Adultery Geetha ~ teacher

[Haran000]

At ten forty in the morning, Geetha and Bharat emerged from the customs line, luggage in tow, into the bustling Arrivals hall of the Montreal airport. The air hummed with the chatter of travelers and the distant rumble of announcements. There, some distance away, stood Gautam in a sharp blue suit, waving enthusiastically. His presence cut through the crowd like a beacon. A broad smile lit Geetha's face, and she quickened her pace, Bharat matching her stride with a mix of exhaustion and excitement.

As they drew nearer, Geetha noticed the changes in her husband—the subtle leanness in his frame, the way the suit accentuated his handsome features, paired with a crisp white-striped tie and polished brown leather boots. *What a bikini is to a woman,* she thought with a private thrill, *a suit is to a man.*

She reached him first, throwing her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. Gautam responded with affection, pressing a kiss to her neck and then her cheek before turning his gaze to Bharat, who was momentarily lost in the grandeur of the airport, his eyes wide with the thrill of a new world.

"The journey was endless," Geetha murmured, leaning in to kiss her husband's clean-shaven chin.

Gautam touched his nose to hers, a intimate gesture that spoke volumes. "It couldn't be helped, could it?" he replied softly. Then, extending a hand to Bharat, he added, "I'm glad you're here."

Bharat shook it firmly, snapping out of his reverie. "How are you, sir?"

"I'm well," Gautam said with a warm grin. "And you? How did the exams go?"

Bharat's smile was sheepish. "I wrote them just as Geetha Miss instructed. Whatever marks I get, the full responsibility is hers."

Geetha feigned offense, pinching his arm lightly. "So, if they're low, it's my fault, is it?"

"I didn't say that, Miss!" Bharat protested, rubbing the spot.

Gautam threw his head back in a hearty laugh and relieved Geetha of the trolley. "Haha... Enough, you two. Let's get out of here, Bharat. And remember—no worries, alright? If anything comes up, you tell me or your teacher."

"Okay, sir," Bharat nodded, falling into step behind them as they wove through the throng.

The drive from Montreal wound toward Quebec City, the sleek car gliding over smooth roads. They veered left onto the La Croche River path, crossed the shimmering water, and slipped into a narrow lane flanked by dense woods. Finally, the vehicle slowed to a halt before a sprawling villa, its silhouette rising like a secret from the forested embrace.

Bharat stepped out first, his jaw dropping at the sight. Towering walls, easily fifty feet high, encircled the property, enclosing a world unto itself amid the whispering trees. It felt like the set of a lavish film, where romance or intrigue might unfold under the canopy of leaves.

Geetha and Gautam alighted next, her eyes sparkling with the same wonder. She bumped her shoulder playfully against his as he slipped an arm around her waist.

"Sir, do you actually live here?" Bharat asked, half in awe, half teasing. "Are you running some kind of mafia operation?"

Gautam chuckled, the sound rich and easy. "Haha, no, Bharat. This is my MD's place—we're just borrowing it. But we'll be staying here with you now."

Geetha leaned into him, and Gautam drew her closer. "A little privacy never hurts," he murmured.

Bharat caught the undercurrent, grinning. "Looks like you've planned a second honeymoon, sir."

Geetha's cheeks flushed, and she shot him a mock glare. "Hey... *Chup*—quiet!"

Gautam laughed again. "Fine, fine. You can borrow it for your own honeymoon one day, Bharat."

The boy looked pleased but averted his gaze, a faint blush creeping up his neck. Geetha noticed and teased further. "Oh! The boy's blushing. You'll learn all about honeymoons after those results come in."

"Why discourage me like this, Miss?" Bharat groaned good-naturedly.

"Then why rush it?" she countered. "You're here for the tour, remember?"

Gautam intervened with a gentle wave. "Hey, leave him be, Geetha. He's not a kid anymore. Come on—inside."

He swung open the wrought-iron gate, parked the car in the shaded drive, and led them through the grand ten-foot door with a flourish of keys. 

The entrance hall unfolded before them like a dream: vast and flooded with natural light, adorned with four plush sofa sets in varying hues, elegant curtains framing floor-to-ceiling windows, and a glittering chandelier suspended like a frozen cascade overhead. It was a castle in miniature, opulent and inviting.




Bharat whistled low. "Miss, if you added up my house, your house, Harish's, Chandana's—all of them together—they still wouldn't have this many sofas."

Geetha glanced around, a touch of overwhelm in her voice. "Why such a palace for just the three of us, sir?"

Gautam shrugged, his arm still around her. "It came free of charge. Who cares about the size?"

Bharat, eyes alight with boyish energy, bounded toward a sleek grey sofa and flopped onto it, sinking into the cushions. "Miss, I don't even need a bedroom. I'll camp right here."

Gautam guided Geetha to the maroon sofa beside him, settling her close—close enough that she perched half on his lap. Bharat, oblivious at first, sprang up again. "Miss, we have to explore the whole place. Wow, it's massive." His gaze roamed restlessly: the ornate lamps, the flowing curtains, the polished tables dotted with indoor plants, the chandelier's prisms catching the light like diamonds. Through the vast glass windows, birds wheeled lazily over the river below.

But as he tilted his head downward, Bharat froze. There, on the maroon sofa, Geetha was lost in Gautam's lap, her lips pressed fiercely to his in a deep, languid French kiss. Gautam's hand roamed her back with possessive familiarity, while his left ventured beneath her t-shirt, fingers kneading the soft curve of her waist.

Bharat lingered by the window, silent as a shadow, his heart quickening.

Gautam nipped at Geetha's full, rosy lips, delving his tongue deeper into the warm cavern of her mouth. She met him eagerly, tongues entwining in a dance of rediscovery.

"I couldn't bear being away from you, darling," she whispered between licks, her voice husky.

He silenced her with another sweep of his tongue, then pulled back just enough to murmur against her skin, "You look good today?"

Lifting the hem of her t-shirt an inch, he pinched the tender fold at her waist, trailing kisses to her neck. A soft hiss escaped her—"Sss..."—as she arched into him.

"Bharat," Gautam called without breaking rhythm, his voice steady but laced with distraction, "your room's upstairs. Grab your bag, take a shower. Everything you need is there—make yourself at home."

Bharat said nothing, only nodded mutely. He hefted his bag and ascended the curving staircase, pausing at the landing to glance back. In the sunlit expanse of the hall, Gautam had eased Geetha onto the cushions, peeled off her t-shirt, and now cradled his face against the swell of her chest, breathing her in. A faint, bittersweet smile tugged at Bharat's lips. He slipped into his assigned room and shut the door.

The space was a revelation: a wall of windows flooding the room with daylight, a kingly mattress dbangd in silky sheets, the river's serene beauty unfurling beyond like a living painting. No lamp was needed; the sun did all the work. It was luxury incarnate, a far cry from the humble corners of home.

Bharat set his bag down, stripped off his t-shirt, and pushed open the bathroom door. His eyes widened at the marble expanse, the array of gleaming fixtures. With a grin, he shed the rest of his clothes and stepped under the shower, twisting one of the three handles. Warm water cascaded over him like a benediction, and he surrendered to it, letting the steam carry away the grime of travel.

In the quiet of his room, Bharat lay on the plush bed, the shower's echo fading into memory. A fragment of home surfaced unbidden: his mother's voice, soft and dreaming.

*"Bittu... you should get a good job, tear down this old house, and build a new one for us."*

*"Don't talk like that, Mom—not now. My studies aren't even finished."*

She'd cradled him then, stroking his hair as he rested in her lap. *"That's right... not yet. Study hard, earn well, and we'll build it. One room for us, and one for you and my daughter-in-law."* Her laughter had been a gentle ripple.

*"If sister were here, she'd have a room too, right, Mom?"*

*"Hmm..."*

*"If she were here, she might've built it herself by now."*

*"Even if she was, she'd go to her in-laws' house, wouldn't she?"*

*"But when she visited, she'd have a room, Mom."*

She'd hushed him with a finger to his lips. *"Enough. Sleep now."*

Memories were cruel thieves—stealing joy in sorrow, sorrow in joy. When neither lingered, only the present held sway: the villa's hush, the river's murmur, and the tangled paths of desire weaving through them all.

* * *

Downstairs, in the hall's golden glow, Geetha straddled Gautam's thighs fully now, her lips brushing his neck in feather-light kisses. She guided his right hand from her waist to the soft weight of her breast, and he obliged, squeezing gently as he nuzzled the nape of her neck.

"Aah..." she breathed, a shiver rippling through her.

"You look irresistible in this t-shirt and jeans," he murmured, his voice a low rumble.

"Mmm... And my husband looks utterly adorable today."

Their eyes locked, molten with intent, and they crashed together in a kiss that devoured—lips bruising, breaths mingling in fervent need.

"Shall we make this a honeymoon, then?" Gautam teased, his hands already at the hem of her shirt.

"Every day, if you want," she replied, her consent a sultry whisper. "Would I ever say no?"

In a fluid motion, he tugged the fabric upward; she lifted her arms to aid him. The t-shirt sailed away, revealing the creamy fullness of her breasts, straining against the lace of her bra. He cupped one, squeezing with reverent hunger, and buried his face in the valley between them. She cradled his head, pressing his warmth to her fevered skin.

"How wonderful it feels to rest here," he sighed, lips grazing the tender curves, his mustache tickling like a promise.

A pleased warmth bloomed in Geetha's chest—not just from Gautam, but from the memory of Bharat's earlier surrender to the same allure. "Iss..." she gasped as he pecked at her, sending sparks skittering across her nerves.

Her fingers reached back, unclasping the bra with a soft click. Gautam massaged the newly bared skin of her back, then kissed a slow path up her cleavage.

"Shall we take a bath?" he suggested, his breath hot against her throat.

The question caught her off guard, a playful glint in his eye sparking her own curiosity. Blushing, she nodded, shy yet eager, and rested her forehead against his.

He claimed her neck with a lingering kiss, then scooped her into his arms. She wound her legs around his waist, arms looped over his shoulders, clinging as he carried her from the hall down a short corridor. A side door swung open to reveal the garden beyond: lush and green, where a swimming pool shimmered under the breeze, its surface dancing like liquid silk.




In the shaded coolness, cradled in her husband's embrace, Geetha felt a fresh enchantment unfold—the whisper of leaves, the sun-dappled air, the solid beat of his heart against hers.

Kissing her neck, Gautam stepped to the pool's edge. With a mischievous grin, he hoisted her higher and tossed her in. She yelped as she plummeted, the bra flying free in the arc before she hit the water. It splashed over her face, cool and shocking, and she surfaced sputtering, peeling off the sodden lace. Her breasts gleamed with rivulets, water beading on her skin like jewels.

"You should have warned me!" she laughed, breathless, as he hastily shed his tie, shirt, and pants, leaping in after her.

He pulled her close in the rippling depths, and she melted into silence, acquiescent. Gautam kissed a droplet from her forehead, tender as a vow. "I didn't bring you here just to rattle around the house, you silly girl."

"Ooh... I know," she murmured.

In the breeze-kissed water, their gazes intertwined, bodies locked in a timeless sculpture of desire. "Geetha..." he whispered.

"Ooh?"

"I have to tell you something."

"Tell me."

His voice dropped, steady but weighted. "Unable to wait for you, I spent two days here with another woman."

The words struck like lightning through the waves, shattering her languor. Geetha pulled away, retreating until her back met the pool's tiled edge. Gautam advanced, caging her with his arms braced on either side.

"If you think it's wrong, forgive me," he said, eyes searching hers. "I told you because I knew you'd understand."

Her hand flew up, slapping his cheek with a sharp crack that echoed off the water. He caught her wrist, pinning it gently but firmly.

"Take it easy," he urged, unflinching. "Please don't be angry."

In that instant, truth pierced her: Gautam had mirrored her own betrayal, the distance fraying them both in equal measure. "It's your wish, darling," she said, voice tight with resignation. "You're a man, after all." She turned her face away, lips pursed in a pout—a shield for the confession she lacked the nerve to voice.

Gautam lightened, a smile breaking through. "But no one gives me the pleasure you do, my darling."

Pride flickered in her chest. *How could any other woman tempt a husband who leaves me wanting?* she thought.

"Hey, look at me," he coaxed.

"No—I won't. Shameless husband."

He cupped her chin, turning her gently, their eyes locking once more. "You have no shame yourself. I think you've corrupted the boy?"

"Because of *you*," she shot back.

"Did you do what I asked that day?"

"Hmm... I did. He's taller than you."

A flicker of feigned ire crossed his face; he delivered a light slap to her cheek. She surged forward, kissing his lips fiercely, wrapping him in her arms.

"Umm... Darling... why—"

His exhale was fire, cutting her off as he bit her lower lip, drawing the barest taste of blood. She didn't resist; her hurt dissolved in his heat. Their mouths fused, rubbing in urgent friction. Geetha clutched his head; Gautam slid his hands beneath her buttocks, lifting her as he savaged her upper lip.


He stripped away her jeans, then his own undergarments, the water veiling their nudity in merciful haze—save for the dark thatch between her thighs, glistening wet. Turning her to face the edge, he seated her hips there, exposed and vulnerable.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked, voice trembling.

"Tell me," he replied, kissing the tip of her nose.

"He saw me... like this."

Gautam's index finger traced the damp curls, dipping to caress her slick folds. "Aah!" she cried, the sound raw and echoing.

"What did he do after seeing?" Gautam pressed, his lips at her neck as he claimed her there, on the precipice.

"He kissed and licked me... there."

"Aren't you ashamed to confess it?"

"You *told* me to."

Teasing her entrance, he hummed. "Hmm..."

"You never have," she added, offering her breast to his free hand.

He devoured her lips anew, his fingers delving deeper into her core. "Mmmmmm..." she moaned, arching back.

"Shall I now?" he offered, voice thick.

"Ooh..."

Releasing her mouth, he trailed kisses downward, but she guided him lower still, trapping his head between her thighs with urgent hands. The musk of her arousal overwhelmed him; he pressed his lips to her honeyed center, kissing the petal-soft flesh.

"Ssss..." she hissed, fingers tangling in his hair, drenching him in her fervor.

He nipped her labia, and she pleaded, "Aah... eat it up..." Her gaze bored into him, wild and commanding.

Gautam rose, settling astride her lap, water from his hair raining onto her upturned face like a private storm. She laced her fingers with his, drawing his hand back to her core, while he kneaded her breast, twisting the peak until she whimpered.

"Iss... Who is she?" she demanded between gasps.

"Who?"

"The one you brought."

"Evelyn..."

"Did she have to steal *my* husband?"

"Hmm... I kept telling her I had a beautiful wife. I resisted."

"Did she subdue you anyway?"

"Ha..."

"Is she that beautiful?"

"Not like you."

"Go down."

He obeyed, kissing her neck before descending, his lips brushing her clitoris like a bee to jasmine. "Aah, darling..." she sighed.

Pressing his lower lip to the bud, he bit gently. Pleasure crashed through her in waves, electric and unrelenting. "Amma..."

"I licked Evelyn's, Geetha," he confessed against her skin. "Forgive me for yours now."

"Stop talking—just lick."

He claimed both breasts in his hands, squeezing as he buried his face in her thighs. For the first time, his tongue traced her vertical smile with deliberate slowness—not the frantic lapping of youth, like Bharat's, but the proud savoring of an artist with his masterpiece. Saliva mingled with her warmth, a cool glide over heated silk.

"Ss... Ah-bba..." she gasped, body quaking like ripples on a pond.

Gautam took his time, vertical strokes teasing the seam of her desire. Geetha writhed, fishlike in her ecstasy, moans spilling unchecked. 

Passion crested uncontrollably; she shattered, hot essence flooding his face as she screamed, "Aah Amma... Aah-ndee... Iss."

He laughed, a sound of triumphant joy, wiping his gleaming cheeks. She hauled him up, sealing their mouths in a kiss that tasted of salt and secrets.

"Love you, darling," she panted. "Please... keep doing this. I crave it."

"I will," he vowed. "That's why we're here—for *this*."

As words faded, he eased into her, slow at first. "Shh..." she breathed.

He began to move, thrusts building to a rhythm that slapped water against tile. Their slick bodies slid and ground, friction igniting sparks. From the first-floor balcony, Bharat watched, towel tented, his hand working furtively beneath it.

"Aah... slowly..." Geetha urged, but Gautam was relentless, hips snapping with abandon. She knew he wouldn't yield.

Her gaze lifted, locking with Bharat's across the distance. Clutching Gautam's back, she offered the boy a conspiratorial smile.

He shifted the towel aside, baring himself boldly. In response, she blew him a kiss, light as air.

Whispering into Gautam's ear amid the churn: "He's watching."

"Let him," Gautam growled, undeterred.

"Do it harder—for him, darling."

"Aah... don't say that; I can't hold back."

"Control it."

He surged from below, powerful and unyielding. Geetha cried out deliberately—"Aah! Aah!"—her voice carrying for Bharat's ears. Gautam echoed her, a primal roar, and spilled into her with shuddering release.

As he slumped against her, spent and sated, she glanced up and waved Bharat down, an invitation soft as the breeze.

He shook his head, hesitant.

"Come on," she coaxed aloud. "It's nothing..."

Bharat recoiled inwardly—*Why call me like that?*—and retreated inside, pulse racing.

Geetha nestled against Gautam's shoulder, a sigh escaping. "I feel like we've gone utterly shameless."

"Meaning?"

"Like... in front of him."

Gautam drew her nearer, kissing her brow. "It's fine."

He climbed from the pool, water sheeting off his skin, and called upward. "Bharat! Bharat..."

The boy reappeared on the balcony, peering down uncertainly.

"Come here?" Gautam urged.

"No..."

"It's alright. Come on."

Geetha emerged too, droplets tracing paths down her curves. She kissed Gautam once more. "Darling... can I stay with him tonight? If I push him away, he'll feel left out."

"I'm not objecting," Gautam replied evenly. "Romance him if you want."

"Thanks," she breathed.

He enveloped her in a hug. "Darling...?"

"Ooh..."

She sensed the question hovering, unspoken—her pulse quickened in anticipation. But Gautam let it die, the words unspoken.

"What?" she prompted.

"Nothing."

They lingered in the charged silence, an invisible line drawn. 

Suspicion had taken root in Gautam's eyes, a subtle shadow neither dared illuminate. 

For now, the water lapped on, secrets rippling beneath the surface.


Nothing did Geetha knew is : Goutham had already decided to agree that.

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