Fantasy Devika, a rich high class housewife, with angel heart
# Scene 1



Morning sunlight filtered through the laboratory windows, casting long rectangles across the polished floor as Devika arranged microscope slides with mechanical precision. Her fingers moved through the familiar routine while her mind remained trapped in yesterday's farmhouse, replaying moments that should have embarrassed her but instead left her skin tingling with remembered sensation—Pathan's hands at her waist, his breath warm against her neck as he lowered the tuck of her saree. She had barely slept, her dreams filled with flashes of studio lights and the click of Vishnu's camera capturing poses she never imagined adopting, especially not with her own students.



The practical class was already underway, students bent over their microscopes with varying degrees of concentration. Devika moved between the benches, offering guidance where needed, though her responses came automatically, her thoughts elsewhere. When the laboratory door opened to admit Vishnu and Pathan, her heart performed a strange little stutter that she immediately attempted to suppress. Their faces were uncharacteristically somber, and they exchanged glances that sent a ripple of unease through her body.



They waited until the other students were absorbed in their work before approaching her desk, their footfalls deliberately quiet on the tiled floor.



"Professor," Vishnu began, his voice low, weighted with apparent disappointment. "I've received feedback from the committee about yesterday's photos."



Devika's fingers tightened around the pen she'd been using to mark attendance. "Already? That was quick."



"They held an emergency review session this morning." Vishnu glanced at Pathan, who nodded confirmation. "I'm afraid it's not good news."



"What do you mean?" Devika asked, her throat suddenly dry. "Did something go wrong with the images?"



"Everything was technically perfect," Vishnu assured her, sliding onto a stool opposite her desk. "The lighting, the composition, the technical aspects were all praised. But..." He hesitated, his expression carefully arranged to convey reluctant messenger rather than architect of whatever was coming next.



"But what?" Devika pressed, aware of Pathan hovering nearby, his eyes studying her face with unusual intensity.



"They're going to reject the proposal," Vishnu said flatly. "The contract—the twenty-five lakhs—it's all going to fall through unless we make significant changes."



The figure echoed in Devika's mind—fifteen lakhs for her portion alone, financial independence that had seemed within reach just yesterday. "I don't understand. You said the photos were perfect."



"Perfect technique," Vishnu clarified. "But they said we didn't utilize you properly. The committee felt there was no real... intimacy in the photos."



"No intimacy?" Devika repeated, heat rising to her cheeks. "But we were embracing, your hands were on my waist, we were—" She stopped, suddenly conscious of how inappropriate this conversation was in the laboratory, though thankfully no students seemed to be paying attention.



"I know," Vishnu sighed, running a hand through his hair in apparent frustration. "I showed them everything. The walking together, the hugging, even the shots where Pathan lowered your saree tuck slightly. They acknowledged you were beautiful, exactly the type of model they wanted, but said the poses were just... couple photos."



"What else would they be?" Devika demanded, confusion mingling with indignation. "Isn't that what they asked for?"



Vishnu leaned closer, lowering his voice further. "Apparently, I misunderstood the brief. They weren't looking for just any couple. The campaign's theme is more specific—they want to portray a young, married, lonely wife having an affair."



"An affair?" Devika echoed, the word feeling strange on her tongue.



"Yes," Vishnu confirmed. "They want more than just love—they want to see love mixed with lust, forbidden desire. A married woman surrendering to passion outside her marriage. The photos need to convey that transgression, that abandonment of propriety."



Devika's breath caught in her throat, the implications washing over her like hot water. "You're saying they want more explicit poses."



"Much more," Pathan interjected, speaking for the first time. "The committee was very clear. They want the kind of intimacy that suggests a real affair, not just models posing."



Devika stared at them both, her mind racing. She had already gone far beyond what she'd initially imagined, had allowed her student to partially undress her, to touch her in ways that crossed professional boundaries. What more could they possibly want?



"I already exposed my navel," she said, her voice pitched low with indignation. "I allowed Pathan to put his hands on my waist. He even lowered my saree tuck. What else could they possibly expect?"



Vishnu shook his head, his expression a mask of regret. "I know, Professor. You've already done more than we had any right to ask. That's why I've decided to drop the project."



"Drop it?" The words felt like stones in her mouth.



"Yes," Vishnu confirmed. "We can't ask you to go further than you already have. It wouldn't be right. You're our professor, not a professional model accustomed to these demands."



His apparent consideration, his willingness to abandon the project rather than push her further, struck Devika as both touching and frustrating. The fifteen lakhs that had seemed within her grasp was slipping away, and with it the financial independence she craved.



"What exactly would be required?" she heard herself ask, the words emerging before she could reconsider.



Vishnu and Pathan exchanged a glance that contained volumes of unspoken communication. "More intimate poses," Vishnu said carefully. "The kind that suggest real passion, real... desire."



"You mean kissing," Devika stated flatly, not a question.



"Among other things," Pathan confirmed, his eyes never leaving her face. "But as Vishnu said, we respect you too much to ask that. We'll find another way, another project."



A war raged inside Devika's chest—propriety battling desire, financial need wrestling with professional boundaries. She had already crossed lines she never imagined crossing; would a few more steps really make such a difference? And fifteen lakhs was fifteen lakhs—enough to transform her precarious financial situation into something stable, secure.



"You haven't done anything wrong," she said finally, the decision crystallizing within her even as she spoke. "Everything that's happened has been with my permission. No one has been hurt."



Hope flickered across Vishnu's face, quickly masked. "That's kind of you to say, Professor, but—"



"We can't give up on this contract," Devika interrupted, surprising herself with her firmness. "Not when we've already come this far."



"Are you saying...?" Pathan began, leaving the question deliberately unfinished.



"I'm saying we should focus on making the photoshoot work," Devika clarified, already rationalizing this new boundary she was preparing to cross. "If the committee needs more... convincing intimacy, then we'll provide it."



The triumph that flashed between Vishnu and Pathan was barely concealed, so quick that had Devika not been watching closely, she might have missed it entirely. In that moment, she understood with perfect clarity that she was being manipulated, guided step by step toward their desired outcome. Yet knowing this didn't stop her—if anything, it added a layer of perverse excitement to her decision.



"We'll make this work," Vishnu said, his voice suddenly energized. "Same time today? Four o'clock at the farmhouse?"



Devika nodded, already wondering what new boundaries would be crossed, what new territories would be explored in the name of art, of commerce, of fifteen lakhs that seemed to justify everything.



"Four o'clock," she confirmed, turning back to her notes as the young men retreated, their mission accomplished, their prize secured for another day.





# Scene 2





The farmhouse appeared unchanged from yesterday, its weathered exterior revealing nothing of the boundaries that had been crossed within its walls. Devika parked her scooter beside Vishnu's motorcycle, the familiar arrangement creating an illusion of routine that belied the extraordinary nature of their encounters. Her hand rose unconsciously to her neck, fingers brushing against the thin gold chain of her mangalsutra—the symbol of her marriage to Anand, who remained distant in Dubai, both physically and emotionally. She hadn't removed it for the previous photoshoot, hadn't even considered it relevant. Today, somehow, its presence felt heavier, more significant, as if it were aware of the transgressions she was contemplating.



Vishnu opened the door before she could knock, his eager smile betraying the anticipation he'd likely felt since their conversation in the laboratory that morning.



"You came," he said, as if there had been genuine doubt.



"I said I would," Devika replied, stepping past him into the now-familiar impromptu studio. The white backdrop paper curved seamlessly from wall to floor, softboxes positioned to eliminate shadows, to reveal everything in unforgiving clarity.



"Same preparation as yesterday," Vishnu instructed, gesturing toward the partitioned corner that served as her changing area. "Tight saree wrap, sleeveless blouse, high heels."



Devika nodded, accepting the directive with surprising ease. Yesterday's hesitation had dissolved, replaced by a strange resignation—perhaps even anticipation—for what was to come. She selected a deep green silk saree from her bag, its gold border glinting in the studio lights as she disappeared behind the partition.



As she changed, she heard the murmur of male voices from the main room—Vishnu and Pathan discussing something in tones too low to distinguish. Their words carried the rhythm of disagreement, though no voices were raised. When she emerged, tightly wrapped in the green silk that clung to every curve, the gold sandals adding inches to her height, she found the atmosphere subtly altered.



Vishnu stood shirtless beside the white backdrop, wearing only jeans riding low on his hips. Pathan held the camera, adjusting settings with the focused attention of someone deliberately avoiding eye contact.



"There's been a change in plans," Vishnu announced, his bare chest gleaming under the studio lights. "I'll be the male model today. Pathan will handle the photography."



Devika's eyes shifted between them, noting the tight set of Pathan's jaw, the barely concealed triumph in Vishnu's stance. "Why the change?" she asked, though she already suspected the answer had little to do with the committee's preferences and everything to do with the young men's desire to touch her.



"The committee suggested using multiple male models," Vishnu explained smoothly. "They want to see how you interact with different partners. It helps sell the concept of the affair more convincingly."



Pathan looked up from the camera, his expression carefully neutral. "Different chemistry with different men," he added, his voice flat. "More variety for them to choose from."



Devika nodded slowly, accepting the explanation without necessarily believing it. She suspected the young men had some arrangement between them—perhaps taking turns in the coveted role of touching their professor under the guise of art.



"Fine," she said, moving toward the backdrop. "Let's begin."



She took her position, prepared for the usual instructions about walking or posing, but Pathan's attention had fixed on her neck, on the thin gold chain that held the small pendant.



"Your mangalsutra," he said suddenly, a new idea visibly forming behind his eyes. "We should incorporate it."



"My mangalsutra?" Devika's hand flew to her neck, fingers curling protectively around the symbol of her marriage. "Why?"



"The theme is a married woman having an affair," Pathan explained, his voice gaining confidence as he developed the concept. "What better way to emphasize that than by making her marriage symbol part of the seduction?"



Devika felt her breath catch, a mixture of shock and something darker, more complicated, flowing through her veins. Using her mangalsutra in these provocative photos seemed a step beyond what she had already agreed to—not just posing intimately with her students but actively involving her marriage in the performance.



She hesitated, thoughts of Anand flashing through her mind—his emotional distance even before his physical departure for Dubai, the increasing rarity of his calls, the perfunctory nature of their conversations when they did speak. The mangalsutra around her neck sometimes felt like the only evidence that she was, indeed, married.



"Alright," she heard herself say, the decision feeling like stepping off a cliff into open air. "We can use it."



The gleam in Vishnu's eyes intensified, his gaze dropping to the slender chain with newfound interest, as if seeing it—truly seeing it—for the first time. "Perfect," he breathed.



Pathan positioned himself behind the camera, his disappointment at the role change apparently forgotten in the excitement of this new transgression. "First pose," he directed. "Vishnu, pull her toward you by the mangalsutra."



They stood facing each other, Devika and Vishnu, professor and student, separated by propriety that grew thinner with each passing moment. Vishnu's hand rose slowly to her neck, his fingers brushing against her skin before capturing the thin gold chain. His eyes never left hers as he wrapped the chain around his finger and pulled gently, drawing her closer with inexorable pressure.



Devika allowed herself to be drawn forward, her neck arching toward him as the chain tightened slightly. She parted her lips, remembering they were supposed to be portraying lust, and found the expression came more naturally than she had expected. Her body responded to the gentle tension around her neck, to the sense of being claimed by this pull on her marriage symbol.



"Good," Pathan murmured from behind the camera. "Now arch more toward him, like you're hungry for him."



She complied, leaning further into the pull, her chest brushing against Vishnu's bare skin. The contact sent a jolt through her body—the heat of him, the surprising firmness of his muscles beneath smooth skin, so different from Anand's softer frame.



"Perfect," Pathan breathed, the camera clicking rapidly. "Now, Vishnu, grab the mangalsutra in one hand and hug her waist with the other."



Vishnu released the tension on the chain only to capture the pendant between his fingers, holding it like a trophy while his other arm wrapped around Devika's waist. His palm spread across the bare skin of her back where her blouse ended, fingers pressing into flesh that had known only her husband's touch for years.



Devika watched his eyes widen slightly at the sensation—the softness of her skin, the warmth that radiated through his fingertips. She felt his indrawn breath, saw the flare of his nostrils, recognized the signs of masculine appreciation with a flutter of feminine pride.



"Look into each other's eyes," Pathan directed. "Maam, give him an annoyed look—like you're bothered by his presumption in touching your mangalsutra, but not enough to stop him."



Devika narrowed her eyes, summoning an expression of irritation that felt like playacting even as it appeared genuine. How strange, she thought, to be directed to perform emotions in this context—as if they were actors in a film rather than professor and student engaged in increasingly inappropriate contact.



"Now," Pathan continued, his voice taking on a husky quality, "Vishnu, hold the mangalsutra pendant between your teeth. Give a wicked smile. Professor, look shocked, like this crosses a line."



Vishnu lowered his head, capturing the small pendant between his teeth. The action brought his face close to her chest, his breath warm against her skin through the thin fabric of her blouse. He looked up at her from this position, eyes gleaming with undisguised pleasure at the transgression, at the symbolism of her marriage token caught between his teeth.



Devika didn't need to fake her shock—the sight of her student with her mangalsutra between his teeth sent a genuine bolt of alarm through her body. This was a boundary she hadn't anticipated crossing, a use of her marriage symbol that felt sacrilegious even within the context of their already inappropriate arrangement.



"Perfect reaction," Pathan praised, the camera clicking continuously. "Now, Vishnu, move behind her. Pull her mangalsutra from behind while she tries to move away."



Vishnu released the pendant from his teeth and circled behind her, his movements fluid with newfound confidence. He gathered the chain in his fingers, pulling back gently as Devika leaned forward, creating tension between them—her body straining away while the mangalsutra held her captive.



The symbolism wasn't lost on any of them—her marriage binding her even as she pretended to seek escape. The chain pressed against her neck, not painfully but with enough pressure to remind her constantly of its presence, of its meaning, of the boundaries they were demolishing with each new pose.



"Now hold it with your teeth," Pathan instructed, his voice dropping lower. "Pull her back against you with your hands on her waist."



Vishnu gathered the chain between his teeth, using the gentle pressure to guide her back against his chest. His hands found her waist, fingers spreading possessively across her midriff, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh above her navel where the saree left her exposed.



Devika felt the heat of him all along her back, the press of his bare chest against her blouse, his breath on her neck as he held her mangalsutra between his teeth. The intimate position—his body curved around hers, her marriage symbol captured in his mouth—sent confused waves of shame and excitement coursing through her veins.



"Hold that," Pathan breathed, the camera clicking rhythmically. "Perfect tension."



And tension there was—not just in the arch of her body or the pull of the chain, but in the atmosphere surrounding them, charged with unspoken desire and the thrill of transgression that grew with each new boundary they crossed.





# Scene 3



"Maam, next will be more intimate than this," Pathan announced, lowering the camera briefly. "We need a few kissing shots." The words hung in the air between them, heavier than they should have been given how far they had already gone. Devika's lips tingled with phantom sensation—not of Vishnu's mouth, which had yet to touch hers, but of Ramlal's—the security guard who had introduced her to the pleasure of real kissing just days before. How strange that she should be contemplating her second kiss in years with another man who was not her husband, this time her own student. The transgression seemed both greater and somehow less significant after everything that had already transpired between them.



"Kissing?" she repeated, the single word emerging more breathless than she'd intended.



"For authenticity," Vishnu added quickly, still standing close behind her, the warmth of his bare chest radiating against her back. His fingers had released her mangalsutra, but remained hovering near her neck, as if reluctant to break contact entirely.



Devika swallowed, considering the proposition. She had already crossed so many lines—allowing Pathan's hands on her waist yesterday, permitting Vishnu to pull her by her mangalsutra today. What difference would lips against lips make in this cascade of broken boundaries?



"I'm ready," she said, the decision made even as uncertainty lingered in her voice.



Pathan nodded, his expression difficult to read—disappointment at not being the one to kiss her, perhaps, or anticipation of capturing the moment when his friend's mouth met their professor's. "Vishnu, hold one end of the mangalsutra dollar with your teeth. Maam, you hold the other end with yours. Face each other in a hugging position."



Vishnu moved to stand before her, his arms encircling her waist with newfound confidence. He gathered the pendant of her mangalsutra—the small gold disk that symbolized her married status—and raised it to his mouth, capturing one edge between his teeth. The gold gleamed against the whiteness of his smile, a startling contrast that emphasized the sacrilege of what they were doing.



Devika leaned forward, her heart hammering against her ribs. The pendant was small, barely large enough for both of them to hold simultaneously. She opened her mouth, taking the opposite edge between her teeth, immediately aware of how close this brought their lips—mere millimeters apart, their breath mingling in the narrow space between them.



Vishnu's eyes locked with hers, dark and intent, communicating something beyond the pretense of the photoshoot. His arms tightened around her waist, drawing her closer until their bodies pressed together from chest to thigh. The pendant between their teeth forced an intimacy that made Devika's pulse quicken—their lips so close they brushed accidentally with the slightest movement, the warmth of his breath washing over her face, carrying the faint scent of paan he must have chewed earlier.



"Perfect," Pathan murmured, the camera clicking rapidly. "Hold that tension. Let me capture the anticipation."



Tension was certainly the right word. Devika felt every point of contact between them with heightened sensitivity—Vishnu's hands splayed across her lower back, his chest firm against her breasts, his thighs pressing against hers through the silk of her saree. But most acutely, she felt the near-touch of their lips, the slight pressure where they occasionally brushed as one of them adjusted their grip on the pendant.



"Now stay completely still," Pathan directed. "I want to capture this exact moment—the edge of surrender."



They remained frozen, connected by the small gold disk between their teeth, by the heat of their bodies pressed together, by the growing charge in the air between them. Devika felt Vishnu's heartbeat accelerate against her chest, matching the quickening rhythm of her own.



"Next," Pathan continued after several long moments, "Devika, keep holding the dollar between your teeth. Vishnu, release it and lick the other end of the dollar while she holds it."



Vishnu released the pendant carefully, ensuring Devika maintained her grip on it with her teeth. Then, with deliberate slowness, he extended his tongue, pink and slightly rough-looking, toward the gold disk suspended from her mouth. The first contact of his tongue against the metal sent a strange jolt through Devika's body—the knowledge that he was tasting something that had hung against her skin every day, that had rested between her breasts, that symbolized her connection to another man.



His tongue traced the circular edge of the pendant, occasionally brushing against her lips where they held it, each fleeting contact sending sparks dancing along her nerve endings. His eyes never left hers, watching her reaction to this intimate violation of her marriage symbol.



"Maam, you can release your mangalsutra now," Pathan said after capturing several shots of this tableau. "For the next pose, Vishnu will kiss you on the cheek—firmly—while you pretend to avoid his attention."



Devika let the pendant fall from her teeth, grateful for the momentary respite from the intensity of their near-kiss. But before she could fully recover, Vishnu's hands were cradling her face, turning it slightly away from him as if she were attempting to escape his advances.



"Resist me," he whispered, his voice carrying a hint of playfulness despite the charged atmosphere. "But not too much."



She tensed her neck muscles, creating genuine resistance against his guiding hands, playing her part in this performance of reluctant desire. Vishnu leaned in, pressing his lips against her cheek with unexpected firmness. Rather than the light touch she had anticipated, he kissed her hard, his lips parting slightly to suck at her skin. One hand moved to the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair to hold her in place as his mouth worked against her cheek with surprising intensity.



"Good," Pathan encouraged, circling them with the camera. "Vishnu, more passion. Maam, more struggle."



Vishnu responded immediately, his kiss becoming more aggressive, teeth grazing her skin as he moved from her cheek toward her jawline. Devika twisted in his grasp, not entirely acting now as she tried to evade the unexpected intensity of his attention. His hold tightened, refusing to allow her escape, his mouth hot and demanding against her skin.



When he finally released her, Devika's cheek glistened with his saliva, the skin slightly reddened from the pressure of his lips and teeth. She raised a hand to the spot, feeling the lingering warmth, the slight tenderness.



"Perfect chemistry," Pathan praised, lowering the camera briefly. "Now we need a short video segment. Vishnu, I want you to try kissing her all over her face while she attempts to evade you. Both of you should deliver dialogue that suggests an affair—the tension between desire and reluctance."



Devika's heart raced at the prospect. This was moving beyond posed photographs into something that would capture their voices, their movements, the reality of their interaction rather than just frozen moments.



"Action," Pathan called after adjusting the camera settings.



Before Devika could prepare herself, Vishnu's mouth was on hers—not her cheek as she had expected, but directly on her lips, firm and insistent. The shock of the contact paralyzed her momentarily, her mind registering that this was only the second man to kiss her lips in years, the first being Ramlal with his paan-sweetened mouth. Vishnu's kiss held the same hint of paan, but with a youthful eagerness that Ramlal's had lacked.



When she failed to respond immediately, Vishnu moved on, his lips trailing across her cheek, down to her neck, up to her forehead, her eyelids, the tip of her nose—raining kisses across her face with apparent hunger. Devika twisted in his grasp, attempting to evade his mouth as directed, but his hands held her firmly, one at her waist, the other cupping the back of her head.



"Ah, sexy Kerala dear," Vishnu murmured between kisses, his voice dropping to a husky register she had never heard from him in class. "I can't resist kissing you."



Remembering they were supposed to be acting, Devika pushed against his chest. "No, please leave me," she protested, though the words lacked conviction even to her own ears.



"How can I leave such beauty?" Vishnu countered, his dialogue sounding rehearsed yet somehow genuine in its appreciation. His eyes held hers for a moment before he descended again, pressing kisses along her jawline. "Just leave your stupid husband and come to me. I'll worship your beauty."



The mention of her husband—even in this scripted exchange—sent a complicated pang through Devika's chest. Before she could respond, Vishnu's lips were on hers again, more insistent this time, pressing and moving against her mouth with deliberate skill. This time, she didn't resist, allowing her lips to soften beneath his, to respond to the gentle pressure.



"Yes," she heard herself say when they parted, the line emerging without conscious thought. "My husband is a dumb ass."



"Cut!" Pathan called, his voice sounding strained. "That was... perfect. Got it in one take."



Vishnu released her slowly, his hands lingering at her waist. His saliva glistened on her face, marking the trail of his kisses across her skin. There was something possessive in his gaze as he surveyed his handiwork—her flushed cheeks, her slightly parted lips, the moisture his mouth had left behind.



"One more video segment," Pathan announced, adjusting the camera angle. "Vishnu, carry maam on your hips, facing front, and kiss her while standing."



Devika felt a flash of alarm. Sitting on her student's lap seemed a step beyond even the kisses they had just shared, a position too intimate, too explicitly sexual to maintain the pretense of artistic purpose.



"I'm wearing a saree," she objected, gesturing to the tightly wrapped garment. "I can't possibly—"



"Maam, just raise your saree a bit and try to climb," Pathan suggested, already repositioning the lights. "Vishnu will help you."



Before she could protest further, Vishnu's arms were around her waist, his face close to hers. "Jump a little," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear. "I'll catch you."



With trembling fingers, Devika gathered the fabric of her saree, raising it to mid-thigh. The exposure of her legs felt almost more intimate than the kisses they had shared—these limbs that had been hidden beneath modest dbanging suddenly visible to both young men's appreciative gaze.



Taking a deep breath, she gave a small hop as Vishnu's hands gripped her waist, lifting her with surprising strength. She wrapped her legs around his hips instinctively, seeking stability in this precarious position. His hands shifted to support her, one arm around her waist, the other cupping her bottom through the saree to hold her steady.



"Action," Pathan called, his voice thick with an emotion Devika couldn't quite identify.



"You're so hot, maam," Vishnu began, his face inches from hers, his body supporting her weight with ease. "I feel great carrying you on my hips like this."



Devika felt the hardness of him pressing against her through the thin layers of fabric, unmistakable evidence of his arousal. The realization sent heat flooding through her body, pooling low in her belly with unexpected intensity.



"I'm fed up with my husband," she replied, falling into the role with surprising ease. "He doesn't know how to carry me like this. You're a real man."



The words were meant to be part of their performance, but as they left her lips, Devika realized they carried a kernel of truth. Anand had never held her this way, had never looked at her with the hunger she now saw in Vishnu's eyes.



Without warning, Vishnu's mouth captured hers again, not the tentative press of earlier but an open-mouthed, devouring kiss that sought entrance rather than merely contact. His tongue pushed against her closed lips, demanding access that she hesitated to grant.



"Oh maam, such sexy lips," he murmured against her mouth, his voice no longer performing but genuinely appreciative.



Something in his tone, in the reverent way he said "maam" even while holding her wrapped around his hips, broke through her resistance. Devika parted her lips, allowing his tongue to slip inside, to explore the warm wetness of her mouth. The taste of paan was stronger now, mingling with something uniquely his, creating a flavor that should have repelled her but instead sent waves of pleasure cascading through her body.



Vishnu kissed her deeply, thoroughly, his technique betraying experience beyond his years. His tongue tangled with hers, exploring, tasting, claiming. Unlike Ramlal's hesitant, grateful kisses, Vishnu's held a confident demand, as if he knew exactly what he wanted and expected her to provide it.



When they finally broke apart, Devika was breathless, her lips swollen from the pressure of his mouth. Pathan was applauding softly, the camera apparently forgotten in his hands as he watched their exchange with undisguised fascination.



"Perfect," he managed, clearing his throat. "That's exactly what the committee will want to see."



Vishnu lowered her slowly to the ground, his hands lingering at her waist as if reluctant to break contact. Devika straightened her saree with trembling fingers, suddenly aware of how far they had gone, of boundaries crossed that could never be uncrossed.



Yet as she met Vishnu's eyes, saw the mixture of triumph and genuine desire reflected there, she couldn't summon regret. This journey she had begun—from proper professor to willing participant in increasingly intimate encounters—felt not like a descent but like an awakening, a discovery of parts of herself long dormant beneath layers of propriety and expectation.



The photoshoot continued, but something fundamental had shifted—the pretense growing thinner with each pose, each touch, each kiss exchanged not just for the camera but for the pleasure they found in one another.
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RE: Devika, a rich high class housewife, with angel heart - by prady12191 - 20-07-2025, 10:24 PM



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