Adultery Deepa - An innocent Wife and Elder sister and her sacrification

[Suresh@123]

Awesome dp johnny father is that man

Thankyou bro

[Suresh@123]

Raghava (Johnny father) sat alone in the dimly lit study of his house, the humiliation of the party still burning in his chest like open lava. The slap Charan had delivered in front of everyone—especially in front of Deepa—replayed again and again. The prestigious project Charan had snatched still stung, but the public insult cut deeper. He poured another drink, eyes cold.
“At any cost,” he muttered to the empty room, “that bastard will come to my feet. He will beg me. And when he does, I will fuck his precious wife right in front of him. I will make her moan. I will make her squirt while he watches.”
The thought of Deepa’s body—her soft midriff when the pallu had fallen, the way her breasts had moved with her breathing—fed the fire. But first he needed to break the affection between husband and wife. Direct force would not work. He needed poison from inside.
He called Sangeetha.
She arrived within the hour—his keep, a woman in her late twenties with a full, soft figure, large breasts that strained against every blouse she wore, wide hips, and a face that mixed innocence with quiet calculation. Raghava explained everything in detail: the staged robbery, the exact road, the timing of Charan’s car, the role she would play, and the final goal—to enter Charan’s office, become close, and feed him every piece of information while slowly pulling Charan’s attention away from Deepa.
Sangeetha listened, a slow smile curving her lips. “I understand, Raghava. Leave it to me.”
The next evening the plan unfolded on a quiet stretch of road.
Charan’s car rounded the corner just as four hired goons surrounded Sangeetha. One yanked at her handbag. Another grabbed her arm. She screamed on cue—high, terrified, convincing.
“Help! Someone help me!”
Charan slammed the brakes, threw the door open, and stepped out.
“Hey! Who are you? Why are you taking her bag?”
The goons continued pulling at her, deliberately slow enough for him to intervene. Charan moved in fast. His fist connected with the nearest man’s jaw. The others hesitated, then scattered as planned, leaving Sangeetha trembling on the roadside, handbag still in her hands.
She looked up at him with wide, grateful eyes, chest heaving.
“Sir… thank you so much. If this money had been stolen… my mother’s operation… she would have died. You saved both our lives.”
Charan, still breathing hard from the brief fight, softened. “It’s all right. Are you hurt?”
“No… I’m fine because of you.” She clutched the bag tighter. “Please… can you drop me somewhere safe? I don’t think I can walk alone now.”
He hesitated only a moment, then nodded. “Come. Get in.”
Inside the car the air felt charged. Sangeetha sat close, the scent of her perfume filling the space. Her blouse was slightly dishevelled from the struggle, the upper curve of her heavy breasts visible with every breath. Charan kept his eyes on the road, but he was aware of her.
“Who are you?” he asked after a while.
“Sangeetha, sir. I finished my MBA two years ago. My father left a fixed deposit before he died. Today I withdrew the amount for my mother’s surgery. Those men must have followed me from the bank.” Her voice trembled convincingly. “You didn’t just save money. You saved my mother’s life.”
Charan glanced at her. Genuine pity mixed with the lingering heat of the fight. “You have no job?”
“No, sir. I have been searching for months.”
He was silent for a stretch of road. Then, almost on impulse: “Come to my office the day after tomorrow. I need an assistant who can handle supervision work. We will see.”
Sangeetha’s face lit up with perfect, calculated joy. “Really, sir? Thank you… thank you so much.”
Before he could react she leaned across the seat and hugged him tightly. The soft, heavy weight of her breasts pressed fully against his arm and chest. For a second Charan froze, feeling the warm, yielding flesh through the thin fabric of her blouse. The unexpected contact sent a sharp jolt through him. He did not push her away immediately. The hug lasted a moment longer than necessary before she pulled back, eyes shining with gratitude.
“I will never forget this help, sir.”
Three days later Sangeetha walked into Charan’s office dressed in a fitted formal saree that still could not hide the full curves of her body. Charan assigned her as his personal assistant with supervisory duties. She was efficient, soft-spoken, and always slightly too close when she leaned over his desk to show files. The faint perfume, the occasional brush of her breast against his shoulder when she pointed at a document, the grateful smiles—she used every opening carefully.
That same evening she met Raghava in a private room.
“It is done,” she said, a satisfied curve on her lips. “I am inside. He trusts me already. The hug in the car… he felt everything. I will give you every piece of information from the office. And slowly… I will make sure his eyes stay on me more than on his wife.”
Raghava’s smile was dark and pleased. He pulled her close, one hand sliding over the heavy swell of her breast, squeezing possessively.
“Good girl. Keep going, Sangeetha. Break the bond first. Make him weak. The documents which are related to projects and some type materials purchasing documents change with I given documents. Then sure the company gets negative fame.. It's easy to destroy his company and next him.


When the time is right, Deepa will be mine to use in front of him. Every moan. Every squirt. Exactly as I promised.”
Sangeetha pressed herself against him, already planning the next carefully measured step inside Charan’s office. The trap had been set, and the first soft threads were already wrapping around the man who had publicly humiliated Raghava.

[Tamilmathi]

Great bro....
Im waiting next updates

[Muralimm]

Your narration is brilliant but the update Post taking time it's reduced the public watch number

My opinion is you have good narration skills
So please update atleast once in a week

[leon_mcg]

I have just started posting my comments on this forum.

Firstly let me compliment you for your writing skills.

I do understand this platform is for sharing fantasies of sex and sleaze and more often than not stories of utter depravation. But it would be heart warming to see stories (especially the ones involving Indian wives) being taken to a conclusion which shows some element of redemption and with wrong doers being punished, even if it also includes the transgressing woman. In this case Charan is being shown as an absolute sucker who has done no wrong but is being taken for a royal ride by the incestual brother and sister. All in the name of protecting the family.

[Tamilmathi]

Bro next upadate?

[Suresh@123]

Thankyou all

[Suresh@123]

Raghava sat across from Sangeetha in the private room, voice low and precise.
“Every time you get access, copy the important papers from his system and send them to me. Every tender—tell me exactly what amount he is quoting. All secrets. Timely. No delays. I want Charan’s business bleeding while you slowly pull his eyes away from that wife of his.”
Sangeetha nodded, a small, confident smile on her lips. “I understand. Leave it to me.”
She began her game the very next day.
In the office she moved with careful calculation—efficient, soft-spoken, always slightly too close. One afternoon, as Charan walked out of his cabin holding a file, Sangeetha timed her step perfectly. She “slipped” on the polished floor and fell straight against him. Charan’s hands shot out instinctively to catch her. Both palms landed fully on the heavy, soft weight of her breasts.
For a frozen second neither moved.
Sangeetha’s eyes widened in perfect, manufactured surprise. “Sorry, sir… I slipped…”
Charan’s hands remained on the warm, yielding flesh a moment longer than necessary before he pulled back as if burned. “Sorry… I didn’t mean—”
He turned quickly and walked into his cabin, closing the door harder than usual. Inside, alone, a sudden fire raged through him. The soft, full press of her breasts against his palms replayed again and again. He sat at his desk, jaw tight, trying to force the heat down, but the memory stayed.
Sangeetha watched the closed door, then quietly moved to his computer while he remained distracted. Within minutes she had noted the system password. That evening she began sending selected files and tender figures to Raghava. Small, carefully chosen leaks at first. Within days Charan’s company started facing unexpected losses—quotes undercut, confidential numbers reaching the wrong hands. Raghava received each update with cold satisfaction.
“Good,” he told her over the phone. “Keep going. Make him weaker.”



*************************************************




Deepa neighbour house , in a quieter house, Pawan sat on the edge of the bed facing his wife Prameela. The fifty-three-year-old neighbour—tall, still solid at five-foot-nine—had been restless since the night of Charan’s party. Tonight the words finally came out.
“Prameela… you know about Deepa?”
Prameela looked up from folding clothes, surprised by his tone. “Yes, of course. A good housewife. Good woman. Perfect traditional, innocent woman. Why?”
Pawan gave a short, low laugh that held no humour. “You don’t know. That traditional woman has so much heat in her body.”
Prameela frowned. “What are you saying? Have you been drinking again? Why are you talking about Charan’s wife like that?”
“Yes,” he said, eyes dark with the memory. “Yes, I am talking about her. You don’t know what I saw. Five days back, during the party at their house… we were both there. I went inside to use the toilet. The bedroom door was slightly open. I stopped. My mouth opened by itself.”
Prameela’s hands went still.
“There,” Pawan continued, voice lower, “our homely wife Deepa had become completely wild. Two men were fucking her. One from the front, one from behind. Her moans were big… loud… continuous. The way her body responded to every thrust… she was pushing back, taking everything they gave her. I stood there watching. I could not look away.”
Prameela stared at him, shock written across her face. “What…? Are you serious? We always thought she was such a traditional woman… soft-spoken, modest… and she did this?”
“I saw it with my own eyes,” Pawan said. “My eyes still cannot take it back. The same Deepa who comes here for chit-chat with you, who visits with Charan, who touches our feet respectfully… that night she was bent over, moaning like she had never been touched properly before. Both men using her. Her body moving with them. The sounds she made filled the room.”
He leaned forward slightly, the image still vivid.
“I have watched her quietly for years whenever she came to our house or we went to theirs. Always the perfect traditional wife. That night I saw the fire underneath. Loud moans. Body responding to every thrust. Completely lost in it. I stood frozen in the doorway until I forced myself to walk away.”
Prameela sat in silence for a long moment, the folded clothes forgotten in her lap. The quiet, respectable image of Deepa she had always carried now sat shattered beside the picture her husband had just painted—wild, moaning, taking two men while the party continued outside.
Pawan looked at his wife, the memory still burning behind his eyes.
“That is the Deepa we never knew.”

[Suresh@123]

Prameela sat back slowly, the shock still on her face, but something colder settled underneath.
“Looks like she behaves like Sati Savitri… perfect traditional wife… but doing this behind everyone’s back.” Her voice was low. “I know that bitch looks so hot. That is why those two cops were fucking her there like that.”
Pawan nodded, eyes still dark with the memory. “Yes. She is the most beautiful woman I know. One time I saw her from the gate—she was coming out, and she pulled her saree from the top and covered her head completely, walking like a pure pativrata. Soft steps, eyes down. That same woman that night was moaning loud, body pushing back on two cocks, taking everything they gave her. Now I want to teach her a lesson.”
Prameela looked at him for a long moment. A quiet “Hmmm…” left her lips. She did not argue.




Meanwhile, Raghava’s plan was already bearing fruit.
With every confidential tender figure and internal paper Sangeetha sent him, he moved with precision. He undercut Charan’s quotes by exact margins, diverted key suppliers, and leaked just enough to make clients hesitate. Day by day Raghava’s own numbers climbed while Charan’s company began to feel the pressure—delayed payments, lost contracts, quiet worry in the office corridors. Sangeetha continued her soft, careful work inside: a file copied here, a password used there, a lingering brush of her heavy breasts against Charan’s arm when she leaned over his desk. Raghava received each update with cold satisfaction. The foundation under Charan’s life was slowly cracking.
At Charan’s house the afternoon was quiet.
Rahul, Deepa’s younger brother, stood near the doorway of the living room with a small travel bag in his hand. He was in his mid-twenties, restless energy still on him.
“Sister… I am going on a tour with my friends for a few days.”
Deepa looked up from the household work she was doing—folding clothes near the sofa, her saree pallu tucked at her waist. She straightened at once.
“No. If any quarrel starts between friends, then what will happen? You stay here, Rahul. No way. Please stay.”
Rahul fell silent. He did not argue further. He simply stood there, bag still in his hand, eyes fixed on his sister as she turned back to her work.
Deepa moved with the same quiet grace she always showed at home—bending slightly to arrange the folded clothes, reaching for another set on the low table. The thin cotton saree clung softly to her hips as she shifted her weight. When she turned sideways to pick up a blouse piece, the curve of her side breast pressed briefly against the fabric of her blouse, the soft swell visible with every small movement.
Rahul’s eyes stayed on her.
A spark that had stayed buried for a long time flickered again. He watched the slow sway of her hips under the saree, the way the material outlined the full, rounded shape when she bent. He watched the side view of her breast when she reached, the gentle rise and fall with her breathing. The same sister who had just refused his tour with protective worry now stood in front of him looking warm, soft, and completely unaware of the way his gaze had changed.
He remained silent, bag hanging from his fingers, the quiet spark in his eyes growing steadier as he continued to watch her move through the ordinary household work

[Suresh@123]

Prameela had come only for a small bowl of curry.
She stepped into the house quietly, calling out once, then froze near the doorway when she heard movement deeper inside. Deepa was in the living room, standing on a low wooden stool, reaching up to clean the top of a shelf. Her saree was tied practically for housework, pallu tucked at the waist, the thin fabric of her blouse and the soft line of her petticoat visible as she stretched.
Rahul stood nearby, still carrying the restless energy from their earlier talk. His eyes had not left her.
Deepa’s foot slipped on the edge of the stool. She lost balance with a small cry. Rahul moved instantly. He caught her as she fell, both arms locking around her. Her full breasts pressed hard against his chest. For a split second their mouths brushed—lip to lip—warm, soft, accidental. Their eyes met at close range. Neither pulled away at once.
Deepa’s breath caught. She tried to straighten, hands pushing lightly against his shoulders.
Rahul’s hands slid down and settled firmly on her hips, fingers sinking into the soft flesh beneath the saree.
“Sister… you’re so soft,” he murmured, voice low and rough.
Deepa’s eyes widened. She glanced quickly toward the open doorway, then back at him.
“Shhhh… please, Rahul. All that is enough. It happened… and it ended before marriage. Please stop.”
He did not release her hips. “Only one time, sister. Please.”
She stared at him, heart already beating faster. “What… what will you do? What one time?”
“I will see your navel,” he said quietly.
“Shit… please, Rahul, try to understand. We are not children anymore. Now I am a wife to one person.”
He only looked at her, waiting. The silence stretched. Deepa’s breathing had grown shallow. After a long moment she stood still, neither fully agreeing nor pulling away.
Rahul stepped closer. His fingers found the knot of her petticoat at her waist. He loosened it slowly and slid the soft fabric down just enough to bare the smooth, deep hollow of her navel. Cool air touched her skin. A visible shiver ran through her body.
He leaned in and pressed his mouth to the soft, warm skin of her navel. His lips parted, kissing deeply, tongue tracing the sensitive dip once, then again.
“Shh… hmmm… mmmm…”
The quiet, involuntary moan left Deepa’s throat before she could stop it. Her hands hovered near his shoulders, not quite pushing him away. Heat spread low in her stomach. For a few seconds she stayed frozen, feeling the soft, wet pressure of her brother’s mouth against the intimate skin that no one else had touched like this in years.
Then reality slammed back.
She moved aside sharply, pulling the petticoat up with trembling fingers, heart jumping so hard she felt it in her throat. Her eyes flew toward the doorway—
And locked with Prameela’s.
Prameela stood there, curry bowl forgotten in her hands, face frozen in pure shock. She had seen everything: the fall, the close embrace, the hands on hips, the petticoat lowered, Rahul’s mouth on Deepa’s navel, and the soft moan that had escaped the traditional wife’s lips.
Deepa’s face drained of colour. The same body that had been used and  days earlier now stood exposed in a different, more forbidden shame—caught by the neighbour aunt while her own brother’s kiss still burned on her bare navel.

[Tamilmathi]

Wow,
Unexpected twist , pawan and pramila char introduction amazing,

The deepa husband business going on falling downwards,

The raghava and sandhiya game goes well

Finally The one rahul start his new seduction journey with sister ..

Story ......still refreshing every updates...

Its not an as usual update ....

Example,,,
Some one says when deepa fucking with two security officer mans ,
Third person watching , mentioned he is rahul but you are
twisted...

Thank you bro and thanks a lots spend for us your valuable time....

[Tamilmathi]

When we except next update bro ?

[Arya321]

Nice update.. Now the aunt what will do to Deepa.. Unexpectedly Deepa caught by neighbour aunt.. Good move..

Please update regularly