02-12-2025, 06:36 PM
(This post was last modified: Yesterday, 10:41 AM by Shakespeare. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Part 2
The days blurred into a haze of anticipation after that conversation with Ash. At work, every glance he shot my way carried a weight, a silent reminder of our secret pact. I buried myself in spreadsheets, but my mind kept drifting to Chitra—to the way her silk sarees whispered against her skin, to the curve of her ass as she bent to serve dinner. The jealousy gnawed at me, but so did the heat pooling in my groin whenever I imagined Ash's strong hands on her. Our nights together felt charged now; last evening, as I thrust into her from behind, her moans filling our bedroom, I pictured him watching, directing. She came hard, her pussy clenching around me, loyal as ever, but the fantasy left me spent and ashamed.
That Friday evening, I came home earlier than usual, the office party looming in my mind. The annual event was next Saturday—a lavish affair at a upscale hotel in Koramangala, with live music, cocktails, and the bank's elite mingling. Ash had made it clear: Chitra's presence was key to the next phase. I found her in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for our simple dal-rice dinner. She wore a simple cotton salwar kameez at home, but even that couldn't hide her full breasts straining against the fabric or the sway of her hips. Her long wavy hair was tied back, a few strands escaping to frame her fair face.
"Chitra," I said, setting my bag down and approaching her from behind, my hands sliding around her waist. She leaned into me, her body soft and warm. "There's an office party next week. I'd love for you to come with me."
She turned slightly, her knife pausing mid-chop. "A party? Hari, you know I'm not big on those things. All that dressing up and small talk... and with your colleagues?" Her voice was hesitant, traditional reservations kicking in. She wiped her hands on her apron, turning to face me fully. Her eyes, dark and expressive, searched mine. "Besides, it's just work people. I wouldn't know anyone."
I swallowed, my pulse quickening. This was it—the first real push. "Ash—Mr. Menon—insisted. He said it would be great for me, networking and all. He specifically asked if you'd be there." I kept my tone casual, but inside, my heart raced. Mentioning his name felt like handing her over, piece by piece.
Chitra's brows furrowed, but then a flicker of intrigue crossed her face. "Your boss? Why would he care if I came?" She bit her lower lip, that shy smile tugging at the corners. I could see the curiosity sparking, the same one I'd glimpsed when he complimented her saree.
"He just... appreciated meeting you. Said you're welcome anytime." My voice cracked slightly, and I pulled her closer, feeling the heat of her body against mine. Her tits pressed into my chest, soft and inviting, stirring my cock despite the tension.
She hesitated, glancing away, but the mention of Ash seemed to tip the scale. "Well, if he insists... I suppose I could go. For you." Her cheeks flushed, and she pecked my cheek before turning back to the vegetables. "What should I wear? Something nice, I guess."
Relief and a twisted thrill washed over me. "Your silk sarees. The ones that make you look stunning." She laughed softly, oblivious to the storm brewing in my mind. That night, as we lay in bed, her head on my shoulder, I stroked her hair, imagining Ash's eyes on her at the party. Sleep came fitfully, my dreams a tangle of her moans under another man.
The next morning, as Chitra busied herself with chores, my phone buzzed. A text from Ash:
Ash: So, did you invite her? What's the verdict?
My fingers trembled as I replied: Yes. She was reluctant at first, but when I mentioned you insisted, she agreed. She's intrigued.
His response came quick: Good boy. Tell me more. What did she say about me?
The 'good boy' hit me like a jolt, a subtle command that made my stomach flip. I glanced at Chitra in the living room, folding laundry in her casual kurti, her ass rounding out as she bent over.
Me: She asked why you cared if she came. Blushed a bit. Said you're charismatic.
Ash: Charismatic, huh? She's right. Send me a pic of her right now. Something to tide me over.
I froze, my cock twitching at the directness. Obediently, I snuck a photo—Chitra reaching up to a shelf, her kurti riding up to show the curve of her hip. I hit send before doubt could stop me.
Ash: Fuck, that's a nice ass. Soft, plump. Bet it jiggles when you fuck her. Does she moan loud?
Heat flooded my face, a mix of humiliation and arousal. His tone was shifting, probing deeper, demanding.
Me: Yes, she moans loud. Especially when I take her from behind.
I typed back, my free hand adjusting my growing erection.
The texts continued through the afternoon, as Chitra napped.
Ash: What's her favorite position?
Me: She loves doggy.
Ash: Does she swallow?
Me: Nope. Never. She'll never do it. But she lets me cum on her tits.
Ash: Tell me about her tits—how big? 36B, full and perky, nipples dark and sensitive.
I sent another photo—this one from our album, Chitra in a green silk saree, the blouse hugging her cleavage—I felt myself sinking, submissive under his invisible control.
Ash: Good. You're being honest. That's what I like. Next, get her trying on sarees for the party. Send pics of those. Make her pose if you can.
Me: Ok, Ash.
By evening, as Chitra modeled outfits in our bedroom, I snapped photos at his behest. A blue silk saree dbangd low on her hips, exposing her navel; a red one that made her tits look even fuller. She twirled, laughing at my sudden interest. "You like this one?" she asked, her voice teasing.
"You look incredible," I murmured, sending the shots to Ash immediately. His replies grew bolder...
Ash: Bend her over in that red one. Imagine my cock sliding between those ass cheeks.
The night stretched on, texts pinging even as Chitra slept beside me.
Ash: She's loyal now, but not for long. You're doing well, Hari. Keep feeding me details.
His domination was subtle, wrapping around me like a vice—praise mixed with commands. I lay there, phone glowing, my hand slipping under the sheets to stroke myself, the thrill of submission deepening. The party was a week away, and already, the game felt irreversible.
The days blurred into a haze of anticipation after that conversation with Ash. At work, every glance he shot my way carried a weight, a silent reminder of our secret pact. I buried myself in spreadsheets, but my mind kept drifting to Chitra—to the way her silk sarees whispered against her skin, to the curve of her ass as she bent to serve dinner. The jealousy gnawed at me, but so did the heat pooling in my groin whenever I imagined Ash's strong hands on her. Our nights together felt charged now; last evening, as I thrust into her from behind, her moans filling our bedroom, I pictured him watching, directing. She came hard, her pussy clenching around me, loyal as ever, but the fantasy left me spent and ashamed.
That Friday evening, I came home earlier than usual, the office party looming in my mind. The annual event was next Saturday—a lavish affair at a upscale hotel in Koramangala, with live music, cocktails, and the bank's elite mingling. Ash had made it clear: Chitra's presence was key to the next phase. I found her in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for our simple dal-rice dinner. She wore a simple cotton salwar kameez at home, but even that couldn't hide her full breasts straining against the fabric or the sway of her hips. Her long wavy hair was tied back, a few strands escaping to frame her fair face.
"Chitra," I said, setting my bag down and approaching her from behind, my hands sliding around her waist. She leaned into me, her body soft and warm. "There's an office party next week. I'd love for you to come with me."
She turned slightly, her knife pausing mid-chop. "A party? Hari, you know I'm not big on those things. All that dressing up and small talk... and with your colleagues?" Her voice was hesitant, traditional reservations kicking in. She wiped her hands on her apron, turning to face me fully. Her eyes, dark and expressive, searched mine. "Besides, it's just work people. I wouldn't know anyone."
I swallowed, my pulse quickening. This was it—the first real push. "Ash—Mr. Menon—insisted. He said it would be great for me, networking and all. He specifically asked if you'd be there." I kept my tone casual, but inside, my heart raced. Mentioning his name felt like handing her over, piece by piece.
Chitra's brows furrowed, but then a flicker of intrigue crossed her face. "Your boss? Why would he care if I came?" She bit her lower lip, that shy smile tugging at the corners. I could see the curiosity sparking, the same one I'd glimpsed when he complimented her saree.
"He just... appreciated meeting you. Said you're welcome anytime." My voice cracked slightly, and I pulled her closer, feeling the heat of her body against mine. Her tits pressed into my chest, soft and inviting, stirring my cock despite the tension.
She hesitated, glancing away, but the mention of Ash seemed to tip the scale. "Well, if he insists... I suppose I could go. For you." Her cheeks flushed, and she pecked my cheek before turning back to the vegetables. "What should I wear? Something nice, I guess."
Relief and a twisted thrill washed over me. "Your silk sarees. The ones that make you look stunning." She laughed softly, oblivious to the storm brewing in my mind. That night, as we lay in bed, her head on my shoulder, I stroked her hair, imagining Ash's eyes on her at the party. Sleep came fitfully, my dreams a tangle of her moans under another man.
The next morning, as Chitra busied herself with chores, my phone buzzed. A text from Ash:
Ash: So, did you invite her? What's the verdict?
My fingers trembled as I replied: Yes. She was reluctant at first, but when I mentioned you insisted, she agreed. She's intrigued.
His response came quick: Good boy. Tell me more. What did she say about me?
The 'good boy' hit me like a jolt, a subtle command that made my stomach flip. I glanced at Chitra in the living room, folding laundry in her casual kurti, her ass rounding out as she bent over.
Me: She asked why you cared if she came. Blushed a bit. Said you're charismatic.
Ash: Charismatic, huh? She's right. Send me a pic of her right now. Something to tide me over.
I froze, my cock twitching at the directness. Obediently, I snuck a photo—Chitra reaching up to a shelf, her kurti riding up to show the curve of her hip. I hit send before doubt could stop me.
Ash: Fuck, that's a nice ass. Soft, plump. Bet it jiggles when you fuck her. Does she moan loud?
Heat flooded my face, a mix of humiliation and arousal. His tone was shifting, probing deeper, demanding.
Me: Yes, she moans loud. Especially when I take her from behind.
I typed back, my free hand adjusting my growing erection.
The texts continued through the afternoon, as Chitra napped.
Ash: What's her favorite position?
Me: She loves doggy.
Ash: Does she swallow?
Me: Nope. Never. She'll never do it. But she lets me cum on her tits.
Ash: Tell me about her tits—how big? 36B, full and perky, nipples dark and sensitive.
I sent another photo—this one from our album, Chitra in a green silk saree, the blouse hugging her cleavage—I felt myself sinking, submissive under his invisible control.
Ash: Good. You're being honest. That's what I like. Next, get her trying on sarees for the party. Send pics of those. Make her pose if you can.
Me: Ok, Ash.
By evening, as Chitra modeled outfits in our bedroom, I snapped photos at his behest. A blue silk saree dbangd low on her hips, exposing her navel; a red one that made her tits look even fuller. She twirled, laughing at my sudden interest. "You like this one?" she asked, her voice teasing.
"You look incredible," I murmured, sending the shots to Ash immediately. His replies grew bolder...
Ash: Bend her over in that red one. Imagine my cock sliding between those ass cheeks.
The night stretched on, texts pinging even as Chitra slept beside me.
Ash: She's loyal now, but not for long. You're doing well, Hari. Keep feeding me details.
His domination was subtle, wrapping around me like a vice—praise mixed with commands. I lay there, phone glowing, my hand slipping under the sheets to stroke myself, the thrill of submission deepening. The party was a week away, and already, the game felt irreversible.
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