03-10-2025, 12:55 PM
Chapter 100: Craving the Edge
Nivi stirred in bed, the weekend's arrival bringing a shift in the air, the apartment quiet as the kids slept, the faint hum of the ceiling fan a steady companion. The memories of the resort trip, once blurred by fatigue, now sharpened in her mind—the trek's exhaustion, the passion with Vikram and Raghavan, the way her body had surrendered to desire.
As the fog cleared, a new sensation built, her pussy tingling with a growing want, a hunger for action that left her restless. What do I do with this? she thought, her fingers tracing the nighty's hem, the kids' soft breaths a reminder of her reality, the trolley of outfits a silent temptation in the corner.
She rose slowly, the ache in her thighs a dull echo, and slipped into a peach kurta that dbangd softly over her curves, paired with olive green leggings that hugged her legs with a subtle sheen. The morning unfolded with the usual weekend rhythm—helping the kids with breakfast, the clatter of plates, the scent of fresh parathas filling the air. Her mother-in-law bustled in the kitchen, her saree swishing, and Nivi joined them, forcing a smile to mask her inner turmoil.
The chai warmed her, but the craving lingered, her pussy throbbing with unmet need, the resort's wild nights replaying in flashes—Vikram's tongue, Raghavan's thrusts.
I need something, she thought, her body restless as she cleared the table, the kids' chatter a distraction. The morning stretched with play, the boys' toy car racing across the floor, her mother-in-law's teasing glances noticing her distraction.
"Lost in thoughts, girl?" she asked, her voice naughty, a wink in her eye.
Nivi blushed, stirring her chai. "Just the weekend vibe." Her voice was light, but the want pulsed, her mind wandering to possible outlets— a quick touch in the shower, but the kids' presence made it impossible. The day dragged with chores—laundry, tidying, the apartment's routine a cage for her desire.
As midday approached, Nivi grabbed her phone, the “NiviGlow” account a welcome diversion. She stepped onto the balcony, the breeze cool, and posed in the peach kurta, the olive green leggings catching the light. She snapped a selfie with a soft smile, the kurta's color popping, and added a caption: “Weekend vibes ? #CasualStyle #IndianBeauty.” She hit post, the likes starting to trickle in, a small thrill cutting through her restlessness, the comments praising her glow.
The post done, she decided on grocery shopping, craving the fresh air to clear her head. “I’m going alone today,” she told her mother-in-law, who nodded with a knowing smile, her saree tucked as she watched the kids. Nivi grabbed a bag, the peach kurta fluttering, the olive green leggings snug, and headed out, the market’s bustle a promising escape.
The walk was invigorating, the streets alive with vendors calling out, the air thick with spices, fresh fruits, and the sizzle of street food. She navigated the stalls, her bag filling with rice, potatoes, tomatoes, and a bunch of ripe mangoes, the scents grounding her. But the craving followed, her pussy aching with each step, the leggings rubbing against her thighs, the resort’s daring acts flashing—Vikram's worship, Raghavan's control. I need release, she thought, her body hot, the market's crowd a tease with its glances at her kurta-clad figure.
The return trip was slower, the bag heavy on her shoulder, her mind a storm of desire. As she neared her street, a car slowed—Mohan’s face behind the wheel, his smile wide as he rolled down the window. “Nivi! Shopping? Let me give you a lift,” he said, his voice smooth, pulling over, his eyes tracing her peach kurta and olive green leggings.
She paused, adjusting her bag, her pulse quickening. “Just groceries, Mohan. I’m fine walking.” Her tone was polite, but the heat in his gaze made her craving flare, her pussy throbbing as she recalled his past longing.
He leaned out, his eyes dark with want. “You look incredible. Remember our blowjob competition? You won, and I’ve obeyed your commands every day at work. When do I get my reward, Nivi? I’ve been patient.” His voice was low, a desperate edge, his fingers gripping the wheel, the memory of her mouth on him hanging between them.
Nivi’s breath hitched, her body responding with a rush, the craving overwhelming her, her pussy wet at the thought of action. I’m so horny, she thought, the urge tempting her to give in. But she hesitated, glancing around—the public street too risky for daring acts, her home with the kids not an option, his place too bold for her control. “I’m busy with family,” she said, her voice shaky, stepping back. “I can’t risk it here or at home or your place. Wait for your reward, Mohan—it’ll be worth it.” Her words were a mix of rejection and promise, her kurta fluttering as she turned, the olive green leggings shimmering in the light.
He sighed, disappointment flickering, but his smile lingered. “Whenever you’re ready, Nivi. I’ll wait.” The car pulled off, leaving her on the sidewalk, her bag heavy, her body still craving but her resolve firm.
She walked home, the groceries weighing her down, her mind a tangle of desire and restraint. The apartment door creaked open, and she stepped inside, setting the bags down, the chapter ending as she stood in the quiet, the peach kurta brushing her thighs, the unmet need a silent pulse.
Nivi stirred in bed, the weekend's arrival bringing a shift in the air, the apartment quiet as the kids slept, the faint hum of the ceiling fan a steady companion. The memories of the resort trip, once blurred by fatigue, now sharpened in her mind—the trek's exhaustion, the passion with Vikram and Raghavan, the way her body had surrendered to desire.
As the fog cleared, a new sensation built, her pussy tingling with a growing want, a hunger for action that left her restless. What do I do with this? she thought, her fingers tracing the nighty's hem, the kids' soft breaths a reminder of her reality, the trolley of outfits a silent temptation in the corner.
She rose slowly, the ache in her thighs a dull echo, and slipped into a peach kurta that dbangd softly over her curves, paired with olive green leggings that hugged her legs with a subtle sheen. The morning unfolded with the usual weekend rhythm—helping the kids with breakfast, the clatter of plates, the scent of fresh parathas filling the air. Her mother-in-law bustled in the kitchen, her saree swishing, and Nivi joined them, forcing a smile to mask her inner turmoil.
The chai warmed her, but the craving lingered, her pussy throbbing with unmet need, the resort's wild nights replaying in flashes—Vikram's tongue, Raghavan's thrusts.
I need something, she thought, her body restless as she cleared the table, the kids' chatter a distraction. The morning stretched with play, the boys' toy car racing across the floor, her mother-in-law's teasing glances noticing her distraction.
"Lost in thoughts, girl?" she asked, her voice naughty, a wink in her eye.
Nivi blushed, stirring her chai. "Just the weekend vibe." Her voice was light, but the want pulsed, her mind wandering to possible outlets— a quick touch in the shower, but the kids' presence made it impossible. The day dragged with chores—laundry, tidying, the apartment's routine a cage for her desire.
As midday approached, Nivi grabbed her phone, the “NiviGlow” account a welcome diversion. She stepped onto the balcony, the breeze cool, and posed in the peach kurta, the olive green leggings catching the light. She snapped a selfie with a soft smile, the kurta's color popping, and added a caption: “Weekend vibes ? #CasualStyle #IndianBeauty.” She hit post, the likes starting to trickle in, a small thrill cutting through her restlessness, the comments praising her glow.
The post done, she decided on grocery shopping, craving the fresh air to clear her head. “I’m going alone today,” she told her mother-in-law, who nodded with a knowing smile, her saree tucked as she watched the kids. Nivi grabbed a bag, the peach kurta fluttering, the olive green leggings snug, and headed out, the market’s bustle a promising escape.
The walk was invigorating, the streets alive with vendors calling out, the air thick with spices, fresh fruits, and the sizzle of street food. She navigated the stalls, her bag filling with rice, potatoes, tomatoes, and a bunch of ripe mangoes, the scents grounding her. But the craving followed, her pussy aching with each step, the leggings rubbing against her thighs, the resort’s daring acts flashing—Vikram's worship, Raghavan's control. I need release, she thought, her body hot, the market's crowd a tease with its glances at her kurta-clad figure.
The return trip was slower, the bag heavy on her shoulder, her mind a storm of desire. As she neared her street, a car slowed—Mohan’s face behind the wheel, his smile wide as he rolled down the window. “Nivi! Shopping? Let me give you a lift,” he said, his voice smooth, pulling over, his eyes tracing her peach kurta and olive green leggings.
She paused, adjusting her bag, her pulse quickening. “Just groceries, Mohan. I’m fine walking.” Her tone was polite, but the heat in his gaze made her craving flare, her pussy throbbing as she recalled his past longing.
He leaned out, his eyes dark with want. “You look incredible. Remember our blowjob competition? You won, and I’ve obeyed your commands every day at work. When do I get my reward, Nivi? I’ve been patient.” His voice was low, a desperate edge, his fingers gripping the wheel, the memory of her mouth on him hanging between them.
Nivi’s breath hitched, her body responding with a rush, the craving overwhelming her, her pussy wet at the thought of action. I’m so horny, she thought, the urge tempting her to give in. But she hesitated, glancing around—the public street too risky for daring acts, her home with the kids not an option, his place too bold for her control. “I’m busy with family,” she said, her voice shaky, stepping back. “I can’t risk it here or at home or your place. Wait for your reward, Mohan—it’ll be worth it.” Her words were a mix of rejection and promise, her kurta fluttering as she turned, the olive green leggings shimmering in the light.
He sighed, disappointment flickering, but his smile lingered. “Whenever you’re ready, Nivi. I’ll wait.” The car pulled off, leaving her on the sidewalk, her bag heavy, her body still craving but her resolve firm.
She walked home, the groceries weighing her down, her mind a tangle of desire and restraint. The apartment door creaked open, and she stepped inside, setting the bags down, the chapter ending as she stood in the quiet, the peach kurta brushing her thighs, the unmet need a silent pulse.
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