Yesterday, 11:20 PM
(This post was last modified: Yesterday, 11:44 PM by nivithenaughty. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Chapter 105: A Glimpse of Heat
The Sunday evening sun dipped low, casting a warm orange glow over Coimbatore’s bustling streets, the air thick with the sizzle of street-side bhajjis and the faint call of a fruit vendor. Nivi stepped out of the apartment, her coral salwar suit fluttering softly, the cream leggings shimmering with each step.
The nap with the kids and her mother-in-law had left her refreshed, but a restless spark lingered from their earlier gossip, her mother-in-law’s teasing about Rajendar’s potential still ringing in her ears. She grabbed a small bag, tossing in a pack of biscuits for the park dogs, her mind set on continuing her gesture for Rajendar.
The trolley of outfits sat quietly in the corner, a reminder of her bold new self, but the coral salwar felt right—light, flattering, hugging her curves just enough.
“Heading to the park,” she called to her mother-in-law, who was washing dishes, her saree tucked tightly. The older woman smirked, waving a soapy hand.
“Don’t get too cozy with that whiskey man,” she teased, her eyes twinkling.
“Or do—your call, starlet.”
Nivi laughed, shaking her head, the coral dupatta slipping slightly to show her neckline.
“Just feeding the dogs, Amma. Back soon.” She stepped out, the apartment door clicking shut, the kids’ giggles fading behind her. The auto ride to the park was quick, the streets alive with families winding down, scooters weaving through traffic. Her mind drifted to Rajendar—his gruff voice, his gaze lingering on her curves last night, the whiskey loosening his guard. Maybe he’ll call, she thought, her fingers brushing the salwar’s hem, a faint thrill stirring.
The park was quieter now, the evening light softening the green expanse, the swings empty except for a lone child. The dogs—Rusty, Shadow, and the others—bounded over as Nivi approached their usual tree, their tails wagging, eyes bright with recognition. She knelt, the coral salwar brushing the grass, and opened the biscuit packet, the crinkle loud in the stillness.
“Here, sweeties,” she said, her voice soft, breaking the biscuits into pieces. Rusty nudged her hand, his fur warm, while Shadow hung back, then crept closer for his share. The act was calming, the dogs’ gratitude grounding her, but a small ache tugged at her—she’d hoped Rajendar might show, despite his ankle.
Her phone buzzed in her bag, the screen glowing with Rajendar’s name. Her heart skipped, and she wiped her hands on her salwar, answering quickly.
“Hello, Mr. Rajendar?” Her voice was warm, the cream leggings catching the fading light as she stood.
“Nivetha,” his voice came through, gruff but softer than usual.
“Just checking on the dogs. Couldn’t make it to the park—ankle’s still bad. You there?” His tone carried a hint of worry, the background quiet except for a faint clink, maybe a glass.
She smiled, petting Rusty’s head.
“Already taken care of. They’re eating now—Rusty’s hogging the biscuits, as usual.” Her voice was playful, the coral dupatta slipping to show a sliver of her collarbone.
He chuckled, a low, relieved sound.
“You’re a lifesaver. Thanks, Nivetha. Means a lot.” The call ended abruptly, the silence sharp, and Nivi’s smile faded. No invitation? she thought, her chest tightening with disappointment. She’d hoped he’d ask her to stop by, maybe share another drink, his eyes lingering again. The dogs nuzzled her, but the ache grew—she wanted to surprise him, keep their bond growing.
She stood, brushing the grass from her salwar, the cream leggings slightly dusty. I’ll bring him dinner, she decided, the idea sparking. Show I care. She tossed the empty biscuit packet into a bin and walked to a nearby stall, the air thick with the scent of dosas and chutney. She bought a pack of idlis and sambar, the warm parcel tucked into her bag, and hailed an auto to 12B, Old Gandhi Road. The ride was quick, the streets dimming as night crept in, her mind replaying his gaze from last night, the whiskey’s warmth, her mother-in-law’s words about older men’s fire.
The house came into view, its peeling paint familiar under the streetlamp’s glow. Nivi stepped out, the coral salwar swaying, and approached the gate, her heart pounding with the thrill of the surprise. Titan bounded over, his muscular frame nuzzling her legs, his tail wagging wildly.
“Hey, big guy,” she whispered, petting his coarse fur, the cream leggings brushing against him. She reached for the bell, but paused, her eyes catching something odd—a pair of women’s sandals tucked to the side of the door, half-hidden behind a potted plant. The footwear was worn, red with faded embroidery, not hers, not expected.
Her brow furrowed, curiosity flaring. Who’s here? she thought, her fingers tightening on the bag. Rajendar lived alone, his solitude clear from their talks. She glanced around, the yard quiet except for Titan’s soft panting. The sandals looked deliberately placed, like someone didn’t want them noticed. Her pulse quickened, the coral dupatta slipping further as she moved closer to the house, her eyes scanning for clues.
A half-open window caught her attention, the curtain fluttering in the evening breeze. She stepped lightly, the cream leggings shimmering, and peered through the gap, her breath catching. Inside, the living room was dim, the sofa holding a folded saree—blue with gold borders, neatly dbangd but out of place. No one was there, the whiskey bottle from last night still on the table, two glasses beside it. A woman? she thought, her curiosity spiking, her body tingling with a mix of intrigue and unease.
She moved quietly along the house, the coral salwar brushing her thighs, and followed the wall to another window, this one smaller, leading to the bedroom. The gap was narrow, the curtain slightly ajar, and she leaned closer, her heart racing. Through the slit, she saw him—Rajendar, lying on the bed, his shirt unbuttoned, his face flushed. A woman, middle-aged, maybe in her late forties, straddled him, her saree hiked up, her hips moving wildly. Her dark hair fell loose, her blouse half-open, her curves bouncing with each thrust. Rajendar’s hands gripped her waist, his eyes half-closed, a low groan escaping him.
![[Image: Gemini-Generated-Image-tmi2pptmi2pptmi2.png]](https://i.ibb.co/2Ym8ZGzW/Gemini-Generated-Image-tmi2pptmi2pptmi2.png)
Nivi’s breath hitched, her eyes widening, the scene raw and intense. The woman’s movements were fierce, her body rocking, her moans soft but urgent. Nivi couldn’t look away, her body heating, a familiar tingle stirring between her thighs. He’s alive down there, she thought, her mother-in-law’s words echoing—Older men are the horny ones. She bit her lip, the coral salwar clinging to her skin, the cream leggings tight as she shifted, her pussy throbbing faintly at the sight. Rajendar, in his early sixties, was far from the spent man she’d imagined—he was hungry, his grip on the woman strong, his body responding with vigor.
She watched a moment longer, the woman’s hips grinding, Rajendar’s hands roaming, the bed creaking under their rhythm. The whiskey glasses on the table made sense now—shared drinks, like with her, but leading here. Nivi’s mind spun, a mix of shock, amusement, and arousal. He’s got fire, she thought, her mother-in-law’s teasing ringing true. She felt no jealousy, only a strange thrill, the voyeuristic moment fueling her own restless craving from earlier.
She stepped back, her sandals soft on the grass, the coral dupatta catching on a bush. What now? she thought, the food parcel warm in her hand. She couldn’t knock—not with that going on. A smile tugged her lips, an idea forming. She pulled a pen and a scrap of paper from her bag, scribbling quickly: Dinner for you—hope this fuels you both for round two. -Nivi. The words were playful, indirect, a nod to their energy-draining romp. She folded the note, tucked it into the parcel’s string, and hung the bag on the doorknob, the idlis and sambar swaying slightly.
Titan nuzzled her leg, his fur warm, and she knelt to pet him, whispering, “Keep their secret, big guy.” She stood, the coral salwar creased, the cream leggings dusty from the yard, and slipped out the gate, her heart light but buzzing. The auto ride home was quiet, the city’s pulse a soft hum, her mind replaying the scene—Rajendar’s strength, the woman’s wild rhythm, her own daring note.
She stepped into the apartment, the door creaking softly, the kids asleep, the living room dark except for a lamp’s glow. Her mother-in-law sat on the couch, a chai cup in hand, her saree loose.
“Back already?” she asked, her eyes narrowing with curiosity.
“What’s that look, starlet? Trouble at the whiskey man’s?”
Nivi sank beside her, kicking off her sandals, the coral salwar brushing her thighs.
“Fed the dogs, took him dinner as a surprise. But… he had company.” Her voice was low, a naughty glint in her eyes.
The older woman’s eyebrows shot up, her cup pausing.
“Company? Spill it, girl.”
Nivi grinned, leaning closer.
“A woman, Amma. Saw them through a window—middle-aged, riding him like a storm. You were right—older men are the horny ones.” Her voice was a whisper, her cheeks flushing with the memory.
Her mother-in-law burst out laughing, covering her mouth to muffle it.
“Told you! That old dog’s got fire! What did you do?”
Nivi smirked, sipping the chai her mother-in-law handed her.
“Left the food with a note—said it’d give them energy for more. Didn’t knock.” She winked, the cream leggings shimmering as she crossed her legs.
The older woman cackled, her saree shaking.
“You’re naughty, Nivi! He’ll read that and blush harder than you. Good move, though—keeps you in his head.” She patted Nivi’s knee, her eyes twinkling.
Nivi nodded, the thrill settling into a quiet glow.
“Yeah. Felt… powerful, leaving it like that.” She yawned, the day’s events catching up, the coral salwar creased from the evening.
“Go rest,” her mother-in-law said, standing.
“Big week ahead—more whiskey, more dogs, maybe more surprises.” Her tone was playful, her saree swishing as she headed to the kitchen.
Nivi smiled, heading to her room, the coral salwar folded away, her nighty soft against her skin. She lay in bed, Anand’s snores distant, her mind on Rajendar’s hidden fire, the woman’s wild ride, her own daring note. The city’s hum lulled her, the chapter closing as her confidence burned brighter, ready for what came next.
The Sunday evening sun dipped low, casting a warm orange glow over Coimbatore’s bustling streets, the air thick with the sizzle of street-side bhajjis and the faint call of a fruit vendor. Nivi stepped out of the apartment, her coral salwar suit fluttering softly, the cream leggings shimmering with each step.
The nap with the kids and her mother-in-law had left her refreshed, but a restless spark lingered from their earlier gossip, her mother-in-law’s teasing about Rajendar’s potential still ringing in her ears. She grabbed a small bag, tossing in a pack of biscuits for the park dogs, her mind set on continuing her gesture for Rajendar.
The trolley of outfits sat quietly in the corner, a reminder of her bold new self, but the coral salwar felt right—light, flattering, hugging her curves just enough.
“Heading to the park,” she called to her mother-in-law, who was washing dishes, her saree tucked tightly. The older woman smirked, waving a soapy hand.
“Don’t get too cozy with that whiskey man,” she teased, her eyes twinkling.
“Or do—your call, starlet.”
Nivi laughed, shaking her head, the coral dupatta slipping slightly to show her neckline.
“Just feeding the dogs, Amma. Back soon.” She stepped out, the apartment door clicking shut, the kids’ giggles fading behind her. The auto ride to the park was quick, the streets alive with families winding down, scooters weaving through traffic. Her mind drifted to Rajendar—his gruff voice, his gaze lingering on her curves last night, the whiskey loosening his guard. Maybe he’ll call, she thought, her fingers brushing the salwar’s hem, a faint thrill stirring.
The park was quieter now, the evening light softening the green expanse, the swings empty except for a lone child. The dogs—Rusty, Shadow, and the others—bounded over as Nivi approached their usual tree, their tails wagging, eyes bright with recognition. She knelt, the coral salwar brushing the grass, and opened the biscuit packet, the crinkle loud in the stillness.
“Here, sweeties,” she said, her voice soft, breaking the biscuits into pieces. Rusty nudged her hand, his fur warm, while Shadow hung back, then crept closer for his share. The act was calming, the dogs’ gratitude grounding her, but a small ache tugged at her—she’d hoped Rajendar might show, despite his ankle.
Her phone buzzed in her bag, the screen glowing with Rajendar’s name. Her heart skipped, and she wiped her hands on her salwar, answering quickly.
“Hello, Mr. Rajendar?” Her voice was warm, the cream leggings catching the fading light as she stood.
“Nivetha,” his voice came through, gruff but softer than usual.
“Just checking on the dogs. Couldn’t make it to the park—ankle’s still bad. You there?” His tone carried a hint of worry, the background quiet except for a faint clink, maybe a glass.
She smiled, petting Rusty’s head.
“Already taken care of. They’re eating now—Rusty’s hogging the biscuits, as usual.” Her voice was playful, the coral dupatta slipping to show a sliver of her collarbone.
He chuckled, a low, relieved sound.
“You’re a lifesaver. Thanks, Nivetha. Means a lot.” The call ended abruptly, the silence sharp, and Nivi’s smile faded. No invitation? she thought, her chest tightening with disappointment. She’d hoped he’d ask her to stop by, maybe share another drink, his eyes lingering again. The dogs nuzzled her, but the ache grew—she wanted to surprise him, keep their bond growing.
She stood, brushing the grass from her salwar, the cream leggings slightly dusty. I’ll bring him dinner, she decided, the idea sparking. Show I care. She tossed the empty biscuit packet into a bin and walked to a nearby stall, the air thick with the scent of dosas and chutney. She bought a pack of idlis and sambar, the warm parcel tucked into her bag, and hailed an auto to 12B, Old Gandhi Road. The ride was quick, the streets dimming as night crept in, her mind replaying his gaze from last night, the whiskey’s warmth, her mother-in-law’s words about older men’s fire.
The house came into view, its peeling paint familiar under the streetlamp’s glow. Nivi stepped out, the coral salwar swaying, and approached the gate, her heart pounding with the thrill of the surprise. Titan bounded over, his muscular frame nuzzling her legs, his tail wagging wildly.
“Hey, big guy,” she whispered, petting his coarse fur, the cream leggings brushing against him. She reached for the bell, but paused, her eyes catching something odd—a pair of women’s sandals tucked to the side of the door, half-hidden behind a potted plant. The footwear was worn, red with faded embroidery, not hers, not expected.
Her brow furrowed, curiosity flaring. Who’s here? she thought, her fingers tightening on the bag. Rajendar lived alone, his solitude clear from their talks. She glanced around, the yard quiet except for Titan’s soft panting. The sandals looked deliberately placed, like someone didn’t want them noticed. Her pulse quickened, the coral dupatta slipping further as she moved closer to the house, her eyes scanning for clues.
A half-open window caught her attention, the curtain fluttering in the evening breeze. She stepped lightly, the cream leggings shimmering, and peered through the gap, her breath catching. Inside, the living room was dim, the sofa holding a folded saree—blue with gold borders, neatly dbangd but out of place. No one was there, the whiskey bottle from last night still on the table, two glasses beside it. A woman? she thought, her curiosity spiking, her body tingling with a mix of intrigue and unease.
She moved quietly along the house, the coral salwar brushing her thighs, and followed the wall to another window, this one smaller, leading to the bedroom. The gap was narrow, the curtain slightly ajar, and she leaned closer, her heart racing. Through the slit, she saw him—Rajendar, lying on the bed, his shirt unbuttoned, his face flushed. A woman, middle-aged, maybe in her late forties, straddled him, her saree hiked up, her hips moving wildly. Her dark hair fell loose, her blouse half-open, her curves bouncing with each thrust. Rajendar’s hands gripped her waist, his eyes half-closed, a low groan escaping him.
Nivi’s breath hitched, her eyes widening, the scene raw and intense. The woman’s movements were fierce, her body rocking, her moans soft but urgent. Nivi couldn’t look away, her body heating, a familiar tingle stirring between her thighs. He’s alive down there, she thought, her mother-in-law’s words echoing—Older men are the horny ones. She bit her lip, the coral salwar clinging to her skin, the cream leggings tight as she shifted, her pussy throbbing faintly at the sight. Rajendar, in his early sixties, was far from the spent man she’d imagined—he was hungry, his grip on the woman strong, his body responding with vigor.
She watched a moment longer, the woman’s hips grinding, Rajendar’s hands roaming, the bed creaking under their rhythm. The whiskey glasses on the table made sense now—shared drinks, like with her, but leading here. Nivi’s mind spun, a mix of shock, amusement, and arousal. He’s got fire, she thought, her mother-in-law’s teasing ringing true. She felt no jealousy, only a strange thrill, the voyeuristic moment fueling her own restless craving from earlier.
She stepped back, her sandals soft on the grass, the coral dupatta catching on a bush. What now? she thought, the food parcel warm in her hand. She couldn’t knock—not with that going on. A smile tugged her lips, an idea forming. She pulled a pen and a scrap of paper from her bag, scribbling quickly: Dinner for you—hope this fuels you both for round two. -Nivi. The words were playful, indirect, a nod to their energy-draining romp. She folded the note, tucked it into the parcel’s string, and hung the bag on the doorknob, the idlis and sambar swaying slightly.
Titan nuzzled her leg, his fur warm, and she knelt to pet him, whispering, “Keep their secret, big guy.” She stood, the coral salwar creased, the cream leggings dusty from the yard, and slipped out the gate, her heart light but buzzing. The auto ride home was quiet, the city’s pulse a soft hum, her mind replaying the scene—Rajendar’s strength, the woman’s wild rhythm, her own daring note.
She stepped into the apartment, the door creaking softly, the kids asleep, the living room dark except for a lamp’s glow. Her mother-in-law sat on the couch, a chai cup in hand, her saree loose.
“Back already?” she asked, her eyes narrowing with curiosity.
“What’s that look, starlet? Trouble at the whiskey man’s?”
Nivi sank beside her, kicking off her sandals, the coral salwar brushing her thighs.
“Fed the dogs, took him dinner as a surprise. But… he had company.” Her voice was low, a naughty glint in her eyes.
The older woman’s eyebrows shot up, her cup pausing.
“Company? Spill it, girl.”
Nivi grinned, leaning closer.
“A woman, Amma. Saw them through a window—middle-aged, riding him like a storm. You were right—older men are the horny ones.” Her voice was a whisper, her cheeks flushing with the memory.
Her mother-in-law burst out laughing, covering her mouth to muffle it.
“Told you! That old dog’s got fire! What did you do?”
Nivi smirked, sipping the chai her mother-in-law handed her.
“Left the food with a note—said it’d give them energy for more. Didn’t knock.” She winked, the cream leggings shimmering as she crossed her legs.
The older woman cackled, her saree shaking.
“You’re naughty, Nivi! He’ll read that and blush harder than you. Good move, though—keeps you in his head.” She patted Nivi’s knee, her eyes twinkling.
Nivi nodded, the thrill settling into a quiet glow.
“Yeah. Felt… powerful, leaving it like that.” She yawned, the day’s events catching up, the coral salwar creased from the evening.
“Go rest,” her mother-in-law said, standing.
“Big week ahead—more whiskey, more dogs, maybe more surprises.” Her tone was playful, her saree swishing as she headed to the kitchen.
Nivi smiled, heading to her room, the coral salwar folded away, her nighty soft against her skin. She lay in bed, Anand’s snores distant, her mind on Rajendar’s hidden fire, the woman’s wild ride, her own daring note. The city’s hum lulled her, the chapter closing as her confidence burned brighter, ready for what came next.
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