Adultery My Friend Wants My Mother

[Umavictor32]

I know the story suddenly feels a bit slower now. I decided to change a few parts because many of you have been expecting different things from the story.


So, I’m modifying some of the existing parts and rewriting them again to make the upcoming chapters better and more connected. I’ve also noted many of your ideas and suggestions, and I’ll try to include them naturally in the upcoming chapters.

Thanks for understanding and for being patient with the changes. I really appreciate all the feedback and support!

I dnt knw y but this update i loved it a lot... I think this story is gonna be a banger..

[Lousy1995]

Guys, can anyone explain why this guy (wxxxx) is commenting like this?

I really appreciate all the feedback and replies, and I’m grateful that you’re taking the time to share your thoughts. ❤️


That said, please avoid spamming multiple messages or repeating the same feedback. It’s becoming a little overwhelming and irritating to keep up with. I’ll definitely read and consider your feedback, so there’s no need to send it repeatedly.

Thanks for understanding!

[Paty@123]

Good update, between mother and son gap widened, Gowtam is the culprit for this, still acting as a true lover

[saka1981]

Vinay has made a very clear decision. Without directly saying, “I’m going to focus on my own life and my studies,” he has made Madhu understand that he is choosing his own path and moving forward.

As for Madhu, I feel she is looking at the situation very differently now. Maybe her attraction and physical desire toward Gowtham have started to outweigh the love and affection she once had for Vinay. But knowing Gowtham’s past and his involvement with several women, still choosing to get physically involved with him feels like a very risky decision.

She may have her own reasons for making that choice, but the consequences could be very different from what she expects.

“You reap what you sow.” Let’s see whether that saying will eventually apply to Madhu and Gowtham too.

[saka1981]

I know the story suddenly feels a bit slower now. I decided to change a few parts because many of you have been expecting different things from the story.


So, I’m modifying some of the existing parts and rewriting them again to make the upcoming chapters better and more connected. I’ve also noted many of your ideas and suggestions, and I’ll try to include them naturally in the upcoming chapters.

Thanks for understanding and for being patient with the changes. I really appreciate all the feedback and support!

It would be even better if you had a scene where Madhu and Gowtham go shopping and happen to see Vinay working part-time there.

When Madhu asks, “Why are you working?” Vinay could calmly say, “I need to work to pay for my food and my own expenses. From now on, I have to take care of my own needs.”

That one dialogue itself would clearly show the decision Vinay has made and that he has started taking responsibility for his own life. At the same time, it could give Madhu a quiet moment of realization too.

This is just a small idea from my side. I feel a scene like this would make the story even more impactful.

[Steven Rajaa]

Nice update

[wxxxx]

Guys, can anyone explain why this guy (wxxxx) is commenting like this?

I really appreciate all the feedback and replies, and I’m grateful that you’re taking the time to share your thoughts. ❤️


That said, please avoid spamming multiple messages or repeating the same feedback. It’s becoming a little overwhelming and irritating to keep up with. I’ll definitely read and consider your feedback, so there’s no need to send it repeatedly.

Thanks for understanding!

I am sincerely sorry if you felt uncomfortable. It was solely your writing skills and clarity that caught my attention.

[Waseem990]

nice stories

[Vijay kinh]

Gowtham change madhus dressing

[Wangi]

Hottest!

the way the conversation held the phone call

Bhai nailed it..

The bond slowly turning the table 

Your amazing in conversation to bhai please keep it up in upcoming updates

And

Waiting to happen this kind off intimate conversation in 

mom's village affairs

Between ravi and Lakshmi 

Once again you nailed it

Thanks for regularly updating us

The best author 

Bigg fan bhai

[Sankamithira]

Madhu can give sleeping pills to her husband and son and fuck with Gowtham in same house idaily instead of going to his home. Where are gowtham parents dead?

[Arul Pragasam]

When both are in love why she is still with useless husband.she decided to destroy the family anyway.

[Paty@123]

ఇద్దరూ ప్రేమించుకుంటున్నప్పుడు ఆమె ఇంకా పనికిమాలిన భర్తతో ఎందుకు ఉంది? ఎలాగైనా కుటుంబాన్ని నాశనం చేయాలని ఆమె నిర్ణయించుకుంద

Love? No, not at all, she is thinking that Gowtam is caring for her though she knows he is playing, but his mentality is nothing but fucking as long as possible till another new come through his play, he will behave in that way  with every milf whoever he as attracted to, this play will continue till she comes out to the control of her mental and physical confusion

[Paul]

Looking forward to writer’s modified version of the story which am sure will spice up the pace of this family drama with Vinay’s participation. Vinay has, after all nothing more to loose, he has lost the bet and now why not indulge. May be, in doing so, he may be able to extricate his beautiful matured mother from the grasp of Gautham. Let’s see!! ?

[Gopal Ratnam]

Vinay should stop eating the food prepared by his friend whore.

When she tries to talk he should cut off saying you only be whore of Gowtham and not need to act like my mom. My mom is dead already.

[Ajay Kailash]

Vinay should stop eating the food prepared by his friend whore.

When she tries to talk he should cut off saying you only be whore of Gowtham and not need to act like my mom. My mom is dead already.

He can better go to college hostel saying travel time is long etc
Btw gowtham is a student in same college but doesn't go to classes?

[Ajay Kailash]

Gowtham threaten vinay that I will destroy you if you try to take your mom away from me

Madhu says I will destroy the family. If vinay question her or tell his dad.

Why this useless boy still considering them as friend and mom still. In fact he should block gowtham and not call madhu as amma.

[Lousy1995]

Chapter 14: The Jealousy

The morning after the night, Madhu woke to the sound of heavy rain against the windows, the monsoon having returned with renewed intensity after a brief respite. She lay in bed for several minutes, Rajesh's familiar weight beside her, his breathing deep and regular, she felt  too exhausted from her late-night work, and now it felt like a secret she had carried into her dreams.

She got up quietly, careful not to wake Rajesh, and went to the bathroom. In the mirror, she examined herself—the blouse was wrinkled from sleep, the red slightly faded in the harsh bathroom light, but it was unmistakably bold, unmistakably different from her usual choices. She changed into a practical cotton saree for the morning, removing the dress and folding it carefully, hiding it at the bottom of her wardrobe beneath old winter clothes she never wore. She could not wear it again today; it would be too obvious, too noticeable. But she kept it, knowing she would wear it again, knowing that Gautham's request had planted a seed that would grow.

The wedding was scheduled for the evening—a deliberate choice by the astrologer, auspicious for the bride and groom. Mrs. Lakshmi had mentioned it repeatedly in the building, inviting everyone personally, ensuring that no one from their small community would miss the celebration of her daughter's marriage. It was to be held at a marriage hall in Mylapore, near the Kapaleeshwarar Temple, a venue that could accommodate four hundred guests and had sufficient parking for the cars that would arrive from both families.

Madhu spent the morning on her work, determined to make up for the errors of the previous days. She sat at her laptop from nine until one, entering data with meticulous care, checking each entry twice, forcing her mind to focus on the rows of customer information rather than the memory of Gautham's messages, his request for a picture she had not sent, his patient waiting. She completed a full batch without errors and submitted it, feeling a small surge of satisfaction that was quickly replaced by anxiety when she checked her phone and found no messages from him.

Perhaps he was angry. Perhaps her refusal to send the photo, her silence after his request, had finally pushed him away. The thought should have relieved her. Instead, she felt a hollowness that she could not name, a sense that she had missed an opportunity, that she had failed some test she did not fully understand.

At two o'clock, Rajesh came home early from the factory, his face flushed with excitement. "The supervisor gave me the afternoon off," he announced, dropping his bag by the door. "For the wedding. He knows Lakshmi's husband from the union. We should leave by four to beat the traffic."

Madhu nodded, her mind already calculating. Four o'clock. They would be gone for hours. She would need to dress appropriately, manage her appearance, ensure that Vinay was also ready. "Where is Vinay?" she asked.

"At the library," Rajesh said, loosening his tie. "He messaged me. Said he would meet us directly at the hall. He is studying with his friends until then."

This was normal now, Madhu realized. Vinay's absence from the house, his independent movements, his direct communication with his father rather than through her. He was building a life that did not include her, brick by brick, and she had helped him lay the foundation by driving him away with her secrets.

She bathed and dressed carefully for the wedding, choosing a cream and maroon silk saree that was festive but not ostentatious, appropriate for a neighbor's daughter's wedding rather than a close relative. She applied makeup with a steady hand—kohl, a touch of lipstick, powder to hide the circles under her eyes. She considered wearing the red blouse again, but it was too bold for a wedding where she would be seen by so many neighbors, where Rajesh would be at her side all evening. Instead, she wore a matching maroon blouse, traditional and safe.

They left the apartment at four-thirty, taking an auto-rickshaw because Rajesh did not want to bother his colleague for the car on a rainy evening. The journey to Mylapore took forty minutes through snarled traffic, the auto weaving through waterlogged streets, the rain drumming against the plastic curtains. They arrived at the marriage hall at five-fifteen, slightly late, the ceremony already having begun.

The hall was magnificent, decorated with strings of jasmine and marigold, the air thick with incense and the sound of the nadaswaram orchestra playing traditional wedding music. They entered through the main doors, removing their wet footwear, and were greeted immediately by Mrs. Lakshmi, who was dressed in a heavy gold silk saree, her face flushed with excitement and pride.

"Madhu! Rajesh! Welcome, welcome!" Mrs. Lakshmi embraced Madhu, her grip tight, her perfume strong and floral. "You look lovely. Come, come, the muhurtham is starting. Priya looks like a goddess."

They were ushered to seats near the front, among the other neighbors from their building. Madhu scanned the crowd as they walked, her eyes searching despite herself. She saw Mrs. Padma seated three rows back, dressed in purple, her face composed. She saw other familiar faces—Mr. Venkatesh from the first floor, the family from the adjacent building, colleagues of Rajesh from the factory. But she did not see Gautham.

The ceremony began in earnest—the priests chanting Sanskrit mantras, the sacred fire burning in the center of the stage, the bride and groom seated before it, resplendent in their wedding attire. Madhu watched with mechanical attention, her hands folded in her lap, her mind elsewhere. She kept glancing at the entrance, at the back of the hall, searching for his tall figure, his broad shoulders.

It was during the kanyadaan, the giving away of the bride, that she realized she had not seen Mrs. Lakshmi for some time. The mother of the bride had been present earlier, directing relatives, ensuring the rituals proceeded smoothly, but now she was absent from her place near the stage. And Gautham was still nowhere to be seen.

Madhu told herself it was nothing. Mrs. Lakshmi was probably attending to some detail, some crisis in the kitchen or with the gifts. Gautham was probably outside smoking, or helping with parking, or simply late. There were a hundred innocent explanations.

But she could not concentrate. She leaned toward Rajesh. "I need to use the restroom," she whispered.

He nodded, his eyes on the ceremony. "Go quickly. Do not miss the thali ceremony."

She slipped out of her seat, moving along the row, stepping carefully over the legs of other guests. The hall was crowded, hot despite the air conditioning, and she felt suddenly suffocated. She walked toward the back, toward the entrance, looking for the restroom signs, but her eyes were scanning the crowd, searching for them.

She did not find them inside.

The corridor outside the main hall was quieter, cooler, lined with doors leading to smaller rooms for the bridal party. She walked toward the entrance, stepping out into the covered portico where guests were leaving their footwear. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, the evening air humid and heavy.

She saw his bike immediately. The Royal Enfield, parked near the far end of the portico, partially hidden behind a pillar. And beside it, a silver sedan she did not recognize, parked at an angle that suggested haste.

She should go back inside. She should use the restroom and return to her seat. She should not investigate, should not seek out what she suspected.

But her feet carried her forward, around the pillar, toward the dark corner where the parking lot extended behind the hall. The lights were dim here, the streetlamps providing only pools of yellow illumination amid the shadows. She walked slowly, her heart hammering, her saree pallu clutched tight in her hand.

She heard them before she saw them. A giggle, low and throaty, unmistakably female. Then a man's voice, murmuring something too low to make out. Then the sound of a car door opening.

Madhu stopped, stepping back into the shadow of a large SUV, her hand flying to her mouth.

Mrs. Lakshmi emerged from the back seat of the sedan.

The woman was... disheveled. Her gold silk saree, which had been perfectly dbangd earlier, was now wrinkled, the pallu hanging loose, the pleats crushed. Her hair, which had been neatly pinned up, was now spread around her shoulders in a tangled mess, as if fingers had been running through it repeatedly. Her lipstick was completely gone, and in the dim light, Madhu could see a dark mark on her neck—a hickey, fresh and obvious, the size of a coin.

Mrs. Lakshmi walked with a slight wobble, her hand pressed to her lower back, her gait that of a woman who had just been thoroughly used. She paused beside the car, adjusting her saree with shaking hands, trying to restore some semblance of dignity.

And then Gautham emerged.

He buttoned his shirt as he stepped out, his movements casual, unhurried. His hair was mussed, standing up at the back where hands had gripped it. His face bore that particular satisfied expression that Madhu had seen before—the lazy, predatory contentment of a man who had just emptied himself into a willing woman. He said something to Mrs. Lakshmi, something low and intimate, and the older woman laughed, a sound that was part guilt, part pleasure, and slapped his chest playfully.

Gautham caught her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed her fingers. Then, in a gesture that was almost vulgar in its casualness, he reached out and slapped Mrs. Lakshmi's backside, hard enough that the sound carried across the parking lot. Mrs. Lakshmi squealed, jumping, then adjusted her saree with a look of guilty pleasure, glancing around to see if anyone had seen.

Madhu pressed herself against the SUV, her heart pounding so hard she was certain they would hear it. She watched, paralyzed, as they stood there talking, Gautham's hand resting possessively on Mrs. Lakshmi's hip, his fingers tracing patterns on her waist through the silk. The intimacy of the gesture was unmistakable—they were comfortable with each other, familiar, as if they had done this many times before.

The jealousy hit her like a physical blow. It was not the sharp pain she had expected, but a slow, burning nausea that rose from her stomach and settled in her chest. She felt her hands clench into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to step out, to scream, to demand what right Mrs. Lakshmi had to touch him, to take what was supposed to be hers. But she had no right. She was not his wife. She was not his girlfriend. She was just another married woman, just like Mrs. Lakshmi, just like Mrs. Padma.

She watched as he kissed Mrs. Lakshmi deeply, his hand cupping her breast through the saree, squeezing hard. Mrs. Lakshmi melted into him, her hands clutching his shirt, her body pressing against his with an eagerness that made Madhu's stomach turn. When he pulled back, he said something that made Mrs. Lakshmi laugh again, and then the woman walked away, toward the marriage hall, adjusting her appearance as she went, trying to look respectable.

Gautham stayed behind, lighting a cigarette, leaning against his bike. He took a drag, exhaling smoke into the humid air, his eyes scanning the parking lot with casual alertness. They fell on the SUV where Madhu hid. He paused, the cigarette halfway to his lips.

Madhu held her breath, pressing herself flatter against the vehicle, her body shaking. He could not see her. The shadows were too deep. She was hidden.

But he knew. She saw it in the way he smiled—a slow, knowing, unrepentant smile that curled his lips even as he turned away. He flicked the cigarette away, got on his bike, and started the engine, riding off into the night without looking back.

Madhu stood behind the SUV for a long time, her body trembling, her mind blank with shock. She had seen it. She had seen them together. She had seen him with another woman, doing the things he did with her, saying the things he said to her, marking another woman the way he marked her.

The jealousy was a living thing now, crawling in her chest, making her want to scream, to cry, to break something. But she could not. She had to go back inside. She had to sit beside her husband. She had to watch the wedding and smile and pretend that her world had not just tilted on its axis.

She walked back to the hall on unsteady legs, her face pale, her hands cold. She found her seat beside Rajesh, who looked up at her with concern.

"You took so long," he whispered. "Are you unwell? You look pale."

"I am fine," she said, her voice distant, hollow. "Just... the heat. And the rain. I felt dizzy."

"You should drink water," he said, concerned, touching her hand. His fingers were warm, rough, familiar. "You are cold. Do you want to leave?"

"No," she said quickly, too quickly. "No, I am fine. I want to stay. For Lakshmi."

She sat through the rest of the ceremony, watching the bride and groom take their seven steps around the fire, promising fidelity and love, while her own fidelity burned to ash in her chest. She saw Mrs. Lakshmi return to her duties, her face flushed, her eyes bright, looking ten years younger than her age. She saw Mrs. Padma watching her, watching Gautham's empty seat, and she knew that Mrs. Padma knew. They all knew. They were all playing the same game.

Vinay arrived during the reception, slipping into the seat beside his father, his hair wet from the rain, his face tired from studying. He looked at his mother, really looked at her, and she saw his eyes narrow slightly, taking in her pale face, her trembling hands, the way she held herself rigidly in her seat.

"Amma," he whispered, leaning over. "You are shaking. What happened?"

"Nothing," she lied, not looking at him. "I am just cold. The air conditioning."

He looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sat back, accepting her lie, withdrawing again into his shell of indifference. But she felt his absence more acutely now, his distance, his refusal to be involved. She wanted to grab his hand, to beg him to help her, to save her from herself. But she could not. She had driven him away, and now she was alone with her jealousy and her shame.

They stayed for the feast, though Madhu ate nothing. She pushed the food around her plate, her mind replaying the scene in the parking lot—Mrs. Lakshmi's smeared lipstick, Gautham's satisfied smile, the casual way he had touched her, slapped her, kissed her. It was intimate in a way that their own encounters had not been. It was... familiar. Comfortable. As if they had been lovers for years.

The ride home was silent. Rajesh commented on the nice wedding, the good food. Vinay nodded occasionally. Madhu stared out the window, watching the city pass by in a blur of lights, feeling the maroon blouse against her skin like a poor substitute for the red one she had hidden at home.

When they reached home at eleven, Vinay went immediately to his room, claiming exhaustion. Rajesh went to shower, tired from the socializing. Madhu stood in the living room, her phone in her hand, waiting.

It rang at midnight. Gautham.

She answered, her voice cold, controlled. "What do you want?"

"Did you enjoy the wedding?" he asked, his voice casual, as if nothing had happened.

"I saw you," she said, the words coming out in a rush, bitter and sharp. "I saw you. With her. In the car. Do not lie to me."

There was a long pause. Then: "I know you saw. I saw you too. Hiding behind the SUV. Watching."

"You did not stop," she accused, her voice rising despite her efforts to stay calm. "You knew I was there, and you did not stop. You kissed her. You touched her. You... you were with her."

"I was," he admitted, his voice dropping to that intimate register that always made her stomach flutter. "Yes. I was with her. Does that make you angry?"

"Yes," she whispered, tears finally coming, hot and bitter. "It makes me angry. It makes me... it makes me feel..."

"Jealous?" he supplied. "Possessive? Like you want to scratch her eyes out for touching what is yours?"

"She is not touching what is mine," Madhu said, the admission painful. "You are not mine. I have no right..."

"But you want me to be," he said, his voice soft, persuasive. "You want to be the only one. You want to be special. Different from her. From Mrs. Padma. From all of them."

Madhu was silent, her tears streaming down her face. She did want that. She wanted it desperately. And that wanting shamed her.

"Come to me," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "Tomorrow. During the day. Rajesh will be at work. Vinay will be at college. Come to my apartment. Let me explain. Let me show you why you are different. Let me prove that what I have with you is not what I have with them."

"I cannot," she protested, but her voice was weak. "I have work. Deadlines. I cannot just..."

"You can," he insisted. "Take a half-day. Say you are unwell. Say you have a doctor's appointment. Come to me. Let me make this right. Let me erase what you saw and replace it with something better. Something real."

"I do not know..."

"Think about it," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Think about how it felt, watching me with her. Think about how much you hated it. And then think about how good it will feel when I am inside you instead, when I am telling you that you are the only one, when I am filling you with my cum while you scream my name. Think about that, Madhu. And then decide."

He hung up, leaving her alone in the dark living room, her phone clutched in her hand, her body shaking with a mixture of anger, jealousy, and terrible, burning desire.

She did not sleep that night. She lay beside Rajesh, staring at the ceiling, her mind replaying the parking lot scene, Gautham's words, the invitation to his apartment. She should not go. She should stay away, protect herself, end this before it destroyed her completely.

But the jealousy was a hook in her heart, pulling her toward him, making her want to prove that she was better than Mrs. Lakshmi, more desirable, more worthy of his attention. She wanted to replace the memory of him with Mrs. Lakshmi with a new memory of him with her. She wanted to possess him, even if she knew she could not keep him.

The next morning, she woke with the decision made. She told Rajesh at breakfast that she was feeling unwell, that she thought she had caught a chill at the wedding, that she needed to see the doctor. He was concerned, offering to take her, to stay with her. She refused, saying it was just a check-up, that she would take an auto, that he should go to work.

Vinay looked at her from across the table, his eyes sharp, knowing. He said nothing. He did not ask which doctor, or why she was wearing makeup to a medical appointment, or why her hands were shaking. He simply nodded and returned to his toast, his silence a condemnation and a release.

She left the apartment at ten o'clock, wearing the red blouse beneath a simple saree, the secret against her skin that only she and Gautham would know. She took an auto to T. Nagar, her heart hammering, her body trembling. She was going to him. She was going to let him explain, to let him prove, to let him fuck her until she forgot what she had seen.

The jealousy had driven her to this. The jealousy, and the need to be special, and the terrible, aching loneliness that had become her constant companion.

She reached his building at eleven, climbed the stairs, and knocked on his door. He opened it immediately, as if he had been waiting, his face breaking into a smile that was part triumph, part tenderness.

"You came," he said.

"I came," she admitted, stepping inside. "But not because you asked. Because I need to understand. Because I need to know if I am just... just another one. Or if this is real."

"It is real," he promised, locking the door. "And I will spend all day proving it to you."






He locked the door behind her and turned. For a long moment they just looked at each other. Madhu’s eyes were still wet from the tears she had shed in the auto, her chest rising and falling too fast. The red blouse she wore under her simple saree felt hot against her skin, a secret only the two of them knew.

Gautham stepped closer. He did not grab her the way he had on the sofa that first time. Instead he lifted both hands and gently cupped her face, his thumbs wiping the remaining tears from her cheeks.

“You are shaking,” he said softly.

“I saw you,” she whispered. “With her. In that car. You… you looked so comfortable with her.”

“I know.” His voice stayed calm. “And it hurt you. That is why you came.”

She tried to look away, but he held her face steady. “I came because I needed to know if I am just another one. Like her. Like Padma.”

“You are not,” he said. And then he kissed her.

It was not the hungry, conquering kiss from before. This kiss was slow, deep, almost careful. His lips moved against hers with patience, tasting her, letting her feel that he was in no hurry. When his tongue finally slipped into her mouth she made a small broken sound and her hands came up to clutch the front of his shirt.

He guided her backward into the bedroom without breaking the kiss. Once they reached the bed he pulled away just enough to look at her.

“Let me take this off,” he murmured.

His fingers found the edge of her saree pallu and slowly unwrapped it, the soft fabric sliding down her body and pooling at her feet. Then he reached for the red blouse. He did not tear it. He opened each hook one by one, his eyes never leaving hers, until the blouse fell open and her soft, heavy boobs were free, the nipples already tight from the cool air and her own nervous desire.

Gautham stared at them for several long seconds.

“These,” he said quietly, “are the only ones I think about.”

He lowered his head and took one nipple into his mouth. He sucked slowly, deeply, rolling his tongue around the hard peak while his hand cupped the other breast, squeezing gently, thumb brushing the nipple in soft circles. Madhu’s head fell back. A long, trembling moan left her throat. Her hands went into his hair, not pulling, just holding him there as the warm wet pressure of his mouth sent sparks straight down to her pussy.

He spent a long time on her breasts — kissing, licking, sucking, leaving faint wet marks across the soft skin. Only when both nipples were dark and glistening did he move lower. He untied her petticoat and let it fall. Then he knelt in front of her and carefully slid her wet underwear down her legs.

She was already soaked. The scent of her arousal rose between them.

Gautham pressed a soft kiss to the soft hair above her pussy, then another lower, and another until his tongue finally found her swollen clit. Madhu cried out, her knees buckling. He held her hips steady and licked her slowly, thoroughly, flat tongue dragging over her clit again and again while two fingers gently circled her entrance without entering yet.

“Gautham… please…” she whispered, voice shaking.

He looked up at her, mouth wet with her juices. “Not yet. I want you to feel how different this is.”

He kept licking, slow and steady, until her thighs trembled and she was making small, helpless sounds. Only then did he stand, strip off his own clothes, and guide her onto the bed. He lay her on her back, spread her legs, and settled between them.

His thick cock rested heavy against her wet folds. He did not push in. He simply held himself there, the swollen head kissing her entrance, and looked into her eyes.

“Feel this,” he said. “Feel how I am with you.”

He pushed forward slowly — inch by inch — letting her feel every ridge, every vein, the slow stretch of her tight pussy around his thick cock. Madhu’s mouth opened in a silent cry. Her hands clutched his shoulders. By the time he was fully buried inside her she was panting, tears of overwhelming sensation leaking from the corners of her eyes.

He stayed completely still for several long seconds, buried to the hilt, his forehead pressed to hers.

“You feel that?” he whispered. “How deep I am? How full you are? This is not what I give the others. With them it is quick. Rough. Finished in minutes. With you… I take my time. Because you are worth it.”

Then he began to move.

His thrusts were slow and deep and deliberate. Every stroke dragged his cock almost all the way out before sliding back in, rubbing against her sensitive walls, pressing against the spot deep inside that made her toes curl. His hand slipped between their bodies and found her clit, rubbing it in soft, steady circles that matched the rhythm of his hips.

Madhu could not stop the sounds coming from her throat — soft, broken moans, his name, half-formed pleas. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Her nails dug into his back. The jealousy that had burned in her chest all night was still there, but now it mixed with a different heat, a desperate need to believe his words.

“Tell me,” he murmured against her ear, still moving with that same unhurried, thorough pace. “Tell me you feel the difference.”

“I feel it,” she gasped. “God… Gautham… it feels… so different…”

“Because it is different.” His voice stayed low and intense. “This pussy is not just another hole to me. This is the one I want to come home to. The one I want to fill every day. The only one that makes me lose control even when I try to go slow.”

He kept the same deep, steady rhythm for a long time, never speeding up, never becoming rough. He kissed her constantly — her mouth, her neck, her breasts — while his cock stroked in and out of her wet heat and his fingers worked her clit. The pleasure built slowly, layer by layer, until Madhu was shaking under him, her inner walls fluttering around his thick shaft.

“I’m going to cum…” she cried, almost frightened by how strong it felt. “Gautham… it’s too much…”

“Let it come,” he whispered. “Cum on my cock. Let me feel it.”

The orgasm rolled through her in long, deep waves. Her pussy clenched hard around him, pulsing, squeezing, flooding more wetness onto his cock. She sobbed his name, her body arching, her nails raking down his back as the pleasure kept going and going, longer and stronger than any she had felt before.

Only when her trembling began to ease did Gautham allow his own control to break. He thrust a little deeper, a little harder, still nowhere near the roughness of their first times, and then buried himself to the root with a low, broken groan. Thick, hot spurts of cum pumped deep into her pussy, filling her completely. He kept pulsing inside her for several long seconds, emptying everything he had, his face pressed into her neck, whispering her name over and over.

They stayed joined for a long time afterward. His cock softened slowly inside her while his cum began to leak around it. He stroked her hair, kissed her temple, and finally lifted his head to look into her eyes.

“Do you believe me now?” he asked quietly. “That you are different? That you are the only one who matters?”

Madhu looked at him — this young, beautiful, dangerous man who had just made love to her with such careful intensity after she had watched him fuck another woman only the night before. Her body was still twitching with aftershocks. His warm cum was still deep inside her. The jealousy had not disappeared, but something stronger had settled over it.

“Yes,” she whispered, the word tearing something open inside her chest. “I believe you. I am yours.”

He kissed her then, soft and deep, and held her tightly against him, as if he never intended to let her go.


He held her until three in the afternoon, their bodies pressed together, his hands stroking her back, his mouth whispering promises that she chose to believe. When she finally dressed and left, walking carefully down the stairs, his cum leaking out of her and soaking into her petticoat, she knew something fundamental had shifted. She was no longer just his lover. She was his jealous mistress, his willing competitor, his possession.

She reached home at four, slipping into the apartment with a bag of vegetables from the market to support her lie about the doctor. Vinay was not yet home. Rajesh was still at work. She had time to shower, to change, to hide the evidence of her afternoon.

But as she stood in the bathroom, washing his semen from her body, she looked at herself in the mirror and saw a new hardness in her eyes. She would share him with no one. Not Mrs. Lakshmi, not Mrs. Padma, not anyone. She would fight for him, lie for him, destroy her family for him, because the alternative—losing him to another woman—was unthinkable.

The jealousy had transformed her. Not completely. Not yet. But enough. Enough to take the next step down a path that had no return.

[saka1981]

In the end, she has only ended up getting deceived by the very person she trusted. Madhu still hasn’t been able to come out of this obsession with lust. She is still at the stage where she believes whatever Gowtham tells her.

Let’s see whether things continue like this, or whether Madhu eventually realizes that beyond physical desire, love and affection are what truly matter in life.

[Ajay Kailash]

She is going to elope from the wimp husband and son to live with real man she loves.