Misc. Erotica Kaisi Ye Aaag...Ajeeb Sa Daag (English Version)

[AK0047]

When I got home, I saw Puja absorbed in watching television. I could barely contain myself anymore. All I wanted, needed—was to check the CCTV footage and see what had truly happened. With Puja distracted by the TV, there couldn’t have been a better moment. I hurried to the desktop and first opened the bathroom recording.


Puja was standing under the shower—completely naked.
I see my wife’s nude body every day, and yet, watching her drenched beneath the falling water made my body react instantly. My arousal stirred on its own. She was carefully washing every part of herself, her wet skin gleaming under the light.




After a while, the doorbell rang.


My heartbeat spiked. Immediately, she wrapped a towel tightly around her body.



I was so hard it felt as if my trousers might tear apart. Then she walked toward the door. The wife who had told me she’d changed into clothes had, in reality, gone out wrapped in nothing but a towel—straight to Aslam chacha.


Whatever was about to happen would happen. Even now, pre-cum had begun to leak. As soon as she stepped out of the bathroom, I switched to the front-door camera.


Puja approached the gate wearing only a towel that barely reached her knees. It covered her chest just enough to hide her nipples—but the upper curve of her breasts was completely exposed.




The moment she opened the door, she froze.

Aslam chacha stood there, holding the groceries.





His jaw dropped.





His eyes locked onto Puja’s exposed breasts. Puja instantly flushed, overwhelmed by embarrassment. One hand that had been gripping the towel flew up to her hair, as if she didn’t know what to do with herself. Aslam was equally speechless. He simply extended the grocery bag toward her.

Confused and flustered, Puja stretched out her other hand to take the bag. The moment both her hands left the towel, it loosened. Slowly, it began slipping downward, brushing against her nipples as it fell.





I focused on Aslam’s reaction through the outdoor camera.

He was in shock—mouth open, saliva almost escaping. And then, unmistakably, a bulge formed in his trousers.






As he handed over the bag, his fingers brushed against Puja’s hand.




That brief contact was enough. The towel slid completely off her body and collapsed onto the floor.

By the time Puja realized what had happened, Aslam had already devoured her entire naked form with his eyes—every detail etched into his mind.

She slammed the door shut violently and leaned back against it, breathing heavily. Outside, the sudden closure jolted Aslam back to his senses. Unable to believe what he had just seen, he pushed against the door to check whether it was locked. Then, stunned and shaken, he walked away.






Inside, Puja ran straight to the bathroom. She turned on the tap and held herself directly beneath the flow, closing her eyes. Her body—especially between her legs—was burning hot. She kept herself under the cold water for two to three minutes until the heat finally subsided.

Watching all this, I couldn’t take it anymore.

I shut the system down and rushed to the bathroom, masturbating furiously. I climaxed so intensely that it shattered every previous record.

When I came back out, Puja was still watching TV. I sat down beside her, staring at her, thinking—today, my wife’s body became so inflamed for an older, dark-skinned man that she had to cool herself under running water for minutes. That was why she hadn’t gone for the walk. That was why she had made excuses about feeling unwell.

Me:
“So, how are you feeling now?”

Puja:
“Yeah… I took the medicine. I’m better.”

Me:
“And how was your day?”

Puja:
“It was… o-okay.”

Her voice had softened unnaturally. The smile had vanished from her face.

Me:
“And when will this phase pass? You don’t feel like coming to bed even now?”

Puja:
“No… let’s leave it today. Let’s sleep early.”

Earlier, when we spoke on the phone, she’d sounded irritated—but not this tense. Now she seemed deeply unsettled. Aslam too had appeared nervous earlier. But why? He hadn’t done anything wrong—he’d only delivered groceries. So why was he tense as well?

Had something else happened after that moment?

I had turned off the computer after watching the doorway scene—but the day hadn’t ended there. I needed to know what happened next.

Puja went to bed after a while. I told her I’d sit outside for some time and come in later. The moment she went inside, I switched the computer back on.

This time, I watched the later footage.

Puja emerged from the bathroom after thoroughly cleaning herself and changed into a saree. She cooked, ate, and rested. After waking up, she checked her phone. She made a call—it was with me. After that, she read something on her phone and replied.

Two or three minutes later, another message arrived.
She picked up the phone again.

For nearly fifteen to twenty minutes, she chatted with someone continuously. Then, about ten minutes later, her hand instinctively moved—over her clothes—toward her intimate area. She continued chatting while slowly rubbing herself through the fabric.

 

After five minutes, she placed the phone on the bed and rushed to the bathroom. She hurriedly removed her underwear and threw it aside.


 

Then she began rubbing herself intensely.
Soon after, she turned on the tap and positioned herself under the running water again.




At that very moment, I had barely touched myself when I climaxed uncontrollably. My trousers were completely soaked. I ran to the bathroom and stripped them off.


My eyes fell on the bathtub—where Puja had thrown her underwear. I picked it up. It was completely saturated with dried discharge—stiff and heavy.

That alone revealed how intensely aroused she had been.
Then a thought struck me—who was she talking to?
Was it Aslam chacha?

He had given her his number too.

What kind of conversation had taken place that left my deeply loving wife touching herself uncontrollably? What words had he said that made her body betray itself so completely?

There was only one way to find out.

I would have to unlock Puja’s phone and read those messages.

What had Aslam said that made my wife’s hand drift to herself on its own? That made her soak her underwear beyond capacity?

Lost in these thoughts, I don’t even remember when I fell asleep.