Adultery The Making of a Slut from a Wife - Shazia

[HotLove339]

"Goodnight, Shazia," Rohan said smoothly. He gave Iqbal one last, pitying look. "Goodnight, Iqbal." He turned and disappeared into the dancing crowd, leaving absolute destruction in his wake.
 
Iqbal didn't say a single word. He grabbed his elder son's hand with a brutal grip. "Chalo," (Let's go,) he hissed at Shazia, his voice trembling with suppressed violence.
 
The walk back to the cottage was agonizingly silent. The second the wooden door clicked shut behind them and the children were ushered into the adjoining room, the storm broke.
 
"Tees minute, kya hi kar rahi thi tum?!" (Thirty minutes? What were you doing as such!) Iqbal roared, throwing his room key violently onto the glass table. "Ek gaadi dekhne mein tees minute lagte hain?! Dekh apni shakal! Kya karke aayi hai tu uske saath?!" (Does it take thirty minutes to look at a car?! Look at your face! What did you do with him?!)
 
Shazia flinched, instinctively backing away. "Iqbal, please aahista boliye, bacche jag jayenge..." (Iqbal, please speak softly, the kids will wake up...)
 
"Bhaad mein gaye bacche!" (To hell with the kids!) he screamed, stepping right into her face.
"Kuch nahi kiya maine!" (I didn't do anything!) Shazia cried out, desperately downplaying the event. "Main bas gaadi dekh ke wapas aa gayi! Sach mein, main turant wapas aa gayi thi par aap nahi the! Restaurant mein dhoondhte hue aapka intezaar kar rahi thi…" (I just saw the car and returned. I swear! I returned immediately but you weren’t there! I searched for you in the restaurant and waited for you...)
 
"Jhoot mat bol, Shazia. Maine dekha tujhe uske saath nanga naach karte hue dance floor pe! Aur phir tu uske taane par hass rahi thi?! Mujh par hass rahi thi tu?!" (Don’t lie, Shazia. I saw you dancing naked with him on the dance floor! And then you were laughing at his taunts?! You were laughing at me?!)
 
"Aise kyon baat kar rahe hain? Dopahar mein toh pool ke paas jab wo naukar mujhe ghoor raha tha, tab toh aapko bahut mazaa aa raha tha! Tab toh aapne khud kaha tha ki aapko achha lagta hai jab koi mard mujhe dekhta hai! Mujhe laga aap abhi bhi waisa hi feel kar rahe hain!" (Why are you talking like this? In the afternoon by the pool when that servant was staring at me, you were enjoying it so much! You said it yourself that you like it when some men look at me! I thought you were feeling the same way now!)
 
Iqbal’s face twisted in sheer agony. He didn't want to admit out loud why he was terrified of Rohan but perfectly fine with the servant. It was a psychological wound too deep and emasculating to voice.
 
"Woh alag baat thi, aur ye bilkul alag baat hai!" (That was a different matter, and this is a completely different matter!) Iqbal yelled, his voice cracking with sheer humiliation, waving his hand dismissively as if to swat away the comparison.
 
"Main sirf aapko khush karna chahti thi... mujhe maaf kar dijiye agar mujhse ghalti hui..." (I just wanted to please you... please forgive me if I have done wrong...) Shazia pleaded, tears welling in her eyes.
 
Iqbal pushed past her in absolute disgust. He sat on the bed with his head down, hands over his face. He was utterly broken. Her blunt denial left him with no option but to return home as soon as they could and take it up with her again later. "Subah jaldi nikalna hai." (We have to leave early in the morning.)
 
Shazia watched him change his clothes angrily and get ready to sleep. With tears in her eyes, Shazia walked to the mirror and removed her sheer saree. She saw her reflection in the mirror, blurred with her tears. She went to the washroom. She sat on the commode, crying. She spoke to herself softly, “Kyon… Aisa kyon kiya maine… Room ke andar kyon hi gayi main… ye kaise ho gaya mere se?” (Why… Why did I do this… Why did I enter the room… How did this happen by me?). She could only regret, but could not find any answers to her own questions. Her hands trembled as she turned on the faucet. She sprayed water on her pussy, trying to wash away Rohan’s thick, white semen and her own slick fluids. But as she wiped the physical traces of Rohan from her skin using a towel, the rich, musky scent of his Tom Ford cologne mixed with the raw smell of sex hit her senses.
 
Her tears of guilt were genuine, but as her fingers brushed over her swollen, sensitive lips and her sore, well-fucked pussy, a treacherous, involuntary shiver of dripping wet arousal ran down her spine. Her body was violently contradicting her mind's regret; she was secretly, filthily satisfied. Through a dark part of her mind, she was deeply confused about Iqbal and was actively analyzing his hypocritical words. She was unable to recognize the stark, pathetic difference in his male ego when faced with a superior alpha versus a lowly servant.