Adultery "Scarlet Temptation: Meera's Awakening as a Woman"?

[amitdivyas940]

Dear Friends,

I am starting a new story after a long time. The story is a work of imagination and pure fiction.

The story will start somewhere in between and then it will unfold how it started. Episode one is a random scene in a story which will build curiosity. 

It will go slow so have patience, don't expect sex scenes easily and frequently. I feel sex is best when it serves with a lot of build up and situation creation. 

You can expect weekly updates as I am a working person and dont have much time. 

You can reach out to me in the comment section with your feedback. 

Happy reading!


Episode-1 

"Its been 2 months since she had a male touch"

It was 5:30 pm, and Meera lingered in her room, wrapped in a sultry haze of anticipation. Her mother, Shalini, knocked sharply, her voice edged with irritation. “Meera, you’ve been primping for hours! It’s your brother’s wedding, our family’s moment to shine. We must join the rituals—what will people whisper if we’re missing? I told you to plan ahead!”
Ramesh, Meera’s father, chuckled warmly, his tone indulgent. “Shalini, let"===her breathe. It’s our last family wedding. Take your time, beta. We’ll take a taxi, and the driver will wait.” Shalini huffed, her exasperation simmering. “You’ve indulged her nonsense since she was a child, Ramesh. She’s 33, a mother!” With a final grumble, she swept out with Ramesh toward the venue.

The wedding was for Raj, Meera’s 25-year-old brother, the family’s charming rogue. At 33, Meera was the eldest, followed by Rashi, 28, wed last year. Raj, her favorite, was showered with love and freedom. To everyone’s shock, the rebel chose an arranged marriage with Sonali, melting into his parents’ wishes. The family buzzed with joy.

Ramesh’s dairy empire made them wealthy, and for Raj’s wedding, they spared no expense. A lavish five-star resort on the city’s edge hosted every relative, the air thick with tradition. Though rich, they clung to customs. Meera, Rashi, and Raj grew up in comfort, guided by gentle parental boundaries—never caged, but never fully wild.

Meera’s husband, Amit, 35, was a government officer with a plain face but a soul that glowed. He worshipped Meera, her family, and his own, the perfect son-in-law. Their arranged marriage, sparked by his sterling reputation, kindled into deep love. Amit was her devotee, granting her every desire. At her parents’ home, she was bound by rules—no daring clothes—but Amit set her free, craving her happiness.

They had two sons: Arav,, and Sameer,. Rashi’s wedding, shadowed by Meera’s pregnancy, left her longing to savor this celebration. She confided in Amit, who smiled. “Go, lose yourself in it. My mom and the nanny will handle the boys. I’ll be home early.” Two months before the wedding, Meera arrived at her parents’ house, a bird unchained. She shopped with a feverish thrill, outshining Raj’s excitement, as if the wedding were hers. Shalini, unimpressed, declared all women must wear traditional attire, dimming Meera’s spark. Still, she vowed to choose her own, one that would smolder.

Married to Amit for a decade, Meera had left her studies to become a homemaker, their affluent families easing her path. Their love deepened, but Amit’s boundless freedom reshaped her. In recent years, especially after Sameer’s birth, she awakened as a woman reborn. At 33, her beauty eclipsed younger rivals. At 5.5 feet, her fair skin shimmered, framed by long black hair, dark eyes that pierced, and lips that beckoned. After her first pregnancy, she softened, but post-Sameer, she carved her body—34C, 32, 36—into a vision of desire, honed by gym sessions, parlor rituals, and luxurious creams.
Her second pregnancy sculpted curves that drew gasps. Her hormones surged, setting her aflame. Men’s stares fueled her, their eyes lingering on her bold outfits. Friends envied her allure; her Instagram posts, dripping with sensuality, racked up thousands of likes, feeding her hunger to be seen.

Glancing at her phone, Meera saw seven missed calls—Raj, Shalini, Amit. “Oh, God,” she purred, having silenced it. She summoned her makeup artist for a final caress of color, then rose to face the mirror, her breath catching at the sight.
She’d chosen a red Maharashtrian saree, its fiery hue igniting her fair skin. Dbangd to tease, it revealed more than it hid, surpassing any western gown. She’d lingered on purpose, knowing Shalini would’ve demanded a tamer choice. The blouse clung tight, a size too small, lifting her curves and offering a glimpse of cleavage that pulsed with promise. At the back, delicate threads barely held it, baring her silken skin. The saree dipped low, grazing her hips, her newly pierced navel glinting with a silver jewel—a secret kept from Amit. Her hair, swept into a bun, exposed her flawless back. She turned, her reflection stirring a wicked blush.





The day before, Meera had slipped into the parlor, emerging polished to perfection. A Brazilian and full-body wax left her skin radiant, every inch smooth save her brows and tresses. Her dark eyes гриме, framed by long lashes, smoldered like embers.

She tugged the saree to veil her back and cleavage, wary of Shalini’s gaze. Pouting at the mirror, she winked, her body thrumming with need. Two months without a man’s touch had left her ravenous. The wedding’s chaos had distracted her, but since her parlor transformation, desire consumed her. Her skin tingled, her curves ached for attention, like a creature in heat, craving a lover’s claim. She was a goddess, ready to set the night ablaze.