24-04-2025, 01:44 PM
Update 18:
The rain had picked up outside, the droplets now a furious tap dance against the windowpanes. Nazrin knew she had no choice but to accept his offer. She nodded, her voice a barely audible whisper as she felt his hands slip around her waist, guiding her towards the door. The fabric of the chudithar whispered against her skin as she moved, the red lace of her lingerie a silent declaration of the secrets she carried beneath.
Once outside, the cool rain kissed her skin, mingling with the warmth of her desire. The wind whipped her hair around her face, the strands sticking to her cheeks like tiny wet snakes. Professor Srinivasan took her hand, leading her through the deserted college grounds to the parking lot where his motorbike was parked. The bike gleamed under the streetlight, a sleek beast waiting to be ridden.
The engine roared to life, and she felt the vibration between her legs as she climbed on behind him. Her arms wrapped around his waist, her breasts pressing into his back. The rain was a symphony around them, the droplets hitting her skin like tiny bullets of pleasure. She leaned in, her breath hot against his neck, whispering sweet nothings that were anything but innocent.
Srinivasa revved the engine, the sound echoing through the deserted parking lot. He looked over his shoulder, his eyes meeting hers, and she knew that this was it. The moment she had been waiting for, the moment she had dreamed of. Her heart raced, the thrill of the forbidden mixing with the coldness of the rain to form a potent cocktail of desire.
They sped off into the storm, the rain beating down on them like a million tiny fists. The wind whipped through her hair, the coldness of it making her nipples tighten and her skin break out in gooseflesh. She held onto him tighter, her arms wrapped around his waist like a vice. She could feel his warmth through the soaking wet fabric of his shirt, the heat of his body a stark contrast to the coldness that surrounded them. Each bump in the road sent a jolt of pleasure through her, her pussy clenching with every pulse of the bike's engine.
When they reached Nazrin's house, she slid off the bike, her legs wobbly with need. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with desire, and he knew she was his. He handed her the bag his eyes never leaving hers. The rain had plastered her chudithar to her body, the red lace lingerie clearly visible beneath. She took it, her hand brushing against his, and for a moment, it was as if the entire world had stopped.
Muthu and Praveen, soaking wet and looking like two lost pups, appeared at the doorstep, their eyes wide with shock and lust when they saw her. Nazrin's heart raced, the thrill of the unexpected encounter setting her body on fire. She stepped back, her hand shaking slightly, as they stared at her, their eyes hungry for what she had to offer.
Professor Srinivasa took in the scene, his expression darkening. "What are you two doing here?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
Muthu and Praveen looked at each other, their eyes flickering with excitement. "Sir," Muthu began, his voice shaking slightly with a mix of fear and arousal, "we were just walking home, and the rain got too much for us. We thought we could wait it out in Nazrin Mam's house."
Professor Srinivasa's gaze was cold as he looked from the students to Nazrin, who was standing there, soaked and trembling with need. "Nazrin," he said, his voice low and firm, "what's going on here?"
Nazrin took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "Oh, poor boys," she murmured, her voice thick with desire, "the storm caught you off guard, didn't it?" She stepped closer to them, her hand brushing against Praveen's cheek as she spoke. "You can wait inside," she said, handing the house keys. her eyes never leaving Srinivasa's. "I'll just be a minute."
Muthu and Praveen didn't need to be told twice. They rushed into the house, their eyes never leaving Nazrin's soaked form. She watched them go, a wicked smile playing on her lips. She turned back to Professor Srinivasan, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Thank you for bringing me home," she said, her voice a seductive purr. "I'll be right in."
Srinivasa held her hands in his, his gaze dropping to the dark circles of fabric that outlined her breasts. Rainwater had seeped through the material of her blouse, turning the white fabric transparent and revealing the crimson lace beneath. His eyes darkened, and she knew he was thinking of the last time they were alone together, of the way her body had felt under his hands. "Nazrin," he said, his voice thick with desire, "see you tomorrow."
With that, he released her and climbed back onto his bike, the engine purring like a wild beast ready to pounce. He revved it once, twice, and then roared off into the night, leaving Nazrin standing in the rain, feeling more alive than she had in years. She watched him go, the sound of his bike fading into the distance, until she was alone with the pitter-patter of rain and the thundering of her own heart.
Turning to face her house, Nazrin couldn't help but smile. The thought of Muthu and Praveen waiting for her inside, eager and excited, sent a thrill through her body. She could already imagine the look on their faces when she would walk in, drenched and deliciously disheveled, the red of her lingerie stark against the pale white of her blouse. It was a visual feast she knew they wouldn't be able to resist.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the warm embrace of her home, the door shutting out the storm. The sudden change from the cold rain to the warmth of the house made her skin tingle. She could hear their whispers, the low murmurs of excitement that grew louder as they realized she was home.
Muthu and Praveen had made themselves comfortable on the couch, their eyes glued to the TV, but they snapped to attention as she entered the room. They stood up, their eyes widening as they took in her sodden state. The fabric of her blouse clung to her body, revealing the red lace that was a silent declaration of her intentions. The sight of them, so eager and hungry, made her stomach flip with anticipation.
"Ma'am," Muthu breathed, his eyes roving over her, "you look beautiful, drenched in the rain."
Nazrin's heart skipped a beat as she felt the weight of his gaze on her. The warmth of the room was a stark contrast to the coolness of the rain outside, but it was the heat in Muthu's eyes that made her skin feel like it was on fire. She knew she looked like a mess, her hair plastered to her face and her clothes sticking to her body like a second skin. But in that moment, with the two young men staring at her with such raw desire, she felt anything but.
"Ma'am," Praveen's voice was a rough whisper, "you have such a sexy body."
Nazrin rolled her eyes playfully and tossed them towels. "Stop looking like pervs," she scolded, the corners of her mouth curling upwards. "Dry yourselves, I'll freshen up and come."
Muthu and Praveen's cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and excitement as they took the towels. They couldn't help but stare at her as she sailed down the hallway, the fabric of her blouse clinging to her curves like a second skin. The red lace of her lingerie peeked through the damp fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination.
Nazrin retreated to her bedroom, the door clicking shut behind her like a lock sealing a treasure chest. The room was a haven of warmth and solace after the storm outside, the soft glow of the lamp casting a gentle light on the disarray of clothes and books scattered across the floor. She couldn't help but blush as she thought about the day's events, her mind replaying the images of her with her students, the feel of their hands on her body, the heat of their mouths.
As she peeled off the soaking blouse and chudithar, her thoughts drifted to Muthu and Praveen, now just a few feet away, waiting for her. They had touched her, hugged her, and even kissed her before, their young passion leaving her trembling and hungry for more. It was a stark contrast to the coldness of her marriage bed, where Fahim's touch had become as predictable and unexciting as the daily news.
Nazrin slipped into a sleeveless crop top and shorts that ended just below her ass, forgoing the inners that would have provided a barrier between her and the fabric. The material was cool against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine that was anything but unpleasant. She stepped in front of the full-length mirror, her eyes raking over her reflection. Her curves were more pronounced than ever, the fabric clinging to her body like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination.
With a deep breath, she stepped out of the bedroom, expecting to find the boys in the living room. But what greeted her was something she hadn't anticipated. They were both there, standing by the clothesline they had strung across the room, their shirts and pants laid out to dry. Both of them were wearing nothing but short towels that barely covered their waists, their muscled chests glistening with rainwater and the promise of something more.
Praveen looked up, catching her gaze in the mirror. He licked his lips, the hunger in his eyes unmistakable. "Ma'am," he said, his voice thick with desire, "our clothes are too wet."
Nazrin felt a rush of heat to her cheeks, but she didn't look away. Instead, she took a step closer, her eyes lingering on their bare chests, the muscles rippling with every movement. "I see," she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper. "You're right. There's no need to be shy around me."
With that, she walked over to the couch and sat down, her legs crossed demurely. The fabric of her crop top was indeed clinging to her body, revealing the dark circles of her areolae and the hardened peaks of her nipples. She watched as their gazes dropped to her chest, their pupils dilating with lust. It was a heady feeling, one she hadn't felt in a very long time.
The rain had picked up outside, the droplets now a furious tap dance against the windowpanes. Nazrin knew she had no choice but to accept his offer. She nodded, her voice a barely audible whisper as she felt his hands slip around her waist, guiding her towards the door. The fabric of the chudithar whispered against her skin as she moved, the red lace of her lingerie a silent declaration of the secrets she carried beneath.
Once outside, the cool rain kissed her skin, mingling with the warmth of her desire. The wind whipped her hair around her face, the strands sticking to her cheeks like tiny wet snakes. Professor Srinivasan took her hand, leading her through the deserted college grounds to the parking lot where his motorbike was parked. The bike gleamed under the streetlight, a sleek beast waiting to be ridden.
The engine roared to life, and she felt the vibration between her legs as she climbed on behind him. Her arms wrapped around his waist, her breasts pressing into his back. The rain was a symphony around them, the droplets hitting her skin like tiny bullets of pleasure. She leaned in, her breath hot against his neck, whispering sweet nothings that were anything but innocent.
Srinivasa revved the engine, the sound echoing through the deserted parking lot. He looked over his shoulder, his eyes meeting hers, and she knew that this was it. The moment she had been waiting for, the moment she had dreamed of. Her heart raced, the thrill of the forbidden mixing with the coldness of the rain to form a potent cocktail of desire.
They sped off into the storm, the rain beating down on them like a million tiny fists. The wind whipped through her hair, the coldness of it making her nipples tighten and her skin break out in gooseflesh. She held onto him tighter, her arms wrapped around his waist like a vice. She could feel his warmth through the soaking wet fabric of his shirt, the heat of his body a stark contrast to the coldness that surrounded them. Each bump in the road sent a jolt of pleasure through her, her pussy clenching with every pulse of the bike's engine.
When they reached Nazrin's house, she slid off the bike, her legs wobbly with need. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with desire, and he knew she was his. He handed her the bag his eyes never leaving hers. The rain had plastered her chudithar to her body, the red lace lingerie clearly visible beneath. She took it, her hand brushing against his, and for a moment, it was as if the entire world had stopped.
Muthu and Praveen, soaking wet and looking like two lost pups, appeared at the doorstep, their eyes wide with shock and lust when they saw her. Nazrin's heart raced, the thrill of the unexpected encounter setting her body on fire. She stepped back, her hand shaking slightly, as they stared at her, their eyes hungry for what she had to offer.
Professor Srinivasa took in the scene, his expression darkening. "What are you two doing here?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
Muthu and Praveen looked at each other, their eyes flickering with excitement. "Sir," Muthu began, his voice shaking slightly with a mix of fear and arousal, "we were just walking home, and the rain got too much for us. We thought we could wait it out in Nazrin Mam's house."
Professor Srinivasa's gaze was cold as he looked from the students to Nazrin, who was standing there, soaked and trembling with need. "Nazrin," he said, his voice low and firm, "what's going on here?"
Nazrin took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "Oh, poor boys," she murmured, her voice thick with desire, "the storm caught you off guard, didn't it?" She stepped closer to them, her hand brushing against Praveen's cheek as she spoke. "You can wait inside," she said, handing the house keys. her eyes never leaving Srinivasa's. "I'll just be a minute."
Muthu and Praveen didn't need to be told twice. They rushed into the house, their eyes never leaving Nazrin's soaked form. She watched them go, a wicked smile playing on her lips. She turned back to Professor Srinivasan, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Thank you for bringing me home," she said, her voice a seductive purr. "I'll be right in."
Srinivasa held her hands in his, his gaze dropping to the dark circles of fabric that outlined her breasts. Rainwater had seeped through the material of her blouse, turning the white fabric transparent and revealing the crimson lace beneath. His eyes darkened, and she knew he was thinking of the last time they were alone together, of the way her body had felt under his hands. "Nazrin," he said, his voice thick with desire, "see you tomorrow."
With that, he released her and climbed back onto his bike, the engine purring like a wild beast ready to pounce. He revved it once, twice, and then roared off into the night, leaving Nazrin standing in the rain, feeling more alive than she had in years. She watched him go, the sound of his bike fading into the distance, until she was alone with the pitter-patter of rain and the thundering of her own heart.
Turning to face her house, Nazrin couldn't help but smile. The thought of Muthu and Praveen waiting for her inside, eager and excited, sent a thrill through her body. She could already imagine the look on their faces when she would walk in, drenched and deliciously disheveled, the red of her lingerie stark against the pale white of her blouse. It was a visual feast she knew they wouldn't be able to resist.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the warm embrace of her home, the door shutting out the storm. The sudden change from the cold rain to the warmth of the house made her skin tingle. She could hear their whispers, the low murmurs of excitement that grew louder as they realized she was home.
Muthu and Praveen had made themselves comfortable on the couch, their eyes glued to the TV, but they snapped to attention as she entered the room. They stood up, their eyes widening as they took in her sodden state. The fabric of her blouse clung to her body, revealing the red lace that was a silent declaration of her intentions. The sight of them, so eager and hungry, made her stomach flip with anticipation.
"Ma'am," Muthu breathed, his eyes roving over her, "you look beautiful, drenched in the rain."
Nazrin's heart skipped a beat as she felt the weight of his gaze on her. The warmth of the room was a stark contrast to the coolness of the rain outside, but it was the heat in Muthu's eyes that made her skin feel like it was on fire. She knew she looked like a mess, her hair plastered to her face and her clothes sticking to her body like a second skin. But in that moment, with the two young men staring at her with such raw desire, she felt anything but.
"Ma'am," Praveen's voice was a rough whisper, "you have such a sexy body."
Nazrin rolled her eyes playfully and tossed them towels. "Stop looking like pervs," she scolded, the corners of her mouth curling upwards. "Dry yourselves, I'll freshen up and come."
Muthu and Praveen's cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and excitement as they took the towels. They couldn't help but stare at her as she sailed down the hallway, the fabric of her blouse clinging to her curves like a second skin. The red lace of her lingerie peeked through the damp fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination.
Nazrin retreated to her bedroom, the door clicking shut behind her like a lock sealing a treasure chest. The room was a haven of warmth and solace after the storm outside, the soft glow of the lamp casting a gentle light on the disarray of clothes and books scattered across the floor. She couldn't help but blush as she thought about the day's events, her mind replaying the images of her with her students, the feel of their hands on her body, the heat of their mouths.
As she peeled off the soaking blouse and chudithar, her thoughts drifted to Muthu and Praveen, now just a few feet away, waiting for her. They had touched her, hugged her, and even kissed her before, their young passion leaving her trembling and hungry for more. It was a stark contrast to the coldness of her marriage bed, where Fahim's touch had become as predictable and unexciting as the daily news.
Nazrin slipped into a sleeveless crop top and shorts that ended just below her ass, forgoing the inners that would have provided a barrier between her and the fabric. The material was cool against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine that was anything but unpleasant. She stepped in front of the full-length mirror, her eyes raking over her reflection. Her curves were more pronounced than ever, the fabric clinging to her body like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination.
With a deep breath, she stepped out of the bedroom, expecting to find the boys in the living room. But what greeted her was something she hadn't anticipated. They were both there, standing by the clothesline they had strung across the room, their shirts and pants laid out to dry. Both of them were wearing nothing but short towels that barely covered their waists, their muscled chests glistening with rainwater and the promise of something more.
Praveen looked up, catching her gaze in the mirror. He licked his lips, the hunger in his eyes unmistakable. "Ma'am," he said, his voice thick with desire, "our clothes are too wet."
Nazrin felt a rush of heat to her cheeks, but she didn't look away. Instead, she took a step closer, her eyes lingering on their bare chests, the muscles rippling with every movement. "I see," she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper. "You're right. There's no need to be shy around me."
With that, she walked over to the couch and sat down, her legs crossed demurely. The fabric of her crop top was indeed clinging to her body, revealing the dark circles of her areolae and the hardened peaks of her nipples. She watched as their gazes dropped to her chest, their pupils dilating with lust. It was a heady feeling, one she hadn't felt in a very long time.
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