Adultery A SOUTH INDIAN WIFE'S -Unspoken Flames

[thirddemodreamer]

Morning sunlight seeped through the curtains, casting a soft golden glow over the bed. Vanitha opened her eyes slowly, glancing at Angith beside her—he slept on his side, his breath steady and deep, a serene smile lingering on his face. Her gaze shifted to the wall clock—8:45. Oh no, it’s late! flashed through her mind. She sprang up, tapping his shoulder gently, "Angith, get up! We’re late!" He stirred, opening his eyes groggily, staring at her for a moment before mumbling, "Mm… okay," and rising. They stumbled out of bed and headed to the suite’s lavish bathroom—glossy white tiles, a large glass counter, and a faint lavender scent refreshing the space.
They brushed their teeth separately, then showered in hot water—the warmth relaxed their bodies, invigorating them. Vanitha dressed in a grey churidar with a black blazer, tying her hair in a neat bun and spritzing a light perfume—her look exuded professional confidence. Angith wore a white shirt and black suit, his face a mix of haste and excitement. They grabbed their bags and boarded pre-arranged vehicles downstairs—Vanitha in a white sedan, Angith in a black SUV. As the cars pulled away, they exchanged a small smile through the windows before heading in opposite directions.
In the car, Vanitha’s phone buzzed—"GM Ambrish" glowed on the screen. She answered respectfully, "Hello, sir." "Vanitha, we’ve got a big client in today’s meeting. Are you well-prepared?" Ambrish asked, a hint of tension in his voice. "Yes, sir. Everything’s ready," she replied firmly, ending the call. A blend of confidence and nerves swirled in her mind as she opened her laptop to review her notes.
The meeting unfolded in a grand conference room—polished wooden tables, large screens, and a subtle coffee aroma filling the air. Mid-session, the company’s MD, George, entered with a major buyer—a man in his fifties, imposing in a black suit, his face set with a stern smile. The room tensed, others eyeing him warily, but Vanitha greeted him with a small smile and launched into her presentation—her voice steady and clear, explaining her plans onscreen, engaging him directly. He scrutinized her, firing sharp questions—her poised responses surprised him. Finally, with a slight nod, he said, "Alright, deal’s on," sparking stunned silence. George beamed at her, pride and amazement in his eyes.
After seeing the buyer off, George offered to drive Vanitha back to the hotel in his sleek black Mercedes. Inside, plush leather seats, a faint perfume scent, and cool AC enveloped her in luxury. Steering, George praised, "Vanitha, what you did today was incredible! No one convinces him that easily. You’ve got a special talent." His voice carried genuine admiration. He asked gently, "How’s your family? Kids doing well in college?"—his tone polite and warm. "A bigger promotion than you expected is guaranteed. I’ll make sure of it," he promised, a small smile playing on his lips. At the hotel entrance, he opened the door for her, saying, "See you soon, Vanitha," before driving off with a subtle wave.
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The Mercedes’ soft engine hum faded as George waved goodbye and departed. Vanitha stood at the hotel entrance, watching the red taillights vanish into the dusk—pride and excitement swelling within her. The evening breeze brushed her face, rustling her grey churidar’s thin fabric. She adjusted her bag, took a deep breath, and walked toward the gleaming glass doors—her heels clicking softly on the stone tiles. At reception, a staff member greeted her with a smile, "Welcome back, madam." She nodded and headed to the elevator—inside, soft white light, a faint floral scent, and background music soothed her.
Entering her room, she opened the door slowly—the dim light bathed the bed in a warm glow, creating a tranquil ambiance. She dropped her bag on the sofa, kicked off her shoes, and went to the bathroom. The glossy tiles cooled her feet—she washed her face with cold water, let her hair fall loose over her shoulders, and slipped into a soft cotton night robe. Its white fabric added a gentle sheen to her skin, subtly tracing her curves. Stretching her arms with a small yawn, she glanced at herself in the mirror—satisfaction in her eyes, a faint smile on her lips. Returning to the room, she sank onto the sofa, grabbed her phone, and called her kids.
"Amma!" their excited voices chimed together. "We won prizes at college today! I got first, Anna got second!" they giggled. Vanitha hugged a pillow to her chest, curling her legs on the sofa, "Super, my darlings! Amma will get you big prizes. Study well," she said lovingly—her voice warm with affection and pride. They chatted a bit before chirping, "Bye, Amma!" and hanging up. Smiling, she called her mother. "Amma, I’m good. Got a big deal at work today," she shared proudly, adjusting her robe’s edges. Her mother blessed her, "So happy, Vanitha. Your dad will be proud too." Their talk drifted to family—laughing over her mom’s cooking and the kids’ antics.
Then, the door creaked open, and Angith stepped in—wearing a grey shirt and black pants, his hair tousled, a day’s fatigue on his face. Seeing her in the night robe on the sofa, a spark flared in his eyes. He shut and locked the door, dropped his bag, and approached— a mischievous grin curling his lips. "Amma, one sec," Vanitha said into the phone, raising a brow at him—surprise and caution flickering on her face. Ignoring her, he sat beside her, parting her robe’s edges, tracing her shoulders softly—his fingers brushing her skin, sparking a shiver. He yanked off his shirt, tossing it aside, pulled her into his arms, and led her to the bed.
The bed’s white sheet lay crumpled—he stripped off her robe, flinging it aside, her naked body gleaming in the faint light. Shedding his pants and briefs, he leaned over her, lips kissing her neck—his breath warming her skin, igniting heat. "Yes, Amma, everything’s fine here," Vanitha said into the phone, squirming slightly under his touch—her voice trembled. His hands parted her thighs, his face moving to her pussy—his lips grazed her, his tongue delving deep. As it moved in a steady rhythm, her body quivered, "Mm… yes, Amma," she replied, a moan slipping out—her breath quickened, hips lifting. His tongue intensified, and she gasped, "Amma, I’ll call later," hanging up and tossing the phone aside. Her body shuddered, "Angith!" she cried, climaxing—breath racing, hands clutching his head, collapsing against him.
He rose, grinning mischievously—satisfaction and playfulness in his eyes. Vanitha glared at him with mock anger, "What’s this, Angith? Starting while I’m on with Amma!" She tapped his chest lightly, a smile hiding on her lips. He laughed, "Couldn’t control myself seeing you like this, Vanitha. You’re too beautiful," teasingly kissing her hand. They chuckled, dressing—Vanitha in a green churidar, tying her hair in a bun; Angith in a blue shirt and black pants, wiping his face with a cloth. "Come, let’s eat," he said. "Okay," she replied with a laugh, joining him to the hotel lawn.