Fantasy Devika, a rich high class housewife, with angel heart

[prady12191]

That night, Arjun slept like the dead.

He'd come home exhausted from back-to-back meetings, wolfed down dinner while on a conference call, and collapsed into bed still wearing his work trousers. Within minutes his breathing had deepened into steady snores — the sleep of someone whose conscience was clear and whose body demanded rest.

Beside him, Devika lay wide awake.

The ceiling fan turned lazy circles above her. Shadows moved across the walls. Outside, Pune's night sounds filtered through the window — distant traffic, a barking dog, someone's television playing too loud three buildings over.

But none of it reached her.

All she could feel was the phantom press of Kulkarni's body against hers in the auto. The hardness trapped in his lungi grinding between her buttocks. His mouth on her neck. His hand sliding up her inner thigh while strangers watched and her pussy had leaked and leaked and leaked until the fabric clung to her like shame made liquid.

She shifted under the sheet. Pressed her thighs together. Felt the answering throb.

Still wet. Still wanting.

And then this evening — standing in her own kitchen while he unbuttoned her kameez like he had every right to strip her. His eyes devouring her bra. His hands holding her wrists against the wall. His mouth on her navel, tongue dipping inside while she gripped his hair and didn't pull him away.

What's wrong with me?

Devika turned onto her side, careful not to disturb Arjun. Stared at his sleeping face in the darkness. Her husband. Twenty-eight years old, handsome, successful, completely unaware that his wife had spent the afternoon grinding on another man's erection in public transport.

The guilt should have destroyed her. Should have driven her to wake him, confess everything, beg forgiveness.

But instead she felt...

Alive.

Her body hummed with it. Every nerve ending sensitized. Her nipples tight against her nightie. Her pussy still throbbing, still slick, still aching for the touch that had been interrupted by the doorbell.

I'm a terrible person.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Tried to think pure thoughts. Tried to remember why she'd married Arjun, all the reasons she loved him, all the ways he was good and kind and—

Kulkarni's voice whispered in her memory: Your body is made for pleasure, Devika.

A small sound escaped her throat.

Arjun snored on.

Devika sat up slowly. The sheet fell away. She looked down at herself — pale blue nightie with thin straps, modest and proper, covering her from chest to mid-thigh.

Suddenly she hated it.

She stood. Walked to the bathroom. Closed the door and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

The woman looking back was flushed. Hair mussed. Eyes dark with something that wasn't quite guilt and wasn't quite shame.

Desire. Raw and undeniable.

Her hands moved to the hem of her nightie. She pulled it over her head in one smooth motion. Dropped it on the floor. Unhooked her bra and added it to the pile. Slipped her panties down her legs and stepped out of them.

Naked now, she examined herself.

Fair Kerala skin. Full breasts with small pink nipples. The curve of her waist. That navel Kulkarni had kissed. The dark triangle between her thighs, glistening.

He saw most of this today. Saw my bra. Touched my thigh. Kissed my stomach.

She opened the cupboard. Pulled out a soft cotton saree — pale pink with a thin gold border, one of her favorites for sleeping when the Pune heat grew too oppressive.

But instead of wearing it properly with blouse and petticoat, she wrapped it around her body like a bedsheet. Tucked one end at her breasts. Let the fabric dbang across her chest, covering her but leaving her shoulders and upper chest completely bare. The pallu fell loose across her stomach and hips.

No blouse. No petticoat. No bra underneath.

Just the thin cotton between her naked skin and the world.

She looked at herself again. At the exposed curve of her shoulders. At how the saree clung to her breasts, nipples visible through the fabric. At the way it dbangd over her hips, barely concealing the fact that she wore nothing beneath.

What am I doing?

But she didn't change. Just turned off the bathroom light and padded back to bed, the saree swishing around her bare legs.

Arjun hadn't moved. Still snoring. Still dead to the world.

Devika lay down beside him. Pulled the sheet up to her waist. Turned onto her side, facing away from her husband.

And closed her eyes.

Sleep wouldn't come.

Her mind replayed everything. The auto. His hands. His mouth. The worker's hungry eyes. The dampness between her legs that had never quite dried. The doorbell saving her. Kulkarni sitting calmly at the dining table while she stood there with her kameez half-buttoned and her pussy throbbing.

He almost had me. Five more minutes and...

She didn't finish the thought.

But her hand moved between her legs. Found the slickness there. One finger traced her slit through the saree, feeling how soaked the fabric had become.

Oh god.

She pulled her hand away. Wiped it on the sheet. Tried to think of anything else.

But her body had other ideas.

The ache built. Spread. Demanded attention.

And somewhere deep in her mind, a voice whispered: He's right next door. Three meters away. Probably lying awake thinking the same thoughts.

Devika squeezed her thighs together. Bit her lip. Fought herself.

And eventually, sometime past 2 AM, exhaustion won.

She drifted into restless sleep, one arm thrown above her head, the saree riding up to expose the smooth curve of her hip, her bare armpit visible in the dim light filtering through the window.



Across the corridor in Flat 2A, Kulkarni paced.

Kitchen to bedroom. Bedroom to living room. Living room back to kitchen. The same circuit over and over, his bare feet slapping against the tiles.

He'd tried lying down. Tried reading. Tried the television. Nothing worked.

All he could see was Devika.

Her bra. Black cups holding those perfect breasts. The curve of her stomach. That navel — sweet and deep and begging to be tongued. The way she'd grabbed his hair but hadn't pushed him away.

His cock had been hard since the auto ride. Hours now. Throbbing inside his lungi with no relief.

He'd tried jerking off the moment he got back to his flat. But it wasn't enough. His hand couldn't replicate the soft warmth of her ass grinding against him. Couldn't capture the little sounds she'd made when his mouth touched her neck.

I almost had her.

If Arjun had been five minutes later...

Kulkarni stopped pacing. Stood in his dark kitchen. Gripped the counter with both hands and breathed.

He'd tasted her. Finally. After weeks of watching and wanting, he'd put his mouth on her skin. Had felt her navel against his lips. Had heard her moan.

And it still wasn't enough.

He wanted more. Needed more. Wanted to know how her mouth tasted. Wanted to kiss those pink lips he'd been staring at for weeks. Wanted to feel her tongue, her teeth, the soft sounds she'd make when he deepened the kiss.

This is madness.

But his feet were already moving. Toward the door. Toward the small bowl where he kept spare keys neighbors had given him over the years.

His fingers found the one marked "2B" in Arjun's neat handwriting.

"Keep this, Uncle. In case of emergency."

Arjun had pressed it into his hand two weeks ago, smiling, trusting. The IT boy who thought his elderly neighbor was harmless. Who had no idea what kind of thoughts lived behind the spectacles and soft smile.

Kulkarni stared at the key.

This was wrong. Criminal. Breaking and entering. Trespassing. If caught, he could be arrested. Beaten by Arjun and the other men in the building. Thrown out of Sahyadri Residency in disgrace.

But his cock throbbed.

His mouth watered.

And the memory of Devika's body pressed against his in that auto — the dampness he'd felt through her leggings, the way she'd ground against him — was stronger than any moral consideration.

She wants this too. Her body was begging for it.

He went to his bedroom. Opened the cupboard. Found the small bottle he kept in case of emergencies — chloroform substitute, medical-grade sleeping spray from his doctor friend in Hadapsar. Just a few puffs in someone's face and they'd sleep deeply for hours.

Insurance. Just in case.

Kulkarni tucked the spray into his lungi pocket. Held the key. Looked at himself in the mirror.

Sixty-seven years old. Pot-bellied. Balding. Nothing impressive.

But wearing only his lungi with no shirt, no inner, his chest hair grey and sparse. His cock making an obscene tent in the white fabric.

She'll reject me. Call me a pervert. Scream.

But another voice whispered: She didn't scream in the auto. Didn't scream when you unbuttoned her kameez. She wants this. Wants you.

He turned off his lights. Opened his door slowly. Peered into the corridor.

Empty. Silent. The entire building asleep.

Kulkarni stepped out. Closed his door without locking it. Crossed the three meters to 2B in bare feet, each step feeling impossibly loud.

His hand trembled as he inserted the key.

Please don't be locked from inside. Please please please—

The key turned. The lock clicked open.

No inner bolt. No chain. Nothing stopping him.

Kulkarni's heart hammered so hard he thought it might burst through his ribs. This was his last chance to turn back. To return to his flat. To be the harmless old uncle everyone thought he was.

But his hand pushed the door open.

And he stepped inside.



The flat was dark except for the small nightlight in the hallway. Kulkarni stood frozen just inside the door, letting his eyes adjust.

Living room to his left. Kitchen to his right. Straight ahead, the bedroom door stood slightly ajar.

He could hear breathing. Two sets — one soft, one snoring.

His cock jumped against his lungi.

I'm inside her flat. In her home. While she sleeps with her husband.

The thrill of it nearly made him come right there.

Kulkarni moved forward. Each step careful. Silent. Years of living alone had taught him how to walk without sound, which floorboards creaked, how to distribute his weight.

He reached the bedroom door. Pushed it open another inch.

And saw her.

Devika lay on the right side of the bed, one arm thrown above her head. She'd changed out of the salwar kameez — no more black leggings, no more blue cotton — and now wore...

Kulkarni's breath stopped.

A saree. Pink cotton dbangd across her body like a bedsheet. One end tucked at her breasts, the rest falling loose across her hips and legs.

But no blouse. Her shoulders were completely bare. Her upper chest exposed. One smooth armpit visible where her arm stretched above her head.

And he could see — even in the dim light filtering through the window — that she wore nothing underneath.

No bra. No petticoat. Just naked skin beneath the thin cotton.

Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god—

His cock throbbed so hard it actually hurt.

On the left side of the bed, Arjun lay on his back, mouth open, snoring softly. Still wearing his work trousers. Completely oblivious.

Kulkarni pulled the spray from his pocket. Crept closer to Arjun's side of the bed. Held the bottle six inches from the younger man's face and pressed the nozzle once.

Pffft.

Arjun's snoring hitched. His head turned slightly. Then resumed its steady rhythm.

Kulkarni waited. Counted to thirty. Pressed the nozzle again.

Pffft.

This time Arjun didn't even react. Just kept sleeping, his breathing deep and regular.

Kulkarni pocketed the spray. Moved around the foot of the bed to Devika's side.

She looked like an angel.

Hair spread across the pillow. Face peaceful in sleep. Pink lips slightly parted. The curve of her shoulder leading down to where the saree barely covered her breasts.

He stood there for a full minute just staring. Drinking in every detail. The way the fabric clung to her body. The swell of her hip. The bare skin glowing pale in the moonlight.

Mine. Tonight she's mine.

Kulkarni carefully lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight. Devika's body shifted slightly toward him but didn't wake.

He lay down beside her. Not touching yet. Just parallel. His face six inches from hers. His lungi-covered erection pressed against his stomach.

She smelled like jasmine. Like coconut oil. Like everything clean and pure and untouchable.

His hand moved to her waist. Rested there. Felt the warmth of her body through the cotton.

In her sleep, Devika's lips curved into a small smile.

"Kaka," she whispered. Eyes still closed. Lost in whatever dream held her. "You're naughty and bold..."

Kulkarni's entire body went rigid with shock and joy.

She's dreaming about me. About me.

Before he could process that miracle, Devika rolled toward him. Her eyes still closed, moving on instinct, seeking warmth in sleep.

Her arms came around him. Bare arms wrapping around his naked back. Her face pressed against his chest. Her saree-covered breasts soft against his stomach.

"Kaka," she murmured again, voice thick with sleep. "Don't leave me..."

Kulkarni thought he might die.

Die right there in her arms, his heart exploding from too much happiness, too much lust, too much of everything he'd spent weeks fantasizing about.

She was hugging him. Holding him. Calling his name in her sleep.

He wrapped his arms around her in return. Felt the naked skin of her back beneath his palms. No blouse. Nothing between his hands and her flesh except the loosely dbangd saree.

She's naked under this. Completely naked.

His cock throbbed against her hip. She made a soft sound — not quite awake, not quite asleep — and pressed closer.

Kulkarni held her. Breathed her in. Let the moment stretch into infinity.

And felt her beginning to wake.

The change was subtle at first. Her breathing shifted. Her body tensed slightly. The arms around him loosened as consciousness crept back in.

Her eyes fluttered open.

For three seconds, she looked at him without comprehension. Sleep-fogged. Confused. Seeing his face six inches from hers in the darkness.

Then awareness crashed in.

Her eyes went wide. Her mouth opened.

Kulkarni's hand clamped over her lips before any sound could escape.

"Shhh." His voice was barely a whisper. "Don't scream, beta."

Devika's body went rigid. Her hands came to his chest, pushing. She tried to speak against his palm, the words muffled.

"I won't hurt you." His other arm tightened around her waist, keeping her close. "I promise. Just don't scream."

She stopped pushing. Stared at him with those huge doe eyes, terror and shock and something else swimming in them.

Her gaze darted to Arjun sleeping beside them. Then back to Kulkarni's face. The question clear: What the fuck are you doing here?

"If you promise not to scream," Kulkarni whispered, "I'll take my hand away. Nod if you understand."

Devika hesitated. Then nodded once.

Slowly, Kulkarni removed his palm from her mouth.

She sucked in a breath. Her voice came out hoarse, barely louder than the rustle of sheets. "How dare you—"

"Shhh. Softer."

"—how dare you come into my house—" But she lowered her volume, glancing again at Arjun. "Are you insane?"

"Probably." He smiled. "But I couldn't sleep."

"So you break into my flat? While my husband—" She couldn't even finish the sentence. Just stared at him in disbelief.

"He won't wake up." Kulkarni kept his voice calm. Soothing. "I made sure of it."

"What?"

He pulled the spray from his lungi pocket. Showed her the small bottle. "Sleeping spray. Medical grade. He'll be out for hours."

Devika's face went white. "You drugged my husband?"

"Just helped him sleep more deeply." He tucked the bottle away again. "He's fine. Look."

She turned her head. Watched Arjun's chest rising and falling with steady breaths. His face peaceful and undisturbed.

"Watch."

Kulkarni reached across her. Shook Arjun's shoulder. "Beta. Wake up."

Nothing.

He shook harder. "Arjun. Fire alarm."

Still nothing. Arjun kept snoring, completely unresponsive.

Kulkarni settled back beside Devika. "See? He won't wake up. We're completely safe."

She stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "Safe? You call this safe?" Her voice climbed despite her efforts to keep it quiet. "You broke into my house. Drugged my husband. Climbed into my bed—"

"Because I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"—this is a crime, Uncle! You could go to jail—"

"I know." He pulled her closer, feeling the press of her saree-covered breasts against his bare chest. "But I couldn't help it."

"Let me go—"

"How did I get in?" He anticipated her next question. "The spare key. The one Arjun gave me."

Her eyes widened further. "That's for emergencies—"

"This is an emergency." His hand moved to the small of her back. Felt the warmth of her bare skin where the saree had loosened. "I need you, Devika. Need to touch you. Kiss you. Can't survive another night without it."

"Uncle, please—" But her voice had changed. Lost some of its edge. "Please just leave. I won't tell anyone. I promise. Just go back to your flat—"

"I can't."

"You have to—"

"Not without kissing you."

Silence fell between them.

Devika stared into his eyes. Her body still pressed against his. His arm around her waist. His other hand now moving up her back, tracing the line of her spine through the thin cotton.

"You're insane," she whispered finally.

"Completely." He smiled. "But you make me this way."

"This is wrong—"

"I know."

"My husband is right there—"

"Sleeping. Won't wake up. I promise."

Her eyes searched his face. Looking for... what? Sanity? Remorse? Some sign that this wasn't really happening?

But Kulkarni just looked back at her steadily. Holding her. Wanting her. Making no apologies.

"If I scream," Devika said slowly, "everyone will come. The neighbours. The security officer. You'll be arrested."

"Yes."

"So you should leave. Now. While you can."

"I told you — not without a kiss."

"Uncle—"

"Just one kiss." His hand cupped her face. Thumb stroking her cheek. "Let me taste your lips. Then I'll go. I promise."

"You're lying."

"I'm not." His thumb moved to her lower lip. Traced it. "One proper kiss. Long and deep. Then I'll leave you alone."

Devika's breathing had quickened. Her chest rising and falling beneath the loosely dbangd saree. "This is insane," she repeated.

"Yes."

"Completely insane."

"I know."

"Why—" Her voice cracked. "Why me? There are other women in this building. Younger. Unmarried. Women who would—"

"None of them are you." Kulkarni's eyes moved over her face. "None of them have your beauty. Your innocence. The way you walk in soft sarees. How you smell like jasmine. How you care for everyone around you." His hand slid down to her hip. "None of them are Kerala beauties with perfect curves and that shy smile."

"Other women wouldn't have let you—"

"But you did." His fingers found the edge of her saree where it wrapped around her hip. "You let me unbutton your kameez. You let me kiss your navel. You sat on my lap in that auto and ground your perfect ass against my cock until you were soaking wet."

Her face flushed. "I didn't—"

"Yes you did." He pulled her closer, letting her feel his hardness pressing against her through the layers of fabric. "I felt your panties get damp. Felt you arch your back. Heard the little sounds you tried to hide."

"Stop—"

"And right now, lying here in my arms—" His hand moved to her ass. Cupped one cheek through the saree. "—you're not wearing anything underneath, are you?"

Devika's mouth opened. Closed. She couldn't deny it.

"No blouse. No petticoat. Just this thin saree wrapped around your naked body." He squeezed her ass, feeling the soft flesh give beneath his palm. "You went to bed like this. Why?"

"That's none of your business—"

"Were you thinking about me?" He squeezed again, harder this time. "About what we did today? About what almost happened before Arjun came home?"

"No—"

"Liar." His thumb stroked the curve of her hip. "I bet you've been wet all evening. Lying here next to your sleeping husband, wishing I was touching you."

"That's not—" But her voice broke. Because he was right and they both knew it.

"It's okay, beta." Kulkarni's mouth moved closer to hers. "It's okay to want this. To want me."

"It's wrong—"

"Yes."

"We'll be caught—"

"We won't."

"My marriage—"

"Will be fine. I promise." His lips hovered a breath away from hers. "Nobody has to know. Just you and me. Our secret."

Devika stared at him. At this sixty-seven-year-old man lying in her bed, holding her nearly naked body against his, promising impossible things.

And she realized something that made her stomach drop.

She hadn't screamed.

The moment she'd woken up and found him there — she could have screamed. Could have brought the entire building running. Could have ended this before it began.

But she hadn't.

Instead she'd argued with him. Whispered back and forth like they were lovers having a secret conversation. Let him hold her. Let his hands roam her body. Let herself feel the hard length of his cock pressing against her hip.

What's wrong with me?

"I can see you thinking," Kulkarni murmured. "Wrestling with yourself. But your body already knows what it wants."

His hand moved to the small of her back. Found the edge where the saree had loosened. Slipped underneath.

Devika gasped as his palm touched her bare skin. Felt the calluses from decades of life, the warmth of his hand, the possessive way he splayed his fingers across her lower back.

"Just one kiss," he whispered again. "Then I'll go. Let you sleep. Won't bother you again tonight."

She knew he was lying.

Knew that one kiss would lead to another. And another. That boundaries once crossed could never be restored.

But her body was already betraying her. Already softening against him. Already aching for something she couldn't name.

"Okay," she heard herself say. The word so quiet she barely recognized her own voice. "Okay, Kaka. You can kiss me."

His eyes lit up like she'd given him the world.

"But after that—" She struggled to maintain some control. "After that you have to leave. Go back to your flat. Never come here with these dirty thoughts again."

"I promise."

"And no one can know. Ever. Not Arjun, not the neighbours, nobody."

"Our secret." He traced her lips with his thumb. "Just between us."

"I'm serious, Uncle—"

"So am I." His eyes burned into hers. "This never happened. You have my word."

Devika looked at him one more time. Saw the hunger. The desperation. The absolute certainty that he would have her, one way or another.

And something inside her cracked open.

"Can't you kiss me tomorrow?" she asked weakly. One last attempt at delay. "When you're not... when we're not..."

"No." His voice was firm. "Now. Right now. Or I'll lie here all night, unable to leave, unable to sleep, and your husband will wake up and find me in your bed."

It was a threat wrapped in pleading. Emotional blackmail.

And it worked.

"I'm scared," she whispered.

"Don't be." He cupped her face with both hands. "You can trust me, beta."

Then he closed the distance between them.

His lips touched hers. Warm. Slightly chapped. Tasting faintly of paan and cigarettes and old man things that should have been repulsive.

But weren't.

Kulkarni pressed his mouth against hers in a tight peck. Released. Pressed again. Little kisses, testing, tasting, claiming her one small piece at a time.

"Kaka," Devika breathed against his lips. "I don't know... I'm becoming a bad woman. Kissing an old neighbour with my husband sleeping right next to me—"

"Your husband deserves this." He kissed her again, harder. "Leaving you alone every night. Ignoring this beautiful wife. You're not a bad woman." Another kiss. "You're perfect."

She smiled despite everything. And he captured that smile with his mouth.

This time the kiss deepened. Kulkarni's lips moved against hers with more pressure, more certainty. He sucked her lower lip between his, pulled gently with his teeth.

Devika's hands came to his chest. Not pushing. Just resting there, feeling his heartbeat thundering beneath her palms.

He kissed her again. And again. A series of firm pecks that gradually merged into something longer. His mouth staying on hers, lips working, tasting.

Then he rolled.

One smooth motion and suddenly he was on top of her, his weight pinning her to the mattress, his lungi-covered erection pressing against her saree-wrapped hips.

"Uncle—" Devika's hands pushed at his shoulders weakly.

But he was already kissing her again. Harder now. His mouth crushing hers, lips moving with decades of pent-up desire finally unleashed.

Her lips stayed closed. Sealed tight against his invasion.

Kulkarni didn't care. He sucked her closed lips. Kissed every part of her mouth. His mustache tickling her skin. His weight delicious and terrifying.

Devika tried to push his face away with both hands. But he caught her wrists. Pinned them above her head just like he'd done in the kitchen. Held them there with one hand while the other supported his weight.

Then he kissed her properly.

His mouth locked onto hers. Lips sealed together. He sucked and licked and tasted, making wet sounds in the darkness while Arjun snored obliviously two feet away.

When he finally pulled back, they both gasped for air.

Devika stared up at him, panting, her lips swollen and glistening. "Enough—"

But he captured her open mouth.

This time his tongue slipped between her parted lips. Found hers. Stroked it.

And Devika gave up.

Just like that. The last resistance crumbling as she felt his tongue in her mouth, tasting her, claiming her.

Her body went soft beneath him. Her wrists stopped fighting against his grip. And when his tongue retreated, hers followed — slipping into his mouth, tasting him back.

Kulkarni moaned. Actually moaned into her mouth like she was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted.

He released her wrists. She didn't pull away. Instead her hands moved to his back, feeling the naked skin, the sparse grey hair, the warmth of him.

They kissed.

Really kissed now. Tongues meeting and sliding. Mouths open and hungry. Small sounds escaping both of them — gasps and moans and wordless need.

Kulkarni's hand moved to her breast. Cupped it through the thin saree. Squeezed.

Devika arched into his touch. Her nipple hardening against his palm.

He kissed her harder. Deeper. His hips grinding against hers, his cock rubbing against her saree-covered pussy through the layers of fabric.

Between her legs, the dampness spread.

Kulkarni broke the kiss to stare at her. "Your lips taste like heaven."

"Kaka—" She was panting. Flushed. Beautiful.

"So sweet. So perfect." He kissed her jaw. Her cheek. "Better than I imagined."

His mouth moved to her neck. Found the spot he'd kissed in the auto and lavished it with attention. His mustache and beard tickled her sensitive skin.

"Ahhh—" Devika's hands tightened on his back.

He kissed down the column of her throat. Across her collarbone. Down to her shoulder where the saree had slipped lower, exposing more skin.

"You smell so good." His nose traced along her shoulder. "Like jasmine and coconut and woman."

He moved to her armpit. The one still raised above her head. Buried his face in the smooth hollow and inhaled deeply.

"Oh god—" Devika squirmed beneath him. "Uncle, that's—"

But he was kissing her there too. Licking the clean skin. Making sounds of appreciation that should have been disgusting.

And weren't.

His hands roamed her body. One cupping her breast, thumb rubbing her nipple through the saree. The other moving down her side, over her hip, finding the curve of her ass and squeezing hard.

"Perfect," he murmured between kisses. "Every part of you is perfect."

He rolled then. One more smooth motion and suddenly she was on top, straddling him, her saree-covered pussy pressed directly against his lungi-covered cock.

The new position ground them together. Devika felt his hardness between her legs — thick and long and throbbing — and a small sound escaped her throat.

"Ahhhh—"

Kulkarni's hands came to her head. Guided her face down to his. "Kiss me, beta."

And she did.

Devika leaned down and kissed him. Not because she was forced. Not because he threatened her. But because she wanted to.

Because sitting on top of him, feeling his cock pressing against her wet pussy, his hands on her ass and her head — she couldn't think of anything else she'd rather do.

Her lips met his. Her tongue slipped into his mouth. And she kissed him like a woman who'd been starving for this her entire marriage.

Kulkarni groaned beneath her. His hands squeezed her ass, pressing her down harder against his erection.

Devika ground against him without thinking. Her hips moving in small circles, rubbing her pussy along his length through the layers of fabric.

The friction was delicious. Maddening. Not nearly enough.

She kissed him harder. Sucked his lips. Tasted the paan and cigarettes and old man smell that had become intoxicating instead of repulsive.

Kulkarni's hands moved under the saree. Found her bare ass. Grabbed both cheeks and squeezed hard while guiding her movements.

"Yes," he breathed against her mouth. "Fuck yes, grind on me—"

And she did. Lost in sensation, Devika rolled her hips, rubbing herself against his cock, feeling the pressure building between her legs.

They moved together. Kissing. Grinding. His hands on her ass. Her hands in his hair. The saree twisted and loose around her body.

Kulkarni stopped kissing her suddenly.

Devika didn't notice at first. Kept kissing his unresponsive mouth. Sucking his lips. Seeking more.

Only after several seconds did she pull back and look at him, confused.

He was smiling. Staring at her with wonder and lust and something that might have been affection.

"What?" She panted the word.

"You." His hands still moved on her ass, still guided her grinding movements. "You didn't want to stop."

Heat flooded her face as she realized what she'd been doing. Kissing him even after he'd stopped. Chasing his mouth like an addict.

"I—"

"Shhh. It's okay." He pulled her down for another kiss. Brief. Sweet. "You want this as much as I do."

Devika stopped moving. The spell broken. Reality crashing back in.

She sat up straight, still straddling him, and looked around.

The bedroom. Her bedroom. Arjun sleeping beside them, snoring softly. The clock on the nightstand reading 3:17 AM.

"Oh god." Her voice came out strangled. "What are we doing?"

"What we both want—"

"It's almost 3:30—" She climbed off him quickly, the loss of contact immediate and terrible. "Someone might hear. Might come—"

"Nobody's awake at this hour—"

"We'll get caught—" She sat on the edge of the bed, running her hands through her messy hair. "This is too risky, Uncle. Way too risky."

Kulkarni sat up beside her. His lungi obscenely tented. His chest heaving. "But we just started—"

"I know." She looked at him. Saw the desperation in his eyes. "I know. And I... I did what you asked. I kissed you. More than kissed. So you should be happy with that—"

"How can I be happy?" His hand found her thigh. "I need more. Need all of you—"

"Uncle, please—" She grabbed his hand, stopping its upward movement. "Please try to understand. This is dangerous. We're pushing our luck. If Arjun wakes up—"

"He won't—"

"—if anyone hears something—"

"Nobody will—"

"—we'll both be destroyed." Her voice broke. "My marriage will be destroyed."

Kulkarni looked at her for a long moment. Saw the fear mixed with desire. The guilt warring with arousal.

And realized she was right.

As much as his cock throbbed. As much as he wanted to flip her onto her back, rip away the saree, and bury himself inside her until morning — he couldn't.

Not yet.

She'd given him more tonight than he'd dared hope for. Had kissed him willingly. Had ground against him. Had moaned his name.

Pushing further now might ruin everything.

"You're right," he said finally. "You're right, beta."

Relief and disappointment warred on her face. "You understand?"

"Yes." He cupped her face. "Tonight was... perfect. More than I deserved. Thank you."

"Uncle—"

"But next time—" His thumb stroked her swollen lips. "—next time I won't stop."

A shiver ran through her body. She didn't argue. Didn't say there wouldn't be a next time. Just looked at him with those huge doe eyes and nodded slightly.

Kulkarni stood. Adjusted his lungi, trying to hide the massive erection that wouldn't fade for hours.

Devika sat on the bed and pulled the saree tighter around herself. Her hair a mess. Her lips swollen. Looking thoroughly kissed.

"Fix your hair," he said softly. "Before I go."

She nodded. Ran her fingers through the tangles, smoothing it down. Tucked the saree more securely across her chest.

When she'd made herself presentable, Kulkarni leaned down. One more time.

He pulled her to standing. Wrapped his arms around her. Held her against his body in a long embrace.

"Thank you," he whispered into her hair.

Devika's arms came around his back. She hugged him in return, her face pressed against his chest.

They stood like that for a full minute. Just holding each other. Feeling heartbeats. Breathing.

Then Kulkarni tipped her face up and kissed her one last time.

Deep and thorough. Pouring everything he felt into it. Making sure she understood that this wasn't over. That he wasn't done with her. That there would definitely, definitely be a next time.

When he pulled away, Devika's eyes were dark with lust and fear in equal measure.

"I love you," he said simply.

Before she could respond, he released her. Turned. Walked to the bedroom door.

Paused.

Looked back.

Devika stood in the middle of her bedroom, saree wrapped loosely around her naked body, lips swollen from his kisses, watching him with an expression he couldn't quite read.

"Goodnight, beta."

"Goodnight, Kaka."

He slipped out of the bedroom. Crossed the dark living room. Opened the front door carefully.

The corridor was still empty. Still silent.

Kulkarni stepped out. Closed the door softly behind him.

And heard the click of the inner lock sliding into place.

He smiled.

She's locking herself in. Protecting herself from me.

As if locks could stop what had already begun.

He crossed the corridor to 2A. Went inside his own flat. Closed the door and leaned against it.

His entire body thrummed with satisfied hunger. His cock still achingly hard. His mouth still tasting her.

But he'd done it.

After weeks of watching and waiting and wanting, he'd finally kissed Devika. Had held her naked body against his. Had felt her respond. Had heard her moan his name.

And she hadn't rejected him.

Hadn't screamed. Hadn't called him disgusting. Hadn't threatened security officer.

Instead she'd kissed him back. Had ground her pussy against his cock. Had grabbed his hair and sucked his lips like she was drowning and he was air.

She wants this. Wants me.

Kulkarni went to his bedroom. Collapsed onto his bed.

Pulled out his cock — massive and throbbing and leaking — and stroked it while replaying every moment.

Her taste. Her smell. Her sounds. The way she'd moved on top of him. The dampness he'd felt soaking through her saree.

He came in less than two minutes.

Explosive. Violent. The most intense orgasm of his life, painting his stomach and chest while he bit his pillow to muffle his groans.

And even as he lay there in the aftermath, cock still twitching, he knew it wasn't enough.

Would never be enough.

Not until he had all of her.



In Flat 2B, Devika locked the inner bolt and leaned against the door.

Her legs shook. Her pussy throbbed. Her lips felt bruised and swollen.

She touched them with trembling fingers. Felt how tender they were from his kisses. Tasted him still on her tongue.

What did I just do?

She'd kissed her sixty-seven-year-old neighbour. In her marital bed. With her husband sleeping two feet away.

Had ground her pussy against his cock like a woman in heat. Had grabbed his head and pulled him closer. Had moaned into his mouth while her marriage vows burned to ash around her.

I'm terrible. The worst kind of woman.

But even as the guilt crashed over her in waves, her body still hummed with unfulfilled desire.

Still wet. Still aching. Still wanting more.

Devika pushed off the door. Walked back to the bedroom on shaking legs.

Arjun still slept, completely oblivious. His snoring steady and undisturbed.

She stood beside the bed and looked at him. Her husband. Twenty-eight years old. Handsome. Successful. Faithful.

Who had no idea that another man had just kissed his wife. Had touched her. Had made her leak like never before.

Devika climbed back into bed. Lay down beside Arjun. Pulled the sheet up to her chin.

And closed her eyes.

But sleep wouldn't come.

Her mind replayed everything. Kulkarni's hands on her ass. His mouth on her neck. His cock pressing against her pussy through layers of fabric that suddenly seemed like nothing.

The way he'd said "I love you" before leaving.

He's crazy. Completely insane.

But so was she.

Because even now, even with guilt tearing her apart, a small smile played at the corners of her mouth.

And between her legs, the dampness hadn't stopped.

Devika drifted into restless sleep sometime after four, one hand tucked between her thighs, the other thrown across Arjun's oblivious chest.

Downstairs, the night watchman made his rounds. The building settled into pre-dawn quiet.

And in Flat 2A, Kulkarni lay awake, planning his next move.