Adultery Indian Social Worker and the Bully by shiprat

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Anup didn't suspect anything was too wrong, except in one regard. I used to often do a little flashing or stripping on screen for him as he sat half the planet away. The next few days, I kept refusing to do it, being fully covered, and giving flimsy excuses. Couldn't tell him the truth, about all the bruises and hickeys, could I? Well, I could have, and he would have understood and flown back to take care of me. But I didn't want to. I just wanted to forget all this as soon as possible and start the San Francisco chapter of my life.

Anup was peeved at my sudden and continuing refusal to exhibit myself to him, and we had an argument, which was rare for us. We were one of those couples which never fought, mainly because we were both very easy-going and accommodating by nature. But this time, he got upset and sulked for a couple of days, not calling me, just texting.

Which was in a way fine. I loved talking to and seeing my beloved husband. But in the immediate aftermath of the night with Lallan, it was getting hard to keep up the facade.

Every day for the next few days, I showered four or five times. Again, the psychologist in me recognized the underlying motivations in this, to clean away guilt and a feeling of disgust.

After every shower, I would stand naked in front of the very mirror in which I had first seen Lallan fucking me, and examine the bruises all over my boobs, back, stomach, ass, thighs, arms, and shoulders. And the scientist in me would curiously look at the change in color as the bruises progressed from reddish-blue to green to black-brown to finally a weird looking yellow.