Adultery SPOILING MY WIFE FOR A PERVERT OLD WATCHMAN

[AK0047]

The Orginal story is written in Hindi by ROMYRAJ147

Till Now it's incomplete with no updates from past 3 years 

I loved it very much and thought I can continue it further in English 

So with all due respect to the original writer I'm starting a rewritten English version 

Hope you all like it 

[AK0047]

The fire of the flesh is a dangerously unforgiving thing. Once it ignites, it does not extinguish itself until it has reduced the entire being to ashes.

You may begin something casually, in the name of harmless fun, believing you will remain in control. You tell yourself you can handle it. But once things spiral out of hand, control slips away completely. That is exactly what happened to me.


My name is Dev—Dev Sharma. I am twenty-five years old. I work in Kolkata, employed at the State Bank of India as a manager. I had been married only recently—barely six months into the marriage—when everything began to unravel.




My wife’s name is Puja—Puja Sharma. She was twenty-one years old, about five feet six inches tall, and strikingly fair-skinned. Her complexion was so delicate that even a light touch would leave her blushing red. She was beautifully proportioned, possessing a natural grace that made her seem almost ethereal—like a living embodiment of sensual charm.



Soon after our marriage, we moved to Kolkata and rented a two-bedroom apartment. The flat was a little far from my office, mainly because the rent there was more affordable. Since I owned a car, the distance didn’t seem like an issue. The daily commute took around forty-five minutes.

Our apartment was in Block F, on the top floor. All the blocks in the society were connected at the top level, and each floor had three flats. On our floor, two were occupied by elderly couples—one uncle was around seventy, the aunt perhaps sixty-five. They rarely stepped out and kept mostly to themselves. The third flat belonged to someone who worked outside the city and visited only once or twice a year.

Block F was the last block in the line. Behind it stretched an open, deserted field—completely silent and isolated, with hardly anyone ever passing through. There were six blocks arranged in a straight line, connected sequentially—F to E, E to D, and so on. Because Block E stood in front of us, our block was hidden from the rest of the society. Only the residents of Block E could see Block F.

The top floor was the only option available at the time, but we liked the society overall, so we decided to make it our home. We were excited—new house, a new beginning. We shopped extensively for the place. Puja had studied home décor, and she had a genuine passion for interior design. She took complete charge, decorating the house according to her taste. Although our honeymoon hadn’t happened yet, we were genuinely happy. I was secretly planning it—Maldives, filled with carefree moments—and wanted to surprise her, so I hadn’t mentioned it.

After about a month of effort, the house was fully furnished. Puja had done a remarkable job—an elegant blend of modern and classic aesthetics.

Puja came from a very decent, traditional family. She was raised in a small town in Himachal Pradesh, where she lived until the tenth grade. Later, she moved to Delhi for college. 

There, she adapted slightly to urban fashion—she dressed tastefully and modernly, but never crossed into anything overly revealing. She always upheld the values she was raised with. She was careful not to do anything that might hurt her family’s sentiments. Academics were always her priority. She kept minimal interaction with men—only casual friendships in college, nothing beyond that.

In simple terms, Puja appeared extremely innocent.
There’s a saying—that those who appear most innocent on the outside often carry intense desires within, though they rarely let them surface easily. You could take the character of Gajgamini from Mirzapur as a rough reference. But my wife was different. Or perhaps not. The truth of who she really was would only unfold through the intriguing events that were yet to come in our lives.

Our daily routine followed a simple, almost comforting rhythm. We would wake up around seven in the morning. Puja would bathe first, and after that, she would sit down for her prayers. Once she was done, she would prepare breakfast for me. I would then get ready, have my meal, and leave for the office by nine.

My working hours were from nine to six. Since the house was quite far from the office, I usually had lunch there. In the evenings, I would return home and have dinner before seven. Dinner, in fact, held special importance in our household—it was the one meal we always shared together without compromise.

Every morning before leaving, I would kiss Puja goodbye, and she would stand on the balcony, waving to me. She stayed there until I disappeared from her sight.

After that, she would take care of the house. Puja was extremely particular about cleanliness. Even the smallest speck of dirt would prompt her to start cleaning immediately. It was a good habit, though at times she took it so far that even I would feel irritated. Later, she would cook something light for herself, eat, and rest from one to three in the afternoon. After waking up, she would watch television for a while. By five in the evening, she would begin preparing dinner.

Once I returned home, we would eat together and then watch a romantic movie on Netflix. By ten at night, we would usually be asleep. Life flowed smoothly—quiet, ordinary, and content.

[Hotgiri]

Very Nice start, please give regular updates

[qazmlp]

A good start but feels like an incomplete update.The premise and main characters should get introduced in the first chapter, that way the anticipation is better built up.All the Best going ahead, rock our senses.

[couples2k9]

Good start pls continue

[AK0047]

Then one day, everything changed.

Our peaceful routine was disrupted the moment a third presence entered our lives.

Puja rarely stepped out of the house. She did some light yoga to stay fit. One evening, I suggested that we start going for short walks after dinner every night. Puja agreed. That day, after dinner around eight, we stepped out for a walk.
She wore jogging pants and a T-shirt, and I was dressed in a track suit.

 
As we reached the gate of our apartment complex, a man greeted us. I returned the greeting politely. He appeared to be around fifty years old, with a coal-dark complexion. He wasn’t very tall—perhaps around five feet five inches.


He had a well-built body—clearly someone who must have practiced bodybuilding in his younger days.






He was the society’s watchman. I had never seen him before, though his uniform made his role obvious. Still, a sense of curiosity made me want to know whether he was new or had been around for a while.


Me: I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. Are you new?

Aslam: No, sir. I’ve been working here for the past three years. My shift is from 7:30 at night until morning, so that’s probably why you haven’t seen me.

Me: Oh… so what’s your name?

Aslam: My name is Aslam. I guess you’re new here — I haven’t seen you before either. My shift used to be in the mornings about six months ago, but I still don’t recall seeing you then.

Me: Yes, we moved here about two months ago. Just stepped out for a bit of a walk today.

During this exchange, Puja showed no particular interest. She was looking around casually, clearly just waiting for the conversation to end so we could continue our walk.


Me: Alright then, uncle, we’ll get going.

Aslam: Sure, sir. If you ever have any trouble or need to know anything about this place, just let me know. I’ll be happy to help.

Me: Definitely.


We then headed out for our walk. That day, Aslam chacha came across as a decent man. His manner suggested he was helpful, and since he was the society’s watchman, there was a natural sense of trust. After the walk, we returned home, watched a movie on Netflix as usual, and went to sleep.


This routine continued for a few days. Every evening, we went for our walk, and I would exchange a few words with Aslam chacha. Gradually, I noticed something about him—he had a way with words. He was naturally funny and could hold a conversation effortlessly.

Slowly, I began to notice that Puja, too, was starting to find his conversations interesting. As many would agree, humor has a strange charm—people who can make others laugh are often easily liked. Puja seemed to feel the same. Still, she was very shy, so she never actively spoke. Whenever Aslam chacha cracked a joke, she would simply smile—quietly, almost unconsciously.

[yuvamuthu]

Going good.. pls update long

[magneticpersonality]

Good start to the story.
Please come up with lengthy updates.