19-08-2025, 05:21 PM
Chapter 37: Golden Tethers
The office days stretched with a mix of routine and simmering tension, Nivi's presence a constant draw, her kurtis hugging her breasts just enough to tease, leggings clinging to her hips, ass swaying with a subtle power that turned heads. Raghavan's absence lingered like a shadow, his brief calls—voice low, promising "soon"—leaving her body warm but unsatisfied. Fuck, his hold's strong even gone, she thought, thighs brushing as she worked. But Mohan's requests grew constant, his sly charm chipping at her resolve.
"Nivi, let me drop you—roads are dark," he'd say after overtime, eyes on her ass, voice casual but insistent.
At first, she resisted—careful, Raghavan's ownership anchoring her. But the days wore on, and she stumbled, accepting with conditions.
"Fine, but not near home—neighbors talk," she said one evening, voice firm but teasing, ass swaying as she walked to his car. Fuck, allowing this—his eyes hungry, but I control the limits, she thought, her body tingling, thighs pressing together in the passenger seat.
The drops started silent, generic—work chat, weather, nothing deep. Mohan drove steady, eyes flicking to her thighs, her breasts, but keeping hands on the wheel.
"Good day?" he'd ask, voice low, playful. "Always," she'd purr, voice sultry, indirect, turning to let her hip shift, a subtle tease. Fuck, this silence—building something, but safe, she thought, her body warming, ass shifting on the seat. Raghavan's mine, but Mohan's company... fills the gap, sparks my fire without burning.
Few drops passed like that—quiet talks, his glances bolder, her responses teasing but guarded. Then one evening, he stopped at a shop, "Quick delivery," he said, returning with a small box, handing it to her.
"Open at home—alone." His voice was naughty, eyes on her lips, then her hips. Fuck, a gift? Excited... scared, she thought, clutching the box, pussy tingling faintly. What's inside? Mohan's move, but Raghavan's hold... I shouldn't, but curiosity's hot.
That night, alone in her room, kids asleep, Nivi opened the box, heart racing. Inside—a gold thin anklet, the exact model she'd eyed online, saving slow after debts, dreaming of it on her ankle, accentuating her legs. Fuck, how did he know? Perfect, delicate—gold on my "thundery" thighs, she thought, a naughty thrill mixing with fear. Mohan found out somehow—overheard? Sneaked a look? It's bold, claiming, but... flattering.
Her body warmed, ass shifting as she imagined wearing it, teasing eyes.
Next day, she didn't wear it, but cornered Mohan in private during "help" with files, his eyes on her legs. "The anklet—how'd you know?" she asked, voice soft but probing, leaning close, breasts pressing her kurti subtly.
He grinned, voice low, naughty. "Overheard you mentioning it—saving for it. Your legs... gorgeous, holding those thundery thighs, deserve gold." His eyes traced her thighs, ass, implying more. Fuck, he overheard—sneaky, but hot, she thought, her body tingling, ass shifting. "Thanks, Mohan—it's... thoughtful," she said, voice teasing, indirect, a subtle approval that lit his eyes.
Continues...
The office days stretched with a mix of routine and simmering tension, Nivi's presence a constant draw, her kurtis hugging her breasts just enough to tease, leggings clinging to her hips, ass swaying with a subtle power that turned heads. Raghavan's absence lingered like a shadow, his brief calls—voice low, promising "soon"—leaving her body warm but unsatisfied. Fuck, his hold's strong even gone, she thought, thighs brushing as she worked. But Mohan's requests grew constant, his sly charm chipping at her resolve.
"Nivi, let me drop you—roads are dark," he'd say after overtime, eyes on her ass, voice casual but insistent.
At first, she resisted—careful, Raghavan's ownership anchoring her. But the days wore on, and she stumbled, accepting with conditions.
"Fine, but not near home—neighbors talk," she said one evening, voice firm but teasing, ass swaying as she walked to his car. Fuck, allowing this—his eyes hungry, but I control the limits, she thought, her body tingling, thighs pressing together in the passenger seat.
The drops started silent, generic—work chat, weather, nothing deep. Mohan drove steady, eyes flicking to her thighs, her breasts, but keeping hands on the wheel.
"Good day?" he'd ask, voice low, playful. "Always," she'd purr, voice sultry, indirect, turning to let her hip shift, a subtle tease. Fuck, this silence—building something, but safe, she thought, her body warming, ass shifting on the seat. Raghavan's mine, but Mohan's company... fills the gap, sparks my fire without burning.
Few drops passed like that—quiet talks, his glances bolder, her responses teasing but guarded. Then one evening, he stopped at a shop, "Quick delivery," he said, returning with a small box, handing it to her.
"Open at home—alone." His voice was naughty, eyes on her lips, then her hips. Fuck, a gift? Excited... scared, she thought, clutching the box, pussy tingling faintly. What's inside? Mohan's move, but Raghavan's hold... I shouldn't, but curiosity's hot.
That night, alone in her room, kids asleep, Nivi opened the box, heart racing. Inside—a gold thin anklet, the exact model she'd eyed online, saving slow after debts, dreaming of it on her ankle, accentuating her legs. Fuck, how did he know? Perfect, delicate—gold on my "thundery" thighs, she thought, a naughty thrill mixing with fear. Mohan found out somehow—overheard? Sneaked a look? It's bold, claiming, but... flattering.
Her body warmed, ass shifting as she imagined wearing it, teasing eyes.
Next day, she didn't wear it, but cornered Mohan in private during "help" with files, his eyes on her legs. "The anklet—how'd you know?" she asked, voice soft but probing, leaning close, breasts pressing her kurti subtly.
He grinned, voice low, naughty. "Overheard you mentioning it—saving for it. Your legs... gorgeous, holding those thundery thighs, deserve gold." His eyes traced her thighs, ass, implying more. Fuck, he overheard—sneaky, but hot, she thought, her body tingling, ass shifting. "Thanks, Mohan—it's... thoughtful," she said, voice teasing, indirect, a subtle approval that lit his eyes.
Continues...
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