19-03-2026, 03:30 PM
She was laughing.
Her whole body was shaking—shoulders, waist, breasts—everything.
Under the T-shirt, her small but perfectly shaped breasts were bouncing. Without a bra, they jumped up and down with every laugh.
When she laughed, they bounced—one moment up, one moment down.
Alok’s eyes were fixed there—for one second.
But I knew—he was looking.
That look of his… the one that measures “merchandise.”
Alok… he was just smiling.
The kind of man who sees every woman as “merchandise.”
Who believes women are there to be played with—like bitches.
Who was using Sandy like a whore last night.
And now… my Neha was laughing in front of him.
My mind—
One voice inside me—the one that had always known me—was screaming:
“Sam, this is wrong.
You don’t bring a man like Alok anywhere near your woman.
You protect her.
Your job is to keep Neha away from eyes that see her as ‘merchandise.’
You’ve seen yourself what Alok thinks about women.
He treats even Sandy like a toy.
If you let Neha sit in front of him, you’re putting her in danger yourself.
You’re supposed to be her protector, not her showcase.”
But my eyes kept drifting back to Alok’s table.
I kept asking myself—“Sam, what the hell is wrong with you?”
Last night, when Alok was fucking Sandy roughly, my mind kept replacing her with Neha.
Hair pulled back, ass slapped hard, cock slamming deep into her pussy.
Neha’s moans… “Ahhh… harder…”
Her small breasts bouncing, nipples hard, face drenched in sweat, eyes half-closed.
That fantasy was giving me such a thrill that my cock got hard again.
That old thrill… it had woken up once more.
I couldn’t understand why this was happening.
I grabbed the chutney and hurried back toward the table.
The same question was still spinning in my head—why is Alok sitting there?
Why is Neha laughing with him?
Why does she look so comfortable?
As I got closer, the voices became clearer.
“Ohhh… stop it…”
It was Neha’s voice—laughter mixed with a little moan.
She lightly slapped Alok’s hand on the table.
But her eyes were sparkling.
She was happy.
Very happy.
Alok was smiling—that same smile he had while looking at Sandy last night.
A 60-year-old man… but the same hunger in his eyes.
The same cruel glint.
Maybe to Neha he seemed “harmless”… because of his age.
But I knew—he was not harmless.
He was dangerous.
I reached the table.
Tray in hand.
Neha saw me.
“Baby… this…”
She was trying to remember his name.
Alok cut in midway.
“I hadn’t introduced myself yet.”
The table was a 4-seater sofa style—two on each side, facing each other.
Table in the middle.
I looked at Neha.
Gestured for her to shift a little so I could sit beside her.
Neha immediately slid her ass sideways.
I sat down.
But the moment I sat… my ass pulled the back of her long T-shirt.
The fabric stretched tight.
Her breasts now stood out even more clearly—nipples completely visible through the thin material.
Round, hard, slightly raised.
Alok’s eyes locked there—for one second.
Then he smiled again—as if nothing had happened.
Neha adjusted herself a little.
Out of shyness, she pulled the T-shirt forward—the fabric loosened a bit, the outline of her nipples became less obvious.
She kept bringing her hair further forward, trying to hide more.
I placed the tray on the table.
Pushed the chutney toward Neha.
Then sat down—right beside her.
I looked at Alok.
Smiled lightly and said,
“By the way… I’m Sam.”
Alok took a sip of coffee.
Then extended his hand—firm, but friendly.
“Alok.”
Neha laughed lightly and said,
“Neha.”
Alok looked at both of us—with a deep, satisfied smile.
“Such a cute couple, both of you.
I was just telling Neha… last night at the reception I thought she was from an agency.”
I snapped immediately—voice suddenly sharp.
“Agency?”
Neha looked at me—her eyes still sparkling with laughter.
She leaned forward a little, voice full of the same innocence.
“Baby… I told you yesterday, right… some uncle came and asked if I was from an agency.
Remember?”
No.
She hadn’t told me at all.
Probably because to her it was no big deal.
I said slowly—voice trembling just a little.
“No… you didn’t tell me.”
Neha’s eyes widened slightly.
“Oh… really?
I thought I had told you.”
Alok was smiling.
That same old smile—the one he had while looking at Sandy last night.
But now that smile was directed at me.
And there was a different kind of enjoyment in it.
As if he was thinking—“Look… how innocent your wife is.
She has no idea what we mean by ‘agency.’
She’s happy… laughing… thinking it was just a joke.”
She looked at me and said,
“Baby… Alok sir was saying he’s launching a new hotel nearby.
And there’s a commercial shoot happening for it… so the agency sent some supermodels.
And he thought I was one of them!”
Alok made a small innocent face—but deliberately innocent smile.
“Really… you actually look like one.”
There was no mischief in his voice—just like an honest mistake.
But I knew—he was saying it on purpose.
He knew exactly what Neha would understand.
And Neha understood exactly that.
She laughed—happily, without a trace of suspicion.
“Ohhh… you must have been such a flirt in your youth!”
She lightly slapped his hand again.
Her hand touched his—just for a second.
But my cock reacted instantly.
A jolt—like electric current.
My cock twitched hard inside my pants.
We were both behaving like complete strangers now—as if last night never happened.
I scanned the hall—Vishal, David, Sandy… no one.
Just Alok sitting alone—coffee cup in hand, that same smile.
Neha elbowed me lightly.
“Sam… shift a little please… I want to get something more from the buffet.”
Same loving voice—soft, but a little hurried.
I nodded lightly.
Stood up—made space for her.
I watched Neha—she was walking toward the buffet counter now.
Her walk… slow, but graceful.
Her ass swaying lightly—thighs shining under the shorts.
Alok kept watching… and my cock twitched again.
Alok looked at me.
His smile was deeper now than before.
He spoke softly—his voice no longer had that old friendly tone.
Now there was a kind of authority—like he was the master, and I was just his little sidekick.
“So boy… got some sleep?”
I nodded.
“Yes… a little.”
The word “boy” was back—the one he’d been using since last night.
Last night I had ignored it… but now… now it stabbed into my chest.
Alok placed the coffee cup on the table.
His smile deepened even more—that same smile he had while looking at Sandy last night.
He spoke softly, voice tired but satisfied.
“We didn’t sleep a wink… kept playing the whole night.”
He winked—small, naughty wink.
I nodded lightly.
“Where is everyone?”
My question was direct.
But really… I was only looking for one face.
Sandy.
Her dress… her walk… her laugh… her body that was shining under the lights last night.
David and Vishal?
No desire to see them.
What was the point?
Alok took the last sip of coffee and said softly—voice tired but satisfied.
“The three of them are sleeping… taking a nap… on an almost wet, dirty bed.”
I froze for a moment.
Dirty bed?
Last night… when I left… the waiter had put fresh sheets.
Fresh, white, crisp.
Then how did it become dirty?
How did it become wet?
Then it all became clear.
I imagined—Sandy… that perfect-bodied model… the one from the “Our New Home” bride on TV… now lying on a dirty, wet sheet.
Two old, filthy men on either side of her—probably David and Vishal.
Their sweat, their cum, their breath… all stuck to her skin.
Her thighs pressed against theirs.
Her breasts crushed against their chests.
Their heavy, dirty, possessive hands on her waist.
Alok took the last sip of coffee and slowly placed the cup down.
His eyes were still on Neha—she was at the buffet counter, picking fruits, same grace in her walk, soft chime of her anklets.
Alok looked at me, smile now even deeper.
“I also want to sleep… I’ve booked another room in the hotel… but you know… you made a promise.
So I thought… let me have coffee… and take a good look at you.”
He paused, then said softly—voice tired but satisfied.
“But it was worth it… very worth it.”
Then he looked straight into my eyes—without hesitation.
“Boy… she’s perfect.
Her figure… her age… the way she talks… the way she walks… everything perfect.
Wish… she could be bought too.”
He laughed lightly—a deep, bitter laugh.
I immediately looked around—Neha was still at the counter, far away.
She couldn’t hear.
My heart was pounding.
Anger… shame… jealousy… all at once.
I’m her “protector”—her husband.
And this man… this 60-year-old “uncle”… sitting in front of me saying my wife “could be bought.”
Alok’s voice was different now.
Until last night he called me “boy” too—friendly, a bit teasing, but with respect.
But now… now there was bitterness in his voice.
A sharp little edge.
He leaned toward me after placing the coffee cup down—eyes slightly red, tired, and maybe… a little jealous.
“Women like her are rare breed, boy…
They’re not made for marriage.
You’re wasting her caliber… just for fun.
And that too… with your average tool.”
First time.
First time he had put me down.
Until last night he was calling me “lucky.”
Until last night he was calling Neha “perfect.”
But now… “average tool.”
Those words hit my cock directly.
Last night I had felt it—my cock was small, size average, but the performance… that was mine.
And now… this man… this 60-year-old “uncle”… calling me “average.”
I stayed silent.
My face hardened.
My cock… was still hard.
Her whole body was shaking—shoulders, waist, breasts—everything.
Under the T-shirt, her small but perfectly shaped breasts were bouncing. Without a bra, they jumped up and down with every laugh.
When she laughed, they bounced—one moment up, one moment down.
Alok’s eyes were fixed there—for one second.
But I knew—he was looking.
That look of his… the one that measures “merchandise.”
Alok… he was just smiling.
The kind of man who sees every woman as “merchandise.”
Who believes women are there to be played with—like bitches.
Who was using Sandy like a whore last night.
And now… my Neha was laughing in front of him.
My mind—
One voice inside me—the one that had always known me—was screaming:
“Sam, this is wrong.
You don’t bring a man like Alok anywhere near your woman.
You protect her.
Your job is to keep Neha away from eyes that see her as ‘merchandise.’
You’ve seen yourself what Alok thinks about women.
He treats even Sandy like a toy.
If you let Neha sit in front of him, you’re putting her in danger yourself.
You’re supposed to be her protector, not her showcase.”
But my eyes kept drifting back to Alok’s table.
I kept asking myself—“Sam, what the hell is wrong with you?”
Last night, when Alok was fucking Sandy roughly, my mind kept replacing her with Neha.
Hair pulled back, ass slapped hard, cock slamming deep into her pussy.
Neha’s moans… “Ahhh… harder…”
Her small breasts bouncing, nipples hard, face drenched in sweat, eyes half-closed.
That fantasy was giving me such a thrill that my cock got hard again.
That old thrill… it had woken up once more.
I couldn’t understand why this was happening.
I grabbed the chutney and hurried back toward the table.
The same question was still spinning in my head—why is Alok sitting there?
Why is Neha laughing with him?
Why does she look so comfortable?
As I got closer, the voices became clearer.
“Ohhh… stop it…”
It was Neha’s voice—laughter mixed with a little moan.
She lightly slapped Alok’s hand on the table.
But her eyes were sparkling.
She was happy.
Very happy.
Alok was smiling—that same smile he had while looking at Sandy last night.
A 60-year-old man… but the same hunger in his eyes.
The same cruel glint.
Maybe to Neha he seemed “harmless”… because of his age.
But I knew—he was not harmless.
He was dangerous.
I reached the table.
Tray in hand.
Neha saw me.
“Baby… this…”
She was trying to remember his name.
Alok cut in midway.
“I hadn’t introduced myself yet.”
The table was a 4-seater sofa style—two on each side, facing each other.
Table in the middle.
I looked at Neha.
Gestured for her to shift a little so I could sit beside her.
Neha immediately slid her ass sideways.
I sat down.
But the moment I sat… my ass pulled the back of her long T-shirt.
The fabric stretched tight.
Her breasts now stood out even more clearly—nipples completely visible through the thin material.
Round, hard, slightly raised.
Alok’s eyes locked there—for one second.
Then he smiled again—as if nothing had happened.
Neha adjusted herself a little.
Out of shyness, she pulled the T-shirt forward—the fabric loosened a bit, the outline of her nipples became less obvious.
She kept bringing her hair further forward, trying to hide more.
I placed the tray on the table.
Pushed the chutney toward Neha.
Then sat down—right beside her.
I looked at Alok.
Smiled lightly and said,
“By the way… I’m Sam.”
Alok took a sip of coffee.
Then extended his hand—firm, but friendly.
“Alok.”
Neha laughed lightly and said,
“Neha.”
Alok looked at both of us—with a deep, satisfied smile.
“Such a cute couple, both of you.
I was just telling Neha… last night at the reception I thought she was from an agency.”
I snapped immediately—voice suddenly sharp.
“Agency?”
Neha looked at me—her eyes still sparkling with laughter.
She leaned forward a little, voice full of the same innocence.
“Baby… I told you yesterday, right… some uncle came and asked if I was from an agency.
Remember?”
No.
She hadn’t told me at all.
Probably because to her it was no big deal.
I said slowly—voice trembling just a little.
“No… you didn’t tell me.”
Neha’s eyes widened slightly.
“Oh… really?
I thought I had told you.”
Alok was smiling.
That same old smile—the one he had while looking at Sandy last night.
But now that smile was directed at me.
And there was a different kind of enjoyment in it.
As if he was thinking—“Look… how innocent your wife is.
She has no idea what we mean by ‘agency.’
She’s happy… laughing… thinking it was just a joke.”
She looked at me and said,
“Baby… Alok sir was saying he’s launching a new hotel nearby.
And there’s a commercial shoot happening for it… so the agency sent some supermodels.
And he thought I was one of them!”
Alok made a small innocent face—but deliberately innocent smile.
“Really… you actually look like one.”
There was no mischief in his voice—just like an honest mistake.
But I knew—he was saying it on purpose.
He knew exactly what Neha would understand.
And Neha understood exactly that.
She laughed—happily, without a trace of suspicion.
“Ohhh… you must have been such a flirt in your youth!”
She lightly slapped his hand again.
Her hand touched his—just for a second.
But my cock reacted instantly.
A jolt—like electric current.
My cock twitched hard inside my pants.
We were both behaving like complete strangers now—as if last night never happened.
I scanned the hall—Vishal, David, Sandy… no one.
Just Alok sitting alone—coffee cup in hand, that same smile.
Neha elbowed me lightly.
“Sam… shift a little please… I want to get something more from the buffet.”
Same loving voice—soft, but a little hurried.
I nodded lightly.
Stood up—made space for her.
I watched Neha—she was walking toward the buffet counter now.
Her walk… slow, but graceful.
Her ass swaying lightly—thighs shining under the shorts.
Alok kept watching… and my cock twitched again.
Alok looked at me.
His smile was deeper now than before.
He spoke softly—his voice no longer had that old friendly tone.
Now there was a kind of authority—like he was the master, and I was just his little sidekick.
“So boy… got some sleep?”
I nodded.
“Yes… a little.”
The word “boy” was back—the one he’d been using since last night.
Last night I had ignored it… but now… now it stabbed into my chest.
Alok placed the coffee cup on the table.
His smile deepened even more—that same smile he had while looking at Sandy last night.
He spoke softly, voice tired but satisfied.
“We didn’t sleep a wink… kept playing the whole night.”
He winked—small, naughty wink.
I nodded lightly.
“Where is everyone?”
My question was direct.
But really… I was only looking for one face.
Sandy.
Her dress… her walk… her laugh… her body that was shining under the lights last night.
David and Vishal?
No desire to see them.
What was the point?
Alok took the last sip of coffee and said softly—voice tired but satisfied.
“The three of them are sleeping… taking a nap… on an almost wet, dirty bed.”
I froze for a moment.
Dirty bed?
Last night… when I left… the waiter had put fresh sheets.
Fresh, white, crisp.
Then how did it become dirty?
How did it become wet?
Then it all became clear.
I imagined—Sandy… that perfect-bodied model… the one from the “Our New Home” bride on TV… now lying on a dirty, wet sheet.
Two old, filthy men on either side of her—probably David and Vishal.
Their sweat, their cum, their breath… all stuck to her skin.
Her thighs pressed against theirs.
Her breasts crushed against their chests.
Their heavy, dirty, possessive hands on her waist.
Alok took the last sip of coffee and slowly placed the cup down.
His eyes were still on Neha—she was at the buffet counter, picking fruits, same grace in her walk, soft chime of her anklets.
Alok looked at me, smile now even deeper.
“I also want to sleep… I’ve booked another room in the hotel… but you know… you made a promise.
So I thought… let me have coffee… and take a good look at you.”
He paused, then said softly—voice tired but satisfied.
“But it was worth it… very worth it.”
Then he looked straight into my eyes—without hesitation.
“Boy… she’s perfect.
Her figure… her age… the way she talks… the way she walks… everything perfect.
Wish… she could be bought too.”
He laughed lightly—a deep, bitter laugh.
I immediately looked around—Neha was still at the counter, far away.
She couldn’t hear.
My heart was pounding.
Anger… shame… jealousy… all at once.
I’m her “protector”—her husband.
And this man… this 60-year-old “uncle”… sitting in front of me saying my wife “could be bought.”
Alok’s voice was different now.
Until last night he called me “boy” too—friendly, a bit teasing, but with respect.
But now… now there was bitterness in his voice.
A sharp little edge.
He leaned toward me after placing the coffee cup down—eyes slightly red, tired, and maybe… a little jealous.
“Women like her are rare breed, boy…
They’re not made for marriage.
You’re wasting her caliber… just for fun.
And that too… with your average tool.”
First time.
First time he had put me down.
Until last night he was calling me “lucky.”
Until last night he was calling Neha “perfect.”
But now… “average tool.”
Those words hit my cock directly.
Last night I had felt it—my cock was small, size average, but the performance… that was mine.
And now… this man… this 60-year-old “uncle”… calling me “average.”
I stayed silent.
My face hardened.
My cock… was still hard.
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