Adultery The Making of a Slut from a Wife - Shazia

[HotLove339]

Rohan continued, “Main tho chahtha tha ki tumhare saath poori rath ghuzarun aur subah tum apne room jao. Par tum gabrahat se jaldi nikalna chahthi thi… Tum bolo.. kya tum nahi chahthi thi ki tum mere saath raath ghuzaro… sach bathao… kya tum mujhe pasand nahi karthi…”
 
"Haan... bahut... par, Rohan, main shaadi shudha hun… mere pathi... unka kya? Wo gusse mein hain... meri shadi—" (Yes... very much... but, Rohan, my husband... what about him? He is angry... my marriage—)
 
Rohan interrupted calmly, completely unbothered by her marital panic. "You need to stop thinking about him like a normal, typical husband. He will be absolutely fine. In fact, he is perfectly fine right now."
 
Shazia frowned, thoroughly confused. "Fine? Tumhe samajh nahi aa raha. Wo gusse mein jal rahe hain, and you are saying he is fine?" (He is burning with anger...)
 
"He is burning, yes," Rohan agreed smoothly. "But not just with anger, Shazia. He is burning with extreme lust thinking about you. Wo gussa nahi hai jo tum dekh rahi ho, wo uski tadap hai. Uski jalan hi uski aag hai. He loved the fact that I took you right under his nose while he stood outside feeling helpless. He is feeding on that humiliation."
 
"Ye... ye tum kya bakwas kar rahe ho?" (What nonsense are you talking about?) Shazia breathed, shaking her head, though a bizarre thrill spiked in her chest at his words. "Aisa kaisa koi mard chahega ki uski biwi kisi aur ke saath..."
 
"Aisa mard jo apni biwi ko ek naye andaaz se dekhna chahta ho," Rohan explained patiently, stepping fully into the role of her guide into this dark new world. "Listen to me carefully, Shazia. What you saw in his eyes wasn't just betrayal. It was extreme, suppressed arousal. Your husband is a cuckold. And that night, you gave him exactly what he craves for."
 
Shazia sat completely frozen on the bed. The word sounded heavy, foreign, and deeply taboo. Her grip on the phone tightened. Her breath hitched as she leaned forward, her curiosity entirely overriding her guilt. "Cuckold...?" she whispered into the phone, the word feeling utterly filthy on her tongue. "Cuckold kya hota hai, Rohan...?"
 
"Tumhe nahi maloom?" (You don't know?) Rohan’s tone turned smooth and highly seductive, sensing her complete vulnerability. "Cuckold ek aisa mard hota hai, Shazia... jo apni biwi ko kisi aur mard ke saath sote hue dekh kar, ya uske baare mein sun kar gusse mein nahi aata. Uska lund khada ho jata hai. Wo apni biwi ki nangi choot ko uske lund se bhi kaabil lund se chudte hue dekhna chahta hai." (A cuckold is a type of man, Shazia... who doesn't get angry seeing his wife sleep with another man, or hearing about it. His cock gets hard. He wants to see his woman's naked pussy being fucked by the cock of a man that is better than his own cock.)
 
Shazia’s eyes widened in absolute shock. The sheer filthiness of the concept made her stomach clench with an intense, burning heat. "Nahi... aisa thodi hota hai. Koi mard apni biwi ko kisi aur ke saath….?" (No... it doesn't happen like that. Why would any man let his wife with someone else…?)
 
"Hota hai, meri jaan. Bahut kuch hota hai. Aur zaroori nahi ki har baar pati hi apni biwi ko aage badhaye. Baaz dafa aurat ke jism ki garmi sab kuch karwati hai, Tum ghar ke andhar hi rehthe hue kuch bhi nahi jaanthi" (It happens, my life. It happens a lot. And it's not necessary that every time the husband pushes his wife forward. Sometimes the heat of the woman's body makes everything happen. Being indoors, you don’t know anything,) Rohan explained, his voice dropping to a hypnotic, descriptive cadence that completely painted the picture in her mind.
 
Shazia didn't speak. She just sat on the edge of her bed, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps, the phone pressed tightly to her ear.
 
"Suno! Kuch saal pehle ki baat hai ye, meri ek padosan thi," (Listen! This is a matter from a few years ago, I had a neighbor,) Rohan began, his voice taking on a dark, hypnotic storytelling cadence over the phone line. "Wo mere theek upar wale floor par rehti thi. Wo behad sexy thi, Shazia. Ekdum bhara hua jism, badi-badi aankhein... wo hamesha simple cotton ki saariyan pehenti thi, par jis tarah wo patla kapda uski gaand aur mammo ko jakadta tha, building ka har mard pagal ho jata tha. Uska pati roz subah office chala jata tha. Aur wo... roz dopahar ko chhat par kapde sukhane jaati thi. Humari nazrein roz milti thi seedhiyon par jab woh mere floor se guzar rahi hoti thi. Jab bhi hum aamne-saamne hote, humare kandhe jaan-boojh kar takrate. Main uske pasine aur saste perfume ki khushboo soongh sakta tha. Wo apni palkon ke neeche se mujhe dekhti, uski saans tez ho jati. Mujhe pata tha uske andar mere liye ek gandi hawas thi. Humare beech ek bina boli, garam aag jal rahi thi." (She lived on the floor just above mine. She was incredibly sexy, Shazia. An absolutely full body, big eyes... she used to wear these simple cotton sarees, but the way the thin fabric hugged her buttocks and breasts drove every man in the building crazy. Her husband used to go to work daily in the mornings. And she... used to go to the terrace every afternoon to dry clothes. Our eyes met every day on the stairs when she was passing by my floor. Whenever we crossed paths, our shoulders would deliberately brush. I could smell her sweat mixed with her cheap perfume. She would look up at me through her lashes, her breathing quickening. I knew she had a filthy fascination for me. There was this intense, unspoken heat simmering between us.)
 
Shazia swallowed hard, gripping the phone tightly against her ear. She could vividly picture the woman, unknowingly substituting herself into his filthy fantasy.