07-12-2025, 12:55 PM
Part 5
The weekend arrived with a lazy warmth, the kind that made Bangalore feel alive with possibility. Chitra had been talking about shopping all week, needing a new blouse for an upcoming family function. Her eyes lit up when she mentioned it over breakfast, her cotton nightie hugging her curves as she poured my coffee.
Chitra: I think I'll head to the mall today, Hari. Pick up something nice.
Her voice was casual, but there was a spark in her, a subtle playfulness that hadn't been there before the party. I nodded, my mind already racing to Ash.
As she got ready, slipping into a simple silk saree that dbangd elegantly over her plump ass and full tits, I felt that familiar twist of jealousy and excitement. The fabric shimmered against her fair skin, her long wavy hair cascading down her back. She looked every bit the traditional wife, but I knew the curiosity simmering beneath. While she was in the bathroom, I pulled out my phone and texted Ash...
Me:Chitra's going shopping at Forum Mall this afternoon. Thought you'd want to know.
My fingers hesitated, but I hit send, the submission pulling at me like a current.
His reply came quick.
Ash: Good boy. Send updates. Pictures. Every detail.
The command stung, but my cock stirred, the domination sinking deeper. I pocketed the phone and kissed Chitra goodbye as she left, her perfume lingering—a soft floral that made me ache. Around noon, my phone buzzed with a photo from Chitra: her in a trial room mirror, holding up a blue blouse against her chest, the saree pallu slipping just enough to tease the swell of her tits.
Chitra: What do you think?
I forwarded it straight to Ash, adding:She's trying on clothes. Looks stunning.
Ash's response was immediate: Fuck, those tits. Tell her she looks hot. Make her pose more.
I swallowed hard, texting Chitra back...
Me: You look beautiful. Maybe try it on and send a pic?
She replied with another photo, this one with the blouse half-buttoned, her cleavage on display, a shy smile on her lips.
Chitra: Like this?
I forwarded it, my heart pounding, arousal mixing with the shame of obeying him.
Me: She's getting bolder. Posing for me.
The updates kept coming—Chitra sending snaps of sarees she dbangd, one where the fabric clung low on her hips, accentuating her ass; another of her in a modern kurti that hugged her curves tighter than usual. Each one I sent to Ash, his replies growing more insistent.
Ash: Zoom in on that ass. She's dressing sexier because of me, isn't she? Your conservative little wife is cracking.
I shifted in my chair, the office air thick with my secret tension, my dick half-hard under the desk. Jealousy burned, but so did the thrill of handing her over, piece by piece.
By late afternoon, the photos stopped. Chitra texted: Met a friend, grabbing coffee. Home soon.
A friend? My stomach knotted, but I pushed it down.
Then Ash's message lit up my screen: Guess who I just 'accidentally' ran into at the mall? Your wife. She's even hotter up close in that saree.
My breath caught, pulse racing. He was there? With her? I stared at the words, the cuckold fantasy crashing into reality.
Me: What happened?
I typed back, fingers trembling. His response unfolded like a taunt, detailing every moment, pulling me into the scene I hadn't witnessed.
Ash: I spotted her in the clothing section, Hari - your Chitra, browsing those silk sarees, her ass swaying as she moved. I walked up, all casual: 'Chitra? What a coincidence! Fancy meeting you here.'
She startled, those fair cheeks flushing pink, but she smiled, polite as ever. 'Mr. Menon! Yes, small world.' We chatted about the party, light stuff, then I suggested coffee to catch up. She hesitated—loyal wife and all—but agreed, curiosity winning out.
At the café, she sat across from me, her tits rising with each nervous breath, the saree hugging her plump figure. I opened up, Hari. Told her my story—the orphan bit. How my parents died when I was twelve, car crash in Kerala. Left me alone, scbanging by with odd jobs, studying nights to build this life. Self-made, no silver spoon. No wife because I haven't found someone who sees the heart, not the money or the looks. Just wants the man underneath.'
I could picture it: Chitra's eyes softening, her traditional reserve cracking as she listened. Ash's voice low, commanding yet vulnerable, drawing her in.
Ash: She felt sorry for me.
Sympathy in those eyes, seeing past the boss, the alpha. Leaned forward, her cleavage spilling a bit, hanging on every word. I praised her then—told her she's stunning, that traditional beauty with a fire underneath. Suggested she try more modern stuff, revealing cuts that show off those curves.
Ash: You'd turn heads, Chitra. Hari's lucky, but the world should see you shine.
She blushed deep, but didn't pull away. We exchanged numbers—'In case you need style advice,' I said.
She's hooked now, feeling my longing. Bet her pussy tingled, thinking of a man who needs her heart.
The words hit like punches, each one stoking the fire in my gut. Chitra with him, alone, opening up emotionally while I sat here, obediently reading his conquest. My cock throbbed painfully, the domination complete as I imagined her sympathy turning to something deeper—a hotwife stirring, loyal but tempted.
Me: Did she say anything about me? I asked, desperate.
Ash: Laughed it off when I mentioned you. 'Hari's sweet,' she said, but her eyes said more. She's mine to mold now. Send more pics later—her trying on what I suggested.
I set the phone down, head spinning, the emotional pull twisting with raw desire. Chitra arrived home soon after, arms full of bags, her face glowing.
Chitra: 'Bought a few things,' she said, kissing my cheek, but she didn't mention coffee or Ash. Her secret smile hid it all, her heart shifting in ways I could only guess.
That night, as she modeled a new, slightly tighter blouse—tits straining the fabric, ass fuller in the matching skirt—I felt the distance grow, the seduction weaving tighter without a word from her.
The weekend arrived with a lazy warmth, the kind that made Bangalore feel alive with possibility. Chitra had been talking about shopping all week, needing a new blouse for an upcoming family function. Her eyes lit up when she mentioned it over breakfast, her cotton nightie hugging her curves as she poured my coffee.
Chitra: I think I'll head to the mall today, Hari. Pick up something nice.
Her voice was casual, but there was a spark in her, a subtle playfulness that hadn't been there before the party. I nodded, my mind already racing to Ash.
As she got ready, slipping into a simple silk saree that dbangd elegantly over her plump ass and full tits, I felt that familiar twist of jealousy and excitement. The fabric shimmered against her fair skin, her long wavy hair cascading down her back. She looked every bit the traditional wife, but I knew the curiosity simmering beneath. While she was in the bathroom, I pulled out my phone and texted Ash...
Me:Chitra's going shopping at Forum Mall this afternoon. Thought you'd want to know.
My fingers hesitated, but I hit send, the submission pulling at me like a current.
His reply came quick.
Ash: Good boy. Send updates. Pictures. Every detail.
The command stung, but my cock stirred, the domination sinking deeper. I pocketed the phone and kissed Chitra goodbye as she left, her perfume lingering—a soft floral that made me ache. Around noon, my phone buzzed with a photo from Chitra: her in a trial room mirror, holding up a blue blouse against her chest, the saree pallu slipping just enough to tease the swell of her tits.
Chitra: What do you think?
I forwarded it straight to Ash, adding:She's trying on clothes. Looks stunning.
Ash's response was immediate: Fuck, those tits. Tell her she looks hot. Make her pose more.
I swallowed hard, texting Chitra back...
Me: You look beautiful. Maybe try it on and send a pic?
She replied with another photo, this one with the blouse half-buttoned, her cleavage on display, a shy smile on her lips.
Chitra: Like this?
I forwarded it, my heart pounding, arousal mixing with the shame of obeying him.
Me: She's getting bolder. Posing for me.
The updates kept coming—Chitra sending snaps of sarees she dbangd, one where the fabric clung low on her hips, accentuating her ass; another of her in a modern kurti that hugged her curves tighter than usual. Each one I sent to Ash, his replies growing more insistent.
Ash: Zoom in on that ass. She's dressing sexier because of me, isn't she? Your conservative little wife is cracking.
I shifted in my chair, the office air thick with my secret tension, my dick half-hard under the desk. Jealousy burned, but so did the thrill of handing her over, piece by piece.
By late afternoon, the photos stopped. Chitra texted: Met a friend, grabbing coffee. Home soon.
A friend? My stomach knotted, but I pushed it down.
Then Ash's message lit up my screen: Guess who I just 'accidentally' ran into at the mall? Your wife. She's even hotter up close in that saree.
My breath caught, pulse racing. He was there? With her? I stared at the words, the cuckold fantasy crashing into reality.
Me: What happened?
I typed back, fingers trembling. His response unfolded like a taunt, detailing every moment, pulling me into the scene I hadn't witnessed.
Ash: I spotted her in the clothing section, Hari - your Chitra, browsing those silk sarees, her ass swaying as she moved. I walked up, all casual: 'Chitra? What a coincidence! Fancy meeting you here.'
She startled, those fair cheeks flushing pink, but she smiled, polite as ever. 'Mr. Menon! Yes, small world.' We chatted about the party, light stuff, then I suggested coffee to catch up. She hesitated—loyal wife and all—but agreed, curiosity winning out.
At the café, she sat across from me, her tits rising with each nervous breath, the saree hugging her plump figure. I opened up, Hari. Told her my story—the orphan bit. How my parents died when I was twelve, car crash in Kerala. Left me alone, scbanging by with odd jobs, studying nights to build this life. Self-made, no silver spoon. No wife because I haven't found someone who sees the heart, not the money or the looks. Just wants the man underneath.'
I could picture it: Chitra's eyes softening, her traditional reserve cracking as she listened. Ash's voice low, commanding yet vulnerable, drawing her in.
Ash: She felt sorry for me.
Sympathy in those eyes, seeing past the boss, the alpha. Leaned forward, her cleavage spilling a bit, hanging on every word. I praised her then—told her she's stunning, that traditional beauty with a fire underneath. Suggested she try more modern stuff, revealing cuts that show off those curves.
Ash: You'd turn heads, Chitra. Hari's lucky, but the world should see you shine.
She blushed deep, but didn't pull away. We exchanged numbers—'In case you need style advice,' I said.
She's hooked now, feeling my longing. Bet her pussy tingled, thinking of a man who needs her heart.
The words hit like punches, each one stoking the fire in my gut. Chitra with him, alone, opening up emotionally while I sat here, obediently reading his conquest. My cock throbbed painfully, the domination complete as I imagined her sympathy turning to something deeper—a hotwife stirring, loyal but tempted.
Me: Did she say anything about me? I asked, desperate.
Ash: Laughed it off when I mentioned you. 'Hari's sweet,' she said, but her eyes said more. She's mine to mold now. Send more pics later—her trying on what I suggested.
I set the phone down, head spinning, the emotional pull twisting with raw desire. Chitra arrived home soon after, arms full of bags, her face glowing.
Chitra: 'Bought a few things,' she said, kissing my cheek, but she didn't mention coffee or Ash. Her secret smile hid it all, her heart shifting in ways I could only guess.
That night, as she modeled a new, slightly tighter blouse—tits straining the fabric, ass fuller in the matching skirt—I felt the distance grow, the seduction weaving tighter without a word from her.
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