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

[SilverArrow]

Super erotic updates!

I think this was a super direction taken by the author to develop the plot. And we should really commend the fact that the author is very brave to go with this direction for the story.

Also, I think the scenario of the parents-in-law coming in and staying with them for a month, I think that is also a very good swerve into the story to bring some groundedness from the regular sexual tension filled adventures. So kudos to the author for bringing in a heavy dose of realism.

- Monica suddenly moving towards the desi dressing, a good touch, but I think she should also be used to wearing western dresses within the home in front of Sasuma because she is having a very distinct personality. (She's Monica not a Monisha  or a Sneha)
- I think one little missed point was when Sasuma has already got the scent of Monica putting on a pretend act, maybe she could have given a little hint that " it's okay, You can ease out. Be yourself. You don't need to really push yourself hard to be in dresses that maybe you're not regularly comfortable with - a direct green signal types.
And then right after that, when Bheem and Ustad visit the home, she being braless, that would have shown a great over extension done by Monica that should, of course, infuriate Sasuma. So that little bit would have been amazing to show how Monica took the opportunity and just went into a completely different tangent with Sasumas green signal

- Slight more details in that conversation when they were sitting and talking and eating. Maybe a bit more double meaning conversations with the pakora, with the maybe the chutney. And maybe doing like callbacks of what happened on the dining table. I think that should have been there. And obviously Sasuma would have never got the hint, but a bit of unsettling could have been done by Bheem more so. So that would have been very good to present.

- And similarly, as they move to the scene where there's this new betting ring and then there's Guddabhai. So I think those were well done. But maybe the house tour should have been properly micro-detailed with Monica and Ustad and Rakesh and Ustad casually holding her hand or maybe just brushing his hand on her ass or maybe patting her ass or pulling her closer by the waist. I think those could have been amazing if they were slightly included.

- Also there was this bit of the cousins dancing with Monica. I think that dance sequence could have been slightly more detailed. What song they were dancing on and maybe just to then start to pass some crude comments directly into Rakesh's ear.

- but i feel a missed opportunity    ...... was the whole incident of the leggings. I think in that one, I really wish Monica had tripped over kinda deliberately onto Ustad's lap and Ustad should have also taken the opportunity to grope her bare thighs and ass given that golden opportunity. So I think that could have been a very good heightened super.

Overall, really appreciate the effort put in by the author to steer the story and to navigate this instead of just probably taking the easy way out. And also really appreciate all the efforts put in to make the images and apt gifs and perfectly place them. And also it's a good font size, very easy to read, very thoughtful of the writer. Waiting for the next update. Keep it up!

Thanks for your wonderful suggestions

[SilverArrow]

Superrrrb.. Waiting for next adventurous scenes of Monica.
 

Woow so apt representation of Monica
Her profound ass is indeed the reason for her plight
Love it 
Thanks

[SilverArrow]

wow bhai
was expecting the studs eating her out, but whilte most of the erotis scenes happened, the raid has caused a sudden stop in the evnet
but really it was high ride for everyone who red teh story
soory for the birthday hubby, but seems like our heroine is always naughty, sexy but still careful to take the dip fully
she is open, till  certain level..
this is good to keep the story flowing
if you bring in she fucks every tom dic kand harry, people will lose the interest... this was my thought, but as author and readers, everyone may have differnet ideas

Agreed complete with you
Monica has a class ..

[drlund]

Update plz

[exbiixossip2]

maja a gaya bhai next update come fas t with ai generate.....

[SilverArrow]

maja a gaya bhai next update come fas t with ai generate.....

Thanks so much

[SilverArrow]

Update plz

Will be updated today afternoon

[drlund]

Waiting

[drlund]

Update plz

[SilverArrow]

Four days later, the taxi waited downstairs in the Noida morning light. Sasuma stood in the living room, suitcase packed, but her heart felt like it was rotting inside her chest. Every night since the mall, the same images burned behind her eyes: Monica turning slowly in that scandalously sheer red nightdress, the tiny black thong string vanishing completely between the round, firm cheeks of her ass, the wet patch darkening the minuscule fabric over her swollen pussy lips, her hard nipples pushing visibly through the transparent material while she laughed and posed for that burly man.

“Ma, Papa… safe journey. Call the moment you reach Jaipur. Don’t worry about anything here.”
Sasuma hugged her stiffly. Monica’s full, soft breasts pressed against her for a second. The scent of Monica’s light perfume mixed with something else — something warm and alive — and Sasuma felt nausea rise in her throat.
“Take care of Rakesh, beta,” she said, voice low and heavy. “Be… good.”
Monica didn’t flinch. Just smiled brighter. “Of course, Ma. You both rest well.”

Rakesh touched his father’s feet, ever the obedient son. The taxi pulled away.

Back inside the flat, Monica and Rakesh had to pack quickly . They are leaving for the marriage tomorrow and there is hardly much time.
" Let me know what all I will pack for you, Rak!!"
" Nothing much, get few ethnic for me, I don't know what do people in their villages wear for weddings though!"

She walked to the bedroom, hips swaying, and spread her clothes across the big bed.
First the traditional wear. The heavy maroon silk lehenga with intricate gold zari for the main wedding function. She held the matching choli blouse against her chest in front of the mirror. The neckline plunged low enough to show the soft upper swells of her full, heavy breasts. The back was cut almost to her waist. She packed few lehengas and a really pretty red bridal saree with matching blouse and petticoat.

Then the modern hot dresses. She can't be wearing lehengas and saree all the time. It will get very uncomfortable.

A tight little black number with thin straps that would barely contain her breasts and end high on her thighs. Two short designer kurtis with deep side slits that would flash skin all the way to her hip when she walked or sat. Tight jeans and cropped tops that showed a sliver of toned midriff.

Rakesh walked in. “All packed, Mon? You took quite some time.”
Monica turned “Arre Rakesh, it’s a wedding! I need proper traditional wear for the functions and some nice modern dresses for the evenings. You know how I like to look good.”

She walked over and kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry… I’ll save the best for you too.”
He smiled, oblivious. “Okay okay. I Know that”
The overnight luxury AC bus left Delhi the next evening.
Morning brought the hills.
The bus stopped at a small stand near the base of the mountains. The air was cool, fresh, scented with pine, wet earth and wildflowers. Rolling green hills stretched in every direction, mist clinging to the valleys. It felt like another world.
Bhim and Ustad were waiting with a sturdy jeep. Bhim waved both arms, grinning. “Rakesh bhai! Monica bhabhi! Welcome to our beautiful village "

Ustad stood a little behind him, burly and calm, eyes moving slowly over Monica as she stepped down from the bus and stretched her arms above her head. The movement lifted her kurti, flashing a strip of smooth midriff. The leggings stretched obscenely tight over her round ass and toned thighs. Several local men unloading goods turned to stare openly at the city beauty.

Bhim started the jeep “Hope the journey was comfortable.!!”
Rakesh nodded

They drove up the winding road to Bhim’s house — a traditional two-story village  home made of wood with a big flower-filled courtyard, string lights, and the rich smell of cooking floating in the air.

The house brimmed with people -Bhim’s sturdy farmer father, warm smiling mother, shy pretty younger sister, several young male cousins, aunts and uncles.

Monica turned few heads the moment she stepped into the courtyard. In her fitted black kurti and skin-tight grey leggings, her full breasts, narrow waist and round ass stood out sharply against the simple village clothes.

When she bent to touch the elders’ feet — — the kurti’s neckline dipped, showing the soft valley between her breasts, and the leggings pulled so tight over her ass that every curve was visible.
“Hay hay, kitni sundar biwi hai!” one aunt exclaimed. “Rakesh beta, you are a very lucky man”

Rakesh smiled shyly. “Thank you.”

Monica straightened with a playful, sassy laugh. “Thank you, Aunty. But handling this city girl is not so easy for him!” She winked, and several of the men chuckled. Rakesh blushed faintly.
Bhim introduced everyone — parents, cousins, the priest, neighbors. The young cousins kept stealing glances at Monica’s chest and the way her ass moved when she walked.


By afternoon, as the mist began to drift down from the higher ridges like a living veil, Bheem pulled them aside with a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Enough of this crowded house. I’ve arranged something better for you and Monica bhabhi. A quiet old haveli tucked right into the foothills — proper British-era heritage.Ustad has already shifted his things there to help with the wedding work. Anita Devi runs it like her own home —she’ll make sure you’re comfortable.”
Monica chuckled "Sounds Fun Bheem Saab, Thanks for taking so much pain for much!"
Bheem smiled "Come on You guys are my guest, Do call me If you face any issues"


The short drive away from the village felt like slipping into another world. The jeep climbed a narrow, twisting track where tall deodar pines leaned in close, their needles brushing the windows.The road grew quieter, rounding a final bend, the haveli emerged from the trees like a beautiful, half-forgotten dream.
It rose from the hillside in faded colonial elegance —Tall French windows lined the long veranda, their glass catching the weak sunlight and reflecting the swirling mist. A single curl of woodsmoke rose from a chimney. The place felt alive and watchful, wrapped in a deep, isolated silence broken only by the whisper of wind through the pines and the distant call of a bird. Monica’s breath caught. It was eerie and romantic all at once;
They stepped out onto soft ground carpeted with fallen needles.. Anita Devi appeared at the carved main door, a sturdy woman in her early forties with a no-nonsense face and kind eyes, wiping her hands on her cotton saree pallu.
“Arre, welcome. Bheem told me you were coming. This is old family property"

Rakesh smiled " Namaste Anita Ji"

The woman smiled and said " It took years in the courts to get back this property. Some wings are still sleeping, but this part is awake for guests. I think you guys will like this place” Her voice was direct, yet she smiled warmly as she took in Monica’s modern look and the confident sway of her ass.

Inside, the haveli embraced them with cool, polished quiet.. Faded pre-independence oil paintings lined the walls — stern British officers and elegant Indian nobility whose painted eyes seemed to follow Monica as she walked, lingering on the way her kurti hugged the full curves of her breasts and the round swell of her ass.

Anita Devi led them up the groaning staircase to the first floor. “Your room is here. Next to your friend Ustad. Other rooms are empty for now. Just ring the bell whenever you want and I will be there..”
She left them with a nod, her footsteps fading down the corridor.
The room was spacious with Two massive French windows stood open to a private balcony that framed a sweeping view of rolling green hills dissolving into soft white mist. A huge four-poster bed dominated the space, its carved posts dark with age, the thick mattress covered in heavy wool blankets that smelled faintly of cedar and old lavender. An old brass lantern on the writing desk cast a warm, flickering glow that made the motes of dust dance. On the walls, more oil paintings watched — one of a British officer on horseback, another a moonlit garden scene that seemed to shift when the light moved.

“Rak… this place is perfect. The paintings are already judging us. And that bed looks like it has a hundred stories.”

She walked to the French windows, the cool mountain breeze lifting her hair

“It really does feel haunted at night. In the best, spookiest way, is it not Rakesh ?"

Rakesh smiled "All thanks to my burly betting friends"
Monica laughed.

That night, after a simple dinner served by Anita in the main hall, they returned to their room. The haveli had gone beautifully quiet.

Cold air drifted in through the slightly open French windows. Monica closed the door — it didn’t latch properly — and turned to Rakesh with dark, excited eyes.

“This place is doing something to me, Rak,” she said softly, already pulling her kurti over her head. Her full, heavy breasts spilled free, chocolate colored nipples already stiff from the chill. She let the kurti fall, then peeled off her leggings and tiny black thong, standing completely naked in the middle of the old room. The paintings watched. The floor was cold under her bare feet. She turned slowly, showing Rakesh the round, firm curves of her ass, the smooth milky skin of her back, the soft dark triangle between her thighs.
Rakesh’s cock hardened instantly. The eerie silence, the creaking bed, the feeling that the haveli itself was breathing — it made everything hotter. He pulled her onto the big four-poster bed. The old frame groaned loudly as their weight settled. Monica laughed breathlessly. “Even the bed is moaning like it’s haunted…”
They fucked with raw, hungry energy. Monica on her back first, legs spread wide, Rakesh thrusting deep into her already wet pussy while the bed creaked rhythmically beneath them. She moaned louder than usual, the sound echoing off the high ceiling and thin walls. “Fuck… Rak… this bed… feels like someone’s listening…”

Rakesh gripped her ass, spanking her lightly, lost in the strange, kinky atmosphere. She came hard, back arching, pussy clenching around him, a sharp cry escaping her lips that definitely carried through the thin partition to the next room.

After fucking, she didn’t move to get dressed. She simply rolled off him, pulled the heavy blanket over her naked body, and snuggled close, still feeling his warm cum slowly leaking from her freshly fucked pussy. “Good Night, Rak…” she murmured, already half-asleep. “Hope you loved it…”

Rakesh chuckled sleepily, arm around her. “Yea Monica”

Morning arrived cold and misty. Pale golden light filtered through the French windows. Rakesh woke early, pulled on clothes, and stepped onto the balcony with his phone for office calls, the mountain air sharp against his face.
Monica stayed in bed, gloriously naked under the thick blanket pulled up to her shoulders. Her laptop rested on her lap. She was checking emails, one bare leg occasionally slipping out from under the covers. Her full breasts were hidden but the shape of them was obvious — heavy, soft, nipples stiff from the morning chill and rubbing against the wool.

A soft tap on the door. It opened without waiting for an answer from inside.

Monica forgot this, Anita Devi had mentioned that because the haveli was really old the lock though is there but it won't work most of the time. She was not wrong.

Ustad stepped inside, filling the doorway with his broad, burly frame.

“Morning. Do you guys want to go for a quick trek up the mountains?”

Monica looked up from her laptop, completely bare underneath the blanket. She wasn’t flustered.

She casually tugged the blanket a little higher over her breasts, but the movement only made it clearer she was naked underneath— the fabric dbangd over her full curves, the faint outline of hard nipples pressing against the wool, the way it clung to the dip of her waist and the flare of her hips. Anyone looking could tell she had slept naked and was still naked now.

She met Ustad’s eyes with a small, shy-but-naughty smile. “I won’t mind… Rakesh coming?”

Rakesh stepped in from the balcony just then, phone in hand. He took in the scene instantly — Ustad standing there, Monica in bed under the blanket, her clothes from last night (kurti, leggings, Bra, tiny thong) still scattered on the old wooden floor like evidence of their passionate fucking.

He knew his wife was naked under that blanket. However, the previous night’s intense sex and the ghostly, isolated vibe of the haveli had left him in an oddly open, reckless mood. He didn’t protest. As long as the blanket stayed in place… it was fine.

“Yeah,” he said, voice a little rough. “Hope the trek’s not too hectic.”

Ustad’s gaze flicked to the floor, to the discarded clothes and Monica's sexy undergarments lying right on top. A slow, dirty smile curved his mouth. “No… easy path. Not much hectic ”

Then, voice low and amused, almost to himself: “Looks like you guys had a good time last night.”

Monica’s cheeks flushed, but her eyes sparkled with wicked delight. She shifted under the blanket and said

“This place really had a different vibe, Ustad Miya…” she said, voice soft and teasing. “Could not help it.”

Ustad crossed the room and sat on the very edge of the bed, only inches from her naked body. The mattress dipped under his weight. The blanket shifted against Monica’s bare skin. She could feel the solid heat of his thigh so close to her own bare leg. His musky, masculine scent mixed with the smell of old wood, cold mountain air, and the faint trace of last night’s sex still lingering in the sheets. Her nipples tightened unapologetically against the blanket.


Rakesh didn’t say anything about Ustad sitting so close to his naked wife. Instead he went to the bedside table, boiled water with the electric kettle Anita had provided, and made three cups of strong, hot coffee. The rich, bitter aroma filled the room. He handed one to Ustad, one to Monica — and when he passed her the cup, the blanket slipped. For a clear second her full left breast was exposed — heavy, dusky, chocolate colored stuff nipples were visible and glistening slightly. Luckily Ustad miyan was looking at the other side when this happened which gave Monica some time to pull up the blanket. Rakesh’s eyes widened, he  swallowed and sat on the old chair by the desk, coffee in hand, watching.
The three chatted for a while, the tension thick and electric.
Ustad described the trek in his deep, calm voice. “Short climb through pine forest, then a clearing with a view straight down into the valley. Very quiet. No one goes there this early.” His eyes kept inadvertently drifting to the blanket, to the way it molded over Monica’s breasts, to the bare shoulder and collarbone she hadn’t bothered to cover completely

“Good place to… relax. Breathe.”
Monica sipped her coffee, the hot liquid sliding down her throat while cold air kissed her exposed skin.

She let her voice drop into that playful, slightly husky tone she used with him. “Sounds perfect, Ustad Miya. I like… such places.” She shifted again, deliberately this time, and the blanket rode up her thighs under the covers. Her bare, freshly fucked pussy was now only inches from where Ustad’s hand rested on the mattress.

Rakesh cleared his throat, trying to sound normal. “As long as no ghosts follow us on the trek.”

Ustad chuckled
“Only friendly ones in this haveli.” His gaze flicked to Monica’s almost-exposed breasts, then back to her eyes. “And they seem to like you.”

Ustad finished his coffee and stood up slowly. “I’ll wait downstairs. Anita ji is making fresh parathas. We can leave after breakfast.”

The door clicked shut behind him,  She looked at Rakesh, who was still staring at her from the chair, his coffee cup forgotten in his hand.
“He came unannounced, Rak,” she said, voice a mix of defensive and playful, cheeks still flushed. “What was I supposed to do? Throw the blanket off and give him a full show? ‘Oh hello Ustad Miya, here’s my naked body, hope you like the view’?” She rolled her eyes dramatically, but the spark in her eyes and the way her thighs pressed together under the blanket betrayed exactly how much the whole situation had excited her.


Rakesh blinked, then a slow, sporting grin spread across his face. He set the cup down and leaned back, shaking his head with a warm chuckle. “I don't know what sort of man this Ustad Miyan is...just walked inside the room without notice!!"

Monica said " Not his fault entirely.. these doors open on its own..he may have just pushed the door lightly"

Rakesh stood up, walked over, and sat on the edge of the bed where Ustad had been moments ago. His hand rested casually on the blanket near her bare thigh. “Besides, the way those huge boobs of yours were making their presence known under there… I think Ustad Miya got quite an impression. They were practically waving hello through the wool.”

Monica burst into a bright, relieved laughter, the sound echoing softly in the old room and breaking the thick tension. She playfully swatted his arm. “Arre shut up! You’re the one who didn’t even flinch when he sat so close. Admit it — you liked seeing your hot wife like this, didn’t you?”
Rakesh laughed too, the sound easy and warm, reaching out to trace the edge of the blanket with one finger, not pulling it up but playing along the soft curve of her exposed breast. “ This haunted haveli is turning my proper city wife into a naked exhibitionist it seems..” He leaned in and kissed her forehead, then lower, brushing his lips teasingly near her stiff nipple without quite touching it.
“Just don’t blame me if I start enjoying it too much.” Monica replied
“Too late, Rak. Now hurry and go — I will get dressed and come down”

Rakesh grinned before going "Mon, there are other people around, at least wear a Bra before you go down"
Monica giggled " Oh ..come on ..there is something called comfort Mr. husband....you now want me to wear a fucking Bra inside the haveli, ohk I will see .you hurry up and go and save some parathas for me ..I am starving!!"

[The_Ramukaka]

Update. Story is moving too slow

[rp7575]

Great Story Sweetrati bhai keep it up

[drlund]

Update plz

[Voiden]

It seems Monica is preparing herself to join the game, choosing the haveli as her playground. Maybe by the time she leaves, various corners of the haveli will carry the silent echoes of her secret, lust-filled affairs. What I'm most eager to see, though, is whether she will walk out as a queen who has conquered her desires and turned them into her greatest strength, bringing everyone under her spell, or whether she will walk out as a prisoner consumed by the very lust she believed she could control.

[Sage_69]

Great update.

[VoidStriker]

Very exciting.

[SilverArrow]

It seems Monica is preparing herself to join the game, choosing the haveli as her playground. Maybe by the time she leaves, various corners of the haveli will carry the silent echoes of her secret, lust-filled affairs. What I'm most eager to see, though, is whether she will walk out as a queen who has conquered her desires and turned them into her greatest strength, bringing everyone under her spell, or whether she will walk out as a prisoner consumed by the very lust she believed she could control.

Thanks so much...update coming in few hours

[SilverArrow]

Very exciting.

Thanks so much ...

[SilverArrow]

Great Story Sweetrati bhai keep it up

Thanks so so much

[SilverArrow]

The next morning arrived with a crisp, biting chill wrapped in brilliant sunlight. Inside the haveli, soft golden beams cut through the dust motes, accompanied by the distant, lonely calls of birds nesting in the pines. Monica remained nestled under the heavy wool blanket, lazily scrolling through her phone, when heavy footsteps echoed on the wooden stairs.
Bhim’s booming voice broke the morning quiet. “Rakesh! Ustad! How is the haveli treating you?"
Rakesh grinned, stepping out with a steaming mug. "Ekdum A-class, bhai."
Bhim cleared his throat, leaning against the doorframe. “Okay, good. We need a bit of help, bhai. We have to head to the nearest town to pick up the gifts for the baraat... Can you both come along? There’s going to be a ton of samaan, so extra hands will make it quick.”
Rakesh looked over at Ustad, who had just drained his tea. "Both of us?"
“Yes, yes, let’s go,” Ustad said, standing up and stretching his broad frame. "Come on, Rakesh, let's get moving, buddy."
Rakesh hurried to the room to change quickly, noting that Monica was already setting up her laptop for an upcoming client video call.
As the men gathered their things, Monica appeared at the doorway wrapped in her robe, a soft smile on her face. “Good morning, Bheem. You guys have a safe drive. Don’t rush too much on those winding mountain roads.”
Bheem waved dismissively with a grin. “Don’t worry, Bhabhi... We’ll be careful. You finish your work and get ready for a grand mehendi ceremony tomorrow!”
The front door slammed, and the low rumble of the jeep faded down the dirt track. Monica returned to her laptop, immersing herself in work. But barely an hour later, the heavy wooden door of the haveli creaked open again. Ustad stepped inside, wiping a bit of mist from his forehead.
Monica looked up, her eyebrows arching in surprise. “Ustad Miyan? What happened? All okay? Where is Rakesh?”
Ustad closed the door gently, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face.
“The wedding decorator intercepted us on the road. Apparently, there were some heavy payment disputes and logistics to sort out. Bhim needed someone to stay back and manage the locals here while they pushed on to the town. Don't worry, Rakesh is with Bheem, they’re well on their way.”
Monica stretched against the pillows, the robe parting slightly at her chest. "Oh, so is the decorator drama sorted out now?"
Ustad’s eyes drifted over her before he nodded. "Oh yeah, completely handled."
"So when will Rakesh be back?" Monica asked, casually pulling the robe tighter around her waist.
Ustad checked his heavy wristwatch. “They started a while back, and the roads up higher are treacherous right now. I’d say minimum three to four hours for sure.”
Monica’s eyes flashed with a hint of mischief. "Oh, that's a long time... We have some serious time to kill, Ustad Miyan."
Ustad leaned against the wall, his gaze steady. "If you’re free, we could explore the ridges. I managed to score an old Royal Enfield from one of Bhim's cousins."
Monica’s face lit up instantly. “Oh, you got a bike? That sounds amazing, Ustad Miyan! But wait—I absolutely have to get my mehendi done for tomorrow’s program before anything else. Do you know of any nearby place?”
Ustad chuckled, the deep rumble vibrating in his chest. “We’ll figure it out. There are always local artists around these parts. How much time do you need to get ready?”
"I'll just change and be right out," Monica said, throwing him a playful look before disappearing into the room.
She had slipped into a short, highly fitted cream kurti that contoured tightly around her full, heavy breasts, paired with dangerously small denim shorts that rode high up her waist, completely exposing the smooth, thick expanse of her thighs. The look was effortlessly provocative—bold South Delhi glamour dropped right into the rugged wilderness.
Ustad stood by the door, his eyes locked onto the stark contrast of her milky white skin against the dark fabric of her shorts.
He didn't even try to hide his stare.
Monica laughed, tossing her long dark hair over her shoulder. "Ustad Miyan, stop staring at me like that. These are dangerous mountain roads... you’ll crash the bike if you keep your eyes off the track."







Ustad let out a low laugh, kicking the starter of the Enfield. "Hmm... those shorts are really something, Monica."
"Oh, really?" Monica teased, stepping close and swinging her leg over the pillion seat, her bare thick thighs pressing against the warm metal and leather.
"As if you don't like them"
Ustad grinned, throttling the engine as she gripped his shoulders. "Well, who said I don't? I’d always advocate for wearing something... comfortable when going out"
Monica laughed aloud over the roar of the exhaust. "Well, Ustad Miyan... I can't be expected to roam around in a boring, fully covered behenji dress.... Now, don't tell me these shorts are going to cause a scandal in the village."
They rode at a leisurely pace, winding through dense, aromatic pine forests while the massive reservoir sparkled like a sapphire deep in the valley below.
Stopping at a rustic roadside tea stall, Ustad asked the local vendor about a mehendi artist. The vendor pointed them further down a secluded dirt path.
The mehendi shop wasn't a commercial store, but a simple wooden and stone hut nestled deeply under the shadow of the giant pines. Inside, the floor was rough stone, softened only by a faded, dusty mattress. The artist was a rugged villager in his late late-forties—weathered by the mountain sun, with a thick grey-and-black beard and heavily calloused hands. He looked up, his eyes widening slightly as the striking couple entered.








“Namaste, Memsaab.... Memsaab, mehendi karwani hai kya?” [Namaste, Madam.... Madam, do you want to get mehendi done?] he asked, his voice rough.
“Haan bhaiya, kal shaadi ka program hai,” [Yes brother, tomorrow is the wedding program,] Monica replied smoothly, taking in the primitive charm of the hut.
The man quickly stood up, dusting off the mattress with a cloth. "Memsaab, kaisi design pasand hai aapko?" [Madam, what kind of design do you like?]
"Bhaiya, Rajasthani design kar paoge aap? Thoda light?" [Brother, will you be able to do a Rajasthani design? A bit light?] Monica asked as she settled onto the low mattress.
The artisan nodded quickly, reaching for his freshly prepared mehendi cones.
As Monica adjusted her posture on the low seating, her tiny denim shorts slid up even further, bunching significantly at the crotch and completely baring her thick, smooth thunder thighs. The cool, sharp mountain air entering through the doorway hit her exposed skin, causing a faint shiver. The villager froze for a fraction of a second, his eyes tracking the stark, voluptuous curves of her legs.








Coming from a secluded village, he had clearly never encountered a woman so sexy and bold wearing an equal bold dress.
He cleared his throat , bringing his stool closer. “Ji memsaab… aap aaram se baitho.” [Yes Madam... please sit comfortably.]
He gently took Monica’s bare foot in his rough, dry hands. The contrast was immediate—his calloused, hardworking fingers holding her smooth, pampered skin. He began applying the dark, cool paste in slow, deliberate swirls around her ankle.
Monica leaned back on her elbows, fully aware of the show her skimpy shorts were giving to the man... “Bhaiya, just make sure the patterns are deep and traditional, okay?”
The man worked in absolute silence, his movements slowing down as he shifted his focus higher up her calf. His fingers occasionally brushed against her skin to steady his hand, his breathing turning noticeably heavier in the quiet hut.
Ustad stood near the doorway, lighting a cigarette, his sharp eyes taking in the entire scene with a dark, possessive amusement. "Is he doing a good job, Monica?"
Monica looked up, casually tugging at the hem of her kurti, though doing little to cover herself
"Let's see... his hand is incredibly steady. He’s definitely an artist."
As the patterns moved past her knees, Monica casually parted her legs a bit wider to give him better access and ofcourse a great view. The action caused the denim shorts to ride up to their absolute limit right till her panties inside.
Her black fashionable panties clearly made a faint impression under her shorts and the man was shamelessly looking at her exposed undergarments.






The artisan’s breath caught. His eyes kept darting to the incredibly soft, pale inner skin of her thighs and ofcourse her exposed panties...and ofcourse the fact Monica was not doing much to hide her panties either from the man...
Under his loose, worn trousers, his arousal became visibly prominent, his dick hardened to full length now...a fact he clumsily tried to mask by pulling a heavy woolen shawl across his lap.
Monica noticed the heat of his gaze and the slight tremor in his fingers. She could clearly feel his growing thick manhood forming a visible tent, but she did not say anything..
Stopping the man for a brief moment, she turned her head toward Ustad, who was watching through a cloud of blue smoke. "Ustad Miyan, I’m thinking of extending the design higher up on my thighs... What do you think? How will it look?"
Ustad took a slow drag, his eyes narrowing appreciatively. "Hmm... not a bad idea. You won't find this kind of raw, traditional craftsmanship in any Gurgaon salon."
Monica smiled, her eyes gleaming. "Exactly"
Turning back to the artisan, she gave him a encouraging smile. “Bhaiya… look, you can go higher up on the thighs. I want the patterns to climb up so they look great when I wear the high-slit lehenga tomorrow.”
The man’s hand shook slightly. He looked at the minuscule distance between the edge of her shorts and her cunt. He wondered how she is wearing such tiny shorts and barely nothing panties inspite of being happily married...Nudity is such a common thing in cities these days...he wondered smiling...
He spoke the in a low, gravelly rumble, "Memsaab... aapke kapde kharab ho sakte hain..." [Madam... your clothes might get ruined/The color might stain the shorts.]
Monica casually slid her fingers under the denim, bunching the fabric upward and tucking it tightly into the leg , exposing the stark line of her black panties underneath.
"Now is it okay ?" Monica asked him teasingly " Don't worry about the clothes, bhaiya. Just focus on the design..Ok ?"
The artisan’s rough, dark fingers now made direct contact with the sensitive, warm skin of her inner thighs inches away from her cunt. The contrast of the freezing mehendi paste against her rising body heat sent a visceral jolt through her.
Monica bit her lower lip, a subtle flush creeping up her neck as a genuine spark of excitement bloomed between her legs.She felt some wet spots on her panties. Definitely her body was reacting loudly from the touch of the rugged Mehendi seller..
“Dheere se bhaiya… itne jor se nahi,” [Gently, brother... not so hard,] she murmured, her voice dropping to a softer tone.
Monica saw the man was now sporting a full grown hardon...the stuff you get only when you are heavily aroused...
Monica, wanting to soothe the intense horny nerves gripping the poor man, decided to make some small talk





"Bhaiya, ghar pe kaun kaun hai aapke?" [Brother, who all are there at your home?]
The man grinned weakly, revealing teeth stained from local tobacco. "Biwi ko guzar gaye paanch saal ho gaye, memsaab. Chaar bete hain... sab kheti karte hain." [My wife passed away five years ago, Madam. I have four sons... they all do farming.]
Monica felt a sudden wave of understanding—the man hadn't been fucking anyone for years, let alone someone as striking and uninhibited as her. So the hardon was understandable.
Yet, despite his intense arousal, his dedication to the art didn't falter; the lines he drew were incredibly intricate, forming a rich, dark tapestry across her skin.
When the work was finally complete, Monica carefully stood up, keeping her legs apart to let the wet paste dry. Ustad walked over, looking down at the elaborate artwork covering her legs. "Woah... that looks stunning, Monica. Seriously beautiful."
Monica beamed "He did an incredible job, Ustad Miyan. I never expected a hidden talent like this out here." She turned to the artist. "Bhaiya... aapko kitna dena hai?" [Brother... how much do I have to pay you?]







The man wiped his stained fingers on a rag. "Memsaab, ek hazaar rupaye." [Madam, one thousand rupees.]
"Wait, Monica, the paste on your palms is still wet. Don't touch your bag. I'll pay"
" Thank you Ustad Miyan"
As Ustad counted out the notes, the old man hesitated, looking down at the floor before speaking up. "Saab...?"
Ustad paused, his tone turning sharp. "Kya hua?"
"Saab, gaon mein pichle mahine baadh aayi thi. Mera poora ghar barbaad ho gaya... business bhi bohot manda hai. Agar aap meherbani karke ek hazaar rupaye jyada de paoge..." he pleaded, his hands folded.
Ustad’s nostrils flared, his urban dominance rising. "Chup saale. Jo de raha hoon, chupchaap le aur nikal."
The man persisted, his voice cracking slightly. "Meherbani, saab..."
Monica gently intervened, tapping Ustad’s muscular arm with the back of her clean wrist. "Ustad Miyan... it’s totally fine. He’s a poor old guy, and look at the effort he has put in. He probably hasn't had a proper meal in days. Give him the extra thousand... "
Ustad hesitated, looking at her. "Are you sure? These village folks know exactly how to spin a sob story."
"It's just an extra thousand, Ustad Miyan.. He did a damn brilliant job."
Ustad grunted, pulling out a few more crisp notes and thrusting them into the man's trembling hands. "Yeh le... ab nikal aur accha kuch kha lena."
The artisan’s eyes shone with deep, genuine gratitude as he bowed his head repeatedly.
Leaving the hut, Ustad and Monica walked out into the cool, damp air of the dense pine forest. A breathtaking view of the mist-covered reservoir opened up before them. As they strolled down the serpentine mountain path, Ustad threw a heavy, protective arm around her shoulders, pulling her voluptuous frame tight against his side to guide her away from the wet shrubs encroaching on the dirt road.
"I'm seriously thinking of wearing a high-slit ghagra tomorrow, Ustad Miyan," Monica said "I really want to flaunt this mehendi. It’s so gorgeous—way better than those overpriced tattoo studios in South Extension."
Ustad laughed, his arm tightening around her. "The guy is a genuine artist, Monica. But tell me, why did you stop at just the hands and legs? If you loved the designs so much, you should have gone all out."
Monica looked up at him, a playful pout on her lips. "Obviously I wanted to. I was genuinely tempted to get more done."
"Then why didn't you? You won't find a craftsman like him back in Delhi."
"That’s true, Ustad Miyan, but it would have taken forever. We’re already running late."..
Ustad let out a low, mischievous laugh. "Who says we're late? Look at the sky—it’s starting to drizzle. The roads up higher will be absolute slush by now. Rakesh and Bhim won't be back before late evening, if they even make it back tonight."
Monica stopped in her tracks, looking up at him through her lashes.
"Okay... so you're saying we have all the time in the world?"
"Exactly. The mountain roads become pure ice when it rains. I doubt their jeep can make it back before sunset. Honestly, Monica... you shouldn't just get temporary mehendi. You should get a proper tattoo from him. Something that marks this trip permanently."
Monica’s eyes sparkled... "Don't tempt me, Ustad Miyan... I've actually been wanting a tattoo right below my neckline, centered on my chest. But... I don't want it to be visible to the entire world. Just a private piece." She paused, looking down at her tightly fitted outfit. "But how is that even possible with this kurti on? He’d ruin the fabric with the ink and color."
Ustad chuckled darkly, stepping closer until his chest almost brushed against her breasts.
"Chill, Monica. You can just get rid of the kurti. It’s not that big of a deal, is it?"
Monica gasped playfully, slapping his chest light-heartedly. "Ustad Miyan... oh, come on! I’m only wearing a tiny bra underneath this kurti. How am I supposed to just strip open my top right in front of that village stranger?"
"Why not? What’s that poor old bastard going to do?" Ustad said, his voice dropping to a commanding, gritty whisper. "You shove a few extra thousand rupees down his throat, and he’ll do exactly what he’s told without daring to utter a single word."
Monica leaned in, her voice dropping to a wicked, confidential whisper
"Do you know something, Ustad Miyan?"
"What?"
"You should have seen his condition while he was doing my thighs... He was completely...you know what I mean...down there ... ..he tried to hide with the shawl... It was wild."
Ustad burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the quiet pines. Monica giggled, her cheeks flushing. "Stop laughing, Ustad Miyan! Imagine my surprise when I realized what was happening down there. I literally had to keep talking just to keep his mind grounded."
Ustad flexed his broad shoulders, his eyes darkening with a intense, dominant streak. "Come on, let's head back inside. Be completely rest assured... I’ll stand right over him. I’ll intimidate that old bastard so much he won't dare to breathe wrong. Why are you worrying so much"
Monica smiled, her eyes locked onto his as she playfully tapped his shoulder. "Ustad Miyan, oh come on... you don't need to play the big, scary hero. I can handle a horny artist all by myself. Let's go back."