22-02-2026, 11:58 AM
My wife began making coffee in the artistic kitchen, her boobs rising and falling over the red blouse as she measured the coffee powder, her red chiffon saree swaying with her movements, the pallu dbangd softly over her boobs, her thick juicy thighs shifting under the saree.
She looked at the old man, her large dark eyes soft and curious, her voice gentle.
"Sir... do you live alone? Where is your family?" she asked, pouring water into the coffee filter, her boobs heaving over the red blouse.
The old man paused, his eyes misting with tears, his voice low, cracking with deep sorrow.
"I am a widower... I lost my wife when she was only 32... so young... so full of life... she was my everything... my heart... she was a strong advocate of women’s education... she fought with fire in her soul... she started night colleges in our village... went door to door... begged parents to send their daughters... she taught them to read... write... dream... she stood against child marriage... dowry... she gave courage to women... made them believe they could be more... she was fearless... bold... beautiful inside and out... she changed so many lives... saved girls from darkness... but... a gang... powerful men... they hated her... hated her voice... they killed her... one night... they came... beat her... took her away... I found her body the next day... broken... gone... she died fighting... for what she believed... women's education... empowerment... I still hear her voice... her laugh... I miss her every second... she was my world... my light... and now... only darkness," he said, his voice shattering, tears streaming down his wrinkled cheeks, his hands trembling, his cock softening in his black pants as grief overwhelmed him.
My wife stopped, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, her large dark eyes filling with tears, her voice breaking with sorrow.
"Sir... I... I am so sorry... so deeply sorry... your wife... she sounds like a true hero... so strong... so brave... fighting for education... for women... for girls who had no voice... it breaks my heart... she was so young... she did so much... she deserved to live... to see her work grow... I feel... so sad... so much pain... she is an inspiration... her courage... her love... it touches me... deeply... I wish... I could have met her... honored her... she was amazing," she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks, her thick juicy thighs trembling under the red chiffon saree, her heart heavy with genuine sorrow, her voice choked with emotion.
The old man wiped his tears with shaking hands, his voice soft, broken but warm.
"Thank you... your words... they mean a lot... now... I have a daughter... she looks just like her... same eyes... same smile... same heart... here... look," he said, taking out his phone with trembling fingers, showing her pictures of his daughter—young, beautiful, with long hair and bright eyes, strikingly similar to my wife.
My wife looked at the photos, her boobs rising and falling over the red blouse, her large dark eyes softening, tears still shining.
"She is beautiful... so beautiful... she looks so much like your wife... so sweet... so strong... you must be so proud... she carries her mother’s spirit... her fight... I can see it," she said, her voice gentle, her thick juicy thighs relaxing slightly under the red chiffon saree.
The old man smiled sadly, his eyes on her boobs and red chiffon saree.
"Yes... she is my life now... Sudha... you remind me of her... your kindness... your heart... your eyes... can I treat you like my daughter? Please... just like her... I feel... like she is here... with you... can I?" he asked, his voice emotional, cracking again, his cock probably stirring in his black pants.
My wife nodded, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, her large dark eyes warm and teary.
"Sure sir... please... treat me like your daughter... I would like that... very much," she said softly, smiling gently, her thick juicy thighs shifting under the red chiffon saree, feeling a fatherly comfort.
Their conversation slowly turned to my family. My wife began telling him, her voice soft and proud.
"Sir... I am going to be the first graduate in my family... no one before me studied this far... my parents worked so hard... sacrificed everything... so I could study... my degree... it means everything... to me... to them... I want to make them proud... complete it... show them their sacrifices were worth it," she said, her boobs rising and falling over the red blouse, her large dark eyes shining with emotion.
The old man nodded, his voice appreciative, eyes warm.
"Sudha... that is beautiful... you are doing something great... first graduate... your family must be so proud... you are strong... like my wife... keep going... your education... it will change everything... you are an example already... I am proud of you... my daughter," he said, his voice fatherly, his cock probably hardening again in his black pants as he watched her boobs heave over the red blouse.
My wife started feeling very comfortable with him, her boobs rising and falling over the red blouse, her large dark eyes soft, her voice gentle.
"Thank you sir... talking to you... it feels like I am with my late dad... he was so supportive... so kind... I miss him... but you... you make me feel safe... cared for... I trust you already... like family," she said, her thick juicy thighs relaxing under the red chiffon saree, her plump ass cheeks shifting as she moved closer to the stove.
They made the coffee together, the aroma filling the artistic kitchen, my wife smiling softly, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, completely trusting the old man, her heart open, feeling like she was with her late dad.
I stood at the doorway, my cock throbbing painfully inside my white dhoti, leaking precum, the sight of my wife bonding with the old man, feeling like he was her dad, trusting him already, drove me wild with jealousy and filthy excitement, my balls aching as I watched, heart pounding.
As my wife and the old man were placing the coffee cups on the tray, my wife’s hands trembled slightly, her boobs rising and falling over the red blouse, her red chiffon saree pallu dbangd softly over her boobs. She looked at him, her large dark eyes nervous, her voice soft and hesitant, almost breaking.
"Sir... do you know about the story Arjun narrated? It... it involves a lot of bold scenes... I am nervous... very nervous... my heart is racing... I don’t know if I can face those parts... it feels so heavy... so wrong for me," she said, her thick juicy thighs trembling under the red chiffon saree, her plump ass cheeks clenching slightly, tears welling in her large dark eyes.
The old man set the last cup down gently, his eyes softening with fatherly concern, his voice low, warm, and deeply emotional.
"Yes, my daughter... Arjun told me the story... it is brilliant... powerful... those bold scenes are must in the story... they are not for cheap thrill... they show the painful truth... how the heroine was dumb... naive... without education... she trusted men blindly... gave her body... got fucked... used... betrayed... left broken... time after time... only after that deep pain... that betrayal... she realizes... education is the only light... the only way to rise... to become strong... independent... she goes to evening college... fights every day... studies hard... becomes an IAS officer... serves the country... helps suffering women... sets an example for all women who were cheated in the name of love... those bold scenes are necessary... they make the audience feel her pain... her tears... her struggle... so when she rises... it hits the heart... it inspires... it saves lives... it is not vulgar... it is truthful... for the message... for every woman like her... like my wife... like you," he said, his voice cracking with emotion, tears in his eyes, his cock probably stirring in his black pants as he spoke, his hands trembling slightly.
My wife looked down, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, tears slipping down her cheeks, her voice shaking with fear and sorrow.
"Sir... I understand... the message is so important... it touches my heart... but... I am scared... those bold scenes... I can’t... I feel so small... so exposed... my body... my heart... I don’t know if I can... it feels like I am losing myself... I am shaking inside," she whispered, her thick juicy thighs trembling under the red chiffon saree, her plump ass cheeks shifting nervously.
The old man stepped closer, his voice gentle, fatherly, thick with emotion, tears shining in his eyes.
"My daughter... don’t be scared... look at me... I am here... like your father... I will protect you... Arjun is talented... very talented... soon he will be one of the top directors in Tamil film industry... he knows how to handle such scenes... he will make them modest... tasteful... emotional... soft lighting... close shots on your eyes... your tears... your strength... no vulgarity... only beauty... only truth... you are safe... trust him... trust me... you are like my daughter... my heart aches seeing you scared... I can’t bear it... please... do it for the story... for the women it will help... for my wife’s dream... for your own courage... I beg you... my child... trust me fully... I will be there every moment... holding your hand... like a father... you are not alone," he said, his voice breaking, tears falling, his cock probably hardening in his black pants as he looked at her boobs heaving over the red blouse, his hands reaching out gently.
My wife looked at him, her large dark eyes filling with tears, her voice trembling with trust and emotion.
"Sir... you are like my dad... I feel it... your words... your tears... they touch me... I trust you... completely... like my own father... if you say it will be okay... if you promise to be there... protect me... I will do it... I will do any bold scenes... because I trust you... you are just like my dad... I know you will take care of me... I will act... for you... for the message... for the women," she whispered, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, tears streaming down her cheeks, her thick juicy thighs relaxing under the red chiffon saree, her heart open wide.
The old man’s eyes filled with tears, his voice choked with love and emotion. He stepped closer, leaned in, and kissed her forehead gently, his lips lingering softly on her skin.
"My daughter... thank you... I love you... I am so proud of you... you are brave... so brave... like my wife... go now... keep the coffee on the table... I will join you in a minute... my child... I love you," he said, his voice thick, calling her daughter, his cock throbbing in his black pants, tears on his cheeks.
My wife’s eyes overflowed with tears, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, her voice choked with emotion.
"I love you too... sir... like my dad... thank you... I will do it... for you... for everything," she whispered, her thick juicy thighs trembling, her heart full of trust and love, turning and walking out of the kitchen with the tray, her ass cheeks jiggling under the red chiffon saree, her thick juicy thighs moving with each step, feeling safe, trusting him like her dad.
The old man watched her go, his cock hard in his black pants, his eyes on her ass cheeks and panty line visible over her ass cheeks over the red chiffon saree, his heart full of lust and fatherly affection.
I stood at the doorway, my cock throbbing painfully inside my white dhoti, leaking precum, the sight of my wife trusting the old man, calling him like her dad, agreeing to do bold scenes for him, his kiss on her forehead, her tears, her emotional surrender, drove me wild with jealousy and filthy excitement, my balls aching as I watched, heart pounding.
As my wife and the old man were placing the coffee cups on the tray, my wife’s hands trembled slightly, her boobs rising and falling over the red blouse, her red chiffon saree pallu dbangd softly over her boobs. She looked at him, her large dark eyes nervous, her voice soft and hesitant, almost breaking.
"Sir... do you know about the story Arjun narrated? It... it involves a lot of bold scenes... I am nervous... very nervous... my heart is racing... I don’t know if I can face those parts... it feels so heavy... so wrong for me," she said, her thick juicy thighs trembling under the red chiffon saree, her plump ass cheeks clenching slightly, tears welling in her large dark eyes.
The old man set the last cup down gently, his eyes softening with fatherly concern, his voice low, warm, and deeply emotional.
"Yes, my daughter... Arjun told me the story... it is brilliant... powerful... those bold scenes are must in the story... they show the painful truth... how the heroine was dumb... naive... without education... she trusted men blindly... gave her body... got fucked... used... betrayed... left broken... time after time... only after that deep pain... that betrayal... she realizes... education is the only light... the only way to rise... to become strong... independent... she goes to evening college... fights every day... studies hard... becomes an IAS officer... serves the country... helps suffering women... sets an example for all women who were cheated in the name of love... those bold scenes are necessary... they make the audience feel her pain... her tears... her struggle... so when she rises... it hits the heart... it inspires... it saves lives... it is not vulgar... it is truthful... for the message... for every woman like her... like my wife... like you," he said, his voice cracking with emotion, tears in his eyes, his cock probably stirring in his black pants as he spoke, his hands trembling slightly.
My wife looked down, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, tears slipping down her cheeks, her voice shaking with fear and sorrow.
"Sir... I understand... the message is so important... it touches my heart... but... I am scared... those bold scenes... I can’t... I feel so small... so exposed... my body... my heart... I don’t know if I can... it feels like I am losing myself... I am shaking inside," she whispered, her thick juicy thighs trembling under the red chiffon saree, her plump ass cheeks shifting nervously.
The old man stepped closer, his voice gentle, fatherly, thick with emotion, tears shining in his eyes.
"My daughter... don’t be scared... look at me... I am here... like your father... I will protect you... Arjun is talented... very talented... soon he will be one of the top directors in Tamil film industry... he knows how to handle such scenes... he will make them modest... tasteful... emotional... soft lighting... close shots on your eyes... your tears... your strength... no vulgarity... only beauty... only truth... you are safe... trust him... trust me... you are like my daughter... my heart aches seeing you scared... I can’t bear it... please... do it for the story... for the women it will help... for my wife’s dream... for your own courage... I beg you... my child... trust me fully... I will be there every moment... holding your hand... like a father... you are not alone," he said, his voice breaking, tears falling, his cock probably hardening in his black pants as he looked at her boobs heaving over the red blouse, his hands reaching out gently.
My wife looked at him, her large dark eyes softening, tears shining, her voice trembling with trust and emotion.
"Sir... you are like my dad... I feel it... your words... your tears... they touch me... I trust you... completely... like my own father... if you say it will be okay... if you promise to be there... protect me... I will do it... I will do any bold scenes... because I trust you... you are just like my dad... I know you will take care of me... I will act... for you... for the message... for the women," she whispered, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, tears streaming down her cheeks, her thick juicy thighs relaxing under the red chiffon saree, her heart open wide.
The old man’s eyes filled with tears, his voice choked with love and emotion. He stepped closer, gently held her face with both hands, his thumbs brushing her tears away, looking deep into her eyes.
"My daughter... my sweet daughter... I love you... I love you so much... don’t call me sir... call me daddy... please... call me daddy... I want to hear it... from your heart," he said, his voice breaking, tears falling, his cock throbbing in his black pants.
My wife’s eyes overflowed with tears, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, her voice choked with emotion.
"Daddy... I... I love you too... daddy... you are like my dad... I trust you... daddy," she whispered, her voice trembling, tears streaming.
The old man pulled her into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around her waist, his hands sliding down to gently grab her ass cheeks over her red chiffon saree, feeling up her panty line over her ass cheeks, his fingers softly squeezing her plump ass cheeks, his cock pressing against her thighs through his black pants.
"My daughter... your panties have caught uneasily between your ass crack... I can feel it... adjust it... my child... I will take the tray and go... you adjust your panties and come to the living room... daddy will be waiting," he said with love, his voice soft and caring, his hands still gently on her ass cheeks over the red chiffon saree.
My wife’s cheeks flushed, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, her voice soft and trusting.
"Sure daddy... I will adjust... thank you daddy... I trust you... I will do anything you want... anything," she whispered, her thick juicy thighs trembling, her heart full of trust and love.
The old man released her slowly, his hands lingering on her ass cheeks for a moment, then picked up the tray.
"Adjust your panties, my daughter... and then join us... I love you," he said, his voice emotional.
My wife nodded, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, her large dark eyes shining with tears and trust.
"I love you too... daddy... thank you," she whispered, her thick juicy thighs trembling, then began adjusting her panties over her red chiffon saree, pulling the wedged crotch out from her ass crack and pussy lips, smoothing it flat, her boobs heaving over the red blouse.
The old man walked out with the tray, his cock hard in his black pants, his eyes glancing back at her ass cheeks and panty line visible over her ass cheeks over the red chiffon saree.
I quickly went back to the living room, my cock throbbing painfully inside my white dhoti, leaking precum, the sight of my wife calling him daddy, trusting him completely, agreeing to do any bold scenes for him, his hands on her ass cheeks, her emotional surrender, drove me wild with jealousy and filthy excitement, my balls aching as I sat down, heart pounding.
As I sat on the maroon leather sofa next to Arjun, the old man came and sat opposite to us, placing the coffee tray on the glass coffee table. Arjun and I began sipping coffee, the hot aroma filling the luxurious living room, the old man also began sipping coffee, his eyes occasionally flicking toward the kitchen direction.
I bent toward the kitchen doorway and saw my wife still there, adjusting her panties over her red chiffon saree. Her red chiffon saree had loosened while she pulled at her panties, the pallu slipping off her shoulder, the saree fabric sliding down her wide hips, exposing more of her red petticoat tied tightly around her waist. She cursed herself softly under her breath, her boobs heaving over the red blouse in frustration.
"Oh no... this saree... always loosening... stupid me," she muttered, her voice low and annoyed, her large dark eyes focused on her red chiffon saree.
She began removing her red chiffon saree to rewear it properly, tugging the pallu free from her shoulder, sliding the red chiffon saree down her wide hips, peeling it off her plump ass cheeks, revealing her red petticoat hugging her ass cheeks and thighs, the panty line visible over her ass cheeks over the red petticoat, her white bra straps peeking slightly under the red blouse edges, her boobs shifting as she moved.
That’s when I noticed a neighbour, an old man in his 60s, watching my wife through his bedroom window facing the kitchen window. He stood hidden behind his curtain, his hand inside his trousers, stroking his hard cock slowly, eyes locked on my wife as she removed her red chiffon saree, standing in her red petticoat and red blouse, her plump ass cheeks round under the red petticoat, her thick juicy thighs shifting, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, jerking off faster as he watched, his breathing heavy, his cock throbbing in his hand, but he did not cum yet, his eyes greedy and fixed on her.
I stood there, my cock throbbing painfully inside my white dhoti, leaking precum, the sight of my wife undressing her red chiffon saree in the kitchen, standing in her red petticoat and red blouse, the neighbour jerking off watching her, drove me wild with jealousy and filthy excitement, my balls aching as I watched, heart pounding.
Before wearing her red chiffon saree, as my wife began lifting her red petticoat up her wide hips, the red petticoat sliding over her thick juicy thighs, exposing her white panties fully. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her white panties, tugging the white panties down slightly to free the wedged crotch from her pussy lips and ass crack, then eased the white panties back up, pulling the crotch flat over her pussy lips, smoothing it gently over her clit and ass crack, adjusting the white panties edges along her hips so they sat snug against her ass cheeks, the panty line now even over her ass cheeks under the red petticoat.
The moment the old neighbour got the full view of my wife’s pussy and ass in her white panties—her plump pussy lips outlined softly through the white panties, her tight ass crack visible between her round ass cheeks, the white panties hugging every curve—he could not hold it anymore. His face twisted in intense pleasure, eyes wide and glassy, mouth open in a silent gasp, cheeks flushed red, veins bulging on his forehead, his body shuddering violently, knees weakening as thick cum spurted out of his cock, his legs buckling, forcing him to sit heavily on the floor, panting hard, his cock pulsing with aftershocks, cum dripping onto his floor, his expression pure overwhelmed ecstasy.
After he came, my wife quickly wore her red chiffon saree again, dbanging the pallu over her boobs, tucking the pleats neatly at her waist, smoothing it over her wide hips and plump ass cheeks, her red blouse hugging her boobs, her thick juicy thighs shifting under the saree. She checked herself in the small mirror, adjusted her mangalsutra between her boobs, then walked out of the kitchen, her ass cheeks jiggling under the red chiffon saree, her thick juicy thighs moving gracefully, completely unaware of the neighbour’s release.
I sat on the maroon leather sofa next to Arjun, sipping coffee, my cock throbbing painfully inside my white dhoti, leaking precum, the sight of my wife adjusting her white panties in the kitchen, exposing her pussy and ass, the neighbour cumming hard watching her, his knees weak, sitting on the floor in bliss, drove me wild with jealousy and filthy excitement, my balls aching as I watched her come out, heart pounding.
As my wife came to the living room adjusting her red chiffon saree, smoothing the pallu over her boobs and tucking it neatly at her waist, the old man patted the maroon leather sofa cushion next to him on his right.
"Come, my daughter... sit here... next to daddy," the old man said warmly, his voice soft and fatherly, his cock probably still hard in his black pants from earlier.
My wife smiled shyly, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, and sat next to him, her thick juicy thighs pressing together under the red chiffon saree, her plump ass cheeks settling into the cushion, her red chiffon saree dbanging elegantly over her wide hips.
The old man offered her a coffee cup from the tray, his eyes lingering on her boobs and red blouse.
"Here... coffee for my daughter... drink... relax," he said, handing it to her gently.
My wife took the cup, her boobs rising and falling over the red blouse, sipping slowly.
As he began sipping his coffee, the old man looked at Arjun, his voice calm but firm.
"Arjun... when do you want to do the shooting?," he asked, his eyes flicking to my wife’s boobs heaving over the red blouse.
Arjun nodded, his cock straining in his trousers.
"Sir... we only have today and tomorrow... I am going to do location scouting today... so I can start shooting the outdoor scenes tomorrow morning... and the indoor scenes at night... we need to finish fast," Arjun said, his voice confident.
The old man agreed, sipping his coffee, his eyes on my wife’s red chiffon saree.
"Good... and for the indoor scenes at night... we can shoot them here... in my house itself... it is big... perfect for the sets... no need to go anywhere," he said casually, his voice warm.
Arjun’s face lit up, his cock throbbing.
"Thank you sir... really... that will save so much time... thank you," Arjun said gratefully.
The old man smiled, putting his right arm around my wife’s waist over her red blouse, pulling her gently closer, his hand resting on her wide hips.
"Sudha is my daughter... I will do anything for her... anything to see her shine... to make this film perfect... for her... for the message," he said emotionally, his cock probably pressing against her thigh through his black pants.
My wife felt proud of him, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, looking at Arjun and smiling naively, her large dark eyes soft.
The old man continued, his voice thick with emotion, his arm tightening slightly around her waist.
"Don’t worry about the budget... I will produce it... I will spend whatever it takes... Arjun... write a small tribute to my wife in the film... she was a woman empowerment fighter... she so badly wanted women’s education... she died for it... fighting the system... let the film honor her... let Sudha carry her spirit... my daughter," he said, his voice breaking, tears in his eyes.
My wife looked at him, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, her large dark eyes filling with tears, her right hand gently rubbing his right arm to comfort him, her voice soft and emotional.
"Daddy... I will do it... for your wife... for her fight... for education... I promise," she whispered, her thick juicy thighs trembling under the red chiffon saree.
Arjun nodded quickly, his cock throbbing.
"Yes sir... I will write the tribute... it will be beautiful... thank you... we will honor her," Arjun said, his voice sincere.
The old man smiled through his tears, his right arm still around my wife’s waist.
"My daughter... you will be the angel on screen... I will spend as much as possible... to show you like an angel... my daughter... my pride," he said, his voice full of love, his cock throbbing in his black pants.
My wife looked at him, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, her large dark eyes emotional.
"Thank you daddy... thank you so much... I feel... so loved... so safe... I will do my best... for you," she said, her voice choked with emotion, her thick juicy thighs pressing together under the red chiffon saree.
I sat on the maroon leather sofa, my cock throbbing painfully inside my white dhoti, leaking precum, the sight of my wife calling him daddy, his arm around her waist, her emotional trust, his promise to produce the film, the tribute to his wife, drove me wild with jealousy and filthy excitement, my balls aching as I watched, heart pounding in the luxurious living room.
The old man sipped his coffee, his eyes warm on my wife sitting next to him.
"Arjun... what about makeup and costumes?," he said gently, his right arm still resting around my wife’s waist over her red blouse.
Arjun leaned forward, his cock straining in his trousers.
"Sir... I was hoping you would help with that... you have contacts... we need costumes for Sudha akka," Arjun said, his voice hopeful.
The old man nodded, his cock throbbing in his black pants.
"Don’t worry about costumes... we have old film sets wardrobe... we can use those... modest... perfect... and for equipment... I have everything here... no need to rent... I have all the equipment with me for the shoot... for the bedroom shot romance scenes... soft key lights with diffusers for gentle, flattering face illumination... fill lights on stands to remove harsh shadows and give smooth skin glow... back lights and rim lights for romantic halo effect around hair and shoulders... a dolly track with fluid head for slow, smooth tracking shots circling the bed... tripod with fluid head for steady close-ups on faces, eyes, lips, tears... handheld camera with stabilizer for intimate, slightly shaky, realistic moments... boom mic on a boom pole for clear whispered dialogue and breathing sounds... reflector boards for natural-looking bounce light on skin... ring light for soft catchlights in eyes to make them sparkle emotionally... practical lamps on bedside tables for warm, golden mood lighting... fog machine for subtle atmospheric haze to enhance romance and intimacy... all set up in the master bedroom... king-size bed with silk sheets in deep maroon... velvet headboard... sheer canopy curtains... dimmable wall sconces... everything ready by tomorrow... we can shoot indoor romance scenes here at night... perfect lighting... perfect mood... no need to go anywhere," he said, his voice firm and loving, his hand gently squeezing my wife’s hip over the red chiffon saree.
Arjun nodded, his cock throbbing.
"Yes sir... thank you... that is perfect... I will go now... scout locations for outdoor scenes... we meet tomorrow," Arjun said, standing up and leaving for location scouting.
The old man smiled at my wife, his cock hard in his black pants.
"Sudha... my baby... don’t worry... daddy will take care of everything... wardrobe... camera... lights... you just be ready... you will shine," he said softly, his hand resting on her thigh over the red chiffon saree.
My wife looked at him, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, her large dark eyes soft.
"Thank you daddy...," she whispered, her thick juicy thighs relaxing under the red chiffon saree.
I sat on the maroon leather sofa, my cock throbbing painfully inside my white dhoti, leaking precum, the sight of the old man’s hand on my wife’s thigh, her calling him daddy, his detailed promise to have all the equipment for bedroom romance shots—soft lights, dolly, handheld, fog, silk sheets, canopy—drove me wild with jealousy and filthy excitement, my balls aching as I watched, heart pounding.
The old man picked up all the coffee cups and carried them inside the kitchen to clean. My wife called after him, her voice soft and polite.
"Daddy... I will wash them... let me help," she said, following him quickly, her boobs rising and falling over the red blouse, her red chiffon saree swaying with each step.
The old man placed the cups in the sink, turning to her with a gentle smile.
"It's okay, my daughter... you are my guest... sit... I will clean," he said warmly.
My wife insisted, stepping to the sink, her boobs heaving over the red blouse.
"No daddy... I will wash... please... let me," she said softly, turning on the tap and beginning to wash the coffee cups, her thick juicy thighs shifting under the red chiffon saree, her plump ass cheeks round and firm as she leaned forward slightly.
The old man stood behind her, his cock hardening in his black pants, his eyes locked on my wife’s ass cheeks and the panty line visible over her ass cheeks over the red chiffon saree. He began stroking his cock over his black pants slowly, his hand rubbing the bulge as he watched her ass cheeks jiggle gently with her movements.
Casually, he asked, his voice low and caring.
"My daughter... did you adjust your panties?" he said, stepping closer, placing his left hand on my wife’s ass cheeks over her red chiffon saree, feeling up her panties through the saree.
My wife paused for a second, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, then continued washing, her voice innocent.
"Yes daddy... I adjusted them... thank you," she said softly, her thick juicy thighs trembling slightly under the red chiffon saree.
The old man’s left hand roamed erotically over her ass cheeks, his palm pressing gently against her plump ass cheeks through the red chiffon saree, fingers tracing the panty line over her ass cheeks, sliding slowly along the curve of her ass crack where the white panties were felt underneath, squeezing softly, kneading her ass cheeks with care, his touch warm and deliberate. My wife’s ass cheeks moved uncomfortably at first, clenching slightly under his hand, her boobs heaving faster over the red blouse, but then she relaxed, realizing it was like her dad, gentle and caring, letting him feel them up, her plump ass cheeks softening under his palm, her thick juicy thighs parting slightly as she stood there washing the cups.
He continued feeling her ass cheeks, his fingers gliding over the panty line, pressing lightly into her ass crack through the saree, savoring the roundness, the firmness, the warmth, his cock throbbing hard in his black pants.
My wife finished washing the cups, placing them in the shelf, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, her red chiffon saree swaying as she turned to him, smiling softly.
"Done daddy... thank you for letting me help," she said, her voice sweet and trusting.
The old man smiled, his left hand still on her ass cheeks for a moment before letting go, his cock straining in his black pants.
"Good girl…," he said lovingly.
My wife nodded, her boobs rising and falling over the red blouse, staying close to him, her thick juicy thighs shifting under the red chiffon saree.
I sat on the maroon leather sofa, my cock throbbing painfully inside my white dhoti, leaking precum, the sight of the old man stroking his cock over his black pants, feeling up my wife’s ass cheeks and panties through her red chiffon saree, her innocent "yes daddy" while washing, her ass cheeks relaxing under his hand, drove me wild with jealousy and filthy excitement, my balls aching as I waited, heart pounding.
She looked at the old man, her large dark eyes soft and curious, her voice gentle.
"Sir... do you live alone? Where is your family?" she asked, pouring water into the coffee filter, her boobs heaving over the red blouse.
The old man paused, his eyes misting with tears, his voice low, cracking with deep sorrow.
"I am a widower... I lost my wife when she was only 32... so young... so full of life... she was my everything... my heart... she was a strong advocate of women’s education... she fought with fire in her soul... she started night colleges in our village... went door to door... begged parents to send their daughters... she taught them to read... write... dream... she stood against child marriage... dowry... she gave courage to women... made them believe they could be more... she was fearless... bold... beautiful inside and out... she changed so many lives... saved girls from darkness... but... a gang... powerful men... they hated her... hated her voice... they killed her... one night... they came... beat her... took her away... I found her body the next day... broken... gone... she died fighting... for what she believed... women's education... empowerment... I still hear her voice... her laugh... I miss her every second... she was my world... my light... and now... only darkness," he said, his voice shattering, tears streaming down his wrinkled cheeks, his hands trembling, his cock softening in his black pants as grief overwhelmed him.
My wife stopped, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, her large dark eyes filling with tears, her voice breaking with sorrow.
"Sir... I... I am so sorry... so deeply sorry... your wife... she sounds like a true hero... so strong... so brave... fighting for education... for women... for girls who had no voice... it breaks my heart... she was so young... she did so much... she deserved to live... to see her work grow... I feel... so sad... so much pain... she is an inspiration... her courage... her love... it touches me... deeply... I wish... I could have met her... honored her... she was amazing," she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks, her thick juicy thighs trembling under the red chiffon saree, her heart heavy with genuine sorrow, her voice choked with emotion.
The old man wiped his tears with shaking hands, his voice soft, broken but warm.
"Thank you... your words... they mean a lot... now... I have a daughter... she looks just like her... same eyes... same smile... same heart... here... look," he said, taking out his phone with trembling fingers, showing her pictures of his daughter—young, beautiful, with long hair and bright eyes, strikingly similar to my wife.
My wife looked at the photos, her boobs rising and falling over the red blouse, her large dark eyes softening, tears still shining.
"She is beautiful... so beautiful... she looks so much like your wife... so sweet... so strong... you must be so proud... she carries her mother’s spirit... her fight... I can see it," she said, her voice gentle, her thick juicy thighs relaxing slightly under the red chiffon saree.
The old man smiled sadly, his eyes on her boobs and red chiffon saree.
"Yes... she is my life now... Sudha... you remind me of her... your kindness... your heart... your eyes... can I treat you like my daughter? Please... just like her... I feel... like she is here... with you... can I?" he asked, his voice emotional, cracking again, his cock probably stirring in his black pants.
My wife nodded, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, her large dark eyes warm and teary.
"Sure sir... please... treat me like your daughter... I would like that... very much," she said softly, smiling gently, her thick juicy thighs shifting under the red chiffon saree, feeling a fatherly comfort.
Their conversation slowly turned to my family. My wife began telling him, her voice soft and proud.
"Sir... I am going to be the first graduate in my family... no one before me studied this far... my parents worked so hard... sacrificed everything... so I could study... my degree... it means everything... to me... to them... I want to make them proud... complete it... show them their sacrifices were worth it," she said, her boobs rising and falling over the red blouse, her large dark eyes shining with emotion.
The old man nodded, his voice appreciative, eyes warm.
"Sudha... that is beautiful... you are doing something great... first graduate... your family must be so proud... you are strong... like my wife... keep going... your education... it will change everything... you are an example already... I am proud of you... my daughter," he said, his voice fatherly, his cock probably hardening again in his black pants as he watched her boobs heave over the red blouse.
My wife started feeling very comfortable with him, her boobs rising and falling over the red blouse, her large dark eyes soft, her voice gentle.
"Thank you sir... talking to you... it feels like I am with my late dad... he was so supportive... so kind... I miss him... but you... you make me feel safe... cared for... I trust you already... like family," she said, her thick juicy thighs relaxing under the red chiffon saree, her plump ass cheeks shifting as she moved closer to the stove.
They made the coffee together, the aroma filling the artistic kitchen, my wife smiling softly, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, completely trusting the old man, her heart open, feeling like she was with her late dad.
I stood at the doorway, my cock throbbing painfully inside my white dhoti, leaking precum, the sight of my wife bonding with the old man, feeling like he was her dad, trusting him already, drove me wild with jealousy and filthy excitement, my balls aching as I watched, heart pounding.
As my wife and the old man were placing the coffee cups on the tray, my wife’s hands trembled slightly, her boobs rising and falling over the red blouse, her red chiffon saree pallu dbangd softly over her boobs. She looked at him, her large dark eyes nervous, her voice soft and hesitant, almost breaking.
"Sir... do you know about the story Arjun narrated? It... it involves a lot of bold scenes... I am nervous... very nervous... my heart is racing... I don’t know if I can face those parts... it feels so heavy... so wrong for me," she said, her thick juicy thighs trembling under the red chiffon saree, her plump ass cheeks clenching slightly, tears welling in her large dark eyes.
The old man set the last cup down gently, his eyes softening with fatherly concern, his voice low, warm, and deeply emotional.
"Yes, my daughter... Arjun told me the story... it is brilliant... powerful... those bold scenes are must in the story... they are not for cheap thrill... they show the painful truth... how the heroine was dumb... naive... without education... she trusted men blindly... gave her body... got fucked... used... betrayed... left broken... time after time... only after that deep pain... that betrayal... she realizes... education is the only light... the only way to rise... to become strong... independent... she goes to evening college... fights every day... studies hard... becomes an IAS officer... serves the country... helps suffering women... sets an example for all women who were cheated in the name of love... those bold scenes are necessary... they make the audience feel her pain... her tears... her struggle... so when she rises... it hits the heart... it inspires... it saves lives... it is not vulgar... it is truthful... for the message... for every woman like her... like my wife... like you," he said, his voice cracking with emotion, tears in his eyes, his cock probably stirring in his black pants as he spoke, his hands trembling slightly.
My wife looked down, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, tears slipping down her cheeks, her voice shaking with fear and sorrow.
"Sir... I understand... the message is so important... it touches my heart... but... I am scared... those bold scenes... I can’t... I feel so small... so exposed... my body... my heart... I don’t know if I can... it feels like I am losing myself... I am shaking inside," she whispered, her thick juicy thighs trembling under the red chiffon saree, her plump ass cheeks shifting nervously.
The old man stepped closer, his voice gentle, fatherly, thick with emotion, tears shining in his eyes.
"My daughter... don’t be scared... look at me... I am here... like your father... I will protect you... Arjun is talented... very talented... soon he will be one of the top directors in Tamil film industry... he knows how to handle such scenes... he will make them modest... tasteful... emotional... soft lighting... close shots on your eyes... your tears... your strength... no vulgarity... only beauty... only truth... you are safe... trust him... trust me... you are like my daughter... my heart aches seeing you scared... I can’t bear it... please... do it for the story... for the women it will help... for my wife’s dream... for your own courage... I beg you... my child... trust me fully... I will be there every moment... holding your hand... like a father... you are not alone," he said, his voice breaking, tears falling, his cock probably hardening in his black pants as he looked at her boobs heaving over the red blouse, his hands reaching out gently.
My wife looked at him, her large dark eyes filling with tears, her voice trembling with trust and emotion.
"Sir... you are like my dad... I feel it... your words... your tears... they touch me... I trust you... completely... like my own father... if you say it will be okay... if you promise to be there... protect me... I will do it... I will do any bold scenes... because I trust you... you are just like my dad... I know you will take care of me... I will act... for you... for the message... for the women," she whispered, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, tears streaming down her cheeks, her thick juicy thighs relaxing under the red chiffon saree, her heart open wide.
The old man’s eyes filled with tears, his voice choked with love and emotion. He stepped closer, leaned in, and kissed her forehead gently, his lips lingering softly on her skin.
"My daughter... thank you... I love you... I am so proud of you... you are brave... so brave... like my wife... go now... keep the coffee on the table... I will join you in a minute... my child... I love you," he said, his voice thick, calling her daughter, his cock throbbing in his black pants, tears on his cheeks.
My wife’s eyes overflowed with tears, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, her voice choked with emotion.
"I love you too... sir... like my dad... thank you... I will do it... for you... for everything," she whispered, her thick juicy thighs trembling, her heart full of trust and love, turning and walking out of the kitchen with the tray, her ass cheeks jiggling under the red chiffon saree, her thick juicy thighs moving with each step, feeling safe, trusting him like her dad.
The old man watched her go, his cock hard in his black pants, his eyes on her ass cheeks and panty line visible over her ass cheeks over the red chiffon saree, his heart full of lust and fatherly affection.
I stood at the doorway, my cock throbbing painfully inside my white dhoti, leaking precum, the sight of my wife trusting the old man, calling him like her dad, agreeing to do bold scenes for him, his kiss on her forehead, her tears, her emotional surrender, drove me wild with jealousy and filthy excitement, my balls aching as I watched, heart pounding.
As my wife and the old man were placing the coffee cups on the tray, my wife’s hands trembled slightly, her boobs rising and falling over the red blouse, her red chiffon saree pallu dbangd softly over her boobs. She looked at him, her large dark eyes nervous, her voice soft and hesitant, almost breaking.
"Sir... do you know about the story Arjun narrated? It... it involves a lot of bold scenes... I am nervous... very nervous... my heart is racing... I don’t know if I can face those parts... it feels so heavy... so wrong for me," she said, her thick juicy thighs trembling under the red chiffon saree, her plump ass cheeks clenching slightly, tears welling in her large dark eyes.
The old man set the last cup down gently, his eyes softening with fatherly concern, his voice low, warm, and deeply emotional.
"Yes, my daughter... Arjun told me the story... it is brilliant... powerful... those bold scenes are must in the story... they show the painful truth... how the heroine was dumb... naive... without education... she trusted men blindly... gave her body... got fucked... used... betrayed... left broken... time after time... only after that deep pain... that betrayal... she realizes... education is the only light... the only way to rise... to become strong... independent... she goes to evening college... fights every day... studies hard... becomes an IAS officer... serves the country... helps suffering women... sets an example for all women who were cheated in the name of love... those bold scenes are necessary... they make the audience feel her pain... her tears... her struggle... so when she rises... it hits the heart... it inspires... it saves lives... it is not vulgar... it is truthful... for the message... for every woman like her... like my wife... like you," he said, his voice cracking with emotion, tears in his eyes, his cock probably stirring in his black pants as he spoke, his hands trembling slightly.
My wife looked down, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, tears slipping down her cheeks, her voice shaking with fear and sorrow.
"Sir... I understand... the message is so important... it touches my heart... but... I am scared... those bold scenes... I can’t... I feel so small... so exposed... my body... my heart... I don’t know if I can... it feels like I am losing myself... I am shaking inside," she whispered, her thick juicy thighs trembling under the red chiffon saree, her plump ass cheeks shifting nervously.
The old man stepped closer, his voice gentle, fatherly, thick with emotion, tears shining in his eyes.
"My daughter... don’t be scared... look at me... I am here... like your father... I will protect you... Arjun is talented... very talented... soon he will be one of the top directors in Tamil film industry... he knows how to handle such scenes... he will make them modest... tasteful... emotional... soft lighting... close shots on your eyes... your tears... your strength... no vulgarity... only beauty... only truth... you are safe... trust him... trust me... you are like my daughter... my heart aches seeing you scared... I can’t bear it... please... do it for the story... for the women it will help... for my wife’s dream... for your own courage... I beg you... my child... trust me fully... I will be there every moment... holding your hand... like a father... you are not alone," he said, his voice breaking, tears falling, his cock probably hardening in his black pants as he looked at her boobs heaving over the red blouse, his hands reaching out gently.
My wife looked at him, her large dark eyes softening, tears shining, her voice trembling with trust and emotion.
"Sir... you are like my dad... I feel it... your words... your tears... they touch me... I trust you... completely... like my own father... if you say it will be okay... if you promise to be there... protect me... I will do it... I will do any bold scenes... because I trust you... you are just like my dad... I know you will take care of me... I will act... for you... for the message... for the women," she whispered, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, tears streaming down her cheeks, her thick juicy thighs relaxing under the red chiffon saree, her heart open wide.
The old man’s eyes filled with tears, his voice choked with love and emotion. He stepped closer, gently held her face with both hands, his thumbs brushing her tears away, looking deep into her eyes.
"My daughter... my sweet daughter... I love you... I love you so much... don’t call me sir... call me daddy... please... call me daddy... I want to hear it... from your heart," he said, his voice breaking, tears falling, his cock throbbing in his black pants.
My wife’s eyes overflowed with tears, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, her voice choked with emotion.
"Daddy... I... I love you too... daddy... you are like my dad... I trust you... daddy," she whispered, her voice trembling, tears streaming.
The old man pulled her into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around her waist, his hands sliding down to gently grab her ass cheeks over her red chiffon saree, feeling up her panty line over her ass cheeks, his fingers softly squeezing her plump ass cheeks, his cock pressing against her thighs through his black pants.
"My daughter... your panties have caught uneasily between your ass crack... I can feel it... adjust it... my child... I will take the tray and go... you adjust your panties and come to the living room... daddy will be waiting," he said with love, his voice soft and caring, his hands still gently on her ass cheeks over the red chiffon saree.
My wife’s cheeks flushed, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, her voice soft and trusting.
"Sure daddy... I will adjust... thank you daddy... I trust you... I will do anything you want... anything," she whispered, her thick juicy thighs trembling, her heart full of trust and love.
The old man released her slowly, his hands lingering on her ass cheeks for a moment, then picked up the tray.
"Adjust your panties, my daughter... and then join us... I love you," he said, his voice emotional.
My wife nodded, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, her large dark eyes shining with tears and trust.
"I love you too... daddy... thank you," she whispered, her thick juicy thighs trembling, then began adjusting her panties over her red chiffon saree, pulling the wedged crotch out from her ass crack and pussy lips, smoothing it flat, her boobs heaving over the red blouse.
The old man walked out with the tray, his cock hard in his black pants, his eyes glancing back at her ass cheeks and panty line visible over her ass cheeks over the red chiffon saree.
I quickly went back to the living room, my cock throbbing painfully inside my white dhoti, leaking precum, the sight of my wife calling him daddy, trusting him completely, agreeing to do any bold scenes for him, his hands on her ass cheeks, her emotional surrender, drove me wild with jealousy and filthy excitement, my balls aching as I sat down, heart pounding.
As I sat on the maroon leather sofa next to Arjun, the old man came and sat opposite to us, placing the coffee tray on the glass coffee table. Arjun and I began sipping coffee, the hot aroma filling the luxurious living room, the old man also began sipping coffee, his eyes occasionally flicking toward the kitchen direction.
I bent toward the kitchen doorway and saw my wife still there, adjusting her panties over her red chiffon saree. Her red chiffon saree had loosened while she pulled at her panties, the pallu slipping off her shoulder, the saree fabric sliding down her wide hips, exposing more of her red petticoat tied tightly around her waist. She cursed herself softly under her breath, her boobs heaving over the red blouse in frustration.
"Oh no... this saree... always loosening... stupid me," she muttered, her voice low and annoyed, her large dark eyes focused on her red chiffon saree.
She began removing her red chiffon saree to rewear it properly, tugging the pallu free from her shoulder, sliding the red chiffon saree down her wide hips, peeling it off her plump ass cheeks, revealing her red petticoat hugging her ass cheeks and thighs, the panty line visible over her ass cheeks over the red petticoat, her white bra straps peeking slightly under the red blouse edges, her boobs shifting as she moved.
That’s when I noticed a neighbour, an old man in his 60s, watching my wife through his bedroom window facing the kitchen window. He stood hidden behind his curtain, his hand inside his trousers, stroking his hard cock slowly, eyes locked on my wife as she removed her red chiffon saree, standing in her red petticoat and red blouse, her plump ass cheeks round under the red petticoat, her thick juicy thighs shifting, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, jerking off faster as he watched, his breathing heavy, his cock throbbing in his hand, but he did not cum yet, his eyes greedy and fixed on her.
I stood there, my cock throbbing painfully inside my white dhoti, leaking precum, the sight of my wife undressing her red chiffon saree in the kitchen, standing in her red petticoat and red blouse, the neighbour jerking off watching her, drove me wild with jealousy and filthy excitement, my balls aching as I watched, heart pounding.
Before wearing her red chiffon saree, as my wife began lifting her red petticoat up her wide hips, the red petticoat sliding over her thick juicy thighs, exposing her white panties fully. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her white panties, tugging the white panties down slightly to free the wedged crotch from her pussy lips and ass crack, then eased the white panties back up, pulling the crotch flat over her pussy lips, smoothing it gently over her clit and ass crack, adjusting the white panties edges along her hips so they sat snug against her ass cheeks, the panty line now even over her ass cheeks under the red petticoat.
The moment the old neighbour got the full view of my wife’s pussy and ass in her white panties—her plump pussy lips outlined softly through the white panties, her tight ass crack visible between her round ass cheeks, the white panties hugging every curve—he could not hold it anymore. His face twisted in intense pleasure, eyes wide and glassy, mouth open in a silent gasp, cheeks flushed red, veins bulging on his forehead, his body shuddering violently, knees weakening as thick cum spurted out of his cock, his legs buckling, forcing him to sit heavily on the floor, panting hard, his cock pulsing with aftershocks, cum dripping onto his floor, his expression pure overwhelmed ecstasy.
After he came, my wife quickly wore her red chiffon saree again, dbanging the pallu over her boobs, tucking the pleats neatly at her waist, smoothing it over her wide hips and plump ass cheeks, her red blouse hugging her boobs, her thick juicy thighs shifting under the saree. She checked herself in the small mirror, adjusted her mangalsutra between her boobs, then walked out of the kitchen, her ass cheeks jiggling under the red chiffon saree, her thick juicy thighs moving gracefully, completely unaware of the neighbour’s release.
I sat on the maroon leather sofa next to Arjun, sipping coffee, my cock throbbing painfully inside my white dhoti, leaking precum, the sight of my wife adjusting her white panties in the kitchen, exposing her pussy and ass, the neighbour cumming hard watching her, his knees weak, sitting on the floor in bliss, drove me wild with jealousy and filthy excitement, my balls aching as I watched her come out, heart pounding.
As my wife came to the living room adjusting her red chiffon saree, smoothing the pallu over her boobs and tucking it neatly at her waist, the old man patted the maroon leather sofa cushion next to him on his right.
"Come, my daughter... sit here... next to daddy," the old man said warmly, his voice soft and fatherly, his cock probably still hard in his black pants from earlier.
My wife smiled shyly, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, and sat next to him, her thick juicy thighs pressing together under the red chiffon saree, her plump ass cheeks settling into the cushion, her red chiffon saree dbanging elegantly over her wide hips.
The old man offered her a coffee cup from the tray, his eyes lingering on her boobs and red blouse.
"Here... coffee for my daughter... drink... relax," he said, handing it to her gently.
My wife took the cup, her boobs rising and falling over the red blouse, sipping slowly.
As he began sipping his coffee, the old man looked at Arjun, his voice calm but firm.
"Arjun... when do you want to do the shooting?," he asked, his eyes flicking to my wife’s boobs heaving over the red blouse.
Arjun nodded, his cock straining in his trousers.
"Sir... we only have today and tomorrow... I am going to do location scouting today... so I can start shooting the outdoor scenes tomorrow morning... and the indoor scenes at night... we need to finish fast," Arjun said, his voice confident.
The old man agreed, sipping his coffee, his eyes on my wife’s red chiffon saree.
"Good... and for the indoor scenes at night... we can shoot them here... in my house itself... it is big... perfect for the sets... no need to go anywhere," he said casually, his voice warm.
Arjun’s face lit up, his cock throbbing.
"Thank you sir... really... that will save so much time... thank you," Arjun said gratefully.
The old man smiled, putting his right arm around my wife’s waist over her red blouse, pulling her gently closer, his hand resting on her wide hips.
"Sudha is my daughter... I will do anything for her... anything to see her shine... to make this film perfect... for her... for the message," he said emotionally, his cock probably pressing against her thigh through his black pants.
My wife felt proud of him, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, looking at Arjun and smiling naively, her large dark eyes soft.
The old man continued, his voice thick with emotion, his arm tightening slightly around her waist.
"Don’t worry about the budget... I will produce it... I will spend whatever it takes... Arjun... write a small tribute to my wife in the film... she was a woman empowerment fighter... she so badly wanted women’s education... she died for it... fighting the system... let the film honor her... let Sudha carry her spirit... my daughter," he said, his voice breaking, tears in his eyes.
My wife looked at him, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, her large dark eyes filling with tears, her right hand gently rubbing his right arm to comfort him, her voice soft and emotional.
"Daddy... I will do it... for your wife... for her fight... for education... I promise," she whispered, her thick juicy thighs trembling under the red chiffon saree.
Arjun nodded quickly, his cock throbbing.
"Yes sir... I will write the tribute... it will be beautiful... thank you... we will honor her," Arjun said, his voice sincere.
The old man smiled through his tears, his right arm still around my wife’s waist.
"My daughter... you will be the angel on screen... I will spend as much as possible... to show you like an angel... my daughter... my pride," he said, his voice full of love, his cock throbbing in his black pants.
My wife looked at him, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, her large dark eyes emotional.
"Thank you daddy... thank you so much... I feel... so loved... so safe... I will do my best... for you," she said, her voice choked with emotion, her thick juicy thighs pressing together under the red chiffon saree.
I sat on the maroon leather sofa, my cock throbbing painfully inside my white dhoti, leaking precum, the sight of my wife calling him daddy, his arm around her waist, her emotional trust, his promise to produce the film, the tribute to his wife, drove me wild with jealousy and filthy excitement, my balls aching as I watched, heart pounding in the luxurious living room.
The old man sipped his coffee, his eyes warm on my wife sitting next to him.
"Arjun... what about makeup and costumes?," he said gently, his right arm still resting around my wife’s waist over her red blouse.
Arjun leaned forward, his cock straining in his trousers.
"Sir... I was hoping you would help with that... you have contacts... we need costumes for Sudha akka," Arjun said, his voice hopeful.
The old man nodded, his cock throbbing in his black pants.
"Don’t worry about costumes... we have old film sets wardrobe... we can use those... modest... perfect... and for equipment... I have everything here... no need to rent... I have all the equipment with me for the shoot... for the bedroom shot romance scenes... soft key lights with diffusers for gentle, flattering face illumination... fill lights on stands to remove harsh shadows and give smooth skin glow... back lights and rim lights for romantic halo effect around hair and shoulders... a dolly track with fluid head for slow, smooth tracking shots circling the bed... tripod with fluid head for steady close-ups on faces, eyes, lips, tears... handheld camera with stabilizer for intimate, slightly shaky, realistic moments... boom mic on a boom pole for clear whispered dialogue and breathing sounds... reflector boards for natural-looking bounce light on skin... ring light for soft catchlights in eyes to make them sparkle emotionally... practical lamps on bedside tables for warm, golden mood lighting... fog machine for subtle atmospheric haze to enhance romance and intimacy... all set up in the master bedroom... king-size bed with silk sheets in deep maroon... velvet headboard... sheer canopy curtains... dimmable wall sconces... everything ready by tomorrow... we can shoot indoor romance scenes here at night... perfect lighting... perfect mood... no need to go anywhere," he said, his voice firm and loving, his hand gently squeezing my wife’s hip over the red chiffon saree.
Arjun nodded, his cock throbbing.
"Yes sir... thank you... that is perfect... I will go now... scout locations for outdoor scenes... we meet tomorrow," Arjun said, standing up and leaving for location scouting.
The old man smiled at my wife, his cock hard in his black pants.
"Sudha... my baby... don’t worry... daddy will take care of everything... wardrobe... camera... lights... you just be ready... you will shine," he said softly, his hand resting on her thigh over the red chiffon saree.
My wife looked at him, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, her large dark eyes soft.
"Thank you daddy...," she whispered, her thick juicy thighs relaxing under the red chiffon saree.
I sat on the maroon leather sofa, my cock throbbing painfully inside my white dhoti, leaking precum, the sight of the old man’s hand on my wife’s thigh, her calling him daddy, his detailed promise to have all the equipment for bedroom romance shots—soft lights, dolly, handheld, fog, silk sheets, canopy—drove me wild with jealousy and filthy excitement, my balls aching as I watched, heart pounding.
The old man picked up all the coffee cups and carried them inside the kitchen to clean. My wife called after him, her voice soft and polite.
"Daddy... I will wash them... let me help," she said, following him quickly, her boobs rising and falling over the red blouse, her red chiffon saree swaying with each step.
The old man placed the cups in the sink, turning to her with a gentle smile.
"It's okay, my daughter... you are my guest... sit... I will clean," he said warmly.
My wife insisted, stepping to the sink, her boobs heaving over the red blouse.
"No daddy... I will wash... please... let me," she said softly, turning on the tap and beginning to wash the coffee cups, her thick juicy thighs shifting under the red chiffon saree, her plump ass cheeks round and firm as she leaned forward slightly.
The old man stood behind her, his cock hardening in his black pants, his eyes locked on my wife’s ass cheeks and the panty line visible over her ass cheeks over the red chiffon saree. He began stroking his cock over his black pants slowly, his hand rubbing the bulge as he watched her ass cheeks jiggle gently with her movements.
Casually, he asked, his voice low and caring.
"My daughter... did you adjust your panties?" he said, stepping closer, placing his left hand on my wife’s ass cheeks over her red chiffon saree, feeling up her panties through the saree.
My wife paused for a second, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, then continued washing, her voice innocent.
"Yes daddy... I adjusted them... thank you," she said softly, her thick juicy thighs trembling slightly under the red chiffon saree.
The old man’s left hand roamed erotically over her ass cheeks, his palm pressing gently against her plump ass cheeks through the red chiffon saree, fingers tracing the panty line over her ass cheeks, sliding slowly along the curve of her ass crack where the white panties were felt underneath, squeezing softly, kneading her ass cheeks with care, his touch warm and deliberate. My wife’s ass cheeks moved uncomfortably at first, clenching slightly under his hand, her boobs heaving faster over the red blouse, but then she relaxed, realizing it was like her dad, gentle and caring, letting him feel them up, her plump ass cheeks softening under his palm, her thick juicy thighs parting slightly as she stood there washing the cups.
He continued feeling her ass cheeks, his fingers gliding over the panty line, pressing lightly into her ass crack through the saree, savoring the roundness, the firmness, the warmth, his cock throbbing hard in his black pants.
My wife finished washing the cups, placing them in the shelf, her boobs heaving over the red blouse, her red chiffon saree swaying as she turned to him, smiling softly.
"Done daddy... thank you for letting me help," she said, her voice sweet and trusting.
The old man smiled, his left hand still on her ass cheeks for a moment before letting go, his cock straining in his black pants.
"Good girl…," he said lovingly.
My wife nodded, her boobs rising and falling over the red blouse, staying close to him, her thick juicy thighs shifting under the red chiffon saree.
I sat on the maroon leather sofa, my cock throbbing painfully inside my white dhoti, leaking precum, the sight of the old man stroking his cock over his black pants, feeling up my wife’s ass cheeks and panties through her red chiffon saree, her innocent "yes daddy" while washing, her ass cheeks relaxing under his hand, drove me wild with jealousy and filthy excitement, my balls aching as I waited, heart pounding.
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