Adultery NAZRIN AN INNOCENT WIFE (With pics)

[Cuckoldindian]

Update 9:

The next morning, Nazrin woke to the harsh blast of her alarm, the digital clock's red digits burning into her retina like accusations. She sat up with a start, the emptiness of the bed beside her a stark reminder of Fahim's absence the night before. He was sprawled out beside her now, his snores a testament to his obliviousness. Anger bubbled in her chest, a thick, noxious brew that threatened to spill over.

 
Her eyes fell on his sleeping form, his chest rising and falling in the soft early light. He looked so peaceful, so unaware of the tumultuous desires that had ravaged her only hours ago. Her hand itched to wake him, to demand an explanation for his neglect, but she held back, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. Instead, she slid out of bed, her feet hitting the cold floor with a quiet thud.
 
Nazrin padded softly to the bathroom, her bare skin prickling with the coolness of the tiles. She turned on the shower, the water cascading over her like a balm to her frayed nerves. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth wash away the remnants of her dreams, the images of Muthu and Praveen's eager bodies still imprinted on her mind. The scent of her shampoo filled the air, a mundane contrast to the intoxicating musk of the theater, but it was a comfort she clung to.
 
As the water streamed down her body, she felt a pang of regret for the night she had spent alone, her hand a poor substitute for the real thing. She turned off the tap and stepped out, wrapping herself in a towel that felt rough against her sensitive skin. The bathroom mirror fogged up, and she took a moment to wipe it clear, staring at her reflection with a critical eye. The woman staring back at her was the same, yet somehow different, her eyes holding a secret that seemed to shine brighter than ever before.
 
Nazrin made her way to her cupboard, her hand hovering over the neatly folded clothes. She grabbed a black lace panty and padded bra, the fabric whispering against her skin as she slipped them on. The low-cut blouse she chose was a vibrant shade of red, a stark contrast to the conservative attire she had once donned. The fabric clung to her curves, revealing just enough to tantalize without being overtly provocative.
 
With a practiced hand, she wrapped herself in a dark blue saree, the pallu dbangd over her shoulder. The material was light and soft, brushing against her bare legs with every step she took. She felt a thrill of excitement as she fastened the pleats at her waist, knowing that the way she wore it today was a silent declaration of war against the mundane routine of her life. The border was adorned with intricate gold threadwork, a stark reminder of the treasure hidden beneath the layers of fabric.
 
Her blouse was a crimson red, a color that set her skin alight with passion. The back was cut low, revealing the smooth expanse of her back, her hair cascading down like a waterfall of silk, the only barrier between her skin and the world. The lace of her bra peeked out from the neckline, a secret shared only with the mirror and the eager eyes of Muthu and Praveen, who had seen the same sight only hours ago.


 
The journey to college was a dance of seduction she performed with the world. The rustle of her petticoat was a symphony to her ears, a sweet melody that spoke of the power she held in her hips. Each step was deliberate, the fabric of her saree whispering against her legs, a promise of what lay beneath. She walked with a sway that was both innocent and knowing, her eyes meeting those of a stranger who couldn't help but stare. His gaze lingered on the swell of her hips, the way the fabric clung to her curves like a lover's embrace.
 
Entering the college gates, she felt a thrill of excitement. The walls were a familiar cage, the classroom a stage where she could act out her desires without consequence. She stepped into the classroom, the chatter of students rising and falling like a tide. The air was thick with the scent of chalk and teenage angst, a heady mix that made her pulse race. She took her place at the podium, the fabric of her blouse clinging to her damp skin, the scent of her arousal mingling with the dusty air.
 
Her eyes scanned the room, finally settling on the back row where Muthu and Praveen sat, their faces a mask of innocence that she knew all too well. She cleared her throat, the sound echoing through the room as the students turned to face her, their expressions a mix of curiosity and boredom. She began her lecture, her voice a siren's call that lulled them into a state of semi-attention. Her eyes never left the boys, the anticipation building with every word she spoke.
 
As she approached the back of the classroom, the fabric of her petticoat whispered against her legs, a secret language that only she and the two young men understood. She leaned against the desk, her hips tilting slightly to the side, the red of her blouse a stark contrast against the blackboard. The room grew quiet, the only sound the rustle of fabric as she leaned closer, her breasts threatening to spill out of her low-cut top.
 
Muthu and Praveen's eyes widened, their gazes transfixed on the tantalizing view she offered them. The rest of the class remained oblivious, their focus on the words she spoke rather than the silent promise of her body language. Nazrin felt a thrill of power, a heady rush that only grew as she caught the scent of their arousal, faint but unmistakable in the stale classroom air.


 
The lecture dragged on, each minute feeling like an eternity as she waited for the end. Finally, she dismissed the class, watching as the students filed out, their eyes lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. The door clicked shut, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the anticipation of what was to come.
 
Her heels clicked against the tiles as she made her way to the staff room, her heart racing like a wild animal in her chest. But as she reached the door, she paused, remembering Muthu's message. "Ma'am, go to the ECE lab upstairs," he had whispered, his eyes sparkling with mischief. She took a deep breath, her hand shaking slightly as she turned away from the familiar room and headed up the stairs instead.
 
The ECE lab was a place she had rarely ventured, the realm of circuit boards and wires as foreign to her as a desert to a fish. But today, it called to her like a siren's song, a promise of escape from the drudgery of her life. She pushed open the heavy door, the room greeting her with a cold embrace, the only sound the faint hum of machinery.
 
Her phone, a silent witness to her secret life, buzzed to life in her purse. She pulled it out, the screen lighting up with Fahim's name. The sight of it was a jolt of reality, a reminder of the world she was leaving behind. "Whatsup?" she said, her voice a forced casualness that didn't quite reach her eyes.
 
Fahim's voice was a distant echo through the receiver. "Naz, I have to go to Madurai branch for a meeting with the state bank manager. I'll be there for two days."
 
Nazrin's eyes narrowed as she took in the empty lab around her, the sterile white walls and humming computers an unwelcome backdrop to the conversation. "Two days, Fahim?" she replied, her voice tight with annoyance.
 
Fahim's voice was a mix of apology and distraction. "It's just work, Naz. You know how important this is."
 
Nazrin's eyes flashed with anger. "Fahim, please," she begged, her voice a desperate whisper. "I need you here."
 
"Don't worry, Naz," Fahim replied, his voice a lazy drawl that seemed to drip with indifference. "It's just two days. I'll be back before you know it."
 
With a sigh that was almost a growl, Nazrin ended the call, the plastic phone feeling slick with her frustration. She stared at the screen, the blackness of the display mirroring the anger that swirled within her. How could he be so dismissive, so oblivious to the turmoil that consumed her? Her hand clenched into a fist, the desire to hurl the phone across the room almost overwhelming.
 
Instead, she took a deep breath, willing the fury to subside. "Two days," she murmured to herself, the words tasting bitter in her mouth. Two days of emptiness, two days of craving, two days of yearning for the touch of someone who actually cared about her needs. She turned to the empty lab, the cold gleam of the machines a stark contrast to the warmth she craved.
 
As if on cue, the door to the lab creaked open, and in strode Muthu and Praveen, their expressions a blend of confusion and excitement. They took in the sight of her, her usually stoic face now a canvas of anger and frustration. "Ma'am?" Muthu ventured, his voice tentative.
 
Nazrin whirled around, her eyes blazing with a fiery intensity that made the boys take a step back. "What do you want?" she snapped, her voice a whip crack in the silent room.
 
Muthu and Praveen exchanged a glance, their expressions a mix of surprise and concern. "Ma'am, are you okay?" Praveen asked tentatively, taking in her disheveled appearance, the way her eyes searched the room as if looking for an escape.
 
Nazrin took a deep breath, her chest heaving with the effort of keeping her emotions in check. "It's Fahim," she spat out, her voice laced with bitterness. "He's going away for two days on a work trip."
 
Praveen took a step closer, his hand reaching out to her shoulder. "Ma'am, we're here for you,"
 
Nazrin's eyes snapped to his, the unspoken promise in his gaze making her heart skip a beat. She knew what he was offering, the sweet oblivion of their youthful passion. But she was torn, her mind a battleground between the comfort of the familiar and the siren's call of the unknown. "I don't know what I'm doing," she murmured, her voice a barely audible confession.
 
Muthu stepped closer, his warmth enveloping her as he placed his hands gently on her waist. "Ma'am," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear, "just enjoy your life." His fingers traced the outline of her petticoat, the fabric a flimsy barrier to the heat of her skin. Her body responded instinctively, arching into his touch, the fire inside her igniting once more.
 
Praveen, his eyes dark with desire. He wrapped his arms around her, his body pressing against hers, his chest a wall of firmness that made her nipples peak. She could feel the unmistakable bulges in their pants, their erections straining against the fabric, eager for her touch. His kiss was soft and gentle, a stark contrast to the hunger in his eyes.
 
Muthu, ever the silent observer, stepped up behind her, his hands sliding around her waist. He pulled her back, her curves fitting perfectly against his lean body. His touch was tentative at first, as if asking for permission, but when she didn't pull away, he grew bolder, his fingers tracing the lines of her waist, the fabric of her blouse a barrier to the warmth of her skin. She could feel his breath on her neck, his warmth seeping into her like a balm.
 
Praveen, unable to resist the temptation any longer, leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her neck. It was a gentle caress, a butterfly's kiss that sent a shiver down her spine. She gasped, the sound muffled by the fabric of her pallu. His mouth moved along her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below her ear, sending bolts of pleasure straight to her core.
 
Praveen unpinned her pallu, and it fell to the floor in a whisper of silk, leaving her in nothing but her blouse. He stepped back, his eyes drinking in the sight of her bare shoulders, the red fabric clinging to her full breasts like a lover's caress. The room grew hotter, the air thick with tension as Muthu's hands tightened around her waist.


 
Her eyes searched theirs, looking for the reassurance she needed. The desire in their gazes was all the invitation she required. With a sigh that was half protest, half surrender, she allowed Praveen to trace his fingers along the neckline of her blouse, his touch feather-light. He lingered at the top of her cleavage, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of her flesh, revealed in the low-cut fabric.
 
Muthu's hands moved to the small of her back, his thumbs brushing against the bare skin above her petticoat. His touch was like fire, searing through the layers of fabric and into her soul. She felt her resolve crumbling, the need for them overwhelming any semblance of propriety she had once clung to.
 
Praveen's fingers danced along the neckline of her blouse, tracing the lace of her bra. His eyes never left hers, the intensity of his gaze making her knees weak.
 
Muthu took the cue, turning her to face him. His hands remained on her waist, the warmth of his body pressing into her. He leaned in, his breath a warm whisper against her skin, and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. She was caught off guard, her eyes widening in surprise. For a moment, she was frozen, unsure of how to react.
 
But then, she felt a spark, a flicker of something she hadn't felt in so long. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she allowed herself to lean into the kiss. It was gentle, almost tender, a stark contrast to the hungry need that pulsed between them. His lips moved over hers, a silent question that she found herself eager to answer.


 
Her arms wound around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair as she kissed him back with a passion that surprised even her. His hands slid up her back, cupping her face as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into her mouth with a confidence that was at once thrilling and terrifying. She could feel the beat of his heart against her chest, a rhythm that matched her own racing pulse.
 
Praveen, not to be outdone, stepped closer, his breath hot against the sensitive skin of her neck. His lips traced the line of her jaw, his teeth grazing the tender flesh just below her ear. A shiver ran down her spine, and she gasped into Muthu's mouth as Praveen's hands slid over her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh.
 
Nazrin broke the kiss, her eyes glazed with desire as she turned to Praveen. She reached up, her hands cupping his face, and brought his mouth down to hers. His kiss was different from Muthu's, more insistent, more demanding. His tongue plunged into her mouth, and she met him with equal fervor, their tongues dancing together in a silent battle for dominance.
 
Praveen's hands slid down her back, his fingertips brushing against the lace of her bra. He groaned into her mouth, his desire evident in every touch, every movement of his body. She felt her knees buckle, her legs growing weak with need.
 
With surprising confidence, Praveen guided her left hand down to the bulge in his pants, pressing her palm against the firm length that strained against the fabric. It was the first time she had felt another man's arousal, and she gasped at the size of him. The reality was stark and thrilling, a stark contrast to the gentle curve of Fahim's manhood that she had known for so long.
 
Her hand trembled slightly as she traced the outline of Praveen's erection, her fingertips moving in slow, exploratory circles. Meanwhile, Muthu stepped closer, his own desire palpable as he took her right hand and placed it on his own swelling arousal. She could feel the heat radiating from him, and the fabric of his pants was taut with the promise of what lay beneath.
 
Her eyes widened as she realized she was touching two men, both young and eager, while her own husband was miles away, oblivious to her betrayal. But instead of guilt, she felt a rush of power, a thrill that made her blood race through her veins like a river of fire. She broke the kiss with Praveen, turning to Muthu, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
 
"It's time," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "Let's leave."
 
Muthu's eyes lit up with excitement. "Ma'am, please," he begged, his voice strained. "Help us release our cum."
 
Nazrin felt a jolt of surprise, but the thrill of the forbidden was too tempting to resist. "How?" she asked, her voice a breathy whisper.
 
Praveen's eyes danced with mischief. "Just watch us, Ma'am," he replied.
 
Muthu took the lead, his hands moving to the button of his pants. With agonizing slowness, he undid the fastening, the zipper whispering down as he revealed the thick bulge that had been hidden beneath. He pushed his pants and underwear down, his erected dick springing free, a testament to his desire. It was thick and hard, the veins standing out like cords against the dark skin.
 
Praveen followed suit, his movements more eager than Muthu's. He kicked off his shoes and peeled away his trousers, his eyes never leaving hers. His cock bobbed before her, longer and more impressive than she had ever seen. The tip was a dark red, leaking precum that glistened in the fluorescent light of the lab.
 
Nazrin's gaze flickered between the two, noticing the differences in their anatomy. Their dicks were uncut, a stark contrast to Fahim's circumcised dick. The sight was foreign yet fascinating, her curiosity piqued. She had never seen an uncut penis before, and the thought of the new sensations it could bring filled her with a mix of excitement and trepidation.


 
Their foreskins rolled back to reveal the engorged heads of their penises, glistening with precum. Muthu's was slightly thicker, the mushroom cap, while Praveen's was longer, the shaft a warm brown. They both began to stroke themselves in unison, their eyes never leaving hers.
 
Nazrin felt a warmth spread through her core as she watched, her own hand inching towards her petticod. The sight of their uncut members was a revelation, a world of unexplored pleasure that she had never before considered. Her eyes darted between them, noticing the way their hands moved, the subtle differences in their strokes.
 
But she didn't want to masturbate in front of them, not yet. Instead, she let her hands wander up to her blouse, her fingertips grazing the swell of her breasts. The fabric was smooth against her skin, the friction sending shivers down her spine. She watched their faces, the way their expressions grew more intense with every touch.


 
Her thumbs found her nipples, hidden beneath the layers of fabric, and she rolled them gently, the sensation making her gasp. Muthu's eyes grew darker, his strokes faster, as he watched her play with herself. Praveen's hand moved in time with hers, his eyes locked on her chest, his breath coming in harsh pants.
 
The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with the scent of their desire. Nazrin could feel her own arousal building, her pussy growing wetter with every second that passed. She watched the two young men, their bodies taut with need, and knew she had them exactly where she wanted them.
 
And then it happened. With a chorus of grunts and gasps, Muthu and Praveen reached their peak, their cum spurting onto the cold linoleum floor in thick ropes. The sound was almost musical, a symphony of pleasure that seemed to echo through the empty lab. The sight of their seed mingling together was a powerful aphrodisiac, making Nazrin's knees weak with need.


 
Their cum pooled at their feet, a testament to their shared release. Nazrin couldn't tear her eyes away, the sight of their youthful vigor a stark contrast to the stale routine of her marriage bed. She watched as their cocks grew flaccid, the aftermath of their climax leaving them momentarily sated.
 
"Ok, boys," she murmured, her voice a seductive purr that sent a shiver down their spines. "Thank you for everything." Her eyes danced with a mischief that seemed to dare them to follow her, to challenge the boundaries she had so carefully constructed.
 
Nazrin reached for her pallu, the silk fabric a stark contrast to the coldness of the lab. She pinned it back into place with deft fingers, the act a silent declaration of her intent to leave them wanting more. Her dress fell back into place, the fabric whispering against her skin as she straightened it with a grace that belied the tumult of emotions roiling within her.
 
With a seductive smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, she turned and sashayed out of the lab, her hips swinging with a newfound confidence. The click of her heels on the linoleum was a declaration of victory, a promise of what was to come. The door swung shut behind her, leaving Muthu and Praveen in a cloud of desire and anticipation.
 
The hallway was a blur as she made her way to the staffroom, her thoughts racing with the possibilities that lay ahead. The mundane conversations of her colleagues grew louder as she approached, their laughter a grating reminder of the life she had once known. But she was no longer that woman, the one who had settled for so little.
 
As she entered the room, the chatter died down, all eyes on her. The scent of stale coffee and photocopy ink washed over her, a stark contrast to the heady scent of lust that still lingered on her skin. She could feel their gazes, the unspoken question in their eyes, as she moved with the grace of a cat that had just caught its prey.
 
Mr. Chandran, Economics Teacher with a penchant for sleeveless vests, couldn't help but let his eyes wander to the generous view of her cleavage. His eyes lit up with a hunger that was all too familiar, and she felt a thrill at the power she held over him. She knew he was married, with a plump wife and two kids, but that didn't stop the lecherous glances he threw her way every time she bent over a desk.
 
As she settled into her chair, the fabric of her blouse stretched taut over her breasts, the lace of her bra peeking out just enough to tease. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the tainted air of the staffroom. The mundane conversations about students and exams seemed trivial now, a world away from the steamy lab she had just left.
 
Mr. Chandran sauntered over, his eyes greedily devouring the view she offered. He leaned against her desk, his arms folded over his chest, the sleeves of his vest riding up to reveal thick, hairy forearms. "Nazrin," he said, his voice a low purr. "You look...different today."
 
Her eyes flickered up to meet his, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Do I?" she replied, her voice a sweet challenge. She knew he was married, knew his hands had touched another woman's skin, had likely filled her up with the same need that now consumed her. But she didn't care. She was the one with the power now, the one who knew the secrets of desire that lurked just beneath the surface.
 
Mr. Chandran leaned closer, his breath a mix of coffee and mint. "You do," he murmured, his eyes locked on her chest. "Is there something...special going on in your life?"
 
Nazrin felt a thrill at his audacity, his blatant disregard for the unspoken rules of their workplace. She leaned back in her chair, arching her back slightly to give him a better view. "Just feeling a bit...experimental," she replied, her voice a silky promise.
 
The hum of the air conditioner the only sound as Mr. Chandran's eyes widened with interest. He took a step closer, his hand brushing against her shoulder as if by accident. "Care to share your newfound...inspirations?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly.
 
Nazrin's eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of amusement playing on her lips. "Not today, Chandran anna," she replied firmly, yet her tone held a hint of mischief. She knew the effect she had on him, the way his gaze lingered on her, and she enjoyed the thrill of his desire. But she had other plans, other fires to stoke.
 
The bell's shrill cry pierced the air, a metallic symphony that signaled the end of the college day. The students groaned and began to pack up their belongings, the shuffle of chairs and rustle of books a cacophony that filled the room. Nazrin took her time, savoring the last moments of her newfound power. She gathered her papers, her hand brushing against the cold metal of the chair, the reality of the day's events sending a shiver down her spine.
 
As she stepped into the hallway, the cool air washed over her, a stark contrast to the feverish heat that had consumed her in the ECE lab. She adjusted her blouse, ensuring the lace remained hidden, her petticoat a silent testament to the desires that had been unleashed. The clack of her heels echoed through the corridor, a seductive rhythm that seemed to call to every man she passed.
As she reached her house, the silence was a stark contrast to the chaos of the college. The heavy wooden door creaked open, revealing the cool embrace of the marble foyer. She stepped inside, her heels clicking against the floor, the sound echoing through the empty house. Fahim was already gone.
 
The living room, once a stage for their mundane routines, now seemed eerily quiet. The TV played a Hindi soap opera on mute, the dramatic expressions of the actors a stark contrast to the stillness of the room. The fridge hummed in the kitchen, a solitary sentinel in the night. She knew she would be alone for the next two days, and the reality of it settled over her like a heavy blanket.