01-12-2025, 09:51 PM
Part One: The First Crack
Chapter Six: Day 5 – Friday, 22 May 2020
Lakshmi left at 1:51 p.m. with promises and apologies. The door shut. The chain slid home. Silence fell like a curtain.
Radha walked into the living room in a white cotton saree so thin it clung to every curve when she moved. Sleeveless cream blouse, six small front hooks. She had fastened only the bottom four. The pallu was dbangd loosely, ready to fall at the slightest excuse. No petticoat today (just a thin white panty beneath the saree). Hair loose and damp, brushing her waist.
Nikhil stood waiting in his usual lockdown clothes: faded sky-blue round-neck T-shirt, soft navy track pants, bare feet. He had clearly showered and changed the moment Lakshmi stepped out; his hair was still wet, a tiny drop of water sliding down his temple.
The dining table waited exactly as yesterday:
• his sky-blue T-shirt from Day 4
• her two gold bangles
• her small earrings
• the white pallu folded into a perfect square.
Radha sat. He sat.
She opened the Ludo board.
“Rule for today,” she said quietly. “Loser removes one agreed layer. We stop at underwear. If either of us says ‘stop’, everything ends forever. Clear?”
He swallowed. “Yes, Ma’am.”
First game – she lost on purpose.
She stood.
Slowly lifted the pallu from her shoulder and let it fall to the floor.
The sleeveless blouse was fully visible now, the top two hooks open, the inner curves of her breasts clearly outlined.
She sat again.
Second game – he lost.
He pulled the faded T-shirt over his head and dropped it on the pile.
Bare-chested, skin already shining with sweat.
Third game.
She leaned forward to move a token. The blouse gaped. The white lace bra and the deep valley between her breasts appeared for six full seconds. She counted his stunned silence, then straightened and casually hooked the blouse again.
She won.
He stood, pushed the navy track pants down his legs, stepped out, folded them once, placed them on the pile.
Now only grey briefs, old and soft, the thick ridge of his erection impossible to hide.
He sat, thighs pressed tight together.
Fourth game.
She lost.
She stood.
Six pleats at her waist. She pulled the tuck free, unwound the white cotton in one slow turn164.
The saree pooled at her feet.
She stepped out of it.
Only the sleeveless blouse and thin white panty remained.
She sat.
Nikhil’s breathing was audible.
Fifth game.
He lost again.
He stood.
His thumbs hooked into the waistband of the grey briefs.
Radha’s voice was soft but final.
“Leave them for now. That’s the rule we set: underwear stays on today.”
He exhaled shakily and sat, still in the briefs.
Sixth and final game.
The clock showed 3:17 p.m. Thirteen minutes left.
Radha looked straight at him.
“One final layer each. Loser removes underwear. Winner keeps theirs. That’s all for today. Sunday we decide the rest.”
They rolled.
Tokens crawled.
He needed a six. He rolled a four. Then a two.
She needed a three.
She rolled a three.
She won.
Radha stood without drama.
Hooked her thumbs into the waistband of the white panty.
Slid it down her thighs, over her knees, let it drop.
Stepped out.
Folded it once.
Placed the small, slightly damp cotton square on top of the pile.
Then she sat again.
Completely naked below the waist, blouse still on but open at the top, breasts rising and falling, the dark triangle between her thighs now fully exposed to the boy who used to tremble when she raised her voice.
Nikhil stared, mouth open, hands clenched on his thighs, cock straining against the grey briefs so hard it looked painful.
Ten full seconds of silence.
Then Radha spoke, voice calm.
“You keep your briefs today. That was the rule.”
She stood, gathered the fallen saree, dbangd it loosely around her hips without tucking (just holding it in place with one hand) and walked toward the bedroom.
At the doorway she paused, looked back.
“Sunday, ninety minutes. Maybe more. Be ready.”
The bedroom door closed with a soft click.
Nikhil remained at the table surrounded by almost all their clothes and the small white panty that now crowned the pile like a flag of surrender.
He pulled on his track pants and T-shirt with shaking hands, heart hammering so loud he was sure the neighbours could hear.
When Lakshmi returned at 4:26 p.m., everything looked perfectly normal.
Except the tiny damp panty waiting patiently on the table for Sunday.
Day 5 was over. Forty-eight hours of pretending lay ahead. And both of them already knew exactly what would happen when the last piece finally fell.
Chapter Six: Day 5 – Friday, 22 May 2020
Lakshmi left at 1:51 p.m. with promises and apologies. The door shut. The chain slid home. Silence fell like a curtain.
Radha walked into the living room in a white cotton saree so thin it clung to every curve when she moved. Sleeveless cream blouse, six small front hooks. She had fastened only the bottom four. The pallu was dbangd loosely, ready to fall at the slightest excuse. No petticoat today (just a thin white panty beneath the saree). Hair loose and damp, brushing her waist.
Nikhil stood waiting in his usual lockdown clothes: faded sky-blue round-neck T-shirt, soft navy track pants, bare feet. He had clearly showered and changed the moment Lakshmi stepped out; his hair was still wet, a tiny drop of water sliding down his temple.
The dining table waited exactly as yesterday:
• his sky-blue T-shirt from Day 4
• her two gold bangles
• her small earrings
• the white pallu folded into a perfect square.
Radha sat. He sat.
She opened the Ludo board.
“Rule for today,” she said quietly. “Loser removes one agreed layer. We stop at underwear. If either of us says ‘stop’, everything ends forever. Clear?”
He swallowed. “Yes, Ma’am.”
First game – she lost on purpose.
She stood.
Slowly lifted the pallu from her shoulder and let it fall to the floor.
The sleeveless blouse was fully visible now, the top two hooks open, the inner curves of her breasts clearly outlined.
She sat again.
Second game – he lost.
He pulled the faded T-shirt over his head and dropped it on the pile.
Bare-chested, skin already shining with sweat.
Third game.
She leaned forward to move a token. The blouse gaped. The white lace bra and the deep valley between her breasts appeared for six full seconds. She counted his stunned silence, then straightened and casually hooked the blouse again.
She won.
He stood, pushed the navy track pants down his legs, stepped out, folded them once, placed them on the pile.
Now only grey briefs, old and soft, the thick ridge of his erection impossible to hide.
He sat, thighs pressed tight together.
Fourth game.
She lost.
She stood.
Six pleats at her waist. She pulled the tuck free, unwound the white cotton in one slow turn164.
The saree pooled at her feet.
She stepped out of it.
Only the sleeveless blouse and thin white panty remained.
She sat.
Nikhil’s breathing was audible.
Fifth game.
He lost again.
He stood.
His thumbs hooked into the waistband of the grey briefs.
Radha’s voice was soft but final.
“Leave them for now. That’s the rule we set: underwear stays on today.”
He exhaled shakily and sat, still in the briefs.
Sixth and final game.
The clock showed 3:17 p.m. Thirteen minutes left.
Radha looked straight at him.
“One final layer each. Loser removes underwear. Winner keeps theirs. That’s all for today. Sunday we decide the rest.”
They rolled.
Tokens crawled.
He needed a six. He rolled a four. Then a two.
She needed a three.
She rolled a three.
She won.
Radha stood without drama.
Hooked her thumbs into the waistband of the white panty.
Slid it down her thighs, over her knees, let it drop.
Stepped out.
Folded it once.
Placed the small, slightly damp cotton square on top of the pile.
Then she sat again.
Completely naked below the waist, blouse still on but open at the top, breasts rising and falling, the dark triangle between her thighs now fully exposed to the boy who used to tremble when she raised her voice.
Nikhil stared, mouth open, hands clenched on his thighs, cock straining against the grey briefs so hard it looked painful.
Ten full seconds of silence.
Then Radha spoke, voice calm.
“You keep your briefs today. That was the rule.”
She stood, gathered the fallen saree, dbangd it loosely around her hips without tucking (just holding it in place with one hand) and walked toward the bedroom.
At the doorway she paused, looked back.
“Sunday, ninety minutes. Maybe more. Be ready.”
The bedroom door closed with a soft click.
Nikhil remained at the table surrounded by almost all their clothes and the small white panty that now crowned the pile like a flag of surrender.
He pulled on his track pants and T-shirt with shaking hands, heart hammering so loud he was sure the neighbours could hear.
When Lakshmi returned at 4:26 p.m., everything looked perfectly normal.
Except the tiny damp panty waiting patiently on the table for Sunday.
Day 5 was over. Forty-eight hours of pretending lay ahead. And both of them already knew exactly what would happen when the last piece finally fell.
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