Adultery The Making of a Slut from a Wife - Shazia

[HotLove339]

The lights in the floor was a lot dimmer and the flashing beam lights kept flashing around the floor. Because the weekend crowd was so densely packed, there was absolutely no space to keep a polite, respectable distance. Rohan smoothly closed the gap. Their bodies were immediately, forcefully pressed against each other.



Shazia didn't pull back. The intoxicating thrill of being fiercely desired by a wealthy, handsome man, the primal scent of his cologne, mixed with the manly sweat and the deafening music, completely unleashed her inner whore. She found Rohan’s richness, raw power, and absolute confidence highly comparable to Mr. Verma, and totally, embarrassingly incomparable to her husband.
 
While she stood with some hesitation to dance, Rohan’s whispered, “koi nahi dekhega… sab maze mein hai andhere mein.“ (Noone will see… All are in their enjoyment in the darkness). The fragile, thin barrier of marital respectability vanished entirely. Shazia raised her slender arms, deliberately letting the sheer brown pallu slip to the side completely, fully exposing her deep, shadowy cleavage to him. She began to move to the heavy beat of the music. Because of her 4-inch heeled sandals, her posture was drastically arched. She rolled her bare shoulders back and raised her slender arms high above her head, swaying her massive, wide hips in a slow, incredibly hypnotic figure-eight motion.

    
    
  

 
Rohan’s eyes boldly traced the soft, squishy curve of her body. From her arm pits, the side of breasts, exposed stomach, tracking down to her deep, sweaty navel. "It is a genuine tragedy that such a beautiful woman is already taken," Rohan whispered huskily directly into her ear.

As Rohan's warm hands firmly squeezed her bare waist, physically pulling her wide hips flush against his thighs, Shazia’s mind became a chaotic, filthy battleground. Am I pushing this too far? a terrifying voice whispered in her head. She was riding a dangerously thin line between intense sexual euphoria and the absolute destruction of her marriage. Every single time Rohan’s thick thumb brushed explicitly against her bare midriff, a violent jolt of dripping wet arousal shot straight to her clitoris. She desperately wanted to surrender completely to the wealthy alpha's touch, to push the boundaries of her newfound sexual power. But the lingering fear of Iqbal snapping anchored her slightly.
 
"Your husband seems... very tense," Rohan murmured in her ear, his dark eyes dropping heavily to the deep, exposed valley of her cleavage bouncing against his chest. "A woman like you shouldn't have to deal with so much stress on a holiday. Aap jaisi husn ki pari ko toh bas aaraam aur taareefein milni chahiye." (A fairy of beauty like you should only get relaxation and compliments.)
 
"Wo bas thode protective hain..." (He is just a little protective...) Shazia giggled softly, defending him weakly.
 
"Protective? Ya phir insecure?" (Protective? Or insecure?) Rohan chuckled darkly.
 
As the crowd shifted slightly, she naughtily peeked over Rohan's broad shoulder, trying to read her husband's face at the table. He liked it with the servant today, she desperately rationalized to herself, looking at Iqbal's stiff posture. He wants me to be desired. He wants to see me flaunt myself for other men.
 
Balancing her extreme marital fear with the intoxicating, slutty high of the moment, she chose to push the envelope. She smiled a wicked, incredibly dirty smile directly at her husband while aggressively grinding her pelvis against the stranger.