Adultery My wife through the lens of CCTV

[tharkibudda]

Chapter one - Angel Into my life

I'm Manav. I'm 27 years old and work as an accountant for a small company. I grew up in a poor family and somewhat ok in studies. I couldnt afford to go to engineering, so opted for Commerce. I had completed M.Com and moved to Mumbai for work. It's a grind, but it pays the bills. Most of my days are spent in a cubicle, numbers and spreadsheets my only companions. My apartment is a tiny chawl in the heart of the Ghatkopar with 3 roommates but it's home. It's a place to eat, sleep, and occasionally, to escape from the chaos outside.


Soon, my parents started looking for bride. But i was rejected because i was only 5'6", poor, not English medium and not working as an engineer or doctor. It was a constant humiliation for me, especially when my friends started getting married to their beautiful, well-educated brides. I felt like a failure in their eyes.

Then, the miracle happened. They showed me a girl from a very rural part of our area. Her name was Dhristi.  Her parents were poor, and she didn't even have the luxury of completing her education beyond the 12th standard. They couldn't marry her off because of their dire financial situation.

When I saw her, I couldn't believe my eyes. She was only 5'3", petite, and had a raw, untouched beauty that no glammed-up South Bombay girl could ever compete with. Her skin glowed with the warmth of the Indian sun, and her eyes, though cast downward in shyness, sparkled like the stars in a clear night sky. She didn't have the polished English or the fancy degrees, but she had something far more valuable: an innocence and purity that was becoming increasingly rare in this hookup culture world.

The wedding was a simple affair, held in a small village hall. The smell of marigold garlands and sandalwood filled the air as we exchanged our vows. Her family couldn't afford much, so my parents had stepped in to help with the expenses. The jealousy from my relatives was palpable, like a thick fog hanging over the room. They whispered about her background, her education, and her height, but she remained unfazed, a silent storm in the calm demeanor. I felt a strange mix of pride and inadequacy as I held her hand. Pride for marrying someone so beautiful, yet inadequate because I knew I couldn't give her the life she deserved.

That night, in our small, dimly lit room, the reality of our union set in. She was shy, her eyes avoiding mine, as she sat on the bed in her simple white sari, looking like a lost doe in the city lights. I knew I had to be patient, that she was a delicate bloom in a harsh world. I approached her gently, unsure of how to explain the sex she'd been shielded from. Her hands trembled as I touched her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin and the rapid beat of her heart. Her eyes searched mine for reassurance, and I whispered sweet nothings in her ear, hoping to ease her fears.

Leaning in, I brushed my lips against hers, feeling the softness of her mouth. At first, she tensed up, unsure of how to respond. But as my kiss grew more urgent, she began to melt into me. She parted her lips slightly, allowing me to deepen the kiss, and I could taste the sweetness of her innocence. Her breath was shallow, her pulse racing as she tentatively placed her hands on my chest. I knew she was feeling the same passion that was coursing through my veins, even if she didn't know what to do with it.

Her shyness was palpable as I began to unravel the intricate knots of her sari. Each layer revealed more of her smooth, untouched skin, and she shivered beneath my touch. Her eyes darted around the room, seeking escape or perhaps guidance, but I kept my gaze fixed on hers, reassuring her with every tender stroke. Finally, the last of the fabric fell away, leaving her in a simple cotton petticoat and blouse. The lamp danced across her curves, highlighting the contours of her body that had been hidden beneath layers of modesty.

My hands hovered over her blouse strings, unsure of whether to proceed. But she looked up at me, her eyes filled with a silent plea, and I knew she trusted me. With trembling fingers, I began to untie the knot. She took in a sharp breath as the material loosened, and I could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. When the last thread of fabric gave way, I paused, waiting for a sign from her. She nodded, almost imperceptibly, and I gently slid the blouse from her shoulders.

The sight of her bare breasts was nothing short of breathtaking. They were full and firm, the perfect handful, with pinkish brown areolas and erect nipples that begged to be kissed. I marveled at how they contrasted with her small waist, making her seem even more delicate. I leaned in closer, brushing my lips against the soft mounds, feeling her body tense and then relax into me. She whimpered as I took a nipple into my mouth, teasing it gently with my tongue. The sound was like music to my ears, and I felt my desire for her growing with each passing moment.

As I continued to play with her breasts, she began to squirm under my touch, her breathing growing ragged. She was like a bud opening to the first kiss of spring rain. I watched her face, her eyes closed in pleasure, and knew I had to explore further. With trembling hands, I slid my fingers down to the waist of her petticoat, feeling the warmth emanating from her core. She gasped when I touched the strings of her panty, her body jolting with anticipation.

Her moans grew louder as I gently tugged at the fabric, revealing the untouched landscape between her thighs. The sight of her thick, untrimmed bush was surprising yet strangely erotic. It was a stark contrast to the hairless women I'd seen in the porn videos that had been my only sexual education. Her innocence was as tangible as the fabric of her undergarments, and it fueled my desire to claim her, to be the one to introduce her to the pleasures of the flesh.

She was a vision of raw beauty, her curves and lines untouched by the modern world's obsession with perfection. Her plump thighs were scattered with goosebumps, and I felt a primal urge to explore every inch of her. I traced the line of her thighs with my fingers, feeling her quiver as I approached the juncture of her legs. When I reached the soft mound of her pubic hair, I paused, looking up to gauge her reaction. Her eyes were still closed, but she bit her lower lip, a silent invitation for me to continue.

She was wet, her folds glistening with arousal, and I felt a surge of pride that she was responding to my touch. Her breath hitched as the fabric slid down, exposing her to the cool air of the room. I took a moment to appreciate the beauty of her, the pinkness of her lips, the way they swelled and beckoned to me.

Her eyes remained closed as I stepped out of my own clothes, revealing my 4.5 inch cock, standing at attention. It wasn't the largest, but it was mine, and in that moment, it was all that mattered. I knew she had never seen one before, never felt one against her skin. The anticipation was thick between us, a palpable force that seemed to hold its breath.

I laid beside her, my hand caressing her stomach, feeling the muscles tense and relax beneath my touch. I whispered to her, telling her how much I wanted her, how much I cared for her, hoping to ease the fear that was surely coiled in her belly. Slowly, with a gentle firmness, I parted her legs, feeling the softness of her thighs against mine.

Her eyes snapped open as the tip of my cock brushed against her entrance, the reality of what was about to happen crashing over her like a wave. "Nahi, nahi," she gasped, her voice tight with pain as I began to push inside her. Her nails dug into my skin, her body taut as a bowstring. I paused, my heart aching at the sight of her distress, but her eyes, though wet with fear, held a spark of something else. A silent plea for me to continue.

With a deep, shaky breath, I began to move again, inch by agonizing inch, feeling her tightness envelop me. She was so tight, so warm, like nothing I had ever felt before. Her walls clenched around me, a testament to her purity. I could feel her fighting the pain, her body adjusting to the new sensation of being filled.

Her screams grew louder, a symphony of pain and pleasure that seemed to echo through the walls of the small room. Her nails dug deeper into my flesh, leaving red marks that stood out starkly against the pale canvas of my skin. Each thrust was met with a cry that grew more and more desperate, a mix of agony and ecstasy that I found myself craving. I had to remind myself to be gentle, to go slow, to not lose myself in the heat of the moment.

But as the initial pain gave way to something else, something deeper, something primal, I felt her body begin to respond. Her hips began to move with mine, almost imperceptibly at first, but gradually with more urgency. Her legs wrapped around me, pulling me closer, her walls clenching around my cock in a rhythmic dance that was as old as time itself.

I knew I was close, the tension in my body building like a crescendo. But before I could go further, I felt something rise in me, a force that I couldn't control. My eyes widened with the realization that I was about to cum. I wanted to slow down, to savor this moment, but my body had other plans. With a roar that was torn from the very core of my being, I released my seed inside her, filling her with the essence of my passion.

As I rolled off her, she breathed a sigh of relief. The pain of her stretched vagina finally relaxed, and I felt a twinge of guilt for not lasting longer. But her eyes, still filled with a mix of fear and wonder, offered me something more profound than any words could express. It was a silent acknowledgment that she had felt something she had never felt before. She was still a virgin in so many ways, but now she knew the raw power of intimacy, of giving herself to another.

Her skin was slick with sweat, the beads glistening in the dim lamplight. The softness of her body was a stark contrast to the harshness of the world outside. She lay there, a vision of innocence lost and found, her chest rising and falling with each breath. I reached out to brush the damp hair from her forehead, and she leaned into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed again.

For a moment, we lay in silence, our hearts hammering against each other like two wild creatures trapped in a cage. Then she spoke, her voice small and unsure. "Did I do okay?" she whispered, her cheeks flushing a deep red. The question was loaded with insecurity, and I felt a surge of protectiveness. I gathered her into my arms, cradling her against my chest.

"You did more than okay," I murmured, stroking her hair. "You were perfect."

We lay there, our bodies tangled together, the scent of our love-making hanging in the air. The room grew quiet, the only sounds the distant chorus of crickets outside and the steady rhythm of our breathing. Gradually, our hearts slowed, and our bodies cooled. Dhristi's trembles subsided, and she melted into me, her head resting on my chest. Her breathing grew even, and soon she was asleep, her soft snores a gentle melody in the stillness of the night.

The next day, we moved to Mumbai, where I had managed to rent a 1BHK apartment in a slightly better area than my previous abode. The room was small, but it was ours, a sanctuary from the prying eyes of relatives and neighbors. The walls were a fresh coat of white, a stark contrast to the dingy gray of the chawl, and a single window allowed in a beam of sunlight that danced across the floor. It wasn't much, but it was a step up from what we had.