Adultery NAZRIN AN INNOCENT WIFE (With pics)

[Cuckoldindian]

Update 7:

All other staffs started coming to the staff room.
 
The staff room buzzed with the chatter of her colleagues, their voices a low murmur as they discussed the day's events. A few male teachers drifted closer, their eyes lingering on her bare neck and the hint of cleavage that her kameez revealed. They talked about the upcoming faculty meeting, the latest movies, anything to keep the conversation flowing. But Nazrin knew the subtext, the unspoken invitations in their smiles.
 
Mr. Chandran, the burly economics teacher, leaned against the desk next to hers, his eyes dropping to her chest. "Nazrin," he said, his voice a little too casual. "Your new haircut looks fantastic." His fingers drummed a steady beat on the desk, his eyes never leaving her breasts. She felt a twinge of annoyance at his blatant flirting but also a strange thrill at the attention.


large photo albums 500 photos uk
 
Another male colleague, Mr. Ramesh, sauntered over, his eyes lingering on her neck. "Is that a new perfume?" he asked, his voice a low purr. "It smells heavenly." His gaze was hungry, and she knew he was imagining her without the dupatta. She felt a rush of power at their reactions, a power she had never experienced before.
 
As the bell rang, signaling the end of the college day, the staff room buzzed with the sounds of chairs scbanging against the floor, papers shuffling, and goodbye wishes. Nazrin gathered her things, her mind racing with the events of the afternoon. The flirtatious glances and hushed whispers of the male teachers had her feeling both flattered and exposed.
 
Mr. Chandran lingered a moment too long, his eyes flicking to her neck, the spot where Muthu and Praveen had kissed her earlier. She had felt a thrill at their brazenness, their willingness to claim her in such a public space. Now, she felt the weight of their gazes as she walked towards the door, the fabric of her kameez sticking to her skin as if it held the memory of their touch.
 
As she stepped into the corridor, the cacophony of the college faded behind her, the clack of heels on the tiles a distant echo. The heat of the day wrapped around her, the fabric of her dress clinging to her damp skin as she made her way through the bustling streets of Chennai. The stares of strangers were like a drug, each one a silent affirmation of her beauty, her desirability. She walked with a newfound confidence, her hips swaying with the grace of a dancer, the fabric of her dress whispering against her legs with every step.
 
The men she passed couldn't help but look, their eyes drawn to the tantalizing glimpse of her bare neck and the way her salwar hugged her breasts. The women shot her sidelong glances, a mix of envy and curiosity. But Nazrin was oblivious to it all, lost in her own world of power and desire. The whispers of the wind played with her hair, carrying with it the scent of jasmine and dust, mingling with the musky scent of her arousal.
 
Her thoughts were a whirlwind of Muthu and Praveen, their touch, their words, the promise of what was to come. Each step she took only served to heighten her excitement, the fabric of her kameez rubbing against her sensitive skin, a sweet torture that had her clit pulsing with need. She felt the eyes of the men on her, their desire a tangible force that seemed to follow her like a shadow.
 
Reaching her house, Nazrin pushed open the door, the cool air inside a stark contrast to the heat of the day outside. The house was silent, the only sound the distant hum of the refrigerator. She kicked off her sandals, the cool tiles a welcome relief against her flushed skin. The emptiness of the house only served to amplify her need, her desire screaming out for release.
 
Her eyes fell on the hallway table, where she usually placed her purse and keys. She laid them down, her trembling hand brushing against the cool metal, a stark contrast to the heat that was building within her. Her panties were wet, a testament to the power she had wielded over Muthu and Praveen, and the thought of Fahim's touch only made the ache worse.
 
Nazrin reached into her purse, her trembling hand finding her phone. She needed Fahim, needed his touch to ground her in reality, to claim her as her own. She dialed his number, her breath hitching as it rang. She leaned against the wall, the cold tiles sending a shiver down her spine, the anticipation of his voice a delicious agony.
 
"Hello?" His voice was a balm to her fevered soul, a gentle reminder of the life she had outside of the college walls.
 
"Hey babe," Nazrin purred, her voice thick with desire. "When are you coming home?"
 
There was a moment of static, and then Fahim's voice, distant and muffled. "Sorry Naz, my bank needs to finalize the annual payment. I'll finish it and come late night."
 
Nazrin felt a strange mix of disappointment and relief. She had been so ready for him, her body practically humming with anticipation. But now, with the house to herself, she had the perfect opportunity to indulge in her newfound power. She closed her eyes, the image of Muthu and Praveen's eager faces filling her mind. Her hand slipped down to her wet panties, her fingers tracing the seam.
 
With a decisive move, she cut the call and stood up, her legs wobbly with need. She turned to the mirror hanging on the wall, her eyes meeting her reflection. The woman who stared back at her was a stranger, a seductress wrapped in the guise of a teacher. She reached behind her to unbutton her salwar, the fabric sliding down her legs with a whisper of sound. Her kameez followed, pooling at her feet, leaving her in just her bra and panties.
 
Her hands trembled as she reached back to unclasp her bra, the fabric falling away to reveal her heavy breasts, the dark areolae tight with arousal. With a flick of her wrist, she sent her panties flying across the room, the material landing on the cold floor with a soft thud. She stepped out of the pool of fabric, feeling the cool air kiss her skin, sending goosebumps skittering along her body.
 
Her eyes locked with her reflection, Nazrin felt a strange sense of detachment, as if she was watching someone else's life unfold before her. But the ache between her legs, the slickness of her own arousal, was all too real. She walked to the couch, her bare feet silent on the cool tiles, and sat down, her legs spread wide. The plush cushions molded to her body, the fabric cool against her heated skin.



large photo albums 500 photos uk
 
With a shaky hand, she reached down to touch herself, her fingertips grazing the softness of her inner thigh. She gasped at the sensation, her eyes never leaving her reflection. She slid her fingers higher, teasing her pussy. Her clit throbbed with need, begging for release.
 
Her eyes drifted shut as she lost herself in the sensation, her moans growing louder with each passing second. The house was silent except for the sound of her breathing, the quiet hum of the ceiling fan the only other presence in the room. It was liberating, this newfound freedom to express her desires without fear of judgment or reprisal.
 
As she touched herself, Nazrin couldn't help but think of the events of the day, her mind playing back the sultry scenes in vivid detail. The way Muthu and Praveen had looked at her in the staff room, their eyes dark with hunger, their touch feather-light yet so powerful it had made her knees wobble. The memory of their hips pressing against her, their hands roaming over her body, had her pussy clenching around her fingers.
 
Her strokes grew more urgent as she thought of their whispers, their suggestions of what she could do to spice up her marriage. The way they had praised her beauty, her courage, had filled her with a sense of power she had never felt before. It was as if they had given her permission to be the woman she truly was, to embrace her sexuality without shame.
 
The memory of their embrace in the staff room was like a drug, her moans growing louder as she imagined their hands on her body, their lips against her neck. The way Muthu's tongue had flicked against her skin, the gentle pressure of Praveen's teeth, had made her wetter than she had ever been. And now, here she was, alone in her own home, giving in to the desires they had stoked within her.
 
Her fingers moved faster, her thumb circling her clit with a frenzied rhythm. The thought of Arun, his innocent eyes wide with surprise and arousal when he had glimpsed her cleavage, had her pussy clenching around her hand. She pictured him standing in the classroom, his cock straining against his pants, his mind filled with images of her naked body.
 
The tension in her body built, her muscles tightening as she approached climax. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, her eyes squeezed shut. The sounds of her masturbation filled the room, a symphony of want and need. And then, with a cry that echoed through the empty house, she came. Her body bucked, her pussy spasming around her fingers as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. She felt the warmth of her release coating her hand, a sticky mess that only added to the intensity of the moment.
 
As she rode out her orgasm, Nazrin couldn't help but think of Arun. The way his eyes had widened when she had offered to tutor him, the excitement in his voice when she had promised to help him. It was innocent, of course, but the thrill of the power she held over him was undeniable. With trembling hands, she reached for her phone, her body still pulsing with pleasure.
 
Her thumb hovered over his name in her contact list, the anticipation of his voice sending a shiver down her spine. She took a deep breath and hit the call button, her heart racing as the phone rang. When he picked up, she could hear the excitement in his voice, the eager anticipation. "Ma'am?" he said, his voice a mix of nerves and excitement.
 
"Arun," she purred, her voice a siren's call. "Remember our deal about the extra lessons?"
 
"Yes, ma'am," he replied, his voice a mix of excitement and trepidation.
 
"Good," Nazrin said, her voice a seductive purr. "Be at my house in one hour. We have a lot to cover."
 
Arun's heart raced at her words. He had fantasized about this moment countless times, the thought of being alone with his gorgeous teacher making his blood boil. "Yes, ma'am," he managed to reply, his voice thick with excitement.
 
Nazrin ended the call with a smile, her body still humming from her recent release. She knew she had to clean up and prepare for Arun's arrival. With a graceful stride, she made her way to the bathroom, the cool tiles a stark contrast to her fevered skin. She turned on the shower, the sound of the water a soothing backdrop to her racing thoughts.
 
As the water cascaded over her, she felt the last vestiges of guilt and doubt wash away. She had never felt more alive, more in control. Her hands slid over her body, tracing the lines of her curves, her fingertips lingering on her still-sensitive nipples. The water was hot, a gentle caress that soothed her as she thought about the evening ahead. She knew Arun would be home soon, and she needed to be dressed, ready to play the part of the dutiful teacher.
 
Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped herself in a towel, the soft fabric a stark contrast to the fire that burned within her. She walked to the bedroom, the floor cold against her bare feet. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn to keep out the harsh glare of the evening sun. The air was thick with the scent of her arousal, a sweet musk that clung to her skin.
 
Nazrin stood before her cupboard, her eyes scanning the array of clothes with a critical gaze. What to wear for her first tutoring session with Arun? Something that would keep him guessing, something that would keep the power in her hands.
 
Her eyes fell on a white v-neck t-shirt that she had tucked away at the back, a relic from her college days. It was snug, fitting in a way that was both innocent and revealing. The fabric had faded over the years, but it still hugged her curves like a second skin. With a wicked smile, she pulled it out and held it against her body. The neckline dipped low, hinting at the swell of her breasts, the padded red bra she had chosen clearly visible through the thin material.
 
Her heart racing with excitement, Nazrin slipped into the shirt, the fabric cool against her bare skin. She adjusted her breasts, pushing them up to enhance the effect of the bra. The red peeked through the white, a seductive contrast that she knew would not go unnoticed by Arun. The shirt was tight, the material clinging to her curves in a way that made her feel both vulnerable and powerful.
 
She looked down at her body, the shirt ending just above her navel, leaving a strip of her stomach bare. The V-neck plunged low, revealing the top swells of her breasts, the padded cups of her bra pushing them up and together. It was a look that screamed 'innocent but naughty', and she knew it would drive Arun wild.
 


large photo albums 500 photos uk

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the bell, a harsh reminder of the real world outside her fantasy. She took a deep breath, her heart racing with anticipation. She knew it was Arun. She walked to the door, her bare feet silent on the cold floor.
 
Nazrin took a moment to compose herself, smoothing her hair and adjusting her shirt before opening the door. Arun stood on the other side, his eyes wide with shock as he took in her appearance. He had never seen her like this, out of the confines of the classroom, without the protective shield of her traditional attire. His gaze swept over her, his eyes lingering on the plunging neckline of her t-shirt, the swells of her breasts, and the bare strip of skin above her waistband.
 
"Come in," she said, her voice a purr that sent a shiver down his spine. She stepped aside, allowing him to enter the house, his eyes never leaving hers. She noticed the way his gaze darted to her cleavage before flicking back up, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red.
 
Arun stepped into the living room, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of her. She watched as he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "Ma'am," he managed to croak out, his voice thick with desire.
 
Nazrin felt a thrill of power at his reaction, her confidence soaring. She had him right where she wanted him, and she was going to enjoy every moment of it. "Sit down, Arun," she instructed, her voice firm yet soft. "Let's get started."
 
Arun nodded, his eyes never leaving hers as he took a seat on the couch. He placed his bag beside him, his hands trembling slightly as he unzipped it. The room was filled with the scent of jasmine from air freshener. The sweet fragrance seemed to weave itself around them, a silent witness to their impending transgression.
 
Nazrin watched him for a moment, her own heart racing as she took in the sight of his eager young body. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she turned and sashayed into the kitchen, her hips moving with a deliberate sensuality that had him watching her every move. She grabbed two glasses from the shelf, the sound of ice cubes clinking against the glass a sweet symphony of temptation.
 
As she poured the water, she took a deep breath, willing herself to remain in control. This was a game she had played before, and she knew the rules. She had to keep the upper hand, had to make him beg for what she was willing to give. With a practiced smile, she turned back to the living room, the cold glasses in her hand.
 
Arun's eyes widened as she approached, his gaze dropping to the gap between her breasts. Nazrin felt a thrill of power as she watched him struggle to look away. She knew he was torn between his desire and his fear of crossing a line. It was a dance she had performed countless times, and she reveled in the thrill of leading him closer to the edge.
 
With a knowing smile, she bent down to hand him a glass, her breasts pressing together as she leaned forward. The fabric of her t-shirt stretched taut, giving him a view that made his breath catch in his throat. She lingered for a few extra seconds, her eyes locked on his, watching the hunger grow in his gaze. It was a silent invitation, a promise of what was to come.
 
As she straightened up, Nazrin felt the fabric of her shirt brush against her skin, the coldness of the glasses in her hand a stark contrast to the heat building in her core. She walked around the coffee table, her hips swaying with an exaggerated grace, and took a seat on the couch beside him. The cushions dipped slightly under her weight, closing the gap between them to a mere ten inches. She was close enough to feel the heat of his body, to smell the faint scent of his cologne.
 
"Drink," she urged, her voice a low whisper that seemed to hang in the air. Arun's eyes flickered to the glass, and then back to her face. He reached for it, his hand shaking slightly as he brought it to his lips. The cold water was a shock to his system, a stark reminder of the reality of the situation. He took a sip, his eyes never leaving hers.
 
As he set the glass down on the table, his hand trembled, and the water spilled, a rivulet trickling down the front of his shirt. He gasped, his eyes going wide with shock. "I'm sorry," he stammered, his face flushing as he looked down at the spreading stain.
 
Nazrin leaned back against the couch, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Relax, Arun," she said coolly, her voice a silken caress that seemed to echo in the quiet room. "You'll catch a cold in this wet shirt. Take it off, let me dry it for you."
 
Arun's eyes shot up to meet hers, his heart racing in his chest. He was surprised by her sudden change in demeanor, but he found himself unable to resist the command in her voice. He gingerly unbuttoned the first few buttons, his hands shaking with a mix of excitement and nerves. The fabric stuck to his chest, outlining the faint definition of his muscles, the result of hours spent playing cricket under the hot sun.
 
With trembling fingers, he pulled the shirt over his head, revealing his bare torso. His skin was a warm caramel, untouched by the sun's harsh rays. His chest was smooth, devoid of any hair, a stark contrast to the fahim, Nazrin was used to. His stomach was flat, a testament to his youth and the countless hours he spent running around the college grounds. He handed her the damp garment, his eyes downcast, unable to meet her gaze.


large photo albums 500 photos uk
 
Nazrin took the shirt, her eyes raking over his body with a hunger that was impossible to hide. She walked to the balcony, the fabric heavy with the scent of his arousal. The evening breeze was a gentle caress against her own bare skin, the fabric of her shirt fluttering around her as she stepped out into the night. The balcony was small, a tiny oasis of privacy in the middle of the bustling city. She laid the shirt over the railing, watching as the fabric fluttered in the breeze.
 
The city lights twinkled below, a reminder of the world that was so far removed from the one she was about to create with Arun. Her heart raced as she thought about what was to come. She had never felt so alive, so powerful. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the scent of the city, the sweet perfume of her own desire mingling with the exhaust fumes and the distant sound of traffic.
 
When she turned back to the living room, the sight of Arun shirtless on her couch was like a punch to the gut. Her chest tightened, and she felt a warmth spread through her body that had nothing to do with the hot, sticky air of Chennai. He was so young, so eager.
 
Her eyes devoured the lines of his muscles, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the way his skin glistened with a sheen of sweat. The stark contrast between his youthful vitality and Fahim's more mature, experienced body was intoxicating. She felt a thrill that she hadn't felt in years, a sense of excitement that made her feel alive.
 
Nazrin sat down beside Arun, her eyes never leaving his. She handed him a pen and paper, her voice low and hypnotic as she began to explain the lesson. Her hand brushed against his, the contact sending a jolt through her body. He jerked at the touch, his eyes flicking to her breasts before darting back up to her face. She suppressed a smile, enjoying the power she held over him.
 
For the next hour, Nazrin focused on the task at hand, guiding Arun through the complexities of calculus with a professionalism that was as sharp as the edge of a knife. Yet, she was acutely aware of the tension that filled the room, the unspoken desires that lay just beneath the surface of their conversation. She noticed his glances, the way his gaze kept straying to the valley between her breasts, and she took perverse pleasure in leaning forward slightly, giving him a better view.
 
Arun's eyes remained glued to his notebook, his mind racing with the mathematical equations she scribbled across the pages. But every now and then, his gaze would flick up, lingering on the soft swells that threatened to spill out of her bra. His cheeks flushed, and he swallowed hard, trying to focus on the lesson. Despite his best efforts, his thoughts kept drifting, wondering what it would be like to touch her, to feel the weight of her breasts in his hands.
 
Nazrin noticed his distraction and took a moment to appreciate his bare chest. The muscles rippled as he leaned forward, his skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. She felt a warmth building in her core, a need that grew stronger with every passing minute. Yet, she remained in control, her voice steady and clear as she explained the formulas.
 
The air in the room was thick with tension, a palpable force that seemed to charge the very air around them. With each word she spoke, Nazrin could feel Arun's gaze on her, his eyes flicking up to her breasts before darting back down to his notebook. It was a dance of desire, a silent negotiation of power that had them both on edge.
 
As she wrapped up the lesson, Nazrin's voice took on a lilt. "Arun," she said, her eyes never leaving his, "let's finish the lessons for today. Tomorrow we can continue."
 
Arun nodded, his eyes flickering down to her chest before he could stop them. He quickly averted his gaze, feeling a flush creep up his neck. He gathered his books, his heart racing as he stood. "Ma'am," he said, his voice a low murmur, "my shirt?"
 
Nazrin smiled, the corners of her lips tilting up in a way that made him feel both excited and nervous. She stood up with a fluid grace that seemed to defy gravity, the fabric of her t-shirt clinging to her in a way that accentuated every curve. She walked to the balcony, the hem of her shirt riding up slightly, revealing the lower swells of her hips.
 
The shirt was still damp, the fabric clinging to the railing. She took it down, the coldness of the metal sending a shiver down her spine. She held it out to him, her eyes never leaving his. "Here," she said, her voice a warm caress.
 
Arun took the shirt from her, his hand brushing against hers, sending a jolt of electricity through his body. He quickly pulled it over his head, the fabric sticking to his damp skin. The material was cold, a stark contrast to the heat that was building between them.
 
Nazrin watched him, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Arun," she said, her voice a purr that seemed to resonate in the very air around them, "sit for a bit. My husband is getting late. Stay until he comes."
 
Arun nodded, his eyes never leaving hers as he sat back down on the couch. He was a boy of minimal words, his shyness a stark contrast to the bravado he exuded on the cricket field. Yet, in her presence, he found himself speechless, unable to form coherent sentences. He cleared his throat, his eyes darting to the clock on the wall, the seconds ticking by like hours.
 
Nazrin took a seat beside him, the couch dipping slightly under her weight. She leaned back into the cushions, her legs crossed elegantly. "Arun," she began, her voice a sweet melody that seemed to soothe his nerves, "tell me about your family."
 
Arun swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to her breasts before he could stop them. He cleared his throat and began to speak, his voice a little shaky. "My father is a driver," he said, his eyes focusing on the wall behind her. "And my mother is a housewife."
 
Nazrin nodded, her eyes never leaving his. "And your siblings?" she asked, her voice smooth as silk.
 
Arun took a deep breath, trying to focus on anything but the way her t-shirt clung to her. "I have an older brother," he said, his voice a little steadier now. "He's working as a labor."
 
Nazrin nodded, her eyes never leaving his. "And your sisters?"
 
"No sisters," Arun said, his voice a little hoarse. He took a sip of the water, his eyes flicking down to the neckline of her shirt again.
 
Nazrin leaned in, her breasts pressing against the fabric, giving him an unobstructed view of her deep cleavage.
 
"Arun," she whispered, her voice a sweet seduction, "Do you have a girlfriend?"
 
The question hung in the air, thick with anticipation. Arun's eyes widened, his gaze flicking up to her face before dropping back to the notebook in his lap. He took a deep breath, his heart hammering against his ribcage. "No, ma'am," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I don't."
 
Nazrin leaned back into the couch, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You'll find one soon," she said coolly, her eyes never leaving his. "A boy like you, with such talent and potential."
 
Arun's cheeks flushed, and his eyes grew misty. "Ma'am," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "who would want to be with me? I'm just a poor boy from a poor family." A single tear traced a path down his cheek, and he quickly brushed it away with the back of his hand.
 
Nazrin felt a sudden pang of pity, reaching out to gently touch his hand. "Don't worry, Arun," she said softly, her voice filled with genuine warmth. "You will be successful one day. You're so bright, so full of potential. Girls will be lining up behind you." Her eyes held his, the sincerity in her gaze making him believe her words.
 
Arun's smile grew wider, his eyes shining with hope. "Thank you, ma'am," he murmured, his hand trembling slightly under hers. The air between them was charged with a new energy, a silent understanding that went beyond the bounds of a typical student-teacher relationship.
 
He looked up at her, his eyes searching hers. "Ma'am," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "you've changed."
 
Nazrin's smile grew, a knowing glint in her eye. "How so, Arun?" she asked, her voice low and teasing.
 
Arun stuttered, his eyes darting from her chest to the floor and back again. "It's... it's not like what you usually wear," he managed to get out, his voice thick with unspoken desires.
 
Nazrin's smile grew wider, a knowing glint in her eye. "Is that a problem?" she asked, her voice a silky challenge.
 
Arun's eyes darted to her chest, and he felt his cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. "No, ma'am," he managed to say, his voice a little too loud in the quiet room. "It's just... different."
 
Nazrin leaned back, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Different, hmm?" she mused. "Would you prefer me to wear modern dresses from now on?"
 
Arun's eyes widened, his heart racing at the sudden turn in the conversation. "Ma'am," he managed to croak out, his voice thick with a desire he could barely contain. "I think... I think modern dresses suit you very well."
 
Nazrin laughed, a sound that was as warm and inviting as the setting sun. "Flattery will get you everywhere," she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She leaned back into the couch, the fabric of her shirt stretching taut against her breasts. "But I cannot wear modern dress to college," she said, her voice a low purr. "It would cause too much of a distraction."
 
Arun felt his face flush with heat, his heart racing in his chest. He hadn't meant it like that, but the way she was looking at him, the way she spoke, it was as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. "I didn't mean it like that, ma'am," he stuttered, his eyes dropping to the floor.
 
Nazrin's laughter was like a gentle caress against his skin. "I know, Arun," she said, her voice filled with amusement. "But I like that you noticed." She leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear. "When you come for tutoring," she whispered, "I will wear modern dresses, just for you."
 
With a wide smile, he stood up, the sudden movement making the fabric of his shirt stick to his skin. "Thank you, Ma'am," he said, his voice filled with genuine emotion. "No other teacher treats me like you do. Thank you very much, Ma'am."
 
Nazrin felt a sudden surge of pity for him, this young boy with his whole life ahead of him, trapped in a cycle of poverty and hardship. She stood up, closing the distance between them, and wrapped her arms around him in a hug that was both comforting and possessive.
 
Her breasts pressed against his chest, the soft mounds of flesh yielding to the firmness of his body. The fabric of her t-shirt was paper-thin, and she could feel his heart racing beneath it. His hands hovered in the air for a moment before tentatively settling on her waist, his fingertips brushing against the bare skin exposed by her low-riding pants.


 
They stood there, frozen in time, as the warmth of their bodies melded together. Nazrin felt a sudden rush of pity for Arun, this young man who had so much potential, yet was held back by his circumstances. She squeezed him tighter, feeling the muscles in his back tense under her touch. It was a strange sensation, this mix of maternal comfort and carnivorous hunger.
 
As she held him, she felt something against her thigh, something hard and unmistakable. She knew it was his arousal, and she couldn't help but feel a thrill of power at the realization. Her mind raced with images of his cock, straining against the fabric of his pants, desperate for release. She had never seen him in such a state before, and the novelty of it all made her feel alive.
 
The bell rang, the shrill sound slicing through the heavy silence that had settled over the room. They broke the hug, both of them panting slightly. "Relax," she murmured, her voice a soft caress. "It should be my husband, Fahim."
 
Nazrin walked to the door, her hips swaying with a newfound confidence. As she opened it, she was met with the sight of Fahim, his eyes heavy with fatigue. "Hi, Fahim," she said, her voice a soft purr. "How was your day?"
 
Fahim looked at her, a flicker of surprise in his eyes as he took in her attire. He stepped inside, his gaze flickering to the living room where Arun sat, his eyes wide. "Is everything okay?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.
 
Nazrin closed the door behind him, her hand lingering on the knob for a moment longer than necessary. "Everything's fine," she said, her voice a seductive purr. "I've started giving Arun private tuitions."
 
Fahim's eyes widened slightly, taking in the sight of Arun sitting on their couch, his books scattered around him. "Ah," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "That's... that's great, Naz."
 
Nazrin watched as he took off his shoes, his gaze lingering on the way his shirt clung to his broad shoulders. She felt a strange sense of possessiveness, a need to claim him in front of the young man who had so obviously been caught up in her web. "Yes," she said, her voice a purr that seemed to resonate through the room. "It's just until he catches up in math."
 
Fahim nodded, his eyes flickering to the clock before he headed to the bedroom. "I'm going to take a shower," he said, his voice weary. "It's been a long day."
 
Nazrin watched him go, her thoughts racing. She knew that the power dynamics in their marriage had shifted. Fahim had always been the provider, the one in charge, but now she had something he didn't: the power of sexual allure over these young, hungry men. It was a heady feeling, one she wasn't ready to give up.
 
Turning back to Arun, she walked back into the living room, her hips swaying with a newfound confidence. "Fahim's tired," she said, her voice a low murmur.
 
Arun nodded, his eyes flicking to the hallway where Fahim had disappeared. "Ma'am," he said, his voice a little shaky, "can I leave?"
 
Nazrin took a step closer to him, her eyes never leaving his. "Yeah, sure," she murmured, her voice a sweet temptation. She reached up, her hand brushing against his cheek.
 
Her thumb traced the line of his jaw, sending a shiver down his spine. She leaned in, her breath warm against his skin, and placed a small peck on his cheek, her lips lingering for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. Arun felt his heart skip a beat, his body responding in ways he had never felt before.


 
Nazrin stepped back, her eyes holding his for a moment longer than was appropriate. "Remember, Arun," she whispered, her voice a sultry promise, "the next time you come for tutoring, I'll be dressed... differently."
 
Arun nodded, his cheeks flushed with a mix of excitement and fear. He gathered his books, his heart racing as he tried to stand, his legs feeling like jelly beneath him. "Thank you, ma'am," he managed to say, his voice a hoarse whisper.
 
Nazrin watched him go, her eyes never leaving his back as he slipped his shoes on and walked to the door. She felt a strange mix of emotions, a heady cocktail of power and pity. She knew that she had him in the palm of her hand, that he would do anything she asked. The thought was thrilling and terrifying all at once.
 
"Thank you, ma'am," Arun murmured, his voice barely audible above the pounding of his heart. He stepped out into the night, the warm, sticky air of Chennai wrapping around him like a blanket. The city was alive with the sounds of honking cars and chattering voices, a stark contrast to the silent tension that had filled the Nazrin's house.
 
Nazrin locked the door behind him, her heart racing. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself as she turned to face the empty living room. The fabric of her t-shirt was sticky with sweat, the material clinging to her skin like a second layer. She could still feel the heat of his body against hers, the way his heart had raced under her touch.
 
Moving to the couch, she sat down with a sigh, her legs curling under her. She picked up her phone, the screen lighting up with the glow of messages from Muthu and Praveen. They had sent her a few 'hi's and asked how her night was going. The WhatsApp group was a secret haven, a place where they could share their desires without fear of judgment. She thumbed through the messages, her mind racing with thoughts of the two students.
 
Then Nazrin typed, "Hi guys," with a smirk playing on her lips. She knew the effect those two simple words would have on them. The phone buzzed almost immediately with their replies, each message more eager than the last. Her heart skipped a beat as she read their words, filled with lust and longing.
 
Muthu was the first to respond. "Ma'am, ready for another lesson today?" His message was accompanied by a winking emoji, and Nazrin felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew what he meant by 'lesson', and the thought of it sent a warm thrill through her body.
 
Praveen didn't waste any time either. "What's your husband doing now?" His question was blunt, yet filled with a hint of excitement that made her smile. She knew they were eager to continue their secret rendezvous, and she reveled in the power she held over them.
 
"Fahim is in the bathroom, taking shower," she replied, her voice a low murmur that seemed to echo through the quiet apartment. "He's had a long day."
 
Muthu's message was a shock, but it also sent a thrill through her body. The audacity of his request (Have sex with your husband under shower, Start from giving him a blow job), the raw hunger in his words, made her pulse quicken. For a moment, she just sat there, the phone in her hand, her mind racing with the possibilities. Then, she stood up, her legs a little shaky with excitement.
 
Nazrin walked into the bathroom, the cool tiles under her bare feet a stark contrast to the heat that was building within her. She pushed the door open, the steam billowing out to greet her like a lover's embrace. Fahim was under the shower, the water cascading down his muscular back, hissing as it hit the floor. He turned, the water spraying over his broad chest, and met her eyes with a look of surprise.
 
Her heart raced as she began to remove her clothing, each article peeled away like layers of an onion, revealing more and more of her wanton desire. She pulled her t-shirt over her head, the fabric sticking to her skin briefly before it fell away, exposing her breasts to the humid air. The areolae were puckered, the nipples tight with anticipation. She stepped out of her pants, the fabric whispering against her legs as it fell to the floor.
 
Her bra was next, a simple red lace number that had done its best to contain her ample breasts. She reached behind her, the clasp clicking open with a satisfying sound. The cups fell away, and her breasts bounced free, the heavy mounds jiggling slightly with the movement. Her panties were the last to go, a tiny scrap of fabric that barely covered her. She slid them down her legs, stepping out of them with a sense of finality.
 
Nazrin stepped into the shower, the warm water cascading over her body like a lover's embrace. Fahim was about to say something, his eyes wide with surprise, but she didn't give him the chance. She leaned in, her body pressing against his, and kissed him before he could speak. The kiss was intense, filled with a passion that had been simmering just beneath the surface.
 
Her tongue slipped into his mouth, a silent demand that he yield to her desires. Fahim's hands, which had been poised to ask a question, instead began to dance over her body. They traced the curve of her hips, the dip of her waist, before moving up to cup her breasts. His thumbs brushed against her nipples, teasing them into hard peaks that begged for his touch.


 
The warm water sluiced over them as they kissed, the steam filling the small bathroom with a sense of urgency. Fahim's hands grew bolder, squeezing her breasts as he deepened the kiss. Nazrin moaned into his mouth, her own hands moving to the waistband of his pants, her fingers slipping beneath the fabric to find him hard and ready.
 
With a sudden move that was as surprising to her as it was to him, she dropped to her knees before him, the water pooling around her. Fahim's eyes widened, his breath coming in short gasps as she took his 4-inch cock in her hands. It was a modest size, but to her, it was a symbol of power and desire. She looked up at him, her eyes dark with lust, and took him into her mouth.
 
The sensation was electric, the warmth of his flesh against her tongue sending a shockwave of pleasure through her body. She sucked him deep, her cheeks hollowing as she took him in, the sound of her mouth against his skin echoing in the small space. Fahim groaned, his hands finding her hair, his fingers tangling in the wet strands as he guided her.
 
But then, something changed. He pulled away, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Naz," he panted, his eyes glazed with lust. "I'm about to... I'm about to..."
 
Nazrin knew what he was about to say. She had felt it before, the way his body would tense and his breath would catch. But she had other plans. She pulled back, her mouth leaving his cock with a pop. "Not yet," she whispered, her voice a siren's call. She took his hand, guiding him down to his knees.
 
The water cascaded around them, mixing with the steam to create a cloudy veil. She stepped back, placing one hand on the cool tiles for balance. Then, with a grace that seemed almost predatory, she spread her legs and bent at the waist, her pussy now at Fahim's eye level. "Lick me," she ordered, her voice a soft command that brooked no argument.
 
Fahim's eyes grew dark with need as he stared at her, the sight of her glistening wetness a stark reminder of how much she had changed. He had always been the one in control in the bedroom, but now she was the one calling the shots, and he found that he liked it. With a groan that was part lust, part submission, he leaned in and pressed his tongue against her folds.
 
Nazrin's moan filled the small space, a sound that was as sweet as it was demanding. "Yes, baby," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. She reached down, her fingers tangling in his hair as she guided his head closer. "Oh, yeah," she moaned, her voice growing louder as he found her clit and began to flick it with the tip of his tongue.
 


Fahim's eyes closed, lost in the sensation of her wetness against his face. He had never seen this side of Nazrin before, never heard her make these sounds. It was intoxicating, a heady mix of power and passion that made him feel alive. He lapped at her, his tongue moving faster and faster, eager to please her.
 
Nazrin's moans grew louder, filling the bathroom with a symphony of pleasure. She had never felt this way before, never been so openly sexual with her husband. The power she had over him, the way he was now eager to do her bidding, it was a drug, a high that she couldn't get enough of. "Yes, baby," she moaned, her voice echoing off the tiles. "Oh yeah," she encouraged, her hips moving in time with his tongue.
 
Fahim's tongue danced over her clit, the gentle pressure making her knees wobble. She leaned against the wall for support, her hand still buried in his hair. "Faster," she demanded, her voice a whip crack in the steamy air. "Ya ,.'," she gasped, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. She had never used God's name in such a way before, but it seemed fitting, given the divine pleasure that was coursing through her body.
 
Then, it hit her. The orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave, a powerful, all-consuming force that seemed to originate from her very core and radiate outwards. Her thighs tightened around Fahim's head, her body convulsing with the force of it. Her moans grew louder, filling the small space with the sound of her release. Fahim didn't stop, his tongue moving faster and faster, eager to milk every last drop of pleasure from her.
 
Finally, she could take no more. She pulled back, panting and trembling, her body spent. Fahim looked up at her, his face flushed with excitement. "Did you... Did you enjoy that?" he asked, his voice thick with his own arousal.
 
Nazrin didn't answer. Instead, she guided him to stand, her hand still firmly wrapped around his cock. She stepped back, her legs still shaking with the aftershocks of her climax. "Now," she murmured, her voice a siren's call, "I want you to fuck me."
 
Fahim's eyes widened, the word 'fuck' rolling off her tongue like a sweet, forbidden fruit. It was a word they had never used with each other before, a word that seemed to hold the power to break down all the barriers that had been built between them. He stepped closer, his cock still hard in her hand.
 
With a sense of urgency that was both thrilling and terrifying, Nazrin guided him to her pussy. She was wet and ready, her body still trembling from the orgasm he had just given her. He pushed in, the head of his cock parting her folds with a gentle pressure that made her gasp.
 
Her mind swirled with images of the day's events. The feel of Praveen's and Muthu's arms around her in the staff room, the way their eyes had devoured her cleavage. The sweet, innocent kiss she had shared with Arun, the way his body had responded to her touch. And now, here she was, with her husband's cock inside her, the reality of it all mixing with the forbidden thoughts that had been plaguing her mind.
 
As Fahim began to thrust, Nazrin couldn't help but think of the two students.
 
The memory of Praveen's and Muthu's intimate hug in the college staff room played in her mind like a pornographic film on repeat. She could feel their bodies pressed against hers, the heat of their desire, the way they had held her so tightly it was almost painful. The way their eyes had dropped to her cleavage, the way her colleagues had looked at her, their gazes filled with a mix of envy and lust. It was intoxicating, a heady cocktail of power and desire that she had never experienced before.
 
And now, as Fahim pumped into her, those memories only served to fuel her passion. She moaned, the sound echoing off the tiles of the shower, her voice a siren's call that seemed to beckon the two students to her side. She pictured them there, watching her, their eyes wide with awe as she took her husband's cock, her body moving in time with his thrusts.


 
The water rained down on them, a torrent that mingled with their sweat, turning the steamy air into a cloud of pure lust. Her mind was a whirlwind of images, the feel of Praveen's and Muthu's arms around her, the way they had looked at her, so hungrily, so desperately. It was as if she could feel their hands on her body, their breath against her neck, their cocks pressing against her thighs.
 
Nazrin's moans grew louder, her body arching back as Fahim's cock filled her up. The memory of Arun's awkwardness, the way he had stammered out his gratitude, only served to make her wetter. She could feel his eyes on her, his desire a palpable force that seemed to electrify the very air around them. She pictured him there, watching her with a mix of awe and terror, his cock straining against his pants as he took in the sight of his teacher, his confidant, fucking her husband so wantonly.
 
Fahim's thrusts grew more urgent, his breath coming in harsh pants that matched the rhythm of his hips. He was close, she could feel it, his cock swelling inside her, ready to fill her with his seed. The thought of it made her pussy clench around him, eager to milk him dry. And then, with a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the apartment, he came, his cum spurting into her in hot, thick ropes.
 
The feeling of his release was like a spark that ignited a fire within her, and Nazrin felt herself climax once more, her body trembling with the force of it. They stayed there, under the shower, panting and gasping for breath, their bodies still joined as the warm water cascaded over them. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated pleasure, a moment that seemed to stretch out for an eternity.
 
Finally, Fahim pulled out, his cock now limp and sated. He reached for a towel, wrapping it around her waist with a tenderness that seemed almost foreign to her. They stepped out of the shower, the cool air of the bathroom a stark contrast to the steamy warmth of their shared passion.
 
Nazrin's eyes never left Fahim's as they moved to the bedroom, their bodies still glistening with water droplets. She felt a sense of power, a thrill that she had never felt before. She knew that she had pushed the boundaries of their marriage, but she also knew that she had found something within herself that she hadn't known existed.
 
Fahim laid down on the bed, his eyes heavy with satisfaction. Within minutes, his breathing grew deep and even, his body relaxed as he drifted into sleep. She watched him, her mind racing with thoughts of the students, of the messages they had sent her, the things they had said. She felt a strange sense of disconnect, as if she were watching a movie of someone else's life.
 
Nazrin grabbed her phone from the bedside table, the screen glowing in the dark. Her thumbs danced over the keyboard, typing out a message to Muthu and Praveen. "Thank you guys, SEX UNDER SHOWER was hot and I liked it." She hit send, the message disappearing into the digital ether, leaving behind a trail of excitement. The phone buzzed almost immediately with their eager replies.
 
Praveen was the first to respond. "Ma'am, tell us in details," he begged, his words practically vibrating with anticipation. Nazrin felt a thrill run down her spine, a delicious shiver of power at the thought of sharing her intimate moments with them.
 
"I am tired," she replied, her voice a sultry whisper that seemed to hang in the air. "I will tell you guys everything tomorrow." It was a promise, a tease that she knew would keep them eagerly awaiting her next message. She could almost hear the sound of their disappointment, the way their breath would catch at the thought of not getting their fill.
 
But Muthu wasn't so easily deterred. "Ma'am," he typed, his thumbs moving with a determination that matched his hunger. "We need something to tide us over." Nazrin felt a smile play on her lips. She knew exactly what he was asking for.
 
With the towel still wrapped around her chest, she angled the phone just right, the fabric barely concealing her still-hardened nipples. The dim light of the bedroom cast shadows across her face, giving her an air of mystery that she knew they would love. She took a deep breath, her breasts pushing against the towel, and snapped the picture.


 
The click of the camera was like a gunshot in the quiet room, the sound echoing through her mind as she studied the image. Her skin was flushed, her eyes bright with the afterglow of passion. The way the towel clung to her body, the small strip of skin between the fabric and her neck, it was all so... tempting.
 
With a smirk, she sent the photo to the group, watching the screen as the message delivered with a satisfying buzz. She knew what they would do when they saw it. The thought of their reactions, the way their hearts would race, their cocks would harden, it was like throwing a bone to a pack of hungry dogs.
 
With a mischievous glint in her eye, she typed, "For you guys, enjoy. Good night," and hit send. The message flew through the digital void, landing in their eager hands like a hot ember that would set their imaginations alight.
 
Nazrin climbed into bed beside Fahim, the warmth of his body a comforting weight. She snuggled up to him, her damp skin leaving a trail of coolness against his. His arm automatically wrapped around her, pulling her closer, and she felt a strange mix of satisfaction and guilt. She knew that she was playing with fire, but the heat was intoxicating, and she couldn't bring herself to step away.