Misc. Erotica Swati's Downfall (Original Story)

[S Darko]

Swati was aware that she’d been neglecting Dhruv for the past several weeks, and had been depending on Parvati to take the brunt of his rearing, and resolved to do better going forward. What Parvati must think of her, coming home so late in the evening, wasn’t something she wanted to contemplate. 


Ashok had also been unusually busy over the last few months and even missed his favorite T20 cricket matches involving his favorite teams. Perhaps he watched them on his mobile, she thought, or maybe at his floozy’s house. The thought that she too, might be considered a floozy by some yardstick never even entered her mind. 

Regardless, Ashok had been distant and they met usually in the bathroom in the morning while brushing their teeth or getting dressed, situations during which the most meaningful conversations concerned running the household. Or if they wanted to get takeout pizza for Dhruv in the evening. 

Parvati could manage most things. In another life, Parvati might have been a happy homemaker with a corporate husband from the way things ran so smoothly in her care.

Swati and Ashok’s wedding anniversary was coming up, and Ashok suggested they go out for a few days. She took the week off and spent the first couple of days with Dhruv and pampered him, assuaging her guilt. The leaves were falling off the trees and there was a nip in the air, especially in the early mornings and late evenings. Winter was coming, and it promised to be a cold one this year. 

She and Dhruv spent time in the park, took in a movie and had a good old time. Ramesh and her uncharacteristic behavior soon drifted out of the center of her consciousness. But of course, it remained at the edges.

Dhruv would miss a week of college, but Ashok said, what college, he’s five years old and in kindergarten, he can afford to miss some days. So they gave Parvati a week of paid leave and drove to his parents house in Noida. 

They dropped Dhruv off with his grandparents who were happy to have him, and the feeling was reciprocated by their son. They’d already lined up a week of fun activities for them to do. Swati and Ashok then drove off to the vacation resort, a place called Travamigo Farms.

Ashok was loving and attentive most of the time unlike at home. Almost to the point that Swati became a little suspicious of what he planned to do. But by now Swati knew he was having an affair, maybe several affairs and that had diminished her self image of being a desirable woman. Being with Ramesh gave her the required ego boost, and the illicit nature of their relationship, if it could be called that at all, was a further thrill. The fact that he was from a lower caste, a lower social strata only increased that thrill. 

It was a difficult adjustment for Swati as she had grown accustomed to her now weekly fix of “shows” with Ramesh. She had to explain to him that she would be out of town for a week and that their activities could resume the following week. It was also a good test since she needed to leave town occasionally for meetings and conferences and wanted to make sure that the cleaner wasn’t getting clingy, and also to make sure she still had the willpower.

In the last several weeks, sex with Ashok hadn’t changed significantly, but on the few occasions they had made love, Swati had felt cold, insipid and not at all turned on. It wasn’t that Ashok wasn’t trying—he nibbled on her ears, kissed her neck, fingered her and so on, his “A” game, so to speak, but it was weak, not even a patch on the excitement she felt even when fully clothed in Ramesh’s presence. After faking an orgasm, she usually, she had to bring herself off afterwards, in the bathroom with her fingers, stifling her moans. Not that Ashok was listening because he usually fell asleep right after. Gone was the time they cuddled and caressed each other and went a second time.

It was interesting, she thought, that Ramesh had yet to touch her. Would he? With his Hanuman hang-ups and so on, who knew? She was starting to take it on as a challenge to see if she could seduce him, but in the meantime, she would continue to play the game. It was so much fun. And the thrill she felt every time, like she told Neetu, was beyond anything she had experienced before.

The time at the resort was great. She relaxed, drank too much and spent a lot of time by the pool and in it. Her bikini was two piece, and she was secretly proud that at the age of thirty and one child, she could still pull it off. 

Evenings there were shows, and mixing with couples like themselves and on day two, they fell in with a couple from Delhi of similar age and interests. The next day the men, Abhibnav and Ashok, went off for a game of golf, leaving Swati to sleep in and relax. She would get together with Menaka and have a spa time, girl time. 

Menaka was interesting. She was a Telugu girl who had been brought up in Delhi, and behaved more like a Punjabi than a South Indian. Even though Menaka was fair, compared to Swati, she was a few shades darker. But she had a pretty face, Swati allowed. 

Her thoughts drifted to Ramesh as she woke up late. It was ten in the morning and almost time for housekeeping to come in. She sloped toward the bathroom in her underclothes—a loose cut-off t-shirt and panties, which she had decided was decadent enough to sleep in, especially during a vacation. 

In the bathroom, she brushed her hair, removed stray hairs from her face with a tweezer and brushed her teeth. She took her top off and inspected her breasts. They looked large, perhaps overly large, but Ramesh seemed to love them—looking at them that is. 

Ashok, in the early flush of their marriage, couldn’t get enough of them, but now even if she was topless in front of his, he wouldn’t even glance at them. Even if he did, if was a neutral glance, like if he’s looked at her foot or hand. There was no lust there, and certainly no love as far as she could tell. He showed more of a reaction looking at the TV remote she thought wryly. 

She wondered if they would have another child. Perhaps by accident, but probably not by design. She still had time.
As she wandered back into the main suite, there was a knock and a second later, the door swung open. There was a moment of déjà vu as she recalled the time when she had been furiously masturbating and Ramesh had walked in with his cart. 

This time too, there was a uniformed man backing in with a cart and for a nanosecond she thought Ramesh had followed her all the way here. That was crazy even to think about. But this was a different man, and he wasn’t wearing headphones.

There was a long moment as he took in her topless nudity with appreciative eyes, and Swati stood still. Not scared, not outraged, just stood there letting the man get an eyeful. She didn’t reach for a towel, even though one lay within her grasp, nor did she raise her hands to cover her tits. 

Even though the familiar urge to cover up was strong, she resisted, appeared casual, and let her hands dangle by her side. 
The man was dark, thin, and had a skinny mustache, and he spent a long few seconds looking up and down at her body, as though admiring a beautiful painting, before snapping to attention and apologizing. 

“Sorry…ma’am,” he said and started to back up to the door.

What was this place where the housekeepers walked into naked guests, Swati wondered. She smiled at the guy, just like she had at Ramesh so long ago and said, “That’s all right. How about you come back after ten minutes?” 

Again, she made no move to cover herself. She was tingling, and the act of nonchalance she put on was just that. Inside, she was buzzing like a 220 volt current was passing through her body. She felt a gush in her panties and hoped he hadn’t noticed.

The man gave her one more long, lingering and lustful look and then, slowly, reluctantly,  moved out of the room.
Swati toddled on trembling legs to her suitcase and retrieved her G spot stimulator, a special, soft vibrator she inserted into her cunt, and also had a stem that stuck out to stimulate the clitoris. Within seconds, almost as soon as she inserted and started the vibe, she came cataclysmically. 

Damn, she thought as she wiped the device and put it away. She must be an exhibitionist. She had never thought of herself in those terms, preferring not to dwell on labels, but now it was becoming undeniable. She really got off on showing herself to random people. Wait, scratch that; it was some specific people. People like Ramesh and the housekeeper that had wandered in. 

Later, Swati told Menaka while they were both luxuriating in the spa with their eyes covered with cucumber slices and their feet being massaged in hot water by industrious masseuses.

“Oh my God!” cried Menaka, “You were completely naked?”

“No, I was wearing panties, but small ones, you know, bikini type.” She had been wearing a thong that barely covered her pussy, and in the back it was just a string that dipped into her ass-crack, leaving nothing to the imagination. Not always comfortable, but she had worn it for Ashok, and he hadn’t even seen it because he was so drunk.

“Oh my God!” Menaka said again. “I would have died right then and there!”

“Yeah,” said Swati, wondering what kind of excitement Menaka might have in her life. Surely nothing like what she was having. Perhaps a night of sex with Dhruv, all of five minutes of foreplay, followed by five more of thrusting? Yeah, that sounded about right, she thought, giving her new friend a sidelong glance from under the cucumber slice.

Swati thought she might tell her story of her flashing and nude shows to Menaka. Just as a form of catharsis, telling something intimate to a perfect stranger could be a form of therapy, but in the end she decided it could be too risky.