22-11-2025, 07:42 AM
The warmth of their lips against both her cheeks left Devika in a daze. As they pulled away, something inside her crumbled—a wall of loneliness she'd carefully constructed over months of neglect. Her eyes welled with tears before she could stop them, overflowing silently down her flushed cheeks.
"What happened?" Dattu's weathered hand cupped her face, his thumb gently wiping away a tear. "Did we upset you?"
Devika shook her head, unable to speak through the tightness in her throat.
"Tell us," Dattu urged, his voice unusually tender. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she whispered, but the tears kept flowing.
"Please," Dattu pressed, his calloused fingers still cradling her face. "Something troubles you."
The gentleness broke something within her. Words spilled out before she could contain them. "Rajeevan... my husband..." Her voice cracked on the word. "The way he treats me... showing off other women on video calls... laughing at my pain..."
Dattu's expression darkened, his jaw tightening beneath his beard. "He hurts you?"
"Not with his hands," Devika explained, her voice small. "With his betrayal. His indifference."
Vishnu moved closer, his eyes calculating beneath a mask of concern. "Madam, don't worry about your worthless husband." His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Forget him. Think of your new husband instead." He gestured toward Dattu. "Someone who appreciates you."
Dattu opened his arms, offering comfort. "Come."
Devika hesitated only briefly before stepping into his embrace. The solid warmth of his chest against her cheek felt like an anchor in a storm. His arms enveloped her completely, strong yet gentle, as he guided her head to rest against his shoulder. The faint scent of soap and motor oil clung to his skin—honest smells, working-man smells, so different from Rajeevan's expensive cologne that masked his deceit.
"There, there," Dattu murmured, his rough hand stroking her back. "No tears on my birthday."
Vishnu moved to the table, cutting another slice of cake. "Father, feed her more cake. Sweet things for sweet emotions."
Dattu broke off a piece with his fingers, offering it to Devika's lips. Before she could accept it, Vishnu stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with a new idea.
"Why don't you share it?" he suggested. "Both eat the cake together."
Dattu's questioning gaze moved from his son to Devika. She caught his meaning immediately—what Vishnu was proposing went beyond simple comfort. Yet instead of recoiling, she felt a flutter of forbidden anticipation.
She looked at Vishnu, then back at Dattu. Something in the older man's eyes—hunger mingled with reverence—made her nod slightly.
"Yes," she whispered, surprised by her own acquiescence.
Dattu placed the small piece of cake between Devika's lips, leaving half exposed. His eyes never left hers as he leaned forward, his mouth closing over the exposed cake and brushing against her lips in the process. The intimate act of sharing food this way sent a jolt of electricity through her body. She felt the chocolate melt between them, sweetness mingling with the salt of her dried tears.
"Father," Vishnu observed, his voice slightly strained, "there's still cake on her lips. Don't waste it."
Dattu needed no further encouragement. His mouth descended on hers again, this time with unmistakable intent. His lips locked with hers, tongue sweeping across to collect the remnants of chocolate. What began as a pretext quickly transformed into a deep, hungry kiss.
Devika moaned against his mouth, torn between guilt and a spreading heat that seemed to liquefy her bones. Dattu's hands moved to her back, fingers splaying wide to feel the curves beneath her saree blouse. His touch was reverent yet possessive, exploring territory long forbidden to him.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Vishnu stepped behind Devika. Before she could recover, his arms encircled her waist from behind, creating a sandwich between father and son.
"I won't let my mother be hurt," he murmured against her ear, his lips finding the sensitive skin of her neck. "Not anymore."
"Vishnu," Devika gasped, his name both protest and plea. "Stop..." But her body betrayed her words, head tilting to allow him better access as his lips traced a burning path down her neck.
Vishnu's hands settled on her waist, fingers working methodically to loosen her saree. With practiced ease, he lowered the fabric, exposing the bare skin above her petticoat. His palms pressed against her bare midriff, the coolness of his touch making her shiver.
"Mom, you're so sexy," he whispered, pressing his body against her from behind.
Devika's eyes fluttered closed. "Don't... don't call me that. It feels strange."
"It's okay, Mom," Vishnu insisted, his voice thick with desire. "Today your son and husband both will give you happiness." His hands gripped her hips firmly, pushing her forward into Dattu's body.
Dattu stood before them, having shed his new blue shirt. His chest was bare, graying hair tapering down to his stomach, muscles still defined despite his age. The sight of him—this older, working-class man with hunger in his eyes—should have repelled her. Instead, Devika felt drawn to his raw masculinity, so different from Rajeevan's manicured perfection.
As Vishnu pressed her against Dattu's bare chest, an electric current seemed to pass between them. The heat of Dattu's skin against her face, the solid strength of his arms as they encircled her once more, the unmistakable hardness pressed against her abdomen—all combined to sweep away the last vestiges of resistance.
"My wife," Dattu murmured, the possessive words sending a shudder through her. "Even if just for tonight."
Behind her, Vishnu's hands continued their exploration, fingers spreading wide across her exposed waist, thumbs tracing the sensitive dip of her spine. His body pressed insistently against her from behind, his arousal evident against the curve of her buttocks.
Father and son, their bodies forming a cage of male desire around her. Devika stood suspended between them, knowing she should pull away, knowing this crossed every boundary of propriety. Yet the loneliness of months in Pune, the sting of Rajeevan's betrayal, the heady sensation of being truly wanted—all conspired to keep her still, accepting their touch as the colored lights blinked overhead, casting shifting shadows across their entangled forms.
"What happened?" Dattu's weathered hand cupped her face, his thumb gently wiping away a tear. "Did we upset you?"
Devika shook her head, unable to speak through the tightness in her throat.
"Tell us," Dattu urged, his voice unusually tender. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she whispered, but the tears kept flowing.
"Please," Dattu pressed, his calloused fingers still cradling her face. "Something troubles you."
The gentleness broke something within her. Words spilled out before she could contain them. "Rajeevan... my husband..." Her voice cracked on the word. "The way he treats me... showing off other women on video calls... laughing at my pain..."
Dattu's expression darkened, his jaw tightening beneath his beard. "He hurts you?"
"Not with his hands," Devika explained, her voice small. "With his betrayal. His indifference."
Vishnu moved closer, his eyes calculating beneath a mask of concern. "Madam, don't worry about your worthless husband." His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Forget him. Think of your new husband instead." He gestured toward Dattu. "Someone who appreciates you."
Dattu opened his arms, offering comfort. "Come."
Devika hesitated only briefly before stepping into his embrace. The solid warmth of his chest against her cheek felt like an anchor in a storm. His arms enveloped her completely, strong yet gentle, as he guided her head to rest against his shoulder. The faint scent of soap and motor oil clung to his skin—honest smells, working-man smells, so different from Rajeevan's expensive cologne that masked his deceit.
"There, there," Dattu murmured, his rough hand stroking her back. "No tears on my birthday."
Vishnu moved to the table, cutting another slice of cake. "Father, feed her more cake. Sweet things for sweet emotions."
Dattu broke off a piece with his fingers, offering it to Devika's lips. Before she could accept it, Vishnu stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with a new idea.
"Why don't you share it?" he suggested. "Both eat the cake together."
Dattu's questioning gaze moved from his son to Devika. She caught his meaning immediately—what Vishnu was proposing went beyond simple comfort. Yet instead of recoiling, she felt a flutter of forbidden anticipation.
She looked at Vishnu, then back at Dattu. Something in the older man's eyes—hunger mingled with reverence—made her nod slightly.
"Yes," she whispered, surprised by her own acquiescence.
Dattu placed the small piece of cake between Devika's lips, leaving half exposed. His eyes never left hers as he leaned forward, his mouth closing over the exposed cake and brushing against her lips in the process. The intimate act of sharing food this way sent a jolt of electricity through her body. She felt the chocolate melt between them, sweetness mingling with the salt of her dried tears.
"Father," Vishnu observed, his voice slightly strained, "there's still cake on her lips. Don't waste it."
Dattu needed no further encouragement. His mouth descended on hers again, this time with unmistakable intent. His lips locked with hers, tongue sweeping across to collect the remnants of chocolate. What began as a pretext quickly transformed into a deep, hungry kiss.
Devika moaned against his mouth, torn between guilt and a spreading heat that seemed to liquefy her bones. Dattu's hands moved to her back, fingers splaying wide to feel the curves beneath her saree blouse. His touch was reverent yet possessive, exploring territory long forbidden to him.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Vishnu stepped behind Devika. Before she could recover, his arms encircled her waist from behind, creating a sandwich between father and son.
"I won't let my mother be hurt," he murmured against her ear, his lips finding the sensitive skin of her neck. "Not anymore."
"Vishnu," Devika gasped, his name both protest and plea. "Stop..." But her body betrayed her words, head tilting to allow him better access as his lips traced a burning path down her neck.
Vishnu's hands settled on her waist, fingers working methodically to loosen her saree. With practiced ease, he lowered the fabric, exposing the bare skin above her petticoat. His palms pressed against her bare midriff, the coolness of his touch making her shiver.
"Mom, you're so sexy," he whispered, pressing his body against her from behind.
Devika's eyes fluttered closed. "Don't... don't call me that. It feels strange."
"It's okay, Mom," Vishnu insisted, his voice thick with desire. "Today your son and husband both will give you happiness." His hands gripped her hips firmly, pushing her forward into Dattu's body.
Dattu stood before them, having shed his new blue shirt. His chest was bare, graying hair tapering down to his stomach, muscles still defined despite his age. The sight of him—this older, working-class man with hunger in his eyes—should have repelled her. Instead, Devika felt drawn to his raw masculinity, so different from Rajeevan's manicured perfection.
As Vishnu pressed her against Dattu's bare chest, an electric current seemed to pass between them. The heat of Dattu's skin against her face, the solid strength of his arms as they encircled her once more, the unmistakable hardness pressed against her abdomen—all combined to sweep away the last vestiges of resistance.
"My wife," Dattu murmured, the possessive words sending a shudder through her. "Even if just for tonight."
Behind her, Vishnu's hands continued their exploration, fingers spreading wide across her exposed waist, thumbs tracing the sensitive dip of her spine. His body pressed insistently against her from behind, his arousal evident against the curve of her buttocks.
Father and son, their bodies forming a cage of male desire around her. Devika stood suspended between them, knowing she should pull away, knowing this crossed every boundary of propriety. Yet the loneliness of months in Pune, the sting of Rajeevan's betrayal, the heady sensation of being truly wanted—all conspired to keep her still, accepting their touch as the colored lights blinked overhead, casting shifting shadows across their entangled forms.
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