Adultery Ananya - My beautiful wife

[kirak9484]

By 7:30 pm Rajesh walked through the duplex door to find Ananya curled on the sofa, still in the navy dress, knees drawn up, eyes red but dry.
He didn’t ask what happened. She told him anyway — every detail.
When she reached the part about the slap, Rajesh’s jaw clenched.
“He touched your face?”
She nodded.
Rajesh exhaled slowly through his nose. “And the principal?”
“Suspended him. Immediately.”
A long silence.
Then Rajesh knelt in front of her, took both her hands.
“You did the right thing. Exactly the right thing.”
“I was scared he’d… do more.”
“He won’t get near you again.” Rajesh’s voice was quiet steel. “But his brother… Vicky… he’s going to make this ugly at work. He already texted me once today — casual, probing. ‘Heard something about Arjun. Anything I should know?’”
Ananya’s stomach dropped. “What will you do?”
Rajesh smiled — small, sharp, dangerous in its own way.
“I’ll do my job. Better than ever. Let him try to play games. But I won't bend.

He lifted her chin gently.
“But tonight — no thinking about them. Only us.”
He stood, pulled her up with him.
“Shower first. Then I want you out of this dress… slowly. I want to see every inch those boys were staring at today. And then…” His thumb traced her lower lip — the same place Arjun had dared to touch — “…I’m going to kiss right here until you forget anyone else ever came close.”
Ananya’s breath shuddered out. She nodded.
Later, under the warm spray, Rajesh soaped her back, her waist, her breasts — reverent, possessive. When he reached her navel he dropped to his knees again — same ritual, different emotion tonight: protection wrapped in hunger.
His tongue circled the deep oval slowly.
“Mine,” he murmured against wet skin. “Always mine.”
Ananya threaded fingers through his hair, legs trembling.
“Yours.”
Outside their bedroom walls, a suspended college boy nursed a bruised ego and a darkening grudge.
His powerful brother typed furious messages that would never be sent.
But inside — behind locked doors, beneath Rajesh’s worshipping mouth and claiming hands — Ananya felt only safe, only wanted, only his.
The game had changed.
She would wear sarees again tomorrow — higher, tighter, untouchable.
And if anyone stared too long…
They would never get closer than a fantasy.



   





 


    The staff room on the first floor smelled of filter coffee and old books. Afternoon sunlight poured through the grilled windows, catching dust motes and the faint shimmer of Ananya’s deep maroon saree. She had gone back to traditional dbanging after the navy dress incident — higher, tighter, the pallu pinned like armor across her full 34D breasts and the dramatic cinch of her waist. The thin cotton still betrayed every breath, every sway of her wide hips.
Payal, the new Hindi lecturer, sat cross-legged on the opposite chair, her own pastel yellow saree dbangd casually, pallu slipped low enough to show a teasing strip of fair midriff. She was twenty-eight, sharp-tongued, and had become Ananya’s closest confidante in just two weeks. They shared everything — lecture notes, lunch tiffins, and now, dangerously personal secrets.
Payal stirred her coffee, eyes wide. “Arjun? The one you slapped? Ananya, you really complained? His father is not some small-time guy, yaar. Big businessman — construction, mining, the works. And political influence? The kind that can make a principal disappear with one phone call. I heard his brother Vicky is already making noise in your husband’s company. You should have let it slide. One touch on the lip? Not worth the risk. I’m afraid what will happen if he takes revenge.”
Ananya’s spoon froze mid-stir. Her cheeks flushed with fresh anger. She leaned forward, pallu shifting just enough to reveal the soft curve of her belly and the faint golden glint of her belly chain.
“Shut up, Payal,” she snapped, voice low but fierce. “Why are you telling this? We are lecturers. We are supposed to teach good things and cut the bad things also from students. If he is punished, he will transform into a good boy. His daddy will also beat him at home and set him straight. That’s how it works. We can’t stay silent just because someone’s father has money and power.”
Payal raised both hands in mock surrender, then grinned wickedly. “Arre waah, Madam Moral Science. If he takes revenge… I think your husband also doing job there, under his brother’s company. Tension nahi hota kya? Okay, leave it, leave it.” She leaned closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Have you done night with your hubby after that incident? Full night? Tell na…”
Ananya’s face turned crimson instantly. She looked down into her coffee, biting her lower lip hard. The memory of last night flooded her — Rajesh’s mouth, the way he had worshipped her. Her nipples tightened against the tight blouse just from the thought.
Payal burst out laughing, slapping the table lightly. “Chod dho yaar! Your shying means yes, yes you did! Look at your face — bilkul laal ho gayi ho. Kitna mazaa aaya hoga… Saree utaarke, navel mein tongue daalke… Hai na? Tell me one thing only — did he make that belly chain of yours ring like temple bells again?”
Ananya covered her face with both hands, giggling despite herself, thighs pressing together under the table. “Payal, stop! Log aa jayenge…”
But inside, the spark was already lit. The entire conversation — the danger, the defiance, Payal’s teasing — had made her body hum with forbidden heat. She could feel the deep oval navel throbbing faintly, aching for Rajesh’s tongue the way it always did after a long day of hiding.
By 6:45 pm the car ride home was silent on the surface, but Rajesh’s hand kept drifting to her thigh, pushing the maroon saree higher with every gear change. Ananya’s pallu was already slightly disheveled from the staff-room gossip.
The moment the duplex door locked, Rajesh spun her against the wall exactly like the first night.






“You stood up for yourself again. My strong, beautiful wife.” His fingers yanked the pallu free in one smooth tug. The saree loosened, heavy folds sliding down her hips with a soft swish, revealing the full glory of her honey-gold midriff — the deep, perfectly oval navel glistening under the warm lights, the delicate belly chain resting low, tiny golden bells already trembling.
Ananya moaned as he dropped to his knees. “Rajesh… she said his father is powerful… that we should be scared…”
“Fuck his father,” Rajesh muttered against her skin, lips brushing the faint red line the saree had left all day. “You did the right thing. And now…” His tongue traced the rim of her navel slowly, teasingly, before plunging deep inside with a wet, obscene sound.
Ananya cried out, back arching, fingers tangling in his hair. “Ahhh… yes… just like that…”
He sucked hard on the deep hollow, tongue fucking in and out in rhythm with his fingers that slipped under the petticoat, finding her already soaked. The belly chain tinkled loudly — exactly like Payal had teased — every time his mouth pulled back and thrust in again.
“Tell me what Payal said,” he demanded between licks, voice vibrating inside her navel. “Tell me while I eat this beautiful belly that only I own.”
“She… she asked if we did night… if you made the chain ring…” Ananya gasped, hips rolling shamelessly against his face. “I blushed… and she knew… she knew you fucked me senseless last night…”
Rajesh growled, stood up in one fluid motion, and scooped her into his arms. He carried her straight to the bedroom, laid her on the bed still half-wrapped in the maroon saree, and stripped the rest of it off like unwrapping a gift. Her heavy breasts spilled free, dark rose-brown nipples already stiff peaks. He latched onto one, sucking hard while two fingers sank deep into her pussy, curling, stroking that spot that made her see stars.
“Tonight I’m going to make it ring louder,” he promised, moving lower again. He poured warm oil over her navel, watching it pool and overflow the deep oval. Then his tongue was back — slower, filthier — lapping every drop while his thumb circled her swollen clit.
Ananya’s thighs shook. The bells on her chain chimed continuously now, a constant tinkling soundtrack to her rising moans. “Rajesh… deeper… please… tongue fuck my navel harder… I’m yours… only yours…”
He obliged, burying his face completely, sucking and thrusting until her back bowed off the bed. Her first orgasm hit like a wave — loud, wet, thighs clamping around his head while the chain rang like frantic temple bells.
But he didn’t stop.
He flipped her onto all fours, still in nothing but the belly chain and her mangalsutra, and entered her from behind in one smooth thrust. One hand gripped her hip, the other reached around to press two fingers firmly into her navel, fucking it in time with his cock.
“Tell me again,” he groaned, pounding deeper. “Tell me you’re not scared of anyone. Tell me this body comes home to me every night.”
“I’m not scared… ahhh… it’s yours… every inch… every secret… only you get to taste my navel… only you get to make me come like this…” Her voice broke into sobs of pleasure as the second orgasm ripped through her.
Rajesh followed right after, burying himself to the hilt, growling her name as he filled her, his fingers still pressed possessively into that deep, worshipped navel.
Later, they lay tangled, his mouth lazily circling her navel again, soft kisses now, while Ananya traced patterns on his chest.
“Payal is right about one thing,” she whispered, smiling shyly. “I did do night with my hubby… and it was even better than she could imagine.”
Rajesh chuckled against her skin, tongue dipping in once more just to hear the bells chime.
“Good. Because tomorrow you’re wearing that maroon saree again. Higher. Tighter. Let them stare. Let Payal tease you about it. At the end of the day…” He sucked gently on the rim, making her gasp. “…this deep, perfect navel still ends up right here. On my tongue. Where it belongs.”