28-11-2025, 11:13 AM
Chapter 110:
The backseat of Mohan's Maruti lingered with the heat of their encounter, the moonlight dimmed by drifting clouds, casting faint shadows across the leather. Nivi's breath steadied, her lips still tingling from the taste of Mohan's release, her body humming with the afterglow of her own climax. Her bra straps hung loose, cups pulled down, her breasts barely covered as she adjusted them, nipples sensitive against the fabric.
She reached for her teal kurta, crumpled beside her, and slipped it on, the material clinging to her sweat-damp skin. Her navy leggings and panty, tossed aside earlier, were pulled back on, the fabric tight against her still-wet thighs. Mohan sat beside her, his pants zipped, his chest heaving, eyes dark with lingering want.
He leaned closer, his hand brushing her arm, his voice low and eager.
“Nivi, let's take this to my place,” he said, his grin teasing but hungry.
“No one's there tonight—just us, more space, more time.” His fingers grazed her kurta's sleeve, his gaze flicking to her chest, where the fabric hugged her curves.
Nivi's pulse spiked, her pussy tingling at the thought, but her mind snapped to control, the thrill tempered by caution. Her body craved more—his touch, his heat—but giving him everything felt too much, too soon. She shook her head, her voice firm but warm.
“Can't, Mohan. I've got to get home—kids are waiting.” She smoothed her kurta, her eyes meeting his, holding the power she'd reclaimed.
His grin faded, disappointment flashing, but he nodded, his hand dropping.
“You're killing me, you know,” he said, his tone playful, though his eyes lingered on her lips, still swollen from their act.
“But I'll take what I can get.”
She smiled, adjusting her dupatta to cover her neckline, her control solid.
“Take me home—usual spot.” Her voice was calm, a command wrapped in softness, and she slid to the front seat, her bag on her lap, the leather creaking.
Mohan climbed into the driver's seat, starting the engine, the car rumbling to life.
“Usual spot it is,” he said, his tone lighter, though his glance at her thighs, where the navy leggings shimmered, showed his lingering desire. The drive was quiet, Coimbatore's streets emptying as shops closed, the air cool through the open window. Nivi leaned against the door, her body still buzzing, her mind replaying the sloppy heat of her mouth on him, his cum on her face, her eager acceptance. I wanted it, she thought, pride mixing with a flicker of guilt, her connection to Raghavan tugging at her.
He pulled over at the usual spot—a quiet corner outside her neighborhood, the streetlamp casting a soft glow.
“Here you go,” he said, his voice soft, his eyes tracing her kurta's fit.
“Next time, my place?” His grin was hopeful, teasing.
Nivi laughed, stepping out, her sandals clicking on the pavement.
“We'll see, Mohan. Be good.” Her tone was coy, her bag slung over her shoulder, and she walked away, her kurta swaying slightly, his gaze heavy on her back.
The apartment was dark when she stepped inside, the door creaking softly, the kids' toys scattered across the living room floor. Her mother-in-law sat on the couch, a chai cup in hand, her saree a muted blue, her eyes narrowing as Nivi closed the door.
“Back late,” she said, her voice low, a mischievous edge creeping in.
“That flush on your face—something happen out there?” Her gaze flicked to Nivi's slightly flushed cheeks, the faint sheen on her skin, the kurta clinging to her curves.
Nivi's heart skipped, her hand brushing her face, feeling the lingering warmth.
“Just tired, Amma,” she said quickly, heading to the sink.
“Work was long.” She splashed water on her face, washing away the evidence, the coolness grounding her. Her kurta stuck slightly, noticed by her mother-in-law's sharp eyes, but she kept her back turned, drying her face with a towel.
The older woman sipped her chai, her smirk skeptical.
“Tired, huh? You look more… alive than tired.” Her tone was teasing, but she waved a hand.
“Alright, I won't push. Get some rest.” Her eyes lingered, knowing, but she let it slide.
Nivi nodded, her stomach knotting with guilt, and headed to her room, kicking off her sandals. The kids were asleep, their soft snores a comfort, and she changed into her nighty, the teal kurta folded away, the navy leggings tossed into the laundry. She sank onto the bed, Anand's snores distant, her mind a tangle of Mohan's touch, his dirty words, her own bold surrender. The guilt grew stronger, Raghavan's face flashing—his steady voice, their intimate moments, the way he saw her. I went too far, she thought, her fingers twisting the bedsheet.
She grabbed her phone, the screen glowing in the dark, and dialed Raghavan, her heart pounding. He answered after two rings, his voice warm but curious.
“Nivi? Calling late—what's on your mind?” The background was quiet, maybe his home, a faint rustle of fabric.
She took a breath, her voice steady but open, their past talks loosening her tongue.
“Sir, I got carried away tonight with Mohan,” she said, her words direct.
“He gave me a ride, and things got… intense. He went down on me, made me cum, and I returned the favor—my mouth on him, took it all.” She paused, her cheeks warming, but pushed on, no hesitation.
“He asked me to go to his place after, to keep it going, but I said no, needed to get home. I couldn't go that far.” Her voice was honest, raw, her connection to Raghavan urging her to spill everything.
Raghavan's tone stayed calm, a hint of amusement.
“Sounds like you had fun, Nivi. Why stop at his place? You were already on fire.” His voice was encouraging, no judgment, a warmth that eased her.
She swallowed, her fingers gripping the phone.
“I wanted control, sir. And… you're still in my head. After what we've had, it feels different with others. I felt a bit guilty, going that far with Mohan.” Her voice softened, her nighty brushing her thighs as she shifted.
He chuckled, low and warm.
“Guilt's natural, but don't let it hold you back. You're a firecracker, Nivi—explore, enjoy the variety. I like knowing you're out there, feeling alive, tasting different men.” His words were bold, a gentle push, his tone almost possessive yet open.
Nivi's brow furrowed, confusion swirling. Why's he okay with this? she thought, her mind racing. He'd always been intense, claiming her in their moments, yet now he encouraged her to roam.
“Sir, I don't get it,” she said, her voice curious but cautious.
“You don't mind me with others? Most men wouldn't share like that.” Her question hung, her guilt mingling with intrigue.
Raghavan laughed softly, his voice steady.
“I'm not most men. I like you bold, Nivi—exploring, owning your desire. It doesn't take you away from me; it makes you… more. Try it, see what you like. You'll come back to me stronger.” His words were confident, a challenge, leaving her puzzled but stirred.
She nodded, though he couldn't see, her throat tight.
“Okay, I'll… think about it. Thanks, sir.” Her voice was soft, the confusion lingering, his acceptance both freeing and strange. The call ended, his words echoing, her mind a storm of questions.
She lay back, the ceiling fan humming, Anand's snores a distant drone. Her thoughts churned—Raghavan's encouragement, Mohan's desperate touch, her own control holding firm. Why share me? she wondered, the idea unsettling yet intriguing, her body still tingling from the night's heat. The city's quiet pulse lulled her, and she drifted to sleep, the chapter closing on her tangled emotions, the night heavy with possibility.
The backseat of Mohan's Maruti lingered with the heat of their encounter, the moonlight dimmed by drifting clouds, casting faint shadows across the leather. Nivi's breath steadied, her lips still tingling from the taste of Mohan's release, her body humming with the afterglow of her own climax. Her bra straps hung loose, cups pulled down, her breasts barely covered as she adjusted them, nipples sensitive against the fabric.
She reached for her teal kurta, crumpled beside her, and slipped it on, the material clinging to her sweat-damp skin. Her navy leggings and panty, tossed aside earlier, were pulled back on, the fabric tight against her still-wet thighs. Mohan sat beside her, his pants zipped, his chest heaving, eyes dark with lingering want.
He leaned closer, his hand brushing her arm, his voice low and eager.
“Nivi, let's take this to my place,” he said, his grin teasing but hungry.
“No one's there tonight—just us, more space, more time.” His fingers grazed her kurta's sleeve, his gaze flicking to her chest, where the fabric hugged her curves.
Nivi's pulse spiked, her pussy tingling at the thought, but her mind snapped to control, the thrill tempered by caution. Her body craved more—his touch, his heat—but giving him everything felt too much, too soon. She shook her head, her voice firm but warm.
“Can't, Mohan. I've got to get home—kids are waiting.” She smoothed her kurta, her eyes meeting his, holding the power she'd reclaimed.
His grin faded, disappointment flashing, but he nodded, his hand dropping.
“You're killing me, you know,” he said, his tone playful, though his eyes lingered on her lips, still swollen from their act.
“But I'll take what I can get.”
She smiled, adjusting her dupatta to cover her neckline, her control solid.
“Take me home—usual spot.” Her voice was calm, a command wrapped in softness, and she slid to the front seat, her bag on her lap, the leather creaking.
Mohan climbed into the driver's seat, starting the engine, the car rumbling to life.
“Usual spot it is,” he said, his tone lighter, though his glance at her thighs, where the navy leggings shimmered, showed his lingering desire. The drive was quiet, Coimbatore's streets emptying as shops closed, the air cool through the open window. Nivi leaned against the door, her body still buzzing, her mind replaying the sloppy heat of her mouth on him, his cum on her face, her eager acceptance. I wanted it, she thought, pride mixing with a flicker of guilt, her connection to Raghavan tugging at her.
He pulled over at the usual spot—a quiet corner outside her neighborhood, the streetlamp casting a soft glow.
“Here you go,” he said, his voice soft, his eyes tracing her kurta's fit.
“Next time, my place?” His grin was hopeful, teasing.
Nivi laughed, stepping out, her sandals clicking on the pavement.
“We'll see, Mohan. Be good.” Her tone was coy, her bag slung over her shoulder, and she walked away, her kurta swaying slightly, his gaze heavy on her back.
The apartment was dark when she stepped inside, the door creaking softly, the kids' toys scattered across the living room floor. Her mother-in-law sat on the couch, a chai cup in hand, her saree a muted blue, her eyes narrowing as Nivi closed the door.
“Back late,” she said, her voice low, a mischievous edge creeping in.
“That flush on your face—something happen out there?” Her gaze flicked to Nivi's slightly flushed cheeks, the faint sheen on her skin, the kurta clinging to her curves.
Nivi's heart skipped, her hand brushing her face, feeling the lingering warmth.
“Just tired, Amma,” she said quickly, heading to the sink.
“Work was long.” She splashed water on her face, washing away the evidence, the coolness grounding her. Her kurta stuck slightly, noticed by her mother-in-law's sharp eyes, but she kept her back turned, drying her face with a towel.
The older woman sipped her chai, her smirk skeptical.
“Tired, huh? You look more… alive than tired.” Her tone was teasing, but she waved a hand.
“Alright, I won't push. Get some rest.” Her eyes lingered, knowing, but she let it slide.
Nivi nodded, her stomach knotting with guilt, and headed to her room, kicking off her sandals. The kids were asleep, their soft snores a comfort, and she changed into her nighty, the teal kurta folded away, the navy leggings tossed into the laundry. She sank onto the bed, Anand's snores distant, her mind a tangle of Mohan's touch, his dirty words, her own bold surrender. The guilt grew stronger, Raghavan's face flashing—his steady voice, their intimate moments, the way he saw her. I went too far, she thought, her fingers twisting the bedsheet.
She grabbed her phone, the screen glowing in the dark, and dialed Raghavan, her heart pounding. He answered after two rings, his voice warm but curious.
“Nivi? Calling late—what's on your mind?” The background was quiet, maybe his home, a faint rustle of fabric.
She took a breath, her voice steady but open, their past talks loosening her tongue.
“Sir, I got carried away tonight with Mohan,” she said, her words direct.
“He gave me a ride, and things got… intense. He went down on me, made me cum, and I returned the favor—my mouth on him, took it all.” She paused, her cheeks warming, but pushed on, no hesitation.
“He asked me to go to his place after, to keep it going, but I said no, needed to get home. I couldn't go that far.” Her voice was honest, raw, her connection to Raghavan urging her to spill everything.
Raghavan's tone stayed calm, a hint of amusement.
“Sounds like you had fun, Nivi. Why stop at his place? You were already on fire.” His voice was encouraging, no judgment, a warmth that eased her.
She swallowed, her fingers gripping the phone.
“I wanted control, sir. And… you're still in my head. After what we've had, it feels different with others. I felt a bit guilty, going that far with Mohan.” Her voice softened, her nighty brushing her thighs as she shifted.
He chuckled, low and warm.
“Guilt's natural, but don't let it hold you back. You're a firecracker, Nivi—explore, enjoy the variety. I like knowing you're out there, feeling alive, tasting different men.” His words were bold, a gentle push, his tone almost possessive yet open.
Nivi's brow furrowed, confusion swirling. Why's he okay with this? she thought, her mind racing. He'd always been intense, claiming her in their moments, yet now he encouraged her to roam.
“Sir, I don't get it,” she said, her voice curious but cautious.
“You don't mind me with others? Most men wouldn't share like that.” Her question hung, her guilt mingling with intrigue.
Raghavan laughed softly, his voice steady.
“I'm not most men. I like you bold, Nivi—exploring, owning your desire. It doesn't take you away from me; it makes you… more. Try it, see what you like. You'll come back to me stronger.” His words were confident, a challenge, leaving her puzzled but stirred.
She nodded, though he couldn't see, her throat tight.
“Okay, I'll… think about it. Thanks, sir.” Her voice was soft, the confusion lingering, his acceptance both freeing and strange. The call ended, his words echoing, her mind a storm of questions.
She lay back, the ceiling fan humming, Anand's snores a distant drone. Her thoughts churned—Raghavan's encouragement, Mohan's desperate touch, her own control holding firm. Why share me? she wondered, the idea unsettling yet intriguing, her body still tingling from the night's heat. The city's quiet pulse lulled her, and she drifted to sleep, the chapter closing on her tangled emotions, the night heavy with possibility.
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