14-03-2026, 03:23 PM
(This post was last modified: 14-03-2026, 03:28 PM by heygiwriter. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Chapter 5: Rahul reached the town and a glimpse of truth arrived!
Rahul’s mind roared with plans as the plane touched down in Chennai and he slid into the back of a battered white Innova cab. The driver barely glanced at the tall, lean stranger in the fitted black shirt—another young face in a city full of them. Four hours of dusty roads stretched ahead: swaying palms, rattling bullock carts, the occasional gleaming temple spire flashing past like forgotten promises. Rahul stared at his reflection in the smudged windowpane. White skin sharp and glowing again, beard neatly trimmed, jawline carved like a blade. Pride swelled in his chest, tight and hot, pressing against his ribs until it felt ready to burst.
“She’ll see who the real man is now,” he thought, a wicked grin curving his lips. Visions flooded him, raw and relentless: cornering Anandhi in their cramped flat, pinning her against the peeling wall, one hand fisted in her black hair while the other yanked her saree pallu down. He’d punish her body until her screams echoed off the walls—hard, deep, merciless—then break her mind until every lie she’d ever told shattered like glass. “Not my job to fix her sense,” he muttered under his breath. “Perfect revenge. Inside four walls. She’ll beg, and I’ll laugh.”
The cab rolled deeper into the small town, dust swirling around the tires like a gritty halo. They passed her college—a squat yellow building with faded walls and a creaking iron gate. Rahul’s pulse spiked.
“Slow down,” he told the driver.
There she stood.
Anandhi.
Beneath the merciless noon sun, her soft cream saree swayed gently in the breeze, clinging just enough to hint at the curves he once worshipped. Black hair pinned back in a tight, practical bun, a few rebellious strands kissing her fair neck. White skin caught the light like polished marble. A textbook pressed to her chest as she spoke to a cluster of students, her voice carrying faintly on the wind—calm, patient, the same tone she once used with him after the kids slept.
Rahul lifted his phone, zoomed in. Her 34D breast rose and fell with each breath, the modest blouse straining just enough to remind him exactly how heavy those breasts felt in his palms. The pallu slipped a fraction as she gestured, exposing the soft curve of her waist.
“Bitch,” he breathed, “I’m coming. I’ll teach you a lesson today.”
Outside she guarded herself like a fortress—modest teacher, loyal wife in everyone’s eyes. But behind four walls? She would loosen everything. Her saree. Her will. Her lies. He’d strip it all.
A phone ring sliced through the cab’s stale air.
Sam’s name glowed on the cracked screen.
Rahul froze. His grin faltered mid-curve. He had planned to swing by Sam’s office first—a kilometer up the narrow lane—surprise the old friend with this new face, then hatch the perfect slut-shaming plan together. But Sam had beaten him to it.
Rahul ducked lower in the worn leather seat, pressed thephone to his ear, and dropped his voice to a gravelly murmur. “Hi, Sam.”
He still wanted to continue the surprise of his arrival and looks, he just wanted to test what will be their reaction seeing him young.. So He kept his arrival hidden in the call... just ten more minutes of drive, he will reach sams office, let that remain a sweet surprise. He thought
Sam’s voice crackled through, urgent and jagged with a strange, almost gleeful edge. “Sent you a video. Watch it. Right now.”
Rahul tapped play.
His heart slammed against his ribs.
There she was again.
Anandhi.
Kneeling on a rumpled hotel bed in a dimly lit room, lips stretched wide around a thick cock. Steady. Deliberate. Hungry. The man was John—their old college mate, tall and wiry, mop of dark hair slick with sweat. His hands gripped her bun, guiding her head deeper, hips rolling lazily as her black hair spilled loose over her shoulders. Wet, obscene sounds leaked from the speaker—sucking, slurping, soft gagging.
Another clip loaded automatically.
John now stroking her breasts. Saree slipped off one shoulder, blouse hooks undone, those heavy 34D curves spilling free—dark nipples stiff and glistening. His palms kneaded them roughly while Anandhi’s head bobbed faster, moans pouring out raw and breathless, exactly the same pitch Rahul remembered from their honeymoon nights.
Rahul’s breath caught. A shiver of pure rage twisted with dark, unwanted lust raced through his veins like wildfire. His new cock stirred instantly—thickening against his thigh, hypersensitive from the morning’s shower test, veins pulsing as if the body itself remembered the betrayal.
He snapped upright. “Driver—go buy biscuits. Now.”
The cab door clicked shut as the man shuffled toward a roadside stall, leaving Rahul alone with the phone pressed hard enough to dig into his palm.
“When?” he demanded, voice hoarse. “How John is there?”
Sam’s reply came fast, sharp as a blade. “Long story. It happend just few minutes, back, they are still invovled in the sex in the room. Longgerald Hotel, thirty kilometers from town. Room boy rigged a spy cam—sent me the visuals. I’m downstairs in the lobby right now, watching.”
Rahul’s eyes flicked back to the collegeyard.
Anandhi was still there.
Saree fluttering as she waved off the last students, laughing softly, radiant under the same sun that now burned his skin.
Thirty kilometers away? Right now?
The cab idled, engine purring low. Outside, the town bustled: a fruit vendor hawking mangoes in a nasal shout - Mango Mango - 3 Mango for 50 Rupees , a rickshaw horn blaring, a stray dog nosing through dust.
But Rahul’s world narrowed to the phone screen—Anandhi here, Right before his eyes in the college.
But Sam says, Anandhi there, still involved in sex, John’s hands on her tits, her moans, the timing that refused to add up.
“Fresh? I mean they are in sex few minutes back?” he repeated, gut twisting.
Sam’s glee rang hollow through the speaker. “Very fresh. You should see her face when she swallows.”
Doubt flickered for the first time—tiny, razor-sharp. Lying? Or how is this… possible?
Rage roared louder.
Raul mind blanked.
The driver trudged back, biscuits rustling in a plastic bag.
Rahul barely noticed.
His mind churned like a storm.
What is the truth What is the lie, how could sam say she is in hotel, but she is here.. then what about the video ?
Sam continued -- Rahul are you there..
Rahul ear listened.. and a background noise alerted him...
“Mango, mango! 3 Mango for 50 Rupees”—that vendor’s shout echoed in his memory - 5 minutes ago, crossing this street, Is now audible from Sam's Phone.
Sam’s office is just a kilometer away ..
Rahul quickly connected the dots.. Shit - [i]Shit - He’s lying , he had been lying...[/i]
Rahul’s mind roared with plans as the plane touched down in Chennai and he slid into the back of a battered white Innova cab. The driver barely glanced at the tall, lean stranger in the fitted black shirt—another young face in a city full of them. Four hours of dusty roads stretched ahead: swaying palms, rattling bullock carts, the occasional gleaming temple spire flashing past like forgotten promises. Rahul stared at his reflection in the smudged windowpane. White skin sharp and glowing again, beard neatly trimmed, jawline carved like a blade. Pride swelled in his chest, tight and hot, pressing against his ribs until it felt ready to burst.
“She’ll see who the real man is now,” he thought, a wicked grin curving his lips. Visions flooded him, raw and relentless: cornering Anandhi in their cramped flat, pinning her against the peeling wall, one hand fisted in her black hair while the other yanked her saree pallu down. He’d punish her body until her screams echoed off the walls—hard, deep, merciless—then break her mind until every lie she’d ever told shattered like glass. “Not my job to fix her sense,” he muttered under his breath. “Perfect revenge. Inside four walls. She’ll beg, and I’ll laugh.”
The cab rolled deeper into the small town, dust swirling around the tires like a gritty halo. They passed her college—a squat yellow building with faded walls and a creaking iron gate. Rahul’s pulse spiked.
“Slow down,” he told the driver.
There she stood.
Anandhi.
Beneath the merciless noon sun, her soft cream saree swayed gently in the breeze, clinging just enough to hint at the curves he once worshipped. Black hair pinned back in a tight, practical bun, a few rebellious strands kissing her fair neck. White skin caught the light like polished marble. A textbook pressed to her chest as she spoke to a cluster of students, her voice carrying faintly on the wind—calm, patient, the same tone she once used with him after the kids slept.
Rahul lifted his phone, zoomed in. Her 34D breast rose and fell with each breath, the modest blouse straining just enough to remind him exactly how heavy those breasts felt in his palms. The pallu slipped a fraction as she gestured, exposing the soft curve of her waist.
“Bitch,” he breathed, “I’m coming. I’ll teach you a lesson today.”
Outside she guarded herself like a fortress—modest teacher, loyal wife in everyone’s eyes. But behind four walls? She would loosen everything. Her saree. Her will. Her lies. He’d strip it all.
A phone ring sliced through the cab’s stale air.
Sam’s name glowed on the cracked screen.
Rahul froze. His grin faltered mid-curve. He had planned to swing by Sam’s office first—a kilometer up the narrow lane—surprise the old friend with this new face, then hatch the perfect slut-shaming plan together. But Sam had beaten him to it.
Rahul ducked lower in the worn leather seat, pressed thephone to his ear, and dropped his voice to a gravelly murmur. “Hi, Sam.”
He still wanted to continue the surprise of his arrival and looks, he just wanted to test what will be their reaction seeing him young.. So He kept his arrival hidden in the call... just ten more minutes of drive, he will reach sams office, let that remain a sweet surprise. He thought
Sam’s voice crackled through, urgent and jagged with a strange, almost gleeful edge. “Sent you a video. Watch it. Right now.”
Rahul tapped play.
His heart slammed against his ribs.
There she was again.
Anandhi.
Kneeling on a rumpled hotel bed in a dimly lit room, lips stretched wide around a thick cock. Steady. Deliberate. Hungry. The man was John—their old college mate, tall and wiry, mop of dark hair slick with sweat. His hands gripped her bun, guiding her head deeper, hips rolling lazily as her black hair spilled loose over her shoulders. Wet, obscene sounds leaked from the speaker—sucking, slurping, soft gagging.
Another clip loaded automatically.
John now stroking her breasts. Saree slipped off one shoulder, blouse hooks undone, those heavy 34D curves spilling free—dark nipples stiff and glistening. His palms kneaded them roughly while Anandhi’s head bobbed faster, moans pouring out raw and breathless, exactly the same pitch Rahul remembered from their honeymoon nights.
Rahul’s breath caught. A shiver of pure rage twisted with dark, unwanted lust raced through his veins like wildfire. His new cock stirred instantly—thickening against his thigh, hypersensitive from the morning’s shower test, veins pulsing as if the body itself remembered the betrayal.
He snapped upright. “Driver—go buy biscuits. Now.”
The cab door clicked shut as the man shuffled toward a roadside stall, leaving Rahul alone with the phone pressed hard enough to dig into his palm.
“When?” he demanded, voice hoarse. “How John is there?”
Sam’s reply came fast, sharp as a blade. “Long story. It happend just few minutes, back, they are still invovled in the sex in the room. Longgerald Hotel, thirty kilometers from town. Room boy rigged a spy cam—sent me the visuals. I’m downstairs in the lobby right now, watching.”
Rahul’s eyes flicked back to the collegeyard.
Anandhi was still there.
Saree fluttering as she waved off the last students, laughing softly, radiant under the same sun that now burned his skin.
Thirty kilometers away? Right now?
The cab idled, engine purring low. Outside, the town bustled: a fruit vendor hawking mangoes in a nasal shout - Mango Mango - 3 Mango for 50 Rupees , a rickshaw horn blaring, a stray dog nosing through dust.
But Rahul’s world narrowed to the phone screen—Anandhi here, Right before his eyes in the college.
But Sam says, Anandhi there, still involved in sex, John’s hands on her tits, her moans, the timing that refused to add up.
“Fresh? I mean they are in sex few minutes back?” he repeated, gut twisting.
Sam’s glee rang hollow through the speaker. “Very fresh. You should see her face when she swallows.”
Doubt flickered for the first time—tiny, razor-sharp. Lying? Or how is this… possible?
Rage roared louder.
Raul mind blanked.
The driver trudged back, biscuits rustling in a plastic bag.
Rahul barely noticed.
His mind churned like a storm.
What is the truth What is the lie, how could sam say she is in hotel, but she is here.. then what about the video ?
Sam continued -- Rahul are you there..
Rahul ear listened.. and a background noise alerted him...
“Mango, mango! 3 Mango for 50 Rupees”—that vendor’s shout echoed in his memory - 5 minutes ago, crossing this street, Is now audible from Sam's Phone.
Sam’s office is just a kilometer away ..
Rahul quickly connected the dots.. Shit - [i]Shit - He’s lying , he had been lying...[/i]
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