Adultery Broken trust and suppressed lust

[Zoz34]

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Sohail sat in his dimly lit room, the soft glow of his phone casting shadows across the walls. The familiar ringtone echoed in the stillness, a stark contrast to the pounding of his heart. It was their usual time to talk, but Afrah hadn’t called. That nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach returned, a persistent whisper of doubt that had been creeping up on him lately.

He dialed her number.

The phone rang once… twice… three times. No answer.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips, reverberating in the quiet space around him. He tried again. Still nothing. On the third try, the call finally connected, but what came through felt off.

"Hello?" Afrah's voice came through the speaker, breathless and shaky, the sound almost drowning under a soft rush of water in the background. It wasn’t just her usual tired tone; there was a rasping edge that sent a shiver down his spine.

"Afrah? What’s going on? You sound... out of breath," he asked, trying to keep his voice steady, but the tremor betrayed him.

"Nothing," she replied too quickly, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Just... just tired from work, you know?"

Sohail's brow furrowed, his pulse quickening as he listened intently. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the faint drip of water echoing in the background. "You didn’t answer the first two times. Were you busy?"

There was a pause, a beat too long, before she finally spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. "I was in the shower."

His heart sank. She had used that excuse before, and it always seemed to come at odd times. He swallowed hard, the air thickening in his throat. The way she spoke—her breath hitching, almost like a moan—triggered his worst fears.

"Are you sure everything’s okay, Afrah?" he asked, lowering his voice, attempting to pierce through the suffocating tension. "You sound… different."

"I'm fine," she insisted, but the lie hung in the air like an unresolved chord, echoing painfully. "I’ve just had a long day."

Sohail's mind raced, questions tumbling over themselves, but before he could press further, he heard her voice soften. "I'm really tired. Can we talk tomorrow, please? I just need some rest."

He opened his mouth to protest, the protestations dying on his lips as she continued, "Goodnight, Sohail."

The call ended abruptly with a soft click, leaving a haunting silence in its wake. The silence of his room felt heavier than before, amplifying the quiet thud of his heartbeat. He stared at his phone’s dark screen, the faint hum of the evening surrounding him, but it couldn’t drown out the unease that gnawed at him. Her breathless tone, the hurried excuse, the sudden end—it all echoed in his mind, an unsettling melody he couldn’t escape.



Afrah :
At Afrah' home
After sending Vishal her racy pics

Afrah’s breath quickened, her body humming with a heady mix of excitement and desire. She slowly slid her trousers down, her eyes catching the mirror’s reflection. The soft glow of the room highlighted the curve of her hips, her skin flushed with warmth. Her body radiated a deep yearning, her desire evident as her reflection glistened softly, a testament to the effect her own sensuality had on her.

Afrah lay back on her bed, the soft fabric of her sheets cool against her warm skin. Her fair complexion seemed to glow in the dim light, casting a soft, alluring sheen as she stretched out. The silver chain still adorned her waist, glinting faintly, its delicate beads tracing the gentle curve of her hips. She couldn’t help but admire how the cool metal contrasted with her soft, fair skin.
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Her hand slowly drifted from her waist, fingers brushing over the cool silver as she moved lower. The sensation of the chain under her fingertips sent shivers through her body, a delicate tease against her smooth skin. Her fingers trailed lightly down, tracing her stomach, each touch slow and deliberate, before reaching lower, just skimming the edge of her thigh ,to her pussy.

She glanced at herself in the mirror, her body bathed in the soft light, the curve of her waist accentuated by the chain. Her fair skin seemed even more luminous in the low light, her every movement drawing attention to the way the chain framed her body.

With a soft, deliberate touch, her hand ventured lower, her fingers teasing over her inner thigh, her skin warm beneath her fingertips. The silver chain swayed slightly with each movement, a sensual reminder of her own allure.


She bit her lips, the soft pink hue contrasting against her warm skin, a flush of anticipation spreading across her cheeks. Her fingers, delicate and nimble, ventured inside her wet pussy , the subtle 'squelch"echoing softly in the stillness of the room. Each movement created a wet sound, a tantalizing "squelch" that filled the air, mingling with the hushed whispers of the night.

At first, she moved slowly, savoring the exquisite sensations that coursed through her. Each gentle stroke sent an electrifying shiver through her body, igniting her skin as it awoke with heightened sensitivity. The warmth of her body intensified, heat pooling deep within her, demanding exploration. She could feel the slickness of her skin glistening under the dim light, each touch igniting a fire deep inside her, urging her to surrender completely.

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As the heat built, her movements quickened, fingers dancing with urgent intent as she explored every nerve of her pussu, every sensitive spot. Her fingertips glided over her soft skin, teasing and caressing with growing fervor. She fought to suppress the soft "gasps" that threatened to escape her lips, each breath a desperate whisper. Tiny 'sighs' slipped out—soft and breathy—filling the air with sounds both vulnerable and intoxicating, creating a melody of intimacy that enveloped her.
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The rhythm of her pleasure began to rise, her 'gasps' intertwining with quiet 'moans' that spilled from her lips, rich and melodic, reverberating in the dim light. The wet sounds of her pussy became a sensuous symphony, each squelch a testament to her arousal, an enticing soundtrack to her exploration.
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With every stroke, she lost herself deeper in the sensations, her body arching in response to the waves of pleasure washing over her. Her heart raced, a steady thump echoing in her ears, matching the urgency in her movements. She could feel the tension coiling within her, each gasp punctuating the air, mingling with her soft cries that echoed in the quiet, creating a heady atmosphere thick with desire.

 As her breath quickened, the wet sounds and the music of her 'moans' spiraled higher, wrapping around her like a warm embrace, leading her toward the precipice of bliss, where she could finally let go and succumb to the overwhelming wave of pleasure that awaited her.

Suddenly, the shrill ring of her phone pierced the silence, jolting her back to reality. She bit her lip in frustration. Why is he calling now? she thought, her body still thrumming with need. The persistent vibration of the phone on her nightstand interrupted her bliss, and she groaned softly, torn between the urge to answer and the desire to continue.

The phone rang again, and she clenched her fists, trying to suppress the frustration bubbling within her. God, not now.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. God, can’t he just wait?She let it ring a few more times, feeling the heat pooling in her belly, the last remnants of her bliss lingering just out of reach. The phone rang again, and annoyance flickered through her. 

As the third call came through, the annoyance transformed into a sense of urgency. Reluctantly, she reached for her phone, her breath hitching as she fought the urge to simply ignore it. With a sigh, she swiped to answer, forcing her voice to sound steady despite the distraction.
 she reluctantly answered, her voice coming out breathless and shaky. “Hello?” 

“Afrah? What’s going on? You sound... out of breath,” Sohail’s voice came through, filled with concern. She winced at his perceptiveness. 

“Nothing,” she replied too quickly, her heart racing as she tried to mask her distraction. “Just... just tired from work, you know?” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue.

“You didn’t answer the first two times. Were you busy?” His question sent a ripple of anxiety through her. 

There was a pause, the silence stretching out like an unwelcome guest. She took a deep breath, fighting the urge to be honest. “I was in the shower,” she whispered, trying to keep the tremor from her voice.

“Are you sure everything’s okay, Afrah?” he asked, the weight of his concern pressing down on her. She hated that he could read her so easily, but she couldn’t let him know. 

"I'm fine," she insisted, the words tumbling out, though they felt hollow. The lie hung in the air like an unresolved chord, echoing painfully in her mind. “I’ve just had a long day.”

His voice softened, and she could sense his worry deepening. “I'm really tired. Can we talk tomorrow, please? I just need some rest,” she said, desperation creeping into her tone. I need to escape this moment.


“Goodnight, Sohail,” she added quickly, not waiting for his response. The instant she hung up, a rush of urgency surged within her. Her fingers found their way back to her body, seeking the familiar warmth, and she felt the rhythm return.

As her fingers moved with increasing urgency, her mind drifted, blurring the lines between reality and fantasy. Her breath hitched, and in that hazy space, her imagination went to -Vishal. She could almost feel his thick fingers inside her, filling her deeply. The thought alone sent a shiver down her spine, her body reacting as if it was truly him, his rough touch igniting every nerve.

The heat inside her grew fiercer, her imagination making her feel as though Vishal was there with her, his fingers moving in perfect rhythm, knowing just how to unravel her. The idea of his strong hands, so much bigger than her own, exploring her pussy overwhelmed her senses. It made every stroke feel more intense, each wet squelch a reminder of her growing desire for him.

Her movements quickened, fingers moving faster, trying to keep up with the arousal surging through her. The fantasy of Vishal’s presence made her gasps louder, each suppressed breath escaping her lips in soft moans, barely contained in the quiet of the night. Her body responded eagerly to the thought of him, her pleasure heightening as her mind clung to the image of his thick, calloused hands.

With every stroke, her body writhed beneath the sheets, her heart racing, a steady thump in her chest as she imagined him driving her closer and closer to the edge. Her gasps turned into breathy cries, the wet sounds blending with her soft moans, creating an intoxicating symphony of intimacy that surrounded her.

As she lost herself in the fantasy, the pleasure swelled, her mind fully convinced it was Vishal who was there with her, teasing her, pushing her over the edge. She surrendered to the moment, every pulse of her body responding to the imagined touch, the heat between them so real in her mind that her body craved more, needing to reach that peak. And as her breath quickened, the pleasure spiraled higher, wrapping around her until there was nothing left but the intense sensation that took over her completely. sharp knock sounded on the door.

"Afrah? Beta, are you in there?" her ammi’s voice called from the other side, pulling her violently from the edge of pleasure.

Afrah froze, her heart racing, caught between the urgency of her body's need and the sudden reality of her ammi standing outside her room.

Few moments later

Afrah lay still for a moment, her body tense with frustration. Her ammi’s voice had pulled her back to reality, but it wasn’t just the interruption that irritated her. It was the fact that she wasn’t alone in the room tonight. Some last-minute guests had shown up—her parents' old friends—who had missed their train and were now staying in the house. And of course, she had been the one asked to give up her room.

Why couldn’t they have just booked a hotel? The thought ran through her mind bitterly as she shifted uncomfortably under the sheets, still aroused and now deeply annoyed. She could hear the low murmur of voices down the hall, the reminder of their presence gnawing at her patience. She hadn’t had a moment of privacy all evening, forced to tiptoe around the house while trying to suppress the heat building inside her.

Now, lying there, her body still humming from the pleasure that had been so abruptly cut off, she couldn’t help but feel resentful. She had needed this release, and the night had been hers—until it wasn’t. Her skin still tingled with the leftover sensations, the frustration only making her need sharper, more unbearable. 

Why now? she thought, clenching her fists into the sheets. The guests had turned her sanctuary into a crowded space, and it left her feeling trapped, restless, and even more horny than before. The thought of their presence made it impossible to continue, though the desire hadn’t gone anywhere.

She rolled over, burying her face into her pillow with a soft groan, trying to push down the frustration. The night was ruined, but the lingering arousal still thrummed under her skin, making it impossible to find peace.


Just as Afrah was trying to calm herself, her phone pinged. The sound echoed in the quiet room, and she glanced at it, feeling a surge of curiosity. It was a message from Vishal. 

"Here’s your return gift."

She hesitated for a second before unlocking her phone. Her heart skipped a beat as the image loaded on the screen. There he was—Vishal—his body on full display. His sculpted muscles glistened in the dim light of his photo, each line of his physique sharp and defined, his abs a chiseled masterpiece. Her eyes trailed over his chest, his strong arms, and the subtle flex of his biceps. He was all muscle, and she hated how much she found him utterly irresistible.

The sight made her body react instantly, her earlier frustration flaring up into a heightened arousal. The desire she had tried to push down surged back, her breath catching in her throat. His body was deliciously tempting, every inch of him screaming sex appeal, and it only made her situation worse.

But along with the arousal came a wave of irritation and anger. Angry at the guests who had invaded her space, at her mother for interrupting her, but most of all—angry at Vishal. The handsome bastard was the root of it all. If it weren’t for him and the way he drove her insane with lust, she wouldn’t be in this mess right now, lying here, frustrated and on edge.

Still, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the photo. He looked so good, too good, and it was infuriating. Her fingers hovered over the screen, tempted to delete the picture, to block him out of her mind completely—but instead, she found herself staring at him longer. She knew she shouldn’t, but there was something about him that kept pulling her in. 

So sexy, she thought bitterly, her frustration mounting. She hated how much she wanted him, hated how he could stir up these feelings with just a single picture. 

Afrah clenched her phone tightly, her emotions swirling between need and fury, her body aching for release while her mind raged at how helpless she felt against Vishal’s effect on her. 
Slowly, she began rubbing her thighs together, desperate for some kind of relief without making a sound. The sensation was maddening, teasing her, but not quite enough to push her over the edge. She bit her l
ip, holding back the groan that threatened to escape, hoping her ammi would leave soon.


To be continued