one fluid, powerful motion, he engaged his core and flipped them, rolling onto his back and pulling Shweta with him.


She gasped, disoriented for a split second as gravity shifted, but they never broke contact. As she settled on top of him, the change in angle drove him impossibly deeper, hitting a spot that made her toes curl. Shweta found herself straddling his hips, her knees sinking into the mattress, with the immense, forbidden length of her brother-in-law buried to the hilt inside her womb.


The surprise on her face melted instantly into a look of heavy-lidded intoxication. She didn't pull away; instead, she ground down, testing the fullness of him, feeling the thick ridge of him stretching her in ways Ani never had. She leaned forward, placing her palms on the pillow on either side of his head to steady herself. As she lowered her face to his, her long, dark hair cascaded forward, creating a silken tent that curtained their faces from the rest of the world, locking them into a private, sinful universe where nothing existed but his eyes and the feel of him inside her.A dark, venomous smile curled at the corner of Shweta’s mouth, a sharp contrast to the innocent, lonely housewife she had been just hours ago. Under the tent of her hair, in the heavy, musk-filled air of the room, she looked down at him not with guilt, but with a sudden, wanton boldness.

[Sherlocked]

"Did you like making me a bad wife?" she asked, the question coming out in a breathy, jagged whisper that ghosted over his lips. "Huuhh, Borda? You are so bad..."


She shifted her weight slightly, grinding her pelvis against his, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him. Her eyes glinted in the dim light. "What would your brother say when he finds out that his precious *Borda* nailed his wife while he slept just a few feet away? How would it make him feel, Borda? To know you are claiming what belongs to him?"


Hearing these forbidden words falling from Shweta’s lips poured liquid fire into Sumu’s ears. The taboo reality of it—the betrayal, the proximity of the sleeping husband, the sheer audacity—made his blood roar. He groaned gutturally, his manhood twitching violently inside her wet warmth, responding to her taunts with undeniable physical need.


He reached one hand up, his large palm cupping the side of her face. His thumb brushed over her flushed cheek, tracing the line of her jaw with a possessive familiarity. A confident, arrogant smirk mirrored hers.


"How would he find out, Shweta?" he whispered back, his voice rough with lust. "Would you tell him? Would you look him in the eye and tell him that you left him in his cold bed to come into his brother's room after midnight?"


Shweta’s smile widened, her blood boiling with a mixture of shame and overpowering lust. The secret was their bond now, a heavy chain locking them together. She didn't answer with words; she answered with her body. She began to gyrate her hips, a slow, rolling motion that churned the friction between them. She felt the thick head of his cock hitting walls deep within her, deeper than she had ever felt in her life before. It was a fullness that bordered on pain but dissolved instantly into blinding pleasure.


"How does it feel, Borda?" she panted, her head thrown back slightly as she rode the rhythm. "To make love to your brother's wife? How do I feel?"


Sumu groaned, his hips bucking upward to meet her descent, driving himself ruthlessly into her. "Ohhh, you feel so good, Shweta. So tight... and so fucking hot."


At his words, Shweta clamped down. She gripped his throbbing manhood like a vice with her internal muscles, milking him, squeezing him until he hissed through his teeth.


"Ohh, Borda, you feel so good too," she moaned, the pleasure making her voice tremble. "You are soo deep inside me... you reached in places your brother never could... never even touched."


The admission hung in the air, the ultimate betrayal of Ani’s manhood. Sumu surged up, brushing his lips against hers, tasting her breath, sealing the pact.


"You needed someone like me, Shweta," he rasped, his hands moving down to grip her wide hips, controlling her pace. "A body like yours... it cannot be satisfied by my brother. He doesn't have what it takes to handle this. I am glad God brought us together."


Shweta looked down into his eyes, her pupils blown wide, completely surrendered to the sin. She leaned down, kissing him deeply, and murmured against his mouth, "I'm glad as well, Borda..."With that admission hanging heavy in the humid air, Shweta straightened her spine, making herself upright. She placed her palms flat against Sumu’s broad, heaving chest, her manicured nails digging in to tease and pick at his flat nipples. She began to move, taking charge of her own pleasure.


At first, the rhythm was slow, a deliberate, grinding rotation of her hips. She circled her pelvis, savoring the terrifying fullness of him, feeling the pressure stretching her deep inside—a sensation completely alien to her marital bed. Then, the tempo shifted. Driven by a hunger she hadn't known she possessed, she began to bounce faster. She slammed her weight down on his thickness, her hips snapping in frantic circles.


Sumu watched her from below, his eyes glazed and dark, like a man drunk on forbidden wine. Above him, the beautiful, reserved wife of his cousin was transformed into a wanton goddess. As she rode him, her massive breasts bounced and jiggled violently with each impact, a hypnotic display of flesh and lust. Her head was thrown back, her hair cascading down her spine like a dark waterfall, eyes squeezed shut in concentration.


Unable to resist, Sumu reached up, his large hands engulfing both of her heavy breasts. He began to knead them roughly, fingers sinking into the soft yielding flesh. Shweta moaned loudly, a guttural sound of pure pleasure, and thrust her chest forward into his grip, offering herself completely while her hips never ceased their relentless pounding.


"Tell me, Shweta," Sumu grunted, his thumbs circling her areolas. "Who does it better? Me... or my brother?"


Shweta didn’t hesitate. The answer tore from her throat, stripped of any loyalty to the man she married. "It’s you, Borda! There is no comparison... none! You fill me completely... you break me!"


A satisfied grunt rumbled through Sumu’s chest. He slid his hands down to her wide, soft ass, fingers digging into the plush cheeks. He squeezed hard, leaving red marks on her pale skin. "Then ride me, Shweta. Show me how much you needed this."


And she did. She rode her brother-in-law with the desperation of a starved woman at a banquet. Sweat dripped from her forehead, landing on his chest, mingling with the sheen of perspiration covering him. Her feminine fluids slicked his shaft, running down to soak his pubic hair, creating a wet, slapping sound with every collision of their bodies. Her fingers clawed at his chest, drawing lines of red, but neither cared.


Suddenly, Sumu roared. He gripped her waist and, with a surge of athletic power, rolled them over, pinning her to the mattress.


He wasted no time, diving back into her with renewed violence. He hooked one of her shapely legs over his shoulder, opening her up completely to his assault. As he thrust, pounding into her with animalistic force, he turned his head and pressed his face against the sole of her raised foot. He licked her arch, his tongue dragging wetly over her skin, before moving to her ankle.


There, the silver *payal*—a loving gift from Ani meant to symbolize her marital status—clicked softly against Sumu’s ear. Sumu rubbed his face against it, licking the silver chain, deliberately tainting the husband’s gift with the lover’s saliva. It was a degradation, a claiming, but Shweta was not in a state to notice the symbolism.


She could focus on nothing but the massive manhood of her brother-in-law piston-ing deep inside her, hitting spots that had gathered dust for a year. The friction was unbearable, electric.


"Oh, Borda... Borda, please!"


Shweta could not hold on any longer. With a violent shudder that racked her entire frame, she released herself. "Ohhh Bordaaaa... this feels so good!" she screamed, her voice cracking as waves of ecstasy shattered her reality.


Sumu watched her face distort in pleasure, the sight pushing him over the edge. He followed her moments later, groaning as he emptied himself. He crashed down on top of her, his weight heavy and conquering.


Instinctively, Shweta wrapped her legs tight around his waist, her ankles locking at the small of his back. She pulled him in deeper, sealing him against her, as if she wanted his cum deposited directly into her uterus, craving the biological permanence of his betrayal.


They collapsed into the mattress, panting heavily, the room filled with the musk of their long lovemaking. Their bodies were slick, sticky with sweat and mixed fluids, adhered together by the heat of the night. Sumu eventually rolled over, lying next to her, his chest heaving as he stared at the ceiling.


Shweta lay beside him, her limbs heavy and useless. But her mind was clear. She felt light, empty of tension, and utterly triumphant. Guilt was a distant ghost; right now, all she knew was that she had just experienced the best sex of her life.The silence of the night returned to the room, heavy and suffocating, yet Shweta breathed it in like fresh oxygen. She sat up slowly, the muscles of her core aching with a delicious, unfamiliar fatigue. She pulled the grey sheet up to her neck, shielding her nudity not out of shame, but to savor the lingering warmth of his skin against hers for a moment longer. Leaning down, she kissed him softly on the chest, right over his thudding heart, tasting the salt of his sweat.


She slid off the bed, her legs trembling slightly as they took her weight. Quietly, she gathered her discarded clothes—the tangled saree, the petticoat, and the blouse that had been ripped in their earlier frenzy—from the floor. Clutching the bundle to her chest, she paused at the door, her hand hovering over the latch. She turned back to look at him.


Sumu was watching her, propped up on one elbow. The sheet had pooled around his waist, exposing the defined ridges of his abdomen. There was a lazy, possessive smile playing on his lips, a look of absolute ownership that sent a fresh shiver down her spine.


"Don’t look so smug, Borda," she whispered playfully, the use of the familial term now laced with a rich, new meaning—a dirty secret wrapped in a title of respect.


"How can I not?" he challenged, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards. "You’re walking back to his bed with my seed inside you. And you came to me willingly."


Shweta’s smile turned dark and resolute. The shy, lonely housewife was gone; in her place stood a woman awakened. She slipped out of the room, shutting the door softly behind her, leaving Sumu in his bed.


The hallway was warm and dim, a stark contrast to the cool air of Sumu’s bedroom. Shweta tiptoed across the floor, her body moving with a newfound grace. She was exhausted, yet an electric current seemed to buzz beneath her skin. The intense arousal was finally receding, leaving behind a warm, slick trail down her inner thigh. With every step, she could feel the heavy residue of his climax, thick and warm, gravity pulling it down from her womb, dripping slowly from her soaked vagina. It was a visceral, sticky reminder of her betrayal, and she loved it.


She reached her own bedroom door, her breath hitching in her throat as she slid the bolt open. She slipped inside.


Ani hadn’t moved an inch. He was still sleeping soundly, deep in the exhaustion of the steel plant, his arm wrapped tightly around a pillow as a poor substitute for the wife who had just abandoned him. His back was to the door, his breathing rhythmic and heavy.


Moving with practiced stealth, Shweta quickly stripped off her wet, musky clothes. She dropped the ruined blouse and the stained petticoat into the bottom of the laundry basket, burying them under Ani’s work shirts. She glanced at the bathroom door but shook her head. She didn’t shower; she didn't dare risk the noise, but more than that, she didn't want to wash him away just yet. She simply wiped her thighs quickly with a corner of the bedsheet to catch the excess fluid and then, naked and unwashed, she slid into the bed beside her husband.


The old bed creaked under her weight, the hard mattress unyeilding, but Ani remained dead to the world. She curled up next to him, her back pressing against the warmth of his body. Her heart, which had been racing with adrenaline, began to beat slowly, satisfied.


She closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of the room—detergent and stale air—but all she could smell was the musk of Sumu on her own skin. The sound of Ani’s gentle snoring filled the silence. It was no longer a symbol of her loneliness, nor a reminder of his absence. Now, it sounded like the soundtrack of her success.


She drifted off, a deep, peaceful sleep claiming her, with her husband lying oblivious against her back, and his brother’s seed drying sticky and claiming inside her.

[Siva40]

Wow Super narration

[LovePookie]

wow awesome waiting for more this story has potential to be long please don't end

[rinxox]

Again a marvelous episode...it was nice to see Shewta shedding her shyness and embracing her slutty side.

[Sherlocked]

The seasons shifted, the scorching, dry heat of the summer surrendering to the heavy, relentless weeping of the monsoon. Rain battered the tin shades of the verandas and turned the dusty lanes into mud, but inside the ancestral home, the temperature only rose. With the change in weather, Shweta’s thrilling and dangerous life settled into a seductive routine. The initial guilt that had once threatened to consume her had evaporated like mist, replaced by a cold, exhilarating acceptance.


She was living a double life, partitioned perfectly between two brothers. One she had married and loved with a soft, pitying affection; the other soothed the burning ache of her body and dominated her soul.


For the weekends, the performance began. Dinner became a theater of domesticity, and Shweta played the lead role flawlessly. Not because she feared discovery, but because the deception made the reality taste sweeter.


Outside, the rain drummed against the shutters. Inside the dining hall, the tube light hummed. Ani sat hunched over his rice, his frame gaunt and shadowed by the relentless glare of the blast furnaces he faced all week. He looked smaller, worn down by the honest labor he performed for their future.


"The heat at the plant is unbearable, even with the rain," Ani murmured, mixing his dal and rice with tired fingers. "But the overtime pay will help us next month."


Across the table, Sumu sat in a stark white sleeveless vest, the cotton clinging to his torso. He looked vibrant, fed on home comforts and secret pleasures. His biceps flexed, rippling under smooth skin as he reached for the water jug. He caught Shweta’s eyes over the rim of his glass.


There was no shame in her gaze, only a microscopic smirk, a slight parting of her wet lips.


"You need to take care of your health, Ani," Sumu said, his voice deep and smooth, contrasting with Ani's raspy fatigue.


"I try," Ani sighed, offering a grateful smile to his cousin. "I only worry about Ma and Shweta. As long as you are here, Dada, I feel safe leaving them."


Sumu set the glass down. He wasn't looking at his brother; his dark eyes were locked onto Shweta’s throat. "You do not need to worry. I will look after every one of their *needs*."


Only Shweta caught the heavy, velvet emphasis on the word. She didn't flinch. Instead, she calmly picked up a piece of the best fish—the *peti*—and placed it onto Ani's plate.


"Eat," she urged softly, her voice laced with a tenderness that Ani mistook for devotion.


Her wrist moved, and her bangles chimed—the red *pola* and white *sankha*, the sacred symbols of her marriage. The sound was a sharp, clear ring. It was the same sound that had filled the heavy afternoon air just hours ago, when those same hands were wrapped around Sumu’s manhood.


The memory washed over her, drowning out Ani’s chewing.


Earlier that afternoon, the rain had been a torrential downpour, masking all sound. Once the summer heat had subsided, their playground had expanded. Sumu found a perverse thrill in leaving his air-conditioned sanctuary to invade Ani’s territory.


Shweta had entered her bedroom—Ani’s bedroom—intending to change the sheets before her husband's arrival. instead, she found Sumu waiting. He was lying on the antique *palanka* bed, sprawling like a king on the throne of his brother's marriage.


Shweta hadn't been shocked. She had smiled, a naughty, conspiratorial curve of her lips. She closed the door, the heavy bolt sliding home with a click that sealed their world. The lack of AC made the room humid and thick, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and impending sex.


"Your brother is coming home in a couple of hours," Shweta had teased, walking toward the bed, "and here you are, waiting to nail his wife in his own bed. You are bad, *Borda*."


Sumu had risen from the mattress, the springs of the old bed creaking—a sound he loved, a sound that screamed of illicit intrusion. A smug smile played on his face.


"You might be his wife, Shweta," he said, stepping into her personal space, his heat radiating onto her, "but you belong to me."


Shweta met him in the middle of the room. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her soft curves into the now-familiar, steel-hard wall of his chest.


"Yes, *Borda*," she whispered, surrendering. "I belong to you. He’s coming back soon. Please... make the minutes count."


She had kissed him then, plunging her tongue into his welcoming mouth, tasting the danger. Minutes later, she was on her knees.


Sumu stood tall, his pajama bottoms pooled at his ankles. His throbbing manhood, thick and veined, was wrapped in her hands. The red and white bangles clicked rhythmically against his shaft as she stroked him. It was glistening with her saliva.


Sumu threw his head back, a groan tearing from his throat as the head of his penis entered his sister-in-law’s wet, warm mouth.


Shweta swirled her tongue around the sensitive ridge. It was a hypocrisy she relished. She had never taken Ani in her mouth, telling him shyly that it made her feel dirty. But with Sumu, the "dirty" was the point. His erection was too inviting, too demanding to refuse. She bobbed her head, saliva dripping from her lips, her eyes looking up at him in worship.


They had stripped completely, their clothes a tangled heap on the floor. Sumu had thrown her onto the bed, pushing her face into the pillow that Ani would sleep on that night. He took her without mercy. Perhaps it was the jealousy knowing she wouldn't be his for the next two days, but he pounded into her with a rough, animalistic cadence.


The old bed groaned and shrieked under the assault. The sweat made their bodies slick, sliding against each other with wet slaps. He reached deep, hitting her cervix, claiming her womb, making her body ache in a way that would linger long after he withdrew.


Back at the dinner table, Shweta blinked, the memory fading but the heat of it remaining between her legs.


"Is the fish good?" she asked Ani.


"It's wonderful," Ani said, looking at her with adoration. "You take such good care of us."


Shweta smiled, genuine and beatific. She *was* taking care of him. The resentment that had once poisoned her weekends was gone. Because she was thoroughly satisfied, drained of her loneliness and filled with Sumu's attention during the week, she had plenty of patience left for Ani.


Later that night, she washed Ani's clothes with extra care, scrubbing the grime of the plant from his shirts. She sat on the edge of the bed—fresh sheets finally spread—and took Ani’s aching, soot-stained feet into her lap. She massaged them with warm oil, her hands strong and soothing.


Poor, oblivious Ani looked at his wife, seeing the glow in her face and the flush on her cheeks. He thought she had finally accepted their life, that she had found happiness in their small sacrifices. He didn't realize the glow was the afterglow of his cousin’s passion, or that the flush was a remnant of the rough beard burn from Sumu's kisses.


"I love you, Shweta," Ani mumbled, drifting toward sleep, comforted by her touch.


"Sleep now," she whispered, her eyes drifting to the door where she knew, across the hall, Sumu was awake. She was a better wife now, she told herself. And all it cost was everything.The darkness of the bedroom felt heavy, suffocating in its silence, until Ani shifted. His hand, rough from the steel plant but gentle in intent, reached for her waist. Shweta didn't pull away. She turned into him, allowing him to pull her close, her body complying with the muscle memory of duty.


He kissed her, his lips soft, familiar, and safe. There was a tenderness in him that used to make her heart flutter, but now, it only highlighted what was missing. When he climbed over her, settling between her thighs, she opened for him, staring up at the ceiling fan cutting through the shadows.


He entered her with a sigh of relief, moving with a rhythm she knew by heart. But as he pushed inside, Shweta felt a jarring hollowness. After the past week, after her body had been stretched and claimed by Sumu’s impressive, demanding size, Ani felt almost insignificant. The friction she now craved—that feeling of being filled to the absolute brim, of being split open and possessed—was entirely absent. Ani was average, adequate, human. Sumu was a force of nature.


Ani’s lovemaking was quick, a monotonous cadence born of exhaustion and routine. He didn't know how to ravage her; he only knew how to love her. Within minutes, his breath hitched, and he collapsed against her chest with a shuddering release. Shweta lay still beneath his weight, her own pulse barely elevated. As Ani’s breathing evened out, drifting toward sleep, she stroked his thinning hair, her fingers soothing him while her mind was miles away, replaying the roaring inferno of his cousin’s touch, the way Sumu made her scream into the pillow just days ago.


The weekend passed in a blur of domestic charades, but Monday brought the return of her secret life. With Ani back in Durgapur, the ancestral home settled into its quiet, drowsy rhythm, and the afternoon tea ritual resumed. It became their gateway, a bridge between the mundane and the illicit.


It wasn't quite noon, and it wasn't quite evening. It was that suspended hour when the house slept. Ani’s mother, pious and aging, sat in her room reading scriptures, never noticing that her daughter-in-law spent far too long delivering a single cup of tea to the first-floor office. She saw Shweta enter with a steaming cup and leave with an empty one, never suspecting the depravity that occurred in between.


Inside Sumu’s air-conditioned office, the tea often sat forgotten on the corner of his mahogany desk, a thin film forming over the liquid as it went cold. Sumu had no interest in tea when he had Shweta.


He wouldn't even let her put the tray down before he was pulling her into his lap. He drank not from the cup, but from her lips, sucking the breath from her lungs. He treated her body like a feast, his hands roving over her curves with an ownership that made her knees weak. He would pull her blouse down, his mouth latching onto her breasts, consuming her with a hunger that made Ani’s gentle caresses seem like the touch of a ghost.


The swivel chair became their throne of transgression. Sumu would remain seated, his powerful thighs spread wide, while Shweta hiked her saree up to her waist. With a look of wanton focus, she would straddle him, sinking down onto his shaft, impaling herself inch by delicious inch. She would throw her head back, biting her lip to stifle the moans as she rode him, the leather of the chair creaking in time with the wet, slapping sounds of their bodies meeting. All the while, the door remained unlocked, the threat of discovery adding a razor-sharp edge to her pleasure.


When the monsoon arrived, turning the sky a bruised purple and unleashing torrents of rain, their playground expanded. The heavy downpour was a blessing; the deafening drum of water on the concrete drowned out the world.


Nobody went up to the roof in such weather—nobody but them.


They met there under the grey, weeping sky. Shweta, drenched within seconds, her saree clinging to her skin like a second layer, met Sumu amidst the storm. There was something primal about it, the water slicking their skin, making every touch slide and grip with electric intensity. He took her against the pabangt wall, the rain washing away their sweat as fast as it formed. He drove into her with a violence that matched the storm, and for the first time, she screamed his name aloud, her voice lost to the thunder and the wind.


The guilt that had once plagued her, the heavy stone in her gut, had dissolved in the rain. What remained in its place was a ravenous, insatiable hunger. It was a thrill that was reshaping her very soul, calcifying her heart against the morality she was raised with. She wasn't just Ani’s waiting wife or Sumu’s polite sister-in-law anymore. She was a woman who had learned the intoxicating power of taking what she needed, satiating her own starving body, and leaving the scraps of her affection for the man who legally owned her.

[LovePookie]

wow what a great writing waiting for more

[Sherlocked]

The weekend arrived not with the usual heavy tread of exhaustion, but with a frantic, buoyant energy that seemed foreign on Ani’s gaunt frame. When he walked through the door, the grimeworn fatigue that usually clung to him like coal dust was replaced by a feverish glow. He dropped his bag, disregarding the weeks of accumulated laundry, and grabbed Shweta’s hands, his grip trembling.


"It’s done, Shweta. It’s finally done," he breathed, his eyes shining with a wet, desperate hope. "They made me permanent. The union signed it yesterday. And the quarter... type-B quarter in the township. It’s ours."


He laughed, a sound that cracked with relief, and pulled her into a hug that felt frail compared to the iron-banded embraces she had grown accustomed to in the room downstairs. "No more weekends only. I’m taking you with me. Next week. We’re going to be a real family."


Shweta stood rigid in his arms for a heartbeat before muscle memory took over. She smoothed her features into a mask of practiced joy, widening her eyes and forcing a smile that didn't reach the cold calculation churning in her gut. "That’s... that’s wonderful" she said, her voice steady. She kissed his cheek, tasting the salt of his sweat, so different from the musk of the man she had been with just hours before.


While Ani babbled on about the kitchen size in Durgapur and the 24-hour water supply, Shweta’s mind was already elsewhere, doing the arithmetic of survival. She excused herself, retreating to the bathroom, locking the door with a sharp click.


She stared at her reflection in the spotted mirror. Her period was late. Three weeks late. She looked down at her flat stomach, her hand hovering over the cotton of her saree. The timeline was mercilessly precise. Ani had been gone for the shutdown for nearly a month, too exhausted to do anything but sleep during his last brief visit. But Sumu... Sumu had been insatiable. Every afternoon. Every night while the house slept.


The nausea she had felt earlier wasn't from the heat. It was a biological certainty.


Panic flickered for a second, then died, strangled by a cold, new resolve. This wasn't a disaster; it was an exit strategy. It was the lock on the door of her future. A child would cement Ani’s devotion. He would work himself to the bone for a baby he believed was his, and she would be the revered mother, safe in a company quarter, miles away from the temptation and the danger of the ancestral home.


She washed her face, the water cool against her flushing skin, and walked out to find Sumu.


He was in his room, the site of their rawest transgressions, doing pushups against the floor, his back muscles rippling under a sheen of sweat. When she entered, he sprang up, a smirk playing on his lips, assuming she had come for a quick stolen moment while Ani bathed.


"He’s happy, isn't he?" Sumu scoffed, stepping toward her, his presence looming and heavy. "Let him have his moment. Tonight, you come to me. I’ll make you forget him again."


"I'm leaving, borda," Shweta said, her voice devoid of the breathy want he was used to. She didn't step back as he approached; she stood her ground, armored in her secret. "We are moving to Durgapur on Tuesday."


Sumu stopped, his brow furrowing. "You're going nowhere. You think you can play house in some dirty industrial town after what we’ve done? You need this. You need me." He reached for her, his hand aiming for her waist, possessive and familiar.


Shweta caught his wrist. Her grip was surprisingly firm. "It's over."


"Over?" Sumu let out a dark, incredulous laugh. "You think you can just turn it off? You belong to me, Shweta. His touch makes you sick. I know it does."


"I'm pregnant," she said.


The words sucked the air out of the room. Sumu froze, his eyes dropping instantly to her belly, then snapping back to her face. His mind worked the same calculus hers had. He knew Ani’s schedule. He knew the sounds of the house. A flicker of pride, primal and arrogant, lit up his eyes, warring with the sudden, crushing realization of what this meant.


"It’s mine," he whispered, a statement, not a question. He took a step closer, his hand trembling as he reached out, perhaps to claim the life he had planted. "That is my blood, Shweta."


She stepped back, putting the threshold between them. "It is Ani’s child," she said, her voice icy and final. "He will raise it. He will love it. And he will never know. Unless you want to destroy this family and shame your own blood, you will never speak of it."


Sumu looked at her, seeing for the first time not the lonely, pliable girl he had seduced, but a woman hardened by the very sins he had taught her. He looked at her stomach, a mix of rage and impotent longing twisting his features. He had conquered her body, but she was stealing his legacy.


"You're a devil," he murmured, half in awe.


"I'm a mother," she replied, and closed the door.


***


The departure two days later was a flurry of activity. The yellow Ambassador taxi idled at the gate, its trunk yawning open to swallow their suitcases. Ani was manic with energy, directing the driver, checking the locks, bowing to touch the feet of the elders. He looked like a man who had won the lottery, oblivious to the fact that the prize was counterfeit.


Shweta settled into the back seat. The humid air clung to her, heavy with the scent of impending rain. As the engine sputtered to life, she turned her head toward the house one last time.


Sumu stood by the main entrance, leaning against the pillar. He wasn't waving. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, his expression unreadable to anyone but her. To the world, he was the supportive cousin seeing them off. To Shweta, he was the co-conspirator, the silenced partner, the biological ghost that would haunt her marriage forever.


Their eyes locked across the dusty courtyard. There was no love in the look, no lingering romance. It was cold—a silent agreement that the game was finished, the price had been paid, and the secret would be carried across the state. He gave a barely perceptible nod, a surrender to her blackmail, and turned away, walking back into the shadows of the house where her moans still lingered in the walls.


Ani slid in beside her, slamming the door. "Ready, Shweta? Our new life starts now." He beamed, placing a rough, calloused hand over hers.


As the car pulled away, Shweta gently extricated her hand from his and placed it over her barely visible belly, thinking not of the love she was leaving behind, but of the lie she was taking with her, cementing her future as the devoted wife of a man who will unknowingly raise his own brother’s child.


THE END

[Bloodylust]

The weekend arrived not with the usual heavy tread of exhaustion, but with a frantic, buoyant energy that seemed foreign on Ani’s gaunt frame. When he walked through the door, the grimeworn fatigue that usually clung to him like coal dust was replaced by a feverish glow. He dropped his bag, disregarding the weeks of accumulated laundry, and grabbed Shweta’s hands, his grip trembling.


"It’s done, Shweta. It’s finally done," he breathed, his eyes shining with a wet, desperate hope. "They made me permanent. The union signed it yesterday. And the quarter... type-B quarter in the township. It’s ours."


He laughed, a sound that cracked with relief, and pulled her into a hug that felt frail compared to the iron-banded embraces she had grown accustomed to in the room downstairs. "No more weekends only. I’m taking you with me. Next week. We’re going to be a real family."


Shweta stood rigid in his arms for a heartbeat before muscle memory took over. She smoothed her features into a mask of practiced joy, widening her eyes and forcing a smile that didn't reach the cold calculation churning in her gut. "That’s... that’s wonderful" she said, her voice steady. She kissed his cheek, tasting the salt of his sweat, so different from the musk of the man she had been with just hours before.


While Ani babbled on about the kitchen size in Durgapur and the 24-hour water supply, Shweta’s mind was already elsewhere, doing the arithmetic of survival. She excused herself, retreating to the bathroom, locking the door with a sharp click.


She stared at her reflection in the spotted mirror. Her period was late. Three weeks late. She looked down at her flat stomach, her hand hovering over the cotton of her saree. The timeline was mercilessly precise. Ani had been gone for the shutdown for nearly a month, too exhausted to do anything but sleep during his last brief visit. But Sumu... Sumu had been insatiable. Every afternoon. Every night while the house slept.


The nausea she had felt earlier wasn't from the heat. It was a biological certainty.


Panic flickered for a second, then died, strangled by a cold, new resolve. This wasn't a disaster; it was an exit strategy. It was the lock on the door of her future. A child would cement Ani’s devotion. He would work himself to the bone for a baby he believed was his, and she would be the revered mother, safe in a company quarter, miles away from the temptation and the danger of the ancestral home.


She washed her face, the water cool against her flushing skin, and walked out to find Sumu.


He was in his room, the site of their rawest transgressions, doing pushups against the floor, his back muscles rippling under a sheen of sweat. When she entered, he sprang up, a smirk playing on his lips, assuming she had come for a quick stolen moment while Ani bathed.


"He’s happy, isn't he?" Sumu scoffed, stepping toward her, his presence looming and heavy. "Let him have his moment. Tonight, you come to me. I’ll make you forget him again."


"I'm leaving, borda," Shweta said, her voice devoid of the breathy want he was used to. She didn't step back as he approached; she stood her ground, armored in her secret. "We are moving to Durgapur on Tuesday."


Sumu stopped, his brow furrowing. "You're going nowhere. You think you can play house in some dirty industrial town after what we’ve done? You need this. You need me." He reached for her, his hand aiming for her waist, possessive and familiar.


Shweta caught his wrist. Her grip was surprisingly firm. "It's over."


"Over?" Sumu let out a dark, incredulous laugh. "You think you can just turn it off? You belong to me, Shweta. His touch makes you sick. I know it does."


"I'm pregnant," she said.


The words sucked the air out of the room. Sumu froze, his eyes dropping instantly to her belly, then snapping back to her face. His mind worked the same calculus hers had. He knew Ani’s schedule. He knew the sounds of the house. A flicker of pride, primal and arrogant, lit up his eyes, warring with the sudden, crushing realization of what this meant.


"It’s mine," he whispered, a statement, not a question. He took a step closer, his hand trembling as he reached out, perhaps to claim the life he had planted. "That is my blood, Shweta."


She stepped back, putting the threshold between them. "It is Ani’s child," she said, her voice icy and final. "He will raise it. He will love it. And he will never know. Unless you want to destroy this family and shame your own blood, you will never speak of it."


Sumu looked at her, seeing for the first time not the lonely, pliable girl he had seduced, but a woman hardened by the very sins he had taught her. He looked at her stomach, a mix of rage and impotent longing twisting his features. He had conquered her body, but she was stealing his legacy.


"You're a devil," he murmured, half in awe.


"I'm a mother," she replied, and closed the door.


***


The departure two days later was a flurry of activity. The yellow Ambassador taxi idled at the gate, its trunk yawning open to swallow their suitcases. Ani was manic with energy, directing the driver, checking the locks, bowing to touch the feet of the elders. He looked like a man who had won the lottery, oblivious to the fact that the prize was counterfeit.


Shweta settled into the back seat. The humid air clung to her, heavy with the scent of impending rain. As the engine sputtered to life, she turned her head toward the house one last time.


Sumu stood by the main entrance, leaning against the pillar. He wasn't waving. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, his expression unreadable to anyone but her. To the world, he was the supportive cousin seeing them off. To Shweta, he was the co-conspirator, the silenced partner, the biological ghost that would haunt her marriage forever.


Their eyes locked across the dusty courtyard. There was no love in the look, no lingering romance. It was cold—a silent agreement that the game was finished, the price had been paid, and the secret would be carried across the state. He gave a barely perceptible nod, a surrender to her blackmail, and turned away, walking back into the shadows of the house where her moans still lingered in the walls.


Ani slid in beside her, slamming the door. "Ready, Shweta? Our new life starts now." He beamed, placing a rough, calloused hand over hers.


As the car pulled away, Shweta gently extricated her hand from his and placed it over her barely visible belly, thinking not of the love she was leaving behind, but of the lie she was taking with her, cementing her future as the devoted wife of a man who will unknowingly raise his own brother’s child.


THE END

Extraordinary story. Hot and erotic, but a perfect ending. Awesome writing.

Good luck,
Sweet Swetha

[ananth1986]

Ended soon. But a nice erotic sexy story . Thank you "SHERLOCKED"

[LovePookie]

very sad ended soon but waiting for another extraordinary story

[rinxox]

Nice ending.. Sherlock... with Sweta pregnent...hope will write a new story

[Sherlocked]

Thank you everyone for you positive responses. I am glad that you all liked my story.

[Ayush01111]

Bro will ani never get to know what shweeta did is this will be justice with ani

[Sherlocked]

Bro will ani never get to know what shweeta did is this will be justice with ani

I guess there won't be any justice for Ani. He would have to live with it unknowingly.