Adultery Knowing My Wife, Knowing Me As Well - part III

[krish_999]

Chapter - 48

Desai went back to Mumbai next morning. But I couldn't shake off the devastating thoughts that his short stay at my home had planted in my head.

Would they continue this secret affair? And where would that leave me? The possibility of their continued rendezvous loomed larger in my thoughts, wrestling with the reality I was unwillingly tangled in.
I wondered if I should confess to Meera about having placed the voice recorder and spied on then. So that I could force her to drop any plan to meet him. I thought if I could warn her about what she was going to do, and how it's going to derail our life, then possibly she would reject all the attempts from Desai.
But at the same time, I didn't have the guts to tell her the truth that I had spied on them. I felt it would embarrass Meera so much that she would turn hostile to me. It would be easy for Desai to strike gold after that.
Even though I was worried about these thoughts, there was still hope. Perhaps Meera didn't tell me about Desai's proposal because she would have feared it would create doubts in my head. She could hope to resist Desai's invitations when they happen.
All these thoughts made me eventually decide that I should wait for further evidence before doing anything.
Confronting her or him without solid proof could backfire. For now, I chose to believe in the hope that Desai wasn’t trying to steal Meera from me. She was my wife, after all. Even if she had once found physical pleasure with him, she had chosen to live her life with me. All Desai could ever get was some short-lived intimacy, while I held the bond that truly mattered – or so I told myself.
That evening, when Meera came home from the office, I found myself itching to check her phone. To my dismay, Desai’s name was on her call list. He had called her at noon, and the call had lasted just under three minutes.
I struggled to breathe normally after that. Desai meant business – he had said he was going to meet her, and now he had called her during her lunch break. My mind churned, replaying the countless times I had heard him profess his feelings for her.
“I love you.” How many times had he said that to her?
 
Even during our evening walk, I found it hard to make conversation with Meera. She wasn’t talking much either, which only deepened my unease.
At dinner, Meera broke the silence. “Desai called me during my lunch break.”
I froze, unsure of how to react.
“He asked me if I’d decided to confess to you about it,” she continued.
I stared at her in disbelief. “What did you say?”
“He said he’s not feeling right about hiding the truth from you,” Meera said. “But I told him I’m not going to do it.”
“Is he coming back?”
“What?” Meera asked. “Why would you think that?”
I felt she smelled fault in my question. I struggled to look straight into her eyes. “I mean, to convince you to confess.” I said.
“No, he’s not coming back,” she said. “He just told me he doesn’t feel good about keeping it from you. He thinks we should tell you.”
 
I couldn't help but notice her use of the word ‘we’, grouping herself and Desai into a team, while I was reduced to an outsider – a mere ‘you’. Was I overthinking? Probably. But the words she spoke stayed in my mind.
“He’s just trying to find a way back into this house,” I said. “Tell him he’s not getting another invitation. And if he calls you again, tell him not to.”
Meera nodded. “I’ve already told him that. He’s not welcome in this house anymore.”
I felt she stressed lightly on the word ‘this house’. Could she meet him somewhere else? Was she deliberately leaving that door open?
The possibility was there.
 
That night, when we went to bed, I felt Meera's arms wrap around me. I was struggling to stay composed; the stress was taking its toll. As Meera started kissing around my neck, I wished I could forget everything else and simply welcome her. But I couldn’t bring myself to put my arms around her.
Meera soon pulled my shirt off, her tongue traveling down my chest and belly before moving further down, pulling my shorts along with her.
When she grabbed my dick, I sensed her eagerness, and I couldn’t help but feel seduced against my will as her head dipped down, taking my half-erect dick into her mouth.
My body betrayed me. My dick, no longer listening to my conflicted heart, responded to her touch and grew to its full length in a matter of few seconds. Meera, sensing my arousal, whispered, “I want to ride you, baby.”
Her words triggered an unsettling memory – Desai's demand to her from the night before: “Ride me.” The thought was devastating. Perhaps my wife wasn’t satisfied riding Desai’s dick for a few minutes, and that’s why she wanted to do it with me now, I thought bitterly.
Meera didn’t wait for my response. She rose and straddled my waist. That’s when I noticed she had already removed her skirt. Her top remained on as she positioned herself and slowly guided my dick into her wetness. It slid in effortlessly.
It was a sign I couldn't ignore. There was zero amount of attention from me, but still she was wet like butter. She was surely aroused from feelings that were already in her. If it wasn't me, it was surely Desai.
She began riding me, her breasts bouncing inside her top with every movement. My mind flashed to what Desai had told her the previous night as she rode him: “This sight... Krish must have dreamt of this when you rubbed your boobs on him.”
This view – astonishingly beautiful – had already been enjoyed by him the day before. She had ridden him yesterday, and perhaps the pleasure it gave her then was making her try it with me now. But I knew I wasn't giving her as much as pleasure.
Still, I grabbed her thighs and began thrusting upward. Meera moaned, “Yes... mmm... yes... like that, baby...”
But I couldn’t entertain her for long as I quickly reached the point of no return. Meera read my expression perfectly and pulled herself off just in time. My dick slipped out of her pussy, leaning toward my stomach as I spurted my cum onto my own navel.
“Oh, you’ve come,” Meera gasped, her tone more surprised than disappointed.
I couldn’t help but recall her excitement the previous day when Desai had ejaculated on her belly. I felt my energy fading fast. I panted as Meera gently wiped the drops of cum from my navel, then lay down beside me.
I hugged her tightly, and she leaned in to give me a tender kiss.
“I love you, Krish,” she whispered.
Her words felt like a sudden pour during dry summer, washing away the tension, if only for a moment. All my apprehensions seemed to dissolve in that instant. I kissed her back, sucking her lips softly, and held her even tighter.
“I love you too, baby,” I whispered, clinging to this fragile sense of peace.

I soon fell asleep, but the peace was short-lived. When I woke up in the morning, Meera lay on the other side of the bed, her back turned to me. My eyes were drawn to the curve of her hip, the roundness of her ass – a sight that, on any other day, would have filled me with desire. But last night’s events came rushing back, and with them, the weight of my inadequacy.
There she was- my unsatisfied wife. The woman who, just hours ago, had climbed onto me with excitement, only to end up sleeping unfulfilled. The thought was devastating. What could possibly stop her from going back to Desai, the man who had given her earth-shattering orgasms, the kind I clearly couldn’t? The more I dwelled on it, the more inevitable it seemed. It wasn’t a question of if she’d meet him again; it was a question of when. And I feared it would happen far sooner than I was prepared for.
I couldn’t stay in bed any longer. The thought of her slipping away from me, of her finding comfort in his arms again, troubled my soul. Restless and uneasy, I got up, my mind spiralling into dark possibilities.
My nightmares were returning, finding their way back into my reality. And this time, I wasn’t sure if I had the strength to face them.
 
In the days that followed, I became a man possessed. Every evening, as soon as Meera returned from work, I found myself drawn to her phone. The moment she’d step into the shower or head to the kitchen to prepare dinner, I’d swipe her phone off the table and quickly check for any sign of Desai. At first, I convinced myself I was being cautious, that it was just a way to clear my head. But the more I checked, the more suspicious I became.
I scanned the call logs daily, searching for any mention of his name. But Desai's name wasn’t there. No missed calls, no outgoing calls, nothing. Still, that didn’t bring any comfort. I knew how easy it was to delete a number from the call history. The absence of evidence could be an evidence itself – proof that she was hiding something from me.
It wasn’t just the call logs. I started digging deeper, scrolling through her WhatsApp chats. I told myself I was doing it for us, for our marriage, to prevent her from slipping away. But with every chat I opened, every conversation I scanned, there was no trace of him. No messages, no chats archived or deleted. Yet, the clean slate on her phone only made my doubts grow stronger. It seemed impossible that a man like Desai – so assertive, so persistent – wouldn’t have contacted her since that day. The absence of his messages felt unnatural, like a calculated silence meant to throw me off guard.
I began questioning even the smallest things. If Meera took longer than usual in the bathroom, my mind would wander. Is she talking to him? Did she hide her phone somewhere? If she laughed at something on her phone while scrolling through Instagram or something, I’d feel a tightening in my chest. Was it something he sent her? A message I wouldn’t be able to see?
Soon, even the little things started to worry me. When she got home from work, I’d note how quickly she put her phone away. Had she been texting him during the drive? Was she deleting the evidence before coming inside? The way her eyes remained glued to her screen when she thought I wasn’t looking, the occasional smile that didn’t seem to belong to the conversation we were having – everything was feeding my growing paranoia.
I became obsessed with timing. If she stepped out of the bedroom at night for any reason for too long, I wondered if she had quickly sent him a message. If her phone buzzed at odd hours, my heart raced. I kept telling myself there had to be some hidden app, some secret place where they were communicating, and I just hadn’t found it yet.
No matter how many times I checked her phone, it was never enough. My mind kept looping back to the same fear: She’s still talking to him, and I just don’t know how.
 
One day when I was returning from work, I stopped by a small grocery shop on the way. To my surprise, I ran into Desai's old driver. I remembered the man well from our earlier days together. He used to keep Desai's car to drive him around whenever he was in Pune. When Desai finally ended his business connections in Pune, he had sold the car, seemingly cutting ties with the old man.
It was after a long gap I was meeting him, at the grocery shop.
We exchanged greetings and I asked him how he was doing. That’s when he told me, after Desai sold his car he had helped him start a new life. Desai had bought the man a house and set him up with this small grocery store next door. I was amazed. Desai hadn’t just given him a lump-sum amount to settle the retirement – he’d provided him with independence, a way to earn his own living. The driver’s eyes gleamed with respect as he spoke about Desai.
“If someone asked me to choose between Desai sir and God, I’d place Desai sir above God himself,” the man said in his voice thick with gratitude.
I left the shop in silence, thoughts filling my head.
How do you hate a man who not only helps you but changes lives wherever he goes?
 
Desai wasn’t just some opportunist or selfish man; he was someone people admired. And it was this larger-than-life persona that made it all the harder for me to cope with the betrayal he was preparing to commit to me.
I couldn’t imagine him as a villain twisting his moustache in the dark, waiting to destroy my life. He was charismatic, generous, and, infuriatingly enough, someone who made you feel important just by being around him. I couldn’t shake the image of him as the guy who could solve problems, who people naturally drawn to – like how Sharma Ji had ended up requesting him to extend his stay – and that made it all the harder for me to cope with what had happened between him and Meera.
I felt drained, even powerless, in my attempts to hate him. No matter how much I wanted to paint him as the antagonist in my story, Desai refused to fit that role. I couldn’t even remember the ugly-looking man with smoke-stained teeth that he used to be when he had seduced my wife for the first time. That memory of him was so gone, erased from my brain, and replaced by what he was now. He wasn’t just the other guy in Meera’s life – he was the kind of person everyone respected, including me. And that realization left me conflicted.
How could I hate the man who seemed to have everything going for him? More than that, how could I hate the man who seemed to give Meera something I couldn’t?
He was too good to hate, yet he was someone I didn’t want to confront. I simply didn’t have the power to hate him and that was the cruellest twist in this conflict.

A few weeks passed when Desai told me he was taking a break from work. He said he was feeling alone and needed some time to rejuvenate. He went to Arunachal Pradesh, specifically to the Ziro Valley. When he returned, he told me about the calming mountain air and the fun he had trekking along the Dolo Mando trail. He mentioned how much peace he found during the enchanting Ziro Music Festival there. I couldn't help but feel that his trip was more than just a getaway – it was his way of finding peace, of trying to cope with the fact that he was not able to decide how to have what he wanted to have in his life – Meera.  A part of me felt bad for him. He deserved better.
The more I thought about him, the harder it became to resent him. Every time I made love to Meera, I couldn’t help but think of him, lying in his bed, dreaming of these moments, longing for the same affection Meera was showing me. It weighed on me. I felt like I was failing both of them. Especially after nights where I couldn’t fully satisfy Meera in bed, I’d lie awake, plagued by thoughts that Desai would’ve been better for her. That maybe, just maybe, they deserved each other more than I deserved either of them.
Despite my constant surveillance – checking Meera’s phone and looking for signs – I found nothing. No calls, no texts. And instead of relief, I felt disappointment. Desai wasn’t trying anymore. Was he giving up? Had he really walked away from Meera? At first, the idea of him contacting her filled me with dread, but as time passed, I started thinking differently. Maybe I could endure it. Maybe this was what they both truly deserved.
In the end, I found myself wishing for something I never thought I would – that somehow, in some way, they would find their way back to each other.
 
Maithrei contacted me one day, her voice ringing with the excitement of news.
“All the flats at Alpine Heights have been sold, Krish. The place has become a success. People enjoy living there. If you're not interested in moving in, then I suggest you at least lease it out. It would help you earn quite a sum.”
 
I remembered Maithrei calling me to ask me if I was willing to sell the apartment. That day when we met after the quick chat we no more talked about the apartment. Instead we ended up making love in my car. When Maithrei phoned me and talked about the apartment again, I couldn’t help but wonder if we were ever going to repeat the outcome of the day ever again. Maithrei, lying in a more spacious place, like a cosy bed, and I ready to push my dick into her wet pussy. The thought made me warm. But I quickly overcome the thoughts.  It was out of frustration. I said myself and then quickly wondered if I too was making up an excuse for fucking someone other than your wife. Like Desai who spoke the same way after screwing Nidhi multiple times.

“I’ll discuss it with Meera,” I told Maithrei, keeping my voice normal despite the thoughts going in my mind.

When I told Meera about Maithrei’s suggestion, her eyes lit up. “I’ve heard about it too! One of my colleagues was astonished when I told her I owned a flat in Alpine Heights. Her family had tried to get one, but it was sold out before that.”
She then posed a question. “Krish, have you thought about us moving into that house? It’s more spacious and closer to my office.”
The idea sounded appealing but I hesitated. “but it’s farther from my office.”
Meera laughed, “You own your own business unlike me, who’s just an employee in someone else’s business. You can even shift your business closer to the house you want to live in.”
I just laughed with her.
 
Two days later, while discussing some official matters with Desai over the phone, he casually asked, “So, are you moving into Alpine Heights?” The question caught me off guard.
“I haven’t decided yet,” I said, masking the unease that began to churn in my stomach.
Desai continued, “I had recommended the spot to Maithrei to start her real estate business, but I never envisioned it would be this successful.”
 
As the conversation ended, a chilling realization hit me: Meera must have discussed the apartment news with Desai. That evening, I found myself checking her phone again, heart racing with anticipation. But again, there was no call record, no chat, and no evidence of their talk. It felt like a knife twisting deeper into my chest.
The lack of evidence was the evidence.
 
I couldn’t shake the feeling that Meera was successfully hiding their conversations from me. I replayed the days in my mind, counting thirty-eight since Ritu’s wedding. Had they been in contact all this time? The thought of them meeting at a place far from my house, during the day, devastated me.
As I lay in bed that night, I stared at the ceiling, the weight of my thoughts suffocating. The sound of Meera’s soft breathing beside me felt like a cruel reminder of the distance growing between us. I couldn’t help but feel like a ghost in my own life, haunting the shadows of what once was, and fearing the reality of what might be.
 
This incident convinced me that I had to uncover the truth at any cost. The doubts had been eating away at me, and I needed answers. Initially, I considered hiring a private detective. But I quickly dismissed the idea. Meera worked in the finance sector – spying on her through an agency was risky. Her company might have stringent firewalls tracking their employees, and if someone tried to hack her devices, it could be interpreted as hacking the company’s system, turning it into a legal issue far beyond a domestic problem. With my background in security services, I understood the magnitude of such a risk. A scandal like that, with my wife being hacked by her husband, would not only jeopardize our personal lives but could also tarnish the reputation of my company. I couldn’t afford to let that happen.
I was left feeling cornered, searching for a way to uncover the truth without risking everything.
Then, one day, I was handed a golden opportunity. Meera had left for work, and as I prepared to head to the office, I noticed that she had forgotten to take her laptop. I stopped, with my mind filled with hope. I knew Meera’s laptop had the WhatsApp desktop app installed, and she often used it while working.
Quickly, I opened the laptop and connected it to the home Wi-Fi. My heart raced as the screen loaded, and to my great excitement, the WhatsApp app was still linked to her account. I could see all her messages until they were deleted, giving me a window into her communications. I just needed stay glued to the screen, watching it every second.
This was my chance.
 
I first thought of taking the laptop to my office so that I can keep an eye. But disconnecting it from my home Wi-Fi might log-off from the account and I would lose the opportunity.
I immediately called Nidhi, telling her I’d be late for work, citing a fake meeting outside the office. I stayed at home, and for the rest of the day, my eyes were glued to the laptop screen, waiting for any sign of the truth.
There were many chats, but nothing that seemed out of the ordinary. My patience was wearing thin, and doubt began to creep in again. But then, just past noon, it happened. A message appeared at the top of the chat list with a notification symbol. It started with a simple "Hi." It was the first message and I could read it without opening the chat.
My pulse quickened as I saw that the message was from Desai. Finally, I had found what I was looking for. This was it. The moment I had been waiting for.
Today, I would learn what had been brewing behind my back.
 
As soon as the notification symbol disappeared, I knew Meera had opened Desai's message on her phone, and I opened the chat to read.
"Hi," Meera had replied.
The conversation escalated quickly from there:
Desai: "Decided when you're going?"
Meera: "Maybe this weekend."
Desai: "Sunday?"
Meera: "Why so curious?"
Desai: "Have you told him?"
Meera: "He'll be ready as soon as I tell."
Desai: "Are you going to tell him?"
Meera: "Yup. Why not?"
Desai: "Come on."
Meera: "What?"
Desai: "Don't."
Meera: “Then?”
Desai: “We can meet.” “There.”
Meera: "Susheel. No."
Desai: "Make it Friday."
Meera: "I'm scared."
Desai: "It's more than a month, baby."
Meera: "Shit scared."
Desai: "Think of us, Meera."
Meera: "That's even more scary."
Meera: “Scarier*”
Desai: "You can take an extended lunch break. I'll make lunch arrangements."
Meera: "I know it's not about lunch."
Desai: "I'm not objecting."
Meera: "Objecting? Haha."
Desai: "You haven't told him about going there yet, right?"
Meera: "I told you. I haven't seen the apartment in a while. Need to see it to decide."
Desai: "Don't tell him. I'm booking a flight."
Meera: "What?"
Meera: “There’s no flight from Mumbai to Pune btw.”
Meera: “In morning.”
Desai's reply came after a few seconds.
Desai: "Finishing the booking."
Meera: "Wait."
Desai: “I’ve waited so long.”
Desai: "I’m coming."
And the next thing I saw on the screen was a screenshot of Desai’s laptop – the confirmation of a flight ticket. My heart stopped as I read the details: Friday, departing from Bangalore at 9:25 AM, arriving in Pune at 10:50 AM.
Meera: "Are you crazy?"
Desai: "We're having lunch. I can’t wait to see you."
Meera: "You’re in Bangalore?"
Desai: "Tomorrow I’m going there. I’ll return to Mumbai from Pune."
Meera: "When will I be free?"
Desai: "I will bring you a gift. I hope you’ll love it."
Meera: "What gift?"
Desai: "Surprise."
Meera: "I know what it is."
Desai: "How?"
Meera: "I’d be staring at the ceiling while being gifted."
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Meera knew exactly what she was committing to, and Desai's reply was just a confirmation of it.
Desai: "Are you thinking of it, baby?"
Meera: "Hell. You."
Desai: "Heaven. You."
Meera: "Haha."
Desai: "Should I come soon?"
Meera: "Don’t come soon. I like it that way."
Desai: "I hope your place has a bed."
Meera: "It has a bed and a couch in every room."
Meera: "The last time when I saw."
Desai: "Woooooooo…“
Desai: “That’s my girl!"
Meera: "Gotta go. Bye."
Desai: "Bye."
As soon as the chat ended, I watched in disbelief as the entire conversation vanished from the screen. Meera had deleted it. I exited the chat, my hands trembling. Moments later, Desai's name disappeared from the chat list too.
I was stunned by the level of caution Meera had been taking to avoid getting caught. And now, she was about to meet Desai at our apartment in Alpine Heights. Even though the chat had started with a small sign of resistance from Meera, it ended with her confirming that the flat had enough furniture for their rendezvous. Not only that – she even admitted her desires with the words "don’t come soon. I like it that way."
She meant ‘don’t cum soon, I like it that way’, didn’t she?
My mind spiralled as I quickly compared the average lovemaking sessions I had with her to the intense, orgasmic pleasure I had witnessed her sharing with Desai, especially the screaming I’d heard on Ritu’s wedding night. She had been waiting for this without even realizing it, and now, it was finally happening.
It was Wednesday. In just two days, Meera would be meeting Desai at our spare apartment with the sole intention of having sex with him. The thought of them having sex wasn’t new to me, but this time, it felt like a brutal betrayal. She was going to cheat on me. I had no part to play in this. Neither I nor my half-hearted encouragement was needed. It was all happening on her own terms, and Desai – who had always claimed to be my brother and had promised not to see her outside my house – was seducing her into breaking my trust.
What I had feared from day one – if there even was a day one – was finally happening.
I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even know if I should do anything.
 
I struggled to survive the whole day after that. My mind was a battlefield of confusion and hurt. I couldn’t stay at home, so I dragged myself to the office, even though I felt no purpose being there. As I entered, I saw Nidhi bent over a register next to her desktop keyboard, busy scribbling something down. Her shirt was slightly open, revealing a glimpse of her cleavage, and through the gap between her neck and shirt, I saw the cup of her white bra. For a moment, I stared. And the first thing that came to my mind was that Desai had enjoyed those tits too, which I came to know about after many days. Now, he was set to enjoy my wife, behind my back. Whether I liked it or not, it was the truth.
"Hi, Krish sir. How did the meeting go?"
Nidhi looked up, clearly surprised by my sudden presence. I couldn’t find the words to reply.
"I didn’t see you coming," she added, her tone casual, but I felt she’d noticed my gaze lingering a bit too long.
I scrambled to cover up my embarrassment. "This shirt looks good on you, Nidhi," I said, forcing a smile.
She blushed, smiling back. "Thank you."
I nodded, trying to compose myself. "Meeting went well. I hope it will bring us something special."
As I walked into my cabin, I muttered under my breath, "Yeah, truly special."
That night, when Meera came home, I felt a wave of nervousness wash over me – something I hadn’t felt in a long time. It was strange. I’d faced many moments in my life when I had to welcome her after she had sex with another man. But this… this was different. This time, I knew she had come home after committing to a meticulous plan to meet Desai with the sole intention of having sex with him. My lovely wife had committed to betraying me.
The betrayal wasn’t just about the sex. It was the secrecy. If she had come to me, spoken openly, and told me she was going to sleep with Desai, I might have allowed it. That was who I was. After all, if I could convince her that it was okay to sleep with another man, she could have easily convinced me the same. That’s how our relationship worked. We talked, we agreed, we set boundaries. But this time… this time she had chosen not to include me.
She knew I wouldn’t object. Desai had even suggested she confess to me, but she didn’t. I had told her not to agree with Desai’s request, but my reason was to stop him from finding his way back into our lives. I wanted him gone, knowing that there would be no end to this cycle. But Meera’s decision to see him without conveying her plans to me – it meant she didn’t want me involved. She wanted Desai all for herself, didn’t she?
The thought distressed me, eating away any sense of peace.
 
That night, as we lay in bed, a strange disgust twisted inside me. I looked at Meera, not as my wife, but as someone else's woman; Desai’s woman. It hit me how I had once looked at Maithrei with that same lustful hunger, only because she had belonged to Desai. And now, Meera – my Meera – felt like she was his too.
The moment she lay beside me, something snapped. I couldn't hold back. My arms went around her, pulling her close, and my lips crashed into hers, claiming her in a way that felt more desperate than loving. I almost tore off her clothes in my haste, my teeth finding her neck, biting hard, marking her skin with hickeys. Meera was startled by the intensity, but she didn’t resist. Maybe she was excited about Friday. Maybe she knew I deserved one last taste of her before she went to Desai, to receive his "special gift," staring at the ceiling, legs spread wide apart, just as she had implied.
As my mind churned with a sickening mix of lust and vengeance, I found myself pushing her legs apart, diving down to bury my face between her thighs. My tongue thrust into her pussy, licking her like I had something to prove. Her moans grew louder as I kept going, but I wasn’t stopping. Not yet. I moved up to suck on her breasts, biting her nipples, and slipped my fingers inside her wetness, making her writhe beneath me. She cried out, her body arching with ecstasy.
“Aaahhh, Krish... Oh my god... You're killing me...mmm... aaah,” Meera gasped, her voice full of pleasure.
Without thinking, I spread her legs again and thrust into her. My cock slid easily into her slick pussy, and I lifted her legs to my shoulders, pounding her hard from the start. I wasn’t holding back. This felt like the last time I’d get to fuck her before she went to Desai, before she gave herself to him. My pace quickened, the heat in my body rising as I felt her struggle to keep up. And then, with a loud groan, I let go, pumping my cum deep inside her.
“Pull out, Krish. Pull out...” she cried, but it was too late. I was already filling her up.
“It’s over, Meera…” I panted. “It’s over. Let me finish.”
It took a while for my senses to return. And when they did, I felt a sudden wave of guilt. “I’m sorry,” I muttered, but she gave me a scornful look.
“Tomorrow you're gonna buy me a pill,” she said, her tone sharp.
“Yeah, sure,” I replied, still trying to catch my breath.
Then, without really thinking, I added, “Why? Can’t we just keep it?”
Her eyes flashed with anger. “What! Is this how you want to do this?”
Her frustration lit a fire in me too. “You never want to give birth to a child with me, it seems,” I snapped.
Meera’s irritation deepened. “I said this is not how we do it. We need to plan, Krish.”
“When?”
“Come on, Krish, let’s not talk now. Let’s not spoil the night, please,” she pleaded, her anger softening. She seemed to realize that my frustration had triggered hers. She leaned toward me, her arm wrapping around my chest in a gesture of peace.
“I’m not ready now, Krish. I’ll tell you when I’m ready, okay?” she whispered, her voice gentler.
I nodded, defeated. “Okay,” I said quietly.
She moved away and headed to the bathroom to clean up. When I followed her, I found her already asleep by the time I returned.
I stared at her, a pang of guilt eating at me. She was exhausted, and my anger had made me cruel. Whatever Meera was doing – whatever choices she was making – I couldn’t deny that I had planted the seeds of it. I had nurtured this part of her.
As I lay down beside her, I asked myself if I was truly ready to tolerate my wife cheating on me. What could I do? I searched for an answer, but nothing came. Nothing at all.
The next day, Meera carried her laptop to the office, leaving me no opportunity to spy on her. But I already had the critical piece of information: the screenshot of Desai’s flight ticket. His flight was scheduled to arrive at 10:50 a.m., meaning by 11:30 a.m., he'd be on his way to Alpine Heights. Meera would soon follow for their "extended lunch."
I couldn’t shake the memory of Meera’s playful yet telling remark, "Don’t come soon. I like it that way." It was her way of admitting she enjoyed how Desai could last longer than me, ensuring she reached orgasm every time. The thought tormented me throughout the day. My mind was scattered; I was present everywhere but engaged nowhere. At noon, I skipped lunch, haunted by images of my wife texting Desai, possibly promising him what she wanted him to do when they met.
"Every room has a bed and a couch," I remembered her telling him. I imagined them taking full advantage of that, fucking in every room, on every bed, every couch – clothes discarded, her body fully available to satisfy his endless lust.
Desai had told her how he had been waiting for her for "more than a month." Last time, he’d given her a shower of cum on her belly. This time, I pictured him aiming for her face, drenching her in it. And she’d love it. She’d revel in every degrading moment of it.
I was losing control of my thoughts.
In the evening, Nidhi interrupted my spiral, asking me if something was wrong.
Startled, I snapped, “Nothing.”
But she persisted. “No, Krish sir, I know you’re worried. What’s wrong?”
“Can you stop calling me ‘sir’? Call me just Krish.” My voice unintentionally rose, startling her.
“Sorry,” she murmured before quietly retreating to her desk. I felt bad almost immediately and went over to apologize. After I did, Nidhi shook her head and asked, “Are you ready to talk? You said you’re okay with keeping secrets between us. What happened to you?”
I hesitated but realized she was the only one I could confide in. I asked her to come to my office.
“Nidhi, this is about Desai. I think you’re the only one I can tell the truth to right now. Desai and Meera are seeing each other behind my back.”
Her face was a mixture of surprise and confusion. “What?”
“My fear... it’s the truth now. They’re meeting tomorrow. They’re going to...”
I trailed off.
“How do you know this?”
“I traced Meera’s WhatsApp. Desai is coming to Pune.”
“If you’re so sure, and if you're worried about it, why aren’t you stopping it?” she asked, genuinely perplexed.
“That’s hard to explain. Desai has already slept with my wife. The last time was a month ago.”
“A month ago?”
“Yeah, he came to stay at my house to attend a wedding in our complex. And during that wedding... they did it. He wanted Meera to confess to me.”
“If they did it a month ago, why are you so tense about tomorrow?”
I found it hard to explain.
“That was consensual. I mean, they were sexually attracted, and I let it happen. It’s just sex. My wife is free to have it outside our marriage. That’s our policy. And vice versa. Like, I’ve had sex with other women. Meera’s okay with that. We’re that open.”
“Sounds... interesting.” Nidhi gave me a curious look. “Then?”
“But now she’s meeting him, and I have proof. They’re meeting at a vacant apartment that we have in the city, tomorrow at noon.”
“If you don’t want it to happen, you can stop it. But if you don’t want to stop it, then maybe you don’t mind it,” she pointed out.
“I’m not disturbed by them having sex, Nidhi. I’m disturbed that they’ve decided to do this behind my back.”
Nidhi nodded slowly. “Please don't mind me asking. Why do you let her do this? Have fun with other men?”
“It spices up our relationship.”
“So it’s spiced things up so far?”
“Yeah, but now it feels out of hand.”
“Have you seen them having sex before?”
“Yeah.”
“And you didn’t stop it?”
“I wanted to watch.”
“And it was fun?”
“Yes.”
“Then maybe you should watch tomorrow too," she said.
I looked at her. “Are you serious? I can’t do that,” I said. “If I get caught, it’ll be embarrassing as hell.”
"Then why not put some cameras inside?"
I thought about it for a moment and then said, “Yeah... but the problem is, Desai’s too smart. He’d notice them. I might know ten places to hide cameras, but he’d probably figure out eleven. And besides, there’s no time left to hire a professional team to set them up in a truly concealed manner.”
Nidhi nodded. She spoke after a few seconds. “You said you’ve watched them having sex before. How was it?”
Her bold question made me pause. I looked at her slowly, pondering whether I should answer honestly. I cleared my throat and spoke. “It was like... sensational. He’s really good at it. You know... I mean, you know how it is. That’s probably why Meera agreed to see him again. Alone."
Nidhi looked intrigued, her eyes fixed on me. “Has Meera done it with other men too?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“And you’ve seen that too?”
“Yes.”
For a moment, she didn’t say anything, her expression unreadable. Then she asked, “Has she seen you having sex with other women?”
“Yes.”
Nidhi's eyes widened, and she couldn’t take her eyes off me. “Doesn’t that feel awkward?” she asked.
"Do you find it awkward?”
She hesitated, then shook her head. “I don’t know why, but it doesn’t feel awkward to me.” She paused and then said, “You know, when I was with Desai sir, he once told me to think about having sex with Sundeep.”
I shook my head. She had told me about it long ago.
She went on. “He wanted me to compare him with Sundeep and appreciate that he was better. And honestly, he was. But that wasn’t the part that thrilled him the most. He seemed... excited by the idea of me going back to Sundeep, having sex with him, and thinking of Desai sir while I was with Sundeep. He’s a man of fantasies.”
Talking to her was surely lightening my mood. I laughed slowly. “Desai loves to bang committed women. I’ve never heard of him pursuing a single woman.”
Nidhi smirked. “You’re also like him, aren’t you?”
"Why do you think so?" I couldn’t hide my surprise.
Nidhi was staring right into my eyes. “Have you ever had sex with a single woman?”
I felt caught off-guard, but I didn’t look away. I slowly nodded. “No.”
Her lips curved into a sly smile, and I could see the hint of amusement in her eyes.
“What’s that look for?” I asked. “Are you comparing me with Desai now?”
She didn’t answer, just smiled again, this time with a hint of shyness. Her silence left me wondering what was going through her mind. Was she thinking about Desai? Or... was she thinking about me?
"You’re having fun, aren’t you?" I asked.
"Maybe, but you’re also having fun," Nidhi said with a smile.
When Nidhi got up and turned back to exit my office cabin, I couldn’t help but look at her body. Her thin figure and the curve of her beautiful ass caught my eye. For a fraction of a second, I thought about how Desai must have had pleasure with her, making her cry out while he pumped his manhood into her less experienced pussy. The thought made me instantly jealous, and I quickly decided that I had to somehow find out what Desai was going to do with my wife.
Our conversation and Nidhi's idea of watching Desai and Meera at Alpine Heights had gotten into my head. When I got home, I checked its keys.
The apartment at Alpine Heights had a traditional lock which was put during final construction days. unlike our current home with its digital password. There were three keys in total. I set one aside, though unsure of how to plan my next move. With the key, I could surely unlock the door and enter the house. But there was no way I could lock it again from the outside. I had to find a way.
Later, when Meera came home, she asked me if I’d bought the pill. I had completely forgotten.
“I’ll go and get it now,” I said.
“No worries. I knew you’d forget, so I bought it myself,” she said nonchalantly.
Her eagerness to take it was understandable. It was clear she wanted to make sure she’d be protected for the next two days, allowing Desai to finish inside her without worry. The mix of devastation and arousal that surged through me was overwhelming – my wife was preparing herself for Desai.
That night, as I tried to put my arm around Meera, she stopped me.
"Not today, Krish. I'm really tired."
I knew what she meant. She was preserving her body for Desai. Jealousy flared in my chest, but I pushed forward.
“But I’m already up, baby,” I teased, moving her hand to my crotch. She giggled, her fingers closing around my erection through my pants. The overwhelming tension that I had been carrying since the morning had left my dick in a never ending sense of erection.
“Don’t you want to help?” I asked, feeling the tension between us.
"Okay," she said with a soft laugh and slipped her hand inside my pants and briefs. The warmth of her palm was a welcome comfort. I helped her strip away my clothes.
“Mmm, you are up. So hard,” Meera murmured, her voice filled with playful seduction. She began stroking me slowly, and before long, her mouth replaced her hand. Her lips wrapped around me, taking me deep until the tip of my cock grazed the back of her throat. When she pulled back, she licked under it, sending shivers down my spine.
“Aaah…” I moaned, unable to hold it in.
“Love it?” she asked, her voice sultry.
“Yes,” I gasped, barely able to speak.
Meera continued, her rhythm perfect – alternating between sucking and jerking me off. Every motion heightened the tension until I felt myself on the edge.
“I’m going to cum, baby,” I warned her.
Meera didn’t stop. Instead, she opened her mouth, waiting. “Come for me, yes,” she whispered.
When I came, she took me fully into her mouth, swallowing without hesitation. Despite knowing she was preserving her body for Desai, the fact that I could still fill her mouth with my cum, and that she swallowed it all, was a strange and twisted satisfaction.
 
The next morning, when I woke up, Meera was already awake, her arms wrapped around me. She cuddled closer, her face pressed against my neck before she lifted it to kiss my chin.
“I love you, Krish,” she whispered softly, and I felt her sincerity.
In that moment, I felt loved. Despite everything, Meera was still mine. She was trying to make peace with herself, trying to compensate for what she was planning to do with Desai. She did love me – of that I was sure. But the reality of her desires was pushing her toward this encounter. A part of me felt sorry for her, sorry that she couldn’t find complete satisfaction with me. I knew I had disappointed her in bed too many times, and maybe, just maybe, she deserved to experience total satisfaction with Desai or someone else every once in a while.
We had come so far with this open arrangement, both of us having multiple partners. So why was today any different? I wondered. What was there to worry about now?
I kissed her back. “I love you too, honey.”
As we had breakfast, I could sense Meera’s nervousness. She was tense, but I knew exactly why.
That morning, when Meera left for work, she wore a blue A-line dress that fell gracefully close to her ankles. The fabric was soft and silky, catching the light as she moved. It was slightly loose around her waist, yet it gently traced the curves of her body, hinting at her shape without clinging too tightly. The dress swayed lightly with each step, giving her a serene elegance, the kind of effortless beauty that she always pulled off.
Her makeup was minimal, just enough to enhance her features – soft eyeliner, a hint of blush, and a touch of lip gloss. She looked naturally radiant, but I couldn’t help but wonder if her choice of subtle makeup was intentional. She knew she would be meeting Desai later, at Alpine Heights. She would be wary of her makeup getting ruined during their expectedly passionate date at noon. As she smiled, unaware of my thoughts, I knew she was already thinking ahead, knowing exactly what would happen next.
She didn’t look sweet or soft this morning; she looked like a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to take it. Her eyes sparkled, seductive and intoxicating, drawing attention effortlessly.
The thought of Desai taming her in bed later that day crushed me inside. But I couldn’t look away.

chapter to be continued ...