Incest Mom tricked by Bully (Mask of Desire)

[Steel]

A sudden gust roared across the terrace, yanking her saree up. The fabric billowed, exposing the soft curve of her navel and her legs. Madhuri gasped, her hands fumbling to tame the cloth, but a secret thrill sparked within her. She caught Ishaan’s eyes, dark and unapologetic, drinking her in.

Ishaan : “Beautiful,” he breathed, stepping forward. "Nature really knows how to present a masterpiece," he said, gazing at the clouded sky.

Her cheeks burned, a mix of shame and desire pooling in her chest. 

Madhuri : “Don’t be silly,” she chided, but her voice was soft, lacking conviction. The air between them crackled.

Another gust tore through, and a wet curtain broke free from the line, whipping around them like a living thing. It tangled their bodies, pressing Madhuri against Ishaan’s chest.

His hands moved to untangle the fabric, grazing her waist and hips. Each touch sent a jolt through her, dissolving the thin veneer of propriety.

Ishaan : “Hold still, aunty,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear, “it could get… messy.” Her arousal surged, shame retreating like a tide.

From below, Abhi’s voice cut through the haze. “Damn this wind! Ma, the wire’s down again in the verandah!” Her son, oblivious, wrestled with fallen laundry in the courtyard.

Guilt flickered in Madhuri’s heart, but Ishaan’s closeness smothered it. His fingers lingered on the saree, now loosely dbangd between them.

Then came the rain, sudden, relentless, soaking them in seconds. Madhuri’s petticoat clung to her curves, translucent and revealing.

Ishaan’s eyes darkened, and he guided her to a shaded nook beneath the terrace overhang. 

Ishaan : “You’re shivering,” he said, pulling her close. Their wet bodies pressed together, the heat of his skin searing through the damp fabric. “Let me warm you up,” he added, his voice a promise.

Madhuri : “Ishaan, we shouldn’t… uh..” she started, but the words dissolved as he unbuttoned his shirt, removing it and dbanging it over her shoulders. The act was intimate, his bare chest inches from her.

Ishaan : “You’re too precious to be left cold,” he teased, his fingers brushing her collarbone. Her pretense of innocence crumbled, her hands nearly grazing his abs, desire roaring louder than the storm.

Abhi’s voice rose again, cursing the weather, still unaware. Madhuri’s heart pounded, torn between the thrill and the risk. Ishaan’s gaze held her captive, his half-smile daring her to cross the line.

The rain stopped as abruptly as it began, and a new voice broke the spell. “Madhuri? You up there?” Ramesh, called from the stairs.

Madhuri : “Ishaan, your shirt, button it, quick!” she hissed, panic seized her, shoving the shirt back at him.

He complied slowly, his fingers deliberate, eyes never leaving hers. “Relax, Aunty,” he murmured as she smoothed her saree.

Madhuri : “I’m here, Ramesh!” she called, forcing brightness into her voice. “Ishaan’s just.. helping with the laundry.”

Ramesh appeared, oblivious to the charged air. “Atta boy,” he said, nodding at Ishaan. Madhuri’s eyes darted to Ishaan’s half-buttoned shirt, the glimpse of his chest a silent reminder of their moment.

His gaze lingered, heavy with promise, leaving her caught between guilt, desire, and the fear of what might come next. The terrace, now still, seemed to hold its breath, mirroring the storm within her.