16-12-2025, 12:55 AM
Part 6
The days blurred after that shopping trip, each one pulling Chitra further into this unspoken shift. She started experimenting with her wardrobe, ditching the traditional sarees for western outfits that clung to her body like a second skin. It began subtly—a fitted kurti one morning, the fabric stretching over her full tits, nipples faintly outlined when the light hit just right. But by mid-week, she was bolder: tight jeans that hugged her plump ass, the denim riding up between her cheeks as she walked, paired with a low-cut top that dipped into her cleavage, showing the soft swell of her breasts with every breath. 'Do you like this, Hari?' she'd ask, twirling in front of the mirror, her long wavy hair swaying, fair skin glowing under the bedroom light. I'd nod, throat dry, my cock twitching at the sight, but inside, jealousy gnawed—knowing Ash's words at the mall had planted this seed, urging her to reveal more.
She didn't mention him, not once, but I saw it in her eyes: a playful glint, testing boundaries she'd never crossed before. That evening, as we sat on the couch, her legs tucked under her in those jeans, she pulled out her phone.
Chitra: I'm posting a status
She said casually angling the camera for a selfie. The shot caught her from the side, top pulled low enough to tease the curve of her tit, ass perked against the cushion. She hit send on WhatsApp, then set the phone down, but her gaze kept flicking back, subtle at first, then more insistent. I pretended not to notice, but my heart raced—Ash hadn't texted her since the coffee, no direct line, just this digital game she was playing to draw him out.
Two hours dragged by, the TV droning in the background as Chitra shifted restlessly, checking her viewed statuses every few minutes. Her fingers tapped the screen, lips pressed together in quiet anticipation. Finally, her face lit up, a soft smile breaking through.
'Someone saw it,' she murmured, more to herself than me, but I caught the pleasure in her voice, the way her cheeks flushed. Ash. It had to be.
She didn't say his name, but the way she bit her lip told me everything—relief mixed with excitement, her body relaxing into the couch as if a weight had lifted. That night in bed, as she pressed against me, her hand brushing my thigh, I felt her warmth, the subtle heat between her legs, but her mind seemed elsewhere, chasing that validation.
The next morning, Ash's reaction came—not a text to her, but a heart emoji on the status view, simple and loaded. I saw it when I checked my phone later, forwarded discreetly by him with a message to me:
Ash: Your wife's testing me. Good. She's craving attention.
My stomach twisted, arousal flooding me as I pictured her seeing it, heart pounding, pussy tingling at the confirmation. She knew now—he was watching, desiring her curves on display.
At the office, I buried myself in work, but Ash's presence loomed, his broad shoulders filling the doorway as he passed my desk, a smirk playing on his lips. No words, just that knowing look, dominating the space between us without effort.
Chitra surprised me at lunch, showing up at the bank with a tiffin carrier, her outfit turning heads in the lobby—a body-hugging red dress that skimmed her hips, the neckline plunging to show the inner curves of her tits, ass swaying with each step in heels she'd never worn before.
Chitra: I made extra biryani
Her eyes bright, handing it over with a shy smile. But I saw the intent: she lingered, glancing toward Ash's office door, trying to catch his eye through the glass partition. Her fair skin flushed under the fluorescent lights, wavy hair tied back to expose her neck, vulnerable and inviting.
Chitra: Share it with Mr. Menon if you want. See if he likes it.
My cock stirred at the request, the hotwife in her emerging—loyal still, but reaching out, seducing without words.
I nodded, pulse quickening, and took the tiffin to the break room. Ash was there, alone, his muscular frame leaning against the counter. I offered him a portion, mumbling about Chitra's cooking. He took it, eyes darkening as he ate, then leaned in close.
Ash: Tell her I loved it. Said it was the best she's made yet—spicy, just like her.
His voice was low, commanding, sending a shiver through me. I relayed the message later, watching her face light up over dinner, though she hid it behind a casual 'Oh, good.' But inside, I knew: the emotional hook was setting deeper, her sympathy from the mall twisting into longing, her body responding to his praise.
That night, as we lay in bed, her in a thin nightie that did little to hide her hardening nipples, I couldn't hold it back. The words tumbled out, laced with the jealousy eating at me.
Me: Chitra, don't bring food to the office anymore. Or do favors for Ash. He's not the good person he pretends to be—manipulative, always taking what he wants.
My voice cracked, the cuckold fantasy clashing with real fear, my hand on her waist feeling possessive yet weak.
She stiffened beside me, her breath catching, upset flickering in her eyes.
Chitra: Why would you say that, Hari? He's been kind.
But she didn't argue, just turned away, her plump ass brushing my thigh in the dark, silent but seething. The air thickened with unspoken tension, her loyalty to me fraying at the edges.
As she drifted off, I stared at the ceiling, cock half-hard from the day's torments, realizing the truth: she longed for him now, the alpha pull undeniable. The game had officially begun, my obsession dragging us all into the fire, step by teasing step.
The days blurred after that shopping trip, each one pulling Chitra further into this unspoken shift. She started experimenting with her wardrobe, ditching the traditional sarees for western outfits that clung to her body like a second skin. It began subtly—a fitted kurti one morning, the fabric stretching over her full tits, nipples faintly outlined when the light hit just right. But by mid-week, she was bolder: tight jeans that hugged her plump ass, the denim riding up between her cheeks as she walked, paired with a low-cut top that dipped into her cleavage, showing the soft swell of her breasts with every breath. 'Do you like this, Hari?' she'd ask, twirling in front of the mirror, her long wavy hair swaying, fair skin glowing under the bedroom light. I'd nod, throat dry, my cock twitching at the sight, but inside, jealousy gnawed—knowing Ash's words at the mall had planted this seed, urging her to reveal more.
She didn't mention him, not once, but I saw it in her eyes: a playful glint, testing boundaries she'd never crossed before. That evening, as we sat on the couch, her legs tucked under her in those jeans, she pulled out her phone.
Chitra: I'm posting a status
She said casually angling the camera for a selfie. The shot caught her from the side, top pulled low enough to tease the curve of her tit, ass perked against the cushion. She hit send on WhatsApp, then set the phone down, but her gaze kept flicking back, subtle at first, then more insistent. I pretended not to notice, but my heart raced—Ash hadn't texted her since the coffee, no direct line, just this digital game she was playing to draw him out.
Two hours dragged by, the TV droning in the background as Chitra shifted restlessly, checking her viewed statuses every few minutes. Her fingers tapped the screen, lips pressed together in quiet anticipation. Finally, her face lit up, a soft smile breaking through.
'Someone saw it,' she murmured, more to herself than me, but I caught the pleasure in her voice, the way her cheeks flushed. Ash. It had to be.
She didn't say his name, but the way she bit her lip told me everything—relief mixed with excitement, her body relaxing into the couch as if a weight had lifted. That night in bed, as she pressed against me, her hand brushing my thigh, I felt her warmth, the subtle heat between her legs, but her mind seemed elsewhere, chasing that validation.
The next morning, Ash's reaction came—not a text to her, but a heart emoji on the status view, simple and loaded. I saw it when I checked my phone later, forwarded discreetly by him with a message to me:
Ash: Your wife's testing me. Good. She's craving attention.
My stomach twisted, arousal flooding me as I pictured her seeing it, heart pounding, pussy tingling at the confirmation. She knew now—he was watching, desiring her curves on display.
At the office, I buried myself in work, but Ash's presence loomed, his broad shoulders filling the doorway as he passed my desk, a smirk playing on his lips. No words, just that knowing look, dominating the space between us without effort.
Chitra surprised me at lunch, showing up at the bank with a tiffin carrier, her outfit turning heads in the lobby—a body-hugging red dress that skimmed her hips, the neckline plunging to show the inner curves of her tits, ass swaying with each step in heels she'd never worn before.
Chitra: I made extra biryani
Her eyes bright, handing it over with a shy smile. But I saw the intent: she lingered, glancing toward Ash's office door, trying to catch his eye through the glass partition. Her fair skin flushed under the fluorescent lights, wavy hair tied back to expose her neck, vulnerable and inviting.
Chitra: Share it with Mr. Menon if you want. See if he likes it.
My cock stirred at the request, the hotwife in her emerging—loyal still, but reaching out, seducing without words.
I nodded, pulse quickening, and took the tiffin to the break room. Ash was there, alone, his muscular frame leaning against the counter. I offered him a portion, mumbling about Chitra's cooking. He took it, eyes darkening as he ate, then leaned in close.
Ash: Tell her I loved it. Said it was the best she's made yet—spicy, just like her.
His voice was low, commanding, sending a shiver through me. I relayed the message later, watching her face light up over dinner, though she hid it behind a casual 'Oh, good.' But inside, I knew: the emotional hook was setting deeper, her sympathy from the mall twisting into longing, her body responding to his praise.
That night, as we lay in bed, her in a thin nightie that did little to hide her hardening nipples, I couldn't hold it back. The words tumbled out, laced with the jealousy eating at me.
Me: Chitra, don't bring food to the office anymore. Or do favors for Ash. He's not the good person he pretends to be—manipulative, always taking what he wants.
My voice cracked, the cuckold fantasy clashing with real fear, my hand on her waist feeling possessive yet weak.
She stiffened beside me, her breath catching, upset flickering in her eyes.
Chitra: Why would you say that, Hari? He's been kind.
But she didn't argue, just turned away, her plump ass brushing my thigh in the dark, silent but seething. The air thickened with unspoken tension, her loyalty to me fraying at the edges.
As she drifted off, I stared at the ceiling, cock half-hard from the day's torments, realizing the truth: she longed for him now, the alpha pull undeniable. The game had officially begun, my obsession dragging us all into the fire, step by teasing step.
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