03-02-2026, 02:37 PM
These thoughts made me so painfully aroused that it actually started to hurt. I rushed to the bathroom and relieved myself, imagining Aslam inside Puja, his body merging with hers. When I returned to my cabin, a strange unease crept into my mind.
What if, at that very moment, my wife was actually being taken by another man? What if she was wrapping her lips around his dark length—the same lips I kissed every day? What if that body, marked with my name’s sindoor, was now responding to someone else, giving itself over completely?
Driven by this anxiety, I called her again. Still no response. Restless and distracted, I kept pacing around the office. My mind was nowhere near my work. Finally, around three o’clock, Puja called back. I answered immediately.
Me:
“Kahan thi? Mera call pick kyun nahi kar rahi thi?”
Puja:
“Arey, kya ho gaya! Aapko pata hai na 1 se 3 mera sone ka time hota hai. Main so rahi thi.”
I had become so consumed by the imagined encounter between them that I hadn’t even considered she might simply be asleep.
Me:
“Oh… tumne phone nahi uthaya to mujhe tension hone lagi.”
Puja:
“Achha, yeh batao, phone kyun kiya?”
Me:
“Kyun, main apni biwi ko call nahi kar sakta kya?”
Puja:
“Kar sakte ho, par aaj itni be-waqt?”
Me:
“Haan… woh maine samaan bhejwaya tha. Sab kuch hai na jo tumne bola tha?”
Puja (thoda gusse mein):
“Haan, par jab aapko hi aana tha to kisi aur se kyun bhejwaya?”
My body reacted instantly.
Me:
“Kyun, kya hua? Tumhara nahana khatam nahi hua tha kya?”
I was holding my breath, waiting desperately for her reply. After a brief pause, she answered.
Puja:
“Shukr hai main naha chuki thi aur dress change kar li thi. Agar aapki baat maan leti to pata nahi kya ho jaata.”
All the tension drained out of me at once. Everything I had planned—every fantasy—collapsed. My mood sank. I had done so much to bring them closer, and yet nothing had happened. We spoke briefly after that, and I hung up. The rest of the day passed in a dull haze.
When I finally returned home, Puja was sitting in the drawing room. She was wearing a saree, with light makeup. She looked beautiful—soft, elegant, and undeniably sexy.
![[Image: 1764811026418.png]](https://i.ibb.co/LhDyCWYp/1764811026418.png)
I leaned in and kissed her. But unlike usual, she didn’t smile. It felt as if something was weighing on her mind.
I didn’t dwell on it much. We had dinner together. After dinner, as usual, I got ready for our evening walk—but Puja didn’t.
Me:
“Ready nahi ho rahi kya? Walk ke liye jaana hai… ya aaj seedha night suit mein hi jayengi?”
Puja:
“Hubby, aaj aap chale jao. Meri tabiyat thodi theek nahi lag rahi. Main nahi jaungi.”
Me:
“Jaan, kya hua? Chalo doctor ke paas chalte hain.”
Puja:
“Nahi, itna serious kuch nahi hai. Thoda rest kar lungi to theek ho jaungi.”
Not wanting to force her, I agreed and left alone.
When I reached the gate, Aslam chacha was there.
Me:
“Good evening, chacha.”
Aslam:
“Salam, sir.”
He seemed nervous—almost as if he was trying to avoid me.
Me:
“Chacha, Qadir bhai ka number de sakte ho? Shop jaane se pehle baat karni thi.”
Aslam:
“Haan, saab. Yeh lijiye.”
Today, he wasn’t smiling or chatting the way he usually did.
Me:
“Aur chacha, agar aap aaj nahi hote to office mein late hone ki wajah se mujhe fine lag jaata. Achha hua aap the, ghar ka samaan pahuncha diya.”
He looked momentarily confused, as if something didn’t add up.
Aslam:
“Saab… memsaab nahi aayi.”
Me:
“Haan, unki tabiyat theek nahi hai. Isliye rest kar rahi hain. Aaj main akela hoon.”
Slowly, I noticed his expression change. He began to relax—as if some fear had just been lifted.
Aslam:
“Saab, memsaab ko bolna apna dhyaan rakhein. Bahut nazuk si hain.”
(He added a faint, almost sly smile.)
Something felt off. He had been tense there, tense here—and then suddenly relaxed. What was going on? Had something happened after all? But Puja had said she was already done bathing. Was she lying? No… why would my wife lie to me?
Yet everything pointed toward something being wrong.
Had she started hiding things from me?
The thought alone was enough to make my body react again. I finished my walk and headed back home, my mind tangled in doubt and desire.
What if, at that very moment, my wife was actually being taken by another man? What if she was wrapping her lips around his dark length—the same lips I kissed every day? What if that body, marked with my name’s sindoor, was now responding to someone else, giving itself over completely?
Driven by this anxiety, I called her again. Still no response. Restless and distracted, I kept pacing around the office. My mind was nowhere near my work. Finally, around three o’clock, Puja called back. I answered immediately.
Me:
“Kahan thi? Mera call pick kyun nahi kar rahi thi?”
Puja:
“Arey, kya ho gaya! Aapko pata hai na 1 se 3 mera sone ka time hota hai. Main so rahi thi.”
I had become so consumed by the imagined encounter between them that I hadn’t even considered she might simply be asleep.
Me:
“Oh… tumne phone nahi uthaya to mujhe tension hone lagi.”
Puja:
“Achha, yeh batao, phone kyun kiya?”
Me:
“Kyun, main apni biwi ko call nahi kar sakta kya?”
Puja:
“Kar sakte ho, par aaj itni be-waqt?”
Me:
“Haan… woh maine samaan bhejwaya tha. Sab kuch hai na jo tumne bola tha?”
Puja (thoda gusse mein):
“Haan, par jab aapko hi aana tha to kisi aur se kyun bhejwaya?”
My body reacted instantly.
Me:
“Kyun, kya hua? Tumhara nahana khatam nahi hua tha kya?”
I was holding my breath, waiting desperately for her reply. After a brief pause, she answered.
Puja:
“Shukr hai main naha chuki thi aur dress change kar li thi. Agar aapki baat maan leti to pata nahi kya ho jaata.”
All the tension drained out of me at once. Everything I had planned—every fantasy—collapsed. My mood sank. I had done so much to bring them closer, and yet nothing had happened. We spoke briefly after that, and I hung up. The rest of the day passed in a dull haze.
When I finally returned home, Puja was sitting in the drawing room. She was wearing a saree, with light makeup. She looked beautiful—soft, elegant, and undeniably sexy.
I leaned in and kissed her. But unlike usual, she didn’t smile. It felt as if something was weighing on her mind.
I didn’t dwell on it much. We had dinner together. After dinner, as usual, I got ready for our evening walk—but Puja didn’t.
Me:
“Ready nahi ho rahi kya? Walk ke liye jaana hai… ya aaj seedha night suit mein hi jayengi?”
Puja:
“Hubby, aaj aap chale jao. Meri tabiyat thodi theek nahi lag rahi. Main nahi jaungi.”
Me:
“Jaan, kya hua? Chalo doctor ke paas chalte hain.”
Puja:
“Nahi, itna serious kuch nahi hai. Thoda rest kar lungi to theek ho jaungi.”
Not wanting to force her, I agreed and left alone.
When I reached the gate, Aslam chacha was there.
Me:
“Good evening, chacha.”
Aslam:
“Salam, sir.”
He seemed nervous—almost as if he was trying to avoid me.
Me:
“Chacha, Qadir bhai ka number de sakte ho? Shop jaane se pehle baat karni thi.”
Aslam:
“Haan, saab. Yeh lijiye.”
Today, he wasn’t smiling or chatting the way he usually did.
Me:
“Aur chacha, agar aap aaj nahi hote to office mein late hone ki wajah se mujhe fine lag jaata. Achha hua aap the, ghar ka samaan pahuncha diya.”
He looked momentarily confused, as if something didn’t add up.
Aslam:
“Saab… memsaab nahi aayi.”
Me:
“Haan, unki tabiyat theek nahi hai. Isliye rest kar rahi hain. Aaj main akela hoon.”
Slowly, I noticed his expression change. He began to relax—as if some fear had just been lifted.
Aslam:
“Saab, memsaab ko bolna apna dhyaan rakhein. Bahut nazuk si hain.”
(He added a faint, almost sly smile.)
Something felt off. He had been tense there, tense here—and then suddenly relaxed. What was going on? Had something happened after all? But Puja had said she was already done bathing. Was she lying? No… why would my wife lie to me?
Yet everything pointed toward something being wrong.
Had she started hiding things from me?
The thought alone was enough to make my body react again. I finished my walk and headed back home, my mind tangled in doubt and desire.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)