Adultery Mom's Village Affair

[Wangi]

I think Arjun gonna witness something!

[wxxxx]

Ravi knows that Arjun is secretly watching his intimate moments with his mother Lakshmi from a secret place. The author tells the readers that Ravi will do something with Arjun's mother Lakshmi tonight that will make Arjun ejaculate very quickly.

[Lousy1995]

Chapter 28: "Husband and Wife

The night had turned still around me, the village sunk into a silence so complete that every sound from inside the room seemed amplified beyond bearing. I stand at the cleaned window, my breath fogging the glass in small, dissipating clouds that vanish almost as quickly as they form. My fingers rest against the wooden frame, the splinters catching at my skin, but I feel nothing. The night is thick around me, pressing against my back like a physical weight, yet my entire consciousness has narrowed to the rectangle of yellow light spilling from the window across the narrow gap between the houses.

It has been only two days.

One day since the fever began. One day since I watched my mother transform from the woman who once pushed Ravi away with genuine resistance into someone who now sits beside him on the edge of his bed, her hand resting in his, her cheeks flushed with a blush that looks almost girlish in its intensity.

The speed of the collapse terrifies me more than the collapse itself. Yesterday morning, she was still arguing, still hesitating, still maintaining some pretense of the boundary between neighbor and... whatever she is becoming now. Yesterday afternoon, she took his cock into her mouth inside our own house, while my father snored in the next room and I watched from the shadows. Last night, she lay with him while Appa and I slept in our own beds just walls away, her body opening to him in the darkness.

And now, not twenty minutes ago, she spoke the words that finished the last of her resistance. "I will try ," she said, her voice barely audible through the glass, but the words struck me like stones. "I will try to be your wife."

The transformation is no longer hidden behind closed doors or happening in fragments I piece together afterward. It is happening in front of me, openly, and I am the only witness.

Inside the room, the light from the single oil lamp casts dancing shadows across the walls. Amma sits on the edge of Ravi's bed, the cream floral saree she wore to dinner now slightly disheveled, the pallu having slipped from its proper place over her shoulder. She has removed the hair clip that usually keeps her thick, wavy hair in a severe bun, and it falls around her shoulders in dark curtains that make her look younger, more vulnerable.

Ravi stands before her. He has removed his shirt, and his chest is bare in the lamplight, the skin smooth and taut over muscle that comes from fieldwork rather than exercise. He is looking down at her with an expression I cannot fully read from this distance—something between tenderness and possession, between patience and hunger.

I should not be here. The thought repeats in my mind like a mantra, but my feet remain rooted to the packed earth beneath the window. I remember Ravi's threat from the godown, delivered with that same calm certainty that makes his words feel like laws of nature rather than mere statements: if I interfere, Amma will be the one who suffers. The warning chains me in place more effectively than any physical restraint could.

I do not want to watch her play this role. The realization rises in my chest like bile. I do not want to see her accept the slow, deliberate foreplay of becoming Ravi's wife—even though, in every practical way, she already is. The thaali he tied around her neck at the temple a weeks ago hangs against her chest now, alongside the one my father placed there 20 years ago. Two gold chains, two claims, two husbands in everything but name.

Yet I cannot look away.

Ravi raises one hand, offering it to her without words. He simply waits, his arm extended, his palm open. The gesture is almost courtly, absurdly gentle given what I know he intends to do with her tonight.

Amma hesitates. Her fingers hover in the air for a long breath, trembling slightly. I can see the war in her face from here—the old Lakshmi who would never touch another man, fighting against the new Lakshmi who has already accepted too much to turn back now. Her eyes are downcast, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

Then, slowly, she places her hand in his.

Ravi closes his fingers around hers with quiet delicacy. There is no sudden pull, no rough claim—only smooth, careful movement. He turns and leads her the few steps to the center of the bed, guiding her with a gentleness that seems calculated to disarm her further. He sits on the edge of the mattress first, drawing her down to sit beside him, thigh against thigh.

I watch the way her body yields to the gentle guidance. Her shoulders relax almost imperceptibly, her spine curving slightly toward him. The last of her earlier defiance seems to dissolve in the warmth of his hand around hers.

"Are you okay, Lakshmi?" Ravi asks softly. His voice carries faintly through the glass, intimate and low.

Amma hesitates, then gives a small, slow nod. Her eyes remain fixed on some point on the floor, but the nod is unmistakable—a permission given, a line crossed.

That single permission is enough. Ravi leans forward and places a neat, gentle kiss on her lips. The contact lingers, soft at first, a simple pressing of mouths that seems almost chaste. Then, gradually, it deepens. His hand rises to cup her jaw, tilting her head slightly, and the kiss becomes something else entirely—a slow, wet joining of mouths that makes my stomach clench.

Amma's eyes close. Whether she is beginning to feel genuine pleasure or only shaping her face to satisfy him, I cannot yet decide. The uncertainty itself is torment. I watch the way her eyelids flutter, the way her breathing shifts from nervous to something deeper, and I feel the familiar, hated arousal beginning to stir in my own body.


Ravi's hands rise and cradle Lakshmi's head, tilting it so he can press the kiss deeper. For a moment she remains passive, receiving his mouth like something happening to her rather than something she is participating in. Then, almost reluctantly, her own hands lift and settle at the back of his head, her fingers threading into his hair.

The kiss turns vigorous. Mouths open, tongues meet, and the wet sound of it carries faintly through the glass—a soft, rhythmic smacking that seems impossibly loud in the quiet night. Ravi's eyes stay half-open, filled with clear lust and open enjoyment. Amma's remain tightly shut, her face turned slightly upward, her expression caught between surrender and resistance.

Watching them, I begin to feel the shift in her body language—the way her shoulders soften completely, the way her fingers tighten in Ravi's hair, the way she leans slightly forward rather than pulling back. In our village, no husband kisses his wife like this. Appa has never kissed her this way; at most, he presses a dry, perfunctory touch to her forehead when he leaves for work or returns home. This deep, hungry mouth-kiss belongs to another kind of marriage entirely—a marriage of passion and deliberate pleasure rather than duty and habit.

The sight forces a raw, unwanted arousal through my body. I harden against my will, the pressure sudden and humiliating in its intensity. A strong urge to reach down and touch myself rises like a tide, but I fight it with everything I have left. If I give in now, if I stroke myself while watching my mother become another man's wife in truth, I will lose whatever thin dignity still remains as her son. I may have already lost most of it, standing here night after night, but I refuse to lose the last scraps. My hands stay clenched at my sides while my cock throbs in silent protest, straining against the fabric of my veshti.

They remain locked in the kiss. Ravi's hands begin to roam slowly over Amma's back, mapping the curve of her spine through the thin cotton blouse. His fingers move with deliberate patience, learning her shape, committing her to memory. They find the remaining hair clip, unfasten it with a small click, and let her hair fall completely loose around her shoulders, a dark waterfall that frames her face.

Even then they do not break the kiss. Amma's hands start to move as well, roaming across Ravi's bare back with growing certainty, pulling him closer. The wet sounds of their mouths fill the quiet room, punctuated by the soft rustle of fabric and the occasional catch of breath.

---

[img][/img]

---

As they kiss, their heads slowly rotate, adjusting angles, seeking deeper contact. For a clear moment I can see both of their faces in profile—Ravi's open enjoyment, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure, and Amma's flushed, surrendered expression, her lips parted and swollen, her cheeks dark with color.


Suddenly Ravi's eyes find the window. He does not stop. He continues to kiss Amma deeply, his tongue moving in her mouth, while staring straight at me, his gaze cunning and fully satisfied. The eye contact lasts several long seconds, long enough for the shame to burn through my chest like acid, long enough for me to understand that he knew I was here all along, that he has been performing for me as much as for her.

Only then does he deliberately change the angle of the kiss, turning Amma's head to the opposite side with gentle pressure on her jaw so that their faces are no longer fully visible to me. The message is clear: he knows I am watching, and he wants me to keep watching. He wants me to see what he is taking from her, what she is giving to him.

After several long minutes they finally break apart. A thick, glistening bridge of saliva stretches between their lips before it snaps, and Amma's breath comes in small, shaky pulls. She does not open her eyes immediately.

---

[img][/img]

---

Ravi looks at her with a soft, almost tender smile and asks, "Eh, wife... did you like it?"


Amma does not answer. She turns her face away in sudden shyness, her hair falling forward to hide her expression. The blush on her cheeks has deepened to a dark rose color that spreads down her neck.

Ravi gently cups her chin, turns her back toward him with patient persistence, and asks again, quieter this time, "Did you like it, Lakshmi?"

Still she gives no reply, but the deep blush spreading across her cheeks and the way her lips remain slightly parted, glistening from the kiss, make her feelings unmistakable. She liked it. Despite everything, despite the guilt and the shame and the husband sleeping in the house next door, she liked the way he kissed her.

Ravi seems to read the answer in her silence. He smiles—a small, private expression of victory—and begins to guide her down onto the bed. His hands are gentle but insistent, pressing her shoulders back until she is lying fully on her back. The cream floral saree spreads beneath her like spilled milk, a soft pool of fabric that contrasts with the dark wood of the bed frame.

He does not cover her body with his own. Instead he remains half-seated beside her and begins a slow, deliberate descent. He starts at the side of her waist, placing a soft open-mouthed kiss there, just above the hip bone where the saree has ridden up slightly. Amma's breath catches; a quiet, surprised "ah" slips out, high and fragile in the silence.

Ravi's lips linger, tasting the faint salt of her skin, before he moves lower. He gathers the folds of the saree and draws them aside with careful fingers, exposing the smooth, slightly rounded midriff and the deep, dark hollow of her navel. The skin there is softer, more vulnerable, untouched by sun.

For a moment he only looks, his eyes tracing the curve of her stomach, the dip of her navel, the way her breathing makes the muscles flutter. Then he leans down and presses a deep, lingering kiss directly onto her belly button. His tongue traces the rim in a slow circle, dipping briefly into the hollow, tasting her.

Amma's stomach tenses under his mouth. Soft "ah... ah" sounds and small, broken moans begin to escape her lips even though she tries to press them shut. Her fingers curl into the bedsheet beside her hips, whitening at the knuckles. 

"You keep this covered all day," Ravi murmurs against her skin, his voice vibrating through her flesh, "but it tastes so soft, Lakshmi."

He kisses the navel again, slower, wetter, his tongue pressing more firmly into the hollow, and Amma's thighs shift restlessly on the mattress, her knees drawing together slightly before falling open again.

I watch the way her midriff rises and falls faster, the way the muscles jump each time Ravi's tongue moves, the way her hands open and close on the sheets. The intimacy of that single kiss on her navel feels more invasive than many of the earlier nights. It is so deliberate, so focused on pleasure rather than procreation. Appa has never touched her this way, has never kissed her stomach like it was something to be worshipped.

Ravi's mouth leaves her belly and continues downward. His hands slide under the lower edge of the saree and begin to push the fabric upward along her thighs, inch by inch, revealing the warm brown skin above her knees, then higher, toward the soft inner thighs.

Amma's body stiffens. Suddenly her hands shoot down and stop his wrists, her fingers wrapping tight around his bones. "What are you doing, Ravi?" Her voice is tight, almost panicked, the earlier softness gone, replaced by a familiar resistance.

---

[img][/img]

---

Ravi does not pull his hands away. He stays exactly where he is, kneeling between her legs, his head lifted to look up the length of her body with calm, certain eyes. "What do you think I'm doing, Lakshmi?" His voice is low and even, reasonable. "Yesterday you took my cock in your mouth. You did it even though it was the first time. Today it is my turn to help you. Now I'm going to taste my wife properly."


He waits, still holding the bunched fabric, giving her the words without any rush, letting them settle into her understanding.

Lakshmi turns her face sharply toward the wall, her ear burning red against the pillow. "Chi... chi... Don't say it like that. That place is... inappropriate. It is ugly. You shouldn't put your mouth there, Ravi. It is not right."

Ravi's tone stays quiet but grows firmer, the voice of a man who has already decided and will not be swayed. "When I asked you yesterday, you were shy then also. Still you opened your mouth for me. You let me finish on your tongue. Now I want to do the same for you. A husband should know every part of his wife. He should taste her." He pauses, then adds, with deliberate weight, "Now take your hands away, Lakshmi. I am going to do my duty. I am going to enjoy your pussy... savour it... drink it if you give me enough."

He does not raise his voice. The calm certainty is more commanding than any shout could be. It is the voice of a man who knows she will obey, who has learned her patterns of resistance and surrender.

The words "husband" and "duty" land heavily. Amma's fingers slowly loosen their grip on his wrists and then fall away to the sides of her body, defeated. Her hands rest palm-up on the mattress, a gesture of submission that makes my chest ache.

Ravi resumes the slow lifting of the saree. He pushes the petticoat up next, gathering both layers at her waist. In a few deliberate movements Amma's pussy is fully exposed to the low light: dark outer lips, already slightly parted and glistening with a thin sheen of wetness that catches the lamplight, the softer inner pink visible when he gently presses her thighs farther apart.

Her face turns a deep, burning red, visible even from here. She tries to close her knees, but his shoulders keep them open, his head between her legs blocking her attempt at modesty.

"Ravi... please don't look at it like that," she whispers, voice trembling. "It looks ugly... different... not like a young girl's."

Ravi shakes his head slowly, eyes never leaving the place between her legs. "What are you saying, Lakshmi? It is beautiful. Fuller, darker, more womanly than Meena's. This is a wife's pussy. Now I will savour the full taste of it."

He extends one finger and traces the outer lips first, spreading the moisture, learning her shape. Then, watching her face the entire time, he slowly, carefully inserts the finger inside her.

Amma's back arches off the bed. A longer, shakier moan breaks from her throat—"Ahh... Ravi..."—and her walls clench around the single digit. Ravi holds still for a second, feeling her, then begins to move the finger in slow, shallow strokes, curling it gently, learning the heat and tightness of her.

---

[img][/img]

---

"Already so warm," he murmurs. "And getting wetter for me."


He withdraws his finger. It shines with her clear wetness. He lifts it to his mouth and sucks it clean while staring directly into her eyes, making sure she sees him taste her. 

Then he lowers his head between her thighs.

The first long, slow lick of his tongue—from the bottom of her opening all the way up through the folds and over the hidden clit—makes Amma's entire body jolt as if shocked. A sharp, helpless cry leaves her. Her hands fly down and bury themselves in his hair, fingers neither pulling him away nor fully pushing him closer.

Ravi settles in with deliberate, hungry patience. He licks her open with broad, flat strokes, then narrows his tongue to tease the entrance, pushing inside her in short thrusts. He sucks the outer lips, tugs gently, and returns again and again to the swelling clit, circling it, flicking it, then sealing his mouth over it and sucking with steady pressure.

Amma's moans lose their restraint. Her hips begin to move in small, involuntary circles, pressing her pussy more firmly against his mouth. The wet, rhythmic sounds of his tongue and lips fill the quiet room—soft, filthy, unmistakable.

I watch her thighs tremble on either side of Ravi's head, watch the way her stomach hollows with every shaky breath, and feel my own cock throb so hard it hurts against the fabric of my veshti.

Ravi takes his time, as if he has all night. He uses his thumbs to spread her open wider so he can see every part of her—the darker outer skin, the bright inner pink, the small clitoris now fully swollen and glistening. He tells her between long licks, voice muffled against her wet flesh:

"So sweet, Lakshmi... sweeter than I imagined. I've wanted to do this since the first night. A husband should know the exact taste of his wife's pussy. Give me more... yes, like that..."

Amma's earlier protests have completely dissolved into broken, continuous sounds. She turns her head from side to side on the pillow, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted. When Ravi seals his mouth over her clit and sucks with a firm, steady rhythm while slipping two fingers back inside her, her back lifts clean off the bed. A sharper, higher cry tears from her throat. Her fingers tighten hard in his hair, holding him against her now.

Her hips rock openly against his face. The wetness increases until it coats his chin and lips. Ravi groans into her, the vibration making her thighs shake harder, and continues licking and sucking as if he intends to draw every possible response from her body before he ever stops.

He does not stay between her legs forever. After the long, thorough licking, he lifts his head. Amma's thighs are still trembling, her pussy glistening and open. He wipes his mouth lightly with the back of his hand, then begins to move upward along her body with deliberate slowness.

He plants soft, open-mouthed kisses on the inner side of one thigh, then the soft skin just above her hip, then the trembling plane of her lower belly. Each kiss is wet and lingering. Amma's breathing remains uneven. Her hands, which had been tangled in his hair, now rest loosely on his shoulders as he climbs higher.

When he finally reaches her face he pauses, looking down at her. Amma's eyes are half-open, dark and dazed. Ravi leans in and kisses her mouth again—deeply, thoroughly—letting her taste herself on his tongue. The kiss is slower than before, thicker, almost lazy with satisfaction. Amma's lips part for him without resistance. A soft, muffled sound rises from her throat as their tongues meet once more.

I watch the exchange of that intimate taste and feel the last remaining distance between them collapse further.

Ravi breaks the kiss only to move to the side of her neck. He presses his lips just below her ear, then lower, along the line of her throat. His tongue traces the warm skin. Amma tilts her head slightly, giving him more access even as a fresh wave of shyness colours her cheeks.

"You tasted so sweet, Lakshmi... sweeter than I imagined," he speaks against her neck between kisses, voice low and close. "Your body is answering me now. Don't hide from it."

Amma's reply is barely a whisper. "Ravi... don't say such things..."

But her hand rises and rests on the back of his head, holding him gently in place rather than pushing him away.

Ravi continues downward with the same unhurried patience. He kisses the hollow of her throat, then the upper slope of one breast where the blouse still covers her. His mouth finds the deep line of her cleavage.

The two thaalis rest there—the original one from her marriage to Appa, and the second one Ravi had tied at the temple. They lie close together against her skin. Ravi lowers his head and kisses exactly in the narrow space between them. His tongue moves slowly, tracing the warm valley, licking the faint sheen of sweat, brushing the gold chains with his lips.

---

[img][/img]

---

Amma's breath hitches sharply. "Ravi... the thaali..."


Her voice is thin, caught between protest and something softer.

"Both of them are here," Ravi answers without lifting his mouth completely. "One belongs to that useless sleeping. One belongs to me. I am kissing my wife between them."

He licks again, slower, deeper into the cleavage, letting the chains shift slightly under his tongue. Amma's fingers tighten on his shoulder. A longer, helpless "ahh" escapes her.

Only after he has thoroughly kissed and licked the space between the thaalis does Ravi reach for the pallu of her cream floral saree. He draws it aside with careful fingers, uncovering more of her upper body. The fabric slides across her skin with a soft rustle.

He does not remove the blouse yet. Instead he uses the opened pallu to frame her, then leans down and begins to kiss every newly exposed inch—the upper curves of her breasts above the blouse line, the soft skin near her underarms, the delicate area where neck meets shoulder. His tongue follows the path of his lips, leaving faint wet trails that cool in the night air.

Amma's eyes close again. Her chest rises and falls faster. Soft, continuous sounds leave her mouth now—small moans, broken breaths, the quiet repetition of his name.

Ravi takes his time. He treats her body as something to be learned slowly. He returns to her mouth for another deep kiss, then moves back down to her neck, her cleavage, the thaalis, the upper breasts. He shifts the saree further, exposing one side of her waist, and kisses along the curve. He licks the line of her ribs, the soft underside of her breast where the blouse has ridden up slightly. Every part of her that becomes available receives the same attentive, open-mouthed attention.

Between kisses he speaks to her in a low, steady voice: "Your skin is warmer now... You are letting me in more than before... This is how a wife should be touched, Lakshmi... Slowly. Completely."

Amma's responses are fragmented. "Ravi... enough... It feels... strange... Don't look at me like that..."

Yet her body continues to yield. Her legs remain open. One of her hands stays in his hair. The earlier resistance has softened into a trembling, flushed acceptance.

I watch the long, thorough exploration—the way Ravi's mouth claims every inch of her upper body while the taste of her pussy is still on his lips—and feel the erotic weight of it settle heavily in my own groin. The scene remains unhurried, intimate, and deeply possessive, with no rush toward full undressing or penetration. Only the continuous, deliberate worship of her body through kisses, licks, and quiet husband-and-wife words.

Ravi finally rises from her body and comes back to her face. His lips and chin are still faintly shiny from earlier. He does not wipe them. Instead he leans down and kisses Amma on the mouth again—deep, open, and unhurried—deliberately sharing the taste of her own pussy with her.

The wet sound of the kiss is thick and slow. Amma makes a small, muffled noise of surprise against his tongue, but she does not turn away. Her hands rest on his chest, fingers curling weakly into the fabric of his shirt.

Ravi breaks the kiss just enough to speak against her lips, voice low and rough: "Taste yourself, Lakshmi. This is what your new husband drinks. Sweet... open... already wet for me. Your husband never tasted you like this, did he? He never even tried."

Amma's only answer is a shaky breath and the slight parting of her lips for another kiss. The comparison hangs in the air, heavy and deliberate.

Ravi moves again to her neck, kissing and lightly sucking the warm skin just below her ear. The soft, wet sounds of his mouth are clear in the quiet room—tsch... tsch...—mixed with Amma's uneven breathing.

He trails lower, back into the deep cleavage where the two thaalis rest against her skin. He licks slowly between the gold chains, letting his tongue push them slightly apart.

"These two chains," he murmurs between licks, "one from a man who forgot how to touch you... and one from me. I am the one who is here now. I am the one who is tasting every part of you. Tell me, Lakshmi... does your body know the difference?"

Amma's voice is barely audible. "Ravi... don't speak like that..."

Yet a longer moan slips out when he sucks gently at the soft skin between the thaalis. Her back arches a little, pushing her chest up toward his mouth.

Ravi's hands move to the hooks of her  blouse. He opens them one by one, slowly, giving her time to feel every release. The fabric loosens. He draws the blouse open but does not remove it completely, leaving it hanging off her shoulders.

Her breasts are still covered by the thin blouse-slip, but the upper curves and the deep line of her cleavage are fully exposed. Ravi lowers his head and begins to kiss and lick the newly revealed skin—the soft slopes, the warm valley, the places where the thaalis rest.

The wet sounds grow more intimate: soft licks, the faint click of his tongue, Amma's quiet "ahh... ahh..." that she tries and fails to swallow.

Ravi speaks against her skin: "Your husband sees these every day and does nothing. I wait for nights like this just to put my mouth on them. Feel how hard your nipples are already... even through the cloth. Your body is more honest than your words."

He slips one hand inside the blouse-slip and cups her breast fully, thumb brushing the stiffened nipple. Amma gasps. He keeps kissing her mouth while his hand works slowly, squeezing, rolling, learning the weight of her.

After a while he draws the slip down on one side, freeing one full breast. The dark nipple stands tight in the dim light. Ravi looks at it for a long moment, then lowers his head and takes it into his mouth.

He sucks deeply, tongue circling, teeth grazing just enough to make her jolt. The wet, rhythmic sucking sounds fill the space between them—schlck... schlck...—mixed with Amma's broken moans.

"Ravi... ahh... wait..."

"No waiting tonight, wife," he answers without releasing her. "Tonight you are mine to taste properly. Your husband never sucked you like this. He never made this sound come out of you."

He moves to the other breast, freeing it the same way, and gives it the same slow, hungry attention. Amma's hands are in his hair again, holding on as her chest rises and falls rapidly.

Ravi spends a long time there. He kisses, licks, and sucks both breasts thoroughly, leaving the nipples wet and darker, the surrounding skin marked with faint redness from his mouth. Between every few moments he returns to her lips for deep, sharing kisses, letting her taste the mixture of her own skin and the earlier wetness from her pussy.

His voice stays low and continuous, raw with possession: "Look at you... Breasts heavy, nipples hard, pussy still wet from my tongue... This is how a real husband leaves his wife. Not like the man sleeping in your house who only knows how to drink and forget. I will remember every sound you make. I will remember how your body opens when I treat it like this."

Amma's replies are fragmented and shaky: "Don't compare... It is not right... Ahh... Ravi... your mouth..."

Yet her legs have fallen open wider, and her hips shift restlessly on the bed, seeking friction that has not yet been given.

From the window I can see the clear evidence of her arousal. The petticoat and saree are still bunched at her waist; the dark curls between her legs glisten more heavily now. Small wet sounds come from her body whenever she moves.

Ravi notices too. He slips one hand back down between her thighs without looking, finds her open pussy, and slowly pushes two fingers inside while he continues to suck her breast.

The wet schlick of his fingers moving in and out is unmistakable. Amma cries out softly, hips lifting to meet the thrusts.

Ravi lifts his mouth from her nipple just long enough to speak against her skin: "So wet again... Only from my mouth and my fingers. Your husband never felt you like this, did he? He never made you drip the way you are dripping for me now."

Amma turns her face into the pillow, moaning, unable to deny the sounds her own body is making.

Ravi withdraws his fingers slowly. The soft wet sound is clear in the stillness. He looks at Amma's face for a long moment. Her cheeks are already flushed, lips slightly swollen from kissing.

He speaks in a low, steady voice, without pressure: "I want to see you completely tonight, Lakshmi. Only you and me. No cloth left between us."

Amma does not answer at once. She holds his gaze, then her eyes lower. A deeper blush spreads across her face and down her neck. She gives the smallest nod, almost shy, and turns her face slightly to the side. The quiet acceptance is more intimate than any spoken request.

Ravi helps her sit up on the bed. The movement is careful. Amma's hair falls forward, covering part of her face. She reaches up once to push it back, then lets her hands rest on her lap. Her shoulders are slightly drawn in—the lingering habit of modesty even now.

Ravi kneels in front of her on the mattress and begins with the blouse that is already half-open. He slides the olive-green blouse off her shoulders with both hands. The fabric whispers down her arms. Amma helps by moving her arms slightly, but she keeps her eyes lowered. When the blouse is gone, she is left in the thin slip.

Ravi pauses. He looks at the way the slip clings to her breasts, at the two thaalis resting against her skin. Amma's fingers twitch on her thighs as if she wants to cover herself, yet she does not.

Ravi takes the straps of the slip between his fingers. "Raise your arms a little," he says softly.

Amma hesitates, then lifts them. The slip is drawn upward and off. Her breasts come free—full, soft, nipples still tightened from earlier attention. The thaalis shift and settle between them.

A visible wave of shyness passes over her. She starts to bring one arm across her chest, then stops herself. Her face is a deep, warm red. A small, almost embarrassed breath leaves her lips. Ravi does not touch her immediately. He simply looks, giving the moment weight.

From the window I feel the air leave my lungs. My mother is bare from the waist up under another man's eyes, the two thaalis the only things left on her upper body. The shyness on her face, the way she cannot quite meet Ravi's gaze, makes the scene heavier than pure lust. Something inside me twists—arousal, shame, and a helpless fascination all at once.

Ravi finally raises both hands and cups her breasts gently, as if weighing them. His thumbs move once across the nipples. Amma's breath catches. A soft, involuntary sound escapes her. She bites her lower lip and looks away, the blush deepening.

Ravi leans in and kisses her mouth lightly. "You are lovely like this," he murmurs against her lips. "Every time I see you, I find something new."

Amma does not reply with words. Her hand rises and rests lightly on his forearm—neither pulling him closer nor pushing him away.

Ravi guides her back onto the bed. Her hair spreads across the pillow. He remains beside her, one hand still on her breast, the other resting on the curve of her waist above the petticoat. He kisses her slowly—long, deep kisses that make soft wet sounds in the quiet room. Amma's eyes close. Her fingers curl against his shoulder.

Ravi moves his mouth to her throat, then lower. He kisses the upper slopes of her breasts, the warm skin around the thaalis, the soft undersides. His tongue draws slow circles around one nipple before he takes it into his mouth and sucks gently.

---

[img][/img]

---

The wet, rhythmic sound of his sucking mixes with Amma's quiet, broken breaths. Her back arches slightly. One of her hands finds the back of his head and stays there, fingers lightly in his hair.


Ravi lifts his head just enough to speak, lips still brushing her wet nipple. "Your heart is beating fast. I can feel it under my mouth."

Amma's voice is small and shy. "You are... watching too closely."

A faint, almost reluctant smile touches Ravi's mouth. "I am your husband tonight. It is allowed."

He returns to her breast, sucking more firmly. Amma turns her face into the pillow, a longer moan muffled against the cloth.

After a long time at her chest, Ravi sits up. He begins to unwrap the remaining length of the cream floral saree from her waist and legs. The fabric slides away in soft layers until the entire saree is gone, leaving her only in the petticoat.

Amma's bare legs shift restlessly. She presses her knees together for a moment, then lets them fall slightly apart again. The shyness is still present, but it no longer stops the movement of her body.

Ravi's hands settle on the waistband of the petticoat. He looks at her face. Amma's eyes are open now, dark and uncertain. A fresh blush rises on her cheeks. She does not speak, but after a few seconds she lifts her hips a little—the smallest permission.

He draws the petticoat down slowly, past her thighs, past her knees, and off her feet. The last piece of clothing is gone.

---

[img][/img]

---

Amma lies fully naked on the bed except for the two thaalis. Her body is open to the low light: breasts marked by his mouth, stomach rising and falling, dark wet pussy still glistening, thighs soft and parted.


She turns her face away at once, one arm coming up as if to shield her eyes. The shyness is stronger now that nothing remains to hide behind. Ravi does not force her to look at him. He simply rests one hand on her stomach, warm and still, giving her time.

My cock throbs painfully. The complete nakedness of my mother, the way she still tries to hide her face even while her body stays open, creates a raw, addictive ache in me. I cannot look away. Every small movement she makes—the twitch of her fingers, the way her toes curl, the visible pulse in her throat—feels magnified.

Ravi begins to touch her again with both hands, unhurried. He strokes from her shoulders down her arms, across her breasts, over her stomach, along the outer sides of her thighs. His palms are warm and deliberate.

Amma's breathing grows uneven. Soft sounds keep leaving her lips—small gasps, quiet "mmh" noises she cannot fully control. Her hips shift once, twice, against the mattress.

Ravi lowers his head and starts kissing her naked body from the beginning again. Mouth on her lips, her throat, both breasts, the line of her ribs, her navel, the soft skin of her lower belly. He takes his time at every place.

When his mouth returns between her legs she jerks, a sharper cry escaping. He licks her slowly, thoroughly, as if he has not already tasted her earlier. The wet sounds are louder now in the silence—open, intimate, continuous.

Between long strokes of his tongue Ravi speaks, voice muffled against her: "You are even wetter than before... Your body remembers my mouth."

Amma's reply is fragmented and shy. "Don't... speak while you... ahh..."

Her fingers tighten in the bedsheet. Her thighs tremble on either side of his head.

Ravi stays between her legs for a long time. He uses his tongue and two fingers together, slow and precise, learning exactly which pressure makes her breath hitch and which rhythm makes her hips lift. Amma's moans become longer and less controlled. Her head turns from side to side. The blush never leaves her face; it only deepens.

Only when her thighs are shaking continuously does Ravi move up her body. He removes his own clothes without hurry—baniyan first, then veshti and underwear. His cock is thick and hard, the head already wet.

He settles between her open legs, the heavy length of him resting against her soaked folds. He does not push inside yet. He simply stays there, skin to skin, and kisses her mouth deeply while rocking his hips in small movements that slide his cock up and down along her pussy. The slick sound is soft and constant.

Ravi rests the thick head of his cock against Amma's entrance pussy. He does not push forward yet. He stays there, the heat of her wetness coating him, and looks down at her face.

Amma's eyes are half-open. A deep flush covers her cheeks and spreads down her neck. She cannot hold his gaze for long; her eyes flicker away, then return, then lower again. One of her hands rests on his upper arm, fingers lightly curled. Her breathing is already uneven.

Ravi leans down and kisses her once, soft and closed-mouthed. "Look at me for a moment," he says quietly.

Amma forces her eyes back to his. The shyness is still there, but beneath it something softer—a restrained, almost reluctant acceptance—shows in the way her lips stay slightly parted.

Ravi begins to press forward. Only the head at first. The stretch is immediate and visible in the way Amma's mouth opens. A long, trembling breath leaves her. Her fingers tighten on his arm.

He holds still, giving her body time to adjust to the thickness. The wet heat of her surrounds just the tip. Soft, involuntary sounds escape her throat—small, broken "ahh... mmh..." noises she tries to keep quiet.

Ravi's own breathing has grown heavier. He watches every change in her expression with complete attention.

He gives her more only when her grip on his arm loosens slightly. Another inch slides inside. Amma's back arches a little. Her eyes close tightly for a moment, then open again, unfocused.

Ravi continues this way—slow, measured pushes, each one followed by a full pause. The wet sound of her body taking him is soft but unmistakable. By the time he is halfway inside, Amma's other hand has risen to his shoulder. Her thighs have fallen further open. The flush on her face is deeper than before.

When Ravi finally sinks the last inches and their bodies meet completely, both of them go still. He is buried to the hilt. Amma's breath comes in short, shaky pulls. Her walls flutter around him in small, involuntary contractions.

Ravi lowers his forehead to hers. His voice is rough and low. "You have all of me now. Every part."

Amma does not answer with words. She turns her face slightly and presses her cheek against his. Her arms move up around his back, holding him in place rather than pulling him closer. The quiet acceptance of his full weight and length inside her is more intimate than any spoken permission.

They remain completely motionless for a long time. Ravi stays deep inside her, letting her feel the complete fullness. He kisses the side of her face, her closed eyelids, the corner of her mouth.

Amma's breathing slowly begins to even out. Her fingers move in small, restless patterns on his back. Occasionally her inner muscles tighten around him without her seeming to decide it. Each time it happens, a faint sound leaves her lips and her blush deepens.

Ravi draws his hips back only a short distance, then slides forward again. The first full stroke is almost painfully slow. The wet sound is thick and clear. Amma's mouth opens against his cheek; a longer moan spills out.

He repeats the movement—short withdrawal, long controlled return—establishing a rhythm so measured that every inch of the friction can be felt. Amma's legs rise and rest against his hips. Her hands stay on his back, sometimes pressing, sometimes only resting.

The slow strokes continue. Ravi keeps the same deliberate pace, never speeding up. Each time he pushes in to the root, Amma's body shifts under him and a soft, open sound leaves her. The two thaalis move between her breasts with the motion.

Ravi speaks in low fragments between thrusts: "So warm inside... I can feel you holding me... Your body is softer tonight..."

Amma's replies are quieter, broken by the rhythm: "It's... deep... Your weight... Don't look at me so much..."

Yet when he kisses her she answers the kiss, and her hips begin to make small answering movements of their own.

After many long strokes Ravi slips one arm under her lower back and lifts her hips slightly. The new angle lets him sink even deeper. Amma's reaction is immediate—a sharper cry, her head pressing back into the pillow, her nails lightly scoring his skin.

He holds the angle and continues the same unhurried rhythm. The wet sounds grow richer. Amma's breasts move with every thrust. Her eyes open and close in uneven intervals, the expression on her face a mixture of shyness, overwhelm, and something quieter that looks almost like reluctant happiness.

Outside the window my entire body is locked in place. I can see every detail: the slow, heavy way Ravi's hips move, the way Amma's thighs tremble, the glistening wetness that coats Ravi's cock each time he withdraws, the changing expressions on my mother's face. The length and thoroughness of the act make it impossible to look away. My own arousal is painful, but I remain motionless, breathing shallowly in the dark.

Ravi keeps the deep, measured fucking going for a long time. Sweat begins to form on both their bodies. The scent of sex fills the small room. Amma's moans have become continuous—low, rhythmic, open. Her hands move restlessly over his back and shoulders.

Occasionally Ravi lowers his mouth to her neck or the upper curve of her breast and sucks lightly while he thrusts, adding another layer of sensation. Each time he does, Amma's inner muscles tighten around him and a fresher sound leaves her throat.

Ravi shifts his weight to one forearm and slips his other hand between their bodies. His fingers find her swollen clit and begin to move in slow, tight circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

Amma's reaction is stronger now. Her back arches. A higher, more broken cry escapes her. Her legs tighten around his waist. The dual stimulation makes her body respond more openly—small, involuntary rolls of her hips, the clear clenching of her pussy around his cock, the way her breath fractures.

Ravi keeps the same deep, controlled rhythm, but the weight behind each thrust has grown. The wet sound of his cock moving inside her is louder now, thicker, almost continuous. Amma's moans have lost most of their earlier restraint. They rise and fall with every stroke, open and shaky.

Her face is turned slightly toward the side of the pillow. The flush on her cheeks is dark and permanent. Her eyes open and close in uneven intervals. For the first time a faint, incomplete softness appears at the corners of her mouth—not a full smile, only the beginning of one—as if something inside her is slowly loosening its grip.

Ravi notices. He lowers his mouth close to her ear, voice rough and low: "You are looking different tonight... Your face is changing while I am inside you. I can see it."

Amma's breath stutters. She tries to turn her face further away, but the small almost-smile stays, fragile and unfinished.

Outside the window I feel the shift like a physical blow. The woman on the bed is still my mother, still carrying the familiar shyness, yet something new is moving across her features. The tight control she has always kept is beginning to crack. That half-formed smile—small, reluctant, almost secret—makes the scene more intimate and more devastating than any of the earlier nights. My cock throbs hard against the cloth, but I remain frozen, unable to look away from the slow transformation on her face.

Ravi slows his thrusts until he is only rocking deep inside her. He brushes damp hair from her forehead and speaks quietly: "I want to see more of your face. Come up here. Sit on me."

---

[img][/img]

---

Amma's eyes open wider. A fresh wave of shyness floods her expression. She hesitates, lips parting as if she might refuse, yet the hesitation lasts only a few seconds. The same small, incomplete softness returns to the corner of her mouth. She gives the tiniest nod.


Ravi withdraws slowly, the wet sound clear and intimate. He rolls onto his back and guides Amma with both hands on her waist. She moves awkwardly at first, still shy about the full exposure of the new position. Her breasts hang forward as she straddles him, the  thaalis swinging lightly between them.

She reaches down, takes him in her hand for a moment, and then sinks onto his cock with a long, trembling breath. The thick length disappears into her inch by inch until she is fully seated. Her hands rest on his chest. Her face is burning.

Neither of them moves at once. Amma sits completely filled, breathing hard, eyes lowered. The flush on her face is deeper than ever. A soft, almost embarrassed sound leaves her throat.

Ravi's hands stay on her hips, thumbs stroking the soft skin. "Look at me," he says, voice low. "I want to watch you like this."

Amma forces her eyes up to his. The shyness is still strong, but the unfinished smile flickers again at the edge of her mouth—small, uncertain, and real. Something in her usual closed expression has begun to break open.

Ravi guides her with gentle pressure on her hips. Amma starts to rise and fall in short, careful movements. The wet sound of her body sliding on his cock is softer than before but more intimate. Her breasts move with each slow rise and descent.

At first her eyes stay lowered. Then, little by little, she begins to meet his gaze for longer moments. The small smile grows a fraction clearer, still incomplete, still mixed with residual shyness, yet unmistakably present. Her usual restrained self is loosening; a different woman is starting to show through.

Ravi watches her face with complete attention, speaking in a rough, continuous murmur: "That's it... Move the way your body wants... You look different when you are on top of me... Your eyes are softer... I can see you ."

Amma's breath catches at the words. She does not answer, but her rhythm grows a little more certain. The shy flush remains, yet the almost-smile keeps returning between her open-mouthed breaths.

Amma's movements become longer and more fluid. She sinks down until he is buried completely, then rises until only the head remains inside her, then slides down again. The wet, rhythmic sound fills the room. Her thighs tremble with the effort.

Her hands press more firmly into his chest. Occasionally she leans forward, the thaalis brushing his skin, and the new angle makes her let out a higher, broken sound. Each time the small smile appears more clearly before shyness pulls it back again.

My entire body is rigid. The sight of my mother straddling another man, rising and falling on his cock, her face slowly losing its old closed expression, is more erotic and more painful than anything that came before. I can see the exact moment the little smile forms, the way it fights with her remaining shyness, the way her eyes grow darker and softer. The transformation is incomplete, still fragile, yet it is happening in front of me and I cannot stop watching.

Ravi begins to thrust upward to meet her. The impact of their bodies grows heavier. Amma's moans turn continuous and open. Her head tips back for a moment, then drops forward again. Sweat shines on her throat and between her breasts.

The small smile stays longer now. It is still not full, still mixed with the old restraint, but it no longer disappears completely. Her usual self is breaking, piece by piece, and a different woman—more open, more lost in the sensation—is taking her place.

Ravi's hands tighten on her hips and he begins to guide her more firmly, pulling her down onto each upward thrust. The wet sound becomes louder and filthier. Amma's cries rise with every deep meeting of their bodies.

"You are giving me more of yourself," Ravi says, voice thick. "I can feel it. Your face is not the same as when we started. Stay with me... keep looking at me."

Amma forces her eyes to stay on his. The shy flush and the incomplete smile exist together on her face, creating an expression I have never seen before.

The rhythm grows heavier and less controlled. Amma's movements become shorter and more urgent. Her thighs shake. Her hands open and close against Ravi's chest. The small smile is still there, trembling at the edges of her open mouth, as the pleasure climbs higher.

Ravi slips one hand between them and finds her clit, rubbing in tight circles while she continues to ride him. Amma's body jolts. A long, broken cry leaves her. The last of her usual restraint fractures further; the new, softer expression takes more of her face.

Amma is still on top of him, her movements growing shorter and less controlled. The wet sound of her body sliding on his cock is loud and continuous. Her thighs tremble hard. The small, incomplete smile keeps flickering across her face—appearing for a second between open-mouthed breaths, then breaking under another wave of sensation, then returning again, softer and more dazed each time.

Ravi's hands grip her hips firmly. He thrusts upward to meet every descent, voice rough and low: "Stay with me... I can feel how close you are... Your face is opening... Don't hide it."

Amma's eyes stay on his for longer stretches now. The old closed expression has cracked further. Shyness still colours her cheeks, but the new softness keeps pushing through.

Ravi suddenly slows her movements with both hands. "Not like this," he says, breathing hard. "I want to be deeper when we finish. Lie down for me."

---

[img][/img]

---

[Lousy1995]

Amma hesitates only a moment. The incomplete smile wavers, mixed with fresh shyness, then she nods. Ravi helps her lift off him. The thick, wet sound of his cock leaving her body is clear in the quiet room. A thin string of their mixed arousal briefly connects them before breaking.


Ravi guides her onto her hands and knees on the mattress. The position is more exposed, more raw. Amma's hair falls forward, hiding part of her face. Her back is slightly arched, the two thaalis hanging down and swinging freely. A deep blush spreads across her neck and shoulders.

She starts to lower her chest toward the bed in residual modesty, but Ravi's hand on her hip keeps her exactly where he wants her. "Like this," he murmurs. "I want to feel all of you when you come."

Ravi kneels behind her, rubs the head of his cock once through her soaked folds, and then pushes in with one long, controlled thrust. The angle is deeper and tighter. Amma's arms nearly buckle. A sharp, broken cry leaves her throat as he sinks to the hilt.

He stays buried for several seconds, both hands on her waist, letting her feel the full stretch of the new position. Amma's head drops forward. The small smile has vanished under the intensity, replaced by an open, overwhelmed expression that still carries the last traces of shyness.

Ravi begins to move with deep, steady thrusts. Each one pushes her forward slightly on the bed. The wet, rhythmic sound is heavier and filthier than before— schlick... schlick... schlick—mixed with the soft slap of his hips against her.

Amma's moans rise in volume. Her fingers clutch the sheet. Every time he drives in fully, a fresh tremor runs through her thighs and the incomplete softness tries to return to the corner of her mouth before the next thrust breaks it open again.

Ravi leans over her back, one hand sliding under to cup her breast, the other holding her hip. His voice is low and rough against her ear: "You feel tighter like this... So deep... Your body is taking everything I give you... I can see your face changing even from behind."

Amma's reply is fragmented, almost lost in her moans: "It's... too deep... Ravi... your ..."

Yet she pushes back to meet his next thrusts, the movement small but unmistakable. The shy flush remains, but the new, more open woman keeps rising to the surface with every stroke.

Outside the window my legs feel weak. The raw visual of my mother on her hands and knees, back arched, completely filled from behind, her face half-hidden yet still showing that broken, evolving expression, is more devastating than any previous position. I can see the exact way her mouth opens, the way the small smile keeps trying to form and then collapses under pleasure, the way her body has stopped resisting. My own arousal is almost unbearable, but I stay locked in place, forced to witness every detail.

Ravi's pace grows heavier without becoming frantic. He reaches around and finds her clit again, rubbing in firm, steady circles while he continues the deep thrusts from behind. Amma's arms finally give way; her chest drops to the mattress, hips still held high by his hands. The new angle lets him sink even deeper.

Her cries become continuous and open. The last of her usual closed self fractures further. The incomplete smile appears one more time—small, dazed, almost happy—before pure sensation overtakes it.

Amma comes first with a long, trembling wail that turns into broken, repeated cries. Her entire body shakes. Her pussy clamps hard and repeatedly around his cock, the contractions strong enough that Ravi has to grip her hips tightly to keep thrusting through them.

He does not slow down. He fucks her through the full length of her orgasm, voice rough and close to her ear: "That's it... Give it to me... I can feel you breaking open..."

Only when her pulses begin to soften does he drive in to the root one final time and cum with a deep, guttural groan. His body locks against hers as he empties himself in heavy, pulsing waves deep inside her. The force of his release makes both of them shudder. Amma's hands fist the sheet; a last, helpless sound leaves her throat while he finishes.

They stay joined and still. Ravi remains buried deep, chest pressed to her back, breathing hard against her neck. Amma's body is soft and trembling beneath him. One of her hands reaches back weakly and rests on his thigh, the small gesture more intimate than any words.

The room is filled with the smell of sex and the sound of their slowing breaths. The incomplete softness has returned to the corner of Amma's mouth even though her eyes are closed—a quiet, unfinished change that has not yet settled back into her old expression.

Ravi remains inside her for a while longer, then slowly withdraws. A thick trail of their mixed cum release follows. He eases Amma down onto her side and pulls the thin sheet over their lower bodies. Both are still breathing hard. The room smells strongly of sex.

Amma lies with her back partly against his chest, face still flushed, the small incomplete softness lingering at the corner of her mouth. She is quiet for a long moment. The usual restraint has not fully returned, yet she is clearly not completely lost either—there is still a visible conflict in the way she keeps her eyes lowered and her body slightly tense even in the afterglow.

Ravi strokes her arm slowly and speaks in a low, calm voice: "You were different tonight, Lakshmi. I felt it. Come again tomorrow night."

Amma's body stiffens a little. She does not look at him immediately. When she answers, her voice is quiet and careful, still carrying the old hesitation: "Ravi... today was already... a lot. I don't know if I can come every night. Husband is at home. Arjun is still recovering. It is not easy."

Ravi's hand continues its slow movement on her skin. His tone stays soft, but there is a clear edge of certainty underneath: "Then I will come to your house. Later, after everyone is asleep. You already opened the door for me once. You can do it again. Either you come here, or I come there. Those are the only two choices now."

Amma is silent for several seconds. A fresh blush rises on her cheeks. She opens her mouth as if to refuse, then closes it again. When she finally speaks, the words are reluctant and heavy: "...I will try to come. But only if it is safe. Don't come to the house unless I say."

Ravi kisses the back of her shoulder once. "Good. Tomorrow, then."

Outside the  window, I have not moved.

My cock is still painfully hard, and without a single touch a thick pulse of cum suddenly spills from the tip, soaking the front of my veshti in a warm, humiliating rush. Another weaker throb follows, then another. I stand there shaking, staring down at the wet stain spreading across the cloth, the evidence of what I have become impossible to ignore.

A loser. A son who watched his mother get fucked in every position, who listened to her soft moans and incomplete smiles, and who came in his clothes like a pathetic boy without even stroking himself.

The self-disgust hits me harder than the arousal.

Inside the room Amma's quiet voice drifts out one last time, tired and still not fully surrendered: "I should go soon... Before anyone notices."

Ravi's reply is calm and final: "Tomorrow, Lakshmi. Don't make me come looking for you."

I step back into the deeper darkness, the wet cloth clinging to my skin, the words "Tomorrow... or I will come to your house" repeating in my head like a sentence I will never be able to escape.

I turn toward home knowing that the next day or night will arrive whether I am ready or not—and that I already know exactly where I will be standing when it does.

[Lousy1995]

I’ve written the entire chapter with more intimate and sexual moments, and I’m not sure whether you guys are enjoying the way those scenes are being narrated.


So please share your honest feedback, thoughts, and comments. Let me know what you liked, what could be improved, and what you’d like to see more of in the upcoming chapters. Your feedback will really help me improve the writing further.

I’ve also added a few small GIFs, pictures, and references to make the reading experience a little more interesting and engaging. ❤️

[wxxxx]

I sincerely thank you, author Lousy1995, from the bottom of my heart. After reading your story Mom's Village Affair, Chapter 28: "Husband and Wife", the readers' bodies have been in the most intense excitement after a long time. Ravi will come to Arjun's house late tomorrow night and engage in hardcore and anal sex with Arjun's mother Lakshmi in the living room. Arjun will turn off the lights in his room and enjoy hardcore and anal sex between his mother and Ravi and ejaculate. At that time, Arjun's father will be unconscious in a deep sleep in his bedroom due to alcohol intoxication.

[veenaimo]

wowww.. nice story

[saka1981]

This is a wonderful and lust-filled episode. It beautifully brings out the emotions of Ravi and Laxmi. It shows how Laxmi transformed from a family woman into a queen of desire. It was truly an excellent episode.

Arjun has completely lost himself under the influence of Ravi and his desires. Thank you for giving us such an amazing episode.

[Wangi]

Blown! Nowords to say....

[Wangi]

[Script]

Muah muah... bro

Better go to cinema brother scene by scene nailed it

[Script]

Porul antha mathiri varama....!

[aravindkkumar08]

Bro just fabulous their is no wording. Just read the best erotic scenes in recent timing. Continue with same. Writing. Just a request to try a scene with threesome with Ravi and his wife with Lakshmi or with his son

[Raj_Rohan]

Fantastic and such an erotic update,...I didn't expect that the 2nd half will be this much more erotic and awesome.

While reading line by line, the shaking goes faster. Nailed it.

[Waseem990]

nice stories b continue update

[Lousy1995]

The next update will be posted by tonight or, at the latest, early tomorrow morning. Thank you so much for waiting and for all your continued support. There’s a lot more fun, drama, and exciting moments coming in the chapters ahead! ❤️


But I have one important question for you guys this time:

Do you want me to wrap up the story around Chapter 50, or would you like me to continue the story beyond 50 chapters?
Let me know your thoughts in the comments. Your feedback will help me decide how to take the story forward! ❤️

[gowthamn017]

The next update will be posted by tonight or, at the latest, early tomorrow morning. Thank you so much for waiting and for all your continued support. There’s a lot more fun, drama, and exciting moments coming in the chapters ahead! ❤️


But I have one important question for you guys this time:

Do you want me to wrap up the story around Chapter 50, or would you like me to continue the story beyond 50 chapters?
Let me know your thoughts in the comments. Your feedback will help me decide how to take the story forward! ❤️

Superb writing. About wrapping up the story do it at your own discretion, cause you know the plot best and don't drag for sake of readers. We readers exist because of writers like you not the vice-versa.

[Raj_Rohan]

Superb writing. About wrapping up the story do it at your own discretion, cause you know the plot best and don't drag for sake of readers. We readers exist because of writers like you not the vice-versa.

I agree to this comment.

Decision is in authors hand.

[aravindkkumar08]

If you add some more characters and instead of focusing on two characters you can extend. Same character repetitive scene get bored. This is my observation

[Wangi]

Its all about your decision bro..we donno about the story how you gonna take it.

But we will tell you at 49 or 50 chapter..either to continue 

Or stop

Or 

You can also make season 2 

In this story if needed..

But its all about you.. we don't know... what's in your mind.

Or 

Start any other new one