16-03-2019, 03:01 PM
Delhi Nights Ch. 03: Catharsis 01
This is the third story in the Delhi Nights series. Though this story can be read separately, reading them in order will add more context.
*
Traffic was at a near stop. Dust. Heat. Noise. On a motorcycle, within the crush of traffic, Harinder usually found riding the main streets of Delhi frustrating. It's the reason he preferred the motorcycle and left the car for Preeti. On the motorcycle, he could snake his way through the jam of cars, skirt around the congestion by taking narrow alleys. But, today, he sat on his motorcycle, nudging it forward when an opportunity arose. Too distracted to care. He had been distracted all day. Unable to concentrate on the ledgers and blue prints, he had left work early, a rarity for him.
His thoughts kept returning to Sonali. He had always been infatuated with her. All of Vikram's friends were. It wasn't just that she was beautiful. His Preeti was beautiful. Rahul's Asha was beautiful. There had always been something more to Sonali.
And then that night three weeks ago. Another match day that had turned to a lot more.
Someone honked. Another person revved a car engine. He needed to move forward. He shifted to the side, maneuvering the bike past a bus spewing its noxious diesel fumes. A scarf and sunglasses protected him from the worst of it, but he still found himself clearing a scratch in his throat.
Finding a clear channel in the packed road, he began to tail a small Maruti sedan. He felt a twinge in his loins as his mind wandered again. He remembered the contours of her body, glistening with a sheen of sweat. The way she smelled when her body clung to him. The feel of his cock in Sonali's warm, wet mouth. Harinder's cock started to engorge and he shifted himself on the motorcycle.
He loved his wife, Preeti. She was beautiful, but in a way different from Sonali. Where Sonali exuded a dark sexuality, his wife always had the lighter glow of innocent desire. As his cock began to ache in his pants, he tried to picture Preeti. Her long black hair, large, dark eyes, and full lips. Her lithe figure with taut, upturned breasts with their small pebble-like nipples. The flatness of her abdomen leading to her pinkish sex hidden beneath dark tufts.
He tried. And failed.
Preeti became Sonali. Her dark, lust filled eyes looking up at him as she swallowed his manhood. The feel of her warm, soft body against him as he cradled her in his arms and buried his shaft into her.
Another round of honking horns broke his reverie and Harinder adjusted himself again. He needed some relief. He needed to get home. Focusing on the traffic, he accelerated and began to squeeze past stopped cars and lorries, and dodged oblivious pedestrians. Finding an alley, he turned into the shortcut and took to the back lanes. His erection started to fade, but he still wanted to get home. He realized he needed Preeti. They hadn't had sex since he had returned home from Vikram's house that night. He had been too riddled with guilt and confusion.
Harinder had isolated himself from his friends as well. He hadn't returned to a game and only given cursory responses to Vikram's texts. He knew he couldn't avoid them forever, but that night had changed things. How was he supposed to just go and watch a game? Have some chai and samosas? How could he look at Sonali and not want her naked flesh against him again? He wanted to taste her. Feel his thickness inside her.
His cock started to throb again.
Why couldn't he get his friend's wife out of his mind?
His thoughts still darting between Sonali and Preeti, he pulled his motorcycle through the gates of the colony. When they had gotten married, they had purchased a large flat in the up and coming neighborhood of Noida, on the outskirts of Delhi. With an indifferent wave to the guard on duty, he parked the motorcycle next to their small Toyota. Once again adjusting himself, he grinned and headed toward their building. He bound through the lobby, his pace increasing. During the interminable elevator ride up, he felt his cock pulsating with need.
His thoughts returned to Sonali. He closed his eyes, reliving the memory. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he held her up. Her pliant ass in his hands as he kneaded the soft mounds. The feel of her warmth as his cock strained for relief, trapped between them. Harinder remembered how her hard nipples felt against his chest as she curled into him. The weight of her in his arms.
With a deep inhale, he remembered the smell of the Argan oil in her hair mixing with the saltiness of her sweat and the pungency of her sex. Harinder rubbed his cock as it strained against his slacks, when his memory shifted to the feel of her warm, moist pussy lips wrapping themselves around his cock as he buried himself in her.
The fantasy broke when he heard the trill of the elevator bell. He snapped his eyes open with a growl, his hand dropping to his side. He stepped out and hurried down the corridor. Reaching his flat, he quickly unlocked the door and went in. He was about to start unbuttoning his shirt and call for his wife, when he stopped.
The flat was small enough that sound carried.
And, Harinder heard moaning coming from their bedroom. Then, the rhythmic creak of a bed. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. He stood and listened, rooted in place by confusion.
The tempo of the squeaking quickened. The moaning grew louder. A squeal of delight.
His eyes wide with shock, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him as he warily walked to the bedroom. The door was open and his confusion held him in place.
He looked at Preeti's naked back, arched. Hands in her hair, like she did when she was in the throes of passion. He saw another man's hands on her hips. Hands that were steadying her as she rhythmically ground against him. Her body swayed and writhed. Harinder stood in the doorway as she put her hands on the unseen man's torso and then lowered her naked body onto him. A throaty moan escaped her lips. Now, he could see her ass slowly moving up and down. The man's hands went to her ass, pulling the cheeks apart. A dark crevice. A cock buried in his wife's pussy.
This is the third story in the Delhi Nights series. Though this story can be read separately, reading them in order will add more context.
*
Traffic was at a near stop. Dust. Heat. Noise. On a motorcycle, within the crush of traffic, Harinder usually found riding the main streets of Delhi frustrating. It's the reason he preferred the motorcycle and left the car for Preeti. On the motorcycle, he could snake his way through the jam of cars, skirt around the congestion by taking narrow alleys. But, today, he sat on his motorcycle, nudging it forward when an opportunity arose. Too distracted to care. He had been distracted all day. Unable to concentrate on the ledgers and blue prints, he had left work early, a rarity for him.
His thoughts kept returning to Sonali. He had always been infatuated with her. All of Vikram's friends were. It wasn't just that she was beautiful. His Preeti was beautiful. Rahul's Asha was beautiful. There had always been something more to Sonali.
And then that night three weeks ago. Another match day that had turned to a lot more.
Someone honked. Another person revved a car engine. He needed to move forward. He shifted to the side, maneuvering the bike past a bus spewing its noxious diesel fumes. A scarf and sunglasses protected him from the worst of it, but he still found himself clearing a scratch in his throat.
Finding a clear channel in the packed road, he began to tail a small Maruti sedan. He felt a twinge in his loins as his mind wandered again. He remembered the contours of her body, glistening with a sheen of sweat. The way she smelled when her body clung to him. The feel of his cock in Sonali's warm, wet mouth. Harinder's cock started to engorge and he shifted himself on the motorcycle.
He loved his wife, Preeti. She was beautiful, but in a way different from Sonali. Where Sonali exuded a dark sexuality, his wife always had the lighter glow of innocent desire. As his cock began to ache in his pants, he tried to picture Preeti. Her long black hair, large, dark eyes, and full lips. Her lithe figure with taut, upturned breasts with their small pebble-like nipples. The flatness of her abdomen leading to her pinkish sex hidden beneath dark tufts.
He tried. And failed.
Preeti became Sonali. Her dark, lust filled eyes looking up at him as she swallowed his manhood. The feel of her warm, soft body against him as he cradled her in his arms and buried his shaft into her.
Another round of honking horns broke his reverie and Harinder adjusted himself again. He needed some relief. He needed to get home. Focusing on the traffic, he accelerated and began to squeeze past stopped cars and lorries, and dodged oblivious pedestrians. Finding an alley, he turned into the shortcut and took to the back lanes. His erection started to fade, but he still wanted to get home. He realized he needed Preeti. They hadn't had sex since he had returned home from Vikram's house that night. He had been too riddled with guilt and confusion.
Harinder had isolated himself from his friends as well. He hadn't returned to a game and only given cursory responses to Vikram's texts. He knew he couldn't avoid them forever, but that night had changed things. How was he supposed to just go and watch a game? Have some chai and samosas? How could he look at Sonali and not want her naked flesh against him again? He wanted to taste her. Feel his thickness inside her.
His cock started to throb again.
Why couldn't he get his friend's wife out of his mind?
His thoughts still darting between Sonali and Preeti, he pulled his motorcycle through the gates of the colony. When they had gotten married, they had purchased a large flat in the up and coming neighborhood of Noida, on the outskirts of Delhi. With an indifferent wave to the guard on duty, he parked the motorcycle next to their small Toyota. Once again adjusting himself, he grinned and headed toward their building. He bound through the lobby, his pace increasing. During the interminable elevator ride up, he felt his cock pulsating with need.
His thoughts returned to Sonali. He closed his eyes, reliving the memory. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he held her up. Her pliant ass in his hands as he kneaded the soft mounds. The feel of her warmth as his cock strained for relief, trapped between them. Harinder remembered how her hard nipples felt against his chest as she curled into him. The weight of her in his arms.
With a deep inhale, he remembered the smell of the Argan oil in her hair mixing with the saltiness of her sweat and the pungency of her sex. Harinder rubbed his cock as it strained against his slacks, when his memory shifted to the feel of her warm, moist pussy lips wrapping themselves around his cock as he buried himself in her.
The fantasy broke when he heard the trill of the elevator bell. He snapped his eyes open with a growl, his hand dropping to his side. He stepped out and hurried down the corridor. Reaching his flat, he quickly unlocked the door and went in. He was about to start unbuttoning his shirt and call for his wife, when he stopped.
The flat was small enough that sound carried.
And, Harinder heard moaning coming from their bedroom. Then, the rhythmic creak of a bed. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. He stood and listened, rooted in place by confusion.
The tempo of the squeaking quickened. The moaning grew louder. A squeal of delight.
His eyes wide with shock, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him as he warily walked to the bedroom. The door was open and his confusion held him in place.
He looked at Preeti's naked back, arched. Hands in her hair, like she did when she was in the throes of passion. He saw another man's hands on her hips. Hands that were steadying her as she rhythmically ground against him. Her body swayed and writhed. Harinder stood in the doorway as she put her hands on the unseen man's torso and then lowered her naked body onto him. A throaty moan escaped her lips. Now, he could see her ass slowly moving up and down. The man's hands went to her ass, pulling the cheeks apart. A dark crevice. A cock buried in his wife's pussy.
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