Adultery Erotic Short and Long Stories by smitanair_999

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Avinash woke with a start, his heart pounding, his body streaming with sweat. He sat up, looking around wildly. The nightmare was vivid: He could recall every minute.

He looked around in confusion, his body cold, his stomach churning with horror. He realised that he was in his own room, in his bed. The thick dbangs were drawn. He lurched out of bed and pulled back the curtains.

Bright sunlight streamed in. He winced and squinted, turning away. The clock showed ten o'clock in the morning. His head pounded. He lurched to the bathroom and bent over the sink, splashing water on his face.

For a minute, he stood by the basin, his chest heaving. The bile rose in his mouth and he retched violently. His legs like lead, he staggered back to the bedroom and collapsed on the bed.

The telephone jangled. Avinash winced and groped for the receiver.

"Avinash, it's me."

"Kavita," he said in response to her hello.

She began crying and he sat up immediately.

"Hey, doll, what's the matter? Why're you crying?" he asked.

She didn't reply.

"Hey, kid. What's up? Come on, tell me!"

"Avinash --"

"What? What?"

"Look outside your door."

"Outside the door? What's outside the door?"

"Go, Avinash. Please."

"Hang on. Be right back."

He dropped the receiver and raced to the door. There was bulky parcel on his threshold, heavily sealed. He picked it up curiously, turning it over in his hand and went back.

"What's this?" he said into the phone.

"Open it."

He turned it over. Except for his name, scrawled in large black letters on the face, there was no indication of its contents or the sender's name. His head bent, holding the receiver between his shoulder and cheek, he ripped the seal open and pulled out the contents.

There was an unlabelled video-cassette and a dozen large colour prints. Avinash froze. The photographs were pin-sharp, beautifully printed on glossy paper.

Kavita and a man.

Kavita and two men.

Kavita and three men.

Kavita and a woman.

Kavita and him.

Him and another woman.

All fucking.

Avinash's heart skipped a beat and the prints fell to the floor.

"What -- what's this?" he gasped into the phone. "Kavita what's this?"

"You tell me."

"I -- I don't know -- when -- how --"

"Oh god, Avinash. What're we going to do? It's us!"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he said softly, his heart pounding wildly. "This -- this cassette. What's in it? You got one, too?"

"Yes. I think -- see it, Avinash --"

"Oh fuck." He dropped the receiver and rushed to his video and, fumbling with the tape, slotted into the machine and started the unit.

The screen flickered and came to life and he lurched back to the telephone, grabbing it, staring wild-eyed at the screen.

It showed Kavita moaning in lust, fondling herself as she sucked a man's cock. He was one of the men from the photographs. Avinash watched in horror and jabbed the fast forward button on the remote control.

The beautifully shot film showed Kavita being fucked by all the men in the photographs, including him, and five more men, sucking their cocks, taking them in her cunt and mouth and ass, the men coming, Kavita coming, Kavita and the woman writhing together. He groaned loudly.

"Oh my god, Kavita -- who -- who did this -- what -- when -- why?"

"I don't know!" she wailed, crying again. "I don't know! I don't remember!"

Avinash realised that his nightmare was being played out on the screen. He slapped the stop button.

"Hang on, babe," he muttered into the phone. "Just stay where you are. I'm coming across."

"Hurry, Avinash," she sobbed. "Please hurry. I'm so scared!"

Avinash dropped the receiver, swept the photographs into the envelope, ejected the videotape and crammed it in with the photographs.

Within minutes he had washed and changed and, envelope in hand, was racing down the stairs and out onto the street.

He flagged a taxi and, giving the cab-driver another ten rupees, persuaded him to take the inner streets. The car rocketed down towards Kavita's house.

She was alone at home, weeping inconsolably, when he arrived. She clung to him, sobbing and moaning in fear and shame.

Avinash didn't know what to say. She showed him the photographs she'd received. They were different from the ones he'd got.

So was her videotape. Avinash was stunned. How many more of these were around?

The telephone rang and they both jumped. It rang again. They looked at each other uncertainly, at the telephone, ringing insistently. He nodded to her to answer it.

Nervously, Kavita picked up the telephone and mumbled a hello into it. She listened and her face went white, then crumpled and she sank to the floor against the wall, sobbing hysterically. Avinash grabbed the phone.

"Who the fuck is this?" he snarled.

"Gently, gently, my friend," said a smooth, silken voice. "You have received our little gift?"

"Who the fuck are you?"

"That is irrelevant, surely."

"Fuck you, asshole!"

The voice laughed softly. "She did. Watch the tape. And it was her ass, not mine, if you look carefully."

"Who are you, damn it?"

"Let's just say I'm one of the men who -- shall we say – knew your girlfriend, in the Biblical sense yesterday. Actually, I fucked her brains out. She loved it."

"I'll kill you!"

"Not a recommended course of action, friend. Consider your position. You don't know me, can't get to me. And I could just about ruin the two of you. What you've got is just a teaser. There's more. Plenty more. Two full video-tapes. Non-stop fucking of the girl."

"You fucking bastard!"

"Actually, you're right. I do fuck. On tape. However. My legitimacy isn't in issue here."

"What do you want?"

"Ah. Now we seem to be getting somewhere."

"Oh. Blackmail."

"Emphatically."

"How much?"

"Money? Oh dear me, no. Never. No money. You can't afford us."

"What? What do you want then?"

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