Niharika's Forbidden Never Ending Hunger(Scene 9 - 10 Videos - 1 Image)

[ashuezy2]

Scene 8

I was still sitting on cold floor tiles of hallway, face buried in soft hands, when sound came.

Clack.

Heavy brass bolt on inside of bedroom door slid back. Wooden door slowly creaked open.

I got up fast, legs shaking so bad I leaned on wall. My trousers still painful tight, painful reminder of my own dirty part in watching family’s ruin.

Madhav stepped out of dark, cool bedroom. He was fixing cheap metal buckle of mud-stained trousers. His faded checked shirt fully unbuttoned, dark, stringy chest shining with fresh, heavy sweat. He did not look at me. He just wiped mouth with back of raw hand, walked straight past me, and went back to bright living room. He picked up heavy iron screwdriver from carpet and quietly went back to fixing balcony door, like he just took simple water break.

I stood in doorway of master bedroom. Cold air from AC hit my tear face. It smelled heavy of jasmine hair oil, raw street sweat, and sharp, clear smell of bad closeness.

I looked at my bed.

Niharika was lying there. She pulled thick, floral winter blanket fully over body, hiding heavy weight of her 38DD chest and wide, soft hips. Only bare, smooth shoulder visible. She lying on side, looking other way, staring blank at bedroom wall.

I stood there long time. I am very emotional man. Thousand words choking throat. I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to ask how she could let dirty labourer from basti fully ruin her purity. I wanted to ask what I supposed to tell small daughter Mrunal when she come home from college.

But I just kept looking at her. And most breaking truth hit my sensitive heart.

She looked peaceful. She looked fully, heavy relaxed. Deep, dark frustration I usually see in her eyes every morning was gone. Her heavy, roaring wants finally filled by brutal, uneducated force of someone other than husband.

But as I stood there, watching slow, satisfied up and down of bare shoulder under blanket, chilling thought came over my painful lust. I know my wife’s body. I know her heavy, full milk and very high desire. Lust not fire you can put out. It is dark, hungry animal. Madhav’s rough hands fed it today, but only for few days. Way lust works in deep traditional, full woman who finally tasted dirt... it never truly happy. Craving come back, heavier and darker than before.

In living room, scbanging of tools stopped.

I slowly turned from wife and walked back to living room. Madhav packing hand-saw and measuring tape into dirty canvas bag. Balcony door perfectly fixed.

"Work is done, sir," Madhav said. His rough voice much quieter now, heavy satisfied.

I pulled leather wallet from pocket with shaking hands. I took out five crisp five-hundred rupee notes. I handed money to man who just fully took my pure wife on own bed.

Madhav took cash with dirty, calloused fingers. He shoved into pocket. He picked up bag and put over dark shoulder. But before turning to main door, he stopped. He looked past me, staring down short hallway, looking direct at partially open door of master bedroom. His dark, hungry eyes stayed there one final, long second, remembering heavy, soft Indian wealth he just claimed.

Sudden, desperate wave of husband protection came through broken heart.

"Take your money," I said. My voice shaking, but I forced it hard. "Leave my house now. And do not ever show dirty face in this colony again."

Madhav looked at me. No fear in eyes, only quiet, proud smirk of street dog who knew he already ate best meat in house. He gave small nod, turned, and walked out front door, leaving muddy boot prints on clean floor.

I locked main door behind him. I was alone in perfectly quiet, perfectly ruined house.