Misc. Erotica My Wife's Evening College (COMPLETED) - By Novelist Casanova

[novelistcasanova]

Next day my wife had woken up early and sent my sons to college. She was making me up, her boobs rising and falling over her pink nighty, her wide hips shifting as she moved around the bedroom, her plump ass cheeks round and firm under the pink nighty, her thick juicy thighs rubbing together with each step.

That’s when she got a call from Arjun. She answered, her large dark eyes focused, her boobs heaving over the pink nighty as she listened.
"Yes Arjun... okay... I will be ready... send the address... yes... morning... okay... bye," she said softly, hanging up, her cheeks slightly flushed.
When I woke up, took bath and came out wearing my towel, my wife looked at me, her boobs rising and falling over the pink nighty.
"Rajesh... Arjun has sent the address... we have to go to the Cameraman Sir’s office today... morning," she said, her voice nervous but determined.
I agreed, my cock throbbing softly inside my towel.
"Okay... we will go," I said, my voice calm, my cock leaking a little precum as I thought of the plan.
My wife served me hot idlis and sambar for breakfast, her boobs heaving over the pink nighty as she bent to place the plate, her plump ass cheeks round under the pink nighty, her thick juicy thighs shifting. She went to get ready.
By the time I finished my breakfast, my wife came out wearing her red chiffon saree and matching red blouse. The red chiffon saree dbangd perfectly over her wide hips, hugging her plump ass cheeks, the pallu falling softly over her boobs, the red blouse fitting tight, her boobs full and round, her thick juicy thighs outlined under the red chiffon saree, her navel deep and inviting through the sheer red chiffon saree, her mangalsutra resting between her boobs, her hips swaying seductively as she walked, looking so hot and sexy, her beauty overwhelming.
For a moment I wanted to grab her, pull her inside, fuck her hard, my cock throbbing painfully, but when she said she was ready, I controlled myself, breathing heavily.
"You look beautiful... ready?" I asked, my voice rough with lust, my cock leaking precum.
"Yes Rajesh... let's go," she said, smiling softly, her boobs heaving over the red blouse.
I went to get ready and came out wearing my white shirt and white dhoti, my cock still half hard. Today I took my car and drove her to the address, my cock throbbing the whole way, heart pounding with anticipation.
In the car, my wife sat beside me, her red chiffon saree dbangd elegantly, her red blouse hugging her boobs. She adjusted her white bra over her red blouse, reaching behind her back to pull the white bra straps tighter, then gently pushing the white bra straps inside her red blouse so they were hidden under the blouse straps, her boobs shifting slightly as she settled them.
"Rajesh... I am nervous... my heart is beating so fast...," she said softly, her voice trembling, her boobs rising and falling over the red blouse, her thick juicy thighs pressing together under the red chiffon saree.
I placed my left hand on her thighs over the red chiffon saree, feeling her warmth, my cock throbbing harder.
"Sudha... I am with you... don't worry... you are strong... you can do this... I believe in you... it is for a good cause... and for your degree... we are together... you will be fine," I said gently, squeezing her thigh lightly, my voice reassuring.
My wife looked at me, her large dark eyes soft, a small smile on her lips.
"Thank you Rajesh... you always support me... I feel better now... thank you," she said, her voice warm, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, her thick juicy thighs relaxing slightly under my hand.
I drove on, my cock throbbing painfully inside my white dhoti, leaking precum, the sight of my wife adjusting her white bra over her red blouse, her nervousness, her trust in me, drove me wild with jealousy and filthy excitement, my balls aching as we headed to the Cameraman Sir’s office.



We reached the Cameraman’s house. It was a huge bungalow, artistically made with elegant arches and manicured gardens, the walls painted in soft cream, the gate tall and ornate. The security guard opened the gate for us, nodding politely as we drove in.
Arjun came out of the house to welcome us with a smile, his cock probably still half hard in his trousers from earlier excitement, his face warm and friendly.
"Sudha akka... Rajesh sir... welcome... please come in," Arjun said, his voice enthusiastic, gesturing toward the house.
That’s when I got a call from my Mesthri. I began answering his call, stepping aside slightly.
"Sir... good news... the house construction is officially completed... everything is perfect... finishing touches done... ready for you to see," the Mesthri said, his voice excited.
I began appreciating him, thanking him warmly.
"Thank you... great job... I will come soon to see... you did wonderfully... thank you again," I said, smiling, my cock throbbing slightly inside my white dhoti as I spoke.
While I was on the call, an old man in his 70s came out, wearing his white kurta and black pants, his face wrinkled but eyes sharp. Arjun introduced my wife to him.
"Cameraman Sir... this is Sudha akka... our lead actress," Arjun said, smiling.
The old man politely smiled at my wife, his eyes lingering on her boobs heaving over the red blouse, her red chiffon saree dbangd perfectly. All of a sudden he took my wife into his complete embrace, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her close, his hands resting on her wide hips.
My wife was taken aback for a moment, her boobs pressing against his chest through her red blouse, her large dark eyes wide, but in order to not make the situation uncomfortable, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him back, her boobs squeezing against him, her thick juicy thighs shifting slightly under the red chiffon saree.
For a few seconds the old man’s fingers roamed all over my wife’s back over her red blouse, feeling up her white bra straps, tracing the outline of her white bra through the red blouse, his touch slow and deliberate, his cock probably hardening in his black pants.
Then he broke the hug, his eyes still on her boobs heaving over the red blouse.
My wife began adjusting her red chiffon saree pallu uncomfortably, pulling it back over her boobs, then tucking her white bra straps on her shoulders inside her red blouse, her fingers sliding under the blouse edges, her cheeks flushed, her boobs shifting as she adjusted.
The old man pointed his finger at me, his voice soft and warm.
"This is your husband?" he asked my wife.
My wife nodded, her boobs rising and falling over the red blouse.
"Yes... this is Rajesh... my husband," she said softly.
I hung up on the call and went towards them, my cock throbbing inside my white dhoti.
The old man shook my hand warmly, his grip soft but firm.
"Welcome Rajesh... good to meet you... come inside... please," he said, his voice welcoming, then took me inside the bungalow.
The interior of the Cameraman’s house was grand and artistic. The living room was spacious, with high ceilings and large windows letting in soft natural light. The walls were adorned with framed black-and-white photographs of classic Tamil film sets, award plaques, and vintage camera equipment displayed on polished wooden shelves. A massive leather sofa set in deep maroon dominated the center, surrounded by glass-topped coffee tables holding stacks of film magazines and storyboards. A large projector screen hung on one wall, ready for screenings, while a side room visible through an open door revealed editing consoles, monitors, and shelves of film reels and hard drives. The air smelled of polished wood and faint incense, the floor covered in intricate handmade tiles in earthy tones, creating an atmosphere of creative luxury and old-college cinema passion.
My wife followed, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, her red chiffon saree swaying with each step, her thick juicy thighs moving under the saree, her plump ass cheeks jiggling slightly.
I walked behind, my cock throbbing painfully inside my white dhoti, leaking precum, the sight of the old man hugging my wife, his fingers on her white bra, her adjusting her red blouse, drove me wild with jealousy and filthy excitement, my balls aching as we went inside.





The Cameraman offered us seats on his luxurious maroon leather sofa in the living room, the cushions deep and soft, the sofa set large enough for all of us. As we all started to settle down, my wife smoothing her red chiffon saree over her wide hips and plump ass cheeks, her red blouse hugging her boobs, the old man smiled politely.
"Just give me 5 minutes... I will make coffee and tea for all of us... come," the old man said, turning toward the kitchen.
My wife stood up quickly, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, her red chiffon saree swaying.
"Sir... I will make it... please... you are our host," she said softly, her voice polite.
The old man smiled, his eyes on her boobs and red chiffon saree.
"No... you are my guest... sit... I will make," he said firmly.
My wife insisted, her boobs rising and falling over the red blouse.
"Please sir... let me help... I will make... it is okay," she said, stepping toward the kitchen.
The old man laughed softly.
"Alright... let both of us make... come," he said, taking her inside the kitchen, his hand lightly on her back over her red blouse.
As Arjun was watching a movie on the large TV, I went to check on my wife and the old man in the kitchen, my cock throbbing inside my white dhoti.
The kitchen was artistic and impressive. Black marble countertops with golden veins ran along the walls, high-end stainless steel appliances gleamed under recessed LED lights, a large central island featured a built-in gas stove and sink in polished chrome, open shelves displayed vintage brass utensils and ceramic jars in earthy tones, a wall of glass-front cabinets held fine china and coffee sets, a small herb garden in pots lined the window sill with fresh basil and mint, the floor was covered in intricate handmade terracotta tiles with geometric patterns, abstract paintings in bold reds and golds hung on the walls, a crystal chandelier hung above the island casting soft sparkles, the air filled with the aroma of fresh coffee beans being ground, the entire space designed like a modern chef’s dream with artistic touches—black and gold accents, a small wine rack with rare bottles, everything elegant, luxurious, and cinematic in its perfection.
My wife was in awe, her boobs rising and falling over the red blouse, her large dark eyes wide as she looked around.
"Sir... your kitchen... it is so beautiful... like a movie set," she said softly, her voice impressed, her red chiffon saree swaying as she moved.
The old man smiled, his eyes all over my wife’s ass cheeks and the panty line visible over her ass cheeks over the red chiffon saree, watching her plump ass cheeks jiggle slightly as she moved around the kitchen in awe, his cock hardening in his black pants.
He pointed out the appliances, his voice warm, his eyes never leaving her ass cheeks and panty line.
"Yes... I love cooking... it helps me relax after shoots... come... help me with the coffee," he said, standing close behind her, his cock probably pressing against her ass cheeks through his black pants as he reached for the coffee powder.
My wife turned, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, smiling politely.
"Sure sir... I will help," she said, her thick juicy thighs shifting under the red chiffon saree, completely unaware of his lustful gaze on her ass cheeks and panty line.
I stood at the doorway, my cock throbbing painfully inside my white dhoti, leaking precum, the sight of the old man’s eyes on my wife’s ass cheeks, his cock hard in his black pants, her innocence in the artistic kitchen, drove me wild with jealousy and filthy excitement, my balls aching as I watched, heart pounding.