Adultery Noida wife's descent into Quicksand ( New Novel)

[ShadowRising321]

Monica still thinks about Javed, maybe someone else is going to get lucky

[Mukul@99]

This is a great story. Reading this story only led to thinking about the characters and not able to wait, to find out what is going to happen next. Story is so tightly written & highly entertaining. Can't wait to see how it unravels.

[SilverArrow]

It was a lazy Saturday late evening.

Monica had slipped into a tiny crimson miniskirt that clung to her hips and barely covered the tops of her thighs, paired with a thin white crop top. The skirt was  short and she looked effortless beautiful in it — every step made the hem ride up and tease the lower curve of her ass. Even without make up,she looked hot - fair glowing skin, long loose hair, heavy breasts moving naturally under the thin fabric, nipples faintly visible.

The doorbell rang.

Monica opened the door to find Lakhan holding the delivery bag. His thick frame filled the doorway, uniform stretched tight, bald head shining with sweat.His eyes had that same evil grin, confident and filthy!

“Namaste, madam.”

“Arre Lakhan Saab,kase ho app?” she smiled warmly, taking the bag , brushing his sweaty hands, Lakhan seemed drenched in heavy sweat..due to the crazy heat wave swelteting North India...

" Baas madam thik Hoon, aap batao?"

" Baas .. Office aur ghar ke kaam..suno andar aa jao kafi thak gaye honge!" Monica looked at his sweaty face..

Lakhan grinned back " Aree Madam abhi ghar chalenge, fir khana banana hi hai”
Lakhan hesitated.

“Please Lakhan Saab, ek cup chai se kuch nahi hoga..”
Monica tilted her head, playful, though thinking if her miniskirt were too sexy to wear in front of Lakhan. Lakhan did hover his eyes on Monica's fair  exposed thick thighs before shifting his eyes back at her..





He nodded and stepped inside.
She led him to the living room. “Sofa pe baith jao. Kya dekhoge TV pe? Movies chalega? ”



Lakhan sat, glancing at the TV set “Madam… agar aapko dikkat na ho toh… aaj IPL ka knockout match chal raha hai. Bahut close game hai.. Delhi ki team batting kar raha hai”

Monica raised an eyebrow, smiling . “Ohooo...Cricket fan hai ? Theek hai” She switched channels with the remote.

“Yeh lo.. Main chai banati hoon. Ya coffee loge? ”
" Chai thik hai madam!! "
As she walked into the kitchen, Lakhan saw her jiggling ass from behind as Monica walked slowly with a sway ..

Lakhan's eyes burnt with desire... He was already hard, his massive dick painfully twitching under his jeans..
" Saala, yeh Randi to humesha chaddi pehenke ghumti hai, aaj niche panty peheni ya nhi kya paata.. " Lakhan thought to himself

From the kitchen she called out casually. “Toh batao, ghar kaise chal raha hai?  Shadi hua ki nhi ?”

“ Nahi madam. Pehle Middle East mein driver tha. Wapas aaya hun bombing ki wajah se. Ab yahan delivery karta hoon. Shaadi ka plan hai… lekin paisa chahiye.”




She returned with tea for him and coffee for herself, the short skirt riding higher as she sat beside him. They chatted about family and life.

Lakhan intently followed the match and often tried doing some calculations which Monica found a little weird..

suddenly the remote slipped from Monica's hand. One battery rolled under the sofa.

“Oh no…” Monica slid to her knees, then onto her hands and knees, arching her back to reach underneath. The tiny crimson miniskirt rode up completely. Her black lace panties showed completely to Lakhan who was seated behind, her panties disappeared between the full, rounded cheeks of her married ass. Those plump globes were bare — smooth, fair skin with a soft, natural jiggle every time she shifted.



And much to Lakhan's delight, she wiggled her hips slowly from side to side as she searched deeper, pushing her ass back further. The panties string wedged tightly between her cheeks, and the narrow crotch pulled snug, clearly outlining the soft lips of her pussy from behind. She moved with small, almost rhythmic sways, breathing a little heavier from the effort.
In a soft, frustrated voice she muttered, “Kaha gai yeh battery…”

Lakhan’s cock throbbed violently inside his pants, swelling thick and heavy as pre-cum leaked out.

Arre madarchod… yeh kya kar rahi hai? Poori gaand nangi…yeh kya peheni hai andaar? Panties saala...itna andar ghus gaya hai ki chut ka shape saaf dikh raha.

Lakhan thought..

He stayed frozen, gripping his knees, cock pulsing painfully.

Monica finally grabbed the battery. “Mila!” She straightened, skirt falling back, and sat again. Her cheeks were flushed, nipples stiff against the thin top.

As she fixed the remote, a faint realisation hit her —that she just now gave a forbidden show to Lakhan, the skirt must have ridden , how long she had been arched with her ass pointed straight at him.

Warmth spread across her chest. She glanced at Lakhan. He looked flushed, eyes on the TV but clearly distracted.
A small, teasing smile touched her lips.
“Arre… Lakhan Saab aap ki chai to thand ho gai...”
Lakhan quickly composed himself with his grin, but his eyes spoke of how lucky he was today...
Monica also knew how naughty and dirty show she gave to the man unapologetically showing her full panties to him!
Just then Delhi lost a set batsman
Lakhan shook his head violently " Aree yaar, yeh koi short hua? "

Monica smiled  “Arre ek baat batao,kya chal raha? Koi dost se shart lagaya kya?.”

Lakhan dismissed " Aree madam rehene Dijie.. "
" Lakhan Saab, batao batao.. Kya scene hai? "

He gave in. Lakhan spoke more openly.

“Madam, recently ek pub mein alcohol delivery karne gaya tha. Wahan ek regular se baat hui… pata chala wahan ek local betting ring chalti hai har weekend.”

Monica listened, leaning in slightly. “Pub ke andar hi?”

“Haan. Har weekend bade matches ke time pub ke peeche private area mein local bookies cash bets lete hain. Team pe, player pe, specific overs pe bhi. Pyasa immediate payout jeetne pe. Runners alag-alag jagah se collection karte hain. Pub owner ko bhi cut milta hai. Woh log bets balance karte rehte hain taaki zyada loss na ho. Weekend pe bahut hota hai, isliye accha paisa ban jata hai agar sahi se khelo.”

Monica nodded, interested. “Aur risk ka kya scene?”

“Risk toh hai. P-o-l-i-c-e, ya koi setting bigad jaye toh dikkat ho sakti hai. Lekin regulars hi aate hain. Bahar wale ko entry nahi. Maine thoda observe kiya tha.”

She asked one quiet question. “Aur tum isme pyasa dal rahe  ho kyunki tumhe pyasa chahie shadi k lie... Hmmm"

Lakhan nodded still semi hard, Monica's panties and ass cheeks lingering hard on his mind.. He muttered slowly " Ha madam.. Kaha se achi ladki milegi pyasa na aaya ho.? " He looked uncomfortably towards Monica, gaze full of horny undertones.
He quickly finished the tea and got up..
Monica asked playfully " Acha tumne pub ka Naam hi bataye nhi.. "
"Sky deck lounge and Bar, Sector 112 .. Koi bhi Sunday ko aa jaie.. Direct owner se milwa denge aapko madam!! "
" Sky deck lounge? Kase shady Naam hai yeh!! "
" Aree madam, betting ki mandir p honge kya? Safe jagah hai bilkul baaki aapki marji.. Mai chalta hu ji.. Shukriya chai k lie"
" Thik hai.. Good night lakhan Saab"




Monica walked ahead of him to the door, her miniskirt riding up slightly with every step, barely covering the bottom curve of her plump ass. She knew he was watching. She’d been teasing him all evening — bending a little too much, letting the thin fabric cling to her curves, giving him those sly little smiles. She liked the way his eyes darkened when he looked at her.

She reached for the latch.
The lights died instantly.
Complete, suffocating darkness swallowed the room.
Monica’s breath caught. Before she could speak, Lakhan was right behind her. His big, rough hand slid straight onto her ass, palming one full cheek through the thin miniskirt, squeezing hard. She felt the heat of his palm, the deliberate way his fingers dug into her soft flesh.
“Lakhan…?” she started, but the word died in her throat.
Both of his hands grabbed her ass now — hard, possessive. He spread her cheeks slightly, then slammed his palm down.
THWACK!
The sound was loud and filthy in the dark. Her right ass cheek exploded with sharp, burning pain. Her flesh rippled under the impact.
THWACK!
The second spank landed on her left cheek, just as brutal. The sting bloomed instantly, hot and deep, making her ass jiggle and burn.
Monica’s body jerked forward. A shocked, involuntary moan mixed with outrage tore out of her. “Lakhan, bastard… Yeh kya kar rahe ho?!”
Her pussy had clenched hard at the second spank. She felt a sudden, shameful rush of wetness between her legs.
Lakhan was quiet as usual looked menacing and quiet in the dark.
Monica’s shaking hands found her phone. The torchlight snapped on, cutting through the blackness.
She spun around, eyes wild, and slapped him across the face with full force.

“Bastard!!” she hissed, voice shaking with fury. “How fucking dare you?!”

Lakhan slowly turned his face back to her. His eyes were dark, unrepentant, carrying that heavy, arrogant dominance. He rubbed his cheek once and said in that same low, rough voice, “Andhera tha… socha aap gir jayoge"

Monica’s ass was on fire. Both cheeks throbbed and burned, the handprints already rising hot and tender under her miniskirt. As if she was punished for wearing something that sexy...She could feel her panties clinging wetly to her pussy lips.
“Get out,” she hissed. “Right now. Nikal jao yahan se. Abhi ke abhi”

Lakhan didn’t argue. He just grunted, picked up his bag, and walked out. The door clicked shut behind him.

Silence.
Monica stood in the dark, torch still glowing in her hand. Her heart was hammering. Her ass stung so badly it made her eyes water… and yet her cunt was throbbing, slick and swollen.
She turned the torch off.
Darkness again.
She didn’t move to fix the lights. She sank onto the sofa,
riding up. Slowly, almost against her will, she reached back and lifted the thin fabric. Her fingers touched her bare ass. The skin was hot. She could feel the distinct outlines of his handprints — raised, burning. When she pressed her fingers into one sore cheek, the sharp sting shot straight to her pussy like lightning.
A fresh gush of wetness soaked her already ruined panties.
“Fuck…” she whispered, voice trembling.
She knew she had teased him. She had pushed him all night. But this… this hard, sudden spanking in the dark had been too much. And yet her body was betraying her completely.

Her hand slid between her legs.
She wanked off her soaked panties to the side and threw it off as if she did not even care a bit...Her fingers dragged through her folds and came away dripping. She was soaked — thick, slippery arousal coating her inner thighs. Her clit was already swollen and aching. The moment she touched it, her hips jerked.
She rubbed slow, firm circles, breathing hard. Every time she squeezed one burning ass cheek with her other hand, her pussy clenched and leaked more. The mix of pain and pleasure was filthy and overwhelming.
Dirty thoughts flooded her mind against her will.
She imagined him still there in the dark.
Imagined him yanking her miniskirt up, ripping her panties down, and spanking her again — harder, longer — until her ass was bright red and she was crying.
Imagined him shoving his thick cock into her dripping cunt while her ass was still burning from his hands.
Her fingers moved faster. She pushed two fingers deep inside herself with a wet sound, curling them hard against her g-spot while her thumb worked her swollen clit. The squelching noises filled the dark room.
She was so wet it was running down to her asshole. Every thrust of her fingers made obscene, slick sounds.
“Fuck… you bastard Lakhan…” she moaned, half angry, half desperate. “How dare you… how fucking dare you make me this wet…”
She slapped her own sore ass cheek once, hard, and the sharp sting made her cunt spasm around her fingers. She did it again, chasing that dirty mix of pain and pleasure.
Her thighs started shaking. She fucked herself faster, deeper, imagining Lakhan’s rough hands holding her down, spanking her while he pounded into her from behind. Imagining him grunting, calling her a teasing slut while he used her.
The orgasm crashed over her violently.
Her back arched off the sofa. A broken, filthy moan tore from her throat as her pussy clenched and gushed around her fingers. Hot wetness flooded out of her, soaking the cushion beneath her ass. Her burning cheeks clenched with every pulse, the lingering sting making the climax sharper, dirtier, longer. She kept rubbing her clit through it, drawing it out until she was shaking and whimpering, fingers buried deep inside her dripping cunt.
When it finally ebbed, she collapsed back, panting, miniskirt bunched around her waist, panties twisted to one side, thighs glistening with her own cum.
Her ass still throbbed.
The WhatsApp video call rang again, it was Rakesh.... Light came back..
She answered the call " Honey, where were you I called you several times in the last hour"
" Oh sorry Rakesh really.. I had just kept my phone on charge and went for a walk down stairs ... " She had to lie instinctively..

[Mukul@99]

This is amazing ! This is beautifully written—clear, vivid. Writing is so evocative and descriptive. The way you built tension was masterful. Captivating plot and intriguing characters. Your descriptive writing made the scenes come alive. The characters felt so real and it kept me guessing throughout. Such a fantastic read ! I think this plot really works because of how well you've paced the story. Interesting choice to describe the setting the way you did. I can tell you are putting a lot of work into this. Thank you for an absolute surreal reading experience. You are a great story-teller.

[Givemeextra]

Nice Update

Good, it did not go into sex mode and a hot seduction sequence only happened.

[Mukul@99]

Bold move from the bald man.
Eagerly awaiting the next update.

[ShadowRising321]

Super update, fat bastard is staying patient

[tweeny_fory]

wow wow ow
what a lovely ride bhai
enjoyed the slutty act
right from the trip to the train ride and now the delivery man
enjoying the close encounters and sexual build up bro

a small request, pls write dialogs in english.. it will be very enjoyable for all of us

[ShadowRising321]

Waiting for Monica to go all the way

[ShadowRising321]

We are waiting man

[rp7575]

Thank You Guyss For Amazing Comment Apne Sab Ke Chaite Writer Sweetrati Bhai Jald Hi Aapun Sab Se milege Tab Tak Ke Liye Wait kijiye Comment Kariye Apne Writer Bhai Ke Liye

[veeravaibhav]

Most lines in hindi. Not even the translation given next to it. You can better write in hindi forum.

[SilverArrow]

It was a quiet Tuesday morning on the walking track. Monica spotted Lakhan walking toward her and slowed down. He did the same. They stopped a few feet apart.
“Morning,” Monica said.
“Morning, Madam,” Lakhan replied. He looked a bit tired. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” she said. “You’ve been busy?”

“Bit of work. Early mornings these days.”

They stood there for a moment. Monica looked at the track and spoke.
“Listen… about that day at my place. When things went wrong. I think we should talk about it.”
Lakhan glanced at her, then looked away.
“Yeah… that day....”
Monica kept her voice calm.
“I wanted to clear the air. I’m sorry it happened the way it did.”
Lakhan nodded slowly.
“I’m sorry too, Madam. I thought you were about to fall, so I—”

Monica cut him off.
“Don’t. We both know that’s not what happened.”
Lakhan went quiet for a second. Then he said,
“You’re right. I’m sorry for what I did. It was wrong. It won’t happen again.”

Monica looked at him directly.
“I slapped you and threw you out. That was also not right. But let’s just move on”

Lakhan met her eyes.
“I get it, Madam..you stopped deliveries from us all together!!”

Monica’s voice stayed firm.

“Because of what you did Lakhan...”

“The owner of the super shop was asking..” Lakhan spoke

" I usually order from the app these days.."

" We will give you prompt delivery and big discounts, and sorry again for that day..whatever it is if you are not ordering anymore , please come to the shop and close your account and take back your deposit .. Take care madam" Lakhan spoke coldly
" Ok will see" Monica replied and started walking ...


Rakesh had been back from his fifteen-day deputation in Nagpur for exactly six hours when he dropped his bag in the hallway. The flat smelled faintly of incense. Monica stood near the door, watching him. The moment he saw her, something in his eyes changed.
He stepped forward and pulled her into a long, tight hug. His arms were warm and heavy around her waist. She pressed her face into his chest and breathed in the mix of aftershave, travel, and the faint trace of airport coffee still clinging to his shirt.
“Missed this,” he murmured into her hair, voice low and rough. “Missed you. The place felt empty without you moving around.”
Monica smiled against the cotton of his shirt. “Missed you more. It was too quiet. I kept checking my phone every hour, waiting for your messages.”
They stayed like that for a few extra seconds, the warmth of his body sinking into hers. Then Rakesh pulled back slightly and looked at her face.
“Let’s go out tonight,” he said. “Delhi versus Punjab final. Big screen. Proper crowd. New sports bar near Cyber Hub. Office guys say it’s good.”
Monica studied his eyes for a moment. “Okay. But I’m choosing the snacks. And you’re not allowed to complain if Delhi starts losing.”
He smiled, but restlessness flickered behind it. “Deal.”
They reached the sports bar at 7:40. The queue outside was long and loud — shouting, laughter, the smell of cigarettes and sweat hanging in the warm Bengaluru night air. Rakesh checked his watch twice, then leaned close, his breath warm against her ear.
“Queue’s fucked. Colleagues mentioned Sky Deck Lounge upstairs. Shady place, but proper betting on big nights. We can slip in easy.”
Monica turned, surprised. “Sky Deck? How do you know about it?”
“Office boys. Serious money there.” He paused, watching her reaction. “Why? You’ve heard of it?”
She looked away for half a second, the lie smooth. “Saw something on Instagram once. Looked… risky.”
He didn’t push. “Let’s try it.”
They climbed the narrow staircase in Sector 29. With every step the air grew thicker — cigarette smoke curling in the dim red light, the low hum of voices, the distant roar of the match commentary. At the top, a silent bouncer with a gold tooth took the two-thousand-rupee note Rakesh slipped him and waved them through a heavy curtain that smelled of old velvet and sweat.
Sky Deck Lounge opened like a secret. Red neon lights pulsed against the walls. Thick layers of cigarette smoke hung in the air, mixing with the sharp scent of whisky and fried food. Twenty plasma screens flickered with the match. The low, dangerous sound of money moving — thick wads of cash rustling, glasses clinking, men shouting odds — filled the space. The real danger lived in the sunken pit at the back: five men on low black leather couches, gold chains glinting under the red lights, open collars, loud laughs that carried the smell of alcohol and tobacco.



Monica and Rakesh started at the outer tables. Rakesh put five hundred on Delhi. Monica chose Punjab. First over — a wicket. Their money vanished. The air around them felt heavier.
“Already down,” Rakesh muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. The sound of the crowd on the screens mixed with the low hum of the pit.
They moved closer. Another thousand lost on a misfield. Monica watched their stack shrink and felt her stomach tighten. She leaned close, her voice barely above the noise.
“We’re going to lose badly if we keep this up.”
“These men are too good,” he said quietly, eyes on the pit. “They read every ball like they’re inside it. I don’t like the feel of this place — the smoke, the way they look at each other.”
Monica was quiet for a long moment, watching the five men. Their gold chains caught the red light. The smell of their cologne and sweat mixed with the heavy air. Then she spoke, voice low.
“What if I distract them a little?”
Rakesh turned sharply. “Monica… what the fuck are you talking about?”
“Just a little,” she continued, still watching the table. “Jacket off. Borrow a cigarette. Lean in during the tense overs. Make them look at me instead of the screen. You keep the bets small. We wait for the right moment and walk away before it gets bad.”
He stared at her. The red light flickered across his face. “These men don’t play nice. You saw them. What if one of them gets the wrong idea? What if things go too far? I don’t want you taking that kind of risk.”
Monica finally met his eyes. There was a small, nervous smile on her lips, but her voice stayed steady. “I can handle it. I’ll stay in control. I’ll keep it light. Just enough to split their focus. You’ll be right there. If anything feels off, we leave immediately. I promise.”
Rakesh exhaled slowly, jaw tight. He looked at the men again, then back at her. Worry and something darker flickered in his eyes. “You’re sure about this? Really sure? Because once you start, there’s no halfway. The air in here already feels dangerous.”
She nodded. “I’m sure. It’ll work. They’re already half distracted by the match. And you’ll be close. That makes me feel safe.”
He held her gaze for a long second. Then he gave a small, reluctant nod. “Okay. But the second it feels wrong, we’re gone. No arguments.”
Monica slipped off her black leather jacket. The leather felt cool against her arms as she folded it. There was no seat near the big screen, so she stood close. Ustad noticed her.
“Madam standing there. No seat? Come sit. We’ll explain.”
The loud scarred man nodded. “Yes, come. Watch with us.”
Monica smiled and sat on the arm of the couch. The leather felt warm and slightly sticky under her. The conversation stayed short.
“So how does one over work?” she asked, voice soft over the low roar of the screens.
Ustad explained quickly. “Runs, wickets, boundaries. Odds change every ball.”
The bald dark man added, “Death overs decide everything.”
They talked for one over. Rakesh placed another small bet and lost it. During the 15th over Monica rested her hand lightly on the couch back near Ustad. The leather was warm under her palm.
“Why bowl short there?” she asked.
He turned to answer. Missed the dot ball. Punjab took a wicket. The table erupted — shouts, curses, the thick sound of money changing hands. One man lost five thousand shouting instead of betting. The air vibrated with tension.






The waiter brought fresh butter chicken and naan. The smell of spices and gravy hit hard. As Ustad reached, Monica nudged the plate with her elbow — timed with a loud cheer from the screen. Thick, warm gravy splashed across the front of her red top. It felt hot and sticky against her skin, the orange stain spreading fast.
“Oh no,” she said, standing quickly, voice flustered. “My fault. I leaned too close.”
Ustad’s eyes widened. “Sorry, madam!”
The loud scarred man cursed, the smell of alcohol on his breath sharp in the air.
Monica looked down at the bright orange stain, the fabric clinging warm and wet to her skin, then at Ustad and the bald dark man. “Washroom? Need to clean this before it sets.”
Both stood at once. Ustad said, “I’ll show you.” The bald dark man added, “Shortcut. Come.”
They walked the narrow corridor past the kitchen. The air was warmer here, thick with the smell of frying oil and spices. Monica kept her voice light, but her heart was beating faster.
“Match is getting tight,” she said.
“Bowler is on fire tonight,” the bald dark man replied, his voice low.
They reached the washroom door. The light above it flickered. Monica smiled. “Wait here? I’ll be quick.”
Both nodded. “Take your time.”
Inside, she locked the door. The small space smelled of cheap soap and damp. She peeled off the stained red top slowly. The fabric stuck slightly to her skin from the gravy. She folded it neatly and left it on the small rack. Underneath was her black lace bra. She slipped the leather jacket back on and zipped it only halfway. The jacket felt cool and smooth against her bare skin. She adjusted it slowly in the cracked mirror, letting the deep V settle so that when she walked, the natural movement would make the leather shift and gape open just enough — revealing the delicate black lace hugging her breasts, the soft curves, the way her nipples pressed faintly against the thin fabric with every breath. The lace felt slightly rough against her warm skin. She took seven full minutes, heart pounding harder with every second. The risk was real. If anyone figured out what she was doing, things could turn dangerous fast. The air in the lounge already felt thick with tension.
Outside, Ustad and the bald dark man waited in silence. The low roar of the match filtered through the walls.
“Long,” Ustad said quietly.
“Let her finish,” the bald dark man replied.
When she opened the door, both men turned — and froze.
The jacket was half-zipped. The black lace bra was clearly visible through the natural gap. The lace hugged her skin tightly, the soft swell of her breasts rising and falling with each breath. The dark fabric made her skin look even smoother, warmer under the red neon. Her nipples were faintly visible through the thin lace. The deep V of the open jacket showed everything — the curve, the shadow between her breasts, the way the bra lifted with every inhale. She could feel the cool air of the corridor brushing against her exposed skin. She looked embarrassed but composed, one hand lightly holding the front.
“Sorry,” she said softly. “The stain was stubborn.”
Ustad stared, cheeks flushing dark red. The bald dark man swallowed hard, eyes locked on the lace for a full second before he forced them up. The tension in the corridor was thick enough to taste — heavy, electric, dangerous.
Monica gave them a small, nervous smile. “I have to leave. It’s impossible to sit without a top in a room full of men. My husband will kill me if I stay like this.”
She started walking back toward the pit. Every step made the jacket shift. The black lace flashed in the red neon — the bra clearly visible, the curve of her breasts moving naturally, the way the lace stretched over her nipples with each breath. The cool air kissed her skin where the jacket gaped. The three men at the table turned as she approached — and the entire pit went dead silent for three long seconds. Eyes followed the jacket, the lace, the way her body moved beneath it. The suspense was electric. One wrong move and everything could explode. The air felt charged, thick with smoke and tension..
She turned and walked out without looking back. Rakesh was already waiting downstairs in the car, engine running, fingers tapping the wheel anxiously. The night air outside felt cool against her skin as she stepped out.
Monica slid into the passenger seat, heart still racing. The leather seat felt cool against her bare back where the jacket had shifted.
“You were perfect,” he said quietly, one hand sliding under the open jacket to rest on her bare waist. His fingers were warm against her skin. “They missed four overs. We only lost two thousand.”
“Drive,” she whispered, voice shaky.


Back in the pit, Ustad and the bald dark man noticed her stained red top still on the washroom rack. They brought it back to the table. The loud scarred man leaned in, voice low and filthy, the words thick with tension.
“Arre yaar… husband is one lucky bastard. Imagine getting that body naked every fucking night. Black lace bra right there when the jacket moved — I could see her nipples through it, the way it hugged her tits. I’d tear that jacket off, bend her over this table and fuck her till she screamed. Those soft warm tits in my hands, squeezing them while I pound into her from behind. She knew exactly what she was doing. Husband gets to spread those smooth thighs whenever he wants and slide his cock into that tight wet pussy. We’re left with blue balls. Lucky son of a bitch.”
Ustad’s voice dropped, raw and tense. “Tits on full display. I’d pin her against the wall and fuck her standing up, one leg over my shoulder. I’d make her cum so hard she forgets her own name.”
The bald dark man growled quietly, eyes still on the stairs. “She knew. Walking back like that with her tits almost out. Husband probably fucks her raw every morning. We’re sitting here with hard cocks and he’s probably already got her legs spread in the car right now. Lucky bastard. I’d give anything to see her on her knees, looking up at me with those eyes while I fuck her mouth deep and make her swallow every drop.”

[SubmissiveSwati]

nice but short

[rp7575]

Great Story And Great Update people are waiting that type of hot update its just start aage aage dekho hota hai kya sweetrati bhai Jindabad

[qazmlp]

Interesting update but didn't quite understand what went on with all the betting, I guess my knowhow in these matters is less.

[ShadowRising321]

Monica has no idea what she’s getting into

[Mukul@99]

I think this plot really works because of how well you've paced the story. Interesting choice to describe the setting the way you did. Feels like a breath of fresh air. I can tell you are putting a lot of work into this. Love the way you structured it with such a unique perspective & made it so interesting! You are a great storyteller.

[SilverArrow]

Once they reached the flat, Rakesh pulled her straight to the big sofa. The room was dimly lit by the streetlight outside. He climbed over her, kissing her hungrily as he pushed her top up. Within minutes they were fucking — hard, deep, and urgent. Rakesh had one hand lightly around her throat while the other came down sharply on her ass with a firm spank. He fucked her with steady, powerful thrusts, the sound of skin slapping filling the quiet room.
After some time, while still moving inside her, Rakesh spoke in a low, slightly breathless voice.
“That was something tonight… we actually played better than last time.”
Monica moaned softly, her nails digging into his back.
“Yeah… I thought we were going to lose way more. But we only lost two thousand total. That’s nothing.”
Rakesh thrust a little deeper and continued, his breathing heavy.
“Exactly. Bare minimum loss. Those guys in the pit were so caught up in the match… they weren’t even watching their own bets properly. We got lucky because of that.”
Monica bit her lip as pleasure built inside her.
“True. Especially in the middle overs. The loud one with the scar kept shouting so much, he didn’t even notice half the things happening around him.”
Rakesh gave a small, tired laugh between thrusts.

They kept fucking with a steady rhythm, talking naturally about the match, the betting, and how they managed to lose so little. The conversation felt real — broken only by moans and heavy breathing.

Soon he came and collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily, his hand still gently resting on her throat before slowly moving away.
They stayed like that for a while, bodies still connected, sweat cooling on their skin. After some time, Rakesh spoke softly, his voice calmer now.

“Fuck… that was intense. But honestly… I saw how they were all eyeing you tonight. Especially when you walked back from the washroom. That black lace… the way the jacket kept opening. They couldn’t look away.”
Monica smiled faintly, still catching her breath, and replied in a quiet voice,
“I know"

Rakesh kissed her forehead gently.
“You were perfect tonight. In every way.”
They lay tangled on the sofa for a long time after that, no more plans discussed, just quiet closeness.

It was almost 7:50 PM next Saturday when Rakesh suddenly put his phone down and looked at Monica.
“Fuck it,” he said. “Let’s go to Sky Deck right now. The match starts in an hour.”
Monica looked up from the sofa, slightly surprised.
“Right now?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Rakesh replied, already standing up. “Last moment plan. Just like last time. What do you say?”
Monica smiled after thinking for a second.
“Alright. Give me ten minutes to get ready”
They reached Sky Deck around 8:55 PM. This time they played slightly bigger bets and actually did better.
It was close to midnight when the match was winding down. Most people had started leaving. That’s when they noticed the same group still sitting in the sunken pit at the back.
As Monica and Rakesh were about to head out, two men from the group stood up and walked towards them. One was Ustad — the bald, sharp-eyed man . The other was the bearded, scary-looking guy.
Ustad stopped a few feet away and spoke in a calm, steady voice.
“Back again? Good to see you both.”
Rakesh nodded. “Yeah. Good match tonight.”

Ustad then introduced himself and the man beside him.
“I’m Ustad. This is Raju. We run a few small betting corners across different pubs in Gurgaon. I’ve been doing this for about eight years now. Started with a couple of friends in one pub, slowly expanded to four-five places"
Raju gave a short nod but didn’t say much.
Rakesh and Monica introduced themselves as well.
They had a short, casual conversation for the next few minutes. Ustad spoke in a calm, matter-of-fact way about how he manages the betting — keeping things low-key, making sure payouts are fast, and avoiding unnecessary trouble. He didn’t boast. He sounded like a man who had quietly figured out how to run a small but steady business in a risky field.
After a while, they said their goodbyes and walked out.
In the car, Rakesh was quiet for some time before speaking.
“Ustad seems different from the others. Calm guy.”
Monica looked out the window, a small smile on her face, but didn’t reply

†****†************


Ustad was smart. He didn’t rush anything. Instead, he slowly pulled Rakesh in with small, professional-looking opportunities.
After a few tiring weekdays, Ustad would message Rakesh late in the evening:

“Rakesh bhai, rough week? I’m running a small private session tomorrow on an online trading platform. Looks like normal stock options, but it’s actually match-based betting. Very clean, very professional. Only 8-10 trusted people. Want to join? Low risk, good returns.”

At first, Rakesh hesitated. But Ustad made it sound completely legitimate — like a smart side hustle. The platforms looked real, the payouts were quick, and everything felt organised. Slowly, Rakesh started joining these “sessions.” Ustad never forced him. He just made Rakesh feel like he was now part of something exclusive and smart.
Over time, their conversations moved beyond betting. Ustad would call him after work, ask about his day, share stories, and slowly build a genuine friendship. Before Rakesh even realised it, he had become a regular in Ustad’s small circle.
Monica had been completely occupied with her new office project. Long hours and deadlines kept her exhausted. Whenever Rakesh came home and excitedly told her about “Ustad’s setup” or “the new trading sessions,” she would listen quietly. She could see how much he was enjoying this new world — the thrill, the money, the sense of belonging. But somewhere inside, she couldn’t stop wondering what had pulled Rakesh so deep so quickly.

It's been two Months since then.

It was a warm Saturday evening in their new Noida home. Rakesh’s birthday was day after tomorrow.
Monica mentioned to Rakesh "we should have a small party no?"
" Yes,Mon I was actually thinking about this. I have joined this new department and this place is new, so we should invite some people over"
Monica was scrolling through her phone finalizing the guest list!

“So far we have three of your colleagues.The neighbour aunty and uncle do keep our deliveries and they are old..we should include them !! That should be fine, right? ”
Rakesh nodded.
“Yeah, how about any of your friends Mon? ”
" Rak, Natasha and the gang is busy with lawyers for their public litigation, let's skip them though I will ask them once!"

They sat in silence for a minute. Then Monica smiled and said jokingly,

“By the way, a few of your colleagues were pulling your leg today I heard over phone. They said, ‘Don’t forget to invite your new friends… the betting guys.’” She laughed lightly. “They were just joking, of course.”
Rakesh was quiet for a moment, staring at his glass. Then he looked up.
“You know what? That’s actually not a bad idea.”
Monica raised an eyebrow, surprised.
“Really ?”
“I mean… why not invite Ustad and Raju? They’ve been really good to me these past two months. It would be nice to have them over”

Monica studied his face. She could see he was serious.
She just smiled softly and joked "Don't make our house a betting den Rak! Anyway I will cook for them,let me know what your guys love eating?"
“Okay. I will ask them and tell you”


†********************"""

The next morning, Rakesh casually announced his birthday party in the WhatsApp group meant for the betting gang. Monica saw the growing number of names and looked at him.
“Rak, you’ve called almost everyone from the gang. There are already 12-13 people. How are we going to manage so many guys?”
Rakesh shrugged and replied casually,
“We’ll handle it. Don’t worry.”
Monica didn’t argue further.

Later that afternoon, when Rakesh stepped out to take a call, Monica quietly opened her WhatsApp chat with Ustad.

Monica:
Hey Ustad. How are you?
Ustad:
Hey Monica. I’m good. How about you? How’s work going?
Monica:
I’m okay. Just a bit busy with a new project at office. How’s everything with you?
Ustad:
All good. Just the usual. By the way, I saw Rakesh’s message in the group. He’s throwing a birthday party?
Monica:
Yeah. He wants to celebrate it at home this time.
Ustad:
That’s nice. First birthday in the new house, right?
Monica:
Exactly.
There was a short pause before Ustad replied again.
Ustad:
By the way… are you planning any surprise for your hubby?
Monica:
No, not really. Do you have something in mind?
Ustad:
Actually, I do. I have a small plan. A little birthday dare after the party. I know Rakesh well by now… he would love it.
Monica read the message and smiled softly. She found Ustad’s calm and confident way of speaking strangely reassuring.
Monica:
Tell me more.
Ustad:
Don’t worry. I’ll plan everything. You just have to be there.
Monica stared at the screen for a few seconds. Even though she hardly knew Ustad personally, his words made her feel oddly comfortable and safe. She typed back.
Monica:
Alright. I’m listening.
Ustad:
Good. We’ll talk more when I come over.


†*************"""""



Monica stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom, carefully getting ready for Rakesh’s birthday. She had chosen a fitted sage green designer kurti with delicate golden thread work along the neckline and sleeves. The kurti had a soft, slightly glossy finish and hugged her body in all the right places.
Underneath, she wore something much sexier than usual — a deep red lace bra and matching panties. The bra was push-up style, lifting and shaping her full, heavy breasts beautifully. The rich red colour created a striking contrast against the soft sage green of the kurti, and the delicate lace pattern was clearly visible through the slightly she
er fabric near the neckline. Her breasts looked full, round, and inviting, with a soft, tempting cleavage peeking through.
She had paired the kurti with tight black leggings that stretched smoothly over her thick, juicy ass. The round, heavy curves of her ass were clearly outlined, the leggings hugging every inch and betraying the otherwise decent look of her outfit. The deep red of her panties created another sexy contrast against the black leggings, making her feel bold and confident even though no one could see it.
Her hair was left open in soft, loose waves, and she had applied light makeup — just kajal, a touch of blush, and nude lipstick. A pair of small gold jhumkas completed the look.
Overall, she looked elegant, modern, and effortlessly sexy — the perfect balance of a confident urban Indian woman who knew exactly how to carry herself at her husband’s birthday party.
Rakesh’s three colleagues arrived first, followed by the neighbour uncle and aunty. It was almost 8:40 PM when the betting gang finally walked in — Ustad, Raju, Bheem, and Sonu.
While everyone settled in the living room, Monica moved between the kitchen and dining area. At one point, while she was giving final touches to the biryani, Ustad walked in and calmly helped her arrange the dessert bowls.
After a few seconds, he glanced at her and said in a low voice,
“You’re looking really good tonight. That green is doing something nice.”
Monica looked up with a playful smirk and replied,
“where did you learn all this flirting ,Ustad Saab ?"
Ustad chuckled softly and said,
“You must be getting hell lot of attention”
Monica grinned and shot back,
“Dont ask me .....”
Ustad looked at her with a small, confident smile and replied,
“Thats quite natural Monica ..is it not?"
Monica gave him a side glance and said in a teasing, slightly bolder tone,
“I can handle a lot more than you think. But right now, please help me deal with this dessert specially made for you guys”

Ustad laughed quietly!!!

Soon, everyone gathered around the dining table. Dinner was finally served — hot biryani, juicy kebabs, fresh salad, and the sweets Monica had prepared. Everyone sat down and began eating as the lively chatter filled the room


Dinner had ended on a warm note. Everyone praised Monica’s cooking. But as the clock struck 10:30 PM, the rain outside had turned into a heavy thunderstorm. Rakesh’s three colleagues and the neighbour uncle and aunty decided to leave because of the bad weather.


Once they left, only six people remained — Rakesh, Monica, and the four men: Ustad, Raju, Bheem, and Sonu.

[SilverArrow]

Ustad whispered to Monica, " Time for the suspense no Monica?"
Monica smiled " oh you guys still remember,I thought you guys have forgotten!!"
Ustad made a face and brought out a large packet of Birthday cake with Rakesh name written !!
"We will do the secret thing after we cut the cake"


After cake cutting and putting on each other's face
, Bheem stood up and walked to the side table. He picked up a small black box that had been kept there quietly. He brought it back and placed it in front of Rakesh without making a big announcement.
“Rakesh bhai,” Bheem said in his deep, calm voice, “we got you something small. For your birthday”
Rakesh looked at the box and smiled lazily.

He opened the box slowly. Inside were two packets of strawberry-flavoured condoms. The bright red packaging with strawberry pictures looked playful and naughty.
Rakesh stared at it for a few seconds, then let out a small laugh.
“Arre waah…Really ? strawberry? You guys really thought this through.”
Everyone chuckled. The mood was light and friendly. There was no awkwardness — just the easy banter....

Monica looked at the packets and felt her face grow warm. She felt shy, but she didn’t want to stay quiet. She decided to join in with her usual playful energy

She smiled shyly but spoke in a teasing tone.
“Two packets? That’s ambitious. Were you guys thinking about Rakesh’s stamina… or your own?”
The room went silent for a second, then everyone burst out laughing. Bheem laughed the loudest, shaking his head.

“Both, maybe? We like to be thorough.”
Sonu added with a smirk,
“Rakesh bhai should be thankful. We’re looking out for him.”
Monica laughed softly, feeling a little more confident now. She looked at the men and replied with a small, daring smile.
“You all are too much. But I appreciate the thought. At least you didn’t bring something boring like a clock or a photo frame. Though I have to say… strawberry flavour? What makes you guys like that ”
She giggled
Everyone laughed again. The atmosphere was charged but still light and playful.
Rakesh was still chuckling as he kept the box aside.
“Best anniversary gift ever,” he said, his voice slurred but happy
“We just wanted to give something useful" Ustad muttered
Monica looked at him and smiled.
She was still shy at her core, but she was enjoying the playful energy in the room.
After some time, Raju stood up and brought another small box from the side table. This one was wrapped in black paper with a thin red ribbon. He placed it gently in front of Monica without saying much.
Monica looked at the box, then at Raju.
“For me?” she asked.
Raju nodded.
“Yes. From all of us.”
Monica felt her heart beat a little faster. She slowly picked up the box and untied the ribbon. She took her time opening it, her fingers moving slowly. The room had gone quiet again, but it didn’t feel awkward.

She opened the box.
Inside was a sexy red baby doll dress. It was made of soft, sheer fabric with delicate lace details. It was short, barely reaching mid-thigh, with thin straps and a deep neckline. The material was almost see-through in certain lights.
Monica stared at the dress for a long moment. Her face turned red, but she didn’t look away. She slowly lifted it out of the box and held it up. The sheer fabric felt soft between her fingers.
The room was silent, but the silence felt warm and friendly rather than tense.
Rakesh looked at it and let out a small, nervous laugh.
“This is… nice.”
Bheem smiled and said in his deep voice,
“We thought you should have something nice to wear tonight, Monica. Something that makes you feel beautiful.”
Monica looked at the dress, then at the four men. She felt shy, but she also felt a strong playful confidence rising inside her. She decided to respond with her usual sass — this time even bolder and fresher.
She smiled shyly but spoke in a teasing, slightly erotic tone.
“This dress is very short… and very see-through. You guys really want me to wear something like this?You’re all quite naughty, aren’t you?”
Everyone laughed loudly. Bheem clapped his hands and said,

Raju added with a calm smile,
“You’ll look beautiful in it. Trust us.”
Monica held the dress up and looked at it again. She could already imagine how it would look on her — how short it would be, how much skin it would show, and how bold she would feel wearing it. A part of her felt shy, but another part of her felt excited and confident.
She looked back at the men and said with a small, daring smile,
“You all planned this very well.Though I have to say… this dress is so small, I might have to be careful how I sit”
Everyone laughed again.

Ustad smiled and said,
“Happy anniversary, Rakesh bhai. Enjoy.”
The night was slowly coming to an end, but the energy in the room was still high. Monica sat there holding the baby doll dress, her mind racing with thoughts. She didn’t know what exactly Ustad had planned when he said “when the second half starts, I’ll make it happen,” but she could feel that something was about to change.
She looked at the dress one more time and then at Rakesh, who was still smiling like a happy drunk man.