Adultery Sakshi's Universe

[yodam69420]

That night, the house was dim. The rain had passed, but left behind a cool dampness in the walls. The windows were shut, but the scent of wet earth still crept in. Outside, puddles shimmered under dim streetlight, and frogs croaked from somewhere in the garden. Sakshi stood in the bathroom, the door latched behind her. In her hand was the pale green panty—the one Ramu had used. It felt heavier than it looked.

She stared at it under the yellow bathroom light. The darkened patch was still visible, faint now, but still there. Her breath hitched as she brought it closer, holding it like something sacred and obscene at once.
He came for me. While thinking about me. With my scent.
She slipped out of her regular panties and stepped into his. The fabric was cold at first, then warm as it clung to her heat. She pulled it up slowly, closing her eyes. His smell hit her like a wave—salt, musk, an echo of lust.
A moan escaped her throat, low and helpless. Her thighs tightened.
She turned off the light and walked to the bedroom, careful not to wake her son, who was curled up near the foot of the bed, one tiny arm flung across his teddy bear. Murugan lay already under the sheet, one arm behind his head, scrolling lazily on his phone with a faint smile on his face.
"You're late today," he said, not looking up.
"Had to wash up," she murmured, crawling in beside him, pulling the sheet over herself. Her body was tense, aware of every inch of skin pressed into the mattress.
He turned his head, giving her that lazy grin he thought was sexy. "You smell different. What soap did you use?"
Sakshi's heart hammered. "Just... sandal soap. New one. The bar Meena gave me."
He reached under the sheet to touch her hip, fingers sliding along her inner thigh.
She stiffened. The feeling of his touch felt foreign tonight. Out of place.
"Tired," she whispered quickly. "The rain... the baby didn’t nap. I’ve been up since 5. My back’s killing me."
"Okay, okay," Murugan chuckled. "Just wanted a kiss. Missed you, that’s all."
She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, forcing a smile, then rolled to face away. Her breath came shallow, trapped in her chest.
Murugan turned off the light. The room fell into darkness, save for the soft flicker from outside. One distant rumble of thunder lingered like a warning.
But inside her, the night had just begun.

Her legs rubbed together, feeling the damp warmth of the stolen panties against her pussy. Her hand stayed under the sheet, sliding down slowly until her palm cupped herself. Her clit pulsed beneath the cotton.
Ramu.
In her mind, his sleeping body returned. The exposed cock. The thickness. The faint throb she imagined it made in his hand. She remembered the shape under the lungi. The raw masculinity. The age. The fact that he didn’t need to beg or chase—he just existed, and it ignited her.
She pictured him awake now. Standing behind her. His hand under her nightie. His breath on her neck. Teeth grazing her shoulder. Whispering her name like a prayer and a curse.
Her fingers moved. Small circles. Slow pressure. She bit the edge of the sheet to keep quiet, her thighs squeezing together, trapping her palm between.
Murugan shifted beside her. She froze, breath caught in her throat. The edge of fear twisted deliciously inside her.
He turned. Snored. Slept.
She resumed.
You filthy old man... you used me. Touched my scent. Came for me. Wanted me. You couldn’t help yourself. And I can’t either.
The orgasm built faster than she expected. It rolled up from her thighs, curling into her belly, pulling her deeper. She imagined Ramu watching her from the foot of the bed, stroking himself, his eyes filled with hunger. Or maybe he was touching himself right now, just down the hall, knowing she was doing the same.
She came in silence, mouth open but voiceless, waves crashing through her body like a storm surge. Her thighs trembled. Her toes curled. Her body arched in the dark, and still, her husband slept beside her.
She lay still for minutes after, soaking in the shame, the heat, the thrill. Her fingers wet. Her chest rising and falling fast. Her mind refusing to come back down.
Beside her, her husband snored, oblivious.
But inside her, the fire belonged to someone else now.
And he had never even touched her.
Her hand moved to her belly, then to the waistband of the stolen panties. She pressed the damp cotton against her clit one last time.
Tomorrow, she thought, I’ll leave another pair out. Maybe the red lace one. Let’s see if he likes red.
She closed her eyes.
And in her dreams, it was not Murugan’s arms around her—but Ramu’s.