Misc. Erotica DIARY OF AN INDIAN EXHIBITIONIST WIFE

[Cucumber]

Ananya stirred slowly in bed, her body still tingling from the intense morning orgasm. She blinked her eyes open, feeling the soft sheets against her bare skin. 

What just happened? she thought, a mix of confusion and lingering pleasure washing over her. The memory of Varun's fingers inside her, combined with his dirty words about the delivery guy and Ramesh bhaiya, made her cheeks flush. Why did I react like that? Squirting so hard when he mentioned Ramesh applying the ointment... Am I really that twisted? No, it must be the burns or something—I'm not like that. But deep down, a forbidden thrill stirred in her stomach, making her question her own desires. She felt ashamed, yet strangely empowered, as if a hidden part of her was awakening.

She sat up, glancing at the clock—it was already past 10 AM. Her back felt fine, no pain at all, but Varun's words echoed: Stay naked the whole day; clothes might stick to the burned skin. She hesitated, feeling vulnerable yet obedient. 
He's a doctor; he knows best, she rationalized, though a small voice wondered if he was enjoying this control. Naked, she got out of bed, her perfect fair skin glowing in the morning light, her breasts swaying slightly with each step. She walked to the kitchen, her bare feet padding softly on the cool floor, and uncovered the breakfast Varun had prepared—simple toast, eggs, and tea. 
As she ate standing at the counter, she couldn't stop her mind from replaying the scene: Varun's voice teasing her about strangers seeing her, her body betraying her with wetness and arches. 
I should be angry at him for saying those things... but it felt so good. What's wrong with me? We're married; it's okay to experiment, right? But involving others in fantasies... that's too much. She finished her meal quickly, her appetite dimmed by the internal conflict, feeling both guilty for enjoying it and aroused by the memory.

After breakfast, Ananya moved on to her household chores, still completely nude as instructed. She started by washing the dishes, the warm soapy water splashing on her skin, making her nipples harden slightly from the cool air. This feels so strange—doing normal things without clothes. 
What if someone sees through the window? she thought, glancing nervously at the balcony. But the gated complex felt private, and the thrill of vulnerability sent a shiver down her spine.
 She wiped the counters next, her body bending and stretching, her plump ass flexing as she reached high shelves.

Conflicting thoughts swirled: Varun loves me so much—he cooked, cleaned, forgave my scolding. But that fingering... was he testing me? Did he notice how I reacted to Ramesh's name? Oh god, I hope not. I'm a good wife; I shouldn't think about other men. Yet, as she dusted the drawing room, her hand brushed her thigh, and she felt a familiar warmth building between her legs. She paused, breathing heavily, forcing herself to focus. No, stop it. It's just the afterglow. I love Varun; that's all. By noon, she had vacuumed the floors and folded some laundry (carefully, to avoid "irritating" her back), her mind a whirlwind of shame, curiosity, and unspoken desire.

Suddenly, at noon, a firm knock echoed through the apartment door. Ananya froze in the drawing room, her heart pounding like a drum. She was stark naked, not a stitch on her body. Who could that be? Varun's at work; no one's expected. Panic surged through her—should she ignore it? But what if it was important? She tiptoed to the door, her bare breasts pressing against the cool wood as she leaned in to listen. Feeling exposed even behind the door, she called out hesitantly.
Ananya: "Who... who is it?"

Ramesh (from outside, his voice muffled but polite): "Madam, it's me—Ramesh bhaiya, the guard. Sir called me and asked me to check on you. He said you had an accident last night and might need help. Are you okay?

Ananya's mind raced. Varun sent him? Why? Oh, right—the burns. He's worried about me. Ramesh did help last night with the ointment; he's like a savior. But I'm naked! I can't dress—Varun said it could make scars worse. What do I do? She felt a dilemma tearing at her: gratitude toward Ramesh for his quick errand the previous evening, mixed with terror at the idea of him seeing her like this. Yet, ignoring him felt rude, especially since Varun had involved him. Maybe I can just talk through the door, she thought, but her voice trembled with uncertainty.

Ananya: "Um, bhaiya... I'm fine, really. Just resting. You don't need to worry."

Ramesh (sounding concerned): "Madam, sir was very insistent. He said your back got burned badly with hot curry, and I should make sure you're applying the ointment properly or if you need anything from the shop. Please, open the door—I won't take long. I'm just following sir's orders."

Ananya bit her lip, her body flushing with embarrassment. He's so kind, always helpful. And Varun trusts him. If I send him away, Varun might get upset. But how can I let him in like this? In her panic, she glanced around and spotted a thin towel on the nearby chair—leftover from her bath. Okay, I'll wrap this around me quickly. It should cover enough. Feeling a rush of nervous energy, she grabbed the towel, wrapped it around her torso just below her armpits, and tucked it in loosely. It barely reached mid-thigh, hugging her curves tightly, but at least her pussy and nipples were hidden—for now. Her fair shoulders, arms, and legs were fully exposed, and the towel's thin fabric did little to conceal the outline of her body. Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the door and opened it just a crack, peeking out.
Ananya (shyly, her voice soft): "Okay, bhaiya... come in. But please, make it quick. I'm... not feeling great."

Ramesh stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He was in his uniform, looking respectful but a bit awkward. As he entered the drawing room, his eyes widened slightly at the sight of her in just a towel—her wet hair from an earlier quick rinse still dripping, her fair skin glowing. He quickly averted his gaze to the floor, feeling a mix of concern and unintended attraction. Madam looks so vulnerable... but beautiful. I shouldn't stare, he thought, remembering the glimpses from before.

Ramesh: "Thank you, madam. Sir called from the hospital—said you might be in pain and alone. How's your back? Do you need more ointment or medicine? I can run to the shop again."

Ananya gestured for him to sit on the sofa, staying standing herself to keep distance. She felt exposed, the towel clinging to her damp skin, but relieved that her most private areas were covered. This is okay; he's not looking directly. Just talk and send him away, she reassured herself, though her heart raced with a strange mix of fear and that forbidden thrill from earlier thoughts.

Ananya: "It's better now, bhaiya. Varun applied the cream this morning. No scars yet, I think. Thank you for last night—you were a real help."

Ramesh (nodding, still avoiding her eyes): "No problem, madam. Anything for sir and you. But let me see if the burn looks okay? Sir said to check."

Ananya hesitated, feeling trapped. Check my back? In this towel? No way. But gratitude won over. "Um, okay... but just a quick look." She turned slightly, loosening the towel a bit to show her upper back, keeping her front covered. Ramesh leaned forward politely, seeing only the smooth, unmarked skin—no burns at all. It looks fine... why did sir say it was bad? he wondered, but said nothing.

Ramesh: "It seems healing well, madam. No redness. Good."
Relieved, Ananya turned back, smiling faintly. "See? Told you. You can tell Varun I'm fine."

As she shifted her weight, the loosely tucked towel, damp from her skin, began to slip. She felt it loosening but reacted too late. In a panic, she grabbed the front, but the side gaped open, revealing a full side view of her left breast—curved and fair, though the nipple stayed just hidden by her arm—and a glimpse of her hip and the curve of her ass. Ramesh's eyes flicked up involuntarily, catching the accidental flash before he quickly looked away, his face turning red. Oh no... I saw too much. But she's so stunning, he thought, feeling guilty yet aroused.

Ananya (gasping, quickly readjusting the towel, her voice high-pitched with shock): "Oh god! Sorry, bhaiya—the towel slipped. Please, don't look!"

Ramesh (standing up abruptly, backing toward the door, flustered): "Sorry, madam! I didn't mean to... It was an accident. I'll go now. Take care—call if you need anything."

He hurried out, closing the door behind him. Ananya stood there, towel now secure, her body trembling. That was more than I expected... he saw my side boob and hip. Why am I not screaming? Instead, I feel... hot? Like this morning. Conflicting thoughts flooded her: embarrassment, but also a rush of arousal, making her question everything again.